#((Agreed that it's getting to a good point to close.))

[slurmpinheimer]

from @cyber-harpie !! spit that shit homie!! I thought this deserved to be seen because it brings up a lot interesting points—and I do agree with this, though it got me thinking again. I would like to add a few things to my initial statement because analysis and talking about Kim is fun;

(WARNING: MAJOR KIM-RELATED YAPPAGE BELOW)

I’ve watched several play throughs where (especially at the beginning of the game/if they have low psyche) people aren’t sure of Kim, or even go so far as to call him annoying, a buzzkill, or an asshole. At first I found myself getting really defensive about this. Obviously not to the point that I made any hate comments or anything, that would be silly— But just in my head, automatically dismissing it because I love him and didn’t want to hear it. I couldn’t imagine anyone disliking him, instead of thinking deeper and considering *why* people might come to these conclusions.

I believe the bits we get from Esprit and Empathy support my initial point that Harry is the perfect narrative device to meet Kim through. If I remember correctly, Kim was written specifically to find Harry funny, and Harry’s skills let us see that. and that’s IF you succeed the checks, or if you’re dedicated enough to save scum to see other possibilities/go through Fayde to see what other options might have held.

Like, before I learned about the end of the Homosexual Underground thought line, I certainly had my suspicions. I definitely thought Kim was at least queer-coded and headcanoned him as gay, but that thought trail is behind a legendary Composure check that I spent like 10 full minutes save-scumming. I had low motorics on my first run, and I only tried so hard because I had been spoiled and knew that it gave a thought called “Homosexual Underground” and needed to see where that led with my own eyes.

That’s just one example too—There’s several times that Kim Lore is behind hard checks (Ace’s High/Low, that tidbit about him smoking weed lol) or things he just refuses to elaborate on without specific circumstances. Plus there’s all the stuff that you can learn when you play a different quest line. I’ve had several people tell me that going through a fascist ends up with Kim actually being pretty open about things you don’t learn about in other questlines. I don’t even know all the details of that yet because I’ve been so busy doing the other quests and achievements that I haven’t finished a fascist run yet.

My thought process with all this is that without seeing Kim through the lens Harry, who works with him almost constantly for a week straight in a situation where deep and meaningful conversation is not just encouraged but *needed* to build a repertoire and ultimately solve the case—Not to mention the patience and care Kim treats Harry’s situation with—I can see how someone would look at Kim from the outside and find him to be… (anguish at typing out this word) …mid.

So yeah. On the surface level; Kim is a cop. He can be condescending and uptight, sometimes leading into lecturing people (something he himself admits). He plays his cards close to his chest, with both his moralist beliefs and even more so his sympathies for the rebellion—Which can make him look a bit like a fence sitter. He can be emotionally unavailable towards himself and others, making him hard to read and sometimes appear cold.

But past that, he is a beautifully crafted, deep character, and the perfect foil to the chaos that is Harry. He is the man that reaches out to shake your hand even though you ghosted him two days prior. He will pat you and give you a handkerchief when you throw up. He can be the man that sticks up for you time and time again, not just because he needs to in order to solve the case, but because if you really try, he believes you’re a good detective at heart. Past suicidal rants and nervous breakdowns, he encourages you to keep going.

He has been beaten down, ground and polished to a smooth finish by mutiple facets of oppression—from his glasses, to his race, his sexuality, all fundamental parts of himself that he cannot change. From years of working in a high-pressure, volatile work environment with low pay and little benefits other than the small satisfaction of completing a case, only to dive headfirst into the next one.

He pushed aside his lofty dreams of the skies to be down with the rest of us in the dirt and mud, trudging, struggling through life until we all inevitably burn away the fuel reserves and are nothing but smoke, a memory in the mind of fire.

Beyond that carefully constructed exterior, past his wall of professionalism (and habit of using his notebook as a shield) hides a goofy nerd, a lover of crosswords and cars, of silly radio stations, and a deep appreciation for beautifully bearded muscular men. He is an expert user of sarcasm and master of cryptic jokes, some even philosophical or political in nature. At his core, he wants to make things better for the people around him. He wants to believe he can make a difference, no matter how long it takes or how small the change is. Even if working for the RCM destroys him before he can see it come to fruition.

He is wonderful. He is amazing. He’s probably my favorite character all of fiction, and I don’t think there will ever be a day in my life that I stop loving him. That’s pookie you’re talking about. I’ll always have space in my heart for him.

He will live on as long as we do, as real as The Man From Hjemdall is to Roy because Disco Elysium *made* him real, handcrafting him, giving him life between margins and pixels. And that is worth everything.

Kim Kitsuragi is a fascinating character because there's not that much fun or interesting or compelling about him. And yet somehow over the course of playing Disco Elysium the game rewires your fucking brain around him. He's the middest man you've ever seen in both appearance and personality but at some point he says something kind to you or something critical of you and you feel like you just got hit by a truck and you need his approval like you need oxygen and like how tf did this happen. what are you

[sailorluna15]

what about pitfighter vi who wants nothing to do with virgins because she thinks they get too attached, and then reader is a virgin but vi really wants to fuck her anyway

"Come on, you're telling me you like used goods?"

Vi rolls her eyes and takes a swig of her beer.

"It's not used goods. I like a woman who knows what she likes and doesn't get too attached. Virgins get one taste of you and fall in love. I'm looking to fuck, not get married."

"You're thinking about it too much! It's kinda fun when they get attached. They're like little puppies."

"Nah, I'd rather stay away from that shit. I don't got time for the puppy attachment bullshit. I'm good.

That's how Vi felt until she met you.

Vi walks into the club and scans around for a nice piece of ass. She walks further into the club and sits at the bar. Waving the bartender down, he slides her a drink that she knocks back in a second.

She looks around again and spots you. Immediately, she knows who she wants to fuck tonight.

When she sees you, you're spinning upside down, naked, with your legs split in the air. Your bikini top, G-string, and dollar bills lay thrown across the stage as you dance. You look mesmerizing and delectable.

Vi walks over to the host and requests a lap dance from you.

After you finish your set, the host tells you Vi wants you. She points to the room Vi's waiting for you in and wishes you good luck.

You stalk towards the room and open the door with a smile.

"Hello, Vi?"

She nods and stares at you like a predator checking out its prey.

"Thank you for booking a dance with me. Do you want anything to drink before we get started? I wanna make sure you're comfortable." You say flirtatiously.

She shakes her head no and allows you to begin the dance. It feels like the entire world has disappeared as your bend over and shake your ass in her face.

When you turn back around to grind against her again, your faces come so close that your noses touch. The energy between you two is magnetic. As you two continue to breathe each other in, a knock comes to the door, signaling the end of the dance.

"I guess times up, huh?" Vi whispers.

"Yeah."

Silence passes by before you speak.

"My shift is over in 10 minutes if you wanna take this to my place.

Vi contemplates your offer, before agreeing.

"I'll be at the bar waiting."

A small smile graces your face as you both leave the room.

The host approaches you with a knowing look.

"Did little Ms. Emo Girl enjoy her lap dance?"

"Very much so. We're about to take it to my apartment." You say sweetly.

With a loud laugh, the host says, "Okay, girl, get you some! I want to hear all about it tomorrow."

"Oh, trust me, you will!"

You both wave your goodbyes as you walk to Vi and leave the club with her.

The air is filled with anticipation as you both make your way to your apartment.

Finally, enter your apartment and immediately jump on each other's bones.

Vi kisses and sucks on your neck as moans flow out of your mouth.

She quickly drops to her knees, removes your panties, and immediately starts to devour your pussy.

Loud groans fill the air as she sucks on your clit and sticks her tongue in your pussy. She sticks two fingers into your pussy and fingers you as she continues to eat you out. Vi stands up and leads you to the bedroom. She manhandles you onto the bed and starts to unbuckle her pants.

"Wait...wait." You plead as you put your hands on her belt buckle.

"I've...I've never done this before."

Vi laughs in disbelief and says, "You joking, right?"

You avoid her eyes and shrug your shoulders.

"Oh my God, you're serious. You're a fucking virgin."

"It's not my fault! I've...I don't get out much."

"You're literally a fucking stripper! How are you still a virgin?!" Vi exclaims.

"Me being a dancer has nothing to do with having sex or my virginity! It's a job just like any other and has nothing to do with my personal life." You say defiantly as you lean back on your hands.

"You know what? I don't even fucking care. I just wanna fuck. You take strap or what?" Vi asks with a raised brow.

"I mean, I...I guess. I've always wanted to try it." You whisper out shyly.

With a hum, Vi drops her pants and underwear simultaneously, revealing a thick 8-inch purple dildo attached to the strap.

"Is that gonna fit?" You question nervously.

"We'll find out in a few seconds, won't we? You got lube?" Vi responds

"It's in the first drawer."

Vi leans over, opens the drawer, and grabs the lube. She squirts it on the dildo and lines herself up with your pussy.

"You ready?"

You nod and relax as Vi slides inside you.

"Fuck." You breathe out.

Vi slowly fucks you until she feels you get comfortable.

"Go faster."

Vi smiles and quickens her pace. She lifts your legs, presses them to your chest, and fucking you deep into the mattress.

Moans, groans, and curses fill the air as Vi takes your virginity.

"Damn, your pussy's so tight. You wanted this bad, huh. Fucking whore."

"I'm a whore." You whine out as you clutch Vi's arms.

You feel a sting on both of your asscheeks as Vi delivers a slap to them.

"I love a girl who knows what she is."

Vi begins to rub little circles on your clit as she drives her hips faster into you.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I'm gonna cum!"

"Go ahead and cum. Cum on my dick." Vi grunts out.

One, two, three thrusts, and you unravel. Your body shakes as ecstasy overcomes you.

"Oh my God, I've never come like that in my life." You say with a heavy breath.

Vi chuckles as she removes the strap from you and helps you clean up.

After she helps you clean up, she heads towards the door. You quickly chase after her.

"Wait!"

Vi turns around with a raised eyebrow and an expectant face.

"What's your number? I wanna do this again sometime."

"555-876-0982. Don't expect a relationship, though. I'm strictly here to fuck."

You quickly write the number down and nod your head in agreement.

"Yeah, no, no, no. I want the same strictly fucking. No strings attached."

With a low 'mhmm,' Vi walks out of your apartment and heads home.

"What a fucking woman."

[holdmytesseract]

Hii! It’s me again, back at it with another request (your writing is just so good! I can’t get enough of it).

So this is another dad!Daryl one, one where the reader is pregnant. So we know that some of the Saviours in season 9 didn’t particularly like Daryl because of everything that happened. What if a couple of the Saviours cornered the reader and kidnapped her, taking her to some place to keep her in. Daryl, naturally, is seeing red and will do just about anything to get her back. Angst with a happy ending.

Love you if you write this, love you if you don’t! 💜

What I do, I do for You

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Summary: When two Saviors kidnap you - Daryl's pregnant wife - in order to score him off, the archer sees red and does everything to safe you... Everything.

Set in Season 9!

Warnings: Lots of bad stuff is happening, so please act with caution! usual TWD stuff, a lot of angst, pregnancy stuff, violence, blood, character death, murder, brief mentions of rape, FLUFF, Justin & Jed (yep, they're a warning), please tell me if I missed something!

Also, protective!Daryl alert. He goes absolutely feral.

Word Count: 6.9k

a/n: @dixons-sunshine I really hope that I could do your request justice. 🙏🏼 I loved to write it and tried to give my absolute best. 🧡

EoH Masterlist °☆• Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

"Ya sure 'bout that?" Your husband asked with a tinge of concern and fear in his voice. "Ya really wanna come?" You gave him a smile and stepped closer; invading his space. "Positive. I am drop-dead serious about it," you announced and raised your hands to his chest; adjusting the lapels of his angel-winged vest. "I absolutely hate it when you're away and I'm alone in Alexandria... Especially now..." Your gaze fell onto your yet small baby bump; Daryl's blue-greyish eyes following.

He couldn't suppress the soft smile on his lips, neither the quickening of his heartbeat. The man who had lost more in his whole life than he had won, had still a hard time to believe that he actually wasn't dreaming. That this was real. You. The 'wedding band' around your ring finger. The life he was granted to spend with you. Or hence, the new life growing inside you. Him, becoming a father. It was too good to be true. Daryl had to pinch himself on a regular basis, and still questioned himself how a man like him deserved something so precious. Luckily, you were always here to erase the bad thoughts ghosting through his mind... And to remember him how valuable he was to you - and to all the people around you whom you called family.

"A'right. 'M gonna take ya with me to the Sanctuary. Yer maybe right. Best way ta protect ya 's keepin' ya close to me I s'ppose," he agreed in the end and leaned forward to bestow a lingering kiss on your forehead. You smiled. "Thank you so much, baby. You won't regret it, I swear."

"I know, sunshine," he finally answered; his voice huskily with emotion. From the both hands resting on your hips traveled one to the front of your body; gently cupping the bump which was his child. "But 'm not sure..." You pouted. "Please, Dar... I don't want to miss you... And we both know I'd be the safest within your presence."

The archer chewed on the inside of his bottom lip for a long moment; contemplating his next words.

Oh, how wrong the both were going to be...

Barely two days later, you and Daryl made your way to the Sanctuary. Not on his bike, though. The archer had made that clear the moment you and him left the basement apartment you called home. "Hell nah. We ain't takin' the bike. 'S outta question. 'Specially in yer condition," your husband had said, causing you to roll your eyes with a smile. Sure, you understood him and got his point, but you were also aware that this wasn't a 'condition'. You were pregnant. Not sick. And besides, not even that far along. About four months was Siddiq's guess.

Of course, you hadn't even tried to reason with the archer; knowing already that you'd fight a battle you couldn't win. So, you had followed him without a word to one of Alexandria's cars - certainly not horse; Daryl would rather walk than riding on a horseback, even if it would take him days to get to his destination on foot - and were now comfortably seated in the passenger seat. Daryl steered the car to the place you actually still despised deep down in your heart; not having forgotten the things Negan and the Saviors had done. What they had taken and almost took from you.

A few former Saviors were out and about. Most of them tending to the crops and other things planted in the makeshift gardens. The lot of them greeted you and Daryl with respect; some even gave a smile, but others... If looks could kill. The coldness and hate in theirs eyes sent a shiver down your spine. Of course you knew that some Saviors didn't quite... appreciate the mercy you showed them, neither the things you did for them. They were still hanging on to Negan. Daryl knew as well - and he didn't tolerate them. Unfortunately, he had to. At the end of the day, he bent and listened to his brother; being faithful and loyal.

You passed by lots of beautiful places on your way; proofs that mother nature had taken back what belonged to her. But you also saw a lot of rotting corpses trudging and staggering down the abandoned streets, meadows and woods. Life and death battling over the world domination. Nobody would've seen it coming that the line between decay and reincarnation was going to be that thin at some point - and here we were.

"Ya a'right, sunshine?" Daryl's deep, but comforting and definitely slightly worried voice urged suddenly to your ears. You blinked and tried to refocus again. You didn't notice that you had your head in the clouds; lost in thoughts. Neither did you notice that Daryl had parked and turned off the engine of the car. "Uh, yeah, sure. Sorry. Just spaced out a bit." Daryl nodded and gave you a last look, before he opened the car door and moved to get out of his seat. "C'mon. We're here."

It was strange to be back at the Sanctuary. Only the mere look at the huge, old factory caused an uneasy feeling to spread within your stomach. And you could tell that Daryl wasn't quite at ease either. How could he? After all he had to go through here... After all the traumatizing experiences...

"Daryl." A blond woman approached the two of you. Your eyes scanned her face; realizing that you knew her. Laura - if you remembered correctly. The archer jutted his chin into her direction; silently addressing her. The both of them started to talk. Something about the crops and an incident with a 'living' walker as a scarecrow. You didn't pay fully attention to your husband and the former Savior, since you could clearly feel a pair of eyes on you. In search for them, you looked to your left; meeting eyes with a man. Tall, longer black hair and a beard. He was quite a few yards away from you but you could clearly tell that he was the one watching you.

You blinked and waved it off. It was most likely 'cause he had never seen you before.

"Let's get our stuff inside. 'S gettin' dark soon." Your husband's voice caused you to redirect your attention. "Yeah..." You nodded; still a bit absentmindedly, and followed Daryl inside the building.

He led you down several corridors, until you reached a spacious room with a bed, attached bathroom and a few other basic things. While Daryl put down his backpack and your bag alongside his beloved crossbow, you sat down on the bed; feeling a dull ache in your feet. "Ya okay, darlin'?" Of course, Daryl noticed immediately. His senses seemed to be even sharper since you told him about the pregnancy. You nodded. "Sure, Dar. Just some swollen feet." He gave you one of those cute, little smiles you adored so much. "Guess yer in for a foot rub tonight then."

It was the fourth day you spent at the Sanctuary. Daryl tried his best to be around you as much as somehow possible, but unfortunately, there was a lot of work to do for the 'leader'. So, you just decided to stay around him. Luckily, you had a few books packed and you'd always find a comfortable seat - no matter where. You just felt safer when your husband was close, and you could tell that it was much appreciated by him that he could throw a watchful eye on you from time to time.

Daryl wasn't the only one who had his eyes on you, though... Day after day, you could feel the unpleasant stare of that man who already had watched you at the day you set foot here... Justin, like you got to know. He didn't let a single opportunity slip to eye you. It was highly uncomfortable and quite confusing. You didn't know why he was doing what he did. It wasn't like you knew each other. You never even had exchanged a single word! Yet he was always looking... And when you'd catch him, he just gave you a little smirk - what didn't make you feel any better.

After day two, you just accepted it and tried to brush it off and ignore it. You didn't dare to confront the man. If you weren't pregnant, you wouldn't have even give it a second thought and walked straight up to your 'stalker', but... You were pregnant and didn't want to risk anything.

And telling Daryl wasn't an option in your eyes either. He was already so occupied and definitely way more on edge now that he was back at this former hellhole. This wouldn't end well; you knew it.

"You gotta come! Reilly and Mark are fighting. They're yelling at each other like kindergartners!" Daryl scoffed. "Dun care. They can handle their shit alone." The Savior standing opposite you frantically shook his head. "Man, if you don't intervene, this is gonna escalate! They're gonna beat each other up - or worse! You know how they are!" The archer groaned and rolled his eyes. Unfortunately was that idiot right. He couldn't let this escalate, even if he didn't care if it did. He had silently promised Rick to keep this place sane and running, so... "Fine," he finally answered, and turned to you. "Ya gonna find the way alone, sunshine?" You nodded, and placed a hand on his chest with a soft smile. "Of course. Go. I'll be waiting for you in bed. I'm tired." Your husband nodded and gave your hip a soft squeeze; an apologizing look on his face. He didn't want to leave you alone - but knew he had to. Turning on his heel, he followed the Savior and vanished around the corner.

"Dixon!" You flinched at the sudden, unanticipated voice of a man echoing down the corridor you and Daryl just walked through. You were actually on your way back to your room; ready to call it a day. Well, apparently not...

The archer stopped and turned; you both witnessing Dean - a Savior, of course, sprint around the corner. "Dixon!" "Wha'?" Daryl snarled in annoyance. He have had enough of that day. All he wanted was to disappear in that room and not leave it - and you, until tomorrow.

"Hello, Y/N."

You sighed and gazed behind you down the empty corridor, as you felt a flutter within your belly. You smiled; placing a palm underneath your baby bump, which was well hidden since you wore way too big, but comfortable clothes from the day you got here. "I know, munchkin. Daddy's gonna be back soon. Let's go to bed. We could both use some sleep," you talked to your unborn baby quietly; the smile never leaving your lips.

Everything was eerily quiet. Well, no wonder. It was quite late and most of the Saviors were already sleep, you reckoned. Hopefully me too, soon, you thought; pushing down the door handle and opening the door to yours and Daryl's room. You switched on the light - thanks to the generators.

An unknown voice suddenly urged to your ears; causing you to flinch and almost stumble right back out of the room again. You spun around to seek out the origin of the voice; finding the man who had watched you for days sitting on that one chair in the corner of the room with a smirk on his face. You swallowed hard.

"Justin, right?" You tried to sound brave, even though you had a very uneasy feeling brewing within your gut. "What are you doing here? Can I, um, help you?"

Justin's smirk widened. "Oh yes, indeed. You can help me... Close the door, love. I wanna talk." You did what he said and slowly closed the door, but your hand kept gripping the handle - just in case.

"I have never see you before," he started. "Surely we both crossed paths before without knowing - blame it to the war." "Most likely, yeah..." You answered. Justin shook his head and let his eyes wander over your body again. You felt like a piece of meat. "You're a true sight for sore eyes, Y/N... What a shame..." You frowned. "Shame?" The black haired man nodded. "It's a shame you have such low standards and waste your time on a man like Dixon. You are his girl, aren't you?" Your frown deepened at his words; feeling anger bubble up inside you.

Just as you wanted to speak up, the Savior cut you off. "Or... Wait... Are you just his little toy? An occasional fuck? God, how pathetic," he laughed to himself. "What do you get in return? Protection? Food? A shelter? Or are you doing it for free? His dick that good?"

Your jaw almost dropped at the foul words leaving Justin's mouth. He definitely went to far. You've had enough. Nobody threw mud at Daryl like that. Nobody. You were not having it.

"I'm his wife! I-" "His wife?" Justin cut you off once more; laughing. "So this is some serious shit, huh? Wow... Never thought a guy like Dixon could pull such a hot girl like you. You're too good for him, you know," the man said with a dramatic sigh and pulled himself up from the chair. With calculated steps, he crossed the room - and the predatory smirk he wore on his lips, made you feel even more uneasy than you already felt. "You certainly deserve..." Justin licked his lips. "...better."

The Saviors eyes widened, "Fucking hell... He... He knocked you up?" and he laughed. "You're dumber than I thought." Justin shook his head; still smiling amused. "We're witnessing the fucking end of this shit show called life," he gestured around himself. "And you don't know better than get pregnant with that asshole's bastard child."

You swallowed hard and took a step back, feeling your back pressing against the door; grip on the handle still painfully tight. "N-No, I don't. Daryl is more than enough. H-He treats me right." "He treats you right?" Justin asked mockingly, "Aww, how cute." and chuckled. "What if I told you that other men could treat you so much better?" He whispered in a low voice and reached out a hand to cup your chin with his thumb and forefinger.

Your heartbeat quickened; pumping adrenaline through your whole body in fear. Your primal instinct to run already knocked against the door to your brain, but another instinct was stronger just yet... Protecting your baby. So, out of instinct, your free arm wrapped around your baby bump, before you could even stop yourself - and it didn't escape Justin's notice, of course. Your well kept secret suddenly wasn't a secret anymore.

The last sentence was the straw that broke the camel's back. Insulting the husband of an expectant mother wasn't wise. But insulting the child of an expectant mother was suicide.

It was the whistle which sealed your fate.

Before the rational part of your brain could intervene, did your palm already collide with Justin's cheek; slapping him hard.

A soft groan of pain left his lips as he stumbled back. His hand immediately rubbing the now stinging skin. "You bitch!" The Savior exclaimed angrily. "Alright, that's enough." Justin stomped back over to you and already reached out his hand to grasp your wrist, but your instincts kicked in again. This time, they told you to run. So, you did.

Quickly opening the door, you stormed outside and wanted to flee - but you unfortunately didn't get far.

Suddenly another Savior appeared in the corridor ahead of you - and you immediately stopped. Frantically turning around and searching reverently for a way to escape, you soon figured out that there was no way out. One man in front of you, Justin coming up behind you. And in the blink of an eye, you found yourself in the same situation like seconds earlier - just that it was way worse now. Pressed against the wall; trying to shield your unborn child from any possible harm and danger. "P-Please, don't p-please..." You begged for mercy, but it was no use. The men just laughed; having you cornered. "Not so brave anymore, are we?" Justin snickered. Tears stung your eyes. "T-The baby, p-please..." You whispered through tears; feeling your knees buckle and almost give in from underneath you. Silently, you prayed to every God and higher force, that Daryl would walk around the corner now.

He didn't.

"Get her. We're gonna make that asshole pay." It was the last thing you heard, before the other man lashed out. You felt a throbbing pain in your skull and within seconds went everything black.

Grumbling in annoyance, Daryl made his way finally back to yours and his quarters. To solve the stupid, boyish conflict between those two primitive idiots took longer than he thought it would. It got him even more tired than he already was. All the archer wanted was to sleep with you safely in his arms.

However, when he reached your shared room he found the door ajar; causing his heart rate to quicken on an instant. Without wasting even a second, he literally stormed in - only to find the room empty and deafeningly quiet.

"Y/N?!" He called out, but didn't receive an answer. "Y/N?!" In a frenzy of panic, Daryl started to search for you. To his sheer horror, he couldn't find you. Fear and the nagging feeling of guilt and failure already eating away at him. He swore to protect you. You felt safe whenever he was around - and now he had failed you; failed to protect you and his unborn child. Whatever happened to you, Daryl could tell that it wasn't something good. This was the Sanctuary, after all. This hellhole was worse than what laid behind the gates.

Nevertheless, he hoped to find you unscathed, and that all of this was just a big misunderstanding.

Of course... He should've think of that. Jed was - among a few others - a Savior, who didn't quite like how things went down. Negan being defeated... Rick's plan to 'convert' them to be better people... Daryl taking over the Sanctuary... It didn't suit their plans. Daryl knew they hated it - and they hated him. So, why wouldn't Jed - or hence, any of them, do something to get at him? And what was the best way to inflict pain to somebody? Exactly. By hurting someone the person loves.

Life didn't treat the archer kind - of course. You were nowhere to be found. Not in the kitchens, the sanitary rooms, nor the common room; his next destination being the gardens.

"Daryl?" A female voice suddenly urged to his ears - not yours, though. So, he simply ignored it. "Daryl?" Laura stepped into his view. She was on watch and saw her visibly distraught 'leader'. "What the hell is wrong? You run around like a mad man. What are you looking for?"

The archer froze in his movements for a moment; breathing labored. "Y/N. Can't find 'er. Somethin' happened to 'er. Someone took 'er. I'm sure 'a it," he spoke in a low, deep voice. Threateningly. "Ya know somethin' I should know?" Eyes full of a anger were staring the Savior woman down. And Laura knew that this wasn't a version of Daryl you wanted to get yourself into a fight with.

"Not really, no, but..." She frowned; seemed to recall something in her memory. "I saw Jed hanging around in the hallway of your room this afternoon." The archer clenched his jaw.

He shouldn't have let you accompany him.

"Daryl?" Laura's voice ripped him out of his thoughts. The archer wanted to answer, but all he saw was red. He stormed off; driven by anger, fear and the urge to protect what was his - the most important one of the few good things in his life.

Without any unnecessary detours, Daryl went straight for Jed's room. Not even blinking, he barged through the door; slamming it shut behind him and causing the Savior, who was just about to get changed for the night to flinch badly. Jed spun around; his eyes landing on Daryl. "What the hell, Dixon?!" He complained; not noticing the hands of the archer, which were curled into fists, nor the rage in his blue-grey eyes. "Fuck off! This isn't your-" Before Jed was even able to finish his sentence, had Daryl already crossed the distance with three big steps and grabbed the Savior by the lapels of his shirt; pinning him against the wall. Sure, Jed was strong - but not as strong as the bulky archer. Plus, the momentum was clearly on Daryl's side, since he had caught him by surprise.

Daryl growled lowly in his throat. It wasn't a warning. It was a threat.

"What-" "Shut yer damn mouth 'n tell me where she is," Daryl growled; accentuating his words with pushing Jed a little harder and caging him entirely between the wall and his broad frame.

The man scoffed and pawed - in vain - at Daryl's bare forearms and the bulging veins and muscles located there; trying to free himself. "What the fuck are you talking about, Dixon?!"

"Ya ain't fuckin' with me, asshole. Ya know exactly what 'm talkin' about." His grip on Jed's shirt lapels tightened. "Where is my wife," Daryl punctuated every single word. The Savior glared into the archer's eyes for a moment, before he scoffed once again. "I have absolutely no clue where your little whore is! Perhaps she ran off and found a better dick than your-" Daryl had enough of the bullshit Jed was giving him. Without even letting him finish his sentence, Daryl pulled him away from the wall and threw him harshly to the hard ground. "Dun'cha dare talk about Y/N like tha'." His voice was deep and quiet, but not lacking with danger. "And now tell me where she is." "I told you, I don't know!" Jed tried to defend himself further, but Daryl knew he lied. He could feel it.

"A'right. Then we gonna do this the hard way," Daryl stated and lunged at Jed; fists connecting with the man's jaw and stomach. Jed fought back, of course, landing a few blows himself. Their bodies hit the floor multiple times. Blood flew, bones cracked and furniture got destroyed and wrecked as both men were fighting for the upper hand. In the end, though, had Daryl clear advantage over Jed. He was the more skilled and stronger fighter, and had the Savior snugly wrapped up in a chokehold. "'M gonna find 'er anyways," Daryl grunted; panting and being out of breath. "'N I dun care 'bout how many of yer assholes I gotta go through. I'll kill every damn one of ya if tha's what's it gonna take," he snarled and tightened his deathly grip around Jed's neck; his biceps bulging. "So, do yerself a damn favor 'n tell me where the hell she is!" "Fuck you!" was all Jed answered. The archer growled once again and squeezed, which caused the man to gasp and flail; helplessly trying to escape.

Only when Jed was on the verge of passing out, did he decide to finally cooperate. "Alright, alright!" He spluttered and choked. "I'm gonna tell you!" Daryl loosened his grip, and Jed frantically gasped for air. "S-She... She's in one... one of t-the cells..." The man coughed; still trying to get air back into his lungs.

The Savior didn't have to say more. Daryl knew what - or well, where he meant. "Try anythin' stupid, I'll kill ya," the crossbow-wielding archer warned Jed and gave him last death glare, before he left him on the floor in his room with bruises already forming on his neck.

This ain't 'bout me, damnit, he reminded himself. I gotta keep my wife 'n baby safe.

A lump formed in Daryl's throat as he made his way to the 'cells'. An area he thought he'd never ever in his life set foot in again. Being back at the Sanctuary was bad enough, but the mere thought of going there was even worse. It caused his stomach to flip. He could've thrown up all over the floor if he had let himself...

It still looked the same like back when he was imprisoned. The same way too squeaky clean floors. The same doors leading into the same rooms. The only difference was the infirmary, which had been moved to another part of the other building. But except that... Everything was the same. Daryl had to take a deep breath and close his eyes for a moment to keep his shit together and save himself from an approaching panic attack. His labored breath, shaky hands and the forming sweat on his skin a clear indicator.

"Y/N?" Daryl whisper-shouted; hoping to be close to you and receive an answer. He didn't. The archer had to go a little further to find you, and now that he was standing in front of one particular room with his heart almost breaking free of his ribcage; getting to know that it was locked as he twisted the door knob, realization dawned on him. Of course they'd lock her up here, Daryl thought as he eyed the way too familiar door. That was a part of the sick game they played.

With another deep breath, Daryl fought against the traumatic thoughts which wanted to push themselves to the forefront of his brain and shoved them aside; locking them away and focusing on you.

Precautionary, he freed his knife from its sheath and sneaked down the corridors; checking every room. After all, he didn't know who or what awaited him. Storming into this blindly wasn't probably the best idea, since he was convinced that Jed didn't do this alone.

Clenching his jaw, he had to fight another panic attack; even going as far to cut himself with the knife in his shaking hand, in the hopes that the pain would redirect the attention of his brain. A small grunt of pain escaped his lips as the red liquid dripped down his arm.

"H-Hello?"

His desperate action got interrupted by a soft, weak voice coming from the other side of the door; causing the archer's knife to clatter to the floor and a relieved, shaky breath to leave his throat.

"Y/N?!"

The answer came promptly.

"O-Oh my gosh, D-Daryl! I-It's locked, a-and I can't move, I-" "I know, sunshine, I know. Dun worry, 'kay? 'M goin' to get ya," he cut you off with the intention to calm you down. Taking a few steps back, he let the anger and rage take over his system once again and stormed forwards. The door might have been locked, but it definitely wasn't the same door like ten years ago. It had aged and got less stable, so when the archer's strong, bulky frame connected with the door, the lock gave in and the door busted open. Sure, it took him three tries and most likely cost him a bruised shoulder, but Daryl couldn't care less.

"C'mon. Let's getcha outta here 'n see a doctor. I ain't takin' any risks." Your husband shifted and gently slid an arm under your knees and around your back. "Hold on to me." You wrapped an arm around his neck, but shook your head. "Y-You don't have to do this, Dar. I can walk." "Nah," he stated, "I'm gonna do this. Yer hurt 'n pregnant." and lifted you carefully up to carry you bridal style. You didn't protest further. Why should you? He got a point after all...

The bright light from the corridor flooded the dark room and helping him to get a better look at you. You sat in the corner on the cold floor of the dark room. Your wrists and ankles were tied together with a thick rope - way too tight as he noticed, since he could see the material already cutting into your delicate skin. Tried blood was on the right side of your head.

Daryl's heart shattered into a million pieces, seeing you like this. Fear and concern coursed through his veins. "Y/N..." he whispered in a hoarse, broken voice and immediately dropped to his knees beside you, quickly freeing you off the too tight ropes, before one hand gently cupped your cheek, while the other found its way to your growing baby bump. "Ya both okay?! Ya hurt?! In pain?!" Tears of sheer relief gathered in your eyes; threatening to fall as you felt the gentle, loving touch of your husband and knowing that he was here with you. That he saved you.

"I-I'm okay... W-We are okay. Thanks to you," you breathed; smiling as tears rolled down your cheeks. It's been probably only hours since you lastly saw Daryl, but what had happened happened. The shock was profound.

The archer's eyes scanned your body thoroughly for any visible injuries. "Wha' 'bout yer head, sunshine?" "N-Nothing that can't be fixed," you stated and gazed deeply into his worried, loving eyes. "I'm s-so glad you found me. I-I was so afraid..." Daryl lowered his head to rest his forehead against yours. Your hands slipped behind his neck; tangling a few chestnut brown strands through your fingers. "Yeah, me too." Daryl's eyes fluttered shut, before his lips caught yours in a lingering, desperate kiss.

"Just Jed 'n Justin?" You nodded against his shoulder. "Justin waited for me in o-our room. He insulted you. S-Said I deserve better a-and..." You trailed off; feeling tears blurry your vision once again - but this time, it wasn't happy tears. "Ya dun have ta tell me, darlin'. Dun wanna pressure ya into talkin' 'a me." You swallowed hard and buried your face further in his shoulder and neck; "I-I want to tell you." inhaling deeply. Daryl's natural scent, mixed with leather and smoke filled your airways and - like always - had that soothing effect on you. "I-I think he was only a hairsbreadth away f-from raping me, but-" "Wha'?!" Daryl instantly cut you off. Every single muscle in his body tensed as he came to an abrupt halt. You could tell. "He didn't, Dar. I-I slapped him a-and tried to flee, but then there was J-Jed."

"Which one of those assholes did tha' to ya? Jed 'n who else?" Daryl asked in a drop-dead serious voice as he slowly made his way with you down the corridor. You swallowed hard; having to recall the horrible memory. "J-Justin."

Justin. One word - one name was enough to get Daryl's blood to a boiling point once again. He and that prick didn't get along from the very start - and this wasn't the first time the archer and Justin got in each other's ways... There had been a lot of situations where either of them was only a second away from beating the other up. Justin was - like Jed - one of those assholes who wanted Negan back. A Savior through and through.

The clattering sound of - most likely dishes urged to yours and Daryl's ears and managed to quickly redirect both your attention.

"'M gonna kill that sonofabitch," Daryl growled lowly under his breath, but you understood him anyway, of course. "Baby-" "Nah. Ya ain't gonna talk me outta this, Y/N," your husband stated firmly, while opening the main door to the building and stepped outside. Meanwhile, the sun had risen; fresh, crispy morning air hitting your bare arms.

"He's going to pay for tha'. He put you 'n our baby into danger. I ain't havin' tha'." "I know, babe, and you're right. He... He has to pay. But Rick's gonna-" "I dun care 'bout wha' Rick's gonna say. This ain't 'bout him. This' 'bout my family. We both know tha' he'd do the same in the end 'n-"

Justin stood a few feet away across from you and Daryl on the yard. What you had heard was indeed dishes breaking; the shards and content laying on the ground in front of the man. It looked like he had been just on his way to bring you some 'breakfast'. But now, the Savior stood frozen to the ground; eyes directed on you and Daryl. Your husband held his gaze, of course, and if looks could kill, Justin would've been dead already. You felt your archer's muscles tense once again, before he gently let you down. "Sit, 'kay? 'N stay there, please," he whispered and jutted his chin at a wooden bench. You did what he said and slowly walked backwards over to sit down; eyes never leaving both men.

The tension was literally cuttable with a knife as Justin and Daryl stared each other down. The archer out of pure hate and the Savior still in shock and in realization at failure of his plan. You knew this was going to escalate. Two 'alpha males' with completely different, but strong intentions.

Daryl knew it, too. It would've escalated someday anyway. For him, it was just sooner than later.

"Fuck," cursed Justin out loud then; awoken from his rigidity - and instantly started to run. Daryl wasn't having this, of course, and sprinted right after Justin. "Fuck, indeed..." You muttered to yourself; feeling your heart rate picking up. You had to fear for your life and the life of your unborn child for hours and now you had to fear for the life of your husband. Mental stress was your current program as it seemed - something not just you felt... You could feel some movement inside your baby bump. "I know, I know... I'm sorry, munchkin... I just hope your daddy knows what he's getting himself into..." Your palm cradled your protruding stomach in an attempt to soothe your antsy 'roommate'.

Meanwhile had Daryl caught up to Justin and tackled him to the concrete ground - where they still were. Fists connected with several body parts; each of them trying to gain the upper hand. Justin was definitely stronger than Jed. The archer had a hard time taking him down and couldn't do so without taking several hits and punches himself. However kept him the anger and adrenaline going, and gave him the strength he needed.

Somehow, they had made their way back to you. You gasped as both men entered your field of view again - just in time to witness Justin's fist colliding with Daryl's jaw, who let out a grunt of pain. Your eyes widened and you were instantly on your feet; breath hitching in your throat. "Daryl!" He had turned his back to you; spitting out some blood and blindly reaching out his arm to signal you to stay where you are. "Nah, stay back! I got it!" He yelled and violently shoved Justin away, as he wanted to deliver another blow.

You took a step back again, but didn't sit down; face full of concern. You wouldn't let him die. That much was certain. You'd intervene before that happened. How, was the part you hadn't figured out just yet...

The fight went on - without mercy. Daryl, you and Justin knew that only one would walk out alive. Neither the archer, nor the Savior intended to stop. Sure, you could stop it, but how were you supposed to do that?

The sound of a cracking bone almost send you into another frenzy - until you saw that it wasn't a bone of your husband's body. It was Justin's. His nose, to be precisely. The man winced in pain; crimson red blood already tripping down his nose and onto his shirt and the ground. Justin was clearly in a daze; stumbling a few steps back. This didn't slip Daryl's notice, of course. He knew that this was the moment. He had to grasp this chance and use it, before it was too late. The archer was well aware that he was hurt, too and didn't know how much longer he was able to hold on. So, without thinking twice, Daryl reached for the other knife in the sheath attached to his rugged jeans, freed the blade, spun around - and slit the Savior's throat in his movement. Your eyes widened to the size of plates; watching the man splutter and helplessly trying to put pressure on the wound, but it was in vain.

The clatter of a knife caused you to avert your eyes and look at your husband, who had sunk to his knees only a few feet away from Justin's now dead body; panting heavily. Your heart immediately screamed at you to look after the man you loved. Not wasting a second, you ran over to the archer; crouching down beside him.

"Daryl?" You cupped his cheeks and gently lifted his head to make him look at you. "Baby?" Heavy, clouded blue eyes gazed into yours. "You okay?" He nodded meekly. A breath of relief left your lips, although you could already see the bruises forming on his face and the dried blood on his lips and chin. Your thumbs caressed the rough, stubbly skin beneath them, before you gently pulled him closer and rested your forehead against his. Daryl sighed; his bloody hands gripping your wrists. "Y/N, 'm sorry, I-"

The bubble you and Daryl had been in bursted. You lifted your head; only now noticing Rick and a lot of other people standing around you. Mostly Saviors. Swallowing hard, you stood up; holding onto Daryl and helping him up as well. "Rick-" You started, but the leader of Alexandria interrupted you; shock, disappointment and anger clearly visible on his face. "You killed 'im? You killed Justin? Why?" You wanted to speak up again, but Daryl leapfrogged you. "'Cause he was a damn asshole, tha's why!" "Daryl, that's not-" "He kidnapped Y/N, Rick! He hurt her! He wanted to rape 'er 'n do god knows what to 'er!" Your husband yelled at his brother. "Wake up, man. We can't change them, Rick. They are wha' they chose ta be... 'N I ain't no longer puttin' my family on risk for this bullshit," Daryl stated firmly and wrapped his arm around your waist; anchoring you to him. "Let's getcha outta here, sunshine."

He didn't get any further. Another voice cut suddenly through the air. Familiar, but unexpected.

"What the hell is goin' on here?"

Rick was way too stunned to speak; could only watch as his best friend guided you across the yard.

Slowly, you slid closer and placed a hand cautiously on his bare back. "D-" "I failed ya." You couldn't even utter his name, before the words spilled from his lips. "I failed ya 'n our kid. Swore ta always protect ya 'n now look wha' happened..." You sighed. Of course... He blamed himself for this. You should've seen it coming. "Dar..." You spoke up again in a hushed voice; sliding even closer to him. One hand found its way around his waist, the other still resting on his upper back. "This wasn't your fault. Please stop blaming yourself. It was Jed and Justin's doing. Not yours," you tried to soothe his raging thoughts of guilt and littered his shoulder blade with tiny kisses.

A few hours, a visit at the infirmary and a shower later, you sat in yours and Daryl's room - still in the Sanctuary; trying to process what happened.

Only the mattress dipping beside you managed to rip you out of your thoughts. Daryl, who had just taken a shower as well sat down on the edge of the bed; muscles tensed and without saying a single word. He hadn't said a lot anyways since the incident. Sure, the archer had never been a man of words, but... You could tell that something was still bothering him.

You, though, stayed awake and watched him sleep with a soft smile on your face; fingers carding through his soft, still damp hair. "I just hope you reconciled with your brother, Mr. Dixon. You both need each other and you damn well know it."

Daryl shook his head. "Nah. 'S my fault, Y/N. Should've protected both 'a ya better." "You are protecting us the best you can, Daryl," you stated firmly; shifting once again to sit beside him. "You risked your life more than once for me. And you did what was right yesterday evening. You did what you had to do. You acted like a leader should act." "But-" "Nu.Uh. No buts," you cut him off and gently placed your lips in on his to keep him from speaking; entangling them in a sweet kiss. "We're right here, okay?" You prompted; taking one of his hands and placing it on your baby bump, while you intertwined the other with yours. "We're right here and we are completely fine." Troubled eyes gazed into yours; his touch never ceasing. "'M sorry," Daryl whispered; voice quivering.

"C'mere." You laid back on the bed and gently tucked at his hand; inviting him to join you. He immediately obliged and melted against your body with his head resting on your chest, while he was holding onto you for dear life. "That's it, baby... Relax. Deep breaths." Your husband followed your words, and found himself drifting off into dreamland at some point. He was just way too exhausted and unable to resist your soothing, comforting touch.

Tags: @angelwings-crossbowstrings @belitoxx @lou12346789 @fictive-sl0th @marvelcasey05 @loz-3 @whore4romance @stitchintimefan @bigbaldheadname @making-the-most-0f-it @erebus-et-eigengrau @km-ffluv @0-aubrie0 @sweetz1919 @mikaela-granger @secretsicanthideanymore @dilfdixon @txtttttttttttttt @cakesandtom @mayday2007 @thevegandarkelf

[lotus-slumbers]

Introduction to Platonic Yandere! Superman...? [New Character for Request Unlocked: Yandere! Superman]

There's such a thing as hypocrisy, in the way that police officers will turn a blind eye to their peers' brutality and the way political officials will see the money being handed off underneath tables and turn a blind eye. Protector's turned abusers and servants turned benefactors. The world's corruption runs deep and even those who hold themselves to the highest regard are not exempt from the poison of it. It's just too intoxicating.

— Yandere! Batfam is NOT exempt from this cruel law of nature, no matter how hard they try not to stray from the path of the good and righteous. They crack underneath the pressure of their obsession with you, feed off of each other's own delusions, and unanimously agree that this is true and right, even if society sees it as wrong.

— Yandere! Batfam is good at evading an audience. If they don't want to be seen, they won't be. It's as simple as that. Their power and fame are to be used by them, for their goals, not the prying eye and gossiping tongues of the media.

— Yandere! Batfam doesn't lose a wink of sleep at night about your safety within the manor or how the world may view the situation at hand— how closely it could be misunderstood as a kidnapping, ruining their lives and risking Gotham's safety.

— Yandere! Batfam is secure, just as safe as the massive manor they keep you locked up in. It would take something, someone truly unstoppable to break through their defenses.

— Superman makes quick work of it on an odd Sunday afternoon when he finds you trying to shimmy the lock to the Batcave. He stands behind you for a second, watching the thin hairclip do a sorry job, bending and twisting, while he's trying to recount all of the kids Bruce had taken in over the years.

— Superman even puts a hand up, counting out on his hands. Since when was there another? Was there another? He'd never seen you out on patrol with the Bat and he seemed to love endangering orphans.

— Superman, too caught up in his own thoughts, forgets to even lower himself to the ground like a human would. Instead, he hovers there, a massive form even more imposing when you turn and see him. Would it have been worse for Bruce to find you or Superman?!

— "Couldn't bother to Youtube this beforehand?" There is a small grin on his face. He wouldn't be threatened by such a little thing, especially when you look so scared yourself.

— Superman believes you when you scramble to explain your situation, clinging desperately to him like he was a lifeline. Your hero— he likes the sound of that. Except Superman doesn't believe you completely. At first, he thinks there might be something wrong with you.

— Superman leads you to sit, nodding and patting your shoulder as his eyes rove over you. He's searching, ruling out as much as he can. You don't seem intoxicated, you don't seem like you've sustained a head injury...

— Superman isn't a spy. Or, at least he isn't most of the time. He broke into the Wayne Manor in search of Batman and had made no effort to be subtle about it. The alarms had been set off; his great accomplishment was getting inside in the first place.

— Yandere! Batfam was alerted the moment it happened, each one getting the highest-graded emergency alert for the otherwise silent alarm in the manor. They nearly lose themselves in a panic.

— Superman can only start to make sense of the situation when he's looking down the barrel of a shotgun. Alfred Pennyworth, armed and ready, gives him the kindest and most cordial of smiles as he lowers the gun and makes a quip about using the front door. Alfred is as lethal as a neurotoxin, inducing fatal type paralysis. So few can escape his charm, being lulled into a sense of security and trust.

— Yandere! Batfam nearly breaks the door down when they get there, Bruce and one of his heathens, armed and pointing a katana, followed by another and then two more. It's a mess, really. Once one puts their guard down, realizing who it is, another one comes in ready to kick some ass. Eventually, it all settles but the small one with a katana never lowers his blade >:))

— It doesn't take Superman long to figure out just how pissed off Yandere! Batfam is, especially Yandere! Bruce Wayne. Even with his weapons put back away, he looks like he would half the mind to jump him. But, behind that normal annoyance and passive-aggressive remarks Clark is used to getting from Batman, there's something else. For the first time in his life, Superman thinks he sees Batman anxious. 

—  Superman is scolded. Dick Grayson pulls you from underneath his grasp and his wing instead. This is your only chance, though, God be damned the repercussions you'll suffer later if it doesn't work. You struggle, you cry. "They've kidnapped me!" An awkward tension fills the room. Tim avoided eye contact, Jason stone-faced and glaring alongside Damian, just daring him to try something. Dick joins Alfred in a smile, loudly laughing like the whole thing is a joke. 

— Superman makes perfect sense of the situation when Bruce tells him with a genuinely heartbroken look that you're "not well" and "can't understand what's going on." Clark and Bruce may have their differences and fallingouts from time to time, but there's hardly anyone else he knows he can trust and count on. Hardly anyone else he can say is, genuinely, a good man. 

— Seeing you cry like that leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, lowering himself down a little and softening his voice to apologize to you. When you don't answer him, now defeated and grieving your failed attempt in the safety of Dick's embrace, it feels worst than a gut punch for Superman. He caused this, he thinks. Bruce only reinforces this guilt when he tells him that they should head somewhere else and talk, ordering the rest of Yandere! Batfam to take care of you and bring you back upstairs to get some rest. 

— So, Superman finds himself in the Batcave, relaying important information and threats back to Batman, distracted by the thought of you. He's no good at hiding it, either. Your tears had gotten to him.

— Good, Yandere! Bruce Wayne thinks. Superman has been convinced. 

— But... doubt and anxiety still lay underneath his stoic expression. When the topic comes back around to you, right in the middle of Yandere! Bruce Wayne trying to usher him back out the door again, he has to humor him and lay it on him thick because if there's anyone in the world who stood a chance at taking his precious child away from him, it would be the man of steel. 

— So, when the Man of Steel insists that he should come back in a week to check on you, to ease his mind (and doubts), Yandere! Bruce Wayne has no choice but to agree and to thank him for wanting to help. It would just be all the more suspicious if he denied him. 

— Yandere! Superman does just that exactly a week later to the day and hour, having not stopped thinking about you the whole time he was away...

[unpopularly-opinionated]

So you believe that Boeing paid off the family juuuuuust enough to get them to say that he wasn't assassinated, but not enough to stop them from saying "Boeing is responsible for his death and should be held responsible for their grotesque conduct that drove him to suicide?"

I guess I should've been more clear when I said Boeing "paid off" the bereaved family, that's on me I guess, but I didn't mean they paid them off in the same sense that you'd pay off a cop. If it even transpired, it would more than likely go something like: "Hey, we feel really bad about the tragic loss of your son who definitely for sure killed himself, so uh, here's some money for your loss. See, we're the good guys in this! Please don't point fingers at us."

Or alternatively, they could've not been paid at all. Both are just as likely and explain why the family might still be pointing fingers. It wouldn't have been hush money, more like a gift meant to ingratiate them as an innocent party that obviously didn't work (again, assuming it even happened).

The evidence you have is an apparent belief that money has evil-gravitic properties, and anything bad that happens must have originated with the closest concentration of money.

Not anything, no, just the ones where Occam's razor applies. Again, which is more likely, a hundred billion dollar company who are active agents of shady, illegal business practices had both the cause and the means to have someone with information dangerous to their company killed and covered up... or that the guy who was about to testify with said-dangerous information just up and decided to end it all right before the finish line?

You seem to be under the impression that money holds little to no power which is as amusing to me as it is grossly naive.

By your standard, is there any evidence that is not hearsay? Because the evidence is "all of the evidence," and I appended the assessment of the family to pre-empt the accusation it was all made up evidence. What evidence does not count as hearsay?

To reiterate, I don't have any evidence that he was killed, nor did I ever claim to. But the evidence that he killed himself is the hole in his head and the "trust me bro" we get from the cops, which is the same exact kind of evidence that we got from Epstein's supposed suicide as well, just a man hanging in his cell and a "trust me bro" from the cops.

Now, is this me saying that we should question whether or not every suicide by gunshot/hanging is legit or just actually a covered up murder? No, obviously not. Again, I'm just applying Occam's razor here. Joe Blow who lived an average life before deciding to end it all probably wasn't secretly murdered. But the guy with information that could harm a lot of really powerful people, who is in active pursuit of revealing that information to the proper authorities, decides to end it all just before the finish line? You can't reasonably argue that it's not the least bit suspect.

The rest of us know Epstein didn't kill himself because we observe facts about reality and observe when they do and do not align with a conspiracy or cover-up.

You know, I don't mean to be rude, and what I said about you being naive about money was rude, so I apologize. But if not money, you seem to think that maybe only politicians or political figures have the modicum of power necessary to have someone killed and cover it up.

Like let's just examine your admission here: You've admitted that the circumstances surrounding Epstein's supposed suicide were suspect enough to justify questioning it's legitimacy. You admit to this despite the fact that he was in prison and under close watch by guards and cameras. Which, mind you, I agree with. But you're telling me that someone in those circumstances was somehow murdered, and said-murder was then covered up?

So then explain to me how exactly it's so unbelievable that a dude not in prison, not under watch by guards or cameras, was murdered in his car and then covered up as a suicide? How was one dude with dangerous information under total security and surveillance mysteriously killed and staged, but the other dude with dangerous information with no security or surveillance probably just killed himself?

This isn't the hill I'm prepared to die on, but sure, maybe he did kill himself. But then again, maybe Epstein actually just killed himself too.

Remember earlier this year when Boeing very clearly had a whistleblower executed? And law enforcement didn't even look for anyone or release any info about it or anything?

People keep comparing Luigi Mangione's case to the subway murderer who got off because of systemic eugenics, but I think there's something more apt about the fact that a CEO had someone executed in recent memory, with zero attempts to find a culprit, while they spared no expense at all to find (and probably frame, it's beginning to look like) someone who shot a CEO. It's always fine to slaughter if you're rich, but if you kill the rich, they will hunt you down.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Arrest Me, Cop Cutie

Part 1 -> Part 2 -> Part 3

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!cop!reader

Summary: After another failed attempt at a date, Tim goes undercover. You have no choice but to arrest him, and he's unhappy with the decisions you make trying to do so.

Warnings: brief angst, minor injuries, fluff, Tim gets flirty when he's undercover, mention of drug trafficking, typical show warnings

Word Count: 2.3k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info

she puts the short in shorty, and he looks like he wants to chase me. cop cuties, cute and on duty, navy blue booties, go ahead and lock me up.

“So,” you begin.

“Don’t,” Tim interrupts, raising one hand from the steering wheel to point at you. “Just don’t.”

“Big, bad Bradford believes in jinxing?” you ask sarcastically. “And here I thought you were just keeping up appearances to hide the softie within.”

Tim sighs, slowing as he hits his blinker. You’ve been trying to get dinner together for weeks. Something comes up whenever you attempt to go somewhere together or meet at a restaurant. The first time, Tim got called in for a last-minute Metro assignment. Most recently, you were both alerted of a nearby officer-involved shooting. So far, tonight seems quiet, but you understand Tim’s hesitance to admit it. Though you’re still confused about why Tim agreed to get dinner with you after you handcuffed him to a guardrail in a warehouse-turned-drug-house, you want the date to go well. Is it a date? you ask yourself. Tim never clarified if this was for both of you or just for the apology you offered to give.

Tim parks outside a restaurant Lucy recommended and waits for a moment. Everything remains calm, and you smile because you can finally have dinner with Tim Bradford.

And then your phone rings, so the moment is shattered.

“Hello?” you greet, closing your eyes. You listen to Angela’s quick recount of the last half hour, then say, “Yeah, I can be there in a few minutes… Mmhmm, no problem.”

Ending the call, you drop your phone to your lap and shake your head. “I’m so sorry, Tim. Lopez needs-“

Tim’s phone ringing cuts you off, and he shows you Angela’s name on the caller ID before he answers. A moment later, he shifts into reverse and backs out of the parking space.

“Jake Butler,” Tim says. “I thought we threw him in jail after the Vegas incident.”

“We did,” you answer flatly. “Guess he got out. If I find him, he’s going to pay for ruining everything.”

“Did Angela tell you anything else?”

“Just that he was back on their radar, and they saw an opening to figure out the operation.”

“Fantastic,” Tim deadpans.

“Hey, bro!” Jake exclaims as you and Tim enter the interview room with Angela. “Whoa, you clean up nice, man? You on a date or something?”

“Something,” Tim replies, crossing his arms over his chest. “Get to the point, Butler.”

“Must’ve been a good something,” Jake murmurs. He looks at you and smiles before explaining the deal going down tonight.

“What is your boss expecting you to bring?” you inquire.

“Good work ethic,” he says, shrugging. “And product, obviously.”

“How much product?” Tim presses.

“The exact amount that is in my car.”

“We’ll be confiscating all of that after the operation,” Angela reminds him. Turning to you, she says, “He’s offering his car as part of the deal with the DA. This guy has only spoken to Jake here on the phone, so there’s not much of a chance of anyone close to him noticing any difference when Tim walks in.”

“Yeah,” Jake drawls. “Y’all see the tats, right?”

“Yeah,” you answer. “We see the tats.”

“How long do we have?” Tim asks.

“Drop is at 6,” Jake says. “I park in the underground lot, go up to his penthouse, and we work from there.”

“Specific,” you mumble, drawing a grunt from Tim.

“Thanks, Mr. Butler,” Angela says. “And if anything you told us was wrong, we’re throwing your deal in the gutter with your future. Okay?”

“Yeah, shawty.”

Tim rolls his eyes and follows Angela out of the room. You linger until the door is closed and ask, “Is there anything else you think you should tell us?”

“There’s a panic room,” Jake admits. “Code was 1016 last I was there.”

You nod, then exit the room and wonder what you’d be doing right now if your night had gone according to plan.

“UC parked in 238, underground lot,” someone radios.

You watch the cameras in the surveillance van, tracking Tim’s movements toward the penthouse. While Tim was being transformed to look like Jake, you insisted on staying with Metro for the duration of the operation. You must be close enough to bail Tim out if things go south, you explained. Your captain then brought up the defiance of direct orders during your last Metro op. You were only allowed to join the team with Angela’s vote of confidence and your promise to do anything and everything they say to keep Bradford safe.

Tim knocks on the door and greets the large, armed man who opens it. He sounds like Jake, but you know it’s Tim, and your heart rate speeds up with each step he takes inside. Once he’s in the penthouse, you can’t see him. You can hear him through a long-distance microphone attached to the sniper’s rifle across the street. His tracker blinks on one of the screens, and you clench your jaw as you listen and watch.

“Where’s my stuff, Butler?” someone yells.

“Whoa, man, I wasn’t gonna cart that kind of purchase past the doorman,” Tim argues with a chuckle.

“Whose decision is that? Whose paying for all of it? Who got you out of jail?!”

That answers one question.

“Last we talked, you told me to park, come up here, and we’d work from there,” Tim reminds him. “If you changed the plan without telling me, I guess that’s on me.”

“That was never the plan. Are you trying to screw me, Butler?”

“Nah, man, just a miscommunication. Tell me what you want me to do to fix it.”

The man hesitates, then repeats, “Fix it?”

You stand as the officer sitting across from you prepares to open the door. The van is painted to look like an internet service vehicle, so you could park close to the apartments where Tim is.

“Yeah, I’ll do whatever it takes,” Tim replies.

The unmistakable sound of guns racking fills the van, and the Metro commander radios for everyone to move in now. Running through the parking lot and into the building, you don’t notice the stares you receive, only the intel communicated through your earpiece.

“UC held at gunpoint,” the sniper alerts. “I don’t have a clear shot. Three armed men, plus two at the door.”

“Suspect has cameras on his floor,” another voice says. “Approach from the southern elevators and utilize limited penetration entry through the front door.”

You race up the steps, your heart pounding like it will break through your ribs. Tim is in danger, his life is being threatened, and you’re terrified that you’re too far away to save him. When you reach the landing on the penthouse floor, you struggle to focus on your job. With a deep breath, you remind yourself to obey for Tim. If you rush in, you’ll just get yourself killed, too.

“Hold!” the commander instructs. “We’ve lost visual. UC is moving west.”

“There’s nothing to the west,” Angela replies. “It’s blocked off. Probably utilities.”

“The panic room!” you remember.

“Butler didn’t tell you where it was,” she argues. “We can’t tell on thermal.”

“It’s probably lined, but you’re right.���

“We don’t have time to wait,” Angela decides. “Assume our UC is in the panic room but keep your eyes open and stay alert. Breach.”

You’re fourth in line as you enter the penthouse. Seven Metro officers against five armed criminals is as close to a fair fight as you can expect in your line of work. When you step inside, the man who was guarding the door runs toward you. Dropping your gun, you brace yourself against his hit. His hands shove into your shoulders, and you grip his wrists as he pushes you against the wall. Everyone around you is fighting, so you hold your own against a man who outweighs you and towers over you. Tim is nowhere in sight, nor is Jake’s employer, so you’ll have to fight through this chaos to find him.

Tim watches as the man leading him through a lead-lined hallway types 1-0-1-6 into a keypad. It opens a door into what is clearly a doomsday-style panic room, and he raises his hands as he’s shepherded into it. The heavy doors silence the fight outside, so Tim doesn’t know whether his backup is on the way or if they can locate this well-hidden last resort.

“Where’d the cops come from, Butler? You workin’ with them now?” the man demands, brandishing a curved knife.

“What cops, man?” Tim asks, his voice rising in imitation of Jake.

“The doorman saw a whole team of uniformed tactical guys rush into the place! That’s not what I signed up for.”

“Me neither! Do I look like I’d be making a deal with cops? I’m low-time, I’d go to jail either way and you know better than some attorney that I don’t do cells.”

“Then tell me how they found us right after you did!”

Tim steps back, creating room between himself and the knife. Without any weapons, he would prefer to de-escalate the situation verbally if possible. As the man looks at him, he sees a crazy look in his eyes and assumes the verbal response is no longer an option.

The Metro officers who entered the penthouse with you zip-tie the wrists of the five armed men while you look for an entrance to the panic room. A small latch on the side of a bookshelf catches your attention, and you tug it. The shelf pops away from the door, and a hiss sounds as you pull it open farther.

“I’ll get the UC,” you offer.

“We’ll keep these guys quiet,” an officer replies. “Radio if you need help.”

You nod once, then jog into the hallway. There’s a keypad halfway down the hall, and you hold your tongue between your teeth as you type in the code Jake gave you. Another door hisses as its seal is broken.

“Knock knock!” you call, raising your gun to your shoulder as you move toward the lead door. “LAPD Metro, come out with your hands up!”

You’re met with silence, and you work to steady your breath as you near the door. Before you nudge it open, someone hits it with a quick downward slap. Off-balance, you let the gun fall as you stumble inside.

The man you recognize as Jake’s employer manages to get you on the ground, and you twist to elbow him in the throat. He swings his fist down, and you don’t see the blade tucked between his fingers. He hits your jaw, and your cheekbone stings as the tip of the knife scrapes across it. Pulling your knee up, you aim between his legs. He buckles forward, and you wrap your arms around his upper body. Swinging your leg, you flip to be on top of him.

Panting, you demand, “Roll over. You’re under arrest.”

He groans and doesn’t move. After you knock the knife away from him, you pull his arm to flip him onto his stomach. With your knee pressing between his kidneys, you pull a zip-toe closed around his wrists, then sit back on your heels.

Tim smirks at your position, and you shake your head as you move into a half-kneel position. Wiping blood from your cheek, you push yourself to your feet.

“Jake Butler, you’re under arrest,” you say. “Put your hands behind your head, interlace your fingers.”

Tim looks at your cut cheek, then at the man zip-tied and squirming in pain beneath you.

“Yeah, I’ll comply,” Tim drawls. “Since I’m making it easy, could you try to make the whole arrest me thing a little sexy? I’ve always had a thing for cop cuties, with their navy blue booties.”

“Shut up,” you demand as you pull his hands behind his back.

“Yeah, go ahead and lock me up,” he continues as you secure the handcuffs around his wrists.

“I’m 10-4 in the panic room. Butler and his employer are in custody,” you radio.

An officer appears in the doorway to help you escort both men to the patrol cars waiting outside the lobby. He hauls Jake’s boss to his feet and leads him out of the panic room. You follow, leading Tim through the penthouse and into the hall.

After the elevator closes and all the arrested men have been escorted out, you remove his cuffs. He turns toward you quickly, his jaw clenched tightly. You recognize the look and know he’s about to yell at you.

“I know, I know, you never put the cuffs on me,” you say before he can begin. “Sorry, but there were too many people who could see.”

“You really think that’s what I’m mad about?” Tim questions. “I don’t care what you do to UCs.”

“Then what are you mad about?” you ask softly.

Tim raises his hand to your face but stops before he touches you. His hand falls, and he says, “You got hurt. Medics will be ready at the station.”

As Tim turns away from you, you wish he had touched you.

At the end of the day, you exit the station and sigh. You received treatment for your minor injuries, completed the reports, and patrolled before your end of shift. Walking through the parking lot, you keep your eyes down and think about last night.

“A cut cheek isn’t getting you out of dinner,” Tim calls.

You look up at the sound of his voice and see him leaning against the tailgate of his truck.

“If you’re still up for it,” he adds.

“You’re just saying that because I’m a cop cutie,” you reply, smiling.

Tim groans at the reminder of what he said while he was undercover. He raises his hand again, but this time, he places his palm on your jaw and gently traces the bottom of your bandage. His movement and his touch say more than he ever has.

“If we finally go on a date, do you think we could stop arresting each other?” you inquire.

“Maybe,” he answers, opening the passenger door for you.

“That sounded too hopeful.”

[fashionteahouse]

Angel, could you write a Paul x reader story where she invites the pack to join her at a costume party (she’s dressed in a sexy jaguar costume)? They agree to go, but until this point, Paul has been denying the imprint bond. However, at the party, he gets jealous seeing her dancing with another guy and almost kissing him. I’d love a conclusion with smut, either in the bathroom at the party or back at her house, as long as there’s a conflict before the climax. Only write it if you feel comfortable doing so—I adore your writing! 💋

of course and i appreciate you so much 🥺💜

or what - paul x reader

Arms were tightly crossed, the glare could burn a hole through the floor.

Disappointment, anger, and frustration seeped out of the man that stood sat in front of you.

He knew you well, you knew him well. But not well enough to spark any conversation. However, one look seemed to change things.

Everything was starting to make sense. You seen him around the neighborhood, but often wondered how he had gotten so big and muscular and only stuck around the same group of people.

You’ve known him to flock to many others rather than sticking to a core group.

It all made sense now.

“So…This is…Forever?” you speak out. The very tall man who you found out to be Sam, nods at your answer.

“Oh.” you say and sit back in your chair.

“The secret cannot be told to anyone else. You’re an imprint and this is the pack.” he says.

You make a quick zipper motion with your fingers on your mouth. It’s not like anyone would believe you anyway.

“Are we done? Can I go home now?”

He was annoyed. You were a bit annoyed as well. He was so rude.

“Paul.” Sam warns him before taking the conversation back to you, “What do you think?”

“Nothing. I won’t say anything.” you say and Paul rises up with a scrape of his chair and makes his way out of the door, with it slapping to a close behind his absence.

“Sorry about him.” Sam apologized.

“It’s all good.” you say and rise up, making your way to your own home.

One person didn’t spoil the bunch, the pack welcomed you with open arms.

You were grateful.

You met the other imprints. They allowed you to be yourself. They all were a breath of fresh air and you suddenly felt sad.

People spread rumors and they didn’t know what great company they were. They didn’t know that they risked their lives to protect the very people who ridiculed them.

“Come with me, please!” you say with a smile.

They all sat around the table at lunch.

“Will there be girls there?” Quil asks with a mouthful.

“Duh.” you say.

That’s when agreements were made amongst the group. All except one.

“You going?” you heard Jacob ask him.

“I’m good.” he muttered. He didn’t bother to look up not once since you sat at the table.

Jacob frowned a bit and you caught this.

“It will be fun without the attitudes anyway.” you say, looking at Jacob. You missed the glare that came from Paul.

You smooth out your costume with your hands and turn in one circle as you stood in the mirror.

“What do you think?” you ask nervously.

“Hot.” both Kim and Emily speaks out.

“Y/N. Look at you!” the guy who threw the party says.

“Hey. Thanks for inviting me.”

“I knew to invite you. You brought company. Good looking company at that.” he says as he eyes the people that you came with.

You playfully roll your eyes at his statement and merge and mingle with others.

Flickering your eyes around to spark up conversation, Paul was there.

You ignore him. He ignores you.

A song that you liked came on. It made you excited, however, a guy found your excitement to be adorable. You danced a bit on your own and he made his move.

He wasn’t bad looking at all. You give him attention.

“Do you know how to dance?” you ask and he nods confidently with a grin. You both dance. Song after song, you both laughed together as hands began to not be shy of one’s bodies.

Paul was stagnant on the couch. He had perfect view of what was happening on the dance floor, watching as a foreign feeling started to bubble inside of him.

Jealousy.

He felt it was personal. His fists were tight against his knees. A girl flopped down next to him as he stared ahead.

“Wanna dance?” she asks with a smirk.

He looked at her.

“Yeah.” he says.

She thought his bitter tone was hot. Paul allowed her to take his hand. He got closer and close to the spot where your hand was around the guy’s neck, your hips rolled and swayed to the beat.

Paul didn’t like the greediness that reeked from the guy you were dancing with. He didn’t even pay attention to the girl who danced up on him.

“Damn, you’re driving me crazy.” the guy says to you. Paul picks up the sultry giggle that bubbled out of your throat. He had to watch as the guy’s hands traveled down your waist, feeling you up and you allowing it.

Heads were tilted as you both lean in closer and closer, staring at each other with interest. Lips were inches away from each other and he knew what was about to happen.

He couldn’t take it anymore. His wolf couldn’t take it anymore.

Grabbing your arm, he ignored your protests.

In the hallway, you push him.

“The hell is your problem?” you yell. It was muffled from the loud music.

“We need to talk.” he grits out.

You walk away with a groan.

He grabbed your arm again and you both were standing on tile floor in the bathroom. He shuts the door.

“I don’t want to talk to you!”

“Why?” he asks angrily. He steps closer, “You were going to hook up with him?”

Meeting his fierce gaze, “You jealous?” you say with a teasing grin.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment before he huffed out softly.

“You wanted me to dance up on you like that, huh? All you had to do was ask.” you say and end it with your hand cupping his chin with your hand for a moment and you close the bathroom door behind you.

You shook your head.

You didn’t know where that came from. You knew that he didn’t want the imprint, so why you still kept the door of opportunity open for him, you weren’t too sure.

The guy you were dancing with comes back into your view.

“Hey, where’d you go?” he asks with his hands slightly up.

“Nowhere. I’m here now.” you say returning the smile he gave you.

He then displayed a look as he looked behind you, “That guy..I could talk to him if you want. I didn’t like him roughing you up like that.”

“Oh he didn’t-“ you start but you were interrupted.

“You’re gonna do what?” you hear Paul boom out.

Paul was now standing in front of you, pushing you behind him. You looked up at his back and the back of his head as you couldn’t believe that he would do such a thing. He acted so disinterested and now here he was, standing in front of you in a protective stance.

“Oh, so you heard me. Leave her alone.” the guy you danced with says.

“Or what?” Paul grits out.

One mistake happened. It was a shove. Paul barely budged but it was enough to make him snap.

He didn’t have to use much power but his shove made him stumble back hard onto the floor.

Crowd of eyes started to look.

The guy didn’t want to be embarrassed, not in front of his friends so he scrambled up fast to his feet but Paul was faster.

One punch in the mouth made him groan out in pain as Paul peered over him. Crowds of oohs surround the party and you grab Paul’s arm.

“We have to leave.” you say in panic.

Paul turns, walking right out of the door, but he makes sure that you are walking right with him.

Your feet tries their best to keep up with his steps. He’s fuming.

“I need to calm down. I don’t feel like phasing. Fuck!”

You watch him as he paced the empty lit up street, he tried his best to push the anger down.

“I’m sorry..” you say.

“For what? You didn’t even do anything.” Paul says but continues to pace.

“You can go back to the party. Go back to that guy. I don’t even care anymore.”

You snort a little, “Looks like you do care.”

He glared up.

“Paul. Why are you fighting it so much?” you ask.

“Fighting what? What are you even talking about Y/N?” he asks impatiently.

“You know what I’m talking about….” you say. He doesn’t say anything and you then turn to walk away.

You felt some type of way. He was making things hard for no reason.

“Where are you going?” he echoed out.

“Home.” you mutter.

You continue to walk. When you turned the corner onto your street, you didn’t expect him to be following you.

“Okay, you can leave now.” you say as you face your front door with your key.

“I don’t feel like it.” he says.

“Of course.” you mumble but the excitement fluttered about in your stomach as you unblocked your door.

He sat on your couch comfortably as you went to your room.

You struggle. You sigh in slight panic as your fingers tried their best to zip down the zipper. It was stuck.

You call for him.

He’s there.

“Do..Do you mind?” you ask and he’s walking towards you, “It’s stuck.” you continue.

His fingers fixed the zipper with ease and his fingers zipped it down.

He heard the fast racing or your heart.

“Thanks.” you whisper. He just looks at you. You look at him. It felt like a magical thread was attached to the both of you. So many pent up emotions were let out as you both slowly leaned in.

To you, his lips were perfect. To him, your lips were perfect. Both lips moved in sync as you both then clutch to each other. His dominant tongue swirled around yours and your knees buckled from such talent.

Falling backwards on the bed in your room, his knee was placed between your legs as he leaned down to continue to savor the taste of your mouth.

His hands felt up your body and your body screamed for more. The soft caresses that was inflicted upon him, made him and his wolf purr in satisfaction.

He didn’t know why he fought it for so long. All that he knew was, to claim you.

Your rolled side to side as you clutched onto his arms, his thick fingers pumping in and out of you. The sounds that uttered from your throat went right to his dick.

The same flesh that sprung out stiffly as he pulled his pants down.

Pumping into you carefully, it was you that clutched to him as he held you tight. He picked up the pace that made you sigh and whisper out his name. Gripping each other’s skin, his thrusts were powerful but full of passion.

As you both sit up and hugged each other, a deep and passionate kiss was shared between you two. You both saw stars as both set of hips met each other again and again. It looked and felt as if you two were all time lovers.

He kept his eyes open. He begged you to keep your eyes open. He wanted you to remember this moment, remember that you were making him feel this way. He didn’t want you to forget. You didn’t want to forget.

[writingwisterias]

How would the different eras of Leon act if someone younger than him approached him in a bar with ulterior motives? Would they flirt back? Would they take her to their bed without thinking twice? Would they think long and hard before agreeing? 👀 (ofc legal age gap xs)

Sorry if my English is not that good, happy 2025 btw !!!

Hii!

Happy 2025! Sorry it's like a week late lmao, I hope the first week hasn't been too bad...I'd love to do this for you

Warnings: Age-Gap, Drinking, Flirting, Teasing, NSFW , MDNI, Smut

GN!Reader

RE2:

You were both at a mutual house party, neither of you wanting to be there but were dragged there by friends

He assumed you were of age or at least close to drinking age, he didn't realize you were only 18

The age gap isn't that big, he's only 20 soon to be 21

But it felt wrong at first, especially when you were so open at first with flirting

He assumed it was the drink that flooded your system, giving you the liquid courage to flirt so openly

Since the age gap isn't too big I don't think he would be too bothered, after all it's only like 2-3years

Towards the end of the night he would offer to walk you back home. Is surprised you have a dorm room on your own

You invited him back first, he was hesitant opting to just chill and chat before doing anything

He's very careful with the situation, might even back out of it and opt to talk when you are sober. He's a sweetheart he doesn't want to hurt you

RE4R:

He wasn't sure why he ended up at the bar in the first place, it wasn't at this point in his life somewhere he often ended up. Opting peace and quiet instead of busy town life

Maybe he should more often when you sat next to him.

Conversation was easier with you, you didn't know about his job or the expectations he had to uphold.

When he found out your age, only around 6 years his junior it made him freeze

You were legal, had around 3 years to play with others and at least just hit drinking age

His silence made you feel like he wasn't interested, you apologized profoundly. It wasn't like you to be doing this anyway, your dickhead boyfriend broke up with you weeks ago

Leon grasped your arm preventing you from leaving, opting to get to know you better and making a choice as the bar closed which was only a few hours away

That only made the tension higher, the drunker you both got the more lingering touches

Til eventually he dragged you to his place

Infinite darkness:

You were one of the newer interns, one that had yet to discover his habits

He just didn't realize how young you were

It didn't really bother him too much, you assured him that his flirting didn't bother you and you in fact liked the attention

He offered you dinner and maybe a few drinks and it led from there

When it came to sex he did think harder, opting to make sure you were sure you wanted this

After that he kept making sure the entire way home, almost killed the mood but you understood his concern

Even then he chose to make sure you were comfortable within his space or that he was in yours

The make out sessions grow longer after each break until eventually you both caved

Damnation:

When you told him your age at first he took about 5 minutes to think about it before following you around the rest of the night

I feel like hes the type of guy to keep buying drinks because you are the only interesting person of his night

He gets drunk as well as reads the situation wrong assuming that you want to sleep with him

You didn't at first but then you do now

Follow him back to your place and his touches get more intimate in the cab

Pays for everything don't worry, at this point though he's sobered up enough to realize whats happening and will make sure you can full consent and show him id

Then you are locked in for the rest of the night, and he makes sure you know what the older guys fuck like

He doesn't want you to go back to a younger cock

RE6:

He gives me sugar daddy vibes anyway so I don't think he's bothered

Probably gives him a little bit of an ego that you even consider it to be honest

As soon as you touch him it's end game, you are going home with him. Even more of if your touches are intimate

If your hand is inching up his thigh he's smirking and moving it higher on purpose.

If you work together, say you are a younger agent or something he's touching you in the small of the back as he passes or guiding you with a hand on your hip

Any excuse to keep you close and remind you of his presence

Vendetta:

I think he would like it but he also craves closer intimate relationship with everyone so he would think about it and then act quite quickly

He's touching you first, leaning on you, hugging you

Wandering hands very quickly

He's begging you to come back with him if he's completely drunk

Like he just needs a quick fuck, you are cute and adorable

Huge size kink

He's rough and messy with kisses too, like he tastes of the drink he's been nursing all night but it feels good

In the morning afterwards I think he would feel a bit slimy, probably come back to him in waves how rough he was

Not the type to slip out before you wake up so he'll wait. Admiring the close contact of someone

Will ask for your number he's not the type for just one fuck

He likes coming back for seconds

Death Island:

At first he thought you were using him for free drinks (you kinda were but will never admit it)

You were cute, you made his cock twitch and it's been a long time since he's felt like that

When he found out about your age he was off put at first but then the more he thought about the more he wanted it

Made sure you gave complete consent as he moved quickly dragging you out of the bar

When you got to his place he was very content doing it on the couch

So were you, he had you riding him since you had the energy for it.

Muttering how perfect you were to him, sloppy kissing everywhere

Wakes up with an even bigger ego at the fact he can still score so low in age. Certified dilf

He won't go and find others unless you wanted him too

He's very keen on letting you know what a proper fuck is

[lonesilverw0lf]

The always smiling, closed eyed, rich, fashion conscious, cheerful, pampering, remembers everyone’s birthday, has everything but the kitchen sink in her purse, presence literally lightens up a room, wide thighs and big boobied Mom Friend is the Heroes Party financial manager. She is so good at keeping a budget, finding great deals, haggling, the whole nine, and still finds the funds to give everyone gifts that it’s scary. She has been singlehandedly keeping the whole party fed, clothed, supplied, and everything. Even the nerdy number crunchers can’t figure it out. She currently in a seedy part of a city, but why? She is checking in on a black market dealer and informant in a small back room. She was just about ready to leave when the Informant tipped her off that he has information regarding MC.

Informant: Heh, little missy wants to know about her wayward friend hm? Well, I’m afraid this is going to cost you a bit extra. That is outside of what we agreed on previously after all.

Mom Friend: Oh dear, you see I think there’s been a misunderstanding. You see I am willing to pay you for information about most things, even work some shady dealings with others here and there, but if it’s in regards to MC then you will give it to us pro bono.

Informant: Hahahaha! You don’t have any power here to make such demands!

Mom Friend: Ohohohoho, it’s in your best interest to tell me what I want to know. I’m not in the mood for bartering right now.

Informant: Someone from the so called Heroes Party obviously hasn’t taught you that things don’t work like that around here. Nor that you have any kind of protection here either. Let’s see if some time with Boris will straighten you out, eh?

Mom Friend, looks over to the large man eyeing her: Oh I’m sorry dear, but you’re not my type!

Informant: Hahahaha! You don’t understand your position here missy! This room is soundproof, there’s nobody that will hear you! That door is the only way in or out and it’s locked!

Mom Friend, sighing unperturbed as Boris stalks over to her: Oh dear, it looks like we’re going to do this the hard way.

In an instant Boris in on the ground writhing in pain.

Mom Friend: Oh don’t worry Mr Informant, I’ll get to you in just a moment. In the meantime, you can decide which of your fingers you want broken last.

Informant, uncomprehending what just happened: Y-y-y-you can’t do anything to me! I have protection from the King of Beggars!

Mom Friend: Oh, is that so? You really think your ‘King’ would protect someone who is stealing from him? Someone who is skimming a little extra gold, booze, women, off the top? Someone who’s slicing his shipments to him? Someone who is trying to build up their own little ‘kingdom’ within his own kingdom in a plot to eventually overthrow him in oh 2 years? Someone who drinks with the corrupt government officials and dreaming about how you’re going to dump his body into the moat with a bag of lead coins shoved down his throat? Not that you would allow those officials to stay long anyway, only a few months or so. That is if everything went smoothly for you. Besides, it’s not like you’re going to give him his cut of your dealings with me. Our meetings are ‘off the table’ in your words, and I know you also meant to your ‘King’.

Informant: What?! How did you-?!

Mom Friend, casually dislocating limbs on Boris while he screams: If anything, I think he’ll thank me. I’m sure he’ll appreciate knowing where those Antwon originals ‘disappeared’ to. He’d be one less rodent stealing from his table, and one less knife pointing at his back too. Sure he’ll lose an informant, but it’s not like you’re a very high ranking one though. There’s no shortage of criminals who’re envious of your position, they’d jump at the chance to prove to your ‘King’ they have what it takes to replace you and then some. And without the treasonous thoughts too! At least for a while. Even if he doesn’t thank me, you’re going to be feeling the full extent of my ‘administrations’ for a very, very, very~ long time. I am nothing if not thorough!~

Informant, sweating: Ha! You can’t frighten me with-

Mom Friend: You know I had a rebellious phase when I was twelve. I wanted to read those smutty Count Dracula stories because my parents told me not to, but I accidentally found myself reading about Vlad Dracul III of Romania. He was reportedly the inspiration of Bram Stokers original Count Dracula, but I found his other moniker of Vlad the Impaler far more interesting. That led me down a historical rabbit hole of our worlds history’s darker side. Brazen Bulls, Interrogation Chairs, Iron Maidens, the Racks, oh mankind can be… inventive. Did you know there are 206 bones in the human body? Or that certain Chinese pressure points discovered to cause unimaginable pain when triggered? How many volts of lightning that can travel through a body before being permanently damaged? How long someone can laugh unstopped before dying? How long someone can survive in the extreme temperatures? How little food and water is needed to keep someone just barely alive? I’ve had some fascinating discoveries for someone so young on the dark web. While I may be limited to what I have on hand, I’m sure I’ll manage.

Informant, now cowering: Why are you doing this?

Mom friend: Because I’m what we call a ‘mom friend’. Although I would prefer to be called big sis, ‘momma’ makes me sound so old but that’s not important. What is important is that you give me the information about MC, because we are missing our friend and want him back. Back home our towns mascot is the grey wolf. Oh I know they’re a bit of a pest in your world but back home they’re creatures of beauty. They’re strong, capable, adaptable, intelligent, and above all loyal.

We are a team. A family. We take care of each other, protect one another, will do crazy things for each other. We are going to save this world, and we are all going to go home. Together. We are going to bring MC with us. You are going to tell me everything you know about MC.

Mom Friend, now a looming presence who hasn’t broken her smile once: Now then, care to make a deal? Or are we going to discover what happens when Mommy turns into Momma Bear?

MC: walks through the front door of the building being used as a front and gets one whiff of Mom Friends perfume

The standard 'entire class gets isekai'd to a fantasy world and the outcast MC is basically discarded' anime setting, where the MC, now assumed dead, decides to instead help the class of Heroes in the shadows, making sure they live up to what the people need.

However, the entire class knows that he's alive and are hellbent on dragging that son of a bitch back into the spotlight and to give him the recognition he deserves.

(And maybe because he was basically the entire class's Little Guy™.)

[brookediamonds]

If youre still taking requests, maybe smth ab axel being the golden retriever boyfriend to the reader. Most people think she doesnt like him and is pitying him but axel makes her smile and laugh and he wants her to smile and laugh as much as possible because its his favorite thinf about her

the reason why i smile | Axel Kovačević x Fem! Reader

Summary: You have a classic case of RBF and there's only person on this plant that can bring the biggest smile to your face. And his name was Axel Kovačević.

side note: Axel is apart of Miyagi-Do in this world!

Word Count: 2.1k Warnings: none! fluff

(a/n: I couldn't decide what song I liked better for this, it was between Smile by Avril Lavigne or Crazier by Taylor Swift)

not my gif

"She always looks mad."

"That's just her face."

"She looks so mean."

People couldn't be far from it. You were anything but mean. Sure your eyebrows were always closed in together, and smile lines were nonexistent on your face, but you were surely a smiling on the inside kind of person.

The only people who really knew that were you, your parents, and Axel Kovačević. It's nothing personal to the rest of the world, but what did everyone else have to offer?

You and your teammates have just finished another lesson with Sensei LaRusso and Sensei Lawerence, your body was still running off adrenaline from the sparring you just finished, earning a kudos from your Sensei's.

"That was an awesome match," Axel said as the two of you tied your shoes.

"It was whatever," you respond humbly, with a shrug. Axel snorted making you bump hips wit him.

"Hey, guys!" Sam chippers, walking up to you and Axel along with Miguel.

"Hey," Axel greets them as you continued tying your laces.

"We're gonna head to Golf N'Stuff right now, do you all want to join us?" The curly haired girl asks with a bright smile.

"Yeah, sounds like fun!" your boyfriend responds happily. "Right, (Y/n)?"

You glanced up at the blue eyed boy next to you with an amused expression.

"I guess," you sighed dramatically adjusting your tank top. "But I'm not going like this."

"Of course, we're gonna get changed and meet over there at six," Sam assures you.

You nod and stand up, grabbing your gym bag. Axel followed suit, trailing behind you as the two of you left the Miyagi-Do dojo.

"Good news!" Sam skips over to Tory and Robby who stood over by the exit talking amongst themselves. "I got (Y/n) and Axel to join us later tonight!"

"You actually got her to go?" Tory raises her eyebrows surprised by Sam's news. "Did you have to bribe her or something?"

"Look, I know she's been hard to get to know, but maybe she'll open up a little more after tonight," Sam encourages the group.

"Especially with Axel around," Miguel adds in. "She seems to talk a little more with him."

"Huh," Robby realizes. "You're right, she does talk to us more when he's there."

"I bet they're dating," Tory chimes as the four of the friends began walking to Sam's car.

"I doubt it," Miguel scoffs. "Girl never smiles, much less shows she likes anyone."

"But she does smile when Axel is around," Sam points out to her boyfriend. "Tory might be on to something."

"Okay, let's not speculate," Robby says holds his hands up in defense. "I'm sure they're just friends because they joined us at the same time."

"I'm with Robby on this one," Miguel agreed with his step-brother.

The girls rolled their eyes, sharing a secretive look between them as the four gathered in the Mercedes.

--------------------------------------------------------

Soon enough six pm rolled around, everyone meeting at the entrance of the arcade building. As you and Axel exited the car, your new friends waited patiently for you both.

"Alright, do you guys wanna start with mini golf or the arcade?" Miguel inquires as the six of you stood together.

"Mini golf!" Sam and Tory shout out making the boys laugh.

"Sound cool with you guys?" Robby asks turning to you and Axel.

"As long as (Y/n)'s on my team, we're good to go," Axel rubs his hands together, making your snort.

Sam’s eyes sparkled mischievously as she took notice to your lingering eyes on the boy next to you. "Actually, I’ve got a better idea. How about… girls versus boys?"

"I like that idea," you spoke walking over to the brunette. Axel's face drops seeing your betrayal.

"And loser buys snacks," Tory adds in with a devious smirk.

"Deal," Miguel agrees. "Hope you ladies brought your wallets."

"We won't need them," you taunt back. "Let's go get our clubs."

Tory and Sam fist bump behind your back, happy they were able to get you on their team. The music played loudly around the venue, neon lights lighting up the outside as everyone grabbed their gear.

As the six of you lined up at the first obstacle, you placed the ball down steadily lining up your shot. As you were about to hit the ball, you feel a presence lean down close to you, his voice low and warm, "good luck."

"Go away," you swat Axel away from you as if he were a gnat in your ear. He laughs watching as you carefully hit the target, the ball smoothly going down the drain.

"Nice one!" Sam cheers you on. You glare over at Axel who stood happily behind you, as if he hadn't tried to sabotage you.

As Sam went up next, you walked over to the tall boy, using your golf club to lean on.

"Don't think that flirty tone is gonna work on me," you say lowly so no one else would hear you.

"I do not know what you are talking about," Axel responds, playing dumb.

Without your knowledge, Tory catches Axel squeezing your left hip, before moving to go next at the ball. She knew it.

----------------------------------------------------

After winning by one shot, the six of you decide to head inside and continue your fun with other games. As all of you split amongst yourselves, you went along with Sam and Robby to grab some game cards for the rest of your group.

"So, how'd you do it?" Tory asks moving to stand beside Axel.

"Do what?" He asks out of confusion.

"How did you manage to get with (Y/n)?" She smirks. Miguel looks over at the blonde wide eyed at her question.

"Tory!" Miguel mutters.

Axel barks out a laugh, a tint of a blush creeping up his neck.

"Holy shit," Miguel whispers seeing Axel's sheepish look. "You are dating (Y/n)!"

"What can I say?" Axel smiles softly, looking over at you as you stood in line grabbing a card. "I like a challenge."

"No but seriously, she's hard to read, how'd you get her to open up?" Miguel questions the tall boy next to him.

"She's actually one of the easiest people to talk to," he says. "Once you get past her 'don't talk to me' vibe, she's a great listener."

Tory looks over at Axel impressed with his description of her, now seeing how intently she always paid attention to those around her.

"Okay, we have enough for pretty much every game here," Sam, Robby, and (Y/n) come back to the group.

Miguel and Tory watched as you immediately went to Axel's side, your arm barely grazing his.

"I think we should start at basketball," Axel says turning to you.

"Fine, but don't cry when I beat you," you respond sassily making Robby and Tory laugh.

"She's so mean," Axel exhales watching you saunter towards the basketball machine. "I love it."

He walks off after you, placing a hand on your back making you turn back to him with a slight smile.

"Did we miss something?" Robby asks Tory seeing you bump your hips with Axel's to scoot him over to his side.

"Tory and Sam were right," Miguel admits with a playful eye roll. "They're dating."

"You see!" Sam cheers raising a hand to high five Tory.

"Makes sense," Robby nods looking over at you both as you let Axel stand behind you to guide your hands shoot the basketball.

And completely miss, making you laugh and gently punch him in the shoulder.

"They're cute," Sam pouts seeking her own affection from her own boyfriend.

As the other four watched you, you turned your back to them, facing the boy who just beat you in the game.

"Why are they looking at us like that?" You crossed your arms, your mouth falling into a straight line.

"I might've told them I'm hopelessly in love with you," Axel says grabbing the tickets that printed out of the machine. He stands up straight, taking a step towards you as you narrowed your eyes up at him.

"You what?" You laughed softly.

"They figured it out," Axel explains with a slight grin. "Someone can't keep their hands off me."

You rolled your eyes playfully, shoving him away from you softly, unable to hide your shy smirk.

"Whatever, you're the one that's always hanging off me," you flip your hair over your shoulder.

"I can't help it, you're irresistible," he says nonchalantly making you blush. "Now, let's win some more tickets because I see a stuffed dragon begging me to win it for you."

"You're ridiculous," you scoffed glancing over at the pink dragon sitting on one of the shelves behind the counter.

"You love it," Axel teases you, quickly pecking your forehead.

"Fine, but only because you made me lose," you say grabbing ahold of his hand, leading him to another game.

Axel can't help but smile at his girl, enjoying every minute she dragged him around.

"So cute," Sam cooes as she inserted her game card into a game of ski ball, seeing Axel and (Y/n) walk hand in hand toward the air hockey table.

"Adorable," Robby nods his head in agreement.

"Wait!" Axel stops you two in your place, making you come to a halt. "'Let's do this real quick."

"Axel," you groaned as he pushed you into a photo booth. You sighed as he shut the curtain closed from prying eyes, and slid a five dollar bill into the machine.

"You will love it, come here," he places an arm over your shoulder making you scoot back into his hold, wanting to be annoyed.

"I hate pictures," you grumble as you waited for the countdown.

"Not with me you don't," he says teasingly leaning in close to you to press a sloppy kiss against your cheek making you push him away as you laughed.

"That was perfect," he grinned seeing it pop on the screen, perfectly capturing your relationship. "Let's do something silly."

You decide to go along with the boy you adored, and stick your tongue out holding up a peace sign as he copied your same pose.

"Okay, now sweet," he suggests, his expression softening. He leaned his forehead against yours, his bright blue eyes catching your breath, like they always do.

"Axel," you murmered, feeling a flutter of warmth spread through you.

He grinned before molding your lips with his own, the final flash capturing the sweet moment. When he pulls back, you're flustered but peck his lips one last time.

The screen displayed the photo strip preview, and Axel reached out to grab the print as it slid out of the machine. He held it up with a triumphant smile.

"Look at that beautiful smile," he says pointing at the first picture where you're fighting to hold back a smile as you push him away in the photo.

"Gross," you fake gag.

"Hey, it's my favorite thing about you, you know?" Axel defends your feature. You look up at him with curious eyes.

"Really?" Your tone is genuine, a certain look of innocence Axel hardly ever saw.

"I thought it was obvious," he remarks pulling his phone out, and opening his gallery. He wiped through rows of phots of you smiling, some of them you weren't even looking at the camera.

"I love to see you smile," he exclaims, still scrolling through more photos. You can't help but smile, actually smile, with the way your heart melts as he looks at your pictures fondly.

Axel's eyes wonder over to you as you admire the photographs.

"That's my girl," he says proudly making you shake your head.

"Yeah, you still owe your girl some nachos and a slushy," you remind him playfully as you both moved to leave the booth.

"Yes dear," he replies with a mock-serious tone, staring down at you lovingly.

Your group of friends walk up to you, peering over your shoulder to see the photos.

"What were you two doing in there?" Miguel teases you as he bumped his shoulder against yours making you roll your eyes.

"Getting proof," Axel said confidently, pulling out the photo strip and holding it up for everyone to see. "She loves me!"

"Axel!" you whined as everyone closed in on him, taking in the pictures.

"Freaking adorable," Tory states giving you a sideways smile.

"Who knew (Y/n) smiled," Robby eggs you on making you frown.

"See what you did," you said snatching the photo out of Axel's grip. "You're messing with my street cred!"

"Worth it," he shrugged, completely unbothered. "I will buy you Reese's to make up for it."

You perked up at the idea of the peanut butter dessert. "Fine."

As you walked along with Sam and Tory, Miguel and Robby fell back behind with Axel.

"They have us wrapped around their fingers, don't they?" Robby sighed out referring to their girlfriends whom walked ahead of them, sharing laughter.

"Oh for sure," Miguel agrees.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Axel grinned, already thinking of ways on how to win you that pink dragon that called your name.

-------------------------------------------------

(a/n: OMGGG I loved writing this!!! It was so cute and fun, I might write more on this trope. Thank you for this request!!)

[sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan]

Introducing…

Ex!BSF/BF!Matt x Reader

Warnings/Contents: fluff, mentions of characters being hurt – physically, mentally, & emotionally, internet trolls, break up, ANGST !

Note: This is an original idea of mine. Please inbox or personal message me if you'd like to use any of these characters as 'inspiration' of some sort !

(If any of this seems familiar, like you've already read it before – you most likely have! I took bits and pieces of a previously written work called 'Silently Suffering' and either copied it or edited it to fit the background information of this introduction)

To read more about this au, click here !

I do NOT give permission for my work(s) to be copied, translated, or re-uploaded to ANY site !

Want more like this? Visit my masterlist !

Taglist: @forgottxen @ariastur9z @watercolorskyy @daniel-is-bae

Comment, personal message, or ask via my inbox to be added to my taglist !

Reblogs are always appreciated, but never needed :)

The divider is by a random Pinterest creator

Enjoy 💜💙🧡 ☆ :) $

How It All Started

Reader and the triplets all grew up together in Somerville, Massachusetts – going to the same school and everything.

One day while at recess, little kindergartner Reader was simply swinging on the playground's swing, minding her own business.

Meanwhile, the triplets were kicking and passing around a soccer ball – their mom had wanted to sign them up for soccer that evening.

All of a sudden, Nick made a bad pass to Chris. The ball went flying – straight into the back of Reader's head.

She looked around the playground, trying to find the reason for her now throbbing head. She picked up the ball and marched over to them, angrily ready to tell them off.

Her anger faltered, confusion glazed over her expression just slightly. It appeared as if she were seeing triple. Three same faced, slightly freckled dirty-blonde boys stood in a row, eyeing her sheepishly.

She tossed the ball onto the ground as she spoke sassily, "Didn't your mother ever teach you not to hit girls?” One of the boys at the end spoke up, "It was an accident, we swear!"

She had rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest with her foot, tapping the mulch angrily. “Well, I expect an apology because that hurt!” Her eyes had drifted towards the boy standing in the middle.

His eyes stared back at her with this look of intensity in them that caused her stomach to churn with butterflies. "I'm sorry about that. Our brother, Nick, isn't very athletic like Chris and I,” the boy had said, pointing to his brother on one side, then at his other before holding his hand out for her to shake.

"I'm Matt, by the way. And yes, before you ask, we are triplets,” she couldn't help but laugh at his words. She was sure they were constantly getting asked that.

She took his hand in hers, shaking up and down once before quickly letting go. His hand was warm, presumably from working up a sweat playing soccer. Hers were clammy too from gripping the handles of the swing. “Wanna play with us?” Nick had offered.

She quickly agreed, kicking and passing the ball around with the three brothers. From then on, the four of them remained close. Like a tight-knit group of friends.

How They Got Together

Throughout elementary and middle school, they all remained good friends. That was until around sixth or seventh grade, when Reader caught feelings for Matt.

Sure, he was attractive and pretty to the eyes, but that wasn't what drew her near to him. It was the kindness of his heart. The way his eyes lit up when he talked about one of his interests. It was his smile. The one that made her heart absolutely melt anytime she saw it.

She always kept her feelings to herself. Not wanting to ruin the friendship between her and him. Or even mess up the dynamic between her and his brothers.

But anyone could see it. The way she stared at him, like he was the only person in the room. Even if it was crowded, her eyes always looked for him.

When freshman year of high school started for the four of them, that's when it all changed. Matt had finally noticed her – in more than a friendly way.

It was soccer season again. Matt and Chris never dropped the sport they grew to love in kindergarten. Nick and Reader did though. They were in the photography club together. The only two.

Because Nick was Chris and Matt's triplet, he had to go to their games anyway. So he thought, 'why not take photos of the team for the school's yearbook?'

Of course, being the only other person in the club, as well as being best friends with the boys, Reader had decided to tag along to assist with the photos.

The rain was pouring down hard during a particularly close match. Matt was a striker along with Chris. He was about to score, a good strong pass from a midfielder aiming straight towards him.

Until he slipped. He ended up landing oddly on his ankle. Reader ran onto the field, ignoring the protests of the people around her or the way that the rain was beating down onto her skin. All she cared about was making sure Matt was okay.

When she got to him, he was lying on the ground, groaning out in pain. She dropped to her knees, gently placing his head in her lap. She held his cheeks as she looked down at him with worry.

Matt smiled up at her, his eyes glossing over with unshed tears. Reader couldn't tell though. It was raining too harshly. His hand weakly reached up to brush a strand of hair from her face, staring into her eyes lovingly.

That's when it happened. Matt had leaned up, connecting their lips in a soft, tender kiss. He tried putting all his emotions into it. Reader was shocked at first, and did not kiss him back. His confidence faltered – 'had I been reading this wrong the entire time?' – so he tried pulling away.

Only to be met with her lips right back on his. Her pent-up emotions – the frustration of having to hold back how she truly felt for so long, the love and desire to be his, the longing of wanting, needing to be his, all of it – seeped into the second kiss they shared.

When they pulled away, they were breathless and smiling. MaryLou and Jimmy had rushed onto the field with Nick following closely behind. Chris was too busy goofing off with his teammates, telling them all about how he just knew Matt and Reader would be together.

Where It All Went Wrong

When the triplets had started their group socials, Reader had created her own. About the same time that the boys were going viral, so was Reader. They were featured on each other's platforms quite often in the early parts of their careers.

They each told the viewers from the beginning – Matt and Reader were together. They loved each other dearly.

When the boys moved to LA, so did Reader. Matt and his brothers bought their house and had a manager oversee everything, while Reader maintained her things by herself.

Reader had an apartment not far from the Sturniolo's new home. A five-minute drive – if that. It was within walking distance. Which Matt and Reader both enjoyed and took full advantage of.

The first few months with the four of them in Los Angeles were going well. They were thriving, living their life exactly how they had always dreamed.

Until, five months into their new lives in LA, things went downhill. Fast. Madi, their manager's daughter, had started to receive extreme hate from the triplet's fanbase. As was Reader.

Reader couldn't take it anymore. So she broke up with him. She broke up with Matt, much in the same way she got together with him.

It was a rainy day out, the sky a dark, sad, shade of gray that fit the mood of the Sturniolo Triplet's home quite well. Reader had told Matt that she couldn't – wouldn't – handle all of this negativity from his fans any longer.

Matt's reaction was heartbreaking. He was upset, and understandably so. The love of his life wanted to walk away. Wanted to call it quits. He couldn't deal. His eyes showed the pain he was feeling. The way he was hurting.

As Reader walked out the door for the last time, Matt broke down. She didn't spare him a final glance like he'd hoped. She was done. Done with the relentless hate that she was receiving, simply for loving and being Matt's partner.

They were both broken. Both hurt. Every social media post, every video felt empty without the other by their side. Not only had Reader and Matt lost each other romantically, they had also lost each other in a friendly way too.

Reader didn't even talk to Nick or Chris anymore either. All communication, all ties leading to the triplets, had been cut off. Permanently.

What Are They Doing Now?

It's been three months. Three painful months of not having the other by their side. Three excruciating months of having to act like they are fine. Like their worlds weren't crumbling to the ground. Neither Matt nor Reader was okay.

They tried to hide it. Tried to pretend that they were fine. That there was no hurt. That there was no anguish. But that's a lie. Not only are they lying to themselves, but they are lying to those around them as well.

Reader and Matt made other friends in LA. Other influencers and people besides each other. Reader had these other friends besides the Sturniolo's. But it wasn't the same. The connection wasn't the same.

Reader missed Nick's sass. Reader missed the way he wouldn't be afraid to call someone out about something, no matter what the situation may have been. Reader missed the way they were able to tell each other anything. Like how in high school, Reader was one of the first people Nick came out to – even before his own brothers.

Reader missed Chris's goofy personality. Reader missed the way he was always able to make her laugh, no matter what the situation may have been. Reader missed the fact that he was the first person to support the relationship between her and Matt. Like the time Matt took Reader to New York just a month before they broke up. It was just the two of them. Chris immediately supported the idea.

Most of all, though, Reader missed Matt. Reader missed everything about Matt. From the way that his hair fell into his eyes when it needed to be cut to the way that he drank his coffee. She missed it all. Everything. Every detail, big and small. She missed it. She missed him.

The boys had missed her too, but it was Matt who sat up in his room at late hours of the night. Wondering where he went wrong. Wondering what he could've done differently to make her stay. Wondering who exactly was to blame for their separation. Wondering when these intense feelings of hurt and pain would end. Wondering why the world – specifically the Internet – had to be so cruel to push away the love of his life. Wondering how he could possibly fix it, possibly erase the damage.

It was frustrating. Watching the other pretend on a screen for their millions of fans watching. Watching the other pretend that everything was fine. Watching but not talking. Watching but not touching. Watching but not holding. It was frustrating.

There was no going back. Not attempting to make up for the lost time from the past three months. The days, the hours, the minutes, the seconds – all this time that had passed. None of it would be taken back. None of the wreckage – from their hearts, their minds, or even their souls – would ever be mended.

People could tell. People could see. People could notice. People were aware of just how miserable Reader and Matt truly were. But neither ever said a word. Neither ever told anyone how they were truly feeling inside. Inside their minds. Inside their hearts. Inside their souls.

[paddedlittleparadise]

"Baby's First Christmas" – Ream Teaser

Ever wonder what happens to good little cuckqueans during their first Christmas? Let mommy domme Corinne explain…

–––

"Welcome, welcome! Come on in, folks! It's cold as heck out there, isn't it? Sure, shoes off if you want…"

It's my first Christmas Eve as official lady of the house, and god am I loving it! Henry agreed to let me hold a party for our close friends tonight, and as our glittering tree and wealth of festive decorations make plain, that was all the license I needed to go all out. Honestly, why not? I'm not just Corinne anymore. I'm Mrs. Henry now: housewife, sexily attired hostess, interior decorator, party planner…

Oh yes. And also the capable second mother to Amy. Amy, Henry's former wife… who just earlier this year officially became our ward.

But that's all beside the point right now. Here are our good friends Dawn and Eli, rosy-cheeked and laughing, shrugging out of their coats and scarves and boots in the entryway while I bubble and effuse about how wonderful it is to see them. And I mean it, too! Not only are they going to bring a much-needed dose of socialization to our little household, but they're also going to be amazing interacting with Amy. Because, well…

"Exactly!" I bubble, leading them out into the gloriously festive living room. "It's her first Christmas Eve party since all the changes, you know. Here, where did she crawl off to? Amy! Amy, come out and say hi to our guests!"

Oh, there she comes: dragged reluctantly out of the hallway by my handsome Henry, her sweet Mary Jane shoes scraping and sliding unwillingly along the linoleum. She's done up exactly as I envisioned, too. I mean, just look at that adorable holiday outfit I put together for her! That red-and-green plaid dress! those matching hair ribbons for her pigtails! those frilly socks! those fluffy petticoats! that adorable diaper bum and frilly diaper cover peeking out with every step!

None of it is the sort of thing a twenty-something-year-old woman would normally wear, of course. But by now, every person here knows that Amy is no ordinary young woman.

"Aww! OMG, Corinne – she looks so freaking adorable! You gotta tell me where you got that outfit! And those socks?!" Dawn is squealing like a little girl herself – or rather, like the amused and extroverted girl friend I've always known her to be. Now she's stepping forward, hugging our blushing Little, who waddle-stumbles forward uncertainly into her old acquaintance's embrace. "Hey, there, sweetie! Don't you look festive? Are you excited that Santa will be coming tonight?!"

"Oh, she is," I interject. Amy's pacifier is dangling from the ruched front of her dress, and I stuff it into her mouth to stifle any protests. "It's been soo freaking cute, how excited she is for the holidays! See, earlier this week she wanted to get Christmas presents for me and Henry. But like, she's not exactly in any position to be buying anyone much of anything! So, we worked out a deal: Henry helped her make something for me and wrap it, and I did the same! So now she's got two darling little presents for us over there under the tree…"

I pause, feeling a flutter of delight as I glance down at the diminutive Amy, gazing up at us both with pacified mouth and cheeks pink with embarrassment. "Here, Amy. Why don't you go show Dawn all the presents? Go on, show her…"

Nor is Dawn's enthusiasm lacking. "Ooh – and we can tuck a few more under there, too! See, sweetie? We brought a few little things for you and your parents, too!"

And off they go. God, it's so sweet and laughable seeing my Amy waddling off to the tree. She was complaining like crazy when I was dressing her earlier this afternoon, of course. All fussy with her whines of "noo, I don' wanna diaper! I wanna wear pull-ups!" – as if she was remotely qualified to even try training pants anymore.

Fortunately, even Henry knows better than to listen to her and her silly whimpers. He has my back – which is why he didn't so much as blink when I wrapped her up in those double-thick and double-boosted Megamaxes. "After all, babe," I'd smiled serenely at Henry over her struggling whimpers, "I won't have time to change her during the party. Better safe than sorry!"

Anyway, it's frickin' cute, that ponderous waddle of hers. But busy as I am with the hundred and one things waiting for me in the kitchen, the most I can do right now is call over my shoulder to the trio of adults around the tree. "Hey – when you can, can one of you just check to see if she needs a change?"

It'd take Niagara Falls to soak that diaper she's got on. I know it well. But what's Christmas without a bit of fun? And god, there's little more fun than watching my husband's silly, juvenile little ex-wife blushing and squirming while everyone around her treats her exactly like the baby she deserves to be.

So yeah – it's no surprise when I hear a faint "Oh, yeah – wet. But she'll be good for a lot longer yet!"

In my imagination, the blush in her cheeks is probably just as beet red as the shine on these beautiful cranberries.

[…]

Want to read more? We've got the rest, plus many, many other stories all up on the PaddedLittleParadise Ream for your steamy pleasure!

[silentsneezes]

since the brainrot is continuing, here’s a 1.6k sick v/iktor fic !

cw for talking about disability/chronic illness and a brief mention of dizziness

A few fits from Viktor isn’t uncommon, especially in the spring and fall, so Jayce dismisses the first few series of stifles from his partner. He blesses Viktor, as always, but doesn’t give it a second thought. That is, until Viktor has a particularly long fit, nearing 10 rapidly stifled sneezes without a single breath drawn.

“Bless you, mi amor. Is something setting you off?” He inquires, looking over from his desk to see Viktor’s shoulders shudder with another series of stifles, silent this time. If he hadn’t been looking, he wouldn’t have noticed, but the bobbing of his partner’s head and the shaking of his frame are telltale signs, “Bless you again.”

Viktor frowns at having been noticed, muttering a frustrated, “thank you,” without looking up from his work.

“You know, you don’t have to stifle when it’s just us,” he prompts, expecting to receive the same response he always does: either a dismissive wave of the hand, a glare, or– his least favorite– no response at all. Viktor decides on the latter, letting Jayce’s statement hang in the air unacknowledged.

“I don’t mind,” Jayce continues, “it’s…” he pauses, searching for the right word.

“Incessant.” Viktor substitutes, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“I was going to say endearing.” Jayce shrugs as he walks over to Viktor’s workspace, placing a hand on his shoulder. He can’t help but feel a pang of worry as he notices the heat radiating from his partner, “you should take a break.”

“Science does not “take breaks”. Neither does the hexcore,” Viktor rebuts, his accent thick with a congested drawl.

Jayce bites his tongue, holding back from quiping “neither does your nose.” Taunting Viktor would do no good. Instead he gives Viktor’s shoulder a little rub, his thumb traveling over his shoulder blade towards his neck.

“Maybe the hexcore doesn’t,” Jayce agrees, “But you do. You’re human, Viktor, it’s natural to get sick.” He reasons, his voice soft.

“You know it’s different,” he replies bluntly, not bothering to deny his illness.

Viktor’s words hang in the air, the insinuation obvious; Viktor may not get sick super often, but when he does, it tends to linger for weeks, exhausting his body to the point of dysfunction. Having a plethora of chronic illnesses does not mix well with any sort of cold or flu, as proven by Viktor’s record breaking fevers.

“I know,” Jayce murmurs as he continues to rub Viktor’s shoulder, “but that’s all the more reason to rest.”

Viktor closes his notebook, silently admitting defeat. He looks at Jayce with tired eyes, leaning into his partner’s warm touch.

“Let’s go to bed,” Jayce prompts, stepping closer to Viktor, “you need to sleep.”

Viktor can’t help but let out a tired breath as Jayce steps closer, leaning back as if he’s magnetically attracted to the other man. As much as he likes to pretend he doesn’t like physical affection, he’s always indulgent in Jayce’s touch.

Jayce places both hands on Viktor’s shoulders, stepping closer again, their bodies almost pressed against each other as he stands behind the sick man.

Viktor swallows, nodding. He fumbles for his crutch, his hands tightening around its handle as he forces himself into a standing position. Much to his annoyance, his vision clouds with black splotches for a moment, as it always does when he’s feverish. After a few seconds, he manages to shake off the dizziness, turning to face Jayce. His movements are slowed as the fever exhausts his body, only furthering his sour mood.

“Okay,” He agrees, meeting Jayce’s eyes with a tired, hazy gaze.

Jayce smiles, moving to give Viktor’s hand an affectionate squeeze, “good. I’ll grab my things.”

In the time that it takes for Jayce to gather his notebook and a blueprint he’s currently designing – only a few minutes, if that– Viktor has already occupied himself with a new task. Once again, he sits hunched over his desk, his posture downright terrible as he jots down a few equations in his notebook.

“V, you ready?” Jayce prompts, making his way back over to his partner and peeking over his shoulder.

Ignoring Jayce, Viktor starts, “I realized if we-” his breath breaks his thought with a sudden, quiet “hh-” before his shoulders shudder, his head bobbing down with a poorly stifled fit, “hh’hNgSxch! hh’NZxchh’h-hhNSXCh!”

“Bless you, bless you, bless you,” Jayce murmurs, resting a hand on Viktor’s shoulder, “come on genius, you can work on this when you’re feeling better.”

“Just let me-,” Viktor starts, evidently intent on finishing whatever project it is he’s started, but Jayce cuts him off with a swift, “No. We’re going home.”

Viktor looks up, a little surprised at Jayce’s firm tone. His lips purse in a thin line, weighing the pros and cons of resisting Jayce’s caretaking. Whether it’s his fever or exhaustion that breaks through his stubborn determination, Jayce doesn’t know. He’s just grateful to receive a quietly mumbled, “fine.”

“Good,” Jayce murmurs with a little smile, leaning over to kiss the top of Viktor’s head. He waits patiently for Viktor to stand and get his bookbag, placing a hand on Viktor’s waist as they make their way to the lab’s exit.

Viktor pauses as they reach the door, his eyebrows knitting together as the buzzing in his sinuses returns. Raising a hand to his face, he presses two fingers to the base of his nose just in time to stifle, “h’NGSxcH-nKZXxT! hh’NGSXt’eh! nNGxxXt! hh… hhNSXchh!”

“Bless you,” Jayce murmurs for what feels like the hundredth time that day, watching as Viktor fishes in his pocket for a handkerchief and wipes at his twitching nose.

The walk back to Jayce’s room in the academy is rather uneventful. It’s slow moving, more so than usual, and Jayce mentally scolds himself for not realizing Viktor was sick sooner. Typically he would, but he’s been so enveloped in his work today, it was easy to dismiss the frequent fits.

Of course, it’s likely that Viktor would’ve insisted on working even if Jayce had realized sooner, but Jayce still takes the blame. ‘He’s my partner. I should’ve known,’ he admonishes as a mental debate pans out, one side reasoning that Viktor is often reluctant to accept aid, and the other insisting that it’s Jayce’s responsibility to prove to Vitkor that he deserves care.

Even months into their relationship, Jayce struggles with proving to Viktor that his affection is out of love rather than pity. Admittedly, he’s made a few blunders in learning how to navigate helping Viktor with accessibility without diminishing his autonomy; as eager as he is to help his partner, he still finds himself unlearning certain behaviors he has from growing up able-bodied in Piltover.

His mental dispute is interrupted by a quiet “hh-” from Viktor, immediately earning Jayce’s attention. He looks over, watching as Viktor stands in place, his handkerchief held loosely in front of his nose as his breath hitches. Jayce feels his heart swell at the sight; Viktor looks downright miserable, his nostrils flaring in irritation at the itch.

“hh’ng’KZXchh! hh’TKsCHhew-kGNX’SHh!” The sneezes tumble out one after the other, and Viktor only manages to half stifle the first of the explusions, muffling the second two into his handkerchief.

“Salud,” Jayce murmurs as his hand finds its way to Vitkor’s waist again, giving it a gentle squeeze, “we’re almost home.”

Once again, Viktor doesn’t reply, instead wincing as he swallows. ‘Damnit, he’s worse off than I thought’ Jayce thinks, but he puts his mental chastising on hold, prioritizing the task at hand: getting Viktor home.

It doesn’t take much longer for the couple to arrive at Jayce’s place, and he’s quick to unlock the door, allowing Viktor to step inside. Viktor makes a beeline for the bedroom, not bothering to hide his exhaustion– and frankly, not able to hide his exhaustion with his worsening fever.

Jayce follows his partner, ready to make sure he’s as comfortable as he can be. He gives Viktor space as he climbs into bed, knowing not to offer help unless he’s prompted. Still, it pains him to watch Viktor position himself stiffly on the edge of the mattress, using both hands to leverage his bad leg up before shifting to lay back against the headboard.

Jayce busies himself with little tasks, appeasing his million mile per hour mind by getting tissues, a thermometer, cough drops, and all the necessities in battling a cold. He places the items on the nightstand, leaning over to cup a gentle hand over Viktor’s forehead, “Mi dios,” he mutters, feeling a pang of concern at Viktor’s temperature.

Viktor just allows the touch, his eyes drooping shut as he tries to ignore the swelling pain behind his temples. Now that he’s laying in bed, his work left behind in the lab, he allows himself to feel the extent of his sickness. It’s safe to say, the discomfort isn’t pleasant.

“Can I get you anything? Tea? A cold washcloth? A-,” Jayce starts listing, eager to relieve whatever pain he can.

“No,” Viktor answers simply, hooking a slim hand around Jayce’s waist and giving him a weak tug. Jayce submits without hesitation, climbing into bed beside his partner and making sure not to jostle him. Viktor melts against Jayce’s side, his head resting between the crook of Jayce’s elbow and his chest.

“I’ve got you,”Jayce murmurs lovingly, a hand coming up to sift through Jayce’s hair, “Just rest.”

Raspy and barely audible, Viktor mumbles, “What do you think I’m doing?”

Jayce can’t help but smile, chuckling quietly at his partner's sass. Even sick, Viktor is quick to give Jayce attitude, “point taken,” he concedes.

i’m working on the asks i’ve received, as well as a second part to the allergic j/ayce fic, but i figured this fic has sat in my snzdoc for long enough

as always, any comments or tags are much appreciated !! thank you to anyone who read the fic, i hope you enjoyed

[kitkat13001]

⋆⭒˚.⋆ 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚏𝚞𝚗, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚎

drunken monologues, confused because it’s not like i’m falling in love i just want you to do me no good and you look like you could the look of love, the rush of blood the “she’s with me”s, the gallic shrugs

⤷ denki kaminari x reader

⤷ denki calls reader “ma’am” once as a joke (no pronouns used), brief mentions of alcohol and small descriptions of anxiety, title and lyrics from arctic monkeys’ “no. 1 party anthem”

you didn’t feel like going out tonight. 

you had told denki this much when he barged into your room after you’d declined his million calls, instead finding you buried under a mountain of blankets just a few hours away from midnight on the 31st. 

not the best way to start the new year, he’d pointed out. you had only grumbled, tossing over in your bed and ignoring him. 

you’re surprised he’s not at the party right now. surely everyone else you two know is there, if the pictures mina, sero and kirishima had blown up your phone with were any indication. 

denki nudges your lifeless body and your grumble again, louder this time as he plops himself down on your bed beside you. 

“come onnn, it’s new year’s eve! you can’t go into a new year moping around like this, you need to get out and have some fun!”

unfortunately, he makes a pretty compelling case. it was something stupid that had you in such a bad mood, and getting out would probably do you a great deal of good. but then again, the party…the lights, the crowd, and ugh not even to mention the noise…

it’s like denki can sense your dilemma, the crack in your stubborn attitude, and he jumps at the opportunity to sway you. 

“pleeeaseee, you said you would come!” he whines, tugging on your arm insistently. 

contrary to popular belief, denki is actually very hard to say “no” to. 

you narrow your eyes at him, but you can’t muster up any malice in the face of his big golden eyes. 

you hold out for another couple seconds, internally debating, but he just keeps pouting and you know he won’t leave you alone until you agree and his hands on you are so warm and he’s so infuriatingly cute and—

“ugh, fine!” you groan, pushing him away so he can’t see the way you flush. “go away so i can change!”

“yes, ma’am,” he replies quickly with a cheeky smile. “so bossy.”

the party is in full swing once you two arrive, and it’s not even midnight yet. it’s packed, just like you thought. you stick tight to denki's side as he weaves through the crowd with a smile, ever his charming little self. his body against yours as you clutch his arm is the only one that doesn’t make your skin crawl.

it takes a few drinks to loosen you up, but once the tension has bled from your shoulders you’re out dancing with mina and jirou like it’s nobody’s business. 

you’re not sure at what point denki left your side, but it tugs at the back of your mind that even though you’re enjoying yourself, you kind of miss him. 

you try to shrug the odd feeling off, throwing yourself back into the dancing and the drinking as the music drowns out every thought from your head. 

it’s a good distraction, probably what you needed just about now. not just the dancing, but the party—seeing your friends, getting out of your head. you’d been so down lately, and without good reason, too, which just made you more frustrated. 

it’s good you’re getting it all out there, isn’t it? isn’t this what you’re supposed to do? dance it out, drink it away, crash and sleep it off, then wake up to a new day and start over again? 

someone bumps into you from behind just then, and the hypnotic haze you’ve been wallowing in begins to clear. that claustrophobic feeling is coming back, and suddenly the music is too loud and the people are too close and you find yourself stumbling for the patio door. 

the fresh night air is a godsend and you stand there for a moment, leaning against the sliding glass door and taking in deep lungfuls of it. 

there’s a little couch setup around an empty bonfire pit, and that’s where you drop down to look at the sky as you regain your bearings. 

it’s also where denki finds you when he comes out of the house, eyes alight at the sight of you. it makes your heart jump. 

“hey! i was looking for you just now.”

“yeah, sorry,” you murmur. “crowd was too much, i was starting to feel…urgh, y’know?”

“yeah,” he agrees sheepishly, ambling over. “it was really packed in there.”

he takes a seat beside you, propping his feet up on the brick pit in front of you. 

you feel his golden eyes on you, but you keep your gaze skyward. 

“you okay?” he asks after a minute, carefully nudging his leg against yours. 

your only response is a half-hearted shrug. 

“you wanna go?”

you think about it for a second, the allure of home calling out to you, but the night breeze feels so cool on your warm skin and the steadiness of denki’s body against yours brings you peace. you don’t really want to go. 

“not just yet,” you tell him, letting yourself lean against him more. “do you think…can we stay like this a little longer?”

“yeah. yeah, we can stay as long as you like.” denki opens his arms, letting you kick your feet up on the couch and nestle comfortably into his side. you rest your head on his bicep, surprised by how sturdy the muscle is beneath you. you knew denki was fit—it was impossible not to be in this course—but it’s never something you’ve really thought about. or felt. 

the two of you sit in soft silence, watching as fireworks light up the sky. you can hear denki humming softly to the music still pouring out of the house. it makes you smile. 

the yelling inside the house is getting louder and you check your phone. 11:59. they must be starting the countdown now. 

ten. 

“hey denki?”

“yeah?”

nine. 

“thanks for making me come out tonight. it’s…”

eight. 

“i’ve had a better time than i thought i would,” you admit, toying with his fingers from where his arm is draped gently across your collarbone. 

seven. 

“really? i felt kinda for bad dragging you out when i saw you out here by yourself,” he replies with a nervous laugh. 

six. 

“well, maybe. but ‘m not by myself anymore,” you tell him, allowing yourself a cheeky little smile. you tilt your head back to look up at him, and he’s beaming at you. 

five. 

the fireworks are lighting up his face in the most beautiful colors. even from upside down, denki is probably the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen. 

four. 

it’s faint from under all the shouting inside, but you can still hear the music. you love this song. 

three. 

you reach up to trace your fingers gently over denki’s freckles. they’ve faded some in the winter, but they’re still there if you look closely. his hand comes up to intertwine your fingers, holding them to his face.

two. 

you’re leaning in, both of you, like magnets. you let your eyes close as denki pulls you closer, the music and shouting and fireworks fading into the distance as your lips meet his. 

one. 

it’s a long time before you separate, and even longer before either of you even think about getting up from the patio couch. 

“happy new year, denki,” you murmur through a little smile. 

even though you’re both looking up at the sky, you can practically hear the matching smile in his voice. “happy new year.”

i meant to get this out closer to new years, but i’m actually happy with how it turned out either way. denki is so special to me. take care and much love,

- 𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢 ! 🩷🩷

[unsoju]

✿ thinkin bout you. 𓂃 k. kozume x f. reader

cw. word count ; 1.9k. part 2 of ; trust. trust who? beach day episode. anxiety. kind of insecure! reader. kuroo appearance. keiko already knowing about kenma and reader. kind of suggestive? they don’t do anything, but they mention things that happened in part one.

syn. after the mishap with kenma last month, things have gotten more and more awkward, and you have gotten less you, as time goes on. keiko invites you to the beach, in hopes of cheering you up.

It’s a good day for the beach. There aren’t too many people here, because it’s a Monday. The sun is out, but there are still clouds in the sky, so it’s not swelteringly hot out. You’re with your best friend, skipping school with no consequences since your parents already said yes to a beach day.

Beside you, Keiko is laid out on her beach towel, letting the sun beam down on her skin as she hopes and prays for a good tan. You, on the other hand, have your knees pulled up to your chest, sunglasses on, and you’re reading a book.

“Are you still reading that godforsaken book?” Without looking over, you can tell Keiko doesn’t even have her eyes open. She knows you too well, she could probably predict your every move at this point. You do, in fact, look back, though, a smile on your face. Her eyes open and she props herself up on her elbow, tilting her head. “We are literally at the beach, Y/n. Like, the sun is out, the waves are crashing against the sand, or whatever. Enjoy the sun!”

You sigh, but make a show out of closing your book and setting it to the side. Your arms end up wrapped around your legs and you rest your cheek on a knee. “It’s hot. I can’t just sit there and tan like you do— I get bored. Why can’t we go in the water yet?”

“Because Kenma and Kuroo haven’t shown up yet.” Your stomach drops at the mention of his name. Your eyes dart away from her, now glued to the water. “Besides,” she says, laying back down, “I still have a few minutes left before I can stop tanning my front side.”

“Kenma and Kuroo are coming?” You ask, voice quiet and distant. You haven’t talked to Kenma in weeks. The thought of seeing him again makes you nervous. Briefly, you’re insecure about the swimsuit you’re wearing, but then remember that night in his room and stop.

“Mhm. It’s their senior skip day, that’s why my parents said yes to me skipping too.”

You hum in response. That makes sense, logically, but that doesn’t mean you have to like it. You sigh and glance back at her once more. She looks so peaceful— so happy. You with a resigned purse of your lips, you stand up. “I’m going to get ice cream. You want strawberry?”

Her answer barely reaches your ears as she mumbles out a yes. You brush the sand off your hands and look out to the water again. You think you might want to go home again right now. There’s a few people lining the beach; some college kids playing beach volleyball, an older couple sitting very close to the water, a singular woman laying down and enjoying the sun.

You take a deep breath and try to calm your nerves. For a moment, you start to think about excuses you could use in order to escape. But then you think back to when Keiko was so excited that you agreed to come today, and a frown finds its way onto your face.

As you make your way to the ice cream shop, you can’t help but zone out. You try to keep your eyes in focus, but they just can’t. you’re too focused on Kenma and him showing up and the possibility that he told Kuroo what you two did and how Kuroo is going to snicker at you and judge you and—

A familiar laugh pulls you out of your thoughts. It’s loud and it’s annoying and you look up to see Kuroo and Kenma walking straight towards you.

Now, you have two options; there’s a group of bushes beside you. You could jump in and hide from them, risking your dignity and also the fact that it would probably hurt. Or. You keep walking, chin high, and pretend nothing is wrong.

You glance at the bushes, then back to the pair, and slowly realize that Kenma has already spotted you. You wrap your arms around yourself and go with a secret third option.

You put your head down and speed walk past them, ignoring Kuroo’s greeting and Kenma’s cat-like eyes burning into your skin.

There’s no time to think about what just happened— how embarrassing and plain rude it was— because you’re at the ice cream shop in less than ten steps after passing the two boys. Just like the beach, there’s not a lot of people there; two people working, and one person sitting down at one of the tables.

You’re less than a yard away from the counter, when there’s a hand on your shoulder, spinning you around to look at them. Kenma stands in front of you now, shirtless and a little out of breath. Did he run back here? 

There’s a sheen of sweat covering his body and, in the sun, it almost looks as if he’s sparkling. You want to throw up. Instead, you plaster a smile on your face and blink a couple times. “Hi, Kenma. Are you getting some ice cream, too?”

If possible, his face falls even flatter. “Cut the bullshit,” he snaps, making you flinch backwards a little bit. Kenma has never been an aggressive guy— well, maybe that’s not true after knowing what you know now, but he’s always been nice to you. “Why are you acting so… weird?”

Again, you blink at him, face blank, eyes dumb. There are so many scenarios running through your head; you tell him why you’re acting weird and he gets weirded out. You don’t tell him why you’re acting weird and he stops talking to you. You don’t tell him why you’re acting weird and he tells Keiko, effectively ruining your friendship.

“I’m not…” you trail off, eyes darting anywhere but his face. This is it. This is your chance. Speak now or forever hold your peace, right? You huff out a quick breath and meet his golden eyes once more. “I’m acting weird because you were my first kiss and then acted like nothing happened! And then you took my virginity and did the same damn thing!”

His eyes widen comically as you rant. Almost too fast for you to even process, his eyes sweep the surroundings before he grabs your arm and drags you away to a more secluded place— one where no one will see you. 

Your rate picks up again. You find it often does that when you’re around Kenma.

“What the hell are you talking about?” He hisses out, hand still gripping your arm. It makes you think back to that night when you first asked him the question, and you have to suppress a shiver. “You— I thought— you left my room before I woke up the morning after. You were the one who told me not to say anything to Keiko when I kissed you. You acted like nothing happened first. I followed your lead because I thought you didn’t want Keiko to know.”

“I don’t, but—”

“Then this is not just on me,” he cuts you off, eyes narrowed. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Kenma this mad before— you don’t think you’ve ever seen him mad, actually. “It’s partly my fault, because I was stupid enough to—”

It’s silent for a moment. The breeze kicks up, blowing both of your hair in the wind, yet there isn’t a word spoken. He stares at you, and you stare at him— silent.

“Stupid enough to what?” Your voice comes out in a shaky, weak whisper. You sound pathetic, and you know it, but you don’t care. Tears begin to sting at your eyes and you stare at him dumbly.

He hesitates, letting go of your arm and taking a step back. He seems to be calmer already. “Shit, I—” he takes an indecisive step forward, brows furrowing slightly. “I didn’t— I wasn’t going to say that, I was—” he cuts himself off with a frustrated sigh. “I wasn’t saying that taking your virginity was stupid. I was just… It would be better if you weren’t Keiko’s best friend, you know? I’m glad you are, but…”

“But it complicated things,” you finish for him, nodding. You look down at the ground and a singular tear splashes onto the sand. “I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t… I just, um, wanted someone I trusted.”

“I know.” His hand finds your arm again, his fingers are cold against your sun kissed skin. “And that’s perfectly fine. I think I already said this, but I’m happy you picked me and not some random guy from school.” This gets a small laugh out of you and, when you look up, Kenma is half-smiling too. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. It was kind of mean.”

You giggle again and sniffle, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. “It’s okay. I kind of yelled about you and my virginity in front of those ice cream workers, so it cancels out.”

“Yeah,” Kenma laughs out, nodding. “I guess it does.”

You two stare at each other for a moment longer, basking in the comfortable silence that settles around you.

Kenma is the first one to talk. A hesitant question as he tilts his head, “So?”

You mirror his action, tilting it the other way, and furrow your brows. “So?” You repeat. Your mind catches up to what he’s asking and your eyes widen. “Oh. So. What do you… I mean, like, I know that I, personally, wouldn’t—”

“What are we gonna tell Keiko?”

The question stops you short, your brain seems to stutter. “Oh,” you breathe out. “I… did not think about that.”

“I don’t think you need to tell her.” The new, but familiar, voice cuts through the air like a sword. You can feel the air around you get freezing cold. You swallow hard and slowly turn around to Keiko standing not even five feet away from you, hands crossed over her chest. Kuroo stands next to her, brows raised in complete and utter disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me?” She exclaims, marching towards you. “You lost your virginity to my brother and didn’t tell me?”

You can’t even talk right now. Your throat is dry, your brain is fried, you can’t breathe. “Keiko, I can—”

She glances back at Kuroo for a millisecond before they both start cackling. They clutch their stomachs and double over, wheezing and gasping for breath.

You and Kenma exchange glances, confusion written on both of your faces. “Uh.” Kenma scratches the back of his neck, clearing his throat. “What’s happening right now?”

Keiko, through her gasps of laughter, looks up at you and shakes her head, taking another step towards you and hitting your shoulder. “I already knew, you dumbass. I was just waiting for you to say something and you just, like, never did!”

“Oh my god.” You blink a couple times, staring down at the sand once again. “Oh my god. Keiko, what? How did you know?”

Her laughter has stopped now. She looks at you, leans close to your ear, and giggles before whispering, “you need to learn to be more quiet. Be happy my parents weren’t there for you to wake up.”

You can feel your face heat up. Kenma gives you a confused look, but you shake your head, mumbling something about telling him later.

“Okay, can we swim now, or what?”

All three of you look at Kuroo and laugh. “Yeah,” Kenma nods his head, unexpectedly throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Let’s go swim.”

[talxe]

Reading the Iliad, Book 9 thoughts

This is my first time ever reading it and I know next to nothing abt greek mythology so if I interpret anything wrong by all means pls correct me

Im reading the Robert Fagles translation

Here's the thing with Achilles. It is not enough for him to know he's the best, everyone else has to know it too, BUT even that's not enough. They cannot ever forget it AND they have to worship him for it. AND that's his fucking problem Achilles is SICK okay????😭

Like wtf

LITERALLY, no one is still upset abt what happened between Achilles and Agamemnon except Achilles.

Anyway Agamemnon summons all the important ppl on the Greek side, (Nestor, Odysseus, ppl like that)

Once they all get there Agamemnon starts bawling his little Greek eyes out bc shit is looking bleak

So Agamemnon says "fuck it, let's go home NOW."

Diomedes is like "Look man you've been kinda pissy at me buuuut ur a good leader or whatever so I think there's still a chance for the odds to be in our favor, but go home ig bc me and my men are staying until Troy falls."

Diomedes how does it feel to be Homer's fav??

Nestor decides they just need to make it through the night bc the Trojans are so close to their camp that they're neighbors atp

Nestor sits Agamemnon down and goes "What you did to Achilles was actually not cool and we really need him rn so you need to make things right."

AND AGAMEMNON actually agrees????? I still don't like him but this was super mature of him. It seems like despite his temper even he knows when he's in the wrong, unlike some other people.

Agamemnon lists off A BUNCH of shit that he's going to give Achilles. I started smiling bc the list just kept going.

He offers his own daughter for marriage, 7 women from lesbos, 20 Trojan women, and all the treasure his ships could carry. (there's more but this is the more important.)

Plus Berseis

Agamemnon says he'll swear an oath that he never slept with Berseis too.

Achilles gets all of this if he stops being angry and fights

So Ody, Ajax(Greater), Phoenix, and two heralds go to speak with Achilles

Achilles and Patroclus are just chilling as Achilles plays his stupid ass lyre

Patroclus mentioned♥️♥️♥️

When they see the group approaching, Achilles stands up and says "Omg I really missed up guys lol."

Like bro....

PEOPLE ARE DYING???

Achilles and Patroclus play host for the group and they all eat.

Achille is really happy to see his friends

So Odysseus starts trying to convince Achilles to re-join the fight

Achilles starts ranting abt how he's done everything but Agamemnon keeps the lions share of what they bring back

Then he goes on to talk abt how he loves Berseis only for her to be snatched away

Basically, he says no and then Achilles says "I will leave at first light."

KNOWING DAMN WELL HE'S NOT GONNA LEAVE. STOP LYING

Achilles is so weird to me. You're not going to accept the gifts, you're not going to leave, but you're going to fight either??? WHAT DO YOU WANT THEN???? He's sulking like a child

Then Achilles says "I don't want his shitty gifts and even if his daughters rivaled Aphrodite in looks I still wouldn't want them, and he can keep Berseis."

...........hello???

Phoenix starts trauma dumping but he tells Achilles that he's being disrespectful.

I think Phoenix tells the story (you know the one) of Meleager and Cleopatra. and Achilles is like "okay be quiet."

The group goes to leave, and Ody says that it's silly Achilles is doing this all over one woman.

But at this point it's not abt Berseis anymore and I don't think it ever was.

Achilles tells them that he won't fight until Hector gets so close that he's up their asses

I love finding out why Achilles is an asshole