#Bank of Big Sis

[rennemichaels]

I fix stuff, problem solve and know things for the whole family. Why, yes, I am the oldest daughter, and also the first born.

another shitty thing about being the eldest daughter who based her worth on academics and how useful she can be to others is that it physically hurts to ask for help even when we desperately need it. it's an internalized belief that we should we able to figure out everything on our own and it sucks

[lovingfacewerewolfsblog]

[gghostwriter]

Death of a Love Affair

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: The three times you understood and the final time you couldn’t.

Warning: angst with no happy ending

A/n: this felt oddly personal to me this is my first time writing in the Y/N perspective and in a one shot format so please be kind. I kinda left a possibly for p2, not sure about that yet, but let me know if that’s something you’d be interested in!

Main masterlist || Part 2A (happy end) || Part 2B (sad end)

The first time it happened, you completely understood. 

You had an inkling as to what you were getting into when you started dating a 187 genius who graduated at a young age and who was scouted straight from college by the FBI. It wasn’t hard to comprehend these external circumstances mixed with his internal need to prove himself worthy of belonging with the big boys would result in missed personal events. It was a given, you expected it.

You just didn’t count on him missing your graduation. After all, he gave his word that he’ll be there to see you walk the stage and receive your diploma. He promised you and yet, as you scanned the crowd of loved ones hugging the attendees, there was no sign of his tie wearing, button up lithe form weaving through the crowd, no sign of his slicked hair, meticulously tucked behind his ears and no sign his doe eyed hazel eyes shining with pride as you joined the ranks of adulthood and unemployment.

You reach for your phone, now finally free from the nerves and adrenaline of going up the stage, with a single unread message from the one you wished to be here with you.

I’m sorry, angel. There’s a case and Gideon needs me. 

You sighed with a mild smile sprouting on your glossed lips as you sent back a reply.

No worries! We can celebrate when you get back. Be safe, I love you.

“Oh honey, I’m so proud of you!” Your mom exclaimed, reaching for a hug. “You graduated and with so many achievements—I mean look at all these cords hanging around your neck!”

You laughed as you stepped out from her warm embrace and watched joyful tears gather under her eyes. “Thanks, Mom! Hopefully all these cords help me get a job soon, huh, or else I’ll be moving back home with you.”

“Oh honey, stop joking! As if I wouldn’t welcome you back with open arms,” she quipped back. 

A hand holding a bouquet of flowers shot up to your face. It was a bundle of your favorite, carnations, in ranges of different colors. 

“Congratulations, lil sis,” your older brother, Trevor, breathed out. “Do I get a hug too or is that just for Mom?” 

You giggled as you stepped into his arms, happy to be sharing this moment with your ever loving protector of a brother, no matter how busy he might be as a head chef for his own highly rated restaurant.

“Hey big brother, thanks for being here,” you mumbled in his tight grasp. “Did you pass along my invite to Dad?” 

You felt him subtly shake his head causing your smile to slightly falter. You knew better than to expect the man who gifted you half of his genes to show up—a workaholic, absentee of a father whose love language was to deposit checks to your bank account from his fattened pockets as a lawyer for the rich. It was the cause of your parents’ separation when you were five years old. The matriarch tired from taking up the mantle as both the paternal and maternal figure for both you and your brother. Your mother exhausted from repeatedly believing broken promises uttered to herself and to her babies.

Having seen first hand how each lie wrapped as an oath chipped a piece of the loving and bright woman who gave birth to you and your brother, you vowed to never let that happen to you. It was a cautionary tale engrained in your mind. A fable—a curse really and in hindsight, you should have seen the markings of history repeating itself.

“Now, where is your nerdy pipe cleaner of a boyfriend?” He asked as he scanned around the vicinity for a sight of Spencer.

You shrugged, genuinely alright with your FBI agent of a boyfriend missing this milestone in your life. “Duty called. But that’s okay, we’ll celebrate when he gets back.” 

A pair of eyes, similar to yours, inquisitively studied you as if making sure there was no hidden hurt behind those words uttered. “If you say so,” he stated, turning to your mother who was smiling at the both of you—her greatest treasures. “Mom, let’s get out of here. I had John prep the kitchen for a feast.” 

You and your mom chattered excitedly at the passenger back seat as Trevor backed the four-door navy sedan out of the parking and drove off to his restaurant for the promised lunch graduation.

———

It was well into the night as you were settling in bed when the tell-tale signs of the main door being unlocked echoed through the dark green walls of his apartment. 

“Spence?” You called out, letting him know that you were there instead of in your own apartment, 30 minutes away. 

More shuffling was heard before the object of your love and affection rounded the bedroom door with a set of his own flowers on hand. He breathed out your name in reverence as he went for a kiss, pleased that he had still caught you awake.

“Congratulations, my love,” he smiled as he pulled away from your soft lips. “These are for you and I’m sorry I couldn’t be there.” 

You smiled back, gladly accepting his apologies and flowers. “It’s all good, Spence. I know how demanding your job is. I missed you.” 

“I missed you too. I told Gideon and Hotch that’ll I’ll be unavailable this weekend. It’s just you and me,” he said as he went in for another kiss, unable to resist any longer. Not long after, his outside clothes and your sleepwear were strewn all around the bedroom floor as both your bodies merged into one and reached a mutual crescendo with your gasps and his groans as the choir. 

***

The second time, you moderately understood.

You noted that the BAU was back in full swing with Gideon being brought back to the saddle after what happened in Boston. As his birthday treat, you both agreed to fly in for the weekend to Vegas to visit his mother at the facility. He never would have gone alone should it not have been for your enthusiasm to come with. You loved talking to Diana about Spencer’s childhood during her good days and you also loved being in her presence still even when she was lost in her teaching past—acting out as a student as you got to hear her lectures about literature. 

The bustling at the airport had you tip toeing up to catch a sight of Spencer, your flight departing in about an hour. It was a late Friday afternoon, travelers were piling in for a weekend trip, and he promised to head straight from the Bureau to the airport to meet you by the entrance. Your head swiveled from left to right, biting your lip as the minutes ticked by with no sign of your boyfriend running towards you.

The phone in your jean pocket rang and your heart slightly dropped at the sight of the caller ID.

“Hey pretty boy,” you greeted, naively wishing that this phone call wasn’t a bearer of bad news. “Are you almost at the airport?” 

There were muffled voices heard in the background. “Uhm—actually—”

You sighed, understanding what he wanted to say. “There’s a case,” you stated as a matter of fact. “It’s alright, Spence. I’ll tell your mom something popped up. No worries.” 

“You—you don’t have to go alone. We can always reschedule,” he suggested, the timber of his voice going up an octave as if he was in a panic at the idea of disappointing you.

“You and I both know Diana’s excited about this trip,” you chuckled as you recalled how her doctor had described his mother’s face lighting up every time she was reminded of the visit. “I’ll go and spend some time with her. Maybe even get her to tell me more embarrassing childhood stories about her perfect boy.”

He lightly laughed at your joke to ease the tension and remorse he was feeling. “I could have told you all of it if you just asked.”

“Well, does it include pictures of you too?” You teased as you were checking in at the counter.

There was a stern voice calling for his name in the background, it was Hotch, you silently guessed. 

“Listen, I have to go. The team is about to give the profile,” he rushed out to inform you. “I’ll see you when we both get back. I love you.” 

The call ended without so much of a chance for you to say it back.

As the plane got ready to take off, your mood continued to further dampen. He promised to go—to you and to his own mother via the phone. An ivy seed of doubt was planted in your mind. Did he try to excuse himself from the case to his boss as some sort of birthday gift? It really didn’t work that way, you knew, with how of a high demand his job is but still, you wondered if his team was informed about the plans for this weekend or were they purposely kept out of the loop. That notion wouldn’t surprise you at the slightest, thinking back. The profilers weren’t even aware of his mother’s state and condition. Hell, they didn’t even know that you existed, a girlfriend of two years, until well into his first year at the BAU. 

Deep down you grasped why he keeps Diana a secret. You were aware of the shame and embarrassment he felt for himself, having had to have her institutionalized by the time he reached the age of eighteen. You got that, didn’t mean you understood it but nonetheless, you respected his decision and was even proud of him for reaching out for professional help no matter how much he viewed that action of his cowardly. But what you weren’t really privy to was really why your relationship was kept in the dark. It could have saved him from Morgan’s incessant ribbing of his inability to pick up women.

During one night where your insecurities got the best of you, you asked in a small voice if he was ashamed of the relationship. He vehemently denied it, repeatedly saying that he just wanted to have a secret solace—a happy home to return to that was untouched by the worst human terrors that he encounters on the daily. That was what you were, he explained, a sunlit luscious reprieve filled with flowers and laughter where he could rest his weary bones from the ravaging, dark waves. His own piece of heaven here on earth. He then kissed your fears away that night, hugged you tight into his chest—the vibrations from his humming lulling you to slumber.

———

“I always knew it would take a special girl to understand my special boy,” Diana mused out loud as you plated a slice of cake for her. 

You blushed, sitting down beside her with your own. “He’s perfect. I wouldn’t trade him for anyone else.” 

She affectionately combed through your hair, similar to how her son would. “Thank you. For visiting and being understanding of his erratic schedule.”

“It’s no problem at all, Diana. I love him, I knew what I was getting into when we started dating.” You stated as the ivy seed of doubt sprouted in your mind—did you really? Did you really understand what you were getting into?

***

The third time, you still tried to understand.

There you were surrounded by the purest celebration of love and matrimony, sans your long-haired, sweater vest wearing plus one. Your brother was getting married to the love of his life, vowing himself to be with her for better, for worse and your other half was in another state catching criminals. Fiddling with the diamond engagement ring adorning your finger, you recalled how you ended up alone, dateless, in this joyous occasion. 

You RSVP’ed with a date when the invitation arrived four months ago. Your brother even calling in to make sure that he, your well-celebrated FBI fiancée, will be able to attend a month before the wedding. You internally scoffed at his repeated checking but in retrospect, maybe he saw the end well before you did. You promised to him, as Spencer did to you, that he’ll be available to watch the union and to save all the slow dances with him. But the day before the wedding, the phone rang for a case in Dallas and you knew what it meant. Without so much of a fight, you kissed him goodbye by the door of his now shared apartment and let the dreary silence enveloped you as you think of how to inform your brother of the new change without hearing the pity and patronization in his voice. 

Nursing a glass of red wine, you watched your brother dance with his newly wedded wife and in your peripheral, you spotted your mother approaching you at the table. 

“Now why are you being such a sourpuss during this festive event?” She chimed out as she pulled a chair beside you. “You should be out there, dancing and getting to know our new extended family.” 

You shrugged, unsure on what to say. She was right, of course. All the guests were enjoying themselves and basking in the warm, infectious glow of the happy couple but you didn’t have the courage in you to mask the despondent emotions inside of you.

Your mother sighed and took your left hand in hers. “You know, when your dad and I were going through the proceedings of the divorce, I had moments when I wanted to back out from it. I loved your father, still holds a piece of my heart till this day, and I thought the small moments of happiness when he was around would be enough to tied me through the days when he wasn’t. I thought those times and our love for you kids were sufficient to keep our love from wilting. If I poured out affection and devotion to the home we once built, it wouldn’t crumble surely. But you know what I forgot—”

You turned to face her somber eyes, looking into yours as if searching for something that seemed to no longer be there. 

“—I forgot to take care of myself. I gave a pieces of me away so willing and so many times that when I reached the end of the marriage, I no longer knew who I was. Where the piece of me started and where it ended. You’re withering, my flower. The vibrant life that I once longed to protect in your eyes is slowly dying. I don’t want you to reach the finish line and not know how you got up there. How you ended up giving all yourself away with not a flower bud left to blossom just for you.” 

You felt your hackles rise to defend the relationship. In hindsight, this was you denying the truth that was staring you right in the face. “It’s not like that with Spencer, Mom. It’s just—the job is hectic and it’s been his forever dream. He had finally started to gain his footing when Gideon and Elle left and then the kidnapping happened and that pushed his progress back a bit. But he’s getting there now. We’re stabilizing and we had a discussion—there’s less broken promises. It’s just that this recent case in Dallas was urgent and they needed the team to solve crime. I don’t want to take him away from the country and the people who needs his help and from his dream of solving crimes. I love him, Mom, in all of his entirety and he deserves all the respect and understanding from me as his partner.” 

She squeezed the hand in hers—the left hand adorning the ring, the material manifestation of his vow to you that you had happily accepted. “I‘ve grown fond of Spencer. I see him as another son of mine but darling, sometimes the love you feel for each other is not enough. A relationship takes continuous work—a task that both individuals must pull in the effort and prioritize. Just think about it,” she stated as she stood up. “Now, no more of this depressing talk and this serious energy from you. Go around, dance with your brother, and enjoy.” 

You mustered up a smile as you proceeded to do just what you were told until your feet were sore from all the dancing. But no matter the joyous occasion, it didn’t stop the realization in the form of ivy from taking roots and slowly covering all corners of your mind. 

***

And the final time, you could no longer understand.

The grandfather clock stationed at the corner of the dimly lit apartment struck at two. Your figure was still dressed in your purple fitted dress as you waited for your soon-to-be other half to walk through the door. It was another night of getting your hopes up and broken promises and you were no longer sure how much you could take before the love you held in your heart festers and turns into resentment. 

You promised yourself you’d never be in a situation that you had seen your mother once be in. You became the careful daughter of a careless man who gave little to no effort to cherish the love a woman had freely given to him. You thought with all your cautiousness and logical thinking, the mistakes of the mother would never be repeated. That was naive thinking—you realized now. By actively being aware of the past, you’d forgotten to look ahead and fell deep into the pitfalls of doing the same as your mother did.

Spencer once mentioned that there was a high divorce rate in his line of duty. How he worried and vowed that you both will never join that rate. And that was a promise he’ll be able to keep, you scoffed to yourself, as you spun the ring on the table.

Another shared piece of information floated to the forefront of your mind. How Haley had recently served Hotch, his unit chief divorce papers. You’ve grown close with her over the years, being the only two constant partners to someone working in the BAU. You’ve seen first hand all the missed milestones in Haley’s and Jack’s life as her husband flew around the country with the cavalry, saving the innocent one case at a time. Never taking the time to realize that the once solid foundation of their marriage was crumbling down with every flight he took. Similar to what was happening in the doctor’s own home. 

A set of keys unlatched the mahogany door and a fresh batch of florals were the first that entered through, followed by Spencer looking sheepish as he noted your presence by the sofa. “Angel, I’m so sorry I missed your promotion dinner.” 

Silence greeted him as he stumbled to get to where you were. “Carnations for you.” 

Tears started to form under your eyes. You didn’t want to break but the reality of your decision was setting in. You wanted to falter, to change your mind, to give him another chance but you knew you couldn’t. You’ve given too much of your understanding away and you doubted you have any more to give to this beautiful man who once promised to make you his top priority. 

“I can’t accept them, Spencer.” 

His eyebrows furrowed and his body tensing as if sensing the finality behind your words. “Why not? They’re your favorite.” 

“They are but—” you took a deep breath, steeling your resolve. “—I think we should stop.” 

“W-what? No. No, please,” he stammered out as his own set of tears started flooding his eyes, blurring you from his vision. “I’m sorry I missed the dinner. I’ll make it up to you—I promise just—”

The dam of your emotions broke causing you to freely sob out all the sadness and anger that had collected in your heart. “I’m tired, Spencer. You can’t promise anything to me anymore. You’ve broken so many promises that you’ll only end up breaking them again.” 

He took your hands into his, letting the bouquet fall crushed on the hardwood floor, recognizing the ring missing in your finger. “This time, this time it’ll be different. Please, don’t leave me.” 

“The country needs you, the BAU needs you. But I need you too, Spencer. I love you, I really do but I can’t be your third priority anymore. I don’t deserve that—don’t I deserve to come first before the country and the job?” 

He tightened his hold on your hands as if afraid that you were slipping through his fingers, denying the reality that you already had. “I love you so much. I don’t want to live without you by my side. Tell me how to fix this. Do you want me to leave the BAU? I’ll—I’ll do it, just stay with me, please.” 

You shook your head. “I don’t want you to leave the FBI. Your ambition and integrity is one of the facets that I loved about you and you might end up resenting me down the line if you leave now. It’s not yet your time to leave the BAU, you and I both know that,” you pulled your hands away and slid the ring in front of him. “This belongs to you, I’m giving it back.” 

His shoulder caved in on itself, the weight of it all too much for him to carry. “I don’t want this to be our end. I just don’t.” 

“I don’t want this too, but I need to,” you whispered as your hand reached out to push shoulder length hair out of the way. “Maybe this isn’t the end. Maybe in the future we’d meet again and continue the pages of our love story but for now, I have to do this Spencer. I can’t keep giving a piece of me every time your top priority needs you, I’ll end up hating you if I stay.” 

You leaned in for one final kiss. A salty, tear filled kiss of death to a future you had once envisioned with the beautiful boy before you. A white picket fence with children laughing at the backyard—the American dream fading into nothing as you start to pull away.

“Goodbye for now, Spencer.”

He stared at all the curves and dips in your face one last time as if etching every detail into his already perfect memory.

“Goodbye for now, Y/N.”

[chilumi-shipper]

A prompt came into mind.. up to you if you're interested.

So, character and reader got married but character cheated because he said he doesn't love the reader anymore. They're technically done, but haven't finished doing the divorce files (because it's expensive and takes a long long time). But.. character got into an accident.. which made him forget everything that happened recently, and only remember the days he loved the reader. Reader's conflicted, the mistress that character has doesn't know what to do either. Character was confused on why he would marry anyone else when he has the reader fo begin with.

I think this fits your styles.

Btw, I LOVE ALL YOUR STORIES! I RE-READ THEM EVERYDAY-

Someone Better

Childe x Fem!Reader

Summary: Childe was a wild spirit, so when he got bored of your relationship, he sought the excitement of another woman. You were heartbroken, ultimately asking for a divorce. But just as your connection was almost severed, he got into an accident, losing every memory of his infidelity and returning to the man that made you fall in love him.

Tags: Cheating, Amnesia, Pining, Angst/No Comfort

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

You were staring at the tremendous amount of divorce paperwork sitting on the desk of your hotel room.

It was very complicated, five years of marriage with joined insurance, property, bank accounts, and now you have to meticulously separate all your joined assets, all while constantly on the verge of a breakdown.

Not to mention you had no family to stay with in Snezhnaya. There's absolutely no one you could talk to about everything, you've left your homeland thinking your future in the cold nation with the love of your life would be nothing less that fantasy.

As you rest your head on the desk and closed your eyes tightly to ease the headache, your ears perk up as loud knocks hit your door.

With a groan, you got up and opened it to reveal your two of Childe's older siblings.

"He's looking for you." The older sister said, Alevtina, her seriousness evident, looking at you somewhat panicked.

"I know, big si-" I paused for a moment, closing my eyes and rubbing my temples. "I'm working on the assets, I'll send it as soon as possible."

"No." The chilly tone of the older brother, Alexei, sent shivers down your spine. "You need to come with us."

...

"Big sister Y/N is here?" You hear Teucer's innocent voice as you enter their home. The younger children laid their eyes on you, seemingly eager to come closer, but perhaps they've been told that now would not be the time.

"Honey... Thank you for coming..." Their mother embraced you warmly, still accepting you with motherly affection. "Oh dear, I'm so sorry..."

"Mama, has he calmed down?" Alexei asked from behind you.

Your mother-in-law parts from you slightly, looking at you tenderly. "She will definitely help."

You put your confusion and questions aside, seeing the somewhat tense air within the house.

"Stop staring." You weren't looking at him, but you felt his eyes watching you set down a tray of soup and medicine on his bedside table.

Childe lets out a chuckle. "Sorry, love, I can't help it..." His eyes never faltered, containing a look of admiration that you've been unfamiliar with for so long.

"After the avalanche, I got a pretty bad head injury. When I woke up, you were the first thing on my mind. And when Mama said you weren't here with me, I freaked out."

You sat down on a chair next to his bed, your eyes observing the bandages wrapped around his head. "What did the doctor say about your injury?"

"I'm gonna get some very bad headaches, and I also got a bit of amnesia, I think." Childe looks as if he's in thought. "Do I seem like I forgot something?"

"Maybe some things..."

"But I love you just the same! So I bet what I forgot wasn't even that important!"

...How cruel.

Having to take care of the man that broke you apart, even worse, a version of him that you loved too much to despise.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

It was painful, staying with him.

Childe would keep you close, call you his different pet names, cuddle up to you, all while you were under the pitiful gaze of his family that knew of his infidelity.

On the other hand, he's been feeling the cold responses his advances have been receiving. But to him, he thinks he can solve it by smothering you in more of his love.

He is pretty observant, he's put it two in two together that he may be missing a memory in which he had done something wrong. He just didn't know how much it had hurt.

Though, not only from you, Childe had also felt that his younger siblings seem distant as well, no longer asking him to play snow games outside, or looking up to him as some sort of hero.

One early morning, when he walks up to the kitchen to see you cooking for the whole family, a smile formed on his face.

He steps closer, wrapping his muscular arms around your waist. "Hmmm... Morning, honey..." He basks in the feeling of you.

You remain quiet, letting him do as he pleases. The ginger frowns, however, feeling unsatisfied by your lack of reaction.

"Babyyyy... Loveee meee backkkk..." He whines, nuzzling his face on your neck.

"Ajax, come on..." You stifled a laugh, moving slightly away as his action tickled you. He hears the slight giggle of your words, smiling against your skin.

You compose yourself, pushing him away from you. "Stop." He lets you push him away, and you feel him freeze slightly at the harshness of your tone.

His blue eyes looked at you worried. "...Hey," He starts. "I'm sorry, darling, did you not like that?"

With a sigh, you looked down. "When the others wake up, tell them I already made breakfast. I have somewhere to be."

You walk pass him, but you did not miss the hurt tone of the faint call of your name.

...

You come back to his family's home after doing some more paperwork for the divorce that your husband doesn't even remember, feeling your head pounding as you ready yourself to face him again.

What you don't expect to see this late at night is Childe sitting on the porch with a lantern next to him, his head hung low as if he's thinking deeply.

"Childe?"

He looks up, but he frowns at you. "Ajax, darling..." He reminds you.

Standing up, he pulls you into his warm embrace. "I love you... I missed you..."

His words take you aback, as you reluctantly wrap your arms around him.

"I've been thinking about this morning, about you. You hate me."

"I know I must've done something... you can tell me." He kneels in front of you, staring at your eyes while his sparkle with the light of the lantern. "And even if I don't remember, I'll make it right..."

As you look down at him, you see the fiery passion of love that burned in his eyes as he knelt down to ask you to marry him so long ago.

It scares you...

You might not be able to control yourself...

"It's just hard to take care of you sometimes." You smile ever so slightly, yet his frown only deepens as tears start to escape your eyes.

He stands, his hand finds its way to your cheek. "Love..." His eyes held such conviction that you've not seen for years. "I'm so sorry..."

You close your eyes to hold in the tears, shaking your head and swaying his hand away. "...You're not."

Despite the tears, you tug at his arm. "Come on, let's head inside."

He's filled with questions, but seeing your sad face makes him set all those aside and focus on you for now.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

"Teucer, hey, little man." Childe calls for his little brother.

The little boy looks at him wide eyed. "I don't want to talk to you." He crossed his little arms, turning around to leave with a displeased look.

"What...? Oh come on..." The harbinger pouted, getting down on his little brother's level. "What did I do wrong...? All our siblings are acting so mean to me..." He whined, frowning as he tries to persuade the little ginger.

"But you were also very very mean!" Teucer refused to look at his older brother, the one he used to look up to the most. "We don't like you anymore!"

Childe's playful facade faded as his expression contorted to a confused one. "Hey, what do you mean...?"

"You're so mean to Y/N, you hurt her! She doesn't deserve tha-"

"Teucer!" Just as his brother erupted to a crying mess, screaming at him with all his little heart, their mother walked into the room, grabbing the little boy.

"Don't talk like that to your elders!"

"But it's true, Mama!"

"That doesn't matter, say sorry to-"

"What does he mean, Mama? Why did I do?" Childe looked at his mother expectantly, his voice starting to shake as he saw the fit of rage Teucer had because of him. "W-What did I do to Y/N?"

HIs mother shook her head, trying to ease her expression with a smile. "Nothing..."

"It's not nothing, Mama!" He raises his voice by accident due to his frustration. "I see it, the way she looks at me, it's different. The way you all look at me, like you have a monster inside your house."

Teucer forced his way out of his mother's hold, running to his older siblings room all teary eyed. Childe felt bad, but he desperately needed answers from his mother.

"Mama, please, I need to know why Y/N doesn't... love me anymore..." It hurts him to say, but based on the way you're acting, he could only make the assumption that your feelings have wavered.

"Oh, Ajax... it's not like that..."

The ginger then felt a sharp pain in his head, making him fall down onto the couch. He groaned as he clutched his head.

"Hey... where are you heading off to so late at night?" He hears your soft voice in a static audio playing in his head.

"Out." He then hears himself replying coldly.

"Ohh, when will you-"

He's out the door before you could even finish your question.

"Ajax, honey!' His mother's voice was a hazy blur as he keeps his eyes closed to envision what he's hearing in his head.

He tries to shake the feeling away, but his mind is flooded by fragmented memories.

"You've been going out a lot more recently." Your concerned voice entered his ears.

"I've been busy."

"Busy where?"

He then hears shatters of glass and yells as you sob while trying to talk to him.

He pictures your face, your crying, begging face, asking for some sort of salvation from his cold and merciless actions.

"T-There's someone else?"

"Someone better."

"H-How could y-you do this?"

"When I look at you now... I feel... nothing."

Childe opened his eyes, not realizing that tears had started to flow to his cheeks. "Mama..."

"Y-Yes, dear?"

"I hurt her..." He was in a state of disbelief. "I-I... Why...?"

His tears fell faster, looking at his mother for answers. "W-Why, Mama? Why was I so stupid? Why did I choose to lose her?"

"I don't know, dear, but that's simply what happened, and you could never make her forget that, even if you forgot."

His breathing started to accelerate, feeling like he wanted to punch himself. As his head started spinning, his vision turns black.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

You took a deep breath as you walked into the house, feeling everyone's eyes on you as you entered.

"Honey..." Your ex mother-in-law embraces you once again, holding you tight. "I'm so sorry... I didn't want to make it difficult for you..."

"N-No, no..." You returned her hug, sniffling as you start to tear up. "I readied myself for this, I'm just here to drop off the final papers..."

"Could you talk to him?" Alevtina suddenly asked, looking at you hesitantly. "I know he's been a jerk... but he won't eat unless he talks to you."

You parted from their mother, feeling the pressure of their request.

"It's okay to curse him, or to scream, or rough him up, I'll even help you." Alexei placed his hand on your shoulder to comfort you.

You nodded, sighing as they guided you to his room. And as you entered with a heavy feeling in your chest, he immediately sat up, alerted by your presence. You stare at each other for a bit before you muttered a word.

"Hi." You greeted him shortly.

"Hey..." His voice was soft, and his eyes followed you attentively.

"I'm sorry to intrude, I'll make this quick." You breathe deeply, trying to relax yourself. "I finished the papers, split the assets, got the lawyers."

"I talked to her, y-your woman..." You looked down, fidgeting with your hands. Childe seemed unfazed by it, though his gaze seem to falter at the mention of 'his woman'.

"She... umm... wasn't really interested anymore after the accident..." You breathe heavily, feeling small under his gaze. "But... your family's here to take care of you..."

Clearing your throat, you continued. "I do have one request, if I could... I would like a safe boat ride back home." You stepped closer, intending to hand him the envelope that contained all the paperwork to finalize your divorce.

"Take it all." You stopped in your tracks as he spoke.

"The house, the mora, the boat. It's all yours..." He lays back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. "Would you also do me a favor?"

You looked at him, encouraging him to speak.

"Carve my heart out and take it with you."

"...Can we be serious for a second?" You sighed.

"I would like to stay with you. I think that would be a good way to do it without constantly wanting to punch myself." You noticed that his eyes started to flood with tears.

"Ajax... I'm sorry this happened to you..."

"No, Y/N, I'm sorry... I'm sorry for everything." He sat up again, tears falling from his eyes as he looks up at you with genuine eyes. "I don't know why I did that. And I... I regret it so much..." He reached for your hand, and you let him hold onto you for strength.

"Every tear I had in me I already cried when you left me for her." You smiled bitterly, though you remained soft, making him even more guilty as you try to stay strong. "But I appreciate the apology..."

You pull your hand away from him slowly, feeling that he was reluctant to let go.

"I-I still love you..."

You gave him a final smile. "You'll love someone better than me... Childe..." You back away, leaving him alone in his room still yearning for the days where his memory only consisted of loving you.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Hiiii again after quite a while! I think I've been noticing that my recent fics have been angst, I guess I just feel like hurting you guys this season of giving (I give pain :D)

Anywayy, anon, I think at some point I went my own direction and didn't fully stick to your request (I'm sorryyy TvT) but I hope you like it anyway!

[schrodingerscougar]

Part two for this one. I'm sorry for the cliffhanger in the first part. The illustration is from the amazing @ave661 .

--

Four months. That’s how much time it took Simon to get out of that hazy fugue state. He didn’t really remember what he had gone through during that time, his brain switched to autopilot after the breakup. He often wondered why it affected him this much when he didn’t even love you. You were just someone he spent time with, someone he tried to play house with for a short while to feel normal.

Still, now as he lay on his bed, watching the ceiling fan rotate to stir up the hot air in the room, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. He even found himself opening a social media app to search for your name from a fake account he had set up a long time ago, and he was shocked to see the most recent photo of you. It was impossible to miss the unmistakable shape of a baby bump under your shirt, and based on its size, you got pregnant long months ago.

When he was finally allowed to go home for a short while, Simon went to see you. He knew he had hurt you, he knew you were probably still mad at him, but he had to know if it was his child. It only happened one time. One night when he tried to fix things by giving you what you wanted, hoping sex could make him see you in another light. Maybe he would finally want you the way you always wanted him to want you. But it didn’t work, and it was after that night he made the final decision to end things with you.

“What do you want?” you asked him when you opened the door.

Simon nodded as he bit the inside of his cheek. This cold welcome was fair enough, he deserved this kind of treatment. Normally, he would have left you alone. But normally, you would have told him you were pregnant.

So he silently pointed at your belly and waited for you to realize what he wanted. He knew you weren't dumb, the pieces would fall into place in a second. And sure enough, you let out a sigh then opened the door wider to let him in.

“Why didn't you tell me?” he asked you as he stood in the kitchen next to you with his arms crossed.

You were busy making him a cup of tea, but you took the time to silently shrug. When he let out a heavy sigh, you looked over at him and said, “I didn't think you'd care, Si. Simple as that.”

You were right. He didn't care. Even now that he was looking at you, his eyes occasionally moving to the bump that hid his own blood, his mind was somewhere else. He was a soldier, he knew how to take responsibility for his actions. You getting pregnant was his fault too. He couldn't just ignore the problem.

“I’ll pay child support,” he assured you.

“No need.”

Simon reached out to put a hand on the base of your neck, but you quickly pushed his hand away before he could touch your skin. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

You inhaled through your nose and held your breath in for a few seconds before finally exhaling. “So what? You’re gonna be around and help us? Take her to a doctor’s appointment or for a stroll around the block?” When you saw him looking down at his shoes, you couldn’t help but snort. “Thought so,” you said.

“I’ll better get going. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

Months flew by, but Simon barely noticed. He was on a mission again far from home, risking his life as usual. You never called and he didn’t force it. He accepted that he would have to live with the guilt of making this happen. Since you didn’t want to accept child support, he opened a bank account where he stored that money, hoping that one day he could give it to you or his daughter when she became old enough.

One day he checked your social media accounts like he had done a few times before, just to see how you were. This is when he saw the post in which you announced the arrival of your baby girl. He didn’t make a big deal out of it at first. She was born and she would probably ask about her father one day. If he was still alive then, he would gladly give her a toned down explanation. If not… Well, he left everything to her in his will.

Eventually he began to save the photos of his daughter and he often found himself looking at them. She was adorable, some of her features resembling his own. Her big brown eyes were definitely his; the color and the shape were both so familiar to him.

No one from the team knew about this part of his life. He had never told anyone, because why would he? They were close, they were his brothers, but you and your daughter were carefully guarded secrets in his life. Simon knew the real reason why he never talked about you; he was afraid of the judgmental looks and words.

Two months later, when he entered his apartment again after another round of deployment, Simon didn't really know what to do with himself. He ended up looking at his daughter's photos more and more often and eventually he made up his mind to give her a visit. It had absolutely nothing to do with you. He was doing this for the little girl.

You weren't welcoming but, once again, he couldn't blame you. “I just want to see my daughter,” he said softly, hoping the two of you could avoid fighting.

For long moments you were cautiously watching him, as if you were trying to decide if he could be trusted or not. But then your eyes fell on the big teddy bear he was holding with one hand and you let out a sigh of defeat.

On the way to the nursery, you didn't talk at all. The silence didn't bother him, but still he would have appreciated some words about the little girl he was about to meet. Was he allowed to pick her up? Did she like to be held? How was she? Did she have stomach ache often? Were she teething?

“Be quick,” you warned him when you stopped by her crib.

Simon let out a sigh. “Come on, don't be like that.”

You just rolled your eyes at him before taking a step back to lean your shoulder against the doorframe, arms folded over your chest, eyes watching his every move like a hawk. He found it a little too much, he hated that you didn't trust him. Sure, he hadn't given you many reasons to trust him, but for the sake of your daughter you should have tried.

With a sigh, he rested an elbow on the side of the crib and reached out to touch the baby as gently as he could with his other hand. His own flesh and blood. It was amazing, really. Without asking for permission, he picked her up and couldn't help but smile when the baby smiled at him.

Now that he was holding her close to his body, placing soft kisses on her head every so often, Simon couldn't deny that he already loved his daughter. There was an invisible string between them, something that brought her closer to him that anyone has ever been.

The baby giggled suddenly and it brought an even wider smile to Simon’s face. He could only hope you would let him see her as often as he could visit, but something told him it wouldn't be easy to convince you.

“She likes you,” you suddenly noted.

He put down the little girl then turned to you. “The feeling's mutual.” A faint smile appeared on your lips. “Can I see her some other time?” You nodded. “Thank you. If I can help with anything, just give me a call or send a message. I'll get back to you as soon as I can,” he offered.

You been to walk out of the room and he quietly followed you, waiting for you to say something. He didn't really know what he was expecting to hear, but he had a feeling you were holding back something. And sure enough, after a few minutes of silence you began to talk, scolding him for not even bothering to send at least a text to ask about her before suddenly showing up.

“I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd read them.”

“I'm mad at you, that's true,” you agreed.

Simon leaned against the doorframe as he watched you pace in the living room like a caged animal. He remembered those nights he had spent thinking about on deployment, the moment he saw that photo of you, and he realized that maybe he was missing you.

But how could he miss someone he didn't even love? Or had he developed feelings for you, feelings he tried to hide even from himself? It was way too confusing for him, and he didn't like to be confused. It was a weakness on the field and in his civilian life.

“I should go. If you need anything–”

You came to a halt, turned to him and nodded. “I know where to find you. But can I ask you something?” Simon motioned you to go on. “Why now? Why did you become interested in her all of a sudden?”

He let out a thoughtful hum as he put his hand on the back of his neck. “I saw the photos, how much she looks like me, and… I don't know.” You took a few steps closer to him, but you still kept a comfortable distance. “I've been saving money for her. I want to give you access to that bank account.”

“I don't need your money,” you were quick to say.

“It's for her. Please, accept it.”

You became mad at him, accusing him of assuming you couldn't take care of your daughter you'd been raising on your own from day one. He knew there was no point in defending himself, you were too lost in the hate you felt for him. So he just waited there in silence, letting you finish your speech.

Then, the moment you seemingly finished, he closed the gap between the two of you. He didn't know what he was doing, he just followed his instinct when he leaned down and kissed you. This was probably the first time he truly enjoyed kissing you, and it helped a lot that you were quick to return it.

Maybe this was why he wanted to come here today. To fix things. To try to get a family he'd been craving ever since he lost his own.

(part three)

[maiamore]

PASS THE SALT, MR MILLER

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female!Reader - No Outbreak Rating: 18+ | W/C: 4.5k

Summary: Joel finds out the hard way that leaving a pretty girl with blue-balls isn’t the smartest.

Or, Joel fucks you in his garage.

Tags: christmas-y vibes, fucking on Joel’s car, implied age gap,unprotected p in v, grumpy!joel, lots of yearning, squirting, sexual games, brat taming, outdoor sex, creampie

A/N: merry christmas folks! tbh this is just a game of how many fics can I write that has to do with (a) joel's truck or (b) joel yearning. side note, looped Disease - Lady Gaga track on repeat while writing this oops

MASTERLIST | MAIN STORY

Holidays have never really been something you celebrated. Fuck it, your own birthday even. It just wasn’t a priority you considered worth fussing over. Admittedly, your lack of enthusiasm for these events was probably why you ended up avoiding them. You would do the most for the people you loved but never for yourself.

Take Halloween for example. Your friends from Columbia were begging you for a slutty girls' night out, but you’d opted to stay home to help chaperone your younger brother Oscar’s party. Even so far as to set everything up, you’d made sure Oscar had a shot at being the coolest damn guy in his school. Fret not, jobless big sis is there to help ya. 

Of course, it hadn’t gone unrewarded, to put it loosely. All that really happened was some broody hot middle-aged dad jerking off in front of your face. Nothing out of the ordinary.

You found yourself staring at the pale green piece of paper your younger brother, Oscar,  handed you when he came home from school that evening. Eyeing the morbidly cliche design that screamed of some bored old receptionists' handiwork, you tilt it to get a better read.

Oak Ridge High School Annual Christmas Potluck.

Great. Another one. You were often the stand-in for his PTA Meetings in place of your ever so busy parents. While you had your fun with the free buffets and whatnot, you were getting tired of people asking how old you were when you “had” Oscar. 

*Calling all Parent Volunteers. Please Contact Joel Miller at +1 (512) 555 XXX for details. 

Now that got your attention.

Joel Miller. The man who, after that night, weaseled his way into your glorious collection of mental spank bank. Evident in the plethora of stolen nudie mags your mom stashed underneath her mattress—you’d gone as far to dog-ear pages of men who had the slightest resemblance to him. 

You couldn’t get him out of your mind. By him, his dick. All eight fuckin’ inches of pent-up old man dick. 

The desperation in the way he thumbed his slit, coaxing his milky cum into your waiting mouth in your bedroom flashed in your mind like post-traumatic-sex-disorder. You were robbed of a good fuck.

The beeps of your dial-pad echoed embarrassingly loud while you dialled the number on the flyer before fully seeing the idiocy in this move. The line connects after a few rings. 

“Miller. Who’s callin’?”

A shudder runs down your spine. His voice hit you like a freight train, low and gravelly, cutting through the faint clatter of what sounded like construction work on the other end.

Fuck. Fuck fuck. Hang up. Hang–

“Hi.” You blurt out, forcing a higher register in your voice in a desperate attempt to disguise yourself. “I’d like to register. For the Christmas…thing.” There was a pause, followed by the clunk of something heavy and the sound of boots against a hard floor. 

“Right. You’re the parent of…?” 

You clutched your phone tighter when Joel’s voice rang clearer than ever, throat dry as you scrambled to speak. “Oscar.”

He repeats your last name when you offer it, slow and deliberate, like he was trying to place it–a flicker of recognition almost.

“Alright then,” he finally says, the faintest edge of suspicion still lingering.

 “Guess I’ll see ya there.”

—

Impulsiveness was something that fucked Joel over most times. 

Messing around with someone he’d consider uncomfortably closer to his daughter's age than his own settled within him like poison. 

It’d been two whole months since the incident at halloween and he was still hung up over you. He was certain that a pretty girl like you had far better prospects than a washed up crotchety shit like him. 

You plagued his mind every time his fist wrapped around his cock. Every time he’d tried to fuck the stress of working long hours of grunt work at the site. Your soft and sweet expression offered him instantaneous, sticky reprieve. 

Guilt, or something he should’ve been feeling over using your face as masturbation material didn’t quite blare the alarms in his head through post-nut clarities. 

He knew he had fucked up the second he had you on your knees that night. 

You parked your sedan in front of a navy chevrolet in the driveway. Hopping out of the car as you looked up at the quaint home, clean white siding, neatly trimmed lawn. 

You figured by the bustling noise from the backyard that a volunteer offered up their home and all. Generous, you thought. And then you catch it. The worn down navy mailbox that sprawled the letters–

M I L L E R

The swirl that was now your mind dragged painful throbs in your head. To be in his own backyard felt stalker-ish even for you. 

With a weary exhale, you click open the boot of your car. Worrying had to come later, you had to formulate a game plan for the boxes of fairy lights you somehow had to haul into Joel’s backyard.

With a heaving effort, you propped up two boxes into your arms when the shuffle of footsteps catches your attention, coming from beside the opening garage. 

“Hey! Sorry, could use a little help...” You call out instinctively. 

Only managing to catch a glimpse of a hand bracing against the rickety garage door to shove it all the way up with a loud metallic clang. 

The sound startles you, but not as much as the sight when one of the boxes lifts from your hold, revealing your apparent savior.

The both of you pause, staring at each other in slight shock. Well–for him at least. You had ulterior motives that came delivered to you all wrapped up in worn-out denim.

Joel’s expression was less than welcoming, which in his defense—he wasn’t quite expecting to see his ghost in his own yard. 

“What are you doin’ here?”

The curtness of his voice throws you, but it’s too late to think of turning tail and driving off.

“I’m…one of the volunteers.”

“Sweetheart,” Joel begins, lifting the last box out of your arms like they weighed nothing. “You signin’ up under your mama’s name just to come sniffin’ round’ me? That it?”

“What? No. She couldn’t make it,” you shoot back, a little too quick, a little too defensive. Joel wasn’t buying it, his unimpressed stare making you shift on your feet.

“Uh-huh,” he mutters, already stepping over to your car. With a grunt, he hefted another box from your trunk, the effort drawing a low sound from his chest. 

The bitterness (and arousal) pools in your mouth at the noise he makes. 

Yes. You’d admit. You sniffed out Joel’s trail like some stray, chasing after the smallest crumb of him. It wasn’t irrational for you to think that you deserved some sort of closure. 

His voice cuts clean through your spiraling thoughts. “If you’re expectin’ somethin’, you best stop right there. I ain’t messin’ around.” You grimaced, fumbling for words. 

“I’m just here to help—” 

“S’enough outta you. Stay out of trouble.” He interrupts, not quite looking at you. 

Joel wills himself to flick his gaze anywhere but at you, one look at your face was enough to remind him of the fact, one look was probably enough to pop a damn boner. He sets the boxes down by the patio, knees cracking as he stretches back up with a grunt.

“Get someone to hang ‘em up. ‘Cause clearly,” he says, eyeing your sweater and skirt, “you ain’t dressed to actually help.”

He gives you a short, dismissive nod before turning away, leaving you standing there. Warmth pools your cheeks, feeling foolish to have gone this far for the attention of a man who made it clear that he didn’t seem to give a fuck whether you were here or not.

—

Joel spends the better half of the afternoon hovering around you. 

Approaching you normally was out of the question now that Sarah and the other kids began to flitter into his backyard to help with preparation. His daughter’s presence acted like a highly effective cock-block. Not that he had any business entertaining those kinds of thoughts in the first place.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

Risky didn’t begin to describe it, so he kept his distance. That resolve went straight out the window when he spotted you, half-balanced on a ladder, hanging Christmas lights along the edge of his roof. With candy cane printed panties peeking out from under your skirt—god almighty, Joel nearly doubled over.

You could feel Joel's eyes on you while attempting to hang the lights over the siding. Purposefully going against what he said, purposefully giving everyone a goddamn show. 

"You ever learn how to listen?" 

“I can do it myself.” You shot back. Coyly soothing the back of your skirt. A proper fuck you to him at his insinuation that you’d been here just to man-trap him. Not that the notion did much. 

You felt the ladder steady with Joel’s hold. Effectively blocking everyone else from seeing what you were flaunting. 

"For the love of christ, darlin’, get down." 

“For the love of christ, I’m almost fuckin’ done.” You parroted his words back to him with an annoyed huff. It was hard not to let Joel infiltrate your mind but lack of his attention was eating you up–making you do crazy things, evidently.

With a satisfied huff at the placements, you brought your arms down.

Why did that…feel heavy?

A sharp crackle and metallic clatter fills the air before you fully completed your thought, the chains of lights comes tumbling down. You froze. Lowering your gaze to see the single goddamn twine snagged onto your sweater that you’d effectively yanked down with you. 

The bulbs burst into chaotic pops as they hit the ground, shards of glass scattering like tiny fireworks across the patio, drawing everyone’s attention.

Joel doesn’t hesitate, his hands found your waist as he lifted you off the ladder and set you firmly on the ground to safety with a grunt, his eyes snaps to the shards of glass glinting in the light and the fresh scratches marring his freshly varnished patio.

"You gotta be shittin' me..." He mutters, the irritation sharp in his drawl.  

“Mr Miller…”

Joel held up his palm as a sign to get you to be quiet so he could speak. Damn if you calling him Mr Miller now of all times didn’t make him want to haul your ass up to his bedroom.

Which he might add, seemed conveniently close.

He closes his eyes for a few seconds, pinching the bridge of his nose. "D’you think before you do anythin’ at all? Or do you just act on impulse?" He asks in a sharp and biting tone, looking directly at you as he spoke.

You cock your brow at his words. Surely he wasn’t seriously reacting this way to a couple of broken lights. To mention, your lights.

“What? Think about being a decent person to help?”

"A decent person would've listened the first time when I told you to leave it the hell alone," he snapped, stepping closer. "A decent person wouldn’t have shot me attitude n’ thrown a damn temper tantrum when I told you to get down."  

“What are you getting so bent out of shape for?”

“For starters, you wrecked my patio, darlin’.” He grumbles. Rubbing the back of his neck in the slightest amount of awareness that he’d overreacted, though he’d rather chew rocks than admit it. 

You don’t answer him. Humiliated as is. Your pouty-ness showed in the way you stomped over to get the broom that lay in the corner. He watches you regardless, arms folded taut.

“Goddamned train-wreck.” He mutters under his breath after a long pause, not even giving you the chance to let an apology leave your lips before he turns his heel to leave.

—

You didn’t take it well when people spoke to you like you were stupid. 

An Ivy League degree hung the walls of your room for fucks sake. Who the hell did Joel think he was? As if that wasn’t humiliating enough, you’d tucked your tail between your legs to sweep it all up without a word. The embers that lay dormant were further fanned as time passed. You were pissed.

Joel, on the other hand, begins to feel guilt at the way he’d reacted. Even in the corner of his eyes, he sees you helping set up with the rest of the parents. It wasn’t the behaviour of some reckless nympho he imagined you to be when you stepped foot into his yard. 

You didn’t have to stand there to stand under the sun in the unforgiving Texas heat, refilling lemonade for the parent’s committee. Or entertain Sarah and the rest of the kids. You’d turned his backyard into a damned Christmas Wonderland by the end of the night.

You were a good girl, he figures after a long while of brooding.

And he tries. He tries to approach you to apologize but you didn’t seem to be having it. Going out of your way to swerve at the slightest sight of him near you. Which he gets.

You were over it, really. Chalked it up to his personality being generally the way it was. But what really helped you get over your humiliation? Seeing Joel Miller fucking grovel. 

Which you were acutely aware of with the way he lingered around you, waiting for an opening that you deprived of him.

—

The skies grew to a dusky violet, the backyard gently lit up with the soft twinkle of the fairy lights you’d painstakingly hung up (and re-hung). Lull of familiar Christmas classics playing by the speakers. 

The warmth of the chatter and laughter surrounding the table tugged at your edges, coaxing a reluctant smile to your lips. You weren’t ready to admit it, but the festive mood was infectious.

You sat near the end of the committee’s table, the seat next to you conspicuously empty. The kids–Oscar, Sarah, and their friends were huddled at their own table. You briefly wondered if you should join them instead, given that the current hot topic at your table being mortgage rates.

The thud of a melamine crystal glass landing next to your plate broke your train of thought. You flick your gaze up, your expression hardening the moment you caught sight of Joel dragging the empty chair over next to you and lowering himself into it with a creak.

Without a word, he slides the glass closer to you, taking a sip from his own. His movements were deliberate, careful, like a man trying not to step on a landmine.

Joel wasn’t quite well-versed in apologies, as evident by Sarah’s constant reminders that one of these days he was going to piss a woman he actually fancied. His hand stretches over your lap, unfurling the napkin on the other side of you to drape it over your thighs. 

“Could you pass over the salt, sweetheart?” 

You tilt your head, arching a brow, not moving a muscle. Instead, you shot him a pointed look.

With a heavy sigh and a muttered curse under his breath, Joel stands up, his knees popping audibly as he leaned across the table to grab the salt himself. He slumps back into his chair, setting it down with a huff. How could a little thing like you hold so much anger?

“Done torturin’ me yet?” 

A scoff leaves your lips. 

“Who said I was?” 

“I’m tryin’ to apologise, sweetheart.” You shudder at the manner he whispers the words out. As though it was a secret reserved for just you and him. 

You rest your cheeks on your palms, shooting him an uninterested look. Joel’s eyes darts down to your plate that you were pushing to him. He doesn’t hesitate, reaching over and starts loading your plate up again with generous portions of the dishes spread across the table. The sight of him doing so, quiet and almost reverent, made your chest sing.

Oh this. This you could get used to.

For the next twenty minutes, you’d milked Joel’s newfound contrition for all it was worth. Needed a refill? Joel was already reaching for your glass. Running low on napkins? He was up and grabbing a fresh one before you even asked. You’d even braced yourself for him to snap when you made a fuss over your creaky chair, but to your delight, he stood up and swapped it out without so much as a grumble.

Unfortunately for you, your luck does runs out.

The flutter of your napkin onto the makeshift mat spread across the lawn catches his attention, his eyes darting to the rogue square of fabric before slowly flicking back up to meet your gaze. You leaned back in your chair, looking at him expectantly, lips quirking just enough to toe the line between innocent and insufferable.

Joel’s jaw twitches.

“Fuckin’ pick it up on your own, sweetheart.” his voice was laced with just enough irritation to make your smirk widen. Still, you couldn’t resist one last little prod.

Your legs shifted, one crossing over the other, the toe of your shoe brushing lightly against the denim of his jeans. His eyes darted down to the motion before snapping back up, a muscle in his jaw tightening.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to apologise?” 

Joel shifts in his chair, arms crossing over his broad chest as he gave you a look that sent a shiver down your spine. “Think I settled my debts, crackles.”

You roll your eyes at his taunt, the warning laced in it only served to burn in your gut like uncontrollable lust. You felt yourself grow bored now that he’d ruthlessly cut you off from your only source of entertainment. 

The thrill begins to wane, you’d grown impatient at Joel’s lack of well, giving in. Though the idea, a possibly stupid one, that you might’ve needed to give him a little push crosses your mind. 

With a deliberate stretch, you rose from your seat, leaning over the table to reach for the salt shaker resting comfortably on Joel’s side with a hand placed on his thigh. It was perfectly positioned for him to hand it over to you–if you’d bothered to ask. But that wasn’t the point.

For a moment, he didn’t move. Didn’t speak. His jaw clenched so tight you could see the faint tick of his pulse. Slowly, you eased back into your seat, dragging your fingers in a slow deliberate curve as you went.

The sharp grip of his hand on your wrist came next, firm enough to make you gasp. Joel’s dark eyes locked on yours, his nostrils flaring as he tried to keep whatever storm was brewing behind them at bay.

You pressed your tongue against your cheek, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. He’d taken the bait all right. The unmistakable rise against where your hand was placed told you what you needed to know. Hook, line, and sinker.

It doesn’t quite matter to him whether you’d forgiven him anymore. 

With a sharp tug, Joel pulls you up with him. “S’cuse me. This one isn’t feeling too well.” 

The protest dies in your throat when Joel practically hauls you across his yard, away from the nosy glances from the rest of the parents. 

You frown at the dusty old garage he leads you to up front where you’d parked your car. A hand comes up the back of your head to force you to duck underneath the half opened door, cringing at the loud sound it draws. 

You tip your head up to watch Joel grab the edge of the half-opened garage door to full slam it down shut.

Fuck. You felt your cunt clench with the way his sleeves tightened around his forearms, wetting your lips subconsciously at the sight.

“This where you murder me, Mr Miller?”

His jaw ticks at that. There it was again. Mr Miller.

“Shut up.”

You mouthed the words wow as you looked to the side. As though there was a camera you were monologuing to. Joel approaches you tentatively. Backing you up until you feel sturdy metal stop your path. 

A firm slam against the hood you were backed up against causes you to jolt. 

“You’re fuckin’ with me.” He begins. Shifting closer until he had you snug against him and the truck. “You’ve been fuckin’ with me.”

You tilt your head up. Neck stretched uncomfortably to its limit. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Joel sighs. Looking towards the side, as though he might back off and run away again. 

“This ain’t right.”

You frown. Why was he getting cold feet now? You gaze darts to the side, following his line of vision. A frilly pink bicycle parked in the midst of the dusty old boxes stacked up against concrete walls. Some labelled with years of mementos of his daughter growing up. 

Joel groans when he feels a much smaller, soft hand cup against the growing strain on his jeans. “Judging by this, I think you’re full of shit.”

His restraint teeters on the edge. “Don’t.” He grasps around your wrists to stop you, though, he half asses it, barely with the amount of strength he could’ve used if he’d really wanted you to stop.  

You palm against his erection, feeling it quickly harden beneath. You suck in your breath at the way his brows furrowed in concentration, the slight twitch of his lips. A whimper leaves your lips at how receptive he’d been to your touch. 

“You’re trouble.” He manages. Finally meeting your gaze. You can tell he’s conflicted, but the way you cupped around his balls through the denim has him keeling over with a rough exhale. 

He finally gathers enough strength in him to force your hand away from his cock. Just as you were about to whine about it, he flips you over. You steady your palms against the hood of his truck. 

“Gotta be quiet. You understand me?” You nod quickly. Not daring to speak considering how his voice already echoed in the garage even at its softest.

Your elbows move to rest against the dirtied metal. Folding it so you could comfortably rest your head on it. 

Joel lets out a low whistle at the way you bend your hips. Hiking your skirt up slowly. “Fuckin’ hell sweetheart.” He mutters. Thumb swiping against the growing dampness of your panties. 

A dull noise from his zipper is the only other thing you hear when you feel him grind his clothed cock against you. 

“Mr Miller—please.” You breathed out. Your thighs tenses, wiggling your hips higher to relieve the ache you felt. Feeling his hardness prod against your folds. 

Joel sighs softly, thumbing against your clit before you curl into yourself. “Don’t need it.” You breathe out quickly. There’s a pause in his movements before you feel a thumb hook around the waistband of your panties. Dragging it down to your ankles. 

The sound Joel makes at the sight of your slick stringing down the gusset of it makes him wince out audibly. Two fingers gather the slick of your folds, messily dragging it up and down your clit in a repeated notion. His fingers dipping in and out of you with a squelch. You groan out. Hips stuttering at the sensation. 

“Hurry.” You urged.

You feel his other palm carefully twirl around the back of your hair. The breath knocks out of you when he heaves you backwards into his chest with a sharp tug. Fingertips entwined with your locks.

“Been patient with ya all fuckin’ day and ya think you got the right t’rush me now?”

Tears threaten to prick in the corners of your eyes at his tone. You grip around his wrist where he holds your hair. “…hurts” , you whisper, guiding his other hand back to your clit, “..here.”

Joel swallows thickly. He clenched his jaw so damn tight you audibly heard just how hard he ground them. How could he deprive you further when you were begging so sweetly? 

He shucks his jeans down further, guiding his twitching cock out from his boxers. A drawn out groan leaves your lips when he nudges the head of his cock against your soaking pussy. Your moan echoes loudly into the space around you both. 

He growls into your ears. Before you could apologise, your voice gets muffled around the heavy palm that comes to cover your mouth. You whine against it. “Told t’be fuckin’ quiet.” He grits, voice hushed against the side of your head. 

Your eyes nearly roll back at the way he begins to thrust into you with the tip in an effort to get you used to his size. But it didn’t matter. The way his cockhead stretched your pussy out stung. But it was quickly replaced by the nauseating need to be fucked full. 

Joel leans down to trace kisses up your neck before he fully sheathes himself into you. The muffle around your mouth grows tighter to suppress the loud moan. “Shh shh…you’ve got it.” He praises, breathing heavily into your ears. 

The tears trickle directly over his knuckles. He releases the grip he had on your hair, looping around your abdomen. Snapping his hips into you at a punishing pace. You babble incoherently, practically slobbering into his palms, whining about how deep his cock was pounding into you. 

The obscene slaps of where the two of you connected fills the garage, only spurring his need to fill you deep with his come. 

Joel lets out a groan when you clench around his dick like vice. “Fuck. Pussy’s chokin’ me.” His head drops to the dip of your neck. Pressing kisses onto your pulse point. 

“Don’t think I can last much longer.” He admits, dragging his hand–slick with your saliva down to your throat. His head flush against your shoulder blade. He takes a moment to breathe you in. Joel isn’t quite the man he used to be and coming this embarrassingly fast wasn’t on his docket. Least of all tonight. 

You squirm a little at the sensation of Joel’s stubble against your shoulder. A deep exhale leaving your lips. 

“M…me too..” You pant out heavily. Resting your head back against his chest. Joel’s free hand slides underneath your sweater, yanking your bra down. 

A rough palm kneads the softness, tweaking your hardened nipples in a circular motion. “Shit. Mr—…Miller.” You manage. Squirming at how his palm gropes your tits clumsily. You give yourself the final push you needed, your fingers coming down to rub against your clit. 

Joel’s hips stutter at the sensation of your pussy convulsing around his cock, following your orgasm soon after. But he doesn’t stop. He fucks you through it. Both his hands firm around your hips. 

Your hands hastily come up to grab around his wrists. “Wait—stop—…stop.” You gasp out. Joel doesn’t quite register your pleas with how his mind was whirring around wanting to fuck his come deep into you until he feels a warm splatter of your release trickle down his thighs. 

Your bated breaths fill the garage. Mortified, you watch the liquid drip from the radiator grill of Joel’s truck. 

“I’ll be damned.” He muses, earning a warning look from you. Joel shakes his head, a low rumble from his chest makes you feel a little less embarrassed about squirting onto his truck. He turns you around to press a kiss onto the apple of your cheeks. 

“Been meanin’ to get er’ washed. Guess I don’t gotta anymore.”

[rememberwren]

Lord forgive me but I’m a little obsessed with the thought of bank robber!Simon. tw: dubcon, guns, reader wears a dress

I can see it as some blistering hot day in the 60’s, sweat dripping down the back of reader’s neck soaking into the collar of your dress on your way just from the car to the bank.

As you’re stuck standing in line the first gunshot rings out and everyone hits the floor, panicked cries echoing off the stone floors, arms over their heads (as if that’s going to save them).

And the robber himself is huge, a great hulking man with a mask. He takes out the shaking security guard—who’s probably never shot the gun at his hip in his life—with a strike on the temple. His voice is booming, no-nonsense as he tells everyone to lay on their bellies with their hands behind their heads and to not do anything stupid if they want to make it home for dinner. He’s on his way toward the back of the bank when he passes you…and you watch his big black boots double back and come to stop right in front of you.

“You,” he gestures with the gun. Your heart pounds with adrenaline. You’ve never felt so small and helpless. “Up.”

“Don’t hurt her,” the gentleman in front of you insists, brave and stupid.

“Not gonna,” the man in the mask says. He even helps you stand, awkward as it is to rise to your feet in your dress. “As long as she behaves herself.”

“Take me instead,” the man insists loudly.

He turns the gun on the man. “Keep talking and she’ll have to see me blow your brains out.”

He forces you along, gun nudging the small of your back. His gloved hand skims the curve of your waist making you shiver. He makes you act as a go-between between him and the bank tellers, makes you retrieve instructions on how to open the vault. He makes you help him fill a canvas bag with bills.

“I think he liked you,” he says slyly.

“Who?”

“Guy out front. Your knight in shining armor,” he mocks, eyes dark beneath his mask, glittering up at you from where he kneels, neatly stacking bands of cash in the bag.

You grimace. “I don’t even know him, I swear.”

“He’d like to know you.”

On the way out, it seems like the nightmare is about to end. But when he leads you back to your initial spot, he forces you down onto your knees and tells you to unbuckle his pants.

He fucks your mouth in front of the whole bank, one hand on the back of your head and the other on his gun, cooing filth to you while your gags and whines echo off the stone around you. You’re not sure if he takes his eyes of the man beside you once, his expression smug as he fucks into the softness of your throat.

He’s still hard when the first hint of sirens can be heard in the distance. His hand forces you down on his cock at a brutal pace, drool dripping from your split-open mouth down to the skirt of your dress. Before he cums, you get scared.

You always get scared.

“Come on, Si,” you say, voice wrecked as you nuzzle against his cock. “Cops are gonna be here soon.”

He sighs, slipping his cock away. “Always the sensible one.”

“Keep you outta jail, don’t I?”

“You—you—“ sputters the man next to you, watching as Simon pulls you to your feet and gently wipes the drool from your chin. “You’re working with him!”

“Hey!” you say with a frown. “He’s working with me!”

The sirens are closer than ever.

Simon gives a long suffering sigh and says: “Let’s argue about it in the car.”

[i-cant-sing]

What are your thoughts on the yandere haikyuu teams x their manager?

Boring. I need some spice in it. How about-

Yandere Daichi as a cop and his darling is a civilian and now he's so obsessed with her that he murders her husband, frames him as a criminal and will literally stop at nothing to get darling in his arms because again... who will suspect good old, everybody's best bud COP Daichi to be able to do heinous crimes???

Yandere Sugawara as a psychiatrist because come on- he gives major "master manipulator" vibes and now he's obsessed with his darling patient and will continue to do malpractice and gaslight her and prescribe her all the wrong meds until she loses it and he gets to admit it her under his "special care" and now he can play with her mind all day long🤍

Yandere Oikawa is now a pro volleyball athlete and he just saw Ushijima's little sis, the same one he used to bully and even rejected (and ofc, HUMILIATED) when she confessed to him back in highschool. But now Oikawa's obsessed with her and also still hates his nemesis Ushijima, so what's better than killing two birds with one stone??? And Oikawa still has a very devoted fanclub, only now it's larger and more powerful than ever so now he uses them and his socials to peer pressure you into dating him and eventually, marrying him because he ain't getting any younger honey and he needs some cute babies out of you ASAP.

Yandere Kuroo who is the smart IT tech guy at your office but in reality, he has his own cyber security company that he uses to spy on you, controls your entire life through your socials and don't even get me started on your online banking shit. If its any consolation, he's very rich so... yeah. He may not look like a million bucks, but he does have them. In several offshore accounts.

Yandere Kita who somehow ended up as a mafia leader, probably inherited it as family business and he has like severe OCD so he wants everything done to perfection or so help you, you will 1000% end up 6 feet under. Mafia Kita who has this vision of you being the perfect wife, solely based om the one time you offered him your handkerchiefs because he had a nosebleed from stressing too much and now Kita thinks you're an absolute angel and he wont let you destroy that fantasy of his. Seriously. He will pick out your outfits, tell you how to act and all, punish you if he must, but he does love you.

Yandere Ushijima who is a farmer and has decided that the reader whose car broke down and came to his door asking for help, will now be his wife and be a countryside mom to many kids (u can't say no, okay? He wants a big family) and animals! But hey, he's a very caring husband and will massage your feet, give you baths and feed you his homegrown veggies and meals daily once you are round with his babies🥺

Yandere Bokuto who is now a popular politician and he needs an obedient wife to keep up appearances and play the "family man" image up. So he decides to threaten reader who had a one night stand with him, and Bokuto somehow has very intimate images and videos of you and he uses them to get you to marry him. And now he controls every aspect of your life and tells you to do exactly as he says, and he abuses this privilege more as he gets more powerful and you could only imagine the horrors he would inflict on you if he does actually win elections, but you can't run away because again- he has eyes and contacts everywhere.

[normspellsman]

I Believe You

pairing: lo’ak x older sister!reader

genre: angstish, fluff, & comfort (from reader to lo’ak)

word count: 1.7k+

warning(s): sad!lo’ak, mentions of jake scolding + punishing lo’ak, lo’ak crying, reader being the best big sis fr, lo’ak is a total big sister boy, cursing, & sibling bonding

request details: here!

taglist: @aonungsmate @dearstell @goodiesinthecloset21 @optimisticblazetrash @thatonegirlwiththebeanie367 @minkyungseokie @liyahsocorro @universal-s1ut @amortencjja @arminsgfloll @blushhpeachh @sweetirilly @iwannahaveaprettyaesthetic @bambisposts-blogs (requested the plot! <3)

word bank: toruk makto — rider of last shadow, tawtute — human; sky person, & tulkun — whale like creature residing in awa’atlu

note: was originally titled “my baby bro” but then i came up with this plot & trashed my original idea bc i felt like i could write this better & actually have motivation to write this :).

Lo’ak is known for getting in trouble. Either his loud mouth or actions, mostly both, got him into scuffles with his parents. This time was no different.

He had bonded with Payakan, a tulkun who was outcasted for something that any other being would do when forced to see their Mother be killed in front of them. In Lo’ak’s eyes, Payakan’s actions were driven by his sadness and were justifiable to a point. He knew how much the creature regretted the lives lost that day. If the same thing were to happen to him, Lo’ak would react the same way.

He felt understood by Payakan. They both had a significant physical difference from the rest of their species, making them feel isolated and alone in the large planet of Pandora. Made them feel judged and ridiculed for being different from the rest.

Not even thirty minutes prior, Lo’ak got chewed out by his Father, scolding him for talking back to the Olo’eyktan and doing something he, yet again, shouldn’t be doing. His Father never failed to make him feel like the black sheep of the family even though they are more alike than he’d hoped. It sucked. It really did. He just wanted people to see him. See all of him, even the messed up and alien parts of him.

One person only came to mind when he thought about people seeing and accepting him for who he is. You.

You were the eldest daughter of the Sully family. The token child. The perfect image of what a Na’vi should look like. The one that carried the burden of being Tsahìk or Olo’eykte one day. The one who, despite all the push back, saw Lo’ak for who he is.

You absolutely adored Lo’ak when you were younger, only being around the age of four when he was born. You refused to let your parents pry him away from your tiny arms when you held him way longer than you should’ve. You loved holding him and talking to him in the baby voice your Father always did to you and your other siblings, gently running a small finger down the flat bridge of his nose. You loved singing him to sleep or rocking him whenever he began to fuss, dropping everything to come and comfort your baby brother. And even though he is all grown up and is ‘too cool’ for your affections, you still give it to him anyway.

Not like the teen boy would ever admit it, but he loves whenever you’d rub his back when he didn’t feel good, rebraid his hair when it outgrew the current braids, hug him a little too long after a scouting mission, and especially when you’d pat the empty side of your mat for him to lay down on, comforting him with your warm embrace as he dozed off into a peaceful slumber. When he was younger, he was much more greedy with your attention and affections, pouting to you whenever you gave Neteyam or Kiri an extra kiss goodnight or fussing when you didn’t say your usual goodbye before heading off to train for the day. Lo’ak was practically attached to your hip throughout his adolescence years, clinging to your leg wherever you went. There was always a different connection you and Lo’ak had compared to your other siblings. It was something special and was hard to explain. You just understood one another, no matter how either of you looked or what you went through.

“What’s wrong, baby bro?” Your voice asked, concern laced in your voice.

Of course you knew what was wrong. You practically heard the whole thing from the other side of the island. It didn’t take long for Tuk to inform you of what happened when you arrived home either, sadness written on her face as she told you the story and how they haven’t seen Lo’ak since then.

You found him minutes after your interaction with Tuktirey. He was sitting on the beach, staring off into the horizon as the waves lazily lapped at his feet, legs brought up to his chest as his chin rested on his scarred knees.

“Nothing,” Lo’ak mumbled, eyes stuck on the eclipsing sun. He refused to look weak in front of others, not wanting to ruin his image as Toruk Makto’s second son, especially if it was someone he looked up to.

You hummed in response, not believing his statement. Lo’ak was unbelievably stubborn, something he got from your Mother. It was a good trait to have at times, but it made it harder to break down the boys walls when they needed breaking. Too stubborn for his own good, you thought, settling yourself next to your brother.

“Sure, and the sky is green,” you replied, smirking at your stupid joke. But Lo’ak only rolled his eyes and huffed your way, bringing his knees closer to his chest.

You always tried to crack a joke or two to make him feel better. It worked at times, usually when he was younger. You hadn’t tried this method in a while, too caught up with running away from your home clan and trying to fit into the Metkayina’s way of life. You hadn’t been able to comfort Lo’ak the past times he got scolded by your Father. Something that you felt sorry for and regretted. You were the eldest Sully child. You felt the need to comfort all of your siblings whenever they needed it. You felt awful for not being there for your youngest brother when he desperately needed it.

“I think what you did back there was stupid,” you started, your words causing Lo’ak’s ears to pin themselves to the sides of his head, “Talking back to the Olo’eyktan was really stupid. Especially in front of the Tsahìk. I mean, she scares the absolute shit out of me.”.

Your words seemed to have an effect on Lo’ak as you heard a small sniffle come from him, signaling that he was going to cry or already was. Your heart dropped at that fact, urging yourself to finish your thoughts.

“But, I think it was also brave,” you add on, turning your head to face Lo’ak, watching his reactions, “I don’t think I could ever do what you did. I’d probably shit my pants before speaking to Tonowari like that. You truly have bigger balls than me, little brother. I also think that it was sick that you bonded with a tulkun. I mean, that’s gotta be like, a record or something! First Omatikaya to ever bond with a tulkun.”.

And before Lo’ak could even utter a word, you wrapped up your thoughts with a final, “Has a nice ring to it: Lo’ak, the Tulkun Rider.”.

Fat tears run down the expanse of Lo’ak’s cheeks, rolling down the skin and onto his neck and chest. He felt so frustrated with his parents and how no one was listening to him about Payakan. How no one cared about what he saw or what he felt when he bonded with the creature. He saw what he saw and felt what he felt. He knew out of any of them the truth about what happened and how much regret Payakan carried around. It wasn’t fair. None of it was.

You gently placed a hand onto your brothers shaking shoulder, bringing him in closer towards your body so he could lean into you. Your four-fingered hand came to grasp his five-fingered hand, thumb rubbing the back of his hand in comfort.

“I’m really sorry that I wasn’t there for you before to comfort you. I should’ve been there for you when you needed me,” you whisper, the hand on his shoulder moving to his head to play with his grown out braids. I’ll have to convince him to let me rebraid them, you thought to yourself, knowing that it won’t take much for him to agree to your request.

“I’m sorry that Dad yelled at you and made you feel the way that you feel. He’s always so harsh on you. It’s not fair,” you added, soothing down his hair as his cries quieted down and softened. “He treats us like soldiers instead of children. He seems to be stuck in his tawtute ways recently,” you continued, shaking your head at the realization.

“For what it’s worth, Lo’ak. I believe you,” you said, causing him to pull away from your figure and to stare up at you in shock.

“You do?” He asked, ears perking back up in interest.

You merely nod, smiling down at your brother, “You’ll have to take me to meet Payakan one day, baby bro.”.

Lo’ak brightly grinned at your words, jumping up to hug you. “You’ll love him, sis! I’ve already told him all about you,” he commented, excitement evident in his voice.

“All good things I hope,” you laugh out, embracing Lo’ak.

Lo’ak only hummed and nodded in response, suddenly tired from all of the crying he did. He reached up a fist to rub his eye, ears flickering back as he did so. You knew he was tired. You could see it all over his face.

“Turn around,” you whispered, gesturing for your brother to turn his body around so his back would be facing you. He obeyed your order, sitting crossed legged as his tail wrapped around his waist and slightly curled at the end, anticipating your next move.

Once you put your fingers in his hair and began to slowly unbraid each braid one by one, a smile creeped onto Lo’ak’s face as he relaxed against your swift and gentle fingers. He missed the times where you would willingly rebraid his hair for him and put beads in his hair that matched the ones in yours. It was nice to have you do something that comforted him when he was child again. It was nice to have you comfort him. It was nice to have you as an older sister.

As time passed and the sky got darker, Neytiri had begun to look for her two missing children, stumbling upon them on the shoreline seated next to each other as they whispered and giggled amongst one another. The Mother of five smiled at the sight before her, heart swelling at the interaction. She knew of the kind of connection you shared, knowing that it ran deep and beyond her understanding as a Mother. She knew that no matter what, you’ll always have each other. Yeah, she thought, he’ll be just fine.

[elexaria]

TW — mentions of suicidal ideation and suicide attempt

simon is out on sick leave, his mental health has gotten worse since johnny died. “can’t have you in service if you’re not 100%, riley.” price gruffly remarks as he signs simon’s papers, eyes looking up through thick eyebrows at si, who is angrily glancing away.

sick leave is torture. simon feels lost, no anchor to tether him down to earth. without work, he is nothing. without johnny, he’s ….. nothing.

he spends all day rotting away in bed, his thumb rasping against a battered old photograph of him and johnny on holiday in mallorca. johnny with a gorgeous tan, and simon all pink. no, he doesn’t get an impeccable bronze. that man BURNS.

the corners of simon’s lips twitch as he glances at johnny in the photo, admiring how handsome he truly was. he would give anything to see him again.

and then it gets hard to get anything but dying out of his head. if he dies, then maybe he can see johnny again. they can finally be together again. right?

the capt drops off a small bundle of johnny’s stuff at simon’s apartment, and then a small package is delivered in the post from mrs mactavish, johnny’s mom. various bits and bobs, some of johnny’s tshirts, his favourite cap, some sketchbooks.

his dog tags.

simon’s surprised to find them; he thought that they would be put in johnny’s urn or something. but clearly his mom thought otherwise, she must’ve known how much johnny adored simon. he would have moved heaven and earth for that mancunian.

still, suicide ghosts every waking moment of simon’s life. he glances at johnny’s dog tags besides his bed, chewing his chapped lips as he entertains the idea more. and again when he’s walking around the shops, glancing at various means of killing himself. his thumb rasps against the cold metal of johnny’s tags from within his jacket pocket as his free hand extends to read the packet of rat poison. might be a bit too painful, and apparently it stinks to the high heavens.

simon puts the box of rat poison back, continuing to walk around the shop, thumb still stroking against the dog tags as he continues to glance around the store. he can’t take painkillers, there’s a limit to two boxes per person. so, he settles on visiting the hardware store, and buys a bundle of sturdy rope. even grabs some plywood and metal brackets. “makin’ a swing for the little’un.” he mumbles to the cashier, flashing an uneasy yet somewhat believable smile to her as he fishes out some loose bank notes from his jean pockets. he’s not big on wallets.

for almost a week, simon sits on the edge of his bed staring at the bundle of rope next to a chair from his kitchen. he knows its the only way out, so why is it so terrifying? just do it, riley. do it.

he scrawls out demented ramblings on some loose leaf paper, barely readable chicken scratch to captain price, gaz and to mrs mactavish. “i’ll always be grateful for you for bringing my johnny boy into the world.” is somewhat legible in the letter written to her.

he neatly leaves the letters at the foot of his bed, taking a deep breath as he reaches into his pocket for johnny’s dog tags. for a moment, simon admires them in the dim lighting of his bedroom, watching as the thin metal clinks together. sergeant john mactavish.

as the tags slowly slip over simon’s head, the ball chain momentarily getting caught on a wry piece of scruffy blonde hair, they finally join with simon’s own tags on his chest as he stands on the kitchen chair. for a moment, his hand reaches out against his wardrobe to steady his balance. he slips the noose around his neck, heart thumping against his rib cage ferociously. do it, simon. do it.

simon’s trying his best to still his breathing, taking deep breaths as he tries to dull the nagging thoughts, against his instincts to not do this.

“tae fuck d’yae ‘hink yer daein?!”

simon falls back against his wardrobe out of shock, eyes wide with horror as he glances in the direction of that all too familar voice, that voice that immediately drowns out every single thought that was screaming at simon to kill himself.

it’s johnny.

he’s effervescent, an angelic silhouette of his mortal self. a halo of warm light, blue, ghosts around his form.

simon’s mouth is agape, eyes still wide as his body freezes. immediately, he tears the noose off of his head, damn near stumbling off the chair to get a closer look of the spectacle in front of him.

“johnny? but… you’re…”

“dead? aye, sherlock. i am.” the silhouette retorts sarcastically, flashing ghostly pearly whites in a lopsided grin, one that’s terrifying just like johnny’s signature grin. simon backs against the wardrobe, his breathing uneven and scant as he begins to panic. this isn’t normal, this isn’t right.

the mass of energy and light shaped like johnny notices this panic in simon, and seems to frown. it slowly moves towards him, a hand reaching out to touch simon’s shoulder. it’s hauntingly cold, and it makes simon recoil with horror. the spectre frowns even more, retracting its hand.

this can’t be johnny.

because johnny’s dead.

[hikarimiyanaga]

The Queen's Bride (Part 4)

Warnings : Omegaverse. Stark!Reader. Omega!Reader x Alpha!Daenerys Targaryen. Modern!AU.

Taglist : @kelloggs4cereal

You pace around the mansion's living room.

Even though you had class today, you opted to skip in order to know Sansa's second gender first. Your sister is more important than anything else.

"Mom! I- Y/N! You're back?" You smile at her.

"Yeah, just for a bit. How did your test go?"

"Beta. I am a beta." You sigh in relief and hug her tight.

"Good for you, my baby sis!"

"What- I'm not a baby." She pushes you away.

"Sansa, you are to me. Tonight, we celebrate! I'm taking everyone to your favorite restaurant!"

"With dad's money?" You wink at her.

"My own."

The truth was, you and Tyrion have a lucrative business. You guys help high school students cheat. It wasn't an ethical business but it did fill your pocket and secret bank account.

It also helps that your father has given you free reign on your allowance that is refilled monthly.

-

As you promised, you did take everyone except your mother, father and Robb as they were all busy.

"So what is the occasion, big sis? Why take us here?" Rickon asks and you smile at him.

"This is for your big sis's freedom!" You grim then turn to Sansa. "At least you get to have decisions regarding your marriage and your course. Do not choose any of the Lannisters even if they offer. I will kill you in your sleep."

"How about the Targaryens?"

"No. I'm already marrying one of them."

"Theon?" Arya asks innocently and both you and Sansa gag.

"Ew. We grew up with him. Borderline incest."

"Then who?" Sansa asks and you grin.

"Grow old without anyone."

"Y/N!" She slaps your arm and you laugh.

"Just stop looking at Westeros' Nobility and we're good."

"Are you oppose to any second gender?" You shake your head at that.

"No. Choose anyone you like."

"Okay." She leans on your shoulder and you pat her head.

"Come on, Sansa, order up. I can pay for everything if you want."

"No. Just because we brought Arya doesn't mean we can eat everything." You chuckle then turn to the other three.

"Choose anything you guys like, okay?"

"Even dessert?" Rickon asks, clearly excited.

"Yes. But that's after a meal. Eat up first."

"Okay!" Rickon says as he scans the menu.

-

It was an eventful evening. You had fun with all of them before all of you went home to the Stark Mansion.

You came inside carrying an asleep Rickon, a very sleepy Arya, and a barely awake Bran. Thankfully, Sansa is still awake.

"Looks like you guys had fun." Robb greets you and you roll your eyes at him.

"Too bad, you weren't there. Jerk." He laughs at that.

"Hey, someone had to man the company."

"Sure, you did." You carry Rickon up to their room while dragging Bran. "Bran, just a few more steps, okay? I'll help you guys change into pajamas."

"Thanks, sis." You sigh in relief as you reach their room and deposit Rickon in his bed.

"Come on, dude. Toothbrush then change. I'll help you find your clothes." Bran nods at that then he goes in the bathroom. You get their change of clothes and place Bran's on his bed. Then you carefully changed Rickon's clothes. Bran finishes up in the bathroom and changes into pajamas. He yawns loudly and smiles at you.

"Thanks for the fun night, sis. Goodnight."

"You're welcome, Bran. Goodnight." You kiss his forehead and tuck him in. "Sweet dreams, little brother." Bran sleeps with a smile on his face. You go downstairs and see a now sleeping Arya on the couch.

"Hey. Who are you texting?" You ask Sansa as you carry Arya.

"Margaery. She's also a beta." You hum.

"The Tyrells, huh?"

"Yeah. She's asking about you too." You raise an eyebrow at her.

"Me????"

"Yeah. You're taking knightho-" you cover her mouth and frown.

"Stop. Father doesn't know. Your room. Now." Sansa nods and goes to her room while you carry Arya to hers. You tuck her in quickly and go to Sansa's room.

"Dad doesn't know?" You shake your head as you close the door.

"Mom doesn't either. They both think that I'm only taking management."

"Why are you hiding it from them?"

"Because they only want management for me." You sigh as you sit besides her.

"Why?"

"Because I'm a weak omega." Sansa tilts her head at that.

"Weak? You?" You nod at her. "Does mom and dad need glasses????" You chuckle at her comment and pat her head.

"Everyone keeps thinking that omegas are only good for well-"

"Breeding?" You glare at her. "What? Margaery told me."

"Do not ever say that word again. Got it?" Sansa nods. "But pretty much, yeah. Why do you think one of the Targaryens are willing to marry me?"

"Because you're awesome?" You shake your head at her. "Omega?" You nod and smile at her sadly. Sansa has never seen you so sad.

"An omega from one of the noble families is considered a rarity. After all, Alpha and Beta bloods are much stronger. So they fought for me."

"Is that why you didn't want me to be an omega?" You nod at her.

"It's much better to be married by love than by being a trophy." You couldn't help the tear as it fell from your eye. Sansa panics now. You're her big sister and she has never seen you cry, not even when you get scolded by Ned or Catelyn. "I'm okay." You assure her as you wipe your tear. "Father might choose someone for you but I'll fight him every step of the way, okay? You, Arya, Rickon and Bran deserve freedom."

"What if they become omegas too?"

"By then, I'll be a Targaryen so-" you sit beside her. "So I can protect them." Sansa hugs you and you hug her back.

"I'll choose someone good, sis." You smile then kiss her head.

"That's all I want, little sister."

-

You get back to your class the next day.

Oberyn raises an eye at you.

"Did you get fucked all day yesterday?" You glare at him as you sit.

"Do tell, how the hell did you get into that conclusion?"

"Well, you've been wearing that outfit since two days ago." You look down and realize that he was right.

"Yesterday was Sansa's result day."

"Oohh. Do the Starks have another omega?" Oberyn says loud enough and almost everyone in the class looks at the both of you. Everyone here wants to know if there is another omega from the Starks that'll be fought for by every noble house in Westeros.

"No, dear loud mouth." You pinch his arm, pretty annoyed by him. "She's a beta." Everyone else looks away when they hear the disappointing news. Oberyn slaps your hand away and you glare at him.

"You must be relieved then?" You nod.

"So much."

"Congrats on her freedom, then." You smile as you nod then you bring out your notebook for the class.

-

You were about to go home when Daenerys sees you and takes you away. You look confused as she just looks at her phone.

"Where are we going?"

"Gala."

"Huh?"

"It's one of the Baratheon's birthday or something. The daughter of the eldest?"

"You mean Shireen?"

"You know her?"

"I met her before. Why are you going? Aren't the Baratheons your enemies?" You recall the bad blood between them.

"Still, I have a responsibility. Or did you really think the "heir" will come?"

"Ah. Okay. But I have nothi-"

"We'll pick up a suit and dress on the mall."

"You thought of everything." You deadpan at her and Daenerys smiles at you.

"You can't escape."

-

You arrive at the Baratheon's villa and unbutton the collar of your suit. It was suffocating the air out of you.

"We're here." You help Daenerys out of the car and hum.

"Do we have an invitation? the Baratheons can be picky about their guests." You still remember the one time you attended a gala of theirs without Robb and they rudely kicked you out.

"I am a Targary-"

"Yeah, that won't work here." Daenerys was about to refute you when-

"Y/N!" Someone calls out and you were suddenly lifted off.

"Ah! Uncle Robert!?" You struggle against the big man and glare as you find your footing.

"It is you!" Robert slaps your back and you feel like your spine broke. Jeez, the strength of this man.

"Yes. I didn't know it was Shireen's birthday today."

"It is. One of the reasons why I came home."

"What? Are the brothels not treating you well?"

"Ah, this jerk!" He slaps the back of your head and you rub it in pain.

"Y/N. Who-"

"Ah, this must be Daenerys! Your fiancé, right?"

"She is." You admit and sigh. "Daenerys meet Robert Baratheon. Unmarried. Although he has countless kids. Commander of The Baratheon Forces. And my father's best friend." Robert laughs at your introduction.

"Nice addition of titles, young one. You learned well."

"Is Gendry okay? He should be in high school, right?" Gendry and Shireen were the cousins from the Baratheon that you didn't mind talking to.

"He is. He likes Sansa, did you know?" You pale at that. As much as Gendry was a good person, you still didn't like the thought of high school romance, specially when it involves one of your younger siblings. "Maybe we'll finally be family!" He laughs wholeheartedly while you politely nod.

"We should get inside." Daenerys can feel that you are uncomfortable with the current topic so she tugs your arm.

"Right. It was nice talking to you, Uncle."

"Go. Tell your father that I will see him soon." You nod at him and escort Daenerys to the door.

"Sorry about that." You open the door and Daenerys just nods.

-

"So you're pretty close with the Baratheons?"

"No. Only Uncle Robert. He's kind of seen as a separate entity."

"And why is that? He is the middle child, is he not?"

"True, but he doesn't like to be in the family mansion. Or be associated with his siblings that much."

"Why?" You shrug at her.

"I don't know the particular details but some say bad blood between the three."

"I see."

"Y/N!" Shireen runs through the crowd and hugs you.

"Hi, cousin. Happy Birthday."

"Yeah! Although you did celebrate with me two days ago."

"Yeah. But I also got dragged to this gala." Shireen giggles.

"Who dragged you?"

"Hi there. I'm Daenerys. Her fiancé." Shireen looks at you.

"Fiancé? But Y/N! You promised me." Shireen gets teary-eyed and you panic.

"Huh!? Wait, wait, don't cry? Shireen? What promise?"

"That I'd be the one you married!" You chuckle and ruffl her hair.

"Not happening, little cousin, and besides we had a condition, didn't we?"

"Yeah." She sulks and crosses her arms.

"And? What was it?"

"That you'll only do it when you're a beta."

"Good girl!" You ruffle her hair even more and she pouts at you.

"Do you like her?" Shireen points at Daenerys as if she wasn't there and you chuckle as you bring down her hand.

"Yes. Incredibly so." And you realize as you say it, that it was the half-truth. You fell in love with her at first sight but you also knew why she wanted to get married to you.

"Then, uh-, Daenerys!" You beckon her closer as Shireen holds out her hand.

"You win! But um- don't you dare break Y/N's heart!" Dany forces a smile on her face as she shakes Shireen's hand.

"I promise."

-

The gala ends around midnight and you take off your jacket as you board Dany's Limousine.

"Not close to the Baratheons?" She asks and you nod.

"Not really. Shireen is special. She's the only one in that mansion that doesn't have a malice bone in her body."

"Do you like her?"

"As a cousin, yes. She's inquisitive and a reader like me."

"Are you in love with her?" You look at Daenerys with a dumfounded expression and she glares at you. "Answer me!"

"The fuck? No! Not at all! She's my little cousin, for the gods' sake!"

"We all know how famili-"

"Do not even say it. It's making me feel disgusted." You shudder as you even think about hearing the word.

"So, do you like someone?" You raise an eyebrow at her.

"What?"

"Like- you want to date them or something." You shake your head.

"None at all. Being an omega meant everything was going to be chosen for me. Even the people I hang out with. No more betas or Alphas. No more close friends. Just need to find me a suitable fiancé." You successfully hide the bitter tone in your voice but not the way you clenched your fist.

Daenerys, thankfully, stop questioning you and just drop you off at your apartment building.

'As if I ever had a choice.' You think as you board the elevator. 'I wonder how that'll be.'

-

A/N:

AS PROMISED!! YAY!!

Writer's block defeated once again... For how long, I don't know.

Also, I got a job! So that's cool!

[niiine]

𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐔𝐌𝐀 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

Character(s). Misfit Class + Kalego Sensei, Balam Sensei, Opera, and Sullyvan

Synopsis. How I see the reader being treated in Babyls and in the netherworld in general as you’re Iruma’s younger sibling

Fluff

Younger! sister reader

-Finished s3 of Mairuma last night so I’ve reread the music festival arc. I just wish s4 will come faster becauseee I’ve been LSS-struck by Lilith’s Red Carpet and the music isn’t even out yet 🥺

Iruma is a BABY. Everyone around him wants to protect and cherish and love all of him. But you? Oh, hell you enter the room and they’re all either kneeling or cooing because how can you be such a cutie?

Sullyvan treats you and Iruma like toddlers. You want those dresses? Here buy ten each. Oh, you love that dessert? Opera, please bring more. You wanna go shopping? Take his wallet, his bank details, take his whole life if you must. Sully-sama just wants the best for you and your Nii-chan.

But unlike your brother, you’re not allowed to have a sleepover or stay outside way too late. Either Opera will come hunting you down once it’s past seven pm or your whole class will be the searching party.

Opera is much, much stricter to you than to your brother. They make sure that you are above prim and proper most of time. “You’re a lady in the household, (y/n)-sama”, or so. But they’re still as gentle as they could be and always prioritize what makes you comfortable.

No man. And I mean NO MAN, is allowed to come near you aside Asmodeous Alice (and somehow the other misfits as well). Pray that no one would dare to walk you home because,

“Apologies, (y/n)-sama. I thought you’re being kidnapped” “OPERA-SAN WE’RE LITERALLY GOING HOME” you’re freaking out at how bloody the nose of your friend is.

At class, you’re seated between Alice and Lead because Azzazz thinks that he should be in the middle of you and your brother so he can protect both of you in case somethings happens. And Lead insists that he must be beside you because you’re his “Baby sister.”

Ofc you’re part of the Iruma gang but you spend time with the other circle from time to time as well. One of your favorites is Nee-san and Krocell because you’ve never had a big sis and these two are doing good at the job. Sometimes they dress you up like a doll with Clarin just bringing out the most random (but cute) clothing from her pockets.

Jazzy and Garp spoils you rotten. You’re their princess and they call you as such. Jazzy loves to bring you shiny gems and jewelries that he bought because “You’re special” and then he’ll ruffle your hair. He will also let you play with his familiar.

Garp would cook for you. You’re tired of the foods from the cafeteria? Open up the kitchen of the royal one! You want sweets? He always keeps sweets. Garp also blows wind at you if you feel hot due to the weather.

When you’re tired, or if you just need it—like in the harvest festival, Agares is assigned to make you comfortable. Yes, the misfits have talked about it. They have no doubt about your strength and ability, you’re Iruma’s sister after all, but “What if the bugs and other insects bite her? We can’t have that!” Cue, Agares building a whole castle for you (As well as for him and Garp). When other students took shelter in the said place, he made sure you still have the Luxury of space and as comfortable as you can be. Even though you argue that no, you can fight, and a cramped space is fine for you.

Babe, you should have seen the way the other girls look at you with playful jealousy as Agares dotes on you.

Allocer and Sabnock helps with your study. It’s a great help when you feel a bit pressured at Azzazz’s teachings. Besides, you can’t add to his luggage anymore (a.k.a Iruma and Clarin). Sabnock mostly teaches you about the Demon king, but he’s also pretty good when it comes to other subjects. He’s gentle and caring, being the big brother that he is.

Aloocer, on the other hand, is a much stricter tutor. He gave you assignments and pointers. But his work certainly help you pass every exam, most of the time even sharing it to your brother when you two study at home.

Camui is also one of your favorite classmates. He’s not allowed of course to hog you, as the other twelve will go after his head, and he wouldn’t do that as well to the class’s baby! Because of him you can pet animals and beasts (With the help of Krocell) without getting hurt.

Sometimes you will hang out with Iruma and Lead and it’s so cute because it looks like two babies trying to protect a smaller baby. The two of them will spoil you as well and you’ll be the one to decide what to eat, what to play, or what to do for the day or for that specific time.

Purson Soi also gives you a special treatment. If he vanishes and the class can’t find him, one call from you and puff! He’s there. You don’t want to talk to that schoolmate who keeps asking you out? Big brother Soi will make sure your presence is gone in a moment.

It’s very subtle and he still treats just like the whole class, but Kalego-sensei just seems to “miss” if you’ve done something wrong. Or he would just let it slide “very unnoticeable” if it’s about you.

And Balam-sensei? You remembered how scared he was the first time Iruma told him that he’s a human? That’s he’s reaction to you up until now. The professor wouldn’t even touch without thinking that he’ll break your soft body. Tell him that it’s fine though because the man wouldn’t even breathe the same air as you in fear of intoxicating you.

BONUS

BigBro!Iruma in Evil Cycle is the cream of the crop. All hands off of you. All eyes off of you. “You want something now, Princess?” Say you want the whole netherworld and it’ll be at your feet. He wouldn’t barricade you or anything, but his eyes will be watching you and anyone around you. 

[skyguys-princess]

Way Down We Go

AJ x Private Security/Crime family reader

「 You 」

I sat up on the rooftop of the building next door of the club my brother was currently at. With his friends… If you could call them that. More like work acquaintances, without the work. His little thief friends, Takers. Is what they call themselves, the dorks.

Was I spying on my brother? Sure. But in all fairness, he isn’t always a good judge of character. Hence why I’m here now. Because the knuckle head and his stupid plans are going to be the death of me.

I pull up my laptop, that had been running background checks on my brothers new crew. Alderige, Alexander James. Cute… perhaps my brother doesn’t have bad taste after all-

Ping!

I jolt, picking up my phone hastily. To see a notification from my brother, speak of the devil.

Thorn in my side

Need help.

No hi how r u?

Usually u leave me on read. Anyway hurry up and get ur ass here. We r waiting.

And where would here be exactly? And whose ‘we?’

Christ how dumb do you think I am? Actually don’t answer that.

I snicker at his response, before typing mine.

Fine, I’ll be there. Tell ur boy band I’ll be there soon.

Thx sis x

eww don’t ever call me ‘sis’ again

ok… sis

I leave him on read, maybe he does have a point. Chucking all my equipment back into my duffle bag, slinging it over my shoulder. Making my way to the stairs as I head to the club my brother and the rest of the Takers were at.

「 Narrator 」

Meanwhile…

Aj was lounging on one of the various couches while Gordon and your brother, Alec were discussing the plan for the upcoming heist. Though he appeared to be in a world of his own, Aj was paying more attention than it seemed.

He visibly perked up after hearing your name, he knew Alec had a big family. He’d mentioned it before, from your two other sisters. Him, your parents and obviously your dog named Flash. But he never mentioned you, at least never around Aj. He couldn’t help the curiousness that crept up inside of him, Gordon was usually very picky about allowing outsiders into their plans.

So what was so special about you?

Aj jolts after taking an elbow to the ribs, grimacing at the feeling. “Have you been listening to anything I’ve said for the past hour?” John asks annoyed, though a small smile tugs at the blond mans lips. Not at all surprised by Aj’s brazen behaviour.

Aj picks up his fedora that had fallen to the floor, smoothing his hair back. Before placing it back on his head, “yeah man of course.” His gaze averts to John. His friend’s face held a look of disbelief, busted.

John chuckles at Aj’s obvious distraction. “You might wanna be a little less obvious when your eavesdropping man.” He grins, leaning back against the lounge. Crossing his arms over his muscular chest. The muscle of his biceps straining against the sleeves of his shirt.

Aj lets out a huff, “no clue what you’re on about man.” Trying to dismiss John’s eavesdropping accusation against him.

John raises a brow in amusement, clearly not believing a word that came out of Aj’s mouth. “Yeah, whatever you say.” He smirks, before standing up. Heading over to Gordon and Alec, giving Aj a teasing wink. Who just gave John a playful glare in response, before slumping back in his seat. Crossing his arms over his chest in annoyance. Looking like a toddler throwing a tantrum, making John chuckle.

While the Takers were distracted you managed to sneak in through the back entrance. Watching as they all bickered amongst themselves, oblivious to your presence. You decided to remain undetected for now, placing your duffle bag down on the countertop of the bar. Heading behind it to make yourself a drink.

Grabbing a cold martini glass, pouring in a shot of vodka. Filling the rest up with cranberry juice, before topping it off with three maraschino cherries. Hopping up, you sit on top of the bar. Cross legged, siping on your vodka cranberry. While looking through the blueprints of the bank someone had so callously left on the bar countertop.

Hearing the faint sound of heels clicking you turn your head. Lilli approached the bar, jumping slightly as she made eye contact with you. Sitting there sipping on your cocktail, the blueprints laid across your lap. Her jump scared expression making you giggle, she placed a hand over her heart. A smile tugging on her lips. “Hi,” you whisper.

“Hello,” she replies. Her voice soft, as her kind eyes bored into yours. She moved towards the counter, extending your hand for support. She takes it, propping herself up on the counter beside you. “I’m Lilli, and you are?”

You give her hand you were holding a shake. “Y/n, nice to meet you.” You see her eyes avert to the blueprints on your lap. “Wanna see?” She nods enthusiastically, making you chuckle softly in response to her enthusiasm. Picking up the blueprints, holding them out in front of both your faces.

“What are you doing here?” Lilli asks curiously, while scanning the blueprints.

“Alec asked me to come,” you shrug nonchalantly. Pointing at the best points of entry on the blueprints.

“How do you know Alec?” She asks, while you take another sip of your cocktail.

“He’s my brother,” you pick up a maraschino cherry. Popping it into your mouth.

Her eyes widen in obvious surprise, “Alec is your brother?”

“Unfortunately,” you grin playfully. “Speaking of which…” you pause, turning to face the group. That were still engrossed in conversation. “Earth to boy band can we get this show on the road? I have shit to do.” You raise your voice loud enough to grab their attention.

Watching in amusement as their heads snap in your direction, fast enough that they could’ve gotten whiplash. Making you and Lilli laugh, “so oblivious.” She chuckles.

Looking through the group, you see John’s familiar face. “Johnny boy, long time no see.” A soft blush adorns his cheeks in embarrassment.

“Huh?” The blonde man beside him, looks at him bewildered. Which you recognised to be Aj. John just looks back at you and chuckles.

“Y/n, good to see you again.” He waves, as Aj mutters something under his breath. Though your attention is pulled away by a soft tap on your shoulder. You turn to see Lilli with a sheepish smile on her face.

“Can you make me one of those?” She ask hesitantly pointing at the drink in your hand, making a smile tug at your lips.

“Of course,” you slide off the countertop. To behind the bar, hearing someone clear their throat. You look up, meeting the familiar hazel eyes of your brother. “Hey big bro.”

“I didn’t ask you to come over so you could drink.” He quips, with a sly smirk tugging at his lips. Causing you to narrow your eyes at him playfully.

“Well I was bored,” you retort. Ruffling his dark hair, making him let out an annoyed grunt.

Lilli leans a little closer to the both of you. “To be fair, she was sitting here for a while. Not that you guys noticed.” She added in your defence, as you mixed up the vodka cranberry.

“Do you want the cherries?” You ask, raising a brow. She nods in response, “yes ma’am.” You say with a salute. Making her let out a soft giggle.

Alec clicks his fingers in front of your face trying to get your attention, “uh hello? Back on topic please.” Making you roll your eyes at his behaviour.

“You’re so dramatic big bro, relax. Take a breather,” you tease. Hearing a chuckle from behind Alec, then a mop of blond hair peeking through. A big toothy grin on his face, as he steps to the side of Alec. In front of you, holding out his hand. Gently taking yours, bringing it to his soft lips.

Placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles, “it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Aj.”

A soft chuckle befalling your lips, amused by his irregular behaviour. “Let me guess, you have a thing for the Godfather?” You tease, looking up at his fedora. Alec’s hand immediately shoots to his mouth, muffling his snort. Aj bites his bottom lip gently, giving your hand a soft squeeze. Before you pull it out of his grip, popping the cherries into Lilli’s drink. Sliding it over to her, she whispers a ‘thank you.’

“I do actually, have you watched it?” He leans onto the bar, practically looming over you. The low lighting in the room reflecting off his blond hair. Making him look almost… angelic. Though his playful smirk suggested otherwise.

“No, though if you like that thing you should come to our family reunions. The resemblance is impeccable,” you quip. A wheezy laugh erupting from Alec. Aj seemed undeterred from his friends reaction, leaning even closer. His long lean fingers gently brushing a strand of hair out your face, tucking it behind your ear. With the utmost gentleness, as if you were made of porcelain. His eyes so transfixed on his movements, it was like he was in a trace. So were you, not that you’d admit it. Alec and Lilli observed quietly, aware of the tension. Eyeing the display of affection with curiousness. It was no secret that Aj was a flirt, but this was something that even your brother hadn’t witnessed from him. After a moment you pull back snapping yourself out of your trance like state, withdrawing from his gentle caress. Clearing your throat, “well… Let’s get on with it. We have a lot to do.”

[solarwynd]

https://www.allkpop.com/article/2024/11/hybe-chairman-bang-si-hyuk-collaboration-is-key-to-k-pops-global-success

I was wondering if you have seen this article. It didn't make that much noise over armytwt probably because many Armys are still fond of BSH. But I think if there's a time to truly see BSH for what he is, especially these days, then it is now, especially with that speech he gave. I mean, how can he say that collaboration is key to kpop's success? I mean, does he treat BTS' and Jimin's successes a fluke? How about the fandom support? He could have all the collabs he can dream of for his artists but if there are no loyal fans to buy/stream/request their music, I don't think they'll be a global success. And him mentioning Seven. I mean that must hurt JJKs because they were so loud and nasty about Seven's success because of JK. But BSH just basically said, "Uhm, not exactly."

Some armys are still up his ass, not all. But the main reason it probably isn’t making rounds on army twitter is because it tells the truth that they’ve all been trying to avoid. And that’s the fact that JK’s solo career is built on collabs.

Truthfully Bang’s way of of banking on collabs has never made sense to me because they’re not inherently even necessary. You can plant anyone of these idols in the western industry, solo, with money the same way western labels do. But ig he knows that it would look too fake if they didn’t ease these idols in without established big names like a Trojan Horse.

So It’s not showing kpop is getting bigger like he’s so convinced it is, it shows that these idols and groups need a crutch to do well and without it, they don’t. That’s not real success you can honestly claim. You see western artists get called out on the same thing. People have been riding Lady Gaga for it because she hasn’t seen a solo hit in years.

Bang is a professional bullshitter, but that’s why I love that Jimin exists as the direct antithesis to that man’s claim.

[estellemusings]

HSR-Scenarios

Dan Heng x f!reader

🌟 : your little brother and Dan Heng

Everybody looks at you in disbelief, who wouldn't when a boy is standing next to you.

It was your younger brother, you were in charge of looking after him for the mean time

He smiles at everyone as you introduce him.

March, Stelle, Himeko and Welt introduce themselves to him. March keeps saying how adorable he is.

He entertained them until he saw a familiar figure from afar. He broke free from the people surrounding him to run to that person

"Big brother" he shouted

Dan Heng was startled since he just arrived at the parlor car but instinctively caught the running child. He knew this was your brother but didn't expect him to call him "brother"

"Big Brother?" he asks

He nod with enthusiasm

"Big sis told me about you, you're big brother Dan Heng. The handsome brother"  as a wide grin plastered on his lips

Dan Heng looks up and meets your gaze as the corner of his mouth rises.

"Stop!! I-i didn't say that" you stuttered as a  reddish shade tint your cheeks while you approached them

"You did!, you even said he looks handsome when he's ser-" you place your hand on his mouth to stop him from talking.

Watching you bickering with your brother is such a rare sight.

In the midst of your bickering, Himeko called you out to ask for some help with an errand.

You entrust your brother to Dan Heng for the meantime.

"I'll be back as soon as possible. Sorry for passing him to you"

"Don't worry love, I'll take care of him" he reassured you

You press a kiss on his cheeks to say thank you. Before leaving you told your brother to be good.

Dan Heng brought him to his room, seeing all different kinds of books and some techs he never seen before.

He pointed out the Data Bank, asking Dan Heng if what's that for.

"That's for work" He answered

"Can we access it?" The boy looks at him with pleading eyes that makes it hard for him to say no.

Instead he look for a thing that can shift his attention away from the Data Bank. His gaze lands on books full of stories

"That book is rather more interesting" Dan Heng grab the book of stories and gave it to him

Seeing the title, he excitedly opened the book to read it.

They settle down on his bed. Leaning their back on the shelves beside the bed.Dan Heng picks up is own book and they engrossed themselves in reading

For some reason he was curious on what you've been telling your brother.

"What did she say about me" Dan Heng asks

He ponders for a moment on what to answer

" She met this amazing, intelligent and handsome man. That for some reason loves her so much. And she also told me i'll like you and guess sis was right" he answered smiling ear to ear

Warmth enveloped him, he really does love you but at the same time you do too as well.

They return their attention to the book they're read. Silence filled the room again

You just finished the tasks and walked back to his room. A gasp left your lips  the moment the door opens

They're sleeping, your brother leaning his head on his shoulders. Blanket wrapped around both of them.

Not wanting to miss the opportunity, you grab your phone and snap the photo of them.

You approached them and placed a kiss on their foreheads as you said good night. Before leaving you look back one last time.

You're really lucky to have Dan Heng by your side.

You left the room with a smile etched on your lips.

© telle's musings

5-07-23

[gorbalsvampire]

D'you have any player-facing or secret ST-eyes-only systems that you like to use for tracking SI exposure in your games? Or (shunting you a soapbox here) for seeding and making good on consequences generally?

So in general, my absolute favourite way to generate The Quencies is Succees At A Cost. "I'll offer you a devil's bargain," to quote the Master, Mr. Carl.

Kick enough Successes at a Cost down the trail and you can have them escalate into something quite spectacular, whatever that turns out to be. The same for Messy Critical consequences. "There's been a Masquerade breach, but I need to work out the details, so it'll be with you in a couple of sessions' time." That sort of thing.

I also like to frame story beats as poison chalices and sadistic choices. Yes, you can have the Dunsirns' help in covering up the assassination attempt on that Baron you murdered, but they want her property, her territory, and you to know exactly who took the fall for you and what that's worth.

What else? Every chronicle needs a character who's talked about more than they are seen. Telegraphy is key, but don't go too hard on it - we don't want players going "we've got a BADASS over here" about them. I think the trick is having other SPCs be afraid of them, or answerable to them, or clearly dependent on them.

In my Glasgow game, Miss Drake the scourge didn't appear very often, but she was mentioned in the context of "what keeps this praxis running?" and "why doesn't anyone hunt in the West End?" Sir Thomas Dunsirn - Big Tam to his family - was the unseen hand of the nocturnal economy and, more to the point, the hand holding Alistair's leash.

There's this horrid old man who somehow gets you to do whatever he wants. You first met him when he physically and psychically assaulted his way into your turf and your crime scene. You owe him your continued liberty. And he has a boss. At that point, player imagination is doing the work.

But while we're here, I'm also going to talk about Nemesis Points. I took these a late-series Fighting Fantasy gamebook, Night Dragon, and I love them. As you quest to find the location of the titular Night Dragon and prevent its resurrection by the cult who worship it, you have various avenues of investigation to pursue, some of which are of course dead ends: you also have various bits of side business, in accordance with custom. Every prevarication, every attempt made, even the successful ones, adds some Nemesis Points to your tally. If you haven't found the Night Dragon's lair by the time you reach a given Nemesis score, Your Adventure Is Over in a sense far greater than "you got mugged by three pirates and died again."

When I was running face to face games, I'd sometimes put one of those spindown - or in this case spin up - life counters from Magic on the table. Whenever my players prevaricated, overthought, faffed about or otherwise didn't make the most of our time together, the die would spin up a little.

I think something like that could adapt to Masquerade cockups very nicely. People love a meter.

I find the Response Algorithm and Institutional Conflict systems in the Anarch and Camarilla books are a bit of a headache, but they're there if you need them. Of course, Second Inquisition also has a chapter explicitly for doing this, for running your SI presence as an active and hostile force with its own goals - almost a solo side game for the ST.

This isn't something I've used - yet - as Wild Roses was very much me finding the transitions I needed to make out of Revised era thinking, and one of those was vampire-focus, less interest in what mortals want and are doing. The SI there was a cool threat that warmed up in the third story when I wanted to raise the stakes and do a cool bank heist opening session, and again when a returning player gave me the opportunity to tell a story about collaborators and how they should die in shame. I had ideas for how they served the vampire story and they were only developed in so far as they did that.

I'm not actually very happy with how I characterised and played my SI characters, and I'd like to do them justice with another outing. One where they actually have a project. It'll be more work for me, but if I'm going to do this Spy vs. Spy chronicle concept justice, I'm going to have to do that work, aren't I?