#How do you cope with doing absolutely nothing with your money

[thelikesoffinn]

„Astarion ending as the Vampire Ascendant is the correct ending for him, because it is what he wants.”

That is a claim I’ve been seeing pop up more and more often these days. And I think it’s both a very bold and a very odd claim to make.

But first things first: Hello, I’m a licensed social worker! So far, I’ve worked with children, refugees and youths with behavioural issues stemming from bullying and or abuse.

Please be aware that I will be mentioning different kinds of abuse, coping mechanisms, and victim/abuser relationships. If any of this is difficult for you, don’t force yourself through it. My jabbering about a traumatised vampire is not worth your wellbeing, not ever.

I will, however try to stick to Astarion and not use other examples. If, in any case, I do use a non-Astarion example, I’ll add a warning beforehand so that you can skip the part. And I’ll make it clear what will be discussed in the next bit, so that you have a chance to skip it entirely.

This is an effort to make this as accessible as possible for everyone that wants to indulge on a mad woman’s rambling – and I know there’s a few people that like this sort of stuff!

And, uh, there's obviously spoilers for all three acts. Serious spoilers, even.

Before I can get into the whole ‘why Astarion didn’t really want to ascend,’ we need to understand him a little more. And to understand this pretty boy’s brain, we first need to understand the gist of what we’re talking about when we throw around the word ‘abuse.’

“Abuse” is when someone is treated with cruelty, violence, or neglect – often to bad effect – on a regular basis. Repetitively. Check’s out for Astarion, I’d say, but we all knew that already. I mean, if one thing was obvious, it was this.

1. Astarions Abuse

Next we need to look at what kind of abuse Astarion faced over his long years of torment, seeing as different types of abuse will have different effects on the victim.

Not that that is anything we have to worry about with him – Astarion won the abuse lottery, to put it bluntly. In a horrible game of fate, he got everything. He himself indirectly mentions all the types of abuse he faced, albeit never using the correct terms.

The first we properly notice – fitting, seeing as it is often the most obvious form of abuse – is the physical abuse. Astarions scars are probably the biggest tell Larian could shove down our throats, only underlined by Astarion’s tale about the night itself. About how Cazador ‘misspelled something’ every time he flinched or screamed and had to do ‘many corrections. On top of this, Cazador locked Astarion up for months on end and tortured him – or had him tortured – on a regular basis both as a rite and as a punishment.

Next up, we have the fact that Astarion was forced to basically prostitute himself repeatedly. This is what we call sexual exploitation.

“I spent two hundred years using my body to lure pretty things back for my Master.” – Act 2

Two hundred years is a long time, filled with great many people. Now, we don’t know how many of those people actually tapped into the sexual exploitation and how many he could just lure back with other means, but the fact that it happened a lot is undeniable.

Next we have a form of abuse that we often disregard in adults: Neglect. It sounds odd, I know, saying that a fully grown adult was neglected. They can care for themselves, can they not?

Well. Yes and no.

Adult neglect is proceeded by the condition that one adult has to lean on another adult to fulfil their needs for whatever reason. This could be anything, from disability to income-based issues.  

Seeing as Astarion had absolutely nothing, while Cazador had everything, we can assume this was the case. Cazador had the house, the money, the power. Astarion owns but one pair of clothes, assumedly, that he has fixes over and over again. Fair to say, that’s pretty neglectful. (And it’s one more reason to shower the guy in pretty armour and camp clothes. Go ham, people.)

Last we have the form of abuse we actually get to witness later in the game – emotional abuse.

Once again, it’s undeniable that this happened. Especially since we’re all seeing it in the flesh upon meeting Cazador in his crypt.

“Have you no respect for yourself?”

“I strove for perfection in all things. Even those as imperfect as you.”

“A pity you amounted to so little, despite my efforts.”

“A pathetic little boy who never amounted to anything.”

All Act 3, Crypt

Here we have just a few examples of things Cazador throws in his face. It’s like reading a textbook on emotional abuse, this one (and it’s definitely a reason to throw hands).

Blaming the victim, keeping their sense of self and their self-worth as tiny as possible to make them cower and flee. A true classic.

This pretty much shows that Astarion suffered all forms of abuse we commonly see and it is implied – once again by Astarion himself – that at least a few of those instances were ritualistic.

Now, what does that mean exactly? Well, I fear I need to use a real example here, so please skip the next paragraph.

Ritualistic doesn’t refer to a proper ritual – it can, but that’s mostly a thing for those in a cult. So, we’re not necessarily talking about a ‘Vampire Ascendent Ritual’. A husband, beating his wife every evening after his third bottle of beer is also called ritual abuse. It happens regularly. It is part of a routine. Both parties know what will happen.

I can’t find the exact quote, so I’m working of my memory here, but at one point he said that when Cazador invited him to eat and he said yes, he would be served a putrid rat. If he said no, he’d be beaten.

The way it was phrased made it clear that it happened more than once and that Astarion clearly knew what would happen. So, this can be classified as ritualistic abuse.

2. A Note on Conditioning and Compliance

By default, abuse victims are conditioned to behave a certain way or in a certain fashion. This is a natural response to avoid further abuse.

In Astarion, the thing we see most often is his inherent need to please. Not literally, he doesn’t mind being an arsehole. But he initially feels the need to follow Tav’s orders, even if they go against his own wishes.

This can be clearly seen in the conversation with Araj Oblodra. Astarion very clearly doesn’t want to bite her. He doesn’t. But he will do so, if Tav tells him to. This behaviour is not conscious – he doesn’t know why he does it, he just does – and it is to be expected. This is how he kept himself save for two centuries, so of course he will fall back into his usual pattern when the pressure is high.

This goes hand in hand with the fact that most abuse victims don’t fight. Maybe initially, but not after long term abuse. Especially not after two fucking centuries.

This is true in Astarion – offered by his ‘siblings’ during act 3 and unhappily acquiesced by the man himself. Astarion stopped fighting and, once again implied, cowered, and did as he was told in order to survive.

3. The Astarion we know and love

Obviously, all that abuse does have an impact on our vampire boyfriend. He shows various common signs of abuse and just like with the forms of abuse, Astarion raked every coping mechanism he could find. (Not really, but it feels like it.) It’s also important to note that nearly all of the following things happen inwardly. Astarion is not one of the victims, that tries to rationalise and minimise the actions of his abuser. Quite the opposite, actually.

I’ll note from the beginning, that rationalisation will not be covered in this bit, as most examples will be important later on. But he definitely does it.

One of his biggest skills is to hide every ounce of fear or hurt behind sarcasm and snarky theatrics. He doesn’t seem to hide his anger much, though, so that’s something! Our boy is cool with anger, not so much with being afraid.

“Ahahaha, now that you mention it….I might have done…that.” – Act 3, regarding the Gur children

“The thing that will decide my fate forever more? Yeees, it’s been on my miiiind. Why?” – Act 2, regarding the Ritual

And there’s many more instances that prove this. Honestly, half his dialogue is sarcasm, so it would really be too long to get into and we all know what I mean, right? We have alltalked to the guy before. It’s obvious that he’s sarcastic to a fault.

This goes hand in hand with his penchant for defensiveness. I would personally state that he’s simply not really good with guilt. When talking about fear, he usually just opts for sarcasm or avoids the topic completely, but guilt especially has his defences going up. This is also when he’s most likely to shove all the blame off to Cazador.

“Don’t look at me like that. Cazadors orders.” – Act 3, Crypt

“I just did what I had to!” – Act 3, Crypt

And don’t get me wrong, he does that anyway. And with good reason. Astarion didn’t have a choice for the most part, but he’s still easy to shove things off.

This kind of connects to his penchant for denial.

Astarion doesn’t really like to talk about most things. He firmly believes he is an ‘action’ sort of person that just does instead of plans, which invertedly just means he’s great at pushing the thinking stuff away. He also likes to get rid of stuff, so that he doesn’t need to face it ever again.

“I never want to see these little scraps of misery again. The world doesn’t need to know my shame.” – Act 3, about the children

And yes, this partly rings true. He’s probably ashamed and doesn’t want anyone to know what he’s done. But it’s also very clear that he himself simply doesn’t want to face his own actions, something that is just  underlined by his extreme willingness to red rid of the other spawn.

As mentioned by Astarion himself, he’s big on manipulation. I mean, I don’t think there is much explaining necessary. The guy is willing to do a whole lot in order to get what he desires – which mostly revolves around safety and survival, to be honest – and he’s not really shy about it either. And that’s despite the fact that he doesn’t really like intimacy – especially in form of sex.

It’s not a secret that Astarion is not big on sex and anything surrounding it. This goes far enough for people to consider him either ace or ace coded.

A claim that, personally, I’m not super in line with.

Now, it’s not entirely wrong and if this is your head cannon I’m surely not going to stand in your way – but on a larger spectrum, I think he’s more traumatised than ace. And while those go hand in hand sometimes, it’s a bit difficult for the ace community if you attach traumatised characters to them because it can fuel a whole lot of stigma that is honestly neither needed nor wanted. But I digress!

If it comes to his own behaviour, he’s great at minimising his mistakes. Honestly, he’s a master of minimisation. A very obvious and famous example would be:

“’Killed’ feels like a…strong word. Not many corpses have your vigour.” – Act 1, after killing Tav

Astarion. You literally sucked poor Tav dry and left them flopping around, cold, and dead. Killed is exactly the right word and we all know it.

“Quite the deviation from my usual routine. Capture, not lure. I didn’t bring them in with sweet rolls or anything.” – Act 3, Gur Children

This is another attempt at minimising what he did, if a bit less obvious because at this point there isn’t much he can say. But at least he didn’t sexualise the gur children, right? They’re still spawn but whoo, at least that didn’t happen.  

The next point would be dissociation, which is extremely common in abuse victims – of all forms of abuse.

Astarion himself mentioned certain moments that could be classified as dissociation over course of the story, which is probably the coping mechanism I personally expected the most.

The pale elf has a penchant for violence, but he’s not entirely shameless or abhorrently vile, which gets clearer the more the story progresses. So, two hundred years of forced prostitution, torture and doing whatever other horrible things? Yeah, I’d be more surprised if he didn’t dissociate.

Examples of that would be:

“A moment of disgust to push myself through and then I could’ve carried on, just like before.” – Act 2, after Araj

“I felt nothing the moment I handed them over.” – Act 3, Gur Children

“Did you enjoy it? It felt like you weren’t fully there.” – Act 1, Tav after Sex

The latter is generally more of an assumption than actual prove, but with context it does make sense.

The last common sign of abuse we find in our boyfriend would be his low self-worth. It’s a consistent trait that stays over the course of all three acts, noticeable in many different conversations.

We can see it in his reaction to wanting to break up before finishing his story. We can see it in his genuine surprise when Tav picks him over any of the other characters. We see it in his insecurity whenever Tav asks to sleep with another character. He’s fine with it, but he still worries their decision to sleep with someone else is based on something he did.

It eases up ever so slightly after Cazador is dead, but even then he’s still struggling which is once again perfectly illustrated if you try to break up with him.

“Oh shit. I- Did I do something wrong?”

That is the first thing he asks and I think it speaks for itself. He genuinely doesn’t believe he has much to offer and for Astarion, it’s likely that Astarion will always be the problem.

4. "Oh, I tried them all none of them answered.”

Another big thing that’s important to note, is that Astarion was never saved. No one came to save him from Cazador. There was no darling boy on a white steed riding into that castle to rescue him and princess carry him away. Not even the gods answered his desperate calls.

So, he never received any kindness or luck. To him, the world seems as cruel and horrid as before because he didn’t have the chance to experience goodness in two centuries.

But worse than that, he didn’t even get to save himself. Astarion didn’t stand up to Cazador, he didn’t run out of his own might.

He was beaten to near death and ‘saved’ by Cazador, who would become his abuser.

He tried to save someone and, in turn, was locked up and starved for an entire year.

He was abducted by mind flayers, i.e., saved from Cazador, only to end up tadpoled and on the cusp of getting a fancy, squiddy beard.

Anything that’s good, any kindness, any selfless action…it all came with a ginormous price tag.

5. Over the Course of the Story

Astarions behaviour changes a whole lot over the course of three acts – which is important once we talk about his quests climax – so let’s review what we’re working with!

Act 1 Astarion is guarded as fuck. The man has walls around him that are so high, even the gods can touch them.

A lot of his behaviour in act 1 revolves around staying save and staying liked. He lies, manipulates, and flutters his lashes in order to get what he wants and needs. Instead of asking, like Wyll, Karlach and Gale do, Astarion uses all he has to offer to get by. He is still very much in survival mode and tries to weasel his way through an unfamiliar situation with familiar methods.

On top of that, and most notably, he’s absolutely not fond of kindness or selflessness.

#I saved a child and now my boyfriend is mad

Here, we are most likely to gain disapproval for doing the decent thing – unless you sent him outside for a minute whenever you’re being a good person.

And I’d assume that this is because of two things.

First: The very traditional ‘Why not me?’

As I mentioned before, Astarion wasn’t saved. He hasn’t experienced kindness in a very long time so seeing that the world is literally filled with kind people is hurtful. Why didn’t anyone save him? Why was he left to his own devices for so long? Why should he care about others when it’s so clear that no one ever cared about him? No, dead to all of them. If he didn’t get it, neither will they.

“And what am I owed? What about the injustices I suffered? Am I not entitled to anything?” – Act 3, Crypt

“I was in the prime of my life when I was turned. Everything was taken from me too.” – Act 3, Crypt

And secondly is the fact that, as I mentioned, goodness always has a price. And it’s one most people won’t be willing to pay. That’s how his life has been, so why would theirs be different?

This is precisely why Astarion may disapprove of kind actions, but he mostly neither approves nor disapproves if Tav asks for payment. That’s just how the world works.

Once you venture out into act 2, after getting to know him a whole lot more, he starts to mellow a bit – if only towards Tav.

“He’s afraid, so afraid, of everyone but you, who she should fear the most.” – Sceleritas about Astarion

His approval is a lot easier to gain – or at least keep! – and he tends to approve of some more proper actions. He doesn’t throw a fit if you promise to find Mol, he approves of Tav being kind to His Majesty, of saving Aylin and he even approves of Durge apologising to Isobel after threatening to rip her to pieces.

He's slowly starting to open up, allowing Tav to see some parts of him he previously kept hidden. He accepts their offer to help, if hesitantly and, by god, the man starts experimenting with boundaries.

The social worker in me is shedding tears at this. It’s my favourite thing to see in my clients and it’s no different here. Yay to saying no!

Of course, it’s still a bit hit or miss. If Tav urges him to bite Araj, for example, he will only to later notice that he didn’t fucking have to. He recognises this on his own and he calls Tav out on it. Just like he calls them out on not helping him with his Orthon quest.

Good job, chap. Good fucking job.

And the growth-train won’t stop going even as we reach act 3.

In act 3, there’s not many things he disapproves as of right now – those he does, mostly have to do with how Tav treats him and not with anyone else. In fact, he’s more likely to approve good behaviour now, like giving Yenna food or money.

And yes, we need to consider that this could simply be because he gets used to Tav’s behaviour and just learns to roll with it. But it’s also highly likely that he notices that there’s truly good people around. At least one person. And that person is not only good, no, they’re in the process of helping him break free once and for all.

They’re helping him save himself.

By act 3, he has learned that he can absolutely say his piece where Tav is concerned and he’s more likely to disagree with them on certain things. It’s seen during a lot of small dialogue that he’s no longer terribly afraid to be honest with them, willing to listen and talk and he’ll ask for help if he needs it.

“I can do this. But I need your help.” – Act 3, Crypt

Something that can be viewed both positively and negatively is that he’s definitely loyal to a fault. He will stick by Tav’s side, no matter what.

“I really hoped we could avoid being pawns for a dark god, but here we are, I suppose. I’m with you, my dear, wherever this might lead.” – Act 3, After Jaheira confronts durge

As I said, this can be both positive and negative. On one count, it’s a recipe for disaster, seeing as he could be waltzing into a really bad situation for Tav alone.

But on the other side…this is a man who only cared about himself because that is the only person he could afford to care about. He needed to survive. He now has enough room to breathe and the capacity to care for someone else and I’d be inclined to count that as a good thing.

6. The Crypt

All the progress he made in act 2 and 3 is nearly tossed into the wind as soon as the crew enters Cazadors castle.

It’s not an immediate thing, of course.

At first, Astarion tries to stay light and simple and he hides behind flippant tones and relaxed faces. The way he recounts this is almost comically disinterested and the façade is actually quite good.

It’s start’s cracking after we meet Godie, one of the people who tortured him on more than one account, but he mostly manages to remain as upbeat as one can honestly expect for the first half of the journey.

All that, however, is done for the very moment we meet Sebastian. His mask not only slips, no, it full on shatters and there’s none of his apparent lightness left.

Which, of course it does.

The man is suddenly faced with years and years and years of victims. Innocent, unlucky people he lured back to his master over two centuries. People he liked, people he pitied.

“It’s sickening, seeing them again.”

It’s basically a room filled with guilt, exclusively for Astarion. And, as we mentioned before…Astarion is not great with guilt.

The guilt, however, is not where it ends.

No, he’s also faced with reflections of his own past. The spawn pose as reminders of what he did, sure, but also as reminders of what he was.

Weak, desperate, hungry.

There’s an abundance of images of his worst moments, reflected back at him in the thousands. It’s probably like staring into a funhouse mirror, but instead of seeing yourself in a funky way he just sees everything he so desperately doesn’t want to be.

“It should be [who I am]! I don’t want to be like them. They’re pathetic, horrible…”

He’s forcefully made aware of how darn weak he can be, which claws at all the wounds he’s barely had time to close. Something, he of course won’t admit if asked.

“THEY DO NOT [remind me of myself]. That weakness in me is dead, IT’S DEAD. I have a higher purpose.”

The high pressure of the moment brings out all of his act 1 traits in but a few moments. You can pretty much watch how he starts to shut down mid conversation, one of his old walls snapping back into place to remove himself from the situation.

Thing is though, walls usually become a bit brittle after disuse. Especially when talking to a person you don’t usually want to wall out.

Or, in his case, when talking to Tav.

After meeting Sebastian, Astarion shows extreme reactions to Tav nudging any of his weak spots. His reaction varies on whatever choice you make, but it ranges from aggression to defensiveness, to denial and even to downright begging Tav.

“Don’t hate me. I just did what I had to. I swear I did what I had to.”

This probably the most shocking out of all of them, since that is not something we got to witness before. The begging is likely a mixture of intense fear of losing Tav, his low self-esteem and pre-Tav behaviour, since we can assume that Cazador made him beg more than once.

Another old coat he puts back on would also be the least surprising of them all.

Manipulation.

He falls right back into it, using Tav’s affection to get what he want if we trigger the right action.

“If they die and I ascend, I won't have to rely on the parasite to walk in the sun. I'll be free. Truly completely free. Isn't that what you want?”

This, to me, was probably the biggest tell that Astarion was back in survival mode. He’s panicking, for fucks sake, and who can blame the guy? He’s back. He’s about to face down his abuser.

Of course he’s fucking panicking.

Panic leads to an increased craving for safety and, in his case, power. This is why he clings to Tav, why he begs them to love him still. And this is why he jumps head first into the rationalisation pool.

“I will need to sacrifice them all if I want to perform the ritual. - [You can save them.] – What’s the point? They're as good as dead! I thought they were dead. If they are unleashed, they will cause incredible carnage. […] They must die. Better they serve a purpose.”

Another textbook example.

They must die anyway. They’re basically dead. No need to save them now. They’re dangerous, I’m doing the right thing by sacrificing them. I already thought they were dead, so it’s not changing anything for me. They’re a lost cause and I deserve  all this power. I deserve it, because I suffered and nothing will change if they die.

So, seeing as we already spoke about his usual behaviour in act 3 – behaviour he showed after we allowed him to breathe and be himself for a while – I think we can fairly easily conclude he’s not thinking straight.

Astarion is right back in survival mode, where all that matters is he himself. If it weren’t for the seven thousand spawns, he might have moved through this more gracefully, but seeing those tipped the scales and Astarion is absolutely losing it.

Remember that for the last section, per favore.

7. The Ascension

“Astarion wants to ascend and Tav manipulates him into doing what they want.”

That is basically the essence of what people often claim and I can’t help but shake my head at such a blatant disregard of everything he has become. This is completely ignoring the change and growth he has gone through over the course of their journey.

Astarion wants to be free. He wants to be safe. That does not mean he wants to ascend.

And the claim that Tav manipulates him into doing anything is even more baffling. We are all aware that Tav is not manipulative by nature, yes? That is entirely on you. You decide who your Tav is.

And then let’s remember: Astarion is panicked. He’s afraid and he’s not thinking straight. His abuser is on his knees before him and he still feels so weak. And there’s seven thousand spawns that need handling.

Astarion is very much not okay right now.

In fact, reading his thoughts just proves this theory.

“You can see the fear in his eyes but also the hunger. The thick smell of blood in the air and the promise of power being so close is intoxicating to him. All he can see is the power of the ritual and the freedom that power brings. The freedom to do anything. To be anything.”

Tav, however, has none of those problems. They can actually see beyond the current situation and they are fully aware what the consequences are. Astarion is not. As we previously established, Astarion is a doer. Not a thinker. He didn’t think this through, not at all.

The only thing Tav is doing – the persuasion roll – is reminding him of the very real consequences he is facing. The consequences he hasn’t thought about before.

"I know you think this will set you free, but it won't. This power will trap you, just like it trapped Cazador."

And that is the kindest thing Tav could do in this situation. They’re not bodily dragging him away from Cazador. They’re not even telling him to not do it. They’re just offering him the truth. He can do with that information whatever he desires.

“Astarion cries when he doesn’t ascend, that just shows that it was the wrong choice.”

A hare-brained point that I thankfully have only seen once so far.

That crying? That is healthy crying.

That is him, crumbling under the stress that suddenly dissipates. That is him mourning two hundred years of torment. That’s him letting out feelings he hasn’t been able to for centuries.

And, for the love of god, try to put yourself in his shoes.

Two hundred years of torment, ended in but a moment.

Astarion was abused and tortured for so long, afraid for so long only to see his tormentor die just like that.

Cazador died within a moment and all Astarion needed was a darn blade. Of course he fucking cries.

Seeing how pathetic a being the very core of your life’s misery actually is hurts. It hurts like hell because not only are you finally free – free! – no, you’re faced with the fact that this pile of nothing, the thing that’s bleeding out right in front of you…this was what tortured for so long.

This thing hurt you so much. That guy took everything from you, everything you once were, and broke it again and again and again over years.

You were so scared of this thing.

And yet he has the gall and the gumption to die just like that.

It was so easy.

And yet you suffered for so long.

8. Evil Playthrough?

An evil playthrough is really a different setting altogether.

All of this, as you can probably tell, is really only applicable on a good playthrough. Realistically speaking. I’m not sure how the game mechanics handle it.

On an evil path, Astarion never really gets to experience kindness and goodness. Evil Tav will just prove him right in his believe that the world is a vile and cold place, meaning that he realistically would be more inclined to actually want to ascend.

9. Final Conclusion

I think all of this should be enough to make it clear that no, ascended Astarion is not the best ending for the guy. In fact, it is probably the worst. Because it’s just him, running away. He’s running into a lonely and cold state of being, where cruelty and power lord over everything else and he’s running because he’s terrified of being hurt again. He’s running despite desperately wanting to stop running.

“I'll spend the rest of my life running watching the shadows, never feeling safe…no, this has to happen. Here and now.”

And, the worst part is: Nothing about Astarion is left after he ascends. Even his tone of speaking gradually changes, his theatrics fading. He’s slowly losing himself, until there’s nothing but an evil caricature left.

So, in the end, ascension will have proven him right.

That version of him is dead.

[jungkoode]

ALTARS IN SHALLOW WATERS | 03

➔ PAIRING: Taehyung x Y/N (ballerina x stalker AU)

➔ MOODBOARD

➔ RATING: Mature, 18+, explicit themes and content.

➔ DATE POSTED: May 12, 2025.

➔ SUMMARY: Altars crumble faster in shallow water. But he still knelt like it was sacred. No one ever warned you that worship could look like love. Or that love could look like drowning.

➔ TAGS: second person perspective, female reader, ballerina!Y/N, stalker!taehyung, obsessive devotion, psychological tension, fixation, worship dynamics, Paris setting, religious imagery, voyeurism, sacred/profane dichotomy, slow burn, touch starvation, ritualistic behavior, gradual corruption, power dynamics, mirror imagery, water symbolism, sensory details, clean/unclean fixation, contamination OCD, professional dancer, self-destructive patterns, compulsive behavior, unhealthy coping mechanisms, possessive tendencies, praise addiction, spiritual yearning, toxic attraction, dangerous adoration, self-loathing, body discipline, mental health issues, self-harm, mental deterioration, unresolved sexual tension (for now).

➔ CONTENT in this chapter: bruising, self punishing, self harm, cleansing one self, ocd portrayal, stressful situations, psych sessions, public healthcare portrayal in the mental health realm

➔ AUTHOR’S INTRO AND TRIGGER WARNINGS

➔ MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQ | WORDCOUNT: 3,6k

➔ A/N: HELLO. WELCOME BACK TO THIS NIGHTMARE. Kiki Nation is THRIVING. And by thriving, I mean crumbling under the weight of my own pacing choices. That’s right. You thought you were getting plot? ACTION? MOVEMENT? Wake up, babe. This is Kiki Nation, and here? We move like anxiety on a Sunday night—slow, painful, and entirely internal. But listen… listen. Jokes aside (kind of), this chapter is actually doing a lot even if it looks like nothing is happening. I love writing scenes like this because, while it feels still on the surface, the psychological current is raging underneath. What’s being said without being said? What’s slipping through the cracks? What isn’t Taehyung allowing himself to articulate because if he did, it would crack him open? That’s what this is about. It’s tension. It’s claustrophobia. It’s the mind eating itself alive. We’re diving deep into the obsessive-compulsive loops here—realistic ones. I researched this thoroughly, not only as someone who lives with neurodivergence, but as someone who respects how complex OCD truly is. It’s not just “I like things clean” or “haha I’m quirky about numbers.” OCD is a deeply distressing, all-consuming, reality-warping condition that demands ritual to relieve unbearable tension, even when you know it makes no logical sense. You KNOW it’s irrational. That’s the point. But the alternative feels worse. And that’s what I wanted to capture. The thing about trauma—especially when you’re neurodivergent—is that your brain will cling to anything that feels controllable when real life becomes overwhelming. And sometimes, those fixations grow teeth. What starts as “I need to clean this” becomes “If I don’t, I am disgusting. I am dangerous. I will harm something I care about.” That’s not aesthetic. That’s hell. And yeah… Dr. Bernard trying so hard but still being limited by time, funding, caseloads… It’s a subtle nod to the very real way public healthcare systems stretch mental health care to its absolute breaking point. Because if Taehyung had money? He’d have private therapy, trauma-informed care, daily support. But no. He gets 45 minutes in a tile-counting room twice a month and a prescription that might not even be enough. It’s not fair, and that’s kind of the point. For legal reasons, this is a joke!!! 🥰 (But is it?) So yeah. I hope you’re paying attention to the mirror. The numbers. The language he uses. The way he doesn’t trust reality itself. There’s a reason this chapter feels repetitive. There’s a reason he keeps looping. And if you felt trapped reading it—good. You’re right where I wanted you. (affectionate)Thank you for reading and for trusting me to tell a story that digs a little deeper than surface-level trauma bait. Your comments and support mean everything to me. I read every single one. See you in the next chapter where… oh. Oh no. Yeah. See you there. (awkward finger guns)

➔ SERIES : PREVIOUS | NEXT

KIKI NATION’S DISCUSSION THREAD FOR THIS CHAPTER

PLAYLIST

Purple blooms beneath thumb pad. 

Bruises beneath his finger.

Taehyung presses harder, watching skin darken under pressure. 

Pain flares, then dulls. Not enough. Never enough to convince himself that yesterday was real.

He sits on the edge of his mattress, counting breaths. 

One-two-three-four-five-six-seven. 

The apartment smells of bleach and nothing else. 

(bleach, he needs to bleach the r—bleach—it’s dirty, he needs bleach)

No food. No life. Just chemical purity and the faint must of walls that never fully dry.

You were there. In his store. Breathing his air.

(impossible impossible impossible)

His fingers find another patch of unmarked skin along his forearm. 

Pinch. Twist. Hold until capillaries burst and blood pools beneath the surface. 

The pain grounds him in reality, but reality itself has become suspect.

How could you exist in the same grimy corner of Paris where he scrubs floors and straightens shelves? How could something so clean touch something so dirty?

Your scent lingers in his memory—sweet almond, rose, powdered sugar. 

Macarons. 

(macarons, macaronsmacaronsmacarons)

The kind sold in patisseries where everything costs too much and the staff watches him like he might pocket something.

He's never wanted macarons before. Never craved anything sweet.

Now his mouth waters at the memory.

(disgusting filthy unworthy)

Seven new bruises track up his arm like stepping stones. 

Evidence that he exists. That yesterday existed. That you might have seen him—really seen him—even through the curtain of hair he uses to hide.

The thought makes his stomach lurch.

He stumbles to the bathroom, falls to his knees before the toilet. Nothing comes up. He hasn't eaten since yesterday morning. Just water. Just enough to keep his body functioning.

The tile is cold against his forehead as he counts again. 

One-two-three-four-five-six-seven. Again. Again. Until the nausea passes.

You'd asked him a question. Spoken directly to him. Your voice precise as cut glass.

‘Why are you helping me?’

He hadn't answered. Couldn't answer. What could he possibly say?

Because your knees shouldn't touch this filthy floor.

Because you're too perfect for this place.

Because I'm not worthy to watch you bend.

The memory of your cotton pads—the dented package he'd first grabbed, the horror that had seized him when he saw the imperfection—makes his fingers twitch. He'd found you a perfect one. Undamaged. Clean. 

It mattered so much in that moment, more than breathing.

He drags himself up from the bathroom floor. Crosses to the sink. Turns the water as hot as it will go and plunges his hands beneath the stream.

The burn is good. Clean. Skin reddens instantly.

He scrubs with the rough side of a sponge until his palms are raw. Until he can't feel the phantom touch of the cotton pad package he handed you. Until he can't remember the way your fingers almost—almost—brushed his gloved ones.

Gloves. He'd been wearing gloves. Thank god. Thank god.

(still dirty still contaminated still worthless)

The mirror above his sink is spotless. He keeps it that way, though he rarely looks into it. Now he forces himself to meet his own eyes.

Dark circles. Hollow cheeks. Hair too long, falling across his face in messy blindish waves.

He looks like a ghost. A shadow. Nothing substantial enough to exist in your world.

Yet you'd looked at him. Tried to see his face. Asked him a question in that voice like winter air.

His stomach clenches again, but differently. Not nausea this time. Something worse. Something like hunger, but not for food.

Macarons.

The word loops in his mind, sweet and forbidden. He wants to taste them now. Wants to know if they taste like you smell. Wants to dissolve them on his tongue and pretend he's breathing the same air that touches your skin.

The thought is so profane it makes him dizzy.

He stumbles back to his bed. Sits on the edge again. Pinches another spot on his arm, harder this time. The pain blooms bright, then fades too quickly.

You'd looked back at him from the doorway. Caught him watching. Your eyes narrowed slightly, calculating. Seeing.

No one sees him. No one notices. He's made sure of it for years.

But you had.

His phone buzzes. Work in an hour. The convenience store waits, its floors already collecting new grime, new evidence of human existence that he'll need to erase.

Will you come back? The question terrifies and exhilarates him.

(come,come you have to comeback)

He should pray you don't. Should beg whatever god might listen to keep you away from his dirty corner of Paris. Away from his contaminated existence.

Instead, he finds himself hoping. Desperately, pathetically hoping.

The bruises on his arm throb in time with his pulse. One-two-three-four-five-six-seven. Evidence that yesterday was real. That you were real.

That maybe, just maybe, you'll be real again today.

Persistent. 

The word hangs in stale office air. Taehyung's fingers twitch against his thigh.

Twenty-six tiles. Wrong number. Wrong pattern. Wrong room. His eyes trace the edges where white grout meets ceramic, counting again in case he missed one. Twenty-six. Still wrong.

(wrong wrong wrong fix it fix it)

"Taehyung? I asked if your contamination fears are still persisting."

Dr. Bernard's voice is distant as a radio playing three rooms away as it filters through the fog. The man sits across from him, pen poised over a notepad that's seen too many patients. His colorful socks peek beneath gray trousers—today they're yellow with small blue bicycles. 

Taehyung notices this instead of meeting his eyes.

"Yes." The word scrapes his throat. Dry. Unused. 

How long has he been sitting here?

"And the medication? You're taking it regularly?"

Taehyung nods. 

Paroxetine. Forty milligrams. White oval pill. Bitter when it touches his tongue if he doesn't swallow fast enough. He takes it every morning at 7:07. Never 7:06. Never 7:08.

(seven seven seven)

"Good, good." Dr. Bernard makes a note. The pen scratches paper like insects crawling. "And the cleaning rituals? Any improvement there?"

Twenty-six tiles. 

The pattern is wrong. 

If he could just add two more, it would be twenty-eight. Seven times four. Perfect. 

His fingers curl into his palm, nails digging half-moons.

"About the same."

Dr. Bernard sighs. Not an impatient sigh. A tired one. The sigh of a man with sixty-three other patients. Taehyung counted the files once when the secretary stepped away. Sixty-four including him. Too many. Not enough time.

"You mentioned last time you were using bleach on your hands again." Dr. Bernard taps his pen against the notepad. 

Tap-tap-tap. 

Not seven taps. Irregular. Unpredictable. 

“Is that still happening?"

The bleach burns. Burns means clean. Clean means safe. Safe means—

(he won't contaminate you)

Taehyung blinks.

Where did that thought come from?

"Sometimes." His voice sounds hollow even to himself. "When it's necessary."

Dr. Bernard's glasses slip down his nose. He pushes them up with his middle finger, a gesture Taehyung has seen forty-seven times in their sessions together. 

Always the middle finger. Never the index. Never the thumb.

"And what makes it necessary, Taehyung?"

You. Your perfect skin. Your clean leotard. The way you move like water, untouched by the filth of this city.

But he can't say that. Hasn't told Dr. Bernard about you. About the mirror. About the convenience store. About yesterday when you spoke to him and the world tilted on its axis.

"Dirt." The answer is inadequate. He knows this. "Contamination."

Dr. Bernard waits for more. The clock on the wall ticks. Not seven ticks per minute. Sixty. 

Wrong number.

"I see." Dr. Bernard writes something down. "And have there been any changes in your routine lately? Anything new?"

You. 

You are new. You with your rose-macaron scent and perfect posture. You who looked at him—really looked—and didn't immediately turn away.

"No." The lie tastes metallic.

"Taehyung." Dr. Bernard sets his pen down. Leans forward slightly. His chair creaks. "We've been meeting for three years now. I'd like to think I know when something's changed."

Three years. Thirty-six months. Not a multiple of seven. 

Wrong.

"Nothing important." Another lie.

Through the thin wall, he hears another doctor's voice. A woman laughing. Someone crying. The Centre Médico-Psychologique never has enough space, enough privacy, enough time. His forty-five minutes will end in seventeen more. Then Dr. Bernard will see someone else. Someone whose problems might be fixable.

"I've increased your sessions on your Carte Vitale authorization." Dr. Bernard slides a paper across the desk. "Twice monthly instead of once. I think it could help."

Taehyung stares at the paper. The government seal. The stamps. The signature. 

So much bureaucracy to fix a broken mind. 

As if more sessions in this room with twenty-six tiles will stop him from scrubbing his skin raw after thinking of you.

"Thank you." 

He doesn't reach for the paper. His hands are dirty. Always dirty.

Dr. Bernard's phone buzzes. He glances at it, then back at Taehyung. 

“I'm sorry, I need to take this. Just a moment."

As Dr. Bernard steps outside, Taehyung's eyes drift back to the floor. 

Twenty-six tiles. He could fix it. Break two into halves. Make twenty-eight. Seven times four. Perfect.

(break them break them make it right)

His foot hovers over the tile nearest his chair. One stomp might crack it. 

Fix the pattern. Fix the room. Fix him.

But he doesn't move. Just counts again. And again. And again.

One-two-three-four-five-six-seven. One-two-three-four-five-six-seven. One-two-three-four-five-six-seven.

Dr. Bernard returns, tucking his phone away. "Sorry about that. Where were we?"

Taehyung's foot settles back on the floor. Twenty-six tiles. Still wrong. Still broken.

Like him.

"They're wrong."

The words escape before Taehyung can swallow them back. His tongue feels thick, disconnected from his brain.

Dr. Bernard leans forward. "What's wrong, Taehyung?"

"The tiles." His finger points downward, trembling. "Twenty-six. Wrong number."

(wrong wrong wrong fix it fix it)

Dr. Bernard follows his gaze to the floor, brow furrowing. Understanding dawns slowly across his face. He sets his notepad aside and kneels, running a finger along the grout lines.

"The tiles—there are twenty-six. Should be twenty-eight." Taehyung's voice cracks. "Seven times four. Or at least twenty-seven. Has a seven in it." 

His heel bounces against the floor. Up-down-up-down. One-two-three-four-five-six-seven. Again. The rhythm keeps him tethered when his mind threatens to float away.

Dr. Bernard stands, retrieving a black marker from his desk. Without hesitation, he kneels again and draws a thick line across one tile, dividing it neatly in half.

"There," he says. "Twenty-seven tiles now. Contains a seven."

The marker squeaks against ceramic. 

The line isn't perfectly straight. 

Doesn't matter. 

The number matters. Twenty-seven. Has a seven. Better.

Taehyung's breathing slows. The pressure behind his eyes eases.

"I'm sorry," Dr. Bernard says, returning to his chair. "I've been seeing you for three years. I should have noticed sooner." 

He gestures vaguely around the room. 

“They just changed my office last month. I didn't think to count the tiles before you came in."

Three years. Thirty-six months. One hundred fifty-six sessions. And Dr. Bernard still doesn't understand that everything must be counted. Everything must be checked. Everything must be right.

But he tried. He fixed it. Drew a line. Made twenty-seven.

(better better better not perfect but better)

"Thank you," Taehyung whispers.

Dr. Bernard nods, uncapping his pen again. 

"You mentioned nothing had changed in your routine. But something in your face tells me otherwise." His voice softens. "Sometimes change can trigger episodes like this. Even good changes."

Taehyung's fingers find each other, twisting. Counting knuckles. 

"I found something." The words feel strange in his mouth. Heavy. Dangerous.

Dr. Bernard waits. Patient. 

The clock ticks. The newly-divided tile stares up at them both.

"A window." Taehyung continues. "At work. Behind the storage room."

"At the convenience store?"

Taehyung nods. "Two days ago. Needed cleaning supplies. Went to the back room. Not the main storage. The other one. Where they keep replacements."

His sentences fragment. Break apart like the tile on the floor. 

He can't help it. 

The memory is too bright, too sharp.

"Nobody goes there. Dusty. Dirty."

(filthy filthy filthy)

"And you found a window?" Dr. Bernard prompts.

"Not a window. A mirror." Taehyung's throat constricts. "But it's not a mirror. It's a window. One-way. Looks into the building next door."

Dr. Bernard makes a note. "The building next door to your store is...?"

"Ballet academy." The word 'ballet' feels sacred on his tongue. Too pure for his mouth. "Practice room. Empty usually. But not that day."

His heartbeat accelerates. 

One-two-three-four-five-six-seven. 

Faster now. 

One-two-three-four-five-six-seven.

"Someone was there?" Dr. Bernard asks.

Taehyung closes his eyes. Sees you immediately. Your reflection in the mirror as you practiced. Arms extended. Back straight. Perfect. Clean. Untouchable.

"A dancer." 

He can't bring himself to say more. Can't describe the way you moved like water. 

The way your reflection caught in the dirty glass and somehow remained untainted. 

The way he stood, frozen, watching for twenty-seven minutes before his manager called his name.

"I see." Dr. Bernard makes another note. "And this discovery upset your routine?"

Upset. Such a small word for the earthquake that destroyed his carefully constructed world.

"I went back. Yesterday." The confession burns his throat. "After work. Before closing."

Dr. Bernard nods encouragingly. "To see this dancer again?"

Taehyung's nails dig into his palms. "Yes."

"And did you?"

The memory floods back. Not through the mirror this time. Face to face. 

You, entering the convenience store minutes before closing. 

You, scanning shelves with precise movements. 

(dirty dirty dirty can't touch can't let you touch)

"Yes." His voice barely audible now. "She came into the store."

The pronoun feels wrong. Inadequate. You are not a 'she.' You are something else. Something more. Something clean in a filthy world.

"Did you speak to her?" Dr. Bernard asks.

Taehyung shakes his head. Then nods. Then shakes again. "She spoke to me."

The memory of your voice makes his skin prickle. Cut glass. Winter air. Perfect diction.

"What did she say?"

"Asked why I was helping her." His eyes find the divided tile again. Twenty-seven now. Better. "I picked up her cotton pads. Found her a new package. Undamaged one."

Dr. Bernard writes something down. "And how did that make you feel? This interaction?"

Feel? How could he possibly explain? 

The terror. The exhilaration. The certainty that he was contaminating something perfect just by existing in your presence.

"Wrong," he finally says. "I felt wrong."

"Wrong how?"

"Dirty." The word tastes like copper. "She's clean. Perfect. I'm..." 

He gestures at himself. His stained uniform. His raw hands. His existence.

"Taehyung, have you ever heard of religious scrupulosity?"

The question hangs in the air. Taehyung's fingers freeze mid-count against his thigh.

"It's a form of OCD where someone becomes fixated on moral or religious purity. They develop intense fears about contaminating sacred things or being unworthy in a spiritual sense."

Taehyung stares at the divided tile. Twenty-seven. 

His throat closes. Words retreat, curling back inside where they're safe.

(not religious not that simple not that)

Dr. Bernard waits. The silence stretches between them like a thread pulled too tight. When Taehyung doesn't respond, he tries again.

"I'm not suggesting this is exactly what's happening. Just that there might be similarities in how you're viewing this dancer."

Taehyung's jaw tightens. His teeth grind together. The sound fills his skull. Drowns out Dr. Bernard's voice. Drowns out everything except the memory of you. 

Perfect posture. Clean lines. Untouched by the filth surrounding you.

"She's just a person," Dr. Bernard says gently. "A talented dancer, perhaps, but human. Like everyone else."

Wrong. So wrong. 

You're not like everyone else. Not like him. Not dirty. Not broken. Not wrong.

Taehyung shakes his head. Once. Twice. 

Seven times.

"Taehyung?" Dr. Bernard leans forward. "Are you still with me?"

Words scatter like roaches when light hits them. He can't catch them. Can't form them. His tongue feels swollen, useless. He manages a nod.

"I'm not concerned about you seeing someone dance twice," Dr. Bernard clarifies. "That's perfectly normal. I'm interested in how intensely it seems to have affected you."

(not normal never normal nothing normal)

"You helped her pick up some cotton pads. That's a kind gesture, not contamination."

Taehyung's hands curl into fists. Dr. Bernard doesn't understand. Can't understand. Hasn't seen you. Hasn't felt the wrongness of his existence next to yours.

"Not..." The word scrapes his throat. "Not kind."

"No? What was it then?"

"Necessary." Another word claws its way out. "Had to."

Dr. Bernard makes a note. The pen scratches paper. Seven scratches. Taehyung counts them.

"Had to protect her from the dirty floor?"

Taehyung nods. His chest tightens. The room shrinks. Twenty-seven tiles. Focus on the tiles.

"Taehyung, I've known you for three years. Your contamination fears typically center on yourself—protecting yourself from outside dirt. This seems different."

Different. Yes. 

Everything is different now. The world tilted when he first saw you through that grimy one-way mirror. Tilted further when you walked into the store. Spoke to him. Looked at him.

"Let's back up," Dr. Bernard suggests. "Tell me about finding this mirror."

Taehyung's eyes close. Behind them, he sees the storage room. Dust motes floating in stale air. Cardboard boxes stacked haphazardly. The wall that wasn't a wall.

"Cleaning." His voice barely audible. "Needed bleach."

"For the store?"

A nod.

"And you found this mirror in the storage room?"

"Back room." The distinction matters. "Not main storage. Nobody goes there."

"And through this mirror, you could see into the ballet academy next door?"

"Practice room." The words come easier now. Focused on facts. Not feelings. "Empty usually. But not then."

"And you saw this dancer practicing."

"Yes."

"For how long did you watch?"

Taehyung's fingers twitch. "Twenty-seven minutes." 

The truth slips out before he can stop it.

Dr. Bernard's eyebrows rise slightly. "You counted?"

"Always count." 

"And then what happened?"

"Manager called. Had to go back."

"But you returned the next day?"

Shame burns his cheeks. He nods.

"And then she came into your store?"

"Before closing." The memory floods back. "Accident."

"The cotton pads?"

"Yes."

"And you helped her."

"Had to." His voice cracks. "Floor is dirty. She's not."

Dr. Bernard studies him. "Taehyung, when was the last time you spoke to someone outside of work or these sessions?"

The question catches him off guard. He blinks. Tries to remember. Can't.

"This connection you feel—" Dr. Bernard chooses his words carefully "—it might be intensified by isolation. Human beings need interaction."

(not human not normal not worthy)

"I'm not suggesting anything inappropriate is happening," Dr. Bernard continues. "Just that your reaction seems disproportionate to two brief encounters."

Disproportionate. As if there could be a proportionate response to witnessing divinity in a convenience store.

"She's clean," Taehyung whispers. The only truth that matters.

"Everyone seems clean to someone who feels contaminated, Taehyung."

Taehyung flinches. His vision tunnels. The twenty-seven tiles blur. His breathing quickens. 

One-two-three-four-five-six-seven. Too fast. Too shallow.

"I think we should focus on your isolation in our next session," Dr. Bernard says, glancing at the clock. "And perhaps revisit your medication dosage."

Taehyung doesn't respond. Can't. Words have abandoned him completely now. 

His mind retreats to the only safe place it knows—counting. Tiles. Breaths. Heartbeats. 

Seconds until he can leave this room with its wrong-then-fixed floor and return to his apartment where everything is arranged in sevens and nothing beautiful exists to be contaminated by his presence.

Dr. Bernard sighs. Not impatient. Sad. "Our time is almost up. Is there anything else you want to tell me about these encounters?"

Taehyung stares at his raw hands. 

What could he possibly say? That when you looked at him, really looked, something inside him recognized something inside you? That for one brief moment, he felt seen instead of invisible? That helping you felt like prayer?

He shakes his head.

"Alright." Dr. Bernard stands. "Same time in two weeks, then. And Taehyung?" He waits until Taehyung looks up. "Try to talk to someone. Anyone. Even just to ask the time or comment on the weather. Human connection matters."

Connection. 

As if someone like him could connect with anyone. 

Especially someone like you.

The session ends. Taehyung leaves without speaking again. Steps carefully over the divided tile. Twenty-seven now. Better. Not perfect.

Like him.

goal: 250 notes

taglist: @cannotalwaysbenight @taevescence @itstoastsworld @somehowukook @stutixmaru @chloepiccoliniii @kimnamjoonmiddletoe @annyeongbitch7 @mar-lo-pap @mikrokookiex @minniejim @curse-of-art @cristy-101 @mellyyyyyyx @rpwprpwprpwprw @billy-jeans23 @calmyourtitts7

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[chunghasweetie]

Hello, I really love your writing. I want to submit a request. I will be really happy if you accept it.

I want a story about Jungkook being a student who is obsessed with his female professor. Who is also 10 years older than him. Smut part and the whole writing is up to you. But I would have liked if you add Jungkook having breeding kink and want to put babies in her so much.

Thank you in advance 💞

𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 | J.JK

— pairing | professor!oc x college student!jjk

— summary | jungkook decided to take his relationship with his professor a step further

— warning | bad writing (i’m doing my best)

unprotected sex, cursing, praising, adult dialogue, breeding kink, impregnation kink, professor student relationship, divorce, adult dialogue

— word count | 3.3k words

— song suggestion | connection — bangchan skz

Jungkook had originally been sent to college for one thing.

His business degree.


Once he acquired his business degree he would be able to take over his father’s company, which would bring in a large sum of money once he graduated.

Although he was a business major, he still had to take some general classes.

Jungkook was once again waiting until her class ended.

His class with her was at 9am and it was almost 4pm.

He didn’t mind waiting at all. In fact, he enjoyed it.

Admiring how she explained so passionately about the subject she taught and how engaged she was with her students made his attraction even stronger to her.

Didn’t like how enthusiastic the male students were though. The constant gifts and attention they showered her with annoyed the shit out of him.

Ms. Young.

She was his professor in Ethnic Studies for the past semester, and his obsession with her grew with each lesson.

She was divorced. Married for a measly two years.

Her ex husband had cheated on her the second year of their marriage over and over. He had to fess up once his mistress became pregnant.

It hurt her deeply, causing her to move to a whole other country to cope with the separation.

And lucky for her, she happened to land right in Jungkook’s university.

Jungkook had been her healing. When they first began their situation, she hadn’t thought of her divorce a single time.

Made her wonder if she had even loved her ex at all.

It started from Jungkook staying after class and asking for homework help, to having her in his backseat begging for more.

Took a lot of convincing to them her there.

She seen him as so much younger. She was 10 almost 11 years older than him.

But after Jungkook’s irresistible siren like voice, she couldn’t resist him.

Jungkook was more than happy she went along, his endless stalking and time spent on her paying off.

He waited until the classroom was absolutely empty before he made his way inside. He shut the door behind him, a wide smirk on his face.

He noticed his professors head stuck up from her computer, eyes widening when she seen him.

“Hey.” His voice lingered in her ears. “Your last class took forever. So many guys like staying after class to look at you.” He grumbled.

“Don’t start. That’s not true.” She shook her head.

His eyebrow quirks as he chuckles, taking a seat on the edge of her desk, his eyes locked onto hers.

“Oh, it's not? Then, explain why half the guys in the class come in with flowers, or candy, or just looking at you up and down?”

“I’m a good professor?” The faulty expression was written all over her face.

“No, Ms. Young. It has nothing to do with how good you are as a professor. You're just...”

He pauses as he reaches out to brush a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Irresistible.” He breathed out. “So hard to let go of.”

She blushed.

“And I’m assuming they’re trying to do something for a better grade.” He chuckled. “But I already took that opportunity.”

“You didn’t even need me for that.” She rolled her eyes. “You had a perfect grade even before this.”

“Doesn’t that make you more attracted to me?” He smirked.

“Whatever.” She blushed. “They don’t use me for a grade. I think they genuinely need help.”

“You think that's what it is?” He laughs, his fingers trailing along her jawline.

“Those boys want nothing more than to fuck you, Ms. Young.“ He shook his head.

“Are you sure Jungkook beca—“

“Then why do they stare at your ass when you're bent over your desk, marking papers?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

He continued, “Why do they keep coming up with reasons to talk to you after class, even if it means missing and failing the rest of their classes?”

She swallowed.

She wasn’t able to brain storm a rational response or reasoning to their actions.

“Well I—“ She sighed, giving in. “I don’t know.”

“It’s because they want what’s mine.” Jungkook spat.

He leaned in, “But I can’t blame them. Look at you.”

“So annoying.” She mumbled, looking away.

“Mm, I know. And it's just going to get worse from here.” He teased.

“You know, you shouldn't be so cute.” He chuckles softly, “It's really fucking distracting.”

“How?”

He raises an eyebrow, his hands moving up her sides to rest on her shoulders.

“How? Well, you're always rolling your eyes and giggling at me. And it's cute. Too cute for someone who's supposed to be my old professor.”

“Old?!” Her eyes widened.

“Older.” He corrected himself, laughing.

“For someone who’s my student you make such inappropriate comments.” She rolled her eyes.

His smirk turns into a small grin and he shrugs, his hands never leaving her shoulders.

“What can I say? You bring out that sire of me. Not my fault.” He chuckles and leans in, placing a swift kiss on her lips “Tell me you don’t love it.”

“Whatever. And some sending me pictures of your thing when I’m trying to work!” She hit his chest.

He stared down at her with a smug look on his face. “Did you not enjoy them? Did you not send me shit back and tell your students you were going to the restroom?”

She swallowed, not saying anything in response.

“Uh huh. Right.” He pecked her lips.

“You drive me insane.”

He smirks and moves his hands back up to her waist, pulling her closer.

“That's the plan, ma'am.” He grins and leans in for another kiss, his tongue slipping past her lips to dance with hers.

She melted into his mouth, messily making out with him by her desk.

He groans and deepens the kiss, his hands roaming down to grab her ass and lift her up onto the desk.

He breaks the kiss only to tug at her shirt. He growls and starts trailing kisses down her neck and chest.

“J-Jungkook not here.” She shook her head. “I-I have an important meeting with my department in a bit.”

He pauses and looks up at her, his expression disappointed for a moment before he smirks.

She kept shaking her head no but her body kept telling her to go forward. She wanted him so bad.

“Fine, we'll make it quick then.” He continues to kiss down her body, attempting to take her clothes off.

“J-Jungkook!” She whined, “N-No put them back on— I’ll meet you tonight and we can do it I promise.”

He hesitates but then nods and starts getting dressed again. “Alright. But you owe me for this.”

“I know I know. I didn’t notice the time before.” She exhaled. “I’ll do whatever you want tonight. Promise.”

He finishes dressing and leans in for a quick kiss before making his way to the door. “I'll hold you to that promise. Because I have huge plans for you tonight.”

“Mm I’ll definitely be there then.” She chuckled before bidding goodbye to him.

He chuckles as he makes his way across campus, already counting down the hours until he can see her again.

Shortly after Jungkook exited her classroom, members of her department entered her classroom for the meeting.

༊—

After some time, she had finally arrived at his apartment right outside the campus. She used the key under the mat to open the door, shutting it behind her.

She had changed out of her work attire, and now wore something more casual.

She was in shorts and she wore one of Jungkook’s hoodies. Her hair was tucked into the hood and she had sunglasses over her.

It wasn’t the perfect disguise but she hadn’t got caught or noticed once.

Jungkook wasn’t the only student living in the complex, so she had to be careful.

He's in the living room when she enters, a grin spreading across his face as he sees her.

“Hey, Y/n.” He stands up and walks over to her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into a kiss.

“Mm I’m Y/n now?” She chuckled against his lips.

“Had to show my professor my respect on campus.” He smirked.

“Whatever.” She smiled, “What’re you up to?”

He smiles against her lips before pulling back a little. “Just waiting for you.”

He takes her hand and leads her over to the couch, sitting down and pulling her onto his lap. “I ordered a pizza. Didn’t want you to have to cook for me tonight.”

“Awe.” She pouted. “I like cooking for you.”

“You worked so hard today and I wanted you to relax.” He replied.

“How is it that you’re so much younger than me but take care of me better than someone my age?” She laughed.

He grins and kisses her neck. “I just have a way with taking care of women. And you deserve to be cherished, Y/n.” He looks up at her.

“So I’m one of many?” She folded her arms.

His grin falters for a moment before he laughs.

“No, no. You're the only woman I've been with. I swear.” He looks up at her with a genuine expression. “You're the only person who's ever made me want to be better.”

“Really?”

He nods, looking at her with a sincere expression. “Yeah. I've never met anyone like you before, Y/n.”

He runs his hand through her hair. “You're different from any other woman I've ever met. And I mean that in the best way possible.”

“I’m nothing like him.” He continued. “I’m a real man. He was a fucking boy. A man child who couldn’t even hold onto a damn good woman.”

She couldn’t believe how this college kid had her wrapped around his finger.

How she felt on top of the world when she was with him.

“Oh Jungkook.” Her heart swelled at his words.

He smiles and kisses her forehead. “I'm so in love with you Y/n.” He wraps his arms around her waist.

“I never want you to doubt how much you mean to me.” He looks at her with intensity in his eyes. “You're my everything.”

“You’re so amazing Jungkook.” She held eye contact with him.

“I’m so in love with you too.” She pecked his lips.

He grins and wraps his arms around her waist. He leans in and kisses her back hungrily. “All mine.”

He got her right where he wanted her.

“I know I am” she mumbled against his lips.

He chuckles and bites her lip gently. “You're so fucking pretty, Y/n”

He groans and kisses her neck. “I need you now. I thought I could wait but fuck— I can’t.”

He starts to slip his hoodie off her and over her head, tossing it to the side. “I want to see all of you— I need to.”

“Jungkook the pizza—“

He leans in to kiss her again. “But fuck, I want you more than I want food right now. I want you more than anything.”

He trails his kisses down her neck and to her collarbone. “So fucking pretty. Put on more perfume on for me hm?”

She nodded.

He stopped himself. “Fuck— where are my manners? Let’s go to my room.”

“Now you’re a gentleman? What about when we did it in your car, my car, your counter, my classroom, your table, my table— Should I continue?”

“That’s just different.” He smirks and bites her earlobe. “You remember every fuck huh? Lets me know I’m putting it down right.”

He nips at her neck again and lifts her up in his arms. He carries her to the bedroom and lays her down on the bed.

His room was simple. Bed in the corner and gaming chair and set up was in the corner.

His dresser, bed frame, and nightstand all correlated in color and design. Few posters up.

His room was cute. Much more decorated than any other man would have.

Jungkook smirks and starts to undress himself. “You like what you see?” He asks with a playful grin.

“Because I fuckin' love what I see.” He climbs onto the bed and crawls over to her.

She continued to make out with him, letting him speak between kisses.

He groans and deepens the kiss, his hands roaming over her body. “I'm the only one who gets to touch you like this.”

He whispers against her lips. “The only one you should ever want. Ever. I’m all you never need.”

“And I’m going to make sure of that today.” He tugged on her hair.

She made out with him heavily, moaning at the words he spoke with her.

He grinds against her, his hands gripping her hips. “Gonna fill you up.”

He whispers in her ear. “Gonna make you carry my baby, so everyone knows you're mine.”

“Wanted this for so long.” He kisses her neck and shoulder, leaving hickeys behind.

“I-I—“ She could hardly speak, his dirty words making her feel like she was burning.

He smirks against her skin, his hand sliding under her shirt.

“You like that idea, don't you?” He kneads her breast gently. “Hearing me talk about that. Gets you going doesn’t it baby?”

“Gonna do what he didn’t.” He leans down and sucks on her nipple through her bra, his other hand still holding her hip. “I’ll be the perfect man for you Y/n.”

She whined at the sensitivity, panties growing damper with each word.

She was too choked up to say anything, too overwhelmed by pleasure to form a proper response.

He felt her wetness and grinned, pulling back slightly.

“Gonna fuck you good baby.” He whispers in her ear again. “You’re going to take it? Want my baby in you?”

She nodded quickly.

Jungkook shakes his head. “Words.”

“Yes Jungkook.” She nodded, “Please.”

He looks into her eyes, his expression neutral. “I will do whatever it takes to make you mine.”

He leans in and kisses her deeply, his tongue invading her mouth. He reaches for her shorts pulling them off and sliding his fingers inside of her panties.

He felt how wet she was and his cock twitches in his pants.

“Fuck, Y/n.” He rubs her clit, making her moan into their kiss.

He starts to fuck her with his fingers, pumping them in and out of her sopping wet pussy. “So wet for me. My pretty girl.”

She kept repeating pleas and moans into his ears, pathetically begging for more.

He hears her moans and his cock twitches in his pants. He starts to thrust his fingers harder and faster, making her moan even louder.

He kisses her neck, sucking on her skin. “So reactive. I fucking love it.”

“D-Don’t wanna cum yet” She whined, legs trembling. “wanna cum on your cock…”

His cock is throbbing in his pants, pre-cum leaking from the tip. He groans and pulls his fingers out of her pussy, making her whine at the retraction.

He immediately spoke, “I know, baby.” He unbuckles his pants and slipped his cock out. “I’ll fix you in a second Y/n.”

“Please,” She swallowed, “Fill me up with your baby.”

He groans at her words, his cock twitching. Her eagerness made him even more excited.

“Yes ma’am.” He starts to stroke his cock, pre-cum leaking from the tip. “I'm gonna fill you up with my cum and make a baby in that beautiful pussy. Anything for you Y/n.”

“Fuck” She cussed, “Fucking hurry then.”

He grins at her words and quickly positions himself at her entrance. He thrusts in hard, making her moan loudly.

“Shit Y/n.” He starts to pound into her, making the bed shake. “Fucking tight.”

“Y-You’re just too fucking big” she hissed.

She eased up to him, that stretch turning into pure pleasure. “But— so fucking good.”

“Good. We’re gonna do this over and over until you’re pregnant.” He groans and starts to fuck her harder, making the headboard slam against the wall. “No more shitty condoms. I’m filling you up every fucking night.”

He leans down and kisses her neck, sucking on her skin. “I know it feels good, baby.” He reaches down and starts to rub her clit with his thumb. “You’re so pretty like this.”

She was a loud mess. Jungkook knew she would be. With the sounds of her moans, his grunts, and the headboard she knew there would be complaints.

“Jungkook your neighbors!” She hissed.

“Alright.” He smirks and pulls out of her, flipping her over face down ass up. He enters her from behind, making her moan loudly. “Much better hm?”

She nodded into his pillow. He smacks her ass and starts to pound into her again, his balls slapping against her thighs.

“So good! So good Jungkook!” She screamed into the pillow, the sounds of their combined wetness echoing throughout his room.

He grins and starts to fuck her even harder, pulling on her hair as he pounds into her.

“That's right, baby. Take it.” He smacks her ass again and leans down to whisper in her ear. “Whose dick does you better baby?”

“You! You Jungkook!” She moaned. “So much better— you already know.”

He laughs and keeps fucking her, gripping her hips as he slams into her. “Of course it is. You're mine, aren't you? I just fucking love hearing it while I’m fucking on you.”

He leans down and bites her shoulder, making her moan loudly. “Who else can make you scream like this, baby? He never made you really cum huh Y/n?”

She shook her head. “No— Never!”

“He never fucked a baby into you either. Saved all the good shit for me.” He grins and pulls out of her, flipping her over onto her back again.

He spreads her legs and enters her again, making her moan loudly as he starts thrusting into her. “I'm the only man who’ll have you like this.”

“Having you swollen with a baby for the rest of the semester. Gonna marry you and buy you a big ol’ house when I graduate. I’ll be your happily ever after.” He laughs and leans down to kiss her, biting her lip as he pulls back.

“Fuck Jungkook.” She whined. “Please— Want it all so bad.”

“Tell me Ms. Young,” He began. “Does that make me your favorite student now?”

“I-I-“

“Tell me Ms. Young.” He taunted.

“Only one— My favorite student.” She whined. “No one else like you.”

He laughs and leans down to kiss her, biting her lip as he pulls back. “That's what I fucking thought.”

He starts fucking her harder, making the bed creak beneath them.

“You’re gonna fucking break the bed” She bit her lip.

He laughs and grips the headboard, slamming into her harder as he grunts with each thrust.

“I don't give a fuck. Won’t stop fucking you like this until this shits broken.” He groaned.

“Fucking fill me up” Her eyes rolled back. “Want to have your baby so bad.”

He grins at her dirty talk and obeys her command, fucking her harder and faster.

“Fuck, you want my cum so bad?” He reaches down and starts rubbing her clit, making her moan even louder.

“I’ll fucking give that shit to you. I’ll give you everything I got in me.” He breathed out.

Her legs shook, back arching until she came all over his cock, her liquid heat spilling out of her.

“Shit!” He curses and slams into her one last time, releasing his cum deep inside of her.

He overfilled her, his cum spilling out all over. “Fuck Y/n.” He pants as he collapses on top of her.

The two panted on top of one another, trying to catch their breaths from the intense baby making session.

Once he caught his breath, he rolls off her and pulls her into his arms, nuzzling her neck.

He looks at her with a satisfied smirk. That was fucking amazing, ma'am. “I don't think I've ever cum that hard in my life.”

“Me either.” She shook her head. “My legs are still twitching.”

He laughs and kisses her forehead. “You okay, baby?”

“More than okay.” She laughed. “I’m feeling amazing.”

“Good.” He licked his lips. “Because I said we aren’t stopping until I know you’re having that baby.”

[wwinterwitch]

cowboy like me — coriolanus snow

summary: it takes one to know one. you and him were exactly alike, which explains why you were inevitably drawn to each other

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

word count: 2k

tags: you can't fix him you're as awful as him, being delusional together, fluff??? (not really but u guys are in love and happy and married), mentions of/implied murder and being bad people, romanticizing everything

notes: idk where i was going with this i just had this idea in my head and taylor inspired me to write it. i'm also absolutely feral for young!snow it's not even funny at this point, i needed to find ways to cope lmao

i'd really appreciate a comment or reblog if you enjoy my work.

masterlists | read on ao3

A smile appears on your face the second you feel a hand on your lower back, turning around to meet your husband's loving gaze.

He stands directly in front of you, staring down at you in a way that to this day makes you feel butterflies in your stomach, like you're nothing but a teenage girl who's unlucky enough to have developed a blinding crush on a guy too charming for his own good— the thought of it makes you feel almost nostalgic, looking back at the early stages of your relationship.

Coriolanus Snow has always been a familiar face. Growing up together, you two have known each other for ages. You might've interacted a few times, but nothing beyond brief conversations between classmates.

You had a boyfriend at the time. A much too sweet and caring guy that made the big mistake of falling irrevocably in love with you. In all fairness, it was hard for him not to trail behind you like a lost puppy all the time when you were so good at making foolish boys believe you were the girl of their dreams.

Love is not a word you would use to describe your relationship. He was tolerable and clearly obsessed with you, so it made sense for you to stay with him. He learned with time that buying you very expensive gifts would get you to pay more attention to him, so that became his way of showing his affection for you.

In his mind this was perfectly reasonable. His girl likes being spoiled, so that's exactly what he did. The adoration for you blinded him enough to ignore the truth: you're just sticking around for the money. Some people warned him you were bad news, but you always managed to find a way to make him worship you all over again. Maybe you could've felt sorry for him at some point...if only he didn't have such good taste to pick things out for you.

But then Coriolanus happened. You started to notice him more and more until you inevitably started having feelings for him. How could you not fall for a guy like him? Especially after he started his quick ascend as one of the best Game makers in history.

Maybe it was the way he so fervently claimed his interest in you, willing to pursue you even when your boyfriend was still in the picture. Or perhaps it had to do with his growing popularity and power. After all, you can't deny how attracted you are to guys with ambition.

And Coriolanus is not exactly sure what made him fall for you either. There's many things he loves about you, that's for sure, but he can't say which came first. Was it your captivating beauty and intelligence, or the news that you recently became the only heir to one of the wealthiest families in the Capitol?

Whatever force pulled the two of you together, it really doesn't matter at this point. What matters is that he loves you with every fiber of his being, willing to do whatever is in his power to make sure you're happy (and what isn't, he'll do anything to get). And you love him too, of course, offering him a companionship he always craved— undying fidelity, the purest honesty and understanding.

You've never once judged him for being who he is. If anything, you seem to admire his strength to do whatever it takes to secure his place in society. No one has ever been this loving and accepting, almost encouraging him to be as determined as ever to get the two of you on top.

Whatever he did or didn't do is already in the past. Why should the past matter? Shouldn't you enjoy the present with your loving and successful husband? Be proud of the work the two of you have done to get where you are?

No, the past is gone. It already happened. There’s no need to look back at things you can't change and decisions you can't take back. It all brought you here. Every tiny little decision led the two of you to this moment; married, in love, happy, powerful. It was meant to be like this.

He didn't seem to mind about your own past either. Any other person would've judged you for the difficult decisions you had to make in order to become the wealthiest woman in all of Panem. You've seen it in the face of ex friends and lovers. They never understood your hunger for what you so rightfully deserve.

Good things don't happen to people because they're good. They happen because you make them happen. You fight, you take, you conquer. It's what life is, and it's something you and Coriolanus understand perfectly. That's why the two of you make sense. Why it feels so right to be together. You understand him and he understands you— understands you like no one else has in your entire life.

It was him the one who held you that night when you just couldn't hold it in anymore, and he sat with you while you cried and cried about your beloved sister, because even after all those years you still missed her and wished things could've been different.

If only your parents made it easier for you. They shouldn't have played favorites from the moment you were born. And they really shouldn't mess with something as important as inheritance. It's your goddamn birthright! How could they be so cruel to you? If they corner you against the wall with no apparent way to escape, it was a matter of time before you decided to stand your ground.

It's a shame your poor sister had to suffer the consequences, though. You really do love her...

Coriolanus couldn't judge you even if he tried. He could see himself in your tear-filled eyes and hear his own inconsolable sobs through your voice. It took him back to a particularly difficult point in his life where he had to make a similar choice.

He pours his heart out to you as he holds you tight against his body, revealing all the unfortunate things he was forced to do because it's all that was left. An act-or-die situation that kept repeating itself until he had no other choice but to do the unspeakable. What else was he supposed to do? What else were you supposed to do?

The regret in his voice is evident, and you know he does regret it because he’s a good person with a heart of gold. One of the best people you’ve ever met in your life. He’s good, and brave, and passionate…enough to sacrifice what he loves if the circumstances require that of him. Not many people have the privilege to claim to be as great as him.

"You did what you had to," your voice came out in a soft whisper, still affected by your sudden outburst with the thought of your sister engraved deep inside your brain. At the time you thought you were trying to ease his conscience, but maybe your statement was falling from your lips in a weak attempt to ease your own inner conflict too. "Life has been so unfair to us, Coriolanus. Is it too bad that we want just a little bit of peace?"

He stays quiet for a bit, stroking your hair in hopes to bring you some comfort as he processes your hopeless, pain-filled statement. That's probably the hardest thing about loving you; caring so much that he cannot possibly function if he knows you're hurting, and cursing himself for not being able to take that pain away. 

"We'll have peace," he eventually assures you. His voice is soft, yet fiercely determined. There's no room for discussion. He'll make it happen for the two of you. What's a few more difficult choices when he's so far gone now? When he knows it has worked perfectly before and it made all his dreams come true?

In that moment, snuggled up to his chest with his arms tightly wrapped around you, it was clear. That sense of familiarity you only get when you look back in the mirror, or when you quickly scan a room when someone speaks your name. He has suffered as much as you. He knows what it's like to be mistreated in life, and how difficult it is sometimes to live with the fact that you had to leave people behind to finally taste a drop of happiness.

The guilt comes and goes. Sometimes it's easier to remember you had no choice, but other times all you can think about is what life could've been if you weren't forced to take such drastic measures. Perhaps now that you have someone who truly understands, you'll learn to always remember you deserve all you managed to achieve.

When you move back from him to look up into his welcoming and comforting blue eyes, you knew you'd never be alone again. You'll never get to experience this free-fall, soul-consuming feeling with anyone else. And why would you even want to waste your time like that, when you already found the one person who sees the world exactly like you do? 

A love like this is hard to find. Most people spend a lifetime trying to find a love decent enough to make them feel like they're losing their minds. Like the air is missing from their lungs and everything looks much darker when the other is not around. Like they're willing to do anything to make the other happy. Like the fear of being consumed entirely by it is the sweetest of fates.

You thought you could only experience affection in the form of luxurious jewelry, fancy clothing and all that came with the important status your ex boyfriend provided. At one point, you could say you almost needed him. Or least needed his money. He provided a safety net you desperately needed after your stupid parents decided to leave everything to your annoyingly perfect sister.

After becoming the only heir in your family (it really is a shame that your sister was gone so soon, poor thing), your boyfriend was no longer a necessity, but a way of distracting yourself when you needed it. It's not like you're going to refuse his gifts and attention anytime soon, right?

But that was it. The furthest it can get to what being in love should look like. And that was what your relationship with Coriolanus should have been when you decided to make your way into his heart. Never in a million years would you have expected to meet a soul that matches yours in even the tiniest of details, that loves so deeply and cares enough to act like it's required to survive. 

With his arms still surrounding your body in a protective and comforting manner, you knew he’d be the guy you’d spend the rest of your life with. You knew it long before the day he got down on one knee, professing his undying love for you and offering the most beautiful engagement ring you have ever seen in your life. You pledged to always be there for him and, in return, he vowed to give you the world— he'd find a way to reach the night sky and collect every single star for you if that's what you ask of him. You kept each other's deepest secrets like they were your own. Two smart and ambitious people joining together in their search for greatness.

The hand on your lower back now rests against your cheek, tracing your skin in such a delicate manner that it almost makes you shiver. The white rose attached to his impeccable burgundy suit is slightly tilted to the right, fixing it with your hands as soon as your eyes notice that detail.

He smiles wider after your gesture, leaning down to capture your lips in an affectionate kiss to show his gratitude. You wish the moment could last longer, but you know it's impossible to stay behind these walls for longer when there's a loud crowd out there chanting your husband's name.

There's the briefest of interactions when he breaks the kiss, the two of you standing in front of each other with a smile of pure conspiracy— a silent recognition of the work individually done to get here, an unspoken ‘thank you’ to one another for the team effort, and the promise of a never-ending companionship that would only take you higher.

He grabs your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours before finally stepping outside to the marble balcony. Before you, a sea of people cheer and welcome the new President and First Lady of Panem.

[bullet-prooflove]

Everybody Talks: Terry Silver x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @thedeadsingforme @mia1653 @kimbergoldess @cortmac1989

Companion piece to:

A Loaded Gun - Terry begins to struggle after John Kreese turns up on your doorstep.

Letting Go - It takes you leaving for Terry to realise he needs to make a change.

Stranglehold - Terry begs an unlikely duo for help.

Three Men & A Baby - You discover your pregnant at the worst possible time.

Self Defence - You wake up in the middle of the night with John Kreese's hands locked around your throat.

Remains of the Day - Terry and you try to cope with the aftermath of John Kreese's attack.

It Takes Time - Terry chases away your fears regarding your pregnancy.

Failure - Terry makes a decision regarding your home in the aftermath of what happened with Kreese.

Malibu - You and Terry move to a house in Malibu after the attack.

Your baby bump seems to appear overnight. One minute there’s a slight raising and the next, well there’s no doubt that you’re carrying a baby. You sigh, your palm smoothing over the bump because your pregnancy is something you haven’t shared with Terry’s extended circle and you’re supposed to be attending a charity luncheon this afternoon. You hate being on display at the best of times, but this, it’s going to cause a ruckus because those people, they already hate you.

You’re too young for him, only after his money, that’s what they whisper about when they think you can’t hear, although their perfectly cordial to your face. The men are worse, they make sure you overhear their comments, they quite like the idea of all that time you apparently spent on your knees, sucking cock for a black Amex.

Adding to this you now have nothing suitable to wear which is the predicament Terry walks into when he steps out the shower, a white towel slung low over his hips. The bed covered in your clothes and you fighting with a blush coloured dress that’s trapped over your baby bump because the zip is stuck. He reacts immediately because the distress you’re feeling, it’s palpable, something he can taste in the air as you tug at the fabric.

“Georgia.” He says in a soft tone that’s meant to ground you. “Let me help.”

His hand grasps the material as he grips the zipper, drawing it down your back until the dress falls away, landing in a puddle at your feet. You turn to face him, standing there in black cotton underwear and in that moment you absolutely take this breath away.

“Nothing seems to fit.” You say gesturing helplessly towards the bed. “And I can’t go to this stupid thing in dungarees, I’ll just embarrass you…”

“Georgia.” Terry says firmly as he takes your hands in his, drawing you into his lap as he sits on the edge of the bed. “There is nothing on this God’s green earth that you could do to embarrass me.”

The baby bump nudges against his stomach as you straddle his hips and he cradles it between his hands, thumbs lightly smoothing over the space where his son resides.

“Hello, little one.” He says, the edges of his mouth tipping up into a smile. “I see you’ve decided to make your presence known.”

The baby kicks against his palm in greeting and your head comes to rest against Terry’s as he follows the baby’s movements.

“I don’t want to go today.” You confess, your palms coming to rest on his damp shoulders. “I know what they say about me and I don’t want that negativity around our baby. I want to be around people who’ll be happy for us…”

It’s then that he meets your gaze, his voice low and deadly as he says.

“What do they say about you?”

You’d always assumed he’d had an idea of how those people perceived your relationship, that he must have laughed it off the same way you do. It isn’t until now that you realise he had no inclination of it.

“Oh.” You say, your palm stroking over your stomach because you don’t want to repeat the vile things his so-called ‘friends’ have said about you, especially in front of the baby. “The usual things.”

The usual things, so it’s a theme, he gathers. You won’t say any more than that and Terry won’t push you. He ushers you into the shower, leaving one of his shirts on the bed for you to dress in before he calls your friend Sara to organise a shopping trip for maternity wear. She’s about to hang up when he asks her about the luncheon, about what the people who attend it say.

“Terry, you cannot be that naïve.” She chides him because this woman she’s been your closest friend since art school and she’s just as protective of you as he is. “You’re an older man who had a whirlwind romance with an artist. What do you think they say?”

“You know it isn’t like that.” He responds, sickened by the implication and he hears Sara sigh over the line.

“Terry, I know that but those people they are judgemental fucks. She’s been dealing with this kind of bullshit from them ever since the first garden party you took her to. The moment they laid eyes on her, they hated her because they don’t believe a girl like her should be with a man like you. You come from prestige Terry and Georgia, she must be turning some tricks in that bed of yours to get a ring on her finger, that’s what your friend Monty said.”

He’s apoplectic by the time the conversation draws to a close with Sara because Terry, he had no idea that any of this was going on, that the people he thought were his friends were making such proclamations about his wife, about his marriage, he can only imagine what they’ll say about his baby. He’s fucking livid at Monty because Terry has spent years propping up his businesses, saving him from embarrassment and the whole time he’s been…

Well that ends today.

“Will you spoil the hell out of her for me?” He requests of Sara as he slips his own credit card out of his wallet and sets it down on the kitchen table. “There’s something I need to do.”

After Sara picks you up, Terry attends the luncheon. He waits until it’s his turn to speak at the lectern and instead of singing Monty’s praises the way he was supposed, he absolutely decimates the man. All of those confidences he’s kept over the years, they all come out, every dirty secret that man has is told to his friends, his family, his colleagues and eventually the press.

When he gets back home, he calls up his business manager and withdraws all financial support from Monty’s projects. He won’t last long without it, after all Terry’s investment was a favour to a friend, one that has now made himself an enemy.

You’re singing when you get back home, a sign that your mood has improved, that you’re happy. You set down a small tub of gelato you’d picked up on the way, passionfruit, his favourite. You tell him all about your day with Sara, about the clothes you’ve bought to accommodate your new shape, the hours the two of you spent in the Edison Gallery reviewing the new exhibits.

That smile you have when you talk about the artwork. It takes him back to that day in Paris, the one where he sat down on a bench alongside a beautiful woman and decided he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

It’s a few days later that you read that Monty’s business is folding, Terry’s sitting on the veranda sipping coffee when you set the tablet down in front of him. You don’t ask him the question outright but Terry, he knows you just as well as he knows himself.

“He doesn’t get to treat you that way Georgia.” He says as he draws you into his lap, his palm coming to rest on the space where his baby resides. “Noone does.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[imaginehappyhavoc]

Could i ask for the thh boys with an artistic reader that likes drawing them? Thanks! -🌠

Pairing: thh boys x artist!reader

Genre: fluff!

Warnings: N/A

Makoto Naegi:

♡ Makoto thinks it’s the sweetest thing!

♡ He considers himself pretty average in all aspects, so it was a shock to him when you said he was your favorite model.

♡ He gets really flustered every time you show him one of your sketches, but it doesn’t stop him from telling you how amazing it is.

♡ You’re just so talented! It’s hard not to get butterflies when you draw him so pretty!

♡ The little heart you drew next to him was also a pretty great addition, he thinks.

Byakuya Togami (platonic):

♡ I’m gonna be honest, drawing Byakuya is like submitting a sketch to an art show.

♡ The first time he notices you drawing him, he demands to see it. He has to make sure you’re representing him properly, after all.

♡ His critiques, while unwarranted, are surprisingly constructive.

♡ He’ll then say something along the lines of: “Try again. Here, I’ll even give you a better angle.” And he’ll pose.

♡ He’ll never admit it, but he loves the attention.

Yasuhiro Hagakure:

♡ It takes him forever to realize that you were drawing him, and not just doing random sketches.

♡ When he figures it out, he quite literally makes the “:0” face, followed closely by the “:D” face.

♡ He all but begs you to let him see your drawings, and he hyped you up endlessly once you let him.

♡ Now, he keeps trying to convince you to make a career out of your art. He says he’ll even be your first investor!

♡ You wonder where he plans to get the money for that, but you decide not to ask.

Leon Kuwata:

♡ This mf goes wild.

♡ He tries so hard to hide it, but oh dear lord he’s so in love with you. How did he manage to bag someone so talented and sweet?

♡ Like Byakuya, he’ll pose for you. Unlike Byakuya, he’s joking.

♡ He’ll totally ask if he can keep the drawings you make of him.

♡ If you let him, he’ll keep them in his school bag, and pull them out to show people at the slightest provocation.

Chihiro Fujisaki:

♡ They have absolutely no idea why you think they’re such a good model, but they’re certainly not complaining.

♡ However, it’s hard for them to keep still once they realize you’re drawing them.

♡ They just get so nervous! In a really good way!

♡ When you’re done, they’ll shyly ask you if they can see. If you say yes, they’ll blush about it so hard they can hardly speak.

♡ They want to keep your drawings, but they’d never ask. Maybe someday they’ll find the courage to take one back to their dorm, just to admire your work.

Mondo Owada:

♡ Speaking of flustered: Him.

♡ This man is a mess about any kind of affection that isn’t physical touch. He has no idea how to cope with it.

♡ He can’t wrap his head around the fact that he’s the one you wanna draw. He never thought he was all that attractive.

♡ Once he sees one of your sketches, he’s suddenly made very aware of the way you see him. You think he’s beautiful, and Mondo just can’t deal with that kind of adoration.

♡ He ends up shouting his thanks to you, as he always does when you get him flustered.

Kiyotaka Ishimaru:

♡ He is so deeply moved by your work.

♡ He would praise you until his last breath, if he could. However, it wouldn’t be efficient, so he settles on displaying your art.

♡ According to him: “It’s an incredible skill that you’ve honed so well! It deserves to be appreciated, not just by me, but by everyone!”

♡ If you get flustered about it, he’ll reassure you that you have nothing to be embarrassed about. He’s so proud of you, and he’ll tell everyone who’ll listen about it.

♡ While he’s very flattered that you chose him as the subject matter, he’s far more focused on the quality of your drawings. The hard work you must have done to achieve such beauty is truly admirable, in his opinion!

Hifumi Yamada (platonic):

♡ Hifumi is an artist as well, so this makes him happier than anything else!

♡ Once you reveal that you’ve been drawing him, he reveals that he’s been drawing you, too. Art trade ensues.

♡ He’ll model for you enthusiastically. If you need help figuring out how an arm would look when bent this way or that, Hifumi will happily demonstrate.

♡ He gives the most useful, constructive criticism you’ve ever heard in your life. Real, good advice that helps you improve.

♡ You two will sometimes just sit in silence with each other, drawing your friend while they draw you. Good times, all around!

[voitier]

🏎

⭒no pressure - jeon jungkook

𝒾𝓃 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒽... your angel of a boyfriend always respected your wishes and boundaries. but what happens when you feel your resolutions slowly crumble to the ground?

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈... [smut!] teasing, making out, mentions of dry humping, fingering, reader's first time, softdom!gguk × inexperienced!reader, gentle sex, mentions of discomfort during penetration.

⭒blame morpheus for your sins - jeon jungkook

𝒾𝓃 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒽... you and jungkook had been attached by the hip since you were little toddlers learning how to live in your own bodies, which led you two to spend most (if not all) of your life together. one weird dream makes your whole view about your bestfriend change. how will you live with that?

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈... [mini-series!] friends to lovers, college au, jungkook is whipped for reader but she's oblivious to it all, descriptions of wet dreams, second-hand embarrassment, learning how to deal with new found feelings, sex and all the good stuff, HEA.

⭒M.P.S (Mission Panty Stealing) - jeon jungkook

𝒾𝓃 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒽... "Jungkook had a big problem. A serious one, too, at that. He was utterly, desperately obsessed with his roommate. You."

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈... [smut! oneshot!] obsession, panty stealing, masturbation (m&f), lying, squirting, spying.

⭒M.P.S 02 - jeon jungkook

𝒾𝓃 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒽... “I-I’m sorry, I– shit, I don’t–” “Keep going.” Two simple words. A command, really. That’s all it took for Jungkook to let go of all restraint.

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈... masturbation (m&f), getting caught, panty stealing, unprotected sex, kinda switch jk and reader, soft jk at the end

⭒ quiet hour - min yoongi

𝒾𝓃 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒽... you wake up in yoongi's hoodie, and he quickly takes notice of it

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈... [fluff! short blurb!] domestic yoongi, early hour soft love

⭒ HANS - In your Hands - jeon jungkook

𝒾𝓃 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒽... In a world where every single step is recorded and analysed by cameras, F1 racer Jeon Jungkook could care less about his reputation, deciding that with the amount of money he has he could buy the silence of everybody, if he wished. Behind him, there's a girl losing her mind trying to get him to behave, knowing that her job is at risk if she doesn't cover up his mess-ups in time. What happens when one of the most influential and world recognised racers falls head over heels for his PR manager, who absolutely despises his "I've got it all" attitude and wants nothing more than to keep doing her job in peace?

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈... [series!] Mature themes, including sex, alcohol and substances use and abuse, money bets, life-risking events, yearning, jealousy, flashbacks into the protagonists' pasts, slow burn, use of sex as a form of unhealthy coping mechanism, angst and unresolved past issues. MDNI.

[dukeofdelirium]

You should know when it is your place to speak because I am going to prove you wrong @fuglyjeans and don’t even think about whining in a potential response, because you opened yourself up to this by lying on my post and with complete conviction too!

“There’s actually a lot of evidence” no there isn’t and I don’t need to listen to a fucking PODCAST to know that. Want to know how I know? Because I’ve pulled every god damn court document that exists on Michael Jackson straight from the source and have studied his cases for over 12 damn years.

Don’t fucking come onto my shit telling me to do research when you’re recommending random ass podcasts as valid study sessions for the most disgraceful witch hunt carried out by the American judicial system in the last 32 years.

The child you’re referring to is Jordan Chandler. Say his damn name or shut up. I bet you didn’t even know his name before commenting this stupid shit. Complete lie you made up, btw. Let’s get into it, shall we?

Jordan Chandler accurately described absolutely fuck all! Wanna know how we KNOW? Because not only did the police officer that interviewed Chandler state that he said Jackson was CIRCUMCISED which his official PUBLIC AUTOPSY REPORT DISPROVES, but the Chandler Family’s fucking lawyer moved to BAR these photographs of Jackson from court!

FYI, because you clearly seem to need it: The Smoking Gun was a media mouthpiece for the prosecution in 2005’s trial. They deleted this article after Jackson died and his autopsy disproved what the officer said.

Hmmm… what’s that I spy with my little eye?

Hmmmmm.

Wow, shocking. Also, the idea of “splotches” is fucking irrelevant. 1) it was literally never proven to be true that the child could describe certain markings and 2) Jackson had fucking vitiligo which everyone on planet earth knew by that point (meaning markings on his skin were ever changing) so no matter what the child said, the prosecution could try to explain it whether it was right or wrong or “relatively close” as Sneddon put it, therefore it can’t be believed beyond a reasonable doubt and 3) the cops would absolutely ask if Jackson was circumcised. This would be the first thing an alleged victim of SA is asked about a male perpetrator. Jordan Chandler had a 50/50 chance of getting it right. He got it fucking wrong.

Cope.

They also brought Katherine Jackson to speak before the grand juries to ask her whether her son had plastic surgery to alter the way his dick looked. Oh yeah, sounds like we have a winner here, boys!

Not only did they not want the photographs to be shown because it disproved what the child said, but there was obviously not a fucking match because if it HAD BEEN, IT WOULD HAVE BEEN PROBABLE CAUSE AND CORROBORATING EVIDENCE!

Do you honest to god think this means nothing or something? Or are you just clueless to the facts? This would be corroborating, which means this would be grounds for arrest, which means 2 grand juries would absolutely have indicted Jackson had it been a match. Trying to explain this to you is like talking to a toddler or something. Use your brain.

The Chandler family originally had Gloria Allred as their attorney. She gave a public press conference where she stated she had 0 interest in a civil case and only cared about criminal Justice. 24 hours later? They fired her and replaced her with another attorney that cared about getting money from Jackson. This attorney used legal trickery and loopholes to force Jackson into a corner, by arguing that the child was 14 and thus too young and might forget if he didn’t have his case heard as soon as possible in a civil proceeding. This was what led to the civil settlement and the violation of Jackson’s constitutional rights.

You idiots think you’re so damn smart and knowledgeable about Michael Jackson because you listened to some circle jerk discussion on YouTube or some shit. And then you make complete fools of yourselves for everyone to see when you try to speak to people like me who know every detail of said cases. Fucking embarrassing. Jackson was not only never arrested in 1993 or 1994 during the police investigation into these allegations from Jordan Chandler (which he would have been had the description matched), but he also was never indicted by two separate grand juries that oversaw all “evidence” that chucklefuck Tom Sneddon had, which was fuck all.

Jordan Chandler evaded all attempts to make him testify against Jackson. Jackson’s legal defense prepared for over 500 witnesses and dozens of these witnesses on the list were there to testify against Jordan Chandler had he shown up.

“Y’all can’t wrap your heads around victims blah blah blah” don’t ever fucking presume to tell me shit about child sexual abuse. I am literally a male survivor of CSA. I know very well how it feels to be sexually abused and I know how it feels to struggle with memory problems.

Don’t even try to make an excuse to me about it, because Jordan Chandler never said he had memory issues to begin with. Neither did Jackson’s next accuser Gavin Arvizo. He was asked by the psychologist that interviewed him if he struggled with memory or with fears relating to CSA as well in 1993, and you want to know what he said? He said he had no fears of any kind, no struggles, and only that he was afraid of cross examination.

Sit the fuck down and shut the hell up. Consider yourself served and silenced.

[isalisewrites]

I just read your addition to another persons ask where you said the Harry Potter fandom not being responsible for JRK bullshit and honestly thank you.

I am so freaking exhausted of having to defend myself for finding comfort in a fandom that has been with me since I was a kid. Just because I’m not burning the books I bought 20 years ago doesn’t mean I support anything about her now.

She has her billions. Even if no one on earth bought another Harry Potter thing again. She would still have it. Whether or not I read fanfiction or watch movies I already own make zero difference.

You said it better than I ever could. But One day she will be dead and gone. And no one will care. But Harry Potter will still be around. Because it and its community is bigger and better than JKR will ever be.

Anyway. Just wanted to say that. It felt good to read something other than hate for HP again. If you would be up for talking without the anonymity let me know?

*huggles*

I’m just as weary, too, sweetie.

“There’s no ethical consumption of Harry Potter.”

Let’s be brutally realistic here. If you’re not living off grid in the woods where you’re 100% self sufficient with growing your own food, making your own clothes, drawing up well water, generating your own power, and buying nothing, then you’re not living ethically either. If you’re getting a Starbucks, then guess what? You’re supporting genocide. McDonalds? Yup, genocide. Going to Target? Uh oh, you’re supporting racism and sexism.

The reality is there is no ethical consumption under CAPITALISM.

There are literally hundreds of companies that support Israel’s genocide of Gaza and hundreds who financially supported Trump. I wonder how many companies supported UK’s ultra conservative politics. It’s not just JKR, I can promise you that.

It’s impossible for the average person to avoid every company. You have to buy food. You have to buy essentials. You have to buy gas if you use a car to get to work. 

You have to survive.

It’s not our fault these greedy companies support the politics that preserve their power and their ability to make more and more money. JKR is a drop in the bucket of hate. She is one of MANY. Where the UK’s fucking 900 paged manifesto of hate? The American Project 2025 that’s currently being pushed by the Trump party wants to make it so that the mere appearance of wearing clothes that don’t align with your birth sex equate to pornography.

And then they want to make pornography a federal crime.

But I understand. We all feel powerless. So, what people do to give themselves power is they target someone easy. Instead of going after the roots of the problem, they attack the budding flowers on the tree. 

I’m aggrieved for UK’s transpeople. I’m devastated for them. But it’s bad everywhere and we’re not to blame for the actions of our government leaders. We can vote. We can protest. We can spend our money in the right places as best as possible. A storm is likely coming, but it’s not our fault. Evil people are in power. The wealth imbalance is astronomical. The world is controlled by oligarchs and there isn’t a ton that we can do, except survive and try to spend less money overall. 

In the end, I cope by taking these characters and creating something beautiful. Terrible, But Great is about love and redemption. Elysium’s Sanctuary is about love and healing. TBG contains my soul, while ES contains my broken heart. Badger Prey and Moon Rite are also about love; they're written to shake off the chains of purity culture. All of these stories are precious to me.

I’d hope that in a hundred years, there will still be readers discovering Harry Potter fanfics. Someone years to come will read our works and be touched by our words, both our stories and our author’s notes. JKR will go down in history as a woman who used her influence for terrible things while the Harry Potter fandom will stand as a beacon who rose above her. 

What she hates, we celebrate. We protect. 

Yes, you are absolutely free to DM me. Anyone can. Just DM me with more than a Hi, haha. Otherwise, I won't know it's more than a random bot or something.

I know it’s so very hard to maintain hope in these times. I keep having to repeat to myself, "Show me how good it can get." Even when it feels like everything is falling apart. Instead of falling into despair, I pour my soul into writing for both my own healing and the healing of others.

Spread love, not hate. And when you can, create. Keep trying. <3 Because it’s worth more than all of the combined wealth in the world.

Isa

[mullermilkshake]

Part 8 <- Part 9 -> Part ten

Twister.

Twister is fucking twisted.

<- Master list

Frontman!Satoru Gojo x Fem!Reader x Frontman!Suguru Geto (Squid game au) Request by @vampir-queen Font used for title Tags- Canon typical violence,blood,betrayal,violence

For the rest of the night, you didn’t dare speak to either Satoru or Suguru as a punishment for the barbaric rhymes and reasons Satoru had spurted out. And Suguru just watched.

Absolutely abhorrent. 

You thought over and over in the little makeshift bed you slept on, just how deranged those two were. The man, number twenty two was right, they did enjoy this. It made them dangerous, vicious animals you could no longer be associated with if you wanted to get out of here, because sooner or later, they would turn on you regardless. Two wild animals tearing and gnawing at your limbs until they removed them from your body in a bloody heap. If you were to be eliminated, then you were going out on your own terms.

But what of your husband? He must be worried sick for you, missing out of the joint bedroom for almost a week. No doubt in your mind that he was looking for you, calling for you until you returned. You had to win this, not just for your friend but for your husband. Your life. It couldn’t end here just yet.

Though going against Satoru and Suguru did not settle your stomach. In fact, it kept you up all night, ruminating on the facts to which you had simply ignored because you were overwhelmed.

Satoru seemed to be the wild card and had no issue pushing players in front of a moving bullet, or shoving them off furniture so that sticks tore straight through their bodies… You couldn’t get the pained groans from your mind at all, stuck there like a scratched up record when you closed your eyes to sleep every so often.

Suguru, well he was a whole other entity entirely. He was calculated, seemed almost manipulative in ways like he knew what Satoru was thinking, a handler to his dog. The man could have passed himself for being telepathic and you would have believed him, knowing how moments would progress like he knew the game already. Like he had been here before.

But that was impossible. It must be an impossible scenario. 

If someone came here and survived, why the hell would they come back?

Well, these thoughts kept you up the entire night. The way Satoru glared at you also kicked your survival instincts on autopilot. You could just see Satoru skulking his way over to strangle you in your sleep, or slip a fragment of the broken glass from the night before across your throat.

You watched across the room the entire night while he and Suguru slept, wondering whether they were really asleep. A drip fed ideal and intrusive thought that if you let your guard down, you’d die too just like the others did. By their hands.

Even in the morning, you never even entertained them with an angry glare or burned your eyes into the back of their heads when it was time to leave for the last game up the pink staircases. Nothing. You would not bend or yield, for you could do this all on your own.

You hoped.

No, you had to do this, there was no other option.

“Remember what I said.” Number twenty two kept his voice low away from Satoru and Suguru. "You might think that they are on your side- but they’ll push you out the first moment they get… let’s end this.” 

You nodded, placing your eyes on the two men ahead of you for the first time. “I know… I just- it’s hard to think about, that they’ll die if we work together. I can’t die here.” 

“Me neither. I have a wife who’s sick, she’ll die if I don’t make this money back.” 

Taking the man’s hand, you threw him your sweetest smile despite the circumstances. “We’ll get through this, I’ll do my best. I have people who wouldn’t cope if I was left behind too, so let’s give it our all, hm?” 

He nodded back at you and squeezed it, the corners of his eyes welling up at the large double doors came into view. “Fuck… fucking- shit. Here we go.” 

The last game. “Here we go.”

When the doors opened, they seemed slower than any previous game had ever been before. Satoru and Suguru slipped in first, crudely conversing with each other as though this was simply a darkened entrance to a nightclub or sleazy bar.

The room was dark alright, the only light laid across the floor in possible square meter circles  like a sheet of stickers on the floor. The circles glowed in variant shades of red, blue, yellow and green, some disappeared, some flashed and some were stagnant on the floor at your feet.

“What the hell is that?” Number twenty two pointed his trembling finger at the gigantic spinner on the wall.

Just by the side of it was a comedic level with poorly written handwriting saying ‘pull me’. It was in crayon, bright red crayon that could not be ignored nor missed. You recognised that spinner, a game you had heard of, but never played. A western game your husband had mentioned once during his travels to America.

A foolish and childish game for adults to play, but apparently fun enough to play when drunk. You couldn’t believe it could be so… unsettling.

Once the doors shut, the voice over on the speaker interrupted the suffocating tension. “Welcome to the final game… The game you be playing is Twister, which you will be playing individually-“ 

At least the difficulty halved, not having to worry about Satoru and Suguru competing as a team, but they would team up regardless, so that point was moot.

“In turns, you will each pull the lever which will spin the two hands on the spinner. One will land on a colour and the other will decide a time limit to reach that colour and and have both feet inside the circle. Any player out of a corresponding coloured circle within the time limit will be eliminated…” 

It was simple enough for now, but it was never that simple Pushing, shoving, vile misdeeds to show dominance which could reflect poorly on you. Perhaps Number Twenty two could fend Satoru and Suguru off for a while, but you could not. If they wanted you in a particular place, they would not have much issue in doing so.

“You will go in ascending order… Player twenty two, please pull the lever.” 

At first, he shook his head. His bottom lip quivered whilst studying the dial numbers, hesitating to step forward-

“C’mon asshole, just pull the thing, I don’t wanna die of old age.” Satoru snapped almost, taking just two steps towards him before you recklessly got in between them, throwing your arms out like a shield.

“Don’t you dare.” What you were hiding is that you were doing your best not to show your vulnerability. “He has time- it’s not timed yet. Just because you can hold your shit together doesn’t mean everyone else can.”

You saw the way Suguru was glaring at you from behind Satoru, the real threat it seemed. Who were you kidding? Of course it was Suguru, and you got a sense that you were yet to see the full extent of his twisted nature. Who the fuck had you messed with exactly? Satoru’s ice blue eyes burned into you, they should have melted, but your crumbling facade did instead.

“It-’s fine. I’m going.” The man edged forward slowly, studying the colourful circles until he came close to the large lever handle.

He studied the writing and the numbers on the dial, like oven temperature readings. Number twenty two looked right at you and gave a curt nod to say ‘you better be ready’. Then, he pulled it, creepy ticking bounced around the walls as the spinner moved and whizzed around.

You kept your eyes peeled on the colour, not the number. For now, the number was irrelevant, the multiple colours on the floor made any time on there doable. You focused on choosing a colour as far away from Satoru and Suguru as you could.

Click, click, click… click, click… click… “Red!” 

The timer began its countdown, twenty seconds. Twenty two ran to you and pulled you across the room away from the two men hopping onto red circles nonchalantly with hands in their pockets.

“It works on how fast you push it I think.” He had his arm around you, physically shaking. He never took his eyes off of Satoru and Suguru. “Pull it as hard as you can so nothing gets stuck I-I think it works that way.”

“Okay.” You made no effort to pull away from his grasp.

The end of that round was over. Simple, right? “Player forty two, please pull the lever.” 

It was your turn. And now it didn’t seem so simple.

You padded over to the giant lever and wondered how you were even going to pull it hard enough like he said to do so. By placing both hands on the metal pole, you locked yourself in for the next round. It was much heavier than you expected it to be, clunking on with a life of its own as the oversized hands of the spinner turned over and over. Before it ended and slowed, your attention fell on the circles. Had they gotten bigger? Fewer? It was as though they were pulsating and eagerly awaiting the next color, the next set amount of time on the limit.

Click, click, click… click, click… click… “Yellow!” 

The circles had definitely gotten bigger, only six circles remained this round, dropping dramatically to cause chaos. The timer only permitted for five seconds this round, pulling the level did not mean a thing. You managed to make it on a yellow circle with player twenty two again, panting against him though it was mostly panic.

“You did- you did good.” He meekly smiled at you, though his eyes were watering.

“We’ll be alright, I know we will.”

There weren’t too many close calls in the first round. Well, not in most of the second round either, until it came back round to Suguru. No one had let up and no one had been eliminated. 

Until the speaker announced the rules again. “I will explain the rules again-” 

Player Twenty two covered his ears and screwed his eyes shut. “Why does it have to keep talking! I hate it- I hate it! I want to go home to my wife- Please let us go!”

“If it’s explaining the rules, it’s trying to tell us something, right? N-no one’s been eliminated yet. What if they want us to do something outside the box to trip others up-” You stopped in your tracks, air stuck in your lungs when you saw the stance that Satoru and Suguru had taken.

Your survival instincts were forced into overdrive when you saw that they were watching you, watching both of you. Like feral and hungry dogs.

The circles disappeared. They vanished. The room flooded with darkness. “Shit.”

What you expected was a fight, for the strongest men in the room to rush you and player twenty two and take you both out. But that did not happen. The sound of the dial whizzed through the room and the black abyss in front of you could have been six foot deep, or six hundred. But when the clicking stopped.

Click, click, click… click, click… click… “Red!” 

One larger circle appeared in the middle of the floor. And one whole minute.

“Let’s go!” 

You only just saw the man beside you and yanked on his jacket towards the red circle with no one on it just yet, the room still darkened around the illuminated red circle. He didn’t fight you, but still made it frustratedly difficult to keep him up before he stood on the red.

Then you were grabbed. “Sorry, baby. This little worm has to go for a swim.”

Satoru. You panicked and thrashed at him, turning as much as you could to hit him and pry him off of you. He did not move despite your attempts to leave him, to fight him off and it only made him constrict you further.

“Look at him- look at him.” He spun you around and pinned you to him, making you look at Suguru on top of Player twenty two, throwing punch after punch to his face.

Satoru laughed with such poison it made you want to vomit had you not been so disruptive. “Leave him alone! This is cheating- stop it!”

“You heard the rules. If a player’s out of the circle, they get eliminated. Doesn’t matter how.” Satoru licked your earlobe and sucked on it, his excited breath dampening your neck.

“Get off of me, play it properly! You can’t do this- Please, let him play!”

As the timer drew closer, Player twenty two had stopped moving. Suguru kept throwing punch after punch, spraying blood all over the floor and during little snippets in your vision between your struggles, you saw clear as day, his maniacal and blood thirsty grin whenever his fist made contact with the poor man's face.

And when the timer was about to expire, Suguru rolled him out of the red light.

“No!” There was no point in fighting it.

The lights flooded the room and you closed your eyes to await the gun shot, the end of his life. But at first it did not come. Player twenty two laid there, coughing up blood and choking behind his broken nose.

“Player twenty two is out of the game… but for the first time, players during twister will not be eliminated on sight.” 

“What the fuck?” Satoru still had a tight hold on you.

“This has never happened, has it?” Suguru wiped the blood from his face with his blood stained numbered jacket.

You tried to pull away to get to him, to help him up at least. Satoru yanked you back and practically growled his words in your ear. “Don’t fucking move or you’re joinin’ him, got it?” 

Then the speaker's voice came over again. “Players will be eliminated in view of our guests as the room is unsuitable and they do not wish to view the last bloodshed in the cover of darkness.” 

“What does that mean?!”

“Are they talking about the VIP’s, Satoru?”

“Motherfucker’s...” Satoru scoffed and threw you to the ground as a triangle masked soldier entered the room. 

You scrambled away from them, being mindful to stay in the circle. “Why did you do that?! Who are you talking about- what does this mean?!”

When both never said a word and Player twenty two started being taken away, you lowered your voice and tried to confirm what you had surmised without evidence.

“Have you both been here before?... Why are you talking that way- answer me, have you played these games before?!”

Satoru slouched and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well this just turned boring.”

They were both crazy, Suguru never reacted and blew out a quick exhale of boredom. “Yeah… it’s no fun if she’s not here when it happens.”

If they did that to player twenty two, what the hell were they going to do with you?

Tag list - @love6969sblog,@notleclerc

DISCLAIMER - I do not own any of the characters of Jujutsu Kaisen, or anything from Squid game. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

[kibbycarrot]

Give me YOUR Saiko headcanons now!!! 😈😈😈

OMG U GOT IT!!!

Here are my epic awesome sauce Metori Saiko headcanons…

• Okay so this is basically canon but I think abt it a lot… Saiko deals with his emotions by isolating himself. He isolates himself from days to weeks on end, sometimes even not eating during those times cause he doesn’t wanna even face his chefs or servants. Saiko LOVES wallowing in his own misery for days and days, it’s really the only way he can deal with things. Of course when he comes out of his room after like a week or two of not showing his face to anyone people question it, but he straight up says it’s none of their business or lies about going on vacation somewhere.

• Saiko finds school extremely boring and mundane and doesn’t pay attention in any of his classes. He pays takahashi to do his homework for him lol… so during tests he FLUNKS them 😭 like REAL bad. He would have all F’s if he didn’t pay the teachers to change his grade.

• Connected to the last one, when the new teacher moved to their class (the creepy lookin one lol) and he didn’t accept his bribe, Saiko FREAKED out cause he’s like “how tf am I gonna pay my way to graduation now” and he tried locking in for school for the first time ever (didn’t work) (gets bored too easily)

• ALSO connected to the last one kinda, since he hates school he tries to make it as interesting as possible. That’s why he decorated his desk with diamonds! He absolutely decorated his locker SO MUCH. Probably made it gold plated. Gives him some of that sweet sweet attention

• As a kid Saiko tried to make friends but they didn’t like him. His father reminded him that there is nothing money cant buy so he offered a bunch of money to those kids and THEN they agreed to be his friend. This is how his whole thing with not believing people can like him outside his wealth started

• His favourite candy flavour ever is cherry. He makes his servants buy bags and bags of fancy sweets and makes them pick out ONLY the cherry ones and put them on a gold platter for him.

• He has both of his ears pierced but he thinks two earrings make him look too much “like a girl” (😭). He occasionally switches sides and everytime he does he secretly hopes someone points it out (nobody ever does)

• After the shows ending (basically post Saiko character development) he hung out with Saiki and the gang out of his own free will. He tried paying them after, Kuboyasu grabbed the wad of cash and smacked him across the face with it.

• When Him + Saiki and the gang go to the beach, Nendo feeds Saiko grapes cause he asks him to. Nendo usually starts playing around with it, like trying to throw the grape in Saiko’s mouth from further and further away or do trick shots. This makes Saiko annoyed as hell at first but he actually gets into it

• One of his coping mechanisms is burning 100 yen (or higher sometimes) notes. It gives him a RUSH (he only does this in private)

• Low-key closeted non binary but that’s okay.

If you can’t tell my fav thing to do ever is fleshing out characters by making stories for them and that’s what I did with Saiko lol… hope this suffices. I have more but I’m blanking like there’s no tomorrow

[gingerpeachtea]

peanut brittle and croissants for the ask game!!

(the writeblr bakery ask game!)

HIII TY FOR THE ASKK :]]] <3 !

peanut brittle: how many active wips do you have? give a one sentence description of each!

so the thing is that i have. a lot of wips. (and that's not even including sicktember lmfao help me 💀) SO i'm just gonna do one for every wip i've worked on in the past few days, for both my normal wips and my sicktember wips :D which will still include a lot bc i'm addicted to switching tabs the instant i get bored (and is also why i don't rly have a definitive number for which of my wips are "active" or not, bc i'm constantlyyyyy jumping from project to project) javadisantos pots: what if pittfest got shot up and it was your first day of work and the adrenaline crash makes you have a BAD visible pots flare-up and your bitch lesbian coworker decides that you cannotttt drive yourself home in that state and she ends up taking you to her bitch lesbian apartment AND you were both girls AND her twink was there. OR: the stress of the pittfest shooting causes javadi to have a bad pots flare-up, and santos can't help but notice. javadisantos first time: what if you hooked up with your coworker and it was kind of awkward and she had sexual trauma mikecharlie (ft. mikepaige evil looming): WHAT IF you were MIKE WARREN and you and your GIRLFRIEND wanted to FUCK but you had a FEVER and she wanted to PRIORITIZE your HEALTH and you DON'T UNDERSTAND why she would WANT TO DO THAT. or: in a heated moment between mike and charlie, a similar moment between him and paige comes to light. smfst: they call her 007 0 children 0 will to live 7 days straight spent in bed. "get your pussy up get your money up"?? no. pussy down money down hope down will to live down stock market down. OR: after florida, charlie crashes. burning body, waiting: sometime after everything, mike and paige try again. self indulgent charliefic: charlie period whump fic yayyyyyyy mikebriggsification of 2x01 torture: mike warren having zero coping mechanisms part 79285723086 gaurochelle threesome: pushing my gareth/laurel/rochelle agenda / what it says on the tin :] laureth sicktember: WHAT IF your boyfriend came home SWEATING and it was DECEMBER johnnyjakes sicktember: WHAT IF you had a HEADACHE and your BOYFRIEND told you to DO THE DISHES

croissants: how do you handle writer's block?

something that helps me a lot is making two kinds of playlists: one where the instrumentals and lyrics pertain to the content and emotional qualities of the fic, and a separate one to listen to when actually writing the fic. it also helps me to rewatch stuff from canon, either favorite episodes and scenes OR episodes and scenes that i never normally rewatch. reminding myself what i love about canon is inspiring for all the obvious reasons, but rewatching parts that i never normally focus on usually brings new things to light for me to explore, and the freshness makes my adhd brain happy. before pinterest turned into an ai-infested piece of shit that's permabanning people left and right for literally just logging in, working on boards was also incredibly helpful!! i have boards for some of my fics, but i mostly work(/worked) on boards for whatever fandoms/characters i was struggling to write for. also sometimes you just truly need a break! when i put too much pressure on myself i psych myself out and get absolutely nothing done. i've had wips where i was EXTREMELY stuck for SO long, and ended up having to put it down for MONTHS and then when i came back finishing was unbelievably easy. it of course doesn't have to be that extreme of a break, but i've found that just putting it entirely out of your mind for a bit helps :) i also sometimes set small goals for myself when i'm stuck on a particular wip, things as small as "write ten words" or "add one sentence". it's easily achievable, so it helps to motivate me and get the ball rolling. and even if i can't come up with anything beyond those ten words, at least i did something :) !

[thrilling-oneway]

The whole Rui saying that him and Nene filled a gap for each other that was left by the fact they were both only children situation is funny to me. Because it started ship discourse. But not the annoying kind the "oh my god you people are so stupid" kind.

Listen the average person is gonna be upset annoyed when their ship gets described as having a sibling like relationship (this literally happened to me recently LOL) but clpl has deliberately given you wiggle room with the statement. They know the ship is one of their most popular and they know they would piss off a huge chunk of fans if they did the same thing as they did with Toya and Tsukasa (money is precious to them).

With Toya and Tsukasa, the latter specifically refers to Toya as "youngest sibling" in a very definite way (sometimes adds "like my" but ygm). Here they deliberately have Rui say "when we were kids". Your wiggle room is that he's talking about the past. There's literally no way of getting out of "we played together like siblings" that's very much a thing Rui said so you can either continue to cope and seethe or take what you've been given. Or simply Not Care it's that easy.

The thing is that this dialogue has given validity to the interpretation of Rui and Nene viewing each other like siblings, so obviously people who liked that hc are going to be happy. If they annoy you, block them. If you like ruinene and the sibling truthers comment on whatever you're saying about them, read the previous sentence. Same goes in the other direction, people are still gonna like ruinene because it's literally one of the most popular ships in the game. Tag filters and block buttons are a thing, don't go annoying people who like the ship.

Ultimately clpl has worded the dialogue in such a way that they can play both sides. All of you still win. It's not that deep. Who cares. Do whatever you want clpl literally don't fucking care as long as you still give them money. It's always wxs fans who start drama and it's still wxs fans who pay up the most like. This game lives off your wallets stop fucking fighting all the time.

Is this a pointless post? Yes. Absolutely. This fandom is full of 13 year olds who don't know how to communicate with each other normally and are overly sensitive about which fictional characters kiss. This post is going to achieve nothing I just wanted to complain lmao.

[nirby-wirby]

Rating: General Audiences

Relationships: platonic marichat, hints of adrienette

What to expect: internal conflicts, angst, fluff, set post-London Special

Summary: If he had been present, if he had been there by Ladybug’s side, then maybe his father would’ve still been alive today. Maybe the butterfly miraculous wouldn’t have been lost again to some new villain. Maybe Ladybug wouldn’t have gotten hurt, causing his father to sacrifice himself. Maybe he would’ve been the one to sacrifice himself. That was part of his job, wasn’t it?

————

She’d seen him when she had to tell him his father died. She’d seen how it had broken his heart and she couldn’t bear to see that in him again. So, maybe she was a terrible girlfriend for not being entirely truthful, but how could she be when it would only hurt him more?

The only way she could cope with any of this was: 1. Stay as busy as physically possible so as to not think about it and 2. Think of it as a Ladybug problem, not a Marinette problem. Marinette didn’t know that Adrien was a senti-being. Marinette didn’t know that Gabriel Agreste was Monarch. Marinette didn’t know about the wish. Only Ladybug did.

OR: Marinette and Adrien grapple with their guilt as Christmas approaches.

A/N: Hi @alithetiredartist!! This is your gift for the @mlsecretsanta exchange. I hope you like it!!

Adrien was restless. Now, more than ever, he had a lot of free time. Yes, Nathalie had kept the extracurriculars he liked, like piano and fencing, to try and keep some normalcy, but without photoshoots and a looser schedule, he would often find himself in his room with nothing to do. So, there he was, aimlessly walking around his room, his homework finished, the sun slowly setting in the horizon, absolutely bored. And also kind of lonely. 

It wasn’t Nathalie’s fault, of course. There was a lot she had to take care of after his father died, including finding a new job. Now that she had one, he didn’t see her nearly as often as before. Though Adrien knew they probably had enough money to not need it, Nathalie had explained that she needed to have something to do when things slowed down and that, while it was very generous of him, she didn’t want to live off Adrien’s inheritance since she wasn’t entitled to any of it. (It seemed like there might’ve been a little more there, a hint of resentment maybe or even disgust at the mention of his father, but Adrien couldn’t figure out what it really was, so he ignored it.)

Now, Christmas was approaching. Adrien was trying to ignore that fact, but it was difficult when decorations were already being placed in shops and around Paris and when holiday music was already playing on the radio. It seemed that every advertisement he came across when watching something or walking around had to do with the holiday and the importance of spending time with family. He didn’t want to think about the fact that this would be his first Christmas as an orphan. 

“Plagg,” Adrien grumbled, “what should I do?”

The creature, who had been devouring a whole wheel of camembert, paused his activities for a moment. “I don’t know, you can watch a movie or something.” 

“I don’t feel like it.”

“Ok, then play video games.”

“I don’t think I really want to do that, either.”

Plagg sighed, fully placing the last piece of his camembert on his plate and looking at Adrien as though he’d interrupted something of great importance. As though Plagg didn’t just eat three other wheels of camembert in the past hour. “If you’re gonna say that to everything I suggest, then I don’t know what to tell you, kid.”

Adrien rolled his eyes, “You gave me two suggestions.”

“Whatever.” He plopped the final piece of his camembert into his mouth, swallowing it whole. “The point is, I tried. If you don’t want to do those things, then stare at the ceiling.”

Adrien sighed, falling back onto his bed to do just that. Maybe if he stared at the ceiling hard enough then he’d get an idea that he actually wanted to do. His phone pinged, giving him something else to pay attention to other than the very interesting ceiling. It was a notification from Marinette, she’d liked his message. 

Marinette… He smiled at the sight of her name on his phone, a sparkly heart emoji right next to it. He was so, so lucky to be with her. Even with all of the chaos and everything that happened in the past few weeks, she was still there by his side. 

All of his friends had been so great. So supportive, so comforting, so ready to let him cry on their shoulders. And the extra time he’d had lately meant that he could hang out with them more often, which was also nice. All of it helped, but he still couldn’t help but feel a crushing weight of guilt.

If he had been present, if he had been there by Ladybug’s side, then maybe his father would’ve still been alive today. Maybe the butterfly miraculous wouldn’t have been lost again to some new villain. Maybe Ladybug wouldn’t have gotten hurt, causing his father to sacrifice himself. Maybe he would’ve been the one to sacrifice himself. That was part of his job, wasn’t it? 

Adrien sat up, running a hand through his hair agitatedly. He couldn’t just sit here in his room. All it did was give him time to think and thinking… wasn’t the best thing right now. 

“Plagg, let’s go for a run.”

“What? But I just—“ Plagg paused his whining. Maybe he saw something in Adrien’s expression that made him stop. He softened, “Alright, kid, let’s go for a run.”

----

Marinette couldn’t take it anymore. Ok, maybe that was a bad way of phrasing that. But she had a real, huge, gigantic problem: Adrien. Well, not Adrien, Adrien, but all of the secrets she was keeping from him. If she sat still for a moment too long, then she’d think about how she still hadn’t told him about how he was a senti-being and that his father wasn’t actually a martyr who sacrificed himself for the greater good, but a villain. 

Worst of all, she hadn’t even told Chat Noir, her partner, what really happened that night yet because she wasn’t sure if she could. What if she told Chat Noir and then he told Adrien? Gabriel’s dying wish was literally that Adrien would never find out that he was a villain. She just couldn’t let that happen. Not even because it was Gabriel’s dying wish, but because she couldn’t handle it if Adrien got hurt by that information.

She’d seen him when she had to tell him his father died. She’d seen how it had broken his heart and she couldn’t bear to see that in him again. So, maybe she was a terrible girlfriend for not being entirely truthful, but how could she be when it would only hurt him more? 

The only way she could cope with any of this was: 1. Stay as busy as physically possible so as to not think about it and 2. Think of it as a Ladybug problem, not a Marinette problem. Marinette didn’t know that Adrien was a senti-being. Marinette didn’t know that Gabriel Agreste was Monarch. Marinette didn’t know about the wish. Only Ladybug did.

Of course, this didn’t work as well as she wanted to. After all, she wasn’t transformed when the wish happened, so Marinette did know about the wish. Not to mention, Kagami and Felix knew that Marinette knew about Adrien being a senti-being and Nathalie knew that Marinette knew about Gabriel’s wish and the fact that he was Monarch. But Nathalie and Kagami had also been there when Adrien found out about his father’s death, so maybe that would keep them from saying anything for now. 

Perhaps one of the biggest issues was that Adrien constantly thanked her, Alya, and Nino for being there for him. Every “thank you” was delivered with the most earnest, sincere, sweet smile and felt like a dagger to the heart because Marinette knew that she was keeping very big secrets about his life from him. 

So, Marinette occupied her time doing what she did best: making Adrien a lot of presents. It was good timing too, with the holidays coming up. She tried making the best possible excuses for them too. When she made him a bunch of presents in the weeks following his father’s passing, it was easy to pass them off as presents to help cheer him up. When it was close to Halloween, she used that as the reason. 

It was harder to think up ideas for fall, but All Saints’ Day allowed her to make him more gifts. That was a particularly hard time, since it meant it would bring up talk of Adrien’s dead parents and it was difficult to watch Adrien feel so lonely and hurt while knowing she contributed to that. Of course, she and her friends were there for him, but sometimes it was hard to tell how he was feeling. Sometimes it felt that, like her, he was putting up a facade to keep them from worrying. But maybe she was wrong and looking too deeply into it. 

Now, with Christmas just around the corner, Marinette tried to occupy her time making him presents for that holiday too. Some delusional part of her brain hoped that if she made him enough presents, then maybe it would be enough to make up for the secrets she was hiding and ease her guilt. It wasn’t working.

“Tikki, what should I do?” Marinette asked, as she often did nowadays. A barely started project lay abandoned on her work desk. “Am I making the right decision, keeping all of this from him?” She thought of Adrien, her wonderful boyfriend, alone in that giant mansion, thinking his father died a hero. She thought of Chat Noir, her partner, who still didn’t know the full story behind what happened that day. 

“Well, Marinette, I think that you’re doing the best you can. Things will work out eventually,” Tikki supplied, as she often did, unhelpfully. Marinette groaned. 

Maybe she just needed to clear her head. Keeping busy was clearly not helping her tonight. Maybe getting some fresh, crisp winter air could help. Or maybe it would freeze her brain. But, would that be so bad? “Tikki, I think we should go for a run to get some of this extra energy out.”

Tikki smiled sympathetically, “Sounds like a good idea!”

But, before Marinette could call for her transformation, a knock came from her window. She whipped her head around as Tikki zipped away into hiding, finding Chat Noir waving at her with a wide smile. “Oh, it’s just you,” she let out a relieved sigh; ever since that day, she’d been on edge. She rolled her eyes at him, opening the window to let him in. 

“Hey, princess,” he greeted with a dramatic bow as soon as he was inside.

“Let me guess, you were in the area and wanted some fresh pastries, didn’t you?” She asked with a raised eyebrow, crossing her arms. He seemed to be coming around a lot more often lately and always for the same thing. She couldn’t blame him though, her parents’ pastries were the best, and it was nice to have a friend come by.

“Well, it is the season of giving, isn’t it?” He grinned even wider as she shook her head.

“If we keep giving you free pastries like this we’re gonna start losing some serious money,” she joked. 

He gave an exaggerated gasp, “All from just sparing a few pastries on a helpless stray like me? Oh, I couldn’t bear it if your parents couldn’t sell any more pastries all because I ate them all. Maybe I should leave…” He halfheartedly took a few steps toward the window, only to turn back around to look at her with giant kitten eyes and bat his eyelashes, “But, well, you wouldn’t be cruel enough to turn me away, would you?”

He would make a terrible actor. Marinette groaned, “Oh mon dieu, that was terrible! Who taught you to be this dramatic?” She heaved a sigh as though he were making her make a very difficult decision, playing along with his act, “Alright, fine. I guess it wouldn’t completely destroy the family business to spare you a few pastries.”

Chat Noir grinned, plopping down on her chaise as though he owned the place. “Wonderful! I knew you’d come around.”

She couldn’t help but let out a laugh at his antics. Maybe his interruption wasn’t so bad. After all, she needed a distraction from her worries, and this seemed to be the best one: a dramatic close friend who didn’t know about her troubles at all.

----

Chat Noir was glad he’d gone to Marinette’s place. After running around aimlessly for a while, he’d still felt restless, and he figured seeing his girlfriend would probably help. Of course, right now he was just a friend to her, but any time he got to spend with her, in either form, was always nice. Instead of being stuck in his empty, cold room, he was with her, laughing, playing video games, and eating pastries. 

After she beat him yet again in Ultimate Mecha Strike III, he figured it might be time to do something else. He stretched, putting his controller down and getting up. Marinette watched him walk over to her work station, a messy, creative part of her room that she felt was a “controlled chaos.” He never understood how she could work with so many sketches, sticky notes, and supplies everywhere. 

“So,” he started, gesturing at the partially started project on her desk, “what are you working on this time?” She seemed to be busier than usual lately, always working on something. A lot of the time he would find out weeks later that the project she was working on had been for him. Well, Adrien him, not Chat Noir. 

“Oh, you know, just another project,” she shrugged. Oh? That was new. Usually she’d start explaining her thought process behind it, launching into an impassioned speech that was always so cute to watch. He loved hearing her talk about her projects. 

“Just another project?” he repeated slowly, narrowing his eyes.

“Yep.” Her smile was too wide and she wasn’t meeting his eyes; she was hiding something. He was curious and unsure if he should pry, but well, he was a cat. 

“Who’s it for?” When he stepped closer to her, she backed away in her chair. 

“Hm? Oh, uh,” Marinette glanced around the room, “it’s for…” 

Oh, he thought with a grin, I see. “Me?” 

“No! Not at all! It’s, um,” Marinette sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Damn it, Chat Noir, it was supposed to be a surprise.”

“So, it is for me.” His cheeks were starting to hurt from grinning so wide. Marinette’s gifts were always the best. They were carefully crafted, made with love, and the fact that they came from her just made them that much better. No, he wasn’t biased. And yeah, he’d gotten dozens of presents from her since they’d gotten together, but this one was for Chat Noir. It was special. “What are you making me?”

“I’m not gonna tell you.” Aw, man. He opened his mouth to protest, but she put a hand up to stop him. “You already know I’m making it for you, and that’s enough. Don’t you know what they say about curiosity and cats? Just wait until Christmas.”

“But that’s so far away,” he whined. Honestly, he was just happy he was getting a gift. He couldn’t care less when he’d get it. Sure, Chat Noir and Marinette were friends, but he never expected her to make him a gift just because of that. It was nice to know that she’d thought of him. 

“It’s in three weeks, Chat.”

“Exactly.”

“Do you want it to be a New Year’s gift instead?” she warned. He stayed quiet. “That’s what I thought.” Marinette clapped her hands together, effectively ending the conversation, “Now, how about another round of Ultimate Mecha Strike III?” She held out his controller to him.

Chat Noir pretended to think about it for a moment, then immediately sat down next to her, snatching his controller from her. “Alright, but this time I’m gonna win.” She laughed as she loaded up the game, and he softened at the sound. 

----

It was Christmas Eve and Marinette, along with Alya and Nino, were planning to surprise Adrien. At the moment, however, Marinette was in her room pacing. She knew Adrien would likely be having a tough time right now and she needed to mentally prepare what she could say and do to comfort him. That wasn’t easy when she knew part of the reason why he was struggling was her fault. There were so many moments when he’d say he wished he could’ve been more like his father — meaning more courageous or heroic — and she’d have to hide a grimace with a forced solemn frown as she tried to rub his back in a comforting manner. This hangout would likely have another few of those moments where the guilt would threaten to eat her from the inside out.

She needed air. There wasn’t enough air in her room. Outside should be better, maybe. 

Marinette inhaled a lung full of fresh, crisp air from her balcony as soon as she was up there. Her warm sweater and multiple layers kept her mostly shielded from the cold, so she was able to take in the beauty of the fresh snowfall around her. It was almost enough to quiet her brain. Almost. If she just focused on the cold nipping at her nose instead of the flurry of emotions and thoughts in her mind, then maybe she would be able to gather herself enough to go back inside and meet Alya and Nino downstairs. They were probably nearly there.

As she practiced taking slow, deep breaths, something caught her attention from the corner of her eye. It broke her focus as she struggled to figure out what it was across the dimly lit rooftops of Paris. Was it a threat? An akuma? The new butterfly miraculous holder hadn’t attacked in some time. What if–

The figure grew closer. “Chat Noir,” Marinette breathed a sigh of relief. Of course, it was just him. What was he doing out here? Shouldn’t he have been spending time with friends or family? “Hey, Chat!” she called, waving her arms around to get his attention. From a distance, he paused, his ears twitching in her direction. He turned around and grinned when he saw her.

“Marinette,” he said when he landed on her balcony. He took her hand and kissed the back of it, “It’s nice to see you.” Did his eyes look puffier than usual? Was his nose red from the cold, or from something else? Before she could ask, he continued, “So, about that gift you were making me…”

“Chat Noir, it’s not Christmas yet.” The gift was ready; she could give it to him if she wanted to, but she preferred teasing him first. He was always so dramatic about things, and it was fun to watch.

His lip jutted out in an exaggerated pout, “Isn’t it close enough? Why should I wait another day when I’m already here?” She shrugged noncommittally, just to see what else he’d do to try and convince her. Chat fell to his knees, taking both of her hands and turning on his “kitten eyes.” “Please, Marinette, take pity on my poor soul. I’ve been waiting for weeks! Do you know how hard that is on a cat?”

Marinette couldn’t help but burst into a fit of laughter. Chat Noir watched her with a frown that seemed to say, Am I a joke to you? The answer was yes, definitely. “Alright, alright,” she said when she could catch her breath, “I’ll give you your present.”

He jumped up from where he'd been kneeling and clapped his hands together once, triumphantly, “I knew you’d come around, eventually.” He said it as though he’d been trying to convince her for hours instead of just a few seconds, but maybe it was hours in cat years. 

Once they were inside her room, Marinette found her little pile of prepared gifts and looked for his. She smiled as she grabbed a box she’d wrapped in festive paw print paper. To her surprise, Chat Noir gingerly took it from her hands and started carefully unwrapping it from the areas she’d taped it. Maybe it was because of the claws, but she’d thought he would’ve torn apart the wrapping paper instead. 

After setting aside the wrapping paper, he slowly took the lid of the box and gasped. He delicately held the fingerless black mittens Marinette had made him. “They’re beautiful…” Chat Noir murmured, admiring his gift. Turning them over, his eyes lit up with delight at the sight of the green toe beans embroidered into the palms. He gently set them aside and gave Marinette a tight hug. “Thank you so much.”

Marinette smiled as she hugged him back, relieved that he liked her gift. Even though her friends reassured her that her work was great, she was always nervous that it wouldn’t suit their tastes. When they pulled away, her smile faded, alarmed at the sight of his damp cheeks. “Oh my gosh, what’s wrong?” 

He shook his head with a smile, shaky hands hurriedly wiping away his tears. “Oh, it’s nothing,” he reassured hoarsely, sniffling. Her heart broke a little at the sight. “It’s just… I’ve kind of had a rough few months lately.” That was especially surprising. Chat Noir had always seemed so happy and upbeat that Marinette wouldn’t have ever thought that he’d been having a hard time. Who would’ve thought that both of the blond boys in her life were struggling at the same time?

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” she said softly, rubbing his back in an effort to comfort him. “Do you want to talk about it?” As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized that it was sort of a dumb question. They both knew that he couldn’t say much without compromising his identity. Whatever it was, it must’ve been a lot for him to tear up at her small gift. “Ah, sorry, nevermind.”

“It’s alright, I mean, it’s the thought that counts,” he shrugged. “Anyway, who are these other gifts for?” He gestured at the small pile of gifts near her work desk. 

“Oh, you know Alya and Nino?” He gave a small nod. “Well, we were gonna go surprise my boyfriend, Adrien, and I made gifts for them. He’s been having a difficult time since…” She trailed off, unable to say the words, the guilt creeping up again. She cleared her throat, attempting to clear her mind, “Well, I’m sure you’ve heard about it, and we wanted to spend some time with him to cheer him up. Or at least just to be there for him.” 

As if on cue, her phone started ringing, Alya’s profile picture lighting up the screen. “I’m guessing that’s them, then?” Chat Noir asked, pointing at her phone. Marinette nodded. “Ok, I’ll get going then. Thanks again for the gift, Marinette.” After grabbing his gift, he gave her a two fingered salute and a grin, then left.

----

Once Adrien was home and de-transformed, he quickly hid his fingerless mittens in a desk drawer. He’d rushed home in order to get there before Marinette, Alya, and Nino, and now his heart was racing. He needed to calm down before—

A knock came from his door. “One second!” he called. After taking a few deep breaths to even out his heart rate, he opened the door.

“Merry Christmas!” His friends, all bundled up for the cold, smiled at him and held up presents. 

He gasped, feigning surprise. “Oh, wow, guys! I didn’t know you were coming.” Well, not until just a few minutes ago when Marinette unknowingly told him. Adrien stepped out of the way to let them in his room. 

“Well, we figured it would be a tough time for you, tougher than the last Christmas was, so we wanted to be here,” Nino explained before hugging him. Alya and Marinette joined the hug, surrounding Adrien with his friends’ warmth. He felt like he was gonna cry again. His friends were all so wonderful and—

“Wait,” Adrien blurted, “I have presents for you, too.” They pulled away, allowing him to scramble up the stairs to the cabinets where he’d hid their presents. They’d been coming over a lot recently, which he loved, but since he’d had their presents ready for the past month, he had to hide them. 

When he came back down, they’d removed a few of their layers and placed their presents together in a neat pile in front of his couch where they were sitting. “I wanted to thank you all for everything, so I hope a little present can do that,” he explained, passing out the gifts to them. 

He sat down next to Marinette, who gave him a tender kiss on the cheek. “You really didn’t have to do that, Adrien,” she told him, “You’ve already thanked us plenty.” The others murmured in agreement.

“We’re your friends and we’ll be here for you no matter what,” Alya added. Marinette squeezed his hand reassuringly. “That said, let’s open up these presents!” 

As he laughed along with his friends, excitement and love all around him, Adrien was able to say that he was truly happy. Though it would take him a lot more time to properly grieve and move on, as long as he had his friends at his side, he knew he wouldn’t be alone. 

[aceandurmom]

Harlequin Hearts: The Archivist's Swordsmaster Affair Chapter Three

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ONLY ON TUMBLR UNDER ACEANDURMOM//////////////////

TRIGGER WARNING: Toxic Relationship (not Mihawk), Morally Grey Reader

Finally calm from your earlier meltdown, you thought it better to explain from the beginning. 

Mihawk’s gaze was smothering, your chest feeling as if it was closing in on itself. There was nothing compared to how you felt now, like you had to spill every secret you had to the man so that he knew. You didn’t know how to feel about that, other than knowing that right now…you felt safe. To tell him everything was the only option you had at this moment, even if Crocodile and Buggy were present. 

Not even Buggy knew the entire story, just the extent of Arlong’s…orders. 

Buggy looked up, also wanting to know what you were to say. He knew that not every detail was told, and he had been fine with that. He had no authority to tell you to spill every secret you carried, and as your Captain he had allowed that. 

But now he was your Brother. 

Now he wanted to protect you from even your thoughts that he knew still plagued you. 

It looked as if you were aware of this now, on the verge of opening your heart and soul to those in the room. 

To say Crocodile was a close friend was a stretch…but he had grown on you. The perpetually angry man had a kind heart, underneath many, many, many layers he had built over the years to protect himself. He had opened up a little, the two of you coping with stress by- unhealthily- drinking them away. Sipping whiskey and wine, stolen from Miahwk, and joking in the conference room was enlightening to say the least. You had managed to start to enjoy his presence, genuine excitement at the idea of getting to spend time with him after Buggy and Mihawk left. 

It was fun. 

So, changing a glance to the towering man, you awkwardly smiled. Accidentally choking on his spit, Crocodile laughed at the facial expression. He turned and closed the door, assuring that no one else could hear what you were about to explain. 

“So, where should I start?”

“Do you care to explain your relationship with the Strawht’s Navigator?”

It had been Crocodile to start up the conversation. Sensing the unease and trying to- gently- push you to begin. 

You blushed.

A response none of them had expected. Nervously giggling, your fingers started to twist at the strands of hair at your nape. Looking off to the side, you tried to think of the best way to explain. 

“Nami and I were…closer than you might think. We were the only humans on a crew full of fishmen who were desperate to put humans in ‘their place.”

Fingers insinuating the absolute bullshit that was being referenced. 

“She…she was always there for me when Arlong was at his worst. When he was the angriest, Nami was there to soften the blows afterwards. She would bandage me with the softest touch. And sometimes…”

Well, most of the time after the worst had passed, the two of you…would spend the night in each other’s arms. The ginger and you had a complicated relationship,best friends often bordering on more. 

Crocodile picked up on your fidgeting, coughing into his fist to bring you back. 

“Right, well, Nami was the only one who was on my side. She was my savior.”

Buggy butt in. 

“She sure as hell didn’t act like it.”

Face falling, you smiled, solemn. 

“You have to remember, she was just as much a prisoner as me, maybe even more so. He had her entire village under his thumb, threatening their lives. If she worked for him and made money on the side, he promised she could buy it back….but he lied.”

“As much as I feel bad for her, I am not concerned for that woman at the minute.”

Mihawk stated, not at all listening to the details concerning the woman. You were priority right now. 

Buggy glared, trying to look through Mihawk and try to get him to back off. He wanted you to take your time, not feel pressured and rush through.

But the words Mihawk had said had made you flush harder, trying to laugh it off the best you could. 

“Well, what exactly did you want to know? Specifically?”

“What did he do to you.”

It felt like the air was sucked from the room, struggling to breathe in as deep as you should. Crocodile groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. 

Coming forward, the large man sat down beside you instead. Leaning back, Crocodile placed a hand on your shoulder. 

“Straight to the point, Hawkeyes.”

He looked at Crocodile like he was stupid, not at all pleased at the interruption. 

“Forgive me if I sounded insensitive, I simply want to know who I need to kill. And how long I should prolong his death.”

Buggy relaxed, shoulders falling. 

“I guess that’s fine, then. I have to admit, I’m eager to know what all happened. You’ve never told me what all he put you through.”

You grimaced, understanding what they were asking and why, but not really the happiest about it. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Face darkening, you grew frustrated.

“What, you want me to describe every time he put his hands on me, ordered me, pushed me around, touched me when I didn’t want him to!? I don’t know who you all think you are, but that past is in the past, he’s supposed to be dead anyways. Gone.”

“What do you mean he put his hands on you? He was your captain, was he not!?”

Buggy was outraged. Granted, he had a guess that he had hit maybe once, but to hear you say it into existence was damning. He thought it may have been a one time thing, maybe even just making you work nonstop (that in itself was also abusive to be fair). The bluenette sobered from his rage, trying to calm himself to comprehend the words coming from you. 

Mihawk wasn’t really thrilled either, frown still in place. But he tried to let you talk it out before interrupting too too much. 

Without meaning to, you fell back on your time under Arlong. 

–

It had been ages before Arlong showed back up. Not wanting to show his face to you just yet, letting you simmer in your rage and fear towards him. He had forced you to make a contract for a man who had wronged him. You didn’t know the whole story, but it had made you uncomfortable either way. You had told him so, not ever going through with something like this before. 

He had dragged you by the hair to another room before bringing in the man. Throwing you into the barren room, you fell to the floor. Gasping in surprise, you were shocked. He had never been so rough before, always maintaining a kinder attitude in front of everyone. But to have him standing so angrily over you was intimidating to say the least. His teeth bared, he snarled at you. 

“You will do as told! I don’t care about your puny human morals, you will do as I say! If I tell you to lick the fucking floor you’ll do it! If I tell you to kill yourself, you’ll do it!”

Tearing up, you tried to remain strong in front of him. Not wanting to look weak to him. 

You wanted him to think highly of you, to need you so that he wouldn’t get rid of you. To feel needed. To feel wanted. 

Despite your own morals screaming back at you, you sucked it up and nodded.

“Yes, sir, of course. I’m sorry I spoke to you like that, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

He backed up, grinning once again. 

Lowering himself to your height, he reached a hand out to you. 

Webbed hand resting on your head, he caressed the side of your face, thumb passing circles on your cheek. 

“Such a good little thing. Always listening so well. So sweet and respectful. You’ll stay won’t you, never leave?”

You looked back at him, eager to please.

“Of course, sir. I have no plans saying otherwise.”

Arlong hummed in thought, continuing to give you the attention he knew you craved. You were so transparent about your wants.  

The force he threw you down with had busted the back of your head. Blood seeping from behind your hair and onto your skin. Arlong had noticed, swiping some of it away. Humming, he pondered how to push you further in the future. 

Hand coming back to his face, he licked it away. Groaning, the shark looked up at you.

“So sweet…”

“Come. You have a job to finish, little minnow.”

–

And you had done so. 

Again and again you were pushed past your limits. And again and again you caved to his whims. 

Tears falling, you tried to wipe them away before the trio of men noticed. Trying to ignore your weeping, they all struggled with trying to let you have a moment. 

But Mihawk wasn’t okay with letting you stew in your sorrows much longer. He reached up, trying to cup your face.

It was too similar to Arlong, the motion almost exactly the same. 

Flinching back, you did your best to restrain the yelp in your throat. 

Brows furrowed, he stopped. Slowly lowering his arm to study you further. 

“What are you not telling us?”

“Arlong was a cruel man, he always had been. But…I wanted to be useful. You have to understand, no one had ever needed me before. Arlong wanted me!”

Hand clutching your chest, you tried to explain. 

“But there were times he pushed me to the limit, more often than not passed them. When my own values were in the way of my work he made sure I ignored them. No matter what he had to do in order for that to happen.”

Buggy finally made his way beside you, body sitting right next to yours. He pushed his side as close as to yours as he could, trying to comfort you just by being present. You had known Buggy long enough to be confident he would never hurt you, despite the facade he constantly put on for others. Leaning your head on his shoulder, you allowed yourself to close your eyes. 

Crocodile broke the pause.

“What did he do, you’ve been deflecting.”

Scoffing, you nustled deeper into the Clown.

“Sorry, but I’m not really fond of speaking about these topics.”

Plucking a cigar from the dozens on his person, he lit the smoke. Breathing in, the man attempted to calm his irritation. He understood, he was only growing frustrated at the lack of progress being made. They had been here for half an hour now. They could be making progress in other subjects.

“I get that, I do. I’m just…annoyed.”

Not needing a response as you empathized with him, you opened up your eyes once again. 

“Well, I’ll make this quick then. Arlong did more than simply put his hands on me. He beat me until I was black and blue, unrecognizable until I conceded. When I did, he flipped his persona. Turning kind and offering me a shoulder to lean on. He would hold me and play with my hair, and speak so softly, encouragement and praise alike. It would go farther some nights, when I exceeded his expectations that day. I tried to keep him away from Nami the best I could by doing so, but the days grew longer.”

Crocodile huffed before stubbing out his cigar. He had needed it for only a brief second before the annoyance burned away into resentment. He looked to Mihawk who had started to seethe below you. 

Eyes alight with pure fury, he tried to placate himself. 

Only to face back up to be met with you leaning entirely on Buggy. Eyes once again closed, except you seemed to be holding back tears once again. 

It was odd seeing you cry so much. Never had he assumed he would ever see you in such a state, but the vulnerability you were allowing yourself to show was admirable. He admired you letting them see this side of you, not just the stern and hardworking face you usually presented. To have the honor of witnessing you was making him realize how much he looked up to you and your ability to emote so freely. 

Mihawk was utterly enraptured with you. But you being in the state you were for him to realize such a thing was shameful. 

You pulled yourself together, pushing the intruding thinking to the side. No longer focusing on the past, you sat up. Back straight, you stood. Buggy had tried to stop you, wanting you to stay where you were. Protected by him and the others that had surrounded you. 

Instead, you gently pushed him away. 

Standing up completely, you leaned down into Mihawk’s face. Avoiding his questioning gaze, you dipped your hand into his coat. Fishing out the previously forgotten blade, you pointed out the symbol. 

“This is Arlong’s Jolly Roger, but the more I look at it, the more I see the inconsistencies. Arlong would never have let someone defile his symbol by carving it in such a crude manner. So the idea that Arlong himself is behind this is gone.”

“Then why such a big reaction over a dead man?”

Crocodile grumbled. 

Snapping a glare back at him, you growled.

“Just because the man is dead doesn’t mean the memories aren’t. Dumbass.”

Buggy’s eyes widened, mouth forming words but never coming out. 

Crocodile only looked away, not too bothered by your mouth at this point. He had become endeared to you due to your honesty, not familiar with the way you spoke to him. It had been a long time since someone spoke to him so easily. It was pleasant, so he did not admonish you. 

Grunting, he waved an apology at his previous words.

“Fine, fine. So what were you thinking.”

“That someone on Karai Bari knows of my previous affiliation. A fact I hide to my chest closer than I do other darker secrets surprisingly enough.”

“You have other secrets more intense than this one? How interesting, little Plover.”

Scoffing, you ignored the warmth of being acknowledged. 

“Yes, but being under Arlong for so long is my least favorite. To have someone know it is not ideal. The crew is from East Blue or need I remind you? And that man caused more harm than good, there are many of my nakama that have been personally wronged by him.”

“I do not see what that has to do with you.”

“The fact I was with him at all is punishable enough, Hawkeyes.”

Buggy groaned, throwing himself back onto his bed. Hands coming to cover his eyes, he tried to come up with a name that he thought might do something like this. 

“So someone on your crew is actively threatening you with information. Sounds like grounds enough to kill the bastard. We can’t have our useful little Archivist being blackmailed under our watch, can we?”

Crocodile stood, done with the conversation. He approached you and laid his lone hand on your head. Lightly ruffling your hair he gave you a small smile. 

“Especially one so practical and consistent.”

Leaving the room, Crocodile looked back at you one more time. Frown settling back on his face, he shot one last glare at the other two men. 

“We nip it in a bud immediately. Nor will anyone else hear of it.”

Mihawk agreed with him, but refused to let his coworker know it. Buggy had confirmed it out loud, not shying away from letting the crocodilian know he thought so. 

Stretching out your arms, you tried to crush the growing affection budding. You enjoyed being around them, feeling safe here. 

–

Days passed and the three had been busy. There hadn’t been a meeting since the blade had been found on your carpet. 

You had been busy as well, reading through all the crew records Buggy had you compile over the years. Everytime someone had caught his attention, he had you run a check on their past or criminal records. He had only a few requirements that you had to look for explicitly. 

No Marines or Former Marines. Even if ‘reformed’

No Sexual Deviance

No Domestic Violence Charges

And that was about it. Granted, of course, there were a few more limits the man had. Buggy would make the final decision once he met them. He had Observation Haki that rivaled the best, could sense anyone and bend his own Will in ways you had never heard of. 

Today, you were in the Records room again. You had left to get food before promptly returning. Scanning through paper after paper, you kept on coming up empty handed. You were growing more frustrated as the time continued to pass. 

There had been a knock on the door, more a courtesy than anything else. There were only a few people in the area that even knew about the room. So, you turned to the entrance expecting your captain or maybe even Mihawk or Crocodile. Before you could open your mouth to greet one of them, you were stopped. 

You were, truthfully, fed up by the amount of times you had been caught off guard. You had been off your game the longer you felt safe. 

It was a good thing you felt uncomfortable once meeting the eyes of the stranger entering into your room. 

“Who the fuck are you?”

The woman scowled, teeth bared in pure hate in your direction. 

“You have some nerve pretending to be a good person after everything you’ve done.”

Her voice was wavering despite the threatening facade she was trying to put forth. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You know damn well what I speak of. Being Arlong’s little whore and doing WHATEVER he asked without even blinking.”

“...who knows what I did and didn’t do while being under Arlong. I know for damn sure I killed or hurt no one. So whatever you assume I’ve done, you are incorrect.”

“So you didn’t force a woman into a contract with Arlong? You didn’t force her to be in his debt so he could use her whenever he so damned pleased!? So she would never sleep through the night without worrying about when he might call on her!? Yu destroyed her life!”

“You might want to be more specific. I’ve written a lot of contracts over the years, girl.”

Her eyes narrowed, tears tracking lines down her cheeks. Her pretty blue eyes were alight with hatred and fury. She was stunning as she was here. 

Maybe being under Arlong really had fucked with your head. To find yourself enraptured with a crying woman that had made it known she hated you. It was thrilling to watch her there. You wanted to sink your claws into her, to tear her apart and watch her cry. 

Sucking in a breath, you tried to will away the intrusive thoughts. 

You knew better than this. You were a better person than this. 

“I apologize about forcing her into such a position.”

“You’re a foul fucking person. I want you DEAD, not an apology!”

She rushed you, the same kind of blade in your room found in her hand. You couldn’t defend yourself against such a woman. Such conviction and bravery was deserving of your awe. You let her do as she wished, not at all concerned for your own life. 

She stabbed you in the chest. Knife plunging as far as her weak arms could push. You gasped, the pain throwing you off more than you thought. You had been hit, thrown, beaten, and whatever else Arlong wanted to put you through. 

You had felt pain before, but this was the first time you had been stabbed. The metal wasn’t steel, it burned far too much for it to be so simple. Looking down at the intrusion, you saw the glint of black metal, tinged with light blue that reflected back at you. 

You gaped at her, unsure where such a weak woman could acquire a precious and rare stone like that. 

Finding yourself growing angry, you pushed her back. Spitting at her feet, you punched her as hard as you could. There was no rational reason you were so mad, maybe all that rage from before that had been piling on itself was finally showing through. 

Screaming out some choice profanities, you felt for the knife lodged there. 

Pulling it out, even though there was the knowledge that this was a bad idea, you stabbed it back at her. Digging past her hand, you pushed harder until it lodged into the floor underneath. She howled in pain. 

There were steps echoing by the door, shouts following. The door had been locked behind her, but whoever had been trying to get in made it known that there was no difference in the fact. 

Sitting back on your heels, you watched as the woman under you squirmed. Straddling her, your face fell. Leaning forward, the back of your hand traced her jawline. Pushing back her blonde bangs, you kissed her forehead. There was a gasp from in front of you where the door was. 

“I am sincerely remorseful that I hurt you so. I was under Arlong’s wicked hand, but that does not excuse my actions. Please find it in your heart to forgive me.”

Crying out, her other hand swung and smacked your face. The sound reverberated around the room. 

Mihawk walked in, grabbing the wrist from the woman and stopping her from doing any more damage. 

“You are the one who sent the threat?”

She spit at him, breathing harshly. 

The ache in your chest grew harsher still. Grasping at the wound, you struggled to stand. Wobbling on your feet, you looked up to see Crocodile walking in as well. Chancing a look to Mihawk, he tried to gauge the rage simmering there. 

“Hawk. What do you need me to do.”

“Take this woman and bring her to Buggy. I will deal with the rest.”

Pupils shrinking, Mihawk looked back to you. Glancing down at the wound in the center of your chest, he was relieved to find that the woman was an idiot regarding anatomy. Trying to hide his pure disdain to the woman, Mihawk reached you in two wide strides. 

“Did she hurt you anywhere else?”

You shook your head.

“No.”

He heard you, scooping you in his arms. 

“Forgive me for the position I am putting you in. But I do not wish for you to lose more blood than necessary on the way to the infirmary.”

“It does not matter.”

You huffed, trying to breathe despite the pain growing overtime. Gasping for air, you pat his back. 

“It’s fine, let’s just get this over with.”

“As you wish, dove.”

[lucy90712]

New wonder kid- Fermin Lopez

These last few months have been absolutely crazy and there was absolutely no warning or time to prepare. My boyfriend Fermin has played football for his entire life and he has been under Barcelonas academy for a long time as well. Over the preseason he began training with the first team which was a huge achievement for him and I was so incredibly proud but I could never have predicted what it would lead to. Fermin went on the preseason tour expecting to maybe get a few minutes at the end of games which he did but no one expected him to burst onto the scene and play so well. When he scored in the Classico I was so excited and proud of him I couldn't sleep that night. Since preseason Fermin has been with the first team for every game and I've never seen him so motivated every day when he goes to training. 

As much as it has been wonderful to see Fermin finally achieving his dreams all of this has brought about a lot of changes in our lives. The two of us have been together for a long time and him playing football has never really been a big deal sure he has training a lot and I will go to his games but it's never been more than that. Now with the media getting involved things have just spiralled out of control. People are always stopping Fermin in the street and asking him to sign things while he is driving to training. The change happened so quickly it's been hard to keep up let alone to cope with it all. Before we would happily go our together to do things or go on dates just like any other couple but now I'm too scared of what might happen to even go outside with Fermin. 

I have always just been a normal girl I went to school like everyone else and now I am studying at university. There is absolutely nothing interesting about me whatsoever my family don't have loads of money and they don't have hugely important jobs we are all just a normal family. This is why I'm so scared of being seen with my own boyfriend now as I just know people are going to try and find out everything they can about me and judge me for being a normal person. I have also never been a big fan of social media sure I use it occasionally but my life isn't on there so the thought of people possibly taking pictures of me and Fermin out together and putting them on social media scares me as then everything is out of my control. 

With Fermin's new schedule the two of us haven't had as many date nights as we usually would and when we do they are always us just chilling in the apartment together. This has been perfect as it has meant I haven't had to tell Fermin about my stupid fears or have him think I don't want to be with him anymore because I really do. However my luck is running out as recently Fermin has been begging me to go to one of the games and I'm beginning to run out of excuses, saying I have work to do can only get me so far before he starts to get suspicious. There is another home game this weekend which he has been begging me to go to as he scored in the teams last game and he wants me to be there to finally watch him play on the big stage in person. All week I've been telling Fermin that I would try and get my work done in time to be able to go which is just a coverup for me to either gather the confidence or come up with a better excuse, neither of which are going well. 

I had the day off of classes today so I have been working on assignments and just sitting and thinking for most of the day. I finished some of my work and have been chilling on my phone looking at football gossip pages which only makes me more anxious about my situation as I see what fans say about players rumours partners and wonder what they would say about me as I'm not a model like most other girl. Just as I was beginning to go down a deep rabbit hole the door opened and a tired looking Fermin came in. 

"Hi amor how was your day?" I asked 

"It was good but training was long and hard today" he said 

"How about you relax and I make us some dinner, what do you fancy?" I asked 

"Can we just sit for a bit first I've missed spending time with you" he said 

"Of course come and cuddle with me" I smiled opening my arms for him 

He laid down on my chest and I began to run my fingers through his hair which usually relaxes him but I could feel he was still a little tense which meant there was something on his mind still. Fermin is one of those who can worry about a lot of little things thats one of the things we are alike in so overtime I've learnt to know when its something I should be concerned about and when it isn't and this seems like something I should ask about. 

"What's on your mind Fer?" I asked 

"Do you still love me?" He asked right back 

"What of course I do I love you so much why do you ask" I said

"I just feel like you don't want to be around me anymore you used to always come to my games and now I can't get you to even come to one" he said 

"Oh amor I'm sorry if I made you feel like that but the reason is because I'm nervous everyone knows who you are now and thats great but I don't know if I'm comfortable with all the attention it would garner if we went out together" I explained 

"So you still want to go places with me you are just scared" he questioned 

"Yeah I've seen what fans say about all these models other players are dating and I'm just a normal person I'm not anything special so I don't even want to know what they would have to say about me" I said 

"I understand carino but I promise you that no matter what people think I know my feelings for you and nothing will change that I want to show you off and bring you along on this journey too so please come to the game this weekend I promise I'll do everything I can to protect you" he said 

"I trust you so I'll got but I can't promise that I won't be nervous" I laughed 

"I get that but I want you to have fun too" he said 

"I will definitely have fun I always do when watching you" I said

~~~~~~~~~~

Today is finally match day and to be honest I think I'm more nervous than I am excited. This day has been on my mind all week and last night I didn't sleep at all because all I was thinking about was everything that could go wrong today and what people might be saying on social media after the game. I know it's such a stupid thing to worry about and in the grand scheme of things this moment won't matter especially when Fermin is celebrating winning trophies but right now it seems like a big deal. Before Fermin and I got together I was deeply insecure and he has helped me so much and now I'm in a much better place so I really don't want to go back but I can't control the comments and I certainly can't predict how I will cope with them. 

Since he woke up Fermin has been trying to keep me distracted and reassure me that everything will be ok. He is doing everything he can but today he can't beat the demons that still live in the back of my brain. As much as I admired my fears to him I never told Fermin the full extent of my worries as he worries about me enough already and he needs to be focused for the game so I don't want him to have anything extra on his mind. If he knew he'd tell me that he doesn't care and he just wants to help me but I care about him too much to have him stressing about me when I can cope on my own. 

The day felt like it went by at lightening speed and before I knew it Fermin was telling to to get ready as we needed to leave. Once we got in the car Fermin's hand grabbed mine straight away and he held it tightly squeezing it every now and then to reassure me. Most of the drive was fine but as we got close to the training ground there was a lot more fans in the streets who all had their phones out taking pictures and filming. That's when it really hit me that there is no going back now from now on I'll be known as Fermin's girlfriend and some people will actually care about what I do. I could feel myself getting more and more anxious as we got closer to the training centre and there was so many people on the pavements and in the road it was just very overwhelming. 

Finally when the car stopped I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding as well as I sigh of relief knowing that the worst part was over. I was so in my own world that I didn't hear Fermin talking to me until he put his hand on my cheek and turned me to face him. For some reason I expected him to be mad at me for not listening or for getting anxious but his expression was soft and his eyes had a loving look in them. 

"Are you ok amor?" He asked 

"I'm ok now that was intense I can't believe you deal with that everyday" I said

"You get used to it but do you promise you are ok" he said 

"Yeah I promise thank you for holding my hand it made it a lot easier" I replied 

With that he got out the car and ran around to open my door for me like he always does so we could head inside before the team head off to the stadium. Fermin got permission from Xavi to let me come on the coach with them because he didn't want me to have to go alone which I'm glad about as having to navigate the stadium on my own sounds stressful. He promised that he wouldn't leave me on my own at any point so when we got inside he text Gavi who was already ready to leave and he waited with me while Fermin got ready himself. I have known Gavi for the longest time but with him playing for the first team I don't get to see him as much as I used to so by actually going places with Fermin I should get to spend more time with some old friends. 

"Good to see you again hermana how have you been? Gavi asked

"I've been good busy with school as usual what about you?" I replied 

"Same as always I'm glad you agreed to come Fermin has been so happy ever since plus its nice to have you around" he said 

"Thats sweet I'm glad he's excited" I smiled thinking about Fermin 

"I know you're nervous but I promise everything will be fine the other girlfriends know you're coming and they can't wait to meet you plus once the fans get to know you there is no way they can hate you and if they do there is something wrong with them" he said 

"Thanks gavi I really appreciate you saying that" I said 

After that Fermin came rushing out and grabbed my hand again so we could get on the bus. The trip luckily wasn't long and once everyone was inside I met all of the other wives and girlfriends who were at the game and we all sat together getting to know each other. The longer I was there the more I began to relax as they have all been through this before and they are all ok and happy in their relationships which made the future seem not so scary. They were all so lovely and made me feel instantly welcome in the group they even added me to their group chat so we could all meet up at some point. 

Before I knew it the game had begun and was over the team win and Fermin scored an important goal. I was so proud of him and I couldn't wait to see him so I rushed down to greet him after he was ready. As soon as I saw him I jumped into his arms which he wasn't expecting but he still managed to catch me and stay on his feet. I don't think either of us could have a bigger smile on our faces even if we wanted to I was so over the moon that he scored and he was so happy he could've done it with me there. Even when he scored he dedicated the goal to me like he always used to which made the moment so special to the point that I didn't care when the camera pointed towards me. I kissed him a few times before he put me down and we made it back outside to team bus so we could finally go home which I can't wait for as it's been a long day.

~~~~~~~~~~

As always Fermin's alarm woke me up even though it's Sunday because he's insane and likes to get up and go to the gym. Usually I go back to sleep straight away especially on a weekend but today I sat up and grabbed my phone because I wanted to look at what was being said after yesterday. I know Fermin posted a picture of us so that any rumours were cleared up straight away but I haven't seen it so I wanted to just look at everything. I had only just unlocked my phone when Fermin came back in from the bathroom and took it right out my hands. 

"Sorry but I think it's best if you don't look at this today" he said 

"I'll be fine I promise" I said trying to convince him to give my phone back 

"Not happening I'm keeping home of this today and you can have it back when things have calmed down tomorrow if anything important happens I will tell you" he said 

"Are things really that bad?" I asked 

"No most comments are nice I just don't want you searching for the few bad comments" he says 

"You know me too well" I laughed 

"How about you come to the gym with me and we spend the day together so you are distracted plus I have missed your cuddles" he said 

"I very much like that idea" I replied