#I relate heavily to this and to feel you are going to be caught doing anything that isn��t a crime hurts

[clownsuu]

Small detour of what I usually post, but I absolutely wish (other) clown the best of luck during these confusing and almost hopeless times- nobody knows how to deal with such amount of attention in such short amount of time- a blessing and a curse to behold

[shooting-love-arrows]

Hi! Can I request more on the Yandere! Barabarian? I dont of anything specif besides that but, maybe about his and darlings' life now after marriage?

Hello to you too @misfortunateleprechaun,

Here it is! Hope to hear from you again and have a nice day (even if it's not a daytime)!

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐍 and marriage headcanons

PAIRING: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 x reader (gender not mentioned/specified/implied) Tw. kidnapping, implied murder, blood, possessive tendencies, raids, marking, (at the end) horny yandere, grinding, mention of sex but nothing specific. A/N: There's a mention of a random name and celebration so don't fret that you don't know about something. Everything here is made up!

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

When you are officially married to 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧, you not only become his lifelong partner and a soul connected to his own for all of eternity but you also become one of his people. This means everything related to your past should end up just like your village – turned to ashes. Forgotten and left behind. The only good things your parents did were creating you. The village? Don’t make him laugh! He never saw a more pathetic excuse of one before in his life. So stop wasting your tears on them and embrace your new family and him!

“Shh…my treasure…shhh…” 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 tried to console you. Even when you continue to trash in his hold, hit him in the chest repeatedly or scratch at him, he only brought you closer and tightened his hold on you. 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 didn’t understand why you were acting like that, hysterically sobbing and pushing him away. Nor ever was he forced to comfort the person who was acting like that. “Why are you shedding tears for them? Shhh... Let’s celebrate Night Of Miracles (made up celebration) with your new husband and family, hm?”

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 teaches you about his culture and language. In those quiet moments shared between you, sitting by fire, he tries his best to be a teacher (and he fails miserably). Although he’s a scholar by no means, he truly wants to make you feel like you belong. To make you understand that what he did and was doing was good. And he finds it amusing when he has to point things out to you like to a toddler. What he can’t teach you about, he requests for someone in his tribe to take his place (of course not without marking you beforehand just to be sure everyone will know who you belong to).

“...and that’s why Trinus I (made up character) brought his beloved the head of his first wife.” 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 finished the old tale and sighed in content. The story leaves you more traumatized than you already are. There were a few seconds of silence, before he smirked cheekily. “Now, let me tell you about their wedding night.”

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 marks you a lot and daily. Either by leaving big and deep hickeys in the most visible places or by braiding your hair in a similar way, making you wear his family crest/sigli, offering his clothes to wear and so on. One thing for certain, everyone must know (if they don’t already) that you’re his.

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 could only admire you when you walked out of your shared tent, wearing his shirt, hair braided with similar braids to his and hickeys displayed on your neck. 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 didn’t know whether to be more aroused or start trotting like a peacock. 

Just like any good husband, 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 brings you all sorts of gifts from his raids. It doesn’t matter if you want something or not. Either way, he’s going to bring all sorts of objects to choose from. 

“W-what is it?” Your voice cracked after 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 pulled away from a searing ‘welcome back’ kiss. He was still covered in blood, sweaty, smelling like smoke and panting heavily. But what caught your attention was a big woolen bag thrown over his shoulder, material stretched to the max.  𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 only smirked and you watched, horrified, as he carelessly let the items from the bag spill on the floor. You saw clothes, silver dinnerware, money, jewelry (is that a finger with a ring still on?) and many other knick knacks. You gulped thickly. “For you!” 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 proudly announced and puffed out his chest.

(NSFW-ish) A lot of sex. This man has high libido and – just like all barbarians – are led by their carnal desires. It’s guaranteed he’s going to bed you on a daily basis. It doesn’t matter where or when. If he wants to have sex with you, then he’s going to do so. It’s especially rough when he returns from raids or hunting trips, covered in sweat and oozing with adrenaline and need of you. Those are wild nights ~

“I need you…” 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 growled in your ear and aggressively nuzzled his nose in your neck. Since the moment his body touched yours, he started grinding into you. He just loved your scent. It was working on him like an aphrodisiac, turning him into an untamable beast ready to devour you. His chapped lips continue to aggressively leave a trail of wet kisses from your earlobe, down your neck and – after tearing open your loose shirt – your shoulder. “I fucking want you. Now.”

All of the published posts on this account/blog belongs to @shooting-love-arrows. I do not consent to my works being: translated, stolen, published or reposted on this and other sites. Likes, reblogs, comments are highly appreaciated. Thank you.

[flowerandblood]

The Price of Pride (22/?)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: trauma, pregnancy-related conditions, some type of suicide attempt, dark visions, the angst, nightmares ]

[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

"Rȳbās." Her father said. "Repeat."

She saw his face clearly – his narrow eyes, his short white hair combed back, his expression full of boredom and fatigue, which, however, she was not the reason for.

"Ribās." She mumbled, wiggling her short legs as she sat on his lap, looking at the large book in which were written a multitude of words in a language she had never seen before.

Her father sighed.

"No." He said, readjusting her on his lap, feeling her begin to slide downwards. "Rȳbās. Again."

"Ribās." She repeated after him, confident that this time she had said the word correctly.

"Who gave him permission to be with her? To cross the threshold of my fortress without my permission?" She heard her mother's enraged voice behind the wall.

Her father sighed heavily, closed the book and threw it carelessly on the table. He grabbed her around the waist and lifted her up, placing her on the floor; she caught his hand, refusing to let him go.

"Ribās. Ribās. Ribās." She repeated, following him, hoping it would stop him.

"Stay in the chamber." He commanded, so she let him go with eyes full of tears and turned back, bursting into sobs.

He had only just arrived, and was about to disappear again.

She hoped he would return and waited for him, lying covered in thick furs in her bed, however, eventually her eyes began to grow heavy and she fell into a deep slumber.

She thought she felt in her sleep as someone touched her head, someone's lips placed a warm kiss on her forehead, the smell of her father filled her lungs.

When she found out the next day that he had returned to Dragonstone, she burst out crying.

"You should be grateful to me, not wailing. I'm tired of your perpetual weeping. Perhaps you would rather he took you with him? Targaryens have many strange customs. Fathers lie in bed with their daughters, for example." Said her mother, busy eating the roast of a deer she herself had hunted the day before.

She closed her mouth at her words, quivering all over, staring blankly into her plate.

She was awakened by an unpleasant feeling – a spasm in her stomach and a sensation as if she were suffocating. She raised herself up on the sheets in the darkness, unconsciously reaching for the dish standing next to the bed. She only had time to lean over it when she vomited, panting loudly and coughing.

She shuddered all over, terrified, when she felt movement behind her, someone's hand touching her shoulder.

"Hāedar. Again?"

In response, she vomited again, louder this time: her stomach squeezed tightly, and she closed her eyelids, trying to survive it.

The silhouette of her father beneath the water, his white hair, his hand stretched towards her, her arrow thrust into his neck, his heavy armour pulling him down – when she grasped him, she had the impression that something had flashed across his face.

A mixture of regret, shame, pleading, as if he wanted to convey to her in that moment everything he hadn't told her over the years. Her heart squeezed at the thought that she saw tenderness in that gaze: that he recognised her as his child, and perhaps he always had.

Perhaps she had never truly understood why he had fled then until now.

And then he let her go.

She burst out crying and shook her head, leaning forward, breathing heavily through her mouth, overwhelmed by this vision, this memory, by the fact that she had been mistaken.

She didn't see her husband's death in her dreams, but her father's.

She felt his face pressed into her neck, his warm, moist lips placing soft, light kisses on her skin to comfort her, his broad hand stroking her arm.

"I'm here. I'm here." He repeated.

She wanted him to do something that would make her shout at him, take it out on him, hate him: she wanted him to say that it meant nothing, that she was being dramatic, that it was a simple, ordinary, feminine weakness that she needed to stand up to. This was what she had expected from him: this was how he always reacted to his own failings, being a harsh and unfair judge in his own case.

He, however, was quiet and calm, full of an understanding from which she felt a discomfort in her stomach.

She was sure that it was a mask and that it would eventually break: that her many days of silence and hysteria would eventually drive him mad, that, tired of her constant despair and the fact that she did not even look at him when he spoke to her, would make him finally descend into the dungeons and find relief in the arms of the beautiful Witch of Harrenhal.

Some part of her wanted him to do it: she wanted him to give her a reason to run far away from him, to abandon him and everything that came with him.

"The Maester has arrived in the fortress. I have ordered him to examine you tomorrow. It worries me that this keeps happening every night." He whispered, snuggling into her back at last, embracing her with his arms around her waist.

His hands did not reach her breasts – he did not try to take her or kiss her on the lips. He held her close and stroked her but did nothing more, as if he knew she would push him away.

She sighed and closed her eyes, knowing what that meant.

That he would find out.

She did not, however, have the strength to object.

"Your wife is expecting your child, Your Grace." Said Maester the next day after he had examined her body closely.

She saw her cousin twitch, his face, previously passive and calm, tense in shock, his eye open wide. He looked at her after a moment, in his gaze the question she had long known she would hear from his lips.

"Leave us." He said.

Her heart pounded like mad in terror as the Maester left the chamber – she played with the soft fur that covered her body clad only in her nightgown, wondering why she was afraid.

She had felt nothing but pain for days, so this sudden new emotion was shocking to her.

He's going to kill me, she thought.

"How long have you known?" He asked.

The tone of his voice was not aggressive, but she heard a hint of irritation in it.

She swallowed hard, feeling that she was having trouble concentrating, finding the right words.

How long had she known?

"The witch told me I was carrying your son, but I didn't confirm it." She muttered.

"But you had a premonition, didn't you?" He continued, a note of pain and regret in his voice.

She merely nodded her head.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you wouldn't take me with you."

Her husband let out a loud breath and turned away, pacing around the room as if trying to calm himself, overcome by many extreme emotions at once.

"How could you hide this from me?"

"You didn't ask."

He turned abruptly towards her and stopped, his lips pressed into a thin line with rage.

"It's my fault, then?" He hissed, clearly losing his temper.

She swallowed hard, lowering her gaze to her hands.

"That's not what I said. It's just that if you had asked me, I wouldn't have lied to you. But then you'd be dead and I'd be left fatherless and husbandless." She said dispassionately.

Her cousin looked out of the window – she could see out of the corner of her eye that his chest was rising and falling in heavy breaths.

"You made a fool of me." He said.

She did not answer him.

If he thought so, that was his concern.

She didn't have the strength to think about it.

She shuddered when he suddenly moved from his place and simply left, closing the door behind him with a loud slam of old wood.

She swallowed silently as she felt the heavy tears one by one begin to run down her cheeks, her breath stuck in her throat.

She knew it would happen sooner or later, and she was relieved to finally have it behind her. A crack, a rift between them, something that made him pull away from her – she figured he'd been looking for an excuse for this for a long time, and now he'd found the perfect one.

She lay back on the bedding and hugged her face to the pillow, staying in that position until she fell asleep from exhaustion.

When she opened her eyes, there was darkness all around her – she recognised in the shapes she saw before her her chamber in Harrenhal. Her bed was cold – a strange feeling of disappointment ran down her spine when she turned behind herself and saw that he was not lying next to her.

That he hadn't forgiven her.

Maybe he was with her now, she thought.

She felt an unpleasant discomfort in her stomach, from which she felt the urge to vomit again – she restrained herself and stood up, heading barefoot towards the door.

The stone Harrenhal was cold and dark – she was surprised that there were no torches burning in the corridors and no guards all around.

In fact, it seemed to her that the fortress was deserted.

She blinked, intrigued, noticing the warm light of the fire in the distance, coming from behind the door of her husband's chamber – some strange kind of relief spread through her heart at the thought that he had not abandoned her. Her quiet footsteps echoing around her, the dripping of water in the distance and the sound of the wind accompanied her on this short journey, but the closer she got to the room, the louder other sounds came from it.

His panting.

She would recognise it was him anywhere – she had heard it too many times – that distinctive heavy way of breathing, interrupted by grunts and low groans of pleasure. As she pushed gently on the door, just enough to see anything, she saw his body bare from the waist down, his nails digging into Alys' buttocks so hard they created bruises.

His thrusts were aggressive, brutal, deep, fast, devoid of tenderness or even desire.

Her green eyes found her in the darkness, the corner of her mouth lifted in a smile, from which she felt that sickening feeling in her stomach again.

She stepped back and vomited – one time, then another – her hand found the wall to prop herself up, to escape, to get out, to disappear, whatever that meant.

She hated him.

She hated her.

She wished she had stayed with her father.

She was unable to find her way back to her chamber – instead, narrow, dark corridors led her outside, to a godswood, surrounded by a ruined stone wall. A red, contorted, tear-streaked face looked straight at her, as if it understood her. Her gaze fled to the side – to the space between the stone bricks which was empty, looking like a gateway to a black abyss.

She moved in that direction, thinking that this was what she wanted.

She knew he would betray her.

She knew it from the very beginning, and yet she believed him anyway.

After all, she had begged him not to take her as his wife only to humiliate her later.

But his pride, as always, was more important.

Perhaps their bastard child will rule Harrenhal, but my child will not become his tool, she thought, climbing higher on the remains of the wall that once stood there – looking down into nothingness, she felt terror – her heart pounded like mad, doubt flashed through her mind.

I don't want to die.

Why are they forcing me to do this?

My husband, my father, my mother.

Wasn't I worth being loved truly?

Didn't I deserve to be chosen by someone?

"Hāedar! Come back here!" She heard a voice behind her and blinked – when she looked around, she saw that she was not standing in a godswood, but on what must once have been a tower, standing at the very edge of it. The height from which she was looking down frightened and petrified her, her body began to tremble all over – there was nothing around her that she could grasp.

"Hāedar, turn to me and give me your hand." She heard his voice behind her again, this time pleading and breaking, as if he realised what was about to happen.

"I saw you. You and her." She muttered.

She heard his silence, his heavy breath full of consternation.

"What?" He asked.

"If I had known you would betray me so quickly, I would never have married you." She howled, feeling tear after tear begin to run down her face.

The wind around her was searing her body to the core, her legs scarred from the sharp stones.

Why hadn't she felt this before?

"You enraged me and I set off for a ride on Vhagar's back to cool off. Sheepstealer wailed from afar, so I returned." He explained, and she swallowed hard, feeling the cold sweat run down her back as she heard a loud screech in the distance, and then her dragon flew over her head, clearly terrified of what she was about to do.

How could she not have heard him before?

The chaos in her head made her involuntarily turn and look at him over her shoulder, wanting to compare what she saw with his silhouette, his face, his expression, anything that would betray him.

He had his hands raised at the level of his chest, his right arm extending more towards her than his left, as if he wanted to grab her but was afraid to make a move – his healthy eye was open wide in terror, the other was covered by a black eye patch, on his body a long leather riding coat and gloves.

How was he able to change so quickly?

She felt her breath become laboured – she shook her head, taking an involuntary step backwards, towards the precipice.

"You are deceiving me. I know what I saw." She mouthed, and he drew in deep breath as she wobbled and squealed, struggling to catch her balance – he grabbed her by her nightgown and pulled her to him hard, so that she hit his chest with all his strength.

She wanted to push him away, but he wouldn't let her.

And then she felt it.

He didn't smell of intimacy, spend and feminine moisture.

He smelled of dragon and sweat.

He fell to his knees and she fell with him – his arms embraced her tightly, pressing her into his body, his face sinking into her hair.

"– gods – oh, good gods –" He wailed in trembling voice.

It was the first time she had seen him in such a state – he curled up like a small child, and she involuntarily embraced him.

"– I didn't betray you – ever – it's this place – these people – they are cursed – I can feel it in my veins –" He choked out with difficulty, breathing hard, shaking all over as she did.

She closed her eyes, feeling a strange kind of relief.

He wasn't here.

"So who did I see?" She whispered.

"I don't know."

Her husband wanted her to show him the way she had reached this place, but everything looked different. She couldn't recognise a single corner – the corridors were no longer cramped and dark, but spacious, full of lit, bright torches.

How could she have not noticed them?

She swallowed hard when she finally spotted the door she had opened then – it seemed to her that there were only a few steps from it to her chamber.

"We are in the other part of the keep. You may have seen a guard with some servant girl. It happens, hāedar. You are in mourning, in addition you are carrying a child inside you. You are overtired." He said, stroking her back.

For some reason, his calm voice, his understanding, the fact that he wasn't mocking her, comforted her.

She nodded, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

"I want to sleep in your chamber tonight."

Indeed, when they arrived, she realised that their quarters were right next to each other and she didn't have to travel such a long distance from one door to the other – when she stepped inside, she also remembered that the furniture of his chamber was quite different from what she had seen.

It was as if someone had made her lose focus for a moment, hoping to let that cruel dream lead her.

"That witch. She said that if I wasn't here, you would have taken her the very first night. That you would have begotten a bastard child." She said dispassionately, walking around his room, running her fingers over the top of the table.

Her husband snorted.

"Of course. All that's left for bastards is to give birth to other bastards and hope that the rich father shares his golden coins with them." He grunted, tossing wood into the hearth, thoughtful.

"It must be tempting. The fact that every woman wants your child inside her, and you can have her." She stated.

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye and shook his head, as if he didn't believe what he was hearing.

"And what of it? Aegon begat bastards with half of the whores of King's Landing. If he had been by his wife's side instead of drinking when Daemon's men came to kill his child, perhaps Jaehaerys would still be alive. He blamed me in front of everyone, as if I was his father, because he couldn't look at his own reflection." He said with a disgust that sent a shiver along her spine.

"If you had married Floris. Would you have remained faithful to her?" She asked calmly, without irony or mockery.

Her cousin sighed, still crouching in front of the fire, lowering his gaze to his fingers.

"I would do everything in my power to keep her and my children safe."

"But you would have had lovers." She concluded.

She saw him shrug his shoulders.

"And you? If they forced you to marry some young lord. Would you have had lovers? Would you refuse me?" He asked with a kind of resentment from which she felt a sting in her heart.

She lowered her gaze, realising she didn't know the answer to that question.

"I wouldn't want to humiliate him. I guess I would try to stay away from you to avoid tempting fate." She whispered.

Her husband grinned.

"Big words. My mother used those too for many years." He hummed with mockery. "Either we want someone or we don't. I never wanted Floris. But I began to desire you very quickly."

"You didn't know what would happen to me then." She mumbled.

She heard with surprise that he laughed at her words.

"And what has happened to you, wife? You weep, you despair, you are silent? You have lost your father. Shall I require you to smile, to speak to me, though I myself, after I returned from Storm's End, sat locked in my chamber for weeks? I didn't want to see anyone, hear anyone. My grandfather showered me with advice I didn't ask him for. He called me a fool, as if he thought I didn't understand what I had done, how much I had destroyed. I wanted revenge on Luke, I wanted him to finally pay me for all of his doings, but did I want to kill him? I've been asking myself that question ever since. It occurs to me that when I realised I didn't, Vhagar's maw crushed him and his dragon. She felt my hatred, my bitterness, and devoured him against my orders, as if she knew I was lying." He said, staring into the flames, immersed in his thoughts and memories.

She stared at him in disbelief, silent, surprised that he had brought up the subject of his own free will – they had never discussed it, and she dared not ask, afraid of how he would react to it.

She didn't care if he wanted to kill him or not.

Time could not be turned back.

Nevertheless, the fact that he was using his experience to understand her made her feel a familiar warmth in her heart for the first time in days.

When he looked at her she swallowed quietly, as if caught off guard.

"Tell me what you need and I'll give it to you." He whispered.

She pressed her lips together, feeling tears under her eyes for some reason – they were not tears of sadness and grief, however, as they had been in recent days, but of emotion, of a sense of understanding, of knowing that he really intended to comfort her.

She wasn't ready to return to their intimacy, to this sudden act that was consuming her whole – something about the thought of it frightened her, the feeling that she would burst into sobs or change her mind in the process, leaving him with nothing but frustration.

"I'd like to lay my head on your thighs. I wish you would embrace me and stroke my hair." She mumbled in shame, for some reason feeling that what she said was pitiful.

However, she saw in his gaze that he understood her and that something in that thought pained him.

Was this what he was looking for in a brothel?

Was this what he needed from that woman?

He stood up slowly, pulling off his gloves and coat, placing them on the table top. He approached her, extending his hand to her – she took hold of it and allowed him to guide her towards his bed.

He sat down on it in a half-lying position, pulling his boots off his feet first. He unfastened his tunic and slipped it off his shoulders, laying it over his thighs so as to create something soft for her to lay her head on.

"Come here." He hummed.

She climbed obediently onto the bed and lay with her back to him, so that her spine snuggled into his lower abdomen and her cheek laid against the smooth leather material. He spread his legs so that her whole body fit between them – in some subconscious reflex she pulled her knees up to her chin, feeling safer in this position. She closed her eyes as his broad, warm hand combed through her hair in a gentle motion, repeating the movement again and again.

"Sleep. I'm by your side." He whispered, his other hand covering her with warm fur. She felt him lean in, his full, moist lips placing a kiss on her temple, his arm embracing her entire figure, locking her in a secure grasp.

All she could feel was his closeness, his calm breath on her face, his fingers playing with her dark curls, his gentle lips pressing against the skin of her face again and again.

"You are my only friend." She whispered involuntarily – when she heard herself say those words she felt a single, lonely tear run down her cheek.

He was the only one she could speak to honestly.

Only he understood her.

Only he fought for her.

Only he believed in her.

Only he cared for her.

And although she loved him as a husband, a brother, a lover, he, another man made of flesh and blood, exactly like her, was the one she loved the most.

She was at the worst, most difficult time of her life, and he was there for her, patient and tender, full of an understanding she had not expected from him.

The cruel, cold man she had seen for the first time that day, locked in the dungeon, had shown himself ready for such deeds, such words, such sacrifices.

She felt his arm press her tighter against his body, his face sinking into her neck.

"And you are mine."

[jaredpadonlyyyy]

𝙏𝙃𝘼𝙏 𝘼𝙉𝙂𝙀𝙇, 𝙂𝙄𝙍𝙇

• 𝙎𝙈𝙐𝙏, 𝙎𝙈𝙐𝙏𝙏𝙔, 𝙎𝙈𝙐𝙏 𝙒𝙄𝙏𝙃 𝘼 𝙇𝙄𝙏𝙏𝙇𝙀 𝙋𝙇𝙊𝙏

• 𝟭𝟴+ 𝙈𝙄𝙉𝙊𝙍 𝘿𝙉𝙄 𝙄 𝙒𝙄𝙇𝙇 𝘽𝙇𝙊𝘾𝙆 𝙔𝙊𝙐

𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎: 𝙐𝙉𝙋𝙍𝙊𝙏𝙀𝘾𝙏𝙀𝘿 𝙎𝙀𝙓 (𝘞𝘳𝘢𝘱 𝘪𝘵 𝘶𝘱 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴) 𝙋𝙄𝙑, 𝙁𝙀𝙈𝘼𝙇𝙀 𝙍𝙀𝘾𝙄𝙀𝙑𝙄𝙉𝙂, 𝘾𝙍𝙀𝘼𝙈𝙋𝙄𝙀, 𝙇𝙊𝙎𝙎 𝙊𝙁 𝙑𝙄𝙂𝙄𝙉𝙄𝙏𝙔.

𝘿. 𝙒𝙄𝙉𝘾𝙃𝙀𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝙭 𝙔/𝙉

• ★ • ☆ • ★ • ☆ • ★ • ☆ • ★ • ☆ • ★ • ☆ • ★ •

It’s been a few days since Y/N and Castiel Angels of the lord has rescued Dean Winchester from hell. It’s been a wild ride. Castiel following orders, while Y/N had rebelled and had fallen. She didn’t care if she did. She was doing it for the good of humanity and the fact that they treated humans very bad, did not sit well with her. She didn’t like it not one bit of it. So, she went against the angels and helped the brothers out. To say they were furious was an understatement. She almost died trying to protect the Winchesters.

Especially since she had some sort of unwanted kind of feelings towards the older Winchester brother. She thought Sam was also sexy, but she was bit more curious about the older brother. Something about him was making her feel things she didn’t think was possible. It infuriated her to have some kind of feel in her lower parts of her body. It was so weird to her.

Currently the Winchester brothers and the Angel were in on an intense fight against some Angel that wanted to get to her. She didn’t know how they got caught off guard like that. Y/N takes the Angel blade in her hand and runs over to the Angel she was fighting with and stabbed him making him scream, as a bright light came from the vessel as she pulled it out. The body fall to the ground and she turned to the other Angel’s breathing heavily as she glared at them. “You either leave or you end up dead.” She shouted. The Angels looked at the other dead Angel and they disappeared making her slump her shoulder

She looked over at the bloodied Winchester men and she walked over. “Come here.” She told them as they met her in the middle. She healed them and they walked out of the building leaving the dead vessel behind calling the police to find the dead human left behind. As much as Y/N felt bad for killing the man inside. He probably would’ve killed her if she didn’t.

The two hunters and the Angel, entered the motel room they had checked in at, the brothers putting their stuff down. “I need a few drinks.” Sam told them as he looked at his brother. “Don’t wait up.” He said grabbing his laptop and walked out of the room. The Angel fell back into the bed as Dean sighed. “I, for one need a fucking shower.” Dean told the angel. “Yeah, you’re musty.” She smirked over at the man.

“Ha, ha” he said taking off his shirt. The Angels breath hitched as she looked at the half naked man in front of her. She blushed and she looked away from him. Her legs squeezed tightly as she gulped. She felt a pair of eyes on her and she dared to look over and Saw Dean looking at her with a smirk on his face. “Are you. . . Aroused?” The hunter asked her, it made her blush even more at the accusations. “What no!” She scoffed as she stood up from the bed she was in. “Go shower. I need some air.” She told him.

As she walked away Dean grabbed her wrist as he turned her towards him her chest hitting his bare chest. She gasped as she looked at his heart shaped lips. Dean’s hand lowered to her bum giving it a slight squeeze making her softly moan at the sensation she felt reach her Virgin pussy. Y/N knew her vessel was a virgin and so was the Angel inside of her. She wasn’t one of those angels that went around sleeping with men or her own kind. It disgusted her a lot to even have any kind of relation between her Angel siblings.

With his other hand he grabbed her other asscheek rolling their hips together. “Ah, Dean.” She moaned softly as she felt his hard dick rubbing onto her. “I-I’m, uh, s-still a virgin.” She whispered against his lips as he hummed. “You want this don’t you?” He asked her as she looked up into his mossy green eyes, that has her going feral. “Yes, I do.” Was the only thing he needed to hear picking her up. She gasped loudly and she rushed towards the bed tossing her on it.

He leaned down capturing her lips on his on a heated kiss. Their teeth clashing, tongue moving around each other. Moaning as Dean grinds his clothed dick on her clothed pussy. Dean pulled away kissing down her neck reaching the hem of her shirt pulling it off her body, leaving her in just a bra and doing the same with her jeans leaving her in just her pink lace panties

Y/N watched as Dean kissed down her body as she was curious as to what he was going to be doing to her. He spreads her long legs apart and he groans as he sees the wet spot on her panties. “Damn, so wet for me, already?” He said licking his heart shaped lip. He leaned down to kiss the wet spot making her back arch at the sensation. “I can imagine how tight this pussy is.” He groaned as he pulled the panties to the side. Y/N’s breathing starts picking up as his fingers graze her folds. “Oh, Dean.” She moaned, her body tensing as he grazed her clit softly very gently.

Both of her hands gripping the sheets under her so tight, as noises she didn’t know she could do came out of her mouth, Dean loved watching how he can make an Angel, a celestial being fall apart in his hands. Having all the control over her body making her putty in his hands. Dean kissed and sucked on her inner thighs making her squirm as he got closer to where she needed him the most. Then she gasp, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as his tongue swipes her slits up to her clit. “Oh, Dean!” She shook.

He pulled away ripping off her panties and going back his tongue working on her sensitive nub. Her body thrashing as she felt some amazing sensation was about to wash over her, his tongue moving in different directions, ways, patterns, his head the same way. “Stop! Stop! Stop! Aaah!!!” She shot up as her orgasm took her by surprise making her violently shake. Her hands grabbing ahold of the sheets under her ripping them as Dean licked her through her very intense orgasm. Y/N slumped down breathing hard as she looked at the ceiling in undeniable satisfaction

Dean stood up and wiped his mouth as he looked at her with pure amazement in his eyes.

“You ripped the sheets.” He told her chuckling as she blushed. “Sorry?” She said to him as he just laughed. “Don’t be.” He said as he walked over to her leaning down to kiss her. Y/N moaned as she could taste herself on his mouth. He pulled away going behind her to take off her bra letting her chest come out to his view. His mouth watered as he saw how hard her nipples looked. He cupped them in his large hand as he puts his mouth around them making her sigh in pleasure. His other hand playing with her hard nipple as she moaned loudly. He pulled away and stood up.

He unbuckled his belt bringing his pants and his boxer shorts down making his cock sprint out as the Angel looked at his with wide eyes and blushing as she saw how big and think he actually was. Her breath hitched as she looked at how it twitched and how it was leaking pre-cum. Dean just smirked as he saw how flustered she was by looking at his cock.

Dean leaned over her, in between her legs as they both looked into each other’s eyes. She couldn’t help the moan that slipped past her lips as she felt his tip on her entrance. He leaned down and brushed his lips against her own. “Are you ready?” He whispered to her softly as she started to breathe faster. It was something she never thought she would even think about doing. Especially not with the human hunter in her care. She was only meant to take care of Dean not fall into us charms like every other woman had in the past. Y/N nodded her head without saying a thing as she felt like everything inside of her was on fire. Dean placed a kiss on her lips gently as he sighs.

Pulling away, he sat up, grabbing his cock and slides it up and down her folds making her back arch as he spreads her slick on his cock. Dean then stop at her entrance and pushed the head of his dick inside as she bites her lower lips hard trying not to cry out at the slight pain of the stretching. Panting Dean looked at her. “Are you okay?” He asked her as she opened her eyes. “Yes, I am.” She managed to let the words out. With his tip inside he waited a little while and then he pushed again as Y/N groaned in pain of the stretching. She’s an angel and all, but she could feel the pain of the vessel. He stopped but she looked up at him. “Keep going.” She told him as he obliged.

Filling her up as she whimpered, he stretched her out no longer was she a virgin. Certain people weren’t going to be too pleased to find out that she’s no longer a virgin, but at the moment she didn’t care at all. Dean groaned as her tight pussy unintentionally clenched around his dick making his dick start to twitch because of how tight she was. Finally being all the way inside of her. He waited for her to adjust to his cock. He looked at the Angel and he wipes her tears as one made it out of her beautiful colored eyes

The Angel looked up at him and she nods her head as letting him know that it’s okay to move.

The hunter slowly rolled his hips making the Angel let out a loud gasp as he groaned softly. It really just wanted to take her on, knowing that she could handle him, but since she’s a virgin. He couldn’t just do that. Y/N kept on gasping, her leg shaking a bit as he went in and out of her in a slow pace. “Aah.” She lets out a moan. “Harder, please!” She told the man. He sat up and didn’t waist anymore time, grabbing the back of her legs pulling them up and started to slam into her at a fast pace. “Oh, Dean!!” She moans as she bounced along with his thrust. “Aah!!!” She grips the ripped sheets again making a fist. Dean looked down at where they connected and saw how his cock went in and out of her tight pussy as she fell apart. “Dean! Dean!! Aah!!” She could feel herself slipping into a bliss state as she lets the orgasm take over. Her body stiffened as she stopped breathing.

Dean moaned as he felt how her pussy walls were fluttering and he was so close to painting her walls with his own climax. “DeanDeanDean!!” She grasp her whole body shaking falling apart and Dean lets out a loud groan as his cock twitched as his cum sprouts inside of her. Shot after shot. Moan after moan. “Fuuck!” He grunted as the lights above him exploded as she squealed. Both of them calmed down. Y/N was so fucked out, so incredibly satisfied.

Dean pulled out making her gasp as he rolled to the side looking up at the ceiling catching his breath and trying to calm his heartbeat from ripping his chest open. He could still feel how his dick was twitching, but it was going soft. Y/N looked over at Dean about to say something when the door opened and Sam and castiel both entering the room still not noticing the angel and the big brother both naked on the bed.

Sam looked up and his eyes widen as he saw the Angel in a hurry looking for her clothes as Dean just laid there. Sam could see how flustered the Angel looked. “Uh.” Sam didn’t know what to say. The other Angel looked up, but he looked unbothered by seeing the Angel naked. He just looked at her flustered face and then looked at Dean covered in the ripped up sheets and the fact that there was no lights in the room. “Well, uh, wait outside.“ Sam told them both.

He pushed the other Angel out and left Dean and Y/N alone. “This is so embarrassing.” She told him.

Dean just laughed as he stood up and she looked at him and looked down at his now softened cock.

Her breath hitched as she got an actual view of it soft. Just like it was big when he was hard, he was big when he was soft. She didn’t know who she had survived that big thing, but she did.

Dean just smirked as he saw her looking a his dick. “Get dressed, sweetheart.” He said as he pulled up his boxer shorts, both of them getting dressed.

• ★ • ☆ • ★ • ☆ • ★ • ☆ • ★ • ☆ • ★ • ☆ • ★ •

Hope you enjoy! It took me a while to write this one. I didn’t know how to really end it, so I ended it with Sam and Castiel walking in on them completely naked with everything exposed to their eyes, I loved Sam’s reaction in the beginning of season 3 when he finds Dean doing it in a position I wish we knew. It was fucking hilarious and I love that scene, poor Sam

ANYWAYS! IF YOU HAVE ANY REQUESTS! SEND THEM OVER! I’ll try my best!

ENJOY! 😉🩶

[btsugarush]

GANGSTA | myg - 002

summary: rough sex, blood money, drugs, and gang related activity; four things you never predicted to experience in your simple life. not until you opened your mouth and caught his attention

pairings: gang leader!yoongi x f!reader

warnings: smut, gunplay, drugs, drug addiction, dark!yoongi, drug lord!yoongi, strong language, gang violence, blood and gore, murder, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behavior, abuse, cheating, angst, fluff, dubcon, implied noncon (not from yoongi but within his gang with his knowledge), 18+, minors dni

word count: 3K

author’s note: sorry if you asked to be on the taglist and didn’t make it. i’ve reached over 50 and couldn’t add anymore people. i’ll add more of you in the comments.

“I’m glad you’re okay after all of that,” Jungkook says on the other end of your phone; you had just spilled about the chaotic situation at Makoto as it was still weighing heavily on your mind. You couldn’t shake what Jimin had said about that Yoongi guy killing someone, though it could have just been a rumor. If he had actually taken someone’s life there would be no way they would allow him to walk the streets. He’d be too much of a flight risk.

“You should really be careful in the future. I know you like to stand up for people that can’t stand up for themselves, but Yoongi is bad news. There’s no telling what he would’ve done to you on the wrong day.”

“So you know him too?” You quiz. It seemed as though everyone knew who this guy was besides you. Maybe you don’t get out enough. Or maybe you were just good at staying away from trouble– until this afternoon at least. “I know of him, but not personally. He came to the shop once like five months ago with the same tall guy you were talking about. He told my coworker Si-Woo to step outside, and the next thing you know he's pistol-whipping him nearly to death. Rumor around the shop was that Si-Woo sold drugs for Yoongi, and owed him a lot of money.”

“Really?” Your mouth drops in shock. “What did Si-Woo say about it?”

“He never talked about it, ended up quitting the next day, and told us ‘not to get the police involved because it wouldn’t be of any help and it was all just a misunderstanding’.” He quoted. “Well, three days later Si-Woo’s body was found hacked to pieces and stuffed in a suitcase behind an alley on Gongdan lane.”

You heard about that case on the news some time ago, but had no clue that Jungkook knew the victim on an intimate level. It honestly made you shiver a bit. Imagine being the one to discover the body, and how gruesome the sight must have been. Stuff like that was common in slum areas though. Crime was especially high in Gongdan lane of all places, which is why you made sure to never venture in that area. “You think Yoongi had something to do with his murder?”

Jungkook scoffed. “The guy was viciously pistol-whipping him three days before his body was identified. I know he had something to do with it, but none of us were willing to risk going to the cops, so we just moved on like it didn’t happen.” Jungkook pauses for a moment before he speaks again. “You know… sometimes I think that maybe we could’ve saved his life if we did report the incident. Sometimes I still look at his station and feel like he’s there, tattooing.” He sighs heavily, like it was a great weight lifted from his shoulders to even tell you.

“You did what you felt was necessary. As fucked up as it may seem, you had to think about what was best for you.” You try your best to comfort him as he seemed to hold on to a lot of guilt regarding Si-Woo’s death, and reminiscing didn’t help. To have the man who could have potentially murdered your friend roaming free to terrorize all of Daegu couldn’t be a great feeling. You felt for him.

“I know. It’s just fucked to know he went through such a fucked up death. I don’t even want to imagine how scared he must’ve been,” you could hear clanking on the other end, as though he was biting down on his lip piercing. “I don’t even like the thought of knowing you tangled with them. He seems the type to hold grudges, and I don’t want you to get hurt. I’d lose my shit and go after him myself.”

You smile softly. “And I just know you’d kick his ass, my tough Kookie.” You both laugh at the nickname, which is one of many you had with the word ‘cookie’ in it. You could be so cheesy sometimes, but Jungkook loved everything about it. “You don’t have to worry though, apparently he likes me so maybe I’m in the clear?” You say unsuringly, still not understanding what he meant by it. It was very abrupt and cryptic. “Well whatever he meant, he’s out of luck because you’re spoken for.”

“As if he’d ever had a chance to begin with, I don’t think I’d mesh well with a criminal,” You chuckled. “I’m more into sweet, sensitive guys with tattoos and piercings.”

“Yeah? I think I know someone like that.” You could tell that he’s cheesing on the other end, which made you cheese. Everything always felt so natural with Jungkook. Him being your best friend in high school really played hand in hand with that. He was no different from a lover than he was a best friend. You two were absolutely the same and you loved it.

“You should probably get some sleep now, Angel. You don’t want to go to work exhausted, and I don’t wanna be blamed for you oversleeping again.” You simply roll your eyes in a playful manner, but agree nonetheless. You couldn’t chance being up so late, Mr. Kim was very strict about being on time.

“I guess you’re right,” you pout. “Okay, I’ll talk to you tomorrow when I get off work.”

“Okay, Angel. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Kookie cake.” You pull your phone from your ear, ending the call before you get up from your bed to switch off your bedroom lights. You crawl back onto the mattress, pulling your blanket over your body. Picking your phone back up again, you swipe through your apps until you locate the clock app. You set your alarm to wake you up at 12:00 PM on the dot. Just as you were about to place your phone down on your nightstand, something overcame you and you got the urge to search Yoongi’s name on Google.

When you type in his name, you are shocked to see so many results come up effortlessly. Several different mugshots from several different instances, all dating from when he was a teenager to one that seemed recent. You click on the one that looks most recent, letting it redirect you to the Daegu booking website.

Name: Min Yoongi

Age: 30

BOOKING DETAIL

Status: Released

Building: Public Safety Building

Area: Maledorm

Booking number: 575857

Booking date: 3/26/2023 11:56:00 pm

ARRESTS

Arrest number: 680071205

Arrest date: 3/26/2023 10:06:00 pm

Arresting agency: Daegu Police Department

Agency case number: 25-18056

ASSAULT WITH A DEADLY WEAPON

ATTEMPTED FIRST-DEGREE MURDER

POSSESSION WITH INTENT TO SELL

You read over the arrests in shock, completely dumbfounded by how a man of his caliber could be released from jail and not behind bars rotting for the rest of his life. He practically lived in jail anyway, why not just keep him there? You eye his mugshot, his intense stare giving you the chills. You didn’t need to wonder how the officer taking the photo must’ve felt considering you too have felt those daggers looking into the depths of your soul.

You pull your sight away from the photo, swiping away the page. You didn’t want to spend any more time on Yoongi. What happened at Makoto is behind you now. You just wanted to forget about the situation, and never run into Yoongi– or Joon for that matter, again. You plug your phone to your charger, sitting the device on your nightstand before you drift off to sleep.

“I was starting to think you weren’t going to show.” Mr. Kim looks surprised as you step into the kitchen, taking an apron from the hook on the wall. “Why wouldn’t I show up?” You quirk a brow, tying the black fabric around your waist. “Because I thought you would’ve been too scared to show your face after going toe to toe with the devil’s minions the other day.”

You click your tongue, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. You couldn’t believe people were still on that. Just as you walked in you overheard a customer whispering ‘she’s still alive?’ to her friend. It’s absurd at this point. “I think everyone is blowing what happened yesterday way out of proportion.” You shake your head, grabbing a notepad and pen from the pencil holder.

“I’d like to say we are, kid, but you got lucky. That Yoongi is no joke to be played with. The guy is a menace. Some people say the only reason he’s not in jail is because he has affiliations within the police unit, and I wouldn’t doubt if it’s true. Our system is corrupt.” The older man sighs. ‘Oh great, here he goes with politics and corruption again…’ you thought. You had better get out on the floor before you’re caught in a whirlwind of it.

You leave him to discuss the topic with himself as you step out onto the floor, and start taking customer orders. “Hey, you’re that crazy girl from yesterday.” A man says as you approach his table. You frown, already knowing what he was referring to, so you avoid it at all cost. “What can I get you?” You redirect the conversation.

“Oh! Uhhh,” he picks up the menu from his table, skimming through it. “I’ll have the Jajangmyeon.” He answers quickly. You scribble down his order. “Anything to drink?” You ask. “Ginseng tea, thank you.” He places the menu back on the table. You nod, taking down his drink. “Okay, I’ll be right back with that tea.” You smile kindly before heading back to the kitchen. You rip the orders from the notepad, clipping them to the ticket holder.

“Hey, kid. We’ve got a delivery order for dumplings.” Mr. Kim informs you as you’re preparing tea for the customer. The older gentleman approaches you, the order already made and secured in a brown bag. You take the bag from him, looking at the order ticket attached to it.

As you read over the address on the ticket, your eyes practically bulge out of your skull. ‘2357 Gongdan Lane’. “Um… Mr. Kim, this location is in the slums of Daegu.” You look at him with concern. “I know.” The man simply nods, taking the tickets you set from the holder. “Yeah, well, I can’t go to Gongdan lane. It’s dangerous, especially for me as a woman.”

“Look kid, I’m sorry. If Jimin was here I’d have him go but he doesn’t work on Saturdays and you’re my only worker.”

“Exactly. I’m the only worker, you need me to be at the shop taking orders.” You knew that wasn’t going to go over as it was a slow day, and there were hardly any customers in the shop to begin with. “I can handle the customers and cook the ramen until you get back.”

You couldn’t believe this. Just as you had prided yourself in never stepping foot in Gongdan, here was this old dirty bastard making you go. On top of that, the restaurant didn’t even own a company car for deliveries so you had to ride a bike. You read over the ticket again, noticing that there wasn’t even a name on the order. “There’s no name on the order, this could be a trick that ends with me getting robbed for free food.”

“All this time wasted on talking about it could be used on getting the delivery done. Stop complaining and do what you’re paid to do. The faster you get it done, the faster you can come back.”

You wanted to stomp your foot like a child and continue to protest, but you couldn’t risk your job by not listening so you did the only sensible thing you could do. Your job. You grab a plastic bag, shoving the brown one inside of it before leaving through the back exit in the kitchen. You spot the red delivery bike lying on the ground, and pick it up, looping the plastic bag around the bike handle.

As you mount the bicycle, you pull out your phone to use your GPS. The ride was about 12 minutes away. If you ride fast you could undoubtedly make it at least an 8 minute ride. You kick back the breaks and set off on your journey. During the ride as you make it into the slum area, you could truly see the separation from Sangsu-dong to Gongdan lane. The sidewalks were cracked and unpaved, the buildings looked more rundown, and homeless people laid out in sleeping bags.

You got an uneasy feeling as you noticed a group of men smoking weed on a corner and intensely watching you go by. You probably stood out like a sore thumb, riding through Daegu’s slummiest on a red bike. You swallowed the lump in your throat, keeping your eyes forward as you paid them no mind. As you continue going, you notice the streets become more isolated. Your GPS directs you to turn, which you follow only to come upon a big warehouse that looked abandoned. ‘You’ve arrived’, your GPS says. You furrow your brows, confusion written over your face.

“Stupid thing must’ve sent me to the wrong location.” You grab the bag of dumplings from the bike handle, circling around the warehouse just in case you were mistaken. You find a door on the other end, cameras surrounding it like it was a government building. You inspect the door, seeing that there was a red button of some sort on it.

You scope the perimeter, making sure no one was trying to sneak attack you. The whole thing seemed completely sketchy. You take a deep breath before pressing down on the button, a loud buzz coming from it. You take a step back, waiting for someone to come open the door. You stood there for about two minutes, not wanting to wait around any longer. You knew this was a scam. You should’ve just gone home and pretended like you delivered the food. It would’ve saved you the trouble. As you turn to walk back to the bike, the door suddenly opens with a loud creaking sound.

You direct your attention back to the door, locking eyes with an individual that you dreaded to ever see again. “Oh my god… i-it’s you…” you stutter in shock, seeing Yoongi stand in the doorway with a smirk plastered on his face. “Wonder Woman, we meet again.”

You’re silent, not really saying a word as you feel too stunned to speak. “You got something for me, sweetheart?” His eyes darted to the bag in your hand. You snap from your fearful trance, remembering why you were there in the first place. “Uh… yeah. Here’s your order.” You stretch out your arm to hand him the bag, not wanting to come any closer. The raven reaches forward, his hand brushing yours as he takes the bag from you. You quickly turn away, rushing back over to your bike.

“Hey, I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself yesterday.” He says, following behind you. “I already know who you are.” You mumble as you mount the red two wheeler. “Really? You didn’t seem to know who I was yesterday. If you did, you wouldn’t have shot your pretty mouth off like that,”

He grabs the handles of your bike, preventing you from leaving. “You look scared. Guess my reputation precedes me.” He says almost too proudly. “Not in a way that a decent human being should want it to, but I guess decency isn’t what you’re aiming for.” you say slickly, which causes the raven to smile. “There goes that smart mouth again,” he ran his tongue over his bottom lip, giving you the same predatory stare from yesterday. “Normally I wouldn’t tolerate anyone getting slick at the mouth with me, but from you it’s kind of a turn on.”

You scowl, ignoring his sexual advance. “Can you let go of my bike? I need to get back to work.”

“How about you let me drive you?” he offers, but you quickly decline. You’d be an idiot to get in the car with a proclaimed murderer. “I’ll take my chances on the bike, thank you.” The raven lets go of the handles, taking a step back to allow you to be on your way. “Be my guest, sweetheart.”

You kick back the break, not wanting to waste any more of your time in Gongdan speaking to this thug. You back away from him, turning the bike to ride down the path you came. “I hope to see you again, Y/N.” He calls out. You come to an abrupt stop, looking back at the raven. How did he know your name? “I don’t remember telling you my name.”

“You didn’t need to. I have my sources and connections, Princess. Whatever I need or want, I get.”

You cringe at the nickname ‘princess’. Jungkook doesn’t even call you that, with all the cheesy nicknames he does use. Him knowing your name suddenly made you question how coincidental this whole encounter was. You were starting to wonder how much about you he knew. As if he read your mind, he starts to read you like an autobiography. “You were born in Busan and raised right here in Daegu, you’re an ex nursing student, an only child, both your parents passed away in a tragic car accident, your best friend is Sang Mina, and your boyfriend is… Jeon Jungkook? Am I right?”

Your heart pounds against your chest as he spoke information that only people close to you would know. You felt sick, creeped out even, but you tried not to display that on your face. “So, I guess you know my work schedule then. You set this little encounter up knowing that I was the only worker today, didn’t you?” the raven simply shrugged like he couldn’t answer whether that was true or not, but you knew that it was. “I don’t know what your deal is, but just stay away from me, okay?”

Yoongi sneered, as he turned on his heels, heading back to the door from once he came. The raven makes sure he gets the last word though.

“I can’t make you any promises, sweetheart. Like I said, whatever I want, I get.”

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[giannan04]

Hi, can you please do a fluff featuring Han Jisung x Chubby Fem. Reader? Reader feels insecure about her body so Han makes her feel loved🥰

Of course! I’m on the chubbier side myself so I can definitely relate. I hope you like it🥹💕

You were lounging in your room, boredom settling in as the rain tapped softly against your window. The day had been long, and you found yourself caught in a cycle of self-doubt. You've been feeling insecure for the past few months. It started ever since you went with your boyfriend, Jisung, on his band's world tour. Stays, the group's fandom, were so beautiful, and you began to compare yourself to them. You even started to wonder why Jisung chose you as his girlfriend out of all the pretty girls he could have chosen.

The sound of the doorbell interrupted your thoughts, and you sluggishly got up to answer it. As you opened the door, you saw a small package lying on the welcome mat. Your heart fluttered—this was the delivery you'd been waiting for. You had ordered a bunch of new clothes online, hoping that the clothes would make you feel better about yourself. Maybe, just maybe, this new clothing would be the change you needed.

You carried the package inside, feeling excited as you carefully opened it. Inside were a few new items you had picked out: a crop top, some jeans, and a dress. You decided to try them on, hoping that the new styles might put your insecurities to rest.

First, you slipped into the crop top. It was a sexy black halter top. You smiled, anticipating how sexy you were going to look. However, as you looked in the mirror, your excitement quickly turned to disappointment. The top fit tightly, drawing attention to your stomach. Also, the top was cut way too short. You knew it was a crop top, but this one revealed too much belly. Your stretch marks, which you had been trying to ignore for as long as you could remember, seemed more noticeable than ever. The sight of the unsightly lines on your stomach brought tears to your eyes as you traced them with your fingers. You tugged at the fabric of the top, hoping it would hide the things you felt insecure about, but it only made them more visible. Sighing heavily, you took the top off and tossed it aside.

Next were the jeans. You squeezed into them, but they felt constricting, especially around your thighs. The way they clung to you seemed to accentuate the very areas you were self-conscious about. You stared at your reflection, feeling a pang of frustration as the jeans pulled and creased in all the wrong places. They made your thighs look even bigger than usual. You quickly removed them, adding them to the growing pile of discarded clothes.

Finally, you tried on the dress. It was a beautiful light pink sundress, but it did nothing to make you feel better. It hugged your curves in ways that made you uncomfortable, highlighting the acne on your chest and shoulders as it did so. Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at yourself in the mirror, feeling overwhelmed and disgusted by the sight. You had hoped these clothes would make you feel better, but they only magnified your insecurities. You felt worse than ever, your self-esteem plummeting.

Feeling defeated, you threw the clothes back into the box and shut it with a snap. You were going to return these clothes as soon as possible. You sat back on your bed, scrolling through social media for a distraction. But as you flicked through Instagram, the flawless images of influencers and models with perfect skin and slim bodies only intensified your insecurity. The comparisons were relentless, and you couldn't shake the thought that Jisung, your boyfriend, might feel the same way. Did he wish he were with someone who looked more like those models? Was he ashamed of you? The idea kept picking at you, deepening your self-doubt. You threw your phone on the ground and buried yourself in your covers, bawling. You weren't sure how long you'd been crying, but it must've been a while as you heard Jisung walking in the front door. He always left the studio late.

"Y/n? I'm home," he called. You stayed silent. You were afraid that if you opened your mouth, he would be able to hear that you had been crying.

Jisung kept calling your name until he reached the bedroom. "Hi, babe," he smiled when he saw you, running over to give you a kiss, which you returned half-heartedly.

Jisung knew something was wrong. He was always able to sense when you were upset. He looked at your face, immediately noticing your wet cheeks. It was obvious to him that you'd been crying. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

You opened your mouth to say something, but you found yourself sobbing uncontrollably. "I'm not enough," you cried. "You deserve someone prettier, someone skinnier. Why did you choose me out of all the girls you could have had?" You placed your hands in your face, sobbing.

Jisung's expression softened with sadness as he reached out to gently cup your face. "Listen to me," he said, his voice tender. "You are more than enough. You're beautiful just the way you are, and I love every part of you." The warmth of Jisung's hands on your face didn't even make you feel better. You shook your head, not believing him.

You tried to turn away, but Jisung held your gaze firmly. He tightened his grip on your face only slightly. His gaze was gentle and loving. "When I look at you," he continued, "I see your beautiful curves, the beautiful print of your stretch marks, and the unique features that make you who you are. I adore your thick thighs because they're part of what makes you uniquely you. They're also so sexy to me, and I love the way they feel in my hands when I squeeze them, and how soft they are when I lay in your lap. I cherish your stomach and the way you carry yourself. Your acne, your stretch marks—they're part of your beauty. They're not flaws; they're what make you special to me." Jisung had started caressing your body as he told you this. You didn't notice, but you started smiling. This was one of the many reasons why you loved Jisung; he always knew how to make you feel better.

He pulled you into a warm embrace, his touch reassuring. "You don't have to change a thing. I love you just as you are, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Your imperfections are part of what makes you beautiful. You'll always be the most beautiful woman in the world to me."

As he held you close, his words began to soothe you. Jisung's words were a gentle reminder that your worth wasn't defined by your appearance or by what you saw online. It was defined by the love and acceptance you shared with him.

In his arms, with his heartfelt words still running through your mind, you started to believe that maybe, just maybe, you were enough.

Jisung looked at you and smirked. "Now, get undressed so I can show you how beautiful you are to me."

[mrsnancywheeler]

the lakes (8) // finnick odair x f. reader

summary: it's supposed to be over, you and Finnick are supposed to spend the rest of your lives helping each other heal. living as peacefully as possible, but the the third quarter quell throws a wrench in your domestic bliss.

previous part / next part

prequel

4.6k words

warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, manipulation of someone's feelings, drinking away problems, mental illness, mentions of suicidal ideations, savior complex Finnick and reader, codependent relationship, allusions to trafficking and forced sexualization of body, mentions of death/violence happening to children, unedited, no use of y/n, arguments, self-hate, self-doubt, a love triangle that really isn't a love triangle

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

“Oh, you look so beautiful." Cambrie was crying, actually crying. Standing behind you in the mirror, staring the the gorgeous dress she'd designed. You wanted to cry too because even if she'd always treated you more like a doll than a living, breathing person it did hurt to know you'd never see her familiar presence again. 

“You did an amazing job, Cambrie, it reminds me of home." Truthfully the dresses shimmery deep blue did make you think of the waters of home and the seaweed and pearl based jewelry was a nice touch. Of course it was a too low cut for your liking and regardless of the colors would be completely translucent if the light hit it right, it was stunning.

“You really think so?" Her eyes were full of tears and you nodded your head turning to hug her.

“Yes, thank you." It pained you too think about how even if she never treated you fully human she would still be deeply hurt by your death. Her favorite muse.

“I don't know who I'm going to model my designs off of anymore, unless you come back or course, but you make it so easy." Of course she had ulterior motives, but it was somewhat amusing to hear her problems when yours were so much more lethal. She pulled away from you, “I wanted to go more bridal, but President Snow wanted Katniss wearing her wedding dress, so we're going to go for the more subtle route.”

It wasn't subtle in the slightest, a similarly shimmering, translucent veil was in your hair although not covering your face and adorned with sea thrift. Your arms had bouquet-like bracelets of yarrow, lavender, and sea oats from your shoulders down to your wrists. Then there were the sandals covered in pearls and seashells, if it hadn't been purposefully forced to be more sensual you would have genuinely loved it. More of a “natural" makeup look had been preferred to create the essence of more of a sweet mermaid than a sultry, seductive siren.

Suddenly you could feel the tears threatening to pour over, “I wish you would have been able to just design my wedding dress with normal circumstances. Thank you for this.” 

"Oh you're such a sweetheart, I can't fathom how they could do this again to such a sweet girl. Everyone loves you, there's so much outrage. You'll certainly have lots of sponsors.” She cupped your face, shaking her head sadly. "We'd best be on our way.” She sighed, leading you out of the room for the last time.

There all the tributes stood waiting in their line, Katniss was already waiting in her wedding gown. She caught you staring at the dress, "Snow made me wear it.” 

"Make him pay for it.” Johanna remarked ok the side, in another one of the tree related get ups her designer has such an attachment too. She looked you up and down,"Even in death they just can't leave you alone?” It was true, you were basically naked if people were staring at the way the colors caught the light.

“Just making sure to squeeze out every last drop before I go." One last glance at the body they'd controlled before you took it back forever. Johanna scoffed.

“Make him pay for that too." You took your place in the line next to Finnick, whose shirt was heavily unbuttoned.

“Is this our own wedding get-up?" He asked, arm sliding around your waist. You hummed a yes as you pecked at his lips.

“Do you like it?" You asked, hand playing with his sleeve.

“You look stunning. Do you like it, would it be your top contender when I finally get you that real dress?" He asked, a loving grin adorning his face. 

“Maybe, if it wasn't so see-through. Reminds me of home though.” Finnick nodded in agreement.

“Look like you came straight from the moonlit waters, angel." You rested into his warm arms which were a godsend when the fabric did even less to protect you from the chill in the air. Cashmere and Gloss both proclaimed how difficult it would be to let go of their friends from the Capitol. How they were all like brothers and sisters to them, trying to further manipulate the audience's feelings into somehow getting them to prevent the games. Snow would never let that happen, but taking a shot at it couldn't hurt. Enobaria and Brutus both acted like it was a normal game, with just as much intensity as they had the first round. Wiress was rambling on and on, sometimes coherently, but the audience simply laughed like it were some huge joke about how unstable she was. Beetee’s rationalization took hold, talking about all he had done, all he'd offered to the Capitol, and questioned how legal this type of Quarter Quell was, couldn't it just be unwritten since it would have such a negative effect? Finnick rubbed circles on your arm as you nervously tapped your foot. “You've got this, my love." He reassured you as you were lead to wait off stage.

“Our very own Capitol Princess!” Caesar Flickerman’s voice blared and you put on your most charming smile to enter as he said your name. Waving at the audience, blowing kisses. The cheering soon calmed down and he turned to look at you, “Now, I think we're all a little bit upset with you and your husband. Aren't we?" The audience gave out enthusiastics agreements. 

“I'm sorry!" You giggled, breathily. “We didn't want to take away attention from the star-crossed lovers."

“Oh we have enough love for the both of you!" The audience cheered in agreement.

You looked out at the crowd, “And we love you! It breaks my heart to know we won't get to share our journey with you." The tears that wanted to spill about other things you willed to appear now.

“So a secret marriage? How did that come about?" Caesar asked after the ooh’s and aww’s had quieted.

“We just knew that if we were going to die in the arena, we needed to be one with each other, and the waters." The first tears began to roll, “Now that we know we can't ever again have those moments. Especially to share them all with you." You could vaguely see tears on obscured faces and you knew it was working. "We'd been quietly planning how we'd get engaged in front of all of you, but when the Quarter Quell announcement came it just couldn't wait. So now we can't do the dress, and the wedding, and the house decorating, and the kids with all of you.” Wiping away the tears falling down.

"We'll certainly mourn that just as much, won't we?” The crowd boomed with agreement and cries. "One more thing, last time you were here you were also going into the arena with a romance, now it's happening all over again, does that add to the emotions we’re feeling tonight? The idea that if you win you'll have lost another love?”

Your tears glistened under the lights as you nodded, "All I have to say about that Caesar is that I have no intentions of leaving that arena if I can't be with him. We are one and I couldn't bear to live my life without knowing I'd see him everyday. This hurts so bad because I know it'll be my last time seeing all of your kind faces.” By now the audience was sobbing and suddenly the tears began feeling real, creeping up on you.

Caesar nodded solemnly, “And we'll be sorry to see you go. Ever romantic, our Capitol Princess!" Tears were blinding you and it was difficult to find your way to the pedestals where the other tributes were standing. Suddenly your face was being held and honey tasting lips were on yours, Finnick. You could hear the audience cooing and crying, he wiped the tears once he pulled away and led you to where you needed to stand.

"Sorry, Ceaser I couldn't help myself." His warm voice filled the room, his gorgeous smile being zoomed in on by the cameras.

“Oh no worries! Making ever the entrance, Capitol darling Finnick Odair!" The audience let out a resounding cheer for him. “Finnick, can I be honest?"

“Of course, Caesar." That gorgeous, sunshine smile rested on his face and it was no wonder it left the Capitol citizens swooning for more.

“I don't know what we're going to do if you don't come back. Right?” The audience loudly agreed and Finnick chuckled. "I mean you've been such a favorite, both of you have, and the world will not be the same without it.” How ironic, if it would be so painful then they really should make more of an effort to put a stop to it, but they wouldn't.

"I'm very sorry about that Ceaser, but my hands are tied. If we could, we would spend every moment with all of you, we're so grateful for your love.” A bold-faced lie, every party to keep up appearances, each call from the Capitol was far more draining then just spending a peaceful day together which could be endless.

“We wish you could too. Being married in the arena, how's that going to work? I mean we've heard from her that there's no grand plan for her to come back, but I assume as the husband you might have something to say about that?" This elicited a laugh from the audience and Finnick nodded.

“Well certainly, Caesar, what kind of husband would I be if I let her have her way in that? I will say, my love, you have my heart for all eternity, and if I die in that arena, my last thought will be of your lips.” You were sick, honestly nauseated with grief. This was so unfair, you'd tried not to think about it, but in just over 12 hours you'd be forced back into the arena and risk losing each other.

"We wish you the best luck with that." People were weeping in the audience and Finnick's face had become so sober that it was jarring how naturally it fell back into an easy smile. “That's Finnick Odair, Capitol darling." Soon he was right beside you on the podium, kissing you again for the audience to be giddy with joy, but also hearts ruptured for the lovers torn apart for only the first time of the night. You could taste your salty tears mixing with the honeycomb of his lips before he pulled away, giving another grin to the audience.

His hand stayed intertwined with yours, but something wasn't quite right about his demeanor. Even if physically he kept up the same presence as always you could feel the shift in his aura, in his touch. He was upset, but not in the way you were. You couldn't stop yourself from continually glancing over at him, silently trying to get his attention so you could see what was wrong. Squeezing his hand with yours to try and get a response when he finally did meet your eyes it hit you that the look was disappointment, dread and when you shot a quizzical look back he looked like he was going to cry as he put his focus back on the stage.

You were stuck in your own head no, had it been something you said? Did? It was all for the performance which he had to know. Your foot was tapping and you were zoning out of the interviews until all the sudden the audience was shrieking. Katniss’ wedding dress disappeared in clouds of black smoke and when they disappeared the dress had transformed. Upon lifting her arms you could see what it was, a mockingjay. A public symbol of the rebellion, Caesar was trying to cover, but the cameras already would have caught it.

One more interview before the night would be over and you'd wait to be shipped back off to the arena where certain death awaited you. Charming Peeta insisted that he and Katniss too had a secret wedding to have the traditions of District 12. The audience ate each crumb he gave right out of his hands when suddenly he made the world stop, “If it weren't for the baby." Shock, outrage filled the room. All of these people who'd been fine watching children fight to the death and suffer after they won for personal entertainment couldn't stand the fact that Katniss could be pregnant. The irony of it all, how smart Peeta had been on his feet made it hard for you to suppress the smile. As Caesar desperately tried to do damage control once again you noticed how everyone of the tribute's hands began linking, placing your free hand in Beetee’s who bobbed his head before holding Wiress’. Hands joined, you lifted them above your head increasing the audience's screams and Caesar was yelling for lights to be turned off, all this did was illuminate your figures in the low lights. 

Then you were being filed off of the pedestals and to the hallway. You instantly met eyes with Haymitch, holding some glass filled with some type of drink. You didn't say a word to him before taking it from his hand to take a drink. 

“Dealing with pre-game jitters with alcohol really seems like a great idea." He said sardonically, scoffing. He didn't try and grab the drink back though even when you scowled at him. Right when you'd taken another drink of the bubbly liquid it was Finnick who took the drink from your hand, handing it back to Haymitch. "What? Trouble in paradise?” He took a drink too.

“Just need you to be rational instead of hungover in the morning.” Finnick muttered, he was angry at something, that much was obvious. 

Haymitch took something off of his wrist and handed it to Finnick, “Show her this and she'll realize I gave it to you, since she won't ally with you of her own accord." It was a gold bangle and Finnick nodded as he slid it on his wrist. They were whispering something to each other and you pulled away to an Avox holding a tray of more bubbly drinks nearby. Grabbing one you nodded a thank you, swallowing it down as fast as you could before Finnick had grabbed it again, looking at you sternly.

“I'm not going to be hungover.” You rolled your eyes and he handed the second, nearly empty glass to Haymitch as well.

"Well you don't exactly make great decisions for yourself.” You rolled your eyes at him as he ran his fingers through his curls.

"What's your problem? I made them sympathetic, I did what I was supposed to!” You couldn't fathom why that would upset him, it was a performance and he did the same thing.

"You have a death wish, that's the problem, I'm not letting you die for me!” You stared into his gorgeous sea-green eyes and scoffed before turning around to walk straight back to your floor.

"Thank you, Haymitch.” You heard Finnick say before he was following you to the elevator.

"You're really gonna argue with me about what I said in the interview right before we head back into the arena?" You pressed the cold buttons before crossing your arms, refusing to look at him.

“When this started I begged you to talk to me, to stop punishing yourself for whatever you did six years ago to survive, but you still are. You didn't say anything until right before we headed back into the arena, informing the world all about how you plan to die in there.” The elevator opened and he stepped in as you followed.

“I don't plan too, I just expect it. I'm not going to keep going if you die."

“Yes, you are, Annie needs you, Mags needs you." He pointed to the bangle quickly to put off anyone who could be listening in, “Needs you. This insistence that you're going to die is ridiculous, angel, I'm not going to let you.”

             𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You stood backstage with Conway, having to consciously force your leg to stay still, to not keep tapping as you waited to do on stage. The air was chilly which wasn't helped by the thin material of your dress, it's low-cut, or the huge slit in it's side at least Conway got to be in a suit. Your eyes were glued to the screen where the male tribute from District 3 had just begun his interview.

“Now, how old are you?" Caesar asked, the boy was small, he couldn't be that old, it looked like the seat was going to swallow him whole.

“Thirteen." His voice was shaky and your ears started ringing. How were you supposed to do this, that was a child, a tiny kid whose family was sitting back home watching their baby boy be shipped off to certain death. You could feel the tears approaching and your breathing getting more shallow. Cold hands were suddenly on yours.

“Are you okay?" Conway asked, as you began to hyperventilate.

“I can't do this." You whispered out as the first tears began falling, “That's a little boy, I can't-"

“I get it." Conway reassured, his big, brown eyes trying to comfort you. “You've got this though, you can't do anything about him being here, but you can make a good impression with the audience. We have to focus on that no matter how screwed up you feel like it is. Go up there and do what you have to do.” What you have to do, charm them, be sweet, and pretty, but a little mysterious. Finnick had all types of angles for you. You gave a final look back at Conway who tried to give a reassuring smile, but you could tell he was bothered too. Caesar's booming voice called your name and you stepped out into the bright lights of the stage. Beaming for the audience, waving, giggling at their cheers.

“I have to say, everyone was blown away with how charming you seemed at the tribute parade, but then that training score came out. How did you do that?" Caesar asked as the two of you sat down, the audience murmuring in agreement. 

“Well, Caesar, a lady has to have some secrets for herself." You made your laugh airy and winked at the laughing audience. “I have to save some things for the show, don't I?"

Caesar nodded, laughing along. "Of course! You know when I saw your face at the reaping I couldn't help but feel like I recognized you from somewhere, did anyone else feel that way?” The audience cheered out agreements and your stomach knotted. What was he talking about? You certainly didn't know how they knew you. "I mean this was literally keeping me up at night.”

You leaned forward, the dress putting a little too much on display, but you persisted. "Well do tell.”

"Months ago we were doing a catch up piece of Finnick Odair and you were in some of it, very briefly, but you were.” The audience was wild, they adored Finnick and loved any type of connection. Your stomach clenched, how were you supposed to seem in love with Conway when this was being chosen for you.

You blushed, “Oh yes, Caesar! I didn't imagine anyone would remember that!" 

"Well we did and we love it!” He proclaimed and the audience agreed. "So tell me, just between us-” The audience laughed and you did too. "Are you and a certain victor pining for your return to tell us all some very exciting news?” You shook your head slowly, trying not to look as embarrassed as you felt. “No? I don't believe that, look at you, charming and obviously extremely talented. There was definitely something going on when that program came out, not anymore?" Time was running out and this was not going the way you planned.

So new plan, “No, Ceasar.” Your voice was light and sounded shaky on purpose. You shook your head.

"Oh, so this is a tale of heartbreak?” He asked and the audience cooed. "Well if you win, he'll have to take you back won't he? I'm sure we won't let up until he does!” He laughed and the crowd seemed to agree with him. 

“I'm afraid it's much more complicated than that." You smoothed out your dress even if it needed no smoothing.

"Oh! Is there another man as well, we live for the drama!” You nodded slowly.

"Yes and I'm afraid winning won't help me in either case.” You were alluding and there was only a few seconds left. Caesar stood up.

"Well now you have to win this thing, so we can all know about this tale of romance. It's going to be keeping me on the edge of my seat!" 

“And I'd love to share it with all of you." You let a few tears fall as you blew a kiss out to the audience who adored it. The two of you bowed as you walked off the stage. Heart pounding rapidly as you were escorted out to the hall where Finnick, Ondine, and your designer Cambrie stood.

“Oh you looked divine!" Cambrie announced, hands on your shoulders. “All of my friends are going to want to sponsor you, I'm certain you'll be the talk of Panem, leaving us on a cliffhanger like that!" She was basically shrieking in joy when she got distracted by some hors d'oeuvres an Avox was holding.

You buried your head in your hands as Finnick approached, “I didn't know they were going to side swipe you like that. It could be good for your image though." You were now hyper aware of the eyes on the both of you even if technically he was your mentor just giving you advice.

“Could be bad for that, unless he picked up what I was putting down." You pointed at the screen where Conway sat with Caesar.

“So Conway, I'm sure all of us were very impressed by your training score, a big, strong man like you, what's your strategy?" Caesar asked and the audience made comments under their breath, acting as if they were also part of the conversation. 

“Let's just say I know what I'm up against and am confident in the people I've decided to trust." Looking at him made you see flashes of your childhood, of him crabbing with your family as kids, hair billowing in the wind as he made sure you didn't slip on the water covering the boat’s deck.

Caesar nodded, “Well alright, making us wait for tomorrow as well?"

Conway smiled that kind, loving smile he gave everyone, “I guess you could say that.”

"Now everyone is dying to know if you have a special girl back home, I mean you’re a good looking guy and even girls in the Capitol are swooning.”

"Well, it's a lot more complicated than that, Caesar.” Conway and his boyish charm was sure to bring in more sponsors as well. Caesar took a second, looking at Conway and the audience with as much drama as he could, like he was slowly connecting the dots.

“You're not saying what I think you're saying are you?" He asked and the crowd screamed in agreement, eating it up.

Conway adjusted his shirt collar, “Regretfully, I might be."

“Well isn't this straight out of a fairytale." A dark, corrupted one if that. “That sure complicates things doesn't it?"

Conway nodded, “Yes."

“You're certainly going to be keeping all of us on our toes, a love triangle. Well I certainly wish you the best of luck in your endeavors." Caesar laughed. What luck? Only one ‘choice’ would be alive if you won.

“Thank you, Caesar. All I can say is even if it's doomed, hopefully she doesn't pick the one who already broke her heart.” Even if it wasn't meant that way to you it felt threatening, hopefully you didn't or he'd be forced to kill you? You honestly had no idea what the best outcome was, maybe him asking you to take care of his family before sacrificing himself? But now you were overtly aware that you not only had him observing you, but all of Panem desperately wanting to know where you would land. 

            𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You were laying on the bed, hands covering your face as Finnick went on and on about how self-destructive you were. Maybe he was right, but you didn't see why it mattered. It's not like you were going to do anything intentional, you'd just do what you could to get Katniss out of the arena alive and be with Finnick.

“How are we supposed to do this if you don't believe you can survive?” He was pacing the room,"The moment that gong rings you need to come find me, I need my eyes on you.”

"I will, Finnick! But you need to focus on other things too.” You defended, sighing.

"How am I supposed to do that when the person I love the most is a danger to herself?” He stopped moving for a moment to stare at you, even with your face hidden in your hands you could feel his eyes burning into you.

You finally moved your hands,"I'm not! I just want to go to sleep, Finnick, can't we just rest?"

“We can sleep when I can rest well knowing you're not going to make impulsive decisions or give up if I get hurt. Don't be dependent on my life, angel, you deserve to live." You stood up only to walk to the open bathroom door and begin removing your makeup. 

“I don't know what you want me to say, Finnick." He followed you and stood behind you watching you in the mirror. You were passive to his pleas, you couldn't understand why it mattered so much to him. If he died it's not like he would know if you did too and if he lived there were plenty of other women who would be glad to comfort him, plus the revolution would keep him distracted.

There was a pause as you continued with your routine before he removed the bottle from your hands and turned you to face him, he'd always been much stronger than you and there was no use trying to release yourself. 

“That your life matters to you just as much as it does to me and I want you to believe it when you say it."

You sighed, “Finnick I will do whatever you tell me to do, I'll stay right by your side if you want me too. All I want is to be with you, that's all that matters to me."

He closed his eyes, exhaling shakily, “I can't believe I let us get so codependent." You watched a tear make its way down his cheek and felt you swarmed with guilt. “I can't make this better overnight no matter how badly I want to, but I do want you by me every second in that arena. Don't you dare go sacrificing yourself for someone, anyone. Angel, I can't live without you either.” His warm arms brought you to him, caught in his embrace as the guilt overwhelmed the numbness. "We're both getting out of there alive, no matter what it takes.” He whispered and although your brain told you not to believe him, to accept your fate you would trust him to the grave so you nodded your head into his shoulder. 

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

thank you so much for reading and all the support I've been receiving, I love you all so much and am glad you're enjoying my little thoughts. next chapter we can finally get into the games of it all, not gonna like this chapter was a lot of fun to write but took forever because I was having too many thoughts. if you enjoyed it feedback, likes, reblogs, and comments are all super appreciated. my inbox is always open! I love you all, thank you again! 💋

taglist: @imaegonstargaryenswife0 @avoxrising @artsyaquarium @jennaaaaaaaaaaaa @secretsicanthideanymore @darlingsoulbeautfulthoughts @thatonegayloser616 @kybermp3 @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @ravensinthedaylight @innercreationflower @uhnanix @aesthetic0cherryblossom @yourdailymemedelivery @ang3lflor @maxinehufflepuffprincess @prettybiching @miserablebl00d

[cinnamonest]

how do you think goro would feel about a childhood friend!darling?

Goro Akechi has a lot of hate in that heart of his, but other than the man he hates more than anything, there are two other things he hates the most: lack of control, and vulnerability.

He needs control over situations, over people, and when he can manage it, over the course of fate itself. The Metaverse and years of hard effort into a public persona he wears so flawlessly have granted him the sort of control he desires, for the most part.

He hates to be vulnerable, hates his own weaknesses, hates them being perceived by others.

You present both.

It’s been a long time since you’ve seen him. Really, up until the point you saw his name on screen one day, you admittedly remembered him as ‘that sad boy at school I was nice to when we were little,’ and your memories of him had all but faded into the background of your life, never thinking of him much after that until he pops back into your life.

At first, you think it can’t be the same person, surely. At least until the familiar — albeit aged a bit older than in your memories — face comes on the screen. It feels quite surreal. A drastic shift from the little boy you remember angrily sulking on the playground all by himself away from the other kids, whom you admittedly talked to mostly out of pity. Still, you felt like you bonded in the end, before he got whisked away when the relatives fostering him decided to dump him off onto someone else, thus forcing him to transfer schools.

You’re happy for him. He looks very happy now, you think, his situation must have improved. He’s even living in the city now apparently, just like you.

The positive coincidences stack atop each other when you actually get to see him.

Completely by chance, not seeking him out or anything, you just so happen to be walking home on an uncrowded street, and he just so happened to be coming back from a hit, now as normalized and mundane to him as any other work-related task — and you just so happen to meet right as you each turn a corner, perfectly scenic, as if ordained by fate.

And while Goro Akechi has spent a very long time by now perfecting the art of composure, what he sees takes him so far aback that even he lets the mask momentarily slip — completely freezing up, slack-jawed and stiff with shock and disbelief. There’s a moment where only silence passes, he looks at you like he’s seeing a ghost, an expression almost like horror managing to escape his automatic efforts to keep a straight face.

You don’t notice that part. You’re too caught up in the surprise and elation, gasping and smiling and rambling on about what a coincidence it is, and—

Do you remember me…?

The shock only lasts a split second. The composure is back, the mask pushed back into place, and with practiced mastery of charm, he bounces back near instantly.

Even in spite of the sudden onslaught of emotions and memories that feels like his very soul is being stabbed at, he manages to keep up the usual Prince-Charming act of his. Says the lines expected of him, so standard you could probably guess them before they come out of his mouth — wow, long time no see, what a coincidence, it’s good to see you, how have you been, all the generic phrases and lines one should say, just like the ones you provide in return. A back-and-forth dialogue predetermined by conventions and standards of normalcy and expectation as composed by a given social framework in which all humans live. You do mention that you’ve seen him on TV — for some reason, it makes his stomach feel like its twisting, but he gives you a humble-sounding reply all the same.

All as his heart pounds so heavily it feels like it’s going to burst though is chest. Adrenaline surges thought his veins and every nerve on his body feels like it’s frozen over, an ice-cold chill that runs through his blood, a ringing in his ears, even a lightheadedness that begins to take hold, his entire body reacting in shock and panic.

You fetch a piece of paper from your bag, scribble something down, hand it over to him — his own hand moves reflexively, as if out of his control, to take it. A series of numbers — oh. Your contact. You’re smiling now, saying something about how you would love to catch up sometime. Your voice sounds far away, his head feels like it’s spinning, but he still manages his signature soft smile and voice as he gives you yet another generic reply.

Sure, that would be wonderful.

A few more lines back-and-forth that he doesn’t even remember by the end of the day, his brain essentially giving replies on an auto-pilot means of conversation. He manages to make some excuse about work, churns out a farewell, briskly walks off with a noticeably deliberate fast pace.

You feel a little embarrassed, as you walk home. He seemed in a hurry to end the conversation. Perhaps it was presumptuous to give him a contact. He probably couldn’t care less. He’s a big, important person now, someone like that has no time for someone like yourself.

…

Your suspicions are more or less validated. He doesn’t contact you.

In fact, from the moment he gets home that day, he tries to forget the interaction entirely.

There’s multiple reasons why. For one, you present a potential obstacle, a burden, a risk. He can’t afford to have you complicating things, getting in his way. It takes some time for his heart to stop racing, and that alone irritates him — why do you get to have such a reaction from him, beyond his control?

Moreover, the emotions that hit him when he saw you were too much. Dangerously intense, something he can’t allow to weigh on him, doesn’t have the time to focus on.

To be frank, those emotions were largely negative anyway. The mere sight of your face stirs up all sorts of memories from that era of his life, most of which were deeply unpleasant. There’s a deep-rooted bitterness that rises up in his stomach, old emotions he’s worked so long to suppress, and you came and dug them up in just a few brief minutes. In truth, he thought about you very often back then — he never really got to say goodbye to you (even if, he often bitterly thought, you never cared that much about him anyway), and he had to force himself to forget you over time, and yet you’ve come and undone his efforts.

And finally — the thought of you makes him feel a new emotion, one he does not like. Something like anxiousness, fear, and in turn, anger at himself and you alike for inducing such a feeling. You stand as a sort of weakness, a single unstable factor in a world where he feels like he has some degree of a grasp of control on nearly everything — you feel uncertain, unsteady, out of his reach… no, it’s not just that. You feel unsafe. You have knowledge and memories of him that no one else does, you have seen him at his weakest, and that makes him feel far more vulnerable then he can stand.

And yet, he saves your number to his phone all the same. Lets it sit there.

Most of the time, it’s easy to ignore. He is a busy person, he can keep himself distracted. Sometimes, though, in the odd hours of the night when his emotions are at their peak, he types a message, two, a dozen, he loses count — only to shake his head and come to his senses, huffing in frustration and holding the backspace down until it’s all deleted, cursing himself internally for even coming close to doing something so foolish.

You keep coming up in his thoughts, an emotion he can’t pretend is anything but yearning feels like a knot in his chest, yet the very thought of you makes him feel sick to his stomach. The conflict between the emotions is unbearable, makes him lose sleep, makes him lose focus.

You who knew him when he was this quiet, sullen, embittered child — you were nice to him, one of the only people who showed him genuine kindness back then — you who certainly knows that the charming act in front of the cameras is merely that, an act, a mask, a lie. It feels as if playing a game with one’s own cards facing outwards towards the opponent, completely exposed, laid bare. The act can’t work on you when you know what he’s really like, know his pains and vulnerabilities, have the potential to strike at the weakest parts of him.

Nor do you fall under his realm of control. The means he has for control relies on his ability to enforce it — means to kill and ruin lives. What he wants from you, though — at least, what he wanted from you back then, he won’t let himself even consider the matter now — falls entirely out of the realm of how he likes to control people, the usual purpose for which he desires the manipulation of others — power, advancement in his goals, to snake his way inside to strike.

It's all confusing. Irritating. It's outside the realm of what he has an easy way to manipulate, and that means he's at a disadvantage, that you have an upper hand, and he can't stand for that.

Still, he wonders about you. Every time a camera faces his way, he wonders if you’ll see the filming. When he makes posts to the little page he runs that the fans eat up, he wonders if you visit it too, if you’re one of those thousands of faceless followers. He wonders how often you think about him. He wonders about the day the two of you ran into each other for the first time in so long — did you go home, and look him up online? How long did you spend doing so? What did you read? Did your view of him change, positively, negatively?

And of course, he thinks about you and your life. What have you been up to, since then? Where has your path in life taken you? You probably have friends. You probably have a partner too. You’re someone who always seemed to be loved by others — he still recalls perfectly the burning bitterness in his stomach when he saw your happiness, your family, your friends, the things you had that he did not. How he resented you for it — he still does, even if he tries to tell himself such emotions are childish. Sometimes he almost thinks he hates you, even if in the end he always finds that he can’t.

And worst of all, he finds that the mere thought of you changes how he behaves.

When he’s at a lower-end news outlet interview, he doesn’t put quite as much energy in… until it occurs to him that there’s always a chance you’ll see it, and he finds himself sitting up straighter, putting in more effort into being charming and witty for the camera.

He almost says something in another interview, but it occurs to him that he doesn’t know how you feel on the matter, and he finds himself taking what was originally a strongly-worded response in his head and neutralizing it as much as possible, to avoid upsetting you should you see it and disagree with him. He doesn't even realize it until the words are out of his mouth.

You do that to him. He who has come to think of himself as so far above others, and yet you — some child from long ago who just so happened to find him again and speak to him for no more than a few minutes — influence his actions, you consume his thoughts. You control him, and you don’t even know it, nor did you have any intention to. And even though he recognizes it, even though he tries to put it to rest and forget you entirely, he can’t bring himself to do it, can’t tap the screen to delete the contact.

It’s infuriating. He can’t stand it. The fact that you do what you do to him so effortlessly leaves him seething and stewing in a rage you probably don’t even realize he’s capable of. And that much he’s acutely aware of as well. You know more of the “real” him than anyone else, you saw him in a phase when he was always pouty and melancholic — yet even then, you don’t know the half of it, don’t realize just how much malice and fury rests beneath the calm outward surface, nor how deep it runs.

He’s not a delusional sort, he’s very self-aware, and he knows how ridiculous the thoughts he’s having are — yet he has them anyway. It’s what, three in the morning, and here he is sitting on the edge of is bed, hunched over in the dark with his face in his hands, stewing in bitterness because he just can’t stop thinking about you. Yes, he knows the thought is absurd, yet he allows it anyway — allows himself to blame you, to resent you for it as if it were an intentional act on your end, to think of you as audacious, having committed some grand transgression against him.

He’s a celebrity, a genius, he has powers unfathomable to the average person — and here you are, you’re nobody, making him think about you. The more he gives in and allows himself to slip into that way of thinking, regardless of how nonsensical he knows it is, the angrier and angrier he gets, the greater the malice that swells in his chest—

—and the darker his thoughts become on what to do with you.

If he forces himself to think it through reasonably, of course, he realizes that you’ve done nothing wrong, that you’ve been nothing but kind to him, and maybe, just maybe, a part of him even feels guilty for any unwholesome, sinister thoughts run through his head — you don’t deserve anything bad to happen to you, and he’s being embarrassingly childish for such boorish, overly-simplistic thoughts like keeping you and taking you away and hurting you and making you pay. Particularly the last — you’ve done nothing wrong, nothing to deserve any harm, and in the rational part of his mind, he knows this.

But if he were to allow those petulant feelings to take over…

If he let the irrational resentment and yearning and attachment and bitterness take over, if he stopped being rational about it, if he just acted on impulses and feelings alone, then he would have something to make you pay for. To make you the object of all the negative emotions that plague him, make you an outlet for his crippling desperation and rage and affection and covet and pain and misery and yearning — yes, he could put all those emotions into you, unload that burden and force you to take it off his shoulders, force you to be something for him to have to himself and use for his own desires and ease of his pain like he always wanted back then.

Maybe he never stopped wanting that, even if he forced every thought of you to the back of his mind for so many years. It was easier to deny the yearning when he could tell himself he would never see you again. He doesn't have that to hold him back anymore — he stares at the screen of his phone that burns his eyes in the darkness, knowing contact with you is a few mere taps away.

But even back then, he wasn’t so stupid as to not realize you interacted with him because he was pitiful and pathetic and obviously troubled and you were the sort of sweet person that went out of your way to be nice to such other children. He was acutely aware of that fact, it irritated him then, it irritates him now. Yet he latched on like a leech anyway, a fact that makes his face feel hot with embarrassment when he recalls how his child self clung to you so strongly, so pathetically. He couldn’t help it. He was so weak, back then.

But here he is, spending hours of his time thinking about you — can he really say he’s less weak to you now?

It’s not as if it’s the first time he had dark thoughts regarding you. Of course, he envied your life back then, but far more than that, he envied you. To have you to himself, as if an object from which he derived happiness that should be just for him. How upset he was when you were kind to people who weren’t him, spent time with others. Even back then, as a child, you have no idea the sort of things he crafted in his head, elaborate fantasies where everyone important to you died off somehow so he could have you all to himself. Fantasies that soothed both his bitterness for you and his desire for you — let you feel pain like he had felt, make sure you couldn’t think yourself better than him, while still ending up something all for him alone to have and enjoy for himself, ensure your kindness was just for him.

Only back then, he had no power to act on such fantasies.

Now…

…

…

...And one night, his resistance finally breaks.

You know what? Maybe he does deserve that. After all the effort he’s put in, after all the things he’s endured, maybe he does deserve to have something all for himself, something he truly wants, something he can secure and know with certainty won’t ever leave his side — you can’t if you don’t have the option.

Maybe you’ll hate him for it. Maybe he’d deserve it if so. But if you do, well, he’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it.

His fingers move without having to really think much about it. Generic, typical lines, just like when he spoke with you. Apologizing for the delay, but surely you understand he’s busy and all, so on and so on. He only pays attention to the very last line, as his fingers slow down in their typing with nerves and anticipation.

>Would you still be up for getting together sometime?

[cerebralisis]

Has Taylor been drawing connections to Barbie’s journey from Barbieland into the real world?

I rewatched Barbie a few days ago after streaming the Amsterdam N3 show and found some interesting parallels, particularly the scene where Barbie and Ken go through the transportation sequence.

Like Barbie and Ken, Taylor and Travis started their journey by setting off in the getaway car (a rather loud hint at how this whole thing is gonna end). Since then, Taylor has played Getaway Car twice - once in Melbourne mashed up with August and The Other Side of the Door, and again in Edinburgh mashed up with The Bolter - three more songs that reference cars.

Next, Barbie and Ken ride in the boat. I’m sure by now that most of us have seen the Taylor-Travis pap-walk on their way to a boat ride - with the chessboard sweater and the not-so-subtle AO3 shot in the background making everyone question if this is just a fanfic. Taylor also played the “murder mashup” which includes a song referencing a boating license and another song used in a movie where they boat through the marshes of North Carolina.

From the boat, Barbie and Ken move onto the rocket ship. This is substantially more challenging for them to recreate, but I did notice that there were a hefty amount of spaceship/rocket references throughout June. Most notably: a new merch drop featuring the Down Bad spaceship and lyrics; a TikTok from Ice Spice where she’s reading the WSJ issue featuring Karlie Kloss as a “Rocket Woman” that’s “suiting up at Spacex;” Kam yelling out “bolt ya rocket” during WANEGBT; and a timely insta post from Travis promoting the Accelerator Rocket Pop energy drink (while wearing a Ken wig?)

After that, Barbie and Ken ride bikes through a scene set with windmills in the background, which heavily implies the Netherlands. This is what caught my attention because - while Taylor was in the Netherlands for Amsterdam N3 - she sang imgonnagetyouback, which of course has the line about smashing up your bike. She then sits down at the piano and says “I mentioned bikes, and man do you love bikes in Amsterdam! You just see a bike rack with 3,000 bikes on it.” Then, Travis was papped riding a bike out in Amsterdam. All of this happened only a week after Travis told us on his podcast that he suggested riding out on stage on one of the Blank Space bikes (before Taylor came up with the idea to make him a circus handler instead).

Next in the sequence are a camper, snowmobile, and rollerblades, so we will have to keep an eye out and see if there are any related hints.

It wouldn’t be the first Barbie reference that Taylor has made. In addition to all her Ken lyrics, I’m convinced that Peter references the Barbie movie with the line: “I hoped you’d return with your feet on the ground, tell me all that you’ve learned.” To me this feels a lot like Barbie choosing the Birkenstock over the high heel so she can go to the real world and learn the secrets of the universe. Especially when contrasted with “in stilettos for miles” when Taylor is lamenting her misery during I Can Do It With a Broken Heart, as if she’s stuck in Barbieland.

What do you think? Am I just cherry-picking or does the transportation sequence seem like an intentional countdown? Given the themes of the Barbie movie, the connections are hard to miss.

[xcherryerim]

Si tú me quisieras

(If you loved me)

Mike schmidt x Gn!reader | wc: 2.2k

“Si tú me quisieras, el amor que quisieras lo tendrías conmigo. No soy cursilera, pero si me quisieras, sería todo distinto” — Si tú me quisieras by Nia Vanie & Adrian Bello

Warning: Friends to lovers | Sappy | angst and fluff (?) | mentions of sex | fighting | a bit of aggressive Mike

notes: it seems like I love writing sappy stuff for Mike at 1-4 am. I didn’t really revise this so sorry if there is many mistakes or repeated words ✨ Also the lyrics in this story is the same as the one from the intro (and yes. Mike knows spanish here)

Summary: As time goes by, it becomes increasingly difficult for Mike not to hide the secrets that are troubling him. He has had enough and decides to reveal his feelings to you, his best friend.

You caught sight of Mike wearing the same shade of sage green shirt you were wearing. With a deep breath, you called out to him, "No, no! Change, please. That's too much of a coincidence!”

Mike sighed heavily, slamming the car door shut behind him. His eyes narrowed, frustration etched onto his face. "Can you give me a break? This is the only clean shirt I have left!"

Reluctantly, you let out a frustrated groan. It wasn't about the shirt or the coincidences; it was about how deeply it affected you every time he wore that particular color. But you knew pushing him further wouldn't solve anything. So instead, you relented, "Fine, fine."

Why does it matter anyway?" he asked, increasing the volume of the radio in an attempt to cover up his unease.

Your fingers tightened around the steering wheel as you tried to explain your concern. "Because people are going to think we're a couple,"

Mike couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. He had been hoping that today would be the day when you finally noticed him in the way he wanted you to. But here he was.

“But like, we aren’t so it doesn't matter, does it?”

“I guess.” You shrugged.

You started to suggest what movie to watch at the end of the day. A little tradition you guys did after running errands together, but Mike was staring at the street, drowning in his thoughts. Did you hate the idea of dating him that much?

“No hay nada que pueda hacer que me veas, y eso me duele tanto. Y aunque tú no me quieras como yo te quiero yo te seguiré amando.” / “There's nothing I can do to make you look at me, and that breaks me. Even if you don’t love me like I love you, I'll still adore you.”

"Isn't this the song that you like, Mike?" you asked, a small smile forming on your lips.

Mike's response was quiet and subdued. "Uh, yeah."

He didn't like the song, not really. He related to it, to every verse, word, and beat. It was a reflection of his feelings, a mirror to his unspoken thoughts and emotions. The lyrics echoed through the car, resonating with both of you in different ways.

“Dicen que de amor nadie se muere, pero si este dolor es la alternativa, prefiero la muerte” / “They say no one dies out of love, but if this pain is the alternative, I rather die.”

Mike sat silently next to you, the strum of guitar strings and the singer's melodic voice echoing throughout the car. A wave of disappointment washed over him, making the atmosphere in the vehicle almost suffocating. You could sense his discomfort, but you pressed on, trying to stay focused on the road ahead.

“Te estoy amando aunque no te diga nada. Estoy guardando este secreto para mí en el fondo de mi alma. Si tú me quisieras, no perdería ni un minuto más. Me entregaría con sinceridad, si te quedas conmigo.” / “I'm loving you even if I keep quiet. I’m keeping this secret in the depths of my soul. If you loved me, I wouldn't lose another minute more. I’ll sincerely give myself to you, if you stay with me.”

…

Feeling the need to intervene, Mike quickly stepped in to assist an elderly woman who was struggling to reach for a specific medicine. "Oh, let me help with that," he said, his voice filled with genuine kindness. As he handed her the item she needed, a warm smile spread across his lips, and you couldn't help but feel proud of his compassionate nature.

The woman thanked him graciously, her eyes twinkling with gratitude. "Thank you, sweetheart," she said, her gaze shifting between you both. "You two look like a nice couple. It reminds me of when my late husband and I used to go shopping together."

A sudden flush crept up your cheeks as the weight of her words settled upon the both of you. You knew it wasn't intentional, but the implication made your heart race faster than it should. Swallowing hard, you felt the need to clarify things.

"We're not a couple," you quickly replied, your voice tinged with slight awkwardness. The heat from your blush radiated outward, an audible confession of your true feelings.

Mike smiled gently at you, his eyes dancing with a mix of mirth and sadness. "Definitely not a couple," he affirmed, a hint of longing lurking beneath the surface.

As he turned to face you, he couldn't help but notice the defensive posture you took, your arms firmly crossed over your chest. Was there pain in your eyes? No, it couldn't be. He pushed the thought aside, choosing to focus on the present moment.

"Well, you seem pretty insulted by that," he remarked casually, attempting to shift the topic away from the elephant in the room.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “What? I’m not good enough for you?” Your words were laced with humor, but the underlying emotion was undeniable. There was a yearning, a desire for something more.

Mike sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he shook his head. "We are not having this conversation again," he stated firmly. Today, he simply couldn't muster the energy for the friendly flirtation that had become a routine between the two of you.

The innocent, fun activity of grocery shopping quickly transformed into something far more uncomfortable between the two of you. The mood had shifted dramatically, leaving behind a heavy silence that seemed to grow more oppressive with every passing second.

Mike could no longer mask his emotions – his face bore the unmistakable signs of anger, complete with furrowed eyebrows and heavy breathing. His movements became more forceful as he tossed items into the cart, each action an expression of the tumultuous emotions churning within him.

Unable to bear the tension any longer, you hesitantly asked, "Are you alright?" The question hung in the air, seemingly adding fuel to the fire. The guilt you felt for asking it gnawed at your insides, knowing that you might have only exacerbated the situation.

Mike glared at you, his dark eyes flashing with hurt and resentment. At that moment, he couldn't bring himself to answer your question.

As you tried to find a way to bridge the gap, you couldn't help but wonder if this was truly the last straw in maintaining the delicate balance of your friendship. For years, the two of you had shared laughter, tears, and dreams, but now you stood on the precipice of something unfamiliar and uncertain.

…

To lighten the mood, you attempted a weak joke, "Where else, boss?" but it fell flat in the wake of the tension between the two of you.

Mike provided a terse response, focusing on giving directions to Walmart without acknowledging your attempt at humor. "I need to get a few things for Abby, she's doing a project for school," he said, buckling his seatbelt.

Attempting to ignore the growing discord, you asked, "Oh, are there any close by?" and started the car, navigating the streets according to the directions Mike had given you. However, your nerves got the better of you, and you found yourself missing turns and getting lost.

Each error only served to fuel the fire. Mike's frustration grew with every misstep, a slow burn that threatened to consume the both of you. And then, finally, it boiled over. "Left, I said fucking left!" he shouted, his voice cracking with the strain of holding back his emotions.

"My fucking god. Can you drive?"

Stung by his harsh words, you couldn't help but retaliate. "What the hell is your problem? Why are you suddenly acting like a bitch?" Angry tears pricked at your eyes, the frustration of the day taking its toll on your composure.

His eyes locked onto yours, the transit stretching on as he struggled to find the right words. Finally, he snapped, "Because you're terrible at driving!" It was a feeble excuse, an attempt to deflect from the real issue that loomed between you.

Your heart sank as you demanded answers, pleading with him to reveal the truth. "I'm not stupid, Mike. Tell me what is it!"

Mike's jaw clenched tightly, his mind racing as he tried to find the words to articulate his thoughts. But the harder he tried, the more elusive the truth seemed to become. The weight of the question pressed down upon him, threatening to crush the fragile foundation of their friendship.

Finally, he posed the question that hung between him like a cloud. "Do you hate the idea of being with me?" His heart pounded in your chest, waiting for your response, fear and hope to battle within him.

"What? Am I disgusting to you? Is it because I don't have a set job? Why?"

The weight of those words hung heavily between you, the car falling silent except for the hum of the engine. In that moment, everything felt on the line – your friendship, your future, and the truth that had been bubbling under the surface for so long.

"I never said that," you responded, your voice shaking with hurt and confusion. You grasped for some semblance of control amidst the chaos of your emotions.

"Well, you don't have to!" Mike declared, his voice wavering. Years of unspoken feelings finally burst forth, spilling out in a torrent of raw honesty. "We've avoided this for years. We're not friends!" The accusation hung in the air.

Mike recounted memories that flooded your minds, moments shared between the two of you that transcended the boundaries of friendship. "Holding hands at IKEA? Almost kissing? Showering together and almost having shower sex?"

With a bitter laugh, Mike snarled, "Friends, my balls. We're more than that, and we've been avoiding the truth for too long. It's time to face it."

"I just didn't know you liked me..." you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. The weight of the truth bore down on you, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief mixed with the overwhelming emotions that threatened to consume you.

Mike's eyes softened, and for a moment, the tension between you seemed to dissipate. "I've liked you for a long time," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I was scared to say anything, scared of losing you as a friend."

The car fell silent once more, the hum of the engine the only sound that broke the heavy silence. At that moment, the two of you sat there, grappling with the new reality that had been laid bare between you. The path forward was uncertain, but one thing was clear – the friendship you had cherished for so long has now changed.

Mike sighed deeply, attempting to gather his thoughts and steady his escalating emotions. "I understand if you don't want to ever see me again," he murmured, his tone filled with a combination of regret and resignation. Despite the turmoil, he reached out and gripped your hand tightly, a silent plea for understanding.

"But, if that is the case," he continued, his voice catching in his throat, "at least let me kiss you... for the first and last time." The request hung in the air, heavy with the implication of finality.

You felt your body tremble at his words, a mix of excitement and fear coursing through you. The prospect of sharing this intimate moment with Mike, the one person you'd always cared for, both thrilled and terrified you.

"I don't want to die without knowing what it feels like to kiss you," he said, his voice filled with a mix of longing and desperation. The weight of the moment bore down on both of you, the unspoken emotions finally giving voice.

"And you won't have to," you whispered, desperation mingling with determination in your voice. Without another word, you leaned in, closing the distance between you until your lips met his in a searing kiss that echoed the years of longing that had built up between you.

Mike hesitated for only a moment before responding, his arms wrapping around you as the passion of the moment took hold. The weight of the past years melted away, replaced by the intensity of the present. For once, the uncertainty that had plagued your friendship was gone, replaced instead by the electric connection that had always been there, hiding just beneath the surface.

As the kiss lingered, you began to realize that this was not the end, but the beginning of a new chapter for you both. The path forward may be fraught with uncertainty, but you were ready to face it together, finally embracing the love that had grown between you.

Fin, Hope you enjoyed! I just wanted to write more than smut 😪

[moonstruckme]

feels odd being a marauder fan asking for tasm Peter content but i couldnt help myself <//3 if ur still taking requests id love to see ur take on Peter and the art students meet cute (or not so cute meeting) I always wondered how two vastly different people would even meet lol

Thanks for requesting gorgeous!

cw: mention of animal cruelty (not present in the story)

tasm!Peter Parker x artist!reader ♡ 831 words

Peter wonders if he should put on his mask. 

He’s not really sure what the protocol is for non-mutant criminal activity that makes its way into his daily life. But he’d only been trying to lock up the lab for the night, and there you are, spray painting all over the glass panes dividing the workspaces. 

“Hey!” He decides to forgo the mask when you direct your can scary close to a container of samples. “Don’t do that, you’ll ruin them.” 

You turn slowly, tense all over. It’s a look Peter’s not unfamiliar with; fight and flight are warring in your nervous system. You’ve been caught. 

“No one’s still supposed to be here,” you say, voice muffled slightly by the painter’s mask covering your nose and mouth. 

A laugh bubbles out of him. “Oh, my bad. Sorry—actually, since I’m clearly the one breaking the rules, I’ll just go.” 

You remain frozen in place, seemingly waiting to see if he’s actually joking or not. Peter’s not sure what to do. He can’t just…let you continue to destroy the lab, but calling the cops has never been his MO. He crosses his arms and leans back against a table, doing his best to look in control. 

“What are you even doing?” he asks. 

“It’s…” You look around you as if you’d forgotten, to the glass now dripping gorily with red paint. “It’s about animal cruelty. It’s a protest. Do you have any idea,” you say, your voice picking up conviction as you speak, “how many animals die in these labs every day?” 

Peter blinks. “Not really.” It feels shitty to say, but it’s not like he’s around for every class and project that happens here every day; something like that would be impossible to keep track of. 

Your eyes flash. “Too many.”

“So, what?” He looks around, at the red dribbling down the glass panes—blood, that’s what it is—and your paint-spritzed overalls. “You make some maintenance worker have to clean this up tomorrow morning, and then the science department will decide to stop?” 

Your eyebrows bunch. You hadn’t thought of that. “I just want to bring attention to it,” you say. “I’ll come back and clean up if I need to, but I just—I think it’s important that people see it. That they can’t just keep ignoring it.” 

Peter frowns, bending to pick up one of the paint canisters stacked neatly by a backpack. He gives it a little shake, and this one’s still full, the pile it came from larger than the matching one of used-up cans by your feet. Your eyes track his movements, too smart to try and take it from him but attentive nonetheless. You’re watching him with this flaming intensity. There’s something quietly passionate about you, like you’re burning with an energy that would be almost frightening if it didn’t seem so heartfelt. 

“You realize there’s cameras all over this place, right?” he asks. “You could get kicked out of school. This is vandalism.” 

You don’t flinch. “It’s uncommissioned public art.” 

“You think they’ll see it that way?” 

You sigh heavily, and Peter wishes he could see what was going on behind that mask so he’d know what you were thinking. Thankfully for him, your eyes are expressive enough. They narrow as you cross your arms, jutting out a hip. 

“So what, are you going to go and tell someone?” 

Peter sizes you up. He can relate to feeling like you need to work outside of the system to get something done. To being sick of going to the proper authorities after being told too many times that while they really do care, they won’t do anything about it.

“How about this,” he says. “You let me stay here and make sure you don’t damage any of the equipment, and I won’t rat you out.” He might even scrub the camera footage once you go. But he’s still figuring you out, so he doesn’t want to make promises. 

“Deal,” you say immediately. If you’re surprised at his bargain, you don’t show it, only shaking the paint canister in your hand and starting to spray another layer of paint onto the glass. Your brows pinch slightly as you work, evidence of an assiduous concentration Peter is familiar with. 

He makes himself comfy in a rolling chair, sitting back to watch you work. “We actually do some really important stuff here, you know.” 

“I’m sure you do,” you say without pausing. “It’s not like I blame everyone you personally. I get that the research helps people, but, I mean, at what cost?” 

Peter shrugs. It’s a good point. “True. It’s a lot worse for animals in the big labs. We’re small-scale because we’re funded by the school, and we’re also responsible for reporting to the higher-ups.” 

“I know.” Your eyes flit to him, less wary than before. “But I don’t have access to one of the big labs. Change has to start somewhere, right?” 

You can certainly agree on that. 

[quillsandblades]

A Minute of Rest

Based on the art by @shunkani

Dancing candle flames and the muted glow of the lanterns swam before her eyes. Hange Zoe would swap tedious hours of paperwork with titan or—as these days demanded—technological research any time. The mechanisms of a rail engine or the complex arrangements and workings of gears and wires were certainly more suited for her exhausted brain than planning the next steps of their alliance with Hizuru.

Nevertheless, it wasn’t like she had much of a choice. With a sigh, she adjusted her glasses and pulled another sheet towards herself. Yellow parchment, embedded with small black text. Shadows flickered around the words. Her brain caught fragments of them.

Diplomatic relations with Hizuru date back to more than a century ago . . .

The unique characteristics of the Iceburst stone enable . . .

Potential reason of interest . . .

. . . cornered nation . . . no other country tolerates Eld . . .

She hunched over the table, squinting at the document, willing her mind to turn the words over and whip out a solution. There was a throbbing in her temples, and her back was stiff. But no, they had to plan their next moves; Hizuru had extended a hand of friendship and provided Paradis with ample resources for research about the outer world. She had to go through it all, understand the stance and motives of as many countries as she could. She wasn’t going to consider Hizuru as a reliable ally though, they were more concerned with Mikasa and the Iceburst stone rather than a good future for Paradis.

Hange slumped over her desk, face hidden in her arms. She was so tired of dealing with hate and mistrust and selfish, close-minded people. So tired.

A door opened behind her; quiet, measured footsteps sounded.

Levi.

A scraping sound on her desk followed by the weight of a hand on her shoulder.

‘Hange,’ his voice was low and made something warm and soothing unfurl in her stomach.

‘Mmm?’

‘Get your ass in bed if you’re so tired.’

She lifted her head. Levi was standing beside her, shadows playing upon his face; there was a cup of steaming tea on her desk. She sighed, pulling another paper towards herself, ‘Can’t.’

‘Your brain won’t understand shit in this state. Get some rest, a few hours won’t hurt.’

Oh yes they would. She squeezed her eyes shut. Time was precious, if she slept now who knows how many seconds, how many minutes would trickle through her fingers like water, and then she’d wake up, regretting it, because she could have done more research, maybe she’d have found answers, but then it would be morning and everyone would be awake and bustling about, and her presence would be demanded everywhere, and there’d be meetings where Zackly and Pixis and Lady Azumabito would stare at her, asking for their next moves, and whether she’d figured out something or not, but she’d just sit there with a blank face because she was so damn exhausted that she slept and there wouldn’t be time to do anything at all then, because she jus—

Fingers pressed into the back of her shoulders, kneading her stiff muscles, cutting out her thoughts.

Her surprised exhale crumbled into a weary one. Levi’s hands gradually moved to her shoulder blades, thumbs digging into the sore, knotted parts of her back. Warmth rippled through her body at his touches, easing out a tension she wasn’t aware of until now.

‘This feels so fucking good,’ she mumbled heavily. ‘I didn’t even know I needed this.’

‘With that shitty posture, of course you needed this,’ he said, pushing her back and straightening her spine. ‘If you sit in that position for hours, it’ll definitely make your muscles go all tense.’

‘You’re starting to sound like Moblit,’ Hange chuckled. ‘Ever the worrywart.’

‘Someone has to look out for your clumsy ass.’

‘So you’ve decided to take full responsibility then, Captain?’ she grinned.

‘Never got the liberty of deciding in the first place,’ he droned out.

She laughed softly, somehow feeling lighter than she had in hours, days. His hands were still pressing upon her shoulders, lifting the invisible weight, induced by stress. She hummed softly and leaned back, so that she was pressing against Levi’s chest. His hands stilled, curling around the curves of her shoulders.

‘Oi . . .’ he said softly.

The back of her head came to rest against his neck. She inhaled deeply, a clean woody scent invaded her nose, making her eyes flutter shut and her breaths slow down. It felt good, having Levi so close, feeling his warmth all around.

‘Hange,’ he called her again.

‘Can we just . . . stay like this . . . for a while?’ she whispered.

Yeah, just for a while. Because she still had work to do, so she couldn’t give in to the heavy pull of sleep yet. She’d rest for a minute, with Levi right beside her. Then she’d start again.

‘Okay,’ he said quietly.

‘Just . . . don’t let me sleep. I still have . . .’ her words dissolved into exhausted breaths, ‘so much to do.’

‘Sure, don’t worry.’

So late in that night, when the golden hues of the candle flames splashed against wood and stone, and the barracks lay under the heavy spell of sleep, a tired Commander rested against her faithful Captain, knowing he would pull her out of the velvety folds of slumber and get her back to work soon.

But for now, she had a minute. A minute of rest.

[pastryland]

f1 completed fic recommendations

Lestappen | Landoscar | Maxiel | Dando | Charlos | Brocedes | Carlando | Piarles | Galex | Sebchal

F1 fics are the main reason I got into this fandom and I figured I should share some (or so so many) fics that I like. While I do primarily follow Lando/Oscar and Charles/Carlos, I do read fics from other ships especially if they're from an author I like or the concept is interesting.

I have way too many fics (100+ though not all are completed) bookmarked so I'll just share my absolute favorites on this post and link posts of individual ships on their own posts. Also, I will continually keep updating this post and the other ones as fics complete and I read more.

If any of the authors of the fics mentioned here or are tagged and don't want their fics to be here, please let me know and I'll remove it!

❤️ = favorite

⭐️ = I love fics by this author in general

❌ = triggering themes

🔥 = explicit

Absolute Favorite Fics:

the trials of 2022 - 33k - Charles Leclerc/Carlos Sainz Jr - ❤️ ⭐️ 🔥

A partial summary of the 2022 season, as told by Charles or Carlos, following each race.

This would be my all-time favorite F1 fic if I had to choose, only rivaled by its currently unfinished sequel and the second fic here. Charles's and Carlos's relationship in this fic is so organic and realistic and the chemistry is incredibly tangible. The angst, tension, the emotion in this fic is delectable, beautiful writing by @/f1-stuff. Even if you aren't into this ship, I implore you to try this fic out.

the end of the strain - 19k - Lewis Hamilton/Nico Rosberg, Lewis Hamilton/Sebastian Vettel - ❤️

They didn't end up together in the end, which he had already prepared for in his heart.   Lewis, in seven parts.

For the first time ever reading any fic of any fandom, I had to lie on the floor for a couple minutes to process the emotional damage this fic gave me. The characterizations of all the people are on point and the relationships are heartbreaking and devastating in all the right ways. If you want to cry or lie on the floor and contemplate love like I did, this is the fic for you.

Negative Splits - 10k - Lando Norris/Oscar Piastri - ❤️ ⭐️

So officially, Oscar Piastri, pretty good steepler and pretty bad pacer, was now a professional runner. They wanted him to steeple, mostly, though he’d be doing cross country in the fall, and Lando had pinky promised him, mid-distance guy to mid-distance guy, that if he wanted to get into the 3k flat indoor then he would get him in. Oscar didn’t really want to ask how he planned on doing that. Felt safer not to ask.

@/ocontraire is the queen of Sports AU's for the F1 boys (go check out her other fics too! They're also incredible). As an athlete myself, the mentalities of both Lando and Oscar are relatable to me, though I'm also fascinated by the differences in various sports. This fic is certainly on the more lighthearted side (emotionally at least) and I thoroughly enjoy Lando and Oscar's friendship/relationship and its development.

induction, consolidation, maintenance - 6k - Pierre Gasly/Charles Leclerc - ❤️ ❌

In which Charles is sick, Pierre is desperate, and he wishes he didn't have to do what he's doing to pay for Charles to have a chance.

Piarles is certainly not a ship that I read often, but this fic caught my eye and I'm certainly glad that I read it. Pierre's and Charles's relationship is quite cute, though I mainly love Pierre's desperation to save Charles no matter what. He is willing to do anything, the world could burn for all he cares, to make sure Charles is healthy again and it got me heavily in the feels.

glitch - 26k - Max Verstappen/Charles Leclerc - ❤️ ⭐️

Max hums. “Well, at least that means I won’t bump into Charles Leclerc again.” “Bummer, really,” Daniel says, moving back to his own seat and drinking the little bit of coffee that was still in the cup. “Could’ve been the start of a great love story.” Lando snorts. “Kids, it all started when I told your father, who had won two World Driver Championships at that point, that he sucked at driving.” Max sticks his middle finger up at them, and pulls his noise canceling headphones back over his ears. Only two hours left to go, he thinks, wistfully, and goes back to work.

I mainly read @/nyoomfruits's fics because of Landoscar, though this Lestappen fic took me completely by surprise. I adore the romcom vibes of this whole fic and Daniel and Lando are so hilarious and chaotic. Max's personality fits so well in this fic as an unbothered IT guy, but completely loses his composure when he meets Charles, his favorite F1 driver.

[existslikepristin]

Tags: NSFW, TheLounge, Dreamcatcher, Handong, female reader (or potentially a force-feminized male reader your mileage may vary), just a little quick-read ficlet about how Handong is a pervert, is that a foot fetish?, you should probably worship Handong’s body, she got them wander-y eyes and hands, woah woah woah you don't think this is inappropriate do you?, are you a dirty little reader?, oh you're a dirty little reader alright, Handong can tell

Just A Little Vanity

Handong strikes quite the figure. Most anyone would, sitting as she is on an armchair ornate enough to be mistaken for a throne. Your particular point of view is that of extreme artistic foreshortening. Mere millimeters away from your eyes, her bare foot takes up most of your field of view, obscuring even her crossed, mile-long legs. Her face, appropriately for such protracted limbs, seems distant and yet no less beautiful. Beyond those gorgeous, exposed legs, her fashion sense is as ostentatious as the tower-like structure of her body. Shaggy faux fur on denim, bedazzled camo, and pearls. Hair so platinum it might as well be chrome, reflecting blacks, blues, whites, and silvers. One slender finger adorned with two unreasonably large rings taps gently against her cheek.

“What to do… what to do…” she muses, “with such a naughty little girl like you.”

“Make me please you?”

She sighs heavily and presses her big toe against your lips. “Shush, you. It was not a question. Did you hear a question mark?” she demonstrates her meaning with her tone well enough for you to recognize the rhetorical nature of the question. The rest of your suggestions will have to wait.

“You…” Handong says, stroking your jawline with the same foot, “do not get to wave that delicious butt of yours in front of me all day and then just get what you want. There are consequences for teasing me.”

Although you're not going to say anything about it, you can’t help but think that perhaps Handong was planning this all along. After all, she made you wear a tiny skirt today, insisting it would be fine without safety shorts, and then she found any and every reason to be behind and slightly below you. It was certainly less than subtle. You'd been feeling her eyes burn a hole in your helplessly visible underwear all day. At least it kept your ass warm in the chilly spring air.

Yes, it was all a trap. Not a particularly clever one, and also not one you mind being caught in. Though it'd be nice if she let you kneel somewhere other than the hard floor.

Handong continues to caress you with her foot, lifting your chin, turning your head to either side. She inspects your face from each angle.

“Done talking back?” she threatens.

“Yes,” you talk back. Cheeky, but technically compliant.

She smirks with you, appreciating the irony. “Good. I would hate to have to send you home without a snack.”

Oh how utterly, coquettishly subtle.

“Please, no, Handong. I'm so hungry.”

She lifts her foot, and your jaw with it, snapping your mouth shut. “Shut up already. I am looking at you.”

It's unclear how those things are related, but you keep yourself from saying anything.

With a flourish, Handong uncrosses her legs, spreading them wide so you can briefly see up her skirt. “Surprise,” no underwear. But you can't look long. Her upper body spans that vast distance in an instant, putting her face nearer to yours, going from practically a pinprick to vision-encompassing, menacing you from above. Those slender, metal and jewel laden fingers grasp just below your chin, holding your head still. You only feel four fingers, giving you the impression that she's sticking her pinky out as if you're a fancy glass of wine. You can't wait for the dinner party.

Handong clicks her tongue, half-lidded eyes traveling up and down. They linger on the down stroke, reminding you of the other piece of clothing she'd demanded of you. Your chest is barely covered, the neckline of the shirt so low that it really shouldn't be called a “neck"line anymore, but perhaps a “nipple"line. As she pulls you forward, you're sure she can see far, far more than the shirt's designer ever intended. Handong's light dusting of a blush and perverted twitch of a lip key you in further.

“Mmm,” she hums, “I could just take a bit out of you.”

You bite your tongue to stop yourself from correcting her verbal spelling error. She tends to make more mistakes when her mind is meandering down your clothes.

She urges you up with a slight pull. Anybody normal would close their eyes for the impending kiss, but Handong’s eyes stay open and predatory until the last possible moment.

When you’re close enough, she strikes. Your lower lip is caught between her teeth and she nibbles softly before she kisses you proper. Her breath hisses between the gaps at the corners of your lips, greedy more for you than the air. She pries your mouth open with hers, invading you unreasonably quickly. She’s got a different metric for what constitutes reasonability though. You’re her toy. She'll play with you according to her rules.

“Handong!” Soomin shouts from across the room, “I’ve called your name three times! Come get your damn coffee! And we’ve got rooms for that!”

Without any additional warning, Handong drops you to the floor, stands up, and glides gracefully past you toward the counter. Watching her go past, you see no small number of other coffee shop-goers staring in your direction.

“Thanks, babe,” Handong flirts shamelessly as she picks up your drinks, “Oh, and I would like to use one of the rooms.”

[dailycupofcreativitea]

Dating app shenanigans from the past 4 guys I talked to:

Guy number 1:

Me: How's your Tuesday going?

Him: Subhanallah. Just been coding away on my tech companies haha.

Me: Ooh, what language? I like python.

Him: Lol python? What am I in high school (proceeds to not answer the question)

Guy number 2:

Him: Let's play 10 questions. The question approach from my end is to ensure that the other person is able to keep an engaging conversation and has basic communication skills to start off (these matter to me a lot).

Me: Sure! Got a question in mind to start off with? I'm normally pretty talkative but if you have specific questions, I don't mind playing.

Him: ghosts me for 2 days

Him, 2 days later: What has been your 3 happiest memories in life related to: one education/career, one random, one act of kindness. (Proceeds to yap about his start up company, wax poetry about his grandma's house, and brag about how he once took a "poor, helpless" homeless man out to dinner)

Guy number 3:

Him: Hows ur night goin

Me: It's alright today, feeling a bit sick (may have caught something but such is life), but aside from that alhumdilillah it's a calm night for me. And yours?

Him: Its a sauna outside. U should walk outside u d feel way better 😂😂😂

Me: Walking outside won't make a virus go away if I already have it 🤔 fr though it's been so hot lately! I was looking forward to that thunderstorm...no thunder :(

Him: Who said virus won't go away when u walk outside. Trust me and u ll see positive results 😂😂😂

Me: Viruses don't work like that...but I get what you're saying! A walk is always nice.

Him: Why u know anything about viruses? Trust me i know better

Me: I did do a masters in biology and currently work with DNA. How about you, what do you do?

Him: So you like to show off now.

Me: Well, you asked, right? So, what do you do?

Him: i work as a cashier for a pet shop

Guy number 4:

Him: it's always been my dream to be a cop

Me: Really eh? What's the reason you want to be a cop?

Him: That's actually a really good question. And I have a lot of answers for it. Like it's not just one specific reason.

Me: I'd love to know a few of your dominant reasons

Him: Do you have instagram? Or maybe your number? Easier to tell you there

Me: Mmm...is there a reason you can't just like summarize one or two bullet points?

Him: No reason I just like ig more. Okay let's see...well, for starters, I witnessed crime growing up by my friends and have been affected by it too. Or should I say ex friends. Another reason is that I was heavily influenced by the military growing up. proceeds to very heavily romanticize the military

Guys...kill me...

[cultofdixon]

My Sunshine

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • The prison collapse scrambled everyone and Daryl thought he had lost his everything. But when the group got in a bit of a pickle with a stranger community, there’s always a light at the end of the tunnel • ANGST/SFW • TW: Injures / Scars / Canon Violence / Cannibals / Execution / Fire

Requested by: Anon

Everyone has their special someone. Whether that be a boyfriend/girlfriend, partner, or best friend or even a family member. Someone that makes life worth living for.

Daryl had her. His sunshine. His partner in crime. To anybody else looking at the two, Y/N was the complete opposite of Daryl.

The two were similar when it comes to being a more quiet duo. But Y/N was more of the shy, sensitive type unlike Daryl’s intense, thick-skinned type.

The moment he knew he was in love with her was all the way back to their quarry days. She may have been in her own little world while surrounded by others who wanted nothing to do with the Dixons at the time unless for hunting purposes…but she would always try to include Daryl on everything “group related”. Nobody liked Merle. Even his own blood but he tolerated him.

“Hi…” Y/N gently taps Daryl’s shoulder startling him out of his thoughts while he was skimming a squirrel. “My bad…I was wonderin’ if you wanted to sit with us. While we cook and eat what you and your brother caught for us”

“Uh…” Please god just say yes man. “Nah. I’m fine here”

“Oh…okay, well”

Well? Daryl looks up at her with curiosity before watching her walk away as a frown slowly brought itself on his face. I should’ve said yes.

The archer flinches once more when he spots Y/N has brought her camping chair to be beside him and his little campfire set up. As she sat down she went through her pack taking out a protein bar for herself and the man sitting beside her who happily took it.

“Ey, you gonna share with me?” Merle adds joining his brother like usual as Daryl was about to answer for her when Y/N tossed him the one she was holding. “Score”

“Y/N yea—-“

“I have more” Y/N pulled out another one from her pack before leaning back in her chair. She was met with a confused look written on his face. “Glenn isn’t the only one that can smoothly go through an infested city”

With half the bar in his mouth, Merle snorted amused waving the other half toward her. “I like her”

And he did. Well, they both did. But Merle didn’t like her in that way, surprise surprise. He didn’t mess with her except for his usual remarks toward everybody. In a weird way of putting it, Merle gave Daryl the “Merle seal of approval” for Y/N. That she would be good for him. And that’s when Merle was really Merle.

“You should tap that”

“What the fuck, Merle”

Y/N was a part of the Atlanta group and before she left, Daryl expressed heavily for her to be safe and that’s what sparked their mutual flame. Hell when the herd came through their campsite and Daryl came to the mess, he thought he would’ve lost her to. But to his surprise, he watched Y/N ripped the head off a walker that managed to pin one of their own and met its demise when it got too close to biting.

She can definitely handle herself Daryl thought as his heart continued to race watching her stumble a bit. He quickly shot the walker that approached from behind her while she dropped the head and crushed it under her boot.

The human ray of sunshine turned around to find the bolt before whipping back and locking onto Daryl who ran over to her.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if I lost you” and that was the first deceleration in words by the archer himself.

After the CDC and the time on the farm, the two have gotten closer and not only did Daryl take his own bolt but also the bullet…is when Y/N returned the same level of feelings since the quarry.

“You really scared me today…”

“‘M sorry sunshine”

“Daryl…” Y/N brought herself to lay down beside him looking him in the eye as Daryl wanted to reach over and pull her close but they weren’t there yet…until she spoke once more. “I’m falling in love with you…I can’t lose you, okay?” She whispers to him to keep in mind of the sleeping people in the house as Daryl reaches toward her wiping away the stray tear that fell when she said those words.

“C’mere, I ain’t going anywhere” He whispers back, resting his hand on her hip waiting for her to get close enough to wrap his arm around her.

The two had their own little bubble that popped every once in a while, because the world didn’t know when to calm down. Daryl thought he had scared Y/N off when he was enraged at himself for not finding Sophia sooner but she had the one thing he lacked which was patience. She kept her distance but not far enough for Daryl to get any negative idea that she hates him.

One quiet moment from the storm of grief flooding through, Daryl brought himself to sit beside Y/N on the porch of the farm house. No one interrupting the two or wiggling their way into their bubble. All Y/N did was scoot herself right beside him gently taking his hand into hers, letting him know that she’ll be there. Even through all the scary moments.

Their growing relationship wasn’t a secret, but was unexpected to others. When the time going from house to house for a place to stay through the winter, Daryl would always ask Y/N to come with him to go hunting or sweep the near by houses and she would always agree. Extending her hand for him to take and that was the most physical touch they would do. Especially in front of others.

“When did that start happening?!” Glenn questions out loud the second the two left as Maggie laughs.

“You’re blind as hell, Glenn”

“It was obvious” Carol laughs a bit with Maggie leaving her friend even more confused.

“I didn’t see that comin’” Rick adds as Lori rolls her eyes with a smile.

“You didn’t see them hang out all the time before you came back into our lives” She smiles with a little laugh escaping her lips before bringing Carl close to help him warm up.

Walking through the quiet streets as the snow started to fall onto the two. Daryl stops and admires Y/N who parted from him to look up and watch the snow fall on her. A moment of peace he will engrave in his mind the sight before him. Her smile. Her contentment. She was happy, and so was he.

“I love you Y/N” He declares watching her attention from the snow land on him as her smile never faded for a second.

Y/N brought herself back to Daryl standing before him with that beautiful smile of hers as she looks up at him.

“I love you Daryl” She smiles warmly as the archer took his opportunity, resting his hands gently on her face and brought his lips against hers.

Their snowy first kiss is one for the books…

The times at night, Daryl took every chance he got to hold Y/N close in his embrace when most of the group would be sleeping. Not that it mattered if they looked, but he preferred when everyone was asleep so that he could leave small kisses to the top of her head and temple. Cherishing every part of her in the comforts of his arms.

When the prison was their new home, Daryl didn’t like the idea of sleeping in a cell and slept on the catwalk for the first few nights. He didn’t expect Y/N to join him, but she wasn’t ever leaving his side any time soon. Especially when Merle died.

One thing she’ll remember during the moments before Merle’s Hail Mary…

“You’ve always been close to my baby brother”

“I’d like to believe he’s always been close to me and we’ve slowly became comfortable with each other. That lead to more”

“Promise me something?”

“It’s nothing murderous is it?” Y/N teases getting a laugh from the older brother. “I promise whatever it may be, Merle”

“I know how much he cares about yea. He’s always cared about yea. Loved yea even…can yea just promise me…you’ll be there for him even more when I��m no longer here”

Oh Y/N knew in a way that Merle was going to sacrifice himself in some way. He may be an ass and people may not like him…but he loves and cares for his baby brother.

So he did it for him, even if it left a scar on Daryl’s mind…the pain that lingered by leaving the world.

Y/N returned to the prison after spending a few hours in the yard, to be met with a worried Daryl when she reached their shared cell. When the Woodbury folk infused themselves, they decided it was time to move from the catwalk.

“Where you’ve been…”

“Digging. Burying. Uh. Which reminds me…you can’t tell Rick who the other body is”

“Did yea kill somebody? Did somebody hurt yea that yea had to defend yourself?” His panic got caught in his throat that he wasn’t there to protect her, but his thoughts quieted when she rest her hands on his chest looking up at him with those beautiful eyes of hers.

“Merle deserves some respect in death.” She whispers feeling his hands gently place themselves on her face watching her sigh and the tears threaten to spill. “I’m so sorry for your loss, my love”

The archer himself cried for the loss of his brother and it pained him watching her cry. He learned when Merle died that Y/N lost her family in Atlanta before Glenn saved her.

They both lost what was blood.

But now they have a new family. Just the two of them…and one with those they formed bonds with since the quarry

“D?”

“Hm?”

“You’ll always come find me if we’re ever separated…right?”

“I will always find yea, sunshine. But it’s gonna take a lot to pull you away from my embrace”

Even if that thing was the Governor’s return and the collapse of the prison. Daryl never hated himself more in any other moment except for when he escaped alongside Beth…and didn’t find her on the way out. Didn’t find her in the nearby tree line. Didn’t even find her a few miles out.

A part of him was blaming himself and another wanted to set the whole world on fire if he didn’t find her.

The days have past and Daryl found himself sitting outside the car beside Rick while Michonne and Carl slept…blaming himself for everything that happened since the prison collapsed.

Losing Y/N

Losing Beth

The Claimers

When the group made their way to Terminus after reading sign after sign on the matter when following the train tracks. Rick decided it’d be best to go through the side, unexpected and to get an idea of everything. But what he didn’t expect was some of the residences that weren’t their people, wearing their belongings. He didn’t hesitate to raise his gun and didn’t stop his brother when Daryl suddenly ripped the necklace off a person’s neck.

“WHERE DID YEA FIND THIS” He snaps causing them to tremble and step back. He didn’t get an answer and his mind tuned out Rick’s words when he noticed Hershel’s pocket watch.

________

“I got yea somethin’” Daryl whispers to Y/N while she ate breakfast with him at one of the picnic tables.

“You didn’t have to get me anything, my love”

“That’s too damn bad. Cuz it made me think of yea” The archer states going into his pocket to hand her a small pouch.

Y/N set her spoon down brushing her hands off before inspecting the pouch about to make a joke that that was the gift but given Daryl’s waiting excitement for her reaction, she decided against it. She finally opened the pouch pulling out a gold necklace with a charm of the sun.

“You get it right? Cuz you’re my sunshine” he knew how cheesy that sound but watching that already amazing beautiful smile of hers grow.

“Well. Help your sunshine out” She gestures for him to put it on her as she held her hair out of the way for him to clasp it before leaning into her kissing her shoulder and bringing her flush against his chest. “I’m honored to be your sunshine, my love”

________

The four was forced in the train car not knowing what to expect. But Daryl’s mind was on the obvious, that Rick had to ask for him while he panicked.

“What happened to Y/N?”

“No idea” Glenn immediately responds with as Maggie smacks his chest gesturing to the anxious archer.

“She came with us. I was with her since the prison collapsed. Last I remember was her being lead to medical, then things turned sideways and now we’re in this train car” Maggie frowns watching the worry write itself on Daryl’s face. “We’ll find her”

He never expected for this to be the way he found her

Daryl, Rick, Glenn, and Bob were taken to this room that looked exactly like a slaughterhouse. The archer was forced to his knees first in front of this trough with Rick beside him as he noticed Gareth, the one that seemed to be the leader, dragging this unknown person given by the sack covering their head. They were forcefully placed on the opposite side of Daryl who was currently gagged. The two randoms on the other side of Bob were suddenly butchered in front of them, the blood spilling into the trough and they suddenly knew exactly what was happening. Or what was gonna happen.

“Take the fucking bag off her head. I want her to watch us kill the ones she wouldn’t stop yelling about finding her” Gareth snaps as one of the two butchers behind the group grabbed the bag ripping it off her head.

Y/N.

No.

No no NO

Daryl looked at her, scanning her person right then and there. Noticing every cut, every bruise, and taking note of each one that’ll add to a minute the second he gets his hands on the leader to strangle the living daylights out of him for however long the damage done to his girl adds up.

The explosion rang through the facility and the second Gareth left to investigate. Y/N somersaulted backwards driving her foot directly in one of the butcher’s family jewels causing him to fall while Rick manages to break free and stabbing the other butcher then taking care of the other that Y/N knocked off his feet. Rick cut Daryl out after getting Y/N and the two didn’t wait another second before latching onto the other.

His anxiety got stuck in his throat when he tried to speak. He was relieved but still freaking internal as Y/N shook in his embrace trying not to fall apart. They still had to escape.

Thank god for Carol

Everyone regrouped, along with their new friends they’ve meet before the hell sanctuary. Daryl quickly assesses Y/N’s injuries as her eyes were checking his.

“Are you alright, D?”

“I’m fine. You don’t gotta worry”

“Well…fuck…I’m sorry but I just can’t not…” Y/N suddenly started tearing up feeling Daryl’s calloused yet gentle hands take a hold of her face. “They killed and ate people in front of me…and I was mentally dying at the fact that I lost you to that hellish place. I’m not gonna lie and say that I’m fine! I’m fucking terrified!” She cries holding his wrists. “I don’t ever want to lose you. I can’t lose you. I love you. I love you so fucking much”

In that moment Daryl couldn’t contain it inside any longer as he felt the tears fall off his cheeks as his hands moved to her hips. He felt her hands find purchase on his neck bringing him down enough for her to press his forehead against hers.

“I’d be lost without my sunshine”