#Maybe I should write it for myself and never show it anyone as usual

[seadem-on]

*

[bettysupremacy]

hii! I was wondering if you could write a fic with reader and any marauder (they all fit) and maybe helping or becoming protective over the reader after a concert or party after a creep follows the reader? 😭

I went through a similar experience with a guy following me around after I went to the restroom after a concert, and it ruined my night if i'm being honest, I was scared 😞 I'm not the most shy of people and usually I can handle myself but it was pretty dark and idk the adrenaline from feeling happy to scared shifted pretty quickly. Luckily I found my friends and let them know and we quickly went back to our car (along with a few dirty looks from my friends god bless lol). I swore I could go to the restroom by myself- will not be doing that again :(

you can ignore this request if it makes you uncomfortable!

thank uu

i’m so sorry that happened to you! “(they all fit)”= poly marauders!

There’s something about post concert depression, especially when you’re with the band.

Your glitter eyeshadow is smudged, eyeliner untouched. You’d been shaken around in the pit of your boyfriends fans, and yet the paint hasn’t budged. God bless water-proof makeup. The world seems prettier like this, touched by alcohol and the feeling of soaring pride for your boyfriends. The glittery lights and signs of time square never fail to dazzle you, even now as you lean against Sirius morosely.

“M’hungry.” You frown, toes tipping up towards Sirius, though you fear the mumble may have been more for yourself.

His attention is diverted towards the boys as they discuss what to do now. Plans of how to get home and where to eat. His finger taps your cheek slowly, his focus paying you no mind. Words like Uber, hotel, room service echo throughout their very repetitive conversation.

“Sirius.”

He looks down, a little shocked and sorry at his own attention. “Yes, lovely?”

“M’hungry.”

“Hungry?” He asks, cringing. You’re about thirty minutes from the hotel, and even then, room service will take another thirty.

“So hungry.”

He sighs, unsure of what to do.

“There’s a hotdog stand over there.” You grab his tattooed bicep to balance yourself as you point to your right.

He thinks, peering down at you. “This won’t ruin your dinner?” It’s midnight, but still.

“No,” you sing, reaching up to cup his cheeks. “I really want a hotdog.

He flushes, looking away from your wandering eyes. Normally he wouldn’t let you out of his sight. They would never let you out of their sight in a place like this. But the cart is in eye view of the boys, and he has faith in you not to stray, even in your inebriated manor. It’s not that they don’t trust you, they just prefer to keep you safe themselves. Is that okay?

“Okay,” He murmurs, pulling out his wallet, handing you his card. “At least get the good toppings.”

“I always get the good toppings.” You pull away.

The walk is short and the cart is colorful. Red and white stripes, curvy calligraphy. It shines in your inebriated vision. Beautiful. The queues not long, just an older man waiting in front of you, but it feels like forever as the generous man (with the toppings as well) takes your order and wraps it in warm aluminum foil.

You take the hotdog eagerly. “Thank you.”

It’s heavy in your hands, warm too. You yell Sirius’ name excitedly, waving the hotdog above your head for him to see. He laughs, thumbs up until you bump into a man, smile fading, concern etching his brows.

“Oh,” you murmur, looking up. “I’m sorry.”

“No problem,” he smiles. It’s uncomfortable, not the smile of a friendly civilian.

You laugh. It’s polite, anyone can see that, but he leans closer. He smells like liquor, a disgusting discovery that has you subconsciously leaning away.

“You new around here?”

An actual laugh stumbles out of your lips. “London? No.”

He takes this as an entrance. “You should show me around.”

“No, thank you.” You try to walk past him. Towards Sirius who’s already walking over. “Goodnight.”

“Wait,” he grabs your arm, pulling you back. His fingers dig into your elbow painfully.

“What the fuck,” you gasp, pulling your arm away roughly. “don’t touch me.”

“C’mon,” The man slurs, fingers reaching for you again. “Don’t be-“

“Hello?” Sirius walks up, all stock. He grabs your forearm pulling you to him firmly, getting in between you and the man. He’s not much taller, but more intimidating in demeanor. “Do we have a problem?”

“No,” the man scoffs.

“Cause it looks like you put your hands on her.”

He scoffs again, clearly inebriated. “We were just talking.”

“Well, conversations over now.”

“She can make her own decisions.”

“Fuck off, bro.” Sirius waves his hand dismissively. Quickly, he walks you towards the boys who are peeking their eyes up from the Uber app.

“She was asking for it.”

Sirius reels back, dropping your forearm to shove the scary stranger in the chest. He pushes hard, the man losing his balance as he falls to the ground in a sickening thud. You gasp loudly, the unexpected conflict startling you. Vaguely you hear Sirius say something to him, but you’re too focused on the way the man looks up at you.

James and Remus are there in seconds, quick on Sirius’s heels. They pull at him, up and off the man. There were no real punches thrown, no real injuring blows, it wasn’t even enough to form a crowd. But still, you’re shaken. You shiver like a leaf under your James’ leather jacket, suddenly not feeling the warmth of the alcohol you’d consumed before the concert.

Slowly, you stumble back and way from your boys, to the bench next to the shitty bar you’d passed on your way home. That had been scary, but you’re safe; that had been scary, but Sirius dealt with it. You bring your hand up to your chest, setting the hotdog you had been eager to buy down next to you.

“Hi,” Remus pushes aside the hotdog to sit next to you. “Are you okay?”

You look up to the boy, blindingly beautiful in the streetlights and advertisements. “Yes.”

He pushes some stray hair from your face. “He didn’t hurt you?”

“I think it was more startling.” James sits on the other side of you, kissing your temple firmly. “I’m sorry he did that.”

“It’s okay, I’m okay.”

“She’s okay.” Sirius gruffs from where he walks over.

He sounds cooler than he thinks he looks. He’s not bruised, bloodied, or bandaged, if he were he thinks he’d look cool enough to breeze over. But then again you look mad, so maybe he doesn’t want that.

“Don’t be upset,” Sirius crouches to your level. You’re in the arms of a solid Remus. “he was a creep.”

“Are you hurt?”

“Are you trying to tell me something?” He laughs roguishly. “I thought I looked good tousled.”

He does, and you know he’ll look good on the tabloids tomorrow too. Sirius black gives black eye? You sigh at the thought.

“You do.” James feeds Sirius.

“At least someone in this relationship cares for my ego.”

“You look good.”

“Oh, now you tell me.”

You laugh, letting Sirius stare at you like you hung the moon.

“Kiss em?” He pushes his knuckles in front of your lips. His fingers throb lightly, you can feel it on your lips.

“That was stupid.”

“C’mon,” Sirius’ eyes roll as he pulls you up. “You’ve got a hotdog to eat.”

[historyslittlebish]

Illness won't stop love (Cured!King Baldwin IV x Witch!Female!Reader)

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a/n: I have never watched kingdom of heaven before but I know of it because my sister watched it so I am gonna write for the king :)

Warning: unrealistic but okay, religious stuff, occ?

Baldwin groaned as he sat on his throne. He praised himself for getting all the diplomatic work done half the time he usually completes.

Every passing day his bones and muscles ached, his mind spinning, overwhelmed with his kingly duties. His mind was filled with thoughts and plans but he was too weak to act on them.

While determined and strong willed, he was aware of his sickly disease and how weak he is compared to anyone else. He often spent time looking up, thoughts of gods plan with him.

Why?

Why would god plague him with such illness, what had he done? What was his sin against his creator? he often found himself praying that he could, maybe, just maybe, be cured and continue to live and be the greatest king he could be, have a wife and an heir, to live his life to the fullest with no worry of death coming as soon as he always prepared himself for.

He knows he should not question God, and be grateful for his life but even then his mind does not stop thinking such thoughts.

He sat still staring into nothing, deep in thought as a few servants scuttled about, cleaning and tending to the throne room. The sounds of their whispering had started bothering him, the constant sound of pattering feet didn't allow him to think.

He slowly rose before clearing his throat. Some of the servants looked over in surprise and curiosity.

"I would like to be left alone, please." His voice is steady, firm, but gentle and warm. His servants rushed to leave the room allowing the king his privacy.

He sighed as he sat down once more. Alone in his own thoughts, he allowed himself to be consumed by his own mind, each thought, idea, word, running through his brain as he rested his eyes, deeply in his imagination.

Not too long after however does he hear a female yelp, a loud thud, and someone shuffling around the marble floor.

His eyes snapped open as he saw a small amount of mist covering a figure slightly. His eyes widened in surprise and shock as he stared at the woman in front of him. She wore odd clothes, not the kind he's seen before, her H/C was beautiful to him, mesmerizing even. Her S/C looked so soft in comparison to his heavily scarred and sore ridden skin.

He stood up and suddenly the strange and foreign woman stared at him before getting on her knees and bowing deeply, lifting her head enough to look back up at him.

"My king." She stated.

"Rise." Baldwin said as he motioned with his hand for the woman to stand. Slowly she did stand and still have a respectful demeanor.

"Who are you, and why do you come here?" She looked up, her E/C looking into his blue irises. She inhaled before kneeling and leaving her hands by her side "My king, I present myself as a witch from the North. I've heard of a prophecy that you will need to defeat Saladin but not without outside forces," She rose from her knees and reached into a small pouch, holding a vile with blue liquid, glowing and bubbling. "I've come to present to you a cure. You have my heart should I speak the lies of the devil himself.".

Baldwin was shocked and scared. A witch in his holy kingdom? Witchcraft is the devil's work. He could not decide if he should call his soldiers and risk the witch woman to hex him or to continue the conversation, only to eventually be found dead without reason, or to many, his leprosy being the cause.

He took the latter and prayed that no harm would come to him.

"Well witch, I want proof." The woman nodded and held her arm to her side, F/C mist circling the room, a wall of fog covered the walls of the room. The mist streamed into the middle of the room and created a circle, creating a pocket of white particles creating images.

They showed him being crowned king all the way to his death at an old age.

he could not believe his eyes. The images showed such small moments in his life that he could not recollect well but they were perfect for what he was told.

The mist that engulfed the room suddenly retracted and disappeared into the air.

He stared at the witch who stared back but with a slight fear in her eyes, not knowing if she would be in danger or not. Baldwin's breath hitched but he sat down. He racked his brain for thoughts but he was very overwhelmed by the information. He clutched his head and rubbed at his temples.

The two stayed in silence for a few minutes before the king made his choice.

"I shall take this potion if what you say is true." He murmured.

The witch stepped forward towards the kind on his throne and handed him the bottle gently before stepping back.

"I warn you my king, you will fall in a deep slumber, alive and well, but deep for the whole day." The king contemplated her words but slowly opened the bottle and drank the liquid completely.

After a few moments his head began to spun and he almost collapsed to the floor before a warm pair of arms caught him and held him before his eyes completely shut and he fell into a deep slumber.

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Baldwin squinted his eyes as the sun peaked through the window in the early morning. The light was dim due to the window covers but it was still bright to him. He slowly raised his body but was confused when he could feel his body weight shift onto his legs. He had lost feelings partly in his legs and arms but he could feel himself twitch and move on his entire body.

He was wearing some white sleepwear that he doesn't remember putting on and his mask was on the side of his bed. He was confused but slowly walked over to the mirror.

His eyes widened and he stumbled back but caught himself before he fell on the cold, hard floor.

He saw himself but no longer disfigured or ridden with rashes and sores. His golden locks framed his face, his eyes looking deep into his in the mirror, his skin was just glowey as the witch he had seen.

That's when it hit him.

The witch had saved him, the lovely witch that had given him a potion that she said would heal him and allow him to live his life fully.

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The whole castle was chattering with loud and bright voices. Their king was not only cured by gods miracle but he would be able to soon produce an heir should he be willing.

He sat on his throne thinking of the memory of you. You, you were to be his wife, you saved him, he could live without the fear of dying anytime soon.

Baldwin got a surge of confidence, he was determined to get you to come back but first he had to deal with royal affairs but nothing could slow him down, not anymore.

a/n: Part 2? Yes. I need to make a male version for anon OR male reader hcs for our king. Sorry if its shit though.

a/n 2: the part 2 will be linked to this post and mostly everyone who comments will be tagged (I'll try) but yeah! It's in the works

[doraminatook]

We're About To Get Playfully Blasphemous Here (or...The Metaphorical Death and Resurrection of Me)

2023 was the year I turned 33, and in case you didn’t know, many religious scholars cite that as the age Jesus was crucified and rose from the dead.  Now, within literature there’s a trope called the Christ-like figure in which a character sacrifices themself and from that death, something happens in order to advance the plot.  Usually that something is either the “dead” character rising from the ashes and obtaining new powers (think Gandalf the Grey battling the Balrog and then coming back as Gandalf the White) or the protagonist being so moved by the death of this secondary character that they are reborn in some way (think Red Badge of Courage’s Jim Conklin (JC…get it?) whose death changes Henry’s opinion on war.)

Because I’m a storyteller and have a dark sense of humor, I began to wonder if I would somehow have a Christ-like-figure-moment within my thirty-third year of life.  (Not long after my birthday, I told my mom that I just had to make it to 34 and then I would have “beaten” Jesus; being a good Lutheran woman, she did not appreciate this joke.)

Now, I may be reaching or forcing figurative imagery into the literal world (isn’t that what artists do?), but I think I did have a “death” and consequential “resurrection”.  

I’m at a strange place in my writing career in that I am not famous (by any means) but I’m also not considered emerging.  Recently, I was told by a theater that I should “sit this contest out” and give someone else a chance but at the same time my work has not been produced enough to catch an agent’s eye.  (It doesn’t help that theatre companies have an intense fixation on world premieres.  They want to be the first one to do the show, apparently assuming that as soon as a piece gets produced once, that means it’s finished.  But that’s a rant for another day.) 

Currently I live in Milwaukee and for a long time I thought (or at least hoped) that I could maybe just make it work here; it is technically a theater town.  Add to that the fact that my whole family lives in Wisconsin, my financial situation was not ideal, and my best friend (platonic soulmate) had made it fairly clear to me that she did not wish to move away from Milwaukee.  When I was honest with myself, I knew that I wanted to get out, but there were so many things holding me back from making the jump.  

As soon as the thought of moving away entered my head, Anxiety would perk up.  Always eager to be the backseat driver, it would shout things like, “Isn’t life here good enough for you?  You’ve got a roof over your head, a job that allows you to pursue your passion, and you’re perfectly healthy.  Be grateful for what you have and stop expecting something more!” 

I attended a workshop for other playwrights from the area and, at the risk of sounding arrogant, I didn’t have a lot in common with many of them.  Discussions and questions whirled around about how we find time to write, where we get inspiration, and how we format a script properly.  Some of the writers present had never even finished a full script.  I certainly am not bringing this up in order to shame anyone, but it was an eye-opening experience for me.  Was I a proverbial big fish in a little pond?

My anxiety had an opinion for that, too.  

“Wow!  Way to be egotistical, D!  You think you’re so much better than everyone here?  Get over yourself!  You’re not special.  You’re just another ‘artist’ who thinks they’ve got something special to say!”

A few weeks later I was at my cousin’s wedding and after the ceremony, he approached me to offer congratulations for all the success I’ve had…only to then immediately cut me off guard with the question, “So when are you moving to New York?”  As the groom, he was quickly called away for photographs and I never really got to answer his question.  

If this moment had been in a play, the spotlight would have hit me right then and there and I would have begun some contemplative soliloquy where I openly pondered, “New York, eh?  Maybe I should go to New York!”

Obviously, as a theatre person, the idea of moving to New York had crossed my mind; it’s the theatre capital of the US for obvious reasons.  But, at the same time, New York just didn’t feel like me.  (I have a lot of opinions on NYC, especially when it comes to the outrageous ticket prices.  When it costs a small fortune to see a Broadway show, art becomes a luxury rather than a necessity.  But that’s a rant for another day.)  It certainly seemed daunting, and every good dream should be at least a little daunting.  But New York was daunting without being exciting.  It felt like something I should do…something that was expected of me.

LA didn’t do it for me, either.  Nor Seattle.  I considered many locations, but nothing really made me sit up and take notice.  I wasn’t about to dive headfirst into debt and throw away a good thing unless it was something that truly excited me…something that was enticing enough to spark a change.  

Again, Anxiety spoke up, “Calm the fuck down, D!  New York?  Even if that is what you wanted, they’d eat you alive there!  You’re a soft midwestern girl who can’t take criticism and cries at the drop of a hat!  You really think you could handle New York or LA?  Also, the cost of living in any of those places is way more than you will ever hope to make!  Stick with Submission Helper.  Stick with the contests and the festivals.  Go back to dreaming only as big as The Milwaukee Repertory Theatre.  Sit down and shut up!”

It may have gone on like this…if not for the summer of 2023.

Close your eyes and picture it: WGA strike, Barbenheimer, The Eras Tour, OceanGate, the Grimace Birthday shake…and in the midst of it all, I was having an epiphany.  

A favorite television show of mine dropped its latest season and I eagerly pulled out the Chardonnay and the popcorn to binge it all.  The vast majority of the show takes place in London and features several actors whom I admire greatly.  Between the giggles, sobs, and various twists and turns of the emotional rollercoaster that was Season 2, something all at once occurred to me.

This is what I want.  

That’s where I want to be.  

I want to move to the United Kingdom.

Was it daunting?  Hell yeah, it was daunting.  

And it was exciting.  

It was a dream that excited me.  

It burned inside me.  

It raged.

It burned so hot that I didn’t know what to do with it.  I paced around my tiny apartment, simply stunned by the prospect of it all.  

Anxiety was in the process of drinking a quad shot espresso con panna and promptly did a spit take upon hearing this new idea.  In a frenzied panic, it bellowed, “Are you nuts?  What the hell do you think you’re doing?  YOU can’t move to the UK!  It would be so difficult!  You’d need to apply for a Visa…or something like that!  Do you even know how to apply for a Visa!”  

“No,” I metaphorically replied, “but I could learn.”

“I bet it’s super difficult!” Anxiety shot back, trembling in fear, “I bet it’s expensive and complicated and you’ll never figure it out!  I bet your sense of humor wouldn’t translate!  I bet you’d end up broke and living under a bridge and crying because you threw away this good thing you had!”

For a split second, Anxiety almost won…but somehow, prompted by the promise of this new dream, I dared to ask, “But what if it worked out?  What if I could figure it out?  What if I somehow scraped up the money and did the research and filed the paperwork and just made it work?”

If it were a play, I would have been standing center stage, staring out into the audience like some kind of dramatic hero and whispering hopefully, “Yes…what if…?”  

It has been a long road to get here, but, despite what Anxiety likes to tell me, I did figure it out.  The process has been stressful enough to induce atypical Shingles and a few anxiety attacks, but it’s happening.  It’s actually happening!

This October I’m going to grad school at the University of Essex where I’ll pursue my masters degree in Scriptwriting.  I’ll hone my skills as a playwright while learning the ins and out of writing for film, television, and radio.  I’ll take the train into London on the weekends and see every show I can at the National Theatre.  I’ll get new life experiences.  I’ll do my best to explore every inch of that beautiful island.  I’m going to do something new because it’s scary and, most importantly, it’s exciting.  

(To add to the awesomeness of this new adventure, my best friend (platonic soul mate) is moving with me and pursuing her own dreams of studying acting…also at the University of Essex.)

My “death” was not as dramatic or world-changing as Jesus’s, but it gave way to a new life for me.  The power of storytelling combined with a newfound confidence was enough to catapult me into something new, something different.    

And I know you’re wondering what show I was watching that prompted this sudden change; if you know anything about me, you’ve probably guessed it already.  

Along with seeing as much theatre as I can on my visits to London, I also plan to have surreptitious meetings at The Bandstand, feed ducks some frozen peas at St. James’s Park, and maybe help avert an apocalypse (or two).  My birthday is in January and it just so happens that Season 3 is scheduled to begin filming around that time; perhaps on my winter holiday, I’ll put myself onto a train and take myself up to Edinburgh.  I have so many thoughts on what could possibly happen next to my favorite angel and demon…but that’s a rant for another day.

(Fun fact: I say this line at least once a week...if only to myself.)

[writersdrug]

Ghost x Konig x Reader: I Don't Need You (Ch. 6)

<- Previous - Next ->

Summary: You (surprisingly) get more comfortable with Kortac, and slowly let yourself connect with the team. You subconsciously tether yourself to Konig, who is more than willing to help you fit in. The pain of the past begins to fade into the back of your mind like the end of a long chapter of your life.

Additionally, Konig starts asking the hard questions - it unearths a piece of you that you'd hoped would remain buried, but you still share the memories with Konig.

Chapter warnings: Mentions of violence, mentions of rape, cursing, google translate German, shirtless Soap, very EXTREMELY watered-down mentions of sexual themes (we ain't there yet, boiis)

Notes: Sorry it took so long, I've got a lot cooking in the kitchen now and I'm hoping to pump out a lot this week!

Additionally, I've had some comments on this work not being an x Reader. First off, I never want to mislead anyone. I label this as an x Reader because Bonnie is not an OC of mine. I've seen other x Reader fics include callsigns that refer to the reader, so I assumed using Bonnie similarly would be alright. I also mentioned a name ONCE in chapter 3, "Jane Morris," which I thought to be a very generic name, and I haven't used it since and don't plan to. I have a personal preference of writing longer, chapter-by-chapter fics in first POV because it feels more natural to me than second POV. The same goes for using y/n - I like to avoid it if I can because it feels unnatural.

Again, those last two thing are a personal preference. I'm not bashing any fics that use these things at all, I enjoy both ones that do and ones that don't, and I don't enjoy one over the other. When I say one feels more natural than the other, I mean it feels more natural to write, not to read. I'm debating changing the name I used in chapter 3 to just y/n l/n to make this a true x Reader. If you still feel like I should change this to an x OC please let me know and I'll be happy to adjust the tags, titles, and descriptions. Again, I never meant to be misleading, and I hope I didn't make anyone angry. If a mistake has been made I am happy to learn from it. Thanks!

Konig had cracked the code on me. He figured out that after a case of American beers and a long drive, away from the crowd of new faces, my outer shell began to soften.

There was still a wall that I was holding up between me and everyone else, even though it was significantly smaller than usual. When Roze and Castillo approached me at breakfast, I didn’t get up and leave. And when Juno used the empty spot in the gym room right next to me, dropping his bag on the floor and giving me a cautious glance as he set up for his routine - I didn’t grab my things and move to the other end of the room. That was my first instinct, but I fought it. Instead I huffed, facing the mirror in front of me and focusing on my sets.

I’d started going to the common area more often – maybe not every night, but often enough. We’d make it a habit to play poker on the nights I did show up. I was better than most of the group, since none of them were quite used to my mannerisms yet. However, Konig and Horangi still took the lead as the winners, despite most of us arguing that they shouldn’t be allowed to play if they were going to wear their masks. The argument would eventually turn into a casual conversation – I didn’t engage in it too often. I preferred to sit and listen, using the time to slowly learn more about the team. I typically planted myself between Roze and Konig, keeping my legs crossed on the seat and nervously fiddling with my Yuengling bottle.

Although I was ashamed to admit it, Konig had become a conduit for my interactions with the rest of the team. The way he engaged with their activities, yet still managed to stay reserved, struck a chord with me. I respected the fact that it could sometimes be difficult to find him on base, and that at the same time, he was always there when I started to feel overwhelmed. I didn’t need him, no… that was a stretch. But sometimes I felt grateful that he was so eager to accompany me places – especially when he invited me to go on “perimeter checks” with him, which mostly consisted of long drives off base.

I don’t know how I had grown to appreciate him so much – maybe it was because he felt similar to me, in the way that we both needed our alone time, and with how we often found ourselves slipping out of the common area around the same time, with the original excuse being that we were tired. Half of the time, we would sit in the mess hall and talk until the early hours of the morning.

“A sniper?” I asked on one particular night, fiddling with the mouth of my beer bottle. “You’re way to big for that – no offense.”

Konig chuckled. “And that’s what they initially told me.” He took a swig of his (nasty) German beer. “But, despite being handed other opportunities, I proved them wrong. I’m sill a damn good sniper.”

I huffed. “Nah, you should be happy you got promoted to Colonel; you’re lucky, you get to avoid being in the trenches – at least, as much as the rest of us.”

“Lucky? No…” Konig said, shaking his head. “I do not like being a Colonel. I’d much rather be doing the dirty work of soldiers than writing these stupid reports.” He slapped a large hand over the manilla folder that sat on the table next to his beer. “It keeps my head busy, and I don’t have to listen to myself think.”

I nodded while sipping my beer. “I completely get that – If I’m not actively doing something with my hands, my brain gets too loud. Like – like there’s a mini me in my head, and the only way to drown her out is by physically doing something. Anything, really.”

Konig laughed – almost a snort – “‘A mini you’. I like that, that’s good.”

I huffed a laugh through my nose, turning my head to hide the smirk on my face. Despite being a large, brutish man, he had a youthful essence about him. It was hidden deep beneath the thick exterior of a war-hardened soldier. But, every now and again, it rose to the surface, touching a part of my soul I hadn’t allowed to be seen in a long time.

I pushed my stack of bills into the middle of the table. “All in.” I said nonchalantly.

Gaz narrowed his eyes, leaning back in his chair and looking down his nose at me. “You’re bloody stupid…”

“Or really smart.” I retorted. I folded my arms over my chest, not wavering under his intimidating gaze.

It was unbearably hot in the room – whether that was from the tension of the game or the broken air conditioner (Price eternally insisted it would be fixed, “… by next week…”), I didn’t know. I was donned in my sweatpants and sports bra, Gaz was in a wife beater and sweats, Ghost was covered head to toe in a sweatshirt and jeans (one could ever rarely catch him wearing anything less), and Soap… well, Soap was Soap. Completely shirtless, with only a pair of gym shorts on. Typical for him to be so shameless.

Ghost looked at his cards, his jaw clearly tense underneath his mask. He wasn’t very good at hiding his unlucky hand – it was almost like he wasn’t even trying. Which was a possibility.

“Fucking hell… I fold.” He tossed his hand onto the table, revealing his sour bunch of cards. He walked to the fridge and cursed under his breath, rummaging through the contents.

“Jesus, you’re a load of dry shite.” Soap commented, leaning against the wall adjacent to Ghost. “You could’ve at least tried to intimidate ‘em.”

“You could try shutting your fucking mouth, alright?” Ghost snapped back. Soap raised his hands defensively, leaving Ghost by the fridge.

He flopped onto the couch near me and Gaz. “Miserable sap…”

I did my best to tune out their bickering. I stared down Gaz, tapping my fingers on the edges of my cards. I was relying on the river card – I had a chance at a four-of-a-kind, praying the last card on the table would be another seven.. It was risky, and Gaz was probably right in calling me stupid. But I was never one to back down from a challenge. I craved the thrill of it. Most of the time, I ended up getting lucky.

Gaz chewed his lip. He cocked an eyebrow, slowly pushing all of his cash to the middle of the table. “Call.” He said.

And I heard it – the telltale sign of his bluff. A fraction of a second where his voice had waivered, followed by him grinding his jaw. I knew I had it in the bag.

I was savoring the moment of triumph, watching Gaz stare at his cards, when I felt a hand on my back. I nearly spun around and yelled at whoever touched me, until I saw a gloved hand place a Yuengling bottle to my right, the lid already popped off. I faltered, staring at the bottle, feeling the hand on my back rubbing a thumb back and forth over my spine.

I glanced behind me, looking up to meet Ghost’s eyes. He was looking down at me with an empty gaze. His eyebrows twitched for a brief moment as he continued rubbing his thumb over the skin of my back.

I knew what he was suggesting. What he was asking. Put a woman on a compound with broken, touch-starved men, and eventually one of them will succumb to the temptation. Even so, I was shocked that it was Ghost. I would say he was showing a weakness here, no matter what he decided to call this – it was an admission that he needed something – something from me, specifically – which I never thought would happen.

He continued staring at me for another few moments, waiting for an answer. Keeping my eyes locked on him, I took the bottle and drank; my reply. He gave the tiniest nod, walking away and sitting down next to Soap – who was shuffling the remaining deck of cards, eyes narrowed at Gaz. He knew he was bluffing too.

I turned back to Gaz, smirking as he revealed the river card.

“You ever think about what you would say to those kids now?” I asked, tapping my beer bottle. “The ones who bullied you.”

Konig hummed. “Mm… not really. I don’t hold too much resentment.”

I chuckled. “If only we could all be a saint.”

“Well, it all happened so long ago.” Konig tried to justify himself. “We were only kids, bored and trying to stay on the surface. They just wanted to look tough so that no one would pick on them. Of course, I wouldn’t understand that as a kid. Maybe then, I would have admired what I’ve become, and I would have wanted to boast about it. But now that I am a Colonel – Ich habe besseres zu tun.”

I sarcastically rolled my eyes. “And that means?”

“Ehh…” he groaned, squinting his eyes. “How is it said… ‘I have bigger fishes to cook.’”

I sputtered, turning my head and laughing. Konig glared at me. “Gibt es ein Problem?” he asked, which I sort of understood. He sounded irritated, that much I could tell.

“No, Konig…” I said, standing up and giving him a pat on the shoulder as I walked by. “Just keep up the English lessons, ok?”

He scowled. “Verpiss dich… Start learning German and maybe I will.” He retorted, and I waved at him dismissively from behind my back.

I stuck my head into the fridge, grabbing a Yuengling and one of Konig’s beers. I walked back and placed them both next to him. Like instinct, he took each one and hooked their lid onto the edge of the table, then smacked the side of his hand down on the tops, sending the lid clattering to the ground. He opened my beer and handed it to me, then repeated the process with his, before reaching down and collecting the lids. He added them to the pile, totaling six beer lids so far.

If someone had shown me this image a year ago – Konig and I, sitting up late into the night, chatting like we’d known each other for decades… not to mention the fact that I was so unusually open with him… I would have been insulted. I would have laughed. No one would have been able to convince me that I would become so attached to anyone else after what had happened with the 141. Yet, all of this felt so natural. It was beyond how I felt that Konig and I were kindred spirits… it really did feel like I’d known him before. Maybe, he reminded me of a part of myself that I tried to bury away.

Or, maybe, I was just submitting to loneliness and trying to justify how quickly I clung to the first available soul. That was also an embarrassing possibility, one that I would rather not admit to.

“I have a question for you.” Konig’s voice and the clink of his beer bottle on the table brought me back to reality.

“I might have an answer.” I replied.

He looked off to the side, perhaps wondering whether or not he really wanted to ask the question. “Who did you kill? And why?”

Just like that, I felt the walls being built right back to where I had them. Bonding time’s over. Back to square one.

His inquiry caught me off guard. I froze, my bottle hovering in the air before I could take a sip, my eyes glued to the table. Just the mention of the incident brought the painful memories up to the surface, like claws scraping at the dirt, digging up the deepest roots.

“Lots of people.” I said, deflecting. I took a swig of my beer.

“You know what I mean.” He scoffed. “Why did you end up in military prison?” He leaned over the table – clearly not planning on letting the topic go.

I sucked my teeth, staring at him defiantly – moments ago, it was pleasant talking to him. Now, I was fighting back the urge to leave him at the table and go to my dorm. I felt ambushed at how he had changed the subject so abruptly. Like he had been waiting for me to carelessly stumble into the trap, and now he was watching me snarl from within it.

He leaned back with a sigh. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I just thought we were getting somewhere here.”

“Oh?” I said dryly, cocking an eyebrow. “’Getting somewhere?’ What’s that sup-“

“Hey, it’s ok.” He raised his hands defensively. “I get it. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” His words were forgiving, but his eyes said something else – I knew what he was thinking.

Weak.

I gave him a hateful stare. Fucker know how to play his cards.

“I killed a sergeant.” I admitted. “My lieutenant’s right-hand man.”

That got Konig’s attention. He leaned forward again, putting his bottle off to the side. “Why?” he asked again.

I inhaled deeply, then exhaled, as I leaned back in my chair. My eyes fell to the floor as I forced myself to recall the memories. “In Egypt, a while back. Don’t ask when because I won’t tell you.” I warned Konig, and he huffed – but obliged.

I continued. “We were going in to retrieve a hostile target. Everyone was jumpy – me included. It was dark, and we didn’t know what to expect. After the hostiles started to engage, we were scattered. I got stuck in one tower, so I went upstairs to try and make a foxhole.”

I paused. It was now my own hands, covered in dirt, clawing at the roots of the memory. Each word I said was painful, yet somehow felt overshared. Like I was trying to get Konig to pity me. Except I wasn’t – I just wanted him to listen.

And that’s exactly what he did. No comforting shoulder pat, no soothing words… he just listened. He knew that if he stepped on the wrong spot, it would break my openness, like a branch breaking under his foot would disturb the silence of the woods.

“The sergeant – ‘Flare’ – he was up there, too. I thought we’d had the same idea, but… holy fuck…” I ran a hand down my face, feeling my heartbeat grow faster. “At first, I didn’t know what he was doing, I just heard him making those sounds and I thought he’d been hit, but… he was taking advantage of this – this woman – and with her kids right fucking there… she was probably just trying to hide, to hide them, she had to be so fucking scared… he didn’t even stop when I found him, I don’t know if he even heard me screaming at him.”

I paused, almost waiting for Konig to say or do something, but he remained silent. Despite my eyes never leaving the floor, I could see his blue ones watching me carefully. Concerned, patient, and calm.

“I didn’t know what else to do.” I said, my voice faltering the slightest bit. “So I shot him. In the head.” I unintentionally shivered. “Probably traumatized that poor woman and her kids, but… quick decisions aren’t the best ones.”

I ended my rant with a heavy sip of my beer. Konig continued watching me with wary eyes, which I ignored. I didn’t need consolation, or sympathy, or whatever he might try to offer. Somehow, he seemed to understand that.

“I would have done the same thing.” He commented.

Would you?

After a moment, he exhaled. “I don’t understand… I’d say you were in the right. Why did they put you in prison for that?”

I chewed my lip. “There was… some speculation, that I was jealous of his position. We’d been close throughout my time with the team, and when he got the promotion to second-in-command, I was a bit envious at first. People thought I was taking my anger out on him in what seemed like the perfect opportunity to lie.” I took another sip. “But I was happy for him. He worked hard, and he deserved it. But then the pressure got to him – Lieutenant was always depending on him for too much, and Flare couldn’t handle the responsibility. If he slipped up, it was a lot worse than if one of the rest of us did. I guess… the pressure is what got him in the end. Made him crazy in the end. He didn’t have any morals anymore.”

More silence. It felt uncomfortably loud – Konig’s stare seemed to make my head ring, making me fidget and bounce my knee. I wanted to snap at him. What are you looking at? Why are you asking so many fucking questions? But I was able to keep my anger at bay, justifying the situation by assuming his questions were fueled by nothing more than curiosity.

I figured I had said enough for the night, and finished off the rest of my beer. I slapped my leg, the telltale sign that I was getting ready to turn in.

Konig ignored it, or seemed to not notice. “Why did you kill him?” he asked.

I narrowed my eyes in confusion. “Why did I? What do you mean?”

“Why kill him? Why not just… disable him for the moment, and let your commander deal with him later?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but my voice was a second too late. “Again… in the heat of the moment, you don’t make distinctions like that. You think: ‘shoot,’ or ‘don’t shoot.’ And shooting him was the choice I made.”

Konig’s gaze became scrutinous. He knew I was lying about something… he was hellbent on figuring out what.

He’s going to have to wait a long damn time.

“Goodnight, Konig.” I said flatly. I collected my bottles, getting up from the table. With a clang, I tossed them into the bin by the exit, walking down the hall and leaving Konig sitting alone in the mess hall. I feel tears stinging my eyes, but that’s all they did. It’s all just water under the bridge, y/n. Get it together. You’re alright.

-----

Taglist: @igotmajordaddyissues @princekonig @vixionix

[verystrxxwberry]

Hi!!! I didn't know you were writing scenarios about newgen :o. What are your thoughts on newgen so far and which route are you following? I'm still torn between Roy, Devon and Thomas.

I can't wait to see how the first kiss will be with the three of them, so I'd love to read your take on how do you think it would happen and how the routes would feel about it.

🫂❤️

MCL NEW GEN; first kiss headcanons!

♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: sfw, fluff, routes x reader, long scenarios… (I got romantic) ↝ 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: Yes, I finally dared to write for these people because I found myself enjoying a lot of the story as I played. I think it’s pretty cool, but the system of AP's and getting the gems is awful… And by now I am terribly obsessed with Thomas, I love him! 

♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•.

DEVON

It wasn’t his intention to give you extra hours at the office, but somehow you were the only one he needed besides him at that moment. Your presence helped him to focus, it motivated him as he knew that anytime he shifted his head he’d be able to see you. After months working there, he showed proudness and respect to the way you developed your skills.

He was aware of the torture he made you go through. Maybe it wasn’t as pleasant for you as it was for him to spend time alone with you, that’s why he even invited you to a small cup of coffee so you could get some energy.

It was already 8 PM when he decided that you two should call it a day in the office and rest. As you picked up your stuff, he waited for you and apologized for making you work extra hours, and he will pay it as a plus in the salary, that’s for sure.

It was night already so he decided to stay with you until the bus came. You knew that since you started working in Devenementiel there was a growing tension whenever you find yourself sharing space with only your boss. He was the kind of boss everyone wanted to have: attentive, kind, that actually helps you to grow positively, he had a playful side that knew when to come out and light up anyone's mood. He was a great boss.

And it was even more great whenever he came close to you to help you, allowing you to feel his warm breath on your shoulder, or even when he took your hands gently in his to guide you when he was teaching you to do something. You knew deep inside that he was not really subtle with the way you called his interest.

You took courage to initiate this, asking playfully: “so… you are planning on giving me a plus, right?” Which he nodded in response, his hazel eyes focusing on you. “Alright, that’s a working payment. But what about giving me a personal plus? You know, a personal payment…”

For one second you thought you humiliated yourself as he seemed to get deep in thought, but right before you had time to get flustered, he released a melodic laugh as he placed his hand on your shoulder. “Oh, how greedy, so you want more money?”

“No, I wasn’t talking about money…” You mutter timidly as he seemed to find your offer amusing. “Probably… I don’t know, going out for dinner together or something.”

His smirk never disappeared, only growing the more you spoke. He hummed, looking at his phone to check the date. “This week is difficult…” You saw Devon thinking one more time, his eyes falling once again in you. “But deal. I just hope you can forgive me for making you wait.” He saw the bus at the beginning of the street and he sighed. “Call me impatient, but today I will pay you differently.” 

You had no time to react when he cupped your chin and leaned down to press his lips against yours. It took you by surprise, so you didn’t have time to react or to kiss back. You’d feel him smile against your lips, knowing perfectly that he surprised you with that. And after a few seconds he separated. The bus was already reaching the stop where you both were.

“See you tomorrow. Rest well.” He spoke with his usual tone, his hand caressing your cheek before he separated and walked away towards his house. He went to his house with a proud smile on his face. And seeing your shy expression about it the next day would make him laugh quietly. He should spoil you like that more often.

ROY 

You decided to spend your day off in a calm way, spending your day resting at home and enjoying the peace of having no responsibilities other than breathing. But that peace got interrupted when your phone vibrated with a great spam of notifications- your great friend and colleague, Roy, was asking you to meet him on the beach to go for a walk.

He was truly happy when you agreed to meet him. Even if you were on your day off, he still had to work and he had a lot to rant about. He had always been very open about his feelings and thoughts, and it was funny to see him whine so much about Jason being a pain in the ass.

You walked through the streets, buying a drink and then going to the beach to sit on the sand and keep listening to him ranting and ranting. There was a point in which you chuckled, shaking your head “hey… you are in a meeting with me, could you forget about job for a whole hour?” Even if you requested it in a playful tone, he knew you were serious. He whined playfully, laying down in the sand, using his arms as a pillow.

“Ow, I thought you’d always listen to me…” He was being a dramatic queen, like most of the times. You know he was playing though. “Then rant at me about anything.” He told you as he closed his eyes, enjoying the soft breeze that caressed his stunning features. You knew that Roy meant it, and he is capable of listening to you as much as you need. He is the type of guy that likes to give what he receives.

He is silent as he listens to you, taking spontaneous sips from his drink and nodding at your words. The sun was setting and soon would be night, but that wasn’t a bother for any of you. 

You looked at him as you finished your ranting, seeing him so peaceful. He was definitely the sleeping beauty, but he wasn’t sleeping yet. The silence in between you both was comfortable, allowing the ocean waves crashing into the sand to be the only noise interrupting the peace- but it only gave more peace. He opened one of his eyes to check on you, a little smile drawing on his face when he saw you looking at him already.

“C’mere.” He spoke in such a low tone that it was almost like a whisper, extending one of his arms to invite you to lie down in his embrace. And how to reject that offer. The contrast of his warm body to the cold breeze that was around you was comforting. He pulled you close, letting your head rest on his chest. You could feel it raising and going down with each calm breath he took.

You didn’t even care about how the minutes passed, he kept himself entertained by playing with your hair. When he felt your pleasant sigh he reincorporated a little bit to look down at you: “Are you falling asleep on me?” He asked playfully. Yet you shook your head, your cheeks being slightly warm at how you found his dark eyes connecting with yours.

“Ah, you look adorable..” He whispered with a little smile. You saw his eyes shine with affection as he looked down at you, and that only motivated you to lean in slightly. He noticed your movement and cupped your cheek, moving your head slightly. Without thinking you two cut the distance that separated your lips, and he didn’t even wait to kiss back, allowing you to explore each others’ mouth. It was warm, gentle yet slow. His hands placed gently over your waist, holding you firmly against him.

No matter how much you want to make it soft, Roy is a tease and will end up adding his tongue into the kiss, the wetness tracing your bottom lip and making you squirm. He chuckles when he sees your nervous reaction in front of it. You'd separate a little for air, his lips only centimeters away from yours and whispering “Your lips are soft… could I try them again?”

If you don’t stop him, he won’t stop himself either. The only thing stopping him from devouring you would be the fact that you were in public, but he’s up to a making out session there.

AMANDA

You decided to join Amanda in work as she organized some papers for an upcoming party that a client asked your company to organize. The conversation between you both was casual, offering a brainstorm of great ideas which you complimented each other. 

She spoke about some experiences she had related to the subject of the party as she sketched randomly stuff in a paper. The way her pupils dilated every time she spoke to you was a detail you couldn’t forget about her, as well as the way her fluffy cheeks held that natural blush from her skin. Even though you realize that every time Amanda was alone with you, her cheeks were redder than usual.

The brainstorm was done and you both started to do small sketches of the design of the party, Amanda even offered to put some cozy music in the back so you both could work in peace and comfort.

Her voice was sweet as she hummed to the song. The scent of her perfume exposed her wealth, you could smell it even if the distance in between you wasn’t as close as you would have liked. You were across the table, looking at her and not even realizing that you were probably staring for too long.

Amanda was looking down at the papers, some strands of her hair not allowing you to see her face properly, but it just gave her a more attractive view of her. You decided to move your hand in direction to her face, placing one of her loosened stands right behind her ear. You noticed she got startled, but a timid smile appeared on her face as she looked up at you. 

It took her a few seconds to realize that she was also staring back at you, clearing her throat and nervously looking away. “Do you want to take a break?” she offered, her voice sounding low and sweet, not as demanding or confident as she usually was. You nodded and she added: “Then I will go buy some pastries for us.” 

There was no way she was going alone, so you decided immediately to stand up. “I will go with you” you spoke with a firm tone, and she nodded, organizing all the papers over the table and walking with you towards the bakery. 

As you waited in the queue to buy, she decided to hold your arm carefully, checking if you’d be comfortable with it. You allowed her, caressing her arm in an instinctive way. You noticed she was leaning to you to whisper something to your ear, but you also leaned towards her. 

Your lips didn’t meet, but you were so close that Amanda forgot how to breathe at that moment. She didn’t know what she was doing yet her body impulsed her to steal a small kiss from your lips. After it, she separated quickly and looked away, her skin as red as a tomato as she tried to calm down the way her heart would stop beating like crazy. That was something she was wishing to do for so long, yet she didn't think twice before doing it and that made her terribly embarrassed.

In case you didn’t have any topic to talk about, the walk back at the office would be filled of an awkward silence. She was still shy, drowned in her own thoughts. Your mind started wondering about how to make her come back to earth. You closed the door of the meeting room right behind your back, then you muttered “did you like it?”

“Like what?” She asked in a monotonous and low tone, still lost in her deep thoughts. 

“The kiss. Did you like the kiss?” You asked and observed her at the minimum detail, how her eyes seemed to look up at you once again, searching your gaze with a nervous expression. She slowly nodded her head and that made you feel those butterflies once again. This time you were the one taking initiative, holding her hand and pulling her closer so you could kiss her once again. She was tense at first, but she closed her eyes and kissed back, allowing herself to melt into that tender kiss, her arms wrapping around your neck as she pulled you closer.

That seemed to light up her mood, and you could notice how she was more kind towards everyone. Maybe you should kiss her more often to see how adorable she can get to be after it.

THOMAS

It takes him too long to realize that you like him in that way, no matter all the hints you throw at him about your feelings. He is too focused on how he suddenly gets an intense adrenaline in his stomach when he is around you than how you act towards him. He doesn’t dare to make any step because he would consider it a loss of time in case he gets rejected. And in case he gets accepted he’d leave the scene with a stoic face, even if his hands are all sweaty from the anxiety.

He decided to ask you if you would like to go on a ride in his motorbike after work. And you gladly accepted to do so. You’ve been for a couple of months developing feelings with him, but you didn’t know if he even felt the same. But it was a fact that you both grew closer to each other as time passed.

He waited for you outside your house, checking his phone as he was resting against his motorbike. He was still wearing his helmet and he had another one held by his arm. When he saw you, he hid his phone and waited for you to approach. Usually he’d let you put the helmet yourself, but when he was in a good mood he was the one putting it on you. And Thomas was in a great mood today.

It was surprising how gentle he was with his acts no matter the coldness of his voice. He offered you his arm to help you get on the motorbike. “Hold on tight.” He patted his waist, inviting you to wrap your arms around it, and you didn’t even think twice to do it. 

He is good at riding the motorbike, being gentler and more careful as you were with him. Though he would increase the speed of it just to tease you, feeling your grip tighten around his waist as he kept a smirk under his helmet. The thought of your body pressed against him only made him feel even more adrenaline.

After a few minutes of the ride, he went to the upper part of the city, parking his motorbike and giving you the task of jumping down his motorbike because he found the struggle you had to reach the floor adorable. He removed his helmet and rested his elbows over the balcony.

That area allowed you to have a great view of the city and further. The streets filled with colorful lights made it seem alive, just as the windows of the buildings showing different lives as if it was a TV show. It was entertaining to see the city from there. And even if you had the chance to see all the city, filled of life, there was no absolute sound that interrupted the whisper of the wind.

“The view is beautiful…” You heard him whisper, and you nodded, agreeing with him. What you didn’t realize is that his eyes weren’t on the big landscape in front of you both: his light teal eyes were focused on you. He approached a little towards you, making you think that he was actually cold as he gripped tightly his own arms, which were crossed over the railing. 

You didn’t have the usual occasion to be as close as you were to him at that moment, your arms touching casually. And luckily he didn’t separate as he always used to do, you secretly appreciated it. “I must say… I’m glad I joined you tonight.” You whispered honestly, waiting for his answer as you looked up at his neutral expression. 

“I am glad you joined too.” He affirmed, a light smile appearing on his lips. The pinky color on his lips made his pale face look more alive, if not… you would’ve believed he was a corpse. They weren’t too thin but too thick either, they were just perfect. His eyes were shining but you couldn’t read his expression, he was just… sharing the moment with you. He was staring back at your lips as he saw how you did the same, but didn't say a word.

You were aware that he wouldn’t take the step to break the tension that was in between you right now. With an impulse of adrenaline, you grabbed him by the neck and made him lean down so he was at the perfect height for you to finally brush your lips together for the first time. He didn’t make a single move. He was paralyzed.

It was confusing, you didn’t know if he liked it, but when you separated you saw his cheeks completely red. He didn’t make a comment about it, simply clearing his throat and looking towards the city. 

He changed the subject, which made you confused and quite disappointed. He didn’t mention anything related to the kiss. You almost felt guilty for doing so- then the meeting reached its end and you were finally alone in your house. 

After some minutes overthinking you received a few messages from Thomas:

“Hey. The meeting was great. I just hope the next time you give me more time to react. I really wanted to kiss you properly. Can you do it again next time? Kiss me, I mean.”

JASON

You absolutely despised the cocky smile that was always on his terribly handsome face. You would rip his face if you could, because you also hated the fact you felt the temperature raise whenever you saw him.

His presence was notorious wherever he was. No matter if you didn’t see him, you could feel the air quite tense and that someone you didn’t specifically like was there. Well, you lied to yourself. You told yourself you hated him, that he was your enemy- but every time he looked at you with those deep blue eyes, with a confident personality, it sent you to your knees whenever it showed. After arguing with him in a competitive way, you simply waited for the next time you could see him again. 

Oh and don’t you think that was something you only hoped for. He also couldn’t wait to see you after any “unexpected” meeting, where the rivalry between your companies was notorious. You turned into his favorite victim to tease with his clear superiority, making mocking remarks just to see the cute frown that appeared in your face any time he became a pain in the ass. 

He loved that about you, he loved how expressive you were, yet how stubborn you were with your own feelings. Jason wasn’t dumb, he knew that even if you were frowning and trying to argue back with him, your face was warm from how flustered he made you. 

You finally saw his tall shape among the people. And you didn’t go unnoticed.  This time he won, as the main client for which you competed for preferred Goldreamz. And yes, the fancy decoration was incredibly stunning and all, but that was still a big hurtful step to your company.

He held an elegant glass of wine in his hand as he listened to one client. Jason had the habit of keeping eye contact with whoever he was talking to, but in that moment he found it more exciting to fix his gaze on you, his grin widening as he saw you looking back. 

You tried to focus on the conversation your coworkers were currently having, but the blue of his eyes was hypnotizing. Jason finished the conversation with that client and signed you with simply one finger and the movement of his head to follow him. You had to put an excuse to leave, saying you had to take the air. 

The quickened steps soon allowed you to meet him at the roof of the building. The music from the party was drowned by the closed doors behind you. He turned around and exhaled contentedly, “I suppose you can’t enjoy the fresh air of victory as I do, right?” That playful remark was annoying. 

As always, he had really mature ways to start a conversation, sarcastically speaking. You attacked him by that, for being so childish to compare both of your companies that way. He loved to see you release that anger, it was something that made him smile proudly.

Jason spent a few minutes listening to your rage rant, yet he didn’t take it personal. There was something within him that made him know that you simply spoke like that because of the competence, but he saw by the way you both looked at each other before that the hate could be simply a superficial and professional cover to your feelings.

He decided to be unprofessional. You didn’t have time to react when suddenly your breath was caught by his lips, which took yours in a fiery kiss, almost as if he had been impatient to wait longer. Your words were completely swallowed by his hungry lips, making sure it was passionate enough to not allow you to speak after it. One of his hands tangled in your hair as the other held you firmly by the small of your back. He separated reluctantly, his breath heavy, but not as much as yours. 

“Ah… the sweet taste of victory…” He purred. His eyes were so expressive that you could tell he would keep going with kissing you if you weren’t in a place where you had to keep your dignity. “And the perfect peace of silence…” he whispers, teasing you for getting quiet after he almost devoured you. 

His touch was like fire to your skin, and you quite missed it when he separated to go back to the party. You were too stunned to act yet. You truly needed to take some air after it this time.

Jason felt like he truly won that night, not only for keeping a good impression of his company, but also because he achieved to take a taste of your lips.

✰; remember to reblog and like to support my content, I hope you enjoyed it!

[steddieas-shegoes]

I'll be full of the love you want

rated t cw: self-doubt, relationship doubt, light angst tags: happy ending, hurt/comfort-ish, super fluffy romantic words being said

a/n: firstly I am writing this absolute fluff because i've been listening to sleep token and decided i could handle listening to blood sport (i couldn't) and so now we get this fluff. second of all, i feel like before anyone comes for my throat, i LOVE nancy. i hate what the duffer brothers have reduced her character to canonically. she has so much potential, just sitting there, and what are they doing with it? making her worse. i do think that she is just very bad at reading what's appropriate to say to people, and that's what happens here. assume that it gets fixed and she apologizes later, this entire thing is to focus on the boys.

Sometimes, Nancy’s subtle comments remained in Steve’s chest, an unbearable weight that felt crushing.

“Eddie has plans, and they may not involve you.”

That’s what she’d said to him when he told her they were dating.

No congratulations, no friendly smile or hug, not even the expected game of 20 questions.

The words played on loop in his head as he found an excuse to leave movie night early, as he drove home, as he took a shower. 

He barely slept that night.

Nancy was right in a way; Eddie did have plans.

—-

“She what?” Eddie yelled.

“Eds-”

“No, that’s. Stevie, you know how ridiculous that is, don’t you?”

He did. 

But he also…didn’t.

It really wasn’t that ridiculous to think that maybe his boyfriend of barely a month would have plans that didn’t involve Steve.

Steve may be head over heels in love with him, but he hadn’t said that. 

“Is it?” Steve asked, not looking up at Eddie pacing in front of him.

Eddie stopped in front of him, dropping to his knees on the floor between Steve’s parted legs.

His hands gripped Steve’s knees, squeezing in silent comfort.

“Sweetheart, I know it’s hard for you to believe, but I’m all in with us. I’m not going anywhere that you can’t or don’t want to follow. If someone sends me to the moon, you better start packing your bags,” Eddie left a kiss on his thigh, looking up at Steve’s wide, glassy eyes. “I don’t think she meant to hurt you, Stevie. I’d just talked to her about the band possibly going to Chicago for a show soon and how excited we were about producers being there.”

“And if they like you guys, you’ll leave. And you should! I don’t wanna hold you back. I just was so wrapped up in the now, ya know?” 

Eddie looked up at him, eyes squinting at him for a moment before he stood up.

He sat down on the bed and pulled Steve onto him so he was straddling his thighs.

“You are more than just my now, Steve Harrington.”

Steve’s heart fluttered in his chest.

Eddie cupped his face in his hands, leaning his head down so their foreheads rested against each other.

“We’ve seen the end of the world together, we’ve seen each other at our worst, at our bruised, at our most vulnerable. You’re my entire world now, and in the future.” Eddie let out a shaky breath, something foreign for him, usually so confident in his words. “I love you. It might scare you off, but I do. I haven’t stopped picturing my future with you in it. Nothing could drag me away from you, not the band, not the kids, not myself. I’m yours, for the long haul, wherever that takes both of us.”

Steve sniffled, the tears pooling in his eyes fighting so hard to fall.

“You can’t say stuff like that,” he squeaked out.

“Why can’t I?”

“I might believe it.”

Eddie tugged him closer, one hand on the back of his head holding him against his shoulder, one arm wrapped around his waist.

“I need you to believe it, love. There is nothing that will keep me from loving you. If Vecna himself couldn’t, then Nancy’s words sure as shit won’t.”

And it could be simple.

It could.

Steve could believe it, he could say the words back, he could plan a real future with Eddie, something he’d never been able to do with anyone else.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Eddie interrupted his thoughts, his hand squeezing Steve’s hip.

Steve pulled back, looking at Eddie’s earnest face.

“I’m scared to love you the way that I do,” Steve admitted, voice barely more than a whisper.

Eddie heard him, though.

He beamed up at Steve.

“You can be scared, but you can love me anyway,” Eddie shrugged, as if it could actually be that simple.

Love was a silly thing. 

Steve felt it easily, for Robin, for the kids, for the Byers’, even Nancy still. He’d known what he felt for Eddie was love way before this conversation, but he hadn’t realized how much that love could grow when it was reciprocated.

Eddie looked at him now like he already knew, like Steve holding back wasn’t changing the fact that Steve had loved him for months now, maybe even longer.

“You can love me, Stevie. I want you to love me. Love me the way you feel,” Eddie continued.

His words cut through his heart, but in a different way than Nancy’s had.

Steve never got to love people the way he felt, always too much, always overwhelming.

His parents taught him not to be needy, let people show their love from a distance and don’t force your attention and care on them.

Nancy taught him that he couldn’t be someone else just because he wanted to love someone, that he had to accept that love wasn’t always enough for a relationship.

Eddie, though.

Eddie had taught him that there was nothing shameful about being loud with your passion, with your love. He taught him that he can’t hold back his feelings, not for anyone, especially not for himself.

He was showing him, more every day, that loving someone can and should be fulfilling.

He couldn’t be scared of loving Eddie, not when Eddie had always shown him how to be brave.

“I love you so much,” Steve gasped out.

It wasn’t the declaration he’d planned, or even wanted, but that somehow made it better for them.

Eddie’s beaming smile proved that even further.

“I’m so in love with you, I don’t know what to do with it all. I just keep thinking that one day I’ll wake up and feel less, but I just keep feeling more. I’m not good with words like you are, but I love you,” Steve added, finally gaining his voice.

“Feels good, right?”

“To love you?”

Eddie leaned up, kissed his chin, then the corner of his mouth.

“To show it to someone who wants it.”

Steve bit his lip, realizing that yeah, it did feel good. Really good.

“You’re gonna get so tired of me loving you.”

It was said as a joke, but it was his last genuine fear. The one thing that he knew always happened.

“I will never get tired of you loving me. Not for a single second. Not even when we’re old dudes sitting on our porch yelling at the kids with the loud music,” Eddie poked his side as he spoke.

“You won’t ever yell at anyone for loud music.”

“You never know. I could become a grumpy old man. Will you still love me?” Eddie pouted up at him.

“I think I’d love any version of you. Actually, I know I would.” “And you say I’m the sappy one.”

[paleprincessturtle]

More Than a Debt

Greetings! Excuse any errors in my writing and happy reading!

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Female reader

Note: Flashback written in italics.

It’s 8 a.m. in Pearson Specter. It’s the usual morning meeting with all the partners. Harvey looks to his left and sees his junior partner, frowning while playing with her pen. She’s looking outside the window, deep in thought. Harvey clears his throat to get her attention only to fail miserably. He’ll have to talk to her later. He got jobs for her to do anyway. Harvey tried his best to focus on what Jessica was saying but again he failed miserably. His attention falls to the woman who usually took notes in every morning meeting only to see her seem visibly upset and in a daze. Maybe he should ask Donna before actually asking her. Harvey shakes his head when Jessica asks him if there are things he needs to add before they wrap up the meeting. She stands up from her chair before anyone else and storms out of the conference room.

Harvey told Donna to tell her to see him in his office around 5 minutes ago and not Donna nor the actual person he wants to see show up. 30 minutes later, Donna shows up and not far from her is the visibly upset partner in question. She knocks and invites herself in. “I heard rumors that you need my service,” she says as she puts her hands on the armrests. “Are you okay?” are the first words Harvey utters that shock him. “Am I okay?” she snorts, “I used to spend nights here, never once you asked.” Harvey clears his throat, seemingly caught by surprise by his own action. “You seemed very distracted this morning during the meeting. I have an important job for you in our case. I need your head in the game.” Harvey fist-bumps himself (mentally) by his quick recovery. “I always have my head in the game,” she says defensively, arms crossed. Harvey studies her for a while, before contemplating what he wants to say next. “Have dinner with me tonight.” She seems taken aback by what his boss just said to her. “Dinner? With you? Why?” She narrows her eyes at him, trying to figure him out. “When Mike was an associate, I took him to dinner. No biggie.” She still narrows her eyes at him, before reluctantly agreeing. “Fine. But I’m only doing it for the steak and wine.” Harvey smiles as he gets what he wants. “Enough chit-chatting,” Harvey says as he slides a folder to another side of his table. “Go to Louis and ask him for a loophole, then you move on from there.” She opens the folder and nods. She’s about to leave the room before Harvey says, “I’ll get you at 7 p.m.” She frowns, “At my house?” Harvey laughs “We have a big case, how dare you go home before 7. From your office. Now go.” Harvey shoos her as he focuses his attention back on his laptop.

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

“So, will you tell me now what’s been bothering you all day?” Harvey asks as he sips his wine. They had a great time. They laughed at each other’s jokes. For once their conversation wasn’t about the practice of law. She plays with the stem of her wine glass before looking up to see Harvey. “I’ve been with this guy from finance, for like a little over 2 months now. His name is George. It was nothing serious but I just found out last night that he’s actually in a relationship, a serious one, with another woman. She’s currently in California.” Harvey pours some more wine into her glass, “you said it was nothing serious but you seem very much affected by it.” She swirls the wine in her glass, “I wasn’t affected by the fact that I won’t be seeing him anymore. I blame myself for not realizing sooner that he is in a relationship with another woman. I feel guilty.” She looks up at Harvey and weakly smiles, unconsciously Harvey smiles back at her and gives her hand a gentle squeeze. These actions speak louder than words coming from Harvey Specter. Harvey quickly releases her hand and takes another sip (or rather gulp) of his wine. “You’ve accomplished your mission now I wanna ask you something,” she says as she leans herself forward. “Why am I still working with you in a lot of cases? I’m not your associate anymore. It was a long time ago since I was your associate. You still feel like you owe my dad?”

Harvey strode happily to his office when Donna told her that his professor from law school who happened to be his client, came for a visit. “Always a pleasure,” Harvey said as he shook hands with the older man. “Harvey, there’s a serious matter I want to discuss with you,” he said in all seriousness. Harvey nodded, encouraging him to continue. “You know another pack of new associates just arrived here this morning?” He asked as he moved his head toward the bullpen. ���I heard,” Harvey said carefully. “Do you know each one of them?” Harvey laughed. “You should’ve asked that to Louis.” Harvey was about to open his mouth for another comeback when his professor cut him off. “One of them is my daughter.” The silence hung for quite some time in the room. “Never knew you had a daughter. Is she pretty?” Harvey smirked. “I want her under your tutelage.” Harvey’s smirk was erased from his face. “I didn’t know I had a daughter until she was in one of my classes. A lawyer came to me with all the evidence, and told me her mother recently died and she had no one but me,” he paused “I wish every single night that I could’ve known her earlier, be there for her. But here we are. I want the best for her. When she told me she got the job here, I knew I had to pay you a visit.” Harvey contemplated the reasons for him to refuse this sudden request. But he remembered how he owed this man in front of him a whole lot when he was going through law school. “I’ll talk to Louis, consider it done.”

Harvey snaps back to reality after taking down a memory lane of many years ago. He died not long after that. Lung cancer. “I know you feel like you have to always be by my side since my dad told you to take me under your tutelage. Like I’m the only way you could do to repay him. But I’m not an associate anymore. I can stand on my own and you can probably take another associate to get involved in your cases. If you still feel like you owe my dad, please don’t,” she looks down. “Why should I get an associate when I can get a junior partner that I’ve molded for years?” Harvey tries to lighten up the situation. She just stares at him, not buying what he said. Harvey exhaled. Preparing himself to give her his honest answer. “You are dedicated, your works are always so intricate. You never miss anything. You as my number 2 is heaven. You know when to go against my ideas, you know when to listen. What can I say? You’re an asset.” Harvey sees a smile creep upon her face. “So it has nothing to do with you feeling like you have a debt that you have to pay to my dad?” Harvey smiles, shaking his head softly. “There’s one more reason,” she nods, asking him to continue. “The other reason is that I grew to like you. I not only like you in the sense of your professional capabilities but I like you as a woman. I like you that I want to take you out to dinner, even to my beach house in the Hamptons over the weekend. I want to invite you over while I cook us dinner.” Her jaws drop to the floor. Harvey reaches over the table to caress her cheek, only to earn the sweetest smile he has ever seen. “Okay, maybe I like you a little bit more than that,” Harvey says to her, but even more to himself.

MASTERLIST

[squiddleknitted]

Watching the new James Somerton apology.

Bold move monetising your apology video. The revenue will go to HBomberGuy! Or Wikipedia maybe!?

The focus on how so many people were nice to him feels like he's suggesting nobody should criticise him now that he's been forgiven by the people he personally and directly wronged.

There's an awful lot of weight being placed on "I'm a cis white man." It's like he's trying to take the blame off himself and put it onto the cisness, whiteness, and maleness. Being a cis white man means he will always be flawed, it's a way of avoiding his responsibility for his actions.

He called the fucking cops on someone. He claims the person, "Did an internet and threatened to kill me." He then follows this up by acknowledging that, "Cops don't usually have the best interests of people at heart." I'm not familiar with the Jessie topic but this video explores it and offers context.

Lots of "We tried too hard to be good and that was our real downfall" type bullshit.

On Telos: "These were not going to be unionised movies, and we were very clear about that upfront. We wanted to be able to pay actors as best that we could, but we never expected to be able to reach typical union wages." Do I even need to say it?

Lots of throwing Nick under the bus. What are Nick's pronouns? James goes from using exclusively they/them to exclusively he/him. There's a line about how him and Nick were codependent that makes me wonder if abuse/toxicity allegations are in the future?

He's talking an awful lot about how every movie he tries to do has issues and he inevitably had to move to a new movie plan. Surely he should've just. Focused on how to fix the issue?

He's getting really into the suicide topic again. In a way that would be better saved for close friends and therapists.

Supposedly several people showed up at his house trying to harm him while he was not there. I'm a little skeptical. This is the first I've heard of anyone having his address, and while I'm sure he received threats, I can't imagine anyone is so invested as to actually go to his house.

He is re-uploading videos, including new videos. The re-uploaded videos are monetised and the money will be going... Somewhere.

"I know that misinformation made its way into our past videos." Well, it didn't write itself?

He has put together a new Patreon, and claims he will not be reopening the old one.

"This video is not about promoting myself." And yet, you have spent much of it doing exactly that.

He hasn't acknowledged the ways that some of his work upheld misogynistic and racist views? 43 minute video and he couldn't manage a, "I should've been more normal about nazis," or, "I said some mean things about women."

[reqxxyt]

talent i never knew

pairings: charles l. x f!reader

warnings: none just max being adorable :)

masterlist requests are open!

[unedited]

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

I grew up around music. Since I was born, my mother would play music for all to hear but not many paid attention so she kept it to herself and her kids. I learned how to play the guitar when I was 10, writing my own music with small vocals but I never allowed anyone to hear. 

My mom tried to get me into the choir group for high school but I refused and settled for the band group pretending to be a beginner. I started to take piano lessons and I began to fall in love with the instrument, the more I played the more comfortable I got with allowing people to hear, starting with my mom too now my close family at small parties. 

I met Charles in my last semester of college and began as friends before he asked me out and we’ve now been dating for half a year. After all these months, I’ve hidden my musical hobbies trying my best to keep them to myself only allowing myself to hum to music on the radio if listening to any. But now, I would introduce him to the family that will never stop talking about my ‘raw talent’ that is being wasted on pursuing a journalism career. 

“Nervous?” the smooth voice walked over to where I had been getting ready in the bathroom, I glanced at him through the mirror seeing him with a small smile. I only shook my head, wondering if I should bring it up before someone else does but I decided not to. 

“I feel as though I should be asking you that” I teased him and he gave me a kiss on the cheek, 

“A little but it will be fine once I adjust to it” he said before leaving the bathroom to get his shoes. I let out a sigh still debating but I dropped it, maybe this will be a pleasant surprise. 

later

“Mija, it’s been too long” My cheeks were pinched and I only laughed it off before greeting my aunt, not forgetting to introduce Charles. He gave everyone the same introduction with a gentle smile and those who wanted a hug were respectful and followed me inside the house still not spotting my mom. 

I heard a squeal and immediately recognized it as my little sister ran towards us giving me a loose hug before running towards Charles embracing him in the tightest hug I’ve seen her give anyone. I smiled at the sight but remembered why I came in here in the first place. I walked into the kitchen and spotted my mom cutting some cilantro and onion. 

“Hola mami” I greeted and she gave me a small smile as I kissed her cheek. Charles greeted her with a side hug offering to help out but of course she refused. 

“Y/n when are you going to show us your new song” my aunt barged in and I immediately froze into place not daring to glance at Charles but could already feel his confused stare, knowing how his eyebrows would furrow and his eyes would narrow not liking the feeling of being excluded but didn’t say anything. 

“Not finished” I shrugged, finally taking in the courage to look over at Charles. 

“The piano is right over in the living room. Give us a sneak peek” my aunt pleaded, I clenched my jaw ready to refuse before my mom encouraged me practically pushing me to sit on the piano. 

Again, I didn’t dare look at anyone as my hand landed on the keys. Before I heard another encouraging chant from my aunt and mom, I pressed on the first set of keys allowing my hands to roam to their designated places whisper singing the lyrics barely audible to a regular audience but considering the only other people in the room were my mom, aunt, and Charles my vocals shined through the room not allowing a sound to interrupt them. 

I finally finished what I had written and let out a breath feeling my chest tighten before I felt a hand on my shoulder, giving me a tight squeeze and sensing the tension in my body. I looked up and saw his usual smile but with glinted eyes, showing encouragement and support. My shoulders relaxed and I gave him a small smile, feeling safe. 

“That was absolutely gorgeous” my aunt complimented, running to give me a tight hug and having to shove Charles out of the way. I giggled at the compliment feeling heat rush to my face. 

I gave my thanks and the rest of the night was spent eating food while Charles kept asking questions about my musical past. I told him everything, feeling the most comfortable and safe near him. The questions didn’t stop after the party, asking me if we should get a piano and I denied knowing how expensive they can be. 

The piano arrived the following week, already built after a tiring day at work. 

“Charles I can’t possibly accept this,” I said shaking my head knowing inside I wanted to play my heart out, using every key imaginable. 

“It’s too late, there is no return policy,” he said and my jaw dropped. “Kidding, your only price is writing a song dedicated to me” 

“That will be all I will be writing” I mumbled as I sat down pressing the first key, feeling the vibration first before hearing it a millisecond later. My heart twirled and flipped, walking back to Charles giving him the greediest kiss as he deepened it. 

I’ll write the song later. I thought to myself as he lifted me up and walked us to out shared bedroom. 

[yuseirra]

Kamiki is such a weird character. I keep talking about him because he's like a puzzle. I want to make sense of him because I'm... really confused when it gets to him. I really enjoy analyzing characters, but I usually don't even feel the need to write things down to figure out their character: for his case though?

There are so many claims about him being a horrible, evil, maniac, a heartless psychopath serial killer selfishly using others for his own gain.

Since he's supposedly the father of the protagonist and who had a relationship with Ai, I look at him intently whenever he makes an appearance, because I get curious just what is UP with this man and see him for myself, and I find that when he ACTUALLY does something, he.. tends to be so mild compared to what he's been thought to be. It's so weird. He's nothing like all those things he's said to be when he shows up in person, so the information I've been given to interpret him and the actual character does not match up. I keep feeling he has a kind nature. I think I believe that more compared to the descriptions he has because... it's what he actually is, you know.

People say he's done things, but we never see it in present tense with him actually carrying out these actions in person. It's all speculation.

You see, the thing is, we NEVER get to see him actually DO things on screen. We still don't know what he's said on the phone with Ai (and it turns out that he probably really didn't say much. I say he really DID want to only just send her the bouquet. Anyhow, Ai doesn't seem that uncomfortable talking to him, and we find she had him in her heart all along.) In that phone call with Nino as well, if you see her reactions, it was about turning themselves in?? How was that supposed to be a trigger to go stab a person? Could he have predicted this? Claims that he's manipulated and caused people to become killers? Well, we see ONE case of it something like it happening right now in 161 OH MY GOD even our main protagonist, Aqua could not escape this weird.. turn of events, and here we see Kamiki ACTUALLY wanting to keep Aqua from trying to kill him/become a murderer for whatever intent he has behind it. Aqua still ends up doing something really reckless. In this case, it's exactly the OPPOSITE result of what Kamiki's desired.

I really feel like he never intends for these things to happen and yet, it does. What is there for him to gain from this??? At least for Ai, Gorou and this current.. 161's case, I don't think he even dreamed of this happening. I don't know about the other cases if there are but, Nino says all he did was "talk", and that must be it... he could have some powers to make people grow insane by just talking maybe, but even if it's so, I think it's happening against his wishes and it's not something he can control.

To add, there really isn't much solid base for these claims he's facing STILL, even till the series reaches its end. Some accusations are being thrown at him, but just how much has ACTUALLY taken place? What's the truth? If he's a murderer, just how many lives did he take? I guess... that could be revealed later but; why.. keep it so hidden if he really is that kind of person? In 160, he says he didn't do anything. What if that's true? Why do we never see him take some direct action, even till the final arc? To be fair, there IS the case of Yura, but even that is very vague. I'll talk about that a little more later.

At this point, I feel like they've never shown these scenes to us BECAUSE that would make for a twist. If things go as expected and he is just a mere serial killer who's killed anyone who surpasses Ai for his self-satisfaction, it wouldn't need to be kept so hidden;; in fact, it should have been revealed more because that'd make this guy a menacing antagonist our heroes must defeat. It would add more drive and flavor and make us want to cheer for Aqua's revenge, but it isn't that way. The twist would be that, he could have really done nothing much.. been pretty sensible all along.

In cases like Nino or Ryosuke, we've seen situations where they expressed hatred, stabbed someone, or did something drastic. We see them being dangerous people.

But with Kamiki, whenever they actually do something, it’s not really a big deal, and they come across as rather gentle. To the point where their actions could even be interpreted as kindness. From what I see, they seem to have a genuinely good nature, and apparently, they used to be like that.

There’s just one thing that bothers me—Yura’s case. Honestly, their reaction back then was really strange. When I look at Kamiki’s behavior patterns, whenever they’re dealing with something overwhelming or hiding their true feelings, they always smile. He says some really weird things and he smiles... anyhow, yeah, he does seem to feel guilt about it...

I mean, if they were going to kill Yura, there wouldn’t be any reason to warn her to 'watch her step,' right? That’s what confuses me. What needs to be cleared up now is this: Ai, Ryosuke, and Gorou—he wasn't responsible for those three deaths at least. So, if this suspicion can be resolved, unless there's solid proof that they’ve killed others, it all just sounds like speculation. Is there anything that’s really been confirmed to be their doing? Tsukuyomi was wrong once already; should I trust her about Kamiki's true motives?

Why do I keep feeling like this person is actually a good person every time they appear? Their actions and the accusations are so different.

It’s starting to feel like, 'Could this kind of person really have killed anyone?' Is this supposed to happen or am I reading this story wrong? But here’s the thing—I think the author and I are on the same wavelength with some things; I’ve guessed so many things correctly...

There’s something more to this. This isn’t the end… It feels too suspicious.

If Kamiki's really, truly bad, I’ll accept it—I’ve already said that they should die if they are. But there’s still something nagging at me. I wouldn't be the only one, right?

A truly bad person with real fault wouldn’t behave this way. Of course, people act in all sorts of ways. But this character… something always feels off, so I can’t be certain.

And honestly, that would make for a better story. In the grander context and message of the narrative, it would be more fitting if this character were actually innocent but wrongly accused over and over. That’s what I think.

Also, the fact that Ai left a message asking someone to help this person… that’s partly why I keep thinking about this. They seem really kind…

It makes sense why Ai might have loved them. I get it. I think this person is actually good.

You see, I didn't hold much thought about the guy and just went along with the claims he faced until I heard "Fatal", and having seen Ai wanting to help the guy. Just three seconds in the song (I didn't even know the lyrics at first) I get this...rush of sensation... it's so hard to describe, but I just knew, this emotion there, that must be his.. and so I started drawing him and Ai a lot. I rarely get these wrong. It was such a strong wave of feelings I got.. I guess that's been one of my biggest fuel for the past few months! I really hope I'm right! I felt very.. stunned and sure back then. It was a very strong type of feeling that anchored my thoughts. I trust my intuition when it comes to emotions, I'm usually good with them! It's hard to ask others to trust with me, but I can write posts like these with the reasoning that stems from those feelings I have along with some evidence I find from the work! I've already stepped too deep into this pit and I'll be so embarrassed if I'm wrong but, at least I had fun. I think I've been learning a lot.. having thought a lot... it's been good practice, trying to read characters- I really want to be good at it! It's fun!

[prongsfish]

it took very little encouragement to convince me so as described in this post here is the fake aita post i wrote from barty's pov while writing call me fate, call me karma... this was all written in jest, i do not use reddit nor care at all to try make this realistic to anything ever <3 don't take anything too seriously.

tw // transphobic & homophobic slurs used by a hostile commenter who faces immediate backlash/punishment. slurs are both censored and target identities to which i as the author belong to.

WIBTA for questioning my GF's distant behaviour when she clearly doesn't want to talk about it? ESH, 1 Update, [THIS POST HAS BEEN LOCKED]

I (18M) have been with my girlfriend (18F) for over 3 years now, and we'd been close friends for 4 years before that. We go to a boarding school, and due to the girls in our house and year being shitty, she moved into the boy's dorm with our friend and I before we even got together, and we're in our last year of school now before we graduate. We practically spend all our time together and our relationship is very strong, we've avoided talking too much about plans after graduation because we both come from very restrictive families (Without going into too much detail, we both face very specific expectations for what our adult lives will look like) and our relationship is a secret from everyone but our close friends, but I can see myself spending the rest of my life with her. She's everything to me and I've always gotten the idea that she feels the same about me, and honestly, whatever she wants to do after we graduate, I'd follow her. I don't really care where I go/what I do as long as it means I'm with her. I can't imagine life without her.

Lately, she's been acting really strangely. I guess it started during exams, but that's normal for her. We're both pretty academic people but she especially devotes everything into her schoolwork, so it wasn't a surprise when she was distant in the lead-up to and in the midst of our final exams. She didn't talk much, and spent practically all of her waking time studying. (Side note, she did amazing on the exams. I'm super proud of her.)

After, though, she was still distant. She started receiving letters at breakfast which she'd quickly hide, and never read in front of anyone. Sometimes she'd excuse herself entirely from breakfast, assumedly to read them, and wouldn't eat at all. She's been antsy and visibly stressed more often than not. Like I mentioned before, she has a difficult family life, and I'm not surprised that she's nervous in the time leading up to graduation, but usually she'd talk to me at least a little about that sort of thing. Plus, I know what letters from her family look like, and these letters look nothing like anything she'd ever received before. She's been less physically affectionate than usual, and sometimes she shows up after disappearing randomly looking like she's just been crying. I'm really worried about her, but I know that if she wanted to talk to me about it, she would, and she's been insistently ignoring any indication of concern from our friends or I. Even the slightest questioning look, she completely shuts it down. I don't want to upset her by bringing it up, because that's not really the way we function as a couple, but I'm starting to feel hopeless. We don't really talk about our issues, and when we do "communicate" it's only ever when we argue about things. I'm also really worried that I've done something wrong, or that she doesn't want to stay with me. I don't want to admit it because it scares me too much, but I can't help the nagging fear in the back of my mind.

Basically, I'm trying to ask if I should mention it, or if I should wait for her to say something on her own? Something has to happen eventually, because we've both known at least with graduation that we do need to decide on what we're going to do with that, so maybe I should just wait for it all to come up. There's only a few more weeks until we're set to go home, so I could probably just hold on. It's just really worrying me and I don't know how much longer I can handle the uncertainty, and I don't want her to be struggling alone. Would I be TA for bringing it up?

(122 DOWN)

Sounds like you guys need to learn how to communicate, holy shit. (467 UP)

If you're just gonna be a dick I don't want to hear it. This is just how we function and we've been fine for years. (531 DOWN)

I don't think you'd be TA for bringing it up, but in general it sounds like your relationship is somewhat codependent. Your entire life shouldn't be reliant on what she wants to do, bro. Sounds like you need therapy. (271 UP)

Look, I just want to be with her, okay? I've never cared about what I do. I don't see the issue, you're all overreacting. (113 DOWN)

It sounds to me like she's cheating on you, dude. (364 UP)

Fuck you. You don't fucking know her. She wouldn't do that, and I don't like you suggesting that she would. I'd beat the shit out of you if I knew who you really were. (210 DOWN)

Looking through these replies, you're being super defensive. Maybe she has a perfectly innocent explanation, but the main theme here is that you both have some issues that you need to work through. This isn't a healthy way for either of you to live, I recommend individual and/or couples therapy for both if possible. (545 UP)

Whatever, man. Not the god damn point of this point. If I knew Reddit would be so useless I wouldn't have bothered posting here in the first place. (478 DOWN)

Update

Hahaaaaa!! Fuck you guys. Reddit is fucking useless, but I'm here because I want to shove it in the face of everyone who told me I was being cheated on. Fuck you!! You don't know shit about my relationship!! I don't need therapy, assholes!! Me and my boyfriend are perfectly okay the way we are!!! Yeah, that's right, boyfriend! He's just trans!! He realised it during exams and freaked out because he was worried about losing me but he didn't lose me because I don't give a fuck if he's a girl or a boy I wanna spend the rest of my life with him!! The letters were between him and his estranged brother (19M), who'd ran away a few years ago because he hated their family, but he's gay, and my boyfriend didn't know who else to reach out to. And he'd been crying all the time because he was dealing with fixing his relationship with his brother and he was scared of what would happen after he came out. I didn't even need to bring it up, he finally told me! He finally told his brother a few days ago after exchanging letters for a few weeks, and told me after getting a letter back from his brother accepting him. His parents wouldn't accept him, so we're discussing fucking off away from our families and moving in together. Like I told you guys, I'd do whatever as long as I could stay with him, so that's what we're doing! We might be moving in with his brother for a bit while we find somewhere to live, which will be interesting, because he doesn't know we're together, and he hates me, and i kinda hate him too still for abandoning my boyfriend, but I'm willing to give him another shot if my boyfriend is. Anyways we're doing better than ever and I gave him a haircut and he looks amazing, I love him so much.

(73 UP)

Happy for you and him both but that doesn't negate the fact that you both still need therapy. Especially if he has to cut his parents off because they wouldn't accept him. You didn't give many details, but if his brother ran away (assumedly as a minor) because of their parents, I wouldn't be surprised to hear that it was an abusive environment. Even if not, therapy is still good. (175 UP)

Why would he need therapy if he's literally cutting them off lol. They're gone now it doesn't even matter anymore. (313 DOWN)

I truly am glad that it worked out well between you guys but it's so crazy reading these and all your comments. I mean this in the best way possible, you are both mentally ill. Therapy is a good thing. Just try it. (231 UP)

Jfccc you guys worry too much. I shouldn't have even bothered with this update. (282 DOWN)

Got invested just to find out she's a delusional tr***y and you're a f****t, wow. (278 DOWN)

192.158.1.38, Mr. John Doe. 123 Maple Street. Anytown, PA 17101 (263 UP)

Thanks OP for doing the hard part of the work for me, a swat team is currently on route to his house. (182 UP)

Thanks, mate. I knew there had to be some decent people on this website. (101 UP)

[https-mi1zu]

The Peacock and The Crow

(Chapters 4,5,6)

CO WRITERS, SPELL CHECKERS, AND HONESTLY THE BEST PEOPLE IN THE ENTIRE WORLD: @cha0sdumpster AND @charliestories

WARNINGS: subtle mentions of suicide.

Word count: 3,792.

CHAPTER FOUR: T is for Trauma

Ever since I was a child, I always took care of others before me. It was how I was taught, raised even. ‘take care of others before yourself’  was my motto, one I followed everyday. Most people say I can't say no, always saying yes to whatever someone asked of me. 

“clean the dishes june!”

“Can you go with me for a bit?”

“Write this down and submit it next week.”

”Could you buy this for me?” 

“Can’t you do anything right, june?”

Most of these words came from my mother, Alexandria. Every morning and every night, she’d go out drinking and come back home with some stranger, I’d always find her passed out. I don’t know why, though. And every time the guy left without a word, she’d cry. It was always the same words, “I finally found the one! He said he loved me!” I’d have to be there to let her cry on my shoulder and hear her complaints about her most recent “lover”. It’s so tiring.

I’ve always wondered what life would be like if I didn’t exist in the first place. I mean, I wouldn’t even be there, so my life would be non-existent. Would my mother be happy? would she finally get back with my dad and have another child? Would my parents stay together longer if I wasn’t there?

My father divorced my mother after he found out she was cheating on him with his brother. So they got a divorce a week later. My mom still wanted custody of me, my dad too so they made a deal. I would live with my mom, but my dad would still take care of my education. Sometimes my Lola would take me on shopping trips with my cousins. I remember when I was six, I remember that my father and mother had a fight because my grandma bought me an expensive toy, it was a doll house. My mother said that I didn't deserve that doll house, my father defended me.

Did I really deserve that dollhouse? Did I deserve anything in general?

I don’t know.

I just don’t know. 

“I don’t know.” I use that phrase too much. If anyone asks me what I want and what I want to do, my only response is I don’t know. Why couldn't I make a decision? Why couldn't I decide what I want to do with myself? Can’t I make my own decisions by now? I’m thirteen, I should be able to decide what I want to do.

If I didn’t say yes to a task, I’d always say I don’t know. There was a time when I answered my mother this, she didn't come home for a week because I was ‘being disobedient’. I was starving, my mother was the one who usually bought me ingredients to cook. She came back a week later with new expensive clothes, a man I’ve never met before and a half eaten burrito in hand. I just stared at her while she threw the burrito at me, it fell to my feet. I bent down to pick it up as my mom and her new boyfriend were laughing at me, calling me an askal (stray dog). I didn't care though, I still ate it, the rice from the burrito spilled, I grabbed it and shoved it in my mouth like some street beggar. 

Another time was, my mother called me a leech because I asked for baon (lunch money)

“Baon? Ano ka ba, isang pulubi? Hindi ako balon ng pera!” (lunch money? What are you, a beggar? I'm not made of money!)  She laughed at my face. “maaari ikaw na lang magluto ng iyong tanghalian.” (you can make your own lunch.) My mother scoffed, turning away from me to face the TV to watch her show. After that I just walked away, to make myself a sandwich before school started. The rest of that school day, I was starved until Miss Fiore shared with me some of her food.

Why did she treat me like this? Did I do something wrong? Maybe I did, I always somehow did something wrong. Maybe it was because my mom got pregnant with me at a young age, 17. Maybe it was my fault for being an ungrateful bratty child, it's my fault that I didn’t appreciate her for going out every night and coming back with a new guy. It's all my fault when I don't listen to her problems and come up with a solution right away. Its my fault I can’t take care of her right. 

Its my fault

My fault

It's all my fault. 

It's my fault that I can't memorize things well, it's my fault that I can't do math or sit still. It's my fault when I can't understand the lesson first hand. It's all my fault when my mother and father had to spend the extra money for my education. Its my fault when they stare at me with those looks on their faces, full of pity or disgust. It’s my fault that I can’t be who she expects me to be. It’s my fault….

It will always be my fault, won't it? Is it my fault that people around me feel weird or angry? Was it my fault that I got angry when Mars left to go talk with her other friends? 

I can’t cry normally now. 

I cry at small things, when someone yells at me or when I get left out. I cry when I get hugs and when I get comforted. Crying is something I'm good at, trying to control them is something that I can't do. I'm afraid of people leaving me alone with my thoughts, when they do leave, my thoughts consume me whole. They make me think things I know aren't true but…I can't help but believe them. I just couldn't help but believe that what they are saying is true.

I've spent my whole life, consumed by the voices in my head. I followed them down to the bone, making sure my every movement wouldn't anger them more than they should. Mars keeps telling me to improve myself, mentally. I never could.

Honestly, the people who keep saying “It’s alright, just stop thinking about it” or “ ”. I want to improve myself, every single damn year since 6th grade, but I just couldn't. I couldn't help myself. I couldn't stop myself from my own mind criticizing me, I couldn't stop the voices from talking. The voices consume me, every hour and every minute, talking about every little thing I do or say. What I wear, eat, act, no matter how hard I try, the voices will never stop.

“Don't embarrass yourself”

“Crying in public is kinda cringy, don't you think?”

“If you start making a scene now, what will your mom think of you?”

“What would everyone in the class think if you just started crying, june?”

“They're watching your every move June, what do you think they’re thinking of you right now?”

“They think you're weird, they think that you don't belong here.”

“Ew, what a creep, and a weirdo too!” 

“You don’t belong here.”

”Maybe you should stop eating so much, you look fat.”

They say, having a mindset like this doesn't help you improve, it only makes it worse and worse until the day you can’t take it anymore. It breaks you down slowly until you’re nothing. When that day comes, your mind will be blank, it will all be quiet. And once the quiet settles, you’ll regret everything that brought you to this place. I yearn for the quiet, the sound of nothing is both a torture and a blessing. The silence calms the mind, and the body, but it's lonely. I hate being alone. It's ironic, since I’ve been left alone for a majority of my life. My entire childhood. My dad’s side was there for me, but once they dropped me off at my mom’s house, it started all over again. I’m left on my own, with just me and my thoughts. 

I both hate and love the quiet, the silence of knowing nothing there to hurt you but…I don't like being alone. The fact of me being alone disgusts me when I think of it. I want to be in silence, but I don't wanna be alone. The loneliness consumes me like I’m being swallowed whole by a whale. 

It just doesn't make sense, don't you think? How can a person want silence but not want to be alone? It's confusing, being alone sucks but, the silence is something I need. Being alone is a punishment in itself. But still, silence is bliss. 

Silence really does that to people, huh? It’s a friend that we both love and hate at the same time. It fills us with peace and the feeling of safety, but it also empties us deep inside. 

CHAPTER FIVE: My sanity is talking back to me.

“Mother, do you care for me?”

I tugged at the hem of her shirt, looking up at her with innocent eyes. I waited for her response with anticipation, only to feel crestfallen by her answer.

“Can’t you leave me alone for once? I'm doing something important!” She yelled, I flinched but I didn't cry. Why didn't I cry? I was six, I should've cried. Six year olds usually cry when this happens.  

I walked back to my room, closing the door behind me quietly so I wouldn't interrupt my mother. I stayed in my room for the rest of the day, not daring to go outside even if it was dinner or lunch. I was scared to face my mother.

Funny, could I even call her my mother? She never treated me like her child. She treated me like a servant or a therapist, maybe that was all I was made for. Maybe I was made to be a helper to others. It’s been that way from the beginning. Caring for myself was foreign to me, how does one take care of oneself before others?

Caring for others before myself was how I was taught. My mother always told me that, 

“If you don't take care of others, then who will love you?” she told me once. 

“who will look out for you if you don't take care of those before you? no one will.”

I cared for her my whole life, and not once did she care for me. Maybe I wasn’t being a better helper like how I was supposed to be. 

Her words swirled in my head, repeating constantly like a broken music box. To this day, I can still hear it faintly in the background, even when I think it's not there. 

I was created and put into this world solely to take care of others. 

I don't cry when I get a scratch or a broken bone, that would cause a scene. That's embarrassing, crying in public catches unwanted attention, and no one likes being pinned. Pain is what makes the world peaceful, for pain is in everything.

I had to grow up faster than the others, toys were for children under the age of ten. I’m not a child. I had to learn how to pay taxes, how to wash dishes, and how to clean clothes manually. At this point, I'm a housewife, but I’m not married yet. 

I learned how to cook at the age of 10 after learning how to make food for myself and my mom. I still cared for my mom, she gave me a house to live under and food to eat. How could I hate my mom? She's the one who brought me into this world.

My father cared for me, but I wasn't able to see him often. He always had to travel for work, leaving for days or weeks. But when he would go abroad, he’d always bring pasalubong (gift in tagalog) Sometimes he’d bring toys or clothes for me, sometimes food too. But there was a time he had to leave to go to America for three weeks due to some convention for judges. I was left all alone for that month, my mother did not make it easy like how she always did. It only helped when my grandparents or my cousins would visit and take us to the mall. Hanging out with them was fun and at the same time a good escape.  Though when they did, my mother would always argue with them, my mom saying that she had to come to “watch over me”. My cousins would argue back, saying that I was okay with them already.

I didn't like them fighting, so half the time I'd always decline and end up staying with my mom. But soon after the door was closed and they left, my mom would get angry at me.

At this point, my mom is the only person I know who hates me. So why does it feel like everyone in the world hates me as well? Sure, your parents' opinions about you matter, but my mom was just one person in my family. Yet, it felt as if the entire family was judging me or pitying me. Even though they cared, they make it apparent that they judge me. They say the typical things that relatives say at family gatherings. 

“Oh, have you been gaining weight? Better lay off the bread for now.” 

I was taught to care for others, or else they wouldn’t care for me. But that never really showed with my mother. No matter how much I cared for her, or what I did, it would seem like nothing to her.  I seemed like nothing to her. Maybe if I cared for her more, will she then take care of me for once.

It was a silly thought, my own mother taking care of me, but it was something I hoped for every single day. Someday, one day, she’ll take care of me like a real mother would. Maybe mother would give me the same amount of love you’d get from tv shows or cartoons. I could only pray and wish that my mother would have a change of heart. But every birthday, i'd wish for that solely. I wished that for once in life, my mother would care for me.

My father on the other hand, tried making it up to me by giving me gifts or presents. It was his way of saying sorry to me after leaving for so long. He thought that buying me toys and clothes would make up for the time he’s lost with me. He’s trying, I know but no matter how many toys I’d get, no matter how much money on Christmas or how much clothes I get, sometimes it feels like it was never enough.

I know that makes me sound spoiled, but buying things to make up for something you know you can't fix, doesn't really fix it. It's like buying forgive-ness. I am grateful of course, grateful that he and my lola spent a lot of money on me, but the only thing I wished for was for him to be there.

I wanted my father to be there for me, I wanted him to teach me an instrument or a game. It's all I’ve ever wanted, I wanted my parents to actually care. I don’t need new toys or money or any of that materialistic stuff he bought for me. I definitely didn’t need all the hate I received from my mom. I just wanted their love and care. At least just for a moment.

CHAPTER SIX: I get kidnapped???

I waited for awhile, Miss fiore wasn’t back yet, she should've been back by now…right? 

Paying and bringing back food should be quick, why isn't she back yet.

Maybe some teacher stopped her on the way to discuss about a school event or PT week.

”hey, you there.” A gravelly voice with a slight Italian accent jolted me out of my thoughts. It was vague but I could hear it. I looked over to the gate, there were sage green bars separating the ates and parents to the children, so they can't get in, in case they were a kidnapper. 

There was a boy, he looked old, not “grandpa-old” but old in general. Like, he looked tired, as if he witnessed many things in his lifetime. Bad things. The claw-like scars running down his face added to his appearance, making him look even more roughed up. I pointed to myself in confusion and he nodded. 

”Come closer.” he said, I looked at him confused, but I followed.

”Are you looking for someone po?” I asked him, keeping my distance in case he was a kidnapper. The guards weren’t there, taking their break for the day. “Yes” he responded. 

“Do you want me to help find them?” I offered, but before the guy could respond I heard a familiar voice from behind me, putting their hand on my shoulder.

“June, this is a stranger.” It was Miss Elane. “Why don't you come with me?” But when I turned to face her, she was replaced by a creature with big wings and sharp teeth. I didn’t know how to react, should I be scared? Should I be terrified? The emotions were paused in my brain, still trying to comprehend the danger in the situation. I could only stand there as it pulled me closer, its long nails reaching up to my face. Everything was in slow motion, the guy behind me was trying to reach out, and the monster in front of me was preparing to slash its claws across my chest.

”JUNE!” I heard Miss Fiore call out, ripping off her necklace with a pomegranate on it. Out of reflex, I grabbed it. It started to change into a long pole with two prongs on the end of it. My reflexes reacted as I quickly stabbed the monster. I stabbed it, one prong right through the stomach and the other on what I think was its chest (hopefully it hit whatever it was’ heart). It scratched me back, leaving a deep cut on the corner of my lips. I could taste the metallic blood that dripped from my lips to my chin.

Everything happened too quickly for me to take in. All of a sudden, the boy grabbed my arm, then it went black for a moment. Then as soon as I knew it, I was in a taxi. 

”Back to camp please.” the boy handed a coin to the driver, it didn't look like a normal coin. It looked like one of those chocolate coins. When my eyes followed the hand receiving it, there were three ladies driving when there should have been one. Long gray hair they all had, all their eyes were closed except for the one on the left her right eye was open, and its iris was a bright shade of green. Instead of real clothes, they wore gray rags, the same color as the entire inside of this vehicle. 

I was scared and confused, who is this guy, why did Miss Fiore just throw me her necklace? How did it become a long pole with two prongs? What happened to the food she ordered? I leaned back into my seat, shoulders tense.  Before I knew it we were off, and in the sky?! The taxi shot up into the clouds, making my stomach flip the same way airplanes do when they take off. I looked out the right window of the taxi, seeing how high we were. The buildings looked so small from here, flickering in and out of sight with the amount of clouds in the sky.  I immediately shuffled backwards, hitting the boy who just kidnapped me. He looked at me as if I was some creature he found and took in, who did this guy seriously think he is?!

As I got a better look at the boy, I noted he had shaggy black hair, as if he didn’t brush it at all.  He looked a lot older, like maybe 16 or 17? He was wearing a black short-sleeved shirt, with a white oversized one underneath. The hem of the black shirt was showing. He also wore ripped baggy jeans and had simple black converse on. 

I quickly backed away, turning instantly as my back hit the wall of the taxi. 

“…who are you?” I asked, my voice sounding more high-pitched and shrill than it normally should. The boy just looked at me, bluntly. “Nico di Angelo.” He responded in a blunt and sarcastic tone, it was hard to detect in his voice, but it was there. 

“Nico?” I  repeated, confused. “O-okay then who are they?” I pointed to the three old ladies up in front. “We’re gray sisters taxi service!” I heard the one on the right respond in a raspy tone of voice, sounding like they needed water.

 ���the what.” 

“The gray sister’s taxi service!” the same lady repeated, as if that would make me understand or realize who they were, I just gave them a confused look.

Sitting there, confused as to what was going on. The guy, Nico, was it? Just stayed silent. He didn’t talk or anything, he just sat there on the other side of the car looking all nonchalant! Who was this guy really? Doesn't he know it's rude not to talk to company after you just kidnapped them? (well not rude, but still). He didn't even give me anything for the scar on my lip, no bandaid, rubbing alcohol, or even a tissue to stop the bleeding! I just used my jacket to put pressure on it, to stop the bleeding.

  It was only then I finally took in what was happening and where I was.

I was in a flying taxi with an emo guy and three old ladies. Last thing before this was Miss Fiore throwing her necklace at me and it turning into some type of weapon. 

Wait…where was that weapon? It just disappeared right after I got into the taxi with nico. Looking around the taxi, there was nothing. There was no weapon seen on the floor of the taxi, except for the necklace that Miss fiore threw at me. I found it strange, how did a weapon that looked taller than me suddenly disappear? Where did it go? Why did it go? And how did it go? These three questions swirled my brain like a song on repeat, but that song would probably only get a few streams. Maybe a hundred, or somewhere in the tens.

[bi-bard]

Flirting - Graham Dunne Imagine [Daisy Jones & the Six]

Title: Flirting

Pairing: Graham Dunne X Reader

Word Count: 888 words

Warning(s): none

Summary: In the hopes of getting the attention of some big-time journalist in the music world, Graham tries his hand at some flirting.

Author's Note: I warned y'all that this show was going to be my next hyperfixation. I told you that this would happen.

Might write another part to this.

PART TWO HERE

PART THREE HERE

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

I had started growing tired of going to parties that were just very extravagant ways to make professional connections.

Having fun and enjoying myself had been left so low on my list of priorities that I truly saw no point in going to those annoying events anymore.

I walked straight to the bar in the venue and pulled myself onto a stool.

"Evening!" the bartender said with a smile. I grinned back. "What can I get you?"

I rattled off my order before turning around and looking at the crowd of people. I took my glass off the counter as I did so.

People were so interesting when they needed things. Some of them were confident. It was difficult to tell who was faking it and who wasn't. The key was the eyes. Truly confident people could look their target in the eye. It made me chuckle.

I had been in the music industry for a decent amount of time. I was a journalist but after enough time, anyone could figure most of it out.

I had been lucky. I earned some respect early on. Some of it seemed to grow and snowball, but some of it was balancing on the edge of a cliff. I was constantly fighting to keep my hold on it.

Maybe that's why I had grown so cold to so many people.

Just as I turned around to order another drink, a guy placed himself on the stool next to me.

After telling the bartender what he wanted, he motioned at me, "And I'll buy their next round."

I scoffed. "No..."

I grabbed my wallet and pulled out some cash.

"This should be enough for my drinks and his," I explained. The bartender nodded.

I turned to look at the man that sat next to me.

He was looking down at the counter. "Sorry... was trying to be nice."

"Well, I don't like feeling indebted to anyone," I replied. He slowly nodded.

Our drinks were placed in front of us.

"I just wanted to buy the most attractive person here a drink," he shrugged.

I chuckled. "That line ever work for you?"

"Haven't really tried it before."

"I don't recommend trying it again."

"I'll keep that in mind," he nodded.

I chuckled.

"You're (Y/n), right? (Y/n) (Y/l/n)?"

"Good guess," I leaned my elbow on the bar. I felt like I had already experienced this conversation a million times before.

"I- I've read your work," he explained. His eyes were jumping between my eyes, the counter, and everything else around me. "It's really well written. You... You've helped me understand records that I would never have listened to twice. I think you offer unique perspectives-"

"What's your name," I asked, cutting him off bluntly.

"Graham," he replied. "Graham Dunne."

"What band are you in, Graham Dunne?" I exaggerated a bit as I said his last name.

"We call ourselves the Dunne Brothers- how did you know I was in a band?"

"Two types of people tend to come up to me at events like this," I explained. "I've learned how to sort them out. Overly confident and aggressive: music producer or some other big name at a label. Awkward and uncoordinated: band member, but usually not the lead singer. Either way, goal's usually the same. Sweet talk in my ear until I write what they want me to write."

"That... sounds lonely," he replied.

"Oh, no, don't do that," I said. "Don't pity me. Makes me sick to my stomach."

"I didn't- I didn't mean to... I'm sorry."

"People look at me and see a young person in a position that they don't think I deserve," I shrugged. "To them, I am an easy target. Grow used to it after a while."

"Well, I'm still sorry."

I knew that I wasn't going to get him to drop the topic if I didn't accept the sentiment. "Thanks."

He nodded.

"Now... why did you come up to me?"

He took a deep breath, guilt clearly written on his face. "There's a gig. I have a gig- We have a gig. Tomorrow night."

There it was.

"You want me to write a review of it," I concluded.

"I'd be honored if you did," he offered a soft grin. I nodded slowly.

I don't know what exactly inspired my next actions.

Maybe Graham just seemed different. Something in his eyes was more genuine than anyone that I had met in a while. Maybe he was just better at convincing people to do stuff for him.

Regardless of the reason, I leaned forward, letting my lips brush the shell of his ear while I slid my card under his fingertips. "Call me at this number, we can meet for breakfast, and you can tell me all about that gig you've got."

I leaned back again, biting my lip to avoid chuckling at the stunned look on his face.

"I'll see you around, Graham Dunne."

I stood up and started walking out of the party.

I paused at the door and turned to look at Graham again. He was getting pat on the back and clearly teased by the other people around him. I assumed it was the rest of his band.

I chuckled to myself before going on my way.

This was going to be a very interesting experience.

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[woofwoofwolf]

Go home, Hobie Brown

Hobie brown x reader

Part 2:

Notes: Alt reader, Aro Ace spec reader but this fic is still romantic in nature (bc im aro ace and this is wish fulfilment, so dont come for me if this doesnt line up with your lived experience), fluff, reader has anxiety over liking Hobie and he teases reader for it a lil, reader remains GN but might have a writing bias towards fem, nicknames: babe and sweetheart, Hobie and reader are adults, use of (y/n), no phonetic spelling of Hobies accent, brit wtitten by a European sue me

The type of alt space the reader belongs to is up to you. Alt meaning alternative, as in subculture spaces. I'm alt myself so this comes from experience. Get stared at a lot lol

Pls dont repost anywhere thx ✨️

There was a rush to the exit of the classroom. You were always slow packing your intricately decorated book-bag and were one of the last to leave.

"Thank you professor, have a nice rest of your day."

"See you on monday, (y/n)." The professors always knew your name, despite having so many students. Another curse or blessing (depending on the situation or your point of view) of dressing alternatively - people never seem to forget you.

You opened the door but immediately slammed it shut again, causing the professor to look back up at you.

"Oh. Hehe... sorry..." you turned back to the classroom. No other exits. Maybe you could jump out of the window?

But before you could reconsider your escape plan, the originator - or should I say instigator - of your panic and embarrassment entered the room with the heavy steps of his well-worn boots.

"Hey there," said Hobie Brown, as confident as always. "What are you up to,"

You felt an unwanted warmth crawl up your neck. You had always told your friends that romance wasn't for you and that you weren't going to date anyone just to 'find out.' You weren't ever ashamed of not ever having been attracted to someone before, but man, were you ever unprepared to have a crush as an adult.

You met Hobie through Gwen. From the moment he met you, it was as if a switch flipped inside of him. He decided that he liked you and that he wanted you. He had told you so right away.

"You single?" You were sure he didn't even know your name at that point. He liked the way you expressed yourself, and although you usually hated how people would pretend to know what you were about only from the way you dressed, it was like Hobie actually understood you in just a glance.

You felt it right to tell him that you didn't do dating, but it wouldn't leave your throat. Never had you been confessed to before, and you didn't know what to even say.

He started showing up places, more and more, he became an unpredictable part of your circle. You didn't know how to process him.

"Let's match pace together. You feel me?" He'd say.

"No, I don't, actually,"

But slowly, you did. It felt as if your slow and monotone life started to pick up some speed, all the while you felt more in tune than ever. You wondered if the pace of his life had slowed down a bit in return, but you were too scared to consider what he might specifically be feeling for you and why. You doubted he wasn't being genuine, but you had no idea why he insisted on you.

You'd bicker with him (oh. It was so fun to bicker with him- wait were you flirting with him?), but when Gwen asked if you wanted her to tell him to leave you alone, you told her not to. Which only further fanned the flames of Pav's incessant 'shipping' of the both of you.

And so, you realised that for the first time in your life, you felt something for someone. And you were completely unprepared to tackle it.

"I can't believe it, coming to see me while I'm at uni."

Your eyes shot back and forth from Hobie and the professor who looked at the both of you with sparkling curiosity. Even the small remainder of the otherwise consistently disinterested students were all looking at you. Dressing alternatively, you were used to people staring, but now you just felt embarrassed, as if even talking to him was the equivalent of making out in the middle of the room.

"You told me when your classes were yourself," Hobie reminded you with a little smirk, picking up on your embarrassment.

"No but-" you huffed. "this is harassment-"

"You know, I'll leave if you tell me to?" He teased, back straight, hands in his pockets. "You can say it, sweetheart. I believe in you. Say 'Go home, Hobie Brown'!"

You glared at him, yet no sound dared to leave your throat.

"C'mon babe, say it," he leaned forward challenging your gaze.

Both of you held it there for a couple of seconds. A pin could drop in that classroom and everybody would hear it.

Finally, after that afore-mentioned warmth reached your cheeks and had become visible to all, you broke.

"You like dunkin'?" You muttered, walking towards the door. You swore you could hear some students chuckle or gasp, and you wanted to get out as quickly as possible.

Hobie whistled and followed, just a few steps behind you, never actually invading your personal space until you were ready, "Asking me on a date? Now, that's bold,"

"It's not a date. But you ARE buying. I want a smoothie. And a donut, of course."

"Taking advantage of me now babe?"

"And why shouldn't I? If you're going to cling to me like a magnet, I might as well make use of you." You briefly stopped, and Hobie nearly walked into you. You peered up at him, batting your lashes. "You know I really don't know what you see in me. Maybe you better run home while you're ahead."

"Depends," Hobie said, ecstatic every time you took his bait. "Will you be going with me?"

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Two fics in one day??? What is going on. Anyways hope you enjoyed, LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK, don't be shy to talk to me lol

You know as someone who's aro ace spec, I find an escape in fictional characters and the idea that they could be the ones to finally sweep me off my feet and get me to feel some type of attraction. It sounds cringy and emberassing, but I don't think there's anything wrong with it. If you're like me then I hope this scratched some kind of itch for you lol.

[agentplutonium]

David/Angel cooking for your prompt practice ^^

Okay, so we're about to make a deal. I will write this BUT you can't be too mean /j. Actually /hj because I don't really write this pairing and ur like THE David/Angel enjoyer in my head. But I will try for the sake of science (practice). Plus I always like expanding my abilities and this will be a fun challenge.

Pairing: David/Angel

WC: 897

Rating: Gen.

Aether is talking about this post.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

David won't admit it, but he does enjoy cooking with Angel. Occasionally.

They're a pain to deal with, but there's something about seeing them focus on something that they're both working on that gets to him. Not to mention that during these times he was grateful for the help.

It was another solstice. The pack was coming over for their usual party, and Angel had insisted on helping out this time, claiming that David would need it since they were bulk-making a lot of food (completely ignoring the fact that he's done it previously.) David, having seen what they could do by themselves when he was bringing over Asher, Milo, Tank, and their mates, decided that they'll give it a try this year. He warned them that things had to happen a certain way though, since he was used to doing it like that. Angel said that they could handle it. They've watched him before, they knew the drill.

So, they got to work.

Angel wasn't good at cooking for themselves, but when it came to bigger meals they suddenly became a five-star chef. David didn't even have to delegate tasks, it was like the two of them were performing a dance that only they knew. There was only occasionally he would have to ask for something, but it was always at the ready. The two were done prep in no time, and the only thing left was to supervise the cooking. David leaned against the counter, drying dishes as Angel washed them. He couldn't stop watching them for some reason.

"Take a picture it will last longer," Angel teased, a small grin flitting their lips.

"Why now?" David asked suddenly.

"Why now... what?" Angel giggled.

"Why help now? Why let me cook for you all these years?"

Angel's smile softened a bit. They shrugged in that way that always (affectionately) irked him, looking up to him. "Wanted to."

"Wanted to?" David repeated.

"Yeah. There was never really anyone that... did that for me. I was always so used to making big meals with my mom, and then when I moved out it was... hard to adjust. Does that make sense? I was on my own, and I never made anything more than a simple dish for myself before when I got peckish. So, those habits stuck around. And then you came along, and..." Angel looked away, smile widening even more. They distracted themself with the dishes. "And here we are."

David didn't have an answer right away. He was expecting some witty, light-hearted, hell even flirty answer. Not this. He didn't mind this, not in the slightest, but--

"And not to mention that you look sexy while you're cooking."

He spoke too soon.

"You liked watching me cook," David clarified.

"Partly, yes. It was also partly because it made me feel loved. It's also partly because I know its how you show love, so..." They trailed off, shrugging again before handing him the next dish. "Win-win."

"Win-win," David light-heartedly mocked, rolling his eyes.

Angel flicked water at him in retaliation, giggling. "It is! You like cooking, I like watching you cook, we both get a meal out of it--both metaphorically and physically--there's love in every aspect. There's not much more I could ask for, Davey."

David thought about the ring that was currently sitting in his nightstand. He was sure there was something more they could ask for. He shook his head to clear it, refocusing as another dish was handed to him.

"Maybe I should get you doing dishes more if it has you like this," he said. "You're actually romantic right now."

Angel scoffed in mock offence. "What does that mean? I'm always romantic!"

"With a lot of innuendos, and flirty comments, and--"

"Well, I'm sorry," Angel interrupted, "It is not everyday I am able to flirt to my heart's content with probably the hottest guy I've ever dated."

"Not the hottest guy you've ever seen?"

"No. Because you are not Tom Hiddleston. Unfortunetly."

"Unfortunately?" David asked with a chuckle.

Angel sighed dreamily. "I'd probably leave you in a heartbeat if that man asked," They teased.

David laughed. "Uh-huh. Okay."

Angel giggled. "You laugh now, but it's a possibility. You might wake up one day with a note beside you. It would say," they put on a dramatic voice, "'eloped with Tom. You were a great fuck, but I can't deny my true desires. Sucks to suck, I guess.' Except the 'I guess' would just be the letters I-G."

David shook his head in amusement, grinning. "Would you really leave me for him?"

Angel pulled the plug from the sink, rinsing off their hands, with another sigh. "No. Probably not. You're too good to me to do that."

David put the last dish away. "Right. That's reassuring."

"You think I'm hot enough to pull Tom?"

David pulled them into a kiss when the tap turned off. "I think you're hot enough to pull anybody you wanted, Angel. It's why I'm lucky you decided to keep me around."

Angel smiled at him, eyes crinkling a bit. David went to kiss them again but got stopped by their wet hands running through his hair and over his face. He leaned back to the sound of Angel's giggles.

"Why you--"

They wiggled out of his grip, taking off. David started after them, chuckling himself as he went.

-END-