#This is the shit he would fucking say in this situation for sure

[holdmytesseract]

One Night or Forever?

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Summary: When one thing leads to another, you and Daryl spend a passionate night together at the CDC. Unfortunately, neither of you is interpreting the signals right afterwards...

Warnings: 18+! MDNI! smut (not entirely graphic, but it's definitely there - like, you know exactly what's going on), uhhh sub and dom Daryl? unprotected rough-ish sex? Daryl gets a bj (yes, you read that right), he's a bit mean, too - but also a cutie patootie, uhh slight angst? bit of drama, alcohol - drunk-ish Daryl and tipsy reader, fluff, swear words, bickering

Set in Season 1!

Word Count: 4,5k

a/n: You want it, you got it, friends. I don't know what this is, though - or which demons possessed me as I wrote it. I really don't. I also don't know how I should feel about it. Embarrassed? Proud? Send help, lol.

Anyways, I hope you like this! Please go easy on me. Smut isn't really my forte...

EoH Masterlist °☆• LITRM Masterlist °☆• Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

"Booyah!"

Daryl's toast had been the starting shot for an evening full of conversation, fun, laughter - and alcohol. Some would say reams of alcohol. Wine, booze, beer - you and the group stopped at nothing. That was probably the reason why everyone staggered somewhere on a scale between tipsy and shit faced drunk at the end of the evening.

You were currently on your way to your personal room - something you'd describe as a luxury. Sure, back at the quarry you had your own tent, but there was a huge difference between that and a whole goddamn room. With a own freaking shower! It was crazy. Who would've thought that something so plain and simple would become such a valued, precious thing? Most likely nobody, because it was something taken for granted.

Well... Not anymore. Not since the world went to shit.

After passing a very drunk Glenn on the way, you more or less stumbled into your room. Tipsy... You were definitely tipsy. Without a single care in the world, you started to shed your clothes the moment the door shut close behind you. All you wanted to do was sleep. You had too much alcohol coursing through your veins to search for something you could use as a pyjama. You hadn't a problem with sleeping naked. Not tonight.

Unfortunately had your plan a catch... One that you weren't aware of yet.

This wasn't your room.

You were just about to free your body of the last piece of fabric you were wearing - a pair of admittedly beautiful dark blue lace panties, when a sudden voice managed to almost send you into cardiac arrest.

"Wha' the fuck 'r ya doin' in my room?!"

You startled so bad, that you almost lost balance and fell flat on your ass. Your balance was a bit off-track anyways, due to the wine...

With wide eyes you turned around to face the intruder.

"Daryl?"

You blinked. "What are you doing here?" He scoffed; his cheeks puffed out and reddened. He had been drinking way more than you did, and it showed. The archer's hands were fumbling clumsily with the fly of his jeans. "Jus' been taken a damn piss, 'n 'm comin' back to find ya standin' in my room." You crossed your arms over your bare - an information which hadn't reached Daryl's brain yet - chest. "This is clearly my room, Dixon." He scoffed again. "'S not!" "Yes, it is!" "'S not!" The man took a few wobbly steps closer. "Go bullshit someone else, I-" He stopped abruptly in the middle of his sentence; eyes widening to the size of plates. Now the information had been received and processed.

"Yer almost naked," he stated; bluntly staring.

Oh, you suddenly realised and remembered as well. He was right.

In any other situation, you'd have frantically tried to cover yourself up and perhaps even threw an insult at the man standing across from you, but the alcohol lowered your boundary of shame and loosened you up; making you see things more relaxed.

You huffed out a breath. "Yeah, no shit, Sherlock." Daryl still blinked and tried very hard to not let his eyes drop, but that was an almost impossible task for the alcoholized man. "Why?" You shrugged your shoulders. "'Cause I wanted to go to sleep." The archer swallowed hard. "In my room? Naked? Ya lost yer damn mind, woman?" "It's my room," your tipsy self was still profoundly convinced, while you made your way over to the bed on slightly wobbly legs. Daryl just watched you; flabbergasted, speechless, shocked - and incredibly turned on. After all, he had a damn pretty woman in his room - no, bed. Half naked!

"You could join me, Dixon." He scoffed again and tried to walk in a straight line over to the armchair; accepting his fate. "In yer damn dreams. 'S ain't gonna help me - or my hard-on." You giggled at his words like a schoolgirl and rolled around in the sheets. "That the reason why you can't get that zipper up? You like me, Daryl? Like what you see?" You pestered him with questions; smirking, and watched his cheeks redden even more - if that was physically possible and your eyes didn't betray you. "Shuddup," Daryl just growled in response. You giggled again, before a long beat of silence passed between the both of you.

The alcohol didn't just lower your boundary of shame... It also caused you to become bolder. "I could help you with that, you know..." You tried to sound as flirty and seductive as possible and turned in the sheets once more, but now to face the man sitting across from the bed. You perched yourself onto your stomach and crossed your ankles in the air; swaying your legs.

Gods, you felt like a teenager again. Damn the alcohol and your crush on the archer. It was a dangerous combination, since you hadn't planned to actually act on said crush. Well, and here you were now in his - nu.uh, your - bed, almost naked and trying to seduce him.

Some might say this escalated quickly...

"Help me with wha'?" The archer finally responded after a long moment; dumbfounded. His usually very smart and witty brain slowed down by the alcohol. You thought for a hot minute that he had already fallen asleep on you. You rolled your eyes and groaned - acting like Daryl just said the stupidest thing in the world. "Your boner," you deadpanned - as if it was the most normal thing to say.

The archer swallowed hard; feeling his chest (and pants) tightening.

"Wha'?" He crooked out. The normally so talkative, glibly redneck seemingly rendered speechless by your boldness.

Once again, you rolled your eyes. "Do you reaaaaally want me to spell it out for you, D?" Daryl clearly needed a moment to recover, but once he did, he scoffed.

"Pf, yer bluffin'."

"I'm not."

"Yeah, ya 'r."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, ya 'r. Can tell. Yer way to innocent fer shit like tha', sunshine."

"Are you challenging me, Dixon?"

"Nah, jus' statin' facts."

Now you were the one who scoffed. He really asked for it, didn't he? You smirked and hid your face in the blanket beneath you. Oh, you were so going to prove him wrong.

You rolled your barely covered body around a third time, but this time to get up from the bed - which was a much more difficult task than expected, but you made it in the end - even though not gracefully and certainly not seductively. "Facts, huh?" You asked the crossbow-wielding archer then with a raised eyebrow and your hands on your hips. He crossed his arms over his plaid beige-brown shirt clad chest; bare forearms and biceps bulging with the movement. "Yes, facts." Although he stared into your eyes with his blue coloured irises, he still had a hard time for them to actually stay on your face.

"Well, you can go screw your opinions - or me. Your choice, pretty boy," you stated and shrugged your shoulders as you bridged the short distance between the bed and the armchair. Before the younger Dixon could even do as much as open his mouth for a snarky respond, you had dropped to your knees in front of him - between his manspread legs.

Daryl's eyes widened and his jaw slacked. "Wha' 'r ya doin'?!" He literally screeched and gripped the armrests of the armchair. "Proofing you wrong, pretty boy." You smiled up at him like a Cheshire cat; hands and fingers clumsily trying to open his jeans. "F-Fuckin' hell, wha'?! Yer insane, woman!" The archer cursed above you, but also didn't make any moves to stop you. So, you took that as a sign to continue. And continuing you did...

It took you a hot minute to get your eye-hand coordination straight and overcome the obstacles which were his jeans and boxers, but once you did, there was no holding back. "Ya really gonna do th- F-Fuck..."

You did.

"Told you, Dixon," you stated with a mischievous glimmer in your eyes; hands firmly cupping him. Daryl answered nothing. The archer had a hard time to control his breathing and rapidly beating heart. He was still gripping the armrests like a vice - his knuckles already turning white. He really couldn't believe this was happening right now. Was he asleep and dreaming? Was he hallucinating? Did the wine manage to fog up his brain so much that his eyes were deceiving him? But when he felt your lips wrap around him, he instantly threw all those thoughts overboard again. This was real. It had to be real. After all, he was feeling it, right?

"F-Fuckin' hell," he cursed again; feeling waves of pleasure crash over him. One of his hands loosened its grip on the armrest and went in your hair instead - tying your loose hair into a makeshift ponytail. You were already too far gone to care; the taste of him addictive.

Working your magic, you tried to grant the man above you as much pleasure as possible - and it seemed to work. Within a few minutes, Daryl was a whimpering mess - a side you'd never thought you were ever going to see of him. Not in your wildest dreams.

"Ain't... Ain't g-gonna last," the archer panted breathlessly; the hand in your hair twitching. You didn't want him to. You wanted him to fall apart. A gentle squeeze of your hand was all it took. "Y-Y/N, damnit, 'm gon'- Gonna cu-" His sentence got interrupted by a low moan that paved its way to the forefront of his lips. The hand in your hair twitched again as he attempted to pull you off him. You didn't let him, though, and easily dodged his lousy attempt. Instead, you helped him ride the wave. His thighs twitched; muscles tensing as his high crashed into him. Daryl felt like he had been hit by an eighteen-wheeler - but in the best way possible. It had been so long...

The gentle grip he had of your hair slackened; hand falling limply to his side. You lifted your head to look at him to witness his blissed-out state. Daryl's eyes were closed, and his breathing laboured. You smiled; hands gently caressing his clothed thighs. "You believe me now, D?" He gave you a mere nod. Clearly he needed another few moments to get his head straight again. Your smile never ceased as you kept up your fingers movements. Your knees protested by now, but you didn't care.

Another few moments passed, before the archer peeled his eyes open again. Seeing you still on your knees for him managed to send another shockwave of arousal throughout his entire body.

Wide-blown eyes stared at you intensely; the gears turning in his fogged up head.

"T-Thanks, I guess," he whispered then. His voice was still hoarse. You smiled up at him. "You're welcome, pretty boy. Said I'm gonna help you." Daryl nodded almost shyly and clumsily stuffed himself back inside his boxers. You eyed him thoroughly and started to giggle. "Didn't think you'd loose it so fast. Wouldn't have pecked you to be a... premature guy." Not that it mattered to you, but you couldn't help yourself but to tease him a bit. It was meant to be a playful comment, but you seemed to hit a sore spot...

You could practically see how his eyes darkened, before he narrowed them. "Whatcha say, huh?" He asked in a gruff voice and stood up; towering over you. You blinked - were a bit taken aback by the sudden shift in his demeanour. "I-I, uh... Said I didn't think you'd be one t-to, uh, come too early..." The archer growled under his breath. "Ya better watch yer mouth, sunshine," he said in a threatening tone and grabbed your arms to pull you up on your feet. Daryl quickly noticed, though, that his legs were even more wobbly now that they've already been before; forcing him to take cautious steps. "What are we doing, pretty boy? You gonna make me pay for saying that?" You gave another sassy remark; provoking him and tickling his nerve ends even further. A grunt passed his chapped lips as he dragged you with him. Once close to the bed, he wrapped his arms firmly around your bare midsection and literally threw you onto the bed - wobbly legs be damned. You giggled at his eagerness and slid upwards to rest your head on one of the pillows; giving the man a confident look. "C'mon then, pretty boy, show me what you got. I know you want to." He scoffed and crawled on the bed. "Pretty boy my ass." You just giggled again. You felt intoxicated by the wine you had consumed and definitely aroused - which got only worse when you felt calloused, deft hands gripping your delicate skin. Daryl parted your legs and settled on his knees between them. His eyes were directed on your face. He looked like a predator - ready to attack his prey. It was incredibly hot.

"'M gonna shut tha' sassy mouth 'a yers, just ya wait," he growled in a deep voice, and wrapped his arms and hands around your thighs like a snake - holding them firmly and simultaneously keeping you splayed open for him, before he literally yanked you down; bringing your hips closer to his.

Your breath hitched in your throat at his sudden movement and the upcoming anticipation.

His fingertips danced over the skin on your hips then - and suddenly got your dark blue lace panties ripped into shreds.

"Daryl!" You shrieked, then gasped. "Those were my favourites, I-" "'S jus' a damn piece 'a fabric. Dun be such a crybaby," he interrupted you; instantly putting you in your place. Your mouth clapped shut. This was yet another new side of him. Sure, you knew he was hotheaded, but he literally just went from kinda submissive to dominant within the blink of an eye. Was it the alcohol? Or truly his temper?

The clinking of his belt ripped you out of your thoughts. Some shuffling and the rustling of fabric was the only premonition you got, before you felt him against your hot and pulsating center. Your hips instantly bucked; trying to get closer.

More friction.

More pleasure.

More of Daryl.

The archer hovering above you scoffed. "Look how needy ya are. Dun even hafta prepare ya." You could see the corners of his mouth twitching into a small smirk. "Tis all jus' from gettin' me off, huh?" You nodded and bit your lip. Daryl on the contrary shook his head, "Yer tha' desperate? Pf... Pathetic." and lined himself up, before hitting home.

Stars exploded in front of your eyes as his hips met yours. The most sinful moan the archer had ever heard in his life slipped past your lips; only spurring him on more. He picked up a firm, steady pace - leaving you a mess beneath him barely within a few minutes. Just what you did to him.

Revenge was sweet, wasn't it?

His precise, powerful thrusts carried you from one high to the next - and Daryl enjoyed it. He loved to see you fall apart beneath him. And this time, he was the one lasting longer. "Who's commin' too soon now, huh? 'S not me, sunshine. Told ya I'd shut tha' sassy mouth 'a yers," he growled lowly; slowing his pace to just give you a few moments of recovery. You moaned at the sheer endless pleasure he granted you. Your hands gripped his thick arms like a vice after he had planted both palms firmly in the mattress beside your head to gain more leverage. "F-Fuck, Daryl," you whimpered; fingernails digging into his sweaty biceps. "I know. Jus' one more, 'kay? Can ya give me one more?" You nodded wordlessly. "Good girl," the archer praised and picked up his speed once again; pulling another sweet moan alongside some incoherent noises from you.

Your hands travelled. They left his arms to rest on his chest, where they fisted the fabric of his plaid shirt with the ripped off sleeves. The fabric held a darkened stain - a puddle of sweat formed on his chest.

Your hands continued to fist his shirt, as you pulled - an attempt to undo a few buttons. But once the archer noticed what your mission was, he stopped dead in his movements. "Nah, dun do tha'," he scolded you instantly and peeled your hands away from the fabric covering his upper body. "W-Why?" You asked breathlessly; not understanding his sudden mood shift. "'"Cause I told ya to!" He snapped.

Just in that moment, you realised that you must've hit another sore spot... But this time one that actually seemed to get to him. Not one that managed to turn him on.

"S-Sorry, D-Daryl, I-" You immediately apologised, but got interrupted once more. "Keep holdin' on ta my arms, if yer need sum'thin' to hold on to." His voice was gruff, but way more soft than a few moments ago. The archer redirected your hands and placed them once more around his sweaty biceps. Without another word, he continued where he left off, causing your grip to instantly tighten. "There ya go," he praised you again and readjusted your legs with his thighs. Just the slight change of angle was enough to send you a third time over the edge. This time, though, you dragged him right with you.

A broken sound - close to a cry, left the man's lips as he pulled out and coated the supple skin of your stomach with his release. A single droplet of sweat rolled down his neck as he threw his head back in ecstasy. It was a sight to behold. A sight you might never forget for the rest of your life - no matter how long your life was going to be.

A few moments later collapsed Daryl on the mattress beside you. He was clearly spent. Perhaps this had been something you both needed. Who knew?

"Imma take a shower," the archer announced after a while and left the bed - but not before gentleman-like wiping the mess he made on your stomach away with his hand. Without another word, he left, while you just laid there - still naked and staring at the ceiling; recalling in your mind what just happened. The sex managed to sober you up a bit. Did that really just happen? Had you been dreaming this?

You heard the water run, but not how Daryl returned to the room and settled down for the night in the armchair. You had ventured off to dreamland at some point.

To say the next morning was awkward was an absolute understatement. Awkward was not even remotely enough to describe the vibe between the both of you.

When you woke up again, the archer was nowhere to be seen. Now sober, you left the bed, picked up your clothes, noticed that you truly were - in fact in his room, and tiptoed butt naked down the hallway into your room. Luckily nobody had seen you. That would've been scandalous, right?

Your luck was also that everybody was quite hungover from last night. Some more, some less. Therefore noticed nobody the way you and Daryl acted around each other.

You could barely manage to look into his eyes.

You felt ashamed; thinking that you pushed him too far yesterday night. Thinking, that you were too bold and unable to control your damn feelings. Thinking that you pushed him away, instead of drawing him in. You anticipated that the archer must hate you now - and you couldn't even blame him...

Nevertheless seemed a conversation inevitable. You didn't want to destroy the friendship - if you could even call it that - the both of you had before last night.

It took you days to bite the bullet and ask him to talk, though. Sure, you had been on the road again since the CDC was a dead end, but that wasn't an excuse in your eyes.

"D-Daryl?" You approached him cautiously as you found him alone in the stables of the Greene farm; saddling a horse to go looking for Sophia. "Whatcha want?" He asked you and gave you a short look. You swallowed nervously. "Can we, uh, can we talk?" "'Bout wha'?" You watched him work for a moment, while your fingers fumbled with the hem of your t-shirt; trying to gather all the courage you could find. "That, uh, night at the CDC..." Your words came out as a whisper, but Daryl heard them nonetheless - and froze in all his tracks.

"Why'd ya wanna talk 'bout tha'?" He asked nonchalantly after a beat of silence and continued his work; had seemingly shaken off the small 'shock' quite quick. "I-I..." You started and sighed. "Things f-feel so weird between us since that n-night, and... I don't want that. I-I'm sorry for what I did. I'm s-sorry for making you sleep with me." Your eyes were stuck on him. You watched him and tried to gauge his reaction - afraid of what was going to happen.

"Yer sorry 'bout it?" Daryl asked then - almost in disbelief. Then he scoffed. "Do ya regret it?"

That was a question you didn't see coming. A question you haven't thought about yet. Did you regret it? Your memories took you back in time; letting you relive that night you shared with him. The answer was clear - as you quickly discovered.

"No, I don't, but... It was wrong. I shouldn't have-" "Wrong?" He interrupted you. His voice appalled. "Tha's what ya think 'bout this? 'Bout... us?" Daryl accused you with a grimace on his face. Was that... sadness you could detect in his blue orbs? Hurt?

You blinked; "U-Us?" were definitely confused by his words. "W-What do you mean 'us'?" "Ya know wha' I mean, Y/N." You shook your head. "No, Daryl. No, I don't. We've been practically ignoring each other since the CDC. We can't even talk properly! Neither of us can look into the other's eyes! Everything is just... weird, and you talk about an 'us'? No, I don't get it. Tell me. Explain it."

A frustrated huff left the archer's lips, before he started to gnaw at the pad of his thumb; averting your eyes. All of a sudden, the usually so confident redneck became all shy and insecure. "Dunno how," he started; merely shrugging his shoulders. "'S difficult, 'n I ain't good with words." "Try it, D," you encouraged him and gave him a soft smile. "Please. I want to make things right between us again." The archer nodded and took another moment - most likely to gather his thoughts. "'S tha' feeling, ya know? Can't pin it down. Always feelin' so strange whenever yer close to me."

Your heart skipped more than just one beat as his words urged to your ears. Could it be...? No...

"W-What do you feel? Can you... describe it?" Daryl lowered his gaze to the ground. The little stone laying beside his left foot suddenly became really interesting. "Jus' strange. Gets harder to breathe, 'n... My stomach's all messed up. Feels like an itch I can't scratch." You couldn't believe this was happening. Did that night cause Daryl to fall in love with you? "You're doing good, D. Keep going. What else?" You had to know.

He grunted; his foot playing with that little stone, before kicking it aimlessly over the concrete ground. "I... always go back to tha' night in my head. Can't forget it. Yer look. Yer touch. The way ya felt, I-" He stopped himself to take a deep breath. And you smiled. Perhaps having slept with him hadn't been a mistake. Perhaps you interpreted his behaviour wrong. Perhaps you just misread the signs...

"I jus' dunno how to act 'round ya. I dunno wha's happening to me. Tha's why I ain't talkin' to ya. Didn't mean to ignore ya..." Daryl apologised with his head still lowered.

You stepped closer to him and cautiously reached for his hand. He flinched, but didn't pull away. "Daryl, I... I think I know what happened to you," you whispered. "'N wha's tha'?" He asked; finally brave enough to lift his head to look into your eyes. You smiled and squeezed his hand. "I think you... are in love."

As quick as the man had lowered his guard, as quick was it up again.

He pulled his hand out of your grasp and scoffed, before he took a few steps back. "Pf. Love? Me? Tha's ridiculous, woman - 'n we both know it!" "Is it, yeah? You really think so?" "Yes!" He yelled, and wanted to rush past you - but you stopped him with your palm splayed on his chest. You didn't know if what your heart made you do was a wise decision, but it acted on its own will. Your head was powerless anyway.

Daryl's eyes travelled from yours to the hand on his chest and back. "Whatcha doin', woman?! Leave me the hell alo-" You had heard enough. You had held yourself back long enough. This was the only option you had left. It was do or die.

You cut the man off with standing on your tiptoes and connecting your lips to his. It was a chaste, gentle kiss - but nonetheless meaningful. It felt so right. So good. His lips so soft and warm - compared to his seemingly rough exterior. His blond-brown goatee tickled your skin in the best way possible.

Once more, Daryl froze to the ground; not moving a muscle.

When your lips left his again with a soft pop and you reopened your eyes, you could see how his eyelids fluttered slowly open as well. You could feel his heart galloping underneath your palm. "What do you feel now, Daryl?" You asked in a hushed tone. Your eyes never left his. The archer swallowed hard. His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat. "I-I-I..." He stammered out; his cheeks heating up. "G-Good," he croaked out. "R-Real good." You smiled - happy that your heart had made the right decision. "Wanna do it again?" He blinked. The tips of his ears got red as well. "I-If yer willin' t-to k-kiss me again?" Your smile even widened, before you reached up to cup his beardy, red cheeks in your palms to pull him into another kiss. Daryl gasped against your lips; eyes falling shut and lips following your lead. It caused the kiss to get more intimate. More demanding. More passionate.

His hands acted on their own will, as they settled on your waist and pulled you closer. Your body crashed against his. You could tell that he hadn't kissed a lot in his life; his movements clumsy and messy - but perfectly Daryl. And you loved it. You didn't care how experienced or skilled he was. All you cared about was him - and all the love he deserved you wanted to give him.

He was far from perfect; had his flaws - but so were you.

"What do you say now about love, pretty boy?" You asked in a playful, yet loving manner; your hands crossed behind his neck. Daryl's hands gently squeezed your sides, "Shuddup." before he dipped his head to indulge you into yet another kiss.

Yeah... He was definitely whipped.

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

[goddamnitmahtin]

Beauty and the Beast

(A dc x dp prompt)

Danny was in college online so he didn’t really leave his house much. It was probably why he didn’t really realize it when Jazz started going out more than she used to. He was so swamped with his mechanical engineering major and astrology minor that he didn’t even bat an eye when Jazz started to go out at night. Most days, Danny didn’t even know what time it was anyways. He was constantly up at his computer, studying for this or designing that.

Every once in a great while he would go out to pitch his inventions to WE but nothing ever came from it most of the time. It wasn’t like he was expecting for it to go anywhere, he was just trying to get his foot in the door a bit. Maybe if they saw something in him now, he could get hired right out of college. That was the hope anyways.

So imagine Danny’s surprise when the CEO of WE himself asked Danny into his office. The Tim Drake. Holy fucking shit. This was either gonna be really good for him or REALLY fucking bad. Danny assumed it was about one of the inventions he had submitted. What if it was great and they wanted to patent it? What if it was absolutely trash and the CEO was calling him in just to tell him to stop sending in his shitty ideas? Knowing Danny’s luck it would be the latter.

“You wanted to see me Mr. Drake?” Danny said sitting in the chair across the desk.

“Yes I did,” Mr. Drake said, “And please, call me Tim.”

Danny wasn’t sure where this was going at all, “Sure, uh Tim.”

The young CEO looked to be about Danny’s age to be honest. He must have been really something if he was able to have been given the position so young. Mr. Drake- Tim sat forward, leaning on the desk with his elbows. Danny couldn’t help but notice that it was kind of attractive how he demanded power over the room even when acting casual.

“Danny, I have seen your work. It is remarkable to say the least. You have impressed me,” Tim said.

Danny smiled. That was a good sign. Maybe he could get a job upon graduation after all.

“Thank you,” he said in response.

“But that’s not why I called you here,” the CEO said, standing up from his desk. Danny watched as the man walked around the desk to sit on the tabletop right in front of Danny, smiling almost seductively.

Danny felt his face go hot as he realized that the man’s legs were placed right between his own. Mr. Drake was attractive before. But now… ancients be damned… how could he not be hot? Should Danny have been a bit more concerned with the clearly inappropriate behavior in a work place? Probably… but Danny was never the best at self preservation.

“Oh?” was all Danny could get out of his mouth before Tim flashed a dazzling smile that made his brain short circuit.

“You see Mr. Fenton, I seem to be more enamored with you,” the young CEO said, leaning in enough that his breath ticked Danny’s neck.

As we have established, Danny’s self preservation skills were absolute dog shit. So instead of any sort of alarm bells going off in his head, he felt that the next logical step in this situation would be to shoot his shot. Fuck it, why not?

“What, are you telling me to ask you on a date Tim Drake?” Danny asked, his lips curling into a smirk. Fuck the job, this guy in front of him would be much better.

He watched as Tim’s cheeks flushed for a moment before returning the smirk, “Are you asking me out on a date?” Ancients, his eyes really sparkled huh?

Danny crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair, “I dunno. If I did, would you say yes?” Be smooth Danny. Be smooth. You got this.

Tim leaned in, impossibly close, “Hm, I think I would.” Danny could feel Tim’s breath on his lips and ancients be damned if he didn’t get to find out what those lips tasted like later…

“Then I guess you have a date Mr. Tim Drake,” Danny said smoothly.

“I’m counting the seconds, Mr. Danny Fenton,” Tim replied. UGH THIS GUY WAS SO HOT- WHAT THE FUCK-

…

Now that Tim had secured a date with the Fenton guy, Operation Belle could start. Seducing the guy into letting him go on a date with him was remarkably easy. Now Tim just had to use his leverage to get what he really needed. Answers. How the Fentons knew about their secret identities. Who were they and why were they in Gotham? Whether or not Jasmine Fenton was really in cahoots with Killer Croc and if she was, was she involved willingly. In the meantime, Tim had to get ready for his date.

…

Anyways something something shenanigans, Danny thinks he’s landed himself a hot CEO boyfriend, Tim thinks Danny is some sort of villain who knows his identity, Jazz is just trying to date her “monster” boyfriend in peace and get him out of the criminal life, and Killer Croc is just trying to find a legal job to provide for Jazz.

Chaos ensues.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

-MAYBANKS SISTER

part 4, chapter 5- anytime

WARNINGS: mentions of drinking, mentions of daddy issues

SUMMARY: ding dong, Wes is dead. The cops question all of you about his death as soon as you pull up to goat island, and an odd encounter with Groff has you all feeling uneasy

Previous chapter | Series Masterlist

So, you had a million different problems in your life at the moment.

Rafe was blowing up your phone, you could feel it buzzing in the pockets of your pants. Messages asking about where you were, how he was worried, etcetera.

Your brother was currently in the hospital, sick with the literal nitrogen bubbles in his blood, you feeling completely helpless in that aspect.

You had listened to the voicemail your dad had left over 10 times now- you memorized each word at this point. It cut off before he could say anything meaningful- and you wanted to know what he had to say to you, what was so important that he had to call you? After all this time?

And now, as soon as you got onto goat island, you were all thrown into another situation.

“If these people are willing to kill for this amulet, I wonder how much it’s worth.” Pope pondered, his hands on the wheel of the boat.

“We should show him the piece and then just throw out a price.” You replied, a small grin on your face.

“A million dollars.” Sarah added.

“I like it.”

“Go big. My dad taught me that.”

“Wait a minute. What the hell? Is that Shoupe?” Pope mumbled, looking at the boats on the dock.

“No. Nope. We’re gonna turn around.” John B spoke, you looking over your shoulder.

“Don’t.” Pope replied.

“Oh shit.” You grumbled.

“What? Pope, no, you don’t voluntarily go towards cops.”

“I agree with John b. Let’s book it before he even notices it’s us.” You spoke. “I can’t end up with another charge or my future is literally done for.”

“I agree. It’s too risky.”

“If we run now, we trigger the chase mechanism. Just stay the course.”

You groaned out in annoyance. “Fuck.”

“Okay, okay.” John B hesitantly agreed, everyone hiding everything and you glancing at your phone when it buzzed again.

rafe 🚩

Hey, call me when you can, please. I’m worried about you.

“And here he comes.” You murmured, watching him step closer to the edge of the dock, giving you all a small wave. You pocketed your phone again, shaking your head to yourself.

“Not scared of cops.”

“We didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I didn’t.”

“Well, I did.” You replied.

“There they are!” Shoupe shouted out, calling over his partner.

“Shoupe.” Pope waved.

Shoupe chuckled, “Great treasure hunters.”

“Yeah…”

“Bring it on in, toss the line.” The sheriff said, you standing up and tossing it to him.

“Oh, lucky me. I was just coming to see ya.” He said while trying the line, you furrowing your eyebrows.

“Oh, yeah? Why, uh…. Why would you come see us, Shoupe?” John B asked.

“You know, uh, the old guy who lives here? Who you talked to yesterday?”

“Yeah…”

“Okay. So you did talk to him?”

Cleo looked at pope, and so did you. She rolled her eyes and sucked her teeth in.

“Yeah, glad you confirmed that. Well, that old guy is up there… dead. And except for his son in law, you were the last ones to see him.”

You all looked back at each other, confused.

“I’m sorry? Repeat?” You were the first to speak.

He turned to you, “He’s dead, Maybank. And you guys were the last people here.”

“…Shit. Yeah, that’s what I thought you said. Just had to… make sure.” You nodded.

“The curse?” Sarah whispered.

You turned to her, shrugging. “He was just really old, too.” You whispered back.

“So, um, y’all ain’t going anywhere.”

You guys inched closer to the dock, now. Standing in front of Shoupe. “We got a lot to talk about.”

You were once again led inside the house, walking through narrow and dimly lit hallways into the room.

You were all questioned and grilled by the man, until finally it was your turn.

“Why is it that every time something happens, you are there…?” He asked with a sigh.

“Wrong timing at the wrong time, sheriff. I’m like a legend at that. Plus, ever since I started hanging out with these… fuckers, I can say that I’ve gotten in more trouble than ever.”

“You’re just always with an odd crowd, aren’t you?”

You shrugged, leaning back in the couch. “Are you just gonna ask me about my record all day or are you actually gonna question me?”

Your phones began to ring again, both you and him glancing at it sitting next to you. You glanced at Shoupe, him nodding his head towards the object.

“Go ‘head.”

You looked down at the screen, seeing that it was Rafe, again. You declined the call, before looking at your notifications.

“That’s an awful lot of notifications.” He chuckled from where he sat, you turning off your phone and shaking your head.

“That’s not your business.”

“I could take a couple guesses who it is.”

“Well, be my guest. If you wanna waste my questioning time guessing who is blowing up my phone, go right ahead.”

The both of you always had a playful relationship. Maybe it’s because he felt pity for you, after the entire situation with your dad.

Ever since you were young and he was a rookie cop, he always found himself back at the Maybank residence.

He always had a bit of a soft spot for you and JJ. He’s seen everything that’s gone on since you were a kid. The domestic cases, the constant noise complaints, the drugs, the addiction, all of it.

And while, sure, you hadn’t been the best kid, always getting wound up in some sort of fight or into some petty theft, he knew that it was only because you knew nothing else. You knew nothing outside of that life.

“Right, right. Well, let me start asking the real questions. Where were you last night…?”

“Well… let’s just say I… you know,” you spoke suggestively, pursing your lips together. “At a friends.”

“Would this friend happen to be…” he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “A certain Cameron?” He spoke rather quietly, thankfully, quiet enough to where the others didn’t hear.

“Maybe.” You shrugged your shoulders with a smirk.

You’d have to tell Rafe to cover for you. You knew he would. He felt like he owed you.

“And where is your brother?”

You pursed your lips, “Honestly, Shoupe, me and him had a bit of an argument… I haven’t seen him since we last met up here.” You lied, him furrowing his eyebrows, not quite sure if he believed it.

“Alright…” he nodded. “Why were you at the Genrettes, anyways?”

“He hired us. And then we came here.”

“Hired you for what?”

“Don’t know. He was talking about something, like a necklace thing. And he thought he was cursed-“

“Cursed?”

“I don’t know. He just said he was cursed.”

“And you believe it?” He asked.

“Listen, I may be a little off my rocker, but even that is too crazy for me.” You replied.

“If we found the amulet, we broke the curse. And he was gonna pay us like a shit ton of money to find it. You know how useful that would be to me? Shit, man. It would have been nice.” You continued.

He paused, taking a glance at you at the mention of money.

“How are y’all holding up?” He spoke rather quietly as he referred to you and your brother.

You looked up at him now, a small scoff escaping you. “Doing as well as we can, I guess. You know, I never expected to still be living with my brother when I was 22 but… here I am.”

He gave a slight nodded, looking down at the notepad again, skimming through the pages before looking back up at all of you with a sigh.

“That was a close call. Being around cops makes me nervous.” Cleo spoke as you all walked down the stairs.

“Being around cops makes me wanna punch one.” You replied.

“Oh, shit, he’s right behind us.” Sarah murmured to the both of you, you glancing behind you and shrugging.

“Shh. Quiet. Sorry.”

“Now make sure you don’t wander too far now, you hear?” He called out to all of you, you rolling your eyes at the cop.

“Yes, sir.” Sarah replied, all of you walking away from the stairs.

“You guys gotta admit, that was weird.”

“I mean, do you think the curse he was talking about was real?” You pondered.

“I mean, is it murder if the killers dead?” Sarah asked.

“No. We’re not entertaining that. There’s no way this guy died… from what’s her face ghost, okay?” Pope replied to the both of you. “He probably just died from like, old people stuff.”

“Jesus,” you snorted, “you’re really starting to sound like Jay.”

Pope glared at you, you holding up your hands in defense.

You all began to walk into a shed when you came face to face with Groff, a sniffle escaping him. You all stood there, looking at him.

“Oh. Hey.”

“Hey.” Cleo replied to the man.

“We’re sorry to hear about your loss, Mr. Groff.” Sarah told him, a pitiful smile on her face.

“Thank you, Sarah. I appreciate it.” He smiled and gave her a nod, shuddering slightly. “It’s, um…” he let out a chuckle as he stood up. “It’s been a shock.” He turned to start walking, before pausing and turning back to the rest of you.

“I, uh… I know Wes made a deal with you. I intend to honor it. If you come up with anything, let me know.” He paused, “For Wes’s sake.” He said with a chuckle and a sharp inhale.

“We’ll let you know if we find anything.” Pope assured the man, Groff giving him a small smile.

“Please do.” He turned to walk out.

John B watched him walk away, pursing his lips together. “I’d like to get away from here.”

“Yeah, me too.” You mumbled, slapping the boy on the shoulder as you walked past him.

All of you piled onto the boat, you taking one last glance at the island to find a man, the servant, staring out at you all. It was creepy.

“Just when we thought it couldn’t get any weirder.”

“Yeah, the old man dies and Groff still wants the amulet? That’s… weird, ain’t it?” You questioned.

“What do you think, John B?”

“There’s a lot more going on that we don’t know about.”

“Well, it is breaking.”

“I had science, Pope.”

“You are a mad scientist.” John B murmured, sitting next to the boy. “Where did you learn how to do this?”

“Chemical reactions. Chemistry.”

“I was in chemistry.”

“We didn’t take the same chemistry.”

You let out a snort while Sarah chuckled.

“What..?”

Your phone rung once more, and you glanced down at it. John B turned to you now, Popes comment forgotten.

“Okay, your phone has been ringing like all day. Who is calling you that much?”

“None of your business.” You stuck your tongue out, standing up and glancing down at your phone once more. “But I’m gonna take this.”

They watched as you opened the door and slammed it shut behind you.

“Okay, is it me or is she being super secretive?” John B asked, eyeing you from the window.

“I haven’t noticed anything.” Sarah replied.

“Me neither.” Cleo chimed in.

You pressed the phone to your ear, a familiar voice coming through the phone.

“Y/n.” You heard him sigh in relief, “Fuck- where are you? Why weren’t you answering? I was so fucking worried, I was this ready to file a damn police report-“

“I’m fine, Rafe. What did you want?”

“Well, after you didn’t answer any of my texts or calls for like, two days, I got worried and I went to your house. I remembered where you put your spare key and-“

“You broke into my house?”

He let out a scoff. “I didn’t break in- alright?” You could practically see him press his fingers to the bridge of his nose, a habit he had grown.

“I was worried about you. And I wanted to check in. But you weren’t home.”

You sighed, sitting on the furniture on the porch. “Well, thank you, Rafe. I’m fine. I’ve just been… busy, you know? I have two jobs- and, you know, JJ is still technically my-“

“Your responsibility.” He said, tone flat as if he’d heard it a million times before. “I know that, but he’s nineteen, y/n. He can make decisions for himself, yeah?”

“I know.” You sighed out. “But- I mean, can you blame me? I’ve taken care of him my whole life. I don’t know anything else.” You spoke genuinely, and you could hear him let out a soft exhale.

“Just- be careful, okay? And, don’t worry about him so much. He can take care of himself.”

“Thank you, Rafe.” You murmured out.

“Anytime. Can you just.. you know, call or text me next time?” He asked, and you let out a soft chuckle.

“I will. I’m sorry.”

“I’ll see you, y/n.”

“See you,” you replied, before pulling the phone away from your ear, and hanging up. You leaned back in the chair you sat in, a heavy sigh escaping you.

“I need a drink.”

TAGLIST:

orange: could not tag

@cassie0sstuff @rafesgiirl @fals3-g0d @tiaamberxx @callsignwidow @saintnourah @calmoistorm @ethanthequeefqueen @theoraekenslover @just-levyy @hallecarey1 @wh0re4drewstarkey

[suempu]

caleb blurbs because this text has me twirling my hair

-> minor spoilers for his interactions, jealousy (is it really a surprise atp lol), he's a bit petty, typical yandere caleb -> no pronouns used for the reader, not proofread (scratches head)

<3

yeah you might think he’s some kind of mean hard dom 24/7 (and he’s definitely capable of that based on the situation) but first and foremost, all he wants is to good for you.

caleb’s always been a giver. he’s someone you’ve relied on ever since you were both young and he’d be damned if you ever stopped coming to him for help.

he wants to drink your tears, eat your skin, and live from each beat and pump of your heart. everything about you consumes him, you're his entire world— of course he'd do anything and everything for you.

from every miniscule muscle twitch of your face, he can read and dissect whatever you're feeling and thinking. he prides himself in knowing about your wants and needs.

so how would he feel when he finds you strolling around Linkon with what looks like if a bunny grew human legs. he feels a twitch in his eye.

or when he hears your heartfelt laughter in Meows Cafe with a suspicious looking man with platinum hair, who looks far too serious to be caught in such a cutesy place. his hand curls into a knuckle, eager to interrupt your outing where it not for the look of your face. and for the fact that he died.

it happens numerous times, different occasions of him spotting you in the most random locations. his squad member talking about a recent gallery of her favorite artist, caleb's about to tell her off about work until he catches the sight of your figure on the photo of her phone.

caleb's shaking his head with a frown. he's gone. he's been dead for a year... and he finds out you've been frolicking the fields with these men. holding hands with these people as if his fake body wasn't buried deep into the ground of the cemetery you visit each week.

post homecoming wings, he's crashing the party no matter the place and time. he keeps up the charming and boyish, childhood best friend act and tries to compete with the others. he does not give a fuck, he'll do what it takes to make you realize that he's much more capable than your replacements.

"oh, and who might this be?" his smile is so shiny and bright as if his chest isn't bubbling with anger. caleb traps you with a side hug, arms resting against your shoulder. "don't remember you introducing this face to me yet, sweets."

you'd have to drag him away after that, nagging when you get home that he couldn't just try and intimidate every person he sees you hang out with.

he's crossing his arms, watching you pace around your apartment with a sour look on your face. he only smiles condescendingly.

"come on, they aren't even all that. its not that big of a deal, pip. if he can't handle it then.... i guess he's just not good for you."

he's gonna downplay shit while wearing the most trustworthy smile ever and you're not stupid enough to believe half of the stuff he's saying, leading to squabbles.

but if caleb's being honest... he loves that you're fighting back. it reminds him of your childhood arguments and he's relishing in every moment he can spend with you.

he's too proud and sure that your rightful place is in his arms. he's not even worried that you're defying him. that's how big his head is, he's not even worried. (spoiler, he is very worried.)

"hey, come over to mine, i cooked your favorite ;)"

throughout the meal, he'll act like a mom chastising your boyfriends. always criticizing them, questioning their motives. you huff and puff, defending your... friends(?) with a determined look on your face.

caleb reaches a hand out and wipes the corner of your lip. "got a lil somethin' there, sweets." he murmurs before licking his finger off, maintaining eye contact. "they take care of you right?" he half chuckles— half scoffs. "bet they don't even know how you like your food prepared." "caleb..."

but no matter, he'll let you spread your wings, run around with these boys to god knows where. he'll cement his place in your life, being with you ever since you've been kids, and the heavens will have to drag his bones to get him away from you.

you'll understand soon enough that in the end— its always and only going to be him.

[moriitis]

It's okay, i like to suffer..

Imagine an argument with Toby, where the reader yells at Toby "You're worse than your father" shit-

Poor man

Toby Rogers x Reader. Angst! Short.

give this man a break.

Content/Warnings; mild language, mentions of abuse, intimidation, arguing.

Things had become tense, unnerving and Toby wasn't acting himself. No matter how many times you asked or offered if he wanted to talk, he would give you nothing but a cold shoulder. To be frank, he was treating you like shit and despite it all you bit your tongue. You didn't want to argue, you didn't want to fight because you knew deep down Toby was battling things you couldn't understand. He got like this sometimes but most the time it was a phase, something where in a week or two he would be back to his usual self - this time it was different. Your boyfriend, once so bubbly, loving, became nothing but an empty shell of a person. His words were spiteful, filled with hate and you were starting to question your relationship to begin with. How badly you wanted to open his head and see what the fuck was going on in there. There were certain things you could tolerate within a degree, a shitty attitude or even some back chat here and there but Toby's whole personality shifted into somebody you didn't even recognise anymore.

So, these feelings and silenced rage burned inside you, pondering whether you should voice your concerns or whether it would be a battle not worth fighting for. You wanted to reach out and ask for advice, from Tim perhaps or even Brian; to see if maybe they were having issues with Toby but you knew that Toby would only throw some sort of bitch fit over it. How other people are 'not involved in our relationship' and how 'they don't want to hear your issues.' These words, despite not leaving visible marks; left something a lot deeper in your soul. The relationship was crumbling and not even sex could change his shitty ways - not that Toby was particularly interested in sex as of late anyway.

With pen and paper, you sat at the table. You weren't sure what you wanted to write, where to begin but you knew that you needed Toby to understand how you felt. Admittedly, a part of you questioned if he would even bother to read it considering he had no time to even sit down and talk to you, it was an attempt nevertheless. Only you didn't know where to start, what to write in particular and as seconds churned into minutes and then minutes were wasted and turned into hours - you were still sat on the same chair, tapping the pen relentlessly against the corner of the table. You were never one to speak about your feelings however every healthy relationship meant communication and if Toby wasn't going to try; you could at least. Wetting your lips with the glass of water beside you, you ran a hand through your hair, dumbfounded by the whole situation. This shouldn't be happening, it felt selfish admittedly and you were getting more and more frustrated with him as time ticked on.

Before you could even conjure up the right words and as if on perfect timing, Toby pushed open the door and stepped inside the small confides of the cabin. He barely glanced toward your direction as he trudged toward the kitchen, leaving the environment to become immediately tense and hostile. You shuffled on the chair, unsure what to say, how to begin as you glanced over your shoulder at the brunette; who was busying himself with getting his own glass of water. Jaw tensing and lips pursing, you sucked in a steady breath.

"Hey," your voice was soft as it broke the silence between the two of you, Toby's back remained facing you as he seemingly ignored you. Your heart churned, aching for some sort of attention that you had been craving for restless weeks. Why had he become so cruel? Toby didn't respond, which only bubbled that rage within you. With a huff, you stood up suddenly, the chair scraping beneath you as you turned to face him. Your movements were sudden, fierce and you were becoming impatient. "So, is this our relationship now?" you called out, hands on hips as you glared into his back. "I can't even get a hello back? Am I that irrelevant to you?"

Toby's hands bawled into fists on the counter at your words, his body visibly tensing as he exhaled a sigh. You could only await for an answer anxiously, your heart pounding as if the thought of him suddenly lashing out terrified you. You knew Toby would never lay a hand on you but you knew his words were more hurtful than fists alone.

"Can we n-nnot talk about t-this?" Was all he mumbled as he raised the glass of water to his lips. You felt yourself sigh in relief, surprised that he even spoke to you as you slowly crept forward toward him. Extending a hand out, you gently touched his shoulder. He stiffened at the unexpected touch and eventually shrugged your hand off. Despite his visible boundary, you weren't going to suffer in silence anymore and so you pressed further.

"Can't you just tell me what's wrong?" you begged softly, stepping to now place yourself beside him so you could glance up at his face. Toby's gaze remained on the counter before him, avoiding your own intense stare. "Why can't we talk now?" you continued to press.

"Just ff-fuck off, you're always up my ass-" Toby grumbled, pushing himself off the counter to begin descending down the hall. You were too deep into it now and you were desperate for an answer, so you quickly followed.

"Just talk to me, please, I'm literally begging you-" you reached you, grabbing his arm and tugging on it softly in desperation. Toby once again freed his arm from your touch, pausing in the hallway. You also stopped, watching eagerly in hopes that maybe he would suddenly turn and pull you into an embrace.

"Everything everyone has s-ssaid about you is slowly ss-starting to make sense," Toby spat from over his shoulder, finally turning to face you. "You're so ff-fucking annoying." His words were like venom, filled with pure hatred as you felt your heart split in two. His words shocked you, the sudden outburst unexpected and you had no idea how nasty and spiteful Toby could truly be. Narrowing your eyes in confusion, you bit back tears as your lips pursed. To make matters worse, he continued. "No wonder nobody ll-likes you.. because I fucking hate you." He emphasised the word hate, index finger outstretched and pointing at you in the air as his once soft, brown eyes, glared toward you. You lowered your head in shame, feeling as if everything you had ever vented to him about was now being turned toward you. Toby usually got pretty spiteful at times like this but his words were something else, a secret he had kept buried within him - words that had been lurking for awhile, aching to be told to you.

"Fuck you-" you spat, feeling the tears spill over as your body shook from the adrenaline. "I was there for you when you needed me the most." It was hard to find the right words because you were so angry and so upset that you was practically shaking. A part of you wanted to punch something or to leave even, to never come back and have nothing to do with him. Remaining stood, you shook your head in disbelief. "You- You-" you were grasping at straws as Toby creeped closer to you, towering over your frame and only making you stumble on your words more. Despite the intimidation, you held your ground as you glanced down at your feet - a sense of shame creeping over your entire body.

Had Toby really felt this way toward you? Was this really the end of your relationship? A part of you wondered why, what made him feel this way all of a sudden? Were it someone else? Though you greatly denied it, it felt as if you'd been stabbed and you couldn't comprehend the feelings bubbling and brewing in the pit of your stomach. As cheesy was it was, a part of you had hoped that perhaps you two would stay together forever. Only that dream came crumbling down at his words, the way he looked at you with hatred as you tried to comprehend what was unfolding before you. It felt like nothing but a dream, a terrible, terrible dream and you wanted nothing more than to just wake up.

"I'm what?" Toby growled softly and you felt his shadow loom over you as your brows furrowed.

"You are just like your father," you spat through grit teeth, finally looking up at him with a shaky breath. "A good for nothing asshole that likes to make people feel like nothing but pure shit." You flinched at your own words, the hatred that spewed from you as you began to attack Toby's own insecurities. "You may have killed him, but he's there, in the way you talk, the way you act. You won't accept it, you won't admit it but deep down you know it's true."

Silence seeped in through the empty cracks of the cabin as Toby stared down at you in disbelief, eye twitching slightly as his lips pursed. His anger was bubbling and you could see it but he did not act on his feelings, shock settling across his system as he remained silent. Your words hurt more than any punch or slap he had earnt in his childhood because deep down, it were true. Toby was his child, his father, though not here in person, lived through his hair, his eyes and actions. Toby's hands had been unkind just like his fathers and slowly, he was starting to become more and more like him. A fate unescapable as he slowly backed up away from you, peeling his gaze away to the floor in his own shame and remorse. His feet stumbled as he backed up, back connecting with the wall as he leant against it for a moment. You could only watch, sucking in heavy breaths as you watched him process your words, practically fighting with himself right before you. There was an ache, an ache to reach out and comfort him but how could you after saying something so cruel?

"I'm sorry-" The brunette choked out as his voice broke, clamping a hand over his mouth to stifle his choked sobbing. His father died for being so cruel and now he was beginning to question why he was still here too? A family curse to be unkind, cruel. Despite the attempt to remain strong, a sense of pity and guilt flooded your system and instinctively you stepped forward to reach out for him; to pull him into an embrace and apologise for your own cruelty. "No, st-sstay away-" he barked out, stepping away from you as he turned his back to face you. You gasped as you watched him stumble past you toward the door, grabbing the handle and swinging it open. Toby always ran from his problems, his issues but he couldn't run away from himself. Quickly you followed.

"No, please-" you begged softly, hands outstretched to grab him. Toby flinched away from your touch, one foot already out the door.

"Don't come near me, I could hurt you-" he uttered before disappearing out the door.

[slaaverin]

Stumbled upon this and it made my heart ache for Jungkook.

This man is the most honest, pure, and kind-hearted person I've ever encountered.

He wears his heart on his sleeve since debut. Everything can be seen on his face and words, he's an open book.

So how on earth people pretending to love him cannot see him?

How can people have so much distortions in their perceptions to call him a manipulative liar? It is truly beyond my comprehension.

Since the start Jungkook has been trying to tell us; through songs he shared, through gcfs with carefully selected clips and lyrics, through the tender way he touches and treats Jimin, through his eyes, so expressive and full of emotions, through his words, protective, devoted. He told us for years that he simply and irrevocably loves Jimin. He loves him. And I don't care how people want to label this love. The label doesn't matter, but the depth of it does.

So by negating this bond, and calling it lies, and treating Jungkook as a fake person, can these people even truly say they love him? They know him? They've devoted their full attention to him?

Or is it just for selfish reasons? Because of his looks, because of what they would want him to be instead of who he truly is?

This makes me sad because Jungkook has done nothing but show his heart, time and time again. He has been vulnerable with us, showed the ups and downs, and yet it's only to get hurt by people who claim they even love him. How twisted is this?

You know what kind of trust he has for us? What kind of sacrifices is required to be this open? In a country like theirs, in a situation as complicated as to be a member of the biggest band in the world?

What Jungkook has done in so many years is an gigantic gift to us. It is a blessing. And it is brave.

I only wish people would treat it as such, instead of shitting on it.

The value Jungkook has provided is tremedous, and not acknowledging this really makes them look ungrateful and entitled and selfish.

Apparently they love him so much that they label themselves "solos". Their primary focus is Jungkook. The person they think and observe and cheer for is Jungkook.

They devote so much time onto him, yet you tell me that they entirely missed the most obvious part, the biggest elephant in the room?

What a fucking joke this is. How can someone be so wrong?

They are the liars. They are the ones manipulating reality for their agenda, not Jungkook.

If they go as far as denying and belittle a big part of Jungkook's heart, they insult him and who he is. They disrespect him. And they sure as hell do not love him (I'm not even sure they know what love is).

Sorry, but this is hitting me hard. I want Jungkook to have the fans he truly deserves, as the beautiful human he is, and that is not it.

Jungkook has been my bias since day one. And to watch him come into himself and become the man he is today has been a true privilege.

He has revealed everything of himself. Everything we need to know at least.

So can people open their minds a little bit, and let Jungkook's heart and feelings touch theirs? Just for an instant?

Real life is not always a drama. It's not conspiracy theories, it's not toxicity and negativity only. Sometimes there are real people with real feelings. There is some good in this world and I know it's hard to believe. I know people are disillusioned and traumatized and mistrustful. But if they could let their guard down, and just open their hearts, they would understand how good and true Jungkook is.

That there is a reason they love him, and this reason is valid. It is. And it is not in crazy narratives. It is in simple acts of love.

If seeing him happy isn't enough, I don't know what will be, because anything beyond that is demanding unrealistic expectations he will never be able to fulfill. He will never be this person. He is not this person.

He is happy with Jimin and that is reality.

He loves Jimin and it is the truth.

Can it not be enough?

What else do they want?

He's human. He lives a complicated life with impossibles things many of us could not endure because we are simply not made for it, and we would crumble. Who he is and what he does is extraordinary.

So what if a show with Jimin brings him comfort, makes him smile in the midst of his stressful life? What if it is the best moments for him?

Why would it be wrong? Why won't they let them have this unique pocket of happiness?

😭 does he not deserve it? Has he not done enough for ALL OF US?

When I tell you that makes me cry.

Showing love is not taking only the parts we want and reject the things we don't like, it's accepting it all, it's saying yes to everything he is. It's unconditionnal. It's trust and understanding and being empathetic. It's not in the fucking mind with theories. It's in the guts, in the heart, it doesn't have to be logical and make sense.

His love for Jimin doesn't make sense (I mean of course it does because it's The Park Jimin), yet this love exists and people need to accept it once and for all, because this won't go away, probably never.

So yes, my heart aches for Jungkook. Because I don't want all his efforts to show us and make us understand to be a waste. I want him to be heard and cared for in the way he deserves.

It's a fan's job.

So can people start showing real support, please? Of everything he is, and everyone he loves?

Sorry for the long post but I needed to get this out of my chest

[somereaderinblue]

Ok I had thoughts about the Odysseus of Troy au even though rn I'm supposed to be working but here we go:

I was wondering if Odysseus has like, handmaidens or maid meant to serve him during his captivity? My brain remembered how in the Penelope of Troy au fic I read, Penelope had maid serve her who was nice but was not kind and that got me thinking if Odysseus gets a maid but this maid is kind to him

She knows what is happening to Odysseus is fucked up, this maid was there to see the aftermath of Odysseus being forced into Paris's bed, witnessed him crying and begging for Penelope's forgiveness. She saw how he slowly withered away over the years and how Telemachus's life was threatened to get Odysseus to agree to Paris's demands. How Odysseus was treated by Paris and the snide comments by others who lived in Troy, unlike the maid in the Penelope of Troy au who only tried to see the positive, this maid sees the negativity and bad things occuring to Odysseus

So she is kind to Odysseus, she is kind to Telemachus, she doesn't try to force Odysseus to accept his new life in Troy. She asks him questions about Ithaca, about Penelope to see him smile and be happy. She doesn't say a word when Odysseus talks to an owl that visits his room. She encourages him to still believe and hope for rescue over the years

She may be a maid, but she is a maid who swore to Paris that she would ensure that Odysseus's wellbeing and happiness is her utmost priority. And if his wellbeing and happiness involves him reuniting with his wife and going back to his homeland, then she would make sure that would happen

Boss makes a dollar, you make a dime; indulge in tumblr/ao3 on company time.

First off, your idea gave me the fuzzies & I wanna add on to it. I can imagine this maid being on the older side, perhaps resembling Anticlea somewhat. We also know how maids were treated in this time period, so she empathises with Ody's situation.

She tells him to love Telemachus, on that front he has no choice. But not once does she tell him to love Paris.

If we throw ageism into the mix, the fact that she's old also allows her to be under the radar. This makes her a valuable ally to Odysseus, who'd absolutely take advantage of said underestimation.

Like you mentioned, she's not only experienced but old, she's seen shit & acknowledges it. Odysseus would intrigue her because he's a walking paradox; he's similar to Hector yet distinctly his own person, he says all the right words you want to hear but when you look back, you can't help but feel that something was wrong. She's seen how vicious Ody can be, yet not once does he let any of that viciousness touch Telemachus outside of protection.

(And well, when all's said & done, Astyanax might need a nanny.)

[jaempanini]

☆ I fucking hate pasta

Jeno x Reader

Notes: established relationship and stuff whatever whatever I made this in like an hour please don't execute me from tumblr

Synopsis: You make pasta often, because you know that it's one of Jeno's favourite foods. Jeno never complains when you make him pasta, because he knows you love it. Plot twist: you both hate that shit 😔

Word count: 1.2k

You gently cut up the basil for the pasta sauce as a pot with water slowly begins to boil. You aren't sure when exactly you'd started cooking for Jeno, but what you do know is that you absolutely adore doing it. Jeno is always super appreciative, and nothing makes you happier than seeing his excitement whenever you place a plate of food down in front of him.

In fact, cooking for Jeno might be one of your favourite activities.

The only part that you can confidently say you despise about it, is that Jeno loves pasta. Not only does he love it, he is obsessed with it. Now, any other food would be okay, you aren't that picky. But pasta? Oh, you hate pasta. And it's heartbreaking, because you want to like it, you want to enjoy it with Jeno, but you just can't. You've tried, oh you've fucking tried alright, and you've concluded that pasta might be the worst food to ever grace this earth.

So almost every other evening you have to sit across from Jeno and miserably stuff your mouth with pasta and pretend that you aren't on the verge of tears. Romantic!

The water starts to boil, and your heart sits heavy in your chest as you salt it and then pour the pasta in, mixing it so that it doesn't stick to the bottom of the pot.

Just as you put the spoon down, you hear your front door unlock, and your brain reminds you that Jeno just came back from the gym, so it's most likely that he'll be extra hungry.

You turn around just as he stops in front of the kitchen entrance. He smiles at you and then his eyes briefly flit to the pot behind you. An unreadable expression settles on his face. "Pasta again?" he asks, looking at you curiously.

You nod, giggle and walk over to him, throwing your arms around his neck, leaning up to kiss him. Jeno's hands instinctively find your waist, and he gently presses you closer to him. As you break apart, you move one of your hands to cup his cheek. Then, with all the sweetness in the world, you say, "You smell terrible. Please take a shower."

Jeno gasps in mock-offense and pulls you closer to him, to which you whine and playfully hit his chest. "Come oooon, you know damn well you don't smell like fresh flowers after the gym, go and shower!"

Jeno finally lets go of you and steps away. You immediately miss his touch, but you decide that this is for the greater good. The gym scent lowkey gives you toxic gas vibes.

"Fine," Jeno sulks, "but don't start eating dinner without me!"

"Wouldn't dream of it." You reply, and you know it's true, because if you were alone there'd be no way you would ever even think of putting pasta in your mouth.

Jeno kisses you on the cheek, before finally leaving to go take a shower.

You sigh, look back at the pot of pasta, and understand that you have to face your biggest enemy once again. For the sake of Jeno.

Jeno stands in the bathroom, leaning against the sink. The mirror is fogged up from the steam, and Jeno fights the urge to wipe it with his hand. He knows you hate the marks it leaves.

His phone is laying on the counter and his messages with Renjun are on the screen. Jeno reads over them at least ten times, particularly over Renjuns last text. "Jeno, you KNOW you don't like pasta, and you KNOW that Yn loves you. She would drop the pasta in a second if you told her you don't like it. Communication is important in these situations."

Jeno thinks about it. He's never really liked pasta. In fact, if he had to choose his least favourite food, it would probably be pasta. But he'd also hate seeing your upset expression if he told you he doesn't like it.

But Renjun is right. Communication is important, and Jeno knows you love him. Plus, if you get upset, he can always just say that it's a joke. Even if that'd mean eating pasta for the rest of his life.

When Jeno comes back to the kitchen, you've already set the table. Both of you sit down.

You nervously start to pick at your food, occasionally picking a piece of pasta up and putting it in your mouth. Every time you do, it feels like you're somehow demeaning yourself.

Jeno, across from you, also slowly starts to eat the pasta, washing each bite down with water.

Approximately five minutes pass before Jeno clears his throat. You look up at him, and he starts rambling.

"Yn... I- listen, I know that you really, really like pasta, and I'm grateful that you cook it for me so much, but I have to be honest... I don't really like it? By it I mean the pasta— I'm sorry, I didn't want to lie, but I knew how much you liked it, and I just didn't want you to be sad, because I know that you really like sharing your favourite things with me, and what sort of boyfriend would I be if I didn't like it too? A terrible one! Yn, I'm sorry, please don't break up with me, I love you, and I love your cooking— it's not you, it's the pasta. The pasta is torturing me every evening. I love being with you so much, but then I look down at my plate, and the fucking pasta is looking back at me."

You stare at him. Jeno visibly panics.

"I swear, you're the best thing to happen to me, but that pasta is the worst thing to happen to me. Every time I put pasta in my mouth an angel loses its wings. Every time it enters my digestive tract I feel my soul die a little. Also, pasta causes constipation!" Jeno finishes his ramble loudly.

You slowly put your fork down and sit up straight. Jeno prepares for the worst.

"So you're telling me..." You start, "... that you don't even like pasta?"

"I-I'm sorry... I... I don't..." Jeno hangs his head in shame.

"So you're telling me..." You continue, "... that I've been cooking pasta for nothing?"

Jeno immediately looks up at you and furrows his eyebrows. "What? No! You like pasta. You cook it because it's your favourite dish!"

You shake your head at him. "Nuh uh it's not! I cook it because it's YOUR favourite dish!"

Jeno stands up. "No! You LOVE pasta!"

You point at him and also stand up. "No, YOU love pasta!"

You both stare at each other before realisation dawns on you. Oh, fuck.

"Jeno... did you think I was making pasta because I like it?"

Jeno slowly shrugs and then asks, "Did... did you think I was eating it because I like it?"

"Yeah... I thought you loved pasta..."

"I don't really like pasta at all... Do you love pasta?"

"I fucking hate pasta."

"So, you're telling me that we've been eating pasta this whole time, thinking that the other one likes it?"

You sit down and whine, covering your face with your hands. "We are such dumbasses." You groan.

You hear Jeno giggle, and all of a sudden he's giving the top of your head a kiss. As you look up, you see him leaning back and also sitting down. "Do you wanna order Chinese?" He asks, looking up at you expectedly. You nod, and give a sigh of relief.

Pasta may have won the battle, but you've won the war.

Notes: I pooped this outta my ass😍 if it sucks dont come for me im a poor village boy trying to feed my 15 siblings by selling hay at the farmers market and cleaning shoes... writing is just this poor village boys hobby 😔 LISTEN IM FALLING OFF MY GAME I DONT EVEN KNOW ENGLISH!!!! THIS POOR VILLAGE BOY LIVES IN AN ABANDONED SHACK IN SIBERA!!!! I MINE COAL EVERY OTHER DAY AND SELL IT FOR PENNIES!!!!!!!!

[hbyrde36]

Midsummer Nights

Ch 1 Ch2

WC: 5900 | R: Explicit (eventually | Ch 3/15 | AO3

Chapter 3

The next few days went pretty much the same, to Steve’s utter dismay. 

Although, there were the occasional cracks in Eddie’s armor, brief moments where he’d look at Steve with something other than disdain, as though he’d forgotten for a second that he didn’t like him, or maybe Steve’s near non-existent charm was slowly wearing him down.

As if.

No matter how hard Steve tried, he could never seem to say the right thing where Eddie was concerned. In fairness, it wasn’t his fault. One look into those gorgeous brown eyes and he turned into a bumbling idiot, plain and simple.

The second morning of pre-camp saw Eddie—wielder of Steve’s own personal kryptonite, a.k.a. the aforementioned gorgeous brown eyes—stumbling into breakfast late again. Still recovering from jet lag, Steve supposed, and still looking less than thrilled to be stuck working together when they eventually met up with Joyce to get their assignment for the day. 

Landscaping. 

Which sounded like fun to Steve, honestly. He certainly wasn’t opposed to getting his hands dirty. Except It turned out that landscaping was just a fancy way to say cutting the grass—a shit ton of fucking grass—as well as clearing a bit of overgrowth and a few small trees to make a new footpath between two sections of camp. He had to tamp down his disappointment in finding out they wouldn’t get to plant any pretty flowers in the garden beds situated outside of almost every building on the property. Apparently Joyce liked to do that herself. 

Oh well, they’d still get to play in the dirt a bit, and with any luck at least he’d get to watch Eddie use a chainsaw. 

Steve pulled up the bottom hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his brow. A futile effort considering the shirt itself, a soft pale buttery yellow tank top, was practically see-through now with how soaked it was with the sweat from his body. In the end he gave up, yanking the sopping cloth up over his head, and tossing it into a nearby bush. 

A loud grunt of frustration had him glancing over at Eddie, who was tugging angrily on the pull-start of a chainsaw over and over again, with nothing to show for it but a few sputters and false starts. Steve had managed to resist staring at the other boy for most of the day, no small feat given that the top he wore, another sliced up black tee with the fading image of a zombie-skeleton-guy on the front, was more holes than shirt now, gaping open to offer even more glimpses of pale chest than the day before.

Including, as Steve was somehow only just noticing, the distinct glint of metal stuck through each of his nipples. His breath caught at the sight, and he had to clear his throat twice before he could manage to speak.

“Y-you need a hand with that?”

Eddie let out a puff of air, blowing the bangs off his forehead before looking up, lip curling into a sneer when their eyes met. He let the cord go, sending it retracting back into the saw with a loud snap, and held the tool out in Steve’s direction. “If you think you can do better, go on and give it a go, big boy.” 

“I-I didn’t mean—“ Steve began, but quickly snapped his mouth shut, knowing he would only make it worse.

See? He was learning. 

Eddie raised an eyebrow, giving the saw a little shake, daring Steve to come and take it.

Steve gulped, taking the few tentative steps that would bring him close enough to reach out for the handle, his own fingers lightly brushing against Eddie’s when he took hold of the saw. The simple touch sent a zing of electricity up Steve’s spine, making the skin on his arms break out in goosebumps. For a split-second it was all he could do not to drop the damn thing on his foot.

He gripped it tight, turning away from Eddie’s distracting presence so he could get his shit together. Somehow it was only then that it occurred to him that he knew fuck-all about chainsaws and he was 98% sure he was about to embarrass himself.

It wouldn’t be the first time, or the last probably. 

He gave the pull an experimental tug, or tried to, but his hands were slick with sweat and the stupid thing slipped right out from between his fingers.

Right. 

99%, then.

Before trying again Steve thought back to what Hopper had said when he dropped all the lawn equipment off to them this morning. Something about choking? 

Steve’s dick twitched in his shorts.

Uhhh… no, that couldn’t be right.

The choke, he’d said, and it needing to be either off or on to start. There was only one switch on the saw that Steve could see, so he flicked it in the opposite direction. 

Two hard pulls and the tiny engine growled to life.

Steve let out a loud celebratory whoop, turning to flash Eddie a wide smile and maybe hand the tool back so he could finally see those pale muscles in action, but Eddie was in a daze, his gaze firmly fixed to Steve’s chest, seemingly tracking the beads of sweat that ran from his collarbone all the way down to his navel and beyond.

Hmm. 

Maybe Robin was on to something.

Steve huffed a surprised, breathy laugh to himself before he could help it, and though the sound of the chainsaw had to have drowned it out, it snapped Eddie to attention, and sent him stumbling back a few steps as his eyes drifted back up to meet Steve’s, the look in them becoming considerably less friendly by the second.

Maybe Steve had only imagined the ogling?

Only one way to find out. 

“D’you mind if I just?” Steve asked, purposely over-flexing his pecs and biceps as he pointed the tip of the saw towards the thin row of small trees.

Eddie shook his head, eyes still wide and a little angry as his lips fell into a tight, thin line.

With an air of confidence he didn’t quite feel, Steve took on the first sapling, squatting down slowly while popping his ass out, trying to make a show of it all as best he could.

It wasn’t until he was half way through the row that he finally risked a look back to see if Eddie was taking the bait, only to find that the other boy was paying him less than no mind, and was more than a dozen yards away heading down the dirt road that led to the closest set of port-o-potties.

Another night at the bonfire came and went with no sign of Eddie. Which was probably for the best. In hindsight Steve was a little embarrassed at his own display, and more than a little disappointed that it hadn’t worked.

Robin was sympathetic as she listened to his whispered recounting of the day, right up until he began to sulk about not even getting to drool over his crush in action with power tools.

“What muscles?!” She’d said, which only had him sulking more, insisting that sure, Eddie was slender but Steve had a feeling there was a hidden strength inside that beanpole just waiting to be released. 

Robin quickly changed the subject. 

Normally he’d have been happy to sit and listen to her ramble on about Vickie and her ‘gorgeous fiery hair’ and ‘piercing blue eyes’, and her horrible on-again, off-again boyfriend back home, but it sort of added salt to his already stinging wounds that at least her crush wanted to be friends. He was saved by the soft patter of rain beginning to wet the canopy of trees above them, bringing the small party to a screeching halt as Jonathan and Argyle doused the fire with a bucket of water, and everyone gathered up their stuff to make a run for it.

Steve grabbed Robin’s hand and the two took off together with their faces lifted to the sky, shrieking with laughter the whole way, not caring at all that they were getting absolutely soaked. 

Eddie was in bed again—under the covers this time—already asleep when he, Jonathan, and Argyle crept inside the cabin in their boxers, having left their wet clothes out on the porch to drip dry.

Steve fell asleep watching the rise and fall of Eddie’s chest, lulled by the sound of his breath and the tinkling of rain on the metal roof over his head.

It was still raining the next morning, the sound of it now more like rapid gunfire than the gentle plinking tones of the night before, as it really started lashing down. 

Steve cracked his eyes open and found Eddie awake before him for once, climbing out of his bunk and slipping into a pair of long pants that would likely, sadly, remain uncut in the surprising chill of a rainy summer day in the mountains. 

It was no surprise when after breakfast Hopper and Joyce announced a change in plans for the day. Not wanting anyone stuck working out in the bad weather for too long, they decided everyone would work together to do a deep clean and declutter of the theater. Which, as the largest building besides the mess hall, served as the main meeting space for all sorts of camp-wide activities, not just drama classes and end of session performances, making it a huge undertaking. 

It was a surprise, however, that Eddie and his grumpy-gus attitude, even with the option of mingling with others, still stuck close to Steve’s side, tagging along wordlessly when he, Robin, and Vickie volunteered to take on the veritable mountain of giant totes and ancient boxes hiding in the rafters, containing every costume and accessory the camp had bought or made in the last twenty years or so.

With Robin by his side for the day Steve was feeling more relaxed than he had in days, and especially around Eddie. He stopped worrying about how he looked, or over-analyzing every word that came out of his mouth before he said it. Apart from a few appreciative glances when he knew the other boy wasn’t looking, Steve sort of ignored Eddie, in favor of more than one walk down memory lane with his oldest friend.  

The first few containers they sifted through were full of props. Everything from foam swords to plastic rifles, and even a small Audrey II that Steve himself had made with paper mache. That one at least prompted an impressed hum from the usually aloof British bad boy. 

Then it was on to the costumes. Steve drug two of the heaviest totes over to the back row of the audience so they could all sit, knowing these would take longer to go through.

He cracked the lid on one, nose wrinkling as he was assaulted by the scent of years-old sweat and mothballs. No sooner had Robin popped open the lid of the other when she squealed with delight, tossing a filthy bundle of velvet into Steve’s lap. He instantly recognized it as the formerly bright blue floppy tudor hat that had gone with his Romeo costume, complete with a shriveled up feather still sticking out of it. Without hesitation he perched it on top of his already deflated hair, the weather doing him no favors.

“Very dashing,” Robin said, and reached back in the bin, her eyes lighting up as she next pulled out a light pink satin dress.

Steve gasped. “Oh my god. Is that what I think it is?”

Without a word Robin leapt to her feet, yanking the scrunchy off of her ponytail to shake her hair out. She batted her eyes as she held the frayed, dingy gown up in front of herself. It was too short now with how tall she’d grown to completely cover her jeans and Converse, but the visual still took Steve back in time. She cleared her throat, calling out in a pitched-up voice, “what man art thou thus bescreened in night, so stumblest on my counsel?”

Steve was a little shocked to realize he still remembered his next lines nearly 6 years later. With one hand on his heart and the other reaching out to Robin, he replied, “by a name, I know not how to tell thee who I am. My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, because it is an enemy to thee. Had I it written, I would tear the word.”

Vicky dissolved into a fit of giggles as they went on, while Eddie offered raised eyebrows and a smirk, his head tilted curiously.

“My ears have yet not drunk a hundred words of thy tongue’s uttering, yet I know the sound,” Robin continued. “Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague?”

“Neither, fair maid, if either thee dis—”

“That’s how they met, y’know,” Nancy chimed in, interrupting the show as she appeared over Eddie’s shoulder. “Can you believe they’ve been together since they were twelve?”

Steve groaned, ripping the old hat from his head and tossing it back into the box, releasing a puff of dust into the air. “You know we’re not a couple.”

“We’ve never been a couple,” added Robin.

“They always say that,” Nancy uttered from the corner of her mouth to Eddie and Vickie as she gave Robin an appraising stare. "The lady doth protest too much, methinks."

“Wrong show, Wheeler,” Robin said, with a sneer.

“I just don’t get it, Robin.” Nancy rounded the bench where Vickie and Eddie sat, making her way closer to Steve while giving him a blatantly obvious once-over. “I mean, you two are perfect for each other, and you’ve been joined at the hip since the day you met. What are you,—gay?”

Steve’s blood boiled, but before he could even begin to formulate a response in his best friend’s defence, someone else beat him to it.

“What the fuck, Nance?” Jonathan barked, appearing from nowhere just as his girlfriend had.

Nancy startled violently, the blood draining from her face as she slowly turned to face him. “What? I didn't say there was anything wrong with it, I just want to know,” she said, in a pathetic attempt to defend herself.

Clearly, Jonathan wasn’t going to fall for it, or go along with it. “No, you were being a bitch, and It doesn’t matter anyway because that shit is none of your business.”

“Jeez, it was just a question,” Nancy mumbled, defensively.

Jonathan shook his head, shooting an apologetic smile at Robin and Steve both before stalking away. Nancy chased after him in a huff. 

“What’s her problem?” Vickie asked, getting up to stand next to Robin and began rubbing her back as they both watched Nancy’s retreat.

“Who knows,” Robin scoffed. “Does no one appreciate friendship anymore?” 

She looked far less bothered and panicked than Steve himself felt. It made him wonder how often Nancy had thrown that sort of ‘joke’ around at her before, and it pissed him off all over again.

The foursome shook the interruption off as best they could, managing to finish their bit of the job without further incident. Robin was smiling again in no time thanks to the attention Vickie was showering on her. Steve, on the other hand, couldn’t quite bring himself to relax again, a tension settling in between his shoulder blades that refused to ease. Not helped by the fact that Eddie remained as quiet as usual, even if the looks he gave Steve for the rest of the afternoon were unusually softer. He even volunteered without being asked to help hoist the totes full of items being kept back up into the loft area.

The sun was back out the following morning, and it was a good thing too. Steve and Eddie’s job for the day was giving all the cabins a little refresh, mainly the porches, and rain wasn’t helpful when waiting for paint to dry.

Painting wasn’t exactly Steve’s forte. In fact, he was terrible at it, evidenced by the fact that he’d been allowed to paint his childhood bedroom exactly once, only to have it hastily covered up with the most godawful plaid wallpaper that had ever existed. But once Hopper explained that they didn’t even have to sand and scrape at the old layers of forest green paint that covered the deck boards and railings, just sweep the dust away and slap a new coat over the last, he felt pretty confident that even he couldn’t mess that up. 

Easy peasy.

There were ten cabins in total, five on the girl’s side, five on the boy’s side. They started at the end of the line, which happened to be the one the boys working pre-camp were currently sharing, using an old wagon to cart around the trays, brushes, rollers, and gallons of paint. 

When they were all set up and stationed on opposite sides of the porch, where they could meet in the middle at the stairs and paint themselves down, Steve popped inside, bringing out his small but mighty CD player in hopes of lightening the mood. Eddie hadn’t said two words to him that day, and it’s not like the guy had been chatty up till then or anything, but after yesterday's debacle with Nancy, Steve was feeling a little more on edge than usual.

He switched on the radio, hoping to find something neutral or in-between genres, like a top 100 channel or something. Unfortunately, it sounded like only one station was coming in clear. Some awful churchy bullshit that he was absolutely refused to listen to, and he decided—fuck it, he wasn’t about to suffer this kind of work in silence. Eddie would just have to deal with his summer mix. 

Steve turned the player’s mode over to CD, pressed play, and humming along to the powerful tones and unapologetic words of Alanis Morissette, got to work. 

For a while he was so engrossed in the music and his task, trying his best not to paint outside the lines, so-to-speak, that it was easy to ignore the presence hovering behind him.

That is, until Savage Garden faded out and an unmistakable three note intro came pounding out of the speakers, and Steve couldn’t help but look back and see Eddie’s face. 

As soon as he turned he caught Eddie smiling, trying to stifle a laugh, and saw for the first time that Eddie had the most adorable set of dimples.

“What’s so funny?” Steve asked, the little lines at the corner of Eddie’s mouth making him feel brave, a hint that maybe the other boy smiled way more than he’d been letting on.

For once Eddie didn't look away or scowl. He met Steve’s gaze with sparkling eyes and shook his head, grin widening. “Your taste in music is absolute shite, mate.”

Steve grinned back. “Oh, I see. Not a Britney fan?”

“Do I look like someone who listens to that teeny-bopper rubbish?”

Steve let his mouth drop open in mock offense, slapping a hand to his own chest. The same hand that’d been gripping his brush, splattering his shirt with paint. “She transcends genre!” He insisted, playfully.

Eddie chuckled, setting his own paintbrush down before crossing the porch, closing the distance between them. He raised a hand, gently swiping his thumb across Steve's chin. “I assure you, she does not.” 

Steve sucked in a breath, a rush of heat spreading over his cheeks in an instant. The feeling crept down his neck and chest, a fire felt even over the intense temperature of the day, to settle low in his stomach.

Eddie pulled away slowly, a new deep green smear left behind on his pale skin. 

Steve’s gaze flitted from Eddie’s hand to his lips, then quickly down before he could give in to the overwhelming desire to lean in closer. He’d never wanted to kiss someone so much in his fucking life.

“That’s lookin’ real good boys!” Hopper's booming voice came from directly below, startling them both and making them jump apart. 

The blood drained from Steve’s as he looked down to see the older man in his truck on the road below, while Eddie turned his back on them both, returning to the section he’d been painting.

They hadn’t even heard him drive up.

“Uh, t-thanks Hop,” Steve called back. 

“You two make a good team! All your work this week’s been exceptional. ‘S a shame I gotta break you up.”

Steve froze, panic shooting through his veins like ice. This was it. Hopper must have caught the way he was looking at Eddie just now and figured out his secret. Or maybe Nancy said something about the other day and he put two and two together, and Steve was getting sent home, or fired, or worse. Would Hopper tell his parents? His mom would probably take it okay but his dad would never speak to him again. No big loss there, but still—

“Why’s that?” Eddie asked. His voice, so much nearer than it should be, interrupting Steve’s spiral. He’d moved close again, standing right next to Steve at the rail, giving him a sidelong glance.

“I’ve got a guy, Gareth, he’s driving in a day early so he’ll be here tomorrow. The two of you will be working in the music building together so I'll need you to help him get things set up tomorrow. Steve, you’ll be with me.”

“I know,” Hopper began with a sigh. “It’s a shit job, son, but someone’s gotta do it.” He chuckled at his own awful dad joke, slapping Steve on the back with one of his big, meaty hands. 

Steve groaned, glaring at the row of port-o-potties just outside the dining hall as he pulled on a pair of yellow elbow-length rubber gloves. They were, admittedly, overkill for the job at hand. He wasn’t actually cleaning the waste out of the many plastic outhouses that were placed all over camp, there was a company that came once a week to pump that out, thank god, but toilet seats and walls still needed disinfecting, toilet paper needed filling, and apparently that was his and Hopper’s job today. 

Lovely.

“Get it? …Shitty?”

“Yeah,” Steve replied without enthusiasm, rolling his eyes. “Good one, Hop.”

Hopper gave a disgusted huff. “Kids have no sense of humor these days I tell ya.”

“Did you ever consider the fact that you’re just not funny?”

“Hey! What happened to respecting your elders?”

Steve shrugged, grinning.

“Must be part of that y2k thing they keep talking about on the news,” Hopper mumbled to himself. Which made absolutely no sense but Steve wasn’t about to point that out. 

“Anyhow,” the older man went on, “this’ll go a hell of a lot faster if we split up. I’ll take the west side of campus, you take the east, and we’ll meet at the theater. Good?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

As he cleaned, Steve’s mind wandered to Eddie, wondering how his day was going with this Gareth guy. He’d gotten a peek at the new counselor this morning, and he was cute, Steve supposed, in that overactive puppy-dog sort-of way. He certainly had one hell of a head of hair on him. So, naturally, when his day’s task brought him near to the music building, tucked halfway into the trees by the lake, next to the media center, he couldn’t help the urge to check in on Eddie… covertly.

He crept around the side of the small white building and quietly climbed up a pile of wood, stacked precariously against its outer wall, till he could reach the structure’s only window. He kept his head low, taking in the guitars, bass, ukuleles, and tambourines hung on the studio’s unfinished walls. He couldn’t quite hear what was being said, but there through the smudged glass he could see Eddie and Gareth laughing and smiling and chatting away as they put a drum kit together in the corner. 

So it wasn’t a personality thing, like Steve had secretly hoped, it was only him Eddie was a grumpy dick to.

As he watched with envious curiosity, the two boys got the last cymbal screwed in place, and Gareth immediately plopped down on the little stool behind the bass drum, pulling a pair of sticks from his back pocket and twirling them between his fingers. 

Eddie clapped, giving Gareth a little bow before pulling one of the guitars straight off the wall, draping the strap over his back, and plugging it into a nearby amp. Gareth grinned at him before raising his drumsticks in the air, clicking them together four times. 

Steve was entirely unprepared for the sheer volume of the atrocious sounds that followed. Under normal circumstances, he was sure he could have appreciated the pounding beat of the drums, and chaotic chord progression Eddie began to hammer out, but as it was, it was jarring. He flinched, slipping on the top bit of wood, still partially damp from rain earlier in the week. In regaining his footing he stood upright, gripping the window frame tight, his face suddenly dead center of the glass. The guitar came to a screeching halt as Eddie’s head snapped up, his eyes locking with Steve’s for a single harrowing heartbeat.

With the sound of blood rushing in his ears, Steve flung himself backward off the stack and went tumbling to the ground, taking no time at all to recover from the short fall before pushing himself to his feet, and taking off at a run for the theater building. 

Later, when Hopper released him for the day, Steve couldn’t bring himself to go back to the boy’s bunk, not ready to face Eddie after he’d been caught gawking in the window at him like a goddamn peeping tom. 

Instead he hid like a coward, propped up against a tree behind Robin’s cabin while he waited for her to shower. She emerged in record time through the back door with Vickie in tow, and the three of them walked down to the mess hall together, the girls flanking him on either side. Vickie couldn’t have known exactly what was bothering him, Robin wouldn’t have betrayed his confidence like that, but Steve still appreciated the support.

He continued to hide as best he could behind his two small bodyguards while they traversed the food line and took a seat.

A few tables over, Eddie was sitting with Gareth, waving his hands around and grinning wide enough to show those goddamn dimples again as he spoke enthusiastically about something.

Fucking Gareth. Steve hated him, feeling a renewed stab of jealousy watching them together. What did he have that Steve didn’t? 

And how did his hair achieve such volume with seemingly no products?!

Steve forced himself to look away before he was noticed, turning his attention to Hopper making his way to the center of the room, trusty microphone in hand.

As usual the sound system revolted for a few seconds when the thing was switched on, but Hopper ignored it, clearing his throat loudly into the mic—his way of asking for silence—before he began.

“First, I want to thank all of you for your hard work this week. It’s no small task to get this place up and running and ready for the kids, and I can’t tell you how much we appreciate your efforts. I hope you’ve enjoyed the week with your assigned partners because, as you may or may not have already guessed, you’ll be working together for the rest of the summer as well.

“We’ve got one more day before the real chaos begins, folks. The remaining counselors and support staff will be arriving in the morning, and we want you to take the day tomorrow to move into your assigned bunks, continue to get to know your co-counselors, and make any last minute preparations that might be needed. 

“And please, keep the partying to a minimum the next two nights. I know you think Joyce and I don’t know about what goes on here after dark, and when I'm done speaking we can all go back to pretending that’s the case, but you do not want to face nervous parents leaving their kids overnight for the first time with a hangover. Trust me.”

Him and Eddie, living together, essentially co-parenting a pack of children for the rest of the summer?

Steve dropped his head in his hands, leaning into Robin’s touch when she threw a comforting arm across his shoulders. How was he going to survive this with his sanity intact? 

With Hopper’s oddly specific warning there did seem to be a little less drinking at the bonfire that night. That whole thing had Steve wondering what sort of ragers his counselors had been throwing in these woods when he was a camper.

He’d considered doing the same, and almost skipped grabbing his usual six pack of beer out of the trunk of his car, but changed his mind when he spotted a familiar head of curls walking the dark path with everyone else. Figures this would be the night Eddie decided to come out.

Steve stuck close to Robin and Vickie again, drifting in and out of their conversation as he pounded two of the beers to try and calm his fraying nerves. It didn’t help that Gareth was now buddying up to Jonathan and Argyle too.

It did have the side-effect of leaving Eddie sitting on his own for the first time all night, not that Steve had been keeping track, and now that he was three beers in it was starting to sound like a good idea to clear the air between them, and maybe take one more go at being friends, or at least friendly since they’d be stuck spending a lot of time together.

Without a word to the girls, who were too caught up in each other anyway, he scooped the half empty six pack from his feet and strode over to where Eddie sat, taking up the stump right next to him before he lost his nerve.

“Hey, um, so I was thinking–” Steve began eloquently, but Eddie quickly cut him off with a snort.

“I figured. Listen, Harrington, it’s fine. I’m sure if we talk to Hopper he can switch the assignments around.”

Steve took a long blink, processing. “That’s… not what I was going to say at all.”

“No? Coz I saw your face when he made the announcement, and the way you’ve been eyeing me up since I got here—it’s not like you haven't made it clear how you feel about me.”

“Shit,” Steve cursed under his breath. Had he been that obvious?

Eddie nodded to himself, slapping his hands down on his knees before moving to stand. “Thought so.”

“It’s not what you think!” Steve rushed out.

“Don’t want to be paired up with the freak?” Eddie asked.

“Woah, woah, woah.” Steve's eyes grew wide, and he raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, that’s… it really isn’t what you think. That’s not why I–” he trailed off with a frustrated groan, staring out at the dark expanse of trees surrounding them. He’d almost rather Eddie knew the truth than think he was that kind of shallow asshole, but he was too afraid to admit to his hopeless, pathetic, crush. “Look, can we just start over or something? I think we got off on the wrong foot. Several wrong feet.” 

Eddie crossed his arms over his chest, studying Steve's face like he was searching for the catch.

Steve reached down into his half-empty six pack of lukewarm beers, plucking out the coolest of the bunch and held it to Eddie in offering. “Hi, I'm Steve.”

Eddie looked down at it suspiciously for a long beat, leaving Steve feeling like an ass with his hand out but he held firm, pleading with his eyes for Eddie to believe he was being sincere.

“Alright.” A heavy sigh crossed Eddie’s lips as he finally caved, reaching out to take the bottle from Steve’s hand. “Don’t waste those puppy dog eyes on me, they'll do you far more good elsewhere.” He twisted the cap off and took a long sip of the beer, his eyes never leaving Steve’s face, before sticking his empty hand out.

“I'm Eddie. Pleased to meet you, Steve.”

The full touch of Eddie’s hand lit Steve’s entire being on fire, and as they shook he wondered if it would have been safer—smarter—to have just let the guy keep thinking he was an asshole.

“It’s not completely your fault, by the way. I… I haven't been quite myself lately,” Eddie admitted after a while, upending his bottle as he stared up at the sky.

Steve took the empty when he was done and passed him another beer, raising an eyebrow in question.

An odd expression crossed Eddie's face, but it was there and gone in a flash, too quickly for Steve to read. “It’s nothing,” he replied, though it sounded anything but. “I think I might be a little homesick, is all. I’ve never been this far from my uncle before.”

It was the first bit of actual personal human knowledge Steve had yet to acquire from the other boy, and he itched to know more. A dozen questions came to mind, but a deep yawn from Eddie interrupted his train of thought.

“Sorry, jet lag still has me knackered.”

“Do you wanna head back?” Steve asked, quickly tacking on, “together, I mean.”

Eddie shook his head. “You don’t have to cut your good time short for me, I can find my own way back.”

Steve shrugged, trying not to seem too eager. “I’m out of beer anyway, unless I wanna walk all the way back to my car, and I think an early night would do me some good.”

“Alright then, lead the way.”

They picked their way carefully through the trees, the path ahead lit only by the light of the moon, and Steve was kicking himself for being chivalrous and leaving the only flashlight behind for Robin and Vickie to use at the end of the night. Eddie kept close, as if he were nervous, a theory all but confirmed by the way he whipped his head around at any sign or sound of wildlife. It made Steve wonder if he was more a city boy, another question to add to his ever growing list. Their hands brushed more than once, and each time Steve felt those scorching flames again, licking their way up his arm.

The edge of the woods was near, the semi-circle of cabins just coming into sight when they were plunged into further darkness by a passing cloud. Eddie stumbled, the toe of his boot catching on a thick clump of roots. Steve lunged on instinct, so used to Robin and her two clumsy left feet, and Eddie fell right into his arms with a yelp. 

“Thanks, Steve,” Eddie said, his tone breathless and a little hoarse. 

The scent of campfire clung to his hair, and Steve had to fight the overwhelming urge to bury his face in those wild curls. He swallowed hard, blushing furiously as he set Eddie back upright, suddenly grateful for the dark cover of night. 

“You’re welcome.”

Thanks as always to the lovely @penny00dreadful for being the best beta, friend and cheerleader. And @pearynice for holding my hand through a bout of writer's block 💜

Permanent taglist (open): @penny00dreadful @pearynice @hitlikehammers @bookworm0690 @wonderland-girl143-blog 

@goodolefashionedloverboi @themagicalari @awkwardgravity1 @rocknrollsalad

Fic taglist (open): @mrsjellymunson

[jestroer]

Yeah we all know “He would not fucking say that” but can we please also talk about “Oh my god HE would fucking say that”. When you see something in-character you can hear it in character’s voice. Peace and love on the planer earth

[wigglebox]

.

[arolesbianism]

Finally fixating on some nugget relationships that aren't horrible for everyone I love friendship <3

[soap-is-an-artist]

Hooray... it's 7 in the morning and I stayed up all night listening to the imperium... I feel so happy and satisfied with my life choices...

I am feeling very much not cowabunga, dude

[SEVERE rambling in tags]

[lexicog]

traitor to the cause forgets national holiday every year KILL HIM

[narwhalandchill]

okok so ya know that post i mentioned i was writing on some of the harbinger related leaks that cropped up recently and then mobile fucked me over by publishing the post early by gaslighting me with a "post" button that Clearly read "save" (draft) so i deleted it but managed to rescue the text that was there and promised to finish it and post it later and then its been 12 years anyway? yeah right 😭 Oh well.

BUT. finally. might as well do the thing now in honor of childes bday at the very least KJWJKWDJK. sorry it took this long lmao

jsyk these leaks predate our current natlan beta datamines and some of the questionable story leaks floating around so like, natlan plot wise they dont have shit to do w em there & not bringing up any that ive seen. but ya

(so . attempt 2: recent lazzo VA character direction leaks for the harbingers mostly in relation to childes role in the overall plot. bit ranty and gets Long but idek what yall expected. + ig just potential long term plot implications from these leaks given its the harbingers beware)

aka: mostly concerning the faction stuff + pulcinellas directions for now . if u havent seen em uhhhh

basically tldr: according to (and assuming its not outdated) some information accessed by leakers recently originally provided for the VAs applying to voice the harbingers in lazzo, the group is allegedly split between two factions of "conservatives" and "radicals" . like thats the first thing

now as to what those labels rly mean ppl were overall speculating that it might be sth along the lines of. conservatives as the tsaritsa loyalists who stand united and for the organization and her majestys goals above all (OR alternatively just like. a more cautious take on How to approach the toppling celestia deal) VS those whose true ambitions, loyalty and methods they are willing to turn to are more of a wild card situation . and their allegiances are equally volatile in turn . & i will say imo the radicals are also most likely much less of an united group compared to the conservatives given uhhhhhhh. well you will see

so conservatives are: capitano, columbina, pulcinella, sandrone

radicals are: dottore, arle (see the "radicals might not like each other that much"), pantalone

pierro is neutral, childe is unknown/undecided according to the leaks HOWEVER. his positioning next to the radicals in the shot of lazzo with the harbingers standing around signoras coffin split along those same faction lines found in the leaks may indeed suggest something Interesting regarding his penultimate choice . if it Indeed is intended to be meaningful that he as an "unknown" just happened to take That side of the coffin alongside the 3 confirmed radicals according to this info . like how Curious

And i just. okay okay i have to be Honest theres like. SUCH a toxic childish taking-fandom-grievances-too-seriously part to me eyeing the possibility of ajax turning out to be a radical thats just like. dawei lets this happen and i WILL be the WORLDS most obnoxious fucking bitch about it bc . Listen

i. Have. ALWAYS. thought it obvious as FUCK . that a guy whose ambition WILL NOT stop until it is the very WORLD that lies defeated at his feet. will NEVER be satiated by what the fatui can offer him . like if he really is a radical. i can CONFIDENTLY state that i saw that shit coming in TWENTY FUCKING TWENTY and that Every single doubter owes me So much fucking money 💀💀💀💀💀💀 jkjk but. Duuuude. ever since this faction stuff dropped.... i cant stop thinking abt it

like i just. cannot stand the way its been turned into this . INDOMITABLE 100% factual absolute Truth that CANNOT be challenged. in the fandom. that childe is a tsaritsa fanboy loyalist devout worshipper who couldnt even fuckimg FATHOM leaving his allegiance to her behind . when its been . SPELLED OUT to yall in his fucking profile SINCE 1.1 .

bc like. Listen up. Repeat after me. ik its scary and new after 4 years of Exclusively hearing takes where like childe would rather spontaneously combust to the beat of snezhnayas national anthem while begging for repentance than ever stop taking orders from uhhhh a god. Who he definitely worships devoutly as a god despite 0 evidence on any religious piety on his part Trust (like. ive. Always thought his voiceline for her has been the opposite? its very much. Not how youd speak of divinity. his regard for her is Personal and relates to the tsaritsa as an individual, not a god inherently deserving of worship)

like ik this is a big thing and scary but just. Say the words with me here. It only stings once .deep breaths. okay 1 2 3

"But becoming Tartaglia was far from his end goal. To someone who sought to conquer the world, this was but a tiny step in his journey."

YUP.

BECOMING TARTAGLIA. BECOMING A HARBINGER. SWEARING AN OATH OF LOYALTY TO THE TSARITSA. A TINY. STEP. A TINY FUCKING STEP. AND HES BEEN AWARE OF IT BEING LIKE THIS THE ENTIRE TIME.

THIS HAS BEEN TEXT FOUND IN GAME THERE FOR NEARLY FOUR FUCKING YEARS NOW . AND PPL STILL THINK AJAX ISNT CAPABLE OF SURPASSING AND ABANDONING THE TSARITSA THE SECOND THE BENEFITS THEY OFFER HIM FALL SHORT OF THE EXPONENTIAL GROWTH OF HIS POWER AND AMBITION AND WHAT IT TAKES TO SATIATE HIM .

like im SORRY contrary to maybe popular belief and despite my persistent frustrations w this fandoms approach to ajax sometimes i Do in fact feel actively mean and unreasonably harsh calling 97% of childe "fans" functionally illiterate or at the very least intentionally obtuse to the point its beyond fucking parody in how ridiculous it gets but like. if THIS isnt what a complete and utter failure of basic reading comprehension is I DONT KNOW WHAT IS . like. DUDE 😭😭😭😭😭😭 what IS IT with these people its like genuinely fucking incomprehensible to me how CRITICAL shit about his character like this goes COMPLETELY ignored as if it hasnt been established since Day fucking one its unreal . Unreal 💀

and like. i get bitchy and snappy abt it i know its not the best look always but man its sth thats genuinely upsetting to me too bc . THIS is the fucking dude thats possessed me for the last 4 years THIS is what i love about him his potential to surpass Every Single Boundary that he has begun his journey confided within. that he will transcend it all and surpass his own limits with sheer fucking willpower over and over again until even the few he truly idolized and respected like the tsaritsa and capitano are suddenly so distant and irrelevant compared to the heights He has reached out for in his hunger....... its so peak like THIS is whats had me in a death grip for all this time

and like. for THAT guy that mr childe ajax tartaglia the REAL thing to barely even. Exist. in the minds of such a majority of the fandom its just fucking crushing sometimes. like i wanna appreciate all this abt him man i wanna share all my brainrot abt him and how this dude consumes my every waking thought but then borderline every single comment i see and popular take on him is just oh my pookie wookie babie girl would Never be able to betray tsaritsa ever etc etc etc and just.... Sigh

anyway overshare over sorry for that. yeah my ADHD makes me irrationally attached to my hyperfixations its kinda cringe .

do catch me kissing this man on the mouth Immediately the second his ambition surpasses the fatui and he goes beast mode fr fr on Everyone tho 🥰🥰 dyke license lost forever but itll be worth it

also real talk im like fairly convinced at least like 78% of the omgggg hes forever loyal to the tsaritsa gang are mostly like stuck in this mindset of like. omgggg hed Never Betray Her bc he doesnt like those who break promises uwu and its like. since when did the possibility of ajax outgrowing the stage where the fatui offer him anything worthwhile automatically equate to him betraying her wholesale and completely dropping any and all respect he had for her or sth. like yeah i do agree to an extent that it could end up p uncharacteristic (at least w/o proper plot setup or reasoning) for him to pull off like a complete disney twist villain backstab out of nowhere there but??? thats not rly whats going to automatically happen either???

(nvm that like a considerable portion of these same ppl were prolly writing "omgg ajax my poor victim MUST betray the evil tsaritsa" fics in 1.1 when everyone had the idea in their heads that he hates his job and is only doing it bc his family is held hostage and is also 17 bc of certified english localization moment. but i digress this is just unreasonably petty and im being a loser by not letting this shit go 2 this day💀💀)

bc like. if you ask me. the Interesting thing abt ajax and the possibility of being a radical IS that if hes going to refuse to follow an order or step out of line to follow his own path however it goes. its Not going to be personal. its not gonna be this big dramatic edgelord turncoat villainous moment to him. itll be straightforward. matter of fact. easy as breathing. because if he has moved past each and every benefit the fatui can even fathom offering him. its only natural that he progresses beyond them. thats just how his unquenchable ambition Works. how his black hole of a never-ending desire to devour and crush all in his path operates. its not personal. its not something you can change. its inevitable. he is a force of nature when it comes to the drive burning at the core of his soul.

like i Really dont think hes ever going to backstab the tsaritsa in some dirty play fashion??? if anything its only fitting that hes going to look her In the eye and go. oh my bad. i dont think our agreement serving a mutual benefit really holds ground anymore. apologies. like ofc its going to be something he handles while staying true to the person hes been all this time. kind of a bad guy and perfectly willing to own up to it. selfish and arrogant and with his sights set steadfast on a goal No one will get him to sway from.

and then he elopes with the narwh-------------- yes kill me

basically i just. dont get this whole perceived and persistent incompatibility between the idea of. ajax being a radical (whatever that ends up meaning in the story. IF these lazzo materials remain accurate) yet remaing the same guy we know and love. like guys. ARLE. is a radical. and has all but directly confessed to considering the survival of the house her greatest priority over any loyalty to the fatui and her majesty. yet she STILL regards her with respect and continues to fulfill her duties as a harbinger as expected for the time being. despite her full awareness of this loyalty being on shakier ground and surely making contingencies on the side for the future for When she sees it is time for her organization to sever the ties to the tsaritsa.

like Thats what i mean when i say its always been completely reasonable and even predictable to me that ajax would outgrow the fatui and how that has jack shit to do with his character suddenly doing some wild 180 in order to do so. and why this potentially significant visual alignment he has with the radicals in lazzo isnt surprising at all. bc if it doesnt fundamentally change who arle is (and doesnt make her a dottore fan) that she is ultimately someone whose loyalty to the organization comes second to her house. why would childe be any different lmao.

but like yes if he turns out to be a radical i will be soooooo obnoxious over it jkwjkawdjkwajkwdakjwdjkwdjkdwjk bc like im NOT lying this has been one of the Clearest trajectories ive expected from his arc All This Time . no matter which form it might eventually take in terms of. is it him and His growth initiating the split. or is it a betrayal from or a loss of faith in the tsaritsa herself that kickstarts it. if its canon? yeah i Saw that shit coming and you should all be scared of who ill become if dawei proves me right Again ill be the Worst

Phew that sure went way overboard but yes radical ajax advocacy group in here 100% . and overall even tho i mostly care abt him i Do think this faction split is inherently v fucking interesting and ajax being unknown is just. i wonder if itll end up being significant at some critical moment that his faction leanings are unknown slash undefined at the moment............... where the scales are about to tip and its by his hand that some key moment gets its turning point......... hmmmmmmm

(also its just. before these leaks we got "columbina is conservative" as an out of context statement Before the faction stuff and its still so fucking funny bc ppl were just like. wow i cant believe shes homophobic)

now. pulcinella time

so among the VA direction cards that leaked was his. and like if u didnt see them urself (not gonna post any here. hoyo lawyers love striking Any hoyo copyrighted media in all posts that have leaks in em even if its not an actual leak which this is lol) the setup is basically. theres a few overall notes on each of the harbingers like age, demeanor, characterization and then 3 sample lines of dialogue as well as notes further elaborating when & why this is being said and with what sort of vibe.

and his are. Well. you know how i started this post out being like on god dawei if you go and fatten my ego any further by Specifically vindicating me myself and i & the kinda things id prefer in genshins story and childes role going forward . Personally????

Anyway funny thing as it happens. IF (and admittedly thats a major if.) this VA direction doc from pulcinella holds up. and there isnt like a hidden scheming menacing side to him that wasnt brought up in the lazzo files. in that case . it sure is looking like pulcinella is just. a bit over the top in public but privately genuinely an overworked well-meaning pragmatic guy who deeply cares for and is truly protective of those important to him. INCLUDING. yes you know who and his family. NOTHING in the doc whatsoever implying anything sinister to it. nor wrt pulcinellas character overall.

and i just. nothing personal to scara fans yall are cool and ur guy is too i just simply. Cannot. guys can you IMAGINE being so much of an edgelord cynical embarrassment puppetfailure that ur own mommy issues make you physically incapable of Not assuming the worst of pulcinella caring for childes family leading to YEARS of ppl being CONVINCED hes gonna be this major fucking villain for ajax in the snezhnaya arc i . LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

(my scara liker indulgence Ends the second hat guy speaks shit abt My man if you havent noticed. yeah WHO called who naive and stupid???)

like. if the Plot twist in the snezhnaya arc is setting pulcinella up to be this ominous figure that has ulterior motives w childes family and him overall????? only for him to be just. genuinely well-intentioned. oh my fucking god PLEASE let it happen PLEASE bc the entire concept of that whole plotline existing without said plot twist is just soooooo bland and fucking boring to me lol subverting it is just chef kiss

& sure this leak is. very limited in scope it doesnt automatically eliminate pulcinella manipulating childe and/or limiting what information he gets and all. and i genuinely have made my peace with the probable existence of this plot thread w arles SQ already before this whole thing happened but MAN ill be SO fucking happy if this means they might abandon/subvert it altogether like. let him just have a nice supportive mentor figure in his life in the fatui man 😭😭😭

pulcinella if u really just are a nice person ultimately. you TRULY are my goat o777 saving my man from bland family-is-hostage-waa storylines i have Such respect

anyway u could say its not possible for pulcinella to be like. fully a good guy since arles SQ already showcased him being unreliable w information regarding arle but honestly. i kinda disagree. bc like Especially with the faction thing in mind its not unreasonable at all in my eyes that given the Facts of what peruere did. that pulcinella despite not being this scheming schemer brainwashing ajax or whatever. would Genuinely hold a very negative opinion of arlecchino. and convey that to childe. bc like. pulcinella as stated above is in the conservative side of the harbingers. and arlecchino to the outside eyes rly did like. murder a harbinger and her own "mother" and siblings of the house. like do we even know that the harbingers are Aware of how crucabena ran her hunger games death tournament situation to begin with? and Why peruere killed her????

like. if we assume pulcinella doesnt know those things. and that crucabena in all likelihood was if nothing else then presumably a harbinger that was very loyal to the tsaritsa and very consistent. then from that position. of COURSE. youd consider arle a complete downgrade in terms of reliability . she IS a wild card she IS not someone a careful politician like pulcinella would regard highly At All. So like. i dont think when he gives childe the impression that arle is batshit insane and tells him of her (VERY REAL) murderous deeds. i dont think that would automatically equate to pulcinella Knowingly lying and misleading ajax . bc it seems fairly reasonable that pulcinella just genuinely thinks that lowly of her and thus would OBVIOUSLY want his protege not to involve himself with such people.

bc like thats the other thing. its not just arle. in pulcinellas VA notes and the line he has on ajax there. its very clear that he is actively trying to keep him away and shield him from ALL the harbingers . as he still has to mature and grow into someone who will have a chance at gaining their respect proper on his own. so like. if pulcinella thinks its best for ajax to remain away EVEN from the harbingers he himself considers GOOD to NEUTRAL influences and reliable colleagues. of COURSE hed make Extra sure that ajax is staying away from the knave whom pulcinella Actively considers a shitty fit for the job and an unreliable flight risk of a harbinger 💀💀💀💀

(nvm the way arle actively BOTH confirms pulcinellas distrust to be justified by saying the tsaritsa isnt a priority to her and the house is AND actively admits that he prefers other people believe misleading shit about her. so like fym pulcinella thinking the worst of her is surprising)

so like is pulcinellas pov of her at best Highly biased and lacking critical context on Why she merked so many of her sibs and crucabena??? and thus served as an inherently misleading insight on her character when he conveyed it to ajax??? absolutely. but i also dont think hes necessarily lying at all when it comes to perceiving arle in such a negative way so its less. oh i want ajax to remain in the dark forever so he is easy 2 manipulate. more just. thats his Opinion dude and ofc he wants his protege to follow in his stead and not get any poor influences from people like her. it still makes for interesting development & possible tension that childe Is questioning his views on things by making his own judgements about arle but. ya know. its not black and white.

but yeaaaa to be clear me vastly preferring the possibility of scara just being a cringelord unreliable narrator and this whole pulcinella-is-masterminding-dubious-things getting subverted & hes just a guy is just a personal thing lmao. this is pretty old material and far from all-encompassing in terms of Who hoyo wants pulcinellas character to be and all the layers he might hide. im just really 👁️👁️👁️ at the way this particular description of his character seems to be giving off vibes that they in fact Arent actually going all the way into the ulterior motives bad bad ajax watch out pulcinella and its just. listen theres way more interesting shit for ajax to be doing in the endgame plot than some generic plot like that!!!!!!!11! sorry!!!1 so id 1000% want it this way instead lmao

but we shall see where it goes. at the very least if this desc of pulcinella holds Any ground at all then it does disqualify the most extreme version of hes just basically evil manipulator mastermind so like. im already super happy with that lmao

but ya . sorry this took me forever to actually finish jwjkwdjkawjkwd these leaks r kinda old news by now rip .

[moriitis]

👉👈 I got a question would ej or ticci toby love a plus size s/o if so do you got hcs for that

These boys don't judge. Especially Jack!

Toby -

Why should he be on to judge on your body weight? That's not his place to say and you're so much more than that.

So, if anyone where to make a comment, he'll beat them the fuck up or just find out where they live and grant them a slow death.

Regardless, he let's you know how beautiful you are every day, morning and night.

And if you opened up to him about how you may be possibly insecure about your weight, he'll listen closely.

Now, in a situation where you two argue, will he use your weight against you?

Yes, he will and he'll eat himself inside and out at the idea of even bringing it up.

He knows he isn't perfect and he doesn't mean for it to come out.

He loves the extra bumps and curves and he'll make sure you know that.

Loves touching you up and down, admiring you.

Of course, your body isn't the only thing he loves - your eyes, hair, the way you smile.

When did he get so lucky? So fortunate?

A part of him feels as if he doesn't deserve it.

Sure, he's a little bummed that some of his clothing may not fit you perfectly.

But he won't say anything about it.

And if he catches you glancing at yourself in the mirror, he'll narrow his eyes, observing.

"What's going on in that p-pretty little head?"

He'll ask. Just wanting to make sure that you are okay.

Shit, he might even gain some weight himself.

Not that he's opposed to that idea at all.

Eyeless Jack -

Salivates around you 24/7.

As if you didn't smell good enough already.

You felt amazing on the roughness of his claws.

You were plump, perfect and it was hard for him not to suddenly bite into your arm.

If you were okay with it, he wouldn't hesitate.

Despite the lack of sight, his hands moving on your body already tell him how beautiful you are.

And it's not like weight really matters to him either; because he can't really see you anyway.

So, he'll keep on caressing you, smelling you, drooling on the crook of your neck.

The idea of eating you shamefully turning him on.

And he loves when you treat him like some bad mutt, smacking his head softly until he backs down in a whimper.

Same as Toby, if someone were to make a shitty comment, he'll stand up for you.

And if you make a shitty comment in regards to your weight, then he'll lecture you on how every body is different and how we all process food differently.

Shit, if you want help to lose weight, he can think of ways.. (that doesn't consist of cutting you up and eating you.)

Point of the matter is, weight means nothing to him because considering how he looks, he's surprised you're willing to love someone as disgusting as him.

Your bodies are beautiful!