#and god I really really like your addition man everything is on point!

[qcomicsy]

Yes! Yes!! Yes!!!

ALL OF THIS SO TRUE!!!

I'm absolutely in love with your addition, it's so real!

I also would like to add my two cents!

Mostly of the Batfamily (if not all of them) could have a crooked noses from fighting. Since they are literally only humans with a lot of training and fight skill (most of them with short distance and hand combat).

Specially Cass, Spoiler, Nightwing, Damian and Tim!!! (the last three) from their time as robins, or from the trainings they had to endure before joining the Batfam (Cass and Robin), plus still not using masks that protect their whole faces until this day.

Arguably Bruce also could have it too back from his training days.

They all would also have terrible dark circles from their horrible sleep schedule.

Batman is known from having peak strength physic (something something he mastered that in all his sick crazy training yara Yara) so EVEN if he didn't had gymnast or martial arts body he would have strongman built.

Jason Todd also definitely has either martial arts body or a strongman body. And regardless of such, he still would have a soft belly and soft muscles. Because for you to have defined muscles you have maintain a series of conscious eating (or diet program created for such) and a damn well sleep schedule. Jason canonically doesn't do either.

(This man diet literally consists in hamburger, whatever is available and full big ass meals that he cooks himself).

It would be also very possible that he has stretch marks considering how much he grew from day to night. But I can't tell if that would be a thing™ because we have zero 0 clue of how exactly the magic of Lazarus Pit works on someone's body.

Dick would have a lot of scars on his legs, arms, hands and knees from his time as Robin, since his old suit didn't protected any it and he had to do a lot of parkour (and kicking ass). As Robin and Nightwing, scars on his face are a big possibility (but I really doubt it since he worked as a model, maybe people are afraid to mark his pretty face).

Batman would also had many scars, but since his suit is very well covered, it would probably be mostly on his arms, back or more "lethal" places (stomach, chest, etc). I noticed villains tend to go "go big or go home" when it comes to fight him and rarely he has big bruises in idk calves or something (also, Batboots)

Duke would had most of his scars from before he was Signal than from now (his suit has great coverage). So, it would mostly be on his face, arms and legs (like every person who grew up having to deal with many streets fights).

Steph being not only a self made hero, but also someone who had much less budget to afford a suit made to protect the person who's wearing it, would had too many scars in too many random places, not only from fighting but from basically learning the whole parkour thing by herself.

Damian and Cass would the ones with the more scars in the family :(

Clark has probably no marks or scars whatsoever at least until he started to get threats as powerfully as himself. His skin must be smooth like clouds and it must be a little unerving I mean c'mon (people probably keeps harassing asking him about his skin care routine and thinks he is lying when he says he has none, poor guy, never had a single pimple in his face).

Same thing with Diana, which probably makes the whole skin care thing even more annoying.

Peter Parker would have the worst posture known to man. He's always crouching and moving his body in a weird way, he also lives his life as a hater and the amount of panels of him his walking and looking to the ground is crazy.

He could also have a crooked nose, specially because he generally doesn't have no one to help him heal properly and most of the time he just gets back after the patrol and lay on his bed to die.

He's always stressed and rarely sleeps so I wouldn't be surprised if he also has dark circles.

Not mentioning how much calloused his hands must be from always sticking it on the ceiling or literally anywhere he can.

I will always be a normal guy defender, I don't want vigilantes who always look like super models unless it makes sense for their characters (Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Kori Anders). I want super-heros that look like the guy you could stumble on the supermarket. Your classmate. Your coworker. A random face in a ocean of people. Absolutely and completely forgetful unless you love them.

I want super-heros to take of their mask and the person be like "THAT'S JUST SOME GUY." their face leak and people be like "WHO 🗣️🗣️ THE FUCK IS THAT⁉️‼️‼️‼️🔥🔥" enough with conventionally attractive heros who look like bodybuilders more some heros who would be your Uber driver and you wouldn't pay attention to them twice.

[vaguely-concerned]

for what it's worth I personally don't believe spite had anything to do with the pantry near-kiss experience at all. I think that was a 100% lucanis naturel disaster no supernatural additives present or indeed required. at most spite was watching that whole situation go down with mild puzzlement about approximately every part of it, I don't think he'd have much interest in it one way or the other. the explanation seems much more mundane and grounded and in some ways much sadder to me.

if your nervous system has never been in a place where any surge of emotion, even -- in fact sometimes especially! -- a good and exciting one makes you feel like your soul just touched a hot stove it can't get away from, then sincerely, from the bottom of my heart and without a trace of snark, thank goodness and I hope you never experience it. For the rest of you... fistbump of solidarity it's rough out here but *grits teeth* we stay silly etc. In the place lucanis is in during that part of the game, feeling like you're losing control (again even for ostensibly good happy reasons) can feel an awful lot like you're dying, or worse. on top of everything else going on for him -- again going only with non-supernatural elements and not even comprehensive: a year of non-stop horrific trauma added to pile of previous mountain of childhood and attachment trauma. chronic sleep deprivation. apparently dead grandma doubling as mother figure. cousin-brother aggressively fucking around and in real danger of finding out. fucked up the ONE thing he thought he knew how to do that's been the central pillar of his identity. the world might be ending even more than it already was because of it. keeps faceplanting with barely any dignity and having to get up again with alarming regularity GOD how could I ever not save treviso this man desperately needs a W (just one!!) like few people in the history of the world have before him. he's more caffeine than man because the alternative feels worse. it's bad in here. and ON TOP of all that he's in the process of falling just. appallingly soul-shrivingly in love, which can notably be playing on hard mode even when you're in a mostly functional place, that shit routinely rocks people to the core under the best of circumstances.

so I'm not surprised it's too overwhelming for him to handle when he tries to throw himself in head first -- in fact I'd have been more surprised if it weren't lol. he clearly wants it so much, which only makes it so much more painful that he can't actually bear to touch it when it's offered to him freely and eagerly. this is the tantalus-level awfulness of this kind of attachment trauma; food seems to be right there, you can see it, almost smell it sometimes, but no matter what you just can't seem to reach it. seemingly not for any flaw in the existence of the food, but because of something broken in you that can't or can't bear to actually eat. his deliberate flirting routine is kind of deeply dorky tbh lol (in the most endearing way possible let's be perfectly clear) and I don't think it's entirely natural to him -- that's a hastily cobbled together 'oh god I am getting the vibes here it is happening for some reason they like me for my personality quick what would illario do' approach if ever I saw it, supported by the fact that it never really makes a return after this --

BUT I do think his obvious near-unbearable delight with rook's existence and person that shines through in that scene is entirely real and unfeigned. he likes them so much. he wants so bad to be able to be close to them. he's so hungry for the reprieve and release and relief they represent to him, just for one moment, just one break from all the awfulness to have something uncomplicatedly good. and it's here, it's been offered, he's welcome!!! and he has to flinch away at the last minute anyway because he's an exposed nerve of a human being. there's a point at which every sensation including joy becomes indistinguishable from agony. he's pretty much exactly at that point. for the love of god have some mercy on him people. the feeling that salvation is right here but you're too broken a vessel to hold it is one I wouldn't wish on anyone. let him have a few moments to stare into the void before he's ready to get back up and try again surely we all deserve at least that much lol

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 4- The Chase

Summary: You can only keep running from Frankie Morales for so long. At some point, he'll catch up to you, whether you like it, or not.

Word Count: 3.5K

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (reader has a name/nickname)

Warnings: Do I spy a hint of... ✨feelings✨??? Yearning, a hint of teenage violence (Santi deserves it, it's okay), the appearance of the Miller Brothers, Frankie basically looking like this 🥺 for the last half of this chapter, banter because I live for it

A/N: I'm convinced that teenage Frankie and the Frontier Boys are the best characters to write for, period 😭 I never thought I would live to see the day where my chapters are less than 5K (?!?) but I'm really trying to be better about posting on a schedule- If you would rather have them be longer and wait two weeks between chapters instead of once a week, let ya girl know 🤷🏼‍♀️ Thank you for all of your kind words about this story, your kind comments literally fuel me and make my heart explode, ily 🥹💛

All The Things We Never Said Masterlist

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Frankie, Fall of 2005, Age 16

For as much as he hates school, there will be two classes Frankie knows he’ll always pass with flying colors- Gym and Math. 

When he and Santi went to pick up their 11th grade class schedules before the start of the school year, you would have thought they’d won the lottery when they looked down on the crinkled half sheets of paper to find they were both in the same 6th period gym class. 

Five weeks into the start of Junior year, Frankie’s now convinced that Santi and his new friends, Will and Benny Miller, are in on some sort of scheme to make him fail the one class he’s guaranteed an “A” in. 

“Jesus Christ, Frankie, for the love of God, will you please slow down?!” 

Santi’s all but huffing at the pace Frankie had set for the four of them to run the two miles they’re supposed to finish by the end of class, only three of the eight laps they need to run around the track completed. 

“We’re not even going that fast, Santi, you’re fine.” 

Frankie can’t help but laugh at the way his friend is laboring behind him. Sure, Santi’s got football to thank for keeping him looking less like a gangly string bean than Frankie does, but even at 16, the boyish satisfaction of knowing he’ll always be faster than his friend is undeniable.

“Do you do like, cross country or somethin’, Frankie?” 

“Yeah man, I thought Santi said you swam not ran.” 

The Miller Brothers were a new addition to his and Santi’s long standing friendship duo. Will and Benny moved from North Carolina over the summer and had befriended Santi after a few weeks of preseason football camp that the high school held before the start of the school year. Of course, that meant Frankie became friends by proxy shortly after. 

Frankie was fond enough of the two, but the group was still stuck in the awkward dating phase of friendship where everything was just enough of a pissing match to prove that they were worthy enough of each other’s company. 

“Yeah, I’m on the swim team, I don’t do cross country or anything like that.” Frankie shrugs, rounding the curve of the track with ease as he leads the pack to their halfway point. 

“Then how the hell did you get so fast?” Benny pants, the straw blonde hair matted to his forehead with sweat scrunching as he pinches his brows in a mixture of confusion and unadmitted pain. 

“‘Cause he likes to go running with MacKenzie.” 

Santi’s lips curl to a devious smile as he watches Frankie’s face grow red from his sing-songy taunting. At least with the Millers, Frankie could pretend to chalk the hot, pink sting in his cheeks to the mile he’s been running. Unfortunately, he can’t assume the same with Santi. 

“Shut up, Santi.” Frankie grumbles, picking up his pace to the point he knows it’ll make Santi’s lungs strain just enough to keep him from rambling. 

“Oh shit, like, MacKenzie Anderson, MacKenzie?” Will’s face lights up, his less than lengthy friendship making him blissfully unaware of the history between you and Frankie, “She’s hot.” 

“Ew, n- no, she’s not. That’s weird.” 

The other three are surprised Frankie’s pants have yet to set on fire after such a bold lie. 

“They go run together every weekend.” 

At this point, it’s pure mockery the way Santi is teasing him, pushing Frankie to his limits to see how much he can get away with before his friend breaks. 

“So like, are you guys, dating or something?” 

“What?! No! No- She’s like, my best friend. I just- She plays soccer, so I go run with her to help her train and stuff. It’s good cardio, anyways.” 

Frankie doesn’t mean to snap at Benny for his question. It’s a secondary response to the way his chest is tightening and heart is racing as the eyes of all his friends stay peeled to him, like a guilty suspect in a courtroom everyone is waiting to catch in the midst of their lie. 

“Running’s not the only kind of cardio he wishes he was doing with MacKenzie, huh Frankie?” 

The boys are too busy snickering at each other to realize that Frankie’s completely stopped in his tracks ahead of them, turning around with arms outstretched to greet Santi with a brute shove to the ground as they collide. 

“I said shut UP, Santi!”

Frankie doesn’t intend for it to draw as much attention as it does, how the way he’s practically screaming at his friend he’s pushed to the ground has garnered the attention of everyone else in his gym class.

“Jesus, Frankie, it was just a joke! Chill out!” 

Will and Benny help Santi off the rubber of the track, leaving him and Frankie in a silent stare down of flared nostrils and gritted teeth, bodies boiling with teenage testosterone. 

Despite his rage, Frankie has enough self control to keep from saying (or doing) anything else he’ll regret, forcing himself to take off running in a frustrated huff of silence, heart in his throat and fists clenched, leaving behind his group of friends.  

“Shit. Is he always like that when you talk about her?” Will asks, still slightly stunned by the altercation he’s just witnessed, considering Frankie’s usual calm and quiet demeanor. 

“Yup.” Santi replies, popping the “p” at the end of his answer, “Well, not always this bad, but still,  ya know?”  

“Why?” Benny chimes in, the three of them slowly beginning their trot back around the track, lengths behind their fuming friend. 

“‘Cause they’re like, secretly in love with each other. They say they’re just friends, but they act like they’re fucking married.” Santi pretends to gag as he forces his eyes to roll as far back in his head as they possibly can. “He’s been extra pissy because yesterday he found out this guy, Nick Walsh, who’s some senior on the boy’s soccer team, tried to ask her to Homecoming.” 

“Did she say yes?” 

“No! That’s the thing! I don’t know why he’s got his fucking granny panties in a knot about it. Whatever, man. Not my problem.” 

The Miller brothers exchange intrigued glances, wondering how much more they can pry out of Santi as they mope around the track, hoping they can at least make the second half of their two miles entertaining. 

“If he’s mad about it, why didn’t he just ask her?” Will shrugs, offering up what seems like a reasonable solution to his new friend’s problem. 

“Ask him, dude. I have no fucking clue. They’re going with the same group of friends, so they’re gonna spend the whole night together, anyways. Honestly, if you want my opinion, I think he knows he doesn’t have the balls to nut up and ask her himself ‘cause he’s worried she’s gonna say no.” 

Despite the 23 other kids in the class who are also being forced to run circles around the track, there’s only one who makes the three of them freeze as he passes by, feeling the hole he’s burning through the back of their heads. Santi knows he’s too loudmouthed for his own good, and that there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that Frankie didn’t make out what he had to say as he snuck up behind him. 

And he's right. Frankie hears every word.

If he wasn’t at school, he wouldn’t think twice about punching Santi so hard in the gut it would knock the wind right out of him. But right now, all he can do is keep running, faster and faster, one foot in front of the other. 

Maybe if he runs fast enough, no one will be able to see the tears welling in the corners of his eyes, or the disappointment that’s drained every ounce of color he’s got left in his face. 

Maybe if he runs fast enough, he can outrun the cold, hard truth of the way Santi’s words ring in his ears and put bricks in his chest. 

Maybe, just maybe, if he runs fast enough, somewhere along the worn high school track he’ll find the courage to prove himself wrong. 

You, Present 

You’re convinced he’s following you. He has to be. 

All you wanted to do this morning was to go for a run to clear your head, to blow off some steam after the shit show that had been yesterday’s first interaction with Frankie in the past three years. You were confined to your room for the better half of the day, your dad keeping Frankie hostage in your home far too long for your liking. 

Unfortunately, it’s hard to deny a dying man whatever he wants, even if it’s Frankie Morales’s unwelcome presence in your living room. It also meant having to listen to your dad ramble about Frankie for the next several hours after he’d left, politely nodding at all the compliments and praise your father had to give him while your blood boiled in silence. 

Now, all you wanted to do was to run until your head was free of Frankie for just a little while.

It seemed like Frankie had other plans. 

You gave him the benefit of the doubt the first quarter mile, hell, you even tried to just play it off as unlucky timing at the half mile point. But now, you’re a mile into your run, turning on to Fuller Street with Frankie still trotting behind you. It’s clearly not an accident he’s chosen the same path for his morning jog. 

“There are other ways you can go run, you know.” You shout at Frankie without even turning your head over your shoulder, thinking that maybe he’s assumed you hadn’t noticed him and your not so subtle suggestion will get him to turn around. 

“It’s a free country. I can run where I want.” 

Part of you wishes you would have turned to look back at him so he could see the way your eyes met the back of your skull from rolling them so hard, but you keep your gaze glued to the pavement in front of you. You won’t give him the satisfaction of acknowledging his presence.  

“Can you please just go run somewhere else? I’m just trying to enjoy my morning and you’re not helping, Frankie.” 

“Not trying to bother you, just trying to run. I didn’t have anything to say until you started talking to me.” 

You know if you turned around right now, he’d have that stupid little smug grin hiding in the corner of his cheeks. A battle of wits is his favorite game to play. He’s learned how to strategize, to stay calm, cool and collected in the midst of your chaos, waiting until you hit the breaking point of his crazy you can’t bear to tolerate anymore. Your jaw tenses with the long exhale you take as you prepare to go head to head. 

“I wouldn’t have said anything if you hadn’t been following me the past mile.” 

“How do you know I’m following you?” 

“You’ve literally been running ten feet behind me for the past twelve minutes.” 

“Who says I wasn’t planning on running this way to begin with but you just got a head start?” 

“Jesus Christ, Frankie, please just go pick a different way to run.” 

“Who put you in charge of the running police? Do I have to sign a permit before I go jog now?” 

“Go. Run. Somewhere. Else.” 

“No. You don’t get to tell me where to run. This is the way I wanna go, so I’m gonna keep going until-” 

“No! I know you don’t want to go this way!” You’ve accepted defeat, swinging around to storm towards Frankie, stopping dead in his tracks as he realizes the ferocity you’re approaching him with, “I know for a fact you don’t wanna run this way. You know how I know? Because you hate running down Fuller Street. You would run five miles out of your way before you even considered running down this street on your own free will. There hasn’t been a single time we’ve ever run down this street where you haven’t complained the entire way because of how much you hate the hill at the end of the road before we turn onto Wilson way! That’s how I know, Frankie! So stop pretending like you just happened to choose the same way as me by accident, and just leave me alone! Ugh!” 

You’re positive there’s a trail of steam streaming behind you with the way you’re absolutely fuming, turning back around to take off as fast as your body will let you. You can’t bring yourself to look anywhere but straight ahead, too afraid that if you turn around, those stupid, sad brown eyes will make you feel guilty enough to give him the last word he doesn’t deserve. 

Your feet are flying so fast across the pavement, you’re convinced he’s given up, shocked into submission by your anger that he’ll at least let you finish the rest of your run in peace. Your eyes are still locked on the horizon ahead. It’s the arrogance of your self-reassurance that doesn’t even let you contemplate the thought that several yards behind you, Frankie lets out a quiet “fuck me” before letting his hands drop from their place on his hips to chase behind you at full speed. 

“What the fuck are you doing!?” 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” 

It’s a stupid question. It’s obvious Frankie has said a prayer to hope his knees don’t give out on him as he runs as fast as possible to try and catch up to you. The rhythmic thump of his sneakers pounding against the concrete catches your attention enough to see how quickly he’s gaining on you. It only makes you run faster. 

“Jesus- fuck this hill- MacKenzie, will you fucking slow down?” 

You won’t admit you’re probably just as exhausted as Frankie from the way you’ve been sprinting up the steep incline at the end of the road, but his exasperated huffs are enough to keep you pushing through the pain, mental and physical. 

“No. Run faster.” 

You’re hopeful it’s early enough that no one is awake to see the comedic game of cat and mouse you and Frankie are playing in the middle of the road, chasing each other like you’re on the playground in a childish round of tag. You’d never admit to his face that you know he’s stronger, even faster than you, but the grip he settles around your arm as he finally catches up to you lets you know you’ve lost. 

“Let go of me, Frankie!” 

If the street wasn’t already awake from your wild game of chase, your scream certainly would have gotten their attention. 

“Jesus Christ, MacKenzie, will you just let me talk to you for two fucking seconds?! Please, just- fuck- please just let me fucking talk to you, okay? Please.” 

Even if you wanted to keep running, there was no use. Truth be told, it wasn’t the grasp he had around your arm that was the thing keeping you from sprinting off into the distance. What had you frozen in place was that pathetic pout you knew was splayed across his face, burning a hole in the back of your head. What’s worse, was that you could feel it burning a hole through your chest, too. 

The all too familiar pain that came with holding onto the same, shriveled shred of hope that maybe this time, he’d prove you wrong. Maybe this time, he wouldn’t let you down. 

“Fine.” You barely mutter the word loud enough to hear as you turn around to face him, eyes still looking everywhere but directly at him. 

“I’m sorry, Kenz. I'm sorry, okay? I fucked up.” 

Somehow, his second apology stings worse than the first. It still doesn’t mean you won’t deny how much it hurts. 

“Yeah, no shit.” 

You let your gaze lift just enough to see the way he’s gnawing at his bottom lip, chewing at it like he’s trying to digest his own thoughts before they come out of his mouth. 

“What I said that night at Santi’s wedding, I just-” He pauses, knowing you can hear it clear as day in your head too.

“Fuck you, MacKenzie. Fuck you for ruining my life. It’ll be better off without you fucking in it.” 

“I- I- Fuck. I didn’t mean it. Any of it. I regret ever saying it. I think all the time about how much I regret it. I just, I was in a bad place.” 

You’re not sure what to say. Fuck, you’re not even sure what to feel. Part of you wants to scream at him, kick him in the crotch and berate him for how badly the past three years have hurt you. Part of you just wants to stand there and cry, to say nothing and let your tears flow and spill your emotions down your cheeks. Part of you wants to hug him, to believe him, to have him hold you so tightly against his chest that his apology seeps into your skin until you’ve forgiven him. 

But none of those parts are strong enough to win out alone. Instead, they’ve formed together to create a strange sort of storm that brews in your belly, swirling it so violently, it makes you want to vomit. 

“But you still said it, Frankie. You still said it. If my dad weren’t dying, would you even be here? Would you have ever apologized? Or are you just choosing to apologize now because it’s convenient and you feel like you have to?” 

It’s the first time you can bring yourself to look him in the face. You can see how his brain is churning with the same type of vicious waves that are in the pit of your stomach, drowning out the brown of his eyes. You both are lost in the midst of the storm, but you’ve got a lifeboat. He’s sinking below the thrashing tides, looking for you to let him board your ship. You won’t let him on unless he fights his way through the current to get to you. 

“I should have apologized a long time ago.” 

“Then why didn’t you?” 

“I don’t- I don’t know. I was scared you’d never forgive me.” 

You swear you feel the grip he still has on your forearm tighten just for a moment. Now that he has you, he’s too scared to let you go. 

“Just- Jesus- Just because you apologized doesn’t mean I have to forgive you now, Frankie.” 

“Will you ever?” 

“Ever, what?” 

“Forgive me?” 

Your brain wants to say no. God, with everything in you does it want to say no. But that same stupid pain in your chest that lives and dies by that stupid shred of hope you’ll always hold onto just won’t let you. 

“I don’t know. I- I don’t know, Frankie.” 

You can’t ignore the way he’s still holding your arm. The shred of hope doesn’t want him to let go, even when you scowl at the way his fingers wrap around your skin. You scowl because of how his touch burns your skin, the way it ignites a fire in your gut from how tenderly he touches you. It makes you scrunch your face in frustration and confusion, trying to block out all the times he’s touched you like this before, fingers grazing against your skin in a desperate plea for affection, not forgiveness. He’s holding onto your arm to see if you’ll let him in the lifeboat- if you’ll offer him a chance to save himself. 

“I get it. I’m sorry, Kenz. I hope you at least know I mean it.” 

“I do.” 

You’re not sure what makes you want to offer him a last chance at survival. You’ve been separated by different sides of the same storm for so long- You can’t attest to the way he’s had to fight through it to stay alive, but if it’s anything like the side of the squall you’ve been stuck on, there’s a strange relief in finding in finding someone who knows the hell you’ve faced to keep from drowning in the undertow. You can’t seem to bear letting him drown right in front of you without even trying to help. 

“I still hate you, ya know.” You sigh, a defiant cry to prove to him you’re not happy about the path you’ve chosen. 

“Yeah, that’s fair. I deserve that.” 

It’s the first time you’ve heard him laugh in so long. Even though it’s a muffled huff, trying to hide behind the raise of his eyebrows and nod of his head at the ground, you know it’s there, in that same corner of his smirk he gets when he knows there’s no point in arguing with you- there’s no denying it’s there. 

There’s no denying it makes you do the same. 

“You gonna let me finish the rest of my run in peace, Morales?” 

“Yeah, I guess. Only ‘cause I still hate this fucking hill.” 

@chaotic-iguana @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @raspberrybesitos

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @vee-bees-blog @itsokbbygrl

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @jolapeno @ovaryacted

@amanitacowboy @mystickittytaco @anoverwhelmingdin @greenwitchfromthewoods

@witchofthedeepwoods @ericamarie093 @readingiskeepingmegoing @whimsiwitchy @whoaitspascal87

@vickie5446 @katw474 @ravenpoe67 @inthedarkestnight @brittmb115

@harryscherrysugar @wonderpillar @sunnytuliptime @pasc4lfuzz @yesjazzywazzylove-blog

@kungfucapslock

@javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[strniohoeee]

could you write a matt one shot based off the song casual and could you also add smut to it please

Sidelines

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: What even is casual? In Y/N’s book it’s all or nothing. Fighting to be more than friends with benefits with Matt, things take a turn….will she be more than just his friend?

Warnings⚠️: SMUTTTTTT, Titty Fuckinggg, Matt being a munch fr fr, uhh lowkey toxic Matt?? This is also paired with a request for titty fucking💃🏽🫶🏽

Song for imagine: Casual- Chappell Roan

⚠️This is an 18+ imagine, so minors do not interact, or do??⚠️

Sideline

Noun

An activity done in addition to one’s main job, especially to earn extra income

I constantly found myself stuck in the weird gray area with Matt. He was the sweetest most caring guy I’ve ever been with, but then he’d turn around and act like I was one of the guys.

I felt confused constantly, but mainly annoyed. I’d go on trips with his family and friends, but it was never this is my girlfriend it was always this is my friend. It got cringe at some points. Like nails to a chalkboard to hear that come out his mouth.

He’d say it’s casual babe, or we’re just seeing each other. But god forbid I wanted to see other people. That started an argument that lasted hours. Then he’d ghost me for days and then he’d show up at my door and be the most perfect guy ever.

You can’t be the textbook definition of a perfect boyfriend and then claim we’re everything but a real relationship. It was getting exhausting. Doing this for over a year now, but I couldn’t help myself. A man as fine as Matt will keep you attached to him no matter what.

His eyes, his lips, his scent, his warmth, his embrace. I hated that he had such a hold on me, but I’d never give it up.

Except for today, I had enough of this and honestly if he wouldn’t ask me to be his girlfriend then I was going to leave.

“Do you like me?” I suddenly asked Matt as I shut my phone screen off

“Of course I like you” Matt chuckles as he looks at me over his phone

“But you won’t be with me?” I asked him furrowing my brows

“I am with you though” he said chewing his bottom lip

“No… I don’t think so actually” I replied to him

“What do you mean?” He asks

“We’ve been at this bullshit for almost two years now and you won’t call me your girlfriend” I said to him, anger slowly bubbling in me

“I don’t like labels. If we vibe then we vibe” He replied

“Yeah well I’ve been vibing for too long and I’m getting over it actually” I said fixing the bottom of my shirt

“You think I’m seeing other girls? Because you can check my phone. Look through everything. You’re the only girl I’m with” he said shutting his phone off now

“I never said that, but I’m starting to think you’re going to have to. I’m not going to waste my life with some guy who says we’re casual but then we’re exclusively seeing each other. Yet you won’t call me your girlfriend nor introduce me that way” I replied rolling my eyes

“So you want to see other guys?” He asks clenching his jaw

“No not really, but if someone’s out there who’s willing to actually be my boyfriend and be more than this friends with benefits bullshit….then yeah my friend, I will” I said beginning to stand up

“I just don’t get it I feel like I shouldn’t have to say you’re my girlfriend, you should just know it” he says rubbing his eyes

“Sorry sweetie, but I’m old fashioned. What do you think one day you’re going to just hand me a ring and I’ll just have to assume youre my husband now?” I replied theatrically

“I just think you like to argue” he says laughing

“It’s fine, since we’re casual then I’ll just go find someone who will actually value me and want to be my man” I said grabbing my purse off the coffee table and turning to leave

“You don’t get the last word” Matt suddenly says sharply as he grabbed my arm

“Oh.. was I supposed to just assume that too?” I asked mockingly

“You have such a smart mouth” he said scowling at me

“Nothing I haven’t heard, now can you let me go FRIEND. I have a real man to find” I said tugging from him

“Woah” he said as his eyes lit up and his grasp became even more firm

“Matt I’m serious, stop it” I replied rolling my eyes

His jaw clenched as his eyes went dead, he ran his tongue over his teeth as he looked me up and down. His eyes squinted quickly.

“Your tits look amazing in this shirt” he said smirking

A small gasp left my mouth as a cold chill ran down my spine.

Running his hand down my neck as his fingers played with my necklace. Slowly his fingers ghosted over my exposed cleavage.

I was so grateful I put on my skin tight v neck this morning.

Backtracking us, the back of my knees hit the edge of the couch. Sinking down, my gaze stood on his as he now towered over me.

“All this talk of a real man, if I weren’t a real man I wouldn’t be able to handle you and your attitude. Nor would I have you speechless and breathless beneath me… so please for the sake of my sanity…think before you speak next time” He replied in a cold whisper as his fingers ran along my jawline

All I could do was blink slowly. I mean I wasn't used to this Matt at all. Of course we had sex before, but this side of him was something new. Something mean and dark…and I fucking loved it.

“I think for all the trouble you have put me through this evening I deserve a gift” he said now leaning over as his lips ghosted over mine

“What do you think?” He asked me

“Whatever you want” I replied leaning into his kiss, but he pulled away before our lips connected

Whimpering, I looked up at him once again.

“Your tits have had me mesmerized this whole day…. I think I deserve to fuck them” he said sliding his leather jacket off

Gasping once again, I felt a pool between my legs. This idea was so filthy and I loved it.

Nodding feverishly, Matt smiled at me before nodding himself.

“That’s my girl” he said

Sinking down to his knees in front of me, Matt pulled off his shirt in an instant. His pale skin twinkled in the warm light of his living room.

His hands ran up my thighs and slowly up the sides of my torso. Goosebumps rose as I slightly shivered. His fingers hooked in the bottom of my shirt before sliding it off.

His eyes lit up at the hot pink bra infront of him.

Suddenly Matt leaned in and crashed our lips together, our tongues instantly becoming tangled together. Slowly he pulled away and began to kiss my jawline and down my neck.

Moaning quietly my fingers ran through his hair, slightly tugging at the roots.

Soon his lips moved to my collar bone and then to my exposed cleavage.

Pulling away Matt’s lips were red and his hair was ruffled. Almost enough to make me cum instantly.

His hands slid behind me as they unclipped my bra. My breasts falling out. He licked his lips before attaching his lips to mine again. His hands gropping my breast. Moaning into the kiss my hips bucked up wanting, no! Craving more.

His lips went down to my right breast and he began to twirl his tongue around as he massaged the other one. Soon changing and doing to the other one the exact same thing.

He came back to the valley of my breast and began to leave sloppy kisses all the way down to the hemline of my leggings.

Kicking my sandals off, he slid my pants and panties down in one go. Looking up at me in a drunken haze.

Rubbing his hands up my thighs, he crouched down a little more; and hiked my legs open which caused me to lean back. Propped up on my elbows my hands ran into his hair.

Matt lowered his head and began to kiss my clit, a gasp leaving my lips. He then ran a flat tongue along my clit.

“Oh my god Matt” I moaned out as my toes curled

He began to suck and slurp at my cunt as I gripped onto his hair harder. Dipping his tongue in and out of me. Licking up my cunt and attaching his lips to my clit.

Sucking and swerving his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves. All that could be heard were my moans and gasps and the slurps of Matt going to town.

Slowly he sunk his middle finger into me, curling upwards as he sucked on my clit.

“FUCK” I yelled out as my hips bucked upwards

Humming against me he continued his assault on my clit.

“Matt please please please please, don’t stop” I moaned out as my eyes drilled shut and I pushed his head further into me

Pumping and sucking even harder had me seeing birds flying around. I felt myself on the verge of cumming and cumming hard!

“Oh my god..oh my god. Fuck I’m gonna cum” I moaned out as my thighs began to quiver

Moaning into me he continued at the same pace.

In spite of all our arguments one thing I will say is, Matt listened to instructions very well.

“Shit shit shit” I began to squeezed my eyes even harder as my hips buckled upwards

“IM GONNA CUMMMM” I began to moan loudly

Suddenly my upper body began to shake as my thighs quivered. Shallow breaths escaping me

“MATT MATT OH MY GOD” I moaned out as I came so hard

coming down from my high, I opened my eyes as I tried to catch my breath.

Matt backed away from me and leaned over me, kissing me as I tried to catch my breath

“You’re so good to me” I replied looking up at him

A sly smile creeped on his face as he winked at me.

Matt’s lips went down to the valley of my breasts, where he laid a flat tongue out. And licked in between the valley of my breasts

Standing up he unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his jeans. Letting them fall to his ankles. He slid his boxers down too.

His hard and leaking cock sprung out. Licking my lips I reached out to touch him

“No no, I’m going to use you today” he said pushing my hands away

Nodding shyly I watched as Matt used his own spit to lubricate his hand. Slowly bringing it down to his dick and coating it in his saliva.

Hissing and bucking his hips up, his jaw clenched as he rocked his hips into his fist.

“Spit” he said looking at me

Listening to him I opened my mouth and spat on his dick like he asked.

Moaning in a low tone which put me in a drunken haze.

Matt grabbed my hands and brought them up to my breasts.

“Hold them” he replied to me

I obliged and held my breasts together. Slowly Matt slid his dick in between them.

Moaning instantly as he began to fuck my tits.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl” he said as he clenched his jaw and hissed

Moaning at his praise. I looked into his eyes as his hips snapped up against me

“Fuck I love you, I hope you know that. I want no one but you. You are mine. My girlfriend, my wife, fuck…whatever you want” He replied as he bucked his hips up harder

“Okay” I replied in a moan

His hands still holding my hands as he fucked my chest.

“Shit” he whimpered as I saw his thighs shake

“Do you see what you do to me? I can’t even last longer than five minutes” he replied in a whimper

“Oh my god” he whimpered quietly

“Gonna cum baby” I asked as I looked at him

“Fuck, yes” he replied as he began to groan

Quickening his pace, he held my hands tighter as I felt his cock slide in between my breasts.

“I’m gonna cum” he moaned out at his brows furrowed

Releasing my hands he pulled away, jerking himself off quickly

“Fuck fuck fuck” he moaned out

Hitting his orgasm, painting my tits in his thick white ropes of cum.

“Oh my god” he moaned out breathlessly

Riding out his high, before sinking next to me.

“Fuck Y/N, I love you” he replied leaning over and kissing my lips

“I love you too” I replied kissing back

Reaching over Matt picked up his phone

“Can I show you something” he said breathlessly

“Yes” I replied giggling

Coming closer he showed me a photograph album in his camera roll labeled ‘My Girlfriend’

“And I’m going to add another picture to it right now” he said giggling

“Matt no..” I replied laughing

“Stop it’s hot” he said sniffling

Turning his phone horizontally so my face wasn’t in the photo. He grabbed my right boob with his left hand and took a flash photo.

“One for the books” he said closing his camera roll

“You’re so weird” I replied

“Let’s get you cleaned up” he said as we both stood up and walked to his bathroom

“How long have you had that photo album?” I asked him as he turned the bath water on

“About two months into us seeing each other” he replied looking over his shoulder

“So why wouldn’t you ask me to be your girlfriend” I said sinking in to the hot tub before Matt

“Because I’m scared of labels and of ruining things. So it’s like if there’s nothing there to begin with, then how can I ruin it “ he stated as he sank into the hot water too

“You are such an interesting person” I said smiling at him

“I know, and I’m working on it” he replied shaking his head

“I love you” I said leaning over and kissing him

“I love you too” he said leaning in to the kiss

The End

Boy what the helllllllll. I’ve been gone for mad long and I’m sorry, pookies. So enjoy this treat. I love y’all dearly and I thank you for the support till this day. It’s almost been a year since I’ve started writing. Which is insane to me🥺🖤🖤 and we’re almost at 2,700 followers. You guys are fucking amazing. Love you sooo much

-J💅🏽

[rosesrotofficial]

hi, i just wanted to ask why did ronin and angel break up? also, love your game, i think ive replayed it around 5 times now. thanks for answering, if you do <3

i have lots of thoughts about this... i feel like to explain why they broke up u need to know why they got together:

ronin and angel got together partly out of proximity: feeling like they were the only ones that understood each other. they were also the only people in the server at that point which meant for about 2 weeks it was just them flirting.

angel felt safe with ronin bc unlike the men she's been with before, he actually respects her boundaries and genuinely cares about her (the bar is in hell). the fact that ronin's a trans guy helps, too: angel felt a sense of safety in his transness cause like he's dealt with everything that comes with growing up afab; he understands in a way that her past relationships don't, or don't care to understand. and ronin is quite the devilish gentleman. like angel says in game, being with ronin is the first time she truly felt safe with anyone.

as an additional point, i think angel feels guilty about "using" ronin in this sense and fears invalidating his masculinity; "does ronin think that i think he's not 'really a man' which is why i'm with him and feel safe with him?? because i don't think that" but i feel like that's a whole other ask haha. angel has a lot to unpack i'm ngl. anyway ronins answer to that is stop worrying your pretty little head.

ronin felt safe with angel because he was subconsciously projecting ther, his first love (who he still has a lot of unprocessed feelings about) onto angel. angel gives him the push-pull of ther, but without the heartbreak that came with them. angel is "his girl", now, someone he can focus on and care about, someone that he can be with, who acts similar enough to ther that he can almost pretend it's them. (as for a fun fact, angel's VA is ther's VA from gluttony gods!) even though angel's not and will never be.

angel and ronin's relationship was more out of necessity: it helped angel process her feelings about men (to an extent) and helped ronin get closure too. after realising this though, they realised they worked better as friends - because they were mutually using the other to cope and process feelings, even if it was mutually beneficial.

thank you for your ask! <3 i'm glad you enjoyed the game so much :3

[alicerosejensen]

No time to die

Warning: Death of the reader; injuries; mention of blood; implied parting with Leon; Old leon; Fem!reader

Synopsis: he should have decided on his feelings before telling you about love. He should be taking care of you instead of running after Ada again, but now he will have enough time for this activity.

A/N: Sometimes I write about Leon's slippery ass. Well, I really had disturbing thoughts again.

If you were given a choice on whose hands to spend the last minutes of your life, you would never have chosen the hands of Leon S Kennedy.

In fact, you would rather lie in a pool of your own blood, moving away from him as far as possible, leaving dark scarlet streaks behind you, than let him help you. After all, despite all his love for this man, he caused you a very strong pain. Even stronger than what you feel now, when you try to get to your feet leaning on torn palms, spitting out a thick foam of blood.

Well, ordinary civilians can hardly resist a giant bioweapon that has crushed a bunch of people like bugs up to this point, but if Ada Wong was only slightly knocked down by a blow, which caused her to lose consciousness for a while, then you were thrown with such force that the organs inside seem to have turned into porridge.

But at that moment you didn't care anymore. The pain pierced every cell of your body and the only desire in your head was just to hide from it somewhere. Leon and his endless love for Ada didn't care anymore, but this pain will always remain in your heart. After all, he came to her aid and not to you.

You started coughing up blood. From every breath it became increasingly unbearable to breathe, and then you lost that fragile balance that you found for a couple of short seconds, collapsing on shards of glass that crumbled under your weight. Everything swam before your eyes. You didn't have the strength to curse anyone because all you wanted was not hugs and a declaration of love, but for this painful hell to end faster! A grunt escaped from your throat when someone tried to turn your body over and provide first aid, but only blood splattered out of your mouth.

"God," Leon's partner looked at you with big frightened eyes, trying to think of something, but stopped when you gathered the remnants of your strength and grabbed her hand, looking at the gun in her holster.

The last mercy for the dying.

"Please..." your hoarse, very quiet whisper begged Helena to "finish it"

Tears flowed from red eyes mixing with the blood that was on your face. From this pain, the vessels in your eyes burst and it seems that the only way out was a kind of voluntary euthanasia by a bullet in the head and not waiting for your body to stop fighting death before the damaged organs stop working themselves.

And then Helena's loud voice was heard calling Leon to finally break away from his beloved and pay attention to the dying you. If your condition were better, you would spit this very blood in his face. However, he really ran up to you after a couple of seconds, laying you on his lap, trying to do everything carefully so as not to cause additional pain. You didn't really want to spit, but you accidentally soiled his face when he stroked your hair.

Crimson thin rivulets slowly poured out of your nose and you closed your eyes a little at a new outbreak of suffocating pain that filled your whole body reflexively clinging to Leon's hand. His skin showed signs of broken nails, but he didn't seem to mind. It was unbearable for you to take even a small breath; even one attempt was accompanied by a bloody, foamy, painful cough at the edge of your mouth. It was like Hell.

Leon seemed to be looking for something that could help you, delay death, but Helena already understood everything. Anyone who saw you would understand that the injuries you received were not compatible with life.

“Please don’t...please,” Leon muttered, trying to stop the scarlet stain spreading under your chest. “Baby, I know, I know it hurts, but be patient.”

��Leon...” his partner called quietly, hinting that it was pointless.

And at some point you noticed Ada looking at you without pity, without disgust, without any other emotions. Just another corpse that crossed their path. Wong only had a couple of scratches. She did not writhe in agony and Leon would quickly find solace in her immediately after your death, this thought made your body gather its last strength and with a tearing cough look at the man in front of you, in whose eyes you could see fear for your life. On your last breath, you decided to hurt him before you die, as punishment for what he did to your heart, crushing it like a paper ball, and then tearing it apart, throwing you pathetic scraps... Well, that's how you saw it.

Leon caught that look, something in it even scared him, but your next words, which were the last, were forever imprinted in his memory and on his heart. Because you knew how painfully he endures the fact that someone hates him. You pulled your hand out of his and with hatred hissed something that was not even true in essence. It's just that at this very moment you wanted him to understand what pain he caused you with his love for Ada Wong.

"I... ha-te... you"

Everything inside Leon snapped in the same second. His love for Ada has remained a pain in your heart, but... the same pain will remain in him. The last breath, and your eyes, which he loved so much, glazed over, and your mouth remained slightly ajar. Ada... she didn't say anything, but was she surprised? Leon grabbed your hand again, trying to feel at least a weak pulse, but the words you said were pounding in his head, making tears flow from his eyes.

"No," he whispered softly, unable to believe what was happening. You couldn't die in his arms like that and you couldn't say those words. You had no reason to say those words to him! "Come on, look at me, I'll take you to a safe place. They will help you"

Helena put her hand on his shoulder, realizing how it hurt him in the end. He doesn't even have the opportunity to leave your body in a safe place and all he and Ada could do was watch him stroke your cheek with one hand holding your shoulders. The pose is exactly similar to when he defended Ada in China, only she was able to survive and you unfortunately did not.

"It's not your fault... no one is to blame for her death," Ada only said. She felt sorry for him " And her words... Leon..."

"She was not herself," Helena picked up, looking at Leon silently

Ada at some point correctly decided that it was out of jealousy. Just the last time to prick a loved one knowing that he will keep these words to himself for a long time. But they didn't have time for mourning and tears, however, even she didn't have the tongue to tell Leon to leave you here. So she just asked for his jacket and wrapped you in it, believing that you really would like it - to be enveloped in the fragrance of a loved one before death.

now was simply not the time and place to grieve, but even she did not understand the meaning of the words you said. After all, Leon really left her for you. Ada couldn't give him the stability and love he needed. Their complicated relationship hurt Leon in a way, but with you he became a normal person. She understood this, so she calmly retreated, because neither he nor she had ever felt sincere love for each other. Leon found this bright feeling in you by breaking off even short dates with her forever, and all Ada could do was really help him later.

Your death was committed out of place and all three of them understood that from Leon now only the shadow of the former man will remain and he himself will wallow in alcohol constantly replaying your dying words on repeat.

You really shouldn't have told him that.

[tokiwarcube]

Any headcanons on what the boys would call their S/O? like pet names/nicknames? :)

Cute!!! I threw in Charles for this one too, just because <3 Enjoy!

Nathan Explosion

In the beginning of your relationship, he’s very committed to “babe,” and “babe” alone. It’s casual, it’s not sickeningly sweet — it’s perfect for Nathan.

But I think once he gets more attached, and lets himself open up more, he gets a bit softer. Like yeah, he adores the honeymoon stage of the relationship, but actually developing real feelings beyond infatuation? It changes him. Once he hits that point, there’s some… new additions to the petname lexicon. Every now and again he’ll let a quiet little “sweetie” slip, and yeah he’s a little embarrassed about it, but he never actually removes it from his vocabulary. He’s a not-so-secret softie.

Pickles the Drummer

You could probably change your name to “babe” at this point, with how much he uses it for you. Called across the house in summons, whined pathetically in protest, or murmured sweetly against your skin — this man lives and dies by “babe.” Although let’s be real: You’re not exempt from “dude,” either.

You might get treated to a “sweetheart” every now and then, though — that midwestern drawl makes it sound really, really nice. He uses this one just a smidge more when he’s trying to butter you up, for whatever reason. You’re ashamed to admit that it works.

Skwisgaar Skwigelf

I think in the beginning of your relationship, he’s very liberal with them — he gauges your reactions to see which ones you like, and keeps the ones that fluster you most. It’s like a game, really.

But once he’s genuinely comfortable with you? He really starts to narrow them down into ones that feel right for both of you — more tender, more meaningful. “My love” becomes a staple both in and out of the house, but he’s also prone to bringing in terms of affection from his native language. Half of it is because he can hide his painfully deep adoration in a language you don’t speak — Käraste, dearest; Mitt allt, my everything — but he’ll never actually say that. If prodded as to why he’s so liberal with these ones in particular, he just says it’s because he knows how much you like his accent.

Although if there’s a height difference (and let’s be real, there absolutely is), he’ll often attach “little” to your name. Sometimes he’ll take your cheeks in his grasp, cooing out a little “min lillis” — something that after a million google searches, you’ve worked out to be a (slightly patronizing) way of calling you tiny. Throw it’s counterpart back at him though, and he’ll swoon a little harder than he cares to admit.

Toki Wartooth

Frankly, I think it’d be easier to find a petname he hasn’t used for you at this point. He uses them very liberally, watching to see which ones you like the most — once he finds one that really works for you, he puts that one above the others… but that’s not to say he won’t bring out a few sickly sweet ones every now and again, still. Doesn’t matter how cheesy or god-awful they are — he thinks they’re cute.

William Murderface

He’s got a specific way of using petnames — when he’s greeting you, he always leads with “beautiful.” He always says it the exact same way each time too — a very drawn out “hello beautiful,” without fault. Did he get it from a movie? Did he just pick up on the fact that you think it’s cute? You’re not sure, and he won’t tell you. But it does indeed make you soft, so hey, mission accomplished.

But beyond that, he’s more partial to things like “sweetheart” and “babe.” The former is more common for when he’s teasing, but “babe” is his universal go-to, otherwise.

Charles Foster Offdensen

He doesn’t use many petnames — he feels like most of them are far too overused or ingenuine. Why use a name that everyone else uses for their lover, when your name holds thrice the amount of love and reverence when he says it? Although I will admit… he is rather partial to “dear,” and “sweetheart.”

What? They’re classics. There’s a difference between “overused” and “classic.”

[thesilmarillionblog]

𓏲 𓂃 L o s i n g Y o u

Part: 2

/ Click here to read the first part!

Summary: Everything was good as a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's secret girlfriend until the team and your relationship with him began to fall apart due to a new member and her developing relationship with Ben right in front of your eyes.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: Heavy angst, hurt, heartless Soldier Boy, reader gets hurt, mention of drugs, mention of alcohol, mention of sex, betrayal, Soldier Boy being a dick, reader is a supe, Crimson Countess is a bitch

Word Count: 2031

A/N: English is not my first language.

* This story is inspired by the song "Losing You" by Dream Evil.

After your argument with Ben about Countess Noir and your relationship, which occurred a month ago, he hardly spoke to you at all. He never looked you in the eye, either. You were never even certain if his love existed in the first place, but it was clear that the thing between you and Ben had been extinguished forever, even though he hadn't formally ended your relationship with words.

You considered leaving Payback behind, but you found it difficult to distance yourself from Ben, which bothered and despised you about yourself. You were terrified that Ben would harm Earving, in addition to the possibility that he wouldn't mind you leaving the squad. After all, he was your sole friend, and Ben's attitude towards him was cruel and rough. He was merciless to everyone except for Countess.

You denied producing movies, TV shows, or signing days since it was too much to bear to watch Crimson and Ben together, participate in commercials, and be the star of movies in front of your eyes. You just stopped showing up with the squad day by day. Nonetheless, when the rumors surfaced that you would soon leave the group, you were forced to sit with Ben and listen to him while he talked absolute bullshit to the cameras.

When the reporter asked you a question, you were so deep in confusion that you couldn't even begin to count how many times you were asked the same question. You were deep in thought when the reporter asked the same question.

“I'm sorry,” You apologized, giving the TV reporter a feeble smile. “I couldn't catch you.” You were irritated by the number of times you were given the same questions over and over again.

You felt that all you wanted to do was shout and punch everybody who spoke to you and asked you pointless questions about Ben and Crimson, as if it were your responsibility to speak and you were their spokesperson regarding their romance or something. All they saw was a façade of lies; if only someone could see through you and realize that you were drowning in all of them.

He kept talking about the rumors, and you felt like you were about to go crazy in front of the camera and kill someone. At that point, the pressure you were under became too much for you to handle. You ignored all the sounds around you and repressed your tears as you inhaled deeply.

“Look, you know, I have things to do. I apologize if I sound impolite, but it would be preferable if you directed those questions to Crimson and Soldier Boy. After all, it's their life to tell, not mine.”

When you attempted to back away to ask another question, the unsettlingly inquisitive man grabbed your arm. God alone knew how much you wanted to break those arms at that very moment and make him eat his own flesh.

Disregarding your previous statement, he uttered, “Y/N, please inform us. Are they really getting married soon? Don't you think it would be fantastic if the strongest supe woman and strongest supe man got married? A formidable duo! Power Couple! The American public is curious about that.”

He was babbling nonsensically and was clearly trying to get you to kill him. Even though you weren't saying a damn thing, he continued talking about them, and you inhaled deeply and waited for him to finish. When he identified Countess as the strongest female supe, you gave him a little smile.

You replied coolly, “I really don't know about their next move. But allow me to ask you a question. Have you witnessed her battling me?”

You stared him in the eyes when you posed the question, as though it were the most important one ever. The way you changed your attitude startled him.

“Well, no,” he said with a confused look on his face.

“Then what makes you believe that she is the world's strongest supe woman?” You continued to smile at him and continued, “Let's just say I'm curious.”

Crimson wouldn't have a chance against you; you knew it. Ben also knew that. However, you felt unimportant and left her aside each passing day because of the way she was seen as the strongest female supe. You were aware that Ben was assisting her in completing the objectives assigned to her—unlike you, she was never able to complete any of them successfully. She just appeared to be powerful and tough because she was with Ben, not because she was really something.

You were aware that her sole concerns were money and reputation, and neither Ben nor the squad mattered to her. A woman could always see right through another woman.

You suddenly burst out laughing when he opened his mouth. Saying, “Hey, I'm just kidding; relax,” you interrupted him before he could say anything more foolish. “But I really have things to do, okay? Glad to meet you. Have a nice day.”

Fuck, you turned into the biggest liar in a single month because of Ben.

Earving saw you had at last escaped the incessant inquiries and the obnoxious reporter, so he followed you to the van. He was also taking a vacation from marketing his latest film. After taking off his mask long enough to sip his, he handed you a soda.

“Hey, what's the deal? You know, you seem anxious these days.” He ate his hamburger quickly and remarked, “I heard the conversation between you and this idiot man. Fuck him; they are so fucking irritating sometimes, it’s hard to stop myself from breaking their necks.”

You took a big sip of your soda and gave him a nod. It was nice to have small talk with Earving, considering he was the only kind and smart person left in the squad after all.

“Yeah,” you said while Ben and Countess got out of their special trailer, and you watched them with a heavy heart when Ben gave her quick and playful kisses.

It was Ben's blindness and his intense care for her that pained you, and it was his seeming blitheness and comfort around her that made you hurt. It was obvious to you that she was lying and tricking him. Witnessing Ben give her everything he didn’t bother to give you wounded you. They had a really open connection, even if there was still some space between you when you were dating.

You were concealed by him like a rat in the shadows, unlike her.

The countess never once left his side, not even for a moment. You were frantically trying to find a moment to speak with Ben once again. If you had been alone with him, you would have succeeded in discovering the cause of his sudden and dramatic change.

“Earving,” you said like a whisper. “Can you distract Countess for tonight?” You turned to him with pleading eyes.

“Why?” he asked as he ate his third hamburger.

“Can you just do it?” You huffed as you kept watching Ben from afar.

“Fine,” he said with his full mouth, spitting the tomatoes. “You fucking stress me out since you’ve started to act like Soldier Boy.”

“Don’t insult me,” you said as you chuckled, punching him softly and stealing his last hamburger.

When Earving managed to divert Countess, it was midnight, and you saw them vanish out of sight. When you saw Ben pull into his own trailer, your heart began to race, and you quickly followed him. You made a self-promise to try it one final time. After all, you were doing this for one another, and when it came to love, pride had no place.

When you entered the trailer, you locked the door immediately, leaned your back against the door, and your hands stilled on the handle as if he would escape any moment. It was dim inside.

You heard him inhaling deeply before he turned his back to you and gave you a look like you were an insect that simply refused to leave the house in the summertime. Though you were close to him physically, the distance between you and his coldness toward you was visible.

He gave you a stern look and maintained his distance from you, asking in a harsh voice, “Why the fuck are you here again? Are you going to start spreading gossip about us?”

You just answered, “No,” disregarding his sour tone and remarks. “Ben, all I want to do is talk.”

“I fucking have things to do; cut it short.”

He was leaning back against the drug- and alcohol-filled table. Though it was obvious that he was getting worse every day, he was unable to recognize his condition. 

“Why did you change so suddenly? Did I do something wrong?” Not wanting to come across as hostile and cause him to harm you verbally once more, you asked in a quiet voice. “I just need a simple explanation.”

You continued to stare at him with wet eyes, and he sighed and gave you his signature grin.

“Just admit your pussy missed me; that’s why you are so desperate, so I can give you a good and quick fuck,” he said, giving you a playful look.

Aware that he was only attempting to divert the conversation or embarrass you, you remained silent and paid no attention to the garbage that was pouring out of his mouth.

“Why, Ben?”

“Why do you act like a fucking obsessive woman? Do you need an explanation? Fine, listen to me carefully, then: I can do whatever I want. Is that good enough for you? ”

With a heavy heart, your hands on the door handle tightened. Ignoring his harsh words, your jaw clenched, and you shook your head in denial.

“Why did you act like you loved me and cared about me then?”

“What love? Fuck, I don’t even like you,” he snapped out of nowhere, irritated by the choice of your words. “We just passed some time and fucked, that’s all. Don’t be a bitch about it; you’ll get over it,” he said, giving you a wink.

He sounded so different and cold that it was hard to believe he was the same man with whom you fell in love so deeply months ago. It was like someone else possessed his body and turned him against you in a day.

“Why do you even look at me with such hatred?” you asked, ignoring how much his words pained your heart. Your voice cracked, not knowing how to handle the situation or his unbalanced behavior anymore.

“Fuck!” he screamed at you, finally losing his temper and making a move to approach while you still leaned your back against the door. “You know what? I’m going to marry her.”

You loosened your hand around the doorknob and cupped his face without hesitation, knowing he would do it just to make sure you suffered.

“I swear I’ll walk away the day you marry her, Ben,” you said with a desperate voice, hoping it would mean something to him. “I’ll leave Payback.”

“Fuck you will,” he clenched his jaw, pushing your back against the door. “I fucking swear, the day you leave will be the day of Noir‘s death. No, I’ll make sure to make him even worse.”

“What kind of monster have you turned into?” You whispered and pushed him off of you.

“Yet you told me you loved me,” he said, giving you an unsincere smile.

“I do love you, Ben, and that’s the last time you hear this from me.”

Next Chapter

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

A/N: I was very surprised to see that you wanted another part for this so-called one shot story. Your comments made me very happy.

Taglist: @mostlymarvelgirl

Let me know if you want to be tagged for this series!

[smusherina]

bridges burnt - chapter 1 [epilogue series] (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: When an invitation to Gretchen Wieners' wedding ended up in your mailbox, you'd been sure it was a mistake. Only, it read your name in neat, swoopy calligraphy. It was addressed to you. And Regina George, whom you hadn't spoken to in years.

additional clarification: This is set in the universe of yard work, a series of mine that can be found on my page! Reading this one might be a bit challenging without the context of the series :)

very necessary note: Okay, fuck, it was supposed to be a one shot. Then I got excited. So have another freakin' Regina George series. Set in the same universe as yard work! Reading that provides some essential context, but you do you! I don't think it's unreadable without it. chapter 2

You adjusted your tie for perhaps the millionth time. It was a silky blue, befitting your navy suit. You fiddled with your cufflinks, silver like all your accessories, then pulled out the baby blue handkerchief to wipe down your glasses, then folded it pack into your pocket, then bent to redo your laces, then-

"For fuck's sake, the ceremony hasn't even started yet!" Amanda nudged you violently.

"Ow!" You hissed, elbowing her back. She slapped your knee, hard.

"Get yourself together." She glowered, pointing a manicured finger at your nose. "It's worse enough I have to be here at all. You're not gonna ruin this for me."

"You're here for the open bar and free food. I paid for the flights, the room, the car." You bit back. "I'm allowed to be nervous."

"There's nervous, then there's this." Amanda looked you up and down pointedly, noting your bouncing knee.

You squeezed at said knee, trying to calm down. Like you'd been trying to do since hours ago. No results so far.

"Look, buddy, it's just a wedding. You don't even really know her. I get you... Have a history with the bride, or whatever, but it's gonna be so fine."

"It's not Gretchen I'm worried about." You mumbled.

"Whoever. It's gonna be fine." Amanda said, flippant as ever. How she was so carefree all the time was mind-boggling to you.

"This place is filled with people from high school. God." You looked around. "That guy over there, don't look, with the receding hairline- I said don't look!"

"Be more specific, every man here has a receding hairline. The demographic is excruciatingly pallid."

"Shut up, girl," You shook your head but couldn't help but laugh. It was mostly white people here. "The one with the wife that looks exactly like him, unbelievably blonde, kinda mousy," You waited for her eyes to latch onto the man you were talking about. "He used to buy weed from me, like, every week, and then went around spreading rumours about me."

"Ungrateful." Amanda scoffed. "And look at him, a wife, child, and probably a 401k. That's how it goes for boys like them."

"Yeah." You sighed. "How's the salon doing, by the way?"

"Thriving. Thanks to you. But I worked my ass off." You lifted your arms in surrender. She had worked hard to keep the place afloat for as long as she had, so even if you hadn't invested she would've found a way.

Amanda cast you a meaningful look. "You're doing better than ever, aren't you? Financially speaking. How's everything else?"

"Well, y'know..." You shrugged. "It's complicated." You looked down. Amanda patted your knee, a sympathetic smile on her face.

"You got a nice suit, though." She pointed out.

"Oh, for sure. Look at these, custom cufflinks." You showed off the silver bits. "Do you think these rings are too much?"

"Don't you usually have an ungodly amount of them on?"

"I usually just have these three." On your right pinky was your Engineer's Ring. On your left thumb was an embroidered steel band and on the pointer of that same hand a ring with a big emerald embedded in a bed of crystals.

"It's not too much." Amanda took your hand and inspected the rings. "More like sexy." She grinned at you, all sorts of innuendo right on display.

You scoffed and turned towards the altar. The pews were getting fuller by the minute. You were sitting far enough from the front to show you weren't important but not too far as to hint you didn't want to be there. You were on the bride's side, though it didn't matter much. You didn't know Gretchen any better than her husband-to-be.

Amanda had come with you for moral support. You'd been roommates in college and you hadn't been able to shake her off since. She'd grown on you, though you often acted more begrudged than you felt. She'd helped you out a lot over the years.

She'd been there when you couldn't leave the dorms, trapped in the vicious clutches of paranoia. She'd been there helping you get back on your feet when dad's businesses started going, one by one, each more explosive than the last. She was there when you moved back to that little town in Illinois, where Northshore still stood.

You liked to think you'd been equally as integral to her, but that was perhaps a reach. She was fiercely independent, resourceful, and charming enough to make friends with anyone. When the first chance to help her came, you didn't hesitate to take it. She'd opened up her salon right after graduation, staying in New York while you moved back home, and had been doing well until now. Unexpected costs and a wicked plumbing bill had landed her in some hot water.

For the small price of one favour and eternal bragging rights, you'd shoved your newly acquired wealth at her. Dragging her to Vermont in October to attend Gretchen's wedding was you cashing in on that favour.

Eventually, the proceedings began. The groom and his men walked in with little fanfare, mild music playing as they went. Most faces you did not recognize, but there was one back of the head that seemed eerily familiar.

The groom, a classically handsome man, a boring prince type, went to stand at the altar. He had an expectant glimmer in his eye. At least Gretchen's taste in men had improved. Then again, anything beat the scrubs she'd used to keep around.

Behind the groom, his line of groomsmen settled, the best man fronting the crowd. The man of the hour was in a classic black tux while the others flanking him were dressed in different shades of brown. The whole shebang was sort of beige with a little bit of burnt orange thrown in. Amidst the shades of umber, russet, and sepia, stood a familiar face.

Aaron Samuels. You didn't have much time to agonize about him being here before the bridesmaids were stepping through the aisle. Similar dresses but in lighter shades, clearly made to match a certain groomsman. You didn't recognize any of them.

The maid of honour was a little odd. Her makeup seemed to be a lot thicker on one side, like there were several layers of foundation caked on. Her eye makeup on that side was a little heavy also, but she was past you by the time you could wonder why.

"The maid of honour totally has a black eye," Amanda whispered to you.

"No way," You hissed back, trying to get an angle where you could see her face. As she settled in place, facing the pews, even moderately far away you could see that, yeah, she totally was covering up a black eye. Wild bachelorette party, then.

Coos and aws resounded through the church as the flower girl and the ring bearer came toddling down. A little girl, cheeks all red, and looking like she wanted to be anywhere else, and a slightly older boy with an almost manic look in his eye. The girl was in no mood to be tossing petals, so the boy reached into her basket and threw a big fistful of them in the air. The rings rolled off of their pillow but found their way back.

"Oops," The boy said, smiling sheepishly right as the photographer came in to capture the moment. Chuckles echoed through the space.

By the time they reached the end of the aisle, the little girl was dutifully carrying the pillow on which the rings were and the boy was joyously tossing flower petals everywhere. As god intended.

Then came the bride. Escorted by her father, who was beaming with a mouth full of veneers, Gretchen Wieners made her appearance.

It wasn't disappointment that you felt. Not relief, either. It was hard to describe. You'd been expecting anger or some catharsis. This was the person who'd outed you to your whole school, who'd been the catalyst to the worst year of your life, why didn't you feel more?

High school had been over for almost ten years. You carried scars, deep ones that still ached on bad days but at the end of the day, they were just scars. You were doing better than ever. Gretchen had been a bully, had brought you to ruin once upon a time, but who was to say it couldn't all be built again?

You smiled. She looked beautiful. A white dress, a long veil, hair done big, bigger and more grandiose than you'd ever seen, and looking like, well, a bride.

You'd moved on. Considering how she'd invited you too, and knowing Gretchen she was acutely aware of every person in attendance, she had moved on too. You could recognize an olive branch when one was given to you.

That didn't explain the invitation, though. Maybe it was a mistake. Gretchen wasn't known for making those, but she was human too. Right?

"Look, they're totally enthralled by each other. You're gonna be fine." Amanda whispered, ignoring the elderly lady seated next to her shooting daggers through her eyes at you two.

"Yeah. It's gonna be fine."

Notes: Got really ill at the beginning of this week, which delayed this chapter quite a bit. You don't realize quite how awesome breathing is until you can't do it properly. Getting better slowly, it's nothing serious, but the cough is lingering. It is what it is.

This chapter was mostly setting up the narrative, no Reggie and Jorts interactions as of yet. I'm not making any promises because I'm so shit at keeping them, but hoping that this series will be shorter than the original one.

Taglist posted seperately!

[g0thnico]

Things that if I were Rick Riordan I would make more dramatic:

Percy and Gabe's relationship. I understand that it's a children's series so it's normal not to be explored as much, but if PJO was written by me, I would be turning this into one of the main points of Percy's traumas

Percy's mortal life. The only times this is introduced in PJO is to show something divine next, usually monsters or new problems. I would have shown more of what Percy was like at school and his relationship with mortals (or lack thereof)

Percy's powers. Okay, Percy is super powerful and doesn't have any conditions for this?? Nico has nothing more fair. For me, Percy's healing should 2hurt, a burning sensation for cuts and the feeling of bones going back into place when he needs to fix them. In addition, his ability to control water will cause hunger that varies according to how much he used his powers

Ares. Okay Ares is the god of war, but also the protector of women, don't you think he would have at least conflicted feelings about Percy because he was abused along with his mother? I think he would have at least a little empathy for him because of Sally

Percy's romantic life. Okay Rick, we already understand that you definitely don't know how to write romance novels, so leave it to me. Your development of Percabeth was crap and Perachel manages to make it worse, don't even talk to me about Percalypso, he accidentally ended up making Percy's romantic development with two of Hades' sons better than the canon couples. Yes, I'm talking about Bianca di Angelo because it seems like no one noticed the way he talked about Bianca (she was different from the other girls and easy to talk to), Nico (he felt a great sense of protection towards him and couldn't stop thinking about the boy who ran away) and HADES (he was amazed by Hades' dark form and would like to sleep at his feet????)

Grover and Percy soul connection. The fact that Grover and Percy are bonded and feel each other's feelings and the fact that if one dies, the other dies with them, has only been explored 2 or 3 times and that is absurd!!!! I would do at least 5 dramatic scenes where Percy feels an indescribable sadness and can't show anything but Grover cries and breaks down in helplessness just by feeling his friend's emotions. Maybe another one where Grover almost dies and Percy spits blood and faints and everyone has to find a way to save both of them or simply undo the bond before one dies, or even take care of one through the other's body (if that's possible) ok I have a lot of ideas

finally, the older brother complex coming from Sally (feeling like the experiment that went wrong and watching what went right grow). Long title, I know, but it's necessary and self-explanatory. Sally had Percy and went through a lot of hardships because he was a demigod and she was practically a single mother (having Gabe as a husband is the same as nothing) so Percy grew up with a lot of trauma and somewhat neglected by his parents and society (don't be fooled, Sally is an excellent mother, but they were a poor family and she had to work, leaving the boy to fend for himself and become somewhat independent too soon). He did everything possible to avoid causing trouble and in Sally's eyes, he really didn't! She sees all the problems they went through as the fault of the gods or monsters, not her son (the victim). So Sally gets rid of Gabe, moves out, marries a good man who understands her and accepts her "we have to deal with half-blood stuff" lifestyle, and has a normal, mortal daughter who has a perfect family. Percy never had that, and when he does, he feels like he's second best in this butter-business family. So he wants his sister to have the best life possible but realizes it's too late for him to live that

and the younger brother complex from Poseidon (feels like he must exceed his expectations, become the hero everyone expects, become as good as all the other sons of Poseidon). Percy is a demigod, accidentally a son of Poseidon and that shouldn't be a big deal. But suddenly there is a prophecy and he is the chosen one, so he is Poseidon's favorite son, strongest demigod, hero of Olympus and he needs to be strong, more than ever Percy needs to be not only good, but the best. Never in his life was he expected to do anything, not even get past the 6th grade so dad God Almighty puts all this weight on his back and he almost dies more times than he can count

[medievalandfantasymelee]

THE HOT MEDIEVAL & FANTASY MEN MELEE

SECOND ROUND: 13th Tilt

Xenk Yendar, Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves (2023) VS. Giuliano de Medici, Medici (2016-2019)

Propaganda

Xenk Yendar, Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves (2023) Portrayed by: Regé-Jean Page Defeated Opponents: - Eamon Valda [Abdul Salis], The Wheel of Time (2021-) - Thraxus Boorman [Amar Chadha-Patel], Willow (2022)

“He's a knight (paladin) so pure he'll make you sick. The goodest good guy to ever pick up a blade and swear to protect those who can't protect themselves. His autistic rizz has captured me body and soul. We meet him saving a child/cat (a twofer in ways to make you like a guy) and giving gold to a beggar. He kicks ass, he gives good advice, 'Neither virtue nor blade shall break' is on his sword. He's got gods most tragic backstory He's tooth-rotting perfect and it's glorious to watch.”

Giuliano de Medici, Medici (2016-2019) Portrayed by: Bradley James Defeated Opponents: - Jack [Tom Cruise], Legend (1985) - Durotan [Toby Kebbell], Warcraft (2016)

“GIULIANO, MY ABSOLUTE BELOVED. There's no one who can do slutty tarty fuckboy with a heart of gold and a side of whumpy pain quite like him. You start off the series and you see him the first time and you go "oh damn he's GORGEOUS... but he's a fuckboy, gonna love to hate him, great! I hope he's shirtless a lot!" (He is.) And then you see him the second time and you go "oh no he loves his family! He adores his sister!! He would do anything for his brother!! He's a sweet mama boy!!!" And then you see him a third time and you go "oh wow he hurts so prettily", and then as the series goes on you wish you'd never thought that, because yes, he DOES hurt so prettily. Multiple times. And at that point he activates all the PROTECC instincts but it's too late. And you end this series with your heart broken by him and you just want to go back to the start to see him smile his tarty smug smile that makes you want to punch him in the mouth. With your mouth. Because god he's so fucking PRETTY.”

Additional Propaganda Under the Cut

Additional Propaganda

For Xenk Yendar:

“It's basically a running joke through the movie how stupidly gorgeous and perfect he is. Because he is. He's so sexy in the confident, effortless way he approaches everything.”

(+ Edgin photobomb)

“A lawful good paladin who has seen so much destruction and yet is noble and sweet. If he had been around in the early tumblr days there would be a million flower crown edits of him. He literally saves a baby kitty. Also, extremely good with a blade and has too much faith in a sarcastic rogue.”

"the epitome of autism swag. kind and righteous and capital “S” Sexy. also him and chris pine are really gay in this one which adds to the hotness imo"

“He's the only person who has ever properly made me wonder if I was actually asexual after realizing that, but like dang, dunno if I'd still want him if he was real and in the room with me but I think I might be Xenksexual not ace. God I wish he'd force me to swear something on his book.”

“The autistic rizz is off the fucking charts, man”

For Giuliano de Medici:

“He's unbearably cocky and hot ... but also sad and tragic”

[dark-frosted-heart]

Roger Barel Main Route - Chapter 7

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there.

Roger and I headed to our mission destination by train.

(We’re runaway lovers that wound up at the village after having nowhere to go)

…That’s what Victor’s having us pretend to be to hide our identities.

--

Roger: Because everyone in this village welcomed us so warmly, I was able to save my beloved girlfriend from starvation.

(What’s with the sudden change in speech and refreshing smile? Who are you?)*

Though relieved that we safely made our way into the village, I was thrown off by Roger’s sudden transformation.

Roger: Kate, we will happily settle in this village.

Kate: Y-yes. Let’s be happy here, R-Roger.

Roger kissed my cheek, making my fake smile even more awkward.

However, Roger’s convincing performance was a success and the villagers welcomed us with open arms, serving us welcoming meals one after another.

Woman of the village: You must have been nervous. You’ll stay safe in this village because our Spirit God gives protection to everything.

Man of the village: Ah, indeed! Those who believe in the Spirit God will be saved as he is the one who can ward off any disease.

Spirit God: …

The villagers beamed at a man sitting in the middle of the room who hadn’t said a word since we arrived.

(...This is the Spirit God)

(He looks around 50 years old? And looks like your average human)

However, as Fairytale Keeper who’s witnessed evil up close, I now understood.

A human’s outward appearance belied evil that dwelled in their heart.

(Even so, it seemed like stories of “disease being warded off” in this village were widely accepted)

(A mere human couldn’t possibly ward off disease. There had to be some kind of trick—)

Kate: Hm?

I felt a tug on my skirt and turned to see a little girl that looked around five years old standing there with a smile.

Blonde child: Is id nummy?

(Huh…her speech…? Maybe it’s because she’s still young?)

Kate: Yeah, it’s really delicious. Thank you.

When I thanked her, the girl smiled back happily.

This village was very peaceful and full of smiles.

It felt like a utopia where all things scary were removed.

—Unfortunately, there was no such thing in this world.

(Something’s up with this village)

--

Sometime after being welcomed by everyone, Roger and I finally found ourselves alone.

Roger: This village’s so fishy it’s laughable.

Kate: Yeah, I thought so too. This village…there’s something going on.

The Spirit God’s existence, in addition to some other sense of discomfort that I couldn’t put a name to.

Roger: Let’s hear your point of view first, lil’ lady.

Kate: If what Victor said about an undercover police being killed was true, Then the villagers wouldn’t be as welcoming to newcomers. It wouldn’t have been strange for them to turn us away. But they were all so friendly. While I don’t want to question their generosity, I think…we should keep our guard up.

(Maybe there was something hiding behind all those smiles…)

Roger: Yeah, I was thinking the same. What about you, Liam?

Kate: Huh, Liam?

(That’s right, Liam went ahead of us to gather intelligence…)

I looked around but didn’t see him anywhere.

Kate: Liam, are you hurt or anything? Hungry?  

When I called out to the room, only my voice echoed.

Liam’s voice: Hehe, I’m not hungry or hurt. Also, I’m on the other side.

Kate: Ah, sorry. Huh, how did you know where he was, Roger?

Roger: My ears picked up his heartbeat and presence. So disappearing on me’s useless.

Liam: My power and Roger’s aren’t compatible at all. Let’s move somewhere else.

With Liam concealing the sound of his footsteps, I was completely at a loss.

I followed Roger out to a place a little ways away from the villager’s homes.

The moment we stopped, Liam appeared out of nowhere like magic.

(The power to disappear’s amazing)

Liam: I’ll tell you guys everything I’ve learned about the village in the past few days. In short, this village…or rather, the Spirit God, is bad.

Kate: I thought so. How is he warding off diseases?

The most important thing was the trick that got the villagers to believe in him.

Liam: The trick’s simple. He’s not warding them off, just giving them to non-believers.

(No way…)

Liam: The Spirit God poisons anyone that doesn’t worship him or doubts him. Unaware of this trick, the villagers are deluded into thinking they’re being protected from disease. Hey Roger, have you heard of Gracefield Royal Hospital? The man they call the Spirit God used to be a doctor there.

(Gracefield Royal Hospital…?)

Roger: The hospital’s been around for a while. There’s a lot of brilliant doctors, but a high turnover rate. Useless doctors were shunned and fired.

Kate: You’re pretty knowledgable.

Roger: They left a long time ago and opened their own private practice, but my old man and his “cherished friend” used to be doctors there.

(A cherished friend…)

There was some warmth in Roger’s voice when he said that.

Roger: With this, all that’s left is getting physical evidence…

Liam: Ah, I also found a medicine cabinet. Roger can tell which one’s poison.

Roger: As expected from our cat. Nice job, Liam.

Liam: I’m glad everything went smoothly.

At that moment, Roger’s eyebrows shot up.

Liam: …Hm, what’s wrong Roger?

Roger: …

His eyes peered into the darkness.

Roger: …I can “hear” people coming from all sides.

Kate: Huh?

Roger: Yeah, there’s quite a few people. Is that how the villagers assemble?

Kate: Are we surrounded?!

Roger: Haha, looks like it. Well, we’ll just have to settle this fast.

Apparently Roger intended to take them head-on.

Liam: Yeah, it’ll be fine. Doesn’t matter how many come at us, we won’t lose.

(Liam too!)

Kate: The entire village has roughly 200 people.

Roger: We can take 100 each.

Kate: Are you insane?!

As we continued bickering, I heard footsteps approaching— 

A candle flames floated in the darkness.

Roger: Here they come.

Man of the village: …I knew you were a threat to our village.

Woman of the village: And they have a friend too. Disgusting, how did he even get in.

Liam: I’ve been here the whole time.

(It was as if the peaceful atmosphere they had greeted us with was all a lie)

The villagers’ eyes were cold and I sensed that they were willing to do anything to eliminate any foreign entities within their sandbox.

They were like mindless puppets controlled by the “Spirit God”.

Man of the village: Spirit God, what should we do with them?

Spirit God: Seize them. I will use my abilities to punish traitors.

Roger sneered at those words.

Roger: Ability, huh? If you were a Cursed One, I’d keep you alive as another on my list of precious test subjects… Too bad you’re not. Liam, go nuts. We’ll capture him.

Liam: …Roger that**

As Liam was about to pounce, daggers gleaming in hand—

A scream erupted in the crowd.

(What just happened?!)

When I realized that the girl lying beside the screaming woman was the little blonde girl who talked to me during dinner, I ran toward her.

Kate: Out of the way!

Woman of the village: What, don’t come any closer.

I was pushed back when I desperately tried to reach the girl lying in pain.

Kate: Now is not the time for this!

Woman of the village: If you hadn’t come here, none of this would’ve happened, you disease-carrying demons!

I saw her raise her hand and braced myself for a slap on the cheek.

(...)

Roger: Enough. We had nothing to do with the girl collapsing.

At the sound of his voice, I opened my eyes and saw Roger holding the woman’s wrist.

Thank you

Sorry for acting on impulse

Please help that girl +4 +4

Kate: Roger, please help that girl.

Roger: Yeah, leave her to me.

With Roger’s intimidating aura parted the crowd, allowing us to reach the girl.

Blonde child: …Ugh…

The girl’s body was stiff. Her eyes were wide open and her limbs were twitching. 

Kate: What do we do, Roger?

Roger: Based on her symptoms, it looks like tetanus. It’s a bacterial infection from a wound that affects the nerves. It makes it difficult to open your mouth, and eventually, it causes muscle spasms and paralysis.

Worst case, those infected will have a hard time breathing and die.

Kate: No way…

Roger: Anway, look for any wounds on the girl.

Roger and I examined the girl’s body and found a scratch on her calf.

Roger: …

Child’s mother: Spirit God! Please cure my child’s illness!

Spirit God: …

The man they called the Spirit God started backing away.

Child’s mother: …What’s wrong? Why aren’t you…

Roger: Relying on this guy’s not gonna do anything. He’s not some guy with special powers. He’s just a quack pretending to ward off disease by poisoning people.

Man of the village: That’s impossible! Our Spirit God’s a child of God granted with special powers!

Roger: Then why isn’t he saving this child in pain? Why didn’t you know she had tetanus until it got to this point? A false god can’t cure disease, but proper medicine can treat tetanus.

Spirit God: He’s lying! Tetanus cannot be treated!

At the Spirit God’s desperate cry, Roger looked at him with pity.

Roger: That’s ‘cause the medical knowledge in that brain of yours is outdated. There’s a treatment for tetanus. However, practical use is a miracle and there’s still some room for improvement.

(A treatment’s been discovered…)

Kate: Really, Roger?

Roger: Yeah. Though only the privileged class has access to it and it’s not available to the common citizen at all.

Spirit God: …Hahaha! If it’s not widely available, then it’s the same as saying she can’t be saved! Ah, that’s right. No one in this world can make diseases completely disappear. And yet, you all put your faith in me…It’s your fault for being foolish enough to put your trust in me.

Girl’s mother: …

With one hand, Roger grabbed the Spirit God by the neck.

Spirit God: Urk?!

As he tightened his grip, the Spirit God’s face began to turn red.

Roger: Did you never learn to let people finish talking while you were in your mama’s womb? Sure, treatment for tetanus isn’t widely available. But if you don’t have it, then you make it.

Spirit God: You can’t possibly…

Roger: As a former doctor, I can.

Next

-

*Here, Roger is speaking more politely and softens himself by using boku as his personal pronoun instead of his usual ore. Originally, Kate goes (Boku? [...]) but changes in JP pronouns don’t translate well in English.

**Ok this time didn’t resist using “roger” for 了解.

[capseycartwright]

oh my god lorna well, that happened pls pls pls

“Well,” Buck sounded as out of breath as Eddie felt, taking a brief pause before he continued speaking. “That happened.”

Eddie felt – well, sticky. He’d never enjoyed this part – the after, of sex, when the endorphins that raged through your body started to calm down, and you were left sort of just – well, sticky. It was kind of gross, frankly, when the excitement wore off.

“Yeah,” Eddie managed, gaze fixed on the ceiling of his bedroom. He’d missed a spot, when he’d repainted, one corner slightly yellowing compared to the crisp cream of the rest of the paint. He made a mental note to fix it later.

“We should – well, we should talk about it.” Buck’s presence next to him was overwhelming, honestly. Eddie didn’t have the biggest bed in the world – not compared to the utterly ridiculous California king that Buck had in his loft – and they weren’t exactly small people. Buck was huge, actually, broad, and strong and all-encompassing, able to hold Eddie down in a way he hadn’t known he was very much into until an hour before.

Willing his face to return to a normal colour, instead of the bright red it definitely was, there and then, Eddie hummed. “We should.”

“You should start.”

Eddie snapped his head to the side, fixing Buck with a glare. “Why should I start?”

Buck’s smile was devastatingly familiar, a reminder of how well Eddie knew the other man – and a reminder of how they might have just ruined everything, sleeping together. Sex made everything complicated: that much Eddie knew. It had always been the additional level of complication in his and Shannon’s relationship, a sticking plaster for their problems that only ever served to cause more problems.

“You don’t have to,” Buck grinned, propping his head in his hand, unashamed in his nakedness in a way Eddie could only be jealous of, given he was clinging to his thin top-sheet, as if that could hide the fact that he was bare-ass naked in bed with his best friend. “I just wanted you to look at me.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, returning his gaze to the ceiling. “You’re an idiot.”

“You’re freaking out,” Buck pointed out.

“And you’re not?”

“Not as much as you, clearly.”

“We just had sex,” Eddie hissed, sheet fisted tightly in his grip as he twisted, looking at Buck. “What else am I supposed to do except freak out?”

“Was it bad?” Buck asked, sounding as though he already knew the answer to that.

(He did – of course he did. Eddie, quiet Eddie Diaz, hadn’t been able to hold in the breathy noises and strangled moans as Buck had touched him, too far gone to be embarrassed about the way his voice had hitched in his throat as he’d begged and pleaded for more. Eddie didn’t beg. Except – well, he clearly did, when it was Buck who’s teeth were grazing against the thin skin of his neck, making him question if God maybe was real, after all.)

Eddie huffed. “You know it wasn’t.”

Buck grinned. “Just making sure. You know, 38% of –“

“If you quote a statistic at me right now, Evan Buckley, I will kick you out of my bed and never let you back in it again.”

Buck instantly quietened. For a second, at least. “Again?” he asked, uncharacteriscally nervous sounding, the confidence of the man who’d pressed finger shaped bruises into the dips of Eddie’s waist gone.

“That’s why I’m freaking out,” Eddie sighed. “Because now I’ve had you, I don’t think I can stop wanting you. And I’ll probably ruin everything, because I think that – I think that if I get to have you, I’ll stop being able to pretend like I’m not in love with you, and then I’ll definitely ruin everything, and – and I really need a shower,” he grumbled, wincing at the sticky feeling plaguing his entire body – or it felt like his entire body, at least.

“I think I can solve a lot of those freak outs,” Buck hummed. “Because I love you, and you’ve got an ensuite.”

“W-what?”

“You’ve got an ensuite,” Buck said. “There’s a shower, like, ten steps away.”

“No – no, the first bit,” Eddie felt like he was about to pass out. Was it insane, to be more nervous now than he had been when Buck had kissed the breath out of him in his kitchen? Because he was – more nervous.

“Oh!” Buck’s eyes lit up. “I love you,” he said, as if it were entirely obvious: as if Eddie should have already known.

“Oh.”

“Is that okay?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah,” he smiled at Buck. “It’s more than okay.”

“Good,” Buck beamed, pressing a sloppy kiss to Eddie’s gaping mouth. He was sort of still in shock. “I’ll start running that shower.”

He was gone, before Eddie could reply, warbling a song Eddie didn’t recognise in a key it probably wasn’t supposed to be in, the sound of the shower filling Eddie’s otherwise quiet room.

“I love you too,” Eddie called, realising he hadn’t said it yet.

“I love you!” Buck yelled back. “The water is hot, hurry up!”

[tofumiarchives]

┊PASILYO┊˚✧

┊ONE SHOT┊DAZAI OSAMU X GN!READER┊

words: 1,941

unrequested

additional/warnings: ooc (?), cringe, nausea, mentions of throwing up (light), minor swearing typical Dazai suicide mentions (light), public display of affection, and uhh kising

Happy birthday to my glorious princess, y'all 🗣️‼️

Rays of sunshine outlined the furniture of the Armed Detective Agency. Dazai was at his desk, folding origami when he was supposed to be doing a report. It was one of those quieter days in the office, a rare day where there weren’t many cases to finish.

A buzz from his pocket. Dazai checked the notification, reading a message from none other than you.

|[Nickname]: sneak outside 🙏|

And they say he’s a bad influence…

———

Standing outside the building, you wait for him. It was the perfect weather, the sun decided to be warm—and not in the way where it’s painfully hot to the point that just a short walk would leave someone sweating.

“[Name]!” you easily spot the familiar caramel coat through the small crowd, Dazai happily escaping work to join you. “I got your message,” he remarked, walking until he’s right next to you.

“Happy birthday,”

A beautiful bouquet of flowers entered his field of view, forget-me-nots wrapped in a beautiful light blue. A silk white ribbon tied the thing together, a gift looking alike to the summer sky.

What’s next was a pretty sight, flushed cheeks and a surprised detective. Dazai couldn’t help but go speechless, not one to be used to affection. You almost wanted to tease him about it, but decided not to, showing a twinge of mercy upon the man.

“Hey… Earth to Osamu?” he snapped out of his daze, feeling you tug on his sleeve.

“Ah– uhm,” he makes a poor attempt to cover his embarrassing reaction, covering his face with a hand. It was fun to make him flustered, a feeling you rarely see him have. “Thank you…?”

You scoff at that dry reply, placing the bouquet on his hands before tugging his sleeve again, starting to pull him somewhere. “Come on, I’m spoiling you today, so we better start early if you wanna make the most of it.”

Dazai followed after you, letting you drag him on. It took a while, but he came back to his senses, a soft expression gracing his face at your words. “Really?” he asked, almost tauntingly as he tried to get a specific answer out from you.

“Yeah, yeah,” you answered, walking slower so that you’re side by side. “Whatever you want,” you say, looking at the pathway ahead as you barely conceal the smile on your lips.

“Whatever I want?” a cheeky grin. “Even a double suic–?”

“Anything but that,” you cut him off, turning your head just to see him laughing softly, slightly covering his face with the blue flowers.

The soft appearance of genuine happiness is a great look on your lover.

———

“Let’s try that one again!”

The sheer look of horror on your face was picture worthy. Dazai decided that the perfect way to spend his birthday was to try the roller coasters having motion sickness written all over it. “God, no.”

Sure, you did suggest going to the amusement park, but these aren’t the rides you expected to go to. Dazai was milking everything out of this opportunity, trying out every single attraction in the park but the calm ones.

How many times have you gone to the same roller coaster, now? Thrice? Four times? That drop still gets you. “How the fuck are you not even dizzy…?” you ask, sitting down on a bench to collect yourself

Dazai was laughing at your predicament, earning a glare from you. “Fine, fine, we’ll take a break from the rides,” finally some mercy on your nauseous self.

You sigh, before hunching over slowly, seeing black in the corners of your vision. “Fuck, I think I’m throwing up.” a pat on your back, but the brunet’s not very discreet giggles made it feel like it didn’t help at all.

Luckily, you didn’t start vomiting. You ended up buying him lunch despite his claims of not being hungry, making him sit down on a shaded table to eat. The park had a few food stalls around, so you two had plenty of choices to pick from.

His eyes scanned the selection of food stalls before his gaze landed on one. He perks up a little, tugging on your hand to get your attention. “Hey, let’s get takoyaki.”

You nodded, holding his hand as you went to the food stall, buying him the food he wanted before buying food for yourself. Dazai of course just had to steal your food, taking bits and bites here and there. You didn’t mind… mostly.

“... If you’re gonna end up eating my fries anyway, why didn’t you just buy some?” you ask, as he stole another bite with a shrug. You could only brush it off, wanting to get it over with so you could make most of your time here.

“Because stealing yours tastes better,” he replied, a terrible excuse. A mischievous glint can be seen shining in his brown eyes as his fingers stole another one, not even hiding it at this point now that you pointed it out.

You gave a sigh of defeat, letting him steal as much food as he desires. It was a quick snack break, before you two continued your little birthday celebration, so you just let it pass.

The sun was already shining right above you when you finally got back on your feet, fully recovered to try more attractions. His hand had found yours, as you looked for more things to try out. Dazai’s eyes found themselves following the path of the ferris wheel, the sight of it catching his eye.

Slow, scenic, peaceful—the complete opposite of the previous rides you two have gone on. A grin appeared on Dazai’s face, and he tugged on your hand, pulling you towards the entrance to the ride. “Let’s go on that one,” he says, a hint of eagerness in his voice.

You couldn't help but let out a breath of relief, seeing that he finally chose a calmer ride. The procedure to enter was short, buying a ticket, going in line, before entering the ride.

The gondola was simple, the sleek white car fitting the both of you on one side perfectly. It was slow and gentle, moving bit by bit as it got turned higher into the sky. “Much better than those adrenaline-fuelling ones, huh?” he mentioned, looking at you through his peripherals.

“Yes, actually. At least we can actually converse instead of screaming our lungs out,” you retort, turning from looking out the large windows to him, meeting his gaze with your own.

Dazai held in the laugh settling in his throat, shamelessly seeking your hand to hold again. He loved the contact. “You’re the one screaming out of fear, though,” he pointed out, pulling himself closer to you.

You roll your eyes, allowing him to be as close as he wants—as close as he needs. It took a while, but your capsule eventually reached the top of the circle, getting the highest view.

The brunet decided that you were a headrest at the moment, leaning his head on you before turning to the window on his side, slowly falling silent.

This was what you hoped you could distract him from. That faraway look was in his brown eyes as he looked at something long gone. It was another year. Another year without him, another year he'll slowly grow older than he could ever get.

Another year, and this time, he'll remember him longer than he's known him.

The view outside the windows was breathtakingly beautiful. Yokohama in clear view to both of you. From high-rising buildings to the crystal lake near the park, everything was graced with the warm afternoon light. Yet those brown eyes couldn't find the same warmth you could.

That solemn longing was a look you didn't want to see him make today. You wished his mind wouldn't have to think like this just for a day. Just for a moment. Just for now.

So, you nudge his leg with yours, earning his attention. “You wanna get crab later?” you ask when he turned to look at you, hands on his to hold. You'll distract him for as long as needed. You'll keep him away from those thoughts and bring the warmth he needed on a day he would otherwise hate.

Dazai turned around, snapping out of his train of thought at hearing your question. A smile stretched on his face, grip lightly tightening on your hand. “Of course the answer is yes,” he answered.

At least he doesn't look so solemn now. You subconsciously bring a hand up, brushing a strand of his dark brown hair behind his ear, your touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. Way longer, actually.

“...touchy today, hm?” he teased, a cover up to him growing flustered under your affection. “What, can't keep your hands to yourself?”

“Don’t even start,” you reply with a threatening edge. Dazai raised his hand in surrender, keeping his silence with a cheeky smirk.

———

Crisp wind blew on your hair, you closed the door behind you in a rush. “Slow down, we just ran up a bunch of stairs–” you gasp out, out of breath as Dazai dragged you to a rooftop. The Agency building's rooftop.

The brunet only chuckled at your reaction, stopping to let you catch your breath. “Alright, alright! We're here anyway.”

You take a deep breath in, the air finally getting in your lungs properly. “We’re here early, you didn't have to– you did not have to drag me and run all the way up,” you groan, wheezing in suffering.

The sun was almost setting, hanging just above the horizon. You two wanted to catch the sunset, deciding that this is the best spot to watch as it settles down the city skyline.

Dazai held your hand, tugging you along to the edge of the building. “This would be a romantic time to die,” *he remarked, making you deadpan.

“Nuh uh,” you retorted, looking at his steps just a little more cautiously in case he decided to swan dive over the edge. “Would be a great time to watch the sunset though.”

As you said that, Dazai looked up, catching the way the skies were painted in pink and orange hues. It was an ethereal scene—one that should be painted to preserve.

You glance to the man beside you, seeing him gaze off into the sunset. It wasn't a lie that he was pretty, with how the sun outlined every feature on his face, basking him in a warm light.

“You’re staring,” he hummed, brown eyes glancing at you, already prepared to send a barrage of teases for catching you in the act.

Confessing you were was the only way out, then. You let out a scoff, the sound half a chuckle. “Yeah,” he turned to you, the sun leaving its last trails of warmth before letting the moon reign in the sky. “Happy birthday.”

Dazai smiled, a soft look on him. “Shouldn’t I get a present?” he asked, leaning towards you with a hint of what he wants. The brunet reached for your hand, pulling them to cup his cheeks.

A fleeting kiss, before another, dragging him closer to press your lips on his. You could feel how the warmth spreads to his face under your touch, feel how he smiles against each kiss.

You hear him giggle, leaning back just enough to speak, still holding his face. “More?”

“More,” he nodded, feeling giddy with each touch. Just for the moment, he felt that life was worth living. You pull him closer, resting your forehead on his.

“Whatever you want.”

divider credit: @/cafekitsune

[affableramen]

Wriothesley x fem!reader fic

domestic angst+comfort, no smut read part 1

Roommate

Pt.2

“I don’t really like this one.”

“Why?” Wriothesley slid to the side, observing the descriptive pictures of a kettle. It was a big glossy black kettle, quite rounded and full. It could hardly make any sense for a couple of two! Such kettles seem to be more fitting for a bigger family, not for a dude and you who mostly drinks water, like Neuvillette (Wriothesley jokes here).

“Let’s take a look at this one”, you say, tapping your finger onto Wrio’s phone and finding a different product, which most obviously makes his face go instantly sour.

“What?” you stare at him with a serious expression. Why does this man make so much trouble!? It’s not that you were the one petty about its size just a minute ago.

Wriothesley rolls his eyes, biting his lip to avoid using profanities. You just made peace with each other, wouldn’t it be too improper of him to use rude wording?

“It’s PINK. Pink, I don’t like pink.”

“Well, I like pink, to your knowledge.”

“Oh, for archon’s sake!” Wriothesley rubs the bridge of his nose, trying to hold his irritation in. He was clearly a man with temper, but not because he was hot-headed, rather that he had strict understanding of what he wanted and how he wanted to achieve that. He already had a bright picture of kettle he was going to choose, it’s just that he wanted to hear your opinion too.

“Alright, boring old man, let’s take this one then.” You point at the kettle which was slightly taller than the first one and less weighty for sure, and it was ribbed grey. “I like ribbed designs, by the way. They seem relaxing.” You lean to whisper into Wriothesley’s ear, a hint of cunningness in your tone. “After all, you can be quite tiresome sometimes.”

With an almost insulted look, Wriothesley pressed the ‘order’ button and pouted. It was a day off for the both of you, and since you didn’t have hot water at home and using a normal teapot seemed like something disastrous for you, you guys decided to take a walk into a cafeteria. Wriothesley grabbed himself a chai latte, while you went for caramel macchiato. Weather was quite cold, it was snowing, but as the matter of fact you loved snow and saw no problem with walking around a park for a bit. It is still freezing at home and you waited for electricians to give you a call back this evening. One problem was solved, there were two to go…

“Two? What’s the second, apart from no-power-in-the-house problem?”

Wriothesley took a sip from his hot drink and shrugged without much interest.

“Neuvillette’s wife invited us for a friendly dinner”, as if this instant picking up your inner thought Wriothesley shook his head, “No, listen. I know, I know how much you dislike public places and all these formal gatherings… But it will be just a friendly dinner. They’re our friends.”

“I understand, the problem is not in my disability to communicate properly, Wriothesley”, you glared at him, as if scolding for his wrong assumptions.

“Then what, pray?”

“It’s the clothes!”

He almost dropped his drink and it would have spilled all onto the snowy road if not you gripping his arm.

“God, please, Wriothesley—be careful!”

“But I don’t understand?” he wipes his sweet, sticky mouth with his gloved hand, partially dirtying his fluffy red scarf. “You have taste, you know how to look appealing, what’s the problem?”

“I don’t have a dress! Have you ever seen me wear a dress?!”

He stopped there for a moment and with his free hand rubbed his chin. The snowflakes falling all around you were a beautiful aesthetic addition to Wriothesley who kind of looked like a snow wolf himself. The only thing he lacked right now was Alaska. He would fit there so perfectly.

“No, I do not recall, actually.”

“Well? Maybe that’s because I don’t wear no dress! I’m always in trousers! And Neuvillette’s wife has a strict dress code, if your remember. She prefers everything elegant and girly. She’s a literal princess!”

“Oh—I mean, so that’s why you were avoiding her all the time.”

“Exactly! Our styles are so different, I won’t fit in I fear.”

He threw the finished empty takeaway cup of chai tea latter into the street bin and gave you a look that could be taken as suspicious.

“I have an idea.”

“Wriothesley, I hate the malls. Oh gosh—I just hate the malls!”

“I know it, babygirl, but I cannot afford to upset monsieur Neuvillette.”

You sighed, accepting your fate.

“And I cannot afford to upset monsieur Neuvillette’s wife.”

There was a large mall in the centre of Foutaine. It was an almost underground mall, going deep down, except for you could see the huge dome-like window above your head. The sun was bright and you were easily irritable. Thank God the shop Wriothesley pulled you in was below the ground.

“I promised I would make it up to you. You don’t have to spend a single coin for that, I’m going to cover it all”, he leads you through many shops of different pricing categories until you reach the luxurious one.

“See? That’s what I call a good shopping. This certain store has only the finest quality.”

“I don’t really think this is a good idea, Wrio. This looks too pricey, you know?”

“Well, we’re not exactly the poor family.”

“That is so, but… I just honestly, wholeheartedly, genuinely speaking always try to avoid spending too much.”

Wriothesley rolled his eyes, let out a heavy sigh and booped your nose in the end, the cherry on top.

“Keep your chin up, babe.”

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

Dearly Beloved 🔞 Final.

In which you've got a crush on your coworker- and a stalker problem.

Tags/Warnings: I do not condone any of Jungkooks questionable actions, this is fiction, soft Yandere!Jungkook, stalking, criminal actions (trespassing, stealing), obsession, he's really not quite right in the head, mc is kind of stupid for not involving police but wbk

Additional Chapter Warnings: insert 'oh no' tiktok meme here.

Length: long?

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

•━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━•

He's gonna do it. He has to. What if he misses his chance? You already love him.

You just don't know it yet.

But the entire day at the office, someone steals your attention away. There's always someone standing at your desk, asking pointless things, chasing you around like a slave for things that could've been a fucking e-mail. Why do you need to go and copy something for Yaerin when she's got to working legs?

Maybe if she didn't wear those high heels she constantly trips in she would be able to do her job correctly. Or maybe she's simply a viper, trying to work you down until you burn out, unable to offer this place anymore of your energy. She's done it before. She'll do it again.

People like her disgust him. She's rotten to the core, especially considering how she constantly soils the office seats in the meeting room with her disgusting perfume every time she fucks another one of the higher ups in there. He knows it's happening, has walked in on her and a CEO once- and while he told her that her secret was safe with him, he really only did it to have something up his sleeve if he ever needed her for something.

Does that make him just as rotten as her? Maybe. But all is fair in love and war.

He can't help but fidget at this point, watching how you clearly try and stay nice to a coworker currently attempting to convince you to go drinking with everyone after this shift. You don't like karaoke, you don't even drink in social settings because it makes you anxious- Jungkook knows these things.

He would never ask something of you that you're not comfortable with- he'd take you out for your favorite fast food instead to eat it in the car while listening to crappy pop-songs on the radio. That's what you love.

You've mentioned it before. And he never forgets those things.

Who's that man to you anyways? He can sense the tenseness in your muscles as the guy leans on your table, clearly taking up space and showing that he's not going to leave anytime soon- and Jungkook feels his anger grow inside his chest. You don't like this guy. He needs to get him away from you.

"Uh- Steven, right?" Jungkook meekly asks, the man's face snapping to him with an annoyed smile.

"Yeah. What's up kook?" He jokes as if they're best buddies.

They're not. Jungkook couldn't care less if the guy died in a ditch.

"I think Yaerin wanted to talk to you about something being wrong with the calculations for last month?" Jungkook stammers, needing to uphold his image. And also, he can't help it- his emotions make him quiver a bit, muscles unable to stay still as he rubs his hands. "She said it's urgent." He presses.

That's actually only half a lie. It's not urgent- but that whore did want to talk to him about something. There probably won't be much talking involved except maybe a command to take his dick further down her throat- but Jungkook doesn't care what they do. The only thing he does care about is that he fucking leaves.

Which he does, finally, making Jungkook take in a deep breath as he watches the man walk off.

"Thank you so much." You say behind him, and when Jungkook turns around to look at you, you're gazing at him with such warm eyes he feels his trembling body levitate on nothing but thin air. Everything's alright again- if he could look at you like this for the next years of his life, he'd thank every god in existence for it. "I have.. a hard time telling people no." You sigh, running your hands over your face.

"That's.. that's fine." Jungkook nods, a little awkwardly, smiling back. "I'm not that.. good at it either." He chuckles, and you laugh along, already feeling a lot better.

"Do you.. uhm.." You look at your keyboard for a second before you lick your lips- is that new lipgloss you wear? Or did you eat something that stained them? Jungkook isn't sure, but he wants a taste. "Do you wanna.. grab a drink or two after work with me?" You wonder, rushing the sentence out, and Jungkook's lips part a little, eyes round and open as they stare you down with their boba-pearl charm.

"Uh- yes! Yes, sure!" He nods, closing his mouth, before he pats his pants, looking for his phone. "W-wait, I'll uh- I'll give you my number!" He rushes out, writing it down with trembling hands on a sticky note, before offering it to you, who smiles shyly.

"Alright!" You nod. "I'll.. see you tonight then?" You ask, and Jungkook nods, entire body set aflame.

"Tonight."

•━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━•

He fucked up.

He fucked up.

He fucked up.

He's pacing in front of your door because you surely know. You had to have found out- there's no way you didn't. The moment you texted him, he knew you knew-

because he gave you the wrong number. In his panic, he gave you a number you already have.

Is the police on its way? Did you call the cops? Or another friend maybe to beat the shit out of him? You must be terrified, creeped out to no ends, and he can't blame you. What the hell did he even do? This isn't right.

"Jungkook?" You ask, ripping him out of whatever panicked episode he was going through, wild eyes staring at you who's looking at him with an unreadable expression.

It's quiet as you stare each other down, tension able to be cut with a knife for a good while, before you speak.

"You could've.. just said something." You mumble, and Jungkook isn't sure what you mean. There's a variety of things and situations this sentence could apply to- and he doesn't want to out himself if he's not caught yet. If there's just a simple chance of getting away with it, he will take it. "Do you... like me this much?" You ask, and he's swallowing thickly now.

You clearly want an answer, but he doesn't know in what context. What is he supposed to say.

"I mean, I knew something was off when.." you explain, playing with the strings of your hoodie as you fumble with your words. "When.. I wasn't scared." You admit.

"Because it was you all along."

His entire body grows cold, veins freezing over as he gets his confirmation. You know. You know, and you're probably going to tell him next that you've already asked for a restraining order-

Wait. What do you mean by you weren't scared?

"Do you want to.. come in with permission this time?" You ask, trying to lighten the mood, but he's confused. This isn't the reaction he thought he'd get.

"I-" he starts, stammers. "I'm sorry." He presses out. "I don't.. I just-" he fails to find appropriate words because he really doesn't know why he's like this. He knows it's a problem, he knows he's sick- it's obvious, that little sane part of him is aware of the pure wrongness of his actions up until now.

"I know." You say, nodding, before you step aside to let him inside.

"I can't." Jungkook denies. "I can't- I shouldn't, I'm not- don't let me in, don't ever let me in-" he worries, unsure what's wrong with him now. Is this what realization feels like?

If that's the case, he wants to go back to insanity, because this is torturous.

"Its fine." You reassure. "You're.. I'd really hate to see you leave right now." You deny, offering compassion. "You're not well right now." You say, and he agrees.

But he's never been well ever since he met you almost a year ago.

He'll never be well.

"You're too.. you shouldn't. I might hurt you." He explains in a hurry.

"You won't." You deny. You're not sure why you're so convinced about it- maybe because he's had the chance to hurt you so many times and didn't. Or maybe because you're so lonely that you'll take this love no matter how tainted it is.

"Please come inside." You ask once more.

And slowly, with great hesitance, does he enter your home, painfully wringing his hands as if to keep himself occupied.

"When my mom had a brain stroke, years ago, she changed a lot." You explain, walking in to fill up two glasses of water before you set them on the coffee table in the living room area, sitting down on the couch right after- inviting him.

He takes the invitation. His eyes sting with unshed tears.

"She suddenly hated me. Hated almost everyone." You remember. "The doctors said that it can happen. That if we.. injure just a tiny little specific part of our brains, our whole personality changes." You retell, and Jungkook listens, unsure where to look now.

He's been here before, but he's never seen the apartment with the lights on.

"But we still got along until she passed." You nod. "She went to therapy, and reconnected with me and her old friends." You say.

"I'm.. I think I know what you're suggesting-" he says, before he puts his face in his hands. "But I don't want to." He denies.

"Why not?" You worry with a soft tone. "Jungkook, you're not a bad person. You just need help." You offer.

"But what if my love for you is just mental illness?!" He yells out, panicked, eyes now leaking tears. "I don't want them to kill that. I want to stay- I want to stay sick if it means that I still love you.." he weeps, looking at you with desperation.

"Then we'll rebuild it." You shrug easily. "I'll make you love me again." You say, and Jungkook breaks.

"C-can I touch you?" He whimpers from the other side of the couch. "Just a bit?" He wonders, and you nod, opening your arms.

Welcoming him, because he's not a threat or a danger or a monster.

He's just a little sick.