#and he couldn't stand one more atrocity

[k-she-rambles]

How do words

Just...using sensory details to move back and forth in time to do flashbacks without breaking the flow of your novel. That's a poet's trick and I am sooo jealous

this novel is so good

[certaimromance]

ꫂ ၴႅၴ Tall Child.

Aaron Hotchner x BAU!reader (platonic)

Summary: No matter how hard you try to impress him, Agent Hotchner never seems to be satisfied with your work. And it all comes crashing down when you decide to confront him.

Words: 2,7k.

Warnings & Tags: mentions of crime. reader was injured (nothing serious). angst WITHOUT happy ending. hotch being a father figure. soo much angst (yes, again). father and rebellious daughter type discussion. temporarily located in the first season. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: He is so ❤️‍🔥daddy❤️‍🔥 but also 💔dad💔 for me, okay?

This was painful to write, so I loved it (I literally wrote it with I Bet On Losing Dogs by Mitski in the background).

♡ Enjoy! ♡

Anyone who knows you knows that your lifelong dream was to help make the world a better place.

And from your day one at the BAU, you felt like your wildest dreams had come true. You were saving lives, reassuring victims, and helping to bring to justice those who tormented them so they could never do it to anyone else again. You were making a real difference in the world, even if you weren't the caped superhero you wanted to be as a kid.

But, as they say, nothing's perfect. And your job had more contradictions for your mental and physical health than there were fingers on your hands to count. The long and unstable schedule, the few hours of sleep, nightmares about the atrocities you saw, no social life outside the team...and of course, the constant disappointment you felt from Aaron Hotchner, your boss.

From day one, you had worked tirelessly to prove yourself. You craved the approval of your superiors, the respect of your colleagues. The job was demanding, yes, but you wanted to show that you could not only handle it but thrive under the pressure. And you had earned the trust and admiration of everyone around you, except for him.

Agent Hotchner was an enigma to you. There was something about him that both intrigued and intimidated you. He was always so calm, without showing much emotion, without so much as a smile for you. He was a wall you couldn't break through no matter how hard you tried. You had tried so hard to impress him, to make sure he saw your dedication, your work ethic, but you always seemed to fall short. His approval, or lack thereof, hurt more than anything else. You had gotten used to it by now, but it didn't make it any easier.

And now, here you were, in his office, watching him scrutinize your medical diagnosis. He had just glanced at the report from the doctor that had followed you back from the Utah case. Your shoulder, a minor injury, but one that could’ve been avoided if you hadn’t thrown yourself headfirst into the danger in the way you did.

Finally, after several moments of awkward silence, you dared to speak. “What do you think? I am practically at my best.”

Deep down, you knew you were lying through your teeth and that you were not well with an injured shoulder, a concussion, and several bruises, but you refused to say so out loud. You were a brave girl, and he should know.

Hotch looked up from the report in his hand and stared at you. It was the kind of look that made your hair stand on end and gave you a feeling that something was wrong.

“No, you're not.” He sighs and closes the folder before walking over to the desk you were sitting behind. He leans against it as he looks at you, arms folded across his chest. “You disobeyed a direct order during the case. You abandoned your partner.”

“I didn’t abandon Reid,” you replied, your voice sounding more defensive than you intended. You straightened in your chair, wincing slightly as your shoulder protested the movement. “I simply suggested he wait behind me. And it worked, didn’t it? He saved the victim, and I stopped the unsub.”

Teamwork, as you liked to call it.

“It paid off this time,” he said, his voice low but firm. “But that doesn’t excuse disregarding protocol. You put yourself and your partner in unnecessary danger. That’s not the kind of decision-making we can afford here.”

Oh no, here comes the usual chatter you didn't want to hear this time. Normally, you would be quiet, listening and nodding at his every word, but this time there was something different. You just longed for congratulations. Was it really so difficult for him to tell you once that you did something right?

You stiffened in your chair, the ache in your shoulder suddenly more pronounced. “With all due respect, I evaluated the situation and made a hard decision. I’m not some rookie who doesn’t know how to handle themselves in the field.”

Even as the words came out, you felt very nervous. You didn't know if it was the drugs they gave you in the hospital to fight the pain or if it was just your shyness leaving your body completely for no reason.

“I’m not questioning your skills,” he replied sharply. “But you’re not operating at one hundred percent, and that affects your judgment. You’ve been pushing yourself too hard for months—longer, maybe. And now you’re injured. You need time to recover and think about this.”

God, no.

“I don’t need time; I need to work,” you shot back, frustration lacing your tone. This job was your lifeline, your purpose. Without it, who were you?

“You know we work as a team. A unit. And when one part of the unit breaks down, there are consequences.” His voice wasn’t just firm; it was unyielding, like a warning. The way he said it almost felt like he was speaking to a child—a reprimand you didn’t want but knew you had earned. “No one is above the team, not even you.”

You didn't know if it was the way he said it or the words he used, but it was like the straw that broke the camel's back, and you were tired of putting up with the situation. This was the first time you had made a decision on your own, the first time you had not discussed your ideas with the team only to have them ignored and then spoken louder by someone else. Finally, you had acted, and even that was wrong.

You were tired, fucking tired of being ignored and judged much more harshly than the rest.

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, barely audible but heavy with frustration. The ache in your shoulder seemed to flare as if your body was responding to the tension in the room. “And what consequences are you thinking of, sir?” you asked, your voice dripping with sarcasm. There was no hiding the venom now. “What’s worse than not being valued even when I do my job?”

His gaze turned hard as if your tone had cut him deeper than any physical injury could. He didn’t take kindly to disrespect, especially from someone who had otherwise followed his orders without question. You saw the shift in him, the quiet fury simmering beneath his usually controlled exterior. If you were anyone else, the conversation would have already escalated. But you weren’t anyone else. You were someone he knew far too well.

“Don’t use that tone with me,” he bit back, his voice low and steady but carrying a weight that made your stomach twist. There was no mistake now—this wasn’t just about the case. This was more personal. “You are suspended. Your gun and badge on the table. Now.”

Oh, oh, oh.

The words hung in the air between you like a guillotine, sudden and final. The room seemed to close in on you, the breath in your chest catching in surprise. You didn’t know if it was the shock or the disbelief, but your mind struggled to grasp the magnitude of his command. Suspended? Your world was spinning.

You opened your mouth to speak, to argue, but the words caught in your throat, leaving you with nothing but a hollow sound of confusion. “What? Why?”

“Agent, you disobeyed a direct order and endangered yourself and your partner,” he said firmly. “I don’t take your actions lightly. Suspension is not a punishment—it’s a consequence. You need time to heal, both physically and mentally.”

The idea of being sidelined was incomprehensible. The thought of doing nothing—being stuck in your apartment, forced to be still—felt suffocating. No. You couldn’t accept it.

“This is ridiculous. I did my job! I stopped the unsub! Reid saved the victim because I made the right choice!”

You saved a life, even if it meant risking a little of your own. You did save it.

“And what happens next time?” Hotch shot back, his voice rising slightly. “What happens if your judgment falters again because you’re running on empty? What if next time, it’s Reid who doesn’t come back?”

Then, silence.

The thought of Spencer getting hurt turned your stomach and made you question your actions. If anything happened to him, you would never forgive yourself…His life did matter, a lot.

“Gun. Badge. Now.” Your boss talks again. He gestured toward the desk.

Your fingers trembled, betraying you as you reached for the gun on your hip. The cool metal felt foreign in your hands, like something that had never truly belonged to you. Your mind screamed for you to stop, to stand your ground, to fight this. But your body, exhausted and broken, refused to cooperate.

You opened your mouth to speak, but your voice cracked before you could get the words out. “I…I didn’t mean…I just…”

Finally, with a shaky breath, you placed your gun on the desk. The thud it made as it landed felt like the sound of everything you had worked for being shattered in front of you. You could feel the sting of unshed tears burning in your eyes, but you wouldn’t let them fall. Not here. Not in front of him.

It didn’t matter what you said. It never seemed to matter, not with him. You had tried so hard to be the one who did everything right, to be the one he could rely on, and yet all you had earned was this—this cold, final judgment. He wasn’t just your boss in that moment; he was the embodiment of everything you had tried to prove yourself against. A reminder that, no matter what you did, it still wasn’t enough.

The words spilled from your mouth before you could stop them, the bitter taste of them already familiar. “You think I’m weak, don’t you?” The tone you had intended to be defiant came out more like a desperate plea. “You think I can’t handle this, that I’m just some liability?”

He didn’t flinch at your outburst. His gaze softened, but just barely. “No,” he said, his voice surprisingly gentle but firm. “I think you’re pushing yourself too hard. You’re not weak. But you’re hurting, and I can see it. You need time to recover.”

The words hit you like a slap, unexpected and unwelcome. You shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips as you tried to fight back the burning in your chest. You refused to let the tears well up, to let them gather where he could see them. Not here. Not now. Please, not now.

“I don’t need time,” you said, your voice sharp, biting. But underneath the defiance was something raw and desperate, a quiet plea that you couldn’t fully suppress. “I need to be here. I need to do my job. I need to save lives.”

The last part came out as a whisper, as though saying it too loudly would shatter the fragile conviction you had left. You felt like you were slipping, like the ground beneath you was crumbling, and all you could do was cling to this one thing—the job. The only thing that made you feel like you mattered.

“The only life you need to save now is yours,” he said, his voice quieter but still heavy with authority.

You froze, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a crushing tide. Your stomach churned, and you fought to keep your composure, to keep from lashing out, even though every part of you wanted to scream. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t.

A bitter, trembling laugh bubbled up from your throat, unbidden and full of venom. “If it had been Reid or Morgan, you wouldn’t be doing this,” you snapped, the accusation like a raw wound exposed to the open air.

For the first time, something flickered in his eyes—anger, hurt, or something you couldn’t quite place. His jaw tightened, his posture stiffening, and when he spoke, his voice was sharper than before, each word deliberate and cutting.

“No,” he said, the firmness in his tone slicing through the room like a blade. “Because they would never have done this.”

The silence that followed was deafening. It slammed into you like a tidal wave, drowning out every other sound. His words rang in your ears, echoing in the hollow space left behind by your crumbling defenses.

They would never have done this.

Your chest tightened, a deep ache settling in your ribs, and for a moment, you felt like you couldn’t breathe. The accusation hung in the air, heavy and unforgiving. He wasn’t just saying you’d made a mistake—he was saying you were the mistake. That you weren’t good enough. That you never would be.

“Is this because I’m a woman?” you asked, the words coming out sharper than you intended. There was a bitter edge to them, a question that had been gnawing at you for far too long. “Because Elle is too, and even she has more, or is it because of my age? Reid is younger, and you never doubt him.”

“It’s not about any of that,” he said finally, his voice low and tight. But it wasn’t reassuring. It only sounded like an evasion, like he was brushing your concerns aside, and it made your chest ache all over again. “It’s not about your gender or your age.”

“It’s about me,” you said, the words like glass shards scraping at your insides. “It’s about how you don’t trust me.”

For the first time, you saw a flicker of something in his eyes—something almost like guilt, but it was fleeting, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. He opened his mouth, but the words he spoke next were measured, controlled. Too controlled.

“No,” he said, his voice so steady it almost hurt. “That’s not it.”

You stared at him, heart racing, hands trembling, as the truth wrapped around you tighter than you ever thought possible. His words weren’t just dismissing your feelings—they were rejecting everything you had ever believed about your worth, about why you were here, in this moment, fighting so desperately for something you couldn’t even name.

But this time, it was different. You weren’t going to back down. Not anymore.

“Then what is it?” You whispered, voice breaking, tears finally threatening to spill. “What is it, Hotch? What is it about me that isn’t enough?”

“It’s not about you,” he said, but his voice lacked the certainty it usually held. “It’s not about trusting you…It’s about protecting you.” His gaze softened just enough for you to notice, but it only made the pain worse. “I can’t lose…I can’t let you lose yourself.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You were trembling, your pulse racing in your ears, but now there was only a terrible stillness. You swallowed, trying to push down the bitterness that rose up in your throat.

“You don’t get to make decisions for me,” you snapped, barely holding back the frustration that bubbled to the surface. “You don’t get to decide what’s best for me. You don’t get to act like you’re my father, making me follow some imaginary line, keeping me under your control. If you want to raise someone, you already have a baby at home.”

The moment the words left your lips, you saw it—just the faintest flicker of hurt in his eyes. The barest flinch. But it was enough to make you feel the weight of your accusation like a stone, sinking into your chest. The silence that followed was thick with it, suffocating, and you could feel the air growing heavier between you.

“I’m not your dad,” he said, the words low, the icy calm of his voice unmistakable. There was no anger in it, just a hollow, painful truth. But the sting of it was sharp enough to leave a mark.

You blinked, the sharpness of his response cutting through you like a blade. You wanted to fight back, to lash out with everything you had, but something stopped you. Instead, your voice came out quieter, almost hollow as you whispered, “I know…Do you know that?”

And then, just like that, you turned away, your breath ragged in your chest. You didn’t wait for his answer, didn’t wait for anything. You couldn’t stand the ache that had taken root in your chest, the fear that had begun to take shape in the corners of your mind.

And the door slammed behind you.

[bitter-me]

Golden Hour

Jing Yuan | M. Reader

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Reincarnation AU

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There's a particular painting inside the Luofu Museum. It's a painting of the former General, they say that the General never smiles and always has a blank expression. That painting is the most precious and one of a kind in the whole world...

Why?

Because it's the only time...

Where the General finally smiles...

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"Huh... "Wise and Brave; Jing Yuan." Hey, wouldn't it be funny if he's actually you from the past?"

"Nonsense, we just have the same name."

[Name] turn his head towards the white haired man with a raised eyebrow. "Yeah.. Sure.. But you do have the same smile as him." He said as he look back at the painting in front of them.

The General in the painting looks almost identical to the man standing beside him  down to the same smile. Then again, [Name] couldn't imagine Jing Yuan being all stoic like, a smile fits him better. "You know... They say that the General had fallen in love with the Strategist in the Xianzhou, some even say that the Strategist was the reason why he started smiling."

"Really?"

"It's just a myth though, don't know if it's true."

Jing Yuan chuckles at that statement, after all myths are just myths, there's no telling if it's real or not. It's probably fake, people usually make up things just to satisfy their own fantasies, but something in him tells him otherwise.

That maybe, just maybe... It's the truth.

.

.

.

.

.

"ARE YOU INSANE?!"

"It's the most optimal solution, General."

"BY SACRIFICING MY MEN!?"

"Losing a handful of soldiers are better than losing civilians, plus—isn't it their duty to give their live for the people and die in battle?"

"HOW CAN YOU SAY THAT WITH SUCH A CALM VOICE?!" The General huffs as he glared daggers at the man in front of him, the man who proposed the very strategy that practically sacrifices his men "for the greater good." Jing Yuan always wonder how this man is able to be the Strategist of the Xianzhou...

A man who stood to benefit from betraying others... It's not proven or anything and yet...

Jing Yuan is certain that he'd turn against the Reignbow Arbiter in a heartbeat...

There's isn't a sane bone in his body.

The other man sigh at Jing Yuan's response as he crosses his arms and spoke up with his usual calm yet firm voice. "And here I thought you'd be more reasonable, given that you're the General."

"The leader of an organization is at the pinnacle of it and, at the same time, he is its slave. The leader must be more than willing to commit any atrocity in order to ensure the organisation's survival."

He hates it.... He hates this man so much...

How could he talk about that so casually? As if these men... Were just mere pawns to him... After all sacrificing a few pawns means relatively little if it means your King's safety.

'He's not thinking about the people.. He's thinking about the Xianzhou Loufu's survival instead...'

"They were right about you... You're a wolf in sheep's clothing..." He started as he continues to glare daggers at the man. The man only gave him an unamused look as he asked in a calm voice. "And why would you think that?" Jing Yuan scoffed at the question as he crosses his arms. "Talking to you is impossible."

"But in all honesty, give my strategy some thought, General."

"There's nothing left to think regarding that. I want you to change it this instant."

The man sigh at the order he was given, he uncrossed his arms and took back the papers from the General's desk. "As you wish."

And with that... The man left his office.

Jing Yuan sigh as he put a hand on his forehead and look down at his wooden desk. "I can't believe that man... [Name] was it..?" He mumbled under his breath.

'It's as if a life meant relatively little to him.'

.

.

.

.

.

"I never knew you could be a skilled doctor.."

"I was the Head Physician before becoming your strategist, General."

"..."

The two fall silent as [Name] bandaged the general's wounds. It seems even the "Mighty General of the Loufu" can get hurt. How fascinating. Once he's done, [Name] lets out a sigh and puts back the supplies he had used. "I suggest you shouldn't go to any missions at the moment. Let your wounds heal."

Jing Yuan remains silent as he inspects his carefully treated wounds. The bandages aren't too tight, and his body isn't as sore anymore. [Name] might be a sociopath with the types of strategies he comes up with. But he's a wonderful physician. Maybe he should stay as one.

"Can't have you start bleeding out in the middle of a fight after all. Unless you wanted me to operate on you then go ahead."

Jing Yuan can't help but sigh at those words. Of course the doctor has to open his mouth and end it on that note... even if he's good, [Name]'s still a sociopath though..

"...Understood."

"Good."

.

.

.

.

.

The crowd was silent as they watched the starskiff flies to through the sky. Reaching greater heights. "Another sent of.." The doctor mumbled under his breath.

"Sad, isn't it?"

"Not really."

Oh you sociopath! Jing Yuan snapped his head towards him. He was about to argue until he saw a soft smile on the doctor's face. A soft. Melancholy. Smile.

"It's not sad. It's poetic." [Name] says softly as he watches the starskiff. "In a way, if you're at a loss, you could look up at the sky and.... remember that they're watching over you.. and there's nothing to be afraid of.." Turning his head towards the general, [Name] gave him a closed eye smile as his hair got caught in the wind. "It's almost romantic, is it not?"

Jing Yuan felt a strange and warm feeling on his chest. Without thinking, he returns the smile with his own. "If you put it that way.. it is kinda poetic.."

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"Well... I heard that the Strategist is far more worse than the General." Jing Yuan spoke up, making [Name] turn his head to look at him with a raised eyebrow. "Really?" He asked as he crosses his arms, waiting for am explanation. "Yup, they say that the Strategist is a sociopath. I've also heard that the General was the reason the Strategist began to have a "heart". " Jing Yuan concluded with a smirk on his face.

[Name] can't help but chuckle at those words. For some reason.. he had a feeling it was true..

[bitchimasnake-sss]

tryin' his best ft. roronoa zoro!

i am once again thinking about zoro as a clueless boyfriend, completely new to the dating scene. no imagine, just imagine with me 😳😳

[modern au; zoro is a martial artist]

dont talk to me, im too busy thinking about the roronoa zoro as a confused husband boyfriend🤭 like can you imagine? the greatest martial artist of all time, the beast, the demon, the lord of the underworld. and yet, when you say, "i'm so tired, babe", he stands in all his 5'11 ft glory and goes blank. blank.

roronoa zoro was the sweetest man alive but holy fucking shit he was such an idiot clueless. for the past few days or so, the man had witnessed first hand how tired you were. your eyes were puffy, face dull and spirit broken. all those meetings at work; the relentless late-night calls, stay-backs and what nots had left you a mere husk of the woman you usually were. and so, he had decided to try his best to make sure his failing actions could comfort you when his words couldn't. and that started the chronicles of roronoa zoro's day of fuck-ups.

💚 zoro can't cook for shit. he knows that, you know that and your neighbour sanji (who is a chef by profession) knows that too. and yet one of these mornings, while the dew still clung helplessly onto the green leaves, he had gotten up and slipped into the kitchen. his plan was to surprise you with some breakfast. nothing too extravagant, maybe some easy mix pancakes? but all those plans came burning down when you were awoken with a shrill crash. hair knotted, face puffy, shirt slipping off of your shoulders and the first thing you see in the morning is zoro standing with flour on his chest and on the floor. and there lay an upside down steel bowl on the floor at the edge of his feet. "zoro?" you mumbled sleepily, assessing the damage, "what are you even upto? it's seven on a sunday." "yn- uh, you go back to sleep-i'll deal with this mess." if he was trying to appear nonchalant, he was failing. his eyes were blown out, forehead creased, lips pursed as if he had committed the worst atrocity mankind had witnessed. in a way, he had. he knew it was a sunday. he also knew it was your only day off so you should have been sleeping in instead of picking after his dumbass in the kitchen. "zoro?" you asked again but he refused to say anything more. when you gave him a look of steel, the moss-head carefully avoided your gaze before sheepishly admitting, "sorry. i was trying to figure out how to make you some pancakes." your gaze softened, "were you? that's so sweet of you, zo." you walked towards him, careful as to not step on the mess. your casual touched dusted off the flour from his navy shirt that had he slept in. once you were satisfied with the state of the shirt, you had resorted to an honest smile, "come on, let's clean this up first, yeah?" "but you should sleep-" "babe- with all due respect- if i leave you to clean this, i think you will set the kitchen on fire"

💚 on his next attempt to cheer you up in the afternoon, he planned on giving you a massage. you both had been dating a good few months and he had certainly touched you in more ways than just hand-holding but... this was new. he had never really done this for anyone before and so, what if you hated it or he did it wrong? but the man had put all his wayward thoughts aside. maybe his hands could knead away the stress from your aching muscles where his words failed to comfort you? and so, the bed dipped next to you as he came and sat down. you were lying on your stomach, scrolling on your phone. his fingers lightly skimmed your back and you jolted involuntarily at the intrusive touch. looking back, you muttered, "zoro? baby?" "just um, try to relax okay?" his palm flattened against your back. he applied some force, moving his hands up and down against your tank top, kneading the flesh underneath. you seemed to melt under his earnest touches, allowing your muscles to go slack under him. dropping your phone on the bed, you carefully had tucked your head under your arms and then, you yelped, "zoRO-" "yeah?!" he stopped all movements, panicked at your sudden reaction. "it hurt." you gave him a pained look before sighing, "you put too much force, babe." "did i? sorry" he chewed on the inside of his cheek, "sorry, really. do you want me to try again?" you gave him a kind smile before tucking your head back in under your arms and stuffing your face against the pillow. "it's okay, i am just gonna lay down for a while okay?"

💚 as truly a last resort, he called up nami and told her his problem (all grumbling and shit). after the red-head had laughed for five minutes at the martial artist's inculpabilities, she finally decided to help. she pondered for a second, staring at the screen intensely before saying "i dunno? me and vivi usually get like our favourite take out and just re-watch a comfort movie. it's pretty cozy and an easy way to deal with the general stress of life, you know?" "should i do that?" zoro mumbled, resting his head against the headrest of his car. he sighed, "did she tell you anything else if it's been bothering her? other than work i mean?" "she didn't say it out loud but having you as a boyfriend must be a pain in the ass anyways." "has anyone told you you're a royal bitch?" the words were harsh but his lips were pressed into a easy smile. "hah, yeah they have. but anyways, aren't you her boyfriend?" nami snapped back although she sported a smile of her own, "shouldn't you know what you should be doing to cheer her up? honestly she doesn't deserve an idiot like you." "hey, i've had a rough day okay? lay off of me." zoro bit back. "fine, whatever. just surprise her. i am sure she'd like it."

💚 and so, roronoa zoro's final mission had begun. he had picked up your favourite food from the chinese restaurant that you always ordered from. he had picked up a huge bouquet of flowers. and he had picked up a chocolate cake as desert. on the ride back home, he had even thought about what movie you both would watch. yes. yes. there's no way he could fuck it up now. he was ready to do his best. he opened the door with a wobbling right hand while his left held onto all the things. the cake carton was perched on his fingers, the takeout on another two fingers, the bouquet tucked between his bicep and chest. he wouldn't lie. it was a struggle to get everything in in one trip (especially with his level of patience when it comes to small, annoying things like this.) but it was all for you, so, it had to be worth it. tumbling in, he set everything on the coffee table in front of your tv. and then, he walked into the bedroom where you lay sleeping in the same position he had left you in the afternoon. it had been over three hours and you hadn't stirred even one inch. god, how tired were you? slowly closing the door behind him, he stepped back into the living room.

💚 your eyes were hazy and throat unusually dry when you stepped into the living room. your muscles were somehow even more tired and you were sure your body, mind and soul were incapable of doing anything but curling up and falling asleep again. on instinct, you searched for your boyfriend. "zoro?" you squinted at the man in front of you as he was in the process of setting down food on the table. and looking around, you noticed the huge bouquet perched on the sofa. "hey-" he turned towards you wide-eyed as if you had caught him doing something wrong, "uh- hi? hey? you're up already?" "whatcha doing? what's that?" you mumbled as you walked over to him, still not processing reality. as you stared down at the table, you wondered aloud, "food?" he sighed, defeated, "yeah." your brain fog cleared up and you looked up at his blushing face wide-eyed, "wait! you bought me food?" you turned on your heel to look at the bouquet and picked it up, "and this?" rubbing the back of his neck, he looked away from you, "it was actually meant to be a surprise cause i thought you were sleeping. but-" "zoroo!!" you practically lunged at him. your hands closed in around him as you rested your head against his well-built chest. hearing his quickened heart-beat, you eased even more against his familiar, scorching skin. you buried your face even deeper against him, "thank you!" his fingers danced over your scalp. his husky voiced was accompanied by calculated strumming of his finger over your hair, "i am sorry, it was meant to be a surprise, really." you pulled away from him to look at him in disbelief, "why are you sorry?!" he swallowed thickly, eyes scattering away from yours, "because- i dunno, i suck as a boyfriend?" he winced at his admission but continued nonetheless, "i tried making you breakfast, ruined it. i tried giving you a massage, ruined that too. i tried to set up a surprise date and fucked that shit up too." "zo." your fingers are delicate against his cheek, bringing his eyes back to yours. you gave him a small smile, "you tried. for me. that's what matters." although a smile blossomed on his lips, he washed it away with another sigh, "you're just saying that 'cause you don't wanna admit i'm a fuck-up in the boyfriend category." you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, "i am saying this because i love you. and you make me feel loved." "really?" you laughed, "i mean your massaging skills can use a bit of work but... yeah, other than that you're good. really." "i'm glad me being an idiot is endearing to you." he gave you a grin, "so, wanna eat? i'm kinda hungry." "yesss!!" you mirrored his smile. you paused for a second then wondered aloud, "you know what? i think i'm gonna call in sick tomorrow. we can hang out, just you and me." "oh, really?" he scrunched his nose up as if in deep thought, "then we gotta celebrate. you know there's cake in the fridge." "OMG I LOVE YOU!!" so, yeah, roronoa zoro might be kind of an idiot. but he was your idiot.

i wanna take domestic zoro and trap him in a bottle. i wanna just keep him like that. i really liked how this turned out lol. hope you guys did too <3

[writer-room]

Listen when people say they want Percy to go on a villain arc most times I see it as they want him to go dark, want him to start murdering, maiming, going full Luke, etc. And I support that. If anyone deserves to kill people it's this kid.

However, let us be realistic for a moment, because I quite like the other alternative. Villain arc Percy usually entails "he's finally had enough of the Gods bullshit & will do things his own way". Let us think on this. What would Percy most likely do in this situation? Would it really be murder right off the bat?

I think he'd be the pettiest, annoying little shit there is. And because one can't usually threaten the Gods in a way that truly matters, but they can make them sweat really hard.

This goes beyond ignoring their calls and leaving them on read. He refuses to give food offerings unless it's the nastiest shit known to man. Bribes the cyclops into hucking huge objects up Mount Olympus before they all scurry off. Finds the olive tree Athena gave to Athens, and while he wouldn't have the heart to destroy it, he'd for sure rip off a branch & mail it to her (Annabeth nearly had to put them in witness protection).

Eventually it gets to the point he has Nico on speed-dial and offers him a shit ton of fast food & a 'get out of Percy's quest bullshit free' pass if he could hop into the Underworld and yoink up some annoying spirits or dead monsters to piss off the Gods. When the Gods get pissed at him Percy just silently pulls out some safe-for-demigods phone like "hang on I wanna see how many happy meals I owe Nico for bringing Typhon back up". They know he is not bluffing.

Could the Gods counteract him? Yeah, sure, Hera gave him amnesia and it was like 90% effective for a while. However, he kind of went off the rails, everyone else went off the rails, and then they had even more Roman nonsense to deal with. If anything it both solved but also made even more problems. And a much angrier Percy. So, frankly, they're very confident it could work, but they're a little worried about what the aftermath would be.

Ares suggests just killing him. Poseidon takes offense to this. Artemis scoffs and says even Ares couldn't beat him. Everyone stops for a moment. The question is not asked verbally. But it is seen in the darting eyes and shifting seats.

Can they kill Percy Jackson?

Well, sure, they must be able to. He's a powerful kid, no doubt, with powerful allies, but they are Gods. Of course they can kill him. So that's not the real question, they wouldn't dare really entertain such a thing to ever confirm if it was true, but this is rather the layer of frosting hiding the real atrocity of a cake underneath it.

What will they lose trying to kill Percy Jackson?

What will remain standing in the face of some 18-year-old who lived one of the hardest knocks of life, loves so much it makes them sick, is so completely unaware of his own strength not even they know its full extent, and currently has absolutely zero fucks to give about the end of a reign longer than he will ever understand?

They decide to quietly shut the lid on that whole fiasco and let Percy do whatever he wants.

Unfortunately, they can't exactly ignore everyone else. And everyone else is who Percy cares about the most. So, think of it more like leaving a grenade in a locked box in the attic. Just hope and pray you've moved out before something gets curious and starts rummaging around up there.

[realcube]

WRATH & LUST . t.kei / y.tadashi

synopsis ✧ you hate tsukishima kei. you do everything in your power to make his life miserable but nothing works. now you have no choice but to fuck his best friend

cws/tags ✧ college au , enemies to enemies who screw, cursing, slut-shaming (both ways)

parts ✧ i. ii. iii. iv.

your friends call it 'inexplicable hatred', 'misdirected anger' and 'envy' but they couldn't be more wrong.

your feelings towards tsukishima kei were completely rational in your mind. he carried himself as though he was better than everyone and treated those around him like filth, yet he's still tolerated and his shitty attitude is even deemed charming by some self-loathing girls at your college.

it irritates you to no end how he behaves. too cocksure and too sassy; no dignified man should never act in such a manner, you believe. you could go on about other reasons you dislike him — his style atrocities and his punchable face, to name a couple — but you shan't.

you intended on going about your life, simply hating him from afar as you didn't see the need to stir up petty drama. but he made it impossible for you to do so.

one day he was sat behind you in a maths lecture. the seats are tiered so he is slightly higher up than you are. while making notes, his pen slips out of his hand and tumbles forward, landing somewhere under your desk.

you do the polite thing by making an attempt to search for it, but it is dark under the table you can't seem to find it.

a couple moments pass, and he remarks lowly, "are you just going to stare it?"

white hot rage courses through you at his comment. what ever happened to 'please'? to 'would you mind'? you were about to do him a favour by fetching his pencil and he still has the audacity to be snarky.

fuck that, he can pick up his own damn pen. you leave it alone and try to focus on the lecture.

you make it through the whole thing without him bothering you again, probably using a spare or borrowed pen. once the class has been dismissed, you gather your things and wait for the people in your row to start filtering out so you can leave, that is when you feel a gentle tap on the shoulder.

you turn around and lock eyes with a tan, freckled boy with mousy brown hair, he wears an awkward smile and point to your desk, "excuse me, my friend dropped his pencil and i think it landed under your desk. could you get it, please?"

his voice is meek and demeanour similar to that of a shy puppy, which is why it almost pained you to scoff at him and say, "tell your friend to stop being such a cunt, then maybe."

you rush out of the door, keen to get as far away from those two boys as you can. yet as you leave you hear the blonde's voice mutter in your wake, "what a moron."

after marinating on the situation during the retelling to your friend group, and a group vote, you came to the conclusion that perhaps your response to yamaguchi — you learned his name from one your friends — might have been a bit severe. but in your defence, you were peeved by the comment tsukishima had made prior.

it's as though manners and etiquette are totally lost on him.

ೃ⁀➷

two weeks passed since your last little altercation with tsukishima, and you were proud to say you haven't been involved in any conflict with him since then. mostly making snide remarks in passing or exchanging dirty looks in the hall.

however, that all changed when your professor was late to one of your classes. they expressed in the past that they prefer students to wait outside the lecture theatre when they aren't present, so naturally this caused many people to be clogging the hallways.

there was a long queue of people waiting to enter, you stood far away from the door, while tsukishima and yamaguchi happened to be standing opposite. you couldn't help but notice the outfit tsukishima had on: skinny light brown trousers with a black belt, and a pressed short-sleeve white shirt, that was a bit see-through.

you didn't know much about this guy but from his slightly toned figure, which was made apparent by his choice in clothes, you could tell he does some sort of sport. probably basketball, considering how tall he is, but maybe golf. he acts like a golf player.

lost in thought for too long, your finally yanked out of your own internal monologue by a familiar voice snapping, "what are you staring at?"

you blink, and before you even have time to process what he just accused you of, you blurt out, "has anyone told you that you're dressed like a slut today?"

yamaguchi must slap a hand over his mouth to suppress his burgeoning laughter. tsukishima's eyes narrow at his friend's offensive display, before they snap back to you and he argues, "really? me? i'm dressed appropriately. take a look at what you're wearing."

he motions to your outfit: jorts and a tank top. maybe not the most stylish choice but definitely not as whorish as his attire. "it might be more revealing but still not as slutty as you."

he rolls his eyes like what you said was contradictory, wearing smug smile. he wants you to believe what you said is nonsensical and 'proved his point' but all it does it anger you to no end.

not fond of his facial expressions, you retort, "don't pull stupid faces and play dumb. you're already dumb enough as is, so it isn't a very becoming look on you."

with furrowed brows, he opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off, "and i can see your chest through your shirt. no one wants to see that!"

"you say that while your tits are out, have some self-respect."

"at least i have tits. you're wearing a short sleeve to show off the muscles you don't even have!"

yamaguchi is thoroughly entertained by this squabble, which is why it pains him to chime in, "uh, tsukki. the lecturer is here, let's go."

as much as he wanted to get the last word in, tsukishima glances between tadashi and the empty halls before he decides his education is actually kinda important and begins to make his way inside the theatre. it was good timing because he didn't have a witty response anyway.

your heart is beating rapidly, though you're unsure why. you gaze at the empty walls for a minute to collect yourself before heading into class as well. you totally won that fight, is what you tell yourself.

ೃ⁀➷

ever since the disagreement you had with tsukishima in hallways of the maths building, what was once comments and glares has escalated to threats and insults being made boldly in each other's face.

despite the fact you ate him up the first time, you've been on a losing streak since then. you feel as though nothing you say gets under his skin anymore.

you've tried belittling his face, his smarts, his personality, his mother but nothing seems to work. you even tried to ridicule his glasses but that didn't work either!

"hey, four eyes!"

"hey, five guys."

what the fuck? you weren't sure if that was a dig at your diet, your weight or your quantity of sexual partners but regardless, you could not let that slide.

verbal abuse wasn't working so naturally the next option was physical. you attempted to trip him in the halls but his legs were so long he stepped over you without even noticing. you attempted to pour milk over him but tadashi noticed and pulled him out of the way. you considered pushing his knees while he was standing in front of you but you realised that if he fell backwards his weight would crush you and you'd probably die.

all of that was so elementary and childish though; high school bullying at best. you need college level bullying. you thought about planting weed in his bag and calling the campus police on him but your friends said that was 'too far'. you thought about leaking his nudes but firstly you don't have them and secondly, he's already walking around college half naked anyway so he likely wouldn't be phased by it.

the hard thing about trying to torture a boy like tsukishima is you don't know enough about him to know what will truly drive him insane. you know he cares about his grades but sabotaging his test scores is beyond your means. he doesn't have any dignity so you can't humiliate him. even if you tried, his little gremlin of a best friend would probably catch onto you anyway.

that green haired boy was just as bad as his handler. always gawking at you to make sure you don't try anything; literally glued to tsukishima's ass at all times — it's so gross. and it gave you the most disgustingly perfect idea.

[deathbxnny]

HI LOVEE!!!

ok, this is a once in a lifetime occasion because I am obsessed with WuWa.

May I request an angst to fluff fic with Husband! Jiyan?

So, fem reader as always! As we all know the busy General spends most of his time at the front lines, but he always makes sure to send his sweet wife some gifts back! But she can't help but feel a bit neglected by him, missing him too much and some people's loud mouths talking bad about their relationship did not help either, so what happens when Jiyan returns home to surprise his wife but finds her crying silently instead? I'll leave that to you!!

I just love him sm, he's my lovely main! what's your team pookie? I'll share mine! Jiyan (main DPS) Encore (sub DPS) and Verina (Healer), sometimes I switch Encore with Rover (I chose the female one, which one did you choose?)

anyways, love you, keep yourself hydrated and rest! sweet flowers for my sweet bxnny → 💐🌻🌺

I saw angst and felt the voices (angst demons) attempt to take over lmao.

But my current team is usually made out of Calcharo, Verina, and Yinlin (I sometimes change out either Calcharo or Yinlin with my boy Jiyan tho, depending on what I'm fighting-). I also chose the female Rover, btw! She's just so cute!^^

So with that all said, thank you for the request, and I hope you'll love this too, dear moot!!<33

Content: Female/afab reader, husband Jiyan, some angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of paranoia, death (not of reader or Jiyan), mentions of war, sfw

Reader is afab!

((Not proofread))

When he's gone for too long. (Husband!Jiyan x Fem!Reader)

Your excitement dies when you open the front door in the hope of seeing your husband, only to be faced with a soldier instead. He stands there calmly, face expressionless like all the others before him, as he holds out an intricate package to you. If you didn't know any better, you would've knocked it out of his hands.

"A package for you, my lady. From the general." The man hummed, waiting patiently for you to take it. He didn't shy away from the anger in your eyes, the pain and pure annoyance, that was then stilled with a deep breath. They were used to it by now.

"Thank you." You said, the package feeling heavy in your hands when you shut the door behind you again wordlessly. Not seeing the way the soldier opened his mouth once more to say something else.

Something that would've quelled the anger in your heart.

You threw the gift on a pile next to the door, dust slightly filling the air when it hit the many others that came before it. It wasn't that you weren't grateful or happy. But you also just wanted your husband to be here instead. You wanted him to hand you these gifts. Him to be the one that appears at your door after being gone for so long.

It angered you that he wasn't here, even if you knew why.

Being a general was difficult and draining. It forced him to stay out on the frontlines for weeks and even months on end with minimal communication, if any at all. His solution was, therefore, to simply send his wife lavish gifts in hopes of making her feel less lonely, but he knew better than to believe that it ultimately worked in the long run.

Your anger made you feel selfish, and the guilt made you feel worse. You were stuck in an inescapable cycle that was impossible to break out of. Leaving the home for a break was impossible as well. No matter where you went, the pity filled looks and taunting whispers seemed to haunt you. It made you barely step out of the house. You couldn't do it, not without him.

It was a miserable existence, and yet you never voiced your woes to Jiyan either. You didn't want to burden him with such troubles when he had worse things to worry about. He had been through atrocities he could never even speak of, so surely you could survive the couple weeks without him, right? He was keeping you all safe, his sacrifices were important. Even if it was at the cost of your sanity.

But now that you sat here in the darkness of your living room all alone, you realise that you perhaps never accepted the neglect as much as you wanted to. You felt horrible, the guilt eating you alive whilst you shed endless tears and hid your face in your hands, body shaking and trembling with every sob. It was unfair. It wasn't right. You had to wipe away the agony and be strong for him. You shouldn't act like this.

What would the people think if they saw the generals wife crying over him performing his duties? They'd mock you even more, shake their heads in disappointment, give you lethal looks that burned you from the inside out. The embarrassment, the shame... you internalized it all until this very moment. You had finally burst at the seams, and just as you thought that you'd have to suffer through this alone as usual, a gentle, calloused hand cupped yours softly.

"My love?" His voice startled you, a gasp leaving your lips as you attempted to pull away and turn your head in panic. You didn't hear him approach you. Heart sinking in your chest, you realised that he was sitting right next to you, his other hand resting on your back to keep you in place against him. You couldn't breathe, as you panted heavily.

"What happened to you? Did something happen in my absence? I sent a soldier to send you a message about my return, but..." His eyes swayed to the pile gifts near the doorway, his heart clenching when he began piecing together what may have caused your plight. Despite you thinking otherwise, his observant eyes caught onto more than he let on. He wasn't blind or deaf to what the general public seemed to think of you, nor was he that unaware of your pain and neglect. He himself felt pain for his actions, even if he had no true choice in them. It's a sacrifice that had to be made as long as there was a threat to the city and most importantly your life out there.

But now, as he sat there, your face pushed to his chest as you cried, and his heart cracked under the pressure of your tears, he realised that he didn't need to sacrifice your well-being this much as well. You didn't deserve it.

"Please... don't leave me like this again." Your words were quiet, so quiet that he nearly didn't catch them, but his mind and soul were only focused on you. His gaze softened as his hand ran through your hair before he pressed his head against yours in solidarity. He didn't want it to get this far. He didn't want to make you cry until even air couldn't enter your lungs.

Perhaps he had overworked himself far too hard. Perhaps he had been gone for longer than he needed to... but that will stop now.

"My apologies, my love. It won't happen again. I will try staying for longer now..." He trailed off, as he kissed your forehead and wiped away your tears. He knew he had alot to make up for, but he wasn't the type to back down from such an important mission.

And the smallest relieved smile on your tired face made it worth it.

Alrighttt... I hope this was okay! I admittedly wrote this half asleep, so I'm praying it's not terrible lmao... Anyway, thank you again for the great request, moot!!<33

[magicalgoblinz]

One Thing

Summary: You did it. Cazador's dead and now... Astarion is finding himself working through some big emotions. Pairing: Astarion x gn!reader Word Count: 3.5 k Warnings: General angst, eluding to physical, emotional, and sexual abuse. Possibly ooc Astarion. Quickly edited. Song Recommendation: Never Let Me Go + Florence and the Machine Author's Note: First thing I've ever written for Astarion but I get the feeling it won't be the last. I really genuinely just wanted to get this idea out of my brain even if it's a bit strange and not all that amazing haha.

It had been a long day. Perhaps one of the longest you and your party had endured yet, or... at least it felt that way. It wasn't hard on your body like the goblin fight had been, nor had it been arcanely exhaustive like chasing that damned hag was. No, standing in the halls of Cazador's palace brought a different type of exhaustion. Passing through the spaces that your lover had once stalked attempting to go unseen by his master, seeing the sights of the spaces he was kept, smelling the decay, the putridness that no doubt lingered in the meals he was forced to partake in.

Every sight, smell, and sound you had come across weighed heavily on you. Even now as you sat in the plush comfort that was Elfsong Inn, freshly washed, the scents lingered in your nose and left a bitter taste in your mouth.

You pushed around the hastily prepared hash in your bowl, frown bared for everyone to see. Your thoughts were only for him. Every second of silence you could hear his sobs in that moment. The cries pulled from his very core, the kind of cries you could imagine he had dreamed of releasing for so long through every moment of torture he was subjected to. There was no way to imagine all of the atrocities he had suffered, yet somehow being left with nothing made every idea that flitted past your mind's eye so much worse.

You for so long had wished to weep for him. Weep for the time he had lost. Weep for the pain he must have felt in having to stand on the outside wondering if his family and friends ever thought of him again after he passed on. Weep for the crushed hopes for the future he had at one time had.

But what good would your tears do him now?

Cazador was dead.

And more importantly... Astarion was free.

So why did it all still feel so... excruciatingly heavy?

"Ts'ka --- eat and do not play. You need your strength for tomorrow." Lae'zel pushed from her lounging position on the floor.

"Have some heart, Lae'zel. It’s been a very difficult day." Wyll was quick to defend upon seeing the way your expression soured at the thought of eating. "Y/n, had to assist our resident vampire through some very hard things today. Including walking through where he had been kept prisoner. Imagine having to do the same with your lover." He said with a gesture towards Lae'zel.

"If I had a lover they would be able to care for themselves; it would be the first thing I looked for in a mate. A prowess to stay alive in battle like my own is the only thing that is truly attractive." Lae'zel said with a lifted chin.

Wyll's lips parted as if to say something more but began to shake his head, there was no fighting with La'zel. She didn't dig her heels in when it came to opinions, no her entire feet were buried. "Speaking of Astarion, where is he?" He eventually asked, changing the focus of the conversation.

"I believe he went for a bath." Shadowheart interjected, "He said something about not being able to stand having his beauty mired... you know how he is." She said, not lifting her eyes from her bowl with a small wave of her spoon that was held in delicate fingers.

Her saying this seemed to pull your eyes towards the door of the wash room. It had been a while since he left now that you thought about it. Your brows lowered a bit in thought; Astarion deserved his space right now, but you still couldn't help but want to hold his hand and not let it go after everything that had happened today. Maybe he wouldn't want that though, not with what you did today.

That look in his eyes...

Now that he had the time to actually think about what you did, what you talked him into doing; would he feel betrayed?

You had promised him you'd help him get that power he so desired, but when that chance came you changed your mind.

The idea of Astarion no longer trusting you hurt more than imagining him ending whatever it was the two of you had. The worries made your expression sullen even more, looking down at your bowl with a deeper pit growing in your stomach. Did you really want to find out?

Out of the blue, there is a light nudge to your arm. The little touch is enough to pull you back up from your descent into grieving something you hadn't even lost yet. With a glance to your right you find Karlach with a bottle outstretched to you. "I think we could all use a little drink tonight... but especially Astarion." She said warmly, "Perhaps you should see if he wants some?" She continued with a little jerk of her head towards the closed doors. Her tone made it all to clear that your inner turmoil was written out on your face for everyone to see.

A sigh escaped your throat as you debated on whether or not that was a good idea but the way Karlach began to lazily swing the bottle back and forth with her hand triggered something in your mind that made you reach out and take it in one smooth movement.

It couldn't hurt to check in on him?

Could it?

Astarion's head was rested back, hanging over the edge of the bath he sat in. The water had lost the majority of its warmth, and his hand had pruned but he made no movements to get out. Eyes transfixed on the dancing flames in the fireplace at the side of the room. Every twist of orange and lift of a spark made his mind lurch through another memory; they all seemed to be coming back to him now, one by one. His mind shuddered from the thought of a blade pressed into his skin, carving, etching, his skin becoming the canvas for a dastardly design that he wouldn't understand for years.

Funnily, the recollection of pain wasn't what bothered him. It was having to recall his own voice struggling not to escape his lips throughout the entire gut-wrenching experience that made his hand ball into a fist.

With a pop and crackle of the wood Astarion's memories would carry on to something else.

His ears ringing, echoing the silence of that tomb. Gods above that tomb. That year spent in silence. Those months spent starving. The way his hands bled from trying ever so desperately to escape. Over what...? A boy that he couldn't bear to steal the life away from.

Astarion took in a sharp breath as he tried to shake away the thought, as he sat up.

But still the memories continued to bleed through. The faces of all those people he had brought to Cazador, he could see them in his mind's eye. The memories of bedding some of them, cycling through his head in a complete sequence even though they were spread across centuries. A flash of a young human woman who excitedly spun in a brand new red dress that she was ever so excited to show off. The pale blue of a nervous elf man's eyes as they darted around the room the second Astarion approached. Seeing the tattoos and the scars spread across the back of a dwarven sailor who stretched after returning to the mainland after a long voyage. The shine of a coy tiefling woman's smile as she attempted to steal his coin purse from his pocket. So many lives, so many people. At what point did he begin to stop caring? Who was it that he pulled by the wrist back to a dreary room that made him start drifting away any time he had to become intimate? Or was it any of them at all?

His features twisted into an expression of disgust the second his mind started going down that path. There was no amount of Cazador being dead that made those memories better. In a snap his balled up hands lifted to rub his eyes in annoyance. If only Astarion could wash out his eyes and his mind and start anew. If only.

And to think... he had wanted this for so long.

He had dreamt about the day he'd be able to have the cathartic feeling of stabbing Cazador, again, and again, and again. And now that it had come and gone... he wished he could have kept going forever. Fuck, he wished he had. After everything Cazador had done to him, the bastard deserved so much worse than to bleed out on that cold floor. He deserved to suffer just as much as Astarion had, if not more.

Astarion couldn't help but wish that he had ignored everyone and continued the ritual as a perfect slap in the face to Cazador. Continued that ritual, so for the first time in all these years... he'd be safe. Entirely safe. And the loss of that made his chest ache, he was so close to crying all over again.

But then...

Tap, tap, tap

"Astarion," Your voice started from just beyond the doors. "I'm sorry to bother you. I just um... wanted to check in. Karlach thought you might need a drink."

There was you.

Astarion's head lifted from his hands as he took in a deep breath. He tried to shove all those emotions back down again, to put the cork back in the bottle before they could really bleed out into him properly. His gaze lingering on the door, lips unmoving.

"Didn't you hear him? If you complete the ritual, you'll be consumed, Astarion." You had said with a look of sincere terror in your eyes. The look wasn't foreign to him... but perhaps different? People had been scared of him before, oh people had been terrified once they realized what he was. But just how many people had been scared for him? That... he didn't know.

He couldn't remember his exact words in reply now, the tension and adrenaline leaving them in a silent part of his mind but what he did recall was the way you looked at him. It stung. It stung so much more than the little voice in the back of his mind screaming that you were breaking your promise.

You promised to help him ascend. You swore you would help him ascend. You said---

Gods that look. Astarion couldn’t shake it.

The way your eyes seemed to plead with him before you had even opened your mouth. Begging him to reconsider. "I know you think this will set you free, but it won't." Your voice was so gentle, but still so desperate. "This power will trap you, just like it trapped Cazador. Is that really what you want?"

You were right, as much as he hated it. You were always right.

But more than that. As he thought about it now, he recognized something that he hadn't in that moment...

Just outside the door you stood listening, hoping to hear something, anything. Your thumb fumbled with the cork of the bottle nervously. This was a bad idea wasn't it? He needed more time. This was too soon to try and come see him. Gods... what if he really did hate you for what you did. You started to shake your head, "...I'm going to take that as a no. I'll um..." you started lightly, trying not to have your worry show through in your words. "I'm sorry again for interrupting. I'll see you when you're finished, my darling."

Once more. You wanted to call him that one more time before he had a chance to break things off.

"Come in."

Your eyes couldn't help but widen ever so slightly, hand moving to the handle before cautiously pushing the door open and poking your head in. From this angle you could see Astarion's side profile, the good majority of the grime and blood from the day having been washed away, though his clothes that sat off to the side on a bench, were stained a deep red that would take ages to remove, if it ever came out at all. His eyes soon looked your way tiredly. As an instinct you quickly held up the bottle you had brought him, no words coming to follow it, they all seemed to have gone into hiding the second his eyes landed on you.

"Are you planning on bringing the bottle here my sweet, or to just... swing it around like an idiot?" He asked in a long drawn out way, a tone that felt like he was trying to maintain a sense of normalcy for you, but at this point in your adventure together the look in his eyes was more than enough to tell you that he was working through something.

You were entirely taken aback by the gentle name used, a little bit of relief seeping into your chest. "Y-you want me to come in?"

"Was that not what I said?"

Your lips parted, deciding not to speak just yet and instead closing the door behind you. "I'm sorry... I just didn't want to overstep with you, you know… washing and all." You said slowly, acting as if you weren’t both adults – who had on more than occasion – slept together.

Even now, even after seeing him at his lowest today, you were still trying to respect whatever boundaries he had. The thought made Astarion close his eyes and let out a soft laugh, "Darling, you've seen me naked before, it's fine." He assured, "Now...please, for the love of gore and everything soaked in blood, can you bring me that bottle."

There was no reluctance now, carrying yourself to his side with ease. As you approached you couldn't help but notice that his hair was still matted thick with blood in places. All this time he clearly had just been lost in his thoughts as much as you expected really. His hand reached up the second you drew near, taking the bottle from your hands greedily, popping the cork and taking a decidedly long drink. Not minding you at all as you reluctantly found a seat on the bench his clothes were rested upon.

The sight of his nose scrunching a bit from the taste of the wine made an ever so small smile tug at the corner of your mouth. It was hard not to recall him making that same face at the tiefling party not so long ago. Vinegar for wine. Would there be a day when the wine you brought him didn't elicit that involuntary response?

Astarion glanced at you from the corner of his eye, "You'd have made an excellent vampire, you know." He said with an amused little grin, all happy to see the confusion cover your features.

"Why is that?"

"Asking to come in, obviously." He joked loosely,

A small laugh left your lips as your eyes drifted to the floor, "I didn't realize that respecting people's privacy was so vampiresque."

"It's not, we're atrociously nosey by nature and well... it's just another fun hindrance to go against that nature I suppose." Astarion spoke in his normal moseying draw. 

"I see..."

There was a breadth of silence between the two of you. A silence that carried the heaviness of the day's events. You knew it needed to be said, but it didn't make it any easier to consider what the exact words were that needed saying. How to broach it? What if he didn’t want to talk about it at all and you misread the situation entirely? You kept glancing his way hoping to have it all come together in your mind like some sort of epiphany, yet he beat you to it.

"I'm not upset with you, darling. You don't have to keep looking at me like that." Astarion spoke suddenly with all the ease in the world.

"You're not?"

"Well,  perhaps I was a little at first. You did go back on your word, after all." Astarion pointed out, eyes now fixed on the bottle in his hand. “I think anyone might be a bit… sour after something like that.”

There was the guilt again. "Astarion... I'm sorry, I---"

"I don't want your apologies." He cut in sharply, finally turning his gaze to look your way.  Despite what his tone may have indicated, his eyes weren't as stern as they normally appeared when he was upset. No, they were instead ever so full of sadness.  "...I-I'm not angry with you. I swear it. But what I don't understand is why I don't feel any fucking better." Astarion said as his voice suddenly sounded so much more fragile. "I... I killed him. I got the revenge I've dreamed about for two-hundred fucking years. The same revenge I begged for the whole year I was locked in that horrid tomb." He hissed, "I took back my life and yet I... I feel like I didn't do enough."

He was cracking. That much you could see.

"I can't help but wonder if I had completed the ceremony if that would have been enough. Enough to rub it in his Gods damned face that I did it." Astarion admitted sternly, lifting his chin as his eyes stayed focused on the bottle still, "Watch this worm take away everything from him like he took everything from me." He mumbled out, the heat leaving his voice for a brief second as all that he was left with was glassy eyes.

"...I-I would have never had to fear anyone or anything ever again..." Astarion uttered through clenched teeth, tears finally breaking free and running down his cheeks one at a time. "...and now it's gone."

Wordlessly you got to your feet, taking a few steps forward to close the gap between you both, leaning down to wrap your arms around his neck in the most comforting hug you could possibly muster. His hand immediately finds your arm, holding it tight as for the second time in your journey, he begins to cry.

Silence seems to be what Astarion needed from you, wailing into the open air as everything he has stuffed away into that bottle comes pouring back out. No apologies. No consoling words. Just for you to hold him, to give him time. His head rests against yours almost as if to ensure that even now, after everything you both had been through, you couldn't see him cry. Perhaps the idea of you seeing it happen twice in a day was too much for him. Or perhaps there was still a festering feeling of weakness that would bubble up if he let you see him cry.

"Oh my sweet, sweet, Astarion." You mumbled holding him tighter than before, listening as his sobs grew softer over the passing moments. 

Waiting. Listening.

Once his frame had stopped shaking you finally raised your voice once more . "...if I could Astarion, I would take away all of the hurt in an instant... but I can't. And I wish you knew just how much it pains me to not be able to." You speak, parting your lips to continue on but pause as you feel a familiar shudder resonate through your mind. He was peering in, confirming the statement for himself it seemed. "The most I can do is promise you something..." you continued on, pretending like you weren't aware of poking around, you had nothing to hide for one key reason…

Gently you pulled back, running your hand from his neck to his chin to tilt his head up. Eyes looking over his tear stained cheeks and then to meet his own shimmering red eyes. "I promise you that, as long as I'm here you will never have to fear anything... or anyone again." You assured, thumbs brushing over his cheeks as you wipe away his remaining tears. “Because Astarion… I love you and… I will never let you go.”

The look that fills Astarion's eyes is something that you had only seen once before when you decided to hug him for the first time back in the Shadowlands. It was a look that spoke numbers towards just how frightening the unknown was for him. How terrifying it could be to have someone love you so truly and want nothing in return for the first time in his life.

You feel a rush of surprise followed by so overwhelming, your lips curl into the same smile you gave him then as you had reached out to wrap your arms around him to hold him tight…

You know the feeling even if he can’t say it yet.

Love.

Because that was the thing. Astarion had realized before this that you… well, you were the only good thing that he’s ever had. That he’d do just about anything to keep you safe and ensure that no one dare take you away from him. Yet, strangely he never once considered…

That he might mean just that much to you.

End Notes: Thank you so much for reading! I'd really love to start writing for Astarion more so if you have any ideas send them over <3

[m00nsbaby]

Already over.

Main Steven Grant x F! reader. ( + Marc Spector x F! Reader)

Part 2. Sleepwalking.

Warnings & tags. ANGTS!! Cheating kinda but not really?, hurt, and all of thaaaat.

Word count. 3.4k

Summary.

We been talking for hours About how we shouldn't talk for hours on end. Kissing after a conversation About how we'd probably be better off as friends. Same time here next weekend Say, "We won't do this again" Make me fall where I stand Only like you can.

It had been a while since Steven and you had accepted your positions in Marc's life. Both of you were external parts of something larger, like small protrusions on a road that led nowhere.

You decided to understand it when you realized the burden Marc had to carry. Khonshu had taken hold of his psyche and shattered it as he pleased, although he was aware of his dissociative identity disorder, he had started to lose control a long time ago and this resulted in Steven finding out in the worst possible way. It was as if life itself had decided to break him in every possible way.

Hadn't he suffered enough already? Steven and you weren't going to take away the last thing he had.

The love of his life. Layla El-Faouly.

You envied her in different ways. Living a life of adventures with the man of your dreams sounded like something out of a book. She was a strong woman and the first in Marc's life, and therefore also in Steven's, but if there was something that broke your heart in half, it was knowing that she was happy with him.

It would be a lie to say that you weren't happy with Steven. He gave you all of himself and loved you in a way he never tried to hide. But for years now, you had been the one picking up the pieces of two broken people and putting them back together. And then, there was Layla, who didn't even know about the existence of her husband's alter ego, enjoying the best part.

The carefree part that stood above all the atrocities of daily life, simply having a nice date or the official title of his wife, with a ring and legal documents.

"Do you miss working at the museum?" Steven's fingers traced your waistline, occasionally pausing to press on the moles peeking beneath the fabric of your short shirt.

"You have no idea how much." You could never tell him how much you appreciated that he didn't lie to you. You knew he comforted Marc by telling him that life was perfect just the way it was.

You were face to face. You admired Steven's face in front of you.

Anyone would think that once the issue of his fake sleep disorder was cleared up, he would look less tired. Although there were still hundreds of nocturnal missions, and Khonshu destroyed the mercenary's body until an exhaustion beyond description, now Steven could sleep a few more hours, the ones where he used to force himself to read until the letters danced before him.

Nothing had changed at all. In fact, you could swear that the dark circles under his eyes were becoming more noticeable.

"I love you, Steven." You said suddenly, resting a hand on his cheek. His skin had always been so soft and delightfully warm.

You brought a smile to his face, the one that momentarily makes you forget that both of you feel that time is running out.

The one that makes you forget the slight resentment you have towards Marc.

"I love you…" He whispered before leaning forward, just enough to brush his lips against yours, a gentle touch as his hand rested on your waist, and his thumb traced circles on your bare skin.

He wasn't lying; Steven never lied.

You spent the rest of the afternoon kissing and chatting about what had happened during the week you couldn't see each other. You asked about Layla as you always did, he shrugged, and you wondered if he felt the same resentment towards her that you felt towards Marc.

"The idea of vegan hot wings is stupid," you laughed as you bit into the vegetable in your hand, the one that was trying to deceive you and pass for something else.

"The sauce tastes good!" Steven laughed with you, playfully pushing you with his shoulder. To hell with sitting face to face in restaurants; if your bodies weren't close enough, neither of you were comfortable.

"It's a fraud."

"It's delicious." Seeing you take another bite was enough to feel that he was right without you explicitly saying it.

"Do you want to come to my apartment later?" You sucked your thumb to clean the sauce from it. "Yesterday, I accidentally stumbled upon a garage sale and bought the dumbest movie I've ever seen, I got it for us. It's called Rubber, and it's about a homicidal car tire."

Under any other circumstances, Steven would have laughed with you, but he gave you that look that you already knew too well.

"I'm sorry, love." Suddenly, the fake wings didn't look so appetizing. "Marc is feeling better."

Ah. That.

That was the signal that he would be spending the night with Layla.

"That's fine." You nodded immediately, and you also felt disgusted with the food in your hand.

How much longer could you go on like this?

After a few seconds of silence, you cleared your throat. You had some time to come up with a change of conversation.

"What happened to your hand?" Your index finger touched Steven's injured knuckles.

"Marc didn't keep the suit on long enough; the larger wounds healed, but the rest didn't." He never lied, although this might be the exception. A minor injury to prevent a bigger one; he wouldn't ruin his life over a trivial matter.

You nodded slowly, planted a kiss on his shoulder, and continued with your attempt at a date, which was going perfectly until you remembered where you were standing.

The truth was that the night before, Steven had had a fight with Marc, one of those that hadn't happened since they threatened not to switch bodies back to each other.

"Are you two together, Steven?" He was about to explode, about to go crazy. This was the last thing he needed right now, adding more lies and involving more people. "I already told you, no!" Ever since you considered the possibility that Marc might find out, you had decided that if it was a panic situation, you would opt for the most efficient plan: Deny, deny, deny, deny. "Don't lie to me, not to me!" He never yelled; he was the calculating, quiet, and careful type, but even he had a breaking point, and if Steven was going to shout, then he would too. "Do you think I'm stupid, Steven?" It's funny because he hadn't had any doubts until a few weeks ago, so maybe he was a bit stupid, but he wouldn't say it out loud. "No, no, but…" "But?" "We're not together, Marc; she's my best friend." The second part was at least not a lie. He exhaled heavily and mentally thanked for being in front because dealing with anger, panic, and fear without having control over your body was a nightmare he had experienced before. Why did he ever buy so many mirrors? Marc's accusing gaze followed him around the apartment. "And you like her," Steven completed, another thing that wasn't a lie. "If I lose Layla because of you two, I swear I'll…" Adrenaline rushed through him; he lost control of his hand, which ended up against one of the mirrors, breaking it into a thousand pieces. "Marc!" The other didn't say anything, he watched from the reflection of some glass pieces as Steven's hand now bled, and tears filled his eyes. His body was used to large doses of pain, but emotionally, he wasn't used to seeing himself bleed or handling loud noises well. "We. Are. Not. Together." It was the last thing he said as he stretched his fingers and watched the blood flow between them. Marc was no longer in the reflection. He didn't want to object.

"Will I see you the day after tomorrow?" You could still see him tomorrow, but the idea of him coming to your place smelling of Layla's citrusy perfume always disgusted you. It was as if an extra day would be enough to erase any traces of her from his body.

"The day after tomorrow, without fail." Steven knew; he didn't question you. He placed a kiss on your forehead.

"I love you, Steven."

"I love you, sweetheart."

Receiving calls or visits at midnight was always terrifying, especially when you knew your partner was constantly at risk, and this time was no exception.

The strong knocks on the door woke you up, and knowing it could be no one else but him, you opened the door without hesitation. Clad only in Steven's shirt that barely covered your thighs, with messy hair and half-closed eyes because the hallway light bothered you in the darkness.

Marc's tearful eyes met yours, along with the strong aroma of whiskey that Steven had told you about before, the one that stung his nose.

"Are you okay?" It was the first thing you said as he analyzed you from head to toe. He hated you, hated that you looked so good in the middle of the night, and hated that he felt a sense of ownership just from seeing you in a shirt that was originally his.

He didn't answer, he walked straight into your apartment, and you could only step aside to let him pass.

The way he walked past the sofas to sit on the floor was frightening; you had spent time with Marc during bad moments, but you had never seen him like this. You didn't say anything, didn't press, you just walked behind him and sat down beside him on the cold floor.

Your mere presence was enough for his eyes to fill with tears again.

"I didn't know where to go," he whispered, breaking your heart into a thousand pieces with just a few words.

"Oh, Marc." You knelt beside him to have better access to his body, and within seconds, you had your arms wrapped around him, holding him close. "I'm here, calm down."

You didn't get more words from him for a while, just sobs and those annoying chest contractions you get when you try to breathe through crying. You could even feel the fabric of your shirt damp at the shoulder level from his tears.

"I'm scared." His voice was broken, trembling.

"I'm here." You repeated as you held him tighter.

He didn't have the strength to tell you. He was afraid of you. Afraid of the dreams where he saw himself with you, afraid of the way his heart raced the few times you crossed paths, afraid of losing Layla because of his feelings, and afraid of change.

He was terrified of the mere idea of his life changing completely again.

You played with his curls and stayed on your knees until they hurt, with him in your arms whimpering like a little kid.

"Let's go to bed, Marc." He didn't resist, and you led him by the hand.

Nor did he object when you helped him get rid of his clothes just so he could sleep a little better. He almost felt guilty about how comfortable he seemed to be in your bed.

You hugged him from behind, your two hands resting on his chest where you could feel the beating of his heart and the rise and fall of his breath. Your cheek enjoyed the warmth of his back.

When you woke up, there were no traces of Marc anymore.

"Meanwhile, Osiris' wife, Isis, searched tirelessly for his body and then…" The way you were looking at the ground while walking had caught Steven's attention for quite a while, but he didn't confirm his suspicions until he noticed you weren't participating in his narration as you always used to do. "Lovey?"

"Huh?"

"You seem distracted today."

"I'm sorry, I, it's just…" You cleared your throat while forcing a small smile on your face.

"Do you like it here?" He interrupted to finally point out an area in the park that seemed perfect for your plan. You immediately nodded with that fake smile, and both of you sat down carefully on the grass. You placed the book you had been carrying in one hand aside.

Steven handed you your ice cream and kept his own in the other hand.

"Can we talk?"

"Nothing good ever comes out of that, I've seen it in movies." Steven tried to joke, but hearing those words come out of your mouth made him sick to his stomach. Slowly, he rested his head on your lap.

Your hand, as if drawn by a magnet, went straight to his tousled curls. He closed his eyes and smiled; you had always compared that gesture to a puppy seeking more affection.

"We can't keep doing this to Marc, love." Your voice broke as you gave him those caresses he loved so much. "Nor to Layla, it's not fair to them."

Steven was looking at you again, with a terrified expression and a slight pout on his lips.

"And is it fair to us?" he snapped. Needless to say, both of you had long stopped paying attention to your sad ice creams; they were already melting into the grass.

"If Layla finds out, we'll ruin Marc's life." You tried to be the rational one between both of you, but with Steven's puppy eyes fixed on you, it was almost impossible to think clearly.

"And if we end… this, mine will be destroyed." Well, he had a point. "Please." His two hands went to your cheeks and pressed them gently, his forehead now resting against yours. "We can't. You can't." His lips claimed yours within seconds, and you could only respond as if life were slipping away.

Whom were you fooling? You were selfish enough to give in. After all, every night you created scenarios where Layla found out and left Marc, knowing that it would destroy him, but in your scenarios, you were there to comfort him, to prevent him from falling apart.

"I love you, Steven." You didn't get a response, but you didn't need to hear it; feeling the strength with which he held you was more than enough.

You were all he had, and he was all you had.

Life was better when you both pretended to have a life that wasn't yours. When you fantasized and made plans for a future you would both do anything to have.

"What do you think of that one?" You both looked like kids with your foreheads pressed against the glass that separated you from the kittens.

"They say the orange ones are crazy, lovey." The fact that Steven was just as interested as you in this fed your good mood entirely. "How about that one?"

"I like his or her fur." You pressed your index finger against the glass to try to get the attention of the kitty that was completely distracted playing with another.

"Love, love, love." He nudged you with his shoulder, making you laugh, so you looked at the opposite side, another part of the store.

You gasped.

"THAT ONE?" You had to cover your mouth when the tone of your voice caught the attention of other people in the place.

There was only one cat in the area reserved for senior cats. You knew it was harder for them to get adopted compared to the kittens, it was as if he was destined to be there.

"It's just a baby." You pouted slightly as you pulled Steven's hand, both walking straight towards the spot where the little cat was staring at you.

He was white, although half of his body was covered in black spots, reminiscent of a cow's fur. When you got closer, you noticed that the tip of one of his ears was missing.

Love at first sight.

"Hiya, mate." The guy next to you was as enchanted as you with the animal. "Uhm, what do you say?" He tilted his head towards the glass. The meow completed his performance. "Look how curious, he says he's looking for new parents."

You laughed, genuine happiness coursing through you. You didn't give Steven time to react before jumping into his arms; he lifted you a few inches off the ground in the middle of the hug.

You didn't care about drawing attention. In fact, having witnesses to your love made it feel more real, reminding you that it wasn't just a product of your imagination.

After he kissed your lips, you could feel the ground under your feet again. You couldn't stop smiling.

"Come on, let's fill out the form." Steven's heart was about to burst with love at any moment.

The instructions were clear: fill out the corresponding paperwork, a few days of socialization with the cat to make sure he felt comfortable with you, and by the following week, he would be yours.

"We'll come to see you, okay? And then we'll go home."

"See ya, buddy." Steven said his goodbye too. "Next week, you'll have the best home, the comfiest bed, and the best parents, I promise."

"What's wrong, Marc?" There was something scary about the idea of being alone with him without him being intoxicated or injured. You were taking off your scarf to leave it on a sofa while he watched you from his table, leaning against it with his arms crossed over his chest.

It was impossible to read his expression because Marc always seemed tense.

"She knows."

Your heart sank in seconds, and you looked at him in surprise.

"Ah?"

"She knows," he repeated. You swallowed hard, and for a moment, you thought this was one of those silly dreams that sometimes distorted your reality.

"Knows what?"

"Please, don't treat me like I'm stupid." His tone of voice was enough to make you tremble. You immediately looked at the bathroom mirror.

Steven had told you that while one had control of the body, the other could be reflected in different surfaces, but of course, that only worked between them. No matter how much you looked, hoping that Steven would appear to save you, it didn't happen.

You didn't even know if he was aware of what Marc was doing.

"I don't…" Your voice died down slowly, and you refused to get closer to him. "What does she know?"

"About you." He took a step closer, and you felt immobilized. "She thinks you're my lover, like any sane person, she knows nothing about Steven."

You swallowed the lump in your throat as tears filled your eyes.

"You have to tell her, Marc, explain to her she…" He interrupted you in seconds; the way he raised his voice made you flinch.

"'She will understand?' Is that what you want to say?" He was getting closer, and you felt like he was taking your breath away. Why were you suddenly so afraid? "Yes, I'll tell her every damn thing that's wrong with me so that you can be happy."

Ouch.

"I-I'm saying it for you, Marc." Tears were already streaming down your face, and you mentally cursed yourself for the mere idea of showing so much weakness. "She has to know, it's best for you." And it was, of course, but you were resorting to your last resort to not lose Steven too.

And maybe, not lose Marc either.

"You don't know what's best for me, you have no idea." His sarcasm cut deep as he took the last step to confront you.

"Please, please, don't do this." You pleaded through sobs; your hands ended up on his cheeks. "Please." You pulled him closer to you.

He seemed to relax under your touch, at least for a few seconds. Your heart stopped when one of his hands rested on your waist.

"Don't make this harder, you're killing me." He was also begging, even as his forehead pressed against yours.

"We can get through this, Marc." You sniffed. "I promise, we can…"

A kiss. A desperate and painful kiss silenced your words; it was the only one Marc and you would share.

"Go," he whispered against your lips, still planting small kisses on them. "Please, I beg you, go."

And that was the final nail to seal the coffin between you both.

His hand made you take a step back, a very gentle push.

"I'm choosing her." He knew you better than he'd like, knowing that you wouldn't stop insisting unless he caused you permanent harm. Besides, how could he convince himself he wasn't in love with you if he didn't do this?

You looked at him incredulously, not believing his act, but there was nothing else you could do.

This time, you begged that Steven was present to hear everything that had transpired between you both because you wouldn't have the strength to end it after this. In fact, you didn't even know if you'd have the strength to live without him.

You didn't say anything more, you didn't look back at him, and he didn't change his mind. You left his apartment, leaving your scarf on his sofa as a final reminder of your presence in his life.

sorry, i got tired of happy endings

Part 2. Sleepwalking.

[sundew199]

Watch yourself for me

a/n: sorry about the delay to anon who requested this!! <3

tags: reiner x jean, mirror sex, top!reiner braun, bottom!jean Kirschstein, anal sex, anal fingering, riding, post-rumbling, handjobs, oddly kind of intimate, friends with benefits situation

kinktober day nine: mirror sex for anon

The cabin door slammed harshly as a forceful hand pushed it back, no care in their actions as what was in front of them was ten times more important. Reiner fisted his hand into the ashy locks of the man he was backing into the single bed in the room, panting into his mouth like he were his only source of air. Jean groaned, letting his legs buckle when they hit the side of the bed, sitting down with a plop and breaking from the hungry kiss.

Reiner heaved above him, disheveled already from devouring his mouth and attempting to walk back to one of the cabins without breaking away. His hands shakily came up to start undoing his tie, suit jacket long forgotten in the lounge area of the ship, where all of this began.

"How do sailors go weeks or months without getting laid, this is ridiculous." Jean huffed, glancing at the nearly empty glass in his hand once filled with bourbon.

"They find other outlets, obviously." Reiner huffed back but with more of a laugh, ashing his cigarette prior to taking another drag, letting the inhalation of nicotine fill his lungs.

"Didn't I tell you to quit, you can't heal anymore dumbass." Jean, who was already irritated from being pent up, attempted to snag the cancer stick from between Reiner's fingers to toss it over the railing into the ocean.

Predicting the other man's movements, Reiner moved the half-smoked cigarette to his other hand, laughing and flicking the end to keep it from burning too fast.

"I'm working on it." Taking another inhale just to spite the man next to him. "Why do you care so much?"

Jean couldn't help but roll his eyes at the comment and the continued drag of the dwindling cigarette between Reiner's fingers. His question is what irritated him the most, 'why do you care?' was the answer not obvious? Jean cared for Reiner, maybe even more than just friends but that wasn't something he wanted to dive deeper in.

"Stop asking stupid questions." Bringing the glass with the gulp of bourbon left to his lips, throwing the last of it back.

Reiner let out a sputter of a laugh, but leaving the conversation at that, feeling as if he had poked at Jean enough as is. Silence fell over both of them, letting the light breeze fill the empty air as the ship they were own made it's way to the next destination. All of them had wrapped up in Paradis a couple weeks ago, headed to the next to give a similar speech to hopefully bring everyone together, stomp out any lingering animosity from the atrocities that occurred three years ago. The work was about as entertaining as watching fish swim, robotic and mundane, but they all were in it for the long haul for the time being.

A long purposeful sigh came from beside Reiner, stubbing the end of his cigarette and looking over to give Jean the attention he was seeking. The brunette was slumped in the chair, head hanging over the back with his hands crossed over his abdomen, right above his belt buckle. Reiner reluctantly held back from grabbing another cigarette, even though the craving for nicotine was strong at the moment.

"Need to get laid that badly huh?" Bringing the topic of conversation back to the off handed comment Jean made moments ago, unable to hold back the laugh as Jean rolled his neck to look at Reiner annoyed.

"Shut up." Grumbling and adjusting lower in the chair, huffing through his nostrils and watching the clouds pass by. Reiner cleared his throat, crossed one leg over the over and slouched a bit in his chair as well, mirroring the taller man.

"Previous offer still stands from last time." Reaching for his barely touched glass of bourbon, debating if he should indulge or offer it to Jean instead, looking like he needs it more than him.

Nothing came from Jean, much to Reiner's surprise, expecting a smart comeback or a mumble of an answer. This much time to themselves and half of it being on a ship going from one place to another, both of them have taken to relieving each other's stress. Best way to put it since neither of them really had a good idea of what to label their agreement of sorts.

Taking the initiative, Reiner stood to stand in front of Jean's chair, trapping him with both hands on either side of the arms of the chair, blocking the sun. It was hard not to let the half smile crease in his lips as Reiner silently asked the question again, raising a cocky brow and purposely wetting his lips. All Jean could do was let out a sigh that bordered on a laugh before sitting up just enough to meet the blonde in a soft kiss.

They both hummed and parted their mouths further apart to swallow one another, no need for build up with it being a month since the last, desperate and hungry for the other. Jean began to stand without breaking from Reiner, pushing the khaki suit jack from his broad shoulders, watching the way it pooled on the deck to be left behind.

Now Jean sat on the edge of the bed in the room Reiner hurried them into, still catching his breath and fixating on the deft movements of the blonde's fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt, gradually exposing the broad chest dusted in pale blonde hair.

Pausing, Reiner dropped his hands from undoing the buttons and untucked the shirt, stepping closer to the transfixed man watching him.

"Need me to undress you?" Taunting and breaking the trance of the other man, tucking his bottom lip into his teeth as Jean hurried loose the knot of his tie just enough to pull it over his head, proceeding to undo the pearly white buttons on his own shirt.

Stopping him when all of them were undone, Reiner thumbed over the crisp collar, looking down at Jean with the thoughts of how he was going to fuck him this time swirling in his mind. His careful fingers slipped under the fabric, enough to push it back and off his shoulders, watching Jean's long arms come out of the sleeves.

Something hung in the air as silence settled between them, looking at each other with emotions unspoken, expressions unreadable besides the lust and want. Reiner could feel his throat running dry the longer he looked into the light brown hazel eyes, how they were like his but warmer.

"Don't tell me you're shy now?" The man below him quipped, letting out a snort, leaning back on his palms, idly pushing his belt buckle into the air, an invitation for Reiner.

Shaking his head, breaking out in a familiar smirk, Reiner hummed low in his throat. His sights were set on the dusty pink nipples on the toned chest before him, fanning hot air over the buds and appreciating the way Jean shivered and hid the groan. Rolling his tongue out, gliding it up the center of his sternum and to the right, Reiner watched Jean's features turn from lighthearted to lustful, breath low and steady as his eyes followed the flat pink tongue getting closer and closer to his nipple.

There was something so intoxicating about the way Reiner could shut Jean up, for the both of them. How his mouth had the power to turn the bold outgoing man into nothing but pleas and whispers, hands tangled in the back of his hair in desperation. The very end of his tongue flicked over the bud, lightly and just enough for Jean to go limp in his own hold, unable to keep himself from watching.

Reiner is surprised there hasn't been anything said, no comments, no expletives of how good it feels, just careful slow breaths as his tongue laves and swirls over Jean's nipple. His hands began to wonder from where he held him at the waist, hooking a finger to pull the leather belt from the buckle, undoing his trousers just enough to palm and squeeze the half hard cock hidden behind fabric.

Then the groan comes and the slow tipping of the taller man's head, his hips instinctively raising to meet the large palm running side to side at a maddening pace, teasing the stimulation Jean so suddenly craved. Reiner's mouth and hand work together in tandem, providing separate points of stimulation at once, working the pent up man even more than he already was, desiring to hear the soft spoken pleas and begs.

He begins to whine under Reiner's touch, gasping to the nips to his sensitive nipple, becoming more aware of the twitch in his hips the longer his hand gropes his throbbing cock. All he needs is relief, and could bring himself to admit that he wanted that relief from Reiner, in his head that is.

"Want me to suck you off?" Asking as if his own cock wasn't throbbing and begging for the warmth of a mouth or tight walls, staying on track to alleviate the pent up hormones in his friend. He faintly kissed the swollen red nipple he spent so much time on, breaking the tiny string of saliva connecting to his lips.

"No," Breathing out through barely parted lips, turning down an offer that may of been too good to pass up on if Reiner asked ten minutes ago. "Rather you be inside me."

A plush bottom lip was wetted by a tongue at the answer, expecting it but not at the same time. Usually one of them would have a dick down the other's throat before having the other inside them. But the yearning for relief was glazed over in those warm hazel eyes Reiner stared back into, unable to help the laugh that tittered out of him.

Moving to stand between the man's legs, knocking them apart just enough with his knees, and forcing Jean to lay flat off the edge of the bed. Each side of Reiner's open shirt provided a curtain as he hovered over him, planting his hands on either side of Jean's head, looking down at him with an equally hungry look.

"Need to prep you then." Uttering low, whispered almost with the intimacy of just looking at each other. Jean sighed patting his pants pockets and coming up empty, meaning one of them was going to have to retrieve the oil bought in Hizuru a couple months back. Like he was able to read his mind, Reiner slipped his hand into his own pocket, revealing the vial of clear liquid and saving them from having to break this moment.

Jean smirked with a laugh, lifting himself from the bed just enough to reach Reiner's soft lips, tilting his head to avoid knocking their noses together. The blonde melted into the kiss, pushing into it further with a knee now on the bed between the long lanky legs of the man under him. It was quiet enough to hear the echos of lips moving and colliding, the inhales each of them took when barely breaking apart for air, the unhurried desperation of it all.

With the vial resting on the bed beside their bodies, freeing both of Reiner's hands, he made quick work of pulling Jean's trousers off, leaving him in just briefs. Jean only found it fair that Reiner shed some clothing as well, pushing the sleeves of his crisp shirt from his shoulders to reveal the broad chest and arms. Even after loosing the power of the titans, Reiner's body remained chiseled and toned, with the exception of the healthy layer of fat concealing some of the muscle. Jean like him like this, evidence that he weren't bound by a curse or his own mind, that he was happy and healthy, like he deserved to be.

"Lift your hips."

A muttered command against his lips breaking his thoughts, a hand dipped behind the waistband of his briefs, needing assistance to get them all the way off. Jean complied, lifting his hips just enough for Reiner to yank the last piece of clothing from his body. The blonde sighed, breaking the kiss and admiring the bare body below him, wasting not even a second to let his lips descend down his body, hands running down his sides until reaching his groin, stopping to gather the bead of pre on his tongue.

Jean arched to the action, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip and trying to return to being relaxed as Reiner spread his legs at the knees, beginning to kiss his inner thigh gently.

"Shit-" Words shaking on his lips as he reached the puckering hole rather quickly. A tongue flattening over it and ascending to his balls that twitched to the touch. Jean felt the shutter of anticipation run up his spine, prickle his skin at the continuous laps and swirls from the muscle.

Enjoying himself, Reiner briefly peered over to right, spotting the floor length mirror propped against the wall of the room he hadn't noticed until now. The reflection of Jean's body from the torso down staring back at him, prompting his cock to twitch at the idea forming in his head. Storing said idea for later, Reiner patted around for the vial, unscrewing it as he came up from his crouch, generously applying more than enough on at least two of his fingers. He returned to hovering over Jean, chest to chest as he circled and teased his middle finger.

"Remember to stay relaxed or it'll take longer for you to cum." Joking with Jean as he eased the tip of his finger in, smiling at the way the other's rebuttal died in his throat, leaving his lips parted and eyes hooded. Reiner sighed, kissing the scruffy chin and eventually along his jaw to keep him distracted as he worked more of his thick finger inside of him.

"Fuck that's good." Barely able to say as his voice shook, reaching up to hold onto Reiner's shoulders, staring up at the cocky man working him open. The blonde chuckled deeply, waiting until he adjusted and relaxed to start moving, locking him in another distracting kiss. Jean groaned into it, biting down on Reiner's bottom lip the moment his finger moved in and out, sensing the eagerness to open him up and fuck him numb, which was all Jean could ask for at this point.

"Want you to ride me, fuck yourself on my dick baby." Panting into the warm mouth that occupied his, slipping in the second lube slick finger and swallowing the reaction immediately with another kiss. Jean's leg kicked out in front of him, the pain and pleasure of Reiner's actions sending his body into a flurry of sensations, drowning in him with no sign of breaching the top.

"Thought you liked bending me over?" Snorting back through a groan, the arch in his back increasing with every pump of the two fingers, every stretch around them and amplifying his need for the other.

A laugh fanned over his teeth bitten lips, golden eyes clouded in lust blinking slowly above him. "I do, but need you to see how good you look with my dick stuffed inside you, want you to watch yourself for me."

Be it the delightful sting of a third finger entering to prod along inside him or the bliss of the heat encircling the body above his, Jean didn't quite catch on to what Reiner was implying, rolling his eyes back into his head and moaning. All that did was surge the heat through Reiner's veins, hurry the hand working at his own belt to free himself, fumbling with adrenaline to get inside the inviting hole.

Kicking his trousers and briefs off, Reiner increases the pace of his fingers, holding Jean down at the hip as he writhes and tries to run away from the heated pleasure stretching him open. He knows he's brushing past the deepest part of him, the gland that makes him dig his nails into his shoulder and the pre leak from his tip, Reiner knows and continues to aim for it.

"Fuck! You want me to cum on your fingers or your dick?" Asking with exasperation as Reiner continues, making Jeans legs quiver and tingle, signs of a potential orgasm.

Instead of giving him an answer, Reiner yanked his fingers out, relishing in the surprised whine from Jean at the action. Grabbing the vial and sitting on the edge of the bed facing the mirror, he tipped his head him to come here. Even while catching his breath, Jean found it in him to grumble something under his breath, sliding off the bed and coming to stand in front of the blonde. Reiner glanced up with a knowing smile, spreading the clear liquid from the vial over his neglected cock, grabbing the taller man's hip and turning him around.

Reiner didn't have to see Jean to know he was rolling his eyes, hearing the long sigh and catching the 'bastard' that slipped out at the end of whatever he was saying. All that did was turn Reiner even more eager, leaning back on his palm just a tad and guiding the other back with the hand already on his hip. Slowly Jean brought himself to hover over the flushed angry cock, hissing when the tip poked and began to protrude at his hole, steading his breathing before proceeding.

A long pleased groan vibrated in Reiner's chest once his cock was passed the tight ring of muscle, bruising his fingers into Jean's hip to keep himself from slamming him all the way down. God, even after all his prep it was tight, but inviting and warm, hugging around his shaft with just enough of a vice grip. Jean swung one of his legs over Reiner's, groaning the more he lowered himself and eventually seating himself all the way.

"What's the point of this, I can't even see you?" Jean asked out of breath, throwing his head back and slightly rocking his hips on top of Reiner.

"Don't want you to see me," Coming off from leaning on his palm to press his chest into Jean's back, letting the palm of his hand run across the muscled abdomen, teasingly near the other's twitching cock. "Want you to see yourself, like I said earlier."

Jean scoffed, teething his bottom lip again and not taking into account of the mirror he was perfectly situated in front of until the hand running over his torso cupped under his chin to bring him to see the reflection.

Arousal and lust ran anew in Jean's body, seeing himself seated nicely in the blonde's lap, the thick thighs spread underneath his and the way he quickly grasped the motivation behind Reiner's choice. Just being the two of them, it was scandalous, dirty even and it made Jean's hips move to rise and sink back down, basking in the sputter of a groan coming from behind him, the way the hand fell from holding his chin to land on the bed.

Sucking in a sharp breath, Jean rocked his hips forward repeatedly, allowing Reiner's cock to poke and prod the deepest parts of him, aiming for his own pleasure with his movements. Reiner adjusted behind him, grabbing the leg that wasn't already thrown over his to match, spreading Jean wider in his lap. They both moaned in sync, though neither of them were moving much but still gaining something from the friction of their bodies pressed and conjoined.

"Fuck, you feel good." Reiner whispered, griping one of Jean's hips and lifting him enough to where he could slowly thrust upwards, keeping it tame at the moment.

Gasps spilled past his lips at the thick cock stretching him further with each thrust, the burning pleasure turning him into putty, griping tightly onto one of Reiner's forearms. A sweaty forehead pressed into the back of his neck, puffs of hot breath cascading over the thin sheen of sweat painted onto his skin.

"Faster-" The request coming out heavier with desire than he intended, hearing the almost arrogant chuckle from Reiner and knowing he was going to do anything but what he asked. Fucking dick.

"Are you watching yourself?" Sending one sharp thrust into him, keeping Jean steady on top of him, moving to hook his chin over his shoulder, shivering at the fucked out expression on Jean's face. His hair a mess, muscle tensed all over with his eyes nearly rolled back into his head as he inhales deep breaths.

"For fuck sake Reiner-"

"C'mon, I'll do all the work if you just watch." Lightly kissing the shoulder his chin was hooked over, lips curling into a smile at the whine of compliance from Jean, hooking his arm under his leg where his knee bent, giving him enough leverage to fuck up into the man.

The once slow moderate thrusts turned faster with each one, skin meeting skin with an echo, urging Reiner each time. Jean forced himself to watch in the mirror, watch the way Reiner's dick would appear and disappear each time, watch the way his neglected dick bounced with each thrust. Surprisingly, he didn't cringe at the way he looked taking the blonde's dick, so focused on the hips below him and the heavy grunts and breathing from behind. It was all so overwhelmingly good, exactly what he needed after a month of having nothing.

Jean nearly lost all balance when Reiner hit his prostate, shaking and moving to hold onto the meaty thighs for support. Reiner smiled behind him, knowing he hit right where intended, doing it again, dropping Jean's leg to wrap around his midsection, coming up to speak into his ear.

"Finally get to see how good you look, get to see what I see." Nipping his ear lobe with a shaky breath, finally reaching down with the other hand after sitting up to wrap around Jean's throbbing dick. His head falls back on his shoulder the moment he does, releasing a sort of pitiful whine, like he was begging for something he couldn't quite say.

Knocking his shoulder forward to move Jean's head off, Reiner runs his hands upwards until his fist is enclosed around the head, thumbing over the leaking slit, spreading the pre around the angry tip. Jean's entire body tensed, grappling for a sense of stability as he was being toyed with. Breathing deeply, he twisted just enough to face Reiner, throwing an arm around his neck, burying it in the back of his hair and smashing him in a kiss.

Surprised but pleased all at once, Reiner coaxed his fist down from the tip to about halfway before coming back up, stroking the man slowly even if he thought it was mean. And his theory was correct with the way Jean's fingers gripped and pulled at his roots, harshly nipping at his bottom lip.

"Focus big boy." Regaining some of his confidence with the jab spoken into his lovers lips, reminding him that his thick dick had ceased all movement.

"Yeah? Then what?" Snapping his hips hard enough to send familiar shivers down both of their spines, catching the way Jean's lashes flutter from the impaling below.

"I'll let you suck me off." Snickering at his own comment and meeting Reiner's thrust with his own downward ones, not ashamed to let the groans spill into the other's mouths, still breathing heavily into one another.

"Let me?" Shaking his head with a small laugh, moving his hand faster along with his hips. "You've got the wrong idea if you don't think you're coming on my cock baby."

Even if he knew that would've been the answer he received in response to his 'offer', Jean still moaned and clenched around Reiner, appreciating the way he responded with another snap of his hips. Jean breathily laughed into his lips, humming and using his own legs to bring Reiner's closer together, thanking himself for his height as he was able to plant the balls of his feet on the floor to move up and down easier and faster.

"Oh fuck-" Exclaiming in delight at the increased motion and rhythm, groaning to the point it sounded like a growl as he hurriedly held onto the meat right above Jean's hip, diving in for his mouth again.

They both groaned and panted into each other, so lost in the bliss that had filled the small room, the heat of their arousal mixing with the humidity outside the ship, fogging the single porthole window. Jean shuttered harshly, calves straining and desperation growing for release. Reiner felt the same but couldn't find himself ready to part, the greediness of the hole sucking him in over and over outweighing his body's natural instinct to cum.

"Shit don't stop - I'm close." Jean confessed, losing momentum to keep riding the cock that continuously stretched him out, combined with the tight hand fisting up and down his own cock rapidly.

"I'll keep going, if you let me cum inside you." Almost sneering the request, beginning to take over once he notice the falter from above, the fatigue from the position the taller man was in. Jean clenched his teeth, let his head fall back and then forward, pressing his sweaty forehead to his and giving a small nod.

"yeah - just please don't stop."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Smiling back in a sweet manner, moving to pull on Jean's bottom lip with his teeth, gathering the last of his energy to slam upwards. Jean shakily whines, almost like a sob from the pounding he was taking, the grip around his cock, all being so much and so good simultaneously.

The closer he got, the louder he moaned, forgetting that the chance of someone walking down the hall, passing by the room they were in was still there, but so gone to the point Jean didn't care. He felt so good, Reiner made him feel so good and it wasn't an odd thing to admit to himself anymore. They were once friends, then enemies, then allies and now friends with an agreement that was never spoken, and whether or not this went anywhere beyond where it was now, Jean new it wouldn't do any damage to the bond that was mended between them.

"Close, fuck m'close." Moaning quietly into the space between their faces just inches apart, calves screaming and legs quivering from an ache of more than one thing.

"Me too," Reiner responded, looking on the verge of snapping, the ungodly stamina he still possessed wearing off at this point and drowning in the other, shamelessly. "Watch yourself for me yeah?"

Without even having to question what he was talking about, Jean huffed and twisted his body forward to the mirror, focusing on the hips below him and the fist around his cock still. Whether Reiner knew this would send him over the edge or not, it worked, Jean croaking out a cry and thrusting into the hand around him, ropes of white shooting into the air and landing on Reiner's hand and wrist. Jean could feel him shaking beneath him, thrusts turning sporadic and uncoordinated, eventually landing one or two final thrusts before stilling completely, the warmth of his release spilling inside him.

Neither of them moved for a moment, so out of breath and somewhat drained. Still seated on Reiner's lap with his slowly softening cock, Jean pushed the hair sticking to his forehead back out of his eyes, letting his head stay tipped back.

"Almost forgot how good of a fuck you are, thanks for the reminder." The blonde's comment bringing him back to look at him, witnessing the shit eating grin stretching across his face. Rolling his eyes, Reiner chuckled, bringing the hand where Jean's cum had landed to his mouth, cleaning it up with his tongue, on purpose of course.

"Shut up, Jesus Christ." Ignoring the new knot of arousal tightening in his stomach at the sight of Reiner's tongue eagerly cleaning his cum stained hand.

Slowly, Jean began to lift off of Reiner, ignoring the wince that came with being empty once more. A stream of the other's cum instantly rolled down his legs, so much of it released inside that it couldn't be contained. A flop and creaking of springs indicated Reiner had either laid back or gotten up, Jean focused on finding his clothes thrown about the room to care to look back. But the hand pulling on his arm and back onto the bed forfeited his effort, abruptly landing on Reiner's chest and locked into a kiss. It was slow, languid and almost passionate the way Reiner's lips moved with his. His arms wrapping around him at the shoulders and the ends of his fingers crawling up the nape of his neck into his hair.

"Won't be docking for another week, and all our meetings with the others are finished for the day." Lazily remarking as he pushed some of the loose strands of Jean's hair out of his face.

"Yeah and?" Trying not to sound too annoyed with whatever Reiner was eventually going to ask, keeping his expression neutral.

"I can suck you off, plenty of time." Tucking his bottom lip into his teeth with a soft laugh, sneaking one of his hands down to slap Jean's ass.

Now truly annoyed and also quickly getting turned on again, Jean sighs, attempting to sit up but failing from the strong arm keeping him in place.

"Horny bastard."

"Could say the same thing about you Kirschstein." Rumbling in another laugh and moving to sit up and get out from under Jean, shooting the other a wink and shuffling over to lock the door, ensuring no unwanted interruptions were to come for however long they decided to claw at each other in this room.

[primrosebow]

An open letter to bigfatbimbo.🪽

Reasons why you should write for Adam.

1 -> He is a misogynist (not for long)

Look at his face. He is so weird. I swear. He has been favoritized for far too long, leaving him with the most mind-numbing god complex. Don't you want to stab him to death like niffty? Don't you want to put him where he deserves to be (either underground or under me)? I do. You should too! Because his way of thinking meets it's end where my heels begin.

2 -> He is stupid

He has the emotional maturity of a boiled lobster. He fits into heaven like an orca in the amazon river. He is so unbelievably incompetent it is actually kind of mind boggling. Don't you want to crush him like he's a little bug (either with your fists or your thighs)? Didn't he literally say one of the "biggest issues evet" was math or something? He probably couldn't tell you where Africa is in the world map even if you paid him. Even the fruit of knowledge couldn't give him enough braincells to function as a proper member of society.

3 -> he deserves humiliation

He deserves to have his entire worldview rocked and destroyed, something we can surely provide. His shallow thinking should be promptly obliterated. He has only ever gotten away from beautiful tall strong women because he always had the option of just asking for a different woman. They didn't have the mental fortitude to put him in his place. We are the bearers of the curse (liking repulsive men), and, since there is no "mental fortitude" to begin with, there is nothing for him to break down. We (as a collective) should end him.

4 -> I know what he is

His entire persona is a gigantic act to make up for the fact he cannot appropriatelly cope with losing in general, much less losing the, like, 2 wives he ever had (to THE SAME GUY!! MIND YOU!!!) and if he had more people they were one night stands. Not because he left them, but because people know he is worthless scum and he is good for nothing other than his "original dick" ( eugh. I usually refrain from cursing >:// ). It is the reason for his pride and also the only thing that makes him even remotely worth the hastle of talking to. He is the equivalent of a carnival prize to the people in heaven, scoring him is more of a show of your own endurance rather than how coveted he is. He has been objectified through his own hubris. He should be made aware of that. He should fear the knowledge we posses. It should be used against him.

5 -> he sounds.. like.. . He sounds good.

I watched the series while skipping most of the songs but I genuinelly could not do it when he was singing. No wonder he's in a band or something, I didn't actually pay attention to what he was saying I was paying more attention to the sound of his voice so I don't remember clearly what's up with that. Like he sounds REALLY good. If only he knew how to just use his voice without saying the most repulsive atrocities to be ever uttered by anyone ever. Oh yeah! We can make him incoherent enough for that to happen.

6 -> Lute deserves better

Lute deserves, like, a woman. Not him. She's too gorgeous for him, and, the difference between us and her is that while SHE is dealing with HIM, in our case, HE has to deal with US. Really, we're just saving a beautiful, amazing, stunning, showstopping woman a lot of trouble, and getting an ENTIRE PATHETIC MAN AS A TRADE! WIN WIN! Literally no downsides, I swear.

7 -> he is girl dinner

Don't you just love looking into your fridge and seeing the worthless scraps that built up overtime but somehow taste better now than they usually would have, which is particularly shocking considering it has 0 nutritional value? That would be what girl dinner is, and also an appropriate analogy for what Adam is like! Just roughly ok looking enough for you to not downright call it a biohazard. You will go to bed satisfied after fighting tooth and nail for your dinner (getting him to behave properly) and, it'll be easier the next times maybe! Operant conditioning is a heavy hitter with this repulsive individual, so it might actually get easier! Who knows!

8 -> Pretty please? (´｡･д人)���

I really. Uh . I really want him if you couldn't tell? Maybe the cannibalism and the fear I want to instill into him got in the way of you seeing my point, but, like, that's just how I love. The highest honor I could bestow on him is wanting to eat him, so, maybe that'll assist in your judgement? I also just really like your writing and would love to hear your thoughts on his idiotic self. AND! AND! Other people also want you to write about him if I well remember the 1 ask you received about him!

I await your response when you are available @bigfatbimbo

If you need more convincing; I can, like, draw him? I'm going to draw him no matter what but like I can cook something up for you in particular who knows.

You did say you were already considering writing for him, so, maybe this can be a final push in that direction for you!

- sincerely, Bow

[s-awturn]

Underworld Sun || LH44

summary: It only took an unpretentious visit to a local florist for all of Lewis's convictions to come crashing down, and finally the lord of the Underworld found what was missing in his lonely existence.

cw: dark content, slightly stalkerish behavior, nostalgia, pure smut, Lewis!dom x reader!sub, revelation, mention of magic, violence, outbursts of rage, (fake) naivety, devotion, deep love, soulmates, family interference, mention of kidnapping.

a/n: I confess that the final part of the first chapter shouldn't have happened, but when I saw it, the two were already getting to know each other. But nothing I can't get around, just a shortcut in the story's timeline. By the way, I need to thank you for the 100 followers, this story wouldn't be here if it weren't for you, I wouldn't be, so thank you, thank you very much 🫶🏼

p.s.: do you want a taglist?

prologue |

The static made the hairs on both of their arms stand on end, he had never felt that before and for a moment Zeus's words came back to his mind. But it didn't make sense because the woman in front of him didn't have any trace of sacred energy, she was just an ordinary human, no divine traces. The itch in his chest increased when he saw her cheeks flush, so he hadn't been the only one to feel that way.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Lewis... How can I help you? You don't seem like a flower person."

"I really don't like flowers, but I think my house needs a little... life." He wanted to laugh at the irony, but kept his face impassive.

"Luckily for you, I have the perfect flowers right here," she said, her voice high with excitement. Y/N walked through the maze of pots, packages of soil and other objects. "I have a beautiful pot of strelitzia, it's a big plant but it adds incredible charm to any environment..."

Lewis nodded, following her at a safe distance, watching her point to some flowers and plants, for such a small space, there was a giant variety of species. Perhaps the flower shop was bigger on the inside than on the outside, he observed dryly.

"I have black desert roses, I think violet tulips..." She was faster than Lewis could follow, Y/N picked up a beige ceramic vase, and was placing flowers in it randomly. "I need orchids, hold them here for me, please" she handed the vase to him and disappeared inside the flower shop, returning with two flowers hanging in her hands.

He didn't understand how that mess of flowers and some dried plants could be. Y/N gave him a grateful smile as she took the vase from his hands and added the flowers she had picked. Within a few minutes, The florist organized the arrangement, and what was a mess turned into something beautiful. Even if he tried, he couldn't do something like that.

Something beautiful, vivid and graceful.

No, he only knew death, fear and dread.

"For someone who doesn't like flowers, I imagine vibrant colors are a problem... You are very lucky indeed, these black flowers arrived today and people love them, because of how rare they are."

Lewis gave a curt nod, watching her fetch a bag to put the vase in so that it wouldn't ruin the flowers when they were carried.

Y/N taught him about some preservation methods for the flowers in the vase, but he didn't listen to anything, caught up in the way she spoke, how she gestured, It was obvious how much she loved what she did, how she loved finding the right flowers for each customer. It had been a long time, longer than he could count, since he had seen someone work with so much love, so much dedication.

He had always known that humans were petty, arrogant, and cruel, humans would do atrocities for the things they wanted. History had more examples than he could count. Clytemnestra killing her husband after the Trojan War, Lycaon serving human flesh to the gods... And the passing of time confirmed what he already knew, humanity was rotten beyond salvation.

But the woman in front of him challenged his convictions. No matter how deeply Lewis searched her soul, he could find nothing that made her equal to the others.

Y/N was different.

Still lost in his thoughts, Lewis paid for the arrangement, saying she should keep the change.

"I didn't expect to find anything here in this little town, and here I am, going home with a bouquet," he said, making her put away the remaining money.

She smiled widely, the itch on Lewis's chest growing more irritated. "Oh, it was no big deal, Lewis. I'm happy to make sure you take something from us on your trip."

He looked away from her, grabbing the bag from the counter. She followed him out, still chattering excitedly. "Thank you for your attention, Y/N, and for the bouquet, of course. Goodbye."

"Adieu, Lewis." She waved at him as he walked down the small village's only avenue, and he could catch the waves of surprise coming from her as she realized what kind of car he drove. What could he do? Powerful cars were his deadly addiction.

He placed the bag of flowers on the passenger seat and started the car, feeling the sweet scent of the bouquet mix with the smell of expensive leather, creating a unique aroma that Lewis didn't notice he liked it until the air conditioning dispersed the smell.

He arrived in London that same day, he liked how the climate of the English capital lived up to his own temperament, London was cold, gloomy and rainy, thick clouds covered the city for most of the year. Therefore, he thought it only fair that the center of his domains should be located there.

He had barely crossed the building's reception when he was greeted by Megara, the erinyes wore an elegant black suit and no one would ever suspect that this woman was chasing and inflicting madness on men.

"Welcome back, sir," she greeted, turning on her tablet screen as she walked beside him to the private elevator. Many creatures had found other purposes in life in the contemporary era, nymphs had become models and actresses, satyrs had spread throughout the world in various sectors, But the Erinyes met in the corporate world, for the three sisters it was much more fun to see men going crazy over bankruptcy than over madness itself. "Nemesis has returned from the US, the purchase of the Wall Street investment bank has been successfully completed, and Fernando has also returned from Asia."

"I need you to do me a personal favor, Megara," he said as the elevator doors closed. "It's urgent."

"Of course sir, how can I help you?" She quickly turned off the tablet and turned fully to Hades, he handed her the bag of flowers, which she looked at with a raised eyebrow.

"Find out everything about the owner of this flower shop, from her name to how many vaccines she's had, absolutely everything," he was emphatic, seeing the furiæ nod in confusion.

"I'll make sure you have the information today, sir."

"Excellent," he replied and stepped out of the elevator, meeting Hypnos and Thanatos in the waiting room of his office. "I hope you have good news."

"You're not going to tell us how the visit to your family went?" Hypnos commented mockingly, receiving only an eye roll in response.

"Come in... And Megara, change the water in the flowers and place them in my room," he instructed before entering his room, followed by the twin gods. "I still don't understand why they took on different bodies."

"After years of having the same face as my brother, it's fun to be different from him," Tanatos said, his Spanish accent showing.

"Whatever..." He waved his hand in the air, going straight to the small bar to pour himself some whiskey. "I hope things in Suzuka went well, it's not a good time for a war with Susanoo."

"He's reluctant about the terms, we're talking about millions of souls that could favor their own pantheon..." Thanatos said, unbuttoning his jacket as he sat down. "I was lucky to talk to him, Tsukiyomi doesn't seem so happy to see us in their backyard."

"They can either deal with us in a peace offering or go to war with the Hindu clans, I wouldn't sleep easy knowing I might wake up with Shiva stabbing my neck" Hypnos said.

"Exactly, if they want us to keep their territory safe, the soul deal is a very small payment," Lewis said. "They'll accept it, it's a small pantheon and they did not know how to maintain their powers in the transition of the ages. Where have you been all this time?"

"The Fates called me to the hut"

The mention of the spinners of fate puzzled Lewis. What could they possibly want? If there was a new prophecy coming, he would know about it.

"What did they want?"

"The walls of Tartarus are crumbling," Sebastian said simply and Lewis snorted, it wasn't enough that Persephone was alive again, he still had to deal with the possibility of a new Titanomachy.

From zero to ten, how fucked was he?

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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO S-AWTURN™ 🪐. I do not allow copying or republication. Any unauthorized publication will be reported.

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[iho6hi2]

Infrunami.

Type: Oneshot

Pairing: Matsuno Karamatsu/F! Reader

Summary: Getting kisses from a hot lady? Karamatsu would love that. Almost getting ran over by a hot lady? Not exactly on his bucket list, but Karamatsu checks it regardless.

Warnings: Near Death Experiences, Fluff, Attempt at Humor, Light Angst, Drinking, Getting to Know Each Other, Feel-Good, Ridiculous

Word Count: 8,037

A/N: MY HOMESLICE 🧀🧀 Karamatsu deserves someone he can be a flop with T__T BTW Im so insecure about this so pls either give me a 10 page essay on why this sucked or one 'this was cool Lol' otherwise ill kms

Karamatsu ambles near the bridge, his usual hotspot for courting women in this cruel game life likes to call love; or more accurately the place where he stands still like a traffic sign with the hopes of someone giving him the time of day for once (huge spoiler alert: nobody does, as expected).

He chuckles, feigning smug amusement as he runs a hand through his hair in one smooth motion. "The stars must not favor me today, for all of my Karamatsu girls are nowhere to be seen. Heh, if that is the fate of a sinful man, I shall accept it and retreat with peace.''

The looks passersby shoot him border on mentally perturbed and downright horrified, because who the hell monologues atrocities like these out loud? Without being under the influence of something, nonetheless.

With that declaration out of the way, Karamatsu straightens up and decides to head home for the day, deeming it appropriate. What with his love endeavors turning out to be unsuccessful once again, also to no one's big surprise really.

On his way home, whenever the opportunity presents itself, he stops to window-shop every time he passes by a fashion boutique and admires clothes his broke bum probably couldn't afford.

Of course, he attempts not to appear interested, and instead only crosses his arms critically and gives the mannequins clad in clothing the stink eye (even if he's wearing shades of all things) while the workers glance at him warily through the window.

Before another demented sentence is said, suddenly all chaos breaks loose and there are people yelling and instantly he's all too aware of the motorcycle nearing him with each passing second. Karamatsu shrieks so loud he's sure everyone from the next town over had heard him.

"Get out of the way!" The biker shouts and waves a hand to the side for emphasis, and he feels like a fly being swatted away, but even if Karamatsu wanted to move it's almost as if his legs are rooted to the ground.

A wave of panic washes over him and strangely enough there was still enough time for dread to settle in the depths of his stomach. Even if it may be cliché, his life does end up flashing before his eyes － and it's just plain sad how fucking boring it is.

"Get out of the way," you repeat, though you sound more adamant, your tone coated with a sense of urgency.

Ahhh, Mommy! I'll die a virgin, I'll die a loser! Karamatsu cries in his mind. If I survive, I'll get a job, I swear! I'll even stop talking in English, just please! He pleads mentally, to whom is unknown.

Suddenly, you remember that brakes exist and you swerve with such mastery you weren't even aware you possessed up until now, coming to an abrupt stop right in front of your spared victim, tires screeching harshly against the pavement. Karamatsu deadpans, God had a real sense of humor.

He's still frozen in place, barely containing the natural instinct to piss himself. Though he's also pretty sure the urge to urinate will hit him like a shit ton of bricks post-shock.

Fortunately, he's not Ichimatsu and so he doesn't shit himself in front of the cute girl getting off of the motorcycle, even if she barely missed out on becoming his murderer.

You approach him cautiously, expecting the berating of a lifetime. Though judging by his state － him shaking like a leaf despite his thick leather jacket, also not to mention the buckets worth of sweat rolling off him －, you doubt you'll get an earful.

"Are you okay?'' Obviously, he's not. ''You're not hurt or anything, right?''

Karamatsu shakes his head timidly despite not even listening to a word you said. Then, he gulps and raises a trembling hand to his face, lowering his sunglasses just a smidge to take a good peek at you. ''H-Heh, you have, um, nothing to worry about my dear Karamatsu girl..."

You do your best to smile at him in response, but the need to physically recoil is understandably strong. ''Oh, uh, that's good to hear. I'm sorry for, you know, almost killing you and giving you a fright... It happens a lot for some reason.''

You need to get your license revoked, Karamatsu's eye twitches but he smirks regardless, willing to disregard everything that had occurred just because you were one hot lady. Plus, he is a gentleman, if nothing else.

''As if! You have no reason to fret, mon amour. The thrill of living or dying, chasing that high is what makes or breaks a man! Such a thing couldn't possibly scare me."

''Are you sure? 'Cause I'm certain I heard you scream,'' you grin with more teeth than you should. It'd be such a pleasure to knock him down a couple of notches, you think.

''T-T-That was most definitely not a scream, my darling, I assure you! It was but a noise of excitement at the divine gamble, ahahaha, that's all!'' Karamatsu stutters, stumbling over his words.

You blink, positively unimpressed. "You were excited to get ran over?"

After that, an uncomfortable silence stretches between the two of you. You're pulled into reality by the fact that just about anyone could see your number plate, so it was time to leave and flee the supposed crime scene. You're not getting fined for this, hell no. If anything, you're the one who's in desperate need of reparations after this degenerate conversation.

You mount your motorcycle again and look at him with an almost impish smile, ''You have weird tastes, man." And with that last comment, you're gone in the same breath, leaving behind only a cartoonish dust cloud.

Karamatsu's legs give out and he collapses, falling to his knees. Nobody helps him up.

★

Karamatsu doesn't really visit clubs often. Going by himself makes him feel strangely out of place, going with his brothers makes him feel like a circus attraction, though it's not like it has ever bothered him before.

He would usually lie through his teeth and strive to come off as unbothered and remarkably experienced; a well-seasoned veteran among premature ejaculators, but crowded places like these aren't his scene, at all. Never really have been in the first place.

Perhaps that's why he thinks he doesn't belong here as he observes the rest of the partygoers live it up on the dancefloor while babysitting his beer, one sip at a time.

The music isn't even good, Karamatsu frowns and pinches his eyebrows together, deep in thought. Man, did this place fucking suck. How much did they have to cough up in order for others to rate it a 4-star club?

Well, he supposes it doesn't really matter in the end. As long as the booze's good, that's all he needs to forget this horrible day. A 'nice' hangover is all it takes to wipe his memories clean, which isn't much to brag about.

''Oh, it's you!'' Someone exclaims and he whips his head forward before spitting out his alcohol. What are the odds? You point at him, just as shocked as him at this turn of events, ''Mr. Painful!''

Karamatsu chuckles, raising his glass full of beer as a greeting. ''Madame. Charmed to see you here.''

You roll your eyes but that doesn't hinder you from grinning back at him, ''Oh, the pleasure is all mine, trust me.''

''I would hope so. What are the chances of our paths crossing once more? It leads me to believe that this is no chance encounter. Hmph, why it must be fate.'' Karamatsu blabbers on, implementing wild gestures into his dialogue, takes his sunglasses off and his eyes shine with what you presume is a romantic glint.

You cough a little and wipe the bar clean with a towel, ''Yeah, no. I just work here.''

''The universe works in mysterious ways.''

You laugh. ''Whatever helps you sleep at night, buddy.'' Then, you pat the back of his hand twice. You watch him jump up in surprise and tilt your head to the side, confused.

Karamatsu clutches his hand to his chest, but realizes how fucking ridiculous he must look and simply clears his throat with that same proud expression.

You squint your eyes. ''You're not sick, are you?''

Karamatsu hurries to shake his head, which did nothing but give him a sense of déjà vu. ''N-Non, non! Don't worry your pretty little head over my health, angel. I'm nothing else if not alright, haha.''

You narrow your eyes at him further.

His hands are bundled over his crotch and he has one leg crossed over the other and if Twitter had taught you anything useful at all, it would mean that these are early signs of cock shame. And all of his prior mannerisms, could it be that he is... ''A virgin?''

You did not mean to say that out loud.

Karamatsu's face turns blank for a brief second before he's flapping his hands left and right in firm denial. His face is flushed, panicked, and you swear he's on the brink of tears.

When you said that you wanted to knock him off his high horse, this wasn't what you had in mind, at least not exactly. As a matter of fact, you feel sort of bad for the poor guy.

''Hahaha... What are you talking about, my Karamatsu girl? You should be able to tell by now that a man like me is sought after, which is one of the many punishments I must endure!'' He announces, posing with his index and thumb on his chin, a shaky smile slapped on his sweaty face.

You blink, then prop your elbows on the front bar, lean in and ask, ''And in reality?''

Karamatsu sits back down in his stool, then promptly downs the rest of his beer. ''A jobless virgin who lives in his parents' house.''

You register the somber look in his eyes. You sigh under your breath and open up the fridge, pulling out the same brand of beer he had been drinking until now and pass the bottle to him casually.

Karamatsu looks up at you in disbelief, glancing between you and the bottle of beer frantically. You flick his forehead, ''Drink up, it's on the house just this once.''

Karamatsu stiffens and then smiles gently, rubbing his wet eyes with the sleeve of his jacket, snivelling. ''Thank you, my Karamatsu girl!''

You cross your arms and huff, ''It's [Name]. And besides, I almost ran you over earlier today, it's the least I can do for you.''

''Thank you, [Name].'' Karamatsu parrots himself and happily takes a swig of his new, freshly refilled drink.

You watch him out of the corner of your eye while serving other customers. When a majority of the people disperse, leaving the two of you mostly alone again, you quickly scribble down your number on a napkin.

''Here,'' you call out to him as you hand him the piece of paper. When he shoots you a curious look, you redirect your attention elsewhere in mock embarrassment. ''You seem like fun, let's drink together for realsies next time. My treat.''

Karamatsu gasps, screaming like a banshee with a voice mutation and you think he emotes a strange, outdated gag while leaping ten feet in the air.

His head hits the ceiling but he comes back down just as quick, blood dripping down his face. Planks come crashing down on top of him, somehow on fire, and you clench your jaw. This will definitely be deducted from your paycheck.

★

Karamatsu wakes up, but he doesn't remember how or when he got home.

He ruffles his hair, only to find his broken shades and several bandages wrapped around his head. He attempts to jog his memory and yet the only thing he's able to recall is slamming face-first into a roof and... And...

He sits up and Olympic dives straight into the couch, barbarically searching for that blessed piece of paper which could very well change the entire trajectory of his life.

When he pulls it out of his leather jacket's pocket, he breathes heavily and fakes a falsetto, opting to roll around on the floor in some sort of wild frenzy.

This is it. I'm finally presented with an opportunity to abandon my virgin ways, Karamatsu thinks with a serious expression, shadows covering his eyes dramatically.

He raises a lone victorious fist in the air, cutting through the Matrix itself. Then, Karamatsu gulps and surveys the area, noticing that the living room is empty, which can only mean one thing. Now is the perfect time to plan a romantic rendezvous with you.

Tip-toeing his way to the hall where the landline is located, Karamatsu muttered curse words whenever the floorboards creaked under his weight.

When he reaches the house phone, he gently unfolds the napkin and smoothes out the wrinkles, then sucks in a deep breath and forces his balls to turn into pure steel.

Dialing your number with practiced caution, he bites his nails and anxiously taps his foot. The longer he waits for you to pick up, the more he loses hope.

Just as he was about to hang up and snap back to his miserable reality, maybe cry for an hour or two, your voice croaks out a, ''Hello, who is this? I can hear you breathing, creep. Helloooo?''

''A-Ah, [Name]! This is, uh, Karamatsu.'' He stutters and twirls his hair around his finger. ''I was pondering over the possibility of us taking a stroll together, bathing in the sun and sharing masterful pastries－"

''A date. You want us to go on a date.''

''Yes,'' Karamatsu admits, or rather embraces the simplified idea of it all. ''It's okay if you don't want to, of course, m'lady! I-I wouldn't force you or anything, it's entirely up to you.''

You pinch your nose on the other line, ''Karamatsu, shut up, 'kay? Yes, I wanna go on a date with you, otherwise I wouldn't have paid for your broke ass last night. Now give me a time and place.''

''You do? You actually want to willingly hang out with me?'' He questions and you can practically smell his meekness and self-doubt oozing out of him even through the phone.

''You're the one who hit up my line first, no takebacks hotshot.'' You say, half-joking.

''Why, yes of course. As expected of my favourite Karamatsu girl!'' My only Karamatsu girl up-to-date. ''Obviously, you desire to spend every waking moment together with me, just as much as I do.''

''Time and place, please and thank you.'' You cut him off mid-effusion.

After arranging the date and going over the details, Karamatsu giddily spins and hugs himself. Then, he slaps his face and nods to no one in particular, as a form of confirmation to his invisible hype men.

Choromatsu stares at him judgementally from the stairway, face twisted in its usual sociopathic manner.

Osomatsu leans over in order to whisper in his ear, "What's up with him? He's acting weirder than usual."

Choromatsu scowls. "I don't wanna know, besides if we show interest that means we're going to have to put up with him."

Osomatsu nods in agreement and rubs under his nose with a finger, "True. It's way too damn early for his theatrics." Then, he throws in his assholish laugh for good measure.

The two of them choose to close their eyes and pretend this never happened in the first place, trudging up the stairs and going right back into their shared room without a care in the world.

★

You check the time and grimace. He's awfully late for someone who asked you out first. You wouldn't say you're the most punctual person in the world, but even still you decided to get all dolled up and ended up arriving early for a change of pace.

At first, you didn't mind waiting for him. Life happens after all, right? Maybe something came up last minute and he couldn't put it off, but if that were the case he would have informed you beforehand, right? Right?

You feel as though you're a step closer to becoming a wacko, but suddenly shake your head to rid your mind of such thoughts and smile to yourself. He'll show up, you're sure of it.

But after thirty more minutes of this nonsense, you're on the verge of throwing a tantrum and disrupting the public tranquility because you got stood up. What a fucking jerk, you think and puff out your cheeks.

Just as you're about to leave, maybe actually run someone over and kill them to make yourself feel better and perhaps blow all of your money on cheap gigolos, you stop and widen your eyes at the sight that greets you.

There's no mistaking those sequinned pants and shiny cowboy boots. Your date, with his wounds all gone and miraculously healed, saunters over to you like he's a runway model, catwalking with a bit of an attitude as if he didn't keep you waiting for half an hour.

He halts when there's barely any distance between the two of you, takes off his shades and flashes you his pearly whites which emit an ominous sparkle and you're temporarily rendered blind. ''Sorry for the wait.''

You grind your teeth together and force yourself to grin, ''Don't worry about it, but what took you so long.''

Karamatsu nervously chuckles and glances to the side, looking anywhere but you.

How the hell is he supposed to tell you that he spent most of the time hiding and sneaking peeks in your direction, but simply didn't have enough courage to approach you and that it took him at least twenty minutes to muster it? Simple, he won't tell you.

Instead, he strikes a pose under the nonexistent limelight. ''A star like me is obligated to be fashionably late.''

''Well, the star better make sure it doesn't happen again or it'll be one sad day for your fanbase,'' you threaten with an innocent smile, batting your eyelashes.

Karamatsu gulps and nods, but an invisible light bulb turns on above his head and he snaps his fingers. ''Oh, yes! How can I forget? I got a present for you, my Karamatsu girl."

You 'ooh' and 'aah' in curiosity, while he retrieves whatever he brought along with him in the meantime.

When he pulls out a tank top with his face on it, the exact same one he's wearing as well, you don't know what to say in response. In fact, your brain might actually be buffering.

Have we lost the impact of shame in our modern-day society? You think in disdain, fighting off the pain in your ribs.

He blushes and hands it to you nonchalantly, ''Here, wear this so suitors know not to mess with you. Once they see you and I together, matching garments and walking hand in hand, they shall understand who the one true power couple is.''

You blink twice and slowly accept the gift, then without any hesitation whatsoever you put on the tank top and wear it over your clothes. You're in too deep already, anyway.

''Thanks a lot, Karamatsu. I, uh, don't know what to say,'' you fake flattery at his sincere act of courtesy, though you're not necessarily lying either. You genuinely have no idea what to say to this entire ordeal.

''No need to thank me, sunshine.'' He pirouettes in slow motion and when he stops, he stretches his hand out for you to take. There is an aura surrounding you and you can make out dreamy bubbles floating around him. And where did the harp come from? ''Now allow me to whisk you off to paradise.''

You grab his hand and excitedly lead him to your parked motorcycle. ''Great, let's go!'' You pat the pillion and stare at him expectantly.

Upon noticing his silence, you stop ushering him to the seat. ''What's wrong, Karamatsu?''

He scratches his nape and lets his head droop low. ''Is it... Um, do we have to get on top of that...'' He points a weak finger at the bike and trembles. What can he say, he has a fear of motorbikes now.

You pout at his inquiry. ''What, you don't wanna? But I thought you were into stuff like this. Why else would you wear a leather jacket?''

Karamatsu winces and immediately rushes to pacify you. ''No, no! That's not it! I was testing your limits, my dear Karamatsu girl. I apologize if－''

You laugh and place a hand on his shoulder, rubbing it soothingly. ''I was just kidding, but if you're really scared we don't have to. It's my fault, after all.''

Karamatsu juts his lip and furrows his eyebrows in determination. He draws a breath and wraps his fingers around your wrist with ease, advancing towards the vehicle with you right behind him.

You gaze at him with something akin to awe, or is it incredulity? He plants himself on the seat and looks back to address you.

''A real man knows better than to turn down a lady and disappoint her,'' he states conclusively. You chuckle and follow suit, sitting down on the saddle.

You grip his arms and move them so they're wrapped around your waist. You twist and turn the key and the engine roars to life in one swoop. ''Hold on tight, [Name] boy.'' You tease his way of talking and take off without a second warning.

His head smacks against your back with a rather rough thud and Karamatsu's clasp around your midsection is already tight enough to cut off your air supply. And even if you feel his tears dampening your clothes, you don't comment on it. Instead, you pick up even more speed and in turn, Karamatsu's hug deepens.

''Shouldn't we be wearing safety helmets,'' Karamatsu yells through the lump in his throat, his ears ringing and head spinning.

You shout back at him, ''Who even wears these things nowadays?'' At the lack of your elaboration, he figures you're dead serious and he's petrified all over again.

You laugh maniacally, or at least you do so in his mind, as you go off course, making sharp turns left and right at every corner to wreak havoc on innocent people's lives.

You narrowly dodge two pedestrians and Karamatsu is finally desensitized enough to smile and blush as he takes in the ever-changing view.

There's something sweet in the way you repeat a certain motion whenever you hear him chuckle and cheer, he can't pinpoint if that's the starving desperation that thirsts for touch and companionship or something else entirely.

But then something punctures your tire and he's pulled out of dreamland all at once.

The two of you wobble on the unstable bike for a bit before you pull him by the jacket and jump off the motorcycle, rolling on the ground like you two were in an action movie. The motorcycle continues on its way without your guidance and eventually crashes into a tree, exploding.

A tire with a flame on it flies over your heads and you study the fire, unimpressed with pursed lips. ''Thank god it was a gift from my ex, otherwise I would've been in some deep shit.''

Karamatsu sinks to the ground and curls up in a ball.

★

You plop your ass on the grass next to Karamatsu, handing him a soda you bought from the convenience store nearby. Karamatsu mutters a small 'thank you' and takes a sip.

The two of you sit in complete silence on the riverbank and you're too abashed to begin talking first, finding the whole outcome to be your fault. You've given this man too many apologies for them to feel truthful at this point. Maybe he should do the most logical thing and start evading you. You deserve it.

Amidst your inner conflict, Karamatsu fixes you with a solemn look and chooses to break the ice. ''[Name], am I ugly?''

Taken aback by the unusual question, you cock your head to the side. ''Huh?''

''Tell me, am I ugly?''

You consider him for a moment longer and then gently cup his face with your hands, inspecting it from every possible angle you could manage.

You narrow your eyes in concentration before ruffling his hair. ''Not at all.''

''Really?''

''Not in the slightest. Well, at least I see the appeal." You shrug noncommittally. ''Why're you asking, though? That pretty much came out of nowhere.''

''Because if I'm not ugly, then why would you want to kill me? Every woman I meet either ignores me, beats me half to death or hates me. Why? Am I really that painful? Is that going to be my fate for the entirety of my life?''

You blink and hum in thought, placing a finger on your chin. ''Very, you're real painful but not enough for me to want to kill you, I guess. I think you just have extremely bad luck.''

Karamatsu frowns and crosses his arms, ''You think so? Is it really just bad luck or is there something bigger at play?''

The two of you ponder over what the real cause of Karamatsu's misfortune may be before your stomachs growl in protest simultaneously.

This seems to revive his alter ego because Karamatsu jolts and he appears pleased, almost as if he had been waiting for this exact same moment. He chuckles and spreads eagle, facing the sun. You're concerned he's going to get a heat stroke.

''It's finally my turn,'' Karamatsu announces, though you're not sure he knows what he's talking about. ''I shall take the princess to an exquisite place, where she can try real fine dining!''

He strokes his imaginary facial hair, winking. Even his eyebrows seem more refined. ''Follow my lead, dove.'' You were going to do just that even without him saying anything, but you salute him regardless.

Even though mere minutes ago it was still sunny, for some reason it's already dark out. You and Karamatsu trek for what must have felt like hours until he stops dead in his tracks. You wonder why until you spot the lonely food stall and smile.

You and Karamatsu make yourselves comfortable on the bench and he greets the owner, ''Yo, Chibita! How's your night been so far?''

It just turned nighttime... You deadpan.

''Y'know, dealing with jackasses of your kind－,'' Chibita scoffs before pausing, turning to you with unblinking eyes. Then, after he's done assessing you, he redirects his attention to Karamatsu. ''You payin' for rental girlfriends again? Get some dignity, man.''

You raise an eyebrow in question, but sneer and hide it with your fist. ''Rental girlfriend? That's a good idea, why didn't I think of that?''

Karamatsu's expression sours. ''[Name] isn't a rental. Besides who are you to talk, Chibimi?''

''Shut up, don't remind me! I was in a dark place, idjit,'' Chibita yells in response and smacks him on the head with a ladle and you watch their antics with a hint of amusement.

''Anyway,'' Karamatsu waves him off, despite the large bump he earned on his forehead. ''Give us the best oden and beer you've got in store, I'll make sure my woman eats right tonight.''

You shudder in surprise as Karamatsu takes your hand into his own, gazing at you with what must be an entire galaxy in his eyes and you wonder where he found those E.T. contact lenses. ''Don't hold back, order whatever your heart desires. It's all on me.''

Chibita complies with the request, serving two portions of oden and the beverages Karamatsu asked for. Though, he can't help but want to sate his curiosity. ''With what money?''

''With the money I exploited from my Mommy,'' Karamatsu boasts like that's something to take immense pride in.

After three to four rounds of drinking and pigging out on Chibita's oden, it was time to wrap up and call it a night.

Karamatsu snakes his hands in his pockets in search of the money he claimed to have, but he freezes as he finds nothing instead. Turning his pockets inside out, a fly flutters out of them and Karamatsu pales.

You seem to get the memo and nod conspiratorially his way.

You square your shoulders as Karamatsu nervously clears his throat. ''Chibita...,'' he begins before throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. ''I'm so sorry, I'll pay you back someday!''

Chibita stands still for a couple of seconds, processing. Afterwards, he lunges over the counter and begins chasing you. ''Damn it, idjit! You promised you'd pay, get back here! Damn it!''

With Chibita hot on your heels, Karamatsu goes through several alleyways as last resort shortcuts, and you come to the conclusion that Chibita is probably really scary if Karamatsu's going through so much trouble just to lose him and shake him off your trail.

"You can put me down now," you grumble and make a face. Karamatsu panics, just now realizing what predicament he had put you in, and sets you down with extra care.

"I apologize for that," he huffs out, attempting to catch his breath with his hands on his knees. You rub his back, acting as his emotional support.

Looking around the vicinity in search for any signs of Chibita, you come up empty. Helping Karamatsu to his feet, you deliver the good news. "He's gone, so you can stop looking constipated."

He sighs, relieved. "Such is the result of an eventful night. However, I will make sure your journey back home is undisturbed."

You shake your head in disagreement and throw an arm around his shoulder. "I think you've had enough, tough guy. Here, how about I take you home?"

Karamatsu seems distraught at the very idea of it, but for your sake he flips his hair and leers. "Your wish is my command."

With his directions, you manage to escort him back to his house safe and sound. Karamatsu opens his mouth to blurt out something, but is caught off guard by the abrupt change in the weather.

You both run with impressive speed under his house's roof to take cover and you deduct that the rain wouldn't be letting up for a while.

"Well, this sucks," you point out the obvious. Karamatsu nods wordlessly.

You think about calling a taxi, but something gets draped over you. You look down and are pleasantly astonished to discover that it's Karamatsu's leather jacket.

Said man is quivering in his flimsy excuse of a tank top, licentiously grinning at you with a very obvious snot bubble emerging out of his nostrils. "C-C-Can't le-let my favorite Karamatsu girl catch a cold." He elaborates for whatever reason.

"Well, I can't keep my favorite [Name] boy out for much longer, either." You give him a brief hug and were about to pull away, but Karamatsu is apparently not done dishing out surprises.

He grips your shoulders with resolve, before leaning in and kissing you on the cheek. It's a quick, demure kiss and if you were to blink, you would've missed it.

Nonplussed by his own boldness, Karamatsu stumbles towards the door with two left feet, barely succeeding in opening it.

"Get back home safely, [Name]!" He bids you farewell in true virgin fashion and slams the door shut in your face. You cackle, violently laughing to yourself and then crack a small smile, pressing a palm to your kissed cheek.

You must look like a fool, standing out in the rain while wearing a loser's clothes, but honestly? You've never felt better after such a tragic date.

★

You sigh and sling a towel over your shoulder, more than a little happy to finally clock out. Tonight had been particularly busy for some reason and working with a slight hangover was far from ideal, but it wasn't something you couldn't handle.

You dab your fellow bartender up, not even bothering to spare him a glance, and begin packing up your things with fervor.

He issues you a sly wink, ''Going home so soon, [Last Name]?''

Get a clue, wise guy. You internally roll your eyes, but only offer an exhausted smile. ''Not necessarily, got to make a pit stop on the way home.''

Akihito, you remember, folds his hands behind his head, rocking on his heels. ''Paying your boyfriend a visit?'' He hums cheekily.

You blink. ''Huh?''

He gestures towards the paper bag in your hands, which barely concealed the shitty leather jacket you were so generously lent.

You furrow your brows and scratch your cheek with an awkward expression. ''Wouldn't really call him a boyfriend...''

Akihito stretches, whining, ''You can be so cold, y'know. I feel sorry for the poor guy.''

''Another word and I'll really make you sorry.''

Akihito throws up a peace sign, grinning from ear to ear. ''Night, [Last Name]!''

You grumble under your breath and throw the towel on the ground. Akihito hears you say something along the lines of 'thought so' and other such death threats, but he feeds off your negativism. He odiosynthesizes and you know that, which makes you feel better about brushing him off, at least.

The walk to Karamatsu's place is as unmemorable as can be, and while it wouldn't kill you to see him again and chat for a bit, you don't think you'd be able to put up with him for long (or anyone else for that matter). When you spot his house, you brace yourself before sharply knocking on the door.

Well, you were supposed to knock but somehow developing last-minute Spidey senses, Karamatsu tears open the door to his balcony and puts a stop to your supposedly evil schemes. ''Don't'!'' He manages to both whisper and scream at the same time.

''What are you doing here at this hour, angel? Trying to get me crucified, perhaps?'' Karamatsu interrogates you and considering how disheveled his appearance is, you reach the conclusion that his fictional persona is merely an afterthought at the moment. You find a peace of mind at the conjecture.

''I'm just here to return your jacket,'' you say like it was obvious, which it should have been.

''I see.'' He doesn't see jackshit. ''But I cannot help but wonder why you didn't call beforehand. I, too, need my fair share of beauty sleep, sweetheart.''

Your eye twitches and you ball your fists, but remember to count to ten in your head.

''For your information, I called three times but maybe if someone bothered to pick up, I wouldn't be robbing you of your sweet dreams,'' you hiss in reply, proud of yourself for not chucking his damned jacket in the trash can in his presence.

Karamatsu rubs the crust from his eyes, though he does appear sheepish to a degree. ''My sincere apologies.''

You scoff, glad to have come out on top at this pointless back-and-forth.

Karamatsu anxiously chews on his lower lip, trying his best to conjure up a plan that will avoid his certain death at the hands of his brothers. Not even for waking them up at three in the morning, but for the mere fact that he was 'romancing' a hot chick.

Then he grins and looks down at you like a mad genius. He couldn't be further from the word.

''Climb up and join me on the roof, [Name],'' he suggests and acts as if it was a perfectly reasonable demand.

You undeliberately blank out for a second before chuckling lowly and nodding in understanding. ''I get it now. You're actually fucking nuts and escaped from a correctional facility.''

Look who's talking, Karamatsu wants to retort but he keeps it to himself. He beckons you over encouragingly, ''Please, [Name] dearest. I promise I won't let anything happen to you. I'll be your guardian angel.''

You're acutely aware that something will definitely happen, so you only click your tongue, still apprehensive about the proposition.

Karamatsu continues to stare at you with that tender smile, though it's different this time. His hair is sticking out in different directions, ungroomed. His eyes are heavy, bloodshot and sleep still clings to him as he staggers slightly in his step. But he's smiling at you, it's real.

You put aside your concerns for now and exhale slowly, biting the handles of your paper bag.

You jump and grab a hold of the portico, flailing your legs to help stabilize yourself. Your fingers burn because this is the most physically exerting thing you've done in your life thus far.

You push yourself up on the portico and, just like a mollusk, inch forward bit by bit. Karamatsu tries his hardest not to laugh at your misery, but he's unable to take you seriously. You're moving slower than an old man with two broken legs, plus you look like you have a stick shoved up your ass.

Once you're a safe distance away from the edge, you extend your arms and Karamatsu takes this as his cue to act and be useful.

He grabs your hands and hauls you up on the balcony, but this quest is not over just yet. You have to conquer the final boss; the rooftop.

''I have an idea,'' you both blurt out at random. You don't care much about that, but Karamatsu is over the moon at the perfect synchronization.

Coincidence or not, the two of you end up cooking up the same strategy.

You get on top of Karamatsu's shoulders and with the sudden added height, reaching the roof is a piece of cake. After settling your ass down on the tiles, you grit your teeth and clasp hands with him for the umpteenth time, having him work his way up as well.

With a heave-ho, Karamatsu is free to lie down beside you.

You're hit with a much needed reality check. All of this over a second-hand jacket? Unbelievable.

Tossing the paper bag on his lap carelessly, you scowl. ''You're welcome, asshole.''

''C-Come on, my dear Karamatsu girl. It wasn't that bad, right?''

''Speak for yourself...''

Karamatsu props up his elbows, craning his head up just enough to be able to see you. ''It's such a shame, however. The view from here is perfect, all that's missing is my guitar. Too bad my precious brothers are sleeping soundly.''

''Yeah, about that. I don't know what any of your brothers have to do with this, 'cause whatever the fuck this was could've been easily prevented.'' You cross your arms and turn away from him, establishing a decent amount of room between the two of you.

''You wouldn't understand, darling. Yes, even if I did give you an explanation.'' He responds, and you feel as though he was reading your mind. You shiver at the sheer thought.

The two of you don't indulge in idle chatter afterwards since you're too busy looking back on all of your previous life decisions, trying to figure out what led you to go down such paths. Karamatsu, on the other hand, is gliding himself closer to you.

You notice his ventures and decide to cut him some slack. You shift, erasing the previous space you set and move a hand to place on his shoulder. He hiccups at the touch and begins stammering, playing with his fingers. ''Hahaha... your eyes shine so brightly under the moon's glow.''

You shush him, still not in the mood to listen to his poetic nonsense and bullshit of similar nature.

The two of you stare each other down and Karamatsu does his best to put up a brave front, but you're not blind and you see the way he peers at you from under his lashes, sweating like a musclehead.

Before things could escalate any further, which you doubt is something that would have happened considering who exactly you're dealing with, the both of you slip off the edge.

You're falling and Karamatsu is too, and while you're mostly accepting of the scenario, he isn't. You're more surprised at the fact that this man-child's shrill wails aren't waking up the entire neighbourhood, though they're probably accustomed to these kinds of phenomena by now.

In order to break your fall, Karamatsu adjusts mid-air so as to be under you. He shoves your face into his chest, embracing you but his actions prove to be the wrong move as they merely speed up the process of nosediving into the concrete.

The two of you flop like prepped meatballs on a grill, a sinistrous thump resonating at the dead of night.

You briefly register the sizzling elbow pain you've obtained and Karamatsu's jaw headbutting you at the last second, but other than that you took it pretty well － all thanks to Karamatsu's interference. Perhaps chivalry isn't dead?

While you got out of this with barely any injuries, just small scratches, the same couldn't be said for Karamatsu, who was currently experiencing concussions.

You pat his chest lightly to snatch up his attention. Karamatsu groans, seeing stars floating above him. You make yourself comfortable despite the joint strains, snuggling up to him. ''I'm egging your house soon, be aware.''

He passes out before he could formulate a coherent reply.

★

You haven't seen neither hide nor hair of Karamatsu ever since the rooftop fiasco. And you don't want to sound needy, or downright crazy for that matter, but you miss the man with horrible pick-up lines and over-the-top attitude. Him and his awful sense of fashion, not to mention the strong cologne.

Perhaps you've been infected with some new kind of mental illness, one so new and fresh out of the oven it has yet to be diagnosed by teenage girls with too much free time on their hands.

First, you visit Chibita for any sort of intel he might possess.

''Karamatsu? Sorry, him and his brothers hadn't stopped by as of recent.'' He shrugs apologetically and whips out oden skewers, serving them to you.

You nod and grin at him in understanding, paying for the food before scurrying away on a full stomach.

Next, you consider what other options you have at your disposal. Calling him has proven to be absolutely useless and you're not sure if paying his house a visit would be a good idea, given how worked up he got over such a possibility last time.

You search far and wide, in every nook and cranny, not leaving a single stone unturned. But alas, no dice. Not a trace of him anywhere and you speculate the probability of him glitching into The Backrooms.

You're about to give up, hunting Karamatsu for sport and worrying about him won't do you any good.

You're not getting paid for this, you also don't know him all too well to be actively seeking him out. His dramatic temperament has rubbed off on you, but you're ready to wash it off.

See if I care, you huff and kick a stray can in your way. You're aware of how childishly you're behaving, but you bluff fake indifference as if anyone would be stupid enough to believe you.

You stomp angrily and punt another can with your foot, but accidentally hit someone when doing so.

You flinch and prepare to half-ass an apology before realizing you hit the man you've been getting grey hairs over.

''Karamatsu?'' You blink and crouch down to shake him by the shoulders. ''Hey, what's wrong?''

Karamatsu weakly smiles and shuffles away, offering you a seat next to him on the curb.

You frown, ''Seriously, what happened?''

Karamatsu laughs, manspreading. ''I'm grateful for your concern, but it's... Well, it's simply a foolish thing to be upset about.''

''If it upset you, then it's not dumb.'' You respond, reassuring him to the best of your ability. ''Now, spill the beans.''

''I've been thinking about my personality, I guess?'' He mutters and cracks his knuckles, he tends to fidget quite a lot. ''Like, am I annoying? Trying too hard? Should I stop?''

You listen to him and stay quiet, occassionally rubbing his back. ''I want to be liked.'' You quirk an eyebrow at that, but don't interrupt him otherwise.

''It's lame at my big age to want to be popular, but I wanna be kissed. I wanna have a girlfriend and go on dates, but I'm afraid my personality will drive everyone away."

For fuck's sake, he was called Shittymatsu and frankly, he's surprised you were able to withstand him for so long.

''Karamatsu, want me to be completely honest,'' you ask. He nods rapidly at you. You hum softly, ''I didn't lie before, you are painful. You say so much corny stuff, I'm impressed you can even look yourself in the mirror.''

He cringes, but you pay him no heed. Instead, you continue, ''I mean, really? Who wears tank tops with their face slapped right in the middle, what a fucking dork. But, y'know, I kinda like it now.''

''Huh?''

''I think that type of shit grew on me, for better or worse. I, too, have become a member of the cornball community." You admit and you shudder at your mushy honesty.

You rub the back of your head in embarrassment, "When you say all of these dumb nicknames and act like you own all of Akatsuka Ward a small part of me wishes I die on the spot, but I don't necessarily hate it.''

You hug him and bring him closer to you. You snicker and peck him on the forehead, ''Don't worry so much about who ignores you or hates you is all, when you have someone who likes you despite every cringe one-liner right in front of ya.''

''You're right.'' Karamatsu returns the hug, sniffing and holding back tears. ''[Name]?''

''Yeah?''

''You're a true Karamatsu girl.''

Getting kisses from a hot lady? Karamatsu would love that. And the prospect of you being the one to give them to him, with that warm smile which makes your nose crinkle up, makes the scenario sound even better.

But for now, he's content with you simply pressed up against his side, where he can easily peer over at you and study your face until it's burned and etched forever into his brain. Subtly, of course.

You look up at him with a raised eyebrow after feeling him drill holes in your head since forever, which in turn leads Karamatsu to let out an urbane chuckle and lamely pretend to fix his stray strands of hair, and you can't help but snort at his usual theatrical character.

You sigh and rest your forehead against his. "Painful," you mumble under your breath, though definitely loud enough for him to hear, then giggle.

Karamatsu playfully frowns in response. "My flower, you should know by now that no pain means no gain." He tuts with an exaggerated wag of his finger, eyes animatedly glittering.

You laugh in utter disbelief before shaking your head, wrapping a loose arm around his waist. "Sorry, sorry. You know damn well I don't mean it, right?"

Karamatsu hums and his lips curl upwards to form a small, fond smile. He places his chin on your shoulder and you lean into him even more.

Yeah, Karamatsu could get used to this. For now, that was more than enough for him.

Getting kisses from a hot lady really would be nice, but watching the sun set on the cold pavement with you next to him feels good, too. And hey, you are a hot lady, so what's there to hate?

And to think all of this was thanks to your irresponsible driving.

Osomatsu whistles, nudging Choromatsu as they stared at the two of you from afar. Despite their earlier sentiments, curiosity got the better of them and they decided to investigate their brother's own private time. It's not like he could file a restraining order against them, he would be tortured.

"Kudos to Karamatsu, I actually salute him for managing to bag a real human being. Didn't think he had it in him." Osomatsu snickers, hands deep in his hoodie's pockets.

Choromatsu appears depleted beyond belief, eyeing you both with evident disapproval on his facial features, "What sort of lobotomized romance was this? Felt more like a simulation."

Osomatsu and Choromatsu sigh, both fully synchronized, and groan out, "It should have been me."

[xzaddyzanakinx]

I Crybaby I part two

Mean Punk/Grunge Anakin × Naive Femme Reader

18+ MDNI

Warnings: demeaning comments, crude behavior, aggression toward reader, hurt/comfort, reader is taken advantage of, Anakin is briefly a creep

Info: Anakin is an ass, like no joke he's really mean. Pierced and tatted Ani, he plays the drums, annoying rude neighbor, modern AU (90's), he might be mean now but I promise he will get better (probably)

NOT PROOFREAD

As the day went on you got yourself ready. A friend from one of your college classes was due to pick you up anytime now. The guy was nice enough to invite you out to go bowling with a group of his friends, knowing you were new and that you didn’t have a solid friend group yet. You were appreciative of the gesture, despite your bubbly personality you found it difficult to keep a steady friendship, it seemed that people took advantage of your naivety, your kindness.

Jacob had promised that his friends were just as great as he was, it was the week after classes had ended for the summer and they had collectively decided it was an atrocity that a girl like you had went the school year without a proper night out with friends.

Wearing a tight red crop top and a cherry patterned short skirt and a pair of white sandals you stepped out side, checking on your hair and makeup one more time in the porch window before sitting on the swing to wait for him to pull up.

Anakin had been watching you from behind his bedroom curtains as you primped and prepared to go out. A mix of annoyance and fascination flickered within him as he observed your movements. He couldn't help but notice the tight red crop top that accentuated your figure and the short cherry-patterned skirt that revealed your toned legs.

Feeling a sudden pang of jealousy, Anakin scoffed to himself as he grabbed his pack of Marlboros and his lighter from the nightstand. He stepped out onto his porch, determined to distract you from whatever event you planned on attending.

Anakin couldn't help but admire how good you looked, despite his attempts to downplay it.

"You're really going all out, aren't you?" he called out, purposely using a sarcastic tone as he walked over, the sound of his combat boots hitting the concrete echoing through the air.

He lit up a cigarette, taking a deliberate drag and letting the smoke linger in the air between you. Smirking at the disgust on your face when the smoke curled around your head, he snickered as he watched you fan it away with your delicate little hands.

Despite his snarky facade, he couldn't help but feel a streak of possessiveness at the thought of you going out with someone other than him.

"What do you mean?" You asked, standing as you saw Jacob's station wagon rounding the corner.

Anakin smirked, taking another drag from his cigarette as he leaned against the porch railing, the smoke escaping his lips in a lazy wisp. The sight of Jacob's car approaching only fueled his determination to stir up some trouble.

"Don't get your panties in a twist, princess," he replied, his voice laced with a blend of amusement and annoyance. "Just think you're putting in a lot of effort for some random."

As Jacob's car pulled up, Anakin pushed himself off the railing, making his way over to your driveway with an intentional swagger. He looked Jacob up and down with a scrutinizing gaze, silently sizing him up as if daring him to make a move.

"So, this is the lucky guy, huh?" he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Better keep a close eye on him, he looks like one of those sleazy types."

Anakin's words were meant to ruffle Jacob's feathers, and to his disappointment, the other boy seemed to be unaffected. He simply stepped aside and leaned against his car, a grin spreading as he watched you leap down the steps.

"Jay-Jay!" You shouted excitedly as he opened the passenger door for you.

Anakin laughed loudly, doubling over before leaning back on his heels, the toes of his shoes leaving the ground. “Jay-Jay?” He mocked.

"Who's this?" Jacob gestured to Anakin, very obviously judging his appearance and behavior.

"He's my neighbor, lives right there." You pointed.

Anakin raised a pierced eyebrow at Jacob's judgmental gaze, his playful smirk never leaving his face. He leaned against the car, deliberately invading Jacob's personal space as he spoke with a self-assured tone.

“Just thought I’d make sure she’s in good hands you know? Gotta watch out for my baby girl.” Anakin replied, leaning into the still open car door to give you a condescending pat on the cheek.

His use of the pet name was deliberate, a subtle reminder that he had taken a liking to you, even if he wasn't ready to admit it. Anakin shot you a mischievous grin as you settled into the car, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he turned back to Jacob.

You watched the exchange between the two boys. Jacob instantly bristled at the use of Anakin's pet name. He stood up a bit straighter to attempt to tower over Anakin with no luck, since Anakin was obviously much taller, even without the clunky boots he wore. You could tell Anakin liked getting a rise out Jacob, seeing as how his cheeks got red and his fists clenched.

"Take care of her, champ," he said, his tone containing a mix of jealousy and true concern for your safety.

“Can’t believe he said that while I’m standing right there!” Jacob fumed under his breath as he walked around the car to the drivers door. “Little shithead.”

Anakin couldn't help but overhear Jacob's remark as he made his exit. He chuckled to himself, basking in the knowledge that he had effectively managed to get under his skin.

He muttered, his tone tinged with amusement. "Guess I struck a nerve."

With one final wink in your direction, Anakin pushed away from the car and retreated back to his own porch. Leaning back on the porch swing, Anakin took another drag of his cigarette, the smoke curling around him like a protective shield. But deep down, he couldn't ignore the flicker of concern that wormed its way into his thoughts.

He watched as Jacob's car disappeared from view, the distant engine noise fading into the quiet evening. The reality of his own possessiveness began to sink in, causing a mix of conflicting emotions to surge within him. Anakin found himself questioning his motives, the strange connection he felt with you.

With a sigh, he stubbed out his cigarette and stood up from the porch swing.

You were worried that Anakin's behavior would dampen the mood, but it didn't, Jacob quickly recovered to his usual chipper self.

Walking alongside you happily as you entered the bowling alley to meet his friends. Thankfully there were other girls there that immediately took a liking to you, they made you feel like part of the group right away.

As the night went on you formed the opinion that yes, Jacob had some cool friends, and you wouldn’t mind getting to spend more time with them. The girls and you had ordered a few drinks at the bar next door between games and by the time Jacob was ushering you into the car to take you home with a gentle hand on your back, you were more than a bit tipsy.

Soon enough he pulled into the driveway, jogging around the front end of the vehicle to help you out. He chuckled when he saw you had taken off your shoes and were holding them awkwardly in your hands. Your bare feet smacked the pavement and you couldn’t help but giggle.

"Thanks, Jay," you slurred, flashing him a crooked grin. His hand on your waist steadied your loose movements.

"C'mon let's get you inside." He laughed.

As you fumbled with your keys at the front door, Jacob leaned in close, his voice laced with mild concern.

"Careful now, don't want you busting up that pretty face," he teased, gently guiding the key into the lock for you.

The door of Anakin’s home swung open, time for his late night smoke and not at all meant to be a front for spying on you and the stupid guy with an arm around your waist.

"Buh-bye Jay," you slurred, hugging Jacob sleepily.

The boy towered over you, dwarfing you with his larger size. You seemed to small and fragile next to him and it worried Anakin. He leaned in with the intent to kiss you, and of course you remained blissfully unaware of the escalating tension hanging in the air.

Anakin couldn't stand by and watch as another man tried to claim what he saw as his. With a flick of his cigarette, he crushed the butt beneath his boot and rose to his feet. A mix of anger and protectiveness coursed through him as he approached the porch, his eyes never leaving the scene unfolding in front of him.

"Alright, that's enough," Anakin growled, stepping between the two of you. His voice dripped with a toxic combination of aggression and protection.

Jacob stepped back, his expression caught between surprise and annoyance.

“What's your problem, man?" he snapped, clearly taken aback by Anakin's sudden appearance.

Anakin leaned in closer, his voice dripping with contempt. "You think you can just swoop in and take advantage of a clearly intoxicated girl, huh? You're delusional if you think I’m letting you walk in there with her."

His words hung heavy in the air, a tense silence engulfing the three of you. Anakin's gaze remained fixed on Jacob, his icy stare daring him to make a move.

Jacob, realizing the situation was escalating, backed off slowly, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender.

"Look, man, I didn't mean any harm. I just…. I thought she was into it. My bad." He stuttered.

Anakin's lips twisted into a smile, though it was laced with bitterness.

"Your bad, huh?" he sneered. "Stay the hell away from her. She's off-limits."

Without another word, Jacob turned on his heel, swiftly retreating to his car. The confrontation left a sour taste in the air that dissipated swiftly after Jacob’s car squealed out of your driveway.

Anakin's gaze softened, though his anger still smoldered beneath the surface. He turned his attention to you, remaining silent for a beat before stepping closer, his touch gentle on your exposed shoulder.

"You alright, princess?" he asked softly, his voice a stark contrast to the venom he had displayed moments ago. His hand reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

The warmth of his touch sent shivers down your spine, and you found yourself searching his face to confirm he was being genuine.

At the realization that he was indeed being serious tears filled your eyes and You pushed the heels of your palms into them to attempt to fight them off, but it was no use. Your mascara was running, no doubt your lipgloss was smeared across your cheek, you were in a disheveled state and couldn’t help but steel yourself for the possibility he would make some terrible jab at you and your situation. You let yourself crumple into yourself as you sunk to the ground, taking a seat on the threshold of your still open front door.

"'S-sorry. I don't mean to be a crybaby." You shot a rude glare at him. Still upset that he had called you that so long ago.

“I feel so stupid!” You cried, your fists against your forehead. “I thought he wanted to be my friend.” Your voice trailed off, broken and quiet.

For a moment, Anakin was at a loss for words, his mind swirling as he scraped the nearly empty barrel of empathy stored in the back room of his brain.

"Hey, hey, it’s okay." he murmured, his voices held a rare tenderness as he knelt down in front of you.

“Want me to beat his ass? I’ll do it.” He tried joking with you, sighing in defeat when it just made you cry harder.

He reached out, his thumb gently tracing along your cheekbone, wiping away each tear that escaped your eyes. Anakin's touch was surprisingly tender, a stark contrast to his usual behavior.

"You're just here to make fun of me."

"Hey, don't talk like that," he said softly, "I'm not here to make fun of you babe." he said, his voice carrying an undertone of genuine affection.

"I can be an asshole sometimes, but that doesn't mean I don't care.” He smirked, “I do have a shriveled up heart in here somewhere.”

Anakin's confession hung in the air, his words carrying a weight that revealed a deeper layer to his guarded personality.

You were so shell-shocked by his words that your sniffling halted completely, the guy had never said a more than a few grumpy words to you before. Now he was here in front of you, offering Comfort? What bizarre alternate reality had you stumbled into?

“You gonna say something or just stare at me?” He laughed.

“I- sorry.” You cleared your throat and scrubbed at your eyes, managing a half hearted smile, ��thank you.”

"Yeah, yeah." He said sarcastically. Offering you his hand, "c'mon. Don't want the whole neighborhood seeing you like this."

You took his hand and let him pull you inside, he closed the front door and looked around, trying to decide what door led to your bedroom. Eventually he chose the correct one and guided you to your pink blanketed bed.

"Where's your stuff at? Like your pjs and shit?" he fumbled through the dresser, shoving the underwear drawer closed immediately, so embarrassed that he saw it he smushed his finger in the process.

"God damnit." he mumbled, shaking his hand. You giggled and pointed to the next drawer down.

He pulled out a set of cotton shorts and a matching shirt, adorned with a cute little Hello Kitty and strawberry print. Anakin held up the clothing, a mix of amusement and surprise playing on his face.

"Really?" he remarked, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

He handed you the pajamas, his fingersbrushing gently against yours.

"Take your time changing," he said, his voice softening with a newfound tenderness. "I'Il wait here."

Anakin settled himself on your bed, leaning against the headboard, his piercing blue eyes never leaving your figure as you walked into your bathroom. He wanted to give you the space and time you needed to collect yourself, to let the tears subside, but it was awfully hard when you left the door cracked open. Flashes of your legs could be seen as you kicked off your clothes and Anakin was valiantly fighting the urge to drool.

As you changed into your pajamas, his gaze trailed over your legs, appreciating the way the fabric was dragged up and over your curves. Anakin's thoughts wandered to something significantly less than holy, if he was a religious man he would’ve smote down by lightning just for forming those thoughts.

But he shook himself out of the trance, reminding himself to respect your privacy. Once you stumbled out from the bathroom, dressed in your ridiculous, albeit cute, pajamas, Anakin's eyes met yours, a faint smile gracing his lips.

"You did good, princess," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

He patted the space next to him, silently inviting you to join him on the bed. It was a small gesture, but a meaningful one, he wanted to create a safe space for you. Anakin genuinely cared about your well-being, at least right now in your drunken state.

He lifted up the blanket for you to crawl under, and patted your head awkwardly as he stood up. Stepping into the bathroom and searching through the cabinet, finding a wash cloth he wet it and then glanced around for soap. Shrugging his shoulders and deciding the hand soap was good enough. Trotting back over to you, dripping soapy water on the hardwood floor of your bedroom.

"Close your eyes." he commanded softly.

Gently wiping off the black streaks on your face. The gesture made me sleepy, and soon enough you were half asleep. You heard him chuckled to himself and the wet smack of the washcloth landing in the sink.

"Night." he whispered thinking you were asleep, trailing a finger over your cheek. Soon after you heard the front door open andclose, knowing he'd went back to his house.

You thought maybe after that night Anakin would be a bit more friendly with you, but he'd ignored you even more than before. You were quickly getting exhausted of it. Everyday you’d see him leave his house, you’d wave and he'd ignore it.

Everyday you would see him come back home, You would wave and ask him how his day was and he wouldn't answer. He'd just go straight into his garage to take off his mechanic's jumpsuit. He even came to the diner were you worked at and you had to watch him request a different waitress just so he wouldn't have to speak to you in front of his band mates.

The next few days were more of the same, and you expected it to be no different when clocked in at the diner that afternoon. After sliding your punch card back into its slot you sauntered through the kitchen and greeted your coworkers on your way to the front.

After arriving at the counter you noticed a new flyer pinned to the cork board behind the register. In big bold sharpied letters the word 'Vermin' was followed by a date and time. The description was 'headbang at the hideaway with us.' The location was a well known party spot, an abandoned warehouse.

"Hey, what's this?" You pointed to it, one of the waiters coming over to explain that it was a local band.

"You know the drummer don't you? Blue hair? Tall?” He laughed at your shocked expression, and you explained that you never realized his band was popular enough to get a gig this large.

"Are you going?" You asked excitedly.

"No but I think Kristen and her boyfriend are." He pointed to the other waitress on shift.

You made a mental note to ask her more about it. You decided you were going, and you were going to look good doing it.

After work you went straight to the mall. There was only a day before the event and you knew you didn't have the right clothes.

"Sorry to bother you," Feeling extra brave you walked up to a girl standing outside smoking, she had on a t- shirt similar to one you had seen Anakin wear before. "do you mind if I ask where you got your shirt?"

You smiled, trying to be as polite as possible and not make a fool of yourself. A soft chuckle escaped her, but there wasn't a hint of malice behind it. For some reason you felt that she could be trusted, she had a calming vibe about her.

"Uh yeah, the only alternative store we in town is in there." She laughed, looking you up and down.

"I-| know I don't look the type." You put your head down in embarrassment. "there's this thing I want to go too and I don't want to look out of place."

“Oh don’t tell me it’s for some boy.” She gagged, smiling nonetheless.

“Yeah actually it is.” You blushed, picking at your nails, “Um thanks, I’ll just-“ she interrupted you.

"I'Il help you pick something out m'kay?" She pushed off the wall with her shoulder, her clunky boots smacking the pavement as she threaded her arm through yours and led you into the mall.

It was a small gesture, but it meant the world to you, knowing that you wouldn't be left alone and confused in a dimly lit store you’d never stepped foot in. The air was thick with the sound of music and the scent of incense, the cashier cover in various body piercings and tattoos.

The girl took the lead, guiding you towards racks of clothes that resembled something similar to things you’d seen Anakin where before. Together, you flipped through hangers, choosing pieces that were definitely out of your comfort zone, but that you felt like you could easily pull them off.

Feeling like you were in a cheesy movie’s dressing room montage you experimented with band shirts, ripped jeans, and accessories that looked like they could be considered as weapons. Her presence provided a sense of comfort, assuring you that you were on the right track, it helped that she was perfectly comfortable being there herself.

The nerves that had once plagued you were replaced by a growing sense of confidence. The mirror reflected a version of you that felt stronger, more self assured. You were starting to understand the appeal of this type of dress and the scene it went with. The music flowing through the speakers started sounding less like pots, pans and rabid raccoons and more like drums, guitars and harsh vocals.

Finally, you settled on an outfit that made you feel empowered. You looked to your new friend, who had previously insisted despite her birth name being Deborah she was not a total loser and would rather you call her by her middle name, Marie.

"God. You look hot." She nodding her head in approval. “I’d fuck you.”

"Just chop this part off when you get home and you'll be irresistible." She made a scissor motion at the hem and sleeves of the shirt

"Chop it off?" You gasped. "why?"

She laughed, "Just gives it character, it'll make it look like you've worn it before and not like you just got it."

"Here." She dropped a chunky silver chain in your hands with a clip on each end. "that will go on your jeans okay? Then we'll rip some holes in here at your knees. And the shoes you have already are fine, converse go with everything. Let's go."

She pushed you toward the register, then out the doors and guided you towards the back entrance to the mall, stopping just outside the doors. She grinned, yanking the jeans from your bag.

“Don’t flip out.” She warned, grabbing the jeans by the waist and the end of the pant leg.

She pushed the toe of her boot to the fabric where the back of your knee would be and pressed it to the brick wall. She began rapidly sawing the jeans back and forth creating a distressed look. She tipped her head to you and offer the pants to you so you could do the other leg.

The act felt liberating, you’d never purposely destroyed brand new clothes before. Your movements were tentative at first, quickly escalating to something just shy of the force Marie had used. You let out a puff of air that blew your hair out of your face as you turned around to show her the pants.

She gave you an approving smile and tossed your bag over her shoulder, “Follow me, I’ve got some magazines and shit in my car you can have.”

“Magazines?” You questioned, bunching up the jeans in the crook of your arm to jog after her.

“Yeah, like for hair and makeup?” She laughed, headed toward a busted up black hatchback.

“Oh cool okay! Yeah I’d love that!” You giggled and clapped excitedly as she threw open the back seat’s door and ruffled through the mountain of discarded pop bottles, receipts and fast food bags.

“Ignore that.” she huffed when a grocery bag tied up with trash stuffed inside rolled out and onto the pavement.

She shoved the crinkled magazines into your shopping bag of clothes and picked up the trash bag and threw it behind her in her backseat, bumping the door shut with her hip.

“Thank you!” You threw your arms around her shoulders in a crushing hug that she wasn’t expecting, but quickly reciprocated.

“You got a pen in that purse?” She asked when you broke the embrace.

“Uh huh!” You nodded, easily finding it among the highly organized pockets and handed it to her.

She grabbed your wrist and wrote down her phone number, and pointing out the magazine was a subscription and had her address on it.

“I know you’ve got a little planner or address book or some shit like that.” She laughed.

“Yeah I do.” You blushed, smiling because she’d guessed correctly.

“Don’t forget to pencil me in okay babes?” She leaned in and gave you a cheek to cheek kiss like you’d seen people do in foreign films.

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[inke-ri]

So I couldn't help but browse the THG tag bc those books own my whole heart. I actually check it now and again, and it's been interesting see how opinions have changed over the years, especially in regards to Gale and Peeta. Going through the evolution of them as just potential love interests to being far more complex than I could have expected has been a wild ride. Crazy how this reads different than from when I was a preteen.

That said, I wanted to give my unsolicited two cents on my boys, because though I have been enjoying the discussion on Peeta and Gale and what they mean to the story, I also feel like reducing them to Peeta = peace and Gale = war is far too simplistic... and oftentimes unfair to one or both of them.

See, I don't think Peeta and Gale are peace and war/destruction. They're compassion and indignation.

Peeta worries about the other tributes, or their families, or how to repay people like Rue and Thresh for what they did.

Gale is indignation at how the Capitol treats its citizens, it's anger at the injustice of inequality and brutality.

Both are needed in a story like THG. You can't have people like even Peeta not say something like "maybe we're wrong about keeping things quiet in the districts", you can't have him not drop the baby bomb, you can't start a revolution without Gale's indignation at the status quo. At deserving a better life but being denied it, at having your kids be mercilessly killed for literal sport.

However, if you start a rebellion and loose sight of your compassion, you end up no better than the people you're fighting against. Gale wasn't a bad person, imo. His heart was in the right place. He was flawed, yes, but so is everyone in this series. Gale, most importantly, lost sight of the line between fighting for the people he cared about and fighting against the people who hurt him.

Reducing Gale's indignation to just revenge and hatred ignores so much of what he stands for. Who hasn't seen laws passed that dehumanize people, who hasn't been angry and furious when someone is elected who fundamentally hates everything you are, who doesn't think some people need to pay for the atrocities they committed? There's a little bit of Gale in every single one of us - and it's important that it's there, because that's what gives us strength to challenge the status quo and make life better for the future generations.

But. You can't let it take over. You can't loose sight of your compassion or your empathy.

That's where Peeta comes in. Peeta is the voice in your head that worries about how many good lives will be lost when they give themselves up for this cause. Peeta is the worry about the people caught in the crossfire. Peeta is rebuilding when it's over and believing that the next generation will have a better life than your own. Peeta is being kind, even to people who may not deserve it.

And Gale... Gale looses sight of his compassion, and he doesn't realize it until it smacks him in the face when the bombs go off and Prim is gone and he's too far gone. Meanwhile, Peeta advocates for the end of the war even though it means the status quo remains - and regardless of what he believes himself, I don't think Suzanne chose him to say those lines by chance. It means both mindsets have their flaws: too kind and things that shouldn't remain will never be challenged and changed, too angry and you may loose sight of what you're fighting for.

And that's just how Suzanne uses her characters, both of them, all of them. Just look at who is with Katniss depending on the situation:

- Katniss chooses to "rebel" after Gale is brutally whipped. She kisses him.

- Katniss realizes that in order for D12 to rebel, everyone would need to be in on it, and she realizes most of them are not like her, that they're scared and she understands, emphasises with them. Peeta walks by her side.

- Katniss finally does it though, shoots the arrow at the force field, and Peeta is taken from her, it's now Gale by her side.

(You can't start a rebellion without indignation, and sometimes you HAVE to do it or things will never change, regardless of the inevitable pain that will come along.)

- Katniss is righteously angry at the Capitol bombing a hospital full of innocents to make a point. Gale remains there.

- Coin twists people's compassion into an army to fight for her own personal gain. Peeta is hijacked and looses his sense of self.

- Katniss and Gale go to District 2 and even though she tries to be like Peeta, she's still shot- reinforcing Gale's views, the person who was with her during that sequence.

- Katniss is angry at Snow, Katniss goes to the Capitol to kill him. Gale is there.

- Katniss gets in way over her head and realizes she is responsible for the death of most of her squad. She shares the lamb stew with Peeta, and later cleans his wounds.

- Finnick dies and she's at her lowest up until that point and all she wants to do is give up and give in to the anger. She kisses Peeta and begs him to stay with her.

... Claiming that Gale is destruction ignores the fact that he's with Katniss through her own moments of strength. Her desire to change things, to fight back, is as important as her compassion. Mockingjay just brutally shows you what war does to your indignation, to your compassion. How easy it is to cross a line between righteous anger and revenge, or how your sense of empathy and compassion can be manipulated into something monstrous by others, or by all the terrible, brutal, painful things you see.

How easy it is to loose yourself- and that goes for both of them.

Peeta and Gale aren't static characters, they go from representations of sentiments regarding an injust government to what happens to those feelings when an extreme situation such as war breaks out. All of that, by the way, while dealing with this duality themselves, because they are still characters who think and feel and struggle and have flaws of their own- and while I love what they stand for, I've seen too many comments that pin everything into what they mean, that they forget that Peeta and Gale are still people, they aren't perfect metaphors. They're human.

Ultimately, Katniss doesn't really choose peace. She wants peace, yes. But what she chooses is compassion. empathy. hope. There's a time and place for anger at injustice. There's a time when fighting back is the right thing to do. There are even times when you wanna give in to your despair and lash out. But if you want peace, then you have to choose Peeta, because Peeta represents what you need to focus on to achieve that peace. You have to let go of the anger or you won't ever rest. So Gale leaves, and does not come back... And yet, Katniss still has her moments of indignation, of making a stand, even as he goes - she still casts her vote at that meeting, she still shoots Coin. Katniss does not abandon that part of who she is. It's just not her main drive anymore.

So then she goes on to make the choice, every single day, to be compassionate to others. To have hope. To rebuild. Of course she chooses Peeta.

... Idk, man. These boys are so much more than what I see them so often reduced to. They're in all of us. There will be times to stand and fight, and times to show mercy and be kind. We just need to find that balance, as Katniss eventually did.

[undercover-stories]

Ok no seriously why does no one talk about the trauma Wei Wuxian dealt with at being forced to live in isolation for 3 whole months in the burial mounds? Not even talking about how its a place thats infested with resentful energy. Realistically speaking the effects of isolation is a very well documented issue and from the way Wei Wuxian acts when he comes back he displays very classic symptoms. Heightened irritability, poor impulse control, aggression, general struggles to reassimilate into society and a LOT more. Yeah Wei Wuxian has always been rather reckless and impulsive. As a teenager. But afterwards it's shown to be a lot worse. He drinks a lot more. He isolates himself and avoids his duties as Jiang Chengs second in command. He's much more hostile towards those he deems to have done wrong. He becomes more defensive. Easier to anger.

Some fans (especially Jiang Cheng stans) argue that Wei Wuxian should have said something but anyone who's ever dealt with trauma indirectly or not know how borderline impossible that is. Especially considering the type of relationship the brothers had before. Their rough and tumble was always done jokingly but afterwards Wei Weuxian would have seen his trauma as a point of shame. ESPECIALLY in the culture and childhood he was brought up in. Especially after being accused of triggering the Lotus Pier massacre (which was not his fault in the slightest. The fault of genocide will always lie solely on the perpetrators. No one else). He's been subconsciously told his whole that he owed the Jiangs everything. As close as he might have been to his siblings they still weren't related by blood. If his issue with Jiang Cheng was shame then his issue with Yan Li was that he wanted to protect her from his own pain. Him thinking Lan Zhan hated him and simply wanted him back in Gusu to be punished was a very understandable conclusion.

To say that Wei Wuxian was dealing with a trauma conga line would be an understatement and I hate how so many stans trying to defend their fav completely ignore that. I'm not frustrated with Jiang Cheng for being angry with his brother for the choices he made. I'm angry at him for not trying harder to understand his brother. I'm annoyed at how easily he decides to abandon him. I'm angry at how he insists that their childhood promise was worth more than the lives of the women, children and elderly living in destitute and surviving solely because Wei Ying stands as their defender. I'm frustrated that he doesn't try harder to give his brother the benefit of the doubt and is so easily swayed by the accusations against him. Even Mian Mian, someone who barely knows Wei Ying and is basically a nobody, had the strength and integrity to stand up for Wei Yings actions s and Jiang Cheng couldn't even do that? The fact that Lan Zhan is the only one who acknowledges and thanks Mian Mian for what she did says something.

Politics will NEVER be a good excuse to ignore the atrocities and wrong doings that are being done clear as day in front of you. Jiang Cheng saw with his very own eyes that the Wen Remnants were harmless and still insisted that Wei Ying abandon them. Wtf?

Even if you did want to go into the politics of it let's be real, Wei Ying was an incredibly powerful 'weapon' that was feared by all because of his reputation alone. If Jiang Cheng had stood by him no one would have dared to openly object to him. If you're talking about allies; Lan Xichen would have been reasonable enough to provide whatever aid and support he could and with the reputation the Lans had of their integrity it would have rooted the Jiang clans status even more.

The problem will always be that Jiang Cheng never even TRIED. Mxtx has always put emphasis on her details and there were none for this and that says something. I love Jiang Cheng as a character but I will forever hate him as a person.

As for culture don't even start. I'm Asian, living in an Asian countrh who grew up with Asian traditions. I vehemently disapprove of a the actions the rest of the characters made because culture might make it understandable but NEVER excusable.

If you're not one of the people who thinks these things then this post is very obviously not about you.