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aloesarchives · 11 months ago

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JJK Headcanon: Megumi cockblocks Toji/Megumi "Menace" Fushiguro/ Toji having beef with his 15 yr old son

Warning: Swearing, Female reader, Mentions of sexual activities but not explicit, ooc on Megumi’s part, Toji being Toji

Series: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Toji x Fem!Reader(romantic), Megumi x Mom!reader(parental/platonic)

Pronouns: She/Her(Reader is referred to as mom, mama, and mother by Toji and Megumi)

Word Count: 2.2K

(A/N: This is based on my one-shot I did and I wanted to expand on it because I just felt the need to. This headcanon went off the rails and is in different directions. Let me know if I missed any warnings!)

[Edited and Proofread! on 12/9/23 8:05pm. Forgive the strange format, Tumblr wouldn’t let me edit the post so I had to do it on the original doc and paste the edited version.]

Please enjoy!

So Megumi cock blocking Toji started out unintentionally and by accident. But as he got older, he did it more to annoy his dad and get on his nerves.

I will die on this hill but Megumi is a Mama's boy. Though it goes unsaid(by him at least), everyone knows it. Toji knows it, Gojo knows it, his classmates and friends know it, and everyone at Jujutsu High knows it. Hell, his own shadows know it.

Obviously you know it but you don’t want to embarrass your son. But it does fill you with love and contentment to know your son loves you dearly.

But that’s the problem, he LOVES you. Loves you more than Toji. Well, Megumi loves Toji as a dad and father. It’s just as he gets older, especially as a teenager, he often butts heads with Toji and gets fairly annoyed by his presence. All Toji has to do is breathe in Megumi’s direction and your son groans, rolls his eyes, and leaves.

When Megumi was younger, he was attached to you. You were always carrying him inside the house, when you were cooking, and even when folding the laundry. He didn’t like being far from you. All you had to do was be within 6 feet of your son or where he can see you and he will be fine.

So when Toji holds Megumi because you need to get or do something where you can’t bring your son, Megumi is all fussy and cranky. He doesn’t cry often but he is just all over Toji. Pulling at his hair, shirt, and cheek. Toji has been mostly successful with Megumi when putting him down for a nap, feeding or bathing him but sometimes it’s a struggle.

When you do it for Megumi, he is all cooperative and easy to handle. Toji clicks his tongue when he sees it happen and looks at Megumi as your son nuzzles into your shoulder. “I see how it is Megumi. All nice and easy for Mama but not for me.”

After successfully putting Megumi to bed, Toji gets frisky as wants some alone time with you. Since Megumi was born, your son has taken up most of your time. Leaving your poor husband with a lack of attention and affection. You want to make it up to him for lost time so you let him have his way with you.

However, just before Toji could go down on you and make you see stars, you hear Megumi’s crying. So out of instinct, you grab one of Toji’s shirts and make your way to comfort your son. Half the time, the mood gets instantly lost and Toji gets sexually frustrated. He was so close to boning you and your son just has to stop him from doing so.

Toji gets blue balls so many times during Megumi’s youth, it’s a straight-up crime to him.

There are times when Toji doesn’t care if Megumi starts to cry in his bed. He read somewhere that babies just cry for no reason so at times let them cry it out. When he reads that, he’s not letting you out of his grasp when his son is crying in his crib. You feel the urge to comfort him but when Toji makes you wait a couple minutes and start to hear Megumi’s cries grow quieter, then they stop. That gives you two the green light to each other to yourselves.

75% Toji would have success with you but there was the other 25% he didn’t.

When Megumi was a toddler, he mostly would knock on your door in the dead of night either because he had a nightmare or wanted to sleep with you two. Luckily, this happens after your “nightly session” with Toji.

But Megumi would ask Toji to help him with stuff or pop up out of nowhere when wanted to have a piece of you. Toji hugging your front and cups your body while you cook? Megumi is by the kitchen table asking what are you making for dinner. Toji cages you against the wall as you put away the laundry? Megumi pops his head out of his room and asks Toji if he saw his dog plushie that was on his bed.

But Megumi’s clinginess to you is genetic because Toji is the exact same to you. Way before Megumi was on the drawing board, Toji was either all over you or near you. No in between, it was one or the other.

You felt bad because it feels like your son and your husband are fighting for your attention. You know Megumi’s a child, who needs more guidance and help, but you know your husband has needs too.

But as Megumi goes to school, it was easier for you two to have some alone time. Mostly easier for Toji to be inside of you.

But as Megumi gets the hang of summoning his shadows, it’s all over for Toji. This happens when he’s older as Megumi sometimes lets his dogs out and roam around the house. Like their user, the dogs and shadows love you too. One time, they saw Toji being too close to you and thought he was harassing you. So the dogs ran and pounced on Toji. One of them caught Toji’s wrists in their mouth and started pulling him away from you. Obviously, you called Megumi over to stop his dogs or to call them back. He does so but not without giving Toji a smirk, he definitely may or may not put his dogs up to it just to fuck around with his dad.

For the timely and observant boy he is, Megumi really is just popping in at the wrong times. He didn’t mean to do that to you, he’s well aware of how much you love Toji, both body and soul. He just doesn’t like how Toji isn’t quick and sleek with his intentions with you. Sure, it was Toji’s house and he can do whatever he wants in it. But Megumi also lives here too, so Toji should be more cautious and considerate of his son. Because everyone knows that they would rather bury themselves than see their parents try to give them another sibling.

Though Megumi now dorms at Jujutsu High because of missions, he does come home on weekends and breaks. But it varies from time to time, he would mostly tell you in advance when he would come home or visit. But he sometimes forgets and just drops by unannounced.

Thus, that’s how scenarios like this occur.

He will come home, sometimes knocking/ringing the doorbell but mostly lets himself in, then he walks inside, takes off his shoes, and goes to the living room. His heart slightly beats faster as he awaits the inevitable. It’s like a coin toss, 50/50 chance he’ll be safe or not. He relaxes when he doesn't stumble upon another eye bleaching but when he encounters the other 50%. He cringes inside so hard, he just blames Toji. Nah, he never blames you.

Yes, he’s well aware of men and women having… carnal desires… But you were never shameless about it in public or out in the open. He doesn’t know when it’s just Toji and you. But frankly, he DOES NOT WANT to know or find out. So he believes his father is just a dog in heat almost every time there is an OUNCE of spare time with you.

He either coughs, grunts or speaks to make his presence known. 99% of the time when this happens you are the one to push yourself away from Toji and try to make the situation less awkward for your son. It always ends up embarrassing you in the end.

Toji, in his head, lowkey wants to smack his son to another dimension. Way too salty in his mind.

‘Brat, let me have a moment with your mother, it’s not that hard.’ ‘IDGAF if you're my son, I’ll smack and give hands to my own son if you keep doing this.’

Like father like son, Megumi is doing the same thing in his head.

‘That’s a skill issue’ ‘This is an issue, not an iss-me’ ‘You fell off, what happened? Cause you’re too old?’ ‘Fucking cope, Old Man’.

Because of this, Toji literally has beef with his 15-year-old son.

Should he be pressed about someone younger than him? No! Does he care? Also No. If this man can beef and fight Gojo Satoru and LIVE to see another day, he can have beef with anyone.

Even if it’s his own son.

You should be a good parent and spouse and try to dissipate the fact your husband and son have an unspoken feud with each other. But you can’t help but watch everything unfold when they interact sometimes because it’s just funny and you get a kick out of it.

Just to clarify, it’s never a shouting match or an actual argument. It’s more of petty insults, backhanded compliments, or brutal honesty minus the honesty. It’s like being a spectator at an event. You were watching for entertainment and you were getting your money’s worth. When you would come by Jujutsu High, you would talk about Megumi and Toji’s “interactions”. Saying something along the lines of “They don’t see eye to eye.”

One day, Toji and you decided to pay a visit to the campus because Principal Yagi needed to ask you about something in person. Since it was only you, Toji just wandered the halls and the school’s grounds, waiting for you to be done. As the odds were in his favor as he stumbled upon Megumi and his group doing some training. Toji just pops in and starts talking to Megumi. He acknowledged Yuuji and Nobara but he didn’t spare a glance at Gojo. In fact, he straight up looked at Gojo, gave a look of disgust, and continued talking to Megumi whilst ignoring him.

It didn’t take for some banter to rise between father and son, while no loud voices or malice was felt or seen. This was probably the few times Yuuji and Nobara had seen Megumi get heated, but this was the first time they saw Megumi beefing with his dad.

After a few minutes, Megumi summoned his shadows and Toji decided to change into his fighting stances. Yuuji thinks this is a bad idea but Gojo just smiles, saying that seeing them spar was a “learning experience”. Plus it would be good for Yuuji to watch Toji because Toji was a physical fighter considering his Heavenly Restriction. Though Yuuji has some curse energy, he must box it out with his opponents so he considered and the three watched the two fight it out.

Megumi forgot his old man was an actual threat to the Jujutsu Society because Toji was straight up dodging Megumi’s shadows, their attacks, and even Megumi's own physical attacks. Though Toji wanted to have a little fun, he had to hold back so he wouldn't destroy/kill any of Megumi’s shadows. If he did, you would definitely find out and he would be a dead man for sure.

Anyway, it was so fast-paced that only Gojo was keeping up with the action. He was smiling but he had a shiver up his spine as he remembered that Megumi’s dad was the very reason for his enlightenment and Hollow Purple ability. It was obvious that Megumi wasn’t going to win but he wasn’t one to admit defeat. Then like a blur, Toji charged at Megumi from above and when he landed he created a decently large cater with Megumi at the center. Megumi’s shadows disappear since he is low on curse energy and is completely exhausted.

Both men were heaving and sweating like crazy. Yet out of nowhere, they suddenly hear your voice, LOUD and DESTRESS. You ran over to the two, eyes widening as the carter became bigger the closer you got. You see your son lying on the floor and help him up. You tried dusting off some of the dirt on him while looking concerned. You snapped your head towards Toji, whose smirk disappeared and then returned back again. You began to reprimand him for what he had done. Fighting his own son and damaging the training grounds, like wtf man.

You weren’t really raising your voice or yelling at him. But the firmness and seriousness in your tone about the small sparring session was enough to make someone straighten their posture and use very respective language towards you. There were moments where you tugged at Toji’s ear, pulled at his shirt so he was looking straight at you, or held his forearm tightly while you expressed your disappointment and concerns to him.

Ngl, Toji was a bit bricked up when you were all serious and angry at him. He didn’t mind sleeping on the couch if it meant he got to see this side of yours more often.

Megumi reassures you that he is not physically hurt but his pride is wounded. You told him that if his dad pulled this again, to not engage with it and back off for his own safety. Megumi, because of his agitated mood, felt a bit offended that you didn’t believe your own son could hold his own. Let alone, go toe to toe with his own father.

“Mom, I don’t understand. Why don’t you trust me in fights even though I can handle myself.”

“Megumi, sweetheart, it’s not like that at all. I know you are a strong, smart, and capable person. You are my son, after all.”

“Then why don’t you want me to fight with dad?”

“Oh Megumi, honey. You have no idea the strength and capabilities of your father. You do realize, my dear, your dad was holding back a lot when he was sparring with you.”

Megumi looks shocked at his Pops, who winks at him, before turning his attention back to you.

“Wait, what? Just how strong is he, Mom?”

You didn’t give him a full answer.

All you said was, “Ask your teacher, Megumi.”

Megumi and his two classmates look at their teacher to see what you were talking about all the while Gojo was sweating bullets. That’s a story for another day, now you are dragging your husband home and telling your son to call you if anything changes.

So Toji and Megumi have eternal beef with each other. Though it’s more of annoyance and for shits and giggles really. Toji really does love his son and Megumi loves and respects his dad a lot.

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Thank you for reading and hope you have an amazing day with your favorite drink!

#x reader #reader insert #x female reader #fem reader #jjk x reader #jjk toji #jjk megumi #jjk headcanons #jjk #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #toji x reader #toji fushiguro #toji x y/n #toji x you #dad!toji #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #toji fushigro x reader

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starlight-45 · 27 days ago

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Trying to take care of drunk reader (Part 1)

Featuring: Yoichi Isagi, Meguru Bachira, Rin Itoshi and Michael Kaiser

Here's the masterlist!

A/n:- Don't know why I did this. thought it would be funny.

~ISAGI YOICHI~

• Poor guy was just concerned for your life when he saw you chugging that third glass of wine with flushed cheeks.

• Isagi dosen't say anything though and thinks to let you enjoy yourself for today, sipping up his non-alcoholic drinks calmly.

• However, he draws the line with it when he sees sees going you not being able to walk in a straight line.

• Regrets for not saying anything before. A lot. Like really.

• "HEYYY BRO, WHAT'S THE PLAN FOR TONIGHT BRO??"

"I'm your boyfriend y/n, please stop calling me your bro 😭"

• Never, ever again, he thinks. Yes, he always wanted a sister but you're his girlfriend! Stop calling him that!

• But we all know, this guy is the responsible one. Of course he'd take care of your drunken self well.

• A bit annoyed by the situation, yes but also intrigued if you happen to utter out stuff and secrets your sober self would never.

• Is literally goggling stuff like "Do's and don'ts with a drunk person" , "How to make somehow sober as soon as possible" while you're clinging on his back like a koala.

• Please don't laugh at him later for doing that, he is an athelete who never dealt with a drunk individual.

• Gently urges you to sleep, as soon as you guys get home, because lord knows he just wants you to get back to your usual self.

• Because Isagi doesn't think he can survive being called 'bro' again by you. :')

~Meguru Bachira~

• Bachira's definitely laughing at your funny, silly actions all the time. Not like in a "You're such an idiot" way, but in a "That's so cute!" type of way actually.

• Takes this as an opportunity to be the more responsible one in this relationship for once which obviously never happens.

• And by "responsible" I meant playfully scolding you, trying to imitate the way you scold him sometimes when he gets out of line sometimes.

• "Y/n, you can't take that money plant home~!"

"BUT IT'S MONEY PLANT! IT CAN GROW MONEY!"

"OMG LET'S TRY IT THEN!"

• ...Yeah. I guess you already knew he fails miserably at that.

• Very good at handling your mindless ramblings , like you could tell him every thought of yours which came from your overthinking process.

• And believe me sweetheart, he would have the perfect reply to match your vibe, somehow. Lord knows whow he does it every time because I don't.

• "Meguru...when you say forward and backward your lips moves in those directions."

"WAIT IT'S THE SAME WITH 'YOU' AND 'ME'!"

"OMG NEW DISCOVERY!"

• But jokes aside Bachira encourages you to drink a lots and lots of water to help you get better. :D

• Long story short, perfect companion to get crazy with!!

~Rin Itoshi~

• Was geuninely dreading the possibility of being the babysitter of your drunk self when he accidentally came late to your little 'outing' with your friends.

• still managed to look all cool and unbothered while coming. What in the actual hell is up with this guy?

• Needless to say, his fears came true. I mean this guy can't even handle having teenagers his age around sometimes.

• So how is he supposed to handle an individual who has lost their sense of coordination because of these shitty drinks?

• Anyway.

• Tries his best not to glare or be too harsh on you in this state, but y'know his nature. Definitely made you cry over the most stupid shit ever.

• "CAN WE TAKE THIS KITTY AT OUR HOME??? I'LL FEED IT- TAKE IT TO A WALK EVERY DAY-"

"No we can't. I have enough of taking care of your stupid ass already."

"YOU'RE SUCH A MEANIE!!!! 😭"

• ...and from that Rin already mentally decided to never EVER let you get this much drunk. Because let's be honest here, his way of communication is 90% of the times with insults.

• Despite his tough exterior, is worried as hell though, like what if you got alcohol poisoning? Please someone remind this guy that three glasses in years doesn't get you that.

• That's why, if you need to throw up or anything, he suprisingly doesn't give you any snarky remarks. Just calmly rubbing your back.

• Kinda knows that he is a screwup when it comes to words, so tries his best with his actions.

~MICHAEL KAISER~

• I'm sorry but Kaiser is another one who laughes at your drunk antics. And definitely in that "you're such an idiot" type of way 😭

• This bastard see what I did there haha I'm so funny, please don't block me🙏🏻 is certainly enjoying this way too much than he should.

• Messes around with you by saying the most random shit, for the sake of his own entertainment.

• Like. You accidentally hit a mail box and then you were apologising to that non-living thing y'know with the bowing all.

• And Michael was like, "Y/n you know this guy here has gotten very hurt because of your hitting?"

"I'M SO SORRY SIR IT WON'T HAPPEN AGAIN!!!

• When he does all this bullshit in front of Ness, and that guy suggests to just leave ya alone and they their way.

• Kaiser looked at him like he was speaking some kind of sin or something, and like. two hundred percent offended before shooing Ness away.

• Ex-fucking-cuse him, but does he look like the type to leave his girlfriend just like that? Sure he is an asshole, has many mental issues...but not that.

• In case you're wondering, those are the author's words, ya really think he would think all that of himself hm?

• Oh by the way, he read once about the intoxicated state of humans so he's not that hopeless about your situation then as he appears to be.

• Get lots of water, gentle with his movements with you, tries you to get to sleep....yeah. he's not that bad for you.

A/n: The author promises sincerely that she is not high on anything. What in the actual fuck I wrote even I don't know 😭

#blue lock #bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #bachira meguru #bachira x reader #isagi yoichi #itoshi rin #isagi yoichi x reader #rin itoshi x reader #michael kaiser #michael kaiser x reader

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abilouwrites · 8 months ago

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Hihi I was hoping I could request enemies to lovers Zuko x fem!reader?

The reader is a traitor to the fire nation and can bend fire (also a street peformer before she joined the gaang? 👀) 💕💕

Omg getting a request just made my day I love these!!!

I hope you like it 🫶🫶🫶

YOURE STILL A TRAITOR

Id like to say that my life is good, that I’m happy where I am but I’m not. I’m upset and frustrated; but most of all I’m living on the street, preforming stupid acrobatic tricks just to feed myself. I’ve left everything behind. My family and wealth but most importantly someone I never wanted to live without.

I’m upside down when I see them; soft flames coming from the soles of my bare feet. Resting on my forearms and twisting and contorting my body.

“You.” A teenaged girl approaches me and I turn right side up, “you’re a fire bender aren’t you!” She says, “what’s your name?”

“Uh” I stare at her and smile nervously, “y/n Huǒ” I repeat slowly, and quietly. People of the fire nation know the traitor I’ve become outside the walls of the fire nation. Meeting the avatar, going against my friends for his life. All because I believed in something greater than all of this.

“I know you” a boy says, bandana around his forehead, “your grandpa, Yújìn. I know- or knew him” He says

“Oh.” Realization hits my face, “you’re the avatar!” A short girl slaps me.

“Wow way to tell everyone!” She retorts, god are little kids sassy.

“You could teach Aang firebending” Katara says, it’s hard not to know someone’s name when there’s wanted posters all over town.

“I’m good at fire bending but I’m no master” I say, “I thought Prince Zuko abandoned the throne to teach you” I ask

“Well he’s uh.. learning a new way to firebend” Toph laughs a little and I smile awkwardly.

“I don’t bend very traditionally” I reply, “but if it will get me off the streets I guess why not” I stand up straighter and brush my hair out of my face.

“You brought that back?!” Zuko shouts, we’ve had a long history. One that includes a betrothal, and a knife to the gut. He looks at me with disgust which I’m not surprised at.

“I’m a girl. Not a thing!” I cry out, “the only reason I’m here is because Aang needs a firebending teacher because you suck!” I scoff out at him, there’s fire burning in his hands but I never raise mine.

He groans at me, “you’ve always been like this! Even when”

“Zuko I don’t want to talk about that” I warn, there’s a plea in my voice but he accepts that, “it was a long time ago”

“Yeah like it was that long ago” he sasses and I roll my eyes.

“Zuko!”

It doesn’t take long for things to settle down; I’m essentially useless now that Zuko has gotten his bending back. Even if he did it how I told him to do it all along but whatever.

The bickering still happens, and I want to throw a knife at him but part of me still loves him. I didn’t hate being betrothed to him as much as I thought I did.

“Did you ever miss us?” I ask him, “after you were banished. I refused to Azula to give away your location and then the Avatars when you wrote me” I confess, “so I left”

“I think. At first I did, but I don’t— I don’t think we would’ve worked together. We fight all the time. I hated you at first. And you hated me” He admits, looking down slightly. He sighs heavily

“Yeah. I guess. But I didn’t really hate- hate you” I admit, “I missed you. I liked knowing you”

He nods, “I did like knowing you too, you’ve changed so much. I mean your fire it’s pink” he laughs

“Maybe it’s from my bubbly personality” I tease, he laughs

“You. Have a bubbly personality!” He laughs and it’s so good to hear, “you were so shy, like if I sneezed too hard I would scare you”

I smile softly, “I’ve changed so much sense I was twelve” my hair falls around my face and he tucks the loose strand around my ear

“What now that you’re fourteen?” He teases softly, his hand lingers behind my ear. But he removes himself quickly.

“Zuko. Im fifteen” I remind him, it’s embarrassing when he says he knows how my heart flutters and I feel weak in the knees.

“I remember, once you turned eighteen we would’ve” he looks away with a blush on his cheeks

“Yeah. Gotten married” I laugh, and I keep laughing because the thought of getting married feels so small and childish to the war we’re supposed to be preparing for.

He laughs; rolling laughs that make me keep laughing. My laughs turn short and wheezy before his face straightens, “are you ok? Can you breathe?” His face turns to me and he smiles seeing my smile. It’s a smile that makes my cheeks hurt and heart race.

“As the Prince of the fire nation. I’m supposed to hate you. Because you’ve betrayed our nation. But as Zuko. As your Zuko. In this moment I don’t feel anything but hate. I feel love for you. A fire that I never want to put out” he tells me, scooting closer to me. I let him cradle my face, “I never hated you”

“I never hated you either” a weak laugh escapes me but he kisses me before it truly develops. It’s a kiss that devours me whole, wrapping itself into my heart and soul.

“If we make it through this. Let’s make good on that betrothal”

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akookminsupporter · 3 months ago

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ARE YOU SURE?!: THIRD EPISODE

MY IMPRESSIONS

Preface: This is not an analysis post, and honestly, I don’t want to overanalyse their interactions or everything they said and did—many others are already doing that. My intention with this post is simply to share my thoughts on the episodes, my impressions, and perhaps my conclusions.

I’m writing this as I watch the episodes for the second time.

Well, this time the trailer or preview of the episode didn’t lie. Tae wasn’t originally scheduled, so to speak, to be on the show. He saw the schedule and invited himself. That’s very him; he does what he wants. This is also confirmed by the activities they chose.

From the first minute, you can see the dynamic between Jungkook and Tae, and I find it so obvious that I don’t understand why many people misinterpret it. They have a slightly passive-aggressive dynamic, but in a fun way. Jungkook is the cheeky teenager who always has a comeback for everything.

They really love Jeju Island. And Jungkook had to prove that his Jiminpedia is up to date.

Jimin and Jungkook bickering cutely will always give me life.

Jimin looked tired at the beginning of the trip. I wonder if it’s mainly because he tends to get carsick?

This episode perfectly showcased the dynamics between each pair, and I feel it confirmed what I said in an Ask: each pair operates on different wavelengths, and when they’re together, it becomes even more apparent. I feel like they try to make it work, and generally, it does, but it’s still obvious that their dynamics are different.

Tae and Jungkook are like two puppy Labradors, excited about absolutely everything. The way they ordered all kinds of food and then ate it so excitedly and happily was endearing to watch. Jimin looking a bit nostalgic and tired, it was quite… an interesting contrast, and a little bit funny too.

The way Jungkook’s face lit up when Jimin walked into the restaurant is just too beautiful and reminded me of that time when they were visiting a TinyTans store, and his face transformed when he heard Jimin’s voice. The same thing happened here.

Tae saying he shouldn’t have come, and Jimin and Jungkook immediately telling him to leave then, that it was their trip, is such a mood. They said it in a funny way, but at the same time, it’s a bit of that passive-aggressive dynamic the three of them share. Though I do wonder what Tae meant when he said “they do that even when there are no cameras”. What was he referring to? The slight awkwardness that’s always there between them? Or what?

Jimin and Jungkook telling Tae what happened on their trip to the USA suggests they don’t tell each other everything.

Why is Jungkook always picking up Jimin’s shoes, and why is Jimin practically allergic to his own shoes? Hahaha.

Jimin chasing after Tae to feed him is so on-brand with their dynamic.

Tae not knowing how to order at a drive-thru is that reminder we sometimes need as fans that they’ve never led normal lives. Though, on the other hand, Jimin seemed like an expert or at least someone with experience ajajajaajaja.

Jimin saying he wasn’t okay with Jungkook not finishing his coffee, despite Jungkook saying it was fine if he didn’t, says a lot about the kind of person Jimin is and how much he cares about Jungkook too.

Jimin and Jungkook immediately understanding that the mattress on the floor was for Tae and that the beds were obviously for them was a bit funny. I don’t know if they did it intentionally, but they basically said, “You weren’t originally part of the plan.”

Once again, Jungkook always worrying about the staff is heartwarming to see. They’re amazing people.

Vminkook, in general, are cute to watch together. Fun. It’s easy to see they’re the youngest in the group, haha. They’re too adorable. But it’s also easy to see in moments that Jimin is definitely the eldest, haha.

Jimin sleeping through all the chaos caused by Jungkook and Tae is definitely a MOOD. This reminds me of my previous posts when I said Jimin is one of those people who loves to travel and plan trips, but once he arrives, he just wants to rest and do nothing.

That said, Jimin just needed a nap to recharge. Ajajajajajaj

Well, we got to the part where Jungkook and Tae were lying down together. With all due respect, there was nothing romantic about it, and Jungkook looked a bit uncomfortable or lost. Another thing about their dynamic is that Tae often treats Jungkook like a child, or maybe “baby” is the right word in their case. Jungkook usually goes with the flow, but only for a moment. And that moment is a clear example of that. Their dynamic is definitely interesting.

Jungkook and Tae teasing Jimin is a recurring thing when the three of them are together. The funny part is that Jimin is usually the one who starts, but then he can’t handle them.

When they went to the game center, or whatever it’s called, is when we saw the true regression of Jungkook and Tae to their childhood, haha. Jungkook, in particular, was the happiest. This moment also reconfirmed that the trip was designed for Jimin and Jungkook only. Another thing that became clear is that everything they did was chosen by them, as Jimin said it was his idea to pick that place.

When Jimin jumped and got hurt, the way Jungkook’s face fell immediately reminded me of the online concert the guys did. When Jimin started crying, Jungkook didn’t notice right away, and he was smiling, but when he saw Jimin, his face immediately changed. Something similar happened here.

Hearing Jungkook say “Jiminssi” in the way he always does will always give me years of life.

Jimin and Tae are mostly toddlers together. And they’re very cute to watch.

MY CONCLUSION ON THE THIRD EPISODE

This episode was what I thought it would be. As I’ve said many times, watching their dynamic is interesting.

Something else I confirmed is that the dynamic between Jimin and Jungkook changes a bit when there’s another member present. It’s not that they change in those moments, but I feel they adjust their dynamic to include the other person. I feel they also sacrifice their closeness in a way so as not to exclude the other person. More than once, I’ve wondered if they do this because they’re aware of how they are ajajaajajaj.

The above, I think, is the reason why this episode feels so different from the previous one. This episode is three friends on a vacation that was originally meant for two.

Something I did feel, and this might be controversial, is that this episode felt like a filler episode. I feel like it was more of the same and wasn’t really necessary. I don’t know. It’s also true that this episode felt more like what we’re used to seeing in these types of BTS shows, so in a way, it felt nostalgic.

With that, I can understand why many are saying they miss the vibe of the first two episodes and honestly, I kind of agree with that. I want more of the first two episodes, but at the same time, I like the fact that the three of them had that time together before enlisting and honestly, that difference helps to clearly see the difference between Jimin and Jungkook when they’re alone compared to when they’re with others, in this case, with another member.

Overall, I enjoyed the episode. It was really fun and cute. And I want to see more of how their dynamic and interactions developed as a trio.

If you’ve made it this far, I’m sorry and thank you—I just couldn’t stop writing ajajajajaja.

#Rosie’s thoughts #jkk show

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belokhvostikova · 1 year ago

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐂𝐥𝐮𝐛 𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | Following Friday’s events, Eddie Munson was on a mission to apologize to you, though everything fell short when your life began to crumble in a matter of hours.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, yelling, crying, self-deprecating thoughts, violence, experienced anxiety and panic attack, mentions of childhood abuse and neglect, and brief mentions of blood, body shaming, and non consensual touching.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | For the sake of my sanity, I'm going to need all of you to ignore the blatantly unrealistic process of making a book in this story, lol. If there are any necessary warnings that were accidently left out, please feel free to let me know!

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 | One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐈. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡

Whatever mantra of the Munson Doctrine Eddie had been feeding himself to believe about the highest of the social hierarchy embedded within Hawkins High was really starting to fall short, specifically when your pretty face started monopolizing every one of his thoughts imaginable.

As much as he’d like to admit otherwise, Eddie Munson liked staring at your face, and it was really starting to piss him off just how much he really liked doing it. And the situation only became worse when he steadily watched your wonted bewitching smile fade into a disheartened look of dejection, because that following weekend after your impromptu photo shoot with Hellfire, became the worst week of your life.

And Eddie Munson watched it entirely unravel right in front of him.

It never really occurred to Eddie just how much he’d casually gawk at you prior to said photo shoot. I mean, you were the face of the school, of course, you were hard to miss when you practically lit up the halls with your smile. And that’s merely what Eddie had chalked it up to; your popularity involuntarily placed you at the forefront of his attention. It wasn’t the small strands of baby hairs that perfectly framed your face, whether you decided to keep your hair natural, or styled it for the fun of it; it wasn’t your enthralling eyes that seemed to almost squint close because your cheeks became so full of delight with your spellbinding laugh; and it definitely wasn’t your apologetic reassurance that everything was okay to the kid from the drama club who accidentally bumped into you, causing you to drop your books, and you gave Andy McAvoy a stern talking to when he tried to defend your honor with violence against the poor kid.

No, it was none of that that caught Eddie Munson’s attention to you (he forced himself to believe).

But now, things are different.

He’d actually gotten a chance to talk to you—yes, that cafeteria instance was the first time Eddie Munson had ever actually spoken to you, and he berated you with dehumanizing comments—and he blew it with his rash decision to automate you into a box of prissy cheerleaders that had nothing better to do than gossip with their friends- ah yes, that box, that was formulated by sexist losers who used it to justified their mean actions against innocent teenage girls. Oh, fuck, Eddie cringed to himself at the sudden self-realization.

He had to fix this. He didn’t even have to confess his feelings—which, he didn’t have *cough* *cough*—he just had to apologize for his mistakes. What he wanted to believe to be patronizing was actually sincere on your part, and you didn’t deserve any of his degrading tirade. And his conscience was letting it be known. Resuming the campaign had been a shit-show that Friday, when all he could focus on was your crying face. It became even worse when he realized that he’d never actually seen you drive—always painfully third-wheeling with Jason Carver and Chrissy Cunningham, or silently pleading to Patrick McKinney to control Andy McAvoy when he felt entitled to nonconsensually feel you up in his convertible when they drove you to school—meaning you were probably left crying alone at night waiting to be picked up, or worse, walking home. And you did it just for him. For his friends. To be included in some stupid fucking yearbook, because he made a big deal out of it in the first place.

Oh, shit, he was an awful fucking person, Eddie thought.

So, come Monday morning, he would apologize. He had all weekend to find the right words, rehearse his apology to perfection, and plan when to actually say it to you.

But Eddie Munson never got to correctly apologize to you on Monday.

Because aforementioned, Monday was the start of the worst week of your life, and he got scared and simply watched everything happen.

“No running in the halls, young lady.” Mr. Long sternly reminded, as you zoomed past him.

“Sorry, sir.” You weren’t sorry. The second he turned the corner, you picked up the pace and ran to the newspaper room, frantically attempting to shove the slender key into the slot with shaky hands.

Earlier on Saturday, the Yearbook Committee had worked to finish the final draft of the Hawkins High 1986 Yearbook, and with the team’s effort, you all concluded the first official copy that held the recognition of all staff and students intertwined with a school year’s worth of memorabilia, squished between the glossy green and orange cover that encapsulated Hawkins High.

And now, you were about to destroy it.

Sixty minutes. You had sixty minutes. You managed to wake up early that Monday morning, practically running to school, and situating yourself within the newspaper room—sweaty and exhausted—an hour early before the bell rang to commence the school day. In truth, you’d like to say you were a badass, and demolished the yearbook with no regrets, but reality had quite literally sucked, and you were panicking for a solid five minutes before you came to a consensus.

It had to be destroyed- well, not destroyed, just unbinded. God, you were such a dramatic coward.

See, that Saturday afternoon with the Yearbook Committee, you had done your part, you really did. You gathered photos, helped have them printed, assisted Nancy Wheeler with the placement of pages, and took over binding the book together when Fred Benson’s scrawny hands cramped into oblivion. You also may have—very discreetly—had Hellfire’s picture printed, created an entirely new page to fit them between the Glee and Math Club, and it was then you realized you didn’t even know half of their names. It had never occurred to you on Friday night that—with the exception of Eddie Munson, Lucas Sinclair, and Mike Wheeler—you never caught the names of the other four members, prompting you to lose precious time after having to locate their stupid names in the student registry for identification—they weren’t stupid, you were just really frustrated at that point.

And now, on this fine Monday morning, you persevered through blistering callouses, contracting muscles, and sore knuckles to unbind and bind back the yearbook with an additional page within the “Hawkins High’s Clubs” recognitional section.

Hellfire’s page.

And it was perfect.

The pages were still intact with their crisp stiffness of that of a newly unopened book, and you cleaned off any smudges that impaired the quality of work within the creation. You stood back. You couldn’t help the soft giggle that left your lips at the mere sight of Hellfire sticking out like a sore thumb against the formality of the other photos—in true Hellfire fashion. But there it was. Their title, their photo, and their names that gave them the minimal ask to simply be acknowledged in a school that consistently disregarded their beings, and you were happy they finally got it. They deserved it. Even if Friday’s event left you crying alone in your bed feeling awful. It was worth it. Your thumb gently caressed the smooth page of their photo—Eddie’s photo—and reminisced on that night.

Had you actually done something terrible? Was Eddie right to call you out on your actions? You certainly knew you hadn’t caused this entire commotion out of pitiness, though you understood where he may have interpreted it as such. I mean, even though you never did anything, your friends made his life a living hell, villainizing his differences, casting him as a danger to society, affecting his life beyond just a superficial high school social life. It was true torment.

You understood the facade which Eddie Munson had to put on to protect himself, but what you didn’t understand was the sudden shallowness that appeared when you thought you proved yourself to be more than just a ditzy cheerleader. Why were you even trying to prove yourself to some guy? Eddie Munson was an awful person. Right? He yelled at you, judged you, degraded you, and all for nothing- well, as far as you knew. So yeah, Eddie Munson was an awful person. You may have understood him, but he was still an asshole. You’d done your part, adding Hellfire to the yearbook, and that was that. That was all you needed to do. You no longer had to think about his stupid feelings, his stupid hair—which you totally didn’t want to run your hands through—his stupid brown eyes that made you shutter as they bore into yours, and his stupidly beautiful smile. You also kinda wondered how his hands might feel on your-

“What are you doing here?”

Jesus Christ, how long has Nancy Wheeler been standing there? You didn’t even hear the door open.

“Uh, um, j-just looking at the, uh, yearbook?” You mumbled. You wished you had better control over your facial expressions, because right now, Nancy Wheeler was eyeing the fuck out of your worried guise.

“You came to school early just to see the yearbook?” She questioned.

“W-well, yeah, I mean, isn’t that why you’re here early? …Right?” You prayed.

Nancy blinked. “Yeah, I guess, just had to make sure everything was correct before Fred takes it to make copies.”

“Oh, Fred’s here?” You piqued with interest.

Fred Benson didn’t actually pique your interest all too much—though, it was quite fascinating seeing how fast his slender fingers would cramp after just a couple minutes of working—but he did give the perfect escape from Nancy Wheeler’s captious glare.

“Uh, yeah, he’s out front waiting for the book-”

“I’ll hand it to him!” You interjected, watching her face scrunch with confusion. You could only awkwardly laugh, “You know me and Fred,” you zoomed right past her, “just always so, uh… tight.” And you left without further explanation.

Shoving Mr. Long’s word of chastisement right up his ass, you ran down the empty hall, yearbook held tightly in your tired hands, as you rejected any of Nancy’s calls for you to come back. Reaching the double glass doors, you spotted Fred mindlessly tweaking with his camera in the front seat of his car.

“Fred!” You could visibly make out the bewildered “huh” that fell from his gaping mouth from your sudden appearance. “Fred, here take this and go!” You shoved the yearbook past the small crack of his window.

“W-wait, didn’t Nancy want to che-”

“No, she sent me to give this to you!” You urged. “And she said go now, or else the copies won’t be done in time!” My god, the entirety of this situation had you lying more than you ever had in your life.

“But the distributors don’t close until six-”

“Fred, I don’t care!” You whined. “Do you really want to make Nancy upset?!” If your calculations were correct, Nancy Wheeler’s flats were currently speed walking—she was one to follow the rules—past Mrs. Durberry’s science classroom, meaning you had ten more seconds until she appeared.

“Well, n-no-”

“Then drive! Now, please!” He scrambled to turn his car on, and luckily, the old piece of junk managed to roar alive with a heavy blow of carbon dioxide, and you heaved watching Fred Benson skirt past the incoming wave of students on bikes and cars, leaving tire tracks on the cracked pavements. When he came back, you’d be sure to apologize for demanding him so aggressively.

Nancy Wheeler screamed your name.

Turning around, she came pummeling towards you with a might of pure irritation. “What the hell was that?! I didn’t even get to check the book!”

You huffed with exhaustion. It was only 8:18 a.m and it had already been a long day. “Nance, come on, I’ve been on the Yearbook Committee for the last three years, don’t you trust me by now?” Admittedly, guilting Nancy probably wasn’t the best option, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

“I don’t care how long you’ve been in the committee, I have the authority to make final calls, not you!” Gee, you really had an act for getting people to yell in your face. Were you actually the problem?

“Look, I understand, but I promise everything was perfect with the yearbook. I mean, come on, you saw the finished product on Saturday when we completed it.” You reasoned.

Nancy took a deep breath to regulate herself. “This is your only strike.” She pointed a finger at you like a child. “You pull something like this again, and you're off the committee. Understand?”

You swallowed thickly. The trouble you went through just for Eddie Munson- his friends. Just for his friends. “Yes, I understand.” You submitted quietly. “But I promise, the book was fine, everything is going to be perfectly okay.”

Everything was not perfectly okay.

Because unlike your little white lie of being “tight” with Fred Benson, he actually was with Nancy Wheeler, and, boy, did he rat you out when he paged through the printed copies of the yearbook and found the seven believed satanic cultists mischievously smiling right back at him, tainting the committee’s precious work.

It was in the midst of your A.P U.S History class when the staticy call of your name over the intercom interrupted Mr. Whitney’s lecture of the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution, and prompted you to the principal’s office at 10:57 a.m. Now, it wasn’t an unusual occurrence for Principal Higgins to often call you down as you were a valued student representative of Hawkins High, though you quickly knew your visitation had nothing in relation to an honor medal or scholarship award. No, it became quite evident that such subject matter was beyond any congratulations to you, because upon entering, you were faced with a choleric Nancy Wheeler, displeased Principal Higgins, and timid Fred Benson. You were fucking screwed, I mean, Principal Higgins quite literally had a yearbook in his hand. Crazy part of it all is that a good third of your being actually believed you may have gotten away with it, but they managed to find out in a matter of two fucking hours. Who were you kidding?

There was only so much nonchalant-ness you could mask, though your previous revelation of being unable to control your facial expressions was really biting you in the ass, and your insistent cracking under pressure was palpable.

Your wide eyes flashed between everyone as they stared you down. You didn’t speak. You couldn’t even manage to speak. And they didn’t speak. Why wasn’t anyone speaking?

“Aw, you miss me already, Higgy-”

Everyone’s attention snapped at Eddie’s sneering voice as he strutted his grand entrance, though he was quick to flinch back in surprise when he saw everyone looking at him. And you, shit you were here! You were here looking at him. He’d been searching for you all morning just to apologize, and now you were here… with everyone… why was everyone here?

“Now that I have everyone situated,” Principal Higgins cleared his throat, “I’d like to clear up a matter that has been brought to my attention. I’m sure as you all are well aware of, an unauthorized change has been made to our yearbook and I’m looking to get to the bottom of it.” Higgins turned to you, “Ms. Y/L/N,” he spoke with such care, “this is a safe place for honesty. Did Mr. Munson subject you into making these changes?” With a dramatic slam to his desk, the yearbook was turned open to showcase Hellfire’s designated spot on the page.

“What?!” Both you and Eddie questioned in unison.

“I didn’t “subject” her to shit!” He was quick to rightfully defend.

“Language!” Principal Higgins was even quicker to yell back.

The atmosphere was taut, and it felt like their judgmental stares were swallowing you into an endless blackhole of utter disappointment and failure. You couldn’t even muster up the courage to meet their gaze, simply staring at the old rug beneath your sneakers, wishing it’d come alive and consume you already.

“Ms. Y/L/N, is that true?” Principal Higgins lectured you.

A part of Eddie actually wished you would have lied and accused him of being the aggressor while you were the helpless victim, because that was the usual reality of Eddie Munson: to be denigrated. It would have justified his previous beratement against you from Friday, it would have supported his initial beliefs about you, it would have cleared him of being an asshole, and most of all, it would have changed the way he viewed you, from a genuinely beautiful person inside and out that took a sincere interest in bringing simple recognition to him and his friends to a cold-hearted superficial bitch that chalked up this elaborate plan as a vendetta with your jock friends.

But Eddie Munson knew you weren’t like that.

Which only made it hurt worse when he watched you pain through the sting of your manicured nails stabbing into your palms and your teeth sinking into your tender lip.

“Y-yes, that’s, uh, true, sir.” Your voice was so delicate, Eddie was ready to jump in and just take the blame. “He didn’t make me do anything, it was, uh, all me. I lied, and made him and his friends take the photo. And, well, I, uh, added the page and told Fred to print it.”

You shuddered at the sudden slap of the book, as Principal Higgins closed it with much despondency against you. “And is there valid reasoning as to why?!” Principal Higgins wasn’t one to be known for his placidness and he was quick to make that apparent. “You are the best student at this establishment, you should not be falling under influence of a hooligan like Mr. Munson! How have you fallen so naive all of a sudden?!”

You were really tugging on Eddie’s heart the way your eyes grew round with panic, completely helpless to the grown man scolding you, just as he did last Friday. And while he may have caused it the initial time, he’d be damned to watch it happen to you again.

“Hey, look, you can insult me all you want, but you don’t have to yell at her like she made some dire mistake!” Eddie lambasted Principal Higgins, far more harsh than any regular tone Eddie used when he was regularly being reprimanded.

Higgins could only scoff in disbelief. “Vandalizing school property isn’t a mistake to you, Mr. Munson?! Well, given your grotesque track record of uncivilized activities, it seems as though I’ve answered my own question!” He sneered back with intended offense.

“Please, ‘vandalizing school property?!’” Eddie mocked. “She fucking put our picture in the yearbook, and for good reason, too. You’re the one at fault here, excluding students from recognition!”

The thudding sound of your heartbeat was completely muting you from the onslaught of shouts that was suffocating you in the tight room. While Nancy Wheeler was beginning to contemplate if telling Principal Higgins was too far, Fred Benson was merely watching with joy that none of the blame was being casted on him, and you, well, your body was racking with stiffness, as it suddenly felt like your airway was tightening every breath out of you. Your hands began shaking by your side, unable to control the instantaneous wave of trepidation, as everything was beginning to blur around you.

And no one was noticing.

“I have rightful reasons to exclude your gang of misfits from my yearbook!” Principal Higgins walked from his desk, standing against Eddie with pure spite in his eyes. “You and your posse of cons and aberrations have done nothing but taint the reputation of our school and town, running around like imbeciles who have nothing better to do than waste their lives away! And I will not stand to have you be associated with the work I’ve done to correct this school from delinquents like yourself!”

Chest heaving and nostrils flared, the Eddie Munson from the cafeteria instance was back, though angrier, and he was two seconds from actually gaining an assault charge from hitting Principal Higgins square in the face. But the older man was quick to turn, and eject his dissonant castigate towards you.

“And you, missy!” Your eyes were blinking posthaste with fret to control the swell of tears that were burning your eyes, at the clashing outburst being directed against you. “How did you even gain the facilities to take such picture?!”

Your mouth was dry with consternation, unable to formulate words, and simply quivering your mouth open.

And unlucky for you, Fred Benson spoke for you.

“After our yearbook meeting on Friday,” heads snapped at his gravelly voice, “she said she was going to stay after to work, and that she would lock up herself. She must have taken the key, and stolen a camera.”

Higgins scoffed with great disgust as he judged you, before turning to Nancy. “Ms. Wheeler, as president of the Yearbook Committee, had you permitted her to do so?”

Nancy looked at you with guilt. She hadn’t anticipated the situation to blow up this much, though she spoke honestly to the authoritative eyes of Higgins. “Uh, no, I didn’t.” She meekly answered.

“And Mr. Munson,” Eddie rolled his eyes, trying to control his frustrations before doing something he wouldn’t be able to take back. “When did Ms. Y/L/N enforce these photos?”

“Why the hell does that even matter?” Eddie gritted with a clenched jaw of tension.

“Mr. Munson, you choose not to answer me, and I will not hesitate to place you as an accomplice, and you certainly cannot afford another detention or suspension if you’re planning on finally ending this school year as a graduate.” In a perfect world, Eddie Munson would have lied for you and lessened whatever punishment you were about to receive, but Hawkins, Indiana was far from perfect, the threat made him budge under the pressure of his potential future and your distraught eyes.

“It was, uh, after her cheer practice. After school.” He sheepishly murmured with regret.

“Ah,” Principal Higgins turned to your shaking stature. “So, not only did you make unauthorized changes to the school yearbook, but you stole school property, used our equipment prohibitively outside of school hours, and actively unsubordinated my authority. I have to say, I am awfully disappointed in the person you have become, Ms. Y/L/N, and I am ashamed to have valued you so highly when you simply choose to go down the path of delinquency.” Everything about Principal Higgins words were humiliating and slammed you into a vicious cycle of believing the worst about yourself. “Finish the rest of your day,” he sighed, “but you’ll be suspended for the rest of the week for your actions.” Your heart sank at his news, and Eddie stood dumbfounded that he contributed to it.

Your visions grew blurry under the swell of tears, and your breath was becoming sporadic with panic, and everyone just kept fucking staring at you. “N-no, sir, p-please!” You choked, “I-I have scholarships, a-and acceptances that I-I’m still waiting to hear back from, this could ruin that for me, p-please, sir!”

While your pleads were being disregarded, everyone stood stun watching your fate unfold in front of you. Eddie Munson didn’t know what to do. Nobody did. On top of being berated by him from Friday, you were now facing the worst possible consequence for something so trivial, and he watched it happen. Granted, there was quite literally nothing Eddie could do to fix the situation, but seeing you stand there, panicked about your future and trying to conceal your incoming sobs through the ache of heart palpitations, it was fucking excruciating for him to witness.

“You should have thought about that before you made your choices. Everything is on you.” His words were ringing in your ear like a loop confirming everything you’ve ever hated about yourself. “I’ll be sure to let your father know of the news, and as for your spot on the committee, it is up to Ms. Wheeler to determine where you stand. Now go, everyone back to class.”

Fred Benson was first to leave, giddy to have been cleared from any trouble. Eddie Munson should have left, but he couldn’t stand to leave, simply watching you turn to Nancy Wheeler in a flash. Your round eyes were pleading to her to let you stay, but her previous words of “This is your only strike,” was tormenting you. She sighed, “I’m sorry,” and the shake of her head answered everything before she could verbalize it.

You were off.

You stormed out of the room, bumping shoulders with Eddie, though with no malice intent, just simply needing to get out. The second you reached the clearing of the empty hall, your tears were drowning your cheeks, your sobs so unbearably hard your breathing staggered for release. Suddenly, your little cashmere sweater felt like it was sticking to your skin, giving you hot flashes that brought dizziness to your pounding head. The blood battering your ears cleared out any noise, including Eddie’s calls of your name. He reached out to hold your arm, causing you to severely flinch in hysteria, and he appeared devastatingly concerned for your state of being.

“Sorry! Ar-are you okay?” He winced at the loud sob you choked out, as he felt stupid for even asking you that question. “Look, everything, uh, everything’s gonna be fine.” He rushed to reassure. In truth, Eddie Munson was completely talking out of his ass, he didn’t know if everything was going to be fine, your panicking was just causing him to panic, and all he wanted was for you to be okay. “J-just, uh, breathe for me.” He offered.

“I-I c-can’t! I’m scared, Eddie, help me!” You pleaded with frightened eyes.

Your beg hit too close to home. Suddenly, Eddie was a little boy curled up in the corner of his trashed living room, as he watched his parents abuse one another with words and fists. He pleaded the same words to his parents, who merely ignored his shaking little body. Such horrific events disfigured Eddie Munson’s belief of healing. No one cared for his emotions, no one cared for his feelings, and no one cared to make sure he was okay. So, yes, Eddie Munson yelled at you Friday night because he was petrified. Petrified to be hurt, just as everyone else had done, because to Eddie Munson, that was his fate. To be hurt and to be forgotten. Maybe that’s why he cared so much about being excluded from the school yearbook. While anyone would have rightfully been upset, being excluded cemented the notion that Eddie Munson was disposable. His father spoke it, the townspeople spoke, his teachers spoke, and his peers spoke it. But you didn’t, and that fucking scared him. It’s why he yelled, it’s why he panicked, and it’s why he’d try anything to help you right now.

“I-I know, sweetheart, just listen to me, please.” He quietly spoke. “I’m not gonna touch you or anything, I just really need you to listen to me.”

You fervently nodded your head, and he sighed with relief, because though minor, it was progress, and progress was incredible.

“I, uh, I want you to focus on my voice, okay?” His wide eyes connected with your red ones. “I wouldn’t lie to you, and I mean it when I say everything will be okay. I-I’ll make sure of it.”

Could he physically do that? No. But would he try his damn hardest, putting his being through anything to make it happen? Yes. For you.

“Okay, I want you to-”

“What are you doing to her?!”

Eddie’s eyes screwed shut with disappointment.

Jessica fucking Lewis.

“Get away from her!” She charged past him to get to your hysterical figure. “Did you do something?!”

“No, no, I’m trying to fucking help her.” Eddie implored. “Stop yelling, she’s having a fucking panic attack.” He gritted through his teeth.

“Don’t fucking come near her ever again, you freak!” Eddie watched as you tried to get your words out, but your shrinking throat made it impossible to get your voice out, and he recoiled, watching the fear in your eyes as Jessica held a tight grip in your arms.

But before he could stop her, Jessica was dragging you into the girls bathroom, and he stood frozen doing everything in his power to not rip out his hair in frustration.

Aside from her fault-finding comments against Eddie, Jessica Lewis had actually been a fairly good friend to you through the years of cheer, connecting with the girls through the pact of lifelong sisterhood, as she insisted. Though such pact also came with unwarranted advice when she felt one of you was “falling out of line” with a pristine, perfect image. That being said, when she found you panicking at the hands of Eddie Munson, she was actually concerned, impetuous, yes, but concerned, nonetheless. She’d sat with you, decisively skipping the rest of Mrs. Otis’ home economics class, to console you, bitching out any innocent girl to leave as they attempted to alleviate themselves, while you sat heaving with the back of your thighs sticking to cold tiles of the bathroom. When you did finally manage to catch your breath and calm your heart rate to a healthy status, Jessica had petted your hair with care, constantly asking what was wrong and what Eddie had done. Through your tremored voice, you hoarsely clarified that “He didn’t do anything,” and “He was just trying to help.” That revelation had actually baffled Jessica Lewis, honestly, some part of her believing you to be lying, but she gave it a rest when you assiduously shook your head in response to her asking what was actually wrong. By then, the bell had rung to signal the start of third period.

And it was during said third period when your situation only worsened completely unbeknownst to you.

While you were in the middle of trying to focus on your quiz—which proved damn near impossible after today’s events—Fred Benson was seemingly trying to get back at you for nearly inducing him into a heart attack after your actions almost cost him his spot on the Newspaper and Yearbook Committee (In reality, Nancy Wheeler had only yelled at him for not previously checking the books).

See, once Fred had informed the rest of the Yearbook Committee of what you had done and how you were being punished, the news had spread like wildfire; nerds, geeks, punks, jocks, everyone knew one version or another. “Perfect Cheerleader Falls Under Satanic Cultist’s Influence and Vandalizes School Facilities,'' small town high school students sure had a talent to dramatize any given situation. You’d only taken a picture, that’s all it was, but the students of Hawkins High had conspired together to formulate you into a freak slut who allegedly got fucked by the Eddie Munson after cheer practice in exchange for putting his club in the yearbook.

As the students of your class hurtled to mitigate the dreaded boredom of the school day with the clashing laughter and stale food of lunch, you sighed in your seat, head pounded and anxiety still churning in your mind and stomach, slowly packing up your belongings before handing over the quiz—quite literally the worst you’ve ever performed on one. Lunch seemed like the worst possible thing to conquer, right now. Despite the horrid grumbling of your stomach, you felt no need to satiate that hunger, as your appetite was long gone for the afternoon. In addition, you’d known Jessica Lewis long enough to know that she had informed all your friends of your panic attack, and if you chose to call her out on it, you knew you would only be met with a “I’m only trying to help,” as if you needed an intervention. She’d done it to Paige Semore when the girl healthy gained a couple pounds over the summer and got ridiculed by Jess.

But when you entered the cafeteria, you quickly wished you were subjected to Jessica Lewis’ harmful “advice”, rather than the reality you got.

The sound of the heavy double doors announced your arrival, and suddenly all eyes were on you. No, like quite literally, all eyes were on you. No greeting smiles from acquaintances, no shying-away looks from crushing students, no bright wave hello from Chrissy Cunningham from across the cafeteria, in fact, she was heavily avoiding you, seemingly finding the table more interesting as Jason Carver glared at you. Everyone was staring at you as if, without notice, you had become the town pariah. Because you had. Your perturbation had bombarded you like a missile hit, as quiet whispers flooded your senses. Peering around you caught his eyeline. Eddie. His brows had severely been furrowed with much worry, because he knew. He knew how quickly it went around, and he knew just how bad the news got twisted. Now, he was no stranger to the onslaught of destructive rumors, but you weren’t, and with the day you had, his chest was pounding with dread for you.

Chalking it up to merely being in your head, you swallowed the lump in your throat, and with quick steps, you sped to your usual lunch table. But everyone kept staring- your friends were staring. “Can someone tell me what the hell is going on?” You whispered, as they genuinely looked at you with disgust.

“Why don’t you tell us?” Jason scowled. “Seems like you’re the one who caused all of this, you desperate slut.”

Your mouth dropped incredulously. “What did you just call me?”

“You fucking heard me!” Jason stood from his chair, rejecting Chrissy’s quiet ask to not cause a scene. “It’s exactly what you are.” He laughed.

Eddie Munson’s residual anger was fueling. Hard. He stood from his chair all the way across the room, metal legs scraping the floor with a deafening screech. But his presence only caught the worst attention. “Oh, would you look at that? Your little freak coming to help you?”

Eddie faltered at your watery eyes, begging for everything to just stop. If he spoke, nothing would help you. “What are you talking about?” Your voice stung with pleads to just understand what was happening to you.

“Stop acting like you don’t fucking know!” Andy’s booming voice startled you. “You wanna choose some gross freak to fuck, then fine by us, go right ahead, but don’t think that you’ll be able to with us!” Andy McAvoy was taking it far more personal. He liked you. That was obvious. But hearing the rumors simply led him to believe you chose Eddie Munson over him.

“What?” Your voice cracked in distress.

Eddie had had enough.

“She didn’t fucking do anything!” He marched his way over. All the boys of the basketball team stood in preparation for a fight that Eddie Munson was known to love to finish. Finish, not start. “Your bland lives got that fucking boring you all have to go around making shit up to make things interesting?! She didn’t do anything!”

“Aw, defending your precious little fuck toy, isn’t that cu-”

Chrissy Cunningham's shrilling scream startled the entire cafeteria as Jason Carver’s blood stained her powdery skin. You flinched at the bone-crunching punch that busted Jason’s pretty face, and everything felt heavy in your chest. Your hands were beginning to shake beyond your control, as everything was horrifyingly disfiguring in front of you. It was happening again. Before your mind was about to shut off from the assault of today’s events, your instinct had elicited all rash decisions, and you had to leave. All you could comprehend was the diffusing sounds of students instigating the fight before everything fell silent and you trudged down the hall to escape.

Staff were quick to call Eddie’s name before another detrimental hit was casted upon Jason. It was only then, Eddie’s judgment was left unclouded, and he noticed you were gone. “Did she leave?” He hadn’t necessarily asked anyone in particular, moreso questioning himself, but Chrissy Cunningham had ardently answered him with a swift nod of her head and bulging eyes of fear.

Eddie broke through the doors with force, catching you near the end of the hall. “Y/N!” You didn’t turn, though. Every repeated call of your name fell with no response, and he chased you down, following you into the zephyr of the afternoon weather outside. “Y/N, c’mon, wait!” He’d grabbed your arm.

“What?!”

Eddie staggered at your biting tone. Not once, in the four years he’d known of you—freshman to senior year—had he ever heard your voice so malicious, yet drowning in urgence to make everything stop. Your inconsolable state devastating him helplessly.

“I-I’m sorry.” He sighed so softly.

“‘Sorry?’” You affronted. “Now you’re sorry?! After everything that’s happened! Why, is it out of fucking pity?!” Internally, Eddie was begging you to stop, because if you kept yelling at him like this, his defense mechanism was going to lash out, especially when he was already angry from everything that’s just happened. “I don’t want some stupid apology, not when every time you appear, my life gets worse! I just want you away!” You cried.

Eddie scoffed in disbelief. Were you actually blaming him for all this? No, you weren’t. But after the day you just had, you were not looking to be comforted by someone who partially hurt you. But Eddie Munson couldn’t understand. His judgment had a habit of being clouded; his cynicism about anything good happening to him had protected him from a lifetime of hurt, and now, unfortunately, your rightfully pent up polemic about him was believing his suspicions to be true.

“This isn’t my fucking fault, you’re the one who wanted to take our picture in the first place!” He shouted, shielding his vulnerability.

“Because you made a big deal out of it!” You screamed with frustration. “You yelled at me first, you said mean things to me first- why- why were you so mean to me?!” You blubbered through drowning tears.

“Because- be- ugh,” Eddie pained with vexation. “You fucking terrify me, okay?! You terrify the living shit out of me!” Guarding his tearing eyes from your shattered being, he groaned realizing you weren’t going to understand unless he opened up, but he couldn’t bear to, and maybe that was the best solution to move on, run away. “It’s just fucking hard when, you know, you look like that and you’re fucking you, and I’m just me, and you have a great life-”

“‘Great life?!’” You derided through tears. “You know nothing about my life!” You shoved him. “You know nothing about me!” You shoved him again. Eddie was quick to retrain your wrist in a tight grip, preventing you from touching him again, no matter how hard you tried. “Stop acting like you know everything about me when you know absolutely nothing! I’m not going to stand here, and let you say mean things to me, when you know nothing, do you understand?! I have never done anything to you, and I never will, because unlike you, I’m not some sulking asshole who can’t handle their fucking emotions, and uses their sorry life to lash out at people because they’re too pathetic to deal with their own problems!”

And maybe your rash psycho analysis of Eddie Munson was too much, or not harsh enough, but either way, your critical comments derailed him off the edge of sanity. He aggressively dropped your wrist, and got into your face with a full might of fury. “You are such a miserable bitch!” He shouted, invading your space with intent, causing you to wince and step away from him, but he wasn’t relenting. “For once, you got a fucking taste of what your bullshit friends have been doing to me, and now you can’t fucking handle it?! God, just love playing the fucking victim, don’t you?! Maybe they are right, maybe you are just some fucking desperate slut craving fucking attention?! Is that why you did all this shit in the first place?!”

The way your face flashed with sudden dejection had him biting his tongue. Oh, fuck. He regretted it. He fucking immediately regretted it.

Eddie began furiously shaking his head in denial to what he just uttered, he couldn’t believe it. “No,” he heaved out. “No, I-I didn’t mean it, I’m s-sorry.” He could only muster a whisper.

You didn’t even have the energy to fight back, merely accepting his words as truth with a silent sob that burned your being. “Yeah,” you shakily sighed with a sniffle of sobs. “I’m sorry, too, Eddie. I would have loved being your friend, and now I just want nothing to do with you.” His heart dropped at your calmness. When he first spoke those words to you, demanding you to stay away from him and his friends, he knew a deep part of him didn’t mean it. Why would he, you were fucking perfect? But you, the stillness and tranquility of your words cemented them to be the final verdict. You were done. “So please,” you wiped your drenched face from tears, “just leave me alone and stay away from me.”

No malice, no anger, no fury.

Just pure defeat.

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 | This is my first time making a tag list, and I got overwhelmed—in a good way—that I simply tagged anyone who commented. If you were not looking to be tagged, I’m so sincerely sorry, and please let me know to respect your wishes and remove you!

(Big, fat kisses to all of you) @televisionboy @batkin028 @lostdreamingwallflower @cevais @myfavoritesareproblematic @btbabyy @married-to-the-music01 @super-nova-03 @deathnote6666 @cherrytc @sleepy-bunnie @eggo-segual @bambi-horror @aheadfullofsteverogers @sademoloser @averagestudent03 @freakymunson @princess-eddie @imagine-a-world-blog1 @negativity4you

@nope-thanks @allsortsedits @callingmrsbarnes @f0rgggg @hurricane-abigail @sweet-sunflower64 @redlovett @goldstars-to-all @eddiesguitarskills @goslytherin @sashaphantomhive @maxinehufflepuffprincess @emeritusemeritus @angel-upon @middle-of-the-earth @scarletwitchwhore @my-tearsricochet @pixiepaintt @ericasdumbworld @animechick555

@gewrgia-black @hookandchain @roseanddaggerlarry @prestinalove @sebismyhubby @maddsunn

(I’m so sorry, some blogs are not popping up when I try to tag y’all, if it’s an issue on my part, I’ll try my best to fix it as soon as possible)

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #mean!eddie munson #the yearbook: club pictures

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letarasstuff · 1 year ago

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Female Rage

(A/N): Initially, I wanted to end this one on a hopeful note. But fighting the war of equality and equity can be pretty hopeless. I tried to be as inclusive as possible, but it's came out in a very binary way. I'm sorry for that and I'm readyto change anything.

Summary: Spencer learns from his daughter how much the patriarchy really sucks.

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: the utter feeling of hopelessness in today's patriarchy, unwanted advances, some men suck

✨Masterlist✨

_________________________

“Hey, what’s with you today?” Spencer asks after hearing his daughter slamming the front door shut.

Her stomping feet bring her towards the living room, where he sits on the couch with a book in his hands, deciding whether or not he’ll include it in his next class. Looking up from the written words, he instantly spots all the emotion running over (Y/N)’s face.

Now, being a father to a 16 year old teenager wasn’t always easy and especially since puberty started it’s becoming increasingly difficult to decipher his child, but Spencer knows right away what kind of emotional cocktail is playing here: Anger, hurt, a pinch of shock and layered under all of this is a certain type of fear. Which one is up to (Y/N) telling him.

“What’s with me today?” She asks him in an incredulous tone. “With me? What about you? Or your entire gender. No, seriously. How can you men go around, trumpeting how you are the stronger, the smarter, the better, the most superior gender? And mean that? Even going as far as to believe that bullshit”

(Y/N) stops, taking in a deep breath. Her father looks at her with waiting eyes, thinking that she now will calmly explain to him what her whole tirade is about. But it seems that this was just the prologue. Because she continues with even more vigour in her voice than she started with.

“For real, what makes you even think that? Stronger than a person, who was assigned female at birth? Just because you are able to build muscles faster than we? Or lose weight faster than us? You know what I call that? An evolutionary problem, because while I got emergency fat to feed off in the case of, I don’t know, an apocalypse, you will freeze to death.

“Our bodies are, for the most part, able to grow an entire functioning human being. We literally take a breakfast bar and build fingers with that energy.

“And for the smarter part? No, absolutely not. So many findings in history have been stolen from women by men, who greedily put their name on it and call it a day of science. Without women, cars probably would still drive around with windshield wipers. Mary Anderson has been laughed at for that idea, despite being one of the first women to hold a patent. And as soon as it expired, suddenly wipers were installed in all cars. Out of nowhere, it stopped being a dumb idea? Just because you weren’t able to attribute it to a woman?!

“But what more to expect from a gender that made protective gear for their testicles in hockey mandatory a hundred years before doing the same thing with a helmet. Who would have thought that brain cells need protection, too? A woman definitely.

I don’t wanna say one gender is better than the other or that there should be a particular fight between any gender at all, but men make it out like that. Damn it, they make women compete with each other to garner their attention. All those “pick me” girls you make fun of? They are the product of internalised misogyny.

“The baseline is wanting to be different from the “typical girl”, right? Well, what is a typical girl, who defined her and why is it so bad to be typical. Who do I want to be different for? Who is mad that I’m dressing up, putting makeup on or having good friendships with other girls?

“Men apparently, because they don’t want a different girl. They don’t want a well dressed, put together woman for the sake of love or so. They want someone easy. Nothing complicated, not someone, who asks them if these pants do look better with that shirt or this blouse. They don’t want to be confronted with problems. That’s why they made up a narrative of how a woman is supposed to be, solely for their own interest.

“And this whole thing eradicates the beautiful experiences you can have as a woman. I don’t talk about these silly and partly belittling things like girl dinner or girl maths. I’m talking about hyping each other up. Bathrooms in a club are fun, because there are a bunch of strangers, talking another stranger up to shoot their shot. Or down from texting their ex. There is unity.

“So where do men get their audacity?!”

Ending her whole rant with this question, (Y/N) stands in front of her father, seething and looking like she is about to overthrow the patriarchy with her own two hands. Right here, right now.

Meanwhile Spencer has started to shrink into the sofa and looks as physically small as possible.

“Uhm, the audacity for what, Sweetheart?” He asks hesitantly, scared for her reaction, but also knowing that this is something his daughter needs to get out of her system.

“TO WALK UP TO ME AND TRYING TO GET SOMETHING ON WITH ME WHILE HE CLEARLY HAS BEEN TRYING TO DESTROY MY WHOLE PRESENTATION! TO FLIRT WITH A MINOR WHILE HE CLEAR AS DAY IS IN HIS MID TO LATE TWENTIES!”

(Y/N) falls down on the sofa face first, next to her father. He rubs her arm up and down in a soothing manner, trying to take the fall after her burst of warranted female rage.

“I apologise. I know, there is nothing I can do against all of what you just said. I also know, like you, that we are talking about a structural problem. It’s nothing that can be solved by a few words. It sucks, knowing that your right to vote is younger than the patent on the first motorised vehicle. It’s not right that you always have to stick up for your rights, while mine will never be threatened.

“Nothing about all of this is fair. That I have to raise you in a way to remind you that any man out there could hurt you. It’s not fair that you have to go tell other men making advances at you about an imaginary boyfriend, because they rather believe in the legitimation of a fake male than your no. That you have to say no more than once, just because someone wants to “make sure you really mean it”.

“I can’t do anything right now that will satisfy you.

“But I can promise you that I will always listen to you. Listen to what makes you mad about this system. I will listen to other people, telling me how the patriarchy failed them. I promise to uplift the women in my life, give credit where it’s due and try to be the best feminist I can be.

But you need to promise me to tell me how I can support you the best in a world that wants to diminish your opinion, your rights and you. Can we do that?”

A short moment of silence gives Spencer the opportunity to think about instances, where he had to endure how (Y/N) being born female made her life more difficult. May it be boys pulling your hair on the playground and the teacher saying that they show love in this abusive way. May it be being called emotional or being told to stop being dramatic while talking about her problems. May it be in simply enjoying stereotypical girly things and being called basic because of that.

“Yes, I promise, I’ll keep you in check. And if you start rambling about how men are superior, I’ll ship you off to the worst retirement home I can find,” (Y/N) says, voice a bit muffled by the couch pillows.

The family continues sitting in silence, the feeling of deep and utter unfairness seeping into their bones.

If you have come this far, please consider a reblog or a comment. Not holding you at gunpoint or anything, but it would be pretty neat.

All works:

@venomsvl @kneelforloki @ssa-uglywhore27 @bibissparkles

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962 @ellyhotchner

General Spencer Reid:

@mayoanddelight (sunny, you seriously need to tell me when you change your url, this list had such an old one in it)

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x female!reader #spencer reid x daughter!reader #spencer reid x teen!reader #spencer reid #x reader #criminal minds #reader insert #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #fanfiction #x teen!reader #x daughter!reader #x female!reader

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reveluving · 1 year ago

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the bump in the night ; rick flag x reader

summary: someone made Mrs Flag cry, and her family is not having it.

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, shadow-magic f!reader, reverse comfort & humour!

a/n: this AU is based on this piece I made a while back, 'cause you already know I can't do this special without hubby Rick and the kids! hope you enjoy it & don’t forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

» wanna know what I have in store this fall? come & check out my m.list for 'reve's quirky reverie 🕷️'!

'For now, they had a plan, hoping it could bring a smile to your face.' ;

Coming home to his daughter's hugs had become an everyday thing if Rick didn't have to work overtime, but if the flicker of sadness in her eyes was anything to go by, something had to have happened while he was away.

“Mrs Bedford was saying bad stuff to mama while we were at the park.”

It was the same thing she told her brothers when they got home from school, and just like them, it was enough for Rick to get the whole picture.

Ah, Mrs Bedford. Or as the neighbourhood youngsters, children and teenagers alike, like to call her 'the modern witch of the road', and not in the cool way. Her husband was no better, always bugging you at any given opportunity. The worst part was Mrs Bedford always antagonized you for it, even if she knew you didn’t entertain her husband’s behaviour. It was also extremely hypocritical of her, considering she herself has tried to make her move on Rick. A lot. Only to be met with disappointment each time.

Her children were just as bad, too, to put it lightly.

“What did she say?” It was the green light Irene needed before she explained what had happened to a T, courtesy of her father’s eagle eye. Unlike most days, it was just you and Irene visiting the park since your sons had football practice.

The two of you were feeding the ducks when Mrs Bedford came up to you.

“You on your own?” Was the first thing she asked you before you questionably said ‘yes’, despite Irene being there too, and the little girl realized Mrs Bedford wouldn’t have gone off on a tangent about you and your ‘possibly tainted history’ if her father or brothers were around in the first place.

“I don’t know what you did but I can see it in your eyes, Flag. You’re no saint. You can fool the others with your little flower shop and your so-called angelic kids, but not me.”

Though Mrs Bedford knew nothing about your powers or your time in Belle Reve, instead, spewing hate out of jealousy and hatred for you for being the favourable neighbour, she wasn’t completely wrong. You have hurt people, you’ve even killed some, but they were for the greater good. Since your freedom from hell on earth, you’ve barely used your umbrakineses. It wasn’t until the birth of your children, to which all three of them gained your abilities did you realized you couldn’t run from who you really were—it wasn’t right nor fair to them.

Then, telling them your story as a criminal and how their dad was once your enemy was another thing. You weren’t sure what reaction you were expecting, but it was certainly not amazement and sparkles in their eyes. As they grew older, they began to make sense of how their parents somehow knew people like Aunt Harley, Uncle Robert and hell, even Nanaue.

And at that point in time, Mrs Bedford reminded you of Waller, turning you into submission as you could do nothing but listen to her make a mockery out of you for turning over a new leaf. Irene had to watch your face drop as the woman insulted you, and she knew she had to tell her family about it.

Irene insisted that she was fine about heading home early, even if you tried to convince her otherwise. She wanted nothing more than to do something about that glazed look in your eyes.

As soon as you stepped foot into the living room, a tear rolled down your cheek. You couldn't help but apologize to her, to everyone if they were with you then. You weren’t entirely sure if it was because you seemed weak over a bunch of words or their fate of ending up with you as the wife and a mother of their family.

Irene shook her head, hugging you with her face in your tummy.

"You're not a mean person, mama. You're the nicest and coolest mama we could ever ask for, and we love you."

It was simple, something you've heard of thousands of times in your lifetime, but you very much needed it today.

Ever the sweet girl, she accompanied you as you lay in your bed, telling you random stories about what she painted during art class or what she ate at lunch, anything but the time Mrs Bedford’s son, Kyle pushed her off the swing while his older brother, Blake laughed and praised him for doing so. You didn’t need to know that.

Not yet.

You listened with a warm smile, embarrassed but nonetheless thankful for how observant she was of your feelings before eventually dozing off.

Irene was careful yet quick to jump off the bed, running downstairs to shush Richie and Ethan as they returned home.

The more she explained, the brighter their eyes unnaturally glowed. Richie was starting to look like their father as he crossed his arms, listening to her like a police officer, while Ethan seemed like he was already thinking of ways to counter the Bedford’s undignified acts.

Basically, the Bedfords were not the greatest people. Each and every one of them.

Though they had a myriad of ideas, they weren’t sure how much their father would appreciate it, even if it was for your sake. Still, they thanked Irene for being there for you, promising that something would be done, no matter what it would be.

For now, they had a plan, hoping it could bring a smile to your face.

After an unexpected nap, you came down to find your kids huddled on the couch, whispering and hushing each other. Curious, you approached them.

Ethan was the first to notice you, offering you a grin before showing you what was in their hands, “Look, ma, I think we got it.”

You leaned in to take a closer look, only for your breath to hitch at the sight of life on their palms. There, they showed you the differing mass of shadows they conjured, a tougher one you just taught them about a week ago. You have always loved this trick as a kid, and it only aided your sanity when you were by your lonesome in the penitentiary. In a way, you were replacing what life truly was by making your own, even if they were temporary because there was no telling when or if you’d ever be free.

Yet, here they were, prompting joy and pride as they held the wispy animals of their choice; Richie with what seemed to be an adorable little puppy, Ethan creatively emulated a bioluminescent jellyfish and Irene…

Oh, Irene.

She scarcely remembered how much you loved making her laugh by conjuring butterflies when she was still very little if not for the twins confirming it.

The butterfly was as small as her hand, but the wings were majestic, idly flapping before flying over to you, leaving cloudy black trails and landing on your outstretched finger.

You stared at their creations ever so lovingly, already on the brink of tears. You were just as mad at yourself for doubting your worth, and your potential, just because of the things you had to do in the past, for the sake of the person you were now.

You embraced Irene in a tight hug before pulling your boys in as well. You sniffled, absolutely joyous and blessed to be surrounded by the most loving people. Nothing could deter you from this, not even as the shadow puppy yipped and chased the jellyfish and butterfly in excitement. Your cat, Tofu, must’ve heard the commotion, too, as she came from the kitchen to check, only to be frightened and jump on the couch with you as the puppy came running to her.

Rick finally arrived about two hours later, coming home to hear laughter before he saw Irene running across the room, followed by Tofu and the shadow puppy in tow. The jellyfish laid on Richie’s head like a nest whereas the butterfly decided to make Ethan’s shoulder its home as they hung out with you on the couch.

“Daddy!” Irene greeted him before running over to him. He didn’t question the questioning look she gave him just yet and instead, hoisted her up, laughing as Tofu and the puppy pawed at his bootlaces.

“What’s going on here?” He raised his brows, amused by what could be described as a fever dream of a sight.

“The kids learnt how to make little lives.” You giggled, allowing Rick to sit next to you as you scooted over.

“And I got a new hat,” Richie gestured to the jellyfish, who he has now dubbed as Jelly. As if it understood, Jelly immediately floated away, leaving Richie’s hair flattened, “Never mind.”

You shared a laugh as he deadpanned before you turned to Rick, “Was work okay?”

“Yeah, the usual. Decorated the place today, actually.” He took his phone out of his pocket, opening his gallery and showing you and the kids the spookily tacky decor that furnished his workplace.

“Did you really paint ‘dead inside, don’t open’ on the entrance door?” The twins gawked.

“Fitting, ain't it?” Rick joked, prompting smiles and chuckles from you once more before falling back on the couch, “But at least I’m off tomorrow, so I was thinking we could eat out for dinner.”

“Oh! We should head to Pop’s since they’re also offering their apple betty.” Ethan suggested.

“Well, I think that’s a good idea, so,” Richie trailed off, raising anticipation from the rest of you before jumping off the couch and running up the stairs. Ethan and Irene simultaneously gasped before the former took his sister out of Rick’s arms to chase their brother together. You and Rick could only watch with delight as Tofu and the shadow creatures followed them too.

“Everything okay?” He wanted to know, but he wouldn’t pry if you weren’t ready to tell him.

“Yeah,” You nodded, gazing down for a moment before continuing, “Something happened earlier but…”

“Richie! You better not lock the door or I swear to God!” Ethan’s voice rang out from upstairs, followed by Irene’s ‘language!’, and you couldn’t help but shake your head in amusement.

“It’s all good now.” You reassured him. You knew you could’ve told him, but it wasn’t worth dwelling on. You had children to nurture and a husband to take on the world with.

“The Bedfords?” He guessed. If it wasn’t them, then it had to be Mr Walker.

“The Bedfords,” You confirmed with a tight smile, “I’m just more upset that Irene was there to hear it.”

You didn’t explain any further and Rick took it as a sign to drop it. If they were able to make you this upset, then it was best to ask the kids instead.

“I’m sorry,” He pulled you to his chest, planting a slow and gentle kiss on your forehead. He rubbed your back, sighing at the very mention of that family. Rick loathed that they were influential enough to be one of the higher-ups of the school’s PTA, though he was confident that money was involved in it too. He hated that they were reasons why you’d come home ranting about how Mrs Bedford bugged you again, or when he had to make sure Mr Bedford knew he was making a promise and not an empty threat whenever it involved their kids and his, "You know I can talk to them."

It would do no good, but it was worth trying.

"No, you know how the Bedfords are. Don’t worry, okay? Not now,” You kissed the inside of his palm before pressing your lips against his, soft, sensual and safe. Rick moved forward, deepening the kiss as held the nape of your neck. You pulled away but not before nuzzling his nose, “We should be celebrating.”

He nodded, though he knew it would only linger in his mind for a while. Still, he adhered to your wishes, standing up before offering you his hand to get ready, “Right, right. Shall we?”

You snorted, placing your hand in his the way a princess would when a prince asks for a dance. Unexpectedly, he twirled you around, wrapping his arms around you he pulled you in, chest to chest. You playfully smacked him, though it did very little to wipe off the pleased look on his face as the two of you headed to your room.

You and the boys were the first to head out to the front yard, chatting and evaluating the decors of the houses while waiting for Rick and Irene.

“What happened today?” He asked his daughter quietly as they stood at the front door, helping with her shoes while she slid on a jacket.

“Mrs Bedford was saying bad stuff to mama while we were at the park.” She whispered back, swinging her arms as she watched her father tie her shoelace, “Like, really mean stuff. No one was around except us so she was kinda loud, too.”

Rick fumed, clenching his jaw as he could already hear and picture whatever nonsense she loved to spit out.

“Mama got kinda quiet when we came home, and then she started crying. About how she’s sorry she was a criminal and how we’re ‘stuck’ with her powers.” She added. If anything, she and the boys thought your abilities were the coolest thing to have ever happened to them.

He shook his head—who wouldn't crack after being subjected to their ways for so long? He hummed, hiding the seething resentment by ruffling Irene's hair.

"Can you help me distract your mother while I talk to the boys for a bit?" She nodded diligently, skipping over to you before Rick called out to his sons, "Need some help, boys."

They rushed over, glancing at you before Ethan spoke up first, "She told you?"

"Yeah." Rick replied as he locked the door.

"Can't we do something about it?" Richie asked with a frown.

"You boys are not punching Blake again." Rick reminded them with a small smile.

"You didn't seem to mind it," Ethan mirrored his father's amusement, "He was yelling at our teammate and encouraged his troll brother to push Irene off a swing."

"I'm mad, too," Rick was more than mad, but he couldn't let his emotions run wild, "Look, we'll think of something, alright? For now, just make sure she's happy."

That's all they ever wanted.

The drive to Pop's was a lively one, and so was the dinner itself. Though you knew you'd be thinking about Mrs Bedford's words every once in a while, the smiles and laughter of your family were already a welcoming distraction as it is.

Midnight rolled around, and everyone had returned to their rooms with sore cheeks and a full stomach. You were the first to slip under the covers after a shower, hoping you wouldn't be too tired as you waited for Rick, though it didn't work.

By the time Rick got out of the bathroom, you were peacefully asleep, your face just a breath away from your husband's pillow as his scent soothed you like no other.

Rick smiled to himself, changing into his PJs before sitting on your side of the bed. The dip roused you from your slumber just a little.

"Rick?" You murmured, fluttering your lashes tiredly.

"Forgot to get some water," He caressed your cheek before bending down to kiss it, "I'll be back."

You mustered a closed-eye smile and before you knew it, you drifted off once again, lulled by the way he patted your back.

Once the coast was clear, he moved off the bed, silently slipping out and closing the door before heading over to the twins' room. He knocked on the door, just enough for them to hear before doing the same with Irene's door and headed downstairs.

Rick sat down at the dining table with a glass of cold water, arms crossed and lost in his own thoughts before hearing light footsteps approaching.

Richie, Ethan and Irene carefully pulled their chairs back before taking a seat, and just like that, the discussion began.

But it didn't seem like they were getting anywhere and at some point, they just started shit-talking.

"Man, I wish coach would just kick Blake out." Ethan groaned, his head falling back.

"Tell me about it. He's shit at quarterback." Richie clicked his tongue.

"Boys." Rick warned them, partially because his youngest was listening.

"Sorry." They apologized but Irene didn't seem to mind.

"How about…" She chimed in, tapping her finger on her chin, "We scare them?"

"Like…?" Richie cocked his head, hoping she'd say more than just that.

"I don't know, I just thought it'd be cool since it's Halloween and stuff. And, well, maybe we could use our powers, but I know mama and daddy wouldn't want that." She shrugged, pouting because she hadn't thought it far enough.

"It would be a miracle to scare them without using our powers in the first place," Richie sighed, looking over to his father, "What do you think, dad?"

No reply.

"Dad?" Ethan followed suit as the three of them raised their brows.

“How far are you in your shadow puppet practice?” Rick asked out of the blue, staring ahead as though imagining whatever idea he had played out.

“Uh, pretty far, I think? Ma taught us how to merge our shadows into one if we wanted to make a bigger animal.” Richie answered, earning affirmative nods from his siblings.

“How big?”

“Like, this big!” Irene opened her arms wide to let him know just how big of a monster they would be able to make if they wanted to. They haven’t, there was no reason to, but the more their father asked, the more it piqued their interest.

Rick thought it through for a moment. It has been a while since he has seen you make that one particular lifeform, but it was worth a shot. If it were able to render Waller speechless, then it’ll definitely make the Bedfords piss their pants.

No actual attacks, and definitely no killings. But he’ll make sure they shudder at the mere thought of Halloween. Put the fear of God in them. They had it coming, too, stomping on other neighbours’ happiness for years just for the fun of it.

He just had to play it safe.

He slowly broke into a sinister smile.

“You three ever heard of a hellhound?”

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

» a/n: ahh hubby rick <3 ;; gorgeous rose divider by @firefly-graphics ♡

#reve's quirky reverie 🕷#— reve's reverie 🌹#rick flag #rick flag x reader #rick flag x female reader #rick flag x f!reader #rick flag x you #rick flag imagine #rick flag fanfiction #colonel flag #colonel rick flag #colonel rick flag x reader #tss 2021 #tss #joel kinnaman #husband rick #hubby rick

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m-jelly · 4 months ago

Text

Ulterior Motive - Chapter 1

Levi x reader Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, mafia, Gangs, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Gangsters, Yakuza, Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Romance, Love, Love Confessions, True Love, First Love, Yandere aspects, Protective Levi Ackerman, Possessive Levi Ackerman, Tattooed Levi Ackerman, Blood and Violence, Eventual Smut, Childhood Friends

The story: Levi longed for you for years, his obsession and love growing deeper and stronger. After finally reuniting, he proposes a job to you that would mean he could keep you close. Be his fiancee at meet-ups and occasions to protect him from mob leader's single ladies. It seems like a simple enough job to do, but everyone seems to have an ulterior motive from the other gang leaders to new friends you've made. Even Levi has one. Without you knowing, Levi's love for you is obsessive and possessive and borders on yandere-like. However, your growing love for him is beginning to get just as possessive as his. What Levi doesn't realise is you might have an ulterior motive too when your feelings develop strongly, being his fiancee is something you both want as real. You both just have to remember, you're not alone with ulterior motives and things get dangerous.

This chapter: Reuniting and Protective Levi.

Ao3

Part 2

Levi

That sweet voice that called out to him always plagued his mind.

Levi

It’d been years since he last saw the beautiful owner of that voice.

Levi

He longed to see the sweet woman again. He grew up in a small town and befriended the cutest girl close to his age. The two grew up together and when they became teenagers, the obsessive love grew strong within Levi. It was clear that the feelings were mutual, but not as obsessive.

Levi!

The day he left broke his heart and no matter how hard he tried to move on, no one could compare to his first love. Levi knew deep down in his heart his first love was his soulmate. He cursed the day he left, but there was no choice in it. His father’s family needed his father, so they returned to the city to fix everything and now business was booming but the family name people loved and feared had changed to Ackerman.

As Levi walked through the city his mind was fixed on the beautiful voice calling his name. The slight squeeze of his finely pressed suit brought him no comfort. In fact, he felt incredibly irritable today. He tugged the coat resting on his shoulders which looked a bit like a cape. Everything felt like it was prickling him.

His gloved fist clenched tightly as he softly said your name out loud. It was like he was trying to will you into existence. For years he had tried this but it never worked. He wanted you as his, he wanted to marry you, he wanted to spoil you, he wanted to keep you all to himself and he wanted to most beautiful children with you.

“Cheating asshole!”

Levi felt lightning strike him when he heard your voice, but it was mature. He turned his head to see you in an adorable outfit with tears in your eyes as you shouted at a man who had a woman at his side. The difference between you and this woman he was with was clear, she was your typical high-maintenance woman with work done to her. The cheating man in question looked the type to fuck around with his cheap show-off outfit.

Your boyfriend smirked at you but you could see in his eyes he was panicking and embarrassed. “Look, doll.”

You poked his chest with your finger. “Don’t you doll me! If you didn’t want me you should have broken up with me!”

He let go of the woman he was in. “I do want you. You look after me, feed me, care for me and you’re an incredible fuck. Why would I wanna give that u-.”

You slapped him hard across the face. “I am not some woman who mothers you during the day and then sleeps with you at night. I’m sick of it. I’m sick of you and you can have this…this…”

The woman pouted. “This what!? Looking at you now, I fully understand all the things he told me.”

“You knew he was taken?”

She flicked her hair. “Yep.”

Rage rose inside you as you fought everything inside you not to do worse than you already had. So, you fought dirty. “You have a small weird dick, you last only two minutes and I didn’t cum once!”

Your boyfriend went bright red. “You! You bitch!”

“I hope your dick rots and drops off! I’m done. I’m throwing your shit out.”

He hurried after you. “Come back!”

The woman on the side chased him. “Baby! Don’t go.”

He snarled at her. “Fuck off. You’re just a cock warmer, this is my doll here. She’s better than you!” He grabbed your upper arm and yanked you closer. “You’re not leaving me! No one leaves me.”

You yanked your arm, but he wouldn’t let you go. “Get off me!” An image flashed in your mind, an old dear friend who you had loved. Levi. You wished he was here because he always fought bullies for you, but you were on your own and had been for many years. “Get off!”

He squeezed tighter. “I won’t ever let you leave.”

You winced in pain. “Stop it. We’re over!”

He hit you hard. “Enough!”

You glared at him and felt ready to hit him back, but something shocked you. You watched as a leather-gloved fist connected with your boyfriend’s face. You marvelled as his cheek squished and his head tilted to the side. The force of the hit was so strong, you were sure his jaw disconnected or broke. His head moved first to the left and then his whole body flew with him. The vice grip on your upper arm was gone and you watched in pure delight as your now ex slammed against the floor and rolled a little.

“Tch, asshole!”

You watched in awe as the most handsome man you’d ever seen stormed over to your ex on the floor, grabbed a fist full of his shirt and started shouting and threatening. As soon as everyone saw this handsome man and two people with him, the crowd seemed to go and the police who turned up to save you decided to leave. It was becoming clear to you that the man who saved you was incredibly powerful in this city. You were lucky.

Levi turned to his men. “Get him and that woman off my streets.” He stood up and yanked his gloves off. “Tch, filthy.”

Your eyes widened as you took him all in, some tattoos on his neck peeked through above his shirt collar. His stunning undercut raven hair was messy and no longer tamed back. “Um.” You gulped hard as his attention moved to you. Your heart skipped a beat at the way he was looking at you, it was intense and loving. You’d never been looked at like this before, it made you breathless and feel like you were a goddess. “Ah…”

Levi walked closer to you, his smart shoes tapping against the stone floor causing a shiver to go up your spine. He was sure of it, you were his first love from his childhood. You were so damn beautiful and it made his heart sing with joy. “Are you okay?”

You flinched at his deep voice, it caused something deep within you to move and melt. You gasped and rummaged in your bag. “I-I have h-hand wipes f-for your gloves.” You ripped out a few and smiled. “Are you okay to hand me your gloves? I can clean them up for you.”

He felt his heart burst, you looked so adorable to him. “Bunny.”

Your eyes widened. “Bunny?”

He cleared his throat as his cheeks got pink. “Thank you.” He offered the gloves to you and watched you clean them. “You’re good at that.”

You hummed a laugh. “I guess…” You looked up into his dazzling steel blue eyes. “Thank you for saving me.”

He reached over and caressed your cheek. “I should have done better. You got hurt.”

Your cheeks burned as your heart raced, his touch was incredible to you. “I-I’ll be okay.”

He placed his hand on your shoulder. “Come with me. Let me fix you up.”

There was just something about him, like there was a magnet that pulled you close. “S-Sure.”

He put his arm around you with his hand on your waist. “Stay close for your safety.”

You nodded. “Mm.”

As the two of you walked together you noticed people were staring at you in awe. A few people whispered asking each other if you were the Mrs of the man next to you. The man next to you was a bit of a celebrity to those around him, so he was powerful, influential and he’d saved you. It didn’t fully register in your mind what was going on until a bit of pain came from your lip.

You winced. “Ow.”

Levi pulled back from you. “Sorry, I just need to clean the cut on your lip. Bear with me, okay?”

You nodded as you gripped the skirt part of your dress. “Mm.”

You glanced around the room, it was clean and incredibly spacious. It looked like it was rarely lived in and was closer to a penthouse someone did up to sell instead of live in. When you looked back at the man before you it flustered you. He was no longer wearing his coat and blazer. His sleeves were rolled up to show tattoos all over his arms. The waistcoat was tight on him so you could see he was slim, lean and muscular. The shoulder strap holsters had a spot for two guns and a knife, but all were removed meaning he’d taken them off for you. Your eyes fixed on his neck, he’s taken his tie off and buttoned down his shirt so muscles and tattoos were peeking through.

Levi pulled back and sighed. “There, all done.”

“I appreciate it.”

He released a long sigh. “You haven’t changed much. Always getting into trouble and me having to save you.”

You frowned a moment as you tried to figure out what he meant. “Always…”

He said your name making your heart burst. “Have you forgotten my name? You used to shout it so much as a kid.”

Your eyes lit up in pure delight causing Levi to blush hard, you were so beautiful to him. “Levi!”

Levi felt his world become whole again. Hearing you call his name made everything better, his life and world were brighter. “I haven’t heard you call my name in so long.”

You giggled. “I guess I used to shout it a lot, huh?” You grinned at him. “I missed you a lot.”

“I missed you too. Are you new to the city?”

You nodded. “Yeah, recently moved for my jackass ex.” You slouched on the sofa. “Guess that’s over with now. Oh well.”

Levi rubbed the back of his neck. “Do you have a job?”

You hummed. “I do.”

“What do you do?”

You smiled at him. “I’m a hostess! I start tonight. I’m rather excited.”

Levi clenched his fist as he felt irritated again. He owned host and hostess bars because people paid big money just to sit and talk with someone pretty. Levi owned countless things in the city from bars, clubs and restaurants to shops and hotels. Knowing that you were in a host club upset him because he wanted your attention on him and only him.

Levi sat back and narrowed his eyes at you. “Which one?”

You frowned in thought. “Uh, it’s called fox tails?”

Levi’s brow rose, that was one of his so it meant he could keep an eye on you. “Interesting. I own it.”

You gasped. “Oh, that’s exciting. It’s like we were meant to meet again.” You hummed a laugh. “Well, I better get ready for work.”

Levi followed you to his door. “Wait.” You turned to him and felt your heart skip a beat, he was so close and he smelt amazing. “Come here.” He pulled you closer and caressed your cheek. “I have a proposition for you. A job.”

You felt your cheeks heat up. “I’m listening.”

He eyed your lips for a moment. “I need you to be my fiancée.”

You gasped and felt a rush go through you. “Wh-what? W-We ju-just reunited!”

He wanted you to be his, fully his because he longed for you all these years, however having you as his fake fiancée would help him out. Levi was greatly sought after and many gang leaders were offering women in their families as brides for Levi. It was all stupid and he felt like some sort of King back in the old days, it made him sick to his stomach.

Levi caressed your cheek. “I get countless offers of marriage and there are only so many times I can say no and I’m already taken before people start asking questions.”

You felt stupid assuming Levi wanted you. You laughed and ruffled your hair. “Riiight, right, I get it. You want me to play the role of your fiancée to help you out.”

He nodded. “I would appreciate it. I’ll pay you a lot of money for your assistance and I will buy you clothes and gifts for the role.”

“Why me? Is it because we’re old friends?”

“Partly that.” He pinched your cheek. “Think about it.”

You gulped hard. “Ah, fuck it. I’ll do it.”

Levi’s eyes widened. “Really? I was expecting you to think it over.”

You shrugged. “It’ll mean we get to spend a lot of time together! How could I not say yes to spending all my time with my best friend again.” You opened the door before smiling at Levi. “I really missed you.”

“Me too.”

As soon as you left his penthouse he clutched his chest and felt like he was melting. A smile spread across his lips, it was a mixture of pure delight and a slightly crazy one. Levi had been obsessed with you for so long and now you were all his again. He adored you so much and he was going to do his best to keep you this time and never lose you again. He cleared his throat and composed himself for a moment. He had to start preparing for you to be his fake fiancée and then his real one.

Being a hostess wasn’t too bad, most people were rather nice to you and just wanted to talk or they were lonely. The only thing you hated was when some rich man wouldn’t stop talking about his money, the things he did and how he would like to fuck you. It was pretty disgusting at first, but sadly you got used to it. What made you happy was all the hosts and hostesses used fake names, wigs and makeup. Security was incredible too, it was so good that whenever there were tiny signs of trouble they would swoop in. Sometimes they’d appear and you hadn’t even noticed the danger.

Today you were fully booked again and you missed Levi. It’d been two weeks since your chat about being his fake fiancée, so you assumed he was setting things up and had business to take care of. You couldn’t believe that he’d just walked back into your life and now you didn’t want him to leave. Part of you felt a bit like a selfish brat because you wanted him now and you wanted him to never walk away. These feelings weren’t like you, but there was just something about Levi.

A host jumped next to you when you slapped your cheeks with both your hands and squished your face. You growled and squeezed harder as you tried to snap yourself out of your thoughts. You let out a long sigh as reality sunk in. Levi was always a friend and even when you were old enough as teens, there was no romance as far as you could remember. You spent a lot of time together, but that was it. There were no lingering touches or attempts to make things more. So, you set your mind right, Levi had no feelings for you, you were just friends and it was nothing more. You did well as a hostess, but there was no way Levi would want a woman like you. You believed he deserved so much better.

“Peach.”

You looked over at your handsome host friend, Knight. You whined a bit and flopped on the break room table. “Mm.”

He chuckled as he watched you. “Throwing a tantrum, hm?”

Knight also known as Lucas in private was a near and dear friend to you. He was incredibly tall, very broad and big with thick arms, legs and neck. His jawline was chiselled and made him look charming. His brows were slightly thick and blonde, his eyes almost golden in colour that just sparkled. His hair was just beautiful messy blonde locks that never had a normal parting because he was often ruffling it and moving how it lay. His neck was covered in tattoos that fitted him perfectly, you were sure he had some dealings with Levi’s gang. He always had a toothpick or lollipop stick hanging out his mouth during work hours to stop himself from having a smoke because your manager hated cigarettes.

You pouted a bit at Lucas. “Bite me.”

“Oh, we are spicy today. I never knew peaches could be like that.” He laughed as you slid down the chair with a groan. “Talk to me.”

“Am I doomed to die alone?”

He sat on the table next to you. “Nah.”

You looked up at him. “Really?”

He smirked. “Yeah, because I’m never leaving you alone. I love annoying the shit out of you.”

You groaned loudly. “I hate you.” You frowned as he started pressing your nose over and over. “What are you doing?”

“Seeing if I could turn off your sass.” He pulled away and laughed when you tried to bite his finger. “Come on, Peach, cheer up.”

You adjusted your pink wig and sighed. “I just suck at keeping a boyfriend.”

“Maybe you’re dating the wrong men.”

You faked a gasp. “My goodness! My problems are fixed!”

He hummed a laugh. “You’re so much fun.”

“Next you’ll suggest to date you!”

He shrugged. “It’d be a good suggestion.”

“My foot up your ass would be a good suggestion.”

Heavy thuds of smart shoes got closer to Lucas. “Lucas Lionheart.”

Lucas tensed up. “The devil, he’s behind me, right?”

You leaned and saw your wonderful manager behind Lucas. Masashi Shinohara was incredible in all aspects. He was impressively smart and knew how humans worked and business, so when it came to running places he was amazing. He was a bit shorter than the very tall Lucas, but he had this strong aura about him. He had very broad shoulders, but he had a very slim waist. He was covered in muscles and tattoos, but all his were hidden under his suits. Down from the left side of his forehead was a very long scar that went over his left eye, cheek and then reached his bottom lip. Sat nicely on his slender nose were clubmaster reading glasses. His eyes were beautiful almond ones and his brown eyes were very warm. His hair was always tamed into a typical 1950s businessman style, but what made his hair unique was a section of it at the front was white. The white part was only a few locks.

The white wasn’t from age, it happened naturally. Shino wasn’t that old, he was only in his early 30s and Lucas was in his late 20s. The two of them were close friends, but Lucas was a bit of a loose canon and wild so Shino had to rein him in. You adored Shino, he was a gentle sophisticated gentleman and he cared for you deeply. These two men saw you as a younger sister they had to care for.

Lucas turned slowly and grinned. “Sup!”

Shino sighed. “You should be working not winding up Peach. You’ve had too many breaks today.”

Lucas smirked. “Sure thing…Ma…sa…”

Shino glared at him. Masashi Shinohara was a wonderful man, but you never called him by his first name Masashi because he hated it. Everyone called him Shio as per his request, but Lucas often liked to wind him up. “Watch yourself.”

You walked over to Shino. “Shio?”

His rage washed away when he looked down at your adorable doe-eyed look. “Yes?”

You smiled at him. “Ignore him, he’s winding you up on purpose. He was trying to cheer me up.”

Shino caressed your cheek with his big hand covered in scars. “Why are you sad?”

“I’m a bit doom and gloom about relationships.”

He smiled softly at you. “Well, no man deserves you, princess. You’re too good for them, especially Lucas.”

Lucas huffed. “Gee, thanks.”

Shino gently cupped your face. “You deserve endless good things. Do you want to take more time off?”

Lucas walked over to you. “You should consider it.”

You shook your head. “No, no. I’ll go back out there. I need the money.” You released a long sigh. “I’ll go. I’m sure I’ll have a few customers.”

Lucas put his arm around you. “Come on, let’s go together. Knight and Peach together!”

Shino smiled. “Have a good night. If you need a break, please let me know.”

You waved to him. “Promise.”

Shino waved goodbye to you with a sweet smile on his face. As soon as you were gone his smile went and he pulled his phone out to see texts from his boss, Levi. Shino and Lucas had been tasked with looking after you by Levi. At first, the babysitting job idea wasn’t nice but as soon as the two men met you they adored you and hoped you would become their boss’s wife. Mrs Ackerman was a great title for you.

Shino texted Levi about how you were down in the dumps today and you had a lot of customers. He smiled when Levi sent him a message back to prepare for his arrival. Shino was sure that your mood would lighten up at seeing Levi. He placed his phone in his pocket and began preparations for the boss. Everything had to look good and be clean.

You smiled at your customer as your arms pressed your breasts together a bit more. “You’re so funny, master.”

The older man smirked at you as he pushed back his hair, he was old enough to be your grandfather but he didn’t care. He desired to have you. For a long time, he’d been eyeing you up and dreamed of running you in a hotel room, but he knew he had to win you over first. He admired your plump breasts and curvy figure. He used to like very small and thin women like they were very young. However, there was something ever so alluring about your curvy plump frame and sweet wide eyes.

As you leaned over to get another drink for him he thought about how much money he’d spent here because of you. He reached over and grabbed your ass making you freeze up and look scared at him. He smirked at you and began speaking, his breath reeking of cigars and alcohol. “Do you know how much money I’ve spent here? I’ve spent on you? All the drinks, food and gifts? I’ve topped you a lot.”

You whimpered. “Please remove your hand. You cannot touch us.”

He gripped harder. “You owe me.” He grabbed your face with his other hand. “Now you will come with me to a hotel room and open your legs for me, or I will take you by force.”

“Tch, oi.”

The two of you saw Levi standing on the other side of the low round table. The tables were low so all staff and customers could keep an eye on them and nothing unsightly was being done under any cover. So, things like this were easily seen. Levi was enraged by the sight before him. The fear in your eyes and the predatory look in the old man’s eyes made him furious. How dare this man touch his woman?

Levi tried to control his anger. “Let. Her. Go.”

The man smirked. “You think I’m afraid of you!? I know people! I know the guy that owns this place! I know Levi Ackerman! He’ll let me fuck this tease of a woman.”

It was impossible to track Levi’s movements fully, but they were fast and impressive. First, his foot was on the table causing glasses to smash and the glass top to crack. Second, his gloved fist wrapped around the older man’s tie. Before you knew it, the man was yanked down hard against the table causing it to crack more and the glass to cut the old man’s cheek. Levi wrapped the tie around his fist and pulled hard choking the man.

Levi tilted his head at the man. “Levi Ackerman, huh? Funny.” He spat his words at the man. “I have never met you in my fucking life. Now, if I, the real Levi Ackerman, tell you to do something you do it.”

Shino pulled you into his arms. “Best if you look away, okay?”

You nodded but you didn’t do as you were told. You snuck a look over at Levi to see him breaking the man’s arm and then his hand. “Oh.”

Shino pulled you again. “I told you it’s best you look away.”

You looked up at Shino. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to fear Mr Ackerman.”

You whined a little bit. “I don’t fear him.”

Shino studied your face and saw you were showing signs of attraction and arousal, it seemed you were perfect for Levi. “You’re rather brave.” He ushered you to his office and gave you a cup of tea. “I’m sorry a customer grabbed you and spoke disgustingly about you. You deserve better.”

You gazed into your tea as you hummed in thought. “I’m kind of tired.”

“You can use my sofa as a bed. I think Mr Ackerman wants to talk to you after he has finished.” He grabbed his coat and walked over to you. “Lie down then.” He smiled as you did and covered you with his coat. “I’ll be right here so you’re safe.”

“Thank you.”

Shino typed away on his computer as he completed some work. He sipped his tea and glanced over at you when you made a little noise. He watched you for a bit thinking you were having a possible nightmare, but you didn’t stir again. He smiled and then looked at his office door as he adjusted his glasses. “Mr Ackerman.”

Levi closed the door behind him. “Sorry, I had to clean up, I didn’t want his filth on me.”

“Understandable, I’m the same. I have to clean after taking care of things.” He rose to his feet. “Can I get you a drink or something?”

Levi stared at you as you slept. “Tea.” He walked closer to you and felt his heart swell. “She’s so beautiful.” He sat on the floor by your head and moved your hair away. “Poor thing.”

Shino placed Levi’s drink down. “She’s incredible here. She’s a top hostess and a lot of workers like her.” He bowed. “I will give you both space.”

“Thank you.” Levi played with your hair. He lifted a few stands and kissed them. “I should have done better.”

You opened your eyes and gazed at Levi. Your heart raced when you saw him kissing your wig hair. “Mm.”

Levi locked eyes with you. “The pink suits you.”

You sat up on the sofa as you felt so flustered at your face being close to Levi’s. “Thanks.” You pulled your wig off. “So uh…”

“You saw, didn’t you?”

You whined. “I did and Shino told me not to. I’m not scared of you if that’s what you’re worried about. When we were kids and teens you did things like that.” You sighed. “I…I just…I want to do something for you as a thank you.” You smiled at him. “I just don’t know what. Thank you, Levi. Really, thank you. You saved me again.”

He placed his hands on either side of your hips and leaned up. “You’re welcome, but there is no need to thank me. I’ll do anything for you.” He hummed a laugh. “It’s your fault for being so sweet and cute.”

You felt your heart skip a beat. “A-Ah…w-well…you’re so nice.”

“I don’t want you working here for a few weeks.”

The colour drained from your face. “What? But I need this job and the money.”

He cupped your face in his gloved hands and hushed you. “I need you for those weeks, that’s why and I can’t imagine it’ll be nice working here after what you went through.”

You relaxed. “Oh, you’re right. So, you need me? Is that for the fiancée thing?”

He nodded. “Yes. I have a few meetings and get-togethers. So, will you help?”

“Of course.”

He kissed your forehead. “Thank you. I will send you some outfits and come to collect you each day.” He rose to his feet and handed you a card. “My private number. Please text me so I have yours.”

You gasped then hurriedly texted Levi from your phone. “There.”

He stared at his phone and smiled a little it was impossible to hide his happiness. Levi was one step closer to having you as his. He was giddy with excitement, but he didn’t want that dark side of him to show. “Thank you. I’ll message you tomorrow morning, okay?”

You squeezed your phone. “Yes.”

“Will you let me escort you home?”

You rose to your feet and nodded. “Sure.”

You took Shino’s coat off you and made your way to the changing room. You changed quickly before joining Levi. It felt weird to be sat in the back of the car with him as someone drove you both. It felt like you were being pulled into a dangerous world that was also exciting, like you were just on the cusp of it and it was up to you if you wanted to fully be in it.

Levi walked you to your apartment building and paused outside. “Get some rest and if you need anything, call me. You’ve been through a lot.”

You smiled at him. “Thank you. You know, I was hoping I’d see you and I was going to shout at you for leaving me alone again, but then you saved me.”

He smirked. “So, you’re not mad?”

You pouted hard. “I am, I’m just saving that for tomorrow when we meet up. So, be prepared for a grumpy fiancée, okay?”

He chuckled. “I look forward to it.”

#levi ackerman #levi #aot levi #snk levi #aot fanfiction #fanfic #levi x y/n #levi x you #levi fanfiction #levi x reader #levi x yn #jelly fanfics #jelly fanfic #levi ackerman x female reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x y/n #levi ackerman fanfiction

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notjustjavierpena · 1 year ago

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Reunion - Part II: Clamp

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: This started out as a collection of a few requests. Then it became feely instead. Then a second chapter to Reunion. Read the first part here.

Summary: Homemade nipple clamps, toast for breakfast and a sudden confession.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, dad’s best friend joel miller, daddy kink, innocence kink to some extent, homemade nipple clamps, nipple play, PIV sex, rough sex, dirty talk, possessive sex, reader has post-sex feelings, joel does too.

Word count: 3.1k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49869355/chapters/125892349

Clamp

Joel’s stomach growls loudly underneath you as you are cuddling in bed. He tries to deny it when you start fussing, but the way the noise repeats itself, traveling all the way up to your ear as you rest your head on his chest, makes him capitulate quickly. You get out from underneath the covers.

“Come on, I’m hungry but…” he says with a tinge of the stubbornness of a teenager as if eating is only an inconvenience and not a way of staying alive as well as healthy. He’d go hungry to touch you, and it’s almost sweet but you’d rather feed and hydrate him so he can go again sooner.

You can feel it as he watches your ass when you move to the dresser in his room. There are a few pieces of clothing sticking out, and you yank at what you correctly assume is a t-shirt. Pulling it over your head, you are encapsulated in the smell of Joel’s fabric softener, a hint of his cologne too that doesn’t seem to want to come out completely.

“I’m going to make some toast,” you say just as stubbornly, bending over to tie your hair up in a messy bun despite knowing you are not wearing any underwear. Joel groans behind you.

“Ain’t playin’ fair,” he mutters bitterly, “Look at you. No panties and my shirt? Diabolical.”

You hear shuffling behind you but you actively ignore the footsteps coming up behind you. Instead, you secure a few stray hairs with the hairpins that you took out last night, trying to look busy when hands settle on your hips.

“Turn around,” he tells you. You smile to yourself.

With a few seconds delay, he adds a threatening ‘young lady’. You put on a pout and then face him, “Just wanna feed you, Daddy. Look at you. You’re already skin and bone.”

“Wouldn’t hurt,” he argues.

You shake your head, allow him to kiss you longingly for a little bit, “No, I like your tummy. You’re soft. Like you soft.”

“Soft,” he repeats with a scoff, “I ain’t soft.”

And then, “And I always get what I want.”

Suddenly, his hands reach up to find the hairpins at the back of your head. He pulls one out, makes you furrow your brows as it tugs a little at the sensitive baby hairs there.

“Ow, what are you doing?” You ask as he removes the second one. He holds them in his large palm, big enough to hide them completely from view.

“Do you trust me?” He questions. He looks into your eyes expectantly, waiting for confirmation before he continues. You nod. He doesn’t go on.

“I mean yes,” you quickly add.

“Good girl,” he smiles at how well you are learning. Then he reaches for the bottom of his shirt that you are wearing, pinching the hem with his thumb and forefinger now that he has the pins in his palm. He yanks the shirt up until it rests above your breasts, “Hold this up f’me.”

You do as he says. The fabric skimming over your chest and the anticipation that is hanging in the air has made your nipples hard, standing in peaks and waiting for what is about to happen. You know exactly where this is going yet it still hits you when one of the pins clamp down on your sensitive nipple.

You half-moan in beautiful pain, half-chuckle in surprise. It stings and pinches, but despite never having done this before, your body reacts a whole lot more by pulsing between your legs than by triggering your fight-or-flight response.

Joel studies your face but you don’t give him any indication that you want to stop. He tugs a little on the pin to make sure it is secure and elicits a little sound from you. You’ve noticed his boxers are already starting to tent.

“Next one,” he informs as if performing a mediocre task, his voice having dropped an octave. He sounds breathier, aroused. You don’t jump half as much when your other nipple is painfully pinched too, but the feeling of them burning together is so intense that slick has started to smear your inner thighs.

“Now,” he yanks your shirt down, makes your arms fall to your sides and your toes curl as a pin nearly catches in the fabric, “Go make me some toast. See if you still think I’m soft then.”

“But…” you try.

“Go on,” he says and crawls back into bed before you can play dirty and touch him on the front of his underwear.

Making breakfast has never been harder.

You are in a world of hellish lust as you enter the bedroom again, holding a plate with buttered toast in your hands. There is a slice for you too, but it’ll take a whole lot longer for you to eat your way through it than it will take Joel to wolf down his own two pieces.

He sits on the bed in silence, chewing quietly and occasionally brushing a few crumbs off the top of his chest. You hope that he doesn’t see the way you try to rock down on the foot you have tucked underneath yourself because he’d laugh straight into your face.

“Don’t start without me.”

You sit up straight at being called out and the shirt tugs at your tits. You hiss loudly, “Please.”

“In a moment, just gotta get clean first. Sit against the headboard, ‘n take off your shirt,” he leaves the bed to go wash his hands. He is painfully hard at this point. You nearly break the plate when you move to place it on the nightstand.

“What’re ya doin’?” He calls over the tap running from the master bathroom.

“Not getting fucked,” you quip.

“Watch it,” he replies back as if unaffected. God, he is so much better at this than you.

You are completely naked as he reenters the bedroom. You’ve stuffed a pillow behind your back, halfway to lying down with your ass scooted downwards on the bed a little. Your pussy is flushed pink and glistening, presented, and your nipples are a good amount of shades darker from the blood flow having settled there. The burn is exquisite, but it’s the sight of Joel’s eyes going dark that makes you whine.

“Jesus,” he laughs quietly as he crawls between your legs. Even the weight of him on the bed makes a sound slip from your mouth, “Ain’t ya just an obedient little thing?”

You blink up at him almost teary-eyed. He takes pity on you.

“Let’s get these off,” he promises, kneeling to free his hands from having to support himself. He removes one homemade clamp, making you whimper in relief at the ceiling. The blood flow makes your heart pound, slamming painfully against your ribs whilst you anticipate the second clamp being removed.

Joel flicks your abused nipple instead. Your head snaps down to his grin, betrayal visible on your face. Your cunt reacts immediately, feeling too empty and fluttering as it tries sucking in something that isn’t there.

Joel looks down between your legs. He smiles affectionately, creating an obscene contrast to what he is doing to you. He coos softly at your facial expression, it having turned pained and horny, “Shh… I’ll kiss it better, baby.”

He finally removes the second hairpin. There’s a second where he lets you cry weakly at the new sensation, but then he tugs at both of your nipples to the point where you don’t even have the brain power to say a sound. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan.

“Good,” he praises, relenting but only to rub the sensitive nubs with his thumbs in clockwise motions, “Don’t think about anything. Just think about this, princess. Feel good?”

It does. You nod. The gentleness behind the touches is soothing you more than you thought it could, the pads of Joel’s fingers bringing your heartbeat down a notch. He traces your areola, breathing a little more erratically at seeing your pussy jump without being touched.

He tugs again, soothes again until your nipples are red and swollen underneath his fingertips. The clamps have done a number on you because you start to think you might be able to come like this, a growing pressure starting between your legs.

But Joel isn’t going to let you. He straightens until he is upright again, swallowing thickly as he focuses his attention on your neglected cunt. He runs a warm hand down over your mound, your hips twitching in response to finally being touched. Joel’s breath hitches in his throat as he stares down at his shiny palm, “Why didn’t you say anything? Look at her. She’s weepin’.”

“Just needs you,” your doe-eyes are on full blast.

“Mhm,” he agrees, lazily running two fingers through your slick folds until you sigh, “You took a lot last night. Think you can handle it?”

“Want you to keep me sore, Daddy,” you push into his touch again. He swears under his breath, teasingly dipping his digits into your cunt but making no suggestion that he will follow through on what they’re doing. You bat your eyelashes, “Please.”

It does not take much more convincing. He calls you princess again but this time it is with a frustrated sigh. He yanks his boxers down over his hips to let his cock spring free, kicks his underwear all the way off, and lets them fall to the floor of the bedroom in record time.

He is fully erect. Hard and beautiful. The head of his dick has turned a dark red from having been seeking your attentive touch since he watched you put up your hair. The tip impatiently weeps precome for you. You consider a blowjob for half a second because your mouth waters at the idea of tasting his salt and musk.

Later, you think, some other time.

He strokes himself a few times until the bead at the head spills down over the length of him. Your eyes never leave his cock, especially not when he slides it through your glistening folds to coat himself in your arousal.

“Could come just like this,” you tell him and finally dare to look up into his eyes. He smiles back at you and it tugs at your heartstrings. You reach out to hold his elbows and lift your legs to wrap them around his waist.

In one smooth motion, he positions himself and rocks into you without stopping until he has bottomed out. The girth of him never ceases to amaze you. It’s the same each time; he stretches your walls painfully until you whimper and tells you that big girls can take it. Ain’t you a big girl? You nod with your bottom lip between your teeth, chewing on it to suppress the pathetic little noise that’s bubbling up in your chest.

It works for a moment but only until Joel tells you to breathe. The noise finally comes out and it becomes wanton when he starts fucking into you. He pounds you like yesterday and you can barely contain yourself anymore, whining and groaning as he gives it to you with the intention of making you sore all over. Your walls are already sensitive, and you hate to think that you haven’t actually been out of your state of arousal since you knocked on his door. It’s embarrassing. It’s infatuation.

You let out a high-pitched squeak as he bucks up his hips, nudging at the front of your walls and searching for that little spot inside you that belongs to him by now. He finds it expertly, fits inside of you like you were made for each other.

“There!” You plea whilst arching your back, “Daddy, it’s right—“

“I know where it fuckin’ is,” he leans down to kiss you, breaths coming out through his nose as he shoves his tongue into your mouth. You dig your nails into the back of his arms, making an attempt to move with him and oh God, you kiss him so deeply.

“Say I’m the best you’ve ever had,” he growls when he pulls back for a breath that he can barely catch, sweat threatening to drip down from his brow. He has one hand on the headboard, making the bed rattle underneath the both of you, and the other lays over your heart. He applies just the slightest pressure to your chest.

“You’re— baby, please,” you can barely find the words, gasping out into the room. The only thing you can think of is how important it feels to hold onto him as he drives into your cunt, scared that if you let go you’ll melt into the mattress and never see him again. You never want that to happen. You want to drown in everything he is.

“Say it,” he gives you a particularly hard thrust, managing to put the hand on the headboard behind your head before you bang it into the wood. You don’t even think you would have noticed it if it had happened since you are so delirious already from being so fucked out.

“Best— best I’ve ever had,” you stutter out between loud moans, the pleasurable tightening in your belly soon reaching a crescendo, “I’m close, oh f— I’m so close.”

“Careful, princess,” he notes as you almost swear at him, “Don’t make— shit, don’t give me a reason to stop.”

He wouldn’t, you think, he is as lost in you as you are in him.

“Never,” you pant, noises climbing in pitch, “I’m gonna be so good for you, Daddy. Gonna come— oh God, please, gonna come on your cock!”

“Yeah,” his thighs flex, your legs squeeze harder around him, “Oh fuuuck, I can feel you— come on my dick, sweetheart. You can do it.”

The tightening releases into sweet clenches. Your vision blanks for just a moment, your brain unable to focus on any other of your five senses except touch, and Joel touches you deep inside as his hips stutter and your walls milk everything he has to give.

He fucks you through it, bucks his hips upwards to prod at your g-spot whilst you shiver and moan from the heat of your climax. It may be even more intense than yesterday despite how many highs he pulled from you.

Everything stills. Time passes while you pant. The windows must be foggy by now. Joel slips out with a soft groan and kisses away the pained moan you let out when emptiness hits.

You are sure you are experiencing heat stroke as you try catching your breath. There are small beads of sweat scattered all over your chest and stomach, some collecting in the dip of your belly button. You feel like you are floating in the Sunday afternoon silence. A bird chirps outside of the window, and you catch yourself wondering why you haven’t heard it until now. He is too important, you think, so important that you filter out anything that isn’t him until he leaves you in this state of clarity. You love him.

Joel is staring down at you and you can see yourself in the reflection of his brown eyes. He glows just like you, filled to the brim with dopamine. His skin burns as you rub his arms where you have been digging your nails into them moments before. You wonder if he feels the same as you; like someone who is seconds from evaporating, bursting, something, unable to move, in love.

You pull him down into yourself. He sticks to you in a way that would normally have you scrunching up your nose, but you don’t care about it right now because his cheek is pressed to yours. You giggle softly with post-orgasmic excitement.

But then a thought reluctantly worms its way into your head. Why isn’t he saying something? You know why you aren’t, but why isn’t he?

“Joel,” you say in confusion as he suddenly starts to break free from your embrace. He moves to sit up next to you, eyes the plate on the nightstand, and practically launches himself up from the bed so he can take it to the kitchen.

You crawl across the bed without thinking as if you have the speed to catch his wrist before he is out the door, “Joel. Fuck, Joel!”

That catches his attention. Joel turns in the doorway. He sets the plate down on his dresser instead, “You know I fuckin’ hate that.”

“Well shit,” you continue and he visibly flinches.

“Don’t say anything,” you don’t think you have ever warned him as he repeatedly does with you, “Don’t say anything, just come here.”

You hold out your hands, still on your knees at the edge of the bed. You grab at the air, and after a brief pause, Joel gives in. He steps forward until you can hold onto his wrists, “Remember that time you wiped away my tears? The first time we… doesn’t matter. Point is I was sad and you were there.”

Joel avoids replying. He swallows thickly, jaw muscles tensing.

“I just mean that you can talk to me,” you finish your speech which is barely a speech with a beating heart. There are so many butterflies in your stomach that they are making you slightly nauseous. You look at him expectantly, watching his eyes skim over your face, scanning for what you assume is genuineness. You won’t ask why he needs reassurance that you are telling him the truth.

“I’m falling for you,” he breathes out.

Of all things, you do not expect this.

“Ditto,” you say back, eyes widening when you realize that it’s the word you have managed to blurt out.

“Ditto?” Joel furrows his brow.

You slap his arm, “Shut it. You know what ditto means.”

But then he bursts out laughing and your heart swells. He leans down over you, naked and vulnerable right there in front of you, and kisses you gently.

He inhales deeply afterward, then asks the question that you want an answer to as well: “What in the world are we going to do?”

It comes out of nowhere a few weeks later when you’re home again.

“You know Joel?” Your dad asks as if you have never noticed him in the many years he’s been your father’s best friend. You try not to freeze.

“Yes, I obviously know Mr. Miller, Dad. What about him?” You sip your coffee, eyeing the crossword on the back of the newspaper that your father is holding up in front of himself.

“Think he’s seein’ some new lady,” he replies but there’s no tone to his voice.

You tense in your seat, setting down your mug to avoid dropping it if the news is about to break, “Why do you think that?”

“Don’t matter why, but she’s good for him, I can tell,” your father is still oblivious, “Just smiles more.”

“Ah, well good for him,” you pause briefly, “Can I get the crossword puzzle?”

“Sure, honey.”

As he rustles the paper to pull out the page, you stand with the excuse of getting a pen, but when you have your back to your father, you grin to yourself and don’t mind the butterflies that seem to have moved into your body.

Joel is right.

What in the world are you going to do?

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

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juuuulez · 1 year ago

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📰 | part two: capulet.

info: Carl Grimes x Saviour!Reader, female reader, father-figure Negan, enemies to lovers, forbidden romance, no use of (y/n) because immersion.

summary: During your first visit to Alexandria, when Carl misfires a gun, you’re instructed to “babysit” him. This does not go very well.

previous | next

I’m glad everyone liked the first part!! This one is definitely more juicy. Kids being kids. Writing the next part now, let me know if you have any particular requests!

Also (finally) titled!! Drawing heavily on Romeo and Juliet, except… more spiteful at the beginning.

A few days later, and you’re back.

The town of Alexandria is actually quite nice, when you aren’t being cooped up in a cell.

Your fellow Saviours seem to think so too, exploring the place, taking supplies they deem useful for the Sanctuary. After all, there’s mouths to feed, therefore you’ve stopped feeling bad for all these communities you bleed dry.

Well, you felt a little bad last night.

The lineup was rough, it always is. You hadn’t seen the brunt of it, instead sitting safe in the RV where Negan had all but interrogated you regarding your time locked up; coming from a place of concern for your well-being. But you stepped out just as dawn was beginning to hit, and saw the aftermath.

It was just for a few seconds, to retrieve a weapon from Dwight, but you felt a twinge of guilt as Negan taunted that poor boy.

At least he wasn’t wearing the stupid hat anymore.

Whatever, it didn’t matter. At least that’s what you told yourself. Guilt had no place in the apocalypse, especially not for the Saviours, a group of well earned apex predators in this bleak world.

That’s how you saw it.

You oversee the work of your people whilst Negan is talking with Rick. Everybody respects you.. or maybe everybody is scared of you. Scared of your father. Either way, it works.

You’re comfortable as a leader. Somebody who can give orders without hesitation. At the start, there was resistance. Who wanted to be ordered around by a teenage girl? But eventually everything fell into place, and people realised that you were a central part to this operation.

Then the sound of a gunshot rings through the air, putting everybody on edge. Weapons suddenly unholstered, dropping whatever menial task they were completing.

You command them to stand down with a wave of the hand, going to investigate yourself.

Fortunately enough, the situation has already been handled.

Or mostly handled.

“Just who I wanted to see.” Negan says with his usual prowess, however it’s dimmed by an underlying irritation. He brings you further into the room with a gloved hand on your shoulder.

He positions you there like a prize, something valuable. Or maybe a dangerous weapon. A constant show of ‘look at what’s mine, look at what she can do.’ You quite like that.

“Now, it appears that young Grimes is too trigger-happy for his own good,” Negan continues, to which you finally notice Carl standing in the middle of the room, “So why don’t you babysit him for me, darling?”

The boy is practically seething. That same expression you’d seen at the lineup, pure anger and rebellion.

You could feel yourself beginning to smile.

“Of course,” You agree, a grin spreading across your lips, “I’d appreciate a tour, to see if anything here interests me.”

There’s no reply. Carl glares at you, then shoots a pleading look at his father, but to no avail. Rick nods his head in the direction of the door, and you feel like you’ve just won the lottery. This was going to be good.

Now, you didn’t enjoy toying with peoples emotions, per-say. But getting them all riled up sure was fun.

And a teenage boy? This was like a gift from above.

Grown men grew tired of your commanding nature, they’d get violent, speak out of line. It was a dangerous game, one that you loved. Like a cat and mouse, or Icarus flying too close to the sun.

A teenage boy was much more in your ballpark.

“You play sports?” You ask Carl, who is walking a few paces behind you, begrudgingly following despite the fact he was meant to be showing you around. But you didn’t mind.

He doesn’t answer.

You turn to face him, shooting him a backwards glare of what the hell is your problem. “What, you took a vow of silence, or something?” It’s snarky, immature, prodding the bear.

But it works.

“No, I don’t play sports.” Carl answers reluctantly, his tone flat and unamused. It’s becoming more and more evident that when you’re in power like this, in control, you can be a nightmare.

You don’t bother to suppress your grin of satisfaction, turning back away from him, “Yeah, didn’t think so, stringbean. Bet I’ve got more muscle mass than you.”

This must do something, as suddenly Carl has closed the few paces between you, and is blocking your path from continuing. He’s in your face, closer than comfortable, but you love it.

“What the hell’s your problem?” He asks, clearly angry at your snide little comments. That righteous attitude is back. “You can’t come in here, and tell everybody what to do. We’re gonna fight back, and when we do, you’ll be sorry.”

You give him a firm shove, letting Carl stumble a few feet back, “Yeah, how’d that go for you back there, huh? Aim much?”

It’s a low blow, you know that, which is why it feels so goddamn good.

He opens his mouth to speak, but you interrupt him.

“Didn’t shoot me at the satellite station, either. I’m starting to think you’re more harmless than you’re letting on.”

“I’m not exactly in the interest of murdering children,” Carl retorts angrily, “What are you, twelve?”

“I’m seventeen!” You yell back at him, walking swiftly past the boy, but making sure to harshly bump your shoulders together. “Now show me your armoury. You’ve got something of mine.”

You’re walking too quickly for Carl to shoot back a comment, and he needs to awkwardly skip in order to catch up. This time he takes a few strides forward, making the effort to walk just fast enough to stay in front of you.

He wants to be in charge.

Luckily, you love to be petty.

As the pair of you reach the armoury, you swiftly side-step Carl, entering the room first, much to his dismay. You’re eyes are scanning the shelves, rows and rows of guns and weaponry, with one thing in mind. The bat.

“Too bad we’re confiscating all your guns, this is quite the collection,” You comment, finding a supply sheet to glance over, “Good job on that one, by the way. Aren’t you helpful?”

Carl essentially ignores your sarcasm, speaking from the other side of the room, “Looking for something?”

You turn, a momentary flash of confusion on your face, until you realise that he’s got it. The metal bat clutched in one hand, held up tauntingly. When you take a step forward to retrieve it, he only takes a step back.

“That’s not funny.” You say, a sense of agitation in your tone, that dominant and teasing persona gone in an instant.

It only causes Carl to grin, taking pleasure in this momentary inch of power he’s gained.

“You even know how to play baseball?” He asks, switching the bat into his dominant hand, pretending to slowly swing it.

“I do, actually,” You snap, reaching out to finally grasp the metal bat, taking it from his grip unceremoniously, “Wanna see? I can use your skull as the ball.”

This works to shut him up, judging by how Carl’s eyes narrow into a glare, but he doesn’t dare to say anything. You take this as a victory, once again knocking shoulders as you leave the small space, not bothering to shut the door behind you.

You’re not even a few meters down the street before there are footsteps again, Carl still following you, despite wanting otherwise. It makes that malicious grin to return.

“Aren’t you obedient?” You quip, not even bothering to look back at him as you speak, as if he isn’t worth the time. It’s a power trip, one you’re addicted to, one Carl is unknowingly feeding into. Or, maybe he does know, but can’t do anything about it.

Carl scoffs, “Coming from you. Do you always do everything Negan tells you to?”

It’s smart, getting you to roll your eyes in displeasure, that metal bat swinging by your side as you walk. “It’s called being a good soldier, like you would understand.”

“Yeah? Soldier, or pet?” He continues, and you can basically hear the grin in his voice.

The fuck does he know?

You finally spin around, grip tightening ever so slightly on the bat. Control is slowly slipping through your fingers, this stupid back and forth game beginning to get on your nerves, despite being the instigator.

“You wanna talk about pet?” You spit, closing in on his personal space, “Rick tells you to murder twenty people, and you do it? That’s called being a little bitch, okay, daddy’s boy?”

This works, as Carl’s face twists into a look of anger, his fists clenching at his sides.

But you continue, “This stupid group has had this coming for a long time. There’s no such thing as being the good guys, you’re just another bunch of stupid pricks, who need to be put in their place.”

It snaps something inside of Carl, because suddenly he’s giving you a harsh shove, where you stumble a few feet backwards. You mirror his childish temper, throwing your body at him with equal force, where the two of you awkwardly wrestle in the middle of the street.

You attempt to gain leverage, steeling your feet into the ground, bending your knees. Then, out of nowhere, you’re raising your arm with the bat, ready to try and dislocate his shoulder, or something. Anything. Just to show that you aren’t weak.

But before you can swing, there’s resistance, and you snap out of this little squabble to realise that somebody else is holding your bat.

“The hell are you doin’, girl?”

Negan swiftly lifts the bat from your grip, holding it at an arms length. You let go of Carl, whipping around to glare at the older man.

“He’s being a total jagoff!” You shout, twisting to see a similar look of discontent on Carl’s face, like he’s itching to leap back into your little fight.

It’s no use, because then Negan is holding your shoulder, giving you a gentle push in the opposite direction, “Truck, now. We’re making our departure.”

And you listen, despite everything telling you to continue. To prove yourself, maintain that power.

To make matters worse, Carl has taken this experience as some sort of mental victory, yelling out from the footpath, “Daddy’s girl!”

You can only turn, angrily giving him the finger as you storm off towards the gates, but it acts as fuel to the fire. Getting sick of that stupid expression, you turn back away, footsteps quickening in an attempt to seperate yourself from the ever so slightly humiliating experience.

Next time you’ll get him.

#twd x reader #the walking dead x reader #negan smith #carl grimes #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x you #twd x you #negan smith x reader

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vitentia · 1 year ago

Text

BAGS .lıllıl.

pairings ━━ ellie williams x fem!reader

warnings ━━ one sided pining (unless…?)

synopsis ━━ you’re so in love with ellie williams, it nearly cripples you. you struggle between the option of confessing and losing your friendship forever, or never confessing and loving her from a distance— to you the answer seems especially obvious. you prefer it that way because it could always be worse…right?

playlist ━━ bags by clario, mrs magic by strawberry guy

part 2

Fuck.

She’s so pretty, how are you meant to function?

You watch from a distance as Ellie and Dina try to come up with a silly little handshake while you brush down Shimmer in the stables. The horse doesn’t seem to protest as you slow your brushing movements and take in Ellie’s new look.

Her flannel is pulled up to her elbows to combat the summer heat and her short hair is pulled back into a man bun, curtesy of her even shorter hair that she begged you to help her cut for her 18th birthday. Curse you and your kindness for making your teenage crush into a hotter version of her usual self, only killing you in the weeks afterwards.

If it wasn’t worse, Ellie’s tattoo was now finished and she was rocking with her new look with confidence. This confidence only brought girls closer to her, girls who you thought were straight!

You truly respected Dina for somehow having a boyfriend in the presence of Ellie Williams herself because you personally wouldn’t have had the strength.

And it took a lot of strength to remain Ellie’s friend.

Your trance was broken by a finger being snapped in your face, you blinked and were met with Joel Millers confused but slightly amused face.

“Hello? Are we back on planet Earth?”

“Huh? Yeah, yeah, sorry, Mr. Miller.” You nodded sheepishly.

“No need to apologize.” He smiled at you knowingly and handed you a rope. “Here, why don’t you take Shimmer here out to the gates and wait for Ellie in the front.”

“Oh, b-but are you sure I can-“

“She won’t run off, I can guarantee it. She trusts you, you’re good to her.” Joel said, patting the horses back and placing the leash in your hands.

You thanked him and wrapped the rope around her neck carefully, pulling her out of the stables and towards the front gates. Greeting fellow Jackson residents on the way, you stopped near the front gates with shimmer by your side and let out a shaky breath. Almost sensing your nervousness, the horse leaned her head down and pushed your arm lightly.

“Let me guess, you want an apple, huh?” You looked at your surroundings and when you didn’t find anyone particularly interested in your presence, you pulled an apple off of a random box and brushed it onto your shirt before sneakily feeding it to her.

“Aha! So that’s your secret.” The snap of fingers caught you off guard, causing you to turn around with a guilty look on your face. Ellie chuckled at your reaction and came up to your side.

“My secret?” You stammered

“Yeah, I was wondering why she likes you more than me and look at that, it’s because you’re sneaking her some extra apples.” She stepped in front of you to pet Shimmer, unknowingly standing only a few inches away. A sweltering heat enflamed your body at the close contact, causing you to take a step back and hold your hand towards her, palm up.

“No, she definitely loves you more. You’ve been her main rider since you were fourteen and she has yet to throw you off.”

Ellie laughed loudly at the memories of other patrollers actively avoiding Shimmer due to her disloyalty when out in the world and took the rope out of your hands. You tried not to freak out over the light touch and remained calm on the outside.

“Good luck.” You said, turning around to walk away.

“Wait, where are you going?” She asked from atop the horse.

You turned to face her. “Uh, back to the stables?”

“Aren’t you gonna walk me out?” She asked incredulously

“Oh, I apologize, your highness, I must’ve forgotten that I’m your royal consort around this wonderful palace.”

She smirked and held her chin up. “Cmon, halfway at least.”

Despite the fact that the front gates were only a few feet away, you stood beside Shimmer and walked with her to the opening of the doors.

“I’m having a game night tonight, you in?”

You looked up at her, the left side of your brain begging you to say no while the right gleamed at the opportunity to spend more time with Ellie.

“Uh-“

“Great! See you when I get back.” She waved behind her as she directed Shimmer outside the gates.

“I didn’t even agree!”

“You always do!”

You sighed, hiding the dopey grin on your face from nearby residents.

☼

Maybe this is a bad idea. Honestly, you’d only known each other for four years anyways, surely that’s not long enough to build life long connections, right? She probably doesn’t even consider you her best friend, it could be Dina or Jesse or-

“Hey, you just gonna stand there all night?”

Speak of the devil and she shall appear.

“No, just…stalling.” You mentally winced at your awkward answer

“Stalling?”

“Yep.” You held your breath as Ellie stared at you in silence before letting out a chuckle with a shake of her head.

She shuffled her bag to her other arm to wrap one around your shoulders, dragging you into her shoulder with a smile. “I will never understand what goes on in that brain of yours, you know that?”

Kicking open the door with her foot, Ellie pulled you into her room and dropped the bag on her makeshift kitchen before sliding her arm down to your hands and pulling you to her couch. Honestly, if you were watching yourself in the 3rd person you’d laugh at how easily she dragged you around like a little rag doll, and how you complied.

As cheesy as it is, you never minded following her everyone. You told her as such before and despite your initial freak out that it would’ve come out as love confession, Ellie just smiled and looked away that day, calling you crazy for wanting to follow someone like her.

“Where is everyone?” You wondered out loud.

“Dina and Jesse are coming in a few,” she leaned into your ear, “wouldn’t be surprised if they’re getting one in before this, if you know what I mean.” She nudged you and pulled away to let you sit down as she searched for her board games.

You sat stiffly on her couch as if you never have before and fiddled with your fingers, forcing yourself to forget all those late nights scenarios of you two kissing on her couch with some shitty old movie playing in the background.

Think about something else.

Think about that time the teens of Jackson went to a nearby lake for a “beach day” and Cat kissed Ellie right before your eyes.

Ouch.

Maybe not that one.

“Awfully quiet over there. Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Ellie asked, placing monopoly and sorry on her coffee table before sitting next to you, knees touching.

“Uh-uh nothing.”

“Uh uh nothing.” Ellie mocked you, pushing your knee with hers. “C’mon, you’ve been so…squeamish recently. And quiet which I don’t appreciate because I’m supposed to be the quiet mysterious one.”

You giggled at her and ran your hand down your face. “Sorry, I was just thinking about that lake trip we took last summer.”

“Oh yeah, that was fun.” Ellie hummed, recalling the memory. “Why? Do you wanna go back? We could always ask Maria or Tommy.”

“No, no, I’d rather not.”

“Why not?”

You took a deep breath and rubbed your palms against your jeans. “Just…wasn’t a good time for me, I guess.”

“Woah, woah, I didn’t know that. I thought you had fun that day.” Ellie sat up on the couch and turned her body to face you. “What happened? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Calm down, Ellie, it wasn’t anything serious.” You tried to brush her off but she continued to look you expectantly. “I-I had my first kiss there and it wasn’t exactly…the best?”

Ellie gasped and shoved your shoulder. “You had your first kiss and you didn’t tell me? Who was it? Why didn’t I know?”

“Ow! It was- it was terrible that’s why I didn’t tell you and I’m not telling you who it is.”

She quirked an eyebrow up at you and leaned her elbow on her knee, tilting her head to the side. “You’re not gonna tell me who it was? Really?”

You bit your lip and nodded.

Ellie pressed her lips into a thin line and nodded along with you. “Okay, then you’ve left me no choice.”

“Wha-“

Before you could blink, Ellie pushed you down onto your back and pushed away your fighting arms to hold them against your chest and straddle you, effectively leaving you to her wrath.

“Ellie, what the fuc-!”

“Tell me who it was!” She demanded

“Ellie, get off of me.” You struggled under her, turning your face to the side to avoid looking her in the eye and stupidly confessing everything you’ve felt for her for the past four years.

“Not until you tell me who you kissed.”

“If I tell you, will you get off of me?”

She rolled her eyes, “Oh don’t pretend like this isn’t the best moment of your life.” Ellie teased.

You kept your eyes trained on the monocle wearing man on the side of the ripped up old box of monopoly until Ellie used her pointer and middle finger to guide your face back to hers.

“Tell me.” She whispered.

With a sigh and admit of defeat, you confessed. “It was…Sam-“

“Samuel?!” She exclaimed in shock before you could finish. Her face contorted into one of disgust. “Gross, why would you ever-“

“Because!” You cut her off. “Because you had Cat. Dina had Jesse. Hell, even Maria and Tommy were there with each other. I had…no one. You guys were so busy sucking each others faces off, I just didn’t want to feel so lonely.” When she didn’t respond, too caught up in her thoughts to form a sentence, you took the opportunity to lightly push her off and generate some distance.

You tucked your knees into your arm and leaned your head on your knees, patiently awaiting her response. She didn’t respond with words, however. Ellie had instead chosen to, again, move impossible closer to you and tilt her head to face you directly, mimicking your position.

She placed her hand on your head, “No more loneliness. It’s just you and me from now on, okay? Just say the word and I’ll be there.”

“You don’t have to-“

“No, no, no complaining. This is what friends do.” You smiled at her words, knowing this would be the closest you’d get to how you truly wanted her and leaned into the hug she offered.

Smelling her pine wood scent, wrapping your arms around her neck, and digging your face into her shoulder is the best you’ve got. The best it’ll get.

But it’s better than her walking away from you forever.

#ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams x you #tlou2 x reader #the last of us #tlou2 #tlou fluff #lgbt pride

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mylevisdontfitanymore · 3 months ago

Note

I hear you want to write but are having a hard time answering prompts. Don't feel obligated to answer this one either, this is free labor, you never have too!!!! But maybe it would help by giving you a free space. What's eating at you [pun intended hehe]?

Me and this anon be like:

You are so thoughtful, thank you! ❤️❤️❤️

And you know what has been eating at me 😂 for whatever reason, I have no idea what turned me onto this idea, or why I can't stop thinking about it but there is something about the idea of completely, entirely spoiled Bucky that's been heavy on my mind.

Unbeta'd stucky belly kink under the read more, complete with lots and lots of stuffing, weight gain, and teasing/fat-shaming, too.

I'm talking about silver-spoon, generationally wealthy Bucky. He never has known what it is to want, yanno? Everything he could ever dream of, he gets immediately. He's never had a job other than learning what fork to use during meal times and which to use during dessert.

He looks like Wakanda, Jesus Bucky in spirit.

His hair is lush and shiny but his is proper, high-society style. So, it's cropped short at the sides and marginally longer at the top, coiffed back into stylish, fluffy waves. His face is clean-shaven, not beared, but his skin still glows and his marble-carved bone structure has been filled out by good food and constant pampering. He's always in the latest fashion, too. He looks the part of his high-maintenance, rich lifestyle.

When he was a kid and then a teenager it was totally fine that he fit so, so well into his lavish upbringing - including his taste for excessively sweet food and excessive amounts of food - because he had a speedy metabolism and the whimsy of a child, always running through his parent's expansive mansion or spending hours in the endless, deep green lawns playing by himself or roping one of the servents or his tutor into his games. His parents always were too busy with their socializing to raise their own messy child, instead passing responsibility off to someone, anyone else.

For a while, Bucky also took an interest in polocrosse, so he stayed slim for his elegant, equestrian sport. Loping through open, well-manicured fields on horseback, going after the ball with his racquet. But, as he grows and matures into a snooty young adult, with his twenties comes a slowing of his hummingbird metabolism and a boredom of sport. He has more important, more luxurious, relaxing activities to attend to than riding some beast that he doesn't even pick up after or care for - that's what the help is for. Besides, the medals mean nothing to him. He knows he's deserving and is a blue-ribbon winner without the physical reminders. Naturally, it's in his genes, he may as well be a hot-blooded, thoroughbred himself.

Bucky's metabolism slows and his activity level wanes but neither can be said about his appetite - not slowing, nor waning.

His hunger was one of those wants he's always, always had met through his generational wealth. His dire want for sweets. When he was younger, he always got a slap on the wrist for gorging himself on sugary sweets - pastries, candy, and the like - but never truly punished. His love affair wasn't tamed no matter how often he "spoiled" his own dinner, charming the cooks to feed him more than he needed, secretly getting their driver to go and retrieve him something from the city's candy shop, or even simply tiptoeing into the well-stocked pantry at night to give himself a tummy ache.

Now, his appetite is insatiable and he is growing more and more unfit seemingly like the hour. All because his days aren't spent working - he's never had to lift a finger for anything - but, instead, his hours are filled to the brim (and then some) with wine tastings, occasional tours of the winery grounds, cheese samplings, fine dining reservations or world-class chefs inhabiting his home for a few nights, and more. As soon as he's allowed by Mommy and Daddy, he moves off the sprawling family property to buy his own. He comes in and sweeps up a swath of land, putting a huge, pretty house on it and filling the rooms with staff. Most of the time, he doesn't leave his home. His driver's chauffeur experts in drink and food back and forth, bringing waves of delicious, expensive delicacies straight to Bucky's beautiful abode from the private airport nearby.

He. is. spoiled.

As he grows, he becomes rich fat, not poor fat - which becomes an important, prideful distinction in Bucky's spoiled, snobby mind. He is high society. He is well taken care of. So, of course, he's large.

Rich fat is fat that's undeniably plump and round with perfect curves. Rolls. Pale and smooth. No cellulite. No stretch marks. No blemishes. Just milky, pale swells of flesh that are soft but still firm and high. Something of a cherub straight from a masterful Renaissance painting.

His body tells the truth of his life - he doesn't lift a finger. He's practically a Roman Emperor, lounging on his side, draped in a sheet that barely fits over his bulging, excessive curves, fed the finest wine and offered peeled grapes that he lazily consumes until he's so full and drunk that he has to stop his servants by lifting a dainty hand, breathily moaning. No more. He can't take anymore now, he's so full that his fat, normally plush, soft belly has swelled to be as firm as a drum. But... give it an hour and he'll be snapping his fingers, rolled onto his back, under the weight of his belly, needing more. He won't even bother to get back up unless his servants help him, at that point, all he wants is more.

Always more.

Bucky becomes so insatiable with his life of luxury orbiting his round belly (rapidly transforming to be so large and spherical that it might be its own planet with a gravitational pull, keeping his hands to it at all times, unable to stop rubbing and touching his big body), that he hires someone new to live on his estate with him.

A masseuse.

Bucky becomes accustomed to eating until he feels fit to pop, stuffing down delicacies as if they're commonplace. Then, when he's so achingly tight, it's only natural to crave hands on his belly. He needs all the help digesting that he can get on a steady diet of peeled grapes, chocolate-coated strawberries, and other delicate fruits alongside the finest cheeses in paper-thin slices (but so many of those slices that he may as well have eaten the entire wheel by biting hunks off rudely) paired with jam and honey and bread and meats cured and prepared just so, plus bubbly champagne to wash it all down. That excessive diet leaves his tummy churning, groaning, and gassy. He has to stifle his burps behind one hand while the other works to soothe himself - it's instinctive, those rubbing motions.

Working? Aching? That just won't do. Bucky isn't dumb enough to expend energy when he doesn't have to. His private education afforded him better common sense. And he often goes to the spa, so he's familiar with massages. One plus one is two. Bucky needs a masseuse to rub his belly.

His masseuse is a tall, broad man - muscular and handsome with bright blue eyes and blonde hair. He has a pleasantly pale complexion with freckles but his nose that like it's been broken once or twice, bumped in the middle, and his hands are certainly the hands of a working man. He has obviously worked hard to get where he is with veins obvious in his arms and the backs of his hands and callouses on his palms. Even with all the lotion and oils, his hands are just the slightest bit rough thanks to those callouses.

If he weren't so handsome and hadn't proved himself to be so good at his job, Bucky might not keep him around. Thoughtlessly he could fire him, or any of his staff, and hire someone else.

Bucky doesn't like anything rough. He likes simple, easy, and luxurious. He likes softness. He reclines in overstuffed chairs and couches, expensive and sink-into-the-softness, and sleeps (and eats) on a perfectly swallowing-up bed. His body is currently being transformed into the same type of sensation - plush, soft, overstuffed. He likes that. He's becoming as excessive as his lifestyle - shaped perfectly for it.

He doesn't enjoy roughness.

He doesn't enjoy the bit of resentment on his masseuse's face and weaved secretly into his voice when they first meet.

Steve is a good worker, though, and Bucky appreciates that. He's accustomed to throwing money around, but he only throws it when it's what he wants or something he needs that he's having done his way. If a gardener, cook, or tailor doesn't work as fast or as hard as Bucky thinks they ought to - they're gone. Simple as that.

Steve works hard, Steve works fast, Steve is... interesting. He doesn't approve of Bucky's lifestyle, that much is clear, so he must need the money. But also, he doesn't complain. Not really. He does tease Bucky, though. It seems they both know their differences and there's something there. Something exciting. They both have their tastes and the clash of their differing tastes becomes electric.

Bucky learns to enjoy a little bit of roughness because of Steve.

Steve is called in to support Bucky either nearing the end of a massive meal or after his meal has been finished. His job title is "masseuse" and he does massage Bucky but, just, one part of him -

His belly.

His job is to aid Bucky's body in digesting after a splurge... if you can call his gorging meals and oversized snacks that happen every day, multiple times a day like clockwork "splurges." Splurging implies you don't do it all the time. Bucky is consistently stuffed to the gills. The only time he's not full is when he wakes up, first thing in the morning, and that's not always a guarantee - Bucky has gotten especially fat recently, it's why he needs Steve, and now, he can't always make it through the night without a snack. If he needs one, he snaps his fingers or rings the little bell he keeps by his bedside, rousing his live-in servants and making them retrieve a "light" snack for him from the kitchen. If he's had a midnight snack, his belly might still be firm and bloated when he wakes up. Regardless, Steve helps settle his belly.

At first, when Steve was hired, he did his job without comment. Now that they know each other a little better and each of them is rubbing off on the other with Bucky enjoying a little bit of roughness and Steve learning to embrace comfort and a taste of luxury - now, Steve prods and pushes verbally while he does the same physically. He rubs big circles on his big tummy, presses into the parts where he's the tightest to release pockets of gas and make him more comfortable, giving him more room (that he often immediately fills with more food), and kneads his soft flesh, using lotion and oil to keep his flesh supple and stretch-mark free. He lets his mouth run, too.

In low tones, just for the two of them to hear, he murmurs roughly about how he's never had so much to work with. Bucky knows under those sugar-coated words, he's calling him fat. Then, he goes on to say that Bucky feels especially tense today, is there anything particular on his mind? That's Steve telling him he's bloated as fuck, just a bit of sting behind his "polite" tone to communicate, oh my fucking god, you're a blimp. Or, he asks how his tailor is doing, the vague way to ask how he fits into any clothes at all. It's a damn mystery to Steve, after all, he only ever sees Bucky when he's naked with all of his soft, pale, thick fat on display. Round. Firm. Ready to be massaged until he's not so tight he could burst which, to Bucky, means he's ravenous. Bucky has no understanding of hunger. He doesn't remember what it's like to be empty, so when he isn't gasping in pleasure and pain, so full that his stomach is strained and there's food packed into him all the way up his esophagus to the back of his throat, he thinks he's starving.

Bucky savors those comments in a way he doesn't savor food - he just shoves it down. More.

More.

Bucky starts eating even more, pushing himself further, to make sure he can see Steve regularly. Weirdly, for someone who's never needed a damn thing from anyone else, he aches to impress this guy. It's strange, how much he wants to preen and parade around. He makes even more of a gluttonous mess of himself just so Steve can come in and berate him underneath his professional, light tone. It's embarrassing. Bucky has never been able to deal with humiliation or shame or anything other than resounding acceptance because of his high status, so it's strange for him to go after it now but...

God, is it good.

Steve commenting on needing another set of hands to reach and work on all of Bucky's glutted tummy sends a shiver down his pinned spine in spirit, in reality, he can't fucking move. He's so fat. Bucky almost moans at the thought of more hands groping and kneading his fat, working his cramps and burps out of him, easing the way for those calories to smoothly transform into more fat but, strangely, he only wants Steve to do this. He's used to hiring more help, having so many people around him, watching and aiding him in even the most intimate, private moments. This feels too intimate to share, though. He just wants Steve's big, strong, rough hands on his fat. He wants it bad. So, of course, he gets it.

He feasts on multiple rich, large courses. Steve massages him. He snacks on foods that would be enough for a meal if he were anyone else. Steve massages him. He gorges until he's hiccuping, whining, and curled around his fat belly like he can hold himself together, preventing himself from bursting at the seams with too much, too good of food. Steve massages him. He wakes up, belly gurgling with digestion that he can delude into being hunger, so he stuffs himself late at night into early morning. Steve massages him. Steve massages him through it all, witnessing him at his fullest and watching, judging, as he packs on more and more weight.

Bucky has been drilled to follow etiquette and be polite, but with Steve, he slips. He's just so full. And Steve's so good at his job. He can't deny himself the pleasure of moaning and burping loudly as Steve works.

"Buuuurpp-"

"Hic! Ah! Oh! Hic! Ouch! Hic! Hup! Oww!"

"Ooooohhh, yess. That's good."

"Uuuuuuurp!"

"Yes! Right there, press there, it's so tight, oh, oww-"

"Hnnnn-"

"M-mmmph- more. More pressure. Yes! Like that! Oh-uuurp!"

"C-cahhh, careful, I'm, oof, I'm soo full. Mmngh, I might - hic! - pop!"

Steve might disguise his interest well under a judgy, almost resentful exterior - which is truthfully how he felt when he got here, like, look at this fat asshole, Steve grew up struggling with a single mother making tough decisions between feeding her child, buying the medicine her child needed badly, or keeping the heating on to keep her child from getting sicker, no good options and no compromises - but he is interested. Bucky is miles and miles of plush flesh that jiggles and ripples. So much for Steve to sink his hands into. He's just fat. That's all he is. Greedy and oversized. He deserves a little shit for it. It's fine. He can squeeze a little harder than necessary, he can relentlessly push down on the part of his tummy that hurts the most just to hear him groan through a painful yet releasing burp, he can see his face pinch in pain when Steve goads him into finishing the last scraps on his plate despite having called Steve in expressed because he's too full for more, he can make comments about how he's getting fatter, bigger, and more spoiled. He can snidely inquire if Bucky has gotten his bed reinforced yet or wonder out loud how his personal tailor keeps up with his expanding waistline, actually, how does his tailor measure his waistline these days? Does he have to make a custom tailors tape or have they given up on numbers by now? He can pretend to be a little weaker than he is, just for an excuse to call the other staff into Bucky's master bedroom, "needing" help with rolling his big, voluptuous body or sitting him up as much as possible under that heavy, fat belly that overflows his lap.

It's fine for Steve to look over his shoulder as he leaves, his job well done, to smirk like a shark at one food-drunk Bucky moaning through a bite of buttery, flaky pastry, telling him off, "haven't you had enough, Mr. Barnes?"

He's the only one willing to challenge Bucky. The other staffers suck in shocked breaths and duck their heads, embarrassed and trying to stay out of the way, assuming Steve's about to be fired. It's going to get ugly. Right?

But it doesn't.

Bucky likes it. His stomach is groaning - only barely soothed thanks to Steve, complaining with heavy sloshes, deep gurgles, and loud glorps - but Bucky doesn't care. All he cares about is more. More food, stuffing his gob. More of Steve's merciless touch, his mean words, and his judgemental eyebrows. More.

"Nu-uh," Bucky moans petulantly.

"Only you would think that," Steve's eyes flick down to his gut like the big, round thing is offensive, "isn't enough."

Bucky crams the rest of his pastry into his mouth, puffing out his cheeks and dusting crumbs down his double (closer to triple) chins and heaving moobs, it's a challenge.

Steve rises to it, stepping back into his bedroom to slap his blubbery belly hard.

Even though all the others have scuffled away, leaving the two of them alone, they must be able to hear the clap of his hand against his fat. That, or, they hear the guttural way Bucky moans. His white, pale flesh is stamped red with Steve's handprint.

"You just have to ruin my work, don't you?" Steve sneers, sitting on the side of the bed next to Bucky's immobilized form of rolls and curves, pinned in place by too much fattening, sugary food. "Nothing is ever good enough for you, so you just keep going, don't you? You're gonna pop, you know that, you fat, spoiled brat? You need to learn you have limits. You need to learn restraint. If you don't learn your lesson by yourself, you'll force my hand to teach it." Steve threatens, his hand raised again, on the cusp of slapping his tender, overstuffed tummy again.

Bucky whimpers, pouting at him, his bottom lip crumby and stuck far out, "don't need your help," he argues, mumbling, just to be contrary. He really does need him. He wants him too. So badly.

"You do, princess. You need me whether you like it or not," Steve teases. "You can't do anything by yourself, not with this-" Steve rears back to slap his belly hard a handful of times until Bucky's whimpering and squirming around like a turtle flipped onto its shell, inelegant and stuck "-in the way."

Bucky moans loudly. It hurts! But it hurts like it does when he pushes himself over his limits, his gut too full.

"I'm gonna put you on a diet," Steve threatens, "teach your spoiled, fat ass what restraint and hard work is the way Daddy and Mommy didn't, they just shoved a silver spoon in your mouth and called it a day 'cause you shut up."

It's terrible. It's awful. Bucky likes it.

"Please-!" The word falls out of Bucky's mouth for maybe the first time. He's Bucky Barnes. He doesn't beg. He has everything he wants and more! He's never had anything he had to plead for, he always just demands.

With one last hit right to the top of his belly, where the bulging is the worst, where he gets the tightest, Steve knows all too well, Steve leans in. His smile is all teeth. "Good boy," he rumbles, "that's a start. I might be able to whip you into shape after all, God knows you need some shape, too," he unkindly grabs a handful of fat, shaking it and thus sends jiggling ripples throughout Bucky's entire, fat body. He's all lard. "'Cause right now you're just a blob."

Bucky says it again, as it turns out, it feels good to say, "pleeease."

Steve gives him a dark look and despite what he was saying about shaping up and slimming down with a diet, he wastes no time reaching over to the tray of fine French pastries perched on Bucky's elegant nightstand, selecting one at random and shoving it into his face.

Bucky moans his way through every chew and swallow. With Steve's relentless force, massaging and now feeding, too, he's due for a growth spurt like he's never seen on his own. He's gonna outgrow his king-size bed in no time 🥵🥵

#ask #mylevisdontfitanymore #belly kink #text #stuffing #weight gain #bucky barnes #steve rogers #chubby bucky #fat bucky #fat shaming

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