#either way something's gotta give and it's a matter of when the storm decides to hit

[that-spider-fan-over-there]

Ngl people expecting Class 2-A to know Izuku's quirkless right now is a wild goose chase, that idiot (/affectionately) is an open book in another language, I can guarantee that if he actually had a talk with Ochako or Shoto he'd literally go "In a very hypotetical specific situation how'd you feel if you lost that battle and your power as a result" and go "Midoriya/Deku-kun what tf are you talking about" or somehow still misinterpret it like Mirio or Kota.

Or they'd clock the bs and he'd get the pep talk he wants but not the one he truly needs (I think he'd know that on some level), similiar to Toshinori saying he saved Tenko, it's not good for Izuku to hear that, what with him becoming dust and what that means. Maybe it's best he doesn't get advice from people still pretending things are fine. They'd have good intentions, sure, but someone has to rip that reality bandaid and it's not going to be them, I think. Not so soon, at least, in the chance they might have a proper talk at some point.

I don't think they are ignoring him for being Quirkless or anything, just dealing with their own shit and pretending to others they don't have their own baggage going on, otherwise it'd be too easy for him to get any resolution (frustrating as it is to wait). I don't think anyone aside from Katsuki, Toshinori and Aizawa even know he's Quirkless, wouldn't even be surprised if Inko doesn't and that's just standard Midoriya Izuku behaviour up to eleven ORZ

But I know if he were to open up again it'd either be through the biggest breakdown known to them or printing a letter again (okay the latter is a joke) because unless someone is a trained therapist or have All Might fanboy childhood friend privileges (and even then I'm skeptical he'll manage to make him spill everything out) the truths of that muttering mouth is gonna be shut-

[spoilmesweetieforficssake]

Hiyaa, can you do Dom Melissa x fem reader, where Mel comes home after a frustrating day and lets all her energy out on fem reader?

Hey! Thank you so much for your request anon! I hope this is a little of what you were hoping for (though apologies it's a little on the short side!)

Warnings? - NSFW (unless you're wearing that immaculate poker face of yours)

~*~

It’s nothing new for Melissa to snap at Janine and Jacob, or throw the odd callous comment Gregory’s way.  Granted, she’s softened towards them and today’s outburst is on the harsher end of the spectrum, but it doesn’t exactly surprise anyone.

What does surprise everyone, however, is when Barb tries to help calm her friend down that the red head snaps back at the other woman and storms off, leaving the kindergarten teacher with a rather shocked expression on her face.

She turns to you, raising her hands in defeat.  “Good luck with that one!”

You take a deep breath, trying to decide whether it’s a better idea to go after Melissa now or whether it’s best to give her a few minutes to calm down first.  Either way there’s a good chance she’s going to snap at you too. 

It’s no one’s fault.  Just one of those days where everything that can go wrong, has gone wrong from a flat tyre to a broken mug to one of her kids throwing up on her shoes.  It’s not Melissa’s fault either, but her patience with the day is growing thinner by the minute and to make matters worse, her day isn’t exactly improving.

*

You’re on your way back to your classroom after having picked up your kids from PE when Ava finds you.

“I’m not usually one for throwing people under the bus,” she starts, grabbing hold of your arm.

You frown up at her.  “Uh, yes you are.”

She rolls her eyes at you.  “Okay, so maybe I am, but I kinda like you.  Still, you gotta take one for the team on this one.  I’m throwing you under one hot red fire engine.”

You sigh, slightly dreading to think what Melissa has said or done now if even Ava is coming to you to help diffuse the situation.  “You know I can’t promise anything.”

Melissa is her own woman and while you’re certainly got better at handling her mercurial moods, you’ve never been one to tell her she can’t feel how she feels.  You know she has a habit of bottling things up, so you’ve tried to reassure her that she is safe to feel exactly how she feels with you.  Sometimes that means she’s the softest creature imaginable, sometimes she goes off like a firework.  You wouldn’t have her any other way.

*

At home that evening, Melissa dumps her bag down and heads straight for the kitchen.  Leaving her to it, you get changed and stay out of her way, hopeful that she’ll be able to channel her frustration into something delicious. 

When you smell smoke and hear a pot get thrown in the sink as the red head turns the air blue you know your hopes have been dashed.  Bracing yourself, you get up from the sofa, making your way through to the kitchen. 

“Okay, this isn’t working,” you say firmly before you can change your mind.  You quickly and efficiently begin to tidy away the things she has spread out on the work surface, ignoring the raised eyebrow and the hands that have been planted on Melissa’s hips.  “You need to snap out of this before you end up saying something you can’t take back and really hurting someone or Ava starts some stupid disciplinary because you somehow pissed her off.”

Tossing down the cloth you’ve been using to clean down the work surface, you turn to face her.  “You want something to take your frustration out on, try me.”

At your words, the red head’s other eyebrow rises up her forehead.  She opens her mouth as if she’s about to snap back at you, before pausing, her eyes dropping to your lips.

She surges forward, kissing you hard, pushing you against the worktop.  “You’re sure?” she asks a little breathlessly. 

You lean back, pulling your lips out of kissing range.  “Win, win, right?” you smirk.  Your lovemaking doesn’t usually come from a place of frustration, but you know by the way she’s quick to check in that it will always, first and foremost come from a place of love and care.

It’s apparently the all the answer she needs as she leans in to capture your lips once more in a bruising kiss, her hands grasping your hips as she begins to manoeuvre you towards the bedroom.

*

Your sex life with Melissa has never lacked passion, but this is new, rougher.  You’re littered in marks she’s left behind already as her lips travel down your body.  Not that you’re opposed to them in any way.  Truth be told you’ve always rather enjoyed the marks she leaves.  A colourful reminder of your intimate moments together. 

Her instructions tonight have been practically monosyllabic; strip, bed, no hands, wait, up.

Waiting on your hands and knees before her, you feel her smoothing her hands up and down your back.  One hand slides higher, twisting in your hair and using the leverage to pull you up until your back is flush against her front.  You feel her breasts push into your back and the strap at her hips brush against you, bringing a breathless moan from your lips. 

Squirming as her lips find your neck once more, she nuzzles behind your ear, knowing just which spots drive you to distraction.  There’s a pause, however, as a few words ghost past your ear.

“You’re sure?”

You take a deep breath, trying to organise your thoughts.  One of her arms arms winds around your body, holding you against her in a moment of gentleness.  “You’re not going to break me, Melissa.”

Turning your head you capture her lips in a messy kiss, only to cry out as she thrusts into you deeply, filling you.  You fall forward, bracing yourself on your arms.  The hand that had been around your body shifts to grip your hip as the red head pauses for a moment.  You feel her other hand stroke down your back before settling on the base of your spine.  Again, you can feel her hesitation. 

“I know the word, Melissa,” you gasp out, still adjusting to the sensation of being filled by her.  “But I’m not using it.”  It’s a conversation you’d never had with any of your previous partners and at the time, you’d jokingly asked ‘why, what are you gonna do to me?’  You’d come to realise, however, that it had been an important conversation to have.  It’s let you test boundaries and has strengthened the trust between you. 

“But you will?” she asks seriously. 

You look over your shoulder, meeting her eyes.  You can see it written all over her face how much she wants this, but only if you do too.  “Only if I need to.”

“Good girl.”

*

“Someone’s in a better mood this morning,” smiles Barb as Melissa practically dances back to their table, coffee in hand. 

The red head smirks back at the kindergarten teacher.  “Hard not to be after the night I had.”

“I don’t need to know!” says Barb, holding up a hand as though that will stop any further words from Melissa’s mouth.  “I do not need to know.”

“You’re probably right,” she replies.  “You’d only blush.”

[procyo9]

HOLY SHIT I DID IT!!!!!!! JFHEKJGHSKJHFDASHFGSDJK

ok now im getting anxious lol GOTTA GO

WHOLE THING CAN BE ALSO FOUND UNDER THE CUT!! LOVE Y'ALL

as always Crystal belongs to @quaddmgd :3

"Rogue I beg you, please anyone but Palmer? You know I-" "Listen, kid. You come to me asking for help, and I'm giving you help. If you think you're in a position to cherrypick who you 'like' to work with then you either grow up and go talk with Panam or leave." Elegy clenched her fists and stormed out of the booth, bumping shoulders with some stranger on the way out. She was so angry she felt like burning something down; why does it always end up like that? At this point she'll never get her street cred anywhere. She leaned against a wall, not feeling like going home empty-handed. She needed a drink - something to soothe her nerves and give her fuel to think. Elegy raised her sights to look for Claire, who was occupied with-- oh, it's that pretty girl.

She's been coming to Afterlife a lot lately and quickly got recognized among other solos as someone who should not be messed with. Many wanted to work with her, but she prefered working alone; she was an ex-nomad, after all. She probably had to learn to rely only on herself to survive without her family. To be honest, Elegy was a little jealous - she tried really hard to become independent but her ties kept a tight knot on her. No matter how good her skills were, she still was forced to rely on others to help her with matters she couldn't resolve on her own. It can be exhausting sometimes, asking for help - however stupid that sounds.

"Eh, don't worry C, Nix has his days. Afterlife is full of gonks that would pay you just to have a chance of working with you." "I just wish... He didn't need to be so harsh about that." The girl with colorful hair sipped the last of her liquor, soft expression present on her face. At this point Elegy caught herself staring, and she hid her face under her bangs. But did she hear right? Crystal needed Nix's help? Why would she- "Also, you know I prefer working with people who know their stuff. Can't let another gonk die on me," she played with her glass, turning the melting ice cubes inside left and right, much like Elegy's stomach at this moment. She wanted to scream 'I KNOW MY STUFF,' at the top of her lungs, but obviously that wouldn't work. She needed to approach her somehow. She had to.

***

"Heard you need help with some netrunnin'?" Suddenly the seat beside Crystal wasn't empty anymore, and her eyes met with black orbs radiating with confidence. "Did you listen in on us?" She shifted from a relaxed pose to a more stiff, ready-to-act one. Maybe it wasn't the best idea, but it worked! "Listen, Nix knows his shit and all, I get it. But to be honest? I can do anything he can - if not better - not counting the fact that I'm simply just a lot cooler to be around. You should ditch that old ex-corp, he and Rogue can go be pains in the ass together in that shitty booth of hers," Crystal's soft expression was long gone, replaced by way more annoyed and suspicious one. "Huh, you do gigs for Rogue?" "Sometimes. When she doesn't pair me up with assholes, that is." Elegy fiddled with her fingers, watching her hands; somehow her confidence began depleting, so she decided - it's now or never. "So, how about that - you help me, I help you." "Well, since you did listen in; what makes you think I'd just go and risk my life with a random gonk-" "You might wanna tune in and listen to the news then; rerun is about to start." Claire shouted from another end of the counter, serving drinks to a group of young mercs. Crystal's eyes shot back to the blue-haired gal, who just shrugged and turned her head to the TV.

The news lady began going on about the latest case of a corporation being targeted by a cyberterrorist known as The Plague; after their last attack, more than 2000 Biotechnica employees were stalled in their work. All employees on-site were found unconscious and poisoned, with no damage other than their security being compromised - there were traces of some top secret documents being stolen, which seemed more like a nasty joke left by the attacker rather than a slip-up. “The nasty joke being a dick. Drew it myself,” Elegy commented on the news, her hands intertwined behind the back of her head like some laid back anime character. All she got in response was a ‘I am still not convinced’ smirk, as Crystal went back to playing with her - now completely empty - glass. “They’re still clonin’ humans. Got all the evidence backed up on a shard, but got nobody I trust with it yet,” her expression was serious now, and she meant it. “They clone them, force them to think and feel, and then they experiment on them. Playing fucking god… No matter how helpful they were during the energy crisis and food industry, this is beyond fucked up.” "Holy shit,” a small chuckle escaped from Crystal, who seemed rather surprised by the sudden change of tone. “That really does sound fucked up. And you really pulled off something like that all by yourself?” “Well, can’t doubt Claire.” Elegy beamed a smile at the barkeep, who winked back while still working her beverage magic. ”They used to call me The Omen at first, it’s all silly really but still, that’s what I get for having a ‘signature move’ or whatever…” She began to ramble a bit, feeling the heat in her gut rising with every positive reaction she got out of her soon-to-be partner. “Hm. Okay. Tell me what’s up with that gig. I think we might work together quite well.” “...You mean it?” “Yep. So? Gimme something to work with!” “!! Okay, so there’s this new smart link prototype-”

***

“So if I help you steal that prototype for your Ashura, you’re gonna help me with cracking the security? That building is tight as shit you know-” “Yup! You won’t even have to lift a finger. In and out.” “And you need me because… You can’t drive a car?” “Yeah!” Her innocent smile was devastating in a way. Crystal couldn’t believe it at first, but it seemed that this girl was serious. “What the hell. Let’s do it. I’m Crystal, by the way.” She reached to the bubbly one next to her, with the intention of shaking her hand. Elegy returned the gesture with a little bit of hesitation, but quickly pushed all those feelings of doubt away - this was a time for celebration. “Elegy! You know, this calls for a toast. You ever tried David Martinez?”

[subpar-ghoulfriend]

Let’s have a baby

yandere!EraserMicx PREGNANT!Reader 

A terrible mix up leading to an accidental pregnancy? Or something more intentional? Either way now you were pregnant with (none other than the beloved power couple heroes) Eraserhead and Present Mic’s child. Time to discuss how co parenting is going to work. 

TW: pregnancy, artificial insemination, yandere elements, mentions of stalking, alludes to potential custody battle

You had been avoiding the two men for the past week, which was challenging seeing as they managed to find your phone number, address, and place of work. Any time you blocked their calls they got a new number. Two Pro Heroes versus a twenty something civilian, it was only a matter of time until you were cornered.

Now the couple stood between you and your apartment. You had a long shift at your job as a pet groomer and just wanted to get some rest.

Present Mic was the first to speak. "Hey lil momma, we heard you had work today so we brought you some dinner. We thought we could talk over a nice meal."

You had no response. You were tired, both physically and emotionally. You had been put through the ringer ever since meeting them at your doctors office. It was a total Jane the Virgin situation. You went in for an assessment about some supposed ovarian cysts and unknowing left artificially inseminated. There was a supposed mix up, a digital glitch that somehow merged your chart with the surrogates - apparently your names were super similar. Two weeks later you were called back into the doctor's office and informed of what took place. And now you were in this living nightmare.

And the two heroes had nothing to do with the error. There was totally a surrogate. They hadn't paid off your provider. And why would they? You had never met them - although given their patrols they may have seen you once or twice...

They were tearful when they were informed of the mix up, they had been waiting patiently through the whole process and now everything was thrown in chaos. They offered to compensate you for your service which sent you into a blind rage. They just assumed you would carry a child, a child with half of your DNA, and then give YOUR baby away. Rationally you understood that they had planned to be be the only parents to the child, but that was with a professional surrogate who understood the process, who didn't want the child in their life, just happy to help out a loving couple. But that wasn't you, you grew up wanting to be a mom, and now they would take that from you.

What if they tried to legally take sole custody of the baby? Surely they had some pull in the judicial system. Besides, they were a solid couple with money, while you were alone with no family and working two jobs. The thought made you sick to your stomach.

You were shaking as you tried to push past them. Maybe they would just disappear if you ignored them, a girl could dream. But instead they tagged along inside. Albeit you weren’t fighting them on it, you knew this had to happen eventually.

Aizawa easily found the cluttered dining table in your small apartment. You flinched when the loud one tried to help you shrug off your backpack. Taking a seat on the couch you waited for them to start berating you.

"Come sit at the table, dinner is getting cold," Eraser spoke for the first time.

"I'll eat later, I'm not hungry."

"You may not be, but the baby needs to eat."

You glared, how dare they insinuate you didn't know what your child needed. If your body was hungry, you ate. If you were full the baby was full too.

But, you complied, not wanting to argue, "Fine, but I ate a snack not too long ago."

As you ate, Mic kept you company, picking at some left overs, they clearly ate before their visit. Aizawa was rummaging through your place but you managed to hold your tongue until he began throwing things out of your fridge.

"What are you doing?" You hissed, getting up out of your seat.

"Mic and I will bring you groceries tomorrow. The food you have is barely safe for an adult, let alone a fetus."

"Are you kidding me? It's not like I'm chugging alcohol and living off Twinkies. Hey! I just bought those turkey slices. How is turkey bad?" You whined.

To make sure you wouldn't dig the food out trash he dumped it out of his container.

"Zashi, don't let me forget to empty the trash on our way out. Do you know how much salt is in deli meat? And there's no way you can drink any of this while you're pregnant." He gestures to the cans of soda.

As the frustration built you had to fight back tears. They couldn't come in to your home and start throwing out your things.

"Some of us don't make ridiculous money, I'm buying what I can afford and the doctor never had any problem with my health." You hissed.

Hizashi felt the tension thickening, "Hey hey hey, it's okay. Sho and I will go get you some good stuff. We just gotta watch out for you and baby."

And that was the end of your resolve, you stomped past the Hero and locked yourself in your bedroom. Finally tears began to drip down your cheeks.

Back in your kitchen Mic was chiding his boyfriend for being so tough on you.

"So I should just back down while she stuffs herself with junk food?"

Mic gave him a shrug, showing him a bottle on your counter, "At lest she's taking her prenatal vitamins?"

Grabbing the keys to your apartment Aizawa instructed Mic to wait with you while he got you better groceries. He would make copies of your keys on his was back.

You prayed they would leave soon. You were laying in your bed having cried yourself out. Barely into your second month of pregnancy. You still had to endure this for at least seven more months, but most likely much longer.

Next thing you knew you were opening your eyes and the clock read seven AM. By now your uninvited guests must be gone. Nervously you sat up, praying that you'd skip the morning sickness just once this week. You had always had a weak stomach and even the doctor was surprised you were already experiencing the symptom. Unfortunately the minute your feet touched the floor you knew what was coming. You sprinted to the restroom, not even checking to see if the duo had left.

God this was terrible, you didn't just hate throwing up, you were terrified of it. What if you started and never stopped? But it did come to an end. You wiped the water from your eyes and took a moment before standing from the floor. You screamed when a hand slid under your arm, helping you up. Another set of feet rushed to the bathroom.

" What's wrong?" Hizashi huffed as he skid to a stop.

You pulled arm free from Aizawa's grasp. "What are you two still doing here?"

You turned in the faucet to rinse your mouth. Trying to calm your stress, the nausea was trying to return.

Undeterred the scruff pulled your hair into a bun before rubbing your back. You debated returning to bed but that wouldn't get them out of your apartment. You told them you need to sit down, both of them nodding, still wearing their concerned expressions. They got you a glass of water before joining you on the couch. Stubborn men, you sat at the end of the couch so they couldn't both sit, but Mic decided to perch himself on the armrest.

He started petting your hair, "You feelin better little listener?" You nodded in response.

"I got you more food, let us know if your hungry."

You sighed in defeat, "I'm barely two months pregnant, I can fend for myself. What did you all want to talk about?"

You anxiously placed a hand on your stomach. Both men felt their hearts flutter recognizing your maternal instincts kicking in.

Aizawa let Mic begin, he was the more gentle of the two.

"Well, we figured we got off to a rough start. You got put in a tough situation. We shouldn't have assumed you didn't want a child so we're not mad at how you stormed out. But either way we expect to be in our baby's life. The two of us talked it over and we don't want to fight you if you want to be in their life too. So if you wanna be the mommy we're cool with it."

You could blame your reaction on your hormones for your response but you didn't, "Geez thank you so much for allowing me to be in MY child's life."

Aizawa placed a hand on the back of your neck, giving you a gentle massage. "Okay then, the three of us are gonna have a baby. That means you have to stop ignoring us. We can raise the baby together, without involving anyone else. But if we have to, we can always go the legal route for the baby's best interest." 

He knew it was a low blow, but the couple needed you to stop fighting them. Your eyes snapped to his and you shook your head in protest.

"Okay then we're all the same page," Aizawa reassured you.

Mic cheered, "Now we can focus on the fun stuff."

"Hun," Eraserhead caught his attention. "There's still a few more important things to figure out. We don't want you going back to that doctor. They're incompetent. We scheduled you an appointment with another's clinic for next week. Okay?"

You couldn't find your voice after how easily he threatened to take your baby. So you just nodded. Half listening.

"Good. We also went ahead and programmed our numbers into your phone. We need to be able to check in with you."

"Okay, but I can't use my phone at one of my jobs."

"About that lil momma," Mic started. "You work a lot, which is totally bad ass, but we don't think you leave enough time to rest and take care of yourself."

You tried to protest but Aizawa cut you off, "You also shouldn't be working around so many animals. Even though we love animals, they can be unpredictable and one dog can trigger all the rest into a frenzy."

You were dumbfounded, "I've never heard of anything like that happening. One of my coworkers was pregnant last year, she worked until her maternity leave. Plus I need to be able to pay my bills. And don't offer to compensate me again."

"Why do you have to view it as compensation? We just want to take care of the mother of our child. Just think about it. Mic and I have to go take care of some business but we'll be back later this week."

---

Back at their home Hizashi was dramatically splayed on their bed.

"Babe why are you pouting?" Aizawa asked.

"Why can't we just bring her home already?"

Aizawa sympathized with his better half, but they needed to be methodical. He reminded Hizashi that they didn't need to cause her even more stress, especially so early into the pregnancy. If they played their cards right they would have their happy little family soon enough.

If they could ease you in to the relationship everything would be easier in the long run. They had been managing just fine until now, they could wait a few more months.

He joined Hizashi on the couch. Mic was comforting himself the way he usually did when he felt like this. He was scrolling through the countless photos they had collected since their chance encounter with you over a year ago. 

[samstree]

A Study in Blushing

In which Jaskier makes a surprising discovery and decides to test it out.

(tooth rotting fluff, blushing geralt, soft jaskier, love confessions, kissing, winter at kaer morhen, rated teen, 3000 words)

Also, I know witchers can't blush in canon but seriously we should all know better.

read on AO3

“Gods damn it, bard! I know Geralt tolerates all your shit because he’s in love with you, but you gotta put things back where they belong!”

Lambert grumbles something more all the while putting the training swords back on the shelf, and Jaskier’s mind stops.

The world zeroes in on the words he’s in love with you and suddenly Jaskier can’t form words.

“W...What did you—”

“I said—” Lambert throws down the last one with a clunk. “—the swords go back on the shelf!”

“Geralt...is in love with me?” Jaskier breathes, unbelieving.

Lambert pauses, “Don’t you know?”

“No...?”

“Fuck. Pretty boy can’t get his head out of his ass and now I have to suffer.”

With that, Lambert tries to shoulder past Jaskier but the bard is having none of it. “No!” he puts a hand on Lambert’s chest. “Don’t even think about it. How? Since when? And how do you know?”

Lambert mumbles something unintelligible, before sighing long-sufferingly. “It’s too obvious, Buttercup.”

“How is it obvious? Does Geralt walk around with the words ‘I’m smitten with my bard and all the grumpy face is faked’ written on his forehead? How, pray tell, is it obvious?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” Lambert, the bastard, raises an eyebrow in amusement. “Did you truly not know?”

“No!”

Jaskier is so close to grabbing Lambert by the collar just to shake some answers out of him, and finally, the youngest wolf takes pity on him.

“He looks at you differently when he thinks you are doing something cute. He trips over his words after you call him sweet names. The worst of it all—he blushes any time you are close. Blushes, like a fucking maiden. Urgh, I’m gonna throw up.”

“Oh,” Jaskier deflates, “Witchers blush?”

“See for yourself.” Lambert rolls his eyes, walking past Jaskier with a few long strides. “And put the swords back!”

 ~~

Jaskier decides to test it out, because there’s no way Geralt is in love with him.

Loving him as a friend, sure, why not? Despite what ignorant folks claim about witchers, Jaskier knows by experience that Geralt has a heart bigger and more capable of love than most. But Geralt being in love with Jaskier? Like, he-wants-to-kiss-him in love with him? No way.

Blushing because of him? Ha! More like in Jaskier’s wildest dreams.

Although that would be really cute.

“Pass me the salt, honey?” Jaskier reaches out a hand to the other end of the table, and Geralt passes the salt without thinking.

Hmm.

No tripping over words.

“Thank you, dear heart.”

He’s putting as much sweetness in his voice as possible and Geralt is…normal. His eyebrows are raised to the roof, and there’s a faint smile by the corners of his eyes. But that’s just how Geralt is…right? He’s home and he’s relaxed, he smiles with his eyes rather than his lips, and it’s got nothing to do with Jaskier.

Jaskier chews, staring at Geralt subtly.

Not subtle enough.

“Something on my face?”

“No—” Jaskier chokes, hacking like a fool and tipping sideways. “Just—too much salt.”

Geralt scoffs, the faint smile turning into a brief grin, and hands over a cup of water.

Jaskier wants the ground to swallow him whole.

 ~~

The snow is terrible.

The whole keep is freezing like an ice cube, and Jaskier has to blow on his hands from time to time just to function in the library. He’s the lucky one, in the grand scheme of things. The witchers still need to go outside to fix up the walls and tend to the animals.

Geralt hasn’t been back in a while.

Jaskier puts down the quill he’s been chewing anxiously and rushes out the door—

And bumps right into Geralt’s chest.

“Sweet Melitele, that’s a lot of snow!” Jaskier spits out the snow knocked into his mouth, before looking at Geralt properly. “Oh, you’re hurt.”

The cut on Geralt’s eyebrow is a small one, but Jaskier worries nonetheless. Geralt doesn’t look impressed, only walks straight towards the small medkit sitting on a shelf.

“Repairment has to wait. The wind is bad.” Geralt grunts, trying to touch the wound and missing by a mile.

“Here, let me.”

Jaskier takes the salve from Geralt’s slightly shaking hands and pulls out a handkerchief from his pocket. Geralt is frowning so hard he can crack a walnut with those eyebrows.

“Relax,” Jaskier murmurs, blowing gently at the cut while dabbing at the blood. Upon deeming it clean enough, he applies a scoop of the salve that smells of celandine and mint. “Don’t move. It’ll only hurt a bit.”

Geralt keeps shying away from Jaskier’s ministration so he has no choice but to wrap his other hand around Geralt’s jaw, which manages to still him instantly.

“There,” Jaskier smiles. “Shouldn’t need anything more. Your witcher healing will kick in soon.”

Geralt tilts his head with that soft look in his eyes. “My thanks. Wouldn’t have survived without you.”

“No shit! Who goes out in a storm like this one? If you ask me, Vesemir is too tough on you. Look at you…” Jaskier coos, taking Geralt’s hands. “You are like a popsicle, dear heart.”

He tries to rub some heat back into Geralt’s freezing hands, his skin dry and rough. There’s still some hand cream left in Jaskier’s room. Maybe he can fetch it later. Geralt needs to take care of his hands better when his living depends on them.

Geralt groans, looking away. The frames of his ears are beet red too; he must have been outside without a hat for all this time. Jaskier wants to cover them with his warm palms, only to have his hands batted away.

“No, there’s—I’m fine,” Geralt mumbles. If Jaskier didn’t know better, he’d think the way Geralt avoids his eyes is a result of shyness. The bard can snort at the ridiculous idea and stubbornly presses his hands over Geralt’s ears.

Oh.

His ears are red because they are so warm, not cold

Now that they are standing so close, only a hand’s breadth away, Geralt looks stunned, his eyes dilating, only leaving a ring of gold around those dark pupils. There’s even a layer of pink dusting over his pale cheeks.

A blushing witcher.

Oh, this is interesting.

“Geralt, sweetie?” Jaskier husks, lowering his voice especially on the pet name. “Are you warm enough?”

“Um, sure…not cold.”

And he watches as Geralt’s mind ceases to work in front of his eyes, the blush deepening. It’s still a subtle thing. No wonder Jaskier has missed it all this time. Calloused hands wrap around Jaskier’s wrists, and the bard finally relents, letting go.

If he spends the rest of the day sitting at the desk with a quill in hand, thinking about the way Geralt’s skin feels against his and the warmth of his cheeks, nobody needs to know.

 ~~

Jaskier doesn’t know what to do with this piece of new information.

Geralt does blush.

Because of him.

He tries to repeat the experiment. Just to be sure, he tells himself. And every time it yields the same results. As soon as he gets into Geralt’s space, the witcher either stumbles through his words or gets all flustered all over. The fondness is there too, just in a very Geralt and very unnoticeable manner, soft and almost smiling.

Jaskier is so drunk on power.

The only thing left is to tell Geralt that he loves him too. That he’s also in love in love with him, as in an I-also-want-to-kiss-you kind of way, and then… they can finally kiss!

Oh, just inwardly rehearsing the scene makes Jaskier dizzy, and somehow he ends up smiling to himself when he’s so deep in thoughts planning the conversation, once even in front of company.

Lambert throws him a side-eye and a disgusted grunt, but Jaskier can’t care less.

He finds the perfect night, and even takes a sip of White Gull from Eskel’s cup just to calm his nerves.

And he realizes too late that, perhaps, the strongest witcher brew might be a mistake.

The effect is stronger than he anticipated, and Jaskier is giggling through the fog in his mind within mimutes, somehow ending up on Geralt’s lap, draped over his shoulder in a heap of soft, pliant mess.

He rests his temple against Geralt’s and nearly tips backward if not for the strong arm that catches him by the waist.

“Oops, thank the gods I have my big witcher here!” Jaskier runs the tips of his fingers across Geralt’s stubbles. It tickles, and the blush is back, unmistakably, since Geralt is as sober as the day. “I’d fall over on my butt without you! And falling over doesn’t look good before saying important things, does it?”

Huh, he’s said it out loud.

“Saying what things?”

Well, if it’s out there…

“Where do I start again? Right of course, with how beautiful you look when you’re like this!”

His fingers move to tuck the curtain of white hair behind Geralt’s ears. No matter how much Jaskier loves it when Geralt wears his hair down, he needs to look into those amber eyes without obstruction. The molten gold gleams with surprise and Jaskier wants to drown in it.

“I’m not…” Geralt splutters, before closing his mouth with a pop. The flush is stretching down his neck now, and Jaskier chases it with a hand.

“You are!” he insists petulantly. “You are blushing and it’s beautiful. Adorable too! I wouldn’t know if Lambert hadn’t told me—” he burps. “—um, everything.”

“Told you what?”

The alarm in Geralt’s voice should wake Jaskier up immediately, but alas, the White Gull is no joke.

“Shh!” he stage-whispers, “It’s a secret! Don’t tell Geralt! I need to do it right!”

Jaskier lets out a happy sound and leans into the comforting embrace that he loves so much. Under his fingers, he can feel heat still gather under Geralt’s skin, making him look equally annoyed and fond.

“You are not making sense, Jask.”

“Nothing about you makes sense either, but I’m here. And ready.” Jaskier smiles and presses a chaste kiss on Geralt’s cheekbone, humming another happy sound.

Kissing Geralt is nice, gives Jaskier all the fuzzy feelings.

But somehow, that was also the wrong thing to do, because Geralt has gone stiff under Jaskier’s body. The next thing he knows, the witcher is struggling to untangle their limbs and leaving him empty and cold.

“Don’t…do this,” he murmurs, upset. “Just…don’t.”

The anguish the seeps through Geralt’s voice somehow manages to get through the muddy cloud in Jaskier’s mind.

“Wait, what?” Jaskier rights himself on unsteady feet, but his witcher is long gone. Eskel and Lambert are still nursing their tankards by the fire, and Jaskier wobbles past them without a care. He needs to find Geralt, who apparently charged right out of the great hall and into the cold night.

The heavy wooden doors open and Jaskier is hit with the unrelenting wind. The snow has stopped and partially melted, and frozen all over again. It’s the worst kind. Jaskier takes his steps with caution but still, it’s too slippery.

Okay. Mind. Clear. He needs it to be.

“Geralt?” he calls out, churning with anxiety. “Geralt, where are you?”

Damn his witcher speed. Now Jaskier is walking in the dark and freezing his balls off without an ounce of idea where Geralt might be. Oh, the stalls. Roach must be the first thought Geralt has when he needs to talk. Jaskier shudders, hugging his doublet tighter to fend off the wind and searches for the stalls blindly.

“Geralt, are you—ow!”

He walks right into a pillar and falls on his butt. Before Jaskier can register the pain, a pair of hands are picking him up by the armpits and he stumbles into Geralt’s embrace.

There’s a familiar sizzle of Igni, and the torch by the stalls is roaring with life.

“What are you doing out here?” A coat is tossed over Jaskier’s shoulders and he’s ushered back towards the building.

“Looking for you, you idiot!” Jaskier squawks, albeit grateful for the thick fur coat. A few more minutes he would lose all feelings in his toes. “Running into the night like this, who knows what can happen to you!”

“So you followed me out drunk and with no coat and I’m the idiot? Gods, I don’t know why I even…”

The doors creak open and there’s light and warmth and the smell of mead, but Jaskier’s heart sinks.

“I don’t know why you even bother too,” Jaskier muses, suddenly feeling like a scolded child.

Geralt steers Jaskier past the other wolf witchers and straight into his room, where the heat feels like a furnace on Jaskier’s frozen fingers—Geralt has been secretly tending to Jaskier’s fire for weeks after the human came down with a cold upon arrival at the keep. He’s too good to Jaskier.

“You are too good to me.”

“And you are a pain in the ass.”

Geralt sits Jaskier down in front of the fire rather grumpily, before joining him and pulling the coat even tighter. He’s still mad, just a smidge, but the droop of his eyes speaks more of sadness.

“Hey, talk to me,” Jaskier coaxes, squeezing Geralt’s knee in reassurance. Whatever argument coming their way, he can’t stand Geralt being sad.

“How drunk are you?”

“Not very.” If Geralt walking out hadn’t put Jaskier out of his daze, the wind sure finished the job. “White gull passes quickly. Hmm, who would have thought…”

“I need to tell you something.”

“But I need to tell you something too! It’s important.”

“Let me go first?”

The plead comes out in a whisper, and who is Jaskier to reject Geralt like this, wide-eyed and earnest?

“I never meant for you to know, and certainly not on a night like this, but Jaskier…” Geralt heaves out a breath, determined and so so brave. Jaskier is drawn closer to Geralt’s body like a magnet, ready to soothe, to meet him halfway. “I am in love with you.”

“Geralt.”

“I know you don’t feel the same, and it’s okay. You make a living singing about loving. Hell, you make a living simply by loving. Music, adventures, people, so many people. It���s okay that your heart is too big for me. But, Jask, I can’t take it anymore.”

“I don’t…not…”

“You flirt with people. You…touch them and kiss them and praise them. It’s okay. It’s the way you are. I understand that when you do the same with me it doesn’t mean anything more, but, Jaskier, I need you to stop.”

“Oh,” Jaskier breathes. “Do you hate it? I thought…differently.”

The smile that tugs at Geralt’s lips can only be described as crestfallen.

“The opposite. I love it too much. I’ll always want more. Always. I’m greedy like this.”

The guilt weighing down on Geralt’s shoulders is not a good sight, a personal offense to Jaskier. His hand reaches out on its own volition, tilting Geralt’s chin up so their gazes meet. The blush is back.

What did Jaskier do in his past life to deserve this man?

“That’s what I was going to say.”

“That you are greedy?”

The frown remains on Geralt’s face, and Jaskier smooths it with the pad of his thumb.

“No. That I am in love with you. Gods, for someone who’s not a bard, you sure know how to steal someone’s line from the beginning,” Jaskier chuckles. “I’ve been trying to tell you that I return your feelings. But alas, you know the coward that I am.”

“You are…not,” he protests, blinking.

The way Geralt defends him on instinct only makes Jaskier’s insides melt into a pool of fuzziness.

“In this, yes. How I fucked up so bad is a mystery. That’s just me I guess, trying to love you but ending up hurting you, making you feel like I’m stringing you along like anyone else.”

“I’m not?”

“No, you oaf.” Jaskier bops his nose. “You are the most important person in the world for me. This is the most important thing in the world to me! I love you and I love it when you blush. Also, I’d very much like to kiss you, if you want it too.”

Jaskier bites into his lips and watches as Geralt’s gaze drops to them, the pink of his cheeks spreading into the most gorgeous crimson. “I want to. Kiss you, that is.”

“Good.”

Jaskier wets his lips with a peak of the tongue and watches the same gesture returned. Even if the alcohol has left his system, the intoxication remains, only this time because of Geralt’s slightly dilated pupils and quickened breathing. He leans in, not being able to resist—

“Did you say ‘return my feelings’?” Geralt dodges away, looking incredulous. “Jaskier, did you know? And what was that about blushing?”

“Um…” Now Jaskier is the one to splutter. Luckily, he has a trick up his sleeves or two that can make sure Geralt forgets about every last thought there is.

Jaskier lunges forward and tackles his witcher onto the soft rug and kisses him within an inch of his life, deepening it like there’s no tomorrow. Judging by the dazed look on Geralt’s face as he comes up for air, the method is working.

Cupping Geralt’s rosy cheeks, Jaskier croaks proudly, “Tell you later?”

“We have all the later we need.” Geralt’s smile is blinding, and equally mischievous. Without a moment of pause, Jaskier ends up the one flipped onto his back and being kissed until he shudders with pleasure.

Jaskier has to thank Lambert properly one day, considering Geralt will certainly go after him with a vengeance.

For now, having Geralt on top of him and slowly melting into a contented mess should be enough. If he’s allowed, Jaskier vows silently, he would really like to make Geralt blush for him for the rest of his life.

~~

Jaskier will totally make it his life's mission to tease Geralt endlessly and see his beautiful blush. 🥰🥰

On another note, I challenged myself to write 2000 words exactly, and this ended up, um, 3000 words exactly. I’ll count it as a win anyway ;)

Tagging: @wanderlust-t @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @constantlytiredpigeon @behonesthowsmysinging @kitcatkim3 @endless-whump @rey-a-nonbinary-bisexual @llamasdumpsterfire @dapandapod

Please feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

I'm sorry but i'm addicted to our boy Spamton- I have a little unique request here. So this takes place where Spamton just moves in the Queen's mansion, he meets the reader and immediately falls for their kind words and gestures. Weeks pass, and he goes to see them, but catches them talking and hanging out with Swatch.. He gets really jealous to the point of changing his style to match Swatch's

"Oh [y/n]! Have You Met Our Newest Guest?"

"Uh, I don't believe-"

"He's An Interesting Addison Who Made A Big Name For Himself! Ohohoho!" Queen laughed joyously, pausing to sip her glass of battery acid. "I Wonder How He Got So Rich...No Matter. As My Peon, I Order You Greet Him......Whenever It's Convenient For You."

"Sure thing. I'll go now." With a respectful nod, you set off to the mansion's guest chambers to meet this newcomer. You've lived here for a long time--and somewhat reluctantly since Queen decided to make you one of her peons one day. But life was actually pretty good.

It wasn't like you had anything better to do, so if she needed someone to help her with plans that..didn't seem all-that urgent, you'll offer your assistance. She let you stay in the mansion for free and never made you do anything if you weren't feeling up to it.

For a tyrannical ruler she was rather kind.

Yet you didn't wanna take advantage of her hospitality, so you'd just listen to whatever she says. And if she wants you to meet this celebrity as part of her endless lists of requests, then you'll happily oblige. But you were eager too since you've seen his face on TV a lot. It felt like an honor.

After wandering the corridors of deactivated puzzles, Mona Lisa-esque portraits, and meticulously-placed pottery, you finally arrived at the guest rooms. You hummed a small tune as you passed by each one, stopping when you noticed one door was open.

Peeking inside, you saw the Addison still setting up things. A phone was tucked between his shoulder and ear as he moved a box whilst rambling to whoever was on the other end of the line.

"Yea! I promise I won't let you down, okay? Soon I'll be bigger than ever before! I know I'm already a big shot but....haha, yeah, I shouldn't get carried away. Okay. Right..we'll discuss more of this tomorrow. Thanks!"

After hanging up the phone and returning it to the receiver, he finally noticed you and smiled. "Hey, hey! Haven't seen your face around here yet. But surely you know mine, right?"

"Yeah." You smiled, not wanting to shy away from talking with him. "Spamton, right?"

"Everybody's favorite number-one rated salesman!!" He laughed. "It's good you know me..'cuz soon ALL of Cyber World will know my name! It's a pleasure to meet you...?"

"[Y/n]. I'm one of Queen's peons." You shook his hand politely. The energy that radiated from him was so bright. Just as much as his pearly smile was.

Stepping inside, you glanced around at the luxurious furniture. He definitely got the higher-class rooms, with the addition of a large window that showed the neon green meridians that stretched across the night sky. It was certainly a beautiful view to fall asleep to. "Need help unpacking?"

"Oh--sure!!" At first Spamton seemed surprised by your offer, but he nodded. "If you want, be my guest. And while we unpack, I gotta ask you..how's it being Queen's peon?"

............

Weeks passed, and you've gotten to know Spamton more and more. You realized he was actually a sweet down-to-earth guy all around. Although he was on the phone a lot, he'd make time to hang out with you, so you two became fast friends.

He was truly living the best life. Posters of his car advertisements were littered all over the city, and the Swatchlings attended to his every need. Though one thing was hard to admit, even when it seemed like he had it all:

You were his only friend now that everyone else is intimidated by his status--as they would shy away from conversing with him--and the Addisons, well, abandoned him out of jealousy.

Obviously that made him worry about driving you away, especially when he's on the phone nonstop. But...the fact you've been so kind to him in every word and gesture, treating him like a regular person and not some untouchable celebrity, was quite endearing. Most admired him for his products, not his personality.

Your kindness made him fall for you hard and fast, ever since day one. He wasn't sure if this was a good idea; to let it get in the way of his business.

But what the hell? He was a big shot! He can afford to go a bit bigger and take more risks. Living in this mansion with someone who loved him would be the perfect dream.

There was a much bigger dream that his valued caller insisted he focused on, but that can come later.

So this morning, Spamton set out to find you to address these feelings once and for all. Yet he was rather nervous. Addisons were most confident in selling products, not so much...everything else. But he didn't wanna back down. He kept smiling no matter what.

As he checked inside the color café that he usually frequented, he saw you eating at the table. He noticed you weren't alone but with Swatch, talking and...

Laughing with them?

And just like that, his smile faded much like his hope.

Of course, the head butler had their ways to swoon people. He tried not to think of it as anything more than just their personality. It's just their way to entice returning customers.

That's all...right?

Spamton ducked behind one of the displays, listening in on your conversation to determine if he should proceed or not.

"By the way, we've known each other for a while and..I've always wanted to ask you something.."

"Yes? What is your inquiry?"

He held his breath. This is exactly what he feared. Knowing that you've been here longer, it's obvious you'd be closer to that damn bird-

"Your outfit."

Then he exhaled shakily, relieved. 'What are you getting so worked up for, idiot?' He thought in the back of his mind, but he continued eavesdropping.

"Did the Queen make it or give it to you? It's very stylish and really makes you stand out from the other Swatchlings."

"Ah, in fact I decided this look for myself." Swatch chuckled softly, raising a wing to adjust their glasses. "The tailor did marvelous work with my vision: black suit, tinted glasses. Very fashionable, is it not?"

"It is. I like it a lot."

"Why thank you. I see why our Lady Grace admires you. Just for that compliment, I'll give you a discount on any of our products in the gift shop."

"Should be every day if you ask me." You joked, earning another chuckle from them.

Seeing all of this and the way you two spoke like close friends was a jab in Spamton's heart-shaped object. 'So [y/n] likes people who stand out? Well I can stand out, too..' He thought bitterly as he stormed out of the shop without either of you knowing he was there.

Why should he settle with being a blank-slate Addison like the rest of them? He didn't consider himself one anymore.

Today, he told his valued caller, he was gonna be a whole new person.

It would help him get closer to both of his dreams, but there was only one on his mind now.

............

Later that night as you were getting ready for bed, you heard a knock at the door. You huffed in annoyance, assuming Queen needed you for something.

She had a knack for disturbing you at ungodly hours. But knowing better than to ignore her, you went to answer the door anyways-

To some strange black-haired guy in a black suit and white turtleneck sweater.

"Hi, um...can I help you?"

"[Y/n]? It's me."

"....wait....Spamton?"

"Yeah!" The salesman laughed, throwing his arms out and making a pose. "Whatdya think of me now?"

Perplexed, you looked him up and down. He ditched the lime-green pants, instead wearing white trousers. And his hair was slicked back. But what was most peculiar about him were his glasses, tinted with pink and yellow lenses.

Had you not known any better, you would've thought Swatch suddenly shrunk and became robotized.

"Cool but..you kinda look like Swatch a little bit. Was that on purpose?" You mused.

"...haha....yeah uh..funny story. Um.." He dropped the act, losing his trademark grin as he wondered how to explain himself and this sudden transformation. You could tell he wanted to talk inside the room, so you let him in and shut the door.

"I don't recall Queen mentioning any costume contest-"

"It's not a costume." He muttered, uncomfortably rubbing his hands together as he looked at you with sadness. "This is who I am now. The new me."

"..huh? You serious?" When he nodded, you frowned slightly. "I'm confused. You don't look like an Addison anymore-"

"That's the point...! I...I don't wanna be associated with them anymore. I decided to stand out, y'know? If you're gonna be a big shot, ya gotta stand out from the crowd!" He forced a laugh that sounded rather glitchy.

You didn't buy it. It wasn't like him to do this out of the blue.

"Spamton, why imitate Swatch of all people? And why out of the blue like this? I mean..I don't mind if you like their style. But I didn't even recognize you until you spoke."

Try as he might, he couldn't make any better excuses. So seeing that he was cornered made him finally admit his jealousy, overhearing your conversation with Swatch while he was browsing--when he really wasn't, but he didn't wanna come off as creepy.

His voice glitched further due to stress, accidentally blurting out some kind of...flirtatious term as he explained how much you meant to him since day one.

You weren't sure if he meant to say "hot single" on purpose. Though you were flattered that such a famous guy like him...actually had a crush on you, an ordinary Darkner who just fetched the Queen's stick wherever she threw it.

You found it hard to believe he thought of you that way..so you kept your own feelings buried. So to see that it's mutual was a relief, and it made you smile.

Spamton, on the other hand, was stressing the hell out. So much so he didn't even see your smile. He just saw himself being stupid the more he rambled on.

It was such a stupid, stupid reason to get insecure--to the point of changing his entire appearance without warning. All because you were friends with a butler who was doing their job???

How selfish can he get when he already had everything he wanted and more?

When he did acknowledge your small smile, he thought you were holding yourself back from laughing. But you had every right to laugh and call him a joke for thinking this will get your attention.

As he finished talking, he could see your smile fade and huffed. He waited for you to tell him how stupid he looks and to go back to being the plain old Addison you met.

Instead of ridiculing him you...hugged him?

At this point you were sitting on the bed together. Of course yours wasn't as massive as his was, but it was big enough for you two to share.

"Spammy, I'm flattered you like me in that way but...you didn't have to do all of this to get my attention. I promise there's nothing going on between Swatch and I. We're just friends. They're not replacing you or anything."

"I know, it's just.." Taking off the glasses, he set them aside before hugging you tightly, head buried in your chest. "I don't wanna lose the only person in this damn place who makes me feel like myself. Who loves me for me, not my success. And...I-I felt like I had to change something about myself to make sure of that."

"Well..you don't need to change anymore. I love you no matter what you look like."

He blinked, his face turning as red as his cheeks.

You could sense his embarrassment from the way he tensed up in your arms and chuckled, patting his hair softly. "Just..don't feel pressured to change for me..or anybody for that matter, okay? Or at least let me know if you're gonna change things up again."

"You don't think..I look stupid or creepy like this?"

"No. Honestly you look pretty handsome. Black hair suits you well."

Hearing those words made him breathe a small sigh of relief. He nodded and hugged you tighter.

His new looks were staying for good.

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 5,340 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Hershel's Farm Warnings: Language, domestic violence, fear and anxiety A/N: Here with some Protective!Daryl for ya'll! Summary: When Daryl finds the reader outside in the rain in the middle of the night, he gives her a dry place to sleep, but the next day it causes problems with her asshole of a boyfriend.

Your name: submit What is this?

Daryl couldn’t sleep. He’d tossed and turned restlessly in his tent and finally decided to get up and do a perimeter check just for some goddamned thing to do to pass the time. A heavy rain was falling and it bothered him not being able to hear anything over the deluge.

He shouldered his crossbow and sheathed his knife, grabbing his flashlight from its place next to his cot. He slipped out of his tent and started through the maze of tents. That’s when he saw you. It looked like you were sincerely hoping he wouldn’t, like you were trying to blend into the tree trunk you were leaning against, sheltering as much as you could beneath the oak, obviously somewhat wet from the rain and shivering slightly.

Daryl’s brow drew down over his eyes and he headed straight for you. “What the hell are ya doin’ out here alone in the dark in the middle of a damn thunderstorm?”

You didn’t answer but you did raise your eyes to his, hugging your arms more tightly around yourself. He watched another shiver wrack through you. The archer frowned. “Why ain’t ya in with your guy?” he asked, jutting a thumb in the direction of the tent you shared with your boyfriend. Daryl didn’t like him at all... Frankly he thought the guy was a controlling piece of shit, and he had a hunch that he might be worse even than that.

You avoided his eyes again. “We, uhh—had a fight,” you murmured. Daryl could easily read the embarrassment and shame on your face.

“That don’t explain why you’re out here in the rain,” Daryl drawled.

You continued to avoid his eyes and didn’t answer. He could think of a couple reasons why you’d be out here instead of inside the dry tent, and neither of them were good. Either he’d kicked you out or you’d left because you were afraid of him, afraid of what would happen if you stayed. Either way, there was no way in hell Daryl was gonna let you spend the night outside in the cold autumn rain.

“Ya ain’t stayin’ out here in the rain. C’mon,” he said, nudging his head back in the direction of his own tent. He turned to lead the way and glanced back over his shoulder to see you hesitating to follow him. “If ya stay out here all night, all soakin’ wet like ya are, yer gonna catch yer death. C’mon.”

This time you followed him, still shivering.

Daryl held the tent flap open for you and you stepped inside, your arms still wrapped tightly around yourself. He followed and zipped the flap closed on the rain and night. When he turned you were standing awkwardly in the middle of the tent. Daryl set his crossbow down and clicked on the lantern next to his cot. He replaced the flashlight and pulled off his jacket. He held it out to you.

You gave him a questioning look.

“I can see ya shiverin’. Take it. Can’t have ya gettin’ pneumonia. We’ve already gone through too many of Hershel’s antibiotics.”

You accepted it from him. “Thanks,” you said.

He watched you pull it on, anxiously chewing his bottom lip as the fabric swallowed up your frame. He sat down on the floor across from you and pulled his knife out and his sharpening stone, just for something to do. He needed to busy his hands, because with you in that small space with him he was suddenly feeling nervous. “Make yourself at home,” he said, nodding toward his cot on the opposite wall.

You sat down on the edge a little gingerly and watched as he drew the blade of his knife across the stone.

He kept his eyes fixed on what he was doing but his deep voice broke through the pattering of the rain on the tent. “Ya wanna talk about it?”

You shrugged deeper into his jacket. It still held the warmth of his body and it smelled like him—musky leather, campfire smoke, and the outside air. “I don’t know,” you admitted.

The sharp noise of his blade punctuated the silence. “He kick ya out or… did ya need to get out?” This time his eyes flickered up to your face.

He watched you gulp, but you held his eyes. The warm lantern light threw the angles of your face into sharp relief. Your eyelashes cast long shadows on your cheeks.

Daryl’s light blue eyes moved back down to his hands. “S’alright. Ya ain’t gotta say.”

You bit at the inside of your cheek and couldn’t help another shiver that ran up your back. The archer looked up at you again immediately, concern furrowing his brow. He set his knife aside and climbed to his feet.

He unzipped the flap of the tent and stepped out. He met your questioning gaze with a nod. “I’ll be right back.”

This left you alone in his tent for a short time, just the hammering of the rain to keep you company. Your eyes wandered around the contents. It was a little unkempt, with clothes piled haphazardly in one corner and the edges of the canvas floor cluttered with tools and random items. There were half-finished crossbow bolts piled on a box that was serving as a side table, but something beneath them caught your eye. You gently brushed aside the wooden shafts and carefully lifted what had drawn your attention. It was delicate and brittle but you recognized it immediately as you carefully laid it out flat on your palm.

One day in the summer you had been collecting firewood for the group, eager to do something useful and needing some space for a while. You’d come upon a vine bursting with crimson flowers and as you’d stood and admired it, such a simple but beautiful thing, you’d watched hummingbirds flitting between the blossoms.

Wanting to know the name of the plant, you’d plucked a bloom and brought it back to the archer to identify. He’d taken hardly a glance at it before telling you its name. “Coral honeysuckle,” he drawled. “Ya can crush the berries and use ‘em on bee stings.”

“Coral honeysuckle,” you repeated. “There were tons of hummingbirds on it.”

He nodded. “Mhm. They like the nectar,” he said, holding the flower back out to you.

“Keep it,” you said with a smile, “as payment for your identification services.”

Daryl’s heart jumped at the smile on your face and he twirled the bloom between his fingers as he watched you retreat back toward the group.

This looked like the very same flower you had picked. He’d obviously pressed it underneath something to preserve it. The vibrant red petals were only slightly muted in color. He’d kept it all these months? You puzzled over this as you replaced it where you’d found it and arranged the crossbow bolts over it again. It was hard to ignore the warm feeling growing right between your lungs, threatening to spill outward.

A few minutes later, Daryl came into the tent again. There were raindrops on his shirt and caught in his hair. He had a small mug clutched in his hands and you could see spirals of steam rising from the surface. He extended it toward you and you accepted it, puzzled as you looked inside.

“Tea?” you asked, looking back up as Daryl settled onto the floor again.

He nudged his nose up at you in a nod. “Mhm. I dunno if it’s any good. I think it’s some ginger-lemon thing Maggie brought to help with Lori’s nausea. But it’s hot. And you’re still cold,” he said. He felt nervous under the bewildered gaze you were giving him.

This man had just gone out into a thunderstorm to heat water for you and bring you tea simply because he’d seen you shiver. Not to mention that you were wrapped in his coat and he was sheltering you from the storm when your own boyfriend had—his voice broke your train of thought.

“I told ya. Can’t have ya gettin’ sick.” Daryl picked up his knife again and went back to sharpening it.

It was silent for some time as you sipped at the tea and watched the archer work on his knives diligently. You didn’t know that he could feel your eyes on him and it was driving him crazy. His body seemed to respond to you like you were a drug and he was an addict. He did his best to keep it under control. After all, you were technically spoken for, even if the guy was a complete douchebag at best.

But finally you spoke, setting the empty mug aside and sitting farther back on his cot, pulling your boots off and folding your legs under you. “Can I ask you something?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, grabbing the next knife that needed sharpening from its sheath.

“What do you think of—of my boyfriend?” you asked. Your cheeks immediately flushed. You felt stupid even asking the question. You already knew the answer and you knew where this conversation would lead. You knew what you needed to do, but you were afraid to do it. Did you really think someone else saying what you thought out loud was going to somehow give you the courage to go through with what needed to happen?

Daryl’s hands froze and he looked up at you, his eyes narrowed and fixated on your face for a long moment. He averted them back down and resumed his work again just as suddenly as he had stopped. “Don’t matter what I think.”

“It matters to me,” you said quietly.

The silence between you was suddenly thick, like a stagnant room full of humidity, the air heavy. The raindrops on the tent seemed to surround you and insulate you from everything else, from the rest of the world. The atmosphere was almost intoxicating, disorienting.

Eventually, Daryl’s blue eyes lifted again and fell on your face. He sighed heavily. “Ya really want to know what I think?” You nodded. “I think ya deserve better.”

Your heart skipped a beat as your eyebrows lifted in surprise. You’d expected Daryl to call him an asshole. You hadn’t expected that stated so explicitly. And you really didn’t expect him to go on.

“Either he threw ya out of your own damn tent into a thunderstorm in the middle of the night, or ya had to get out because being outside in a thunderstorm in the dark was a better option than bein’ in there with him. What kinda man is that?” He scowled for a moment as he thought about how much he wanted to drag the guy out of your tent, give him a few good punches, and leave his ass in the rain. He turned back to his knives.

You were silent, consumed by your thoughts, but eventually you yawned and Daryl looked up immediately. He systematically put away his tools and then he grabbed some balled up clothes to use as a pillow. He also grabbed his poncho. His eyes lifted and met yours. “Ya take the cot. I’m good down here,” he said.

“Oh, you don’t have to—I’ll go—”

Daryl let out a scoff. “What are ya gonna do? Go sleep out under that tree?” He shook his head and settled down on the floor, leaning back onto the makeshift pillow and draping his arm over his eyes. “Wasn’t a question anyhow. Just get the lantern when you’re settled in.”

You couldn’t help smiling at him on the floor where he was stretched out under his poncho, a knife right beside him. You watched his ribs rise and fall with his breathing a few times and the butterflies in your stomach made you realize that you were most definitely in trouble… in more ways than one.

You clicked off the lantern and laid down on his cot, still wrapped in his coat. You slept peacefully until morning.

_ _ _ _ _ _

You woke early as the orange glow of the sun struck the tent walls and you shot up straight at the sound of Daryl stirring.

He nudged his nose up at you in a greeting and you gave him a small smile. His heart jumped at the sight of you in his jacket, on his cot, that sleepy smile and your tousled hair. He tried to ignore how many times he’d fantasized about this very scene, but with a slightly different context where that was right where you were always supposed to be.

“Hey,” you greeted him.

He stood and shouldered his bow. “I’m gonna go hunt. Ya ain’t gotta get up yet. Sun’s barely up.”

You bent and started pulling your boots on. “It’s alright. I’m already up.” You slipped his jacket off and laid it on his cot. “Thanks,” you murmured, tucking your hair behind your ear and trying to smooth the strands a little self-consciously. “For everything last night.”

He shrugged and chewed his bottom lip a little anxiously. “S’nothin’.” For some reason this made you smile and he thought your cheeks grew a little pink.

“You always downplay everything you do. You shouldn’t,” you said kindly, standing up. “It was way more than nothing.”

Daryl gulped and simply opened the tent flap and stepped out. You followed him and gave him another small smile as he nodded at you one more time and then headed for the woods.

You decided to do some of the morning chores since you were already up and set about gathering more and restacking the fire wood and doing some preparation for breakfast. You grabbed the water canisters and headed toward the well to fill them. You were filling the second container when you heard footsteps in the grass behind you. You turned to see your boyfriend striding straight toward you. Your stomach churned.

“Morning, Y/N,” he said, coming to lean against the side of the well. His affect was flat and you were immediately on edge.

You avoided his eyes and didn’t say anything, just continued your work.

He reached over suddenly and pressed the pump handle down hard to stop the flow of water and your eyes shot up to his face. His expression was dark.

“You know, it’s weird. I got up while it was still dark and went out to look for you. Even went up to the house, but,” he shrugged, “you were nowhere to be seen.”

You stared back at him, your heart starting to rush a little in your chest.

“And I just wondered to myself, ‘Where could my girl have gone?’” He moved toward you, drawing himself up to his full height.

You stared up at him, gulping at the nervous tightness in your throat. “Seeing as you threw me out, I figured you wouldn’t care or come looking,” you said, reaching over and lifting the well handle again to start the flow of water, a little surprised at your own boldness to talk back to him in the way you did.

He immediately slammed the handle back down. “Well, I did. And imagine my surprise this morning when I saw you coming out of Daryl’s tent.”

You gulped.

“As soon as you found an excuse you just went running straight to that dumb redneck, didn’t you? Huh? How long have you been sneaking around behind my back? Did you have a good fuck last night?” He was right in your face now and you recoiled.

“It wasn’t—It wasn’t like that. I didn’t! It was storming. All he did was get me out of the rain. He—he slept on the floor. I just slept on his cot! That’s it,” you said, urgently grabbing the water and trying to rush back toward the tents and the group, sensing sincere danger not far away.

But your progress was stopped when he grabbed your arm and spun you back around. You dropped one of the water containers which spilled its contents onto the ground. “You really think I’m gonna believe that? How stupid do you think I am?” There was rage burning in his eyes. “We have a fight and you think you can go fuck whoever the hell you want? Do I have to remind you who you belong to?!” He was yelling at you now and you tried to pry his hand from your arm. His fingers were digging in painfully.

“I’ve never cheated on you! I wouldn’t—please!”

He sneered. “Why the hell should I believe that?! Huh? You’re mine! I don’t want to see you talking to another man. Hell, if I even catch you looking at that redneck again, you’ll pay for it.”

His grip on your arm felt like it was tightening by the second. “I swear nothing happened! You’re hurting me! Let go!” you pleaded, feeling your eyes going wide with fear.

He growled at you through his teeth. “I can do whatever the hell I want. I’ll break your arm if I want to,” he said viciously, starting to twist your arm behind your back painfully. You couldn’t help crying out, but that was the wrong thing to do, and you knew it.

The next moment you felt a blow across your jaw and tasted blood in your mouth. You fell to the ground, splayed in the dust, narrowly missing cracking your head against the cobbled stone of the well. Your vision was black. You could only hear a high-pitched ringing in your ears.

The blackness dissolved slowly and you climbed desperately to your feet, but another blow landed across your cheek and you fell hard against the stone well this time, your back colliding painfully with the jagged edges of rock. You had an arm up to shield yourself as you tried to orient yourself again, waiting for your vision to clear.

You were waiting for the next blow to come, steeling yourself as best you could, but it never landed. The next thing you knew Daryl had barreled out of nowhere and he had your boyfriend on the ground beneath him, landing blow after blow into his face and body. “You piece of shit! Ya think hittin’ her makes you a fuckin’ man?! I’ll kill you if you ever lay a goddamn hand on her again!”

You watched in stunned horror. The rest of your group members were tearing across the field toward the commotion. They’d heard the yelling and your surprised scream and raced to get to you. Rick and Lori were in the lead and suddenly they were there. Lori grabbed you and helped you to your feet, her face white as a sheet as she looked at you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and supporting you in your daze, leading you slightly back and away from the melee. When you glanced back over at Daryl you saw that he now had his crossbow aimed right at your boyfriend’s head. His chest and shoulders were heaving and every muscle in his arms were tensed. Rick was trying to talk him down.

“Daryl. Daryl, this isn’t the way. Let’s just calm down and we’ll decide together how to deal with him,” Rick was saying softly. “Just put your bow down and we’ll deal with him.”

The muscle in Daryl’s jaw twitched as he clenched his teeth. “This bastard deserves to die,” he growled.

“I know. I know… I see what he did. But we’ll talk about this and decide on it together. Alright? Let’s just calm down for a minute.”

It took everything he had, every bit of willpower not to pull that trigger and end the bastard right there. And if you hadn’t been watching, he might have done it. But he didn’t want you to be afraid of him too. Daryl lowered his bow and Rick pulled him off your boyfriend, who was cowering on the ground with blood pouring down his face from an obviously broken nose. His eyes were already swelling shut.

Rick grabbed him by the front of his shirt and hauled him to his feet. “You are comin’ with me,” Rick growled, dragging him away toward the barn.

Daryl ducked his head, his chest still heaving with exertion, and spared a glance in your direction. Your bottom lip was split and you had a hand pressed over the left side of your face, concealing the already blooming bruises from that asshole’s fist landing on your jaw and cheekbone. His heart ached, his stomach twisted, and he turned and stalked off after Rick.

You avoided the looks of pity and shock that the rest of the group was giving you and did your best to hold in your tears of pain and humiliation. You focused on Lori as best you could.

“Oh my God. Come here, honey. Let me look at you,” Lori said, moving in front of you and pulling your hand away from your face. Next, she noticed that your back was bleeding in a few places where you’d hit the stones and you winced as you tried to straighten up completely. Spots of crimson were staining your shirt. “Oh, Y/N. I’m so sorry. Come on. Let’s go clean you up. Come on.” She wrapped an arm around your shoulders again.

You felt like you were going into shock. You were disoriented. Lori led you up to the farmhouse and called out to Maggie and Hershel as you entered. They both rushed into the front room.

“Oh my God. What happened?” Maggie asked urgently, her eyes going round with horror.

Lori gave her a look and Maggie seemed to understand. There had been suspicions going around the group that perhaps your boyfriend was laying his hands on you occasionally, and they all seemed to now be confirmed.

Lori led you to sit down on a chair in the dining room. The vet-turned-doctor examined your face and determined that, luckily, no bones were out of place, but that you likely had a fractured cheekbone and a concussion, not the mention the injuries to your back and your split lip.

Lori guided you to the bathroom and started the bath tub filling with warm water. “Alright. Climb in there and I’ll be back in to help clean up your back, alright?” she said gently. She left and shut the door softly behind her.

You obediently stripped your clothes off, in a daze still, and stepped into the tub, wrapping your arms around your knees, holding them tightly to your chest. Lori knocked a moment later and you murmured a “come in.” She had a washcloth in one hand and sank down on the edge of the tub, immediately dipping it into the hot water and dabbing at the wounds on your back. The abrasions weren’t too deep, but it looked like most of your back would be badly bruised.

You were grateful she didn’t say anything. You’d seen the expression on her face and that was enough. She sighed heavily and climbed to her feet. “Come on out when you’re ready. Hershel says you can stay in the guest room tonight. We want to keep an eye on you because of that concussion, okay?”

You nodded and rested your chin on your knees. It was right then when the tears finally started pouring down your cheeks and you gasped in a shuddering breath. “Y/N. I’m so sorry this happened to you,” Lori said, rushing right back over and kneeling beside the tub, smoothing a hand over your hair.

“I don’t even recognize who I am anymore,” you said, rushing to wipe the tears that broke free from your eyes. “I think after everything fell apart, I just thought if I didn’t have something to cling onto from before that I—I don’t know—that I wouldn’t make it. But then he just… changed. And it didn’t happen all at once and I think that’s why I didn’t just—it was gradual. I almost didn’t notice it and then all of a sudden he just wasn’t himself anymore.” You hastily wiped at your tears again. “I feel so stupid and embarrassed and ashamed,” you admitted, unable to look at her.

“It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault. And you have nothin’ to feel ashamed about. And it’s all over now, alright? It’s over.”

You gasped in a shaky breath. “If Daryl hadn’t—”

“I know,” she shushed you. “I know. But he did. It’s all gonna be okay now, alright? Get cleaned up and I’ll be right outside in case you need anything.”

You gave her a grateful look and nodded. You sat in the hot water until it started to cool, your mind mostly blank. The adrenaline had worn off now and you were feeling every bit of pain. Your head felt like it was going to split open and you winced at the sight of your swollen and bruised face in the mirror. You pulled your clothes back on and ventured into the hallway. Lori was standing there with some clean clothes for you and she led you to the guest room and set them on the bed.

“Get changed into those clean clothes and then you need to rest. Hershel’s orders. He wants you in bed. We need to be careful because of that concussion.”

You thanked her again and nodded. You discarded your bloodstained shirt and dirty jeans on a chair in the corner and pulled on the new outfit before climbing under the covers. You couldn’t stop the tears from flowing out again and you squeezed your eyes shut against the pounding in your face and head.

Outside, the group was gathered to discuss what to do with your boyfriend. Daryl couldn’t stand still and was pacing angrily in front of the house. He looked up as Lori came out and the screen door slammed with a snap.

“How is she?” Rick asked, his face dark with concern.

“Alright, considering,” Lori said, slipping her hands in her back pockets. “Concussion. Bruised and swollen. Abrasions over half her back. Hershel thinks her cheekbone is fractured.” She caught Daryl’s eyes and gave him a knowing look.

“Oh my God,” Andrea said, exchanging a look with Carol, whose eyes turned down toward the grass.

Daryl swore under his breath and resumed his pacing.

“Well, what do we do?” T-dog asked. “We can’t just keep going on like everything is normal with him in camp. He’s got to go.”

“The question is how,” Dale said.

“That bastard ain’t even deserve to still be drawin’ breath,” Daryl drawled. He looked at Rick.

Rick sighed heavily. “Yeah…”

“I mean, I agree with Daryl, man. I don’t want that guy around any of us,” Shane said.

“What if we just take him out and leave him? Drive him way out and drop him off somewhere,” Rick mused.

Shane scoffed. “We might as well shoot him in the head right now. He’d never make it out there alone. That’s as good as killing him.”

Rick nodded. “I know, but it feels a little less like the blood is on our hands then... He has a chance.”

“He don’t even deserve a chance. I’m fine with his blood on our hands,” Daryl spat. “If I hadn’t been over there huntin’ he coulda killed her.”

Rick sighed again, the weight of the decision obviously weighing on him, and he rubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah… Let’s just take the day to think it over. We can decide tonight. And Y/N can have a say.”

The group nodded in agreement and dispersed. Lori went back in to check on you.

She knocked lightly on the door and you murmured for her to come in. “How are you feeling?” she asked you.

“I’m fine,” you said, lying about how much pain you were in.

She nodded. “We’re all going to figure out what to do about him,” she said. “You should think about what you want to happen. He can’t stay here, but as far as what that means—”

“Okay,” you interrupted her. You rolled over and looked at her in the doorway. “Is Daryl—?”

She smiled a little and nodded. “You want me to get him? He’s probably still pacing on the front porch.

You nodded. “If you could.”

“Of course.” Lori left and in a moment the archer appeared in the doorway.

You were in bed, your back to the door, but you turned and looked over your shoulder at the sound of his footsteps. Daryl’s stomach twisted at the swelling and red welts on your face. “Hey,” he said softly.

“Hey.” You pulled yourself up in a seated position and Daryl came around and sank down on the chair pulled up at the side of the bed. “I just wanted to say thank you,” you said, unable to meet his eyes and instead running the edge of the sheet through your fingers, staring at it like it was the most interesting thing you’d ever seen. “And I’m sorry that you got pulled into this mess…” you trailed off.

“I ain’t,” he said forcefully. “I’m glad I got to beat the shit out that guy. I just wish I’d done it sooner.”

You looked up at him and the glistening tears in your eyes made the colors in your irises stand out. His stomach flipped again at the sight of your injuries. “I feel so stupid. I never should have stayed with him.”

Daryl shook his head. “Ain’t that simple.”

You were grateful for his understanding. Daryl watched you struggling with some thought until you finally spoke it. “What if he gets out?” you asked, fear obvious in your eyes.

“He ain’t getting’ out. I tied his ass up myself,” Daryl reassured you. “But I’ll sit watch outside all night. Nothin’ is gonna happen to ya. It’s over.” The archer stood but your hand shot out and gently landed on his arm. He froze at the feeling of electricity that crackled from your fingers.

“Will you sit with me for a little while?” you asked. “Just—until I can fall asleep.”

He nudged his nose up in a nod and sank back down, feeling nervous and chewing on his bottom lip. Daryl watched as you settled back down in bed, pulling the covers up over yourself and shutting your eyes, your long eyelashes fanning out against your cheeks. The feelings welling up in him were getting more and more difficult to deny, and he knew now wasn’t the time—not yet. You needed to get through this first. But Daryl wanted to show you how you did deserve to be treated, even as he dared not hope that he’d have the chance, that you’d feel the same thing for him that he felt for you. He wanted to protect you, take care of you. He wanted to show you how strong you actually were, even as he thought of how much you reminded him of that flower you’d brought him; vibrant, sweet, soft, delicate, but always climbing toward the light. And he was determined to help you see it.

[theepisceswriter]

Jealous AOT men (Levi, Porco, Zeke, Eren, Erwin)

A/N: Shout out to the bestie in my inbox that requested this and I’m sorry for taking forever to finally do it, but I hope you enjoy !

Synopsis: Do y’all fr need one? Basically just AOT men getting jealous in situations and how they handle it

TW: none really apply, GN!reader, fighting (kinda) for Porco cause he’s about that life like that, violence for Levi because he’s an angry short man, and mean douchebag rich boy Eren content

LEVI 

If there’s one thing Levi doesn’t tolerate when it comes to his partner it’s disrespect. He holds you on such a high pedestal and at a status that no one else can touch for loving him the way that you do, so for someone to disrespect the relationship you two have or you in general with some catcalling remark is like the greatest offense to him.

It doesn’t even have to be anything too serious. It can be something stupid like “I bet you’re hitting that fine piece of meat every night” and he’d have them on the ground in seconds with a knife pressed against their throat demanding that they apologize to you immediately.

“I recommend you apologize to them right now formally and watch what you say around me from now on or I’ll cut your tongue from your mouth with this very blade.”

Yeah, he doesn’t play when it comes to you at all. He has to set an example to let everybody know what to expect if they try either of you again because you would do the same too if the situation was reserved.

He lets the perpetrator go with no bruises besides the ones he got from Levi’s manhandling, probably per your request, and what do the two of you do afterwards? You just go on about your day like nothing even happened, like Levi wasn’t ready to cut someone’s tongue out over you in road daylight. It’s a norm for your relationship honestly because the two of you are both crazy.

PORCO

Aggressive! Aggressive! Aggressive! Porco is not afraid to get aggressive when it comes to other people trying to flirt with you and risk that possibility of fighting with them.

Especially when it comes to the creepy kind that don’t know how to respect your boundaries or get the hint that you don’t want to be messed with after turning them down numerous times. He was already on edge just seeing them come up to you and flash you that smile like they were genuinely charming or something, but once he saw them place their hands on your forearm and you brush it away with a scowl, he was lit up with anger!

There was no warning given to them to hurry up and go away before he gets mad or him coming up to you and wrapping a protective arm around your waist; he came running over and before you even knew he was making his way to where you were, he was throwing a punch dead smack in the middle of the perpetrator’s face.

“Don’t you know no means fucking no!?” “How dare you put your hands on my boyfriend/girlfriend!?” Told y’all he was really with the shits like that.

But because he doesn’t want to cause too much of a scene or get arrested or banned from wherever the two of you were at, that one punch (which is a really fucking hard punch that definitely going to have some impact on them whether it’s a bruise or some wooziness) is all he does before he’s yanking them by their collar and removing them out of the place his damn self. Did he overreact just a little? No! Because they touched you without your consent even after you expressed you didn’t want them to.

He’s a gentleman immediately after dealing with them and is by your side in an instant giving you a quick checkup with his eyes genuinely concerned for your well-being.

“Are you all right, babe?” “I hope your iight isn’t ruined but if you don’t want to be out anymore we can totally go home.” “They didn’t hurt you did they? Because I don’t mind going back out there to find them if they did.” So attentive and gentle with you. The complete opposite of what he was only minutes ago.

ZEKE 

It takes a lot to make Zeke jealous in a relationship because just the fact that he’s in a relationship with you is enough to make him feel secure in his place as your significant other. People can flirt with you and steal glances all they want because he honestly doesn’t care that much. It actually makes him feel smug and proud knowing that others are thirsting over HIS significant other like that, but can’t act on any of their thoughts because you’re his.

But....let the two of you be freshly broken up, or on a “break”, and he catches you out and about in public with some other jawn then it’s a whole other story. Now he’s feeling some type of way since he no longer has that guaranteed security from your relationship anymore. He’s hurt, but he’s not going to show that too much. Instead, he’s going to be smug and cocky with the way he approaches you two.

“So this is my replacement? He’s not even the great value version of me. You could do a hell of a lot better than someone like him and you know it, y/n.” God, he’s such a menace to society that deserves to be locked up. He wouldn’t stop at after the insults you send his way calling him pathetic and embarrassing nor at your request for him to leave. Matter of fact, he’s going to pull up a chair at your table just to sit there and mess with your poor date and eventually after backhanded compliment after not so backhanded insults, they get up a storm away.

“Are you really going to date someone who can’t take a little bit of heat from someone like me out of all people? Didn’t even have any worry remarks to come back at me with like I did for him. How sad.” He still just keeps going on and on even after the poor guy leaves, comparing himself to him and talking about how he’s so much better in not so subtle ways.

So much for getting hoes when you have an ex like Zeke, but you do like the fact that he’s trying so hard to get you back even if he won’t explicitly say it out loud; his actions speak everything

EREN 

Eren is such a douche bag he really is. Especially modern day rich boy Eren.

Let him catch someone trying to flirt with you while he’s in close proximity of you and watch him cause a whole scene at the country club or whatever rich place the two of you are at.

“Who the hell do you think you are flirting with my boyfriend/girlfriend? You can’t even compare to me so I don’t know what thought in your head made you think you can enough for you to try and get at what’s mine, but you better get rid of it right now. I can buy like three of you if I wanted to right now and it wouldn’t even put a dent in my bank account. You really think they’d go for somebody like you?” He’s such a meanie when it comes to you, he really is.

The poor perpetrator doesn’t even bother to fight for his name or pursue an argument with Eren because he knows it’ll get him nowhere but embarrassed even further, so he goes running off with blush on his cheeks from embarrassment because everyone within like 50 feet surely heard the scene that Eren just put on.

You’re just as embarrassed as the poor boy who was flirting with you, nagging at Eren about how he did entirely too much and how he should go apologize to him, but he just looks over at you with a smug smile and replies, “I gotta set an example for other people babe so they know not to mess with what’s mine.”

Best believe he’s going to be showing an overwhelming amount of PDA the rest of your outing and even go the extra mile to do something like rest his hand on your bottom or make out with you without warning.

ERWIN

This man is so powerful and holds so much authority in other people, even those who hardly even know him, that he doesn’t even have to do much when he catches someone trying to flirt with you while he’s on the other side of the room at some company event.

Like Zeke, it’s extremely difficult to make Erwin jealous because he knows you like the back of his hand and knows if a flirty interaction is happening with someone who isn’t him then it’s completely one sided and you’re just keeping yourself in the conversation because you’re a nice person like that. So, he’ll continue on with his conversation while you continue on with yours, but every now and then he’ll peak out of the corner of his eyes in your direction to make sure you’re okay.

It’s when he notices you getting uncomfortable and the other person getting a little too comfortable that he decides to step in; excusing himself from his conversation like the gentleman he is and coming over to you. You wouldn’t even know that he was there until you felt a broad hand on your waist pulling you into a chiseled chest that you’re aware of his presence.

“Can I help you with something?”

When I tell you his voice goes deeper than normal when he switches to an authoritative mode and it’s the most attractive thing ever that has you feeling butterflies in your stomach and the person who was trying to flirt with you shook to their core.

They don’t even answer his question or even look him directly in the eyes because the energy he excludes is just such big dick energy and from the way he came up and pressed you against him with no hesitation already let them know that you were his without either of you having to say it.

You stayed glued to his side for the rest of the night, one of his arms always wither wrapped around your waist or dangling over your torso holding you close.

[mypoisonedvine]

Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (Chapter 7)

(chapter 1) (chapter 2) (chapter 3) (chapter 4) (chapter 5) (chapter 6)

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind.  you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman-- even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: almost 3k?

warnings: slight breeding kink (but only if you speak romanian aksjghakgjhg), angst, violence (in the form of a fistfight, which the reader isn’t involved in)

Just as you always did, you woke up to sunlight streaming in through the lace curtains, and a cool breeze blowing by.  What was peculiar was Sebastian next to you, sleeping peacefully as his chest rose and fell with relaxed breaths.  You let yourself watch him for a moment before you decided to try to sneak out for a cup of coffee.  Problem was, the bed was sort of creaky and it was very difficult to move without making sound.  Your plan was to move as slowly as possible, keeping your weight evenly distributed over the mattress, and it worked rather well— right until the last second, of course, when a loud shift of the boxsprings beneath you made Sebastian stir and blink open his eyes.

You were about to apologize for waking him, but he grinned and slipped his arms around you, bringing you back to where you started and surrounding your body with his warm, muscular form.

“Bună dimineata,” he hummed as he pulled you closer, his voice even deeper and more gravelly than normal.

“Bună dimineata,” you did your best to repeat it back, making him smile even though your pronunciation wasn’t great.  “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” he replied softly, heavily accented and clearly more a recreation of the sounds you’d made than real English, but still intelligible and so painfully adorable as well.  “A fost uimitor aseară.”

“Last night…” you began, but you didn’t even know where to begin.  What could you possibly say about that?  Would it even matter, if he can’t understand it.  “God, you’re fucking amazing,” you blurted out with a soft laugh.

“Sa o facem din nou,” he growled as he pulled you closer and kissed you, slipping his tongue into your mouth instantly.  A more self-conscious you— as in, you yesterday— would’ve worried about morning breath, but you now couldn’t taste anything but him and couldn’t feel anything but his lips on yours and couldn’t do anything but weave your fingers into his hair.

You moaned when his kisses trailed down your neck, and you wanted nothing more than to melt into his body one more time, but you had other things to attend to.

“I need to get up,” you announced as you tried to escape from his grasp, but he held you tighter and brushed his lips over your shoulder.

“Nu, nu, nu te dice,” he cooed, making you laugh and squirm.  “Stai in pat, fă dragoste cu mine toata ziuă.”

“I have to get up, I’ll be right back,” you tried to explain but he stayed ever vigilant as he held you tight and licked over the shell of your ear.  Finally you managed to get him to stop, as much as you didn’t really want him to, allowing you to slip out from under the covers and find your robe where it had been discarded on the floor.  

He watched you as you crossed the room and popped into the bathroom for your bag, pulling your birth control pack out of it and using a handful of tap water to wash down your morning pill.  “Ah,” Sebastian seemed to have a realization from the bed, and you giggled.

“Told you it was important,” you grinned.

“Probabil cel mai bine să nu ai un copil cu un străin,” he nodded, “dar nu sunt sigur că m-ar fi deranjat atât de mult dacă te-aș fi însărcinat.”

Following suit, he stretched briefly before getting out of bed and searching for his discarded jeans and boxers.  You made no effort to hide your ogling as you watched his cock swing between his legs.  Even soft it was thick enough that you couldn’t figure how it ever fit inside you (the delightful soreness between your legs reminded you that it was no easy feat).  He took note of your staring and grinned devilishly, leaning against the wall to give you a better look.  “Îți place ce vezi?” he purred.

“Should’ve known this would all go straight to your ego,” you chuckled.  “I’m gonna go downstairs for some coffee.  Do you want some?  Cafea?”

“Da,” he nodded, as he slipped his clothes back on, “mulțumesc.”  Funny how his idea of getting dressed still left him half-naked.

Foolishly, you expected him to let you pass, since you were both going to benefit from your trip to the kitchen; but of course he had to slip his arms around you from behind and give you just one more embrace, making you sigh and relax your head back against his shoulder.  He kissed the top of your head and you hummed happily, letting your eyes open to look up at him before taking a moment to look out the window you happened to be standing right beside.

You were just hoping to appreciate the countryside scenery, meaning that you were rather shocked and confused to see a car pulling up.  When it stopped and the driver stepped out, your eyes went wide and your back suddenly straightened itself.

“...Michael?” you gasped.  You wrenched yourself out of Sebastian’s grasp and started to run down the stairs.  He called after you but you ignored it.

Barreling down the stairs and out the door, you found your husband walking up the driveway.

“Honey,” he frowned when he saw you, “I’ve been trying to find you since you left— what the hell is going on?  Why are you wearing a robe?”

“It’s hardly nine in the morning,” you defended before you realized there were much bigger topics at hand: “Michael, what are you doing here?” you asked, after a few seconds of confused stuttering.

“I’m taking you home!” he replied, as if it were obvious.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, “don’t play stupid.  Do you think I’ve been here against my will, or by accident or something?”

“No, I saw your letter,” he sighed.

“And you saw the part where I said not to look for me, and that all future communication would come through my lawyer?”

“You’re my wife,” he replied coldly, “I think I’m within my rights to talk to you directly.”

“You shouldn’t have come here.  I was actually happy before you showed up.”

With perfect timing, Sebastian stepped out the door behind you, looking to you and to Michael, and back.  “Ce se întâmplă?” he asked you.

“Who the fuck is this?!” Michael asked accusingly.

“I’m gonna give you a chance to ask me that again, in a way that doesn’t make it seem like you have any place to judge what I might be doing alone with a man,” you hissed.  “He’s just the groundskeeper, Mike.”

“Then why is he shirtless?” he exclaimed.

“I don’t know!  He… does that a lot!” you exasperatedly shouted back.

“Look, I’m not angry,” Michael sighed.  You laughed bitterly.

“Good, cause you have no right to be.”

“But I think it’s fair if I’m worried about you spending months alone with strange men.”

“Oh, strange, is that the problem?  Strangeness?  Would some more familiarity— perhaps a familial relationship— between you and these men make it easier on you, Mike?”

“Honey, please—”

“Don’t call me that,” you grimaced.

Michael stormed towards you, and you felt Sebastian step closer to you as well, wrapping an arm around you.  Having him by your side made this significantly more awkward, but it made you feel safer, too.

“Hey man, get your hands off my wife,” Michael growled, pointing a finger at Seb.

“He doesn’t speak English,” you rolled your eyes.  

“Well, I’m not sure you do either— otherwise you would realize that we’re still married, and you need to come home.”

“Just because you won’t sign the papers doesn’t mean we’re still together,” you reminded him sternly as shook your head.

“I’ll end it with your sister, is that what you want?”

You laughed, because you were afraid if you didn’t that you would cry.  “Jesus, Michael!  Are you hearing yourself?  This sounds like a greek tragedy, or fucking EastEnders!  Next I’ll be discovering I have an evil twin, and you’ll bang her too!”

He was a lot more offended by that than you expected.  “It was never just sex.  I love her.  But I love you more,” he clarified, suddenly getting serious.

You chuckled weakly, hardly believing what you were hearing.  It’s not that he was ever particularly nice, or romantic or anything, but at some point in his life he had been incredibly intelligent… and now he barely made sense at all.  “Wow, you sure do know how to make a girl feel special.”

He frowned, clearly losing what little cool he’d had at first.  He had always had a bit of a temper.  “For better or for worse, we’re still legally married— damn it, we’ve been together for how long now?  And you’re ready to throw that all away?”

“No, but you were,” you spat back.

“But I wasn’t, and I’m still not.  You’ve gotta hear me out—”

“I don’t have to do anything—”

“No, you’re not listening to me—” he talked over you, again.

“I don’t owe you any more of my time—”

“Damn it, why won’t you just listen!” he growled, grabbing you by the arm suddenly.  Instantly, Sebastian stepped forward and pushed him back.

“Sebastian, it’s okay,” you tried to soothe him.  

“Hey, could you maybe tell your boytoy to keep his filthy hands off me?” Michael demanded at the same time.

“Mai bine ai grijă,” Sebastian hissed, also at the same time.

“I literally can’t,” you answered Michael.  “I told you he doesn’t speak English.”

“Yeah, well, I think some things transcend language,” Michael bit back.  “Tell me something, pal,” he addressed Sebastian, “did you fuck my wife?”

“Sper că nu spui ce cred că ești,” Sebastian shook his head, clearly on the end of his rope.

“Mike, leave him alone,” you demanded, but it came out sounding so much weaker than you meant it to.

“Did you,” Michael pointed to Sebastian, going so far as to poke him in the chest condescendingly, “fuck—” he mimed thrusting his hips, and you grimaced— “my wife?”— finally, he pointed to you.

Sebastian certainly understood that; and, in lieu of an answer, he socked Michael right in the jaw and sent him straight to the ground.

“Oh my god!” you yelped, dashing over to where your husband was crumpled into a ball on the gravel and kneeling beside him.

“What the fuck?!” Michael gurgled, holding his face in shock and pain.

“Are you okay?” you asked anxiously, spinning to look at where Sebastian was standing and looking much too proud of himself, shaking out the hand he’d just hit Michael with.  “Sebastian!” you scolded, making him give you a defensive look.

“Ce?” he shrugged flippantly, though he clearly felt a little guilty when it became obvious that you were irritated with him.

And that was how you ended up here, standing in the living room and tapping your foot quickly, staring at the couch where Michael sat with a bag of ice held to his jaw, Sebastian beside him (though as far away as possible) resting with another on his hand.

“You had no business coming here,” you informed your husband coldly.

“You wouldn’t know about this place if it weren’t for me,” he reminded you.  “Did you think I wouldn’t find you?”

“I thought you wouldn’t care,” you corrected.

His silence was stern, and he gave you one of those looks that used to scare you but now just made loathing and pity sink down in your chest.  It was ambiguous if he was too angry to reply or if he really had no defense.  After all, what reason did you have to believe that he would care about your leaving?

"If you're here to make me rescind the divorce order, it's not going to happen.  I'm not leaving with you.  I'm not forgiving you.  Please just go," you sighed.

"That's not why I came.  None of that is why I'm here," he mumbled.  "I came here…" he straightened up slightly, raising his voice confidently.  "I came here to tell you that I love you.  I need you.  And I want you back."

Now that he was looking right back at you, suddenly you couldn't take it anymore and turned your gaze away again.  

"Whatever you need me to do to fix this, I'll do it.  We'll get through this.  Isn't that what marriage is?  Fighting for each other, struggling together?"  He stood up and approached you, reaching out to rest his hands on your shoulders; you almost flinched when you felt his touch, but resisted the urge, glancing up at his face before looking over at Sebastian whose injured hand was twitching as he looked away with a tight jaw.  "Tell me how to make this right, please."

You tried not to look as Sebastian as you processed Michael's request; similarly, it seemed he was trying not to look at you.  But even if you ignored this new, peculiar romance in your life, your marriage was still broken beyond repair and you couldn't imagine anything that could change that.  "I'm sorry," you finally whispered, watching Michael's face fall, "I don't think there's anything you can do." 

He released you from his grip, less angry than you expected; more somber.  "I want to stay and work this out," he explained.  "Better yet, I want you to come back to London— come back home— so we can be together and discuss everything there.  But I'm only going to ask you one more time before I leave: stay with me.  You don't need to forgive me, or even love me again, at least not yet… just give me a chance to try to earn everything I took for granted."

You'd imagined this moment so many times: cursing him out, making him grovel, kicking him to the curb.  To be completely honest, you'd even imagined potentially taking him back.  But now that you were here and it was, somehow, real, your desire for vengeance was fading along with your desire for reconciliation.  

"I have something I need to give you," you whispered, walking upstairs and going back into your room, getting on your hands and knees to search the floor.  Finally, discarded in a dusty corner with slightly uneven floorboards, you found the ring you'd tossed aside the night before.  Fighting back against the tears welling in your eyes, you picked it up and came downstairs, holding it outward for Michael to take.  

"I'm not taking that back," he refused, shaking his head.  "You keep it for a while longer, until you're sure this is really what you want."

"I'm sure.  I'm moving on.  Take it back," you demanded.  He sighed but reached out and plucked it from between your fingers, pocketing it though still wearing his own golden band.  "Besides, my sister might want it."

He scoffed, turning as he began to walk away.  "You're cold."

"Frozen solid," you agreed.  "Goodbye, Michael… drive safe."

He shook his head and made a sharp exhale as he walked away, nearly slamming the door behind him.  You stared off into space as Sebastian silently watched you; you didn’t want him to see you cry, but it was starting to seem unavoidable as your lip quivered and your eyes grew wide with tears.

“Shhh,” he soothed gently, standing up and stepping forward to pull you into his arms.  “Nu plânge, e în regulă.”

"God, I'm so stupid," you whispered between sobs muffled against his chest.  "I'm so fucking stupid…"

He whispered to you and kissed the top of your head, repeating one thing over and over that you couldn't make out well against the sound of your own crying filling your ears.

But even without knowing what he was saying or what it meant, it made you feel better.

As evening approached, you realized a new predicament had arisen: would Sebastian stay in your room again?  Would you go to his?  Or would you sleep separately, maybe even drift back to just being essentially housemates after a unique one-night stand?

Your questions were answered suddenly when Sebastian suddenly came to the couch and scooped you up into his arms, making you squeal a little before you relaxed and let him carry you to his room.  He all but threw you onto the bed, climbing on top of you and kissing you deeply as you reached up to wrap your arms around his neck.

Already you felt more comfortable with him than you sometimes felt with people you'd known most of your life; you didn't feel self-conscious when he ran his hands over your body, you didn't try to suppress your moans when he kissed your neck for fear of sounding ridiculous— and maybe that was just because it was such a fantastical situation, so unlike yourself and so far from home, that it was easy to feel like a different person with him.

Or maybe it was that you'd spent so long trying to be somebody that people liked, and now you were being yourself for the first time in decades.

You couldn't really be sure.  And since your brain short-circuited every time Sebastian whispered something in your ear that just sounded filthy regardless of what it actually meant, you didn't have the time to think about it.

[moons-and-stars-and-shit]

Okayyyy so here’s what I’m Thinking. Bokuto was well known in Tokyo and everyone knew not to mess with him. He met reader at a book shop she worked at. He found her very interesting. The reader is a bit shy. They became friends and started liking each other. She didn’t know that he was in the maifa until she saw him kill someone. He then tired to tell her it’s not what it looked like but reader was afriad of him and ran home. She avoided him for weeks until he showed up at her door with flowers and a bunch of gifts and begged her to talk. - 🍒

𝙼𝚊𝚏𝚒𝚊! 𝙱𝚘𝚔𝚞𝚝𝚘 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝙲𝚆: 𝙼𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝙼𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛/𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑, 𝙶𝚞𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚍, 𝙺𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏 𝚝𝚘 𝙰𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 2.5

Oh god

It was moments like these where you wish you could just travel back in time...or at the very least erase your memory...but life won't give you those options, so the only option you have now is to run.

6 Months Ago…

"Ah yes there's nothing quite like this" you thought to yourself flipping to the next page of your favorite book. You really loved working in the local bookshop. Your friends would always joke around how it fitted your “aesthetic” so well. Not that you could disagree though, you couldn't deny that you loved evenings like these, where the rain was pouring outside while you were inside the building reading a book. The faint smell of coffee from the coffee shop next door being the cherry on top to this little vibe you had going on. “Y/n! Do you think you could close up shop for me? I gotta go pick up my brother from practice before this rain gets too crazy". You were brought back into reality by your co-workers request. “Oh for sure! Go ahead.i'll take care of it” you said putting down your book. She thanked you before grabbing her coat and heading outside. You looked up at the clock making a mental note to start closing up in about 20 minutes. Suddenly your train of thought was interrupted by the shop's door opening, causing the little bell on top to jingle. Thinking it was your co-worker you turned around to ask what she had forgotten only to be face to face with a man.

Uhm...Hey! Do you mind if i stay here until this storm dies down?” the male asked you. Giving him a quick look up and down you took notice just how drenched he was, from his grey and black hair dripping and sticking to his face, to his clothes that might as well have been dunked in water with how wet they have gotten. “O-Oh of course! Please come in'' you stuttered after realizing you had been staring at him just a second too long. You quickly ran to the back to grab the blanket you and your co-worker use whenever it gets too cold in the store. Running back to the front you hand the mystery man the blanket. “This won't do much for the clothes but maybe you can at least get your hair dry” you say as he takes the blanket. “Thank You so much!” he said beaming. There was a bit of awkward silence as he dried his hair off, but the silence was broken when he handed you back the blanket. “You're not much of a talker are you?” he said with a light chuckle. He made his way over to one of the reading chars and took a seat, motioning for you to do the same. “Yeah uh...sorry I'm a bit shy! Especially around strangers who just happen to walk into my bookshop” you said making your way to sit next to him. Once you had sat down he looked at you with shining eyes and a oh so bright smile “Well if that's the problem” he said holding his hand out to you ”I'm Bokuto Koutarou!”. You laughed a little at his enthusiasm before grabbing his hand “Well Bokuto, it's nice to meet you, I'm Y/n”

That night was the first of many that you'd be spending with Bokuto, in fact after that night he had become a frequent customer at the bookshop, always coming at the later hours, and always keeping you company whenever you started closing up. Hell he's even taken you out for drinks a couple times after your shift. You have never been one to trust strangers, let alone become good friends with them but shockingly enough, you felt rather comfortable around this strange man. Maybe it was his bright personality, or the way his eyes seemed to sparkle wherever he laid them on you, or even the way that his laugh caused a giggle or two to escape from your own lips. Either way you liked this Bokuto Koutarou, and if only you knew how much Bokuto liked you as well. Lucky both of your feelings would come to light on a night similar to the night Bokuto magically waltzed into your life...

Here you both were, sitting on the very same chairs you had introduced yourselves in. Only this time, you were both reading your respective books. However this peace was soon interrupted by a whiny Bokuto. “Y/nnnn I'm so boredddd” Bokuto said slamming his book shut. You put your bookmark in your book before closing it and looking at his puppy dog eyes ``Y'know for someone who comes into a bookshop so often, you're not that interested in books are you?” you told him with a smirk. “Hey! I'm smart enough without the help of your stinky books'' he said tapping the book against your head.. You grabbed the book from his hands and stuck your tongue out, watching as he plopped back on his self proclaimed “personal reading chair”. “Besides, I only ever really come to this shop to spend time with you”. You blushed at his small comment but not wanting your feelings to get the best of you quite yet, you decided to “test” these waters you were trending in. “What? You got a crush on me or something?” you said giving him a playful nudge. Now it was his turn to blush. It was silent for a beat to long and you were about to take back what you had just said, but you were quickly cut of when Bokuto took your hand, looked you dead in your eyes with a look that sent shivers down your spine “Would you hate me if I did?” he asked you in a soft tone, almost like a child admitting they broke something to their parent, a big contrast from his usual loud and confident voice. Instead of responding you simply squeezed his hand and cupped his face with the other “I would never hate you, especially if i feel the same way about you” Not being able to hold back anymore he simply grabbed your face and pulled you in for a soft but passionate kiss.pulling away he looked at you with all the love in the world “Y/n, I really want to be with you, but… there's a part of my life that you've never seen and I don't want to lose you over that” he told you, his eyes beginning to gloss over. Still pretty confused about what he was talking about you only took his face in your hand once more “Kou I will love you no matter what. Even your ugly parts”. Bokuto pulled you into a hug, trying to hide the tears that were falling freely from his eyes now. “Y-You promise?”

“I Promise”

Present Day

Thinking about that night still caused butterflies to flutter in your stomach. But now as you were running towards your apartment as if you were running from the grim reaper himself you couldn't ignore the feeling of dread that was sitting next to those butterflies. Had you really just seen that? Did you really just see your loving goofball of a boyfriend kill someone? It was supposed to be a normal night. You had closed the shop and were beginning to walk back home when you saw familiar spiky hair across the road. Curiosity had got the best of you, so… you decided to investigate. What you didn't expect to see was your boyfriend holding a gun to a man's head. It had all happened so fast first the crack of the gun, then your scream, then Bokuto's horrified expression as he turned and saw you standing there with your hand over your mouth. Before Bokuto could even try to explain what he had done, you ran. You ran away as if he was going to point the gun at you next.

Finally. Finally you were safe in your apartment. Your lungs felt like they were on fire, and your legs felt like absolute jelly. All you could do was collapse to the floor and break down crying. The scene from earlier replaying over and over in your head, causing you to get even more hysterical. Suddenly your phone started buzzing. You picked it up, as if you didn't already know who it was calling. The image of your boyfriend's face appeared on your screen, he looked nothing like the man who you had just seen commit that heinous deed. Suddenly anger took over your senses and you threw your phone across the room, returning to your fetal position to cry all your emotions out, eventually crying yourself to sleep

When you had finally awoken the sun was rising and the birds outside were singing their spring songs. You pulled yourself off of the floor before making your way to your phone across the room. "Damn it" you thought. Of course you had cracked your screen. Turning the phone on you was bombarded by hundreds of missed calls and text messages from your boyfriend. Could you even call him that any more? Would you really look at the man you saw kill and call him your boyfriend? Opting not to answer any of his messages or return any of his calls, you blocked him and went to go make you some tea, hoping to calm your still frazzled nerves”

The next few days were pretty quiet you hadn't even dared to leave your apartment, let alone even show up at work. You had called out telling your co-worker that you came down with a terrible cold and wouldn't be in for a couple of days. Sitting alone in your apartment during this time really gave you time to think about the events you had witnessed that night. Is this what Bokuto was talking about that night he confessed to you? Is this what he was afraid of losing you over? you couldn't really blame him if it was. But still, he could have at least warned you about this part of his life, or at the very least act like he was a cold blooded killer! You still couldn't bring yourself to think that the man you had cuddled in bed with, the man you had taken walks in the park with, the very man who opted to release a spider instead of killing it, would actually have it in him to kill an actual person. Suddenly your thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. Still a little on edge you jumped at the sudden sound before that familiar sense of dread flooded your stomach. “Well gotta face the music some time” you breathed out slowly walking towards the door.

When you had opened the door you were practically tackled into a hug by a very hysterical Bokuto. You froze at the sudden contact “How could a man hug you with the very same hands he took someone's life with?" You thought as you gently pushed him off you. “Y/n I know I'm probably the last person you want to see right now but-” he was interrupted when you raised your hand. “You have 10 minutes to explain yourself then you either need to leave, or I'm calling the cops” you told him motioning for him to come inside. Bokuto practically jumped at the opportunity to finally explain himself to you and hopefully make you understand why he did what he did.

Each of you took a seat at your dining table. It was time for you to get answers... “Ok for starters, why are you here?” you started staring at him coldly. “Well you weren't answering any of my calls or texts and whenever I stopped by the bookshop you were never there, so I got worried” he replied fiddling with his thumbs. You slowly nodded at his answer. “So are you gonna tell me what the hell happened that night or are you just gonna sit there” you spat at him almost angrily. He flinched at your words before taking a deep breath “Well what did you see?” he asked. That was it for you. You slammed your hands on the table, not able to control your anger any more. “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN WHAT DID I SEE?!?!? I SAW YOU FUCKING KILL SOMEONE KOUTAROU!!” you screamed at him standing up from your seat.”I DID IT TO PROTECT YOU!” he shouted back at you, throwing his hands up in the air. You both stared at each other in teary silence. “Y/n please let me explain… then you can hate me or kick me out i don't care! Just please…” you huffed before sitting back down, doing your best to hold back your own tears. “Ok” he said, trying to find a way to tell you everything “My family has always been a part of the mafia” he started, “When I turned 18 it was time for me to “take over” the family business” your mouth fell open, since he was 18? He's been doing this since he was 18? “When I first met you, I never ever wanted to tell you how much you meant to me because I never wanted you to find out about this part of my life, or even worse...I never wanted this part of my life to find out about you” he continued. You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion. “What do you mean “find out about me”” you asked him. “I mean, that if my rivals found out about you and I, they would start to come after you”. Your eyes widened at this. “S-so that guy you shot-” “was trying to kill you” he said finishing off your sentence. He then looked up at you, visible tears in his eyes. “I'm so sorry Y/n I never wanted to put you in any sort of danger but-” you had cut him off when you smashed your lips against his. All this time you had thought he killed that man out of cold blood. Not once did you even consider he was doing it for you. He kissed you back before pulling you into the tightest hug. “Y-your not mad?” he blubbered out. “Not anymore,” you said, smiling at him. “ I just wish you would have told me,” you said. “But I didn't want to lose you…” he whispered in your ear. One last time, you took his face into both of your hands. “Bokuto Koutarou I love you” you said, letting the tears fall from your eyes. He laughed a soft laugh “even the ugly parts?” he asked you

“Even the ugly parts”

[docockbrainrot]

i think i want you (to leave)

Summary: We’re all running from something. Sometimes, metaphorically. Sometimes, literally. Literally running, from the very strangely hypnotizing supervillain that seems hellbent on ruining every bit of your life he can get all eight of his limbs on.

Pairing: Doc Ock X Reader/ Otto Octavius X Reader

Content: Slow Burn, NSFW eventually, 18+

AO3 link here.

Previous Chapter

Chapter 5

anathema// former vandal

The next several days are an uneventful blur. You barely leave your apartment, except for brief dog walks and grabbing food from the bodega across the street.

It’s 9 pm on Saturday and you’re fresh out of the shower, tucked away in a very fuzzy robe, lounging on the couch and watching YouTube on your television. You almost miss the subtle taptaptaptap sound coming from your window, you're so engrossed in the cooking show you’ve been binging. Gotta fill the void somehow, right?

You can’t see anything outside from where you’re sitting. The lights are on and make it impossible to peer through the reflections on the glass. Maybe it’s a bird. Or a branch is caught on the fire escape. Either way, you certainly can’t be assed to check it out and you take another sip of your chamomile tea- you’ve been trying everything under the sun, just about short of literally snorting lines of melatonin, to try to sleep better at night. Nothing’s been working. But you have been making a very valiant effort.

A few moments go by and you forget all about the window disturbance until,

TAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAP.

It’s jarring. It’s loud. Above all else, it’s annoying. Chekov spares you a look, like you’re the one making a racket. Effectively exasperated, you make an effort to set, not slam, down your mug, feeling decidedly not Calm and Relaxed as the tea promised. Suppose it’s not miracle shit though, is it? You would not be a good candidate for a horror movie because you fearlessly storm over to the window and throw it open (it wasn’t locked in the first place; you’re quite terrible at remembering to). You stick your head out and glower at whatever irritating mischief is happening out here, ready to rip the fire escape off the side of the brick building.

You’re greeted by something cold and hard (and indubiously metal, judging by how it felt against your sternum) shoving you back into your apartment, sending you sprawling unceremoniously to the hardwood floor. A string of profanities ready to leave your tongue, you sit up and adjust your robe in an attempt to preserve a modicum of your modesty. The rant dies in your throat as red eyed claws grip the threshold of your pre-war window and it’s almost comical the way He maneuvers himself in, far too large to be making these sorts of entrances. Standing up to his full height before you while you’re still sitting dumbfounded on the floor reminds you of just how impressively built he is. You manage to pick your jaw up, but your ass remains firmly planted on the wood.

“Uh… you could have just used the buzzer, dude. I have a front door, you know,” you sputter out, brain blitzing in pretty much every way possible. Your thoughts are racing and eventually they settle on the most important thing you can think to ask in that moment: “... Why aren’t you wearing a shirt.” You can't help the way your eyes are drawn to his broad chest, gaze lingering on the vast scarring that spills out from the metal contraption clamped around his midsection.

Otto very graciously closes the window behind himself. Or at least his little robot accomplices do it for him. You still aren’t sure what’s going on with that- the whole AI thing. Not even a blip on your radar of concerns at this point. “Didn’t want anyone to see me come in. Your building has a camera on the front, facing the street.”

“That’s why you’re shirtless?” You ask dumbly. Interesting method of camouflage. “What? No- what? It doesn’t matter- listen to me. I need you to do something for me. A small favor.”

He doesn’t seem to notice the compromised position he put you in. Typical. Gathering up your broken pride, you get up and tighten the tie of your robe a bit. It isn’t until then that he has the decency to look a smidge embarrassed and you hope you didn't just give him a free show on your way to getting to your feet. “You literally just broke into my apartment and now you’re asking for a favor? We barely know each other!”

“Less complicated when there's nothing personal involved yet, plus- you let me in,” he corrects you. You wish he would stop doing that. You wish he would stop meeting with you like this, under weird and mysterious circumstances. Even though it's only been like twice. You're already over it.

“You threw me across the room!”

“Touche.”

Otto does not apologize and you did not sincerely expect him to. The look on his face reads more like the cat that got the canary than regretful. You feel as though you’ve come to recognize that expression on his face and you also feel as though you don’t much like the fact that you’ve enough encounters with this man that you can recognize a damn thing about him. “What… could you possibly need me to do for you? I am not robbing a bank.” You just want to get that out into the open as soon as possible.

“I don’t need your help robbing a bank,” he snorts as if the idea is preposterous and you take a moment to feel insulted. Wow. Okay. You could totally rob a bank if you wanted to. Deciding to not comment on your wounded ego, you let him get to the point. Otto pulls something out of his inner coat pocket. It's some kind of rolled up paper and you think at first maybe it's a newspaper or magazine. He unfurls it onto the coffee table and holds it open with two metal claws on either side so it doesn't ravel itself back up.

You realize it's a blueprint. "This is… Oscorp," you point out stupidly, brow furrowing in confusion. There's levels to what's happening here. Layers upon layers, melding together with rot and decay and you can all but smell it. But there's something missing, something that would tie all of the wackjob shit that's been happening to you and around you together. It feels like when you have a very particular thought and then walking into another room makes it dissolve from your head. You're trying to grasp for it, to fit the puzzle pieces together, but it's just out of reach.

"Yes. It is. I have a small task I need you to do," Otto starts off, metal phalanges pushing his glasses up onto the top of his head as he looks over at you. For the first time, you can see his eyes in the light. The warm amber feels like a mockery- you have seen his cruelty in action.

"Where did you get this?"

"Does it matter?" Of course he'd say that.

Your fingertips brush against the metaphorical wayward chain link. It's right there. You just have to grab it and pull it back to you, like the anchor of a ship before it can set sail.

He's talking. You aren't listening. He's tracing a finger over the schematics. You don't see it. Realization washes over you in a heart-dropping tsunami. The voicemail you got from Oscorp plays like a broken record in your mind. 'Hello, Y/N. We're calling in regards to your employment status here at Oscorp. Unfortunately, due to a breach of security, we are having to make staffing cuts and are going to have to let you go. We appreciate your time and effort and wish you the best of luck in your next endeavor.' It didn't make sense at the time. A lot of things didn't. You replay the scene of poor David, desperately pleading for his life at the hands of the man hunched over here, just in your living room. You mentally re-run it over and over like bad 80s sitcoms on late night television.

"Lab Coat Guy…"

You don't realize you whispered it out loud until Otto goes silent.

"What?"

You slowly look at him and take a single step backwards, shaking your head. The company embroidered on David's lab coat hadn't been clear to you in the moment- but it's crystal in hindsight. Oscorp. "You got me fired." Your tone is flat, until anger flashes through you, like a streak of lightning through a dark, moonless sky, illuminating all of things that didn’t make sense before.

"It doesn't matter. What I need you to do-" He's so nonchalant, so blasé that it only stokes the embers of frustration until there's a roaring blaze burning beneath your skin. It's all about him, what he needs, what he wants. He has the nerve, the audacity, to keep traipsing into your life, kicking you while you're down and then ask for favors? You want to say all of that to him but unfortunately for you, you're an angry crier. Your outburst of bravery at him the last time you saw each other had surprised even you- but now there's so much more emotion roiling around inside you.

"No. No, no. Fuck you. You got me fired! I can't- I can't not have a job, I have to pay rent! You could get me arrested for just talking to you!" Oscorp had you canned to tie up any potential loose ends before anymore Davids could slip through the cracks. You think about how scared the poor dude must have been, threatened into stealing blueprints from the biggest corporation in the city, for one of the most infamous criminals. You don't know how they found out you were even remotely involved and you don't want to know.

Tears are streaming down your cheeks and once the floodgates have opened you're very familiar with how long it's going to take to close them again. After all you've been bottling this up since you found out, too disappointed to even tell any of your friends or family.

Otto appears taken aback, to say the least. He even looks like he's at a loss for words; that's a first. You know he could kill you where you stand in the blink of an eye, but in that moment you don’t even care. You’ve been trying so hard for so long to get on your feet, to do things for yourself and get away from the past. You moved across the country, you left everything behind, you got a damn dog. It seems like every time you manage to take a step forward in life, you’re knocked flat on your ass, apparently literally sometimes. It isn’t fair. Things don’t come easily to you, you’ve always had to work for them. You aren’t wealthy, you aren’t a supergenius, you’re just… you. The job at Oscorp was good money and you really felt like you were getting your shit together for a while.

“They’re not who you think they are,” he says finally, so calmly, with such carefulness about his words, that you sniffle pathetically and look up at him. He doesn’t look nearly as pleased with himself as you thought he might. And here you’ve been, under the impression that he gets off on hurting people. “Oscorp. I’m not… I’m not just doing this for me. You have to understand that.”

The schematics are furled up and tucked away. You make the mistake of meeting his eyes. Maybe it’s just the tears that blur your vision, but you swear you see a softness there before they’re hidden away again by his glasses.

He lingers at the window.

“I hope you’ll reconsider.” And then he was making his exit, even taking care to gently close the window on the way out. But he raps on the glass with his knuckles from where he stands on the fire escape and you know the look of confusion on your tear-streaked face speaks for itself. Otto points to the latches on the window. ‘Lock it.’ He mouths before he’s gone, presumably to wreak havoc and harass other unsuspecting young women that don’t want anything to do with him.

You thought everything had come together- but the more sense you make of it, the less you seem sure of the bigger picture. You aren't even sure exactly what he wanted you to do.

You’re left with an endless bounty of questions, and not enough answers to satisfy any of them.

[needlewind]

The Barn AU

So, I’ll be honest with you this AU kind of came out of no where but I’m... kind of in love with it now.

This AU pretty much destroys canon from the very beginning.

Into The Wild goes as planned except Sandstorm and Dustpelt become warriors alongside Graystripe and Fireheart. Also Sandstorm isn’t nearly as cruel to Fireheart and Graystripe and while Ravenpaw runs away it’s made clear Fire/Gray/Sand/Raven are a thing.

Fire and Ice is when we begin really changing shit. Brackenkit and Cinderkit stay kits who aren’t apprenticed to early. Graystripe still falls in love with Silverstream but he ropes Fireheart and Sandstorm into it so we get Fire/Gray/Sand/Silver.

With two of their partners in places where they can’t date them while still in Thunderclan, Fire, Gray, and Sand come up with the idea of moving into the barn with Raven and Barley. They of course invite Silverstream who longs for adventure outside of the clans and wants to be with her partners.

So everyone separates from the clans and moves into the barn. We work into a full polycule with Fire/Gray/Sand/Silver/Raven/Barley and it becomes clear Sand and Silver are pregnant with Fire and Gray’s kits respectively

Silver still dies while kitting, going into unexpected labor while out with Gray, Fire and Barley. Sand gives birth to her kits at the same time while in the barn with Raven but obviously she lives and Sand and Raven don’t find out Silver is dead until the others return.

Sand nurses Featherkit, Stormkit, Squirrelkit, Streamkit (Leafkit who was named after Silverstream rather then Leafstar who doesn’t exist in this au or fucking Spottedleaf) and eventually Cloudkit who Fireheart receives from Princess after visiting her just as he does in Forest of Secrets.

Tigerclaw does the dog thing but he does it without getting exiled from Thunderclan. Then he tries attacking Bluestar and Bluestar fucking kills him, putting the problem to rest so no one has to worry about it. Though he could also have been killed by Scouge while trying to make a deal or something. Admittedly, it doesn’t really matter. Point is, bitch is dead.

Featherpaw is still called on the journey, sneaking out after receiving prophetic dreams. Her siblings all end up following her and long story short, Brambleclaw and Tawnypelt end up getting stuck on a journey to the ocean with six apprentices.

Sharptooth isn’t a thing because I say so and as such no one dies on the journey. Though at some point Featherpaw does get some pretty severe injuries (maybe from trying to catch a hawk with the prey-hunters or something).

Stormpaw and Brook (who is also younger in this au) fall in love like in canon but instead of Storm moving in with Brook, Brook comes with Storm to the barn to stay with him.

Crowpaw and Featherpaw fall for each other and when the group gets back Crowpaw decides to join the other apprentices in the barn (it’s not like Windclan ever treated him particularly well anyway). The polycule welcomes him and gives everyone warrior names (Crow is insistent on the Feather suffix cuz he’s a fucking sap).

Brambleclaw and Tawnypelt are the ones who handle convincing the clans they gotta leave and like in the new prophecy (pretty sure it’s in Dawn) the clan cats stay in the barn for a few nights to prepare for the full journey.

When the clan cats leave a few stay behind. Dustpelt and Ferncloud along with Birchkit, Larchkit, and Hollykit (because they’re afraid for their kits survival on the journey as they should be and Dustpelt doesn’t want to leave his best friend and brother behind). Shrewtail (Shrewpaw who lived from the accident with the pheasant he’s just got a messed up leg, think Cinderpelt but a front leg) because well, his parents are staying with his younger siblings and he’s infatuated with Squirrelflight. Lostface (the dog incident happens but Fireheart isn’t wasn’t there to rename her), Swiftscar (he lived the attack but he’s fucking covered in scars and he’s missing a tail and leg) who both find themselves enamored with Cloudtail and their daughter Whitepaw also stays. Sorretail also stays, finding interest in Streamheart.

Streamheart also learns a sufficient amount of medicine from the different medicine cats in each clan after showing interest in the subject before the clans leave.

After the clans leave things sort of just... progress slowly. Fern and Dust’s second litter all live and they have Foxleap and Icecloud once the three earn their warrior names (Birchfall ofc, Larchwing and Hollywhisker). Though Hollywhisker dies at some point just before Feathertail has Crowfeather’s kits which end up being the three and they named Hollykit after her.

Jayfeather, Lionblaze and Hollyleaf are all named and because the three prophecy isn’t rlly a thing and they were never lied to or anything they a) don’t have powers and b) Hollyleaf doesn’t die ridiculously early

Breezepelt is also born at some point to Feathertail and Crowfeather, though whether it’s with the three or a separate litter is undecided and doesn’t particularly matter. Either way in this one he’s not nearly as much of a dick.

Birchfall and Whitewing have Dovekit and Ivykit together.

Graystripe meets Millie who moves with her housefolk somewhere nearby and she gets intergrated into the polycule where they eventually have Bumblekit, Blossomkit, and Briarkit

Stormfur and Brook have Larkkit, Breezekit, Pinekit, and Featherkit (unlike the other similar names this isn’t done because Feathertail is dead. Storm just really loves his sister).

Shrewtail and Squirrelflight have Alderkit, Juniperkit, Dandelionkit, and Sparkkit (and no one dies)

Lostface and Cloudtail have Amberkit, Snowkit and Dewkit.

Streamheart also passes down the information on herbs she gained meaning that many of the cats understand it (Lostface and Swiftscar also help having been locked in the medicine cat den for quite awhile).

Alderheart also finds Twigkit and Violetkit at some point but they’re just kits who were abandoned that he takes in to raise (maybe with Velvet though I don’t know enough about her to confidently add that in).

Essentially the barn cats sort of just grow on their own and become a group a bit like the sisters in that every cat sort of acts like the kits parents. They let in outsiders freely and it’s sort of it’s own peaceful little society. Because of the peace there’s little death and carnage as well so cats live for long periods of time (Ravenpaw’s cancer is a myth here, it doesn’t exist, begone angst).

[saphirered]

The Lovers

Spoilers for Campaign 2 Ep141

Man oh man oh man. I've had this one written since the day after the last episode but I've been soooooo hesitant to post it at all 🙈. Anyway... I'm just gonna regardless because it's just sitting there staring at me to either delete or post it 🤭. I hope you enjoy because I'm still so conflicted about his piece of writing 😅. Unless people actually like it I might just end up deleting it after all.

---

Jester had asked you to come along on another journey of the Nein Heroez. She needed your expertise for something but couldn’t get across what for within the twenty-five word limit. Regardless, the opportunity to see and travel with your friends is not one you’re just going to pass on so of course you happily made your way to Nicodranas. Maybe the ocean would do you some good. It’s been a while after all.

In the first few days of your journey Jester had been keeping a close eye on you, watching your responses and reactions. Specifically your reactions to any and all interactions with a certain lavender tiefling. When she was certain your responses to the tiefling in question were not in any way negative and cordial if not friendly you found yourself being paired with him more often than not. Watch, hoisting the sails or dropping them, food shifts and even at the helm a few times.

You caught an argument between Fjord and Jester a few weeks later. Fjord was defending you and telling Jester she couldn’t just play matchmaker after everything that had happened between the previous inhabiter of Kingsley’s body and you and how it might still be a painful subject of not once but twice being faced with someone that’s not the person you loved and lost.

Jester seeing reason in Fjord’s arguments put aside the love story she’d been trying to unfold with you and the poor tiefling as her main characters. The shifts you shared with Kingsley came to a close and would be no more often than any shifts shared with anyone else on the crew.

One day the Nein Heroez made port to stock up on some supplies after being hit by a storm and running short on food. The crew was given some downtime to enjoy the many pleasures port has to offer but you decided to stay back at the ship. You asked Jester for the cards.

You’re sitting crosslegged on the docks watching the sunset as the crew leaves in groups bidding you goodbye while they go. Once the majority of them have left you take out the cards and begin laying them in certain patterns starting with simple ‘yes/no’s onto the past present future and more complicated readings. You’re not paying attention to any particular results but instead study the drawings fondly.

“You’d call me a sentimental fool.” You snicker as the fool card is revealed in front of you.

“Sentimental? Yes. A fool? I’ve yet to decide.” You turn around at the familiar voice seeing the tails of the black sleeveless coat you’ve grown accustomed to seeing around. You pick up the cards and put them back in their order stacking them.

“Oh really? You’d think a few weeks of being not so inconspicuously paired together on any task possible would give you enough time to form an opinion on that?” You tease beginning a new read.

“Maybe that makes me the fool then.” You can almost hear the smirk in his words.

“Care to find out?” You put down card by card face down. You know how to push for certain results. A trick you’d picked up from your former lover. It feels right to use it against him in a strange twisted way like this. Not really him but close enough.

Kingsley sits down to the side, not trusting you to not push him off the docks if he were to make an offensive (in jest of course) remark. Gathering the cards back up you start over. Time for a bit of fun. You push for the first card setting it down face up in front of him.

“The owl and the bear. Some might say the most deadly combination when put together. Be watchful of the owl’s words or you might find yourself at the ends of the bear’s claws.”

“So it was a good idea to sit on this side and avoid meeting my waterlogged demise.”

“Are you doubting my capabilities, Kingsley?” You smirk and watch the tiefling gulp. You move on to the next card making a show of pulling it from the deck and displaying it.

“Look at that! What did I say. The fool has appeared. The cards have spoken. my fool.” You take a bow as if addressing the most pretentious royalty around limited only by your crosslegged position on the docks. Kingsley can’t help but let out a chuckle at your theatrics.

“The cards have spoken indeed! A fool I must be.” He plays along. You begin picking up the two cards and restack the deck.

“Hey hey hey, isn’t there supposed to be three cards for this one? Not two?” You stop. He’s not wrong technically. You raise an eyebrow at him, fan out the cards and allow him to pull one from the deck as per the variant of this reading, putting the fate in the hands of the drawer. Not really of course. Usually you’d still be able to push for a card for them to draw but for this one you’d leave it up to the divines. You’ve had your fun.

And fun it was until Kingsley kept the card for himself, studying it closely. You were curious to see which one he pulled but you hadn’t exactly paid attention to that like you’d otherwise done. You wait for him to either give it back or tell you what it is but he takes a long time.

“So what is it?” You ask, your curiosity getting the better of you. It still takes a good few seconds before he lowers the card so you can see it too.

“Oh.” Is all you manage to vocalise upon seeing the card. The Lovers. The familiar drawing of a lavender tiefling looking at another figure arm outstretched and love in their eyes. The image of the tiefling reaches for the outstretched hand of the other figure; your figure. You’re staring back at your own face and the expression Mollymauk had claimed to have plenty of visual references for to know he could properly draw you but would always ask for one more just to remind him.

“I’m so sorry.” Kingsley hands the card back to you and you keep staring at it. He stays for a little bit to make sure you’re alright as you’re hit with a whirlwind of emotions. Once he’s sure you’re alright he begins to get up.

“I’ll leave you to the rest of your evening. Someone’s gotta make sure these fools drink just enough and start a brawl or two.” You snap out of it putting the card back into the deck.

“Kingsley. It’s alright. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” The whirlwind subsides and you return back to a peaceful state of mind. You offer the tiefling a kind smile and he halts himself sitting back down still somewhat tense. He opens his mouth to say something but is quick to close it again. There’s a moment of silence between the two of you as you shuffle the cards absentmindedly. You catch onto the conflict and hesitation in Kingsley’s features.

“If there’s something you wish to say please do say it.”

“When you said you loved him… I think it never registered it was anything other than the love the others held for him. Strongly yes but I always assumed it was akin to Yasha’s. Why didn’t you say anything?” Kingsley states piecing things together watching you closely.

“It’s not a burden for you to bear.” You pull the Lovers card back up to the top and study it closely.

“I might not know much but I don’t think being faced with your dead lover’s body inhabited by someone not him doesn’t bother anyone. That’s just cruel.”

“It doesn’t bother me. Not anymore. I’ve grieved Molly when he died. I grieved him again when Lucien returned. I’ve gone through it all and accepted he’s not coming back and that’s okay. Everything comes to an end at some point. I don’t think it’s cruelty. I think everything is as it should be.” You speak honestly stroking your thumb over the card.

“I have so many questions.” Kingsley states. You get it. He woke up one day, recovering from death not knowing who he is or was before that moment beyond emotions and flashes of a past that didn’t feel like his. That’s exactly why you wanted to spare him another previous relation to figure out. Yes it might make things slightly more difficult for you but that’s not his fault. That’s no one’s fault.

“And I believe Beau gave you her notebook so you can read back about your predecessors. But you’re not ready for that yet, are you? That’s okay. Don’t read it until you feel ready.” Kingsley’s head shoots up to look at you. Why do you understand him? Maybe you’re wiser than he gives you credit for but he thinks you’re already pretty wise.

“Expectations. Everyone expected something of me but I didn’t live up to it. I’m not who he used to be and that disappoints people. But from you, you never expected anything from me. Why?” He’s piecing it together bit by bit. You never slipped up. Never asked him to put on a coat that wasn’t his or asked him if he remembered something. You never even asked him if he recalled anything about you or sought to involve yourself in his life without his permission.

“It’s unfair to expect someone to be or become someone they’re not and never will be. You get to be your own person free of the constraints of the past.” The answer is simple. There’s no deceit or doubt. No hidden message or intent behind it.

“How is it you of all people can say that without pain or regret or wishing it were different?” You turn the card back around and put it back in the deck in its place and put the cards away. You take a second before answering trying to formulate a proper answer as Kingsley waits studying every micro expression.

“Bear with me for this one.” You start and he nods. “Lucien was born lonely forced to fend for himself and make friends out of the need to survive. Molly rose from a grave alone and scared. He was taken in by friends but he had to find a home his home with them. He found that home and got kindness and love. You awoke surrounded by friends, no family you didn’t even know but would still love you regardless. No matter what, you’d always have a home with them. You’d be neither alone nor lonely unless you choose to be.” You explain and take breath before you continue.

“You plant random seeds in the ground it’s very unlikely you’re going to receive the same flower twice. The only similarity they have is that they are seeds and will grow as long as they have the right foundations to do so. When I look upon you I see Kingsley Tealeaf, a man that became a sailor after we brought him back from the Astral Sea. There may be similarities, your roots may even be the same but you are not the same. You are separate.”

Kingsley takes in your words very carefully with a sense of understanding and something with in him he couldn't quite pinpoint until now. Acceptance and content. Whatever might have been holding him back before, he’ll have to come to terms with that. That’s the past and if the past comes searching for him one day, so be it. Until then, Kingsley Tealeaf has a life of his own to live and to enjoy. Enjoy all life has to offer, to its fullest and don’t hold back.

Let the sailor become captain of his own ship knowing he has a home and a family that will welcome him with open arms to return to. Let the eight be nine despite the expectations of others. Be free and be happy. Live content.

[plentyghosts]

Title: Blackout

Summary: When he opens the book, the spine cracks faintly. He smiles. He reads out loud, it’s easier to get through when the words roll off his tongue instead of bouncing about in his head. “Dorothy lived in the great Kansas prairies-” thunder rolls loudly outside. The lights flicker. Then, the room is cast into darkness.

Notes: just something short and sweet! I decided to post it directly here rather than ao3

Mr. Benedict’s house is old and creaky, a breeze blows through imperceptible gaps and the heating is broken, which makes the third floor warm at all times. It’s warm now, as SQ curls up in his bed. He props a book up in his lap, it had been a birthday gift from his uncle. The Wizard of Oz. The cover depicted a young girl standing at the edge of a road of yellow brick, a little dog stands beside her. On the other side of the road is a Lion, a Scarecrow, and a Tinman with an axe resting on his shoulder. SQ turns the knob on the bedside lamp and casts the room in a soft, orange glow. It’s late out, a storm blows outside. There’s no rain, oddly enough. A dry thunderstorm, that’s what Sticky had said. Every now and then thunder rolls through and startles him. He’s trying to ignore it. He opens the book. The print, mercifully, is a decent size. And the font is ‘dyslexia friendly’ as his uncle had put it. That had been a recent, and mildly unsurprising discovery. It’s an old, well-loved book, presumably his uncle had either owned it previously or bought it second hand. His father would have bought a newer book, something untouched by the outside world. He likes this more. It feels personal. Loving. Love is imbued in every little thing about his uncle, and everything he does for his family. When he opens the book, the spine cracks faintly. He smiles. He reads out loud, it’s easier to get through when the words roll off his tongue instead of bouncing about in his head.

“Dorothy lived in the great Kansas prairies-” thunder rolls loudly outside. The lights flicker. Then, the room is cast into darkness. SQ’s blood rushes to his ears, a whimper rises and dies in his throat. He blinks hard, trying to adjust to the sudden darkness. He can hear the sound of other kids yelling out in the darkness for the adults and Sticky yelping two doors down. SQ squints, moonlight is pouring into the room now, his eyes are adjusting. He closes the book and sets it aside, then he kicks his legs over the side of the bed and slides down to the floor. His toes dig into the carpet, the fabric is soft and textured in a way that doesn’t make his teeth hurt like other carpet does. He pads out of the room into the hall. It’s just as dark in here as it is in his room. A beam of light comes down the hall and flashes into his eyes. He groans and holds his arm up to shield himself.

“Whoops, sorry,” Kate says, then directs the flashlight down. The light illuminates the hallway in a ghostly way. Kate’s face is lit from below, creating sharp shadows along the soft edges of her face. She’s smiling, seemingly undisturbed by the sudden darkness. She darts forward and grabs his hand, excited about something. She’s always excited about something. “Hey, come check this out.” she leads him down the dark hallway, flashlight beam directing them forward to the end of the hall, down the stairs, and finally to the backdoor. Outside in the backyard, it seems everyone is gathered. The adults and kids are all gathered outside around the firepit that sits near the back porch. Kate leads him outside and down the steps. Then, she climbs into the tree and hauls him up after her. The bark hurts his feet a bit, but he bears it because Kate seems rather excited. They both settle on a sturdy branch. She points over the fence. It takes SQ a moment to realize what she was pointing at. Then, he realizes the skyline of Stonetown is an entirely dark. There isn’t a single streetlight on or window illuminated by a yellow glow. It’s a blackout. SQ’s eyes widen slightly.

“Woah…” He can see Kate grinning in the corner of his eye. She’s kicking her legs and bouncing slightly. SQ crosses his legs and looks out over the skyline. He can hear car horns honking in the distance.

“This is much nicer than the last blackout I was in.”

“The last blackout?”

“Yeah, not long before the prison. We lost Constance and had to go looking for her.”

SQ’s stomach turns slightly. Right, they had been looking for Constance, hoping to find her before his father’s men did. Kate hummed and started climbing down from the tree. “C’mon,” she said “Milligan’s gonna get a fire started, we’re gonna make s’mores!”

“S’mores?”

“Yeah, haven’t you ever had one?” SQ shakes his head and Kate’s mouth drops open. She looks shocked, as though he’d just committed some grievous wrong. “Well we gotta fix that! Come on, come on!” She grabs his hand and starts hauling him down from the tree. He goes gladly. The grass under his feet is cool and already becoming wet with dew. Mid to late September is his favourite time of year. Cold in the morning, hot in the afternoon, and dropping temperatures again in the evening. He shivers slightly against the breeze. He’s still shivering when he sits in front of the now burning fire. He feels a soft fabric against his shoulder and looks away from the light of the fire as Milligan sits beside him. Milligan's jacket is draped around his shoulders. 

He says nothing, just smiles. SQ smiles back. The jacket is warm around him, like a blanket fresh from the dryer. He slips his arms through the sleeves. It’s way too big on him. It makes him feels small, but not small in the shameful way his father made him feel. It feels more like everything had been contained in one small space, including himself. It feels safe. He likes it.

“Kate told me you’ve never had a s’more.” Milligan says, looking over at him. He has a good-natured smile on his face, “she sounded horrified at the thought.”

“It seems there’s a lot of stuff I haven’t experienced that she has.” SQ says, it comes out in a half mumble. He hears Milligan let out a laugh that’s more of an exhale of breath and a hum of amusement. SQ turns to get a good look at him. He’s still in a coat, which means that he had purposefully brought one out for SQ. Milligan is sitting on one of the little logs-turned-chairs next to him, resting his arms on his legs, hands laced together.

“Well,” he says after a moment “you can hardly hold that against yourself, Kate travelled around quite a bit and experienced a lot during her years in the circus.” He supposes that’s fair. But it’s not like this something new and exciting to the others. It’s just a s’more. Something most children are familiar with and have had on several occasions. He can’t help a small pang of loss. Loss for what, he isn’t sure. Perhaps for the child he could have been had he not grown up on the island. It hit him, sometimes, that he would never get those years back. His father had stolen from him what could have been a wonderful childhood, and no matter how he wished he to do so, he could not go back in time and fix things. He was stuck in this time, there was no way to go back. Time’s arrow stops for no one. The best he could hope for was to find solace in the family and friends he had in the present. He pulls the jacket tighter around himself, trying to fight off those thoughts before they have the chance to overwhelm him. He takes a deep breath and exhales.

“I guess so,” he says at last. He watches the fire. It flickers, breaks apart and comes together again. It crackles softly, embers rise into the air and fall down into the grass, making him mildly anxious. He’s heard the embers are part of the charm of a summer fire. He doesn’t quite see it, but the fire is nice and warm. Something is held out in front of him, drawing his attention away from the fire. After a moment he realizes it’s a long, metal stick with two prongs at one end, and a rubber handle on the other. He turns to look at who’s holding it out and sees Kate, giving him her usual excited grin.

“Wanna watch me set a marshmallow on fire?” she asks. He can’t possibly say no. He nods and she grabs the bag of marshmallows sitting beside her. She pierces two of the marshmallows onto the prongs at the end of the metal stick, then she holds them over the fire. At first, he doesn’t see it. But then there’s a small, subtle change amongst the flames surrounding the marshmallows, and when Kate pulls them away, they’re on fire. She holds it much too close for comfort. She lets the marshmallows burn for a moment before she takes a deep breath and blows them out. SQ blinks as she looks back to him, grinning. “Pretty cool, huh?” He nods, for lack of anything else to say.

She turns away from him and he can see her putting something together, though he isn’t sure what it is. He gets his answer a moment later when she turns back, and holds something out to him. A marshmallow and a small piece of chocolate are squished between two graham crackers. He tilts his head at it. “It’s a s’more,” she says “try it! It’s good!” He takes it, trying to avoid marshmallow dripping onto his shirt, and takes a bite. When he bites into it the marshmallow spills out and onto his fingers, making them sticky. But he finds he doesn’t care. Because Kate was right, it’s good. Really good. His eyes widen slightly, he smiles at her. “Right?” She says, somehow understanding what he’s trying to convey without any words. He decides he likes s’mores.

[softcallofdutyimagines]

More Then a Woman | Frank Woods x Fem!Reader | Chapter 1

Summary:

Another day, another dollar at your new job in the CIA offices. You thought this was your dream job. So why is everything so... Boring? But before you can make up your mind to quit, a chance encounter with a certain Marine may just prove to be the start of exactly the kind of excitement you've been looking for.

Tags: Slow burn

Next Chapter Here! | Warnings: None except Frank's language lmao

You smooth your skirt and touch up your lipstick for what feels like the tenth time today as you shift in your office chair. It’s not normally like you to be the nervous type, but ever since you landed this gig in the CIA, you’ve been on your toes. ‘Relax’, your coworkers say, ‘You’re doing fine!’.

But just ‘fine’ never quite suited you. Especially with top tier agents like Russell Adler and Jason Hudson walking around…

No, “fine” doesn’t cut it.

But... you have to admit, the stress of keeping up a tough work ethic is getting to you. Just a bit. All the hustle and bustle in this place, and for what? You shake your head out. No no, there’s no time for thoughts like that. You just have to keep pushing through and you’ll get over it.

Right?

You sigh in dismay, not entirely sure you believe yourself, before snapping to attention as your desk phone rings. With a curt response, you pick up and receive yet another task to fetch papers.

“Yes Sir”

... and a coffee.

“...Of course, Sir”.

You click the phone into its receiver and slump back into your chair, feeling more defeated now then ever.

If you wanted to run around doing errands all day, you would’ve moved back in with your mother. When were you going to get up to something… Exciting? Maybe not in the dangerous, life threatening way, but… Well… Anything must be better than this.

These thoughts swirl in your mind to and from the fax machine, to the break room, and all the way to your supervisor's desk.

“Anything else for me Sir?”

The man in question hardly even gives you a second look as he shuffles through the papers and sips the piping hot drink, “No, that’ll b- Wait, actually…”, he turns around in his office chair and flips quickly through folders in a filing cabinet.

At last, he turns around and hands you one such folder as you bite back a scream. “Could you fax these off for me?”, he scribbles down the receiving address on a post it note and slaps it on top, “Send em here, here, and here”.

You give a sharp nod and a “Yes Sir”, before turning and leaving on a dime.

The skin around your eyes and throat feel tight, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think you were on the brink of tears. Who are you kidding…. This isn’t at all what you were expecting. Maybe you’d be better off looking for something else, at least then you wouldn’t be so miserable all the ti-

Then, just as you’re lost in your day dreams, you next find yourself flat on the carpeted floor.

Your papers scatter all around, and it has just now occurred to you that you’ve bounced off another human being. Perhaps you should save the disparaging thoughts for your office from now on... Well, assuming you aren’t about to be fired on the spot.

For a moment, that doesn’t seem like such a bad idea, and you decide to take your time sitting up.

“Oh fuck, sorry”

You look up, following the sound of a gruff man’s voice.

Marine Sergeant Frank Woods towers above you, looking almost as powerful in this moment and from your unfortunate perspective as all the stories make him out to be. Your heart races in your chest as it gives way to panic. Now you’re really in for it.

“Oh! N-no, I’m so sorry, I uh- I should watch where I’m going”, you spit out an apology and an excuse all in one go as you maneuver quickly to pick up your scattered array of papers.

Frank watches you for a moment, mildly disinterested, and looking as though he’s about to shrug it off and walk away. You are right after all, you should watch where you're going. But then again... he could say the same for himself.

“Ah, don’t sweat it kid. Here”, Woods slowly leans down, perhaps giving his knees a chance to adjust from the previous lack of activity, and helps you gather up your things.

You appreciate the help, but can’t help but cringe a bit as you watch him grab the papers by the fistful, crinkling them slightly. Regardless, he shuffles the papers into a uniform stack before flicking his gaze back up to you, “Ther- Hey, wait a minute… Haven't I seen you around here before?”

You think for a split second, but you’re quite sure he hasn’t.

“No no, I have! Yeah, you’re the one that walks around looking pissed all the time”, he laughs, “Damn, I gotta say, you scare the shit outta me even! No wonder these bastard’s brought you on”.

Before you can even catch up to what he's saying, he has himself nearly in stitches laughing at your expense.

The urge comes over you to retort that there are plenty of legitimate reasons you were hired, and, more importantly, you are not “pissed all the time”, but before you can even open your mouth, you find you’ve lost your train of thought.

No, instead you find yourself immensely distracted by the Sargent’s laugh. Not so much the fact that he’s having the time of his life at your expense, but more so just… the sound of it.

It comes more like long, drawn out wheezes, only interrupted by gasps of air that sounds more like choking, before devolving into something more steady at least, but just as strange. You could only describe it as somewhere between grunting and barking. From this alone, you can tell he smokes too much and perhaps isn’t use to laughing this hard either.

What that says about you, you’d rather not think about. Instead, you find your mask of professionalism slipping as the corner of your glossy lips curls up into a smile.

You never thought such annoying, and obnoxious laughter could be contagious, and yet here you are trying, yet failing, to hold back some snickering of your own.

“Ah, shit…”, Woods drags his forearm across his eyes to dry them before fixing his gaze back on you, “You know... I think that is the happiest I’ve ever seen you around here. Is this place that shitty?”, he hands you back your papers at last as the creases at the corners of his eye furrow in mirth.

For a second, you’re worried he’s about to break into laughter again as he’s sure to drag you along with him this time, but instead he simply waits quietly, and you get the feeling he expects an answer.

“Well… Not in those words perhaps. It’s just, not what I expected I guess...”, you look away, not to sure what to say and yet feeling a little sadly now, as you shuffle the papers together and neatly place the crumpled stack back in the folder.

“Yeah, I get that… Heh, I wish I could be out in the field right now, you know? I mean fuck, there must be someone who needs killing, right?”, Woods huffs a few dry chuckles, looking at you as though he expects you to laugh.

You do not.

Instead, you offer an awkward smile and nod, not sure how to respond to such a grisly statement. Let alone one that’s meant to be taken as a joke. Woods coughs into his fist, then goes to stand abruptly.

“Anyway, I have shit to do”, he waits a just a moment in politeness until you’re standing as well before giving his final parting statement, “Later”

“Ahem, goodbye Sarg-”, but it’s too late, he’s already trudging off.

You blink, feeling bewildered at the twists and turns that interaction had to offer. Fortunately, you have more important matters to attend to as well, rather than let yourself be distracted by… whatever that was.

Suddenly you remember why you dislike working with the frontline troops.

Frank’s blood pressure feels like it’s going to explode through the top of his head. His knuckles are clenched white as he storms out of the building. Once outside, he stops to take a smoke break.

His head is pounding as he fumbles for a cigarette and then at long last he finally manages to retrieve his lighter as well.

Why the fuck would he say something like that? “there must be someone who needs killing”, yeah real smooth Frank, what a line...

He flicks the lighter spark again and again, but it refuses to catch. “Fuck!”, frustration overcomes him as he gives up and shoves it back in his pocket, throwing the unlit cigarette to the ground too for good measure.

That was the longest interaction he’s had with a woman in… in…

Well, he can’t even remember! And yet, he still managed to fuck it up.

Woods slams the door of his car shut behind him and takes a moment to cool off there in the seat.

You must think he’s some kind of psychopath.

Frank catches his reflection in the rearview mirror. If Mason was here, he’d say you’d be right. He jerks the mirror away so he can’t see himself anymore. Bastard. He snorts out a sigh and rubs a hand over his eyes as he tries to let the embarrassment go.

He needs a drink.

The ignition whines and after a few tries it finally starts up. Ah well, he reasons, maybe if he’s lucky he won’t see you again.

[johnwickmorelikejohnthicc]

Undefeated

A/N: soo.... I’ve done a thing. I’m not at all confident enough to post this rare pair on my Ao3, so I’m slapping it here to see if it does any good. I’ve just been needing to post something and my Ao3 account is pretty destroyed anyway. Please don’t flame me for this one... if y’all like it though lmk and i might be continuing it

Merle Dixon x Milton Mamet

Summary: Milton realizes that Merle is always different around him, but it never dawns on him why... until Martinez takes matters into his own hands.

Word Count: 909

~~~

Milton wasn't exactly sure when Merle started flirting with him, but it wasn't until Martinez started teasing him that he truly noticed.

Merle had always been a flirt. From the moment he was up and walking he had been flirting with anyone who would pay any attention to him. Barely concealed innuendos and vulgar 'sweet talking' seemed to be his go-to with everyone else in the town, but not with Milton.

Oh no, everything was different when it came to Milton.

At first, no one really noticed it. Subtle jabs in his direction; little teases that made Milton flush with second-hand embarrassment. But Merle did that with everyone, only he was less… intense when it came to Milton.

"Don't make me come over there and shut ya up myself" held none of the venom it was supposed to when Merle talked to him. It never dawned on Milton that the redneck was being sweet on him, just that he recognized his sensitivity and decided to tone it down for the sake of getting shit done. After all, it was difficult getting a status report from a stammering scientist.

Then there were the little moments. Merle would come into the library when he knew Milton was logging data, deciding to sit down and read when he could've just taken the book back to his apartment. Sometimes he would find his way into Milton's lab. He'd chat up a storm until he was given Milton's full attention, or he was dismissed from the lab.

It was rarely ever the latter. Conversation with Merle always came naturally. There were never any awkward silences or useless small talk. Merle said what he wanted to say and then bullshitted his way from topic to topic, almost as if he enjoyed talking to Milton.

But that could never be. Even if Merle was a little… suspicious at times, Milton never actually thought of him as someone to bat for both teams. The more likely assumption was that Merle was bored, and Milton was an easy distraction.

Then Martinez opened his big mouth at a barbecue and sent the scientist into a spiral of emotions he didn't know how to handle.

"Dude, Milton, you either gotta cut Merle off or give him something. It's getting sad."

Milton had choked on his drink at the unexpected topic of discussion. He straightened his posture quickly, trying to pretend like the statement wasn’t as much of a shock as it was. "Whatever do you mean?"

"You know what I mean, man. Merle's obsessed with you." The shocked look in Milton's eyes made Martinez's brow furrow. After a moment, he grinned. "Oh, you sorry son of a bitch. You really didn't pick up on any of it."

"I-I don't know what you are talking about, Martinez-"

"Oh, yeah you do," Martinez interrupted, that stupid grin still glued to his face. "You really think Merle acts like that around everyone? All gentle and sweet and… restrained?"

Milton took a long drink of his warm water to hide the flush in his cheeks. It didn't help in the slightest. "Merle simply knows that in order to get the quickest results, he mustn't be so embarrassing around me."

Martinez hung his head, shaking it slightly with a groan. "Oh, you two are just goddamn pitiful. I'm going to get another beer."

Milton stood alone after that, looking around the yard for everyone's favorite redneck until he caught sight of him. Merle was sitting backwards in a chair, his bad arm rested over the back while the good one balanced a beer on his knee. He was smirking darkly at some pissed off recruit, who looked ready to swing at any moment. The tension only fizzled out when Martinez tossed a beer in Merle's direction and told him to stop pissing off the rookies.

Maybe Martinez was right. Merle was a mean bastard. He found whatever sore nerve he could and hounded it, poking and prodding it until whoever he was talking to lost their cool. Even then, Merle never apologized. He laughed and put them on the ground with skill that was unmatched. After all, he was, as he liked to say, "Woodbury's Undefeated Gladiator".

For whatever reason, though, Milton couldn't remember a time when Merle had done that to him. Sure, there were moments when Merle had talked about his dead (now un-dead) family, or an experiment that failed and put Milton right back at square one with an almost broken spirit, but he had always noticed when he hit a nerve and changed the subject. Changing the subject was as close to an apology anyone was ever going to get from Merle Dixon.

Milton's brow furrowed, not taking his eyes off Merle. What had happened to him to make him this way? Who took what could've been a good man and twisted him into a traumatized, scarred soldier? Every now and then Milton felt the urge to ask these wildly inappropriate questions. Usually it was after a gladiator match where Merle was much too happy to kick someone's ass, or when the Governor made him do something horrific, and he just did it, no questions asked.

Someone had tried to break Merle Dixon a long time ago, but they failed. That was a fact, not an educated guess like everything else in his world.

Unfortunately, Milton had gotten so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed Merle catch him staring.