#i can’t fit anymore of them into the header

[bluejeanstrash]

vampires pt. 2 | pt. 1 | pt. 3

tags: 2.7k, vampire! seventeen x human reader, 18+, mdni, dubcon, mind control, oral (m receiving), exhibitionism, threesome (mmf) (mingyu x wonwoo x reader), bdsm, hardcore humiliation and degradation (verbal and physical)

wonwoo hates humans. doesn’t think they’re good for anything other than being warm holes he can cum in. he’s not interested in your muffled pleas for mercy, nor does he care that your throat is obviously closing around him — his cock constricting your airways. it’s not like you can push him back; it’s forbidden to touch him.  

‘she might choke’ jeonghan muses, nibbling on one of his sharp nails.

‘you think? i think she can take it’ joshua smiles, remembering the last time he made you take it — he had you begging at his feet to stop.

wonwoo’s got his cock stuffed all the way down your throat — bruising your insides, triggering your gag reflex. he’s been holding your head firm with both hands, satisfied groans spilling out of his mouth. you’re not sure how much longer you can breathe and that’s exactly what he’s after. wonwoo loved pushing humans to the brink, allowing them that desperate dose of life at the last second. that gulp of air was euphoric for his human and for him, orgasmic. 

he knows seeing your hands start to tremble with lack of air that it’s time to release you. ‘fuck-k’ he groans, watching you gasp, trying to drink in as much oxygen as possible.

‘open your fucking mouth’ you stick out your tongue obediently, feeling faint. there's a sharp inhale followed by a low exhale as he cums, intentionally missing your mouth to cum on your forehead instead. immediately, the room erupts into laughter watching the liquid drip down your face, painting your black blindfold with streaks of white.

he joins in, pushing your head back with a chuckle ‘stupid human’

you stay there, tongue out, kneeling, feeling it run down your skin, embarrassment seeping in. how stupid you must've looked.

‘hold your hands out’ he orders, pulling you out of your thoughts.

you bring them up, palms facing the sky and with a heavy grunt, he squeezes the last bit of cum onto your hands, the thick liquid coating your fingers.

‘thank you master’ wonwoo smirks, zipping up before grabbing your chain and turning you to the audience. he stands behind you, wrapping the chain around his hand, showing you off like he’s your owner.

‘now we’re going to show them a trick. spread’ you sit on the freezing floor, spreading open.

‘you’re going to play with yourself with my cum. show everyone how you touch yourself’

‘fun!’ jeonghan sits up; he loved when something new was introduced to the show. even through the thick blindfold, you can feel everyone’s eyes on you, your nipples becoming hard at the thought.

'quickly. what are you, teasing us?' wonwoo snaps, jerking at your collar.

you bring your coated fingers to your cunt, slowly mixing his cum in with your own sticky fluids, and suddenly there’s that voice in your head again — the one you’re sure doesn’t belong to you.

‘you’re a pathetic human’ it whispers ‘tell them’

‘i-i’m a pathetic human’ you announce making jeonghan cackle at the unexpectedness. he’s thoroughly amused.

‘just look at what you’ve been reduced to. rubbing yourself with my cum as a room full of people watch’ wonwoo’s demeaning words make your fingers move faster. 

'push it inside you' he commands and you take two fingers — wet with his cum and your own juices — and stick them in, depositing his seed inside you for everyone to see. 

‘such an obedient whore’ joshua praises, his gaze fixed on your fingers ‘does that feel good?’

you nod, whining. it wasn’t so much the feeling as it was how you were being watched right now, exposing something so private to everyone. you speed up, thinking of all the eyes on you but the more you do, the more you want to cum, and you’re never allowed to without permission.

‘can i please cum master?’ you try.

‘absolutely fucking not’ wonwoo snaps, walking in front and kicking your hand away. how dare you ask him already.

‘oh?’ jeonghan notices your fingers which are now soaked with just your juices and none of wonwoo’s ‘she has no cum left on her fingers’ he pouts, no longer finding this fun. 

‘come on’ wonwoo suddenly pulls at your collar, dragging you across the floor as you fumble to get on all-fours.

'take her to the bed' a sweet, melodic voice from the shadows suggests.

the bed as they liked to call it was not an actual bed. no, that would be too nice. it was a wooden bondage table with restraints to hold you in place. you, like others before you, were just a slave, there to put on a show and so the dungeon had everything — toys, tools, and contraptions to make sure the show was worth watching.

wonwoo bends you over the table, the hard wood uncomfortable already, and cuffs you — ankles tied to either foot and wrists bound to opposite corners.

‘wonwoo’ there’s a smile in jeonghan’s voice ‘use that on her. she gets soaked. it feels great to fuck’ you can’t see but you know exactly what he’s referring to. accidentally discovered by joshua when you were first brought here, the bullwhip had become their favourite toy.

new slaves were always initiated with a little lesson — mostly to discipline but mainly for entertainment. much to their surprise you had started to gush uncontrollably, cumming at the slightest touch after. unfortunately, they all had to use you and seungcheol was strictly against visible bruises. so they would only use it when he was away.

‘so you like feeling pain?’ wonwoo picks it off the wall, wrapping the whip around his fingers and pulling to hear the tautness. he lets it loose, the tip dragging across the ground.

you can hear his footsteps circle you as you breathe slow. any moment now.

‘at least you know your place-’ there’s a deafening crack as the leather hits your skin, making you yelp, your body jerking forward on your tip-toes from the shooting pain.

‘-and human slaves should always know their place’ he hits you again as you scream out, feeling the sting in your cunt.

you can tell from the way he cracks the whip that he’s done this a million times before. today his lashes are quick and highly controlled — more pleasurable, less punishing. through the haze of the radiating pain, you hear footsteps — light and silent — ones that belong to him and your cunt aches for what’s coming next.

jeonghan saunters over; his bony fingers on your hair, stroking and petting, while wonwoo grazes the whip over your searing skin. you could cum from this alone. you don’t know what it was but the pain of punishment paired with gentle care made your mind go numb and enter that place — one of quiet submission.

‘hit her again. you can take it, can’t you?’ jeonghan coaxes ‘you can take one more. i know you can’

whip. crack. pain. pleasure.

he strokes your cheek with his thumb as it hits, sliding it down to your quivering lips and pushing past them; and like every other time before this, you start sucking on it ‘give her another one. harder’

wonwoo cracks the whip again as you cry out in pain, immediately sucking on jeonghan’s thumb for comfort. your skin, now red and raised, is another lash away from breaking and jeonghan knows wonwoo won’t be able to control himself if it does.

‘i think she’s ready’

wonwoo walks behind you, grabbing your ass cheeks and spreading them open ‘look at that..’

you’re slick with arousal, your cunt glistening with your sopping wetness. wonwoo licks his lips, thinking about how warm and ready your cunt must feel. he needs his cock inside you, and he’s not the only one in the room that does. there’s another vampire, one in the darkness, tugging on his pants, trying to bury his desire.

wonwoo pulls his cock out, stroking himself erect before slapping his hard dick against your entrance. he slides the tip up and down, taking all your arousal and then pushes in, a low satisfied groan escaping his lips as he feels your warmth envelop him.

his cock is thick and long, and you can feel him so deep inside you. wonwoo’s thrusts are rough, each one sharp and selfish. he fucks you cruelly, using you like your nothing more than a fucktoy. it’s honestly a perfect view for the audience — hands cuffed, blindfolded and your mouth wide open as you moan in both pleasure and pain. the vampire in the darkness tugs at his pants again.

'mingyu' jeonghan sighs, bored by his hesitation 'just fuck her’ poor mingyu. he was always so cautious, unwilling to hurt humans without reassurance from his coven.

‘look, her mouth is empty. go. go feed her’

there’s a hesitant silence after which you hear footsteps — heavy and clumsy — as mingyu approaches.

'is it okay?' mingyu’s words cause an uproar of laughter. he was like that — polite — even before killing his prey, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t.

'he asked you if it’s okay’ joshua repeats.

‘it-it’s okay’

‘okay?’ wonwoo snarls, put off by your answer.

‘tell him it’s a fucking honour’ he grabs you by the hair, pulling on it to angle your face up towards mingyu.

‘beg for it bitch’ 

'pl-ease’ you stutter, suddenly nervous. wonwoo slides his hands down, wrapping both around your throat and pressing tight so it’s harder for you to speak.

‘beg louder’

‘please stick your cock in my mouth, master. please master, i want to be used by you’ you strain through every word. thankfully mingyu’s not one for teasing. he immediately unzips his pants, pulling out and pressing his cock to your lips as wonwoo lets go.

he rubs his wet tip against your lips, back and forth, before pushing past them. ‘fuc-k’ mingyu whines, gripping the table as he forces his entire length in in one go ‘your mouth is so warm' 

and too small to fit him. he’s huge. maybe even the biggest out of all of them and you just can’t do it. your mouth closes around him, teeth grazing his throbbing flesh.

‘oh..s-she can’t take it’

‘she will’ wonwoo leans ahead, hooking two fingers on either side of your mouth to stretch you open. you feel utterly humiliated; imagining just how pathetic you look as mingyu puts his cock back in, letting out a breathy moan of satisfaction.

somewhere in the audience jeonghan smiles, exchanging a look with joshua, knowing they’ll need you in this position for next time.

wonwoo keeps you hooked and starts thrusting, fucking you onto mingyu’s cock. the sensation of two cocks sliding in and out of either end was something you’d started to crave after being used by those two.

mingyu matches his pace to wonwoo’s, both pulling out completely and then filling up your empty holes at once. it’s not just your body that’s stimulated; the way mingyu’s rising whimpers pair with wonwoo’s hard grunts makes your brain buzz.

‘..so good’ you hear mingyu mutter to himself. wonwoo’s thrusts turn harder, his skin slapping against yours, each one making your bruises burn. you moan at the pain, the vibrations of which mingyu feels all over his cock. ‘f-fuck yes’ he whines, getting closer with each moan. you didn’t expect him to be such a sadist, but here he was, pulsing in your mouth.

‘i n-need to cum’ mingyu pants, pulling out and masturbating himself in front of your face ‘i want you to watch me cum on you’ he pulls your blindfold down, feeling his cock twitch as your eyes meet.

‘you’re so pretty’ he whimpers, cupping your face with a hand as continues touching himself with the other. fragile, captive humans were so pretty to mingyu that he could cum just by seeing that helpless look in their eyes.

‘keep looking. right at me. y-yes, just like that’ he moans, his grip tightening around his head. there’s only one thing that could make this moment better — seeing your eyes brimming with tears.

it’s like wonwoo knows and suddenly, so abruptly, there’s a sharp shooting pain as he spanks you, the impact of his palm on your bruises making you wail, your eyes wet with fresh tears. ‘p-perfect’ mingyu moans, pushed over the edge.

‘fuck, i’m going to-’ he cums prematurely, trying to shoot it in your mouth but misses, shooting ropes and ropes of thick white cum all over the place. some of it paints your face, but most spills onto the table, pooling in little pockets. mingyu often came messy like that; especially when he was so eager to.

‘s-sorry’ he apologises — not to you but to the audience for ruining his cumshot.

‘we don’t apologise in front of lowly humans, and look, this will be more fun’ joshua walks over, pulling your blindfold back up before pressing your face flat against the table.

‘now what did we say about manners? you shouldn’t waste your food. lick it clean’ he orders. you hesitate for a second before sticking your tongue out, aimlessly licking the wood beneath you until you taste mingyu’s sour cum.

‘disgusting whore’ it’s nothing short of a compliment for joshua.

watching you slurp mingyu’s cum while your face is covered with more is strangely arousing for wonwoo. he picks up the pace, his aggressive thrusts making your tongue clean the table. ‘dirty whore’ he mutters, angling his hips up and shoving his cock in to reach your most sensitive spot. you squeeze around him so tight, moaning uncontrollably. so he keeps stimulating it, over and over, hungry for more; and a few seconds later you just can’t take it anymore.

‘please master, can i cum?’ desperate words spill out of your mouth without a second thought.

‘huh? you want to cum?’

‘yes, please’ he yanks a fistful of your hair, lifting your head up.

‘ask them’ he points you to the faceless audience ‘ask them for permission’

‘please let me cum, please, please, p-please’

‘what do we think?’ joshua pretends to care but he’s already made up his mind. he has no plans of letting you cum today; he wants your desperation to build so when him and jeonghan are playing with you, it’ll be that much more fun.

‘no, the slave can’t cum today’ jeonghan hums, having the same thought.

wonwoo pushes your face back down ‘see, they don’t think you deserve it. worthless whores like you don’t deserve to feel pleasure, they’re just gaping holes to cum inside’ he grips your waist, pressing you into the table; his thrusts harder, deeper, faster.

‘pleas-e’ you’re desperate.

‘shut up or i’ll rip your fucking throat out’ wonwoo growls, digging his icy fingers into your bruises as you scream, his thrusts now frenzied. the sound of him mercilessly pounding into you fills the room and he lets out a final groan, cumming, a sudden burst of liquid filling you up.

‘fuck’ he groans, pulsing inside you, dumping every last bit of his cum in your hole. he spreads your ass, pulling out as his cum slowly trickles out of you. it’s the perfect cumshot but wonwoo’s distracted by something far more appealing — the red bruises on your ass, so close to bleeding.

he wants you so bad. not yet he tells himself. it would be a shame to not fuck you again.

‘who’s next?’

the rest of the night is a blur. you’re used continuously, cum dripping out of every hole — your mouth, your cunt, your ass — as the show finally comes to an end.

‘you’ve put on such a good show today’ jeonghan praises ‘everyone clap!’

there’s a resounding applause during which wonwoo finally pulls your blindfold off and your eyes dart around the room searching for the one person you haven’t heard a single word from — seungcheol.

‘are you looking for someone?’

you shake your head, quickly dropping your gaze. wonwoo bends, whispering it like he’s letting you in on a secret ‘he left. a long time ago. the moment you pushed my cum into your dirty cunt he couldn’t stand to look at you anymore’ and suddenly you’re wracked with an all-consuming guilt.

he gazes into your guilty eyes, that snarky little smile returning to his lips.

yes, wonwoo hates human but there is one thing he truly loves about them — their useless emotions, and right now he’s elated you’re drowning in yours.

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒎𝒚 𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒅𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔

part 6 of 🌧️welcome to hell🌧️

summary - demons lingered in the back of your mind, causing you to think you aren't good enough and it doesn't help that steve is ignoring you.

warning - bad thoughts, self-hate, mentions of cheating, angst, barely eating, emotionally drained, feeling like you aren't good enough.

the gif I use isn't mine, headers by me.

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 7

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

What if you and Steve were meant to part ways, only so that you could find each other again. What if you were destined for each other? But instead of being together now, you both needed to grow separately, and soon the two of you would meet again in the coming years when you were both ready.

You didn’t know who you were anymore. You were no longer the person you were before you met Johnny, and you weren’t exactly who you were when you were with him. You felt stuck and horrible. You hadn’t gotten better after the divorce, not even when Steve entered your life. 

Somehow, you lit up his darkness and he silenced your mind. Around him, you felt as though you could finally breathe. But why couldn’t you relax?

Your eyes fluttered open as you woke from your slumber and you just laid there, staring up at the ceiling. It had been a few weeks since you bumped into Steve and you wondered if you had done something wrong.

Steve helped you with your bags, placing them on your kitchen counter before he turned and looked around your place with a smile, his hands stuffed in his jean pockets. “You have a nice place, it suits you.” God, why could you two stare at each other and feel so connected, but then so awkward when trying to find something to talk about. 

“Thank you. You really didn’t have to help me.” You gesture towards the bags before you begin to unpack them, hoping that the cold products haven't warmed too much. 

Steve waves you off. “I didn’t mind. Like I said, I wanted to help.” It felt so natural as he began to unpack the other bag, like this was your routine. The two of you moved so gracefully, like a puzzle piece fitting perfectly into its spot as you moved around the kitchen, putting things away.

Once you finished, your eyes locked onto Steve’s as he leant against the counter. “W–Would you like something to drink? Or eat?” You watched his eyes flicker down to your lips before meeting your eyes again. 

“Water, please.” Did his voice get deeper? You felt like you could drop at any second with how he looked at you. You moved quickly, hands shaking slightly as you filled up a glass before handing it over to him. Steve grabs it gently from you, his fingers brushing against yours and sparks erupt at the touch, causing a soft gasp to escape you. “Thank you.” 

You watched him drink, how could such a normal thing look so hot and sinful when he did it? His eyes never left yours, but yours left his when he moved the glass away from his mouth. You watched his tongue flick out as he collected the water that glistened against his lips. This felt so wrong, but so right at the same time. 

You blink and clear your throat, quickly moving away from him before you do something you may regret. Steve moves over to the sink, washing the glass for you before putting it away. Your mouth hangs open slightly, not even Johnny did that. You would always have to clean up after him. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Stop comparing the two! 

But they look so alike… You can’t help but think. It was strange.

You shake your head from your thoughts as Steve touches your shoulder gently. “Are you okay?” 

You hum. “Oh, yeah. Sorry.” You felt like you were suffocating, like this was all a dream. If this was a dream, you didn’t want to wake from it. You let out a shuddering breath as you stare into Steve’s eyes, you could see concern swirling around. “I’m okay. I just got lost in my thoughts.”

Steve nods as if he understands, and the weirdest thing was that every thought seemed to disappear as his hand brushed against your hip. Neither of you could deny the pull, and it scared the hell out of you.

You barely knew Steve, and yet you felt so safe with him. You nearly cried as he pulled away, stepping back, his hand now falling to his side. His phone didn’t go off, but he pulled it out. “I have to go, my friend messaged me.” He gestured to his phone, and you felt your heart sink. Maybe it was inevitable, maybe deep down all men really were the same. Be it in friend, brother, father, or lover form. It was a curse that no woman could seem to break. “It was lovely to see you again, and if you ever need me. I’m right across from you.” He gave a smile so fake that you wanted to believe it to be real. And then he left, leaving you to stand there as your thoughts crashed into you. 

You blink tiredly from the memory. 

Maybe he got scared as well. Maybe he had his own demons, one in the form of an ex. Your chest tightened at the thought of him with someone else, and then you sighed.

He’s not yours, idiot. He never will be, so stop being so pathetic. 

You groan, your thoughts have become meaner lately. You slide out of bed and head over to your closet, scratching your head as you stare at your clothes. Your lip turns as you don’t like anything you see, maybe this would be a good time to have a day to yourself. Well, technically everyday now is to yourself because you left your husband after catching him fucking your best friend.

Your nose scrunches as the image of them fucking pops up into your head. They were your own demons that would possibly forever haunt you. 

You grab some jeans, a plain black shirt and underwear before heading into your bathroom. As you place your things down onto the bathroom counter, your eyes catch your reflection, and it was like death was staring back at you. It seemed the physical toll had slipped from your attention, you had thought you were doing okay aside from the nasty thoughts. Sure, you didn’t eat as often, but it wasn’t because you were starving yourself. You just hadn’t been as hungry, anytime you would go to eat, those two would pop up into your head and your appetite would disappear.

You stripped before slipping under the water. Now you understood why Steve would avoid you like the plague whenever you bumped into him in the hallway. 

You hated this stupid pull that you kept feeling, it was like a constant tugging. It kept trying to pull you in the direction of Steve, like somehow it knew he was close and craved him to be near you. You wished you could grab some scissors and cut the cord that was attaching you to him. Maybe then he could be free of you, free of the burden you seemed to carry. 

You shoved your head underwater, wanting these thoughts to disappear. Maybe taking you along with them. You stand under the shower for a bit longer before slowly getting out and drying yourself off. You don’t dare look in the mirror in fear of what you would see. You hurriedly dress yourself and walk out of the room, grabbing your shoes and bag.

As you exit your apartment, you are met with Steve leaving his. Your eyes widen for a split second before you quickly look down and walk away, not caring that you didn’t lock your door. You didn’t want to burden him with your presence. When you’ve made quite a distance between the two of you, you let out a deep sigh. 

Was this how it was going to be for you? Forever cursed from love and happiness?

You were going to be okay. You had to be.

Steve watched with a saddened look as you walked away. He knew he was being an arse, he didn’t mean to, really. It was just that anytime he was around you, or thinking about you, he would feel this intense feeling wash over him. Steve had felt those feelings the first time he bumped into you and then the second two years later. He was scared, scared that he may end up hurting you. Of course, he didn’t know he was already doing that. 

You walked through the doors of a local second-hand shop, a place you generally enjoyed shopping at. You head straight towards the clothing section, beginning to flick through. 

“Wanda! Did I tell you the news about Steve?” Without meaning to, your ears perk up at the name. You knew it could be a possibility that it was another Steve, but subconsciously you listened in. 

You had heard that voice before, though. You just didn’t know where from…

“No, what about him?” You pick out a few pieces of clothing as you listen in. 

“He finally found someone! He met her once before, but they ran into each other again!” A tug at your heart, even though the person might not be your Steve. “He constantly spoke about her even when he didn’t even know her, now that has doubled. You remember right?” 

The other woman hums. “Oh yeah, isn’t that why everyone teases him?” 

You round the corner, eyes widening a bit when you spot the woman talking. She was the same one from when you had bumped into Steve the first time. Your heart tugs like crazy because you knew this couldn’t be you, they were talking about. Steve had been ignoring you, so why would he talk about you to his friends? 

Natasha looks up as she’s about to reply and you immediately look down, pretending you are looking through the clothes in your arms. You don’t see her nudge the woman next to her, gesturing to you or the fact that they are now approaching until it’s too late.

“Hi. I know you.” You look up surprised. Natasha smiles teasingly. “You’re Steve’s girl!” 

You shake your head, clearing your throat awkwardly. “Uh no… I’m not his girl…” You stumble slightly. “I—I know him! But uh, we aren’t…” You gulp, this was painful.

The women smile. “Okay, you aren’t his girl now. But you will be!” Wanda replied, a giant grin on her face. “Oh, sorry! Hi, I’m Wanda!” 

“Y/n, and I don’t think so. Steve and I aren’t even friends.” You begin to chew on your bottom lip, needing someone to talk to about this, but you didn’t have any friends… You also didn’t know if you could trust having a friend again. You swallow, your throat suddenly feeling dry. 

Natasha’s brows furrow, “Wait, don’t you guys live across from each other?” You nod, “And you don’t talk?” You shake your head.

“Dumbarse” She mutters under her breath, shaking her head. “I’m sorry about Steve. He’s made it sound like you guys were close.” Natasha facepalms. “I am so going to kick his arse when I see him.” 

“You don’t have to, it’s okay.” You try to fake a smile, but it feels like they can see through it. 

Wanda grins. “Why don’t you join us? We can forget about men and just shop!” 

You made it back to your apartment after spending the day with Wanda and Natasha, you hadn’t felt this happy in a while. As you hit the last step, your head lifts and your eyes connect with those beautiful blue ones. You feel your throat dry and your stomach twist. 

“Y/n…” You slowly move forward, berating yourself for allowing your heart to feel something for him. You were already so broken, why did you think anyone could love you. Your gaze flickers to the bouquet of flowers in his hands, noticing how they shake slightly. Maybe he had a date and wasn’t expecting you to show as he was leaving. 

You continue to walk, hoping to slide past him and into the safety of your home. Even though it felt so lonely inside. Steve reaches out, grasping your arm gently, causing you to stop and look at him. Neither of you can ignore the spark that lights from your touch. Unable to ignore the pull anymore, it felt as though time had stilled as you once again locked eyes. 

“I’m sorry… I’ve been an arse.” Steve frowns, all of the negative feelings he’s been feeling have finally come crashing down on him. 

You shake your head, giving another one of your fake smiles. “You don’t have to apologise, Steve. It’s not like we were friends or anything, you don’t need to be nice to me.”

His hold on you tightens slightly, Steve wonders who the hell hurt you to make you think that. He stares deeply into your eyes, hoping that you can see he’s telling the truth. “I do. Because I am sorry. You didn’t deserve me ignoring you, especially if you think it has anything to do with you. I was in the wrong, and I’d like to make it up to you if you allow me.”

Another choice for you to make. One where it could go incredibly well or one you would regret forever. 

You stare at him for a few seconds, trying to find a sliver of a lie. Your gaze moves down, and you look at the flowers. “I got these for you… I didn’t want to apologise empty–handed.” 

And like that, your demons quietened. “I’ve never received flowers before…” His love roared louder than your demons, silencing them. 

You looked back up at him and made your choice. 

The gravitational pull between you had become stronger, finally feeling like it was ready. It seemed the universe and all the galaxies had a talk and said,

“Yeah, It’s time.” 

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[thewebcomicsreview]

The Secret Report is a webcomic I am doing. Could you please review it? Please note that the art is a little bit roughin the beginning.

Here's the link: https://secretreport.the-comic.org/comics/#comicimage

Keep in mind that despite the strip format, the comic is serialized (not gag a day) and the strip format was chosen purely to save on time (that's also why in the beginning it is partially in grayscale)

So, first thing jumps out immediately 

Which is that I literally can not read your comic because the “Support Me Financially” subscribestar link is on top of it. It looks like your header bar is set to position:fixed so it jumps down when I try to scroll to read the comic itself. I get the desire to make the link prominent but this crosses into obnoxious (It’s also very generic, but I’m not a marketer so I won’t comment on that further), and breaks the reading experience because I have to scroll up slightly every page load. Ignoring the site design and getting int-

Actually I’m not the biggest fan of these nav icons either. You sort of have to be used to Standard Webcomic Site Template to know what they do, or even that they’re buttons at all. That’s more nitpicky, though.

So, I spent like an hour and a half going through the strips one by one and making notes in the way I often do, but after way too long I realized it was useless, because

Strip 2

Strip 31

Strip 102

There’s a remarkably rabid improvement in the presentation, here. Not just the art, but the paneling and world balloons have shot up in quality. Like, the art is still fairly crude and I’m not going to pretend otherwise, but you’re getting way more out of it now that you were originally. For a comic that’s only been going a year and change there’s a pretty significant improvement! 

I wrote 225 words nitpicking this one panel, but really who cares. Your early comics aren’t indicative of your current work, to the point that “This dialogue from strip 7 makes no sense” isn’t actually useful feedback anymore. And that’s legitimately amazing for how short a time you’ve been working on this. 

I do think, though, that you’re still having some issues with the word balloons, and I think you should focus on that because it’s probably the highest ratio of “effort spent” vs “output improved” you can get right now. Panel 2 has fifty-six words in a single balloon. The rule of thumb is 25 words max in a single balloon, and 35 words in a single panel. I’d recommend that you, and anyone writing comics, get in the habit of counting your words, and either draw more panels to fit them all in an aesthetically pleasing way, or try to cut your dialogue down. (”Thank you Admiral. The calls for violence from the human religious leaders make it clear we’re not wanted here anymore” is 20 words and contains most of the key information)

I would also recommend giving a bit more flow to the logical flow of the conversation. Here, Birvoth says the problems of this world are “Inequality, Slavery, Lack of Social Mobility, and Arrogant Leaders” and Soria tells him not to generalize all humans. But....he didn’t. All four of humans problems he lists are social problems about how some groups of humans oppress others, not “humans are greedy”, so Soria’s objection doesn’t make any sense. 

He did generalize them in the previous strip, but then he walked it back to talk about social problems and Soria has this kind of delayed response

Shuffling the panels like this makes the conversation flow smoother, making Soria’s objection better time while having the interesting side effect that now Birvoth appears to be walking it back in response to her. Which you may or may not consider a positive, but that’s the kind of thing I’d encourage you to think about. (Strips 88 and 89 have a similar delayed response thing happening, where the woman says “you can’t help” and then Lemmy stands around for two panels before starting the next strip with “No I’m pretty sure I can help”).

This might be presumptuous, but I get the sense this kind of thing and the word balloon issues that you don’t write out your dialogue before drawing the strip. I think it might be a helpful exercise to try writing a movie-style “script” for your comic, and then putting it down for a bit, then coming back to give it a once-over with fresh eyes and try to edit it down. I think that might help you catch this kind of stuff and find your own solutions to it.

I look forward to seeing what your comic looks like next year. You’re improving at a pretty good pace! 

[mspec-to-aspec-pipeline]

@pantasticenby -> @mspec-to-aspec-pipeline

Url and header inspired by this post.(link)

So, it’s been two years since I last logged into tumblr, and since then, I’ve realized some things about myself:

I’m not aceflux, I’m just ace.

I’m on the aro-spectrum as well; nebularomantic(link) to be exact.

Pan as a label no longer fits me (hence the url change), but bi-angled does.

I am, in fact, a we! Not gonna talk about it much, and don’t ask me my opinion on syscourse. All systems are welcome here; if you don’t like it, you can leave.

Still Ram, still a they/them (although I don’t really care about singular vs. plural usage anymore), still a neurodivergent nonbinary guy.

I’m back because I missed coining weird, niece terms for my queer experience and making flags for them. (Coining masterlist here)(link) Likely won’t be posting much else.

I decided to remake this blog rather than just changing my url for the sake of everyone who’s ever linked one of my terms. The links will break if I change @pantasticenby .

I’m disappointed (but not surprised) to learn that queer discourse is still a prominent feature of tumblr, and I’m too old and too tired to deal with it. So, let me get this out of the way:

Queer isn’t any more of a slur than gay or lesbian.

Censoring and arbitrarily policing queer people who reclaim slurs puts the power back in the hands of the queerphobes.

I’m out here fagdyking it up, and you will not stop me.

Gatekeeping is stupid. Policing queer identities and queer language is stupid. Go touch grass.

A-specs are queer. Yes, even aroallo cishet men.

“Weird,” “cringe,” and “contradictory” labels are valid. Queerness is about non-normative relationships with sexuality/romance/gender/sex. Stop trying to make a new norm to conform to, and accept that there will always be queer experiences that you don’t quite understand.

Transition is for anyone who thinks their life would be improved by it, regardless of identity or dysphoria.

I’m not giving you a free pass to misgender me by handing out auxiliary pronouns. If you genuinely have difficulty using they/them for whatever reason, I’ll be patient with you, but I’m sick of gatekeepers using disabled people and non-native English speakers as an excuse to be transphobic.

The way that this website and the queer community at large has treated transfems (particularly transfems of color) is appalling. I stand with my sisters.

The way the trans community has treated intersex people is also appalling. I stand with my intersex brothers, sisters, and siblings.

Masculinity/features associated with it are unfairly demonized, in trans people of either AGAB, in intersex people, and in queer people in general. That’s bioessentialism, babes, and it’s not cute.

Transandrophobia and transmisogyny are both real, and neither experience invalidates the other.

If you disagree with me on any of these fronts, that is a you-problem. I’m done playing along with bad-faith discourse and people taking out their internalized queerphobia on the weirder queers.

I can’t stop you from interacting or using my terms/flags, but I can block you and wash my hands of the situation.

[shadowisles-writes]

Glass of Your Rearview (Part 2) [Feysand]

header by @the-lonelybarricade​

A/N: I am so excited to be continuing the fic created by @the-lonelybarricade​ for this writing circle. You can read part 1 here and find the masterlist for every fic in the event right here.

Word count: 3012

.

Feyre’s milkshake nearly went through her nostrils from how hard she was laughing sitting across from Tarquin. It should have been embarrassing, but he was laughing just as hard, his deep voice filling the small diner with the sunshine he seemed to carry with him everywhere he went.

“I just-” Tarquin made a clapping motion with his hands. “Slammed straight through the wall.”

Feyre laughed harder as she imagined the scene. An eighteen years old Tarquin, drunk out of his mind and running into his dorm room through the wall that separated it from the kitchen rather than use the door. She remembered the walls being paper thin in their building, but she never expected anyone to break through one of them.

“How bad did that hurt?” She asked once she had regained her composure.

It was hard to stay cool while sitting across from a man as handsome as he was, especially since he had effortlessly made her laugh like a schoolgirl the entire night. His white hair framed a face of hard lines that were almost always smoothed into an easy, smiling expression whenever he was looking at Feyre. Ocean eyes contrasted with the darkness of his skin and captivated her attention to the point she was worried she’d never be able to look away from him.

“I had a minor concussion,” Tarquin shrugged. “Considering everything, I came out pretty unscathed.”

“I can’t wait to know what you’ll break the next time you get drunk,”

“Come on, it was five years ago, I’m not as much of a disaster now. I’m just very friendly when I’m drunk.”

“You’re a very friendly person, full stop.” Feyre corrected. Tarquin could get along with anyone, he was just the right amount of funny and charming to put someone at ease. “You make everything easy,”

“That a bad thing?” He cocked his head to the side.

His hand was in the middle of the table, as it had been for most of the evening, waiting to be held. Feyre liked that he had left it there whenever he didn’t need it, patiently waiting for her, never rushing for anything. He hadn’t rushed her for the date either. In fact, Feyre had been almost sure he wouldn’t be interested anymore by now.

Tarquin was the first guy to ask her out during their first year of college. They lived in the same building and hit it off instantly, but after the events of that summer (Feyre had done a great job of not even thinking his name for five years, she wasn’t about to break that streak now) she had to turn him down and take time for herself. And so, Tarquin had been a great friend for years and occasionally showed some extra affection to show he may still be interested but never asked her out again.

“No…” She slid her hand forward, her fingers brushing his. “No, it’s a good thing.”

Tarquin smiled and linked their fingers together, his thumb gently rubbing over the back of her hand. “I’m glad you called, Feyre,”

“So am I.”

This was easily the best first date she had ever had. People who said you should fall in love with your best friend may have been right all along. Not that Feyre was in love with Tarquin, but she could see herself getting there. She could picture the next dates, the good and the bad that would keep them together, the affection and the growing feelings. Tarquin could be the perfect fit for her.

It was with a smile on her face that Feyre slid out of her side of the booth and followed the neon pink arrow to the bathroom in a faraway corner of the diner. She walked down a set of narrow stairs before finally finding it and taking a few minutes in there. Feyre wiped her clean hands dry when she was done and adjusted her hair in the mirror. She couldn’t help the way the corner of her lips turned up

She was happy. It wasn’t something she usually allowed herself to think, but she was. Things were finally falling into place in her life, and Tarquin seemed to be the last piece of the puzzle. He completed it perfectly with his piercing eyes and dazzling smile. Feyre had never had such a good time on a date before, and it was making her giddy. Would he kiss her when he dropped her off at home tonight? Or would he hold her hand to walk her to the door and give her the choice of making a move if she wanted to?

Feyre was still thinking about the way tonight was going when she exited the bathroom and saw him. She stepped back against the door that had just shut like a cornered animal as Rhysand walked down the last step of the stairs. Even then, he was still so much taller than her. His dark hair was a little longer than she remembered, his violet eyes weren’t sparkling the way she was used to in brighter lights, and maybe he had gained a few muscles in the past years, but it was definitely him. Even without seeing his face, she would have recognised the easy grace with which he carried himself.

“Hello, Feyre darling.” He stopped when he was so close she had to tilt her head back to look at his face.

“Rhysand,” she breathed out his name for the first time in years, “how…” Feyre cleared her throat and steadied her voice. “I didn’t know you were back in town,” and in this diner.

God how she wished she could have seen him from afar on a street before running into him. Her brain was scrambled into useless mush the second he came into view and the wounds she thought had healed after his departure reopened with his proximity. If she had been prepared to see him maybe this wouldn’t hurt so much. Her chest ached in a way she had forgotten it could.

“All those years of friendship and you give me Rhysand?” He raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, the corner of his lips tugging into a smirk. Feyre hated him for it. She almost corrected herself, but using his full name kept a distance between them that she desperately needed.

The silence stretched for several seconds before he gave in. “I got homesick.”

Liar. Rhysand had always hated this town, it was too small for his ambitions.

“Right.” Feyre glanced past his shoulder, unable to reach the stairs without making him move out of the way first. Her heart hammered in her chest and her cheeks burned, she needed to get out now. “Guess I’ll see you around.” She hurriedly pushed past him, her shoulder knocking into his before she took the stairs two at a time to get as far from him as she could get.

The walk back to Tarquin barely gave her time to recover, she was so tense she was grinding her teeth hard enough to give herself a headache.

“Everything alright?” He asked across the empty table, their milkshakes having been cleared soon after she had gotten up for the bathroom.

“Yeah, just getting tired,” Feyre lied and forced a smile.

She had been so sure about this. It took her five stupid years to get to this date, and he had ruined it in less than a minute. The power he still had over her was unfair.

“How about I get you home?”

Bless this man for always finding a way to give her what she needed and making things so easy. Her smile relaxed into something more natural as she nodded. “Thanks,”

The drive was silent but it was so short that there was no time for it to become awkward. Feyre didn’t argue when he got out of the car to walk her up to her door, though she was in no state for a kiss. She had her keys in her hand before she was at the door, preventing him from holding it and giving her something to fidget with.

“I’ll call you tomorrow?” Tarquin said once they reached her front porch.

Yes, tomorrow, after she had gotten some sleep and a chance to sort through her thoughts. “That sounds good, thank you for tonight,”

“Any time Feyre,”

Tarquin’s hand reached up to her jaw, and she did the only thing she could think of to avoid a kiss without outright rejecting him. She placed a hand on his shoulder and lifted herself to the tip of her toes to brush her lips against his cheek. To his credit, if he was disappointed, he didn’t show it at all. He only gave her one last soft smile before she unlocked her door and stepped inside her home.

The pressure on Feyre’s chest slightly released when she found herself alone and free of expectations. She let her smile crumble and her shoulders dropped as she got rid of her clothes to slip under the covers of her bed, teeth unbrushed and make-up still on. She just wanted the comfort of her blankets and pillows. If only her brain hadn’t chosen that exact moment to remember what had happened between her and Rhys the last time they had been on a bed.

Tears stung at the back of her eyes, and there was no point in holding them back. Feyre clutched her pillow tight and spent her night crying for all of the feelings she had repressed since he had left her.

.

Tarquin called well into the morning, after Feyre had showered and gotten herself together, but she still couldn’t bring herself to pick up. She let the phone ring until he was sent to voicemail, only to find out he had left one a second later.

“Hey Feyre, it’s me, I hope you’re good. I’m just calling because I wanted to say I really enjoyed last night, it was nice, and if you want to do something again soon just give me a call when you have time. Or text or whatever’s easiest. Hope I’ll see you soon, bye.”

She couldn’t just not reply. If she put it off, she’d leave him hanging for a whole day at least and he deserved better than that. She forced herself to type a text apologizing for missing his call and saying she felt a bit under the weather today so they could maybe meet up again in a couple of days. By then, she would be fine.

Feyre needed to make it a certainty. Things were looking good for her. She had been convinced of it last night and she wouldn’t let Rhys ruin everything so easily. Tarquin was perfect, he was everything she had ever wanted in a man, and she wouldn’t throw away a chance to build a relationship with him just because the man who had left her heart in pieces had suddenly reappeared.

And so, a few nights later, she found herself sitting in one of the local bars with Tarquin to enjoy their live music night. It was too loud to really talk except in between songs, but the set wouldn’t last the whole night and they enjoyed the vibe the small band was creating. Feyre relaxed after the first few sips of her drink, the ghost of Rhysand no longer present in her mind as she managed to focus fully on Tarquin.

This was what she wanted. Something comfortable, so easy it felt natural for them to be together. Spending her time with Tarquin was like coming home and curling up by a fire at the end of a long day. It was lovely and reassuring, the stability most people could only dream of.  He was the steady rock in the middle of her ocean. Rhys, in comparison, was a storm. Unpredictable, exhilarating but ever changing. Rhys, she told herself, wasn’t what she wanted anymore.

She was confident in her decision until he strode in through the door. The all black outfit should have looked tasteless, but it fit him perfectly. Even dressed in something that others used to blend in, Rhys sucked up all of the attention in the room. Everyone noticed him, though most were subtle with their staring, but Rhysand only had eyes for one person in this bar.

Feyre felt his stare burn her skin. She tried to avoid his eyes, glad that Tarquin had his back to him so he couldn’t notice what was going on. Why was he doing this? Feyre needed to know. He was the one who left her all those years ago, so why was he back now out of all times, staring at her like they shared a secret. They didn’t share anything. Not anymore, anyway.

Unable to take it any longer, Feyre grabbed Tarquin’s empty glass and her and used the drinks as an excuse to make her way to the bar. All she had to do was ask him why he truly came back, and then tell him she didn’t want anything to do with him. It seemed easy enough until she reached his level.

“You look good, Feyre,” Rhys complimented, leaning against the bar close to her.

“Why did you come back?” She set the empty glasses on the bar and hoped the polite gesture would make the bartender serve her a little bit faster. It was a busy night, and she didn’t want to be stuck with Rhys for longer than what was strictly necessary.

“How long have you been with that guy?” He dodged her question and glanced at her table with disdain.

 “That guy?” Feyre glared at him. “That guy is the one who picked up the pieces after you lied to me and left me like all you wanted was a quick fuck before you disappeared five years ago. So you can shove that tone up your ass.”

Rhys should have apologized, but the way she stood up for herself only made him smile. “I missed you, Feyre. I came back for you.”

Her blood chilled in her veins. For her? What gave him the right to say something like that when she had spent so much time fighting to get over him.

“What makes you think I ever wanted you to come back?”

“Nothing. London was my dream, but it sucked because you weren’t there and I missed you like hell every moment of it. I’m here now because you were never just a quick fuck Feyre. You were everything. You were my best friend, and I should have told you I was in love with you back then when we still had time to make it work, but I was scared and stupid. I’m here now to try to make up for it, whatever it takes.”

That was uncharacteristically honest for someone like Rhys. She didn’t know what to do with so many words, but it was still far from an apology and it was coming five years too late.

“I don’t need you here.” Feyre glanced back at Tarquin, who turned to look at her at that exact moment. She tried to give him a smile, but her lips barely moved up.

“You never needed me,” Rhys said. “But you could want me, and if you realize that you do, you should know he’s not your only option.”

Maybe Feyre’s eyes had screamed save me when she looked back, because a second later an arm wrapped around her body and the warmth of Tarquin’s chest met her back.

“Everything alright?”

“Feyre and I were just having a great time catching up,” Rhys looked him up and down before picking a piece of lint off his sleeve.

“Rhys and I grew up together around here,” she helpfully provided, her hand resting over Tarquin’s on her skin. She wouldn’t lie and say the main reason she was touching Tarquin wasn’t to bother Rhys, but she also had to admit it felt nice to have him so close to her. Safe, comfortable. This was what she wanted. “He moved to London five years ago and is just back in town.”

“It’s always nice meeting some of Feyre’s friends,” Tarquin politely said though he didn’t extend his hand in greeting.

“Yes, friends, that’s what we were,” Rhys chuckled, looking only at Feyre. He let the silence drag for a few long seconds before wrapping his fingers around his drink. “I guess I’ll leave you two to your night,”

His point had been made. Feyre turned to face Tarquin and his hands dropped back to his sides.

“So that was… your ex?”

“No— I mean, it’s complicated.” I was never his girlfriend but we almost fucked after he asked me to marry him. “But no, we weren’t— It’s just…”

“Complicated?” Tarquin finished for her.

Feyre deflated. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for things to get so weird tonight,”

“Is he the one who left you so messed up five years ago?”

How he saw through her so easily, she didn’t know. Perhaps it wasn’t that hard to connect the dots when she mentioned he had spent five years in London and Feyre had her heart broken around the time he left.

“Sort of,” she nodded, wanting to tell him the truth but not ready to go into details. There was too much history between them. She couldn’t unpack it for herself, let alone explain it to someone else.

“I’m going to be honest, Feyre, I waited a long time for a chance to be out with you like this, and I’m not here for complicated.”

“It’s not complicated now,” she swore. Tarquin was right, he deserved better than that and she was determined to give it to him. “I haven’t heard from him the whole time he was away, I was surprised to know he was back in town.”

He accepted her explanation without more questions, his eyes communicating a silent I trust you. The only thing Feyre wanted was to make sure she’d always be worthy of that trust.

.

Tags:  @dealfea​ @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens​  @abooknerdlove @dwnofav​ @deedz-thrillerkiller16 @nosequeponer1  @velidewrites​ @the-lonelybarricade​ @hlizr50​ @ofduskanddreams​​ @headcanonheadcase​​ @crazy-cool-girl-blog​​ @thehaemanthus​​ @thestarseternal​​ @shadowsingerofnight​​ @violet-shadows​​

[thatsthetriick]

Jjba characters switching bodies with their s/o

Summary: Body swap with their s/o! Some freaky friday shit! :D, It’s basically a work of a stand! ;), yeah all my inspiration is from the movie ‘Your name’ I rlly love that movie sm made me cry huhu, if u haven’t watched it srsly watch it its gud Disclaimer: Body swapping, possible pervertness from characters lmao, all characters are aged up! gn! reader, and mentions of killing from Dio's headcanon Header photo:  Namaikizakari

Part 3 Characters body swapping with their s/o + DIO

Joseph Joestar ❀ “AAAAAAAH!” Joseph would screen and look at the mirror to see that he was in your body? What’s happening! Was it a stand user that did this? Eitherway he even tries summoning your stand but instead he ends up getting his same stand, hermit purple? Weird. ❀ He’ll probably blush at the fact he’s temptedt o look at your body but he has no time for that! He rushed out of his hotel room and quickly find you to see if you got in his body and his deductions were correct, you were also freaking out since you were in his body and Avdol was trying to calm you down. ❀ Once he steps in Avdol immediately widens his eyes and questions if he was Joseph and he managed to confirm that he was joseph and Avdol conclucded that both of you swap bodies because of a possible stand user. ❀ You two have to deal with it the whole day and Polnareff always reassured you two that it’s going to be fine, not a big deal though he does laugh and tease at the both of you sometimes. ❀ Since you’re in Joseph’s body you wear pretty fashionable clothes because ur cool and hot. ( ;) i love u reader -author) While Joseph wears more of your plain clothes just a shirt and pants, but he still wears his hat. ❀ You two eventually got separated from the group and found the stand user and managed to attack ther user and returned back to your bodies. Jotaro Kujo ❀ He’ll be staring at the mirror and let out a “tch”, he already knows this is a work of a stand user, he just stares at the mirror for a long time and then walks out of his hotel room, calmly but still wearing your pjs. ❀ Once he enters to the room he was in his hands would be in his pockets, Kakyoin would be helping you think on how this happened but looks at Jotaro who was in your body and his eyes widened and kakyoin was right you two did switch bodies. ❀ When you where in a hunt from the stand user who did this to you and Jotaro you wore his turtle neck only and with no jacket and no hat, he decided to wear his hat with your body and he wore one of your leather jackets since it fits him compared to his original jacket. ❀ Girls would circle around you and you would flirt with them back because it’s funny to see Jotaro annoyed that you’re having way too much fun being him, “It’s not that bad being you” You would say and he would just scoff and tell you to not enjoy it too much. ❀ He was having a hard time being you as well since you look like an approachable person compared to him so a lot of people advertised products to you or if not foreigners asking for him and other things like that and honestly you would answer it for him. ❀ You two eventually got attacked from the back from the same stand user that switch both of you, and good thing that it doesnt switch your stands so you two managed to beat the stand user and Jotaro had to change back to his uniform. Kakyoin Noriaki ❀ Honestly he wouldn’t notice it for a bit and then when he does he quickly looks at the mirror and then starts processing it all and quickly rushes to his shared room with Jotaro.  ❀ He wakes you up before you even freak out and you’d be freaking out back in your own room. You two start thinking what made you two switch your bodies and you both agreed and concluded that it was probably a stand user they met the night before, but who? They met so many people the night before. ❀ It was honestly fun that you two were trying to figure out the puzzles of this mystery, but after a few hours pass by you two went to the others to inform them a stand user switched both of your bodies, it was only 9 AM at this time so you all got breakfast and tried thinking of ways to find the stand user. ❀ You wore different clothes for Kakyoin, his uniform was too hot and you couldn’t handle the heat of the sun already so you wore more comfortable and thin clothing, just a long sleeves polo shirt but you folded the sleeves, he honestly didn’t have much different clothes, only his pajamas and his uniform then extra polos. ❀ He in the other hand actually dressed up pretty nice with your body, he had good taste in clothing. ❀ This whole experience got you two closer together honestly, before you two wouldn’t really talk that much so the fact that this whole freaky friday thing is the one that made you two close is kinda funny but it was alright since you two knew a lot of things from each other just by talking the whole time you two looked for the stand user who did this. ❀ When you two encountered the stand user everyone else in the group was behind so they help you two defeat the stand user and got swapped back to your bodies, and unlike Jotaro he wouldn’t really change out of the clothes you wore for him since he wanted to be polite and it actually suited him. Muhammad Avdol  ❀ he sweats and gulps as he looks at the mirror, he started thinking about how this happened? ❀He came to your room to see you in his body and talking to Joseph that you were you, and he confimed that the both of you seemed like you two switched bodies. ❀ Joseph went to call the others and everyone had a meeting in Joseph and Avdol’s room and you all tried recalling what happened yesterday or yesterday night and who you all encountered and spoke to. ❀ Polnareff would be teasing that Avdol is a lucky guy and jokes about weird things and Avdol would just defend you and say that this is serious even though Avdol is a bit flustered that he switched with you. He just doesn’t experess it my guy. ❀ You and Avdol got separated a lot from the group but you two manage to talk a lot, and just like Kakyoing you two learn a lot of things about each other. He wore simple clothes of yours and you wore clothes that were also simple because it was hot again and you still can’t handle too much heat since you might faint or something. ❀ You two struggled but managed to defeat the stand user which made you two switch back to your original bodies, you two would probably prank the others that you’ll be stuck with each other’s bodies forever and pretend to act like each other just to get a reaction from the rest. ❀ You and Avdol had fun picking on everyone making them think you’ll be switched forever, Polnareff kept comforting you two thinking that it’s actually real but you two are so good at acting that Polnareff got fooled. Jean-Pierre Polnareff ❀ This guy is a pervert honestly and would just be flustered if u are are girl he’d probably just stare at your boobs. ❀ Yeah but he’s a pervert, but he still doesn’t peak unless he obviously needs to change his clothes in your body. ❀ You would always remind him to have no funny business and Joseph would also wack him to not do anything weird and he’ll just say “Ow! I haven’t done anything!” or some other comments. ❀ You honestly just wore his clothes because it’s good enough for the heat, but he in another hand wore a tank top for you and shorts or if not shorts with jeans and there was nothing wrong with it just seems like you were going to go swimming or something but you shrugged it off. ❀ He would continue the constant teasing and how he actually likes being swapped with you and that you two are fated to be since out fo all the members you two were the chosen ones and you’d chuckle at his comments like this. ❀ He would flirt with other people even when he’s in your body which makes you wack his head sometimes and remind him that he was still in your body just in case he was forgetting. But despite this he’s been kind and polite to you and made you laugh a lot during the time you two switched bodies, this is where you two got closer than ever. Sure you knew him before but you two never had an actual conversation, usually you two would exchange just a few comments from and that’s all you two ever did, including the flirt. ❀ Once he finds the stand user he quickly chases them until he corners them and you do the finishing touch. You and Polnareff change back and he jokes about being upset that he isn’t you anymore and how he enjoyed the experience. You two would still talk about it in the future since you two found it funny. DIO ❀ This man is a tsundere for you, a good one though. Despite that he’ll still charge to his room where you were in, and you were in his body. He yells at you for doing this and you yell back that your stand doesn’t even have this specific ability. ❀ He tries to command Vanilla Ice to look for the one responsible for doing this to the both of you, but since Vanilla Ice just saw you and he didn’t notice that it was Dio in your body, thus he didn’t follow him and just looked at you instead and asked what you wanted to do to Dio. ❀ You have fun being him because you are in high power but he still had the world stand so he technically still has power to control you and you would scoff at this and Tell Vanilla Ice the whole story that the two of you switched bodies and even revealed that you two switched stands and Vanilla Ice was frustrated to hear that one of Dio’s followers did this to the two of you so he immediately got to work. ❀ This meant you two were stuck to wait with each other, he also forced you to tell every follower of his to not step into the room yet since he didn’t want to look like that in front of everyone it makes him look weak and you would roll your eyes. ❀ This man was still cocky though and comments that even though he is in your body he still has the power of the world, and that he can quickly just destroy all the Joestars and their team by pretending to be you and acting like a innocent person. Though he also stated he wanted to defeat the Joestars with HIS body because he kinda wanted the credit of killing the Joestars even though for some reason he sent his followers to kill them for him but you didn’t think too much of it. ❀ You secretly would walk out of his room and ask his own followers for a lot of things, like to get luxurious food or prepare a nice bath and they would find this weird since Dio was technically a vampire and this was out of character of him but you were so good at being Dio that you found so many excuses to their questions. ❀ You would actually put on some clothes while Dio just wears the same thing you wear earlier. ❀ After bantering each other for a long time Vanilla Ice finally defeated the stand user and you two switched back and Dio complained how being you is pathetic and you seriously cant take his comments seriously so you just insult him back, ilke I said this man was a tsundere but he kinda he enjoys being your body he found it really hot, he just doesn’t want to admit it, and he really thought this was an advantage to kill the Joestars immediately but sadly he already told you to request Vanilla ice to find the one responsible of all of this so  he couldn’t do much. ❀ You two continue your lives as a person who assist Dio because Dio forced you to, and with him bossing you around which makes you wanna kick his face but you still continue your duties  

Thanks for reading hope you have a good day! -𝓣.

[canirove]

Little Poppy | Chapter 16

Author’s note: Did the header from the previous chapter spoil something from this one because I got them mixed? Maybe 😅 In any case, thank you for reading! 💜

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Masterlist

“Declan Rice… will you marry me?”

At that, he finally opens his eyes, looking at me as if I’ve grown another head.

“Are you serious?” he asks while sitting on the bed.

“I’ve never been more serious in my entire life. I even have a ring” I say as I show him the ring I just made with a piece of paper I found on my desk. He just laughs when he sees it, looking from it to me, expecting me to laugh or say it’s all a joke.

“You are serious” he finally says.

“I am.”

He stays silent for a few seconds, but they feel like hours.

“Yes. I will marry you” he finally says as he offers me his hand, waiting for me to put the ring on his finger. “I can’t believe you just asked me to marry you, with a paper ring, while we are completely naked” he says once I’m finished.

“I’m full of surprises… fiancé” I say as I lean forward to kiss him.

“I think that’s my new favorite word” he says, laughing.

“Should we celebrate… fiancé?” I say as I move to be on top of him again.

“I think we should” he says.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━    

When we make it downstairs, everyone is still having breakfast. James included.

"James!" I say when I see him. "I wasn't expecting you to be moving so soon."

"I still need to be carried, I can't go too far without help. But the doctor said I’ll recover" he explains.

"Glad to hear you're feeling better" Declan says.

"My lord" James replies, bowing his head.

"Is there anything you would like to share with us?" Mason says while pointing at our hands. I hadn't noticed we had come downstairs holding them.

"We don't hate each other anymore" Declan says.

"That much I had suspected" Mason replies. "Anything else?" 

"Do I tell them?" Declan asks me.

"Yes, Dec. Tell us" Mason says, annoyance on his voice.

"Alright, alright, no need to get mad. But one has to think for a moment how to say to his second family that he is getting married" he says with a shrug.

Once those words leave his mouth, chaos starts. There are screams, cheers, hugs and food everywhere. Happiness.

"And the ring? How is the ring?" one of Mason's sisters asks me.

"Actually... There isn't a ring" I say. "At least not a proper one.”

"How so?" Lady Mount asks.

"She is the one who asked me to marry her" Declan says. Everyone falls silent. Even the kids stop running around like crazy. Finally, Lady Mount speaks.

"You have to tells us all the details!" she says with excitement as she leads to me to sit at the table.

"Maybe don't share all the details" Declan says to my ear. "You know which ones".

We spend the rest of the day celebrating the good news, the idea of having a double wedding being thrown around more than once. Lady Mount also suggests that we should write to our parents, or to Declan's at least. Who knows the state my father is after I left and he didn't get the wedding he wanted. At dinner, James asks Declan and I to talk in private.

"While your parents and your mother were planning everything, they knew you would fix things, and that’s why they gave you their blessing before you left” he says, looking at me “And also that’s why they entrusted me with this.” He has a little box on his hand. A ring box. “For you, my lord.”

When Declan takes opens it, it shows the most beautiful ring I have ever seen.

"It belonged to the first woman from your family that became a Lady Rice" he tells me. "Its last owner was your grandmother's sister, so it seemed fitting that you also got to wear it. You aren’t receiving it the usual way, but you two aren't a usual couple.”

"May I?" Declan says, taking the ring out of the box and holding my hand. I nod, tears coming to my eyes.

"To the future Lord and Lady Rice!" Mason says when walk back into the dinning room, raising his glass. Everyone else joins him, cheers filling the room. I've never felt happier.

[aalbedo]

tartaglia x injured!reader

request: Hello! How about scenario where character offers help to injured!gn!reader, who is very mistrustful of and reluctant to accept it? I smh love the dynamic "no I don't want your help or anything to do with you but I don't really have a choice". And yeah, I feel like Tartaglia fits it well though you may choose whoever you feel like T v T

format: two-parter (part two here)

ship: tartaglia x reader

tags: reader is the traveler-ish (a completely separate character from aether and lumine, but still the traveler, does that make sense?)

warnings: blood, mildly graphic depiction of injury, stitches and needles

words: 1951

notes: this request awoke something in me, i feel like i could’ve written an entire 70k words fic on this if i had the energy. im sorry anon but i kinda went off the rails with this one hfjdkhfd i hope you still enjoy it. also yeah the header is mildly fucked up because i don’t have the energy to find a better png ok.

You fell to the ground, placing your hands right in a small puddle of your own blood, while a ruin hunter laid on the ground, defeated. Your legs had given in, as a sharp pain hit you through your entire left thigh. There was a large cut on your pants, through which you could see a long, bloody, wound on your skin left by the mechanical monstrosity. It wasn’t too deep, but damn if it hurt.

You squeezed your eyes closed, and let out a loud groan. Reaching a hand into your bag, you pulled out the antiseptic solution you always brought with you, and found out that the bottle was empty. You rummaged more through the bag, looking for a numbing cream, an analgesic potion, even just a remnant of a bandage, anything that could help. Nothing.

Panic started settling in your chest, you were completely alone, in the middle of Lisha, where Hilichurls could attack you at any moment, and you were injured just enough that you wouldn’t be able to walk, let alone run away or even fight. You laid down with your back to the ground and covered your face with your hands, as your palms suffocated another loud groan.

You would have to crawl all the way back to the city, or until you found someone willing to help you before fainting from the slow, but consistent, loss of blood. Or worse, dying from shock.

Suddenly, you heard a voice in the distance yell “hey!” Then a second time, with a clearly worried tone in their voice. The pain in your leg made it almost impossible for you to focus on recognizing who that voice belonged to, but it didn’t matter - you were about to finally get some help. You kept your eyes closed as you raised a hand and waved it, showing whoever your savior was where you were.

As you didn’t move from the ground, you heard steps, quickly getting closer to you, until you could feel the presence of someone right above you.

“Oh thank the Archons, I’m completely out of-” you opened your eyes and were met with two bright blue irises staring into yours, and all of the sudden you recognized the voice from before.

“Did that ruin hunter hit you?” Tartaglia was perched right next to your injured leg, already starting to open a backpack that you didn’t recognize as his. He moved his eyes to your thigh and reached out a hand towards it. You swiftly moved the leg away from him, forgetting that it would make it hurt even more, and whimpered when the pain grew.

“I don’t want help from a Harbinger, least of all you” you spat out as you slowly sat up and used your hands to back away from him.

“Stop moving, or you’ll make it worse,” he said plainly as he stood up and followed you, while you kept backing away ignoring the pain through your leg.

“I’ll lose a leg before I let the fatui help me.”

“Alright then, I guess I’ll just watch you crawl all the way back to the Harbor.” He crossed his arms. Oh, he thought he was being funny?

You kept backing away with your arms, until you felt something hard hit your back. A rather large rock was blocking your way, and you would have to crawl around it, and the young man laughed, slowly walking towards you as he took his gloves off and put them in a pocket. You tried moving sideways, but he was quick to crouch down and grab you by the ankle, the one on the injured side, right when you moved.

You inhaled and closed your eyes as a sharp pain shot through your leg. “Are you out of your mind? That hurt!”

He kept your ankle pinned to the ground. “Don’t move,” he ordered. He used his free hand to carefully move the ripped fabric of your clothes out of the way, and get a better look of your wound. You started to feel lightheaded as you saw him tear the fabric further.

You felt some sort of damp cloth on your skin,figuring it was being used to clean the blood off your injury. Tartaglia was being so careful that you could barely feel it, it seemed like he had done this a million times before. You closed your eyes, placing a hand over them, and tilted your head forward, suddenly feeling overcome with dizziness.

“You’re losing a lot of blood. If you hadn’t moved, it would not be this bad right n-” he interrupted himself and he called your name. “You still with me?”

“Mh- huh-uh” you started feeling uneasy. You opened your eyes slightly and caught a glimpse of the wound and immediately looked away. So much blood.

“Stay awake, don’t close your eyes again.” You heard a ruffling of fabric, the damp cloth wasn’t on your skin anymore. “Tell me about the Archons.”

“What?”

“Tell me all of the Archons’ names and their elements,” he repeated. You couldn’t figure out why he wanted you to tell him, but you followed his order, keeping your eyes away from your wound, and instead fixating on the grass beneath you. You were feeling too dizzy to protest, your only choice was to trust him, despite all of your instincts yelling at you to get away from him.

“Okay, there’s... Barbatos, god of Anemo.” You heard more fabric rustling coming from him, but you refused to look at what he was doing.

“Yes, then?”

The dizziness was still overwhelming, but you managed to keep talking, “Morax, god of Geo.” Clinking of glass, probably bottles. “Tsaritsa, goddess of Cryo.”

“Mh-mh.” He sounded… focused. What was he doing?

“Baal, goddess of- Fuck!” The skin around the wound started burning, and so did the wound itself. You bit your lip hard and groaned as the burning kept going on and on, your skin was itching and for a split second it was almost unbearable. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Antiseptic potion,” he replied plainly. “I had to find a way to distract you or you wouldn’t have let me use it.”

“Bastard.” Your skin kept burning, but you slowly got used to the pain as you watched the clear potion sizzling over your still open wound.

He barked a laugh, “I’m trying to help you over here, you’re very welcome.”

You looked at his hands as he skillfully kept cleaning your wound, now there was way less blood coming out and you were starting to feel slightly more at easy. He lifted his head and looked right into your eyes.

“It’s not too deep, but it would probably be better if I stitched it.”

“You sound like you’ve done this before.”

“Of course I have, you think these healed themselves?” he asked, pointing at the seemingly long scar that started from the base of his neck and went down under his shirt. “At some point you have to learn how to stitch them up yourself.”

You exhaled deeply, still keeping your eyes on his. You realized that his irises resembled the starconches you had seen laid in the sand of Yaoguang Shoal’s beaches.

“Do you have an anaesthetic something to make the stitching hurt less, at least?”

He looked into the bag, moving things around, as if he had no idea what was actually inside the backpack. So it definitely wasn’t his.

He shook his head, pursing his lips slightly. “No, sorry.”

“It’s…” you pondered over it. You would probably have to go all the way to Bubu pharmacy to get an anaesthetic, and on the way there you might lose even more blood. “It’s okay.”

From his backpack, that you hadn’t realized was laid on the ground by your feet, he pulled out a small tin box, and from the box he took out an interestingly shaped needle, recurved like a crescent moon, then a pair of tweezers and a thread so thin you could barely see it.

Just by looking at the needle, you felt uneasy again. “Are you sure we can’t go to the Harbour and get help there?”

“We can do that, if that’s what you prefer, but I would have to carry you - I doubt you could walk at all right now.”

Somehow, the embarrassment of other people seeing you being carried, bridal style, by Tartaglia was stronger than any pain you might have to go through to get these stitches done.

“Fuck it, do it. But be quick.”

“I will try my best,” he said, and his tone sounded genuine to you. You still couldn’t believe you were trusting him like this, after everything he had done to you. “Try to think about something else, focus on anything but the stitches, it’ll hurt less.” He passed the thread through the needle’s hole with surprising skill.

“Okay, uh-” you watched him hover the needle over your skin, probably thinking about the fastest and least painful way to do the job. You moved your gaze from the open would to look at his face, and his expression seemed calm enough to put you somewhat at ease.

His lips were slightly parted and you noticed that he was biting his own tongue, the amount of focus he was putting into helping you was so intriguing to you, you could have never had imagined that he would be so… caring. At least not to you.

You suddenly felt the needle prick through your skin and you whimpered slightly. “Sorry,” he quickly said, before using the tweezers to make the needle pass through your skin and grab it again on the other end.

He repeated the process a few times, slowly pulling the thread every now and then to make the stitch tighter. You observed him the entire time, his eyes quickly darting from one spot to the other, his nose and mouth breathing at a steady pace. You saw him scrunch up his nose a few times, probably to release tension.

Each stitch hurt, you could feel the entire needle pass through your skin and come out again every single time, but you didn’t protest at all, and instead focused on counting the freckles on Tartaglia’s nose bridge, watching the muscles under his skin move every time he swallowed, and carding your fingers through the grass, accidentally ripping some every now and then.

“Done,” you heard him say in an unexpectedly cheerful tone. “I have some bandages, but I don’t think they’re enough for this large of a cut. Though, now that it’s stitched up, it’s probably safe for you to move, and I can help you get to the Harbor where you can buy some numbing potion and bandages.”

You looked down at the wound, and to your relief the stitches looked like they would hold together pretty well. “Sure, I think I can hop for a while, if you hold me.”

He picked up both his and your bag, putting them over his shoulder, then reached out a hand towards you and you realized just how bloody his hands were, as well as his clothes. You grabbed it with your own bloody hand and slowly stood up, placing your weight on the healthy leg. He placed your arm around his shoulders and put his own behind your back, holding you up.

“Ready to go?”

“Mh-mh.” You started walking in the direction of the Harbor, hopping on one leg while Tartaglia held you up.

“Whose backpack is that?” you tried asking.

“Honestly? No idea.”

“What were you doing here in Lisha, anyway?”

“Just some Fatui business, don’t worry about it,” he quickly dismissed your question.

“Always so secretive.”

[utakoi]

Suds

Pairing: Soft Yandere!Enji Todoroki x GN!Reader 

Summary: A reformed Enji gives you a bath and contemplates your relationship with him.

Warnings: Yandere themes (abduction + mention of lewd thoughts + bindings [it’s rlly soft stuff tho])

A/N: never thought I’d write for Endeavor, but felt like this kind of concept fit his character the most after his redemption arc and uh... Idk kinda soft and horny for him whoops. Also I started a new aesthetic for my fic headers to separate them from my hcs, but idk if I like it yet

“Is the water too hot?”

You say nothing back to Enji as you kneel next to the tub, dipping your fingertips into the water. After a few moments of inspection, you rise from your spot and give Enji a pointed look over your shoulder. Knowing what the look means, Enji turns his back towards you and crosses his arms. 

For the past couple days, you’ve been trying out a new tactic of defiance: the silent treatment. 

Silence in his home isn’t new to Enji. Rei had been a quiet wife for most of their marriage, only conversing with him if he spoke to her first or if it was in regards to their kids. After Rei’s hospitalization and Touya’s death, his life had practically become silent, save for the times his remaining sons would jeer at him and the small talk his daughter would initiate. 

But he’s not used to silence with you. The first few weeks after he abducted you were anything but silent. Begging him to let you go, screaming that he’s an asshole, shattering fine china when you threw the dishes at his face and missed… and most recently, breaking the bathroom mirror during your scheduled bath time. He had come rushing in, only to be caught off guard when you swung a shard towards his chest the second he burst through the door. Luckily, his instincts as a hero allowed him to react quickly enough to swerve to the side. After the incident, he told you that he would have to monitor your baths from that point forward. You spat at his feet in response. 

To be honest, Enji thinks you should be more grateful that he didn’t punish you more severely for attempting to kill him and for your other past acts of rebellion. He could have easily done whatever he had wanted to you. For a second, images of your wrists tightly bound by rope and your quivering lips forced apart by a dirty rag flashes through Enji’s mind. He shakes his head. 

No, he’s a new man now… sort of. He’s trying his best to please you, at least, as much as he can as your captor. Sure, he’s forced a few cuddles here and there, but he had never forced himself on you sexually. Even when you were stripped bare to bathe, he hadn’t made a single move.

… Ok, he’s not completely innocent; he’s had lewd thoughts, but he never acted on them. 

The sound of your robe falling to the floor brings Enji back to the present and he waits until he hears a splash to turn back around. Once he does, the sight that greets him makes him crack a smile. 

The tub is ridiculously full of bubbles, the cloud-like mass practically engulfing your form. If any more of the soapy solution were to be added, he’s sure that he’d only be able to see the top of your head peeking out from the suds. To top it all off, you’re pouting like a child, clearly not wanting to give him the gratification of seeing you enjoy the perfect bath he prepared for you. 

“I know that you’ve been wary of your modesty, so I made sure the bath had more bubbles today,” he says as he sits cross-legged by the tub. “Though I suppose that I went a bit overboard with them.”

He eyes your face for any type of reaction. You say nothing back to him, but he catches your eyes soften. 

Enji’s not exactly sure why they do. Are you finally warming up to him? Or perhaps you're just grateful that he had gone through the efforts to make sure your intimate parts were concealed while he washed you? It’s most likely the latter, but he can’t help but let the hope of the former possibility sweep through him. 

“Which shampoo and conditioner would you like to use today?” Enji asks. You take a while to eye the several bottles in the shower caddy before indicating your choice by pointing at them. Enji makes a mental note of the brands as he squirts the shampoo into his calloused hands. 

As per routine, you shift yourself against the tub so that the back of your head is facing Enji. Gently, he lathers your hair. To be honest, he could probably trust you with bathing yourself; it’s not like you could do much damage by swinging some shampoo and froth at him. He could have just stood by the side and watched, making sure that you wouldn’t do anything like before. 

Still, he can’t help but just want to spend some peaceful quality time with you. Anytime you’re in the same room as him, your shoulders are always squared, as if you’re prepared for an attack at any moment. The few times he’d gone in for a hug after an exhausting day of hero work, you struggled and told him to fuck off. Your bath times are the only moments where you allowed yourself to relax. 

Actually, the first bath time after he announced your punishment was completely opposite to now. You had screeched and clawed at him when he tried to touch your hair; Enji still had a light scar on his forearm from where you managed to scratch him. 

Now… Well, he could only guess that you gave up on rebelling, at least, during your baths. Enji felt warmth pool in his chest at the thought. He had put in a lot of effort in trying to make the baths as nice as possible so that you could ease into the practice easier. The idea that he had succeeded in making you happy made his pride skyrocket. 

He takes his time scrubbing your arms and legs, savoring the feeling of your skin against his. You’re obviously aware of his actions, but seem to let them slide, only giving him warning glares when his hands would get too close to your torso. He turns his back towards you again once he’s done with your limbs, leaving you to clean your most intimate parts and wash off the foam. 

When you give him a tap on his shoulder to signal that you’ve put the robe back on, he sits on the lid of the toilet and lightly holds onto your waist to pull you onto his lap. Once you’re situated, he takes a brush and combs through your damp hair. While he could trust you in washing yourself, he could never trust you with combing your own hair; the brush was what you used to break the mirror. 

“Enji?”

He stops brushing your hair for a moment, surprised that you had broken your silent treatment. He hadn’t even realized that you had called him by his given name for the first time rather than his hero name until after you leaned your head back to lay on his chest. 

He clears his throat before responding with a shaky, “What is it?”

“Will I ever be able to bathe alone again?” You tilt your head backwards to meet his downward gaze. 

He resists himself from frowning at your question. If he let you bathe alone, he wouldn’t have moments like these anymore. He’d be back to experiencing your anger and malice 24/7 again.  

“... If you behave for a while longer, then I’ll consider it.” He hopes that, while it’s not a straight yes or no answer, it’ll suffice.

To his relief, you merely let out a hum in response and lean forward again. Enji goes back to brushing your hair, trying his best to be gentle when combing out the knots. 

For a while longer, he lets himself enjoy the serenity of the moment, pretending as if this wasn’t a punishment. 

He was just taking care of the love of his life and you were simply enjoying being pampered by your loving husband.

[moonbeamsung]

You’re Just a Boy in a Blueberry Field

No fruit is sweeter than a summer love.

member: haechan

au: blueberry farmer!haechan x gn!reader

word count: 5.0k

genre: fluff, very light angst

warnings: mentions of food

author’s note: It’s here! I actually wrote most of this last summer, but only recently did I find the time to edit and get it ready to be posted. I added some parts and changed a few things, and now I like it quite a lot, so I hope you do as well! Thank you @astroboy-lele​ for beta-reading :) As always I would love to hear any feedback on this, and I hope that you enjoy the fic!

taglist: @astroboy-lele @kyuwoyo @rvse-hvvck @nakamotocore @kisshim @leejunini @chicksung @mrkcore @radiorenjun @moon-jun @jisungiest @stayctday @byutafy @jujubean23 @treasurehobi​ @bluejaem​ @lyshoonn​ @vera-liscious​ @allegxdly​ @cupfullofjeno​ @thats-a-jen-no-no​ @yo-ddream​

network tags: @kpopscape @neo-constellations @culture-cafe @dreamlab-nct @k-dinernet 

Thank you lovely Ana @rvse-hvvck for this additional header!

Donghyuck knows everything there is to know about those blueberries.

Without even pausing for the briefest of moments to think, to instinctively recall the information instilled in him throughout his childhood spent on the farm, he can answer any question that’s thrown at him. He can point out just the right color of berry to pick so that they’ll be ripe when you eat them later. Likewise, he can also tell you which ones are best to eat now, as you pick them, pretending not to notice when you pop one or two into your mouth and grinning when your eyes light up from the sweetness.

A day comes where he, filled with mischief as usual, places a not-so-ripe blueberry into your hand, and you, being so wrapped up in the peacefulness of the morning that surrounds you, fail to notice its red color and don’t think twice about lifting it to your lips, biting into it with your teeth. When the tart taste meets your tongue, your face contorts into an expression that elicits a raucous fit of laughter from him. You’re the first one in the fields that day. When the sun had risen on the horizon, the fleeting touch of color in the sky that dawn left behind still lingering above, he had been there, sitting on the front porch as always to greet customers.

Donghyuck knows every bug that loves to rest on the branches of the blueberry bushes. After spending so much time next to you as you scan them for the pops of vivid blues and purples that are hidden behind jade green leaves, he begins to learn that you are not fond of any bug, no matter how harmless. It’s cute, he thinks, how you inspect every berry that you drop into your basket, fearing that some small creature is lurking on it. If you do find something, he hears a small noise of both surprise and disgust before you fling the perfectly good berry away from you. It also hurts a little, knowing that it’s one less for you to take home.

When more people arrive at the farm after you, he’s forced to leave your side and get them started on their own search for the delicious fruit that’s nestled among the branches of nearly every bush. And if they ask where the best ones are, he specifically points them in the direction of the fields where you aren’t. It isn’t a lie, really, because they’ve had a good harvest everywhere this year.

...Okay, so maybe it’s a little selfish on his part, but who can blame him for wanting you to have some of the most plentiful bushes all to yourself?

Wednesdays are his favorite because it’s always the least crowded of all the mornings they’re open for business, and he can spend more time following you as you make your way down the rows, admiring the focus on your face and the way that you sometimes pause mid-reach, closing your eyes and standing still as the sun peeks through the clouds and casts its warm glow down onto the farm. A gentle sigh tumbles from your lips, darkened by the violet nectar that remains from the countless blueberries that have crossed their usually pink-tinted threshold. You resume your search after a few seconds, catching his eye and returning a smile he didn’t even know was there.

He makes the berries taste a little sweeter when he’s next to you. The purple juice that stains your fingers is a little darker. The sun feels brighter and warmer than ever, its heat shining down onto your skin.

One particular morning, after you finish picking all the blueberries you can carry, you decide to accompany Donghyuck on the porch, sitting beside each other in matching rocking chairs that first belonged to his great-grandparents, the farm’s founders. The familiar sounds of birds chirping and the low mumbling amongst customers meet your ears. You both gaze fondly at the horizon while immersed in casual chatter, all the while tending to several families as they come and go.

Whenever a car turns off of the two-lane, paved road and onto the noisy gravel path leading into a small grassy area that functions as a parking lot, Donghyuck excuses himself from the lively conversation both of you always find yourselves sharing. He stands, brushing his hands off on his faded denim overalls that are only slightly too large for his frame. His hand lifts up the baseball cap he always wears while the other runs through his hair, and your gaze falls on the back of his neck where it rests in longer strands. You always wonder why he keeps it like that since he complains about how hot it makes him feel. The humid summer air is stifling enough as it is, after all. The thought vanishes only moments after it arrives, though, and he flashes a brilliant grin at you over his shoulder as he descends the wooden stairs leading down to the patio.

Today, a happy looking family gets out of a shiny silver minivan. The mother and father with two kids, a boy and a girl, make their way toward the covered patio and Donghyuck bounds down the steps like always, grabbing 4 stacked pails in his calloused hands. You lean forward a little in the creaky old rocking chair, your weight in your toes, ears just barely picking up his conversation with them. He greets the parents warmly, shaking their hands and then he kneels down to be eye-level with the small children. The little boy seems shy as he clasps his fingers in front of him, thumbs twiddling back and forth, while his sister is clearly the opposite. She skips over to the much taller boy, saying hello.

“Do you two like blueberries?” He asks them, one arm resting on his knee and the other extending a pail out in front of him. The young girl nods enthusiastically before she takes the container from his hand and turns around, passing it to her brother as he nods, making eye contact with Donghyuck for the first time. A small smile grows on his face when he’s met with the wider one of the unfamiliar but still welcoming stranger. His sister speaks up again, “Every Friday we get to help Mom make her famous blueberry pie!”

“Is that right?”

“Yep! In the morning we always go to the supermarket and get fresh blueberries,” she explains. Her mother leans down, softly telling her that this week they’re here to pick blueberries instead, fresh from the farm they were grown on.

“Really? So that means we’re not buying them at the store anymore?”

“Well, honey, today we can pick enough blueberries to last us for a whole month’s worth of blueberry pies.”

“And besides,” Donghyuck starts, still kneeling on the ground next to her, his boot leaving an imprint in the dirt underneath it, “it’ll taste even better since you picked them yourselves, don’t you think?” The boy punctuates his question with a wink.

The young boy steps up for the first time, grin stretching even wider as he finds the courage to happily agree with the wise words. Exclaiming eagerly and in a way that only a child can, he takes his sister by the hand that’s not holding his small bucket before scurrying off, their parents close behind after grabbing pails for each other as well as a third that their daughter had forgotten in the midst of the excitement.

As Donghyuck joins you on the porch once again, you can’t help but smile as you remember how he interacts with each and every customer that passes through the weathered fence surrounding the property. When he talks to kids in particular, his eyes seem to light up, and you see just how much of a kid he still is deep down. His playfulness never fails to make an appearance whenever you spend time with him.

You’re thankful for the moo of a cow in the distance that interrupts his question of why you’re smiling like an idiot and hopefully drowns out the steady sound of your pounding heart.

The next week he tells you that the rest of his family is out of town, and he’s been left with the responsibility of running the farm all on his own. He usually does most of the work himself these days anyway since he’s getting older and more mature, although some of his jokes say otherwise. You miss the way his mom would poke her head out of the upstairs window of the main house, calling out a greeting to you both from across the property, overjoyed at the sight of her son spending time with the particular customer he’s mentioned so many times before. Whether he would share an amusing anecdote of yours with his siblings at the dinner table or point out something that reminded him of you, it was far too easy for her to figure out how he feels about you.

In an effort to spend more time with him, keep him company and just help out in general, you offer to stay at the house with him for a little while. Or at least until his family gets back from their trip, and to your delight, he agrees. You arrive in the late evening, on a day when the fields are closed, just in time to catch the setting sun as it disappears behind the trees and power lines that seem to stretch for miles in the distance. Tugging an overnight bag of belongings with you, you knock twice on the wood of his front door.

It opens swiftly and Donghyuck welcomes you inside, wearing an apron that he must have outgrown 10 years ago, at least. You snicker at the snug choice of attire and he shoves your shoulder, though not with enough force to make you stumble. He whines a little in that saccharine-sweet voice of his that makes your heart clench, but you don’t give in. Not this time.

When the farm is closed for the day, the family has a chance to pick from some of the bushes that are planted in a more secluded area, all to ensure that they also have a big enough supply of the fruit to last them for the season. So Donghyuck had woken up at the crack of dawn, although you aren’t sure why. He had made his way downstairs and out into the dewy air of the morning, gathering just enough blueberries to bake a cobbler that night when you came over, since he’d learned it was your favorite treat after hours of conversation about anything and everything. The recipe comes straight from his great-grandfather, he informs you, and it’s written on a yellowing piece of paper in handwriting that you couldn’t read even if you tried. He, however, can somehow decode the seemingly nonsensical swirls and lines on the page. You suppose it’s part of the magic of the family recipe that gets passed down with it.

Donning an apron yourself, you join him at the sink as you begin washing the berries, gently grabbing a handful at a time as you let the tap water clean them. When you both reach into the large container at the same time, your hands brush and you almost scoff at the swell of your heart that you feel inside your chest.

As you’re working together to make the batter that you will soon pour into his mother’s finest glass baking pan, Donghyuck briskly swipes his fingertip on the side of the bowl where the mixer had splattered the combined ingredients, extending it in your direction. You raise an eyebrow at the boy and said fingertip before turning your head away.

“If you really think that I would lick that off your finger, then you’re terribly mistaken.”

Coyly, the mischief-maker in question retorts back as you glance at his impishly delighted expression. “Are you sure?” 

“Positive,” you state rather firmly, but matching the mirth in his eyes with a glimmer of amusement in your own. “I’ll settle for the spatula, thanks.”

“Suit yourself.” Donghyuck rolls his eyes, your answer completely expected. At least he tried. 

You won’t deny that you enjoy sampling a bit of the batter of a dessert as much as anyone. But not that much.

Left with no choice, he takes himself up on his own offer and sticks his finger into his mouth with an audible ‘pop,’ exaggerating the action just to get a rise out of you, feeling the upward curl of his lips when you react ever so slightly with a silent chuckle.

You’re adding the last bit of flour to the mixture when you accidentally get some of the powdery substance on your hand in the process. Turning the automatic mixer off, you momentarily forget about your stained skin and you make the mistake of wiping your face with the back of your wrist, smearing the white stuff on your cheek. Donghyuck notices, of course, and an innocent attempt to help clean up the mess only ends with the two of you blushing like crazy.

“Let me help you,” he speaks up.

“Don’t be ridiculous, the pan’s not that heavy, and even if it was, I’m strong enough anyway—”

You’re about to pick up the glassware but his sudden strides over to you from across the large kitchen cause everything you were saying, doing, and thinking to come to a complete stop. You’ve never really had a problem with personal space before, but right now he’s leaning down and his face is so close that you’re afraid to even breathe for fear that the action might just throw you off balance and towards him. For fear that you might not push his chest away with your hands if that happens.

He’s bending his knees to match your eye level and his hand lifts from its place at his side, hovering in midair not far from where the flour still lingers on your skin. His eyes had been so focused on the stain but the shrinking proximity between you and him pulls his gaze from your cheek to your eyes, blown wide and confused because you still have no idea that there’s something on your face.

The undoubtedly palpable tension in the room almost reaches down his throat and pulls the words from his vocal chords in an effort to dispel the heavy air circulating around the both of you.

“There’s… uh… you have flour…”

Donghyuck still hasn’t broken the less than comfortable eye contact, but he’s unable to look away for reasons unknown to him. After an agonizing amount of seconds your brain switches on again, albeit slowly, and you’re able to properly process the position you’re currently in. Your own hand starts to lift and though the movement is slight, it’s enough to draw his eyes down to it and he finds the strength to complete his goal at last.

His thumb swipes across your cheek and without even thinking he pops it into his mouth once again, forgetting about the unpleasant taste of flour. The way that the boy’s face scrunches up when the bitter powder meets his tongue doesn’t eliminate the awkwardness completely, but it’s a start. You hastily make an effort to avert your gaze as you frantically wonder if he caught your face that’s surely as warm as a blazing fireplace, all because he did the unthinkable with that stupid finger of his.

You won’t let yourself dwell on how his hand is just the right size to cradle the side of your head, or how much nicer his lips look up close, or how they must taste like the blueberries that he snuck into his mouth as you made the cobbler, or how you wished he had used his lips on your cheek instead of his thumb.

How you wish he had closed the almost nonexistent distance between your flushed faces.

These thoughts do nothing to ease the steadily growing heat that’s currently taking over your skin. Your eyes land on the glass pan and you take the opportunity to grab it, acting as a sort of distraction for your mind and also as something to snap you both out of your embarrassed hazes.

You get the finished dessert into the oven with no trouble after that, and now you have a little over half an hour of time to kill before it’s ready, so Donghyuck leads you into the nicely furnished family room and plops down onto the plush couch. When you don’t immediately follow he glances up at you, sensing that you’re still hesitant after the awkward moment. He smiles softly and almost apologetically, as if he’s sending a silent signal that you’ll both move past it soon enough, an invitation to put the incident behind the two of you. And you accept it.

You take a deep breath before you sit down next to him, sinking into the cushions underneath and behind you. The material dips slightly under the weight of both your bodies and gravity itself seems to be in control as it pushes you together, shoulders bumping and the sides of your legs being pressed up against each other. Thankfully, the television roars to life with the laughter of a live audience on one of your favorite shows, and you exhale a puff of air you didn’t even know you were holding in. With every scene that lights up the large display, you curl up further and further into his side, his arm migrating across the back of the sofa and winding around your shoulder only a few centimeters at a time.

This feels like home. Donghyuck feels like home.

The buzzer of the oven interrupts when you’re halfway through another episode, prompting you to jump to your feet just as abruptly as the alarm-like noise had started blaring. Consequently his arm flops down by his side as he mentally curses the loud intrusion into what had become a comfortable atmosphere, an atmosphere that was finally surrounding you again after what felt like an eternity but had really only been an hour.

In no time, you’re returning from the kitchen, the warm blueberry contents of the cobbler oozing out onto the flowery pair of plates you had grabbed from the cupboard. Handing one to him and setting the other aside for yourself, you quickly go back around the corner to grab two tall cups of cold milk. Your second time joining him on the couch comes more easily, almost all of the earlier tension having dispersed into the room, wafting out the windows along with the delicious scent of the fruit baked into the sweet, flaky crust. In fact, you’re fairly sure that it’s strong enough for even his neighbors down the road to smell. Which reminds you: you need to package some up to deliver to them tomorrow, per Donghyuck’s suggestion.

You’re most definitely sure that he smells the aroma, of course, because it’s hard to ignore the eagerness with which he takes a large bite of the dessert. “We make better bakers that I thought we would,” the boy comments, taking a sip of milk. The white mustache that it creates above his top lip when he lifts the glass to his mouth is enough to make you giggle, and you’re unaware that this predictable reaction was his objective all along. He grins, rather satisfied.

With your stomach now full, a head-plaguing drowsiness begins to set in. It slowly fills your senses enough for you to drift off, fork nearly falling out of your hand and onto the floor before he catches it, along with your weight when you slump down against his shoulder. Donghyuck is barely able to reach one of the end tables, and he sets the dishes and silverware down next to the now empty cups. Your body unconsciously clings to his like a koala to a branch, with both hands clutching one of his arms and a leg hooked over his thighs.

He takes one look at you and wishes he could pause time, to stay here forever. It’s not every day that he meets someone who can easily match the amount of snark he possesses. Simultaneously, you also balance out the friendship you share with your compassion and sense of wonder about the world, always evident in your morning routine when you come to the fields. Donghyuck has noticed that you bring out those same qualities in him, perhaps more than anyone else ever has. And just like you’re holding him right now, he vows to hold on to you.

As much as he doesn’t want to get up and for the evening to progress, he knows he should, that it has to. So he manages to detach from the hold of your limbs, gently pushing himself up and off of the couch so he doesn’t disturb you.

Glancing at the large antique clock above the doorway that leads out into the hall, Donghyuck realizes it’s much later than he thought. He decides to turn in for the night, but on a regular day he usually finds himself still awake well past midnight, despite the need to wake up early the next morning and run the farm from the crack of dawn.

Since you’re tired and he doesn’t want to risk you waking up alone in an unfamiliar bed and place, he comes to the conclusion that he’ll join you. Only leaving your side for a moment, he puts the cobbler into the refrigerator and turns off the kitchen lights behind him as he goes. Softly padding halfway up the stairwell, Donghyuck makes sure there’s enough light for him to see where he’s going before making his way back into the living room one last time. He tucks one arm underneath both of your bent knees as tenderly as he can, and places the other behind the middle of your back, hand gently curling against your waist. He carries you with probably the most delicacy he’s shown in his entire life.

Going upstairs is generally an easy task, but doing so while carrying another person is a different story. He would never forgive himself if he were to hurt you in any way. If even your foot happened to bump the wall next to you, a burst of frustration at himself and his own carelessness would surface regardless of the impact’s intensity

Your position in his arms gives him yet another opportunity to gaze upon your peaceful expression, and he begins to think more deeply about what you are to him. Looking forward to your visits makes his work so much more enjoyable and worth it. You’re someone who truly appreciates what he and his family do for a living and you faithfully support them with your business as a customer whenever you can, which is a rare thing to find in most people that come. Most are just bored and in need of something to occupy themselves or their kids. Sometimes they don’t even pick that many berries. But you always make sure to bring your own basket, which holds just as many as if not more than the ones the farm provides, and fill it to the brim. In his eyes, you’re special.

Amidst the mostly-asleep state that you’re in, your eyes just barely open far enough to see a blurry picture of Donghyuck’s face as he carries you through the house and up into the bedroom he had suggested you share. He sets you down onto the soft mattress before pulling the covers up to your stomach, retreating into the attached bathroom to quickly change into a thin t-shirt and his favorite pair of plaid pajama pants.

The memory of that conversation floods back to you. Initially, you refused the offer, saying that he would rest better if he had more space to move around. But being the clingy person he is, he had pouted desperately as you struggled to stand your ground in the discussion. “Fine,” you had huffed, only half-frustrated with those doe eyes he always uses to get his way, and your lips had great difficulty holding back a smile.

The hum of electricity that can be heard emanating from the next room snaps you out of these thoughts, and is enough to wake you up a bit more. Your gaze scans the surroundings for a minute or two before he opens the door again, his eyes now looking as heavy as your own.

Donghyuck joins you under the blanket and shifts to lay on his side, facing you. It’s funny that you’re both able to adjust to a situation so intimate and new almost instantly. Still on your back, your head turns and you’re conscious enough to raise an eyebrow at the boy. There’s that pout again.

“Please?” He mumbles, his bottom lip jutting out in an action he’s perfected. You know exactly what he’s after: cuddles.

You don’t even try to hide the playful roll of your eyes as you scoot a little closer, but it’s not close enough for him. He gets impatient, meeting you halfway, and this time it’s him that flings a leg over yours. An endearing, small noise of contentment from him fills your ears as you take notice of his arms, now interlocked behind your neck and around your shoulders. You melt into the snug position, a hand landing on his forearm that’s laying across your chest. Turning ever so slightly to the side, your other hand winds around his middle and eventually rests just above his hip, pulling him into you even more. Donghyuck nuzzles his face into the side of your neck, a few strands of your hair tickling his skin as he sighs in complete and utter bliss.

Determined to savor the moment until the irresistible inevitability of slumber starts to overtake you once more, you fight to stay awake with all of your might. But in what you thought was only the blink of an eye, the glittering stars visible through the bay window’s sheer drapes morph into the pale golden rays of first light. There’s a soft murmur of your name along with an unintentional, almost imperceptible peck to the place where his lips meet your skin, and you’re wide awake. Not to mention a little shocked.

He’s utterly unfazed, though, slowly waking up now that the sun has gotten brighter, its beams filtering into the room and hitting his already glowing face that becomes a gorgeous honey-colored hue.

Donghyuck reluctantly withdraws his arms from your form after one last embrace, effortlessly rising from the wrinkled bed sheets and offering his hand to you when you start to do the same. A sleepy smile makes a home on his features and he reminds you of your task to deliver a portion of the dessert you made to his next-door neighbors.

That’s exactly what you do, first making yourselves presentable in the bathroom by smoothing down wild bed hair and freshening up your faces with cool water. Being around to see each other’s natural morning states is a major act of trust, and he doesn’t miss an opportunity to poke fun at you for it.

“How long does it normally take for you to do your hair every day before you come here?” His tone is dripping with feigned innocence, but the sly grin on his lips says otherwise.

“Shut up, Hyuck.”

Tupperware container in hand, your shoes step in rhythm with his as you amble along the grassy shoulder of the street together. Somehow you end up hand-in-hand by the time you reach his neighbors’ front patio.

“Donghyuck!” The elderly woman at the door greets him with a twinkling voice, her husband coming into view soon after. “Look who it is, honey,” she motions fondly to the boy who they both once knew to be much shorter and younger, but now is all grown up before their eyes. “You’re getting so tall. It seems like only yesterday you were scurrying through the blueberry fields and waving to us through the gaps in the fence.”

“Yes ma’am, it does,” he responds politely. The couple has been living there for as far back as he can remember, and quite honestly they feel as if they’ve become part of his family, too.

Her warm brown eyes light up. “Is this the customer your mother was telling me about last week? She mentioned how close you’ve become, and now I’m finally seeing it for myself. You make a lovely pair.”

“Oh—” Donghyuck startles. Not much can get him flustered, but he hadn’t exactly been anticipating for his mom to recount all the things he’s said about you to the sweetest and most innocent of elderly couples. Of course they would assume that there’s something going on.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that, with you. He wouldn’t mind at all, really. He’ll just need to have a word about a little thing called privacy with his mother later.

You see the glint of panic in his eyes and speak up. It’s not often he makes such an easy target for teasing. “Thank you,” you state graciously, the smugness in the statement only noticeable to him. “We’re very happy together.” He feels you lean into him, fingers unwrapping from his and gripping the other side of his waist. You know exactly what you’re doing, and so does he.

Almost forgetting to hand over the slices of cobbler you’d cut earlier, Donghyuck nudges you to do so, and the four of you exchange thanks and farewells before you’re on your way back to the farm.

“Happy together, huh?”

“Shut up, Hyuck.” You mumble something else afterwards that he doesn’t quite catch.

“What’s that? Didn’t hear you,” he sings, stopping in his tracks. You do the same. “Shut up and what?”

“...And kiss me.”

After many days and many nights spent wondering, you can confirm that his lips do, indeed, taste as sweet as the blueberries in those fields.

[pr1ncessm00n]

for sale or wanted — jean kirstein x fem! reader

series masterlist

prev | next , part two

warnings: cursing, porco being toxic lol. dates are wrong once again sorry !!

[ playlist : love again - dua lipa ]

eight.

Half asleep and ready to go to bed, Y/N fell back into her bed. She picked up her phone, hoping to mindlessly scroll through some TikToks. Instead, she was met with two messages. Audibly gasping as she read Porco’s name, she dropped her phone, hitting herself in the face in the process. “Ow!”

Porco? Y/N thought incredulously. What the hell does he want?

Contemplating asking Ymir and Sasha for advice, Y/N then decided against it. This was her life, she couldn’t expect her friends to guide her though it. But God, was she such a coward when it came to Porco. It wasn’t like he was Prince Charming, but Y/N had an extreme loyalty complex. She couldn’t ever allow herself to let go of people. Porco used to berate her for that constantly.

Why are you so clingy? He would ask.

Who’s the clingy one now? Y/N thought bitterly. She decided to ignore Porco’s text until she could think of a reply that wasn’t along the lines of “No, fuck you.” She slid her thumb over to Jean’s message.

Great. Another text asking to talk. Why couldn’t people just send their question and save a girl the anxiety? Y/N scolded herself for allowing her egotistical ex to ruin her mood. Jean didn’t deserve her snappiness.

Jean sighed in relief. Thank God she replied. He didn’t know if he could handle the mortification if she didn’t.

Y/N pondered for a bit.

Y/N laughed quietly to herself. So Jean could in fact match her sense of humor. She exited out of their chat, mindlessly scrolling through social media. She actively avoided Porco’s message, not wanting to burden herself with the chore of responding to him. What could he possibly have to say? She headed to Twitter, hopefully finding something relatable to retweet. As Y/N scrolled, she saw a familiar face appear on her timeline.

Recommended for you from contacts, the header read. Below it was about 3 profiles of people in her contacts she had not followed yet. Among them, was Jean.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat.

Should I? She questioned. Would she be overstepping some unspoken boundary? What if she hurt her own feelings by stalking and seeing something she wouldn’t like/had no business seeing? Maybe she should just ignore it. She doubted Jean was some internet creep… but wouldn’t it be good to know if he was? Curiosity getting the better of her, Y/N decided to invade that boundary and look at his account.

He didn’t have much content from what Y/N could see. He just retweeted fancy cars and some funny memes. She spotted Connie, Sasha’s lifelong friend and Jean’s infamous roomie. She mentally hoped Jean didn’t tweet like Connie. That would be the ultimate ick.

Y/N’s thumb stopped scrolling, hovering over a tweet. Her heart beated ten times more rapidly.

well she is pretty lol, Jean’s tweet read. Tweeted just an hour after he met Y/N.

Could it be? Y/N wondered. No way. There’s no way it’s about me. I’m just jumping to conclusions. Why would he say that about me? I’m just being self absorbed.

She brushed off her inquiries, deciding to just stop stalking his account entirely. From what she already saw, there wasn’t anything suspicious or icky enough to make her want to not interact with him. And she was already paranoid, so every tweet she saw she would begin to assume it was about her as well. She was just getting her hopes up.

Rolling over on her side, Y/N placed her phone to charge and went to sleep. It was late, which was probably what was causing her mind to become fuddled.

——

“You should’ve told me Sasha’s third roomie was Y/N,” Reiner had said to Jean in the truck. “I totally blindsided her. Top ten worst encounters of my life.”

“Uh, care to enlighten me? Do you guys have beef or something?” Jean asked, perusing the radio stations.

Reiner sighed. “She’s dating- was dating- my childhood friend, Porco.”

Jean felt his stomach drop. “Oh.”

Reiner glanced at him before stopping at a red light. “I said dating. He dumped her like a week ago. It was pretty trash.”

Jean secretly felt more at peace hearing that. Poor Y/N, but.. she could probably do better than this Porco person.

“So what does that have to do with you?” Jean asked.

Reiner shrugged. “I guess I didn’t really help. She said she felt a little betrayed. Like I agreed with Porco and my friends that she’s the crazy one.”

Jean nodded. “So you were a bystander.”

Reiner sighed again, tilting his head in an I guess motion. “It’s just hard. Porco’s like my brother, and I don’t agree with how he acted… but maybe I should have spoken up sooner.”

Jean patted his shoulder. “Don’t blame yourself, man. That was between them.”

“Yeah. I could have at least told Porco to step it up, though.” Reiner murmured.

I’m glad you didn’t. Jean snickered to himself.

“So, you think she’s cute?” Reiner shot Jean a devilish grin. Jean rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I guess. You goin’ to Historia’s birthday?” He slyly changed the subject.

“Is it open invite?” Reiner’s eyebrows scrunched up.

Jean shrugged. “I have an invite. Maybe you can be my plus one.”

Reiner made a “Hmm” sound in response, weary at Jean’s invite. “What are you dressing as if you go?”

“I was thinking swag era Justin Bieber.” Jean replied, smiling widely.

Reiner gave him a look. “You for real?”

Jean’s smile dropped. “What?”

Reiner laughed. “I’d pay money to see how badly you embarrass yourself with that.”

“It’s a 2000’s party?” Jean was confused.

“Yeah, but everyone does like, early 2000s. Think Britney Spears and Justin Timberlake.”

Jean shot him a curious look.

“What? Pop culture is my guilty pleasure.” Reiner explained himself. “And everyone knows Britney Spears.”

Jean hummed in response. “I just think you got a thing for pop girls.” He referenced the earlier Becky G mishap.

“I’m not even gonna deny it anymore.” Reiner agreed, defeated.

——

“Guys,” Y/N said the next morning. Ymir and Sasha were at the breakfast “nook” (a corner of their miniature kitchen designated for a small table that barely fit all three of them), Sasha eating cereal and Ymir chomping on an apple while scrolling on her phone. “Porco texted me last night.”

Ymir continued scrolling, unfazed. Sasha’s eyes widened and she swallowed her food before speaking. “What? Why?” Y/N glared at Ymir.

“Thanks for your interest YMIR, but as i was telling Sasha-“

“I’m Sasha.” Sasha cut in, obviously confused.

Y/N gave Sasha a look.

“Did you say something?” Ymir said, bored. She still hadn’t looked up from her phone.

“Ymir!” Sasha scolded. “Y/N’s telling us Porco texted her!”

“Who’s Porco?” Ymir replied, monotonous.

Y/N sighed in exasperation. “Are you stalking Eren again? I already told you to stop comparing your subscribers-“

“I’m not stalking Eren!” Ymir snapped defensively. “I’m…” She mumbled the next part incoherently.

“Huh?” Sasha and Y/N asked in unison.

“I SAID,” Ymir repeated, annoyed. “I’m looking up Britney Spears outfits. Historia wanted us to go as different eras of her. But I can’t find anything that matches my style.” She grumbled.

Y/N’s heart melted. It was adorable watching Ymir struggle to find a matching costume for Historia. It was like Marilyn Manson wanting to get along with a CareBear.

“Just go as JT,” Sasha said, chewing her cereal.

“One, close your mouth, and two, Historia asked for us to go as Brittney. I can’t just show up like a dude.” Ymir visibly deflated as she scrolled through countless pictures of a younger Spear’s iconic looks.

“Why don’t you try her bandanna phase? That wasn’t so over the top, and she wore mostly jeans.” Y/N suggested as she squeezed into the corner chair.

Ymir sighed. “I don’t want to wear a skirt or some bimbo shit. That’s y’alls look.”

“How do you manage to sound endearing trying to please your girlfriend while simultaneously insulting us?” Y/N wondered aloud.

“It’s a talent.” Ymir waved her off. “What did you guys get her though?”

“A giftcard to Urban Outfitters,” Sasha replied. “I got tired of searchin’. I put $50 on it. I think that should be enough for like, a shirt and a half. She better like it, too. ‘Cus I’m broke.” Sasha pointed her spoon at Ymir accusingly.

“I got her the Taylor Swift vinyl she’s been wanting. And some pink film for her camera.” Y/N added. Ymir nodded approvingly.

“I hope she likes my gift. I don’t know if I’m moving too fast though?” For the first time since Y/N mer Ymir, Y/N hadn’t ever seen her this distraught.

“Calm down,” Y/N reassured her. “You’ve been together for years now. I don’t think you can move any slower.”

Ymir rolled her eyes, leaning back im her chair with arms crossed. “It’s a small trip to Seoul. I know she’s been dying to go. It’s not like it’s anything she hasn’t seen before with her family… but I figure it’d be different with just us.” Y/N’s heart melted.

“That’s so sweet!” Sasha exclaimed, eyes watery. “I want an Ymir!”

“Well, you can’t have me!” Ymir laughed. “It’s not a big deal. The sponsorship I managed to land gave me a decent payout.” Ymir sheepishly replied, her cheeks a faint red

Y/N nudged her. “Look at you, being modest.”

Ymir waved her hand. “Shut up. How does this look?” She turned her phone to Y/N, showing a picture of Britney Spears clad in low waist jeans, a black tank top and sure enough, a yellow bandanna.

“That’s perfect.”

Ymir smirked, smug. “Just like me.”

“Y/N!” Sasha shouted. “Go back to the Porco thing!”

“Oh, yeah. What did Oinky want?” The girls turned to face Y/N, who shrank a bit back in her seat.

“That’s a new one,” Y/N chuckled. “I thought of one last night, too,” She paued for dramatic effect. “Porker!” She gasped out, giggling, hitting the table in a slight fit of laughter. Sasha and Ymir gave Y/N a blank stare, unamused at Y/N’s mediocre roast.

“Not funny, didn’t laugh.” Sasha spat.

“If your career was stand up you’d be living in a box.” Ymir deadpanned.

“Tough crowd,” Y/N sighed, wiping imaginary tears from her eyes. “But if you must know…” She purposely stalled a bit, knowing it would send an impatient, jittery Sasha over the edge and annoy Ymir even more, even if she pretended she was not interested in the relationship drama between Y/N and her disgraced ex.

“Just say it already!” Sasha begged.

“I…don’t know. I haven’t responded.” Y/N finally admitted, putting her head in her hands. “I just-“ Her words were muffled by her hands.

Ymir removed her hands from her face. “Your words, darling.” She scolded, voice oozing sarcasm.

“Ugh,” Y/N groaned. “I’m too pussy to respond. He just asked if we could talk. What could he possibly want? What if he wants the couch? It’s just too much.”

Sasha gave her a sympathetic gaze. “Just leave him on read! If he wants to talk so badly he’ll find a way to say what he needs to.”

“For once, I agree.” Ymir added.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Y/N stretched. “But it did keep me up at night wondering what he wanted.”

“Y/N, forget him! Historia’s party is soon, there’s no time to worry about ugly men!” Sasha stood up, rushing to put her bowl in the sink. “I got a lecture in a few, but you need to find your costume! We’re all going as Britney!” She said before disappearing into her room.

“Um, who’s gonna tell her we’re not all dressing as Britney?” Ymir inquired.

Y/N snorted. “Not I. I’m probably going as Suki from Fast and the Furious.”

“Niiceee,” Ymir fist pumped Y/N. “She was my sexual awakening.” Y/N choked on her muffin.

“Ymir, what’d we say about uncalled for horniness?” Y/N reprimanded. Ymir made her way to the coat rack, searching for her car keys in her leather jacket’s pocket.

“If I was gonna be chewed out for liking women I would’ve lived with my parents!” Ymir called out. “I gotta pick up Historia!”

“Will you be back?” Y/N shouted back.

“Get off my dick!” Ymir shut the door. Laughing to herself, Y/N picked up Ymir’s dish to place in the sink. She was, out of the three, the more tidier one. Ymir did the best cleaning, but she was selectively lazy.

“Bye, Y/N!” Sasha shouted before leaving in a rush. One thing Y/N had grown used to was the fairly chaotic mornings. She secretly hoped they would be like this for a long time.

Since Y/N had transferred, Ymir and Sasha had been the best roommates she could ask for. Yes, Ymir was snappy and Sasha was a bit ditzy, but it was the perfect combination and they were respectful. Y/N had transferred from Sina University purely for academic reasons, but she had not expected to fit in so well with the girls or their group of pre establish friends. She worried she would not fit in since they had already been so tight-knit, but found that wasn’t the case at all. They were open, accepting and loyal. Y/N couldn’t be happier where she was, and even though she wouldn’t admit it, she was grateful for how close they had all gotten in their short time together. Who knew randomly assigned rooming would provide her with friendship to last a lifetime?

Which is why every time she thought about Porco she kicked herself. How could she have let some… meathead ruin her freshmen year of college? She should have been having fun, interacting with Ymir and Sasha’s friends more, lived her own life. But no, she chose to become involved with a self absorbed fraternity guy of all people. Now she was semi-heartbroken, extremely humiliated, and about a year’s worth of time and effort short. She had allowed him to take advantage of her so much, that he felt he could contact her still after basically using her. The thought made her want to rip her hair out and scream.

Almost as if through divine intervention, her phone beeped with a notification.

What the actual hell? Y/N thought.

She froze for a second. What does she do? Respond? Ignore? Block?

After a few seconds of mental deliberation, Y/N finally decided. She was fed up with the lack of bravery she showed and decided to just end it once and for all. Typing out a response, she clicked send and decided to go to the mall for the retail therapy she was sure to need after whatever Porco said what he wanted to say. Turning the shower on, she braced herself for his response. What could Porco want? She couldn’t wrap her mind around it.

This better be good, Y/N thought.

taglist : @tsunderehokage @lagrimasdeglitter @snowyseungs @mukeovernetflix @bakugouswh0r3 @punicorn999 @deadlyaffairs @usernamehere91 @calumsfringe

a/n: woohoo!! long chapter. so to recap: i graduated!! i am finally free from the clutches of high school. i might do a face reveal :) bc i loved my grad dress. anywho, my fever cleared up, i have chapter 9 already completed (just need to revise + edit) and this is NOT proof read!! it’s 2 am guys i’m tired. but i hope you enjoyed this :) sorry for the weird cropping too. peace out

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍… 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈

hello everyone, okay so. I wrote this from my own personal experiences and pasts. it's something that I deal with. I don't feel anything pleasurable unless it's from a toy, nor can I put anything inside because it's painful. I also can't feel anything emotionally, when I first began to write this, it started off like how my life starts, but I realised I wasn't writing a story for you about my depression. I was writing a story about what I go through with men. I hope you enjoy it and know I'm always here for you if you go through something similar- the part with johnny is a true story, but the part with ari is sadly not. I apologise if this is bad.

summary - you meet a man who brings security into your life, making the men in your past no longer matter.

warning - angst, slight smut but not really, graphic in some sense, mentions of blood and pee, hint to a traumatic experience but nothing detailed, emotionally cut off, depression, slight fluff.

18+ only please, the gif and header aren’t mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

Maybe there was something wrong with you. 

Because there lying between your legs was a gorgeous man, doing everything in his power to please you, but you felt no pleasure. You could feel how his tongue swept across your folds, probably trying to locate your clit that not even you could find. You always thought that maybe you weren’t gifted one when you were born, but that couldn’t be possible, right? Because when you brought out your toy specifically made to vibrate that little button. You felt everything and more.

But this beautiful, god-like man is thrusting his tongue inside your not-so-lubricant hole, and you felt bad because you could tell he was trying his hardest to make this about you, but unfortunately, you would never feel the pleasure he wanted you to feel. And when your eyes meet his pretty blues, you offer a soft smile because you can’t let that fake moan you let others hear fall from your lips for him. He was too kind and precious, and you dread the day he realises you feel nothing because then he’ll leave, and you’ll be back to being alone and broken.

Your head falls back, and your mind begins to drift as this takes you back to the same thing that happened years ago. 

You finally turned eighteen and thought you’d give men a shot again. So you downloaded the dating app everyone else had in hopes of finding a relationship that could last. You swiped through men, chatting with some but slowly drifting away because you didn’t know how to communicate with them anymore. They seemed to want something you didn’t want to do again.

But then you found him. Johnny Storm, oh my. What a dream he was. You were stupid. You thought that the conversations you had meant something, thought that when he said he only wanted casual, he’d changed his mind when you two hung out. You were a naive girl who had already been through hell yet still wanted a fairytale ending.

You remember when you decided to meet Johnny.

You got yourself all dolled up, dressing in a short sundress that didn’t fit your body well, but no one ever told you. You made sure you were shaved and smelled lovely. You were excited because you were stupid.

Meeting Johnny was… Fun. You could remember everything. You could remember the colour of his car. His face, everything he did and said. You could remember the pain.

You didn’t feel pleasure when he went down on you. The feeling felt like a cat’s tongue. You could remember that he didn’t even see if you had finished before climbing on top of you and covering you in his cum. But you were stupid. At the time, you didn’t see that as a problem. 

You felt pain when his finger/fingers went inside you, even if they were covered in lube. The feeling hurt. It felt like someone had shoved so many knives inside of you. But you didn’t say anything. You pretended it felt good, you faked those moans, and he didn’t notice. Not even when he saw the blood on his fingers, but you remembered it all. You could still feel the stinging pain when you tried to pee. You remembered the blood and the doctor saying there was a tear. But that didn’t stop you because you were stupid. 

The pain got worse when he slid his cock inside you. It never subsided, and the pain was never replaced with pleasure. But you faked it because you didn’t want to hurt his ego. After all, you thought there was something wrong with you. 

You remember going to the doctor and asking what was wrong with you. Only for them to reply that everything will continue to hurt because your mind and body weren’t comfortable, all because of your trauma. You should’ve followed orders when your doctor said not to have sex until your mind relaxed. But you didn’t listen because you thought he would leave you if you stopped giving him what he wanted.

Johnny never noticed. He kept reminding you that this was casual and that he didn’t want a relationship. And you should’ve listened. Instead, you continued until one fateful night.

The two of you were lying next to each other, a tv show playing in the background as you talked. Somehow, you got on the topic of your weight. 

“I’m fat.” You pout, looking down at your stomach. It was playful but also the truth, but you guessed Johnny didn’t get the memo.

He looked at you smugly. “You’re not fat.” You looked up at him, hopeful. “Just a little overweight.”

Your brows furrowed. “That’s fat. You just admitted I was fat.”

He shakes his head, “No. I said a little overweight.” And he kept repeating the word like it would make things better. But it never did after that. You got into a fight, and he left. What hurt the most wasn’t the physical pain or that he left. It was finding out he got into a relationship the moment the two of you stopped speaking.

“Y/n. Y/n, baby.” You blink, sucking in a breath as your eyes connect with those pretty blues again. Ari smiles, “Hey, where’d you go?” You desperately didn’t want to disappoint this man, so you kissed him. One hand rests on his chest, and the other grabs his hand, guiding it to your entrance. Even though in the back of your mind, you know it’ll hurt.

Ari was confused. He felt like something was wrong when he was between your thighs, and it was confirmed when you seemed to zone out, but now, Ari’s unsure of what was happening. He pulls back and looks you in the eyes, “Are you sure? We don’t have to, little dove.” You nod, eyes wide as you look into his. He watches your expression as he slowly pushes a finger inside, barely being able to with how tight you are. And he stops, pulling away from you when he hears the pained whimper. 

You lie there with your eyes tightly screwed shut. Not wanting to see the one man you’ve felt something for, leave. 

Ari slowly moves closer, grabbing a blanket and covering you. “Y/n. Open your eyes.” His voice is so gentle, so caring that it scares you. His hand softly strokes your cheek, and you can feel your heart breaking when he pulls you closer to him. No one’s ever treated you so kindly before. “It’s okay. I’m here if you need me.”

You felt lucky, silently thanking the universe for sending Ari your way. You met Ari on a whim, deciding to give the dating app another go but as a more hardened and cold person. You thought you’d see how an older man would treat you, and there were some you didn’t like but Ari. Oh, he was beautiful and so kind. He never mentioned sex or anything dirty. Instead, he wanted to get coffee, but only if you felt comfortable.

So you met him, and when your eyes connected, you felt safe, something you’d never felt before. He stood and greeted you, pulling your chair out before offering to pay. Ari didn’t pressure you, and he didn’t make you feel awkward for not knowing how to continue a conversation. He was so patient, and that one meeting turned into more. You had only kissed a few times, but he’d never take anything further. 

Today was different... You wanted to give Ari the one thing you thought he wanted. But now, you ruined it. Because you couldn’t fake it with him, you couldn’t push through the pain and discomfort. You couldn’t make him believe he was pleasuring you when you felt nothing.

You slowly open your eyes, connecting with his again, but yours are both filled with sadness this time. “I’m sorry.” Ari could feel his heart breaking at the whisper of your voice, not knowing why you were apologising for something you didn’t do. “I’m a disappointment… I’m so sorry. If you want to leave, I won’t blame you.” Even as those words fall from your lips, you feel nothing. You feel empty, but there’s also a little warmth inside that you know will disappear when he does.

Ari’s brows furrow and his hold on you tightens. Your words ring in his head, and Ari can feel tears building up in his eyes. He’s already aware that you are shut off emotionally, but the way those words roll off your tongue, he knows you’ve been hurt so many times that it’s become normal for you. Ari clears his throat, holding back the sobs that desperately try to escape before he lifts your chin, your eyes connecting again.

“Don’t apologise. You didn’t do anything wrong. You aren’t a disappointment, and I’m not leaving.” He practically growls. He leans forward and presses a rough but loving kiss against your forehead. He stares at you with so much passion that it scares you. You can feel goosebumps rise from his touch. “I won’t force you to do something that hurts or makes you uncomfortable. I’m a grown man, Y/n. I can either wait until you are ready or live without it. Because I am not letting you go, I told you I was all in. I’m not letting something like this break that promise.” His words are so full of passion that you swear you could cry. 

“A–Are you sure? Because I will understand and won’t blame you. I know there’s something wrong with me.” You roll over as you speak, hesitantly resting your chin on his chest while looking at him. 

Ari’s hands curl into fists, wanting to kill those who made you think this. “There’s nothing wrong with you, little dove. And if anyone ever tells you otherwise, I will kill them.” He pulls you flush against him, your face close to his. “We will take our time. We will go your pace, and you will not rush and harm yourself just because you think I’m disappointed. Understood?” 

You nod, your mouth opening and closing as shock fills you. “Understood…” The word falls from your lips in a soft whisper, never having someone put you first.

Ari nods. “Good, now come here.” And as those words leave him, he pulls you into the most passionate and loving kiss. And you swear…

You felt… 

Something.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[alltooreid]

Clean

As Spencer struggles to overcome his dilaudid addiction, Y/N is dealing with an addiction of her own, to her toxic, manipulative boyfriend. This is an account of a full year, following their joint journeys to sobriety and new love.

A/N: Hi!! I have another Taylor Swift inspired Spencer Reid one shot (but of course you do not need to know the song to understand the one shot). Although originally I was going to write something more fluffy, I switched to this song to write something more angsty and interesting. However, to change pace from my last one shot, this one has a much happier, hopeful ending. However, it is very triggering so please read the trigger warnings before you start. Also, if you have any songs you want to read please let me know!! Also, if you just have a general request please send it my way! Thank you so much for the love on my All Too Well one shot, I never thought my first fanfic on here would be so well received!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Type: Angst, but hopeful angst

Word Count: 7.6K

Content Warnings: Cursing, mentally and physically abusive relationship, relationship cheating (ie, reader is being cheated on), blood and cuts description, drug addiction (these parts are kept short purposefully), lots of fighting and yelling both in reader’s relationship and between Spencer and reader, however, there is a happy and hopeful ending. Reader is struggling to get out of her toxic relationship, please no comments about her being stupid. If you are in a situation like Y/N, please don’t use this fic as a guide. Get help immediately. https://www.thehotline.org/

Things to Know: Italics and bold are flashback moments, the time and date headers serve as time skips :) let me know what you think! Please request any songs you would like to see be made one shots!

“You're still all over me Like a wine-stained dress I can't wear anymore Hung my head as I lost the war And the sky turned black like a perfect storm”

3:27 AM, April 16th, 2007.

You have known Spencer for a long time. In fact, you’ve known him longer than you’ve known Randall, and you’ve felt like you’ve known Randall your entire life.

Maybe that’s because you let him become your entire life.

Still, although you had known Spencer for 7 years, 2 years longer than the entirety of your on again, off again relationship with Randall. You still felt weird calling him. He was going through a lot right now, not that he wasn’t normally. Spencer had one of the most difficult jobs you could think of. You know Spencer has shot and killed people before, and you know every time he did it ate him up inside.

And every time he did he called you.

You also knew that Spencer is one of the kindest people you have ever met, you struggle to imagine him wielding a gun on a daily basis. He just seems too sweet, too perfect.

Yet there was a lot you didn’t know about the young genius.

You have no idea that as you stand in the street, contemplating whether you should call Spencer to come and get you, Spencer is making a difficult decision of his own. As you worry about the possibility of waking Spencer up this early in the morning, Spencer sits wide awake and ponders if he has enough time to get high before he has to leave for work in 3 hours.

As you sit on the side of the road, debating between your very few options, Spencer leads up against the side of his bathtub tears pouring down his cheeks, tears that he doesn’t even register as being there.

Fortunately for the both of you, at the same time Spencer reaches into his bag to search for that tiny glass bottle, his phone begins to ring.

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

You sigh, “He kicked me out again Spencer, is there anyway you can come get me?”

Spencer looks around his apartment, frantically hiding the belt and the needles he had gotten out for the events he was anticipating. “Yeah, of course I can come get you, um, just give me a couple minutes and send me your location.”

3:52 AM, April 16th, 2007.

You’re in the passenger’s seat of Spencer’s car, both of you sitting in silence. This situation isn’t new to either of you, Spencer has picked you up plenty of times before, in fact he’s done it for years now. One time, about 3 years into your relationship with Randall, you were permitted to go out by yourself with Spencer’s team, they wanted to meet you, apparently Spencer talked about you all the time. While you were at dinner with them, Morgan asked you if you had a car of your own. You explained that you did, but that your boyfriend had it a majority of the time, and that when he didn’t he hated you using it because you always had to mess with everything. He hates you touching his stuff. Morgan made a weird face about that answer, so you quickly followed up, explaining that you didn’t mind.

You do mind though. You hate how he never lets you touch anything or go anywhere, and you hate how much he despises your only form of transportation.

Spencer.

Randall hates everything about Spencer Reid, and he especially hates seeing his car pull into your driveway. That’s why after the 8th time he kicked you out, you started walking half a mile to the nearest gas station before calling Spencer.

The first time Spencer came to get you Randall came out to talk to you before you left.

“What are you doing? Who is this?”

“It’s Spencer, he’s gonna take me to his apartment.” you explained, confused why Randall was so angry you were leaving when he was the one who had kicked you out.

“Oh so just because I don’t want to look at your bitchass all night that means you can go sleep with another man? I knew you were a whore Y/N. You know him and his stupid fucking car aren’t going to be able to deal with you the way I can. How old is that thing anyway?”

“Randall, calm down, I’m not sleeping with Spencer. I love you, I don’t want to sleep with anyone else. But I’m not gonna sit out here all night, where else should I go?”

“Well maybe if you weren’t so quick to whore yourself out to the easiest man you could find I would invite you back inside,” he said before slamming the door in your face.

So you got in Spencer’s car, the one Randall would grow to hate so much.

“Are you okay Y/N? He didn’t hit you did he? You know you can come live with me, you should really get out of that house, I can get Morgan tomorrow and we can go get your belongings. I have plenty of-”

You snapped at him, “No Spencer he’s not hitting me! Why do you always jump to that conclusion, Randall is a great guy! I would’ve never called you if you were going to jump to conclusions like this. You’re supposed to be a genius, yet you’re acting like such a dumb ass right now.”

Spencer looked at you, and immediately you regretted your words. You knew Spencer was just worried about you and with his line of work he had reason to be. However before you could apologize he spoke again.

“I’m sorry Y/N, forget I said anything.”

You both sat in silence for a few moments before you even knew what to say, and yet all you could think of was, “Hey Spence, what kind of car do you drive?”

He smiled, “It’s a 1965 Volvo Amazon P130 122S, it’s horizon blue, that’s the color they refer to it as. Did you know they’re known as so reliable that the 4 door models are still used as police vehicles in some places. This one’s a two door, but still runs great. . . “

You smiled, how fitting a man as reliable as Spencer Reid had the perfect car to match.

When you get to Spencer’s apartment something seems off. Spencer has always lived in organized chaos, but this just feels different. Unlike his normal mess, this one feels like a blatant disregard for his things, even some of his most prized possessions. His books are strewn across the floors, his clothes overflowing from his laundry basket, which was a mix of both folded, clean, yet to be put away things and worn items. Weirdly, the one place that looks untouched is his kitchen, as if he hasn’t used it in months. And you mean that in the most literal interpretation, his counters are covered in visible, undisturbed dust.

“Thank you so much Spencer, I don’t know what I would do without you.”

He smiles, but his eyes look so tired. “Don’t worry about it Y/N.”

And at 4:47, you finally fall asleep in Spencer’s bedroom, which he insists you take, and he stays awake until he leaves for work just a few hours later.

9:33 PM, April 17th, 2007.

You leave Spencer’s apartment the following night, after an unfortunate screaming match with him. You have never seen him so angry, so easily ticked off. Yet as soon as Randall called you Spencer became aggressive.

“Yeah babe, I’ll be home as soon as I can. I’ll take a cab and be home within the hour. Of course I’m not mad at you sweetheart, I know you didn’t mean it. I love you, see you soon.”

Spencer exitted his kitchen in a huff, and opened his mouth to start talking before you spoke up.

“I’m sure you’ve overheard already, but Randall’s letting me back in the house. Thank you so much Spence. I really appreciate everything you do to help me. Call me soon please, I definitely owe you lunch,” you said, grabbing your coat and your phone, the only things you had managed to grab from your home before your unplanned eviction.

“Why do you even stay with him Y/N? Why do you keep going back there?” Spencer yelled. You had never seen him like this before, so livid and irritable.

“I love him Spence, and he loves me,” you explained, and you were telling the truth. You do love Randall, and you know that in his heart he loves you too, even if he got a little angry sometimes.

“If he loved you he wouldn’t treat you like this Y/N! Don’t you think I would know? I see this everyday! It’s my job! And yet my best friend is too stupid to realize she’s been in an abusive relationship for almost 6 years!”

You were just as angry now, “You’re wrong Spencer, I don’t wanna hear this okay? I love Randall and he loves me. We deserve each other.”

Spencer’s face softened before growing angry once more, “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Fuck you Spencer, I’m going home. I don’t need you and I don't need your help,” you said, grabbing your things and slamming the door open. You were lying, you need Spencer and you need his help more than anything, but you didn’t want to admit that while he was being such a dick.

“Fine!” he yelled, “Go run back to him then, but you better not call me when he kicks you out again. I don’t care anymore!”

And so you left, Spencer slammed the door behind you as you stormed out of his apartment. You didn’t stop to think about the fact that Spencer never acts like this. He has never lashed out at you, never questioned your relationship with Randall to your face, let alone scream at you and insult you because of it. You didn’t stop and think about what Spencer was on, or not on, that was making his act like this.

But you thought about it now.

You want to get home before Randall starts to get upset and suspicious, but now after your fight with Spencer you have to walk home. You couldn’t ask him to borrow cash for a cab, let alone ask him to drive you there. You were stuck walking, which also meant you were stuck with Randall’s wrath when you returned.

You already feel terrible about the way you treated Spencer. You think about going to apologize, and stand in front of the door for a second, weighing the pros and cons of doing so. Eventually, you go to turn away, ultimately deciding that you both needed to calm down before speaking to each other again.

Yet as you turn, the door opens. Spencer stands right there, strangely calm, seemingly out of it. All fury and anger you had seen just minutes before gone. In this moment he resembles Randall, and it's the first time you’ve ever been able to draw any comparison to the two.

It’s scary.

“Spencer I-” but you get cut off, not by words, but by an object. Before you can even register what was just thrown in your face the door is closed again. You duck down to grab what was thrown.

Twenty dollars.

For the cab ride home.

1:34 AM, April 23rd, 2007.

You light the final candle on your dining room table, before stepping back to admire your work. Randall always came home so late from work, so you rarely ate dinner together. But today was your anniversary, so you stayed up late, prepared his favorite meal and set up all of your fancy dinnerware so that you could have a very late dinner together before he goes to bed and you go to work. He should be home any minute now.

Yet 3 hours later Randall is not back. You’re just about to cut your losses and call it a night, and start to clean up the melted down candles and cold steak dinner as you hear your front door open.

“Y/N! What are you doing still awake?”

“Do you know what day it is Randall? Because I do.”

He looks down at his watch, checks the time, and looks back up at you, “Well it is now 3:57 AM, meaning it is now Monday. Which is why I’m curious as to what you’re still doing up sweetheart, you have to be at work in 3 hours.” “There’s something special about THIS Monday Randall,” you sigh, you’re disappointed but not surprised, this has happened for the past 3 years.

“Do you have a project going on at work baby? You know I can’t keep track of all that crap, your job is so silly and easy to lose track of. You have to remind me of these things if you actually want me to care about them.”

“It’s our anniversary Randall.”

He stops, but instead of looking guilty or remorseful (like you secretly hoped), he gets livid, “No it’s not, are you stupid or something?”

“Randall, baby it’s okay, it’s not a big deal.”

“No! You stupid fucking bitch, are you trying to make me look bad, cooking this stupid fancy dinner and staying up late. Trying to lie and act like I forgot our five year anniversary?! Stop playing the victim Y/N. So tell me, are you lying to make me feel bad, or is your brain really that fucking empty?”

“It’s our six year anniversary,” you whisper.

“What did you just say?”

“I said I was just being stupid Randall. You’re right baby, I forgot the date of our anniversary.”

He snarls. “I don’t think so Y/N, I think, actually I know that not only are you stupid, but that you’re a liar. I know that you just want to make me look bad by preparing our anniversary dinner a week early. And you have to push it by claiming we’ve been together for six years. I know it’s five. I’m not stupid.”

“I’m sorry, babe,” you cry.

“NO YOU’RE NOT!” he yells, pushing his plate of steak and mashed potatoes, letting your parent’s wedding china shatter on the ground. You cry harder. “You’re a stupid, waste of my time Y/N. Five wasted years I’ve spent on you. Do you know why I do it, huh. Do you know why I stay with you when I could have one of the beautiful, rich, successful, truthful women I’m fucking?”

You shake your head.

“It’s because I feel pity for you. No other man would want you. I’m the only one that will ever love you. You know that right Y/N?” He picks up a piece of your hair, gently tucking it behind your ear. “Tell me that I’m the only one who will love you, you know it’s the truth right?” You nod your head. In a swift motion Randall turns, grabs a glass full of red wine and chucks it at the wall, narrowly avoiding your left ear.

“I WANT TO HEAR YOU SAY IT.”

“You’re the only one who will ever love me Randall,” you croak out in between sobs.

He closes the distance between you two once more, gripping your chin and jerking your face so that your eyes meant his. It hurts, and makes you cry more, but you don’t say anything.

“Don’t you know it sweetness,” he lets go, delivers a sharp slap to your check and grips your wrist. “Now clean your mess up, and then I think it’s best if you get out of the house for a little bit, don’t you agree?”

You nod quickly. He smiles.

“Good girl, now I would normally be worried about you going to hook up with that string bean you’re always all over, but according to the last time I went through your phone, he isn’t in your recent calls. Glad to know he’s finally done with your bullshit. I’m sure a nice long walk alone will do you good. You can think about what led you to lying tonight, and then maybe you can come back in time for our real anniversary.”

He slips upstairs, so you clean up the rest of the uneaten meal and the broken wine class, cutting up your hands severely in the process. You spend at least an hour in a futile attempt to get red wine stains off of your wallpaper, before grabbing your phone and purse and running out the door.

Even after what Randall says, you still think about calling Spencer. Your thumb hovers over the call button for a minute until you switch the contact, phoning your boss instead. You inform her you need a personal day, and that it’s a family emergency.

You check the time, 6:53. Spencer is almost definitely on his way to work right now. You want to call him so bad, but the things he said you ring through your mind. You can’t ask for his help anymore.

For the first time, you are truly on your own.

Until a familiar horizon blue Volvo pulls up next to the curb you’re sitting on, and Spencer Reid sticks his head out the window.

“Y/N? What are you doing here? Get it the car, come on I’ll drive you to work with me.”

Confused as you are, this is your best option right now. So you climb into the passenger seat of his car, refusing to make eye contact with him, instead looking at your bleeding hands. “Oh my god, Y/N. You’re bleeding. Did Randall do this to you? Why didn’t you call me?”

“No, Spencer, Randall didn’t do this to me. He dropped a wine glass and I helped him pick it up. Now just drive.” And he does, drive that is. But you can feel his stares, on your cut up hands, and you forming bruises. You can feel him profiling the signs of abuse on your body.

But more than that you hate that you can feel he’s upset with you. Upset because you didn’t call him. Does he not remember screaming at you not too?

He pulls into the parking lot, parks the car and finally turns to make eye contact with you. He has tears in his, “I really wish you would’ve called me Y/N. If it’s getting this bad I want you to stay with me.”

“Spencer am I going insane?”

“Of course not, what do you mean?” he looks so gentle, so kind and you’re so confused.

“Do you remember what day me and Randall started dating?”

“Yes, it was April 23rd, 2001. 6 years ago today actually. Is that why he did this to you? Does it have anything to do with that?”

“How can you remember that but not our screaming match a week ago?” you laughed, your hands burned now, there’s definitely glass in there, you swear you can feel the tiny little shards in your blood.

“What do you mean, Y/N? We didn’t scream at each other? I haven’t even seen you in weeks. How long has he been hitting you? Why didn’t you call me sooner?”

“Spencer, on the 16th you picked me up and took me back to your apartment because Randall kicked me out. On the evening of the 17th I went to leave because Randall told me I could come home. You said I was being abused and called me stupid for going back to him. When we fought about it I stormed out and you told me not to call you if he kicked me out again because you didn’t care anymore. That’s why I didn’t call you.”

You look up at Spencer, and nearly start crying yourself when you see his crumpled face. Tears are freely spilling down his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry Y/N. I don’t remember that,” he pushes his long hair out of his face, clearly frazzled, “I- I can’t believe I don’t remember that.”

Before you can say anything, Spencer pulls out his phone. “Hey Hotch, it’s me. I can’t come in today. I need to use a personal day. . . I’ll tell you later. Okay, thank you” He angrily pulls out of the parking lot, and you can tell he’s headed back to his apartment.

“Spencer it’s okay, I’m not upset with you.”

“No Y/N, it’s not okay. I said all those terrible things to you, of course you were scared to call me after them. The worst part is I was too high to even remember it all. I- I just can’t believe I helped him do this to you,” tears still freely flowing down his face.

“Spencer what are you talking about? I was with you all day, you weren’t high. You don’t even drink, how could you be high?”

He sighs, “do you remember when I was kidnapped by that unsub, Tobias Hankel? About 2 months ago?” You nod, encouraging him to continue. “Well, I told you about his multiple personalities, how one beat me to death and then Tobias resurrected me, how  I had to kill Tobias in order to survive, even though Tobias himself did nothing to me. Well when I was in the barn, Tobias would give me drugs, dilaudid, in order to cut the pain of his other personalities’ abuse. When I killed him, I took the drugs he had one him with me, and I can’t stop Y/N. It’s affecting my life, my work, and now it’s affecting you.” He parks his car in his apartment complex’s lot and turns to look at you. “Hotch has never said anything about it, so even though the team knows I have no reason to quit, I think I do now. Y/N, I think we need to get clean together.”

Suddenly that night made sense, Spencer was irritable and strange, he wasn’t high, he was going through withdrawal. But when he threw the money at you, so loopy and out of it, he was on it. He was so high he didn’t remember the moments before.

“Spencer, I don't know what to say. I want to help you get sober, I want that more than anything, but I’m not addicted to drugs, I rarely even drink.”

“I know Y/N, you don’t have a drug problem like me, but you are an addict. You need to leave Randall. You know it, I know it, but you can’t.” You open your mouth to defend yourself, but Spencer continues to speak, “It’s okay, I understand why. But we both need to quit, and I think it’s best if we do it together.”

“Well how are we supposed to do that,” you whisper.

“Come on, let’s get started,” you and Spencer exit his car, he loops your hands together, leading you up to his apartment. When you get there, he digs through his messenger bag and grabs a couple of tiny glass bottles and a syringe. He throws them into his garbage can, and turns to look at you.

“Pull out your phone.”

“What? Why?”

“We’re going to block Randall’s number.”

You want to fight him on it, but you know he’s right. You need to leave Randall, and now’s as good of a time as any. Yet, you can’t forget the things he’s said to you. “I can’t Spencer, he’s my boyfriend, he loves me.”

“Y/N, please, please do this with me.” You shake your head, he sighs. “Okay, I get it, this is going to take time. Just, um, stay with me for a couple days. Please. We can go get your stuff tomorrow night.”

You think about rejecting Spencer’s offer, but you really don’t want to go back there. More than anything, you want to stay right here. You try to tell yourself it’s because you’re worried about Spencer, but deep down you know it’s more than that. So you nod, and Spencer wraps you in a hug, burying his head into your shoulder.

“Thank you, Y/N. Now let’s go get your hands wrapped up.”

9:21 PM, May 2nd, 2007.

You’ve been staying at Spencer’s for just over a week now. You haven’t seen Randall since your anniversary, and Spencer hasn’t taken dilaudid while you’ve been here. Things are going well. You’re watching a lot of bad reality TV, and Spencer has gone through about 7 packs of Gatorade, but you’re both doing okay.

Now you were just waiting for him to come back from his case in Idaho, you knew this one was pretty bad. They were searching for a woman in the middle of a huge forest, as she was being hunted and chased down. Spencer called you right before getting on the jet, and told you he would be home soon, so now you were just waiting for him.

While doing so however, you found something. A lump on Spencer’s side of the mattress. Under it, were two small glass bottles and a syringe. The same ones you had seen Spencer throw into the garbage days prior.

Now you need to talk to Spencer, so you sit on his couch, and wait for him to come home. When he comes through the door, he immediately sees you and smiles. “Y/N! I’ve missed you.” He hugs you, and for a second you forget why you’re even mad at him in the first place.

“Spencer, I need to talk to you. I found your bottles.” The mood in the room instantly shifts, but you don’t care, you need to get your words out. “You told me you were quitting, I watched you throw them away.”

He brushes his hairs through his hair, and begins to mess with his hands. “I am quitting Y/N, I haven't taken any, but. . .  I just need them to be there.”

“Spencer, please, throw them away. I’m trying to help you here.” Suddenly he grows very angry, and you can tell you said the wrong thing.

“Well I’m trying too. To me it seems the only one not trying is you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, you still haven’t blocked Randall, he still calls all the time! Why do I have to throw my addiction away if you can’t even do the same to yours?”

“That's not fair.”

“How so?” he yells. “How is it that you can’t block your abusive, no good piece of shit boyfriend but I have to throw away the things I enjoy? That doesn’t feel like trying to me.”

“I’m not addicted to Randall Spencer, I just love him. I don’t want or need to quit him.”

“Oh really? Then why are you even still here? Why haven’t you answered his calls? Or gone to see him? I think you know exactly why.”

And you do. You don’t want to go back there, but what Randall says is true. He is the only one who will love you, and you’re not ready to lose that yet. You’re not ready to cut off all contact with him.

“I can leave if that’s what you want Spencer.”

His face softened, “no, that’s not what I want. That’s the last thing I want.” He stops and thinks for a moment. “If you block Randall I’ll throw away my dilaudid.”

You ponder it, “Okay.”

He breaks into a wide smile. “Really? You’ll do it?”

You smile at him.

“Yeah, I promise. I’ll block Randall.”

6:56 PM, May 30th, 2007.

You did not block Randall.

Even after watching Spencer pour out his bottles, breaking up the glass and tossing it away for a second time, you couldn’t. Even after seeing him snap his syringes in half, and feeling him kiss your forehead, after seeing how happy and excited he was for your fresh start together, you just couldn’t do it.

Spencer thought you did, and it was easy to hide the truth from him. Randall hadn’t called since then, so you and Spencer continue to spend time together, last week you celebrated one month of sobriety. You got an ice cream cake and little, silly party hats and exchanged gifts.

And it made you feel like shit.

Spencer was so happy, so proud that you had both been clean for a month, but you still couldn’t decide if you wanted to be clean at all.

You still can’t decide if you should block Randall’s number.  

You try not to think about it, instead focusing the energy into making you and Spencer virgin pina coladas, he was currently out picking up burgers from your favorite restaurant. When he returns, you were going to watch one of your crappy reality TV reruns, and then an episode of Doctor Who. It was Spencer’s idea a couple days ago, and quickly it became a regular occurrence.

Faintly over the loud whir of the blender you can hear your phone ringing. You run  quickly to go grab it, just in case Spencer needed your help with something, but your heart drops when you see the caller ID. It’s Randall, trying once again to contact you.

Your thumb hovers over the accept button, but before you can make a decision, the call times out and sends Randall to voicemail. You let out a breath and set your phone down.

But then something possesses you, and you snatch your phone and dial Randall’s number. He picks up on the 3rd ring.

“Baby, oh my god baby is that really you?”

He sounds so excited to hear from you, how could you have stayed mad at him for so long?

“Yes baby, it’s me. I’m sorry I haven’t answered your calls at all. I’ve been busy.”

“Don’t worry sweetness, I’m so so sorry for the things I said to you, I need you to come home. You missed our anniversary you know? But it’s okay! We can celebrate now! I got you a really beautiful gift, one we can definitely experiment with tonight.” You could hear his smirk over the phone.

“I’m not sure if I’m ready to come back right now, maybe later baby, but not right now.”

You hear his breathing pick up, and tense. You can tell he’s getting agitated. He wasn’t expecting you to answer like that, you always come home as soon as he tells you you can come back. “What do you mean? You’re being ridiculous, I want to see my girlfriend. I’m sure you want to get off of the streets too, you’ve been squatting for over a month now.”

“I’m not squatting Randall, I’m living with Spencer.”

“What!?” he yells. “I thought I told you not to stay with him. I hate that guy, you know that.”

“Would you rather me be on the streets Randall? Spencer’s a great guy, and I want to stay here.”

“Frankly, yes I would. But don’t worry, you can still come home. Just send me the prick’s address and I’ll come pick you up. We can enjoy tonight together.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I’m not going to send you Spencer’s address. I’m staying here. I don’t want to see you anymore. Leave me alone Randall. I’m done.”

Before he could say anything, you hung up. As you did so you heard the front door open, and Spencer made his way to the bedroom.

“Hey! I got burgers! Ready to eat?” he looks down to see your phone still resting in your hand, stuck on the phone app. “Who were you talking to?”

“Just an old friend,” you say.

“Think you’ll be talking to them again anytime soon?” you can tell he knows, and you’re surprised he isn’t lashing out at you. You’re so used to how Randall reacts when you go against his wishes, Spencer’s calm, understanding presence is like a breath of fresh air.

“No, I think I’m ready to leave them behind,” you smile at each other. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen in a sec okay?”

He nods, and goes to set up the food and TV.

It takes you seven seconds to block Randall.

1:12 AM, June 10th, 2007.

You haven’t gone out with your coworkers in months, you forgot how good it feels to just be present with people. You didn’t even drink tonight, wanting to remember every second of this time out with friends. You were beaming when you unlocked the front door.

Yet your smile slips when you enter what had become you and Spencer’s shared bedroom.

He isn’t there.

You pull out your phone to call him when you hear a thud coming from the bathroom door. You hesitate, scared of what you know you’ll likely find. When you finally throw the door open you’re already teary eyed, and these sobs escalate as soon as you see Spencer, tipped over, lying on the bathroom floor, the needle still sticking out of his arm.

You’re sobbing as you rip it out, hastily undoing the belt wrapped around his upper forearm. He looks up, even in his groggy haze you can see the guilty look in his eyes when they made contact with yours.

“Y/N. . . I- I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me but I just couldn’t stop myself . . . I-”

“Shhh, It’s okay, just breathe,” you whisper through your tears. “It’s going to be okay Spencer, I’m here, and it’s going to be okay. I’m staying right here.” You pull his head into your lap, stroking your shaking hands through his hair.

His head begins to shake, and you can feel his tears on your dress. You rest your head on his, and for a few seconds you just sit there, crying together.

“You’re going to be okay Spencer.”

8:09 AM, June 11th, 2007.

Your head is buried in his chest, you need to be able to hear him breathe. You need to hear his heart beating. You need to be as close to him as possible right now. He stirs as he wakes up, and wraps his arms around you. 

“I’m so sorry Y/N.”

“Don’t apologize Spencer, this is a part of recovery okay? You’re still in recovery, just because you relapsed doesn’t mean we have to start over. You’re so much stronger than you were before. So much braver. So much better. You can do this.”

He smiles at you, “thank you, thank you so much.”

“Of course, now withdrawal is going to be even harder this time. I’m going to the store. We’re going to need plenty of Gatorade and water. We have to flush everything out of your system. Do you mind if I take your car to the store?”

He beams, even in his groggy state he manages to look so perfect, “You know my car is always yours to use Y/N.”

“I’ll be back soon okay? Don’t move a muscle,” you grab his keys and head out the door. And you really do mean it, you fully intend this to be the shortest grocery trip of your life. You’re terrified of leaving Spencer alone long enough to get high again, even though you spent all day yesterday searching for drugs and throwing anything you found in the garbage, taking it out the main apartment dumpster that night. 

You get to the store, grab everything you need, 3 packs of blue Gatorade, 6 cases of water bottles, and the store’s entire stock of Jell-O and rush back to Spencer’s car. You were only in the store for 17 minutes, the majority of which was just check-out time. You smile, thinking of how excited Spencer will be when he sees all the Jell-O in the fridge, but feel your stomach drop when you see a familiar face examining Spencer’s car.

Randall. 

Before you can decide what to do, he turns and sees you. 

“Y/N! I was expecting Spencer, but this is even sweeter. I knew I recognized this hunk of junk. Where have you been?”

“I’ve been around, I’m kind of on a tight schedule here. I really need to get going,” you say as you load up your groceries into Spencer’s trunk. 

“That’s a lot of Jell-O sweetheart, you hate Jell-O.” That’s not even true. You hate pudding, you love Jell-O.

As much as you wanted to yell at him for calling you sweetheart, you couldn’t deny that it felt good. You still missed him. Blocking him helped, but you still felt strong urges to call him sometimes. “It’s not for me, it’s for Spencer.”

“I thought I told you not to stay with him anymore.”

“What part of that conversation would make you think I would listen to you?” you say.

“You should always listen to me Y/N, I’m your boyfriend.”

“I haven’t seen you in months, we’re not dating anymore. I’m done.”

“You don’t mean that you’re just being irrational. Are you on your period? I bet that’s it. Come get breakfast with me. You probably just need chocolate, and the place down the block has incredible chocolate waffles.”

You open your mouth to reject him, but you can’t. Part of it is because you know if you do then he’ll follow you back to your apartment and the last thing you want is for him to know where you’re living right now. But the other part is much worse. A big part of you wants to let him try again. You can’t explain why, but you really want for him to redeem himself as your first love.

“Ok, you have 20 minutes, let’s go get breakfast.”

The walk there is silent and awkward. Randall grabs your hand, too tight for you to do anything about it, and keeps this grip until you sit down in your booth. 

You don’t get chocolate waffles. You really don’t even like chocolate all that much. Randall knows that, or at least you thought he did. Instead you get cinnamon french toast, and within minutes it’s at the table. 

“You know baby, Spencer doesn’t love you.” He says halfway through your french toast.

“We aren’t dating Randall.”

“Doesn’t matter, you’ve been with him in that apartment for a while now. I’m surprised he hasn’t given you the boot.”

You sit in silence, Randall takes this as a sign to continue. “We’ve been together for five years, sweetness. No one can love you the way I do. That’s just a fact. Spencer fucking Reid can not replace me, no one can replace me.”

“I hate that you’re right. I hate that I can’t breathe when I’m not with you Randall. I hate that you’re stuck to me. You’re this god awful stain on my life. I hate looking at it but no matter what I do I can’t wash it off.”

He smirks. “You’re not gonna get rid of me Y/N.” He pays the check, and gets up from the table. You go to get up too, but notice he didn’t tip your waitress, so you leave another five bucks on the table. 

When you get outside he grasps your shoulders. “I knew you would come around Y/N, I knew you would get it. Now come on, we can go collect your stuff from that prick’s apartment and get you home. I know exactly how you can make it up to me.”

You pause, “I don’t think so Randall. I’m not ready quite yet, but I promise I’ll call you.” You meant it, you had already unblocked him from your phone.

“Oh absolutely not, you’re going home with me now.”

“No I’m not.” As you were yelling at each other you notice a strangely familiar face standing nearby, just in ear shot. You can’t place him, but you know you’ve met before.

“Yes you are! We’re happy together and you’re coming to live with me again!”

“We don’t love each other, Randall! Not right now at least!” 

He’s livid, and once again you feel that scared, indescribable feeling in the pit of your stomach. “That’s not true! I’ll prove it to you.” He grabs your chin and pulls your face to his.

You feel as if water is filling your lungs, you’re drowning and no one is around to save you. Randall is physically stronger than you, you’re stuck in his grasp. It’s like you’re screaming and no one can hear you. 

And yet, this flood of emotions you’re feeling is the first time you realize something. 

You’re addicted to Randall.

You need to get out.

You need to get back to Spencer.

After what feels like minutes (but is actually about 3 seconds) of being unseen and vulnerable, you discover you’ve been protected the whole time. The man you can't place rips Randall off of you, “What’s wrong with you? Get off of her!”

It’s his voice that lets you place him. Derek Morgan, Spencer’s closest friend and coworker, punches Randall in the face. “Get out of here!”

“What the fuck is wrong with YOU? That’s my girlfriend! Sweetheart, tell him to leave us alone!”

They both turn and look at you, with tears in your eyes you look at Morgan and shake your head. “Please, get him to leave.”

And Morgan does just that, with a little yelling and a flash of his FBI badge, Randall is running for the hills.

“Come on baby girl, let’s get you back home. Did you walk here?”

You shake your head, “No, I drove Spencer’s car here.”

“Well, how bout I drive you home, and then afterwards I swing back and get Spencer’s car and drop it off?”

So you do just that. After profusely thanking Morgan, and him insisting that it was nothing, and also insisting to carry your groceries in from the car, you and Spencer are together once again. 

“I’m so sorry Spencer, I didn’t believe you before. I was going to go back to him. How could I be so stupid?”

“Don’t talk like that Y/N, you said it best yourself. Just because you relapse doesn’t mean you aren’t trying, and it most certainly doesn’t mean you’re stupid.”

“I think it’s time we get clean Spencer. Both of us, once and for all.”

“I think so too Y/N.”

He pulls you into a hug and in between sniffles you manage to choke out what you’ve been wanting to say since you got into Morgan’s car. “I love you.”

He looks at you, and the look in his eyes almost makes you cry out of pure joy. He looks so happy, as if he’s been waiting for you to say that for years. 

Maybe he has.

“I love you too.”

7:29 AM, April 16th, 2008.

You press your lips to Spencer’s, you know he has just woken up, but you know it’s a big day for him. 

You both have been sober for over ten months now. Today is the day of his first group meeting. He found Beltway Clean Cops recently, and has been so excited to go. You’re excited for him. You know how proud he is of you, and you want to show him in every way possible that you’re proud of him.

He opens his eyes and smiles up at you. “What did I deserve to get a wake up like that?”

“What kind of question is that? You’re incredible, and an incredible boyfriend deserves an incredible morning. Do you know what else he deserves?”

He hums and waits for the answer.

“An incredible breakfast! That’s why I made blueberry pancakes. Now hurry up and come eat. You should  leave soon if you want to make it to your meeting on time. Have I told you yet how incredibly proud I am of you?”

He smiles, “Only an average of 15.6 times a day since I told you I was going.”

“Well that’s not nearly enough, now come on, get up. It’s pancake time,” you say. “Oh, and Spencer?”

“Yes flower?”

“I’m so proud of you.”

He smiles, “I love you flower.”

“I love you more.”

You ate breakfast together and then forced Spencer out the door, making sure he had plenty of time to get to his meeting. You knew he would regret it if he was late. 

You weren’t going to lie to yourself, you still thought about Randall a lot. You still missed him. You still love him in a way. But now that you had Spencer, now that you were clean together, you would never risk going back to him. 

That day where you agreed to go to breakfast with him, Derek asked you if you wanted to press charges. You didn’t, you don’t regret that either.

You’re even more proud of yourself this way, because you know he’s still there, still accessible and available to you, and still didn’t run to him. You know that any trace of Randall in your future is gone. 

You know you and Spencer are finally clean.

“Ten months sober, I must admit Just because you're clean don't mean you don't miss it Ten months older I won't give in Now that I'm clean I'm never gonna risk it”

- Thank you for reading! Please reblog and let me know what you think :))

[fanboy-2004]

Another unpopular opinion: Frank Dillane was the best Tom Riddle.

Don’t get me wrong, I love Christian Coulson as much as the next Riddle slut, but I think he’s overused. He definitely isn’t overrated, he deserves the amount of love he gets, however, I don’t think Frank Dillane deserves to be pushed aside because of Christian Coulson’s performance. There are things they did differently and things they did the same and they both did great jobs but, personally, when I’m watching either of them in their respective films, Dillane’s just feels more like Tom to me. I get chills. He creeps me out but he’s still attractive and charming. He’s underrated, guys! Plus he looks more like Hero Fiennes-Tiffin and Ralph Fiennes who play young Tom and Lord Voldemort, he just fits better in appearance.

It’s annoying to me, I wanna watch Tom Riddle edits because I love Tom Riddle but none of them have Dillane’s Riddle, which drives me mad. Like I said, I love Coulson’s Riddle too and could watch edits of him all day but I just want at least one ten minute compilation of Frank Dillane as Tom. He’s got roughly the same amount of screen time, I don’t understand the favouritism. I know people say he reminds them of a younger Hitler, and I kinda see it in the hair but that’s what hair was styled like in the forties! Plus it makes me think most Riddle fans only like him because Christian Coulson was hot and like... that’s so shallow. I love Tom Riddle and not just in his school days either, I be out here in love with him in all his freaking Lord Voldemort shit too. But that’s not the point.

Stop sleeping on Dillane’s Tom Riddle, guys.

Even in fanfictions, people use gifs and images of Coulson’s Riddle for their headers or covers or whatever. WHYYYYYYYYYY?! I get that Christian Coulson’s Tom is iconic but Frank Dillane’s Tom was the one who got the whole, “I was in the library the other night, in the restricted section” speech and it was perfect! I love that memory scene with Slughorn, he does everything perfectly, the way he talks, the way he moves, even the fucking head tilt is amazing, okay? Because that’s what Tom Riddle was like, everything was deliberate, everything he said and did was said and done to lure you in, to fool you.

He does all that so well!

I’m very passionate about this and I can’t keep it to myself anymore: LOVE FRANK DILLANE’S TOM RIDDLE MORE! He’s my favourite of the actors to play Riddle. He just does it so good.

[crispy-chan]

burning sunflower | yang jeongin

↠ pairing: yang jeongin x gn!reader

↠ genre & warnings: fluff, hanahaki au (vomiting flower petals), lil bit of angst, strangers to friends to lovers, school au, soccer player!jeongin

↠ summary: your only friend Seungmin introduces you to Jeongin, the star of the school's soccer club and one of the most popular guys in the school. you two become friends quickly but you start to catch feelings...

↠ word count: 6.8k

↠ a/n: sooo, this was written for the @newskynet Valentine's day special event. Not sure if it's too late but it's Sunday evening where I live... if I slipped up with the gn! reader, please let me know. feel free to roast me for my lame header, I just decided to put the lectures on how to use GIMP to good use lmao

the prompts I used were: 21 “For me?”,  6. “No one’s ever given me something like this before.”  16. “Will you be my valentine?”

my masterlist

One.

You're not really sure when you started to like Jeongin. I mean, you two were friends, don't get me wrong but that was it. Friends.

That was all he would ever see you as, you thought bitterly. The label that many would love to have but you cursed yourself for it every day. You see, you were first introduced to the smiling boy by your good friend Seungmin who thought you should at least try to make friends other than him, claiming that he won't be with you forever.

***

“Oh come on Min, I thought we'd always be friends,” you whined as he dragged you to a small cafe after school where you would meet his friend.

“Stop acting so childish Y/N, you have to start talking to other people too, you know.”

“But whyyyy? I have you, right?” you giggled at his unamused expression, telling you that he had enough of your shit.

“Nope. You're going to make other friends and that's final. You wouldn't want to really turn into a hermit crab,” he said smugly.

Now it was your turn to look unimpressed. “You don't need to bring up my spirit animal, sheesh. What a low blow, even for someone like you, Min.”

“What was a low blow?” a boy around your age with a cheerful smile approached you giving you a questioning look. You just stood there nervously, staring at him for god knows how long until Seungmin finally broke the ice with a rather awkward cough and proceeded to introduce you guys.

“Y/N, this is Jeongin. Jeongin, this is Y/N,” he pointed at the two of you, swiftly introducing you to the other.

“Um,” you awkwardly extended your hand for a handshake, “hello, I'm Y/N, Seungmin's friend.”

He shook your hand with a firm grip before smiling from ear to ear, “I'm Jeongin, from the neighboring class.”

After you guys settled, you proceeded to order your drinks and snacks. The atmosphere was undeniably awkward, but Seungmin seemed adamant about reaching his goal.

“So look guys, I brought you both here because you both need more friends. You're both introverts who like to hide in their shells and I think you two have a lot in common, so I think this would be beneficial for both parties.”

“So you're basically trying to say that you don't want to hang out with us anymore?”

The innocence in his tone almost fooled you for a second, before you noticed the smug expression on his face and couldn't hold in the burst of laughter.

“Man, I like him already,” you sniggered after you caught your breath, patting a visibly annoyed Seungmin on the back.

“Who would have thought there is someone more savage than you in this school.”

The unimpressed deadpan he gave you made you fall into another fit of giggles, prompting Jeongin to chuckle too.

After the waitress came back with your beverages, you proceeded to distract yourself by making little paper balls and blowing them through your straw into the ceramic pot on the table. You got so distracted, that you spaced out and didn’t notice when Seungmin started waving his hand in front of your face.

“Y/N, Y/N! Are you even listening?”

You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment at being caught zoning out. No wonder you had no friends. Slowly lifting your head, you faced Seungmin, waiting for him to repeat what he just said.

“I asked if you wanted to come to watch him play on Saturday.”

“Watch who?” you asked confusedly.

“Jeongin, he's on our school's soccer team,” he deadpanned, annoyed at your lack of concentration.

“Umm, sure...I guess. I'm not much of a sports person but I have nothing to do on the weekend,” you mumbled, mentally checking for any possible plans or chores you could have. Well jokes on you, you had none.

Jeongin beamed at that, taking a sip from his beverage as he pulled out his phone. “I'm glad you can make it - Seungmin would come but he has an exam he has to prepare for,” he explained, “the match starts at five o'clock.”

“Wait, wait, what? There's an exam next week?” you screeched. You were almost positive that there weren't any but dread filled you at even the slightest possibility.

The boy let out a chuckle at your obvious panic, shaking his head. “No, the exam is in two weeks but you know how he is.”

You could feel a weight being lifted from your heart as you sighed in relief. “Thank god, I thought I missed something,” you giggled.

Jeongin smiled at the display. Maybe hanging out with you wouldn't be that bad, at least he'd have someone he knew watching the game other than Seungmin who wasn't exactly the most supportive when it came to sports, opting to rearrange his binder or do his homework instead of watching.

“Thanks, it means a lot to me. I'm always happy if there is someone cheering for me in the stands,” he winked, making your heart skip a beat.

Wait a minute.

Something wasn't right here.

After the two of you bid goodbye to Jeongin, you dragged Seungmin out of the cafe, the gears in your head spinning at maximum speed.

“Wait a second Seungmin, he's not that popular striker who scores most of our school's goals that all the girls swoon over, right? Please tell me I'm right,” you stammered, pulling on his sleeve.

“Relax Y/N, he's really nice-”

“So it's him?!”

“Yes,” he sighed, opening his mouth to say something, probably to convince you to not bail on his friend but you didn't even give him the chance.

“I can't believe it! Why didn't you tell me? You made me agree to accompany one of the most popular guys in our school! His fangirls will kill me,” you hissed. Although you never remembered his name, it was practically basic knowledge that anyone on the soccer team was insanely popular with a cult-like following of crazed fans who went after anyone near them.

“Calm down, ok,” he held you by the shoulders, “ you will be ok, alright? He's a really nice guy who could also use some friends. All the other guys on the team are seniors so it's hard for him to find someone he can talk to face to face,” he tried to explain.

“And don't worry,” he added with a smile, “you don't have to do anything, just come and watch the match and cheer him on a bit, alright?”

“Alright,” you groaned.

Two.

You should have never agreed to come to that soccer game. That ultimately became your downfall. If you had never agreed to this, maybe you wouldn't be like this today.

You sighed, rummaging through your closet and trying to figure out what the hell were you supposed to wear. I mean - what was it even. You had no clue what was going to happen, you only knew that he and his teammates would pick you up on their way to the match.

He texted you the day before that he and the boys would stop by your house at three-thirty to come and collect you. After ten minutes of just standing there, you finally decided on a casual outfit and ran to your door to put your sneakers on. As if on cue, you could hear a car honking right outside your door and your phone lit up with a new text message.

Jeongin [03:32]

We're here.

You slammed the door shut and made your way to the vehicle. You could see a boy you recognized but didn't remember his name, behind the wheel. Inside the van, there were a few other boys scattered around, including Jeongin who sat in the back alone.

“Hi Y/N, hop in,” he beamed, rolling down the window. You smiled back, opening the door and taking a seat next to him.

“So, are you excited?” the boy driving turned to look at you with a grin as he slowly backed the car, driving away from your house.

“Yeah, it's been a while since I watched our team play and from what I’ve heard, you guys are pretty good,” you smiled nervously under their gazes.

They all laughed at that, happy to hear they had a good reputation even amongst the students not involved in sports.

“I'm Chan, by the way, captain of our schools’ soccer club,” the boy behind the wheel stated. Oh, so that's why he seemed so familiar. Practically everyone knew him, and he knew everyone too. He'd often greet people who didn't think he knew they existed and was always extra kind which combined with his captain status led to his immense popularity.

“The grumpy one next to me is Minho,” he pointed to the currently sleeping figure in the passenger's seat.

“Hey! I’m not grumpy!”

Well. Looks like he wasn't asleep after all.

“I'm Jisung,” the cheerful boy in front of you chimed as he turned around and gave you a big smile.

“And I'm Hyunjin.”

“Um, well...I'm Y/N,” you winced at how awkward you sounded but luckily, they didn't seem to mind as they all giggled.

“We know,” came Minho's curt reply, “Jeongin wouldn't shut up about you.”

“Ouch,” Minho screeched as Jeonging threw his shoe at him.

The rest of the car ride went rather smoothly, other than the occasional bickering of the guys but you honestly didn't mind. It was kind of comforting to just let go of everything and laugh along. It surprised you how nice they were, you kind of imagined them as selfish pricks but that clearly wasn't the case.

At one point, Hyunjin and Jisung started arguing over which color uniform they should wear for the match. You watched with a hint of amusement, that was until they turned to you for help.

“But look, if we choose the red one, Chan will be able to live out his dream as Christiano Bangnaldo,” Jisung pleaded as Chan let out an embarrassed chuckle.

“Christiano Bangnaldo? Wow, I'm wheezing.”

“Exactly,” Hyunjin cut you guys off, “that's why we should choose the blue one, it goes better with my skin tone.”

“Oi, nobody cares about your damn skin tone, I want to see Christiano Bangnaldo,” Minho stated loudly, completely shutting up the younger two. Welp, seems like it was decided. What Minho wants, Minho gets.

After you finally arrived at the dimly lit school stadium, you made your way out of the car as Jeongin held the door open for you. Smiling, you thanked him for the kind gesture before finally looking around. And your socks were pretty much blown off.

Now you were wondering, why you never came here before. The field was slowly starting to fill with other students slash players but that didn't manage to hide the undeniable beauty of this place. The bleachers were surprisingly clean, unlike most high school stadiums. The dim lights cast a nice glow over the stadium, giving it a really homey feel. You looked around in awe, still surprised by the atmosphere of this place.

“Have you ever been here during the night?” a lean figure stood behind you, observing you and effectively cutting off your train of thought.

“Nope. This is the first time,” you breathed out.

“That's what I thought. It looks completely different when it's dark,” he chuckled, turning around to head to the locker rooms.

“So... I have to head back so we can all change. You can take a seat wherever you want, I'd recommend the first row,” he winked cheekily, accompanying the gesture with a throaty laugh.

You blushed at that, choosing to snuggle into your shirt, to hide your embarrassment. How could he be so cheesy so casually? He must have noticed your slight shiver as he slipped out of his varsity jacket.

Before you could even protest, he had already placed the jacket around your shoulders, patting your head. You opened your mouth to object but he cut you off, “it's ok Y/N, I’m not gonna need it anyways. And by the way...thank you for coming, I really appreciate it.”

You smiled, realizing that something that seemed so pointless, so small could mean so much to someone else. He seemed genuinely excited to have someone cheering for him, even if he had tens of fangirls doing just that. You huffed in the chilly wind, lifting your head up to gaze at him.

“No problem Jeongin, I'm happy I came.”

Something about how he smiled at you, stirred your insides, made your heart skip a beat. Your eyes trailed after him, lingering on his receding figure. You didn't look away until he stepped into the locker room, the door pretty much obstructing your gaze and snapping you out of this trance.

Looking around, you could sense that the stadium was slowly filling up. If you wanted to have a seat, you would have to be quick. You ran down to the first row seats but with a sigh realized that most of them were already taken. You were about to give up and run up to find a spot in the next row but a sharp tug on your sleeve stopped you.

Turning around, you spotted a boy, maybe a year or two older than you, looking at you with a curious face. You tried to pry out of his hold, tugging on your hand but he didn't let go. Right when you were about to scream, he finally spoke, “are you Jeongin's friend? We saved you a seat,” he motioned to the spot next to him.

“How the hell do you know that?” you asked, confusion evident.

“Well,” he chuckled, “the jacket…”

Oh. right. You were wearing Jeongin's varsity jacket. You almost forgot.

“So… are you and Jeongin-”

“No,” you cut him off before he could even finish the sentence, “I'm a friend of a friend who couldn't make it today so I came instead.”

“Oh, you see - I thought, Hyunjin said-” he suddenly stopped, not bothering to continue, instead opting to tug you down to sit next to him.

“Watch,” was all he said.

You sat there obediently, watching the game and occasionally cheering Jeongin on, whenever he passed the ball or attempted to score. He was really good, especially considering that he was the youngest on the team.

During the less intense parts of the game, you made small talk with the boy next to you. He introduced himself as Jinyoung. He was the captain of the lacrosse team and a good friend of Chan and Hyunjin. You found out that as a captain, he would attend almost all the other sports events that his friends partook in, claiming it to be common courtesy.

Both of you refocused your attention on the game. Your team seemed to be on the offensive again, Hyunjin passing the ball to Jisung, who maneuvered around one of the opposing team’s defenders before eventually passing to Minho.

Just when he was about to kick it, another leg appeared from the side, tripping him and making him fall flat on his face. He managed to at least stick out his hands so they would take the brunt of the fall but he struggled to get up on his feet.

Before the other boy could get away with the ball, the referee blew the whistle, signalizing a foul and stopping the game.

“What happened? Is he ok?” you asked, frantically scrambling up and leaning into the field from behind the barrier.

“Don't worry,” Jinyoung chuckled, “he'll be fine. They'll probably be getting a penalty kick. And I bet you a hundred bucks that Jeongin will be the one to take the shot.”

“Wait really? Is he that good?” you surprisedly inquired.

“Yeah, he's the best shot on the team.”

Now you were excited. You heard that he was good but never realized to what extent.

Jinyoung was right. You could see the coach huddled with the players in a circle, probably talking strategy or something before Chan patted Jeongin on the back. They all withdrew from the group circle leaving Jeongin to stand in front of the ball and the other team's goalkeeper to hunch down in preparation for the kick.

The referee blew the whistle, signalizing the resuming of the game. Jeongin took a few steps back before bursting into a run, kicking the ball into the upper left corner with utmost control.

You all stood up in anticipation, the kick seeming almost as if in slow motion, you could see the goalkeeper jump to his left, desperate to catch the ball before it landed in the net but his attempt was futile.

The kick he delivered was far too good to be caught, the expert technique and control visible to any onlooker. Paired with a huge roar of applause, you could all see the ball land in the goal with a thud.

Everyone erupted in cheers, including you and the atmosphere was great. You could see a few photographers who probably worked for the local sports columns, their cameras clicking like crazy, trying to capture the moment of glory of this young high schooler.

All of his teammates pulled Jeongin into a collective embrace, Chan slipping off his goalkeeper gloves before hoisting the boy on his shoulder.

In the heat of the moment, Jeongin looked through the spectators, trying to find the person that came to watch him. When he spotted you, cheering him on with a big grin, he couldn't help the fond smile from appearing. After he finally caught your gaze, he shot you a friendly wink, laughing at your flustered reaction.

“Wow, just friends you say,” Jinyoung teased, witnessing the whole exchange.

“Oh shut up! We met like a week ago.”

***

Fast forward to the end of the match. You guys won two to none, the second goal scored by Minho with the assistance of Jeongin and Hyunjin. Everyone was excited, the adrenalin and momentum of the game still hasn't passed. The smell of sweat and coke (coca-cola!) heavy in the air as you sat with the team on the benches and reminiscenced the game.

“Jeongin! That goal of yours was really great, you had so much control over the ball. All those hours of practice have paid off!”

Jeongin shyly hid his face, all the praise from his captain making him feel fuzzy from the inside.

“Yeah, everyone in the bleachers froze in anticipation when you kicked the ball,” you chimed in, feeling the need to join the praise bandwagon for the boy, “it was really cool.”

After that, Jeongin continued to receive pats on the back from fellow teammates, a few coaches, and random people that you didn't even know who came to congratulate him on his flawless playing today.

Overall, everyone had a great time. The stars were out and you all just wanted to soak up the atmosphere. So this is what having a social life during your teenage years meant? It made you wonder, how much were you missing out on. You wished time would just freeze, allowing you to live in this moment forever. You were gonna have to thank Seungmin for this later.

Jeongin, who was seated next to you must have noticed you zoning out. He placed his palm on your shoulder and asked, “are you ok Y/N? Do you want us to take you home?”

You blinked. Once. Twice. And only after the third time did you realize, that you still haven’t answered his question. You smiled before letting the reassuring words slip out of your mouth, “I'm fine. Great actually. Can't remember when was the last time I had so much fun.”

He sighed in relief, glad that you were having fun. From what he could tell (and from what Seungmin told him) you didn't have many friends nor did you hang out with people. The only person you considered a friend was Seungmin and he wasn't exactly a social butterfly himself, opting to study in most of his free time.

All of you ended up chatting until nine pm, completely forgetting about the time and simply enjoying yourselves. You checked your phone at nine-thirty, gasping in shock at the time.

“Everything ok?” Chan asked with concern.

“Um, yeah. Just didn’t realize it was so late. I should probably get going,” you muttered nervously, picking up all your belongings and shoving them into your bag.

“Oh right, it's quite late already. We'll give you a ride, right Chan?” Jeongin turned to his captain.

“Of course. Let's all get going. Chop chop. C'mon Hyunjin, you can tell them about your skincare routine next time,” he pulled the whining boy away from his third victim today.

You packed yourselves into the van, the seating arrangements only slightly different from on your way here. Hyunjin must have been still pissed at Chan for cutting his skincare speech short because he wouldn't shut up about it on the way to the parking lot. He kept going on and on about how moisturizing is important, even if you have oily skin. The captain dismissed his rant with a laugh and started the engine as the complaining boy sat down in the passenger seat.

At some point, Into the unknown came on shuffle and all the boys except Jeongin started singing. You burst out in laughter at their failed attempts at singing the high notes, seeing Jeongin hide his face in embarrassment.

“Guys! Come on, stop it,” he pleaded but the older boys only smirked in response and started singing even louder. By now, you were dying from laughing so hard, Jeongin having to pat your back aggressively so you won't choke on your own spit.

After they got bored of singing, you became their main talking point and they kept asking you borderline intrusive questions until Jeongin told them off, seeing how you turned slightly uneasy. Because of the typical Saturday evening traffic, you ended up falling asleep on the shoulder of a slightly pink Jeongin. He became super nervous once he realized you weren't awake and tried his best not to move and to hold you steady on every speed bump.

It took about fifteen more minutes for you guys to arrive in front of your place. Chan parked on the street and turned to say goodbye.

“Thanks for coming, Y/N. We're glad you came. Hope you had fun too,” he smiled, his dimples making an appearance.

“Jeongin especially,” Jisung whispered not-so-quietly and squeaked from the death glare Chan shot him.

You laughed softly, your cheeks bunching up as you waved them goodbye.

When you were laying in bed, your mind wandered off to today's events. As much as you didn't want to admit it, Seungmin was right. You really enjoyed yourself.

***

It was a sunny Monday morning when you were walking up the steps to your school entrance. You spent the rest of the weekend thinking about the Saturday game, not yet sure, how you felt about this newfound hobby. Maybe you should really spend more time with people. You also washed up Jeongin's varsity jacket that you forgot to return on Saturday evening.

You held the paper bag containing the washed piece of clothing in your right hand as you pushed the entrance door with your left. It felt all too easy, almost as if the door opened on its own. And you realized that no, you didn't grow stronger from that one arm toning workout you did yesterday as you saw a veiny hand press into the glass.

You turned to face that mystery person, only to sigh in relief as you were left face to face with Chan.

“Oh, hello,” you smiled, greeting him rather timidly. Because let's face it - you weren't exactly sure if they even considered you a friend. You were just some random girl that came to their soccer game.

Thankfully, he seemed to consider you a friend too as he gave you his dimpled smile, “hey Y/N, how was your weekend?”

“It was pretty good. I had lots of fun on Saturday and yesterday I just chilled,” you beamed.

“Same here,” he laughed, “we all pretty much passed out when we got home- oh shoot, the bell's off, I have to get to class. See you around.”

With a simple wave, he dashed out of your sight, turning around the corner to climb up the stairs to his classroom. You then remembered that you too had class and if you didn't wanna be late, you'd have to make a dash for it too.

***

It was during lunch break that you remembered that you had to return Jeongin his jacket. You nervously walked to his homeroom, anxious about what was going to happen. Will he think you're weird for coming to his class? Will he be embarrassed when you come up to him in front of all his friends? You sighed as you entered the classroom. It seemed like nobody noticed you at first, everyone was way too immersed with their own stuff. You could see that they all got along, the room booming with chatter and laughter.

Jeongin's table was near the window, a girl's chair turned to face him as they both engaged in a conversation. You awkwardly shuffled a few meters away, not wanting to interrupt. It was a truly wrecking moment, you even considered just turning around and disappearing without a trace but Jeongin noticed you and gave you a wide smile.

“Hey Y/N. What brings you here?”

You stood there for a few seconds before you finally remembered, what you came for. “Umm, hi. Just wanted to return this,” you handed him the bag, “I washed it and everything. Thanks for borrowing it.”

His eyes flashed in recognition after he peeked into the bag and he immediately returned the bag to your hand.

“It's fine,” he mumbled with slightly rosy cheeks (not that you noticed), “you can have it, I don't mind.”

You stared at him in shock, mouth slightly agape to which he awkwardly laughed. You were about to protest but the bell rang and Jeongin muttered that you should better get back to class.

You nodded in embarrassment, not even being able to look him in the eye as you hastily waved and ran out of the classroom.

You were mentally beating yourself up for that, you should have never come to his class, he must have been embarrassed that someone like you came to his class, everyone was probably used to him hanging around popular people like that girl he was talking to.

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful. You stuffed the paper bag with his jacket into your backpack, what were you even supposed to do with it - did he not hear that you washed it or something?

When you arrived home, you hung the jacket on one of the hooks near the door and headed to your room to get some homework done.

Three

It was a few months later that you and Jeongin officially became friends. During that time, the both of you hung out a lot more, courtesy of Seungmin and the rest of the soccer team who thought the two of you made great friends. It started out simple at first: getting coffee together, working on homework, and cursing that physics assignment you both had no clue how to finish.

Times like these made you realize how much of a fun person Jeongin was. There was never a dull moment around him yet despite his easygoing and fun nature, you noticed he preferred to keep to himself, only hanging out with his closest circle of friends. A category which you seemed to now fall under too.

Despite all your anxiousness about whether you were even “worthy” (as some would say) of being his friend, Jeongin always told you that he didn't care if you weren't labeled as popular by the rest of the student body.

“Y/N, we've had this conversation many times already. I really couldn't care less that you aren't a popular cheerleader and don't have Gucci bags,” he smiled, pushing a stray strand of hair that fell in front of your face, behind your ear.

“I know, I know. Sorry Jeongin, I know you aren't like that. I just get really anxious when those kids bury me with their gazes when I dare look at you.”

“Look, if anyone is bothering you, please tell me ok? I'll talk to them. I don't want you to suffer from being my friend,” he smiled, waving the waitress over to order for you guys.

“Don't worry, Jeongin. I promise I will,” you smiled, turning back to your physics workbook. The homework was on magnetic motors or something like that and you had no clue how to do it.

“Umm, do you know the answer to question three?” you asked, chewing on your bottom lip.

“Nope. I fell asleep during that class,” he admitted with a chuckle.

“Oh come on. You can't do that. You should pay attention.”

“Like you paid any,” he pointed, taking a sip of his lemonade.

“Excuse me!” you gasped, “I did pay attention. I just didn't understand any of it. That's different.”

“Hmm. It sure is.”

Four

You were leaning over the sink in your bathroom, blood and flower petals splattered all over as you tried your best to get it all out of your throat. The petals were bright yellow. Sunflower petals.

How ironic, you thought. Sunflowers represented adoration, longevity, and pure thoughts. Just like how you felt towards Jeongin. And how he'd never feel towards you.

You bit back a sob as you choked on even more of the soft petals. In a sense, you were quite lucky - had you been coughing up any other flower (especially roses), it would probably hurt way more. But that still didn't mean that it wasn't painful. Your breath heaved as you tried your best to take deep breaths, your constricted lungs filled with petals, not exactly helping.

You have been suffering from the hanahaki disease for a few weeks now. You always thought it was a myth from the internet, never once have you expected to run to the bathroom at three am to hurl petals into the sink. It started slowly at first. You'd only cough out some petals and drops of blood, but it got progressively worse.

You'd have days that you wouldn't be able to even get out of bed with the exhaustion you felt. All you wanted to do was sleep and forget about the cute boy with dimples. But no, you could never be angry at Jeongin. He was an absolute sweetheart who was nothing but kind to everybody. You couldn't exactly blame him for being around other people. That's right, you didn't know if they were dating but he seemed to hang around this girl called Lia a lot recently, the one he was talking to months prior. They seemed to be good friends too, apparently knowing each other for years now. You tried your best to suppress the jealousy that was rising in you, along with the petals.

You quickly turned back to the sink, just in time for it to catch the new batch of bloodied petals. Even thinking about her made your heart ache and you absolutely despised yourself for that. Lia was nothing but a sweet girl that always smiled at you in the hallway and occasionally made small talk with you.

***

A week later you were walking down the corridor, looking for the vending machine. It seems like they recently moved it from its original location, in front of the lab. You turned around the corner, your eyes bulging out of your skull at what you saw.

Jeongin and Lia were hunched near the lockers, whispering and giggling at something. He said something, making the girl shake her head in denial as he arched his brow. You couldn't watch anymore, quickly running back and abandoning your original plan of finding the vending machine and instead, running to the bathroom. You slammed the door shut, flinging yourself over the toilet as you vomited heaps of the yellow petals, this time mixed with some green leaves and stems. This was by far the worst case, you have never thrown up green before.

You wiped your dry lips, attempting to take deep breaths and calm your heart. It was horrible what seeing the two together did to you. You couldn't believe you lost control like that only a few meters away from him. What would happen if he saw you?

You had to suppress it. He could never find out.

***

It was a truly painful day. Tomorrow was Valentine's Day and you could see all the stores decorated with pinks and reds, hearts everywhere, and signs welcoming couples with tempting discounts.

Your stomach did flips as you walked the path to the school door. It hurt. It hurt so fucking much. You contemplated calling sick the next day and not going to school at all, but you had an important paper to hand in and the professor was especially grumpy and wanted it on his desk on that particular day.

You trudged up the steps with a frown, when you heard your name being called.

“Hey, Y/N,” Chan called after you, running up the stairs to catch up.

“Oh hey, Chan,” you mumbled, mustering up your best fake smile but he still managed to see through it.

“Is everything ok?” he asked, obviously concerned.

“Yeah, just a little tired,” you dismissed, leaving him and running towards your locker.

Good job Y/N, you groaned, now you can't even hang out with your other friends.

You spent the rest of the day avoiding the whole group, trying your best to overpower the need to throw up petals. You didn't want to repeat the previous incident in school. Jeongin must have by now noticed how distant you were. He probably thought you hated him by how you kept avoiding him for the past month.

He probably wanted to ask you to come to his game tomorrow which you sure as hell weren't planning to attend. On top of the fact that you could literally shower the whole stands with petals, it was also going to be Valentine's day and there was no telling if the boy was going to ask Lia out or something like that.

And your heart wouldn't be able to handle that.

You ran home after your last period. Your stomach growled at the lack of lunch but you figured it was better than running into one of them.

You stomped into the bathroom, not even taking off your shoes as you threw up into the bin. There was more blood today. There was no telling of what would happen tomorrow, the romantic atmosphere would probably only serve as a bitter reminder of your broken heart.

You wiped your lips, deciding that taking a shower would be in your best interest. After that, you sat by your desk and made some finishing touches to the essay due tomorrow.

Maybe you would just come to turn it in and then dip…

***

You woke up with a strangled cry, the dream you had still playing in your head. With a groan you slumped out of bed, ready to prepare for the day but to your horror, you realized that you overslept. You had approximately ten minutes before you had to leave.  You brushed your teeth, shoved some toast down your throat, and gathered your things. With a sense of urgency, you threw on jeans, a blouse, and some sneakers, not feeling like dressing up.

You had to leave immediately. Like now. You grabbed your backpack, quickly checking the essay was there, took your keys off the hook, and grabbed the first jacked you could find. It was dark blue (and very soft) meaning it would match almost anything you had on and since the weather was chilly, you wouldn't want to risk catching a cold.

Running out the door, you pulled it on and slung the backpack on your shoulder, running to the bus stop. Only then did you notice the engraved initials YJ on the sleeve and cursed yourself for bringing the wrong one. You would have taken it off right away if it wasn't for the blasting AC.

You stomped up the chairs, annoyance coursing through your veins. This day couldn't get any worse. Still thinking about leaving after handing in the assignment, you almost avoided going to your locker but remembered the jacket. You'd just drop it in and head to the professor's office.

You dug around for your keys until you finally found them in the bottom of your backpack. You slid it in the keyhole and opened the locker.

You were surprised by a giant teddy plushie and a box of chocolates. Your eyes widened in surprise before you heard a loud “surprise”.

Turning around, you were face to face with a grinning Jeongin. He stood over you with a large bouquet of beautiful sunflowers and the rest of the team, Lia, and Seungmin were all behind him cheering and throwing confetti.

To say that you were in shock would be a massive understatement. The look of utter confusion must have been plastered on your face as Jeongin smiled and handed you the bouquet.

“For me?”

He nodded slowly, examining your expression. You took the flowers from him, lowering your head to smell them.

“No one's ever given me something like this before,” you croaked, tears beginning to well in your eyes.

Jeongin nervously stood there before grabbing your hand and looking you in the eyes.

“Y/N, we've been friends for some time now but I wanted to ask you… Will you be my valentine?”

“Of course I will,” you whispered, almost jumping at him and swallowing him in a bone-crushing hug.

“I've liked you for some time now,” you admitted after a while, burying your head into his chest and enjoying the sudden way you seemed to breathe easier, not feeling the itchy petals in your throat anymore.

“Same here,” he laughed.

“Wait really? Since when?” you asked perplexed.

“Since I gave you my jacket,” he grinned, “I'm glad to see that you're making proper use of it.”

“Come on everybody, let's leave them alone,” Chan hollered, dragging everybody away to give you guys some privacy.

“I'm sorry if it seemed like I was avoiding you for the past week. I was planning with Lia on how to do, how to do all of this, you know,” he pointed at all the gifts he got you.

“Thank you,” you smiled again, “I really appreciate it Jeongin.”

“Do you want to come to the game today? I'd introduce you to all my other friends.”

“I'd love to.”

He seemed to be thinking about something, his nose scrunching up before he looked at you and placed his hands on your waist.

You peered at him through your lashes as he slowly leaned down, pressing his plush lips to yours and sealing them into a kiss. You closed your eyes, leaning down to get even closer to him as you gripped his shirt for support. The kiss was short but sweet and you were startled apart by a loud wolf whistle.

You turned around, cheeks burning in embarrassment at Jisung doing kissy faces and Hyunjin laughing in the background. You almost jumped away and Jeongin just chuckled.

“The game starts two hours after school. Do you want to go on like a proper date before that?”

“Sure,” you smiled, “I should probably get going, I have to submit this essay,” you waved the piece of paper that counted for nearly half of your final grade for the quarter.

“Don't forget the flowers,” he pointed to the bouquet.

“About that, maybe I should leave it in my locker. You know - to not start anything,”

“Y/N,” he said with a serious tone, “I don't care what the others think. They'll know by the evening anyways.”

You were startled at first, but then realized that he was right. No more caring about what others thought about you.

Now it was just you and Jeongin. You liked the sound of that.

“Okay,” you smiled, picking up the flowers, “I'll meet you at two in front of the lockers.”

With a smile, you walked in the direction of your classroom. After weeks of pain and sorrow, you finally felt like everything fell into place.

***

a/n: aaaaaaah. idk why all my oneshots so far are for jeongin but nvm. hope you liked it. it couldn't resist the idea of soccer player jeongin ;)

[vivianweasley]

Pride and Prejudice (Chapter 3)

Summary: Your father is Lucius Malfoy’s cousin, and after the war, it was really difficult for you to find a job because of your last name. So your mother and Mrs. Weasley came up with a crazy idea. A fake marriage between you and Fred Weasley. 

In this chapter: There are some terrible gossips about your marriage with Fred in the office, but luckily Fred had an idea to cheer you up.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Malfoy!Fem!Reader

Warnings: workplace discrimination, gossip, slight mention of dinner

Word count: 2.2k

A/N: So they finally slept on the same bed asdffgjk also special thanks to @valwritesx for the idea of the wedding ring part! I just love this idea so much asdfjgk

disclaimer: all the pictures used in the header are from Pinterest. Credit goes to the original owners.

Please do NOT repost or translate my work on any platform! Thank you! Reblogs and comments are always welcome:)

Pride and Prejudice Masterlist

“What’s this?” You were trying to decide on the clothes you’re going to wear for the first day of work when Fred came home with a little box.

“Proof that I’m a thoughtful person, too,” Fred smiled, “Open it!”

You opened it, and there was a beautiful silver ring lying in the box. A small flower was blooming at the tip of the ring, and inside the flower, there’s a little diamond. It was simple, but exquisite.

When Fred was walking home tonight, a jewelry shop caught his attention. The wedding ring displayed in the shop window reminded him that you two weren’t even wearing a wedding ring to play the part. 

He didn’t want to get you something too luxurious because it was only a fake marriage, and he didn’t want you to feel pressured, but he also didn’t want to get you something too sketchy. And that little flower ring looked perfect. He knew it would look good on your hand.

You gasped when you saw the ring, and Fred raised his left hand to show you the matching ring on his finger, “Now it looks more convincing when you go to work tomorrow.”

You slid the little flower on your ring finger. It was strange having a wedding ring sitting there, but you were also surprised that it fits your finger perfectly as if it was just supposed to be there. A warm feeling spread through your body when you realized that he was also trying to help you and keeping this arrangement in his mind. “This is beautiful! Thank you, Fred!”

“See, I told you I’m a detail-oriented person, too,” Fred boasted. But watching you beaming at him and that wedding ring shinning on your finger, he wasn’t sure if he bought it because he wanted to play his part better or just wanted you to have that wedding ring.

~

Your first day of work went well. Most of the time, you were just thrilled that you finally got a job.

During the lunch break, the girl sitting next to you asked you to join them, and you happily went along. But as the conversation progressed, the topic started to move in a seemingly unavoidable direction.

“So, tell us, cause we’re all dying to know,” one of your colleagues started, “How did you and your husband meet?”

“Our parents are friends, so we met when we were little,” you replied, feeling nervous, even though you were telling the truth.

“Oh, really?” another colleague exclaimed, “Your parents were friends?”

Her reaction and tone stung you as she sounded like she was surprised that your families, the Malfoys and the Weasleys, could possibly be friends. You told yourself that you were too sensitive, that she could simply be surprised that your parents were already friends before you two got married.

But what you heard during lunch break a week later made your stomach sink. 

“I’m still finding it hard to believe that a Weasley would marry a Malfoy. What did he see in her, anyway?” You heard a woman’s voice.

“I bet she probably used amortentia on him.”

Then a man’s voice chimed in, “Oh come on! She’s a Malfoy! They can do better than amortentia. I bet she used an unforgivable curse on him.”

Their conversation ended in their laughter, but it struck you dumb. How blatantly and how easily they just assumed the worst of you only because of your last name. And the worst part was that you began to think maybe part of their accusation was actually correct? You did force Fred into this marriage, after all.

Your brain was clouded by disgust and self-doubt that the rest of the day seemed to be a blur. 

“Y/N? Earth to Y/N?” You and Fred were doing dishes together after dinner. He was cleaning the dishes with detergent, and you were supposed to rinse them. But Fred noticed that you were blanking out again when you didn’t take the plate he just handed to you.

“Yea? Oh, sorry,” you finally took the plate from his hand when his voice pulled you back to reality. 

“Y/N, what’s wrong? You seem off today.”

“Nothing,” you shook your head absent-mindedly, “I’m just thinking that...maybe we could get a divorce earlier.”

“What?” the plates clanked as one slipped from Fred’s hand, “Why?”

“It’s just that...I don’t see the point of faking it anymore. People already know the truth,” you sighed as you felt all of your emotions started pouring out, “No matter what I do, they will always assume the worst of me. So what’s the point? It never looked real, anyway.”

Fred remained silent for a few seconds, but his furrowed brows soon smoothed out as an idea came to him, “Well, then we just have to make it look more realistic!”

~

You went to work tomorrow, still having no idea what Fred was going to do. You were worried that he might do something crazy, but you also had to admit you were feeling rather excited.

The answer finally revealed itself when it’s almost the end of your work. The reception called you, saying that there’s a Mr. Weasley looking for you. 

You walked outside and saw Fred standing at the door, “Surprise, darling! Happy three years anniversary!”

You were confused at first, but you soon got his cue as you ran into his arms and exclaimed, “Merlin, Freddie! I can’t believe it’s already been three years since we started dating!”

“I’m thinking about going to your favorite restaurant tonight after you finish work. What do you say?” He said as he planted a kiss on your forehead. The kiss was so natural, and you knew it was just for show, but your face started heating up immediately.

“I-But I-I still need to finish editing this chapter that I’m working on,” you tried to act natural, but it couldn’t change the fact that a little kiss could leave you this flustered. 

Fred let out a silent laugh when he heard you stutter, “Oh, that’s okay, princess. I can wait in your office! if that’s alright?”

“Okay.” You had a feeling that this show wasn’t over yet, and you were dying to know what exactly did he have in store.

“No! I’m not doing that!” You were so glad now that your desk was in the corner, or else your coworkers would’ve heard Fred’s plan for them. “Fred, no offense, but don’t you think it’s a little bit immature?” The thought of teaching your colleagues a lesson has crossed your mind so many times. But as much as you wanted to just throw a dung bomb on them or turn them into canaries, you still wanted to approach things more maturely. 

“Oh c’mon, like those gits were mature when they made those horrible assumptions about you?”

You could tell from Fred’s tone that he was angry, and it made you feel slightly better knowing that someone actually cared, so you started caving in, “Fine. But why don’t you do it? You’re the pro.”

“Trust me. It would feel so much better if you did it yourself.” Fred could see that you’re still concerned, so he added, “Alright, how about this. For my second wish, I want you to prank those gits yourself.”

Your eyes widened. This was not how you thought he would spend his second wish. “You sure? But why?”

“Because they messed with my wife. That’s why,” he winked at you.

His expression looked playful, but his tone was serious. His words made your heart flutter and also helped you finally make up your mind.

You didn’t know how long you’ve waited to do this as you picked up your wand, pointed it at your target, and whispered, “Rictusempra.” You chose an easy, harmless tickling charm. It was simple, but it’s also embarrassing enough.

Just a few seconds later, you heard people screaming and laughing in the office. The three gossipers started scratching their bodies and jumping up and down like they were three monkeys. The office burst into laughter. 

One of them started yelling, claiming that someone has hexed them. Some people immediately turned to look at Fred since he has a notorious reputation for being a prankster. But Fred was now staring at you all lovingly as you focused on the chapter in front of you. This made the targets angrier because they knew it had something to do with you, but they just couldn’t find proof. 

The clock struck five, and you started packing up your bag unhurriedly. Fred took your bag and your hand, “Let’s go, darling.”

“Let's go, Freddie,” you smiled as you held his hand. You two walked out with your heads held high, leaving the gossipers still jumping around and having no evidence proving that you were behind this. 

When you were on your way home, your heart was still beating fast from the thrill and excitement. 

“It was fun, wasn’t it?” Fred noticed you were still very excited. 

“It was. I wish I could take a picture of their reactions and frame it,” you admitted, “Thank you, Freddie.”

“No need to thank me, love. You were the one who came up with that spell,” Fred smiled, “You are pretty good at this.”

You gasped dramatically as you put your hand on your chest, “Thank you! I’m honored.” 

Watching you laugh, Fred suddenly felt something tugging at his heartstrings. “But seriously, Y/N, are you sure you still want to work in this company?”

You paused for a few seconds, for you didn’t know how to answer this question. “Yea,” you looked down as you sighed, “where else can I go?”

“If you don’t mind, the joke shop is always looking for more staff, and I think you’re a perfect candidate.”

“I appreciate that, Fred, but I want to do this on my own.”

Fred nodded. If this were what you wanted, he’d respect that. He took your hand again. You were surprised how this simple yet intimate gesture became so natural between you two.

“What do you want for dinner?” He asked.

“Hmm...A simple home-cooked meal would be nice,” you answered. Home, a word that Fred loved hearing you say.

~

Before bed, you and Fred were brushing your teeth together. It was a simple and ordinary routine, but you were finding this moment magical. Watching your reflections in the mirror, you realized you two were moving in synch so easily and naturally. Since when did you get used to having him in your life? And since when did you start to have him on your mind? The whole day played on repeat in your mind, and all you could think about was how Fred encouraged you and lift your spirit when you needed it the most.

“Actually, you can have the bed tonight. I’ll sleep on the couch. I wanted to thank you for helping me today.” You always knew he was too tall for that couch to be comfortable, but your pride didn’t allow you to give up that bed until today when you finally found an excuse. 

“No, it’s fine. You did most of the work, anyway,” Fred shrugged.

“I have a better idea,” you heard George’s voice behind you, “How about you both sleep on the bed? It’s a very big and comfy bed if I remembered correctly.”

You felt the heat climbing up from your cheeks to the tips of your ears, but somehow you just didn’t want to let this pass. “I-I guess I’m fine with that.”

Fred’s expression froze for a moment, but a smile soon appeared on his lips, “Then I guess I’m fine with that, too.”

Sleeping next to Fred, you could hear your heart pounding in your chest. But this seemed so normal to him since you were pretty sure he fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

This was probably the first time you got to stare at him at such a close distance and without anyone interrupting. You always knew he was good looking, but now you just found everything about him perfect. You adored how his eyes light up when he’s talking about new ideas and plans. You adored the angle of his lips when he’s smiling and when he’s saying your name. Or maybe, you just adored him.

Your eyes traced Fred’s eyes, nose, and lips, and stopped at the wedding ring sitting on his finger, stating that he’s your husband, at least just for now. Almost unknowingly, your hand reached for the ring on his hand but immediately pulled back when he let out a silent groan. 

Did he notice you staring at him? Was he awake this whole time? You buried your face in the blanket and tried to pretend you’re asleep while your heart was still beating loud in your chest. Maybe you were too good at pretending, or perhaps you were just too tired from your work and adventure today, but you soon fell asleep. 

Watching you sleeping peacefully and hearing you breathing evenly, Fred decided that this might be his favorite scene. Of course he was awake this whole time. How could he fall sleep so easily when you were lying right next to him? His left hand found yours as your wedding rings clicked together. He couldn’t help but pulled you closer and pressed a soft kiss on your forehead. 

Fred wondered, what would it feel like if you were really his wife? What would it feel like if you loved him too? But even if this was only for one year, even if this was only for one night, he felt happy and content enough just holding you like this.

(to be continued.)

Chapter 4

~

A/N: First fic of 2021! Next chapter is going to be Christmas at the Burrow!

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