#idk if I want to ramble or write a fic but my mind is being consumed

[blizzardfluffykpop]

alright~ a few updates about everything! so this weekend I'll be seeing changkyun in chicago- so I prolly won't be posting until after I'm alive again from that 😂😅 (I am vv excited about it- I just know I'll be vv tired when I return home). Anyways, I have a few fics in the works~ one of them that is a request 🤭 I'm vv excited to work on them! But I think I'm going to change my masterlist a bit when I come back. I'm going to retire a few groups from the main masterlist and I've been debating for the past year about it... But I think I'm going to add a yearly masterlist- So it would go from most recent to the beginning of this year~

I'm also thinking about changing my pfp- I haven't been really into stray kids for uh... years- But I will be sure to make an update about that if I go thru with that too- (It may be ji changmin next 🫣🤭)

Anyways those are my few updates 🥰💖

[science-lings]

Woke up in a cold sweat thinking about the Wrights

[microwaving-tesilid-argente]

it's really funny rereading the early chapters of s-class heroine because ailette calls tesilid all sorts of names and it's such a far cry from her round 17 attitude

[churipu]

Idk if u take requests rn, but if you do, could you write fluffy moments with jjk men (pls include toji, i rlly wanna see him w fluff because there is like none) you fav would be cuddling, but you do whatever you want <3 Also, don't stress yourself when writing i, and please take breaks <33

JJK MEN + FLUFFY MOMENTS (๑ > ᴗ < ๑)

featuring. toji fushiguro, gojo satoru, nanami kento x reader

warnings. jjk men being softies

note. i just read the most heart wrenching nanami fic, i think i'm not okay at all </3 but hi anon, thank you for requesting this — this is exactly what i needed after reading angst. i apologize if it took a long time to get this out omg, i hope you like it.

and guys, omg???? 700+ followers? i genuinely never expected my works to be recognized by so much, and meeting new writers here and there, making friends, makes me so happy (i'm not crying) i love u all so so so so much, u guys rock, ily all <;33

TOJI FUSHIGURO

hated talking about the future, but ever since he met you — he rambles about it.

toji has always thought his future was nothing interesting, he kills people for a living, gets money off of it and he gambles. that's about it, so what was there to think about in the future?

meeting you was the firsts to a lot of things in his life.

toji grew up in a loveless household full of anger, and lust for power. which is why he is who he is today. distant, aloof, detached. people tell him he'd be nothing without his strength and face, there is no denying that toji fushiguro has a face card. he knows that.

so when he first met you, all he expected was like every other day. people caring about his face, and only that — and he'd play along although he's had enough of it, but no; you didn't care about all that.

face, money, strength. none of that.

he vaguely remembered the first time you spoke to him: "hey, mind helping me grab that box of cereal?" and he expected you to hit on him after, but you left it at that, muttering out a thanks and then leaving him in the aisle alone.

then for some reason he meets you again, the very next month. asking him the exact same thing, asking for help to take the cereal box which happened to be on the very top of the shelf. god knows why, both you and him just made it a routine every month after that. no communications about meeting and all. you both kind of just, met right in the cereal aisle on one particular day in the month, and then leave.

on the fifth month, he finally asks for your number.

"toji, is that your way of asking me out? because if it is, i'm disappointed."

"maybe."

and then you both kind of just sealed it; you're dating. nothing much changed, every month both you and him still go to the cereal aisle — he still helps you with grabbing the box from the shelf. the only difference was that now the two of you leave together.

toji hates talking about his future. but with you? he could go on for a whole day. he rambles about what he thinks and what he wants in the future with you.

"i wan' to get married. i wan' to marry you," did it caught you by surprise? yes. yes it did, "i wan' to have a family with you, a nice little family. i wan' to have a son so i could throw him around — but a girl is okay too, i can protect her from boys, i'll love them both equally. but i don't think i'll be a good dad to them. i'm scared they won't like me."

"toji, what? where did that come from?"

his back was pressed to your chest as you both lay down on the bed, one of your leg draped over his torso and he has his hand on your plush thigh, squeezing it every once in a while.

"i don't know. just a thought, i never talked about my future with anyone before," his body vibrated as he grunted, leaning his head back a bit, "i just don't think i'll be a good father, y'know?" he squeezed your thigh.

"why do you think so?" you asked him, placing your chin on the crown of his head.

"i just think so."

"stop thinking then," you chuckles, draping an arm around his neck, caressing his throat so softly it made the male shudder under your touch — but he didn't mind, he took comfort under your skin.

"can't." his voice was not stern or bold, it was soft and serene. he laced his fingers with yours, kissing your knuckles gently, "i can't believe 'm saying this, but 'm worried about my future. 'm a little scared."

just the fact he was admitting that he's scared about something was mind boggling, because the toji fushiguro? who kills people? was admitting that he was actually terrified of something, which wasn't even the strongest sorcerer. it's his future.

you were silent, letting him talk because when else would he be able to be like this?

"'m terrified. 'm scared i won't make you happy. what if i don't make you happy? what if my kids hate me?" so many questions that you don't even have the answer to, but you placed your hand over his lips, shutting him up.

toji grumbled, he swiped his tongue over your palm.

"ew!" you laugh, wiping your hand on his shirt, "but why're you suddenly talking about this all? which videos have you been watching again?"

"nothing, can't i think about my own future with you?" he shuffles, turning to face you, prepping an arm under his head as he stares down at you. not in the condescending way — he stared at you with so much desperation for love, he slowly blinks, the glint in his eyes never changing.

"why out of the blue?"

"jus' because."

you poked his cheek, "liar."

he sighs, latching his hand onto your hips, pulling you close. he buries his head into your shoulder in content, "jus' worried about it, i never think about my future in the past. but now — with you, i jus' worry about it because i didn't think i'd make it 'till now."

you chuckled, rubbing the back of his head lightly, "you remember that one time in the park when you see that little boy crying over spilled ice cream?"

he hums softly.

"and you bought him another ice cream, but asked me to be the one to give it to him because you were scared you'd scare him off instead?" you ask him, your fingers tangling with his hair lightly.

"yeah."

"you'll be fine, toji." you tell him.

"y'think so?" he retorts back, squirming a bit.

"i know so."

GOJO SATORU

he has to know about everything that you like, he needs to know why you like them. every. single. thing.

gojo chased after you. you were one tough cookie, he likes a chase. he's so used to people fawning over his looks that when you didn't — he just has to know your name.

the curiosity to know your name ended up pulling him in a spiral of this little thing called "love". gojo swore it was just curiosity, but everyone else besides him thinks otherwise, he promised himself and people around that he didn't like you, he was just, well, curious.

but curiosity doesn't look like that. gojo finds himself asking people about what type of boys you like, and when he finds out about it — he tries his best to be your type. he promised he was just curious.

gojo tries finding out what your favorite flower is, and when he finds out about it, he's out there sending big bouquets of it to you. he promised he was just curious.

gojo tries finding out what your favorite genre of music is, and when he finds out, he listens to them so he could talk about it with you. he promised he was just curious.

gojo tries finding out what your favorite series or movie is, and when he finds out, he watches them all intently so he could talk about them with you and hate on characters together with you. and he still promises that he was just curious.

he was just curious, he kept telling that to himself. so why does it bother him when you were out with another guy? another guy that's not him. not gojo satoru.

gojo asks you about who it was, and when you tell him it's nobody important, he gets upset about it.

"why are you so upset?"

"i'm just..curious."

"it's none of your business."

he left it at that. his whole week was ruined, he couldn't stop thinking about it. about you. and then he finally realizes, he wasn't curious — he was in love. so there he was, in front of your door at two in the morning.

"what?"

"who was that guy?"

"gojo, you're still onto that?" you ask him, tired, "i said it's none of your business. you're here at two just to ask me about that?"

"it's my business because i'm in love with you, damn it!"

gojo was half grateful when you told him it was your distant cousin, but half embarrassed as well. all's well ends well. he gets you in the end, and he doesn't have to worry about anything else — nothing in the world matters to him but you.

"baby, what do you recommend?" was one of the most spoken phrases he has delivered to you.

in restaurants, dessert bars, convenience store, movie theaters, anything you could recommend him, he'd ask for it.

"why do you always ask? don't you have your own preference, satoru? i'm not even sure if you'll like my recommendations though," he smiles at you, tracing small circled on the back of your hand.

"i want to know about everything that you like, and why you like them. i want to know everything about you," you look at him and smiled, honestly, what did we ever do to deserve him?

"why?"

"because i love you." yeah, he wasn't just curious. he's in love. and deep.

NANAMI KENTO

he always orders food that you like, and shares some with you — even if you didn't ask for it.

nanami never expected to be in relationships. in fact, relationships was the last thing in his mind — but when he met you, he just kind of felt attracted. he seeks for your comfort whenever he's tired, and when you weren't there, nanami just sort of drowns in himself until he could see you or hear your voice.

at the beginning of your relationship, nanami was never the one to initiate things because he wasn't an experienced male in relationships. you ask him and he just sort of do it without any other complaints.

but as time goes on, he get the hang of it. what he should do and what he shouldn't — it's adorable, he's started doing things that he never thought he would do in his life, but here he was sitting by your side; peeling apples for you because you wanted them.

"kento, eat some. it's going to be finished by the time you finish peeling every one of them," you joked, your legs on top of his thighs.

nanami hums softly, "it's okay. as long as you like it."

nanami doesn't realize the weigh of his sweet words sometimes, he does it and asks himself to why you were reacting like that. sweet talk is his vocabulary. he says it with no worries, telling you things you've always wanted to hear but never say.

but one thing that always stuck to him and you from the first time you got close up to now was: nanami always orders things that you like. you never understood the reason behind it, and when you tried asking him about it, he just tells you he was craving it.

it didn't seem odd at first — but as time goes on, his whole taste was just an exact copy of yours.

if you get something different than your usual menu, nanami will get your usual menu because he knows damn well that you're going to end up wanting them. although you don't tell him when the food comes, nanami makes it his job to share with you. and that's really sweet of him.

but when you get your usual menu, nanami orders something with elements that you like in them and shares them with you even without you asking for a bite. and not only that, he didn't share a spoonful — he shared a lot.

"ken, you don't have to share with me. i have my own food." you tell him, despite your heart tugging you to just let him share because you were too shy to say that you wanted a bite.

"it's alright sweetheart. i'm a little full." he lies. he ends up snacking on something on midnight, and it's now a routine.

so in exchange for that, you always make it your job to stock up foods ranging from small snacks like biscuits, chips, up to instant or pre-heated food. even cutting up fruits so nanami could snack on it, and he caught on to it pretty quick.

but he didn't complain, he likes it when you do it.

"ken, i cut out some mangoes and dragon fruit. you can eat them if you're hungry."

"thank you y/n."

mutual wins.

© CHURIPU 2023 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[vengeful-velvette]

Hey thanks for answering my ask! Yeah I agree, I think dealing with soul ownership in a body swap fic in this particular universe is a bit tricky.

How I view it is that the owner has ownership over the sinners body, but not their mind. So if Angel and Alastor swapped bodies, I imagine that Valentino is still able to force Angel's body/Alastor to do whatever, but he can't force Alastor to tell him anything he doesn't want to reveal.

He can't force Alastor to tell him a secret. But he can force Angel, who is in Alastor's body, to tell him a secret.

As for how this works if someone swapped with Valentino? I honestly I have no idea. I would assume they would still have ownership over whoever Valentino owns, but I definitely think it doesn't feel the same. It's kinda like a glitch? Idk, this is just how I personally view body swapping and soul ownership.

I know you said that you're not gonna focus on the 666 universe, which is like, extremely valid because a body swap is already pretty plot intensive, never mind adding the whole 666 dynamic into it!

But..... after I sent in this ask I couldn't quite get this idea out of my head, as it kept spiraling and spiraling as I kept thinking, "well, what if this happens...." "and what if what happens after that" "oh! That's pretty interesting, what if it happened...."

So after many "what ifs" I word vomited all of my Thoughts into my notes app. So why not share them here (maybe then the "what ifs" will stop tormenting me)

Expanding on this a little more on the idea of this body swap happening in the 666 live on air series. (With Vox and Valentino switching, and Angel and Alastor switching bodies)

I imagine that for Vox, being Valentino isn't all that difficult. In his introduction episode we see that Vox is actually really good at manipulating people and putting up an act to get what he wants (for example, when he's annoyed at Valentino but convinces him not to go to the Hotel and pick a fight with Charlie).

There's also the fact that Vox knows Valentino rather well, so I bet he knows all his little mannerisms and how to act like him. I bet he also knows what a typical day shoot looks like, as Valentino talks about them enough for Vox to pick up the basics, and Vox is so plugged into the internet that he must know what's popular in the porn industry at any given time.

Plus I could see Vox viewing it as a good opportunity to improve Valentino's image. Val is so difficult to control on a normal day, but now making sure that Val acts "perfect" is eaiser than ever.

That's not to say that I think this whole situation isn't stressing Vox out, it definitely is. It's one thing for him to be controlling Valentino's body, but another one entirely for Valentino to be controlling his. Now he has to work double time making sure that he appears the same as Valentino, while also making sure Val isn't fucking up Voxtek.

(Not to mention that Valentino is fucking blind and Vox has to put so much brain power into not bumping into everything)

When the day of the shoot with "Angel Dust" comes up, he thinks that Angel is lucky because for once he's going to have a "Valentino" that's too busy to get involved in the scene. As he picked out a random scene list from the pile and is half distracted with texting Val instructions on what to do regarding Voxtek to really pay him much attention.

Now switching over to Alastor and Angel's side; tbh I don't have as many thoughts on the two's thought process, or how exactly they handle the whole "Valentino owns Angel's soul, but Alastor is in his body so while technically he doesn't own Alastor, he can puppet the body he's currently inhabiting".

But I imagine that Angel will insist on tagging along with Alastor to a shoot. (If Angel is actually like, contractually forced to attend shoots, because I can totally see the two of them faking an accident or something to get Alastor out of it until the gang figures out a way to reverse the body swap)

But for now the two worlds intersect as "Angel" and "Alastor" are in the studio with "Valentino".

Vox has literally no idea why Alastor is here, and while a part of him is always pleased to see him (or, the vague shape that he sees of Alastor through Val's eyes), he knows that Valentino wouldn't be impressed to see him and tries to shoo him out the door and get the shoot underway so he can get back to running two businesses at once.

Something, something, Vox finally clues in that Angel and Alastor has switched bodies

(which is really a combination of factors: "Angel" being weirdly hesitant to start the scene, and acting in a way that's weirdly familiar, while "Alastor" acting totally foreign.

With the tipping point being that the weird way the soul contract is feeling, since "he" technically owns Angel's soul, that's not currently in his body but Alastor's, and him also owning Angel's body, which doesn't have his soul in it. Idk, I just imagine that the body swap reacts weirdly with body swaps. Plus there's the fact that he also swapped bodies with Valentino, so he's more inclined to automatically believe a body swap.)

And this is when the real panic sets in for Vox because he knows that "Angel" (Alastor) can't actually perform the shoot because he knows that Alastor wouldn't be comfortable with that and he's actually starting to care about Alastor, while also being acutely aware that they're in "public", or at least, in company who will absolutely take out their phones and record the trio if they start acting off.

So Vox very much wants to grab Angel/Alastor and shove him into an empty room and ask what the fuck is going on, but both Angel and Alastor aren't really comfortable with the idea of "Valentino" taking "Angel" into a private room, especially when he seems agitated.

So there's this rising point of tension where Vox really just wants to talk to "Angel" in private, and the actual Angel is starting to get really stressed that Valentino is getting more and more angry because he knows what Val is like when he's angry. But he doesn't want Alastor alone with him, while also wanting to do what "Valentino" is saying to hopefully calm him down.

And Alastor, who doesn't want to be alone with "Valentino" because he knows, or can take a pretty good guess, of what's going to happen behind closed doors (which is wrong because he hasn't put together the pieces that Vox is in Valentino's body), and is going against "Valentino" because he's pissing him off.

I can also see Alastor thinking "well, I do kinky stuff with Vox, what's so different this time? It's not like people know it's me" and thus is trying to start the shoot because he believes that it's "safer" (he also wants to piss off Valentino by not listening to him, and he's once again bitting off more than he can chew with his hubris on full display).

While both Vox and Angel really don't want Alastor to start the shoot because they know what actually goes on during one, and can guess that Alastor won't be comfortable, and wouldn't really have a way to stop it without seeming "out of character".

And Vox really just wants to talk to Alastor in private, because people are starting to whisper and he can see hands going towards phones. So a part of him wants to use the stupid contract to get Alastor alone, but he also knows that Alastor would hate that and that could destroy the relationship they've been carefully building up.

So in the middle of all of this rising tension, Vox eventually is just like "fuck it!" And physically grabs both Angel and Alastor and shoves them into a empty dressing room. And is like "hey what the fuck are you doing?!" And explains the whole body swap fiasco on his side.

I'm not quite sure how the rest of the scene goes. But I definitely think the tension breaks once everything is explained. With Vox possibly playing up roughing up "Angel" behind the closed door and stating that he "sent the whore home" or something to get Alastor out of the shoot.

Anyway, this was really supposed to be a quick "hey, wouldn't that be interesting" that kinda spiraled. Idk, maybe I'll make a "inspired by" fic and actually write this fic, because obviously I have ideas, lol. If I have permission to write the fic, of course, I feel a little bad about writing something based in a fic series I didn't write.

Idk, it feels a little weird to take a dynamic (from the 666 series) and swipe it. So I'll probably just continue to rotate the Thoughts and Ideas in my head as I've been doing lol.

Anyway, thanks for reading my long rambles once again, maybe now that the thoughts have been released they will finally let me be Free lol.

Ohhh I love a good body swap!

I love how there's some really good angst potential (like basically anyone swapping with Angel), and also comedy (Alastor and Vox, the Vees, etc).

I also like to imagine that there's multiple body swaps going around at once, just because I think it would be even more chaotic. Like, for example, maybe Alastor and Angel Dust swap, and the Vees also swap. I initially thought it would be really funny if Valentino and Vox swapped, because then there's the interesting dynamic of Vox technically having ownership of "Alastor's' soul (or the very least, the body Alastor is currently inhabiting).

Also, this could go two very directions. If this is in the 66.6 universe, then it has the option of ending more humorous as Vox clues into the situation as he's trying to act like Valentino and is internally like "SHIT SHIT SHIT" because on one hand he doesn't want to absolutely nuke the relationship they've barely built from obit, but Keeping Up Appearances in front of People is also very important to him.

This is doubly funny if Alastor hasn't quite put all the pieces together yet, and doesn't know it's Vox in Valentino's body, and doesn't really get why "Valentino" is try to get him alone in an empty room (so Vox can yell at him and be like "what the fuck??? What the FUCK!!)

But also, there's an interesting dynamic if this isn't in the 66.6 universe and Vox just hates (while still being obsessed with) Alastor. As Vox finally, actually, has power over Alastor.

Idk, I know you're writing, or like, planning out a body swap fic, and this isn't like, a Demand to do it this way. More so a "hey, wouldn't this be Fucked up and Interesting?"

OKAY I'M FINALLY HOME AND CAN REPLY TO THIS PROPERLY!

I think the soul ownership aspect of the body swap is really interesting, because you have to really get into what headcanons you're working with for how it works. Does your soul own the other soul, or does your body own the other soul? And is a soul defined as your consciousness, or are your body and your soul unanimous since you're in hell and presumably your soul just takes the shape it does in hell as your body because you certainly weren't a 7'4" spider in real life?

Anyway, I'm definitely going non-666verse and also def going the angst route for this fic, haha, and I'm admittedly specifically avoiding involving Vox much because that'd make the whole thing like 3x more complicated and I'm trying to keep it to the three-chapter outline I have! I think you're right and that involving Vox in realizing that he has actual, genuine power over Alastor has the potential to get absolutely wild. We see him act pretty zany because he's losing it over Alastor a lot, but the moments we see him where he's not going bananas over his crush make it pretty clear that the guy is both competent and fairly ruthless. I'm sure he'd figure out a way to take major advantage!

[yooglefics]

hii! its been a few days since i found u and i love ur writing and stories!! could i request a fic where yoongi and (possibly) female reader have a fight over jealousy (its either her or him or both even idk) and its a little angsty idk but then they make up and its all fluffy 🤓🤓 thank u in advance luv

Hellooo. Thank you so much for your kind words and for requesting this! I really enjoyed writing this pair and some angst, I did a hint of both being jealousy, but is mostly him haha. Sorry it took me a while to finally post it, but I wanted it to be good, and I hope you like it!

Jealous, jealousy

Pairing: Min Yoongi x fem!reader  Wordcount: 2,467 words Genre: AU. Established relationship. Angst and comfort / fluff.  Summary: Jealousy has never been a problem in your relationship, not until a comment can't leave Yoongi's mind and interactions at your office’s party just make it worse. Content warnings under read more.

Includes: Jealous Yoongi. People thinking there's something between Jin and Reader… even Yoongi. Miscommunication. They argue. And then they're cute.

It all starts with the perilla leave question between Yoongi's friends one night out and a few rounds of soju in. As a self-identified non-jealous person, his answer was that it didn't mean anything, and even told the story about how it happened a few days ago when your coworker joined you two for lunch.

Jungkook, the non-identified most jealous person of the group, had obviously called him stupid. Questioned him about that guy and told him to be careful. “If I were you, Yoongi, I'd keep my eye on him.”

Little rascal; didn't even bother to use honorifics with him anymore.

But the worst thing is that the idea is now on his head and not even Yoongi knows how bad it is about to get as he steps into your office party a few weeks later. Now having the opportunity to see his girlfriend and her favorite coworker interact more in a familiar environment.

Even the ones who don't know Yoongi a lot, know he can be pretty reserved around new people, that's why you continue to make your polite round of interactions after saying hi and leaving him at a table with a whiskey and snacks. Promising to come back as soon as possible.

He looks at you across the room, all professional and sweet, the queen of small talk and polite smiles, and one forms on his own lips without realizing. Only doing so when it's erased as someone greets him, sitting down beside him and he tries to follow your steps at looking, at least, a bit cordial. 

“I don't think I've seen you before. Are you here with ( y / n ) or Seokjin?”

“Yes, with ( y / n ).”

“Really?” She sounds genuinely surprised, “I didn't know she was inviting someone.” 

“Well, I like supporting her, don't really need the invitation” he chuckles a bit awkwardly, “I'm her boyfriend.”

“Oh, so she is dating someone?” Again, the surprise in her tone makes Yoongi believe is a true emotion, and that confuses him.

“For a few years now, yes.”

“And here I was thinking that those two were going to be the next office romance,” she says sounding disappointed before realizing, “oh my— not that it's bad they don't, just… they are both attractive and you know…”

«Is that supposed to make it better?», he wants to ask, but instead he laughs, trying to dismiss everything as her hand lays on his forearm that is resting on the table, trying to reassure him as she goes on about him being handsome too and whatnot.

He stopped listening now. Because after that interaction, one hour seems long enough when half of that you have spent besides that guy, and Jungkook's words keep growing in his head as if he were watering them with the sweet alcohol. The one he has to switch hands to sip from now, because your coworker keeps the other prisoner of her hand. 

Not even the excuse ( that is actually not really an excuse because he needs it ) to get a refill works and she only stops rambling his ear off when someone arrives at the place and she finally leaves the table to greet them.

“I saw you made a friend,” your sweet smile is almost enough to make him forget his thoughts when he is joined by you at the bar while ordering another whiskey.

“Well, figure I should while you had fun with yours.” he shrugs in an effort to dismiss negative feelings.

“Wait, did you actually make friends with her?” is your turn to sound surprised, corners of your mouth falling a little.

“Is a problem if I did?”

“I… I mean, I was joking but I don't like her very much. You can make friends with other people, though.”

“Ah, thanks for the clear up.” He walks back to the table to sit down, and even he can acknowledge it was a weird response, so, your next question doesn’t shock him.

“Are you okay?”

“What if I made friends with your best friend, what's his name?” he asks instead. Comments from others blurring his psyche, making him act without much thinking.

“Jin?”

“Is that his name? She called him Seokjin”

“Well, Seokjin, Jin for short. What's the big deal?”

“Nothing. Just… that's what she said when she asked who I was here with,” he explains before taking a sip.

“Of course she asked you that,” and eye roll accompanies your words. 

“Yeah, because apparently you didn't say you invited your boyfriend.” but he thinks there is more important matters than you not liking your coworker. “As a matter of fact she didn't know you had a boyfriend.”

“Because is none of her business. She doesn't need to know about my relationship.”

“She does when she is talking about you and Seokjin having a romance.”

“What?!”

“Sorry. You and Jin.”

“Shut up, you know that's not what I meant. Can't believe she said that.” You steal a sip from his whiskey before continuing, “No actually, I can.”

He buffs. “You can?”

“Yeah, I told you, she is… not likable.”

“Just that? Not because it would be believable for you two to be together?” He asks, his annoyance clearer as seconds go by.

“Jin and I? Please, that's ridiculous.”

“Okay.”

“Why? Are you jealous?” You inquire, playfully. As if it would be impossible to be true.

“Yes.”

“Wait. Really?! But you have never been jealous.”

“Maybe I am now.” 

“Because of Jin?” you’re confused at how serious he is being, but before you can question more about it, you’re interrupted by said guy.

“Oh, I was summoned. Hi.” he greets your partner, so casually since he doesn’t realize Yoongi is mad with him too. “Can you come back? I don't want to interact with those people alone.”

You look at your co-worker and friend for a few seconds, and then to your boyfriend, trying to understand what is happening and if he is actually jealous. Him, Min Yoongi, the less jealous person you’ve ever met.

“Go, have fun.” Your boyfriend encourages you, managing a smile that only confuses you more because is clear to you that it’s not genuine.

What the hell is happening?

You’re surrounded with interactions the rest of the night, from your co-workers to their partners, people seem interested in Jin and you, after all, it’s the first big party since the both of you joined the company. Even when you go back to sit with Yoongi people get close to make conversation, one person actually asks about wedding planing and tells you she can get you in contact with someone. You know she means well so, with your best smile, you thank her and change the subject.

You hate those conversations. 

Having spent your childhood between your parents’ fights because «staying together for their kids» was a priority, when in reality it only made it worse for everyone involved, you grew up hating the idea of getting married. You understand it is for love, but you don't need a paper or a big party to announce that you love Yoongi. You don't need a ring on your finger to promise you'll do it forever. You don't need him to propose, let alone ask your parents permission to do so. 

Is your life, your decisions. The only opinion that matters other than yours is Yoongi's and he has always understood, never pressured you. He is the love of your life, after all.

In the car on the way home, the silence is filled with music from the stereo and you try to take Yoongi’s hand on the gear lever as always, but only a couple of seconds pass before he pulls away, both hands on the wheel now. 

Trying to figure out if it was on purpose, you ask, “What are you thinking about?” 

“You spend a lot of time with him,” he says without a beat.

“You told me to go.”

“I mean in general.”

“We work together, can't really do much about that.”

“You weren't working tonight and still it was like you were joined at the hip.” he hasn’t looked at you and you can’t decide if it hurts or bothers you more.

“Again, you told me to go at the end,” you argue. “ If you wanted me to stay with you, you could have said so.”

“Now I have to ask you to spend time with me?”

“Well, I can’t read your mind, honey.” you poke his cheek, softly. An attempt to lighten the mood a little.

“That’s not the point.” His tone is just as serious. And then you know that, whatever this is, it’s deeper than you thought.

“What is it then?” you genuinely ask, annoyance starting to build up inside you, but trying to stay calm. Surely he can tell, you think. “You’re clearly upset, but why?”

“Shouldn't I be? When my girlfriend keeps hanging out with this good-looking dude and everyone thinks they could be a thing?” 

“Really?” How can he even entertain those thoughts? You with another man? Doesn’t he hear how ridiculous it sounds? “Shouldn't I be upset because you let her touch your arm for like five minutes straight?”

“She was trying to console me.”

“Yeah, that actually makes it worse, Yoongi.” 

“Yoongi?” 

“That's your name.” He finally looks your way, but you’re looking at the road ahead of you and he can’t tell it is just in order to calm down.

“Wait. Why are you turning things on me?”

“Because you're being irrational and I'm not having this conversation.”

Once again the music is the only sound filling the air, and you opt for folding your arms in front of your chest to stop you from reaching for his hand again.

Now both of you are mad. Great. 

Arriving home, he still gets out of the car first to open the door for you, and it helps soften the heartache a little. But still, the night repeats in your head, trying to understand what happened. 

Why suddenly spending time with Jin is a problem? Why is Yoongi so jealous about it? And why—

“You let her touch you after she said Jin and I had a thing?” you ask as both of you are finally in the bedroom, getting ready to end the night. 

“Thought we weren't having this conversation.”

“No. This one is different. This one is about you potentially doing things because you were upset with me.”

“That would be stupid.” He stops his movements, shirt unbuttoned just halfway through. “Why would I do that?”

“I don't know, you aren't exactly acting like yourself tonight.”

“Because I'm jealous?”

“Because we are fighting about you being jealous.” And trying to calm down once again, you continue taking your dress off, struggling with the zipper but too proud to ask him for help right now.

“Okay, let's not fight, then.” He sits down on his side of the bed. “Just answer this question: do you like him?” 

“Yoongi—” 

“Just answer. Please.” when you finally turn to him, the look on his face is different from what you expected. He doesn't seem angry, but hurt. Like your answer could break him.

“Of course not. Not like that.” You emphasize. Giving up on your clothes and kneeling in front of him, taking a breath before continuing. “You know we started at the same time and he is always nice and fun, I think he is my only friend at work because everyone else keeps asking me when I'm going to get married and leave. Like your friend.”

“What?”

“The lady you were talking to. Is always asking personal questions and I don't like it. Not because I don't like talking about you, I love you and I talk with Jin about you all the time, but is just…”

“Not her business. And you don't have to explain yourself to others.” he completes. Yoongi is the first to always remind you that after all.

“Exactly.” 

“Sorry.” he is quick to say, feeling like an asshole now, a hand running through his hair, messing it up, “I really don’t know what is up with me tonight, I’m sorry.”

“Were you actually jealous of Jin?” the disbelief in your voice is funny now, and he nods with a chuckle. “That’s surprising coming from you.”

“I know. Is dumb.”

“Hey, don’t say that,” you move closer to him, hands on his shoulders to make him look at you, “your feelings are not dumb, Yoongi.”

“Can you stop calling me by my name tonight?”

“Sorry,” both of you laugh softly, “but I mean it. Even if it’s irrational to be jealous of anyone because I love you so very much and wouldn’t even dream to be with someone else; your feelings are important, honey. Just… you know, we have to work on a better way of expressing them.”

He chuckles again, still feeling bad about it all but appreciating the reassurance. “I will, promise. I just never felt like this before, is… weird.”

Yoongi has always thought jealousy is stupid. He understands feeling insecure and all that, but acting like he did tonight has always been something he didn’t understand. Something he judged. He thought it was about bad communication, distrusting your partner, and things like that. And, if you don’t trust the person you love, does it make sense to be together? But maybe is not as simple as that.

He didn't care if you had your own friends and went out with them, like some of the people he knows do. He has his own opinion on marriage and engagement rings. But maybe he cares in other ways. Maybe he cares about people thinking you're with someone else because that's probably his biggest fear.

“I don’t like jealousy.” he speaks again, bringing his arms around your waist, hugging you close and resting his head against your torso.

“Good, that means you are not toxic.” A pause while your hand combs through his hair, putting black strains back in place, “and now you know how I feel when people hit on you.”

“People don’t do that.” 

“They do,” he looks up at you, but before he can argue anything, you cup his face and bend a little to peck his lips, softly. “I’m sorry for leaving you alone with her and without a warning.”

“I tried to get away but she wouldn't let go of my arm and I didn't want to be rude.” 

His bottom lip sticks out in a small pout and you kiss it away, “Yoonie, sometimes you’re too nice for your own good.”

“Maybe I should be just nice to you.”

“You're too nice for that,” he rolls his eyes, making you laugh even more, “that's why I love you.”

“I love you more, baby.”

Protect them 🥺  Let me know what you think. comment, reblog, send an ask, follow or whatnot. Thank you for reading <3 ♡ Tag list: @n33mesis , @sexytholland , @mggv97 , @wobblewobble822 , @bbou-doir , @m00njinnie , @itsmina29 , @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d , @nariee02 , @ktownshizzle , @kimtaehussy . 

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[sllverchariot]

There is a banter between Gale and Lae’zel where she mentions that he talks on his sleep. Maybe something cute with Gale x Tav! Where he talks in his sleep to them?

nocturnal vocalizations (gale dekarios x reader)

eee this is so cute also once again i have barely proofread this but it sat in my drafts for too long and i needed it to be elsewhere i will probably come back later and update it.

i am also always looking for more fic requests or something idk especially for gale but perhaps the other companions as well....? who knows anyways enjoy!!!

word count: 1.5k

The first night you spent the night with Gale was truly one you would never forget. A memory that would replay over and over in your mind for the rest of your life, something you would treasure forever. Not because of any fantastical lovemaking (that was a separate treasured memory), but because of the safety you felt being curled up by his side, completely protected in his arms. The hushed murmurings as you talked about any and everything, trying not to wake the others. The steady rise and fall of his chest as you leaned against him, the way his hands absentmindedly stroked your hair as you both fell asleep. The feeling in your chest when you saw him the next morning, a smile plastered on his face and gazing at you as if you’d hung the stars in the sky. 

And, of course, the things he said in his sleep. 

It had startled you, the first time it happened. He’d said your name, and it woke you up immediately. You’d become a very light sleeper since embarking on your journey. As soon as you heard him speak, your eyes shot open, and you were awake and alert in a second. You pushed yourself up just enough to look at him, where you found him sleeping peacefully beside you. You took a breath, and brushed it off, settling back in beside him and writing it off as a dream. 

Until you heard it again. You opened your eyes, craning your neck to look at him, examining his sleeping face, eyes shut and lips slightly parted. 

“Gale?” You whispered, trying to see if he was up, but still not wanting to risk waking him if he wasn’t. He stayed still, his chest rising and falling steadily. You stayed there for a moment, waiting for something to happen while you watched him in the dim light of his tent.

”We have to find a trader, Tav,” He said suddenly, nearly startling you despite your anticipation. 

“What?” You whispered, squinting your eyes to try and make him out in the dim light.

 “We have to buy fireflies to light our way back to camp.” A smile crept across your face, but you stayed quiet. His face was mostly still, eyes shut peacefully despite the movement of his mouth. He was talking in his sleep. You couldn’t say you were surprised, really. You expected nothing less from the man who spent his every waking hour rambling about something. But gods, if it wasn’t the most delightful little discovery. 

You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face, grinning like an idiot as you just lay there watching him, patiently waiting for him to say something more. You were disgustingly giddy, falling even harder for him, if that were even possible. It was just so damn cute.

You carefully pushed yourself up, leaning against his chest and propping your head on your hands as you looked at him fondly, so unbelievably excited to have discovered this new little quirk of his. He murmured something else then, completely unintelligible, and you suddenly worried you might never get a good night’s rest by his side again. Certainly you could sleep through it, but you couldn’t bring yourself to go back to bed, you were far too eager to see what else he would say. 

“No, no, I don’t need a babysitter!” He said next, exasperatedly. It took everything within you not to burst into laughter on the spot. You wouldn’t dare risk waking him though, couldn’t bear to put an end to this delightful little moment. You lie there for several more minutes, absurd smile plastered on your face as you listened to him.

He said some magical words that went totally over your head, mumbled a few unintelligible sentences, and said your name two or three more times, before tiredness pulled you in once more, and you fell back to sleep with a warmth in your chest. 

You couldn’t truly say you were well rested the next morning. There were a few more instances of Gale’s nighttime ramblings that roused you, and each time you lie awake next to him, eager to find out what his subconscious mind was thinking. You hardly minded, though. Were it anyone else, you surely would’ve been furious at missing out on what little sleep you were able to get on your journey, but you found it hard to be mad at Gale for anything. Much less something as adorable as this. 

Gale awoke before you, having slept far more restfully than yourself. But as you heard his shufflings and felt the sunlight peeking through the cracks of the tent, you were up not long after. He was already up on his feet, getting dressed and preparing for the day. Your heart skipped a beat when you laid eyes on him, half-dressed and perfectly illuminated by the morning sun. You stayed there, watching him for a moment, until he noticed you were up. He turned towards you, eyes lighting up when he met your gaze and a grin spreading across his face. 

Gods, just the way he looked at you was enough to make you melt. 

“Good morning, my love.” He said softly, setting down the clothes in his hand and sitting back on the bedroll beside you.

“Mm, good morning..” You murmured, before lazily reaching out and wrapping your arms around his bare midsection, resting your head in his lap. He let out a quiet laugh, reaching out a hand to comb through your hair.

”I always suspected you were more of an early riser than this.” He teased, and you just hummed quietly, nuzzling into his touch.

”I am, usually…” You said, trying to hide the smile creeping in as you recalled the previous night. “Do you know you talk in your sleep?” You questioned, eyes still closed as you rested against him.

His hand in your hair stopped moving, and he was quiet for a moment. You snuck a glance at him through one eye, finding his flushed face peering down at you. It was impossible to hide your grin now.

He cleared his throat when he noticed you looking at him, averting his own eyes before speaking. “I, er, am aware of my… Nocturnal vocalizations.” He kept his eyes elsewhere, though his hand resumed stroking your hair. You let out a little laugh, shifting in your spot to get a better look at him. 

“I do hope I didn’t keep you up.” He continued, voice quiet, tinged with embarrassment. You shook your head quickly, reaching up a hand to his face to encourage him to look at you.

”You didn’t keep me up, I kept me up.” You giggled, squishing his cheeks for a moment before letting your hand fall back to your lap. “I couldn’t resist staying up to hear what you were going to say next. I was starting to think I might understand unconscious Gale a lot better, actually. You were telling me how we needed to find a trader to buy fireflies, so we could light our way back to camp. Which made perfect sense to me. But then you started using big magic words and I lost it again.” 

As you spoke, tired brain stringing words together mindlessly, you watched Gale’s cheeks flush an even darker shade of pink. Suddenly feeling a surge of guilt, you rushed to reassure him.

”I loved it.” You said softly, pulling his hand from your hair and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “If you could’ve seen the way I was laying here last night, you would’ve kicked me out to my own tent. Just giggling and kicking my feet.” You kissed his hand again. “I didn’t think it was possible for me to adore you anymore, and yet…” You trailed off, before reaching both of your hands up to cup his face and pull him in for a kiss.

You felt him smile against your lips, which instantly spurred a smile of your own, breaking the kiss and pressing your forehead to his as you giggled.

”I can’t possibly be frustrated when you speak of me so highly like this, my dear.” He smiled at you, tugging you closer to him.  “Though you must promise not to lose out on sleep just to listen to my ramblings. I refuse to be responsible for our dutiful hero falling asleep in battle.” 

“No promises. It’s too endearing to miss out on.” You teased. “It’s like reading a book right before bed, and even though you’re tired, you can’t stop reading. You have to find out what happens next.”

He chuckled softly, nodding his head in reluctant agreement. “Well, I suppose when you put it like that…” He cleared his throat, before scooping your upper half and repositioning you back on the bedroll and climbing to his feet. “I believe we should face the day now, my love.” 

You merely groaned in response, burying your face in his pillows and pulling the blanket around you tighter.

”Mm, five more minutes?” You pleaded, peering from behind the blanket with pleading eyes. He raised his eyebrows at you, and you grinned at him playfully, before reaching both of your hands out to him and beckoning him towards you. 

He looked at your outstretched arms, and back to you, hesitating for only the briefest moment before giving in, taking his hands in yours and allowing you to pull him back to the comfort of the cushions. 

[aetherdoesthings]

can i request straw hat members luffy zoro sanji nami robin with a kid like how they are around children thanks!

elo anon! ahhhh the ideas i had for this

forethoughts: excuse my absence, life is hard. also is it about time i create a masterlist for all my work? idk. also this hc request gave me an idea of a new fic i wanna write, so look out for that!

notes: fem!reader in mind, but still gn! i suppose.

Luffy

Here’s the thing. Out of the bunch, Luffy is the one you go to to have fun and get that adrenaline rush every child wants to have. But he’s also the one you spend the most time with least, because the other Straw Hats are deliberately trying to make sure you don’t spend as much time with Luffy for the sake of your safety and adulthood. It’s not the first time Luffy accidentally left you in the middle of a dangerous battle between the marines to beat some admiral up, or throwing you to the side and throwing some stuff on you and ordering you to stay still. While Luffy loves playing with you and having fun around the Sunny, yeah no Nami ain’t gonna let that happen. Luffy’ll still do anything to entertain you and make you have a fun and stressless childhood, and even if he does forget he’s babysitting sometimes and children are less durable than adults, you still love him like he’s your big brother.

Zoro

I’d imagine Zoro tolerating you and treating you like how he treats Chopper. He’d reluctantly play with you, doing whatever you want, but oftentimes he’s just asleep, and you’d have to wake him up if you wanted to play with him. But if you fall asleep on him or next to him, be sure you’re either going to wake up in his arms or in your bed snugly tucked in. He’d also be the one to randomly find you under a pile of rags and clothes on the ground after getting lost in the battlefield, and pick you up and bring you to the Sunny to safety. Everyone was of course overprotective of you, but Zoro was high up on that list. Lord have mercy on whoever tries to ask you out when you grow older. 

Sanji

Sanji would give you prince/princess treatment 100%, making you extra food each meal with all the nutrients you need to grow strong and healthy, whilst teaching you how to cook and ramble about the All Blue. He had even stopped smoking regularly for your lung’s sake, and the only time you could see him smoke was at night during his shift of watching over the Sunny. He would berate Zoro if ‘he was too rough with you’ or Luffy if ‘he was being too reckless with you’, but then proceed to roundhouse kick anyone he sees getting near you, which definitely was a good influence to your little kid mind. 

Nami

Nami was your big sister to you, always taking you out on shopping sprees, dressing you up in clothes she bought for you. You were always either with her or with Robin when the Sunny docked, as Nami bought anything you wanted to have. She’d also beat and scream the living soul out of any man or person that stares at you for far too long, giving them a good whack with her clima tact. Nami also doesn’t charge you any money or have a tax when you ask for money from her, since she’s buying everything for you willingly anyways. Every night, you, her and Robin would make a little fort in your room, and talk about the day and what you liked and didn’t. Nami was just your big sister you could go to for anything.

Robin

MOMMY ROBIN 100%. You are now her child, and she is your mother. Robin was the one who’d berate Luffy if he did something that could potentially harm you. She’d scold Sanji for smoking in front of you, Zoro if he cussed. She made sure you would have a safe and healthy environment around you as you grew up on deck, seeing that life on ship wasn’t like life on land. She would teach you academics and all that, making sure you would keep up with your academics and won’t slack. When the crew was getting loud and rowdy, she’d always keep you close to her, letting you put your hands around her shoulders as you tried to sleep under the noise, or just feel Robin’s presence next to you. At night, she’d personally tuck you in, read you a bedtime story, give you a little kiss on your forehead before leaving. Robin was, if not, the most overprotective of you amongst the rest. She saw you as a copy of herself when she was younger, and she was determined to give you the childhood she did not have.

[ambrosialdesire]

Can I request yandere porco x reader who doesn't take him seriously/ isn't afraid of him or being bratty or whatever so he transforms to scare her

hellion

18+ DARK CONTENT BELOW, MINORS + BLANK BLOGS DNI

pairing: s4 porco x fem!reader word count: 5.9k warnings + tags: general yandere and obsessive themes, unhealthy relationships, past + current human-trafficking/purchase mentions, forced feminization/infantilization, stockholm syndrome development, forced proximity, torture/violence mentions (choking, starvation, drowning, tying up), drugging (sedation), prey & predator vibes, kinda psychological horror?, humiliation, slight praise, degradation, slight gaslighting, kinda mindbreaky, all characters are 18+ synopsis: you were an impulse purchase that he never thought he'd make before, and although he doesn't regret it, he's having a difficult time trying to soothe your feisty spirit. who knew that all it took was one transformation and a chase you'll never forget? a/n: i'm gonna be so fr idk how to write bratty characters LOL i rarely read bratty readers in general so i'm really free-balling this 💀 kinda simple and to the point compared to my other fics, esp since i've never wrote for porco before so this is like testing the waters and most likely SUPER ooc. it's also more of a psychological fic since i'm not in the mood of writing complete nsfw haha but i hope you enjoyed this anon! sorry it also took so long to be done but then took me like three days to make and edit 😅 (i still think it's a little sloppy, esp the end BUT that's what anon questions are for so i can sorta explain and piece it together more lol) again, hope y'all enjoy!! note: please keep in mind of the tags above and do not proceed if triggering or uncomfortable, especially if you are a minor!! do not read my or any other writers' dark content if you are underaged. this is a fictional work and does not reflect irl morals, do not believe this is how a real romance works or functions.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.───

He hated when you got like this, putting up a constant nonsensical fight against him.

You'd be a perfect candidate to be his successor from the way you bite down into his skin when he tried to touch you, scratching up his face when he got too close, and always almost managing to slip through his grasp to dash towards the open basement door before he tugged the chain wrapped around your throat back towards him, watching you bare your teeth at him angrily. You were truly a wild animal, that's why he chose you in the first place.

Porco wanted to tame this wild spirit of yours, simply for the fact to see if he could.

Little progress was made, he made your purchase not long ago in the slums of Liberio, where the truly wicked and evil roamed to sell and purchase anything deemed illegal by the Marleyan government. As much as he refused to take these kinds of assignments, preferring to be back on the battlefield with Zeke and Pieck, Porco was already in deep waters for fighting with Reiner again. Not his fault that the Vice Captain's face was so punchable. Thus, here he was, being forced to shut one of the operations down that was said to involve a human-trafficking ring. Down he went alone in disguise, shuffling through the disgusting sweaty bodies of devil scum drooling over a piece of fresh meat on the stage.

He remembered got a good view of the bidding, eyeing each fearful chained-up person with boredom until you were pulled up. God, you really were the star of the stage. Two burly men had to tug your fighting body onto the crumbling wooden stage, a mixed sound of what could be a snarl and screech emerging through your cracked and bruised lips as you refused to move any further. You put up a good fight against the henchmen, the crowd jeering at the display of tug-o-war.

Once they managed to get you to the middle, the auctioneer started to ramble on about your pricing. Your hands may be wrapped in cloth and tied together, but the minute he neared you to show you off, you struck him with a mean uppercut, almost pouncing on him once he fell over before the two men held you back. Even then, you were thrashing around on your wounded feet, spitting out curses and howls at the fuckers beneath you, telling them that you'd hope they'd all burn and rot in hell.

He's the only one that snorted at that statement, feeling all eyes on him.

Porco really wasn't any different from those around him as he raised his hand up, offering over a thousand for the wild girl, more than what the other fucks around him could possibly afford. It won't make a dent in his bank account either because once he takes you home, the authorities would've already been called to the place. He gets to keep his money and you, while Marley gets rid of more scum; a two in one deal. You glared down at him, a burning fire settling deep within the darks of your pupils as he grinned back in return.

You were going to be a fun little purchase, that he's sure of.

He didn't really want to, but considering that you were a snappy little thing, you had to be down in the basement of his home until he managed to get your temper under control. The chain was long enough for you to reach the bathroom down there from the bed, but not long enough to reach the door. Once you managed to slightly calm down, realizing that your new "owner" was unfazed by your act as he leaned against the wall, you cautiously settled on the bed. You were still tense, unsure of what his intentions are.

"You got a name?" Porco started, finally breaking the silence as he crossed over his arms.

"You have my papers, don't you?" Your eyes squinted at him, the raspy retort coming quick out your mouth. He did, but he didn't bother looking at them just yet.

He scoffed, pushing himself off the wall, slowly stepping closer to you. "Snarky one, aren'tcha? Just tryna be a little civil here."

"Civility? Don't make me laugh. Buddy, you're the one that bought me. I think we both know that any sort of civility you had has been long gone the moment you raised your stinkin' fucking hand in the auction and brought me down here." If your temper wasn't enough indication of a need of reformation, your mouth definitely was.

"I'm surprised you even lasted that long in the slums with that tongue and attitude of yours, most would've been turned into chopped meat without even a second thought." You were about to say something back before he slammed his hand into your face, pushing your head into the bed and prying your mouth open with his fingers. A gurgle of a scream erupted out of your throat as you struggled to push him off you, but no dice.

"But I'm not like most. Me? I could crush your skull whenever I want, maybe slowly pull each of your limbs apart so you'll feel each tendon and ligament rip away from your sorry torso." Porco pushed harder until you got the message, silencing yourself as your face ached and throbbed from the pressure, yet your eyes still held that same vindictiveness from the auction that never seemed to quite be quenched. Your jaw abruptly closed around his fingers, a pained hiss slipping out of his lips as the pearly whites grinded into his skin.

He's going to relish seeing that light die from you, when you finally realize that he's the sole reason of your living, that you should've been grateful from the start that he's the one that bought you instead of the beer-gut ridden trash that wasted away in the slums.

Porco finally removed his hand out of your mouth, drool and teeth indentations staining his fingers. Light steam was coming off of them, the superficial wounds closing up. He knew you caught that, eyes focused on his hand.

"Now, get some rest. Training begins tomorrow."

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

When he said training, he meant torture.

That's what you thought as you experienced every debilitating and humiliating ritual he forced onto you every day. You eventually learned his name because of someone saying it upstairs — God you wished that the floors above were as soundproof as the basement's walls— Porco, but you called him 'piggy' sometimes, despite him trying to train you into saying sir. Simple, but it got him irritated real fast.

Porco was a strange man, you knew he was definitely not like the other men you've came across in your imprisoned life. Every wound you made on his person, no matter how deep you curled your nails into him or bite down as hard as you possibly could, he was left unblemished. Not even a fading scar or lasting indent, it was as if you've never injured him in the first place.

He bled, the taste of iron familiar on your tastebuds, but it really was like nothing occurred after a few minutes. You knew that he healed fast too, that weird steam came out of the wounds right after you inflicted it from what you could see with the lantern light, but you don't know why it did. Were you so out of touch from the outside for so long that new medical advancements were made?

He also disappeared for short periods of time, leaving you occasionally starving if he didn't leave enough food beforehand and surprisingly bored; he was really your only company nowadays, so it was quite frustrating to come to the conclusion that you'd even miss the bastard despite the shit he's made you go through. Once Porco came back though, he'd be a little nicer to you but that would last for roughly a week once you gotten sick of his company again.

He only sedated you when he needed your complete compliance or when he deemed you too much, your head rolling around weakly as he undresses and bathes you with him in the tub, the heightened sensation of calloused hands brushing against every inch of your skin. You may be out of it, but every other sensation was magnified. It was the only peace the two of you got with each other, even if you weren't a truly willing participant.

Porco was also quiet when it came to this activity, the steam and heat of the tub creating a slight flush on his tanned cheeks as he leaned back against the porcelain. His normally gelled-back blond hair would be damp and falling over his face, expression lax. You thought he was on the completely lankier side before since you rarely see him without the green coat, but no, he was quite muscular despite being pretty slender.

It made sense, he's lifted and thrown you like you weighed absolutely nothing, holding you down without much struggle, and letting you exhaust yourself while he looked completely normal.

He seemed disinterested in each other's nudity, though you did notice the first few times when he started the bathing routine that he took in every little detail of your body, eyes wandering more than usual. It's not like you could've stopped him and he never touched you sexually, only touching your privates to clean those areas. You've accidentally let out a quietly hitched breath here and there when he brushed those digits of his in-between your pussy, your drugged mind struggling to comprehend the feeling. You believed that he never noticed during those mishaps, not bothered in the slightest during it but whenever he got out of the tub first, it was pretty obvious he'd be partially aroused.

You wouldn't say that you were completely innocent in the act of staring at the other either, you've spotted his cock more than a few times and were slightly internally glad that he never took it for a spin against you. He must be a show-er more than a grower (if he was any lengthier hard, you might be in trouble), but he was notably bigger than the other disgusting men you've came across. Thank god for that, at least. It was finally nice looking at a man that wasn't built like a water buffalo in denial of balding and having the smallest dick around.

As time passed by, you feel like you confirmed your suspicions that he never really was interested in using you for any sexual needs, he was more into seeing how much it would take for you to break. Maybe he's done this to others to get his rocks off, but you'd never give into the sick man's perversions.

One thing that was prominent you've noticed while in his care was that he rarely made you do anything by yourself. He's the one that fed you with you on his lap, clothed you in stupidly feminine outfits from the start of the day to the night, bathed you alongside him. He cleaned and dressed any wounds you inflicted on yourself, but left surface scratches and bruises alone. Porco was in complete control and if you didn't let him take the reins, that's when the punishments rolled in.

Balancing books on your head as you stood on your tiptoes, if any of them fell or if you went back on your heels, he'd hit the back of your calves hard with a riding crop and restart the entire thing. Forcing your head over a bucket of freezing cold water, asking you difficult questions with no right answers to them, and pushing you down into it when you said anything that he didn't want to hear. He choked you out and left you intentionally starved for days when you refused to eat what he made, tied up and blindfolded in a tight closet with no indication of how long time had passed because you didn't want to wear what he chose, anything to ensure that you've learned your lesson.

You didn't, of course you never did. Whenever he asked if you had enough, you only just laughed at him and spat at his face, the punishments only ending once he got tired of it. Your stubborn attitude was the only thing keeping you sane in this world of yours.

No matter how much you were forced to endure endless embarrassment and shame, you'll never grovel or beg for mercy, not even shedding a tear for the agonizing pain you felt as you laid on the scratchy mattress every night. And besides, he wasn't the only one who tried and he most certainly would be the last once you figured out how to get out of here.

You felt a jab to your stomach, abruptly waking you from your short rest. The lights weren't even turned on, but even you knew that the next horrid day has just begun, a flashlight blinding you next.

"Morning sweetheart, you know what time it is? It's 3 in the morning, nice and early for our next session. Are you going to be good and let me put your outfit on?" The nicknames only started a few weeks ago, just because you were being obedient and compliant to his demands. It's to make you feel nice, to think that's what you should be doing to get on his good side.

Fuck, he's really insane.

Obviously since you were completely exhausted, you might as well let him take control again until you regained more strength. You nodded slowly, rubbing your eyes as he finally moved the light off of your eyes. He murmured something of a praise, stroking your head gently before going upstairs to retrieve the outfit. You sat there in silence, partially nodding off until you heard his footsteps near the door, body slightly stiffening.

You may not be outwardly afraid of him, but unconsciously, he made you become unintentionally afraid of the new fucked up punishments that he created. At a certain point in this life, it was undeniable not be terrified of something unexpected.

"A friend recommended this new place for women clothes since she noticed I've been in a good mood lately." Porco pushed the door open, a light pink babydoll dress in his hands. "Ain't it nice? Might be better than all the other ones I've put you in, the seamstress really has outdone herself, don't you think sweetie?"

Everything about it looked too short, ruffles and lace making most of the skirt and the sleeves overtly puffy. He may think he's putting you into something cute, but it was obviously something uncomfortable to wear. It's intentionally supposed to make you tick, you knew it was.

"It's..." You started, thinking about how to go around this without sounding offensive. "Pink."

He frowned, obviously expecting more from you but simply shook his head. Alright, that was a somewhat valid response.

"Still tired huh? Yes, most of your clothes are pink, but this one," He placed the dress next to you, along with the undergarments and shoes. "This one is for a special occasion."

Special occasion? A year must've already passed by since he purchased you, it wouldn't be all that surprising if he was celebrating that. You lifted your arms up and let him remove your nightgown, leaving you only in your underwear. Porco removed the dress from the hanger, turning towards you and pulling the dress over your head and arms, organizing it properly over your body.

Definitely too small now that you were wearing it, the bands around the arms making it feel like you were gonna lose circulation on them and your breasts nearly spilling out of the top of the dress, no matter how much he was adjusting it. The skirt was also way too revealing, just barely covering your panties but he soon tugged those off, putting on an even more scantily clad pair. He brushed out your hair, taking a few pieces and attaching a bow with it behind your head. The shoes were just simply white flats, the only part of the outfit that you had no problem with.

"There. Such a beautiful girl, wouldn't you agree?"

He cooed as he stood you up and dragged you to the bathroom, pulling off the drape that covered the mirror. You weren't allowed to use the mirror, that was what he said as one of the rules way back then. You didn't know why he asked that of you, but you've never seen yourself in years anyways, the details of your appearance foggy in each glimpse of a reflecting surface. The basement was dark too, the only sources of light being the flashlight or lanterns that Porco brings down here to see you. But this?

This was the first time you truly felt horrified at anything, bruises of varying colors littering around your skin, most prominently around your neck. You looked sickly, a pale complexion covering your skin, and bone-dead tired, eyebags weighing under your lower eyelids heavily. The only thing that looked decent on you was your brushed out hair and dress, despite how it squeezed at your almost feeble body.

"What... what did you do to me?" Your hands went over your face, feeling your very soul crumple into itself.

Porco snorted, his hand wrapping around your jaw and forcing you to look at the reflection. "Nothing. This is you, all you. The only thing I've done is the bruises but everything else is your fault."

You pushed him back, his body hitting the wooden door with a thud. Tears were starting to well up in your eyes since the first time in forever as you balled your fists at your side. You started wailing, curses slipping through your lips.

"Fuck you. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!"

"Y/N—" His tone was becoming angry, a warning.

Porco never said your name before.

You took off one of the flats and quickly threw it hard at the mirror, multiple fragments shattering off the wall. You grabbed the biggest piece that landed on the ground, feeling the palm of your hand cut open, warm blood spilling down your fingertips. Without a second thought, you lunged at your captor. Porco was stronger as he stopped you midway of your attack, but his hands slipped from the grip he had on your bloody hands and wrists, it was almost unnoticeable but not to you.

With the little strength you had left, you gave it your all, letting out a wrathful shriek as you jabbed the piece into his stomach, twisting it in as deeply as you could.

The world fell silent as you watched his blood seep through his shirt.

This was the first time you've looked into his eyes in the light and this close in general, the hazel color showing nothing but displeasure. You heaved slowly, taking in shaky breaths through your nose. Slowly, you released the shard and backed away from his still-standing body, the chain connected to you rattling along on the stony ground with your movements. Your eyes were still locked onto him, impatiently waiting for him to collapse so you can take the key out of his dying cold body.

Yet, that didn't happen.

"You're fucking pathetic, stupid even." Porco's hand reached for the mirror shard embedded in his gut, pulling it out with a slight hiss, as if it was nothing but a splinter. "If only, just only, you remembered that I can heal from any wound that your dumbass places on me, we wouldn't have this issue but I guess I gave your slow little brain one too many hits."

The steam was coming off of him again as he threw the bloody shard pack into the broken pile, your teeth baring at him.

"What the hell are you? Some kind of monster?" He laughed, pushing his hair back with blood, the red mixing in with the dark blond.

"Worse," Porco charged at you with inhumane speed, grabbing your throat and lifting you up in the air with one hand, your hands clawing at his forearm as black spots began to form in your vision. "I'm one of the worst monsters of them all. A Titan."

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

You awoke to find yourself in a forest.

Originally, you thought you died. It's been years since you've last seen the outside, even felt the wind's breeze go against your face and feel the rising sun's rays warm up your skin. Yet, as you opened your eyes, you reached out to the grass, feeling the smooth blades brush up against your fingers, you knew you were still alive.

Sitting up, you slowly took in the surrounding environment. Did Porco abandon you because he thought you were dead? A giddy feeling rose up from within, excited about the possibility of finally, finally having the freedom that you've desired for so long. You wobbly stood up, realizing that you were still in the outfit he made you wear, now stained with dried blood. Ugh, at least he should've had the decency to put you back in rags or something before dumping your 'corpse'.

How far were you from the nearest civilization? You'd be lucky if you managed to come across one before either dying of dehydration or starvation, hoping you'd run into an Eldian internment zone rather than a major Marleyan city. Maybe even dying here in the wilderness would be a better death than being around people again, considering that all of them would just disappoint you once more.

There was a sound of grass crunching, small branches breaking from behind you as footsteps drew closer.

"Awake aren't we?" Fuck. You turned around, seeing him standing back at a distance, still wearing his bloody clothes.

"I wish I wasn't now that I know you're here piggy. Goddamnit, why didn't you just fall over and die when I stabbed you?" You grumbled the last half, tugging at the bottom of the skirt dejectedly. From afar, you could imagine that his eyebrow was twitching in irritation once you mentioned the nickname.

"You're so annoying, you know that? It's been a year and no matter what I do to you, you still persist. Still convincing yourself that you can't be broken. You've really ran me dry to figure out what I can do to make that pretty little head internally pop, well, I got one more thing that'll make you finally listen to me." Porco fished out a small pocket knife out of his jacket, holding out his palm for you to see before he sliced the middle of it, blood immediately gushing out.

"I'll give you a 15 minute head start, timer starts when I transform. If you can hide or outrun me, I'll let you go free. No catches, you'll simply be free to walk among us again. But if I find and catch you," A cocky smile grew on his face, pointing the knife down at you. "You're going back to the fucking basement."

Wait. What does he mean by transform?

A flash of blinding lightning appeared abruptly right in front of you, gusts of wind nearly knocking you over. You covered your face to try and shield yourself from the sudden weather change onslaught, the sound of something crunching forming loud in your ears. The light finally faded away after a few minutes gone by, a huge shadow hovering over you instead. Hesitantly, you peered up out of your arms and gaped in horror as you stared at the monster in front of you.

Where Porco once stood, a bony skull-like faced Titan stood before you on all fours, a mane of familiar blonde hair wrapping around its head like a lion. It had a shorter and muscular stature than most Titans you've seen in books before your kidnapping, still towering over you but not as much as a normal Titan would. White-tipped claws on each of its digits were prominent on both its hands and feet, digging into the soft grassy ground beneath it.

What the fuck? What the fuck?! Your captor was the Jaw Titan user the entire time? Is that why he disappeared every now and then? Holy shit, you knew what the Jaw Titan user's dick looks like.

Its small hazel eyes glared down at you through the skull-like mask and you felt frozen to the spot, too afraid to make any move. Was he even still in control of himself in there? A guttural growl came out of it then, snapping you out of it.

Porco's waiting for you to move, he... he wants to chase you down. You have no other choice, and you'd rather put up another fight than to lay down belly-up.

You took off the other flat that still remained on your foot and threw it at the face of the creature, soon dashing as quickly as possible into the lush forest. In your head, you knew your outfit was going to be an immediate sore thumb in the surrounding greens and browns so you started to rip it apart as you ran, trying to scatter the pieces as much as you possibly could to throw off the trail. All you were left in was your thin underwear and even that was a risk to keep on, but it was all you had left to preserve the dignity you were barely holding onto.

As you ran, you felt every stray branch dig into your already-damaged skin and every breath you took in felt like needles in your nostrils. It was better than nothing, better than getting immediately caught by that thing. You don't know how much time has passed since you started running, all you knew was that you must've wasted precious seconds when you gawked at the atrocity of a Titan.

There was a whipping sound and then a thud, trees cracking and breaking behind you. The echo of birds flapping away from the source, cawing in alarm rang loudly in your ears and you felt immediate dread crawl up your spine. Your head start was up, he's coming.

You still ran as fast as you could despite the burning in your underused muscles, trying to find somewhere decent to hide in. An overgrowth, a bush, anything at this point. The sounds of whipping and cracking were getting closer and closer, panic bubbling in your stomach until you missed a step, falling over and knocking the wind out of yourself.

You cried out as quietly as possible once you got air back in your lungs, slowly sitting up with damp dirt clinging onto your bare skin. Taking a glance at the ledge you fell from, an idea popped in your mind. Underneath, it was wide enough to fit your body and deep enough for you to hide in, so long as you could cover yourself up with leaves and dirt. The sound of a gurgling snarl close by meant that you had little time to put your plan into action, and you grabbed the nearby shrubbery in handfuls, crawling into the space as fast as you could.

Laying on your back, your place the gathered materials on your body, completely covered from head to toe. You didn't know how it looked on the outside, but it had to be something that could be overlooked when he was searching around. It had to be because you were not going back, you refused to.

The close rumble of the ground almost had you scream out in terror, but you put your hands over your mouth as tightly as you could, your breaths shaky out of your nose. The thuds grew closer and closer, body jumping with each passing step, and then it stilled. You could slightly see what was going on outside, heart dropping when you immediately spotted him.

The Titan was just standing there, completely still besides his head moving around to scan the area. He must've figured out that your clothing trail had gone cold or that it was fake the entire time, but the one thing you knew was that he was quick to catch up either way. A hissing sound, almost sizzling, broke the silence. You watched as Porco's original body appear out of the creature's upper back, right near the neck.

What. The. Hell.

"You're here, aren't you?" His voice was calm, no hint of frustration or irritation. Porco had too much pride to proven wrong, he was confident that he tracked you in the right spot and you hate that he was correctly onto you.

"Your footsteps stopped not too far from here, y'know. You tryna hide now? Ran out of stamina? Twisted your ankle?"

You clenched your eyes tightly together, praying that he'll give up, that he won't find you. Never in your wretched life have prayed before, but you'd start worshipping the very god that'll manage to make sure that Porco won't look in this shallow cavern.

"Fine. If you don't want to reveal yourself—"

There was another sizzling sound, your eyes opening and seeing that he went back into the body, the creature beginning to move once more. The Titan then opened its bony maw, revealing a second pair of sharper teeth before an ear-bursting screech projected out of it, your hands shooting to your ears to try and cancel out the horrid sound. The scream kept wailing aloud like a never-ending storm alarm, your head beginning to ache. It felt like it was going to pop the longer it went on, tears forming at the corners of your eyes.

Stop it, stop it, stop it!

Silence.

There was a slight ringing in your ears, but the screaming was gone and when you looked out of your hidey-hole, he was no longer standing there. Did he actually give up? You stayed still in the divot, head throbbing and heart pounding against your ribcage. You'll even wait until the next morning if it meant for any kind of confirmation that he was gone.

Suddenly, a claw came down on the roof of your cavern, the sharp tips just barely missing your body. It ripped away the dirt and rock, the sunlight blinding you as you sputtered out the pieces that came down on your face from the removal. Complete fear radiated off your expression as its unnerving mask stared down at your trembling form. You... lost.

You think that its — his — eyes were gleaming with glee right now, seeing how pitiful you looked, filthy and damaged. His hand reached for you, body stiffening as the fingers curled around you, picking you out of the hole carefully. The body of the Titan slumped down and the same hissing sound came out of the back of it, Porco reappearing once more.

"Took me only 30 minutes to find you, what a pathetic attempt of a run," He insulted, leaning his body over the fuzzy head of the creature. "Though, I will have to give props to you with the hiding. I wouldn't have spotted you until you moved in the hole from the scream."

"P-please... make this th... thing stop touching me." You almost whispered, the coldness and rough texture of its grip tight around your body. You hated that you were directly forced to stare at it, its eyes blank but still glaring deep within your soul.

"You afraid of it? You scared of the big bad Titan?" Porco taunted, his arm slightly moving and the grip tightening around you even more. You let out a strangled cry, your breathing becoming erratic. The feeling of the jagged bones jutting into your flesh like squeezing a balloon to its limit, the imagery of your organs bursting out of you, began to make you hysterical.

"Please s-st... stop! P-please! I... I don't want to die! Porco, I'm begging you! Get me out!" You started sobbing, blobs of tears flowing down your cheeks. You hated him, but you hated this monster even more. To think that they were truly real, a true threat to your fragile existence, it was something that was horrifyingly difficult to mentally process.

Porco gawked at your sniveling body, not even trying to wiggle out of the Jaw Titan's hand but still crying out to him for his help. This is what he wanted right? To see you completely give up, to depend on his assistance, to save you. He felt so fuzzy and dizzy on the feeling, almost like he drank too much liquor. Just to play around with you a little more, his hand twitched, causing the Titan to squeeze you even more.

You screamed out in fear once the pressure got even more narrow, your cries resonating louder within the deep forest as you simultaneously begged him to stop. Aw, how adorable but alright, he's had his fun for the day. This might've gotten the message across, let's see how long it'll last or else he'll have to do this again and again if he had to.

"Will you finally listen to me?" He finally spoke up, your teary eyes immediately meeting his and nodding furiously without hesitation.

"Yes! Y-yes I will!"

"And what do I want to hear from you?" You sniffled, looking completely drained of all fight.

"I-I'm sorry... s... s-sir. I wo... won't ever do i-it again."

Porco thought he never felt such euphoria in his life until he heard your apology, a wickedly proud grin growing on his face. He pulled himself out of the Jaw Titan's back, watching the creature start to steam and deflate as he reached for you, peeling its fingers off of your body and helping you down. Unexpectedly, you latched onto Porco once you got on the ground, your arms wrapped around him tightly in a vice hug. You... never did that before.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" You repeated over and over again, your tears wetting his coat. "I won't fight you again, I-I promise sir."

His hand reached over to your head, light stroking the tangled strands as you trembled against his body. "That's what you get for being a bitchy brat, you don't want me to do it again right?"

You shook your head in response, gripping onto his clothes even tighter at the thought of being chased by that thing again.

"Then you gotta listen to me better, okay? You listen, no Titan. And now that I'm reminded of your bad manners, you've torn up that pretty dress of yours earlier. That wasn't cheap, you ungrateful bitch. How are you going to make it up to me?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to." Worry began to fill up your still-teary expression as you pulled your face out of his shoulder. You were taking every insult with a grain of salt, dismissing them completely. "I-I'll do anything to make it up to you, sir."

Porco really wasn't any different from the devil nuisances down in the slums, an excited shiver going through his system. If you're really offering anything, then he might as well get what he deserved out of you, he's been waiting a year for it after all. He lifted your face with one hand, rubbing away a smudge of dirt off of your skin with his thumb.

"We'll discuss what you can do about it later. Now, let's go home and get ourselves cleaned up, you smell like mud and look like shit." Another apology slipped through your lips as he moved forward with your hand in his, the corners of his mouth curling upwards with pure joy.

The animal within you has become neutralized, the flame dying and being left behind with the fading Titan behind the two of you.

Porco finally got what he paid for.

[altcvnningham]

needy

adler x f!bell

summary: adler gets up for a morning cigarette. or tries to. read on ao3

tags/cw: established adlerbell, f!bell, she/her pronouns, bell is russian, fluff, light angst, no plot, drabble, smoking mention, kind of domestic i guess, bo6 adler so he's a little soft, pre-bo6 but post-panama, cw references galore, dog imagery as is synonymous w adlerbell atp, author has adhd and goes on prosaic rambles in lieu of an actual plot. this fic could have been an email?? sorry wc: 3.1k

a/n: bwuhhh this was just an excuse to write self indulgent soft morning adlerbell at the rook while i work on my actual pre-bo6 adlerbell rook fic when i have the energy . no plot, lots of rambling, once again kind of just a thinkpiece on their relationship now adler's an old fossil. idk she was doing nothing being left in my notes app ajdkhjkasjk

He reckons she’s needier these days, more than she ever used to be back in Berlin.

Sometimes he wonders if it’s just his age that makes him feel that way; that perhaps she hasn’t changed at all, and instead it’s the dust settling on his bones, rusted shrapnel over the years snagged in the joints and sinews, that makes him feel sluggish in comparison. It’s the first time in his life since Livingstone brought up the CIA’s desire for more sprightly recruits that he wonders- is he struggling to keep up?

Their reunion after all these years was a messy one: a scrap in an indistinct bar, bloodied knuckles split and bruises welted dark blue, the white of his eye burst red, the curve of her jaw swollen for a good week. Fresh after Panama. As soon as she caught wind of what happened she’d picked up his trail barely a week after he arrived in Bulgaria. Had she come to kill him? He doesn’t know. It isn’t as if she’d confess to it even if she had, and maybe he had it coming anyway. It stopped mattering at all the second the fight had descended into the alleyway, wrestled onto their backs against the cobblestone, where hands had found throats and then jaw, waist, hip, and everything else. Punches had calmed to caresses, curses to kisses, and somehow he’d found himself patching her up back at the Rook, his stray dog come home to him, like old times.

She’d eased herself back into his life easily enough then. Simple and unspoken. Or, rather, wedged her foot back in the door well enough that he couldn’t shut her out again, even if he’d wanted to (as if he hadn’t always kept it ajar all these years just to let her in, never closed, never closed). Never a word for what they are, what they have, the routine they’ve slipped almost effortlessly back into again- that hasn’t changed since the old days- and yet he doesn’t find that it robs it of meaning whatsoever.

If anything, it makes it something rare, special, his diamond in the rough, glinting sea glass washed a perfectly chiselled bead upon the shore. Just as she’d crashed along with the tide as time brought her back to him, he picked her up, tucked her gently back into that place she belonged, in between the rib and vertebrae, nestled inside him all to steady the beat of his restless heart. Her alone enough to settle the frantic, ceaseless palpitations he’s suffered nightly, since… Solovetsky? He thinks? The dull gnawing in the back of his mind all those years in between, that wasn’t sure if he was more frightened for her inevitable return or her disappearing forever, slipping through his fingers back to sea again.

He supposes it doesn’t matter anymore. That was then, and now seemed to fare much nicer.

Now, she rolls sweet and placid onto her back against the mattress, limp as a daisy in rain, soft body bowing to his careful manhandling; he’s itching for a smoke, aching for his vice the second he awoke, hours too early for his alarm. He lifts her off him delicately, almost methodical as he starts with her arm, the heavy loll of her head, her shoulder. Like defusing a bomb, he’d joked once, a comparison she’d only proven right by her explosive reaction to it.

It’s an odd feeling, though, the calm where there had once been nothing but war between them, the quiet, the warmth upon his chest now fading where she’d laid her head after he came back last night- back home, back to her- and it’s in moments like these, just mere glimpses of normalcy, that makes him wonder what could have been his life, theirs, had things not happened the way they did. MK Ultra, Berlin, Solovetsky. Perseus. Then again, he supposes, if she hadn’t been shot in Trabzon that night, if she hadn’t been there at all, then he wouldn’t have known she’d even existed. This mundane moment lost to time like everything else.

She murmurs in her sleep, spurred to wakefulness when the mattress lifts and groans at his absence, her eyes squinting through the sliver of morning light bleeding through the gap in the curtains; even when she’s completely out of it, she doesn’t miss a thing. He’s never exactly been the paragon of stealth when he excels at everything else, but even if every factor in the world had worked in his favour- if the beaten mattress wasn’t so rusted, if the ancient floorboards didn’t squeal underfoot when he stood up, if there wasn’t a constant draft on his side of the room that hit her as soon as he moved- nothing would have stopped her from registering his absence, clawing to fight off sleep just so she had an excuse to grouse at him. Ever his stubborn girl.

“Mm… where y’going…?”

Adler smiles to himself, flat but genuine, stifled by the lethargy that hangs over his head heavy as an anvil. Her accent so thick in the early hours it hardly sounds like English at all. He’s half tempted to reply in Russian, just to see if her cottonmouth tongue latches quicker to that instead.

But he doesn’t, just lingers in the doorway leading out to the hall, feeling only a little guilty for letting in the cold. It rather satisfies him instead to see her shiver and pull the blankets further over herself, keeping her right where he wants her. Right where he needs her, so he knows she’ll still be there when he comes back.

“Smoke,” is all he says, rattling the crumpled pack for her to hear.

She’s half coherent when she grumbles, English sandwiched between Russian endearments. Cussing him out.

“Y’can smoke in here… m’don’t mind. Come back to bed.”

Something tugs at his heart, almost foreign, vague. Something he only feels when she digs her claws in him just like that, even if only to graze. It’s the same certainty as when he wraps his finger around a trigger, pulls a pin, wrenches his hand around the hilt of a knife- unspoken, inevitable. The drop of a guillotine, inexorably quick. A certainty that verges on frightening, a promise, which he’s never been good at keeping, but knows she means wholeheartedly, down to her marrow. Possessiveness, he thinks- (is it irony, now, how often he finds her fist wrapped around the leash he doesn’t even notice he’s wearing?)- people not in their line of work, those with nice houses and desk jobs and white picket fences, he’s heard, call that feeling belonging. To be beckoned like that. Home.

It’s her demand that he stays. Hardly a question. And Bell doesn’t beg.

He’s sure that in her spitefulness, if he’d had a trigger phrase just like hers, she’d spit it at him ‘til he turned heel and crawled back on over to her, slid under the sheets like an apology scrawled onto a note and tucked under the door. It’s a near enough thing- the way her bleary eyes fix on him vengefully through matted lashes, searing her betrayal into him. Every morning he gets up before her, it seems to say: you left me. A petulant notion, only half serious, but one cold enough that it almost works. Frigid. Familiar. Arctic air.

It works a little at least- getting soft in your old age- because he lugs himself back over to the bed and just stands by it, refusing to give her the satisfaction of quiet victory if he climbs back inside. She stretches a languid arm flat across the mattress, rolling catlike onto her stomach, splaying her fingers in the hopes that she might somehow pull him back in to her. She manages a knuckle grazing his knee, before she gives up, pulled under by sleep once more. Head slumped against the pillow, she muffles her disdain.

But Adler is nothing if not at least a little amenable. If he’s sweet on anyone, it’s his Bell. His baby. Hard to let a thing like that go, when she was quite literally made for him. Made by him, in his image. Scraped marrow from rib like Adam, caulking the hole Arash shot through her chest and bestowed life upon her once more. He’s happy to have a piece of himself broken off and left inside her, a tithe tossed to the slab of her altar. The fracture of his soul a discarded lamb in sacrifice, sustaining the sick hunger that starves her.

It keeps them inseparable, he thinks. He’d read something somewhere, pretentious shlock about strings of fate and those bound to it- romantic crap shmucks use to justify ugly marriages and affairs, the suffering of co-dependency given some transcendent meaning, a purpose greater than the mundane. The notion that two people, by whatever higher power, are bound to one another no matter what they do to separate themselves of it, tethered from their first breath and suffering an endless togetherness until their last. He’d rolled his eyes the first time he’d heard of it- there wasn’t a world where he’d be enough of a sap to actually buy into that shit. Maybe his ex-wife might’ve been fond of it, maybe it was something she wrote into one of the letters he kept under his bunk back in ‘Nam. He doesn’t know.

But Bell made him understand it. He’d dug a grave in her when he denied her her own on that airstrip in Turkey, and he buried himself in it, over and over again. His memories, his life, his voice ringing like God’s. His favourite things, treasured, secret. His fears and doubts and worries, every little thing that made up the culmination of his being. It was never just Vietnam he put there. It was everything. She’s half himself, a faded mirror image. It only makes sense that they’d find each other again, eventually. She’d walk the earth, stalking like a bloodhound trailing his dried scent until she found him. She’d roam the endless nights, a ghost shivering their old haunts until he meanders his way back to her again, pulled along by a gnawing ache inside himself- a missing piece he’d seek the rest of his life to fill. She could track him blind. And he would feel her coming, like blood in the water. He did. He did.

It’s that tether that makes it impossible not to relent to her, when he kneels down next to the bed, knee joint cracking under his weight, the mottled floorboard doing nothing to steady him. It’s her, when she has enough leverage now to close the distance between her fingers and the collar of his shirt, curled inside the bleached cotton, fist wrenched tight. The seam digs into the back of his neck but he doesn’t let her pull him to her; he waits, making her work for it. The satisfaction that tends to follow when she does is usually worth her ingratiation.

She drags herself across the mattress, using his body as an anchor. Heavy and boneless, she lays right at the edge of the bed where he kneels, her nose nudging at his jaw as she turns, belly up like prey. Too easy a kill, he knows that. She’s gloating. The fact he’d come back at all means she’s got him right where she wants.

“C’mere,” she murmurs gently, saccharine, cloying. He’s surprised it doesn’t make her gag- the pretend domesticity of it all. Dragging her dried lips, smiling, against the underside of his jaw, her fingers sliding idle up the back of his neck, arm slung around his shoulder like she’s expecting to be carried out.

He humours her with a smirk, his blues nearly grey in the dim dark of the room as she mouths at him, vying for his attention. It’s as much a demand as her words had been, sharp as her tone as she nips at his jaw. Adler sighs, as though turning his face to gaze down at her were something laborious, and not the blessing he counts on every finger, every day, seemingly numbered since Panama. He tuts, and it says, what am I going to do with you?

But if his condescension was an attempt to dissuade her advances, it doesn’t work, because she sees right through his playful façade, and the wry smile that unfurls sleepy on her lips betrays her excitement, the sifting of her legs under the sheets audible as she squeezes them together. Needy. She knows he notices.

“Not gonna work, Bell,” he hums dryly. Yet he steals this moment of her surrender, his eyes flitting to every feature of her face. He doesn’t need to commit her to memory, she’s dug in there like a tick. But God, if he doesn’t like to look at her. He brings a rough hand down against her temple, smoothing the baby hairs back, eliciting a satisfied sigh from her as her eyes slip shut. Her head falls back against the pillow, anticipating a kiss he doesn’t give her.

“C’mon. Back to sleep. I’ll be ten minutes.”

“Five.”

“Bell.”

“Five minutes.”

Adler sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and scrunching his eyes shut.

“C’mon,” she croons, “five minutes… n’then…”

He thinks she’s fallen back asleep, the way her sentence carries off like that into silence. But when he opens his eyes she’s blinking prettily up at him, looking far too satisfied. Just as he opens his mouth to ask why, he feels the warm press of her hand against his knee, sliding up his thigh, fingertips tugged impishly at the sweatpants he’d haphazardly thrown on. He’s lightning quick to catch her, fingers circling her wrist; where the darting action might scare a weaker person it makes Bell’s eyes light up like stars, enamoured with his roughness. Excited. The way only she could be, eager pup biting at his ankles for a reaction.

“Behave,” he scolds, giving her knuckle a cursory smack before releasing her. That must finally be enough to spoil her fun, because she huffs, growling low in her throat, and rolls back over, burrowing herself deeper into the blanket than she’d begun.

It’s always a game to her, one she doesn’t much like losing. He can’t blame her for it. It’s always been that way. Back in Berlin, he’d taught her to play poker the proper way, the American way- whatever that meant- her downfall eternally being the fact she couldn’t bluff for shit around him. And it was just him- she’d caught on quick to the play, and had triumphed a couple times against Sims and Lazar; Park had refused to indulge the game, and Woods wiped the floor with the lot of them, even Adler. But with him, Bell just couldn’t lie. He was carved from marble, impassable- what he’d been trained to do. And she was a piece chipped off his softest part, malleable- of course he’d catch every minute twitch and wince, the flitting of wet lashes, the purse of an uncertain lip. She always told him the truth even with her eyes, her heart bore on her sleeve. It almost always felt like cheating. After all, it was what she was made for, wasn’t it?

And this felt much the same way. Not as strict as the luck of dealt hands and stifled poker faces but she’s never said or done anything to him she doesn’t mean. After he missed the shot in Solovetsky, all cards were strewn on the table. There was no mystery anymore. No joy taken in a good old fashioned backstab when the real damage was done, much too late to rectify. Maybe that’s why she makes it her personal goal to poke and prod and tease him now, chasing her fun in her own way, a decade late. Suppose it’s why she hates when he doesn’t just drop the cool attitude and give in.

He rises from the floor, that same knee joint clicking again. Where she might have mumbled a curt jibe about it, she’s silent, sulking into the pillow.

But just as he goes to leave, Adler stops at the door, a foot out into the hallway, the rest of him still stuck here, stuck on her. He sees a similar image in the back of his mind, of her laid upon the gurney in Die Landebahn, halfway into the back room with a syringe in hand when for one single moment of sobriety it dawned on him, what he’d been doing to her. Nothing like guilt, but it came close. Tinged with the regret of something so shameful as affection, Cupid’s arrow dipped in kerosene, shot straight through his heart; to come out the other side, to let him survive, to let him have this, here, her, now. And it’s a torture to have lived it, to know he doesn’t deserve a lick of it. The soft rise and fall of her breath beneath the blanket. Her hair splayed upon his pillow. She buries her nose deep in the old goose feather to try and keep him where he’s left her. Hold him close even when he’s gone.

The decade’s done much to him. He’d put on a couple pounds, had to start plucking the errant greys flecking his hairline, begun to wake most mornings with a tell-tale crick in his neck. He’s learned to relax that hard line in his brow, drawn too deep to reverse the evidence of age; let himself laugh a little easier, surprised people with his newfound ability to actually smile. He’s lost a lot, gained half as much. He’d been through hell and back, worse maybe than what he did to her- his karma, he supposes. And he supposes the decade’s made him soft, sentimentality creeping in to nestle somewhere he can’t reach, hidden inside himself with all the other things he doesn’t talk about. And he supposes of everything he’s lost, he has Bell again, and all things considered- it’s a fair trade.

He sucks in a breath, a sigh made audible for her to hear. Even as she feigns sleep, he knows she catches it, a flinch of her shoulder- where the shot he missed had landed in lieu of her head. In Solovetsky.

Then, Adler sighs, followed by a promise that feels to her like a confession.

“Five minutes.”

And when the door clicks shut, Bell steals herself a little victory smile.

[thelov3lybookworm]

Are You Flirting?

modern!au

Summary: Who's the cute guy she was talking about last night?

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 4863

Warnings: flirty lucien, shy reader but shes like 'yknow what fuck shyness lets flirt back' lmaoo

A/n: yall i need you to know. the reader is based on me. shes literally me. i crochet too if yal didnt know hehe. this was so fun to write like it felt like wring my own story except this shit never happened irl lol.

idk ill stop rambling now 😂

ANYWAYS, ENJOYYY 🥹

p.s: id say the credit for this idea goes to my bestie boo @berryzxx because she put me on the song that i used as inspo for tis fic and also bullying me into writing for that song. ily lots pooks 🤭

(based on an indian song 👀)

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

The moment Y/n got the text from her college best friend Feyre, Y/n knew having picked up crocheting as a hobby was the best thing she could ever have done.

Exaggerating aside, she was excited when Feyre asked her if she wanted to reconnect after two years of not talking, and Y/n said yes without hesitation.

They hadn’t talked much, only ever interacting with each other’s instagram posts and stories. Feyre was too busy most of the time painting and opening her own gallery to display her art, taking commissions sometimes and travelling with her fiance.

And even though Y/n had wanted to stay in touch, being an upcoming writer, she did not get too much time to talk as she was busy writing all the time, and when she wasn’t, she was lying in bed wondering why she was in a slump.

Hence, she had picked up crocheting as a new hobby and made some pretty cute tops, imagining herself wearing them to a beach or somewhere pretty. She had been thinking of going somewhere as a vacation to clear her mind.

Which was why when Feyre suggested flying to some beach island her fiance owned for a little getaway with friends, Y/n could not contain her excitement.

Now as she stood in the middle of her bedroom, trying to pick between the two outfits in her hand, wondering which one to wear, she wished she had a boyfriend. Or a husband. Or something. She had always been an indecisive person, and at moments such as this, she wished someone could help her pick her outfits.

Feyre was probably on her way and here Y/n stood, wondering which one to wear and which one to put in her bag to wear the next day.

Ughh fuck me.

Finally, she settled on a pastel pink cardigan and a white halter top with a white bell bottom jeans. She wanted to make a good impression on Feyre’s new friends and decided that the safer option was better. She could wear the other one after she got more comfortable with them.

She had never even met Feyre’s fiance. The two had met and gotten engaged after Y/n and Feyre drifted apart, but Y/n had congratulated her friend on her insta post, so surely that counted as something?

Now that reminder had her reconsidering. Was going vacationing with people she did not know really the best idea?

I mean, what if one of them is a serial killer? What if one of them is suicidal and kills us all-

Maybe she should just cancel.

She was eyeing her phone, genuinely wondering if she should go, when the screen lit up and Feyre’s name flashed across the screen, the soft lilting sound of Y/n’s ringtone filling the air.

So it was decided. Y/n was going.

Y/n answered the call while simultaneously shouldering her bag. "Hello?"

Feyre’s excited voice screeched in her ear from the other end. "Y/n! I’m under your apartment now. Are you ready?"

Instantly, her mood became better and Y/n wondered why she ever considered refusing to go in the first place. Even if she was a stranger to Feyre’s friends, she still had Feyre. She was sure it wouldn’t be as awkward as she was expecting it to be.

Straightening, she glanced around her room for a final time before nodding to herself, confirming that she was not forgetting anything. "Yes, babe. As ready as I’ll ever be. I’m coming down."

Feyre squealed, and Y/n could hear chuckles from the background at her friend’s antics. "I can't wait!"

With that, Y/n ended the call and walked out of her apartment, closing the door behind her, focusing on the jingle of her keychain and not on the nervousness running through her veins.

Soon, as she walked out of the elevator on the ground floor, she spied two dark cars waiting outside. It made her hurry. The moment she exited, she spied her friend leaving the car, grinning.

Feyre ran the short distance to Y/n, throwing all her body weight onto her friend, making Y/n giggle.

"Calm down Fey! I’m not going anywhere."

Feyre pulled away with a wide grin, shaking her head, then grabbed Y/n’s hand and dragged her back to the car she had exited.

"We're a total of ten people, five in that car-" she pointed to the one standing behind the one she had exited- "and five of us in this one." Y/n nodded, trying to calm her nerves.

Feyre then got in, leaving Y/n to get in the back. Feyre’s fiance was sitting in the driver’s seat, black aviation glasses perched on his nose. He offered Y/n a warm smile and a wave before Feyre piped up.

"Y/n, this is my fiance Rhysand. That is Azriel, Rhys’s foster brother and his girlfriend, Gwyneth."

Y/n dipped her head in a polite nod to the couple sharing the back seat with her, but Gwyneth had no qualms about hugging Y/n. Y/n was surprised to say the least by the sudden affectionate action, but she returned it nonetheless with a wide grin.

"Nice to meet you all."

"Everyone, this is my best friend from university, as well as my then roommate, Y/n."

Azriel gave her a tiny smile, his loving gaze returning to his girlfriend not a moment later.

It made Y/n want to go aww, because if that was not pure love right there, then Y/n did not know what was. It made her long to have someone of her own.

Rhys started the car, and the first ten minutes passed in comfortable silence. And then Feyre spoke.

"So, Y/n. Please tell me you’re seeing someone."

Y/n sighed. "You would’ve been the first person to know had I been."

Feyre twisted to glare at Y/n.

"What?"

"Why are you still single?"

"Haven’t found the one yet."

Feyre contemplated for a moment, then grinned. "You know, I’ve got a friend-"

"Not again Feyre!" Y/n turned to Gwyneth. "You know, she would send me on dates with these random dudes every day-"

"Not every day!"

Y/n glared at her friend in jest. "Only because I bullied you to leave me alone."

Feyre sighed dramatically, then plopped back into her seat. "You’re mean."

Gwyn snickered. "Why did you not end up with any of them then?"

Y/n shook her head solemnly. "They were all either too arrogant or ugly."

That made everyone laugh, and finally, Azriel spoke up. "And how did you find so many guys, Feyre?"

Y/n perked up. "I want to know too! I always wondered if she went to asylums to get me a worse specimen than the last."

"Oh my god Y/n, they were just guys from our university and the neighbouring ones."

Y/n smiled. It was fun being around her friend again. It felt like the never stopped talking, picking up from where they left off.

"You know, we’ve got three single people in the other car."

Y/n dropped her head in her palm, and Gwyn cackled.

"Come on Y/n, they’re not that bad. One of them is a guy, but the other two are women. You can experiment if that’s what you want. Maybe that’s the reason you never connected with any guys I set you up with."

Y/n made a crying face and leaned her head against Gwyn, who continued to vibrate with silent laughter. "God help me."

Eventually, Feyre dropped the topic, ending up talking about random nonsense after that. Azriel also chimed in sometimes, but mostly it was either Feyre and Rhysand talking and Gwyn and Y/n laughing and giving unwanted commentary.

They had to take two helicopters to the island, which had Y/n wondering just how big of a jackpot Feyre had gotten engaged to. The ride to the beach home from the helipad after was again two cars.

While boarding the helicopter, Y/n had spied the other friends of Feyre and Rhysand getting out of their car, but she had averted her gaze when the redheaded man had turned to look, hoping she didn’t seem like a creep while she had been trying to take a look at their faces.

The ride to the beach house, as they called it, was silent because Y/n, Gwyn and Feyre dozed off for most of it, already tired after so much travelling. And before they knew it, the midday sun shone through the windows of the car as it finally stopped in the gated compound of a mansion that looked straight out of architectural digest.

Y/n could not stop gaping at it as she got out of the car, then turned to hold the door open for Gwyn.

"It’s so big and beautiful." Gwyn commented, her eyes too fixed on the two story structure. Y/n shot her a knowing look.

"I know right? Only seen stuff like this in the movies."

The two shared a giggle before Azriel joined them on their side and the trio followed Rhysand and Feyre to the main doors.

Rhysand had just climbed the top step when the doors opened, two ladies with long black hair cascading down their backs standing behind them, and Y/n decided that they were twins.

"Nuala, Cerridwen." Rhysand nodded at them with a smile, then turned to the people standing behind him when the twins left.

"I think it’s best if we freshen up and rest for some time before dinner."

The tall guy who had been driving the other car sighed dramatically, burying his head in Nesta’s shoulder. "Thank god, I am tired."

Nesta rolled her eyes, then smiled at Y/n. Being Feyre’s roommate, Y/n had met Nesta on multiple occasions and admired the woman a lot. Nesta, too, had always looked after Y/n like a sister when the three would go out to dinner.

"Y/n. How are you?"

Y/n dipped her head, then stepped forward and pulled Nesta into a hug. "I’m good. Your fiance?"

Nesta nodded, glancing at the hulk of a man. "This is Cassian. Cass, this is-"

"Y/n, heard a lot ‘bout ya." He grinned, extending his hand for a shake.

Y/n smiled at him, then turned back to Nesta and Feyre as the latter began speaking. "Y/n, this is Elain, my other sister. Mor, Rhysand’s cousin, and Lucien, my friend."

After everyone had been introduced, all of them retreated to their rooms. It seemed like they had these outings a lot, because the way everyone was so familiar with the layout of the house would have been uncanny had this been their first time here.

Except for Lucien. He seemed a little hesitant, lingering back with Y/n as everyone else left. But then Feyre directed the two to the upper floor, where two guest rooms were waiting for them.

The rooms were next to each other, so Y/n and Lucien were together till the very last moment. It gave Y/n a lot of time to admire the man’s attractiveness through stolen glances, and she wished it did not for she was not able to control the movement of her jaw that kept unhinging every chance it got at the sheer beauty of him.

Gosh, if he is the guy Feyre wants to set me up with, I am truly going to be blessed.

As the two finally reached the top step, Lucien glanced at Y/n.

"First time here?"

"Yup. In fact, I’m seeing Fey for the first time since we finished uni."

His brows rose. "Damn. How long has it been?"

She shrugged noncommittally. "Around two years. What about you? Your first time too?"

He nodded, then paused at the first door to meet her eyes when he answered. "I’ve recently started getting along with her family." he thought for a moment, then leaned closer, as if letting her in on a secret. "I was actually the friend of her previous boyfriend, but none of them liked him and so they didn’t trust me much either. But now they’re moving on and so am I."

Y/n did not know how to respond to that, trying to wrap her mind around how anyone could be mad at someone who seemed as nice as Lucien. But he spared her the struggle.

"That’s a nice cardigan. Where’d you get it from?" His eyes travelled down her body, his gaze appreciative as it landed on the pastel crocheted garment. "Maybe I could get a similar one. We can match."

Y/n blinked at him, then ducked her head, futilely trying to hide her blush.

"Um, I made it myself."

He remained silent for a moment, prompting her to meet his gaze once again.

"You’re kidding."

She blinked again. "Why would I?"

He huffed out a laugh, leaning back against the doorframe. "So, you’re telling me you’re pretty and talented?"

Y/n could not move if she wanted to. She could not think. She could not do anything but stare at him.

This man, one who looked like he belonged on the cover of vogue, was telling her she was pretty?

God help me.

She looked around, flustered by the tiny smile blooming on his face, cocky but also knowing. He knew the effect he had on her and the damned man was enjoying it too much.

"Well, I will let you rest now. After all, you need to get some energy back for later tonight."

If those words had come from anyone else, Y/n would have wondered if they were saying she looked tired and like shit, but coming from him, the words were nothing but caring, if a touch flirtatious.

Wait, was that an innuendo?

She did not have time to dwell on that part much before he stepped aside, swiping his arm toward the door behind him. "Take a look at both rooms, then pick one you want. I will wait."

Y/n dipped her head, trying not to blush even more when he opened the door for her and leaned back, letting her pass.

She was much too flustered to even look around the room, let alone see if she liked it or wanted the other room, so she just mumbled to him that she will stay in this one, that he could take the other room.

Y/n knew he was about to ask her if she was sure, but whatever he saw in her face had him nodding, stepping back out of the room, tugging the door close with him as he went.

"See you soon, sweetheart." His parting words were heavy with the same knowing lilt he had a few minutes back when he had been flirting with her. It made Y/n’s cheeks heat up, and she turned to the bed, plopping down and burying her face in the plush pillows.

He was flirting with me.

Maybe… Feyre was right about him. Maybe I should give him a chance.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

After a light lunch and a few hours of rest, everyone had simultaneously gathered in the living room as if summoned by a silent command. Y/n had tried to sleep, and had accomplished the feat, but at the cost of tossing and turning every five minutes for an hour, her mind refusing to let her wind down and repeatedly playing the memories of Lucien flirting.

At least, she thought he was flirting. Y/n hoped she was not making a fool of herself for thinking that he was flirting while he simply was being kind.

She had gotten all of two hours of sleep before she shoved the covers off of her and decided to take a shower to freshen up, then she had proceeded to don a flowy sundress and walked downstairs. The hallways were empty, the only sign that she was not alone being the twins in the kitchen. They offered Y/n a smile before introducing themselves, then asked her if she needed anything.

Y/n had thought about it, then shook her head, telling them she just wanted to get some water. They graciously handed her a glass of it, despite her protests, and then they left her to her own devices.

She had just been sipping on it while staring at the sun setting when footsteps behind her let her know she was no longer alone, and she turned to look at Morrigan and Elain, who had walked down together. They offered her a smile, then sat along with her at the counter in swivelling chairs, the quiet comfortable and peaceful.

That was, before Cassian decided to grace them with his presence.

"Are Feyre and Rhys still not here?"

Y/n blinked, tearing her eyes away from the now violet horizon, barely any sliver of light visible, and gave him a smile. "Not yet."

He gagged. "They’re probably doing nasty stuff."

Nesta walked in with Gwyn and Azriel behind her, her eyebrows high.

"Like you don’t fuck."

He glared at Nesta. "Can you be a little more crass? I am trying to make new friends here."

Y/n hid her smile behind her cup, but considering it was a clear glass, she did not think it would work very well.

"So Y/n, what do you do during free time?"

Y/n set her now empty cup aside, turning all her attention to Cassian, who was done bickering with his fiance.

"I do crocheting while listening to podcasts, or I read when I just want to wind down. I also write."

He nodded appreciatively. "So you’re a creative person, huh."

"And she has a very pretty smile too."

Y/n felt her cheeks heating up already when she heard Lucien’s voice, but when she finally comprehended what he had said, she wondered if she’d just melt off.

God. Please, help me.

She tried not to meet his eyes, because even knowing him for barely a few hours, she knew he’d give her a knowing smirk, his eyes bright.

Cassian chuckled, and Y/n could feel everyone’s eyes on her.

Fuck.

Thankfully, Feyre and Rhysand finally arrived and took the attention away from her, and she felt like she could finally breathe again.

The couple asked what everyone wanted for dinner, bickering around for a few moments while Lucien, Elain, Azriel and Y/n watched.

Before long, Mor announced she was craving some barbecue, and when no one argued further, Rhys told everyone to gather on the back porch that faced the beach while he got the things out. When Y/n offered to help along with Feyre and Gwyn, Rhysand just told them to sit back and relax.

And then he dragged the other men with him.

Guess they won’t be getting any relaxing time.

The night passed almost too quickly to be natural, and Y/n already felt like she’d known these people for her whole life. Nesta and Gwyn refused to let anyone else talk to her because they were too busy asking her of all the books she’d read and inquiring whether she was planning on publishing.

Y/n could see Feyre pouting in the corner, but eventually Mor engaged her in a conversation, so Y/n’s guilt at not being able to give her friend enough time subsided.

When Nesta and Gwyn finally got distracted, Y/n leaned back, taking in the cool air when her neck prickled. Looking around, she met the gaze of Lucien from over the glowing barbeque, her cheeks flushing even when he hadn’t said or done anything. But he continued to look at her, the slightest tilt to those inviting lips.

Smug bastard.

When everything was cooked, Rhys called everyone to the outdoor dining table, the wood rich but warm, homey.

Y/n found two seats next to Gwyn, who beckoned her over. She smiled and had just settled down next to her new friend when she realised someone was sitting down next to her on the empty seat.

And it was not Feyre.

Mismatched eyes found her surprised gaze, and Lucien grinned at her.

"Lucien! That was my seat!"

He held eye contact with Y/n for a long moment before turning to a fuming Feyre. "Well, you can sit on my lap, darlin’. But I am already too comfortable in this seat to move."

Feyre huffed, the perfect picture of annoyance. But Y/n could see the glint in her eyes that told her that Feyre was having way too much fun right now watching Y/n blush.

When Feyre turned away to pout at her grinning fiance, Lucien leaned close to Y/n. "Or maybe, you can sit on my lap and I can give this seat to Feyre?"

Y/n turned away, trying to hide the warm flush on her skin at that. "I think Feyre will find herself another seat."

He chuckled quietly but let the topic go after that.

In the end, Feyre sat at the seat on the right of the head seat of the table, next to Lucien. Rhysand sat at the head, opposite Azriel, who occupied the seat on the other side of Gwyn, refusing to leave her side.

Everyone started to serve themselves, but just as Y/n was contemplating what to get, Lucien leaned past her, his scent enveloping her along with his warmth, and grabbed some grilled chicken.

"Try this, it’s good." With that, he put a few pieces on her plate, then continued to serve himself. He seemed so nonchalant, so careless as if he hadn’t just set Y/n’s heart on fire.

Like he wasn’t the reason she could not think straight.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Y/n did not know how the days passed so quickly. Agreed, it was a four day getaway, and yet it felt like barely any time passed and it was already the day they had to return home.

If she had to be honest, she did not want to leave the bed. Her limbs felt like they were tied down, heavy metal placed on top to stop her from moving. She felt so tired, as if her body was trying to stay here just a little longer, and maybe being tired would get her to stay.

Which was the reason why she forced herself to push off the covers and set her legs on the cold, wood floor and traipsed sleepily towards the window to check if she had missed the sunrise again. She had been wanting to watch it since they all arrived, but every day for the past three days, she had slept away without a care.

She’d had to set an additional alarm to wake up earlier.

The sky outside was dark, almost blue. But she knew dawn wasn’t far off.

She hurried to freshen up, then walked down the stairs to get herself a glass of water.

After she had acquired her drink, she stepped out and settled down on the two seater swing on the back porch, under her own room’s balcony. The air was chilly, but not enough to have her want to get up and bring a shawl or something to keep herself warm.

She also felt really lazy as she began sipping on her water slowly.

Gosh, I love water.

She refrained from drinking anything that was not water or milk.

She was also lactose intolerant, but, who really cares about that.

Y/n had just leaned back, wrapping both her hands around her cup when she heard movement behind her. But she let herself relax, knowing it probably was Lucien.

That was one of the many things she’d learned about him in the past days.

He always woke up at dawn. He apparently then did some light gym when he could before breakfast, to keep himself in that drool worthy body.

His words, not mine.

Okay… Maybe mine.

And maybe, just maybe, Y/n had wanted to witness her first ever sunrise, had wanted to wake up earlier even though she disliked being up early just so she could spend some extra time with him.

Maybe.

It didn’t take him long to settle down beside her, his own cup of steaming beverage in hand. It looked like green tea to Y/n, who’d had experience with making it for her father nearly every day.

"Good morning." His voice was rough, the sleep evident in it.

Don’t blush, don't blush. He’s just said good morning.

She blushed. Just a little. "Morning."

"Sleep well?"

Y/n nodded, watching him from her peripherals as the swing dipped slightly with his added weight.

"Still sleepy though. First time I woke up by myself to watch the sunrise." She paused for a moment, glancing at him. His lips were curled to one side as he stared out over the beach, his gaze fixated to the horizon. She shrugged. "Usually it’s by my family dragging me and bullying me into waking up early."

He huffed out a chuckle, but after that let silence settle between them.

The air was so peaceful, it brought a sense of calm over Y/n.

Maybe she could get used to this.

The two sat and watched as the sun rose, so slowly but also too fast. Y/n wished to enjoy this time forever, wanted to continue taking in the soft orange and pink hues that painted the sky as the glowing ball of fire rose higher in the sky. Wanted to bask in the presence that nestled into the pillows next to her, wanted to ink the sound of his soft breathing permanently into her existence.

It was over too soon, and even though Y/n savoured every second of it, she could not help but feel a sense of longing the moment Lucien straightened. She did not want to let go of this moment just yet.

He seemed to think so too.

Just when she thought he’d get up and walk back inside, he turned his head to stare at her.

"So, who’s the cute guy you were talking about last night with Fey?"

Y/n’s lips quirked up, a sudden burst of boldness spurring her on. But she paused as she thought back to Feyre’s words the previous night.

"Do you like him?"

"I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"Oh please, I see the way you blush when he’s near. I see the way he follows you around like a lost puppy. I am not naive, sweet pea."

Y/n sighed. "I guess he’s cute."

Feyre squealed. "You need to go on a date with him."

If Y/n gave him the truthful answer, would she be making a fool of herself? Would she be doing herself the biggest favour ever? Did he even like her that way?

Finally, she decided that if she never tried, she might regret it later.

Feeling her gaze on him, she turned, knowing he waited for her answer. He sported a cheeky grin, eyes half lidded, as if he was more relaxed than he’d ever been.

She leaned in conspiratorially.

"You."

His grin faded, and he sat up straighter.

"What?"

"You’re the cute guy we were talking about."

He blinked, and Y/n did her best to hide her smug smile at the way his ears darkened with colour.

"Are you joking or flirting?" he mumbled, brows furrowed.

Oh, so he can flirt, but can’t take the flirting?

She told herself to remember that tidbit for later.

Y/n could not help it then. She let loose the smirk that broke out of her, and leaned closer still, so close that she could feel his breath on her face, so close that she knew that if she were to inhale, his lingering cologne from the previous day would take over every one of her senses.

Maintaining eye contact, she whispered.

"Flirting."

He did not move anything except for his eyes as she stood, his gaze following her like a physical caress. Just before she turned the corner out of his eyesight, she glanced back at him.

And winked.

She watched as a disbelieving grin formed on his lips, and then decided that was enough flirting for a year at least and ascended the stairs back to her room.

Feyre will lose her mind.

As soon as she closed the door behind her, she no longer felt that burst of confidence that came out of nowhere. Suddenly, she was a blushing mess as she shoved her face into the pillows and tried to calm her racing heart.

Her phone pinged then.

Feyre: ‘Lucien just texted me asking for your number. Is it okay if I give it?’

Y/n bit her lip to keep away the flustered smile. Just as she told Feyre to give it to him, she texted back.

Feyre: ‘Is there something I need to know? Why are you up so early anyway?’

Y/n decided that was enough. Feyre could wait.

Who’s the cute guy?

You.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

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[blizzardfluffykpop]

Anyways~ the new Hyungwon X Reader fic will drop tomorrow hehe~

you will never believe how much tbz has taken over my world- I am actively finishing a new Hyungwon X Reader work- and my brain keeps going 'hehe younghoon' ... like babe- are we not working rn?...

[iwantmochisoup]

mochi soup's sappy happy crying session

i'm so sorry, please bear with me, but i really need to be super sappy rq. (it's gonna be a long one, so imma add the read more here)

i just recently hit 10k likes and lost my shit over it qwq;; i was overthinking a lot, i wanted to run away, and it kinda hit me because honestly, i don't think i deserve all this ;; like i'm just being silly on here and having fun ;;

but that aside, i have been thinking how to properly say thank you, since words are really hard for me (wow big shocker ikr lmao) but i realized it's thanks giving, despite me not being from america i saw all the love today and i thought maybe i can try, this time, to put it to words. (i'm sorry if i don't make sense at all, and honestly don't mind me honestly, i've always been super scared of talking on here but i need to ramble)

so, idk how to start this, i honestly quit art for good like 4 years ago, won't comment on it but this year i tried to pick it back up. i am so scared of people, especially online but i thought why not, so i made a lil acc on here, i wanna say i'm so lucky to have met you all and seeing people like my art, seriously it's what keeps me going. (that sounds so sappy but for what feels like the first time in my life i am genuinely being myself and i am so happy idk what to do) this is way too long of an intro...

i'm gonna start off my twin of course, it feels fitting hehe ;; so, @saltedbiscuiit you know how shit i am at words, and you know how thankful i am for you, and we talked so much about it already so i'll try to keep this short ;; i am genuinely so happy to have met you, kinda feels like it changed my life back then, it honestly hasn't been that long really, since the art trade back in july, i honestly feel like i found my other half (that's so sappy pls don't cry but i'm being honest) thank you so much for everything, you do so much for me, even if you don't know it and i am honestly so so grateful and happy. thank you so much <3 hehe, salty soup salted mochi

the next one is @cryptid-juzou we just recently met, but i fell in love with your writing, almost instantly!! you're such a great friend, and it's sm fun talking and playing games with you!! and i'm so happy and grateful to have met you!! Really, thank you so much for all you did for me and for accepting the collab! To be working with you on our thing (i won't go into detail, yk big surprise and all) honestly, i'm so so happy and i can't wait to finish it!!

next!! @k-aez !! you've been haunting me in dreams, scolding me and i still think about that raw chicken art you did. okay jokes aside, i'm so happy to have met you and i feel the need to thank you like forever for creating the server and everything you've done. you've been supporting me and pushing me to get out of my ass and kept encouraging me sm. i can't put it into words, but i will be forever grateful for everything!

big big thanks to @ohhcinnybuns, @anticidic and @ediblepandas ya'll have been feeding my brain so many good ideas and enabled some brainrot i will thank you forever for. cinny, you know how much i love your fics and your massive brain in general, i'm so happy i was brave enough back then, and did some art of your ideas, idk if i would even tried to join the server if i didn't see your reblog. rosie, you know how much i love your fics, i'm not about to fangirl in public but i'm truly thankful, you've inspired me so so much, i love with your writing, your kitsunezai au and your scream in phasmo still is the best scream ever! pandas, hehe yk i need to thank you here too! your yapping about dresses and in general talking to you is so much fun! i love your brain sm! thank you so so much for enabling me so much, and please send me more dresses, i love them all!

and, ofc i have to give big thanks the chaos trio too @thatghostinyourbog @spccts & @msshinylemon !! yes, i'm calling you that, that name is fitting, shovel fight if you disagree, losers >:3 i have to thank you three a lot, ya'll are so fun to hang around and play games with, i seriously love what you all do, be it drawing, writing or just the way ya'll yap nonstop! it's sm fun hanging out and i love how we bounce off each other so well and ya'll inspire me so much!! also tysm @nolongerforthetainted for babysitting them!! i really love your writing sm and it's always sm fun yapping with you, and also pls make more coleslaw beds!! i need them! but honestly, thank you so much, i am so happy to have met ya'll and i always look forward to talking and hang out with ya'll!!

WAAAAA THAT IS SO LONG OMG BUT!!! I also need to thank each one of you, all my moots and everyone that just takes their time to look at my art, leave a like, reblog, comment what ever really, i appreciate each and every one of you so so much! thank you all so much, from the bottom of my heart, i can't explain how much it means to me! i also want to give a lil thanks to @noakiie @nevertheblood @altruistic-meme @artsyaudience @konbupie @jellyphink & @lethargyinafishbowl i wanted to tag more but i'm so sorry but i'm too scared, really ;;;

idk how to end this, honestly, i feel like i wrote too much and rambled way too much. i guess i'm just gonna-- *runs*

WITH MUCH LOVE AND A BIG HOP STEP JUMP -mochi soup

[p-taryn-dactyl]

maybe for way down we go somehow agatha manipulates everyone/the evidence so it looks like she's innocent/falsely accused or reader has to hide her bc she doesn't want aggie to go back to jail idk I'm sorry lol i just love reading your work

way down we go: the aftermath (ii)

a/n: ok confess did you read my mind? but really, i’m so glad you sent this in bc i was wondering if the ideas i had were bad😭 but great minds think alike and so now here’s part 2 hehehe (also thank you anon! i’m so happy you enjoy my work!) edit: dear god i am so embarrassed by what i have written here but also i hope some of y'all like it?? oh god imma go climb in a hole christ maybe i should go back to church idk word count: 1.6k warning(s): first part of this fic is smut, or what i consider smut (ok idk why it's harder for me to write spicy shit on this blog when ive written it so many other times) the rest is back to normal production of murder, crime and debauchery; like a second or two of angst; im making so much of this shit up plz don't come for me

Once she started, it felt like she would never stop. 

You didn’t want her to. 

Your hands grasped Agatha’s neck and shoulders, trembling as she brought crashing waves of pleasure over you. With eyes screwed shut, your head leaned back, hitting the wall with a soft thud. But your wife wouldn’t allow you to rest. With the hand not pumping into you, she grasped your chin, forcing you to look at her as you pried your eyes open.

“Look at me,” her voice commanded softly as the heel of her hand pressed into your clit, drawing a surprised whimper from your lips as her pace became slow and languid, “I want to see what I do to you, what only I do to you.”

At her words, there was a question radiating in her eyes, along with a sudden hardness that took your remaining breath away. You tightened your grip on your wife, following her instructions and looking deep into her eyes. 

“There was no one else, there’s always been no one else. Only you.” 

Agatha nodded slightly, increasing her pace once more and looking proud of herself as your face twisted with pleasure. 

“Only me.”

Agatha added a finger, continuously brushing your bundle of nerves with the heel of her hand, relishing in your moans and how you wrapped your arms even tighter around her neck, bringing a hand to tangle in her hair and bring her into a crashing kiss. A battle for dominance was quickly lost as her tongue parted your lips, devouring you. You felt your mind grow hazy from pleasure, the hot coil in your abdomen threatening to snap. 

The ring of your phone interrupted everything. 

You felt it buzz in your backpocket, vibrating against the wall behind you. 

Agatha didn’t like your attention being taken away. 

She shifted, removing her fingers from you, much to your chagrin. You only had a moment to process before you were moved. In a blur, you now sat in the very chair Agatha once sat, your legs propped over her shoulders, your phone in her hand as she handed it to you. You furrowed your brow in confusion as you watched it ring, Agatha’s eyes never leaving yours. 

“Answer it, we can’t have anyone worrying for you.” There was something in Agatha’s tone that you couldn’t decipher but you couldn’t go against what she told you to do. You put your phone to your ear, hitting the answer button. Darcy’s panicked ramblings flooded out, barely giving you time to answer any of her questions. 

“Did you see the news? Y/N, this is crazy. Do you think she escaped? Oh god with our luck she was behind it all! Where are you right now? Do you need company? Girl I can be over to your place so fast-”

You were quickly distracted from your best friend as you felt Agatha’s hands tighten on your thighs, pulling your pants and underwear down with her teeth. She only took a second to take in the sight in front of her, your glistening folds, wet from the pleasure she gave you. Then she dove straight in. You could barely contain your surprised squeal, slapping your free hand over your mouth. 

She was relentless, fingers parting your folds as her mouth covered your entire core, tongue going straight to your clit. It was like she was doing everything to get you to fall apart before her and you were oh so close.

"...Y/N, are you ok?"

It was like Darcy was speaking to you underwater, your focus purely on how your wife's head moved between your legs. Swallowing back a moan as Agatha's tongue flattened and lapped harshly at your folds, you gave your friend an answer.

"Yeah...I'm, I'm just shaken. Can I call you la-later?"

You could practically feel Darcy's hesitation through the phone but the second she agreed you hit the hang up button. Throwing your phone onto the floor somewhere, your hands tangled in Agatha's hair, encouraging her. You felt her smirking before she removed a hand from your thigh to slip two fingers into you, almost immediately finding that electric spot within you. Paired with her lips and tongue staying firmly suctioned onto your clit, you felt your orgasm crash into you and over you. Your mind and body felt seperated as you caught your breath, Agatha peeling herself away from you, coming up to kiss your forehead. She nuzzled you with her nose for a moment, the soft action sending you into a light sleep.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The weeks that followed Agatha's return were nothing less than stressful. Constantly looking over your shoulder as you walked into your home, unplugging every and any device that could connect to internet, and ordering food but having them deliver to your neighbor finally made you snap one day at the lab.

You knew how to do it, you knew how to collect evidence, how to manipulate it wasn't exactly hard.

The issue was Darcy.

While she was a great friend, constantly checking in on you, making sure you were okay with your supposed serial killer ex-wife being on the run, she was the greatest obstacle in your goal.

One night, while the two of you had dinner, you mentioned this to Agatha, angry at yourself for being untruthfull to your friend.

"Well, I could always," Agatha made a gesture with her knife jokingly, smirking to herself as she cut into the steak. It was like all the air left the room, the reminder of what your wife was hitting you like a truck. At your silence, Agatha looked up, her eyes widening at your expression. With a shaking hand, you pointed at your wife and shook your head.

"No, no, you don't-" your voice broke as everything swirled around in your mind, "You don't joke about that. Definitely not about Darcy."

Agatha opened her mouth to respond but you found yourself not wanting to hear her voice. Some petty, evil, part of you called from the dark part of your mind to call the police. Turn Agatha in once more and remove the weight from your shoulders.

You ignored that thought, instead pushing your chair away from the table before Agatha could speak and walking to the bedroom, calling over your shoulder.

"I'm going to bed, I need to think."

You got into your pajamas, going through your nightly routine with a lump in your throat, like your flight or fight was being triggered. It took a while for you to notice that Agatha had yet to come to bed, the time well into the night. Making your way into the living room, you took some steadying breaths. While your reaction was valid, maybe you should've stayed to listen to what she had to say. When you crossed the threshold into the living room, you saw that Agatha had gotten some spare blankets out of a closest, making bed on the couch. She too was awake and smiled at you hesitantly when she noticed you standing in the walkway.

"I didn't know if you would appreciate my company tonight." Her voice was soft, almost as if she was trying to be careful. You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow.

"I always appreciate your company, I didn't appreciate the comment you made."

Agatha nodded, slowly getting up from the couch to come stand in front of you, holding her hands up as if she wanted to hold you.

"It's too early for jokes, I understand."

At a peculiarly pointed glare, Agatha quickly added on,

"And Darcy is off limits, of course. I would never, I mean- she's safe, totally safe."

Some part of you wanted to laugh at your flustered serial killer wife but you simply held out a hand, pulling her back to your bedroom, your plan and anxiety of tomorrow swirling in your head.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You'd never been more grateful for a robbery before. Since you specialized in murder or special victim cases, you were able to stay behind in the lab while Darcy and Jimmy went to case the gas station and talk to the poor teen who was at the register. You reviewed the two key pieces of evidence that were used to hammer the final nail in Agatha's coffin. A strand of hair and the blood profile. Anything else was circumstancial or based on a loose psychological profile.

The hair was easy enough to make doubtful as it wasn't a reliable source by itself. The follicle of the strand wasn't even attatched, meaning the only use this had was to be compared with a strand of Agatha's hair taken during the trial process.

One click and the hair was digitally gone.

The blood, however, was the tricky part. It was a 94% match to your wife, meaning it could either be her or a relative. You felt your stomach drop when you realized this could be the evidence that ruins everythings.

Until you noticed something.

In your report, in the other forensic report, and in the court transcript, it said the other blood profile was heavily mixed into the victims. You did a cross reference between Agatha's supposed blood and the victims, the result showing that one couldn't be distinguished from the other. Agatha's blood was triggered as the closest possible match of the two blood profiles, even though realistically the computer should've said the evidence was inconclusive.

An excuse formed in your head.

You, and your team, were so focused on catching the serial killer that had been terrorizing the town, you had overlooked key inconsistencies, instead focusing on the one true suspect you'd had on the case.

One click. The blood was deemed inconclusive.

One click, the case was reopened.

One click, all evidence of Agatha being guilty was erased.

One click, no one would know it was you who had manipulated the system.

One click.

Agatha was officially innocent.

a/n: was this ok? lie to me and say yes, wait no don't do that I'll get happy then remember you're lying and then ill be sad. on another note, r is officially a criminal whoo. i do have something planned for this series but can y'all tell me if you genuinely like this series? many thanks 🙏

[dootznbootz]

I do agree that a lot of people in that OdyDio space do tend to character assassinate them both to have their mlm ship often at the expense of Penelope entirely. It's extremely frustrating to see it happen on such a widespread level and it starting to take root as a pretty popular alternate ship for Odysseus. I feel like there could be a way to do it that simply doesn't water them down into half of what they should be as characters but not many fics that I've read in the past make that effort. Idk where I was going with this really but I appreciate your viewpoint about this ship and other similar points on it very much.

*sighs* Thank you for appreciating my rants :') I don't like doing them and I've done it quite a few times enough already but I need to let it out lol. <3 It's very frustrating as a Penelope lover. I'm happy that I'm not so alone in this feeling tbh.

And literally everything you've said ;~; Especially the first statement of "a lot of people in that OdyDio space do tend to character assassinate them both to have their mlm ship often at the expense of Penelope entirely."

People act like it's canon when it's simply not and never was. Period. And that's okay. Ship and let ship but don't act like it "definitely happened". It's an AU. And Diomedes is definitely not on the same level as Penelope in Odysseus' heart. I love Poly ships but for Odysseus to have clawed his way back into the arms he never wanted to leave in the first place, to be told he can only give one hand for his wife, the one he shares his mind and heart with, SO OFTEN is just... ough.

Like the Odyssey is the Ithacan Royal Family's story...And yet people think the "Real Odysseus" is in the Iliad and/or basically putting aside everything in the Odyssey for fanon version of the Iliad.

Like, my "Water Wife" being a weird cryptid water woman is technically an AU as well. I know this. I very much hope others know this as well. And that's okay.

As like, I wouldn't hate it so much if this weren't the case and if it wasn't shoved down my throat as often as it is ;~; It's literally everywhere. I already can't ramble about Penelope without someone making it about Odysseus. At least that's a bit understandable as that's the love of her life. But the fact that if I ramble about Penelope, people will bring up Diomedes?! Because of a non-canon crackship? (Also, Epic only mentions Diomedes once. Why are Epic fans, who've never even read the Iliad/Odyssey, (sorry to gatekeep but also not. I'm being mean right now) shipping it??? at this point it's just that you like the fan creations. WHICH IS FINE, BUT ADMIT THAT.)

I'm not against crackshipping and/or just shipping because it's hot. My guilty pleasure is MenOdy, a non-canon crackship. I know it's not canon. They definitely care deeply for each other but there is such a thing as deeply platonic friendships. As it even goes against their character to get together, as that would be cheating on their wives if they did have a relationship during the war. (Don't bring up Megapenthes as of right now. that's a separate and more complex topic altogether in the terms of "Cheating" in my opinion) Despite enjoying this ship, I never proclaim that it's canon. Especially not in the Odyssey and the Iliad.

And like, MenOdy comes from them being alike in how they ARE both loving husbands and fathers similar in age. That's the intrigue for me. As in character to a degree! Most OdyDio almost like, takes away Odysseus' love for Penelope in order to make it about Diomedes, which is SO wild and so wrong to canon. That's an AU.

I always try to like, start out headcanon talks with mostly "In my stuff", "In my Writing", etc. as like, to make it apparent that it's technically not canon and so that like, others know that it's just in my stuff and that they don't have to agree. Fanfics aren't essays, despite a lot of my interpretations being incorporated into my stuff.

Honestly like, it's almost hard to write sometimes because I almost feel so much...Pressure??? To make sure my Penelope fics are PERFECT. I want her to have creations and ideas and fanfics for her. I refuse to halfass her. I want her to have love and thought that's just more than just OdyDio's third and/or just a wife or mother. She deserves so much more.

[siren-serenity]

a bouquet and scored dates

A bouquet of flowers is a surefire way to score a date with your crush. Seeing it go viral on Magicam immediately made Cater jump in on it too! Who wouldn't want to take this opportunity to blow up their account? And if Cater managed to score a date to the Unbirthday party too, then that's a lovely bonus.

characters: cater diamond, gn!reader, grim cameos!! warnings: fluff, tiny bit of angst and self-hate a/n: - i feel so bleh for not writing for slow long so here you go!! a small cater diamond x reader fic bc i love my husband 😍😍😍 - @ceruleancattail, this is also for you!! united by our love for cay-cay, who slay-slays hehe - feedback is appreciated!

A knock against the old, rickety door of Ramshackle made you blink your eyes wearily. Grim leaped off your stomach, walking around the wooden floors before yawning.

"Who disturbed the great Grim's nap?" He yowled out, obviously annoyed. "Come on, I was having such a nice sleep!"

You sat up, rubbing your eyes. "Mhmm...tell me about it."

The knock came again, this time more urgent. There was almost a playful pattern to it, a rhythmic beat building into a melody of taps and raps.

"Coming!" You yelled, sliding across the floors (and proceeding to trip over an uneven wooden board, making one of the three ghosts giggle at you) before landing in front of the door. You swung it open and a grin crawled onto your face. "Cay-Cay!"

The orange-haired student smiled sweetly before winking at you. "It's your favorite junior, Cay-Cay! Good morning, Y/N."

Leaning against the doorframe, you tilted your head. "It's always nice to see you in the morning, but whatcha here for? Classes don't start for another hour..."

You trailed off as a beautiful bouquet came into view. Cater blushed as your scrutinising glance shifted from the gorgeous array of flowers to his face. He fought the urge to hide his face behind the flowers and took a deep breath in. Hopefully, he won't butcher it up! He spent hours on making it perfect all by himself.

(Riddle and Trey let out a sneeze simultaneously before returning to their business.)

...But of course, when did things go to plan?

"So I saw this one Magicam trend online and was like 'OMG those flowers look so adorbs! So I decided to make a couple to follow the trend and wow, I blew up!! The flowers look so beautiful on pictures that people went crazy liking them and I got over a thousand likes in the first hour! So, realizing my talent, I was like 'hey, Y/N likes flowers right?" So I went in the botanic garden, BTW Leona says hi and warns you to never get anywhere near Savanaclaw or the guys will rip you up from limb to limb. IDK but anyways! I got some flowers, put a bit of tender, love, and care, and voila!"

Cater held out the flowers as an explanation. He internally frowned at the ramble he had spoken rather than the touching, sentimental paragraph he planned on reciting. But when your fingers brushed against his to grasp onto the bouquet, his mind blanked out.

Soft...your hands were so gentle against his. A soft breeze caressing a petal.

You took them and held them up to your nose to inhale its sweet scent. It wasn't overpowering, thankfully; It was the right blend of fresh wilderness and soft, subtle floral scents.

"This is...Cater, I'm lost for words," You breathed out.

He gulped and his heart stuttered at the joy in your eyes and your smile. He knew being magicless in a world like his was no easy feat. It was even harder to ignore when every lesson involved the use of magic one way or another; Being surrounded by mages day-by-day would have caused him to go insane if he were you. But, you simply stride onwards. He admired your persistence and optimistic approach to life and it was what had drawn him to you in the first place. Being able to put a smile onto your face made him yearn for an eternity to do that for you, right by your side.

Realizing he hadn't spoken in a while, he cleared his throat.

"Riddle's hosting an Unbirthday party tomorrow."

You raised your gaze from the bouquet to meet his, (E/C) eyes against emerald ones. Cater fiddled with the buttons of his dorm uniform.

It was now or never!

"Would you like to attend with me?"

You laughed and nodded. "Of course I do! I'll go and tell Grim about the party-"

"-I meant with me. As my date," Cater blurted out. His face must be as red as his vest because his cheeks felt as if they were set aflame. "Would you like to attend the Unbirthday party tomorrow as my date?"

"Oh Cater..."

He closed his eyes and tightened his fists involuntarily. He opened his mouth, ready to put a fake (fake feelings, fake friends, mask on his face as usual-) before he felt the softest of kisses against his cheeks.

His eyes shot open as Cater stared at you, faintly registering the close proximity between you and him. The bouquet paper crinkled against his uniform but it seemed that neither of you paid any attention to it.

"I would love too," You smiled softly. "Tell me how you'd like to match? I know you love coordinate couple outfits on Magicam."

Yet another reason why he loved liked you.

"Yeah," He breathed out. "Yeah, yeah I'm going to go do that."

You leaned back and he yearned for your presence again, like a plant bending to the whims of sunlight. It was simply intoxicating.

"See you in class, Cay-Cay," You winked. The bouquet remained clutched in his hands and he was forever grateful for that silly Magicam trend.

He blew you a playful kiss, elation in his veins and joy in every corner of his smile. "Can't wait!!"

Cater skipped all the way back to Heartslabyul, too busy planning your and his outfits to notice the odd glances cast his way.