#in hopes that he would one day take over the business

[mariasont]

heatstroke

shy!reader is flustered around spencer. he mistakes it for a heatstroke.

pairing: spencer reid x shy!reader warnings: fem!reader, post prison reid, spencer being oblivious, fluffy fluff prompt: here wc: 0.7k

Your heart is hammering so hard you’re half-convinced it’s about to burst straight out of your chest, grow legs, and scuttle off into the nearest storm drain. And now, standing so close you can map every anxious burst of breath ghosting hot across your cheek, Spencer is mumbling something rapid-fire about heatstroke of all things.

“It’s eighty-five degrees out, you know. Do you feel dizzy? Disoriented?” he asks, forehead crinkling adorably — no, anxiously — in sincere concern.

You’d answer, really, but all that escapes is an embarrassingly squeaky semblance of language. Because Spencer Reid, who is the intellectual equivalent of chugging an ice-cold slushie way too fast on your best days, is currently ushering you toward a shaded lounge chair, fingertips pressing cautiously into your side as if the slightest pressure might crumble you into dust. 

Which, honestly, that's not far off.

“You really don’t look good,” Spencer says, lowering himself into a squat directly in front of you. 

You want to protest, or at least pretend to be mildly insulted, but your lips part uselessly, mouth suddenly dry. 

This close, Spencer is a potent distraction — big, worried eyes, dark lashes clinging wetly together, a single bead of water tracing the strong line of his jaw before disappearing beneath the edge of his collarbone. 

Your vision is swimming, and it definitely has nothing to do with the diagnosis he’s busy concocting.

How did this even happen? One minute, you were innocently (fine, not so innocently) ogling Spencer as he laughed in the pool, sunlit water streaming over smooth skin and muscles you absolutely did not know existed beneath all those layers he normally hides behind. 

The next, your knees had given out, quickly followed by your dignity.

Completely understandable, really, given the visual stimulus. And clearly, it was symptomatic enough to convince him of a medical emergency. 

Now he’s fussing over you like a patient, touching you gently, speaking softly, and effectively making your current Spencer-induced predicament exponentially worse. 

“I’m fine,” you manage to croak, forcing your lips into a shaky approximation of a smile, hoping you look convincing and not completely deranged. “Just, um — hot. It’s hot. You’re hot — I mean, it’s… the weather. The weather’s hot.”

Amazing. Truly eloquent. You doubt a toddler would fall for such an amateurish charade, let alone Spencer.

His head cocks to the side in the confusion, and now you’re stuck looking at lips that seem entirely too kissable for your current mental state. 

Spencer blinks slowly at you and somehow, inexplicably, moves even closer, fingers brushing against your forehead.

“Your skin is really warm,” he says, almost to himself, his palm shifting to cup your cheek. 

A barely contained shiver ripples through your body, originating exactly where Spencer’s hand rests and working its way down your spine, turning you into a shaky disaster in seconds flat. Which, of course, is incredibly helpful, given that he currently believes you’re overheating.

Tremors in blazing sun. Makes sense.

“Can you try taking a deep breath for me?” he urges, thumb sliding smoothly across your cheekbone, and suddenly you’re wondering if this is how cats feel when someone scratches exactly the right spot behind their ears.

You drag in a tight, somewhat strangled breath, probably miles from the smooth, relaxing inhale Spencer intended. But considering there was only a microscopic gap separating your faces, successfully intaking any oxygen feels nothing short of a miracle. 

Spencer, clearly agrees, because his face breaks into an immediate, heart-stopping smile.

“Good,” he whispers. “There you go.”

You briefly wonder if praise-induced death is a thing, because Spencer’s clearly testing the theory.

When his hand finally withdraws, leaving your cheek strangely cool, you’re amazed at how quickly your body rights itself, as though your lungs had just been waiting politely for him to stop wreaking havoc on your nervous system. 

"Stay here, I'll grab you some water," he says softly, already halfway turned toward the house before pausing, reconsidering. "Or, actually — do you wanna come inside? Air conditioning might help."

"Oh — no," you blurt quickly, nervously adjusting your bathing suit strap for what feels like the millionth time. "I'm fine out here, really. The fresh air is good."

Fresh air, you think, nodding to yourself like a total idiot. Yes, fresh air is good. Fresh air means witnesses, and witnesses mean accountability. People who can vouch that your complete breakdown is purely situational and definitely not a daily occurrence.

He hesitates, obviously conflicted, before exhaling with a sigh of surrender. "Okay, but I'm setting up a fan. It'll make us both feel better."

You manage a nod. "Fan sounds good."

The second Spencer’s safely indoors, Rossi lowers his sunglasses just enough to shoot you an amused glance.

“Kid might be a genius, but when it comes to anything social —  especially romantic — he’s about as perceptive as a brick,” he says breezily. “Lucky for you, huh?”

Laughter washes around you, and all you can do is tug your hat down over your burning face as if that might make you invisible. When no helpful sinkhole opens up beneath you, you sneak a glance toward the house.

One day, Spencer’s bound to figure it out. You wonder briefly if you’ll survive it… but you’re dangerously tempted to find out.

join me at the beach for my 1 year/4k event!

day 1 extras

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[lazysoulwriter]

grumpy and irresistible - joel miller. (MDNI)

LOOK AT ME WRITING A SMUT! - trying. hope is gooood. w.c: 1.8k ~

---

Running into Joel Miller months ago was both the best and worst thing that ever happened to you. I mean… he helps you, he protects you… but he’s a fucking hottie. A goddamn delicious man. And you can barely get close! He’s so moody, so pissed off about everything. You're in the end of the world, of course… but damn. It’s not easy.

Most of the time, he doesn’t even understand how he ended up letting a girl like you tag along on this survival journey. You’re much younger, and despite being strong and brave, you can be a real pain in the ass. You’re chatty, you make him hug you when it’s too cold (okay, he secretly likes that part), and you stop in the middle of nowhere just to say things like, "Oh, look! A hummingbird!"

A pain. In. The. Ass.

And today was no different. As you walked in search of food, you looked at him intently, thinking about how damn annoying he can be sometimes—or how it’s a total waste for someone that beautiful to be so grumpy all the time.

And then… well, then something crossed your mind.

How long has it been since Joel last had sex?

Like… you haven’t had sex in ages, but you have your ways of relieving yourself. And you doubt he even jerks off. Maybe all this frustration, all this grumpiness, comes from that.

Maybe.

"Joooeel…" you hummed in that way he knew all too well. He just glanced over his shoulder, signaling that he was listening.

"Can I ask you something? I know you’re gonna get mad, but—"

"Then no. I don’t feel like getting even madder." He cut you off, his voice rough, trying to shut you up.

But that never scared you.

"Please! I’m gonna start begging…" you threatened, knowing full well he hated when you begged.

"Just say it!" His tone turned even harsher. "And if I get mad, you’ll go find something to eat by yourself."

"Oh, stop. You would never leave me—" you picked up your pace, walking alongside him now. "So… how long has it been since you had sex?" You tried to sound casual, like you weren’t dying of curiosity. "Or, you know… something like that."

He stopped. Abruptly.

Like you had just punched him in the face.

You blinked up at him, waiting for an answer.

"Why don’t you just mind your own damn business?" he muttered, narrowing his eyes in that way that only made him hotter.

"I’m just asking! If you don’t wanna answer, that’s fine." You shrugged and started walking again. Moments later, you heard his footsteps behind you, along with a deep, frustrated sigh.

"I don’t know, okay?" His voice came after a long silence, just when you were already distracted. "I don’t even remember the last time I touched someone like that. And I have no idea when I last felt something like that."

You just nodded. But now? That was your goal. You were going to fuck this man. No matter what. When? You didn’t know. But you would.

-

You let it go—for now.

But after that day, something shifted. Maybe it was just in your head, maybe not. But you started noticing things. The way Joel’s gaze lingered on you just a little longer when he thought you weren’t looking. The way his hand would rest on your lower back when he guided you through dark hallways or past abandoned cars. The way he sighed—deep, exasperated, but never truly angry—whenever you leaned too close, testing the limits of his patience.

And, most of all, the way he didn’t pull away. Not really.

Not when you brushed your fingers over his forearm while handing him his rifle. Not when you sat next to him by the fire, knees bumping under the weight of exhaustion. Not when you made those little jokes, the ones that pulled a rare, reluctant smirk from him, even if he shook his head afterward like he wished he could take it back.

And then, one night, it happened.

You’d just set up camp inside the shell of an old bookstore, a storm howling outside. The fire crackled between you, throwing soft shadows across his face. You could see every line there, every scar, every tired thing he’d never say out loud. He sat against the wall, boots planted on the ground, legs slightly spread. He looked exhausted. But awake. Watching you.

You sat across from him, hugging your knees, tilting your head.

"What?" he muttered.

"Nothing."

A pause. Then—

"Bullshit," he sighed, rubbing a hand down his face.

You grinned, slow and lazy. "I was just thinking... if you can’t even remember the last time you touched someone, then maybe you’ve just forgotten how."

That got you a look. A dark, warning glance that made your stomach flip in the best way.

"Don’t start."

"I’m just saying—"

"No."

You pushed up onto your knees, crawling closer, testing the waters.

"Not even a kiss, Joel?" Your voice was softer now, teasing but not cruel. "No wonder you’re always so grumpy."

He tensed, fingers twitching against his knee. "You—"

"You could just let me remind you."

His breath hitched. Just barely.

You sat back on your heels, waiting. Letting him think. Letting him decide.

And then—slowly, cautiously, like he knew he was making a mistake—Joel reached out.

His fingers traced up the curve of your jaw, rough and calloused. You didn’t move, didn’t even breathe, afraid you might break the moment.

And then he kissed you.

It was careful at first, hesitant, like he was relearning something he used to be good at. But when you sighed against his lips, when your fingers found the back of his neck and pulled him closer—Joel groaned, low and deep, and that hesitation snapped like a thread pulled too tight.

His hand slid to your waist, gripping firmly, pulling you into his lap without a second thought. The heat of him seeped into your skin, his mouth moving against yours with a hunger that made your head spin.

And just like that, you knew. You were right. He had gone too long without this. Without you. And you were going to fix that.

The kisses were getting more and more intense and desperate. You couldn't afford to waste time.

In seconds, your blouse was thrown on the floor behind you, exposing your lack of bra and earning a little smile from him that you had never seen before. Desire. He attacked your breasts like no one had ever done before. He massaged one, sucked, licked, and bit the other, while your moans were already too loud for your good. But fuck it. You almost cried when you saw him taking off his shirt on top of you, his strong arms now fully exposed, his chest too delicious to be true.

You pulled him back to your lips, which this time was even more urgent. Soon, you were completely naked and desperate for each other. "Are you sure?" He asked, lining himself up at your entrance. And you were already going crazy. You just wanted to be fucked. "Of course! Just fuck me, please." You begged and watched as his eyes darken even more – if that was possible.

Without any further warning, he pushed inside you. Both of you let out heavy sighs. He was big. Really big. But you were so wet that you didn’t even feel him pushing it all in. He didn’t move for a few seconds, as if he was savoring something he had wanted for so, so long. “I know you’re having a moment. But please, Joel! Move!” You whimpered, holding one of his arms tightly. You didn’t need to say anything else. You could feel every inch of him. Every vein. And how he was pulsing inside you. Your legs wrapped around him, pulling him even deeper, if that was possible. His moans were like music to your ears. Low, heavy. “Fuck, that’s it… That’s it…” You clawed at his back in a delicious way. He lowered himself a little more, just enough to pull one of your nipples between his teeth, taking you over the edge. And making you scream. The sound of the skin hitting each other was almost pornographic, making everything more intense with each moment. He grabbed your leg and brought it up to his shoulder. This new angle took you to an absurd wave of pleasure, Joel caressed you all over. Your whole body. And he stopped under your belly, just to show off and feel his cock there, filling you.

“You’re fucking delicious…” He murmured between breaths. “So fucking hot… I’ve always wanted to fuck that little pussy of yours. Always.” That brought you to your orgasm. Obviously. Joel fucking Miller telling you that? With that voice? Fuck.

Without a warning, you came on his cock, moaning his name and making him delirious. He was euphoric and ready… ready to fill you. “Can I?” He asked, about cumming inside. It’s not the best option, but at that moment it was all you wanted. And you would have it. “Please… Fill me up.” You whimpered again, holding your own breasts, which made him lose it. And in the next second, you felt the hot jets inside your walls. And then… Oh my. His expression. Completely lost in pleasure. He thrust a few more times and pulled out, only to look at your pussy spilling his cum. Totally filthy.

Joel collapsed onto his side beside you, chest rising and falling with deep, heavy breaths. For a long moment, neither of you spoke—just the sound of the fire crackling, the storm still raging outside, and the quiet hum of satisfaction between you.

His arm draped lazily over his stomach, fingers twitching like he wasn’t sure whether to reach for you or keep his distance.

You made the choice for him.

Rolling onto your side, you pressed your face against his shoulder, tracing light, absentminded patterns over his chest. His skin was warm, damp with sweat, and you felt the way his muscles tensed, then relaxed under your touch.

"Jesus," he muttered, voice rough. "You really don’t give up, do you?"

You grinned against his skin. "Nope."

His chuckle was barely there, but it was real. And you liked that. Liked knowing you could pull something soft from him, even now.

After a moment, he exhaled deeply and finally—finally—wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you in, letting himself hold you.

"This doesn't change anything," he murmured, his lips brushing against your hair.

You just hummed, pressing closer. "Sure, Joel."

You’d let him lie to himself for now. But you both knew the truth. This changed everything.

---

[yulin-pop]

⤷ ✧ 𝐋𝐞𝐞𝐜𝐡 𝐅𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲

order 89 | one-shot| Jade+Floyd | Fem reader

❀ NOTE: sorry to keep @kkalimarii waiting for this, a bit rushed but I hope my vision was visioning. While I was gone you dropped new art (now I have to go write a fic for it too LOL)

You hesitated before walking through the door, you looked down at yourself before looking back to which Floyd smiles at you.

He leans down to your level, “Are ya scared or something?” You shake your head then you feel a hand on your back.

“You have nothing to be afraid of.” Jade flashes a pristine smile.

“There’s a lot to be afraid of which includes you!”

Jade’s hand pushes you in and the door slams behind you. You held your breath as you walked down the hall.

“Make sure to smile and introduce yourself.” Floyd said, whispering in your ear.

You cry in your head, looking back at the decisions that brought you to a Leech family get together.

~

“Hey Shrimpy,” Floyd called while wrapping his arms around your shoulders from behind you, “Are you busy this weekend?”

You were startled but you figured Floyd would pop up eventually since you’re in Mostro Lounge, just dining alone. You put down your phone, you knew there was no getting out of a conversation with Floyd. “As far as I know, not at all.” You looked up at him.

“Cool, you’re coming with me then.” Then he walked off. He was unpredictable as always, you couldn’t begin to think what he was going to drag you into. Your calls to him for more context and to come back were useless.

You figured you’ll ask him about it the next time you see him.

The door swung wide open and Floyd slumped down on the chair. “Jade, tell Ma and Pops we have a plus one for this weekend.”

The other twin nodded his head, “I almost let it slip my mind. Who did you decide to invite?”

“I just walked out and saw Shrimpy sitting there so I picked her.” Floyd laughed.

You were pretty much clueless on what event you’d be attending until you got a text from Jade.

Jade

I’ve cleared us to leave campus for this weekend with the Headmage. Rest assured in that regard. Meet us in the mirror room Saturday at 3 PM. Of course, dress in formal attire.

You

Okay

But one little thing

Where are we going?

Jade

Apologies for not informing you sooner

You’ll be joining us for our annual banquet, an important day for our family.

You

What are we celebrating?

Jade

The banquet is to honor the alliance and uphold the relations between families.

You

???

You didn’t know what to think, it seemed like one big joke everyone knew about but you. You knew it was too late to back out. “Do I even have any formal clothes?” You asked yourself out loud, Ace leaned over and skimmed over your texts with Jade.

“What’s happening with you and the twins?” He was just as surprised as you were. You pushed him away from your phone and pulled it close to your chest.

“I don’t even know. Floyd asked if I was busy this weekend and said I’m going somewhere with him. Apparently it’s a family banquet?”

“I’d be scared if I were you. You know what I heard about their family?” He brought you in closer to whisper in your ear. "I hear they’re even more messed up than Octavinelle. The only reason they got so powerful and rich was taking out other families, like literally taking out. Before they were two rival families that were brought together because the son and daughter fell in love. Now the two most influential families fused to become that thing.”

You gasped and covered your mouth before leaning in to ask a question. “So they’re like… aquatic mafia?”

Ace nodded his head in all seriousness.

“And I’m gonna meet them this weekend?! I wonder what they’re like in person.” You put your hand on your chin and thought.

Maybe one eye color came from the mom and the other came from the dad. Most likely the twins took after their dad the most in appearance and height. The mom can’t be that tall, probably wears heels to compensate. Maybe she wears fur coats and scarves like the mafia wives do in movies. You couldn’t even begin to think how they would act, given they raised the Leech twins and they’re mafia.

You snapped back from your thoughts and you realized Floyd had his arm around you while Jade put his hand on your shoulder, both slightly shaking you.

You tilted your head up and laid your eyes on a muscular man with sunglasses, you couldn’t see his eyes but you were certain his glare alone would kill a man, there were several notable scars across his face making him even more menacing. His hair was two toned but grey and blue unlike the twins. They seem to have hair more like the tall woman with flawless skin. You could tell she doesn’t need makeup to stand out. When you look closer, her sharp features like her eyes and nose were much more alike to the twins. She was adorned with pearls and gold that you knew couldn’t be fake. Despite her extravagant heels, she still wasn’t as tall as her husband. Her mouth curled into a giant smile.

“Oh this is the girl.” She cooed, “I already know your name.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

She’s beautiful!

“Hello it’s nice to meet you my name is [name]—“ You stuck your hand out for a hand shake but the girl pulled you into a hug.

“You two are almost catching up to me now.” The tallest man went over to the twins and simultaneously ruffled the top of their heads. Floyd reluctantly nodded while Jade smiled awkwardly while greeting him back.

You were about to choke from how hard she was squeezing you, it was like Floyd if he wasn’t holding back— actually if Jade and Floyd were both trying to squeeze you at once is a better way to describe it.

Floyd watched and pouted until Jade put a hand on his mother’s shoulder. “Mom, humans are quite fragile so be cautious with the strength used.” She turned her head and let go of you.

She put her hand against her cheek and smiled, “How silly of me, I’m sorry for that dear. But…” She put her arm around Jade’s neck and brought him into a hug.

Floyd, while trying to fix his hair, was pulled into a hug with the other arm. “I missed your adorable faces. My little boys look so grown!” She cooed.

“I still can’t beat her…”

“I didn’t know you could get any stronger…”

They both remarked in apprehensive voices. Though you were still regaining your breath from her embrace, you thought it was funny how the twins were overpowered by their mom. Though you turned your attention to their father, who you haven’t spoken to yet.

“Hello it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Leech, my name is [Name], thank you for inviting me.” You tried your best to be polite.

Seemingly it worked, “You’re a sweet one, the pleasures all mine. I’ve been wanting to meet you. Besides Azul we hear about you the most.” He was friendlier than he looked. His toothy grin revealed his jagged teeth much like the rest of his family.

You smiled back, “Only good things I hope.”

Once Jade and Floyd escaped from their mother’s embrace, they went up next to you.

“Tell the boys to call home more or text back faster.” Their mom pouted and crossed her arms, “But I guess they forget or are too busy anymore… I’m sure whatever it is, they're doing it related to their education.”

You smiled, they really aren’t aware of their violent tendencies exerted towards their classmates. Though given they’re the ones who raised them it’s likely their fault.

“How are they in class? What sports do you partake in? What foods do you like? Which one do you talk to more? How long did it take until you could tell the two of them apart?” More and more questions bombarded you from the mother alone until her husband came up and gruff yet gentle placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Honey, she can’t understand a word you’re saying.” He softly spoke to her and she covered her mouth in realization. You could make out a smile behind her hand and her husband smiled back gently.

“Apologies for my lack of composure. I’m just happy to hear my boys have friends besides Azul.” She admitted, the twins cranking their heads in response.

“It must be hard for you, poor girl.” Their dad added making their expressions contort.

“Jeez, can’t you lay off for one sec?” Floyd muttered with apprehension before silencing himself. Jade shared a similar attitude but stayed silent. You could tell there was no talking back for them, nobody would talk back to mafia parents after all.

Mrs. Leech grabbed your arms and glided her hands down to yours, “Look at your outfit, dear did no one tell you the color scheme we chose this year?” She fussed for a quick second and turned towards her sons. You couldn’t see her expression but Floyd slouched and Jade avoided her gaze. “No matter, I’m sure we have something that will work. Follow me, we’ll find something.”

She led you away with a brief remark to the rest of her family and left only the men of the family.

“Wearing all white to our banquet it’s like she’s trying to get married to one of y—“

“Don’t get it twisted.”

“It’s not something to be overthought.”

Mr. Leech let out a hard laugh before patting their backs, “It’s lonely without you boys. Your teenage years are precious, so tell me all about it.” He gently moved them.

Jade opened his eyes and spoke up. “All has been adequate. We’ve been sticking by Azul and performing duties as vice housewarden is no chore. I’m happy to have this responsibility.“

Floyd chimed in, “I’ve been focusing on basketball lately, no diff since when you last checked up on us.”

His expression remained unwavered, he leaned in to whisper “Don’t lie, how many fights have you gotten into? Not including each other.”

Father like son and that certainly applies in this situation, but in this case it’s less like fights and more like attacks.

Enough time passed to where Jade began to wonder where you were, Jade and Floyd went off to greet family members. “Hey, Jade, any idea when Shrimpy is coming back?”

“None at all, she’s with Mom after all.” Jade said back then moving to greet other family members. Even realizing Floyd had managed to sneak away.

Floyd skipping out isn’t out of character but he should know better, must’ve gotten bored and went off to find more interesting things.

“Floyd… I told you I still need to change back.” You firmly said but his grip on your wrist only tightened.

He didn’t even look back at you, “Mama wouldn’t let you change out of it, you look too good anyway.” He stated.

You coughed at his words, “What did you say?”

He stopped and looked back at you, “I said my mom wouldn’t let you and you look good in that dress.”

Your eyes flickered between him and his hand at your wrist, you thought too deeply into his words. He’s just saying that as flattery, or as a joke. It’s not something to be taken seriously but you couldn’t deny how warm your face felt.

“Let me introduce you to my family, they all want to know about you, Shrimpy.” He pulled you along again with no resistance on your end. He tugged you along until he felt you stop, he smiled back but realized where the real resistance came from.

Jade gently intertwined his fingers with yours and stood firm. “There you two are, I was feeling so lonely.”

“Jade!” Both you and Floyd called out with different tones.

Floyd, with a tug of his arm, groaned and pulled you closer, “Butt out you prick…”

Jade, with a defiant step, laughed and got closer to you two with the same grip on you, “You need to greet everyone else yourself, don’t be rude. May I add, you look stunning in that dress. It’s a blessing to see you like this.”

You couldn’t react with how your wrist was being crushed by one and the other being squeezed until it was numb, you couldn’t feel either of your hands.

The proud parents of two stood far from the sight but undoubtedly focused. “Hard to believe Floyd has the upper hand in this. I always thought Jade was more of a lady’s type.” The mother of the twins said with a hint of pride and sarcasm.

“That may be true, they may be very different but if you look closer they’re very similar too.”

“Ah, so basically they have the same chances?”

Just as the father opened his mouth to speak, Floyd tugged at you hard enough for you to trip over your own feet only staying off the floor thanks to Jade’s reflexes.

“[Name], are you alright?” Jade said before looking back at Floyd.

“This wouldn’t have happened if you just let go!” Floyd said in response to his glare.

His father then spoke up again, “More or less.”

[himbo-kuto]

ceo!sylus x secretary!reader  summary: what happens you you become sylus' trusted secretary?

a/n: tried to make this one longer to make up for the shortness of the first part 😅 if y'all want to be tagged when these come out, let me know! i also slightly fudged the schedule than the one laid out in the first part-- apologies for the confusion!

part one | two

with freshly washed hair and a well moisturized face, you sat in bed and looked at your phone, 10:00pm. 

you had been thinking all day about whether or not you were going to take this position, and you still came up at a crossroads. 

you looked around at the tablet the twins gave you along with the briefing papers, that were all spread out around your bed. ever since you got home you’ve been flipping through these papers in order to see what it is like working for world renowned ceo, sylus qin. 

he had affairs in all different countries, making a multitude of deals with hundreds of other rich ceos– you wondered how he even had time for himself.

you unlocked the tablet to look at his schedule for tomorrow and he barely had time to breathe. starting his day at 5:00am boxing for an hour, breakfast, the day's briefing, and then meetings back to back all until 7:00pm. even then he still had work to do on his computer. 

you didn’t know who to feel bad for– sylus because he’s the one who’s participating in all of this, or you who had to stick by his side till the very end. 

a groan left your lips as you fell back on your bed, looking up at your white ceiling. 

“why not just try it? it’s not like if you fail that you’ll be fired from the company… but then you’ll look like the idiot who couldn’t do it… but then maybe people would understand since he was known to be a hard ass..” the angel and the devil were definitely arguing on your shoulders. you tried to wave them off, hoping that would subdue your thoughts but sometime in the middle of your deliberations, your mind drifted off to sleep.

you jolted awake to an alarm you didn’t even remember setting and looked at the time, 3:30am. 

you groggily looked around your room to still see that you truly passed out in the middle of thinking. papers still amiss, the tablet’s black screen reflecting your tired eyes. 

“well.. might as well go for it.” and go you did. 

you gathered up all your things before plunging into your morning routine

you gave yourself a once over in the mirror by your door, making sure your outfit was both comfortable yet professional. you didn’t know what he had in store for you, so best to be prepared for anything and everything. 

“if you decide you want the job, luke and i will be waiting downstairs by your place at 4:30am. we’ll take you to boss’s house. just know we won't wait long."

and lo and behold, there was a sleek black car waiting for you promptly at 4:30am by your apartment. 

at first you awkwardly waved at the car, not being able to see inside due to its tinted windows. 

the window soon rolled down and there were luke and kieran giving you some big smiles. 

“happy first day!” “we hope you make it!” 

well that’s promising. you got into the car and they zoomed off onto the city streets. 

you watched the lights go swiftly past your window as you went over a bridge. this was nice. luke and kieran were respectful, quiet and for the most part, they minded their business. 

“do you have any questions for us before we get to the house?” 

you found that whoever took these notes was very thorough yet concise at the same time. everything was laid out exactly how you should do it and how sylus wanted it. 

you shook your head, nothing coming to mind… well.. maybe one. 

“...what’s he like?” you paused before looking into the rearview mirror. 

“i’ve only ever seen our ceo for what? maybe max, 10 seconds?” 

they both laughed at that. 

“well as you can tell, boss man doesn’t exactly enjoy appearing to the public. only when business demands it does he show his face. otherwise he just likes to keep to himself.” 

“he’s also pretty simple. he’s the type of person that once he likes something, he sticks to it. rarely does he change his ways. if anything that makes him very consistent.” 

you nodded along, genuinely interested in what they had to say. you knew nothing of the man on top, but because of one single event, here were you in one of his cars being escorted to his house.

“how long have you guys been working with mr.qin?” 

luke wrapped his fingers around his chin, stroking it gently as if in thought. 

“honestly for as long as we can remember, we’ve been working for boss. he got us out of a pretty nasty situation way back when and ever since then we’ve been by his side.”

“like he said, he’s kicked us to the curb many times, but that didn’t stop us.” 

you softly smiled at the sentiment. you could only imagine what his face would’ve looked like seeing the two of them showing up to his doorstep after many attempts to shake them. in the midst of their attempts, he grew fond of them. 

“i’ll keep all those things in mind. thank you.” 

you looked out the window to see just how big sylus’ estate was. a gated off property that went deep into the woods, but once you reached the main property, the landscaped opened up to a beautiful dark mid century modern home. 

“everything you need will be in the kitchen. boss has already started his day, but he’ll promptly be up at 6:00am to eat so try and be on time. he doesn’t like when his schedule is disrupted.” 

you nodded, now finding a new wave of confidence. you wanted to put your best foot forward and if in the end it doesn’t work, at least you can say you gave it your all. 

the twins led you through the house to get started before disappearing to only god knows where. you looked at the notes again, following them as closely as you could while still keeping time. 

you fixed the last bowl on the table, as you glanced at your watch. 5:59am. perfect timing. you put your hands to your hips, feeling proud of the spread. with seconds to spare, you pulled out your phone and took a quick picture to remember your first day by. 

and like the twins said, as the clock striked 6:00am, sylus had emerged to the kitchen in his boxing gear (which wasn’t much) a tight fitting tank top and some five inch inseam shorts. 

you felt your face get hot seeing so much of his skin for the first time. 

“ahem, good morning mr. qin. i hope breakfast is to your liking.” 

he took a second, wrapping his towel and his neck before looking at you and then to the food on the table. 

“please join me.” he gestured to the seat beside him as he began to eat his meal. 

you sat down, grabbing the tablet under your arm before briefing him on his day. 

famous last words, but the beginning of your day was actually going very smoothly. sylus promptly finished breakfast by 6:30, leaving him enough time to get ready. 

you finished the last of your duties up in the kitchen before heading over to the garage. luke and kieran would be the ones to take you to work. 

“impressive. i’ve seen a lot of other secretaries much worse than you at this part of the day.”

“oh? well i guess i’m flattered. make sure to tell me that at the end of the day too even if it may not be true.” you all shared a laugh as sylus came from the hallway.

“didn’t expect everyone to be getting along so well. shall we?”

the car ride was much like the one in the morning, quiet but not entirely awkward. you flipped through his schedule for the next couple of hours, trying to commit it to memory. 

“who’s going to be in this meeting at 9:00am?” without delay, you read off the attendees. 

“then after?” again, quick answer. 

sylus let out a pleased hum, which the twins picked up on. they gave each other a knowing glance before going back to their business. 

“and what would you like for lunch mr.qin?” 

“mm.. you decide.” 

you pressed your lips together in a thin line now having to wrack your brain on what to get your ceo for lunch. you knew much of his dislikes, but not many of his likes. this would be your undoing, you just knew it. 

kieran pulled into an entrance that you weren’t familiar with to get into the building. you didn’t notice but your eyebrows furrowed together which made sylus chuckle ever so slightly. 

“it’s a private entrance. only me, the boys and now you have access to. here,” he held out a shiny black titanium card out to you. 

“your new keycard. you’ll find that you have access to more doors with this. don’t lose it. i won’t be giving you another one.” 

“understood.” you graciously took the card, replacing your old white keycard with this one (you already knew all the stickers you were going to put on this).

and from there, your official work day started. 

many, if not all the people in these meetings disregarded you as ‘just another one of sylus qin’s secretaries who will most likely be gone within the week’ as he introduced you and that pissed you off. you could just feel the 💢 emanating off your forehead. 

but you made sure to give them all a firm handshake while looking them in the eye. this would not be the last time they’d be seeing you. 

there was finally a short 20 minute break in between his meeting in which you used to order lunch. you sat at your new desk, looking through all the restaurants and cafes you and your co-workers had eaten for lunch– and suddenly it felt like you've never eaten at any of these places. 

you let out a big sigh just as luke walked by. 

“tired already?” 

you stuck your tongue out at him before gesturing to your tablet. 

“i’m just trying to figure out what to get everyone for lunch and i just want to get it right.” 

“wow, you’re really torn up about this huh?” 

if only you knew luke just a little bit longer, you definitely would’ve strangled him by now. 

“just use your best judgement. that’s why the boss chose you after all.” 

“didn’t you guys choose me based on my qualifications?”

he laughed at that. 

“everybody here is qualified to do the job, otherwise they wouldn’t be working at this company. but he picked you and that should be the equivalent of a lifetime achievement award.” 

now it was your turn to laugh. that did make you feel a lot better. 

“thanks, luke. i’ll be sure to get you something extra yummy.” 

turns out lunch was a hit– there was a cafe you always frequented during your lunch break and you knew the food was delicious so you hoped they would too. 

as you took sylus’ plate from his desk, you reminded him of the phone call he has in 20 minutes. 

“thank you, that was delicious. good choice.” 

you felt yourself bloom with pride at his compliment, but you quickly stopped yourself. (i can’t laugh yet, i have to hold it in)

“also cancel the rest of my meetings after 5:00pm” 

“oh sure– should I give them a reason why?”

“tell them i’m taking my secretary out for dinner after work.”

[fairlyabookie]

the things you do that got them head over heels (part 4)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | feat. third years ! more in coming :>

Malleus - Ice cream date

There was nothing about going out on an afternoon outing after class for an ice cream venture, Malleus thought to himself. The thought of having one was alluring after a tiresome day of classes and homework. He could picture the preserved sweetness, the creamy goodness. Oh, he would love to spend a pretty penny to consume one right now.

Of course, he had to take you into his little adventure of getting ice cream. Malleus certainly wanted the company to ensure he wasn’t the only one getting the delectable; why not share the wonderful goodness that was ice cream together? You couldn’t refuse, go along with your companion for a bowl of ice cream goodness.

Matter of fact, he was glad he had you he couldn't ask for this merry moment - the others would deem Malleus intimidating to go with, Sebek and SIlver was already busy with club activities and training, and Lilia.. Lilia would coax the younger to ask a friend out - besides, didn’t Malleus already make a friend? He definitely implicated you for Malleus.

“Whoa, Malleus, you’re seriously craving ice cream THAT much?!” Your eyes pop out of your head when you witness a grand portion of ice cream from Malleus’ clutches. Amusement graces the fae’s lips, “I did tell you that I’m craving it today; besides, we can share, can we?” You can picture a large draconic tail wagging back and forth.

Vil- window shopping/ trying out new clothes

Vil always experimented with style and, as always, looked good doing it. He’d set trends, and upcycle vintage for a new, refreshing one. Such transformations would send waves upon waves of adoration from his fanbase and onlookers alike, nothing short of Vil’s prowess in impeccable style and attention to detail.

You, on the other hand, try to hold yourself back from buying too many clothes; your closet was practically bursting from your last bulk purchase of new attire. The urge to deep clean and reorganize everything was strong; yet your tendency to seek fashion was stronger. You were dying for a little window shopping trip - just to see the latest fashion trends, the prices of said attire, and the clearance racks.

Vil was more than happy to accompany you, often offering his card to just see you fluster and refuse the card, even though he personally thought the attire the both of you were peering at definitely suited your style. He genuinely loved spending time with you, walking around the mall, and browsing through clothes for a moment or two. He’d even encourage you to purchase it, showering you with compliment,s and even promises to help clean up your closet when the time was ripe.

“Oh, please, [Reader]. That top would absolutely compliment the bottoms you have!” He shows you the aforementioned attire. Your eyes light up, taking a mental picture of the top with an outfit you already had at home. “Oh my gosh, Vil. That’s perfect!” Before you can get your hopes up, you had to peer at the price tag. “Uh uh, don’t even think about the price. I’ll pay for it, [Reader]. My treat.”

Idia - insane gacha luck

The both of you were gamers through and through, spending time in Idia’s room grinding the day away to get the amount of resources required for a certain character you obtained. Sometimes, this would merit occasional check ins with Ortho to ensure the both of you were eating properly.

Whether his room would be filled with silence or the next hit from his favorite idol group, your grumblings, jubilations and musing would cause a clamor. You’d show Idia the results of your labor, showcasing the new stats for the character you were grinding on.

If you two played the same game, he’d one-up you with the same character he had but with the bigger stats, sending you into a competitive streak. No way you can let Idia beat you on YOUR game- you feel the flames of war ignite in your spirit - it’s so on.

“There is no way you can beat ME, the KING of GAMING! I’ve already ascended him, not once, twice but THREE TIMES! Oh yeah, baby, I can CRUSH you if we go 1v1!” Your jaw drops to the ground as soon as Idia's phone comes to your line of vision. You cannot believe this man before you, his build on such character dwarfing yours. Could it be whaling or just getting very lucky with the grind? “Dude, dude, I get it; you definitely whaled.” Idia gasps, a horror-stricken expression befalling his pale complexion. “LE GASP I did NOT!”

Rook - sharing your passions

Rook goes absolutely heart eyes the minute you talk about your passions, your loves and your crushes. He is all ears, watching you with nothing but love in his body language. In the case you ever falter, he’d encourage you to keep going. Holding back isn’t an option.

If there are any events related to your interests, he’d be the one accompanying you, helping you carry your things and help you with pictures for your plushies if you bring them along. He’d even invest in bringing matching merch with you, even surprising you.

In addition to you sharing your passions, he’d even share his - the both of you sharing a space together where you can express yourselves and your hobbies and passions. In the time that you ever feel flustered about saying too much, Rook is your enabler. Whether it be an impulsive purchase you’ve made for your favorite character or a must-buy from a recommendation, Rook is 100% enabling everything so you can feel happier and closer to your idol.

“Oh la la, my dear! I see you’ve brought your little plushies! How should we go about with the pictures? With the lightsticks or not?” You couldn’t seem to wipe off the silly grin on your face when your classmate pets the plushies you’ve brought along to the event. He also brings his pair of plushies, all perfectly encaged in a cute bag.

[pomegranate-theater]

Raskolnikov’s Delirium.

Summary: Finding out your husband’s real identity should have been enough argument toward divorce— but a man skilled and meticulous at solving any problems, dutiful to your marriage, would be able to maintain your peace with ease.

contents: gender neutral reader / yandere-ish / murder / slight gore / manipulation / drugging / reader and fyodor are married. word count: 3.8k

Note: Coming up with this plot ended up being (kinda) ironic if you know the plot of actual Crime and Punishment 💀 Hence the title.

You liked to think of yourself as smart. Not a genius, not a prodigy; yet hopefully still someone with a good intuition and good head on your shoulders. With that, you believed you knew your kind husband well — always taking care of you, asking how you fare, and if you can forgive him for traveling for work once again.

Yes, he wasn’t always there for you. However, in comparison of how some people — more often than it should be — were treated in their marriages, you were plenty of lucky to be loved by Fyodor.

The businessman he was from the understanding of his tales for you, he was constantly forced to travel away from you, and still remained loyal to you only, ignoring any temptations from other beautiful people across the globe — adhering to what he believed were his husbandly duties, written in holy scriptures. But travelling could reach a level of going abroad, and as a loving husband, he didn’t want you to be separated for months if not years to come — hence why he took you with him to Japan. Exciting, really, to fly to a country where you’ve never been to before, admiring its beauty seen previously only on the screens.

You kept yourself busy with sightseeing and whatnot, while he was allowed to work in peace — wasn’t that a perfect trade? With Fyodor, you haven’t gone to work for years, focusing on being spoiled by him, prodded with another argument about him being devoted. You had to count your blessings and never complain.

Your husband put you through a rotation of hotels every week, trying to find any free moment to come and seek you out — so not too often, causing a longing in your heart that you tried to understand, and not give into being ungrateful with something as irrelevant as you missing him. Unfortunately, during a more intense period of time where he hasn’t talked to you for days, nor even over a phone, you were getting anxious and needy. A prolonged separation made you want to be selfish and go find him yourself, wherever that could be, for at least a small of a moments with him — soothing balm for your soul to know he’s at least safe, as a worry about his wellbeing was getting to you. You could have made a police report about your his disappearance, yet you still held onto your trust in him — he was not a man easy to kill, someone whose intelligence you have always admired. Just one, busy man.

Your supposed smarts had to be proven correct if you actually had managed to find your husband. It was no easy task, especially when you couldn’t just call every biggest company in Japan, as you had to reach for more… detestable tools. You were rather jittery to be paying a shady guy in exchange for information breaking about any more prominent Russian figures in the area, hoping he’s not some police officer in disguise — or a scamming man willing to hurt you.

If that wasn’t the biggest mistake of your entire life. You should have stayed patient and wait for your husband to contact you with stoicism, not panic, as what you have found out was impossibly worse than any theory of his disappearance you could have come up with.

Fyodor wasn’t being hurt. Fyodor was the one causing harm — the sight you were met with could be easily missed if you blink just once.

That’s what you receive for your impatience, when you’ve decided to seek out one of abandoned warehouses in Yokohama, after being tipped by the gangster to prove his claims about your husband being a criminal as false; instead of being deterred by them. Fyodor’s hand, the same one that would stroke your hair and hold your own palm, was now the hand causing the destruction and spreading devil’s wrath. Your husband was the most religious person you’ve known, in the most integral and rawest form as if an apostolate’s son — only for him to present you with a juxtaposition, exempt of what you thought he strived for. Or maybe, whatever it is that he’s doing, he still found to be a part of his religious mission if he had no other reason to be a devout.

He wasn’t a businessman either, at least not a certified one, when the unknown man hit with his palm has sprayed blood everywhere and fell onto the ground — only you were left as a person feeling the biggest frighten in their life, if the victim was dead. Did you your husband hide a small gun of sorts, that you simply couldn’t see from behind the barrel? Albeit, you should have heard some noise from the weapon.

Crouching behind the object, you had to keep your mouth clamped with your own hand; and the lack of any form of escapism for your tension not able to be vocalized manifested in the tremble of your body.

Too much information was thrown at you in a short span of time. Him participating in some shady and less honorable business, there was a chance you’d accept if he grovels and explains properly — you loved him really, and you hoped he loves you too — but your Fyodor being a cold hearted murder, not an ounce of expression on his face led you to believe you’d never married him. You married just the idea of him.

Variety of man were accompanying your husband, unshaken by the sight just as much as him; yet it was the murderer’s face that spoke of absolutely none humanity, as if he’s been forcing himself to be animated around you. All of these “guards” or whoever you suspected them to be, their bored gazes in their random, shaggy clothes, it blended into a marred background when your spouse was your main concern.

The man being dragged somewhere in the tall and cement building, manhandled like a ragdoll, you had to dug your nails into your cheeks to not cry. You mourned both the man and your marriage, as you were well aware it’s all been a lie. A fever dream, where you asininely believed in your husband, and his goals, and his love; and lived like a parasite of money that was only bloody.

Your heart counted every second in passing as you awaited for them to leave, before you’d run to your hotel room to pack and leave with money you’ve saved, at least this one smart thing about you; as you were sure you could never pretend as if nothing happened when facing Fyodor again.

You observed as he lifted his bloody hand into the air, crimson becoming pinkish under the sunlight that could still never cleanse his sins, before a man dressed like a butler, with a bandage wrapped around his head diligently wiped it for him with a handkerchief. Just this small gesture spoke of the amount of power Fyodor must have had, for his subordinates to be serving him by mere, silent order.

The sight would be enthralling if it wasn’t for the inhumanity being presented.

“That was a very filthy man. I can tell just by the smell of his blood,” the long-haired man scoffed, making your husband smile — ruthlessly.

“What’s filthy and repulsive or not isn’t determined by bodies and their odors. Their filth is mirrored from their souls, tested by God, Ivan. I can tell this man hasn’t sacrificed himself for anything good and pure in his life, other than vices and hedonistic desires…”

“You are absolutely right, master!” Ivan chirped with obedience, conforming to his opinion, pronto.

Witnessing the true personality of your husband was like a stab in the back, betrayal in its highest condensation as you truly married a fraud. The only gnawing confusion was a question why would he marry you? You didn’t serve any bigger purpose, he didn’t use you, and you only took money from him in exchange for small domestic haven; on rarer days, at that.

Were you a cover for something? Were you some sort of pet for him to be amused with? With how abnormal Fyodor looked, killing that man with a tool you couldn’t have witnessed, and then preach about God as if he was sinless made him a person too complex for your pained and foggy mind to understand. You were unhealthily flabbergasted to think in terms other than paranoia, and your mind screamed at you to think of what sort of business this is supposed to be, trying to come up with visceral excuses to make your husband look repentance-worthy.

Said fear manifested in the twitches of your muscles, and trying to adjust your kneeling form that was soon to give you a cramp in the muscle, your muscle jumped too hard and hit the barrel in front of you. Its sound ricocheted against the metal walls before it collapsed on the ground, exposing your trembling form.

Despite your husband’s previous unperturbed attitude a moment ago, he was now staring at you in a small shock — even genius he didn’t predict you coming here, having expected you to stay a loyal lover.

Weapons of all kind but all very deadly were suddenly pointed at you by his men, and that Ivan man was marching towards what he saw as a threat to his master, making you flinch. Thankfully, Fyodor’s hand lifted up in the air halted him and men. “Wait. Do not touch them. That’s my spouse,” Fyodor ordered with seriousness.

“A-a spouse?” Ivan choked out, suddenly being reminded of the unfortunate and unpleasant fact that his master was indeed married, just had never revealed the person behind it. The jealousy burned in his chest, thinking of anyone undeserving to be serving his master; regardless, he stayed put with unshakable obedience — the only truth in this world.

When it came to you, you finally collapsed on your knees, unable to keep up yourself with exhausted and sore muscles from squatting. Wide eyed, you were staring at him with fear, wondering how much he’ll hurt you now that you knew.

You froze like a deer in the headlights when he approached you with a steady walk, analyzing you from head to toe with an unreadable, apathetic face — too close to the coldness from before, if that resulted in one death already.

You watched him like a hawk when he kneeled down in front of you on one knee, keeping an eye for any danger, and closed your eyes with ill-flavored thrill when his hand went to your face — expecting similar demise a man before has met.

Instead, your cheek was stroked gently, and you had to do a double check by lifting up your eyelids. His purple eyes bore holes into your soul, as if enjoying the trepidation in you. “You were supposed to wait for my return, as always. What has changed?” he sighed.

You had to force your lungs to work in order to speak, better at answering questions than coming up with your own when your mind was a disarray of thoughts. “You were taking more time than usual…” you croaked out, not at all soothed by his affection.

Fyodor looked to the side, then back at you with a realization. “… You’re right. An amateur mistake from my side, to forget to inform you about the delay.”

“W-what delay?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said curtly. “Your job as my spouse was to rest, not stress yourself out unnecessarily.”

“You just killed a man!” you pointed out and started crying. “That’s a lot to keep me away from being stressed out!”

“There, there, it’s not the way you think it is,” he said reassuringly, with you not able to tell if the softness wasn’t just a play because how could he be affectionate as if nothing has happened? Your mouth frothed in anger at his words, to which he remained ignorant as he removed his cloak and draped it over your shoulders. “You-”

“How did you know where to find me?” he inquired, with some odd excitement to it, as if proud of you. You were attractive to him, but the true pull came to him from someone’s intelligence.

“I hired some mob to find you. I had to use my savings with how expensive his service was,” you complained with a bigger sob; yet it wasn’t about downplaying the situation with topic of getting broke, just you being so hysterical anything seemed bad automatically. Fyodor pondered over your words, “A mob, huh…”

His lipline distorted into wider form, and he pulled you into his arms. “Ah, it’s all my fault, darling. I should have given you a call. What a bad husband I’ve become, haven’t I?” he cooed and rubbed your back, tragically enough with same warmth and reverence you were used to.

You tried to pull away from him, naturally, only to be trapped further. “No, it’s alright. Everything is going to be just fine — you can hold me to that promise.”

“Nothing will be okay, stop tampering with my perception! You just killed a person, you’ve been lying to me the entire time, how did you even do that trick, why-” your spiraling was cut off with Fyodor speaking to the bandaged-head, confusing you with the language being used for the exchange. It wasn’t Russian you two spoke in or any other familiar to you language; as if evading the possibility of you understanding him, to your panic caused by lack of control.

You couldn’t make out any of the words in the complicated speech, only see the man nodded and feel Fyodor’s grip tighten on you.

“It really is such a bad dream, isn’t it?” he asked gently, back in Russian, confusing your pained head.

“W-what? What do you mean, Fyodor, this is all disturbingly real…” your mind errored as it tried to come up with possible explanations for his digression, none making sense. You observed Ivan leave behind Fyodor.

“That’s how nightmares can be vivid sometimes. I’m sad for you.”

“I’m literally touching you!” You beat at his chest to accentuate your truth.

“You have to wake up, my dear.”

As you dragged on your struggle in his arms, few minutes later you felt a small pinch to the side of your neck — the fault from Ivan who returned. You hyperventilated, looking at your husband with alarm. “What did he do? What did you tell—”

“Shh,” he stroked your hair, “as I’ve said, you needn’t stress out. Just wake up.”

Whatever you were injected with was working on making your muscles feel ache, and your skin felt incredibly itchy. “It hurts…” you sobbed, feeling suddenly dizzy and sweating, with vision blurring.

“Oh, I know. I’m sorry, that’s why you need to wake up from this nightmare. None of this is real or physical. Just a nightmare, and I’m here for you as always, as your husband.”

A few more spins of vertigo, and you passed out in Fyodor’s arms.

❄︎

The Russian was sitting in the hospital’s room’s chair, unmoving like a statue, dead purple eyes observing your unconscious form nestled in the warmth and plush of bed — where you should be. A man who has helped you with finding him, who also happened to be one of the traitors willing to sell information, hasn’t met a fate this idyllic.

Being entangled in endeavors of his mission in Japan, he genuinely had forgotten to talk to you, leading to your distress that made you search for him. Yet, none of it meant the end of your marriage, not even now that you’ve seen for what he truly was.

Of course, you couldn’t live with the knowledge. Where he married you, it was nothing but a mere curiosity about what marriage is like, if especially so sacred in the eyes of God — with the latter, even if your marriage was a fraud, he was being good to you. He could have been cruel and it would probably have suited him better — if God and Bible didn’t allow. He didn’t marry a partner in crime, so his identity and ability must remain a secret; with you being recompensed by comfortable life everyday.

A game, an experiment was an inherent reasoning; at least in the first days. Because as of now, he was quite fond of you — not in full extent of a typical human, graciously still above you being deemed as a pet. You were a bit smarter than most humans, even if he still wished for someone who could stimulate his mind on the level of Dazai’s; you also could do things even he didn’t expect, pleasantly surprising him like you did today. Above all, you weren’t too clingy as long as you were kept spoiled, and were a good coverup in case something happens. With that, he didn’t plan on letting you go anytime soon — even he, sometimes missed you, making him feel repugnant just at the thought of letting such weakness rule his perfect image. You were rather adorable when you were so worried about his anemia, too.

He found the idea of you ending up with another person unappealing, and the idea of unraveling and stripping you piece by piece in his free time riveting.

He really had fun when you managed to find him on your own. It was a shame he couldn’t put you through more situations like this, if he needed you to not be conscious about who you married. With the sedative coursing through your veins that Ivan has injected you with under his guidance, he had enough tool to keep you in oblivion— the chemical induces severe fever as a side effect.

He only needed to keep you hydrated and medicated so you don’t die or end up with a brain damage from the hotness.

Fyodor’s smile became soft when you woke up — back to your old life when he was nothing but a model lover. “Oh, thank God, my prayers have been answered! I’m so glad you’re with us. You really scared me when I’ve heard about what happened to you…”

Through the haze on your mind, the debilitating headache, you looked at your husband as you were regaining your bearings and taking in the sounds again. Your eyes widened as you remembered something — not so clear as more distant — nonetheless, still worrying and scary, if about scenes of a man being killed and others shrugging about it. “You—where’s that man, how could-” you were agitated, your body trembling; extremely confused to how you were in the hospital.

“Darling?!” Fyodor asked with a small panic, and grabbed your hand after sitting down on the edge of the hospital bed. “What’s wrong? Is the fever giving you hallucinations again?”

You wanted to take your hand away, only for it to feel too heavy; obstructed by some cables too. “You killed a man, I saw that!” you exclaimed with distress.

“Killed a man?” he responded, taken aback. “My dear, I didn’t kill anyone. You are currently suffering from an extreme fever, and you must have had a fake vision. I tried to wake you up when you were having a nightmare before, but you couldn’t have woken up…”

You looked at him for a few seconds, now knowing why you felt so pained and weak. You felt barely coherent too. “But it was so real! You talked to me and then—” you stopped as you realized you couldn’t remember more. If your body was high on fever, and you didn’t remember too much, it really must have been a fever dream. Instead, you had small flashbacks of Fyodor’s reassurances, telling you to wake up and that it’s just a bad dream.

“I know. Delirium can do that to one in fever. It must feel awful,” he said with sympathy and kissed your hand. “To feel as if you witnessed something so terrible when in reality you didn’t, and it being so vivid. But do not fret, I’m here for you.”

Some anxiety still remained within you, yet assuming that pesky fever was everything capable of messing with you, you finally settled down, feeling soothed by his presence. “I missed you. How did you end up here?” few tears trickled down your face, when you were feeling too hot and scared by the fever.

“My poor spouse,” he wiped the tears for you and kissed your forehead. “I was actually busy with work, when I’ve received a call from your hotel’s reception. Apparently, you weren’t answering to the cleaner trying to clean your room few days in a row, so eventually they got worried and entered your room with a spare key, only to have found you with a nasty flu. Then they called ambulance, and for me, and for a loving husband I am, I came here immediately.”

Even through the fever messing up with your mind, everything your husband said sounded plausible as you cherry-picked words, and you realized you could have never approached any warehouse in your state. Even when a busy man, your husband came to you, in sickness and health, loving you.

“I don’t deserve you,” you choked out, and started sobbing like a baby. “I’m sorry for accusing you.”

“No, no,” he shushed gently, before lying down next to you. “It’s not your fault. You’re too feverish to be malicious, it’s just an effect of it. Come here, I’ll hold you a little before I’d call a doctor in to check up on you.”

You nodded and let him gather you in his arms, careful to not mess up with the hospital equipment you were connected to. You suffered in relief at finally being able to be there with your husband. “You’re going to be alright. I’ll take care of you.”

And as much as you knew a man of his constitution shouldn’t be near someone with a flu, you wanted to be selfish and not point out the fact he could get sick too — maybe he’d stay with you longer and you could take care of him, coddling him.

And Fyodor who rubbed your aching muscles was glad for you to not be asking why he’s breaking his rule of staying away from any sick people. It’s not as if he could get sick from a drugged person anyway.

He smiled contentedly against your cheek at the thought that the short-lived crisis in your marriage had been vanquished with a blow as swift as his ability could kill; appearing just happy at your reunion. Testing out different tones of his voice on your susceptible feverish mind, too faint to be caught by an untrained ear, has demonstrated how suggestion can be a powerful tool for a wicked man like him.

“I love you,” you murmured against his chest, on your way to sleep.

“… I know.”

[mariespen]

➸ Preteen Struggle

Sheriff!Rafe x Teacher!Reader

➸ Masterlist!

Requests open!

Oliver's struggle with emotions turns serious when he consoles with Rafe about his internal conflict with another girl.

(Re-blogging helps smaller writers like me! Please enjoy!)

Years ago, you would have said that the toddler phase was the worst. The mess, constant need for attention, and constant tantrums. Now, at this stage of parenting, you can surely say that the pre-teen stage is your least favorite. Your eldest son, Oliver, had just turned twelve. Still so innocent, but suddenly drowning in the lack of clarity.

You understood him in a way he didn’t, having experienced pre-teen years with a painful accuracy to your son’s. Rafe, on the other hand, had worked with his dad all throughout his younger life, too busy with helping on the farm to take a second thought when a gut wrenching emotion passed through his stomach. So when Oliver came home crying and didn’t leave his room until the morning, Rafe’s lack of understanding hit you hard.

“Honey, he’s twelve.” You softly coaxed as Rafe sat in bed, fuming again when his own son ignored him.

“I don’t care! He needs to figure this shit out..” 

The days dragged on, just more conflict arising as you tried desperately to help Rafe understand. Oliver needed space and reassurance, not yard work and rides in his cruiser. The one time that Oliver approached Rafe with a question, the conversation was short and broke something inside of you.

“Dad? Can I talk to you?” Oliver had asked one night, fidgeting with his hands and stumbling into the room. His sudden growth spurt had given him yet another thing to adjust to, so for the next year you had a clumsier Bambi slipping around the house.

“Mhm, sure buddy.” Rafe said with a hopeful nod as you left the room, giving them space.

“Dad, there’s this girl.” Oliver started, his voice shaky, “A-and I tried to talk to her but she just.. ignores me.” Rafe nodded, trying to extend same the grace that you reminded him to. He had repeated what you said to him during the late nights that he doubted himself over and over again in his head. But when it was time to apply the words, his mouth was dry and body tense with nerves.

“You and mom.. you did it right, you know? I want the same thing. I think she’s the one.”

You sighed, listening through the doors, realizing just how lost your eldest was. Rafe stuttered over words, trying to figure out the best way to approach the conversation.

“Well, son. You’re twelve.” He said hesitantly, watching as Oliver’s reaction turned sour, “It’s hard for you to understand your emotions.. and-“

Oliver bolted up from his place on the bed, feeling Rafe’s lack of understanding hit him like a truck, “Really?”

“Oliver, listen!” Rafe got up too, reaching an arm out to try and recenter the conversation, “It’s just your feelings, they’re getting all mixed-“

Your son didn’t give him a moment before turning to yelling, uncomfortable with sharing sadness with Rafe. 

“I hate you!” He yelled, shoving the doors open and running to his room, slamming it just the same.

Tears welled in your eyes as you watched from the opposite side of the hallway, just clear enough to watch Oliver’s run, knowing it all too well. You softly walked back to the bedroom, finding Rafe standing in shock, his head in his hands. “I tried..” He whispered, fighting off tears.

You walked up to him, gently pulling his towering frame into you,  “I know, honey. I know.” 

“I said what you told me! I- I thought that was what he needed.” Rafe’s voice was hoarse, trying to keep up his strong facade.

“He doesn’t need solutions, just to be listened to.” You whispered, guiding him back to the bed and hugging your husband tighter.

The night dragged on, but Rafe couldn't shake it. He got ready for bed like normal—until, at the last second, he stepped into the hallway. You let him without a word, waiting patiently. Part of you expected an apology, but when there was no other movement besides the floor, you got more curious. After about 15 minutes, you gave up and retreated out to the hall. 

Your eyes fell on Rafe’s body, supported against the wall outside Oliver’s room. He sat on the cold hard wood floors, head in his knees. Tears stung at his eyes, trying to forget Oliver’s words. You observed silently, trying to decide if you should comfort your distraught husband or let him learnt the lesson on his own.

Oliver’s door opened slowly and he crept out, his eyes wide and red. He noticed Rafe, instantly succumbing to sobs at his side. Rafe turned to face his crying son, bringing him into his arms without a moment’s hesitation.

“I didn’t mean it.. I’m sorry Dad.” Oliver cried into his father’s arms.

“I know, buddy.”

The two remained the ground for another hour until Rafe stood up, carrying Oliver’s sleeping form to his bed, tucking him and promising to understand him better in the morning. You were already asleep in the shared master bedroom, but Rafe’s soft footsteps stirred you awake. 

Without a word, Rafe got into bed and held you close to his chest, kissing your forehead.

“God, I love that kid.”

[pinkbowsxo]

Corrupted Innocence - Part 6

Choi Su-bong x F!Reader

Corrupted Innocence Masterlist

summary: when you were hanging out with the group again, thanos was asked if he had slept with anyone lately... he couldn't help but mention what an amazing night he had with this 'girl' about a week ago.

warnings: swearing, vaping, drinking, mention of sex

a/n: a short and simple chapter because i’ve been so busy but i really wanted to post another part so this one is really simple😩

but be patient because the next part is gonna be really interesting😏 and a lottttt longer too

anyway i hope you guys still like this🙏🏼

have a good day and lovee from meee x

It's been a few days since you had sex with Thanos in his car. You were glad to know that you didn't have to feel weird around him, since he didn't text you for a whole week after you first slept together, you felt awkward not knowing what he was thinking, but now it was clear.

You haven't seen him since, you wanted to, but you were busy with university and he was busy with his work. You would probably see him this weekend, hanging out with the group.

But... you texted him. You couldn't get enough of him and his attention, so sometimes you just texted him something simple because you couldn't resist.

You

I miss you

Su-bong

i’ll see you this weekend angel

You

I can’t wait💕

It's not that he sends a lot, but everything he sends makes you incredibly happy.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

When the weekend finally arrived, the four of you went to Se-mi's, because you were going clubbing tomorrow, so today was going to be a relaxing day.

Thanos and Namgyu were already there when you came in, sitting on the couch. Nam-gyu was focused on his phone and Thanos was busy vaping.

You gave Se-mi a hug before walking over to the couch where they were sitting. "Hi." You said, nervous and excited at the same time to see Thanos again.

“Hey,” Thanos said, taking a puff on his vape, pretending not to care that much in front of Nam-gyu and Se-mi. Nam-gyu looked up from his phone for a moment before going back to scrolling. “What’s up?”

You try to play it cool, pretending like you haven’t seen Thanos in a while, despite the fact that it’s been less than a week since you hooked up with him. “I haven’t seen you guys in a while.”

“Mhm. I’ve been busy.” He continues to vape, occasionally glancing at you from the corner of his eye. Nam-gyu didn’t even look at you when he said, “Se-mi, do you have anything to eat? I’m starving.” Se-mi calls out from the kitchen, “I have some chips and beer!”

Nam-gyu stood up to get the chips and beer from the kitchen. You sat down on the couch next to Thanos. He leaned forward slightly with a knowing smirk, but kept his voice low enough that only you could hear him. “Missed me?” His knee brushes against yours as he shifts. “You look good today.”

You didn't say anything, you just looked at him with a smile on your face. Thanos raises an eyebrow and smirks at your reaction. He leans in even closer to you. "I guess that's a yes." He winks at you, clearly enjoying the little secret they both share.

Nam-gyu came back with beer and chips. He handed Thanos one. "Here." He tosses you a can of beer without even looking at you. He sets the bowl of chips on the coffee table between him and Thanos. He then turns on some loud music on the TV.

You didn't even like beer, but you opened the can and took a sip anyway. Then Se-mi came to sit on the couch with us and immediately grabbed the remote control to turn off the loud music that Nam-gyu had turned on. “This awful music gives me a headache,” she complains.

“Damn it Se-mi, why you gotta kill the vibe?” Nam-gyu sighs, “Put it back on, I was jamming.” He throws a chip at her. Se-mi rolls her eyes. “No. You know I hate it.”

"You're so boring...no wonder you don't have any bitches." Se-mi's face twists into an angry expression, "Shut up Nam-gyu!" He laughs, "What? It's true! You always kill the vibe, no wonder you don't have a girlfriend." She crosses her arms and glares at him. “It’s not like you have a girlfriend, Nam-gyu.” The words came out of your mouth without thinking.

Nam-gyu tenses up slightly, then laughs it off. “Exactly. Neither of us has a girlfriend. At least I hook up though.” He smirks, “What about you Se-mi? When was the last time you got some?” Se-mi gasps dramatically. “Ew!”

“Yo Thanos, what about you actually?” Nam-gyu asks curiously, leaning forward with a mischievous grin. “Spill the tea, man.” He laughs and waits for Thanos’ answer.

Thanos takes a long drag from his vape, exhaling slowly before responding with a cool smirk. "Me? Last week." He says casually, glancing briefly at you. "Had a pretty sick hookup in my car actually."

You almost choked on your beer when he said that, you started coughing. Thanos notices your reaction and smirks secretly, knowing exactly why you're coughing. “Are you okay?" He asks playfully, patting you on the back and maintaining eye contact with you. Nam-gyu watches, completely unaware of the tension between the two of you.

"Are you okay?" Se-mi asks softly, handing you a cloth to wipe your mouth with. She looks at you intently, "You almost choked on nothing." She laughs lightly.

You feel Thanos his hand slowly slide down your back, giving a gentle squeeze before he pulls back to lean back on the couch. “Yeah, I’m okay. Thank you.” You respond to Se-mi, giving her a small smile. You then turn your attention back to Thanos, your cheeks slightly red.

“Come on, Thanos. Don’t leave us hanging. Details, man!” Nam-gyu urges, leaning forward eagerly. “Was she hot? Where did you meet her?”

Thanos smirks and takes another drag on his vape before answering. “Yeah, she was definitely hot. I met her last week at a bar downtown. We hit it off, one thing led to another..." He finishes with a smug grin, avoiding any specific mention of you. That's where you two first met a while ago, in a bar, Se-mi introduced him to you back then.

"You know what the best part was? When I made her scream. She was totally into it." He said nonchalantly, giving you a subtle, knowing smirk.

You groan internally as Thanos continues his teasing, purposely leaving out details that would give it away. You know he’s doing this on purpose, enjoying the fact that he can talk about his ‘hookup’ right in front of you, without anyone knowing it’s you.

You knew this was going to be a long night.

[joocomics]

DOUBLE TAKE

part two | part three

pairing: rockstar!junhan x fem!reader x supermodel!jooyeon

genre: slice of life ( 18+ ) wc: 1.6k

summary: your friend’s rock band books the coffee shop you work at for a day to shoot their new music video. at first glance, everything is going well until the line between story and reality begins to blur

contains: brief mention of a hook up (under light alcohol influence), sprinkle of angst and suppressed feelings

a.note ! the amazing joohan collage at the top is made by @nomatterjoo big thank you to her for sharing it with me and making it in the first place - this idea wouldn’t have happened without it ♡

[ xdinary heroes masterlist | general masterlist ]

“Junhan, hey!” You pull the boy aside, quickly before they call him back to touch up his makeup or adjust the bangs of his bright red hair. “Who is that?”

Junhan follows your gaze.

The small coffee shop you’ve been working at for over six months has transformed into a chaotic set for an upcoming music video for Junhan’s band; there’s tons of camera equipment, high energy and overwhelmed people buzzing around. A vast contrast to what this space usually looks like.

“That’s Jooyeon,” he leans over the counter, “we grew up together.”

Your eyes shift back to him. To Jooyeon.

The director is gesturing him something as a beautiful girl wearing ripped fishnets is sitting silently on his lap. Jooyeon nods, memorising what the director is telling him to do; one of his hands is still resting on her waist.

You’re entranced.

His face is so attractive, in a way that almost demands attention. You can barely comprehend what any of these people here are doing because it’s impossible to look away from him.

“He’s a supermodel actually,” Junhan adds. “We used to hang out all the time, but now we’re both too busy. I’m constantly at the studio while he’s always travelling.”

You nod almost absentmindedly as your eyes are trapped upon the lingering image of Jooyeon’s hands roaming over the girl’s body.

Junhan and Jooyeon’s friendship isn’t the only friendship that has changed with time though. Yours has too - especially when you realised that it’s not a simple friendship anymore. When you realised you missed Junhan too much - more than you should.

You kept that information to yourself; you never acted on it - except for that one night. The one neither of you mention, the one that both of you rather pretend it never happened. The accident caused by few drinks.

It’s better this way - no explanations, no excuses nor confessions.

Junhan has never looked at you that way - he never will, and you can’t even be bothered by it. His life is exciting, full of surprises, movie-like experiences that allow him to meet new people every day…

So you buried the feelings; you allowed the distance to grow in the pace of his popularity, and your paths to drift apart, hoping that one day your feelings would fade too.

Now, for the first time in a while, you look at somebody else and feel that rush coming back.

Obviously, nothing is going to happen. Jooyeon is going to do his job and leave, continuing his glamorous lifestyle without even remembering your name. But it feels nice - finally feeling something about someone new.

“I’m actually surprised he agreed to do this.” Junhan speaks up again after taking a sip of water. “He’s got like… ten runway shows to fly to with Paris fashion week happening right now. I owe him.”

You watch how a small, polite smile tugs at Jooyeon’s lips as the girl leaves his lap. Then, how he makes his way towards you and Junhan with slow footsteps.

“By the way, I owe you too,” Junhan nudges you with his shoulder. His eyes glance at your familiar side profile, slowing the pace in search of anything that might have changed since you’ve last seen each other. “For making this happen here.”

“When have I ever said no to you?” Your lips curl into an easy smile as you turn to him.

You can’t ignore the brief clenching of your heart when you acknowledge how close you’ve been standing next to each other. You’re close enough to see his lips separate and catch their quiet murmur despite all the noise.

“Well…”

But he doesn’t get the chance to finish as Jooyeon stops in front of you.

You begin to wipe the counter, letting your gaze flicker from time to time.

“Man… shooting music videos is hard.”

He rests his forearms, sighing from exhaustion. His blonde wavy hair shines under the lights, earning him a hypnotic elegance, but his features are playful, letting you sense his quiet confidence.

“Harder than walking down a runway in front of thousands of people and trying not to trip?” Junhan grins, grabbing a water bottle from the back and tossing it to him.

It’s been many months since he was last here, but he still feels comfortable around the place.

“Yeah.” Jooyeon catches the bottle effortlessly, knitting brows. “At least on the runway I don’t have to shoot the same thing twenty times.”

Junhan shakes his head, scoffing.

Across from you, some of the camera crew are adjusting equipment for the next round of filming while the band members are slouched on the couch in the corner, almost settling into a lull.

Then, you hear Jooyeon speak up.

“Listen, I’m not an expert, but... I’m your friend.” His casual voice slightly drops deliberately.

You can’t help, but shoot Junhan a wary glance. He raises a brow at his friend, waiting for him to continue.

“Something’s off.”

“What do you mean?”

“The music video,” Jooyeon gestures vaguely towards the set, “it’s too predictable.”

Unknowingly, both you and Junhan, scan the place - all the props and scattered drinks, some sitting on tables, others shattered on the floor; the neon sign you personally bought because you thought it fits the gritty, underground atmosphere the band’s team created in here...

Junhan shrugs but you recognise his hesitation.

“I don’t think we can do anything about it.”

Jooyeon’s brows furrow for a quick second as he drums with fingers on the counter.

“The label wants something easy to market, anyways.” Junhan adds.

“But that’s your song,” Jooyeon mutters more quietly. “It should feel like you.”

Junhan exhales before moving a hand on the back of his neck. He believes his friend has a point - it’s written on his face.

A moment of silence passes when suddenly you and Jooyeon lock eyes.

Accidentally or not, you can’t tell. Until his lips curve into a knowing smile.

For a moment, it feels like he saw something in you; like he’s actually been aware of you this entire time, like he hasn’t forgotten your face and your name the moment Junhan introduced you to him.

“Instead of having the bad guy and the bad girl all over each other in the booth...” he says in a thoughtful tone as though he’s still forming his thought. “You could have the bad guy getting it on with the sweet waitress.”

He leans in, adding to the thick energy that starts forming between you.

“On top of the counter.” He adds, tapping on the surface.

“The sweet waitress?” Junhan turns to you.

You grip the dish towel in your hand tighter, trying to collect your thoughts before it gets awkward.

“Think about it,” Jooyeon speaks up before you get to say anything, simultaneously adjusting the gray blazer on his shoulders. “The bad dude getting caught up in something he’s not supposed to want. There’s contrast. Intrigue.”

A small smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth as he notices his friend humming.

“And honestly, I think your waitress over here would do a much better job than the actress you hired.”

Your face heats up as your eyes shift from one guy to the other. But then, Junhan holds onto your gaze, unreadable, yet hopeful at the same time.

“Would you be interested?” He asks.

“Oh, uhm...” Your fingers curl around the towel as you peek at Jooyeon’s smirk stretching. “Are you sure? I’m not... a professional actress.”

“Well, it’s just kissing.” Junhan says with a raised brow. “You’re not going to do anything else.”

There’s no pressure in his light voice, but you can feel yourself being more and more convinced the longer the idea hangs in the air.

Jooyeon, mirroring Junhan’s expression, but slightly more amused, repeats after him:

“Yeah, it’s just kissing.”

He draws out the verb lazily, like he’s savouring it; aware it’s going to grow some tension. The spark of mischief in his eyes glimmers as he lifts a hand.

“And then,” he stops his gaze upon Junhan. “You burst out of the bathroom.” His excited expression keeps shifting as he paints the scene. “And you’re fucking pissed! The person of your dreams, the one you’ve loved your whole damn life...” His eyes flicker towards you for a brief second, making you wonder if you imagined it. “She wants to screw another guy.”

You don’t know if it’s because your mind suddenly goes overheated, but somehow the coffee shop feels way quieter, way hotter; the music and the chatter are suddenly muted for your ears. The shiny intensity of Jooyeon’s gaze lingers on the skin of your face though he’s not looking at you anymore.

Junhan is processing everything silently; his lips are pressed into a thin line in comparison to yours that stay slightly parted - seconds away from speaking.

“I think his idea is good.” You turn to him as you’re still standing next to each other. Your voice is steadier than you expected. “It makes the story more interesting. It raises questions.”

Jooyeon leans back, pleased with the way he casually rewrote the entire music video just like that.

For the first time since you pulled Junhan behind the counter, he moves - not away from you, but aside so he can glance between you and Jooyeon. His features, accentuated by the smoky makeup, sharpen with intensity as he focuses; his gaze is locked, calculating. Like he’s watching a puzzle come together.

At once, he nods, interlocking his slim fingers together.

“I agree,” he simply says. Nothing more.

This is about to be the most eventful shift you’ve ever had.

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise for any mistakes i’ve might missed

♡ taglist: @sweet-dreaming-girl @zelinkcrossing

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Petal By Petal

Summary: Azula is trying to feel like herself again. Mai and TyLee take her on a picnic.

Mai watches dragonflies. Azula counts the spaces between the cattails that surround the pond. TyLee skips stones. Azula counts the rigglets on the pond. 

The world around smells like damp moss and burnt wood, the best of all of the elements. Azula digs her fingers into the soft dirt and hopes that she won’t find any worms. She doesn’t think that she is digging deep enough to worry about the things that wriggle. She finds it to be rather dull, their trips to the pond. But maybe that’s what she needs. Duller days.

“This is a red swampdragon. It’s a dragonfly that favors ponds and, of course, swamps.” Mai explains. “But they also like creeks…”

It’s kind of nice to hear her talk about things that interest her, she hadn’t done much of that when they were out chasing Zuzu and the Avatar. Mai says that it is nice to have someone to talk to—that Zuko listens, adds his input, and insists that he is intrigued. But she can tell that he’s not all that interested, that he seems to be a bit squeamish about bugs. 

Azula is interested enough. She likes learning new things.

“And the bug by your hand…”

Azula jerks her hand back.

“...is completely harmless, it’s a firefly-grasshopper. When they jump, their bulbs glow. People usually confuse them for firefly-crickets.” Mai takes a seat next to Azula and holds her finger out, waiting for the firefly-grasshopper to crawl or leap onto her finger. 

Azula looks away from Mai to where TyLee busies herself chasing a moth-mantis. 

“Here, why don’t you try to hold it.” 

Azula rubs her lips together. “I…well. I suppose. Just don’t let it hop onto my face.”

“That’s not up to me.” Mai says as she holds the grasshopper firefly out.

“I thought that these were nocturnal.” Azula touches her pointer to Mai’s. 

“Nope. You’re thinking of the firefly-crickets.”

“Then what do they have bulbs for?”

Mai is more than delighted to explain. “To ward off predators. The flash their bulbs when a predator gets too close and if the predator is something like an arachnid it will be temporarily blinded.”

Azula nods. “Fascinating.” Her tone falls a bit flat, but she does mean it. She hopes that Mai understands that. But she is still tired sometimes, still worn out and…

And sometimes she wonders if she will ever truly feel like herself again.

She wonders if Mai and TyLee will start to get sick or bored of her by the time she does.

She knows that she probably shouldn’t be poking at the firefly-grasshopper if she doesn’t want it hopping onto her face, but she is curious about how that little bulb feels. 

“Hey look! I found a ladybee!” TyLee calls. Azula wishes that she could muster up a fraction of that enthusiasm. 

“You should probably leave that alone if you don’t want to get stung.” Azula says. 

“Ladybees don’t sting.” Mai replies. “Bumblebees might sting you but only if you bother them.”

TyLee giggles. “They’re like you, Azula!”

Azula cracks a smile. “Yeah, I guess. Maybe.” She reaches for the small pitcher of dandelion wine that rests on their picnic blanket. It sits next to the plate of watermelons that she had cautioned TyLee to cover up before the ants that now crawl over it could get to it. Azula sighs, she guesses that she won’t be having any more watermelon slices.

“Want another glass?”

“No thanks.”

She probably shouldn’t have one either, she would hate to have Mai or TyLee have to drag her home clumsy and stumbling. She pours herself only a half a glass. She doesn’t want to be like her grandfather anymore than just her name. 

“Rough day?” Mai asks.

Azula shakes her head. No rougher than any other day. All things considered it has been a pretty good day. She shouldn’t be so glum. “It’s a fine day. I guess that I’m just…” trying to claw her way back up. She climbs excruciatingly slowly. 

TyLee plops down next to her and takes her hand. She gives it a squeeze. The firefly-grasshopper propels itself off of her other hand and right onto her head. She jerks and goes rigid. “Mai! Remove the insect from my head!” 

Mai chuckles. 

She grimaces. She can feel its little legs shifting strands of her hair. Through gritted teeth and in a pitch a touch higher than she’d like she says, “Mai…”

“I know, I’ve got it.” 

And she does. She gently untangles the firefly-grasshopper from Azula’s hair and returns it to the grass.

“I didn’t realize that you were scared of bugs.” Mai lifts a brow. 

“I’m not afraid of them, I just don’t like them in my hair or on my face or…” She might be a little afraid of bugs.

“I think that the ladybees are cute. The caterpillars too! Oh and that caterpillbugs.”  TyLee declares. 

Azula has yet to figure out which ones are the caterpillars and which are the caterpillbugs. She wonders how long of hanging out with Mai it had taken TyLee to begin to identify them without having to ask Mai. Not that Azula minds asking. In fact it makes conversation easier when she finds that words aren’t coming to her very readily. 

She leans herself upon Mai’s shoulder and TyLee leans against hers. They stay like that for quite a while watching the clouds drift by. It feels kind of like the old days. When they were kids on the playground of the Academy. A breeze rustles the grass and for a moment she can pretend like it has always been like this. That there hadn’t been anything between their playground days and this moment. That she hadn’t been so lost and so alone for so long. That her her heart and mind haven’t been bruised and bandaged, hemorrhaging and then stitched. Sometimes she fears that the wounds won’t heal and that her soul will be covered in bandages for the rest of her days. She squeezes Mai and TyLee’s hands. The clouds float on by, untroubled. 

And then shades of pink and orange begin to appear on the horizon. 

“Ready to go home, bumblebee?” Mai nudges her.

And Azula manages a laugh. A light, lilting thing.

The sound of it is unfamiliar even to her, she hasn’t made it in quite a while. 

TyLee is beaming from ear to ear. Mai smiles too. She holds out her hand and helps Azula to her feet. And Azula helps TyLee to hers. 

“I’ll shake out the blanket.” Azula says. “But I’m not touching that ant infested plate.”

“That is TyLee’s job.” Mai side the woman in question. “We told her to cover that plate up.” 

TyLee gives a mock pout but makes her way over to the plate and dumps the ants and their watermelon slices into the tall grass for the animals to eat. Azula shakes out and neatly folds the blanket before tucking it back into the picnic basket. Mai loads the uneaten food and some utensils on top of that. The three of them scan the grass for anything that they might have left behind.

TyLee takes Azula’s left hand and Mai takes her right.

And they begin their hike back to the palace, three silhouettes against a sunset. 

“Today was nice.” She muses aloud. 

She feels a bit better. A bit lighter.

“Yeah.” Mai agrees. 

“We can do it again next week.” TyLee says.

“I would like that.” Azula nods. 

“Are you going back to the flower shop with Mai?”

Azula nods. “Where will you be?”

“Here and there.” TyLee replies. It is a very TyLee answer. “But I’ll be sure to be here and not there by next week.”

They reach the flower shop in what seems to her like such a short time. And TyLee is pecking both she and Mai on the cheek and makes a third promise to show up bright and early a week from now.  Mai tells her that bright and midafternoon would work just fine too. 

Azula laughs again. 

Sometimes she doesn’t have much to add to the conversation. 

But she is alright with that. She just likes hearing their voices and being surrounded by people again.

She and Mai watch TyLee disappear down the road where several Kyoshi Warriors meet her. 

“Tea?” Mai offers.

Azula nods. Mai doesn’t have to ask. They always check on the flowers and then take tea before bed. The routine helps. Little by little, petal by petal, outing by outing, and laugh by laugh, Mai and TyLee help her piece herself back together.

[noforkingclue]

Hey, ya. I have got a bucky Barnes x reader idea which I would like to share (i can't remember if I have already sent this in, but if I did, then I apologise) may i please request a Bucky Barnes x reader where they are fighting loki and Loki uses the dialogue "How will your friends have time for me, when they're so busy fighting you!" He then goes to use the chittari/mind stone sceptre on the reader, but bucky pushes the reader out of the way and now the reader has to fight a mind controlled bucky and try and break the mind control. Prehaps if you like the fight can awaken powers hidden within the reader.

Please of course feel free to edit as much as you want, sorry if this is too detailed. I hope you have a great day.

Note: requests are currently closed

So I didn't directly specify Loki in this, just that Bucky was under some sort of mind control. Hope that's ok and you like the fic!

Title: Trusting You

Warnings: choking, Bucky's self doubt about being the Winter Soldier

Of course you had heard all the stories about Him. Sam, and even Steve before he disappeared, had warned you about Him. Of course you had managed to see some of the footage and you would be lying if you had said that you weren’t scared.

The Winter Solider was really fucking terrifying.

But you wouldn’t have to deal with Him. No more trigger words to bring out the Winter Soldier. All you had to deal with was Bucky and he was interesting. Not in a bad way, definitely not, but it was strange finally meeting him. You were expecting someone different and not someone so… damaged.

The two of you got on surprisingly well. Once the initial awkward introductions were out of the way that is. You found him oddly charming, in his own weird way. You even tried to help him get to grips with the modern world. You could see the knowing looks Sam gave you which you pointedly ignored. No, you certainly did not have a crush on James ‘Bucky’ Barners.

Absolutely not.

No way.

No.

The two of you were just friends. That’s it. Friends.

Which made what you were doing right now all the more difficult.

“Fuck!”

You dodged out of the way of Bucky’s swing just in the nick of time. It was one thing seeing old footage of him like this and a completely different thing seeing it in the flesh. Sam swooped down at Bucky but this time it was Bucky that dodged. Sam lifted you into his arms and carried you to safety.

“I thought you said he was ok,” you panted, “that he wasn’t like this anymore.”

“He was,” said Sam, setting you down, “but that was before we ran into someone who could fucking alter people’s minds.”

The two of you looked over at Bucky.

“We can’t let this get out,” you said, “if the authorities found out-”

“It’ll be a shit show.”

“Yeah. Well, you know him better. What do we do?”

“You tried talking to him?”

You gave Sam a disbelieving look.

“I’m not a fucking shrink!” you hissed, “and you tried that and it didn’t work. Why do you think that I would have any luck?”

“Because it’s you.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at Sam’s words. He was giving you that Look again. The knowing one that said far too much which you didn’t like.

“I don’t-”

You were cut off by Bucky taking another punch at you. Sam and you split into different directions and you rolled away. Bucky turned to you and you held your hands up.

“Buck, listen, it’s me-”

You jumped out of the way.

“This isn’t you,” you continued desperately, “this isn’t the you I know. I know you’re fighting this. I know you-”

Bucky’s metal hand suddenly curled around your throat. You were aware of Sam shouting your name and instinctively you slammed your fist against Bucky’s head. In a flash he let you go and you sunk to the floor, taking in large gulps of air. You heard Sam land next to you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. You glanced up at Bucky and could see his eyes clear.

“Buck-”

Before you could finish your sentence Bucky practically ran away. You shut your eyes and rested your head against Sam’s chest.

“Fuck.”

*

It was days until you saw Bucky again. You knew he was avoiding you and it pissed you off (even though you understood why). You decided to wait up one night, nursing a cup of tea and waiting for him to come into the kitchen. When Bucky saw you sitting at the kitchen table he froze before turning to leave.

“Wait.”

Bucky froze, metal hand curling around the doorframe.

“We need to talk.” you said softly

“We don’t.”

“Please Bucky,” you said desperately, “I can’t stand this any more. Please, just talk to me.”

For a moment you thought that Bucky was going to leave. Then he sighed and turned around and sat down. For a few torturous seconds neither of you spoke then he said,

“I hurt you.”

“I had worse.”

Bucky glanced up at your bruised neck and quickly looked away again.

“All this has shown is that he will always be a part of me,” he said, “no matter how hard I try I will always be the Winter Soldier. I’m too dangerous to be around. If you hadn’t-”

He cut himself off and frowned.

“How did you stop me?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” you admitted, “Sam think that maybe I have some,” you waved a hand, “mutant power that got unlocked. But right now, that’s not important.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows at your casual dismissal of your potential powers.

“What matters,” you continued, “is that this wasn’t you.”

“I-”

“Had your mind altered,” you said, “you were under mind control. It wasn’t you.”

Bucky sighed and looked down at his hands. He linked his fingers and grimaced at your words. You reached forward and grabbed his hand, grabbing his metal hand by coincidence. Bucky looked up, clearly shocked by the action and tried to pull away. Immediately you tightened your grip on it.

“I hurt you-” he started

“You didn’t,” you said, “not the person I know and I-” you felt your cheeks get hot and looked away before you revealed too much, “I have faith in and I trust.”

You and Bucky locked gazes and there was so much unsaid in that gaze. You smiled softly at him again and this time, Bucky returned it. Maybe, just maybe, things would begin moving in a more positive direction.

[lizmidfordsblog]

Who is Cale Henituse? And Who is Kim Rok Soo?

In a previous post, I mentioned how OG!Cale's The Birth of a Hero future was Kim Rok Soo's worst nightmare. Raon never lived. The Henituse County was razed to the ground. Eruhaben was likely killed off by the Dragon Half-Blood or the White Star.

How do we know that was his worst nightmare? Because Kim Rok Soo (KRS) has already lived through it with the cataclysm and everything that unfolded afterward. I'm currently writing a thesis on the fluidity of identity, and the sheer lack of staticness of KRS's entire life & his personhood is physically staggering.

Orphanhood, child abuse and alienation are all examples of instability we see reflected in real life. They don't necessarily have to connote instability, but in KRS's case, they did. Shifting from different homes, in the care of (or lack thereof) of different adults etc. These are age old tales, of children aging out of systems and working hard to get into college to support themselves. Here, KRS stands out as one example out of thousands.

But the author takes this to the next level; in the Cataclysm, that already fragile sense of identity is fully squashed.

During the Sloth Test, Kim Rok Soo defines his high school experience as uneventful and peaceful. He's finally out of his abusive situation and can reset, can lay down his roots. He begins to develop goals, fosters connections (however little they are) and has the drive to reach for those goals through working jobs. The moment he dares to dream of more, the Cataclysm takes place in what can arguably be a moment in Earth 2's history that revamped every single human being's identity.

Once, Lee Soo Hyuk (LSH) was a third rate actor playing extras. Now he's lowkey the hope of the diminishing Korean population. He's the only Ability User with two (recorded) abilities.

Once, Kim Rok Soo (KRS) was an orphan working in a restaurant earning money to attend college. He'd made something out of himself, no matter how little or fragile it was.

Now he's effectively nothing, as is enforced and told to him by literally everyone in this new society that prioritizes efficiency & usefulness over all else. He states it himself, considers it true himself: he was useless until he activated his own Abilities.

Then we have the dismantlement of the central shelters, then latter on a period of stability where he forges bonds with Choi Jung Soo (CJS) and Lee Soo Hyuk (LSH). He again, finds a place for himself in a broken world. And what happens? That, too, disappears.

Kim Rok Soo is someone used to change, placing and taking down different masks in order to survive. The irony of his existence is how he literally gets his soul swapped, another complete revamp of his identity. He's no longer Kim Rok Soo (not that he had much attachment to it, as KRS emphasizes throughout the novel) but rather he's Cale Henituse now. With all the connotations of the word.

I chose to write my fic specifically to interrogate this shift of identity. In TCF canon, we never really get to understanding the implications of OG!Cale's disappearance from the perspective of his loved ones. I adore KRS with all my heart, and cackle at all the 'trash' comedy going on. But I also think about the sheer tragedy of no one realizing OG!Cale was missing, or that KRS had replaced him. That's not on Choi Han, Raon or any of the family members KRS has gained post-transmigration.

It makes me think of just how alienated OG!Cale purposefully made himself that-- forget Deruth (who I can expect to be busy with work) but Ron, who was by his side every day did not realize. That's terrifying; it makes you wonder, what makes a person themselves? Their physical body, their soul, or their personality?

If KRS!Cale suddenly switched bodies back, would any of his family members realize?

(I know they would, cue our Dark Tiger quite literally recognizing KRS in the Sealed God Test, but think about it!!)

Jules works as a character because she's someone from OG!Cale's past, who knew him intimately (as close as a family member), and hence, at the realization that this is not him-- is understandably and rightfully equal parts pissed and scared. The funniest part is, this fic was never meant to be a romance, I was just toying with the idea of someone who actually knew OG!Cale before KRS took over, finding out about the soul swap. I'm really excited to see how the author tackles this with Ron & Beacrox in Part 2, who have long begun to suspect our beloved KRS!Cale.

Actually, this makes me think of Alberu, who's doing some identity swapping/obscuring of his own. I wrote a bit about it in to your eternity, but I might do a separate post just waxing poetry about the sheer beauty of him as a foil to our beloved Cale. And Choi Han. And OG!Cale. Ughhh!! Even Eruhaben, himself (as someone who has had a fixed identity/personhood across his thousand years) acts as a foil to Kim Rok Soo, who flips between identities like they're clothes. And who, ironically, has this change satirized via different characters always misunderstanding him (calling him a dragon, thinking he's a god etc.).

Any way, that is my daily dose of mental breakdowns courtesy of our favorite slacker. Sorry if I kept rambling obvious things, its just that every time I reread the novel, I'm just blown back by the characters. TCF, as it's core, isn't a plot-driven story but rather a character-driven on. It's heart is in it's found family and I think that's beautiful.

If you liked this post, or wanna geek over these characters more, shoot me a text! I'm always down!

Also, feel free to check out my fic! I currently have a chapter out talking about Beacrox & his displacement from his home/finding a new one with the Henituses.

[0798f]

🎇 — Lily of the Valley

RELATIONSHIP: Sunday x Reader

SUMMARY: Your favorite flower catches Sunday's eye.

A/N: The final fic for the Hanami event! I really hope everyone enjoyed a week of daily fics, I really enjoyed writing them!

Adjusting to life on the Astral Express wasn’t as difficult as Sunday expected it to be. Don’t be mistaken— the feeling of being an awkward bystander lingered no matter how many days passed. But the Astral Express crew were a friendly and welcoming bunch, and they were working hard to make Sunday feel at home.

One crew member especially excelled at building rapport with Sunday. To an unexpected level.

“Hey, Sunday? Are you busy?” (Name) leaned over the back of the chair Sunday had made his nest. Their cheek brushed against his wings, which he pulled towards his face to avoid whacking them with an excited flutter.

Sunday put his book down, marking the page with a (Name)’s handcrafted bookmark. They gifted it to him when he first boarded the Express, beaming about how it looked like a ticket. “I know you’re not planning to stay long, but if you change your mind, you already have a ticket!”

And (Name) continued to be just as warm and friendly everyday. To say Sunday was charmed would be an understatement— he looked forward to his interactions with (Name) every day, to the point where he would pout in his seat when (Name) would greet but walk past him. 

“I’m not busy,” Sunday replied. “What do you need?”

He tilted his head towards (Name), trying to be calm about the few centimeters between them. When Sunday moved back, (Name) moved forward. “Well… This time of year is spring on my home planet, and I felt a little homesick. I got some plants, but I need some help setting them up. The conductor mentioned you had a green thumb!”

Sunday let out a humble laugh. “Green thumb is a strong title… I simply like to keep plants alive.” He used to help take care of the Family gardens when he was a child and took great pride in his work, but saying that out loud felt like a bit too much. “I’d be glad to help.”

(Name) had a smile that lit up the room and it was incredibly blinding up close. ”Thank you so much! Let’s go!”

He didn’t need (Name) to guide him to their cabin, but when they insisted by pulling his arm the entire way, Sunday had no heart to refuse. Sunday nearly tripped upon entering their room; a mess of open boxes and grow lights littered the floor, strewn about from when (Name) gave up and decided to ask Sunday for his help.

Leaves stuck out of one of the open boxes. Sunday kneeled down to inspect the plants (Name) had picked out. For the most part, they were typical house plants— those on the planet of festivities cared little about the greenery, but Sunday paid pristine attention to the planters around the dreamscape and the Reverie. So he recognized the pothos, the anthurium, and the orchid. But smaller flowers amongst the leaves caught Sunday’s attention.

“A lily of the valley?” Sunday picked up the white flower’s planter to admire it. It was in pristine, beautiful condition after surviving the trip to the Express without harm. 

(Name)’s eyes widened as they kneeled down next to Sunday. “You recognize it?”

“Yes, they also grow in Penacony.” A memory with blurred edges surged to the forefront of Sunday’s mind. He sat in a Family garden with Robin and they poured over a book of Penacony flora and fauna, trying to identify all the flowers in the garden. There were many extravagant flowers that grew on the planet of festivities, but Sunday found himself drawn to the lily of the valley. “It’s one of my favorite flowers.”

It was simple and elegant. It relied on no flashiness or bright colors— it existed quietly in understated beauty. As a child, Sunday couldn’t quite understand why he appreciated the flower. When he grew older and took his place as the head of the Oak Family, Sunday reasoned that it embodied the Order. Simple flowers aligned in rows, able to be admired from the safety of a garden; that was the dream that Sunday wanted to cultivate.

But life slumbered so it could wake up from the dream, and faced with the flower again in the presence of (Name), Sunday could find a new meaning in it. “It’s my favorite, too! I think it’s a really beautiful flower. Not to mention that it’s also really low maintenance, hehe.”

Sunday wasn’t one to believe in fate— for most of his life he was greatly opposed to the idea that destiny was out of his control. But he found it comforting that he had the same favorite flower as (Name). Maybe it meant something. He looked up at them, a small smile on his lips. “May I ask why this flower is your favorite?”

“Hmm…” (Name) raised a brow at Sunday’s question and tapped their chin in thought. “How should I describe it… When someone thinks of a ‘beautiful flower’ they probably imagine something like a lotus flower, right? Any flower that has the petals arranged perfectly symmetrical. Those flowers are definitely beautiful, but…”

They beckoned Sunday for the flower, and he gently placed the planter in their hands. “It could have a few flowers, or a lot. They’re not always in perfect rows, either! Sometimes they’re in pairs and sometimes one flower is by itself. Every flower is unique and… I don’t know. I really like that.”

Sunday blinked. He looked down at the flower again and he saw it in a whole new light. What he labeled as perfection was imperfection in (Name)’s eyes, but still beautiful all the same. “I never thought about them like that,” he admitted. “I used to think of them as tidy and perfectly aligned…”

The wistful expression Sunday had gave (Name) pause. He had warmed up since he boarded the express— thanks in no small part to (Name) worming their way into his heart. They started chatting with him because they wanted him to feel welcome but Sunday had turned into quite the people pleaser. Maybe he was just trying to be nice, but he would never turn down a conversation. So (Name) learned plenty about him, and he learned plenty about them. He knew (Name)’s favorite food, the way they liked their tea, and what their favorite Robin song was. Now he knew their favorite flower and he still wanted to know more.

Taking a chance, (Name) leaned forward. “Well, I guess you’re just like it, then!”

Sunday felt his face heat up. He would’ve covered it with his wings, but that would’ve made it even more obvious. “What do you mean?”

And taking another chance, (Name) scooted closer so that their knees bumped against Sunday’s. Now their face started to burn. “You dreamed of order, but you chose to wake up. Maybe things in the real world aren’t as perfect as you wanted it to be, but you’re committed to learning.”

There was a tiny voice in the back of (Name)’s mind screaming, WHAT ARE YOU DOING? This was a terrible idea on all fronts and (Name) was risking the friendship they had built up. Not to mention it would make meal times on the express horrifically awkward. If Sunday didn’t share mutual feelings, (Name) might throw themself into the cosmos.

Sunday was no fool— he understood what was happening. The question to consider was what he wanted to do about it. He had his reservations, but he was supposed to start anew. Maybe this could be one of the new things he could explore. “I see,” Sunday smiled. “I suppose I could be one of the flowers on its stem.”

(Name) decided to pass the point of no return. “Maybe you’re a pair? I could be… the flower next to you.”

Thankfully, Sunday passed the point with them. “I would like that.”

Much to both of their surprise, Sunday closed the distance first. Despite being the initial instigator, (Name) was lost on what to do when Sunday’s lips met theirs. His lips were soft but the pressure was firm, whether it was out of intensity or inexperience (Name) didn’t know, but it was exhilarating. One of Sunday’s hands found (Name)‘s neck, resting his thumb against their jaw. His other hand rested on (Name)’s as they clutched the delicate flower for dear life.

Before Sunday fully pulled away, he pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of (Name)’s lips. Leaning back, Sunday pulled one of (Name)’s hands with him. He kissed the back of their hand. “Careful,” he murmured against their skin. “You’re going to crush the flower.”

(Name) set the planter back on top of the box and leaned forward once again. Sunday felt their warm breath against his skin. “It’s safe and sound… So, let’s keep going—“

Sunday closed the distance before (Name) could finish. 

hanami event masterlist | masterlists

[graciegoeskrazy]

are we awake?

(Matty Healy x Daughter!r x George Daniel)

warnings: Some crying, fluff (woah)

a/n: cutesy lil thing for your Saturday :) Thx for requesting anon! I hope this is what you were thinking! (I know who you are🫥)

The past hour and a half had been spent with George and your father watching you run from wall to wall, spilling every toy in the house out onto the floor with chaotic enthusiasm. They’d both convinced themselves you’d tire out eventually, even though all evidence pointed to the opposite.

Every once in a while, you’d run over to George and yank on his arm, pulling him down to the floor with all the stubborn determination you inherited from your father and telling him to “Be the princess, Uncle George!” pressing a Barbie doll into his hand until he adopted a high-pitched voice that made your giggles bubble up and fill the entire room.

George didn’t mind. In fact, he liked the way you smiled so freely with him. But it didn’t take long for the playtime to take a toll.

That’s how they ended up here, sprawled out on the living room floor, defeated by your never-ending energy. Matty’s head rested on the arm of the couch, one arm draped lazily over his face while George lay with his legs splayed out, collapsed and tired from the amount of voices and characters he had to play for you.

“She’s gonna crash any second,” your father said, for what felt like the hundredth time that day. His voice was muffled, his eyes closed as though he could will sleep to overtake him right there on the carpet.

“I don’t know, mate. She’s built different,” George groaned, shaking his head as he glanced over at you. You were busy digging through a pile of blocks and dolls, as if deciding which disaster to unleash next.

“Oh, trust me. She won’t last more than a few minutes more.” Matty tried to convince himself he knew his daughter better than anyone else. And most of the time, he was right.

You barely noticed their conversation, too engrossed in making your Barbie take a dramatic leap from a castle made of couch cushions. When your father finally called your name, it took you a moment to even register he was speaking to you.

“Baby…” Matty coaxed, his voice softer than before.

You turned your head, eyes wide and curious. Under normal circumstances, your face would have made the pair melt, but they were too tired to be swayed by your cuteness this time.

“I think it’s time for a nap,” he said gently.

“Nooooooo.” You whined immediately, your tiny fists clenching as you looked at them with stubborn defiance. The way you said it, all drawn out and dramatic, made George stifle a laugh.

“Yes, baby. You’ve been awake for way too long. It’s time for some sleep now.”

“But, I’m playin’.” You pouted, bottom lip jutting out as if you believed it might save you from the dreaded nap time.

George tried his hand at reasoning with you. “There’ll be so much playing to do after your nap. But for now, you need to rest.” He stood up from the place on the floor and went to you. You winned in annoyance, trying to wiggle of of his grasp as he attempted to settle you on him.

You cried, your little brows knitting together. There was no way you were giving up on your fun, not when you were sure you had so much energy left to burn. Matty exchanged a look with George, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. And then, he did something he swore he would never do.

It was a whole other struggle by itself to get you off of the Paci. Those months of weaning you off were ones Matty would not take back or go through again. But in a moment like this, he was desperate. He went to the kitchen, opening one of the top cupboards and pulling out a tiny basket filled with your old pacifiers.

“You sure?” he asked, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “Because if you sleep now, you can have this.”

When he returned, holding one of the brightly colored binkies out for you to see, your squirming stopped completely. George did a fake gasp behind you, “What’s that, y/n?”

“Paci.” You breathed the word like a secret, like something magical you hadn’t expected to ever see again.

Matty smiled, his relief outweighing any guilt he might’ve felt. “That’s right. Paci.”

You abandoned the Barbie in your hand by throwing it onto the floor, squirming out of George’s grasp and to your father, reaching your hands out eagerly. He scooped you up, settling you onto his hip as you grabbed the binky and wasted no time bringing it to your lips, the old habit not forgotten.

As Matty adjusted you against his chest, you immediately melted into him, your arms winding around his neck and your head tucking just below his chin like you’d done countless times before.

What followed was the quietest the house had been in hours. You didn’t make a sound, your small body finally relaxing against your father’s chest. Matty and George exchanged astonished glances.

“We’re gonna head to your room, yeah?” Matty whispered, his voice barely above a breath. You didn’t nod, but you didn’t fuss either.

The boys moved carefully, tiptoeing between the mess of toys scattered across the floor. Matty silently cursed himself, realizing he’d spend the majority of your nap cleaning the house instead of resting himself.

George followed behind him, watching as your eyes slowly but surely dropped more and more closed.

“Quick, close the curtains,” Matty said, his tone urgent. George did as he was told, tugging the heavy fabric over the window to cast the room in gentle shadows.

“Turn the sound machine on.”

George fumbled with the buttons before the familiar low hum of white noise filled the room. Everything was falling into place, the perfect storm of conditions to coax you into sleep.

Matty continued rocking you back and forth, his hands rubbing gentle circles along your back. Your eyes grew heavier with each minute, the pull of sleep growing too strong for you to resist.

“Don’t wanna sleep.” You mumbled. Although, your actions betrayed your words with your eyes growing heavier and heavier with each passing second.

“Just for a little bit, baby. Then you can play for as long as you want.”

They watched as you tried to fight off the sleep that was consuming you, your eyes fluttering open and shut. With the sweet reassurances of your father, you let your eyes close shut and breathing even out. George and your father looked at each other wide eyed. Matty slowly transferred you to your tiny bed in the corner of the room, holding his breath for fear of waking you up.

When he successfully laid you down, he pulled your paci out of your mouth and watched as you subconsciously replaced it with your thumb.

Matty smiled before George spoke, “Didn’t need a story or nothing,”

[neigepomme]

thinking about caleb as the main protagonist in a horror game..

this is just me rambling, so it might be mega incoherent! also it's 4am (5am when i post this) and i can only think of him oops.. mentions of major character death, horror game anon this one goes out to u

the song playing when i wrote this was have a nice life's "a quick one before the eternal worm devours connecticut" (it's a good song guys trust me)

the game would be a silent hill adjacent one — specifically silent hill 2. following your death, he's left to aimlessly work, as an attempt to dull the pain. he knows you would never forgive him if he brought an end to his own life, so as an act of selflessness towards you, he lives. painfully, with the weight of your loss on his shoulders, but he lives.

therapy doesn't work, days off do not work and and socializing is a pain, especially when you're not by his side. he misses the playful banter, and the sight of apples that he once loved reminds him of you. he doesn't find them as sweet as he used to, and the apple soda you used to make him always ends up having a bitter aftertaste, but he figures that it's because you're no longer there to sprinkle love within his drink.

eventually, caleb ends up straying away from things that remind him of you. the door to your room has been closed ever since your passing, and the only piece of you he carries with him is the necklace you gifted him. some days, it feels as if you've shackled him to you, and he gets this need to take it off — only to stop his actions when he touches the clasp.

he's still busy as the farspace fleet's colonel, and even though it won't bring you back, he still finds solace in his work. secretly, he's hoping that when he comes home, you'll come out of your room, but deep down, caleb's well aware that won't happen. he still kisses his necklace before every flight — before, he'd do it as a ritual, but now? it's done in the form of a prayer. he prays to whomever will listen, praying for your happiness wherever you are. he finds comfort in the knowledge that you no longer have to worry about ever and that your heart won't ever bring you pain again.

one day, though, he's assigned to a solo mission in the deepspace tunnel, but everything seems to be going wrong. he was getting sabotaged. the traitors finally got to him. caleb feels as if he was transported back to the DAA, to that day where everything derailed. this time around, though, he had no home to fight for, to go back to.

because you weren't there.

so as he lost control of the aircraft he was sitting in, caleb came to terms with it. with his inevitable demise. he was upset that he couldn't fulfill the promise, but he no longer wanted to fight to live. he just wanted to return to you, to see your smile again, to hold you tightly against him and to inhale the familiar scent of your shampoo. slowly, everything around him comes to a halt, and with a serene expression on his face and one last kiss to his pendant, he blacks out.

imagine his surprise when he comes to, lying on the ground of an oddly familiar planet, of an oddly familiar park. this was the place you remembered him for the first time. and what does he do? he scoffs. the gods must have forsaken him, he thinks. but he can't stop himself from walking around, picking up a metal bar he found lying next to him. just in case.

but that's when he hears it. your laughter.

and not just any laughter, but your childhood one. the giggles of a child, unmistakably you. a sense of panic takes over all of his senses, and he runs in the direction of the sound — any sense of self-preservation long forgotten. through the fog, he calls out your name, and your voice responds, calling out his name from all sides. he's going crazy. caleb's hallucinating, surely. he keeps on looking, though, and that's when he encounters it.

the disfigured, grotesque body of a researcher from the facilities you grew up in. he remembers that watch, that aggravating tick-tock sound that used to grow louder and louder in his ears every time he was experimented on and brought to new pain levels in the laboratory — when the creature leaps in his direction, and he only narrowly misses the hit, he remembers your laughter and curses under his breath. even if your voice is just an illusion, he is determined to hear more of it.

caleb takes a deep breath, the metal bar between his hands feeling heavy. he swings and hits his childhood executioner — only for it to stand back up, more murderous than it had originally been. his evol isn't working here, and all he has is that damn metal bar, so he steadies himself for another hit.

shit.

it just won't die.

he needs to run, but where even?

that's when your laughter resounds again, only this time accompanied by a shout of his name, and he runs. he runs, escaping from the creature and entering a shelter, finally away from the researcher.

something something ghost of his past something something anyways i'm tired if anyone's interested i might elaborate on this.. this is very self-indulgent and just feeding my love for psychological horror games...

[tiniestgemini]

Idk if this will help anyone but this is how I get over 10,000 steps while having a full time office job without going to the gym

Found a carpark 10 minutes away from work, that’s an extra 20 minute walk each day = about 2,000 steps

If I can, I get to work a bit early and walk around the block before I start

Never take the lift

Get out of my seat at every opportunity and go to a different floor for water, coffee, and toilet breaks

Drink a ton of water so that I need to go toilet frequently

Walk for my whole lunch break. I’m lucky to get an hour for a lunch. I’m in the city centre so I literally just pick a random direction and walk somewhere different each day, 50min walk = about 5,000 steps

By the time I get home I’ve usually done about 8,000 steps

If bf isn’t home I’ll usually spend 20mins getting the last 2,000 in by pacing at home while watching Netflix or something (I would feel weird doing that while he’s around)

If he’s home we might go for a walk together, or I’ll go for another short walk on my own

If I can’t do either of those, I’ll try to get them in with housework, going to the shop or whatever errands I need to do

With housework, I’ll try to do it the most inefficient way possible lol like putting things away one at a time and making multiple trips from room to room and going up and down the stairs

I do go to the gym when I can but I treat it as a bonus and try to have already got my steps in regardless

Honestly, sometimes it’s just not possible. It’s hard as a busy adult if you also spend 8-9 hours sat at a desk. So, if I don’t make 10,000 during the week, I don’t stress too much because I’ll make it up at the weekend

I think it’s mostly common sense but there are little adjustments you can do throughout the day to get more steps in without having to do them all in one chunk okkkk hope this helps someone