#in the whole world and i just get overwhelmed by messages and hide without even opening them lol. but i appreciate them and i need to try t

[pepprs]

you will never be too old to find someone for you. society puts a lot of emphasis on dating in high school or right after but in reality the number of people who stay in those relationships untill marriage is low. real life doesnt prioritize those years! you are never done meeting people who will love you and you will love too. there is no timer ticking down. 24 is not too old, i promise.

i know you’re right 😞😞😞 idk why i have issues abt this bc most of the ppl i spend time w / follow on inst*gram (where i saw that post 🥴) / etc are at least a couple yrs older than me if not decades and also in most cases didn’t meet their person until they were around my age or older so it’s like why not enjoy the ride and just trust that it’ll all fall into place bc ur teens and 20s are definitely not as stable or happy or whatever as they’re made out to be sometimes. i think i just need to stop looking at social media that isn’t tumblr and find a different counselor and learn how to drive 😭

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part eighteen

authors notes: two updates back to back! i felt a lil bad for leaving ya'll on a cliffhanger of sorts. granted, this one kinda does too but....not in a bad way. more of a plot twist, than anything.

status: in progress // masterlist

warnings: angst, fluff, language, suggestive themes

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

faceclaims

words: 7k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @southerngirl41 @wanderingreigns @romanreignsbae

24 hours.

It’s been 24 hours of absolute chaos and madness.

24 hours of a rush of conflicting and yet corresponding emotions. Anger. Confusion. Sadness.

In the past 24hrs, your love and basically life story have gone from being known to a select few to now being trending topics on every social media platform. Your Instagram, which was already private, had literally hundreds of follow requests the last time you checked it. There are emails in your inbox from several news platforms requesting interviews and offering exclusives. 

Hell, a couple of people even reached out to you on your LinkedIn.

It’s all so extremely overwhelming and chaotic, so much so that you had to force Alexis to leave and find some way to calm herself down. Her furious energy, while valid as hell, wasn’t helping. And it's not that you don't get it.

You do. God, you do.

You’d like nothing more than to take a steel chair to Mariah’s head, for you and Alexis to do a beatdown part two since the first one seemingly didn’t send a strong enough message.

But, you can’t. And she can’t either.

The whole world now has eyes on you, now is waiting to see what else comes out of this story that isn’t a story for you.

It’s your fucking life.

“We’re definitely looking into our options here, and there are some routes we can take, but without anything from her specifically saying she was going to do anything—”

“Wait.” It’s the first thing you’ve said in this emergency meeting with Joe and his legal team, a couple of intrigued eyes falling on you. “That’s—that’s not exactly true.”

Joe, as you expected, is the first to speak. “What are you talking about?”

This….this is the last conversation you expected to be having right now. The last thing you thought you’d be doing right now. You should be continuing to prepare for the move, decorating the house, planning how you’re going to tell Joe about your pregnancy.

Instead, you’re sitting in your new kitchen surrounded by lawyers, men in suits, and the man you love who you now have to admit to lying over something, at the time, you thought was nothing.

But that nothing has turned into a nightmare that has not only your personal life being used as media fodder but pictures of your sweet, beautiful, four-year-old daughter circulating the internet, just waiting to fall into the hands of the depraved.

That…..that’s what kills you the most.

It’s not even the “tell all” interview you only managed to watch for 10 minutes before having to turn it off. Even staring at her caked face, most likely to hide the lingering bruises from Alexis beating, makes you mad. Almost as mad at the absolute way she’s taken your and Joe’s story and dramatized it to the point of delusions.

Saying you plotted on Joe from the beginning. That you intentionally got pregnant by him. That you were sleeping with multiple men, meaning there’s a chance he could not be the father. That Joe’s ex-wife called and cussed you out, threatening to beat your ass. That you make Joe give you an allowance.

Just lies. Pure, unadulterated lies that make you sick to your stomach.

This whole thing feels like a never ending cycle of nightmares.

“Y/N?” One of the suits saying your name brings you back to this space, this place of here and now where another lie, one of your own making, is about to be revealed.

Licking your lips, you try to explain it as best you can, though there is no good way to come out and admit you weren’t honest with him. “She—she’d been sending me messages.”

“Messages?” Joe’s interruption is fair and expected, but one of his lawyers jumps in before he can continue. 

“Do you still have them?”

Nodding, you pull out your phone, opening Mariah’s thread. You’d blocked and deleted her contact from your phone so it’s just her number as the title for the thread. Reaching the phone to the lawyer, it’s quickly intercepted by Joe.

Just watching his eyes read over the messages, you can almost see his anger growing. He hands the phone over to his lawyer, and you watch as one exchanges the phone with the other.

“This is perfect,” one of the suits shares to the group. “We can definitely slap her with a couple different lawsuits with this evidence. I’m thinking extortion. Most definitely a cease and desist.”

“Defamation too,” someone else chimes. 

Joe isn’t interested in any of that at this moment. He just wants to speak with you alone, that much is painfully obvious. “Can you give us a minute?” He doesn’t wait for a response, just stands up from his seat, motioning for you to follow him.

Nervous about what’s about to ensue, you do so regardless, following him up the stairs and into the first room on the right. 

You start to plead your case as soon as the door is closed. “Joe—”

“You lied to me.”

His tone kills you. You haven’t been on the receiving end of this side of him in months, not since he first found out about Callie. “I—”

“I fucking asked you did she say anything, and you lied to me, Y/N!”

“I didn’t think anything of it, Joe.” You can’t and won’t necessarily defend the lying part, but you will attempt to help him understand your logic that was at play. “Mariah—she’d never done anything remotely close to any of this to make me think she would ever do something like this. I thought—I thought she was just saying shit to get a reaction out of me.”

He stops his pacing, looking at you with a sense of incredulity. “I didn’t ask you what kind of shit she was saying, I asked you if she said anything at all, and you stood there and you lied to me with a straight face!”

“I’m sorry, okay!” There’s a solid attempt to keep your volume down, well aware Callie is only a few rooms down playing, oblivious to all of this chaos unfolding. “But I was in a really bad place during that time, Joe, okay? I—I didn’t care about….lawyers and lawsuits, I just wanted custody of my child back.” Eyes starting to water, you shake your head, asking, “do you have any idea how hard that was for me?”

“Of course, I know, Y/N.” His tone is a little more calm, still angry though. “I was going through the same damn thing.”

“No, you weren’t!” As much as you want to control your emotions in this moment, control your temper, it’s hard when he’s clearly not trying to hear where you were coming from. “You got to see her! You got to speak to her! I didn’t! Mariah didn’t accuse you of awful shit, it was just me!”

“So you don’t think that shit impacted me at all?” His voice still carries anger, but there’s specks of hurt there. You feel bad, you didn’t mean to invalidate him, just wanted to help him see there was a difference. “Seeing you like that? Seeing Callie like that?”

Pressing your hands against your temple, you shut your eyes, explaining, “that’s not what I’m saying, Joe. You’re not listening to me.” 

“You’re right.” His agreement takes you by surprise. You didn’t expect him to be so self-aware. “I’m not listening cuz’ I’m fucking pissed off with you that this all could have been avoided if you had just been honest with me. Our daughter’s photos wouldn’t be all over the fucking internet if you had just told me the truth.”

It’s not hard for you to read between the lines of what he’s saying. But, it is hard for you to stomach what he’s saying. “You blame me for this, don’t you?” And it’s when he looks away, nostrils flared and jaw clenched. “You do….”

“I didn’t for the DCFS situation, because that was absolutely beyond your control. But this…..” He looks up at the ceiling, eyes closed, most likely trying to maintain composure. “I’m gonna go over to Jey and Kaylah’s place for a little bit. I just need to clear my head.”

Your throat constricts. Joe has never been the one to leave in the middle of an argument. He’s that one to always say we’re gonna stay here and figure this out together, so you don’t know what to make of him wanting to leave. 

“Joe, please….” Walking over to him, you place your hands on his chest, forcing him to look at you. “Don’t go, okay? We just—we need to work this out right now.”

“I love you, Y/N. I love you too much to stay here and have this out with you right now, because there’s not many nice things I have to say.” 

There’s a shred of hope that fills you in the way he cups your cheek, staring at you for a minute before he turns to walk out of the door. But the hope is easily dashed at the fact that he still chooses to walk out the door. 

Sniffling, feeling the tears oncoming, you walk out after him only to see he’s already completely descended down the stairs, already out the house most likely. Standing there, you try to keep the tears at bay, try to keep your shit together.

“Mommy….”

“What, Callie!” The second it leaves your voice, the harshness, the volume, the cruelness, you want to melt into the ground. Callie, understandably, looks devastated at you snapping at her. And you feel it too. “Baby, I’m—I’m so sorry—”

She doesn’t give you a chance to grovel because she turns on the heel of her shoes and darts back into her room, slamming the door behind her. 

Your chest tightening, the tears starting to fall. It hits you so hard.

You really fucked up. 

—-------

“You ready to talk yet?”

Joe knew the second he walked into his cousin’s house, grabbed a beer out the fridge and plopped himself on the steps of their back porch that he didn’t come over here to vent. He just needed to get away, to clear and sort through his head so he didn’t end up saying anything worse than what he’s already said to Y/N.

And Kaylah recognized as such. Recognized something must have happened, which is why she allowed him his privacy for the time being.

“Not really,” he answers, finishing off his beer and tossing it to his side.

“Too bad,” Kaylah dismisses. It’s not a major surprise. “Cause I am.” Joe says nothing as she slides down on the step, sitting beside him. When he still says nothing, “what happened, Joe?”

Joe chuckles bitterly. “Check the news. Any of them.”

Kaylah frowns. “You know that’s not what I mean.” She’s very well aware of that part of this shitshow. “What happened with you and Y/N?”

“She lied to me, Kay.” Joe really doesn’t want to talk about this, but he knows he needs to. Knows he eventually has to go back home and face the music. “I had asked her if Mariah had said anything, not even anything bad, just anything in general. She told me no, but that wasn’t the truth, Mariah was sending all kinds of messages alluding to doing something if Y/N didn’t answer her…..now look at what’s happened.” 

Kaylah takes a second to digest what he’s saying. “When did you ask her?”

“When the whole DCFS situation happened. My lawyers were trying to see if we could build some type of case against Mariah.”

Kaylah is smart, always has been, so it’s not difficult for her to put the pieces together. “And you think if she had provided these messages, you could have done something to avoid this latest shitshow?” Joe doesn’t have to answer her question. She already knows his answer. “That’s a big if, Joe, and you know it.”

“Of course, I know it. It’s just…….fuck.” He shuts his eyes, head titled back. “It’s like shit just keeps happening.”

“It’s rough, I can imagine that, but it’s not just rough for you. Y/N is going through the same thing, and instead of sitting here in your misery, blaming her, you two should be handling it together.” Kaylah lifts her finger to silence him when he goes to either agree or protest. “I’m not saying she wasn’t wrong for not telling you the truth, but Joe, we both know that if she had even an inkling that Mariah would do something like this, she would have told you in a heartbeat.” Her voice softens. “She made a mistake.”

“And I know Mariah has put your business out there too now, and I don’t mean to make it seem like this doesn’t impact you as well, but Y/N is the one being dragged to filth on the internet right now. I sincerely hope she hasn’t read some of the stuff being said about her. It’s awful. Mariah lied about so many things and has made Y/N out to be this horrible person when she’s not.”

Joe thinks that’s the part that pisses him off the most, that made him so angry he unintentionally took that anger out on the person being affected the most in this situation. He watched the entire interview Mariah did, heard the way she took parts of the truth and piled a shit ton of lies on top. 

Heard how actually had the fucking audacity to drag Jadah into it, claiming she had texts and recorded phone calls between the two of them talking about how Y/N was a whore and broke up her marriage. All kind of just lies.

And he knows it’s not true, because he knows Jadah. Hell, he spoke to Jadah just this morning. 

It infuriated him even more to read some of the comments, people speaking so cruelly about the woman he loves. Even going as far to drag Callie into the cesspool of bullying. 

A man who doesn’t like not having control, it tears him up to not be able to do anything to dead the shit immediately. 

But…..there are some things he can do, and he can’t do them if he’s sitting here in his feelings.

Joe looks over at Kaylah, gently shoving into her side. “Thank you, Kay.”

“Anytime.” And she means it. Joe is like a brother to her. Always has been. “Now you’ve got twenty minutes to get your sorry ass off my porch and back to your house to take care of business. Cause I know you, Joe. You don’t play about your family. Let that bitch know she’s fucked with the wrong one.”

—-------

“Mama, I really messed up.”

Crying over the phone to your mom at your big age definitely wasn’t in your bingo card for 2024, yet here you are.

Granted, most of what’s happened this year wasn’t in your bingo card anyway, so it lines up.

“Oh, honey. You made a mistake, You’re human. It happens.” Your mom’s voice is soothing on the other side of the phone. “And don’t worry about Joseph. He’s just upset right now. He’ll calm down.”

“He’s right to be upset. I shouldn’t have lied to him.” Sniffling and wiping at your eyes, you bring your legs to your chest. “And look at what my mistake has caused mama. My baby’s face is all over the internet. Personal photos just material for people to make posts and tweets and TikTok’s about.”

It makes you sick to your stomach to think of how low Mariah has gotten in this whole situation. All of those snaps you shared with her of your daughter, precious moments you thought you were sharing with your best friend, she’d sold to whoever would buy them for 15 minutes of fame and a slice of short-lived relevancy.

“None of us knew that girl is as unhinged as she is. You’re not psychic, baby. You had no way of knowing this would happen, and Joseph knows that. He just let his pride get the best of him and took out his frustrations on you, which, make no mistake, is not right. And you definitely need to check him on that.” Your mom briefly switching gears brings a smile and small laugh to your face. “You know I didn’t raise you to take shit from no man, and that includes him.”

“I know….” And you will address it with him, even if deep down something tells you he already feels bad for how he spoke to you, knowing it was wrong. “I just—-I feel like we can’t catch a break. It sometimes makes me wonder if…..if I’m doing the right thing.” The past 24 hours have caused you to experience such a whirlwind of emotions, emotions you’re sure are exacerbated by a pregnancy no one knows about yet. “I would never stop Joe from being in Callie’s life, but if me being with him causes all this mess for him and her then….”

“Don’t do that. Don’t you dare do that.” Your mom’s interjection is fierce and sharp. “That boy loves you. He’d do anything for you and baby girl. Don’t let Mariah trick you into thinking that somehow you being happy with the man you love and father of your child is somehow wrong. Don’t let her win.”

Blowing out a breath, you try to heed to your mom’s guidance. She’s right. You know she’s right. Mariah being psychotic doesn’t change shit about your love for Joe, his love for you, the way he’d do anything for ya’ll and vice versa.

Mariah is just jealous. Dissolving what is otherwise a happy family would bring her nothing but great satisfaction. And over your dead body will you let that bitch get what she wants.

“You’re right.” Shaking your head, you try to counter all of your negative and anxious thoughts with more optimism and logic. “It’s just….it’s hard right now.”

“And it will be for a little while, but that’s when you lean on the people you love, and baby, you got no shortage of that.”

Sniffling, tears drying, you thank her, “thank you, mama.”

“Just let me know if you need me to fly down there.” And you know she will. Know Joe won’t hesitate to pay for a plane ticket for her to come stay with you.

And after you tell him about your pregnancy, you might do just that.

“I will,” you promise, telling her you’ll call or text her later to let her know how everything pans out before ending the call.

Stepping back into the kitchen and sliding the door closed, locking it, the last thing you expect to see is Joe standing in the kitchen.

Gasping, hand over your chest, your shoulders slump as you murmur, “you scared me.”

“I’m sorry.” It’s a layered statement, multiple meanings and several different applications. A knowledge that comes from being with and knowing this man for all these years. 

Walking over to him, you cross your arms over one another. “I shouldn’t have lied to you.”

He shakes his head. “Didn’t give me an excuse to talk to you the way I did or to say the things I did.” And as strange a thought it may be to have in this moment, this is one of the many reasons you love the man before you. Joe is mature and man enough to both admit when he’s fucked up and is always intentional about making it right.

Swallowing, you advise, “this is just a really fucked up situation that neither of us really knows how to process.” Ain’t that the fucking truth. “But, we can handle it…together.”

He gently pulls you into his chest and your eyes shut as he holds you, apologizing into the top of your head.

“I’m sorry too.” you apologize, hand on his chest. “I know that situation was difficult for you too, and I shouldn’t have invalidated your feelings.”

“Neither of us was 100% right.” And he’s correct. He was wrong for lashing out the way he did, and you were wrong for not being honest and invalidating his experience. 

Neither of you could pull the ‘right’ card.

“Agreed.” You murmur, eyes softening as you switch topics a bit. “Callie….I accidentally snapped at her after you left.” The guilt still eats at you for that, for taking out your emotions on your sweet little girl. “I spoke with her and apologized, but….I think she heard us fighting.”

That really kills you. You don’t think it’s entirely unhealthy for kids to hear their parents go at it from time to time, but not at 4. And not for a sensitive child like Callie.

Joe looks equally upset at this, offering, “let me talk to her. If she heard us, she needs to know that me yelling at you wasn’t okay.”

There’s no disagreement nor protest as he heads up the stairs to find Callie.

Joe stands outside Callie’s door with a knock that’s followed by her head snapping up and smile brightening. “Daddy!” She rushes over to him, Joe leaning to pick her up, holding her. “You came back!”

Her words crush him, the idea that she could even think he could ever leave her, leave either of them.

“Of course, baby girl.” Joe moves to the only adult sized chair in her room, holding her on his lap, caressing her cheek. “Callie, I know you heard me and your mom arguing, but I need you to know that I will never leave you or mommy. Daddy was just….very upset, and I took it out on your mom which was wrong.”

In a soft voice, she asks, “did mommy do something bad?”

“No, she just….made a mistake, and that’s okay, because we all make mistakes, but it wasn’t okay for me to yell at her like that.” Joe decides to take this unfortunate occurrence and make it a learning lesson for his daughter. “You never let any lil’ boy yell at you or talk mean to you, you hear me?” Callie nods her head, as he adds. “And if he does, let me know, and I’ll take care of it.”

Callie turns up her nose. “Boys are gross.” She then adds, “cept' you, daddy.”

Joe laughs but quickly agrees. Let her think that as long as she wants. Forever, preferably. He tugs her a bit closer, holding her snug to him. “That’s right. All of em’. Every single one.” 

—-------

Given only a few rooms in the house are fully furnished, the three of you sleep and stay at Joe’s place at night given he doesn’t plan to sell it until you’re all completely moved in. Not feeling like cooking, or rather not feeling like helping Joe cook, you decide on takeout.

Subsequently, ya'll share dinner while watching Finding Nemo 2, the chosen movie of the night by Callie.

There’s extra measures on your end to make sure she’s really forgiven you, needing her to know that you’re truly apologetic, and of course, your inherently kind child shows absolutely no sign that she holds any type of grudge against you.

You couldn’t be any more grateful for her wonderfully big heart.

You handle getting her to bed, seeing that Joe is tired. It’s something you noticed the minute he arrived at the new house from the airport. He looks exhausted. How can he not be? Preparing for WrestleMania, training nonstop, finishing up his documentary, and now this?

A person can only take so much.

You’re actually happy he’ll have a week off post WrestleMania. He needs that. He needs time to just rest.

It doesn’t surprise you that he falls asleep in a matter of minutes, big body laid out over yours as you gently caress his naked back. His heavy shoulders lifting in alignment with his breathing is a soothing source you zone in on while scrolling aimlessly on your phone. Pinterest only. You can’t allow yourself to check out anything else.

That is until you receive a text from Alexis telling you to check Joe’s Instagram. 

For a second, you consider ignoring it, but curiosity gets the best of you.

Logging back into the app, you go straight to his profile, gasping when you see the latest post on the grid. 

It’s a photo of the three of you. One of the ones taken when you’d surprised him at his show back in February. He’s holding Callie who has her arms wrapped around his neck, smiling big at the camera with his other arm hooked around you, your body angled into him, hand on his chest.

It’s one of your favorite photos.

Your eyes drop to his lengthy caption.

@/RomanReigns: I’ve never been one to openly discuss my personal life because, quite frankly, it’s no one’s business. Unfortunately, I’m now forced to do so due to a clearly unwell and pathetic individual who has taken parts of the truth and padded it with lies. My girlfriend and I share one child together. This is my biological child. There’s never been a question of paternity. Her mother never coerced or blackmailed me into shit. Y/N has been villainized as a vindictive gold-digger and liar when that is absolutely bullshit. She is an amazing mother, friend, and partner whom I love fiercely and protectively. The same goes for my daughter. They are my world, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to protect them. Having our daughter’s photos and personal videos posted all over the internet has been equally heartbreaking as it is infuriating for the both of us. Legal action is currently being pursued for all involved in the doxing and sharing of personal media of my family as well as other atrocities that have taken place behind the scenes you all don’t even know about. All of this is entirely unacceptable and will be dealt with to the fullest extent of the law. And to everyone who has so much to say about a situation you know nothing about outside of the lies circulating, remember these are real people with real feelings.

But most importantly, keep my girlfriend and daughter’s name out of your fucking mouths.

~Joe

Tears are starting to burn your eyes as you stare down at the man sleeping on top of you. The man who never ceases to amaze you with how far he’ll go to show you just how much he loves and cares about you.

He didn’t have to do this, didn’t have to go against his preference to keep his personal life off the internet. But, he did. He did it to send a message to everyone.

To send a message to Mariah.

You press a gentle kiss against the top of his head, knowing doing so won’t disturb his sleep.

And though against your better judgment, decide to read a few comments, knowing it’s bound to be a batch of mixed reactions. 

@/User1: Damn, Roman said keep my wife’s name out your fucking mouth! Watch Will Smith join the match at WrestleMania.

@/User2: Used to be a big fan, but I could never support a cheater. Unfollowing.

@/User3: How many of you actually watched the interview with the “friend”? It’s obvious she’s lying about a lot of things she said, because most of it wasn’t adding up.

@/User4: My thing is why did you hide this kid and girlfriend you supposedly “love” so much? Feels like you got exposed and now you’re trying to save face.

@/User5: This is all so messy and shameful. He definitely needs to lose his title at WM. What a joke and embarrassment to the WWE.

@/User6: It’s funny how so many of you are ignoring the fact that he signed this with his real name. “Roman” is a real person clearly going through heavy shit right now. Who cares about a fucking title?

@/User7: How about you learn to “acknowledge” the truth, Mr. “tribal chief”?

@/UceyJucey: Man, this family right here. We go you, Y/N and Big Dog. For life!

@/BigLexPurr: Ya’ll gon see JOE don’t play about HIS!

@/JonathanFatu: FOE 

@/RomanReigns has turned off comments for this post. 

The comments are to be expected, though it warms you to see familiar names coming to your defense, seeing that while there may be a lot of hatred being spewed your way, there’s still an abundance of love and support that encompasses you.

But, it’s when you come across a reference to the Bloodline that an idea hits you, smashes into you so strongly that you have to wake Joe to get the ball rolling.

“Baby.” He’s knocked out, so it takes a couple of shakes and slaps to finally get him to stir. “Joe!”

Finally, he stirs, sighing loudly as he groans, “fine, you getting on top though.”

Rolling your eyes, you shove his shoulder. “Not that. Can I use one of your cars tomorrow morning? And I need you to stay and watch Callie for a bit.”

At this, he opens his eyes, looking you over with confusion. “Where you going?”

“It’s a surprise. Just….trust me, okay?” Leaning to kiss his cheek, you throw out a quick ‘thank you’ and turn back on your side. Only to squeal quietly when his big hands move you onto your back. One look at him, and you know what he wants. “Joe, it’s like 3 o’clock in the morning.”

“Should have thought about that before you woke me up….” His mouth is on your neck, right hand moving under his shirt that hides your nude body, gripping your breast. “Let me just taste you….”

There’s a strong desire and almost responsibility you feel to press your legs together and direct him to go back to sleep, but raging, most likely pregnancy fueled hormones, along with the fact that you want to enjoy this for as long as you can before pregnancy body stops all sexual acts, are just too damn strong.

So you simply chew on your bottom lip, watching his dark silky head disappear under the covers and enjoy the toe curling ride of fantasy that is his skilled tongue on you.

—-------

You’re out of the house by 7am sharp, the sun still making its way to introduce the new day, but that doesn't matter. 

You’re a woman on a mission, a mission that has a ticking deadline. Joe has to fly back out tomorrow, so you can’t waste one precious moment.

Target has almost everything you need, sans a couple of items that you pick up at Walmart. 

And Alexis, who finally calmed down enough after getting drunk as hell and hooking up with some random she met on the boardwalk, agreed to keep Callie for you for a little bit. It’s a double win, because Callie always has a good time with Alexis, and Alexis can’t catch a murder charge if she’s on babysitting duty.

Of course, Joe being Joe, has a million and one questions. Understandably so.

“Can you at least tell me why you had Alexis come get Callie?” And before you can give him the vaguest answer, he adds on, “or what the hell is in those boxes?”

His question comes from behind as you carry said cake boxes up the steps, reaching the top and offering him a teasing glare. “And you always say I suck at surprises.”

“I’m too old for surprises, baby.”

Baby…..

God, you can’t wait to see his reaction.

“Patience, lover. Patience.” You then gesture with your chin to the first door with a sticky note on it. “Open that one.”

Joe looks taken back, reading the post-it. “Option 1? Option 1 for what?”

This man….. “I see where Callie gets her questioning nature from. Boy, just open the damn door.” 

He rolls his eyes, walking in and looking around. “There’s literally nothing in this room.”

“Yet,” you correct, encouraging him. “Just….be mindful of the layout and what it could be.”

“It can’t be anything considering it’s empty as hell.”

“Joe, I swear to—” You close your eyes, taking a deep breath. “Come on. Let’s look at the other ones.”

And you have him do just that, viewing two more rooms that he doesn’t realize you’ve shortlisted as potential nurseries. He makes his smartass comments, of course, but you also know it’s in jest and he really just wants to know what’s going on. 

So, it’s when you finish and bring him back to the kitchen, directing him to sit on the barstool as you lay out the two boxes in front of him. “You gon tell me why you had me look at empty rooms while you carried boxes?”

“Stop being difficult.” Slapping him on the shoulder, your nerves begin to set in as you motion to the counter. “Pick one to open. Only one.”

Joe’s curious gaze is on you, humor dropping a bit as he asks, in all seriousness. “Y/N, what’s going on?”

“Just…..trust me.” It’s a simple but powerful thing to say given the past couple days. You know he does and know he will. “Pick one.”

Waiting for him to carefully pull the tape off to open the box, you time it perfectly so at the same time he’s lifting the lid, you murmur, “I think it’s a boy too…..”

Joe’s gaze snaps to yours at your statement but also refers back to the now open box. “Y/N….what is this?”

Eyes starting to water, you manage to tease him, “don’t tell me the Tribal Chief suddenly doesn’t know how to read.”

There’s a close and careful watch you have on Joe as his eyes go from left to right, clearly reading the words you have beautifully decorated on the inside of the cake box that’s filled with freshly baked chocolate chip cookies dyed blue with food coloring.

The other box is filled with chocolate chip cookies dyed pink.

Same message located on the lid of the box.

BREAKING NEWS: 

New Bloodline Member Coming Soon. Ready to acknowledge daddy in September, 2024.

He does that one, two, three times before slowly looking back up at you, a level of emotion in his gaze and eyes you’re not sure you’ve ever seen. 

His voice is so low, so imbued with vulnerability that you almost have to ask him to repeat himself. “You serious?”

Shaking your head, you reach out, pushing back some of his hair. “I wouldn't lie to you about this, Leati…….” Taking his hand and placing it on your stomach, you layer your own on top of his. “I’m pregnant…..we’re having another baby.” Sniffling, tears finally starting to spill, you add, “and no one knows but you and me. Not my mom. Not Alexis. Not Callie. Just you and me.” Licking your lips, you acknowledge. “I didn’t do it right the first time, but I’m gonna do everything right this time.”

Joe not saying anything initially makes you second guess yourself. Were you wrong to assume that he would be happy? Given everything that’s happened, has it changed his views on things? You thought that he would be thrilled at the idea of expanding your family, but what if you were wrong?

It’s only seconds later though that he shoots up from the chair, wrapping his strong arms around you, holding you maybe tighter than what’s necessary.

All concern is washed away, a happy giggle leaving your mouth as he spins you around. 

Back on the ground, his hands on your face. “I love you.” His thumbs brush over the apples of your cheek. You swear his eyes are glazed over with unshed tears. “I love you with everything in me.”

“I love you too,” you murmur, choked up and moved by his reaction. He's thrilled. “And I know things are a mess right now, but I couldn’t miss this opportunity to tell you while you’re in town.”

Everything is certainly not the way it should be, but for him to be here, to be with you, and for you to not tell him felt so wrong. You didn't want to make him wait any longer than he needed to.

“September…..” You can see he’s doing the math in his head, hand dropping to your stomach. “You’re three months?”

“Just about. End of March will mark officially three months, but I just found out at the OB-GYN appointment I had. I wanted to tell you right away, but I also wanted to do it in person, because you deserve as much.” You find yourself rambling, probably over-explaining, but the last thing you want is for him to think you’ve been keeping this from him. “It’s up to you, but I do think we should tell Callie first.”

You've thought about it, and to some extent, you have some concern about how she’ll respond. She’s been an only child her whole life, obviously. And she already doesn’t like ‘sharing’ Joe with you sometimes, how will she respond to a brother or sister?

Joe must be reading your mind as he kisses your forehead. “We’ll figure it out.” Another realization also crosses his mind as he connects more dots. “The rooms…..you think one of them could be the nursery.”

Playfully rolling your eyes, you tease him. “Well, it took you long enough to put two and two together.” Yelping, you laugh when Joe squeezes your hip and picks you up, bridal style. “Joe!”

“Let’s go look again,” he implores, and you know it’s because he wants to go again because now he knows this will be the room where your baby will stay in, the room where you’ll nurse him or her, where he’ll finally be able to enjoy being a father from conception to birth. 

It makes this moment even better.

But, you need something else.

You call for him to wait, pointing to the box of cookies. “What?” You ask after he moves close enough for you to grab them. Rubbing your belly, you remind him with all the pride in the world, “mama’s eating for two now.”

—-------

The day is perfect.

Absolutely perfect.

It’s a day where you can temporarily forget all of the bullshit in your life that doesn’t matter in these moments where it’s just the three of you.

Well, four, technically. 

The day is spent shopping, of all things, Joe refusing to leave without you finally getting a bedroom set. The one, ironically, that Alexis pointed out the other day. It really does look like the both of you.

He also might have made a sly comment regarding making good use of the mirror.....

On top of that, you start to casually peruse nursery furniture, nothing too obvious to where Callie can tell. You and Joe haven’t settled on when or how to tell her, but you’re leaning more toward after WrestleMania. He’ll be off that week, so it gives you both time to tackle any big emotions that might come up.

And Joe….

It deeply endears you to notice the little things. He’s always been touchy feely, but his hand seemed to find a space on or near your stomach all day. Gentle kisses pressed against your temple and more “I love you’s” than usual. You know it’s all because he’s wholly and fully happy. This pregnancy means more to him than you could probably ever comprehend.

And being able to make him so happy when he’s made you happier means everything to you.

Even laying in bed together, enjoying your time with each other before he has to leave early in the morning, his big hand is splayed protectively across your stomach. You appreciate all of these moments, know that the next almost six months of your pregnancy will be filled with them.

Even with some dread at trying to navigate this pregnancy with Joe’s crazy work schedule, you’re more happy than anything. Ecstatic that you get to experience this pregnancy with him this time around.

Together. 

Sleep is finally about to overcome you when your phone dings on your nightstand. Tempted to leave it, it’s hard to do so when it vibrates several different times.

Not knowing if it could be something serious or requiring immediate attention, you reach over, unlocking to see you have five texts from an unknown number.

But, the sender is no longer unknown the moment you open the thread.

Unknown: Hi, Y/N. This is Jadah. 

This…..this has to be a joke, has to be some kind of cruel prank that’s all a part of Mariah’s apparent master plan to ruin your life.

Because there’s no way in hell Joe’s ex-wife is texting you. No way in hell. 

But before you can block the number, chalking it up as a cruel prank, you see she’s sent a screenshot of a conversation between her and Joe. Zooming in, you see it’s from around October with them discussing the details of the divorce.

Holy…..shit.

It is her.

Jadah: Just so you know it’s really me…..

And if you weren’t already about to drop your damn phone onto Joe’s head at the fact that thee fucking Jadah is actually texting you right now, her next set of messages nearly send you into cardiac arrest.

Jadah: Super strange/inconvenient way for me to reach out, but given everything that’s going on, I think it’s time we met and talked face to face.

Jadah: Even more, since this hoe got so much to say about OUR lives, I also think it’s time we take back the narrative and pull an Uno reverse card.

Jadah: How do you feel about going on IG Live together?

[sccpmccabe]

ᅟᅟᅟ tolerate it | alessia russo x brazilian!reader, duda sampaio x brazilian!reader

Summary: Everyone goes through bad times in life, but some attitudes can end in mistakes and sometimes there is no way back.

[AN: I'm working on some requests but I couldn't stop thinking about this plot, so here it is! This will be a mini series with two other chapters, hope you like it <3]

ᅟ The last few months have been hell for Alessia. The first blow was the crisis that their secret relationship was facing.

ᅟ During the World Cup you, the English striker's girlfriend, were feeling very overwhelmed, after all, that would be the first time that you would play in that tournament for your national team. As if that wasn't already a huge weight on her shoulders, every day her coach made a point of repeating the same words to the team.

ᅟ “Are you really going to allow the queen of football to retire without a world title with the national team? I don't care if you're young, old or what, you need to give everything for her. Marta deserves this and I will not allow you to ruin this experience for her.”

ᅟ Pia Sundhage was an admirable and successful woman, but she definitely crossed some limits and the most serious thing was almost completely taking away the identity of the Brazilian team. It wasn't news to anyone that Brazil was known for its beautiful, passionate style of play, full of tricks and skills, but since the woman arrived as coach shortly after being eliminated in the 2019 World Cup, things have changed drastically.

ᅟ Despite being a young player, you already had your fair share of experiences at an international level as you left the club that formed you very young and followed Geyse, your colleague and best friend, out of Brazil. A few years passed and while the other girl shone in Spanish lands playing for Barcelona, you enjoyed the contrasting experience of living in London and playing for the red team in the north of the city.

ᅟ It was during one of Arsenal's games against United that you met Alessia and it's safe to say that from the first moment you found yourself in love with the girl with blue eyes and blonde hair. To your surprise, she also ended up really liking you and at the end of that match you exchanged t-shirts and a small note came with hers and contained your phone number and an invitation to dinner.

ᅟ The rest was history, and a story worthy of romance books, by the way, but little by little the whole situation began to fall apart and you seemed to be the only one interested in putting together and pasting all the pieces of your love. While you fought for her, Alessia didn't even recognize any gesture and just worried about her own life and career. She kept it a secret and made a point of hiding it in a trunk under lock and key. Not even your family and closest friends knew that you were a couple and that hurt, a lot.

ᅟ You begged the blonde for help not once, much less twice or three times but she just ignored your messages and calls with the excuse of being too busy preparing for the competition, which wasn't completely a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either. While all this was happening and your condition was only getting worse, your teammates noticed how miserable you looked, but they couldn't understand why. It was only when Luana ran after you after a training session that they began to understand what you were going through and despite the help that the midfielder and all the other girls provided you, you never managed to fully recover as a huge part of your problems was your secret relationship.

ᅟ The trigger came at the final whistle in the game against Jamaica, making his biggest fear come true. Brazil was out of the World Cup in the group stage and your heart, which already had some cracks in it, broke in half once and for all. Your eyes roamed the stands hoping to find Alessia somewhere since she had promised she would be there for you, but your search for her was in vain. Without even realizing how it happened, you found yourself kneeling on the field with your face in the grass in front of Marta's boots, who was trying to comfort you while you cried profusely. All the cameras were on you and the Queen of football, knowing how sad and meaningful that image was.

ᅟ Tears were still flowing from your eyes like a waterfall when you felt a weight on your back and two strong arms pressed against your fragile body. All the other players, both Brazilian and Jamaican, gathered around you forming a large circle and sympathizing with the difficult time you were going through. It took some time, but you finally recovered enough to lift your head off the ground and face the older woman in front of you who was looking at you with teary eyes and you were about to break down again when Duda's low voice reached your ears and you body turned to face the girl who held you in her arms so carefully.

ᅟ Just like you, Duda was also part of the new generation of players, she currently played for the best team in the country, the same one that had revealed you to the world a few years ago. You had many things in common, but for some reason she seemed to avoid your presence, always choosing not to stay by your side for long and looking away from your direction. At first you thought she didn't like you, but Luana and some other colleagues assured you that it was just her shyness speaking louder, however, despite all that, she was the one by your side at that moment, looking at you with so much affection that your breath caught for a few moments. The brunette offered you a welcoming smile before extending her hand for you to hold and get up, but noticed how your legs shook when trying to do so and decided to take the action of picking you up and carrying you to the changing room.

ᅟ The more time passed, the harder it was to face reality. Little by little, the devastating sadness gave way to anger, and from anger, to revolt. The local atmosphere was hostile and heavy, each player was dealing with it in a different way, but they all had some thoughts in common, you could have done more, you should have done more. Even in the midst of that chaos, all the players' phones were exploding with messages and calls from family, friends and even players from other national teams who showed solidarity in that difficult time. Despite that, it took almost an entire day for Alessia to contact you and when she did, God, it was disastrous.

ᅟ It took some time, but you managed to convince the blonde to meet you in person in the hotel room where your team was staying.

ᅟ "What do you want from me? I have more important things to do than talk to you.” She said as soon as she reached her room, taking off the hood and glasses she wore as a disguise. Her words affected you more than you wanted to admit and after closing the door and making sure no one had seen the blonde enter your room, you walked over to the bed and sat on the edge of it. At that moment it became clear that you should get straight to the point with her, knowing that trying to stall would only make things worse.

ᅟ “Good night to you too, Alessia.” Your voice carried a certain irony and the coldness with which you treated her was unusual. “Since you are a very busy woman, I will get straight to the point. I can no longer stand the way you are treating me and I can't maintain our relationship if you continue like this. I know you're avoiding me and I can't understand why. We’ve always been open with each other and you’ve just signed for Arsenal, which I think should only improve our relationship, but you’re more distant than ever.”

ᅟ The striker seemed surprised by your words since you never liked conflicts or more serious conversations like this, and, despite knowing that you were right, she couldn't help but mock you, maintaining an air of superiority while crossing her arms over the chest.

ᅟ “How many times do I have to tell you that I need to focus on my career and the World Cup, hmm? I thought that by this point in the championship this would have become very clear.” You even tried to interrupt her to better explain your point of view, but she didn't even give a chance. “No, you already had your turn to speak, now it’s mine. And, what do you know, you're right, I really am avoiding you because I can't deal with your neediness anymore. Lately you've been so unbearable that I don't even feel like having a conversation with you. I’m a world-class striker, I don’t have time to deal with your bullshit and your problems.” God, how her words hurt. It was hard to believe that the girl in front of you who was putting on such a narcissistic show was the same one you had fallen in love with and loved madly.

ᅟ “Oh, now I understand. So what you want to tell me is that I have to be emotionally available to you in your worst moments just like I was when the United fans turned on you but you can't return the favor because you are a world class striker?” The temperature of that conversation was increasing quickly, as was your voice, which certainly caught the attention of your friends in the next rooms. “How selfish you are, Alessia. I can't believe you mean all this, what happened to you? When did you become so stupid and snobbish? Did winning the Euros get to your head that much? Because a fucking title doesn’t give you the right to treat me like I’m nothing or nobody.”

ᅟ “If by being a snob you mean I'm a realist, then yes, I'm a complete snob. Don't you notice the difference between us? I was instrumental in winning the Euros while you weren't even able to help your team get past the group stage of the World Cup. And don’t be fooled into thinking that I signed for Arsenal because of you and our relationship, I did it because it was best for my career and because your team needs a real player like me.” The tone of voice Alessia used was completely humiliating and the cruelty of her words was so much that it left you speechless. Your girlfriend knew how insecure you were feeling about this tournament and in addition to not helping you with that, she made sure to destroy you once and for all. The woman you loved did this to you, and you couldn't believe it.

ᅟ The expression on your face was one of pure pain and betrayal, your throat was dry and you didn't even know what to say while the blonde was still in front of you watching you with that air of superiority, but when you got up from the bed she was scared. Your body language screamed wrath and your eyes shone from the tears you refused to let go. It was at that moment that Alessia realized everything she had done to you and how much her attitude affected you. She felt like she had been punched in the stomach and the worst person in the world, but now it was too late.

ᅟ "We are over." Your sentence was said indifferently, as if you and the striker didn't have a history. “Get out of here. I don't want to see you ever again” It was obvious that you were containing your emotions, and, in order not to have to deal with them, you walked to the door of your room, coming face to face with Lelê, Geyse, Duda and Luana in the hallway. They had heard everything and were about to invade the room. You looked at them with panic, not knowing how much they had heard, but Alessia was still standing in the middle of the room, shocked by her own actions. “I TOLD YOU TO GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE.” Your scream was powerful and disturbing like a thunderclap and broke the British woman out of the trance she was in.

ᅟ She had never seen you like that. At the same time that you looked so fragile her body was filled with anger and she knew it was better to do what you said. She left the room slowly, startled by the presence of her teammates who were already there and noticing the arrival of others. Despite this, she had the audacity to try to approach you and say something, but Letícia, Luana and Geyse took a step forward while Duda pulled you away from it. The attacker seemed to want to insist on that, but the goalkeeper blocked her path. Letícia and Alessia were the same height, but the brunette's physical condition made her more threatening and firm like a brick wall. Fortunately her presence was enough for the lioness to give up on her plan and leave in a hurry, like a coward.

ᅟ Only when her silhouette disappeared behind the elevator doors did you allow yourself to give in, running back to the bedroom and, later, to the bathroom, where you barely had time to lift the toilet lid before throwing up. A few seconds later you smelled Duda's perfume around you and her hand on your back, trying to comfort you just like she had done a few days ago. You had no idea what her level of English was and how much she had heard and understood of the conversation, but regardless, she was there, by your side, again.

ᅟ You could hear Luana's voice, imagining that she must be explaining the whole situation to the other girls who arrived after the commotion in the hallway and as you thought about how horrible that situation was, you realized that in a short time you and your ex-girlfriend would play together on the same team. Suddenly the nausea was back and you felt everything spinning around you. Little by little you got better and finally came out of the bathroom, seeing all your teammates crammed into the room and ready to welcome you into their arms.

ᅟ It took a few hours and a lot of explanation on your part, but eventually everyone understood the situation and shared the same anger as you. They were all worried about what would happen in the future since you two are Arsenal players and would see each other every day in a matter of a few weeks, and that worried you too, but it was after a few minutes in silence that Tamires made a suggestion that made your eyes shine.

ᅟ Soon you, the blonde and Duda were in front of the door of Cris Gambaré's room, the director of women's football at Corinthians who was helping the Brazilian coaching staff. When she finally answered, the three of you smiled slightly and the woman took a deep breath, knowing that she had a problem to solve.

BREAKING NEWS: Arsenal midfield star Y/F/N will go on loan to Corinthians, the club that revealed her to the world. The team was surprised by the request, but accepted after some insistence from the player. She must leave for Brazil immediately and will return to Arsenal as soon as the South American season comes to an end in December.

[leonardalphachurch]

@redvsbluesecretsanta present for @thetality !

sorry that she is late chronic fatigue has been absolutely kicking my ass please give love to @donut-entendre who without his help i would not have been able to finish this 🙏

thetality asked for something with theta and/or caboose so i decided to go with modern au fluffy bonding stuff. bc the world needs more theta caboose friendship

(also available to read on ao3)

***

Waffles Time

Theta wakes up at 3am scared and alone. Caboose takes it upon himself to make them feel a little less alone.

This can only mean one thing: it’s waffles time.

Blink. Blink blink.

Theta rubbed the sleep out of their eyes.

Wait.

Theta rubbed the sleep out of their eyes?

Oh.

Their mind was quiet, but for a buzzing of anxiety and stress. No one else was there. No welcoming. No arguing.

They looked around. The time on their watch read 2:35. AM. A message popped up. An unknown number.

They looked around. Their phone lay on the floor across the room. Even from their place on the bed, Theta could see the screen had been shattered. A dent in the wall above it.

Oh.

Theta took off their watch.

It wasn't long before footsteps lingered in the hall, pausing in front of their door.

"Church?"

Oh no.

Theta didn’t want to talk to Alpha’s friends. They didn’t want to have to answer questions and be looked at and judged and—

“Um. Please go away please.”

“Yeeeaaah... No… Are you okay? Did you also have a nightmare? Because…"

Theta fumbled for the lamp, flicking it on and wincing at the sudden brightness. Their things were a little bit everywhere.

“... but I get those all the time. Sometimes my dad dies again and-"

Boxers. Why did Alpha have to sleep in just a night shirt and boxers? The leg of a pair of sweatpants poked out of a pile on the bed. They quickly pulled it on.

“... I always hate the marshmallow dreams because Tucker always eats them all and there isn't any left… Hey, you're really quiet today!”

Oh, right. Alpha wasn’t very nice to his friends, was he.

“No I’m very normal!” Theta shouted at the door, “um. Fff.. fuck, you.” They winced at their own words.

The doorknob clicked horribly as the man pushed in.

Theta ducked under the covers. “Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry.”

“Oh, you don't have to be sorry for locking the door! It was already broken - which wasn't anyone's fault - Did you forget again? I can remind you any time."

That… wasn’t why they were apologizing. But for some reason, it did help ease Theta’s worries. They peeked out from under the covers.

Towering over the bed was Caboose, complete with messy bedhead and big warm pajamas. He looked down at Theta with a large, sleepy grin. When Theta just kept staring back, his expression got contemplative.

Should… should they say something?

But there was no need, as Caboose seemed to suddenly realize something. “Oooohh.... You're the little one!”

“Um….” Theta considered lying, but they would never make a convincing Alpha. “Maybe…”

“Hello little Church!” Caboose launched himself onto the bed, bouncing a little as he landed.

Theta jumped backwards, “Um! H-hi…”

“You don’t have to run away, Little Church, we’re not playing hide and seek.”

“My name is Theta…”

“Okay. You don’t have to run away, Theta, we’re not playing hide and seek.”

“I, I know.” Theta tried to relax. Caboose wasn’t a threat. This they knew. Memories of Alpha’s friends were fuzzy and incomplete, but the emotions bled through. And the emotion Theta felt the most when looking at Caboose was an overwhelming sense of trust.

That didn’t mean that he wasn’t loud, though.

“Can you, um, sorry, um,” Theta tried to communicate their desires without words. Caboose just stared at them, waiting for the words to come. “I… need a shirt.”

It wasn’t what they’d meant to say, but it worked. Theta really wasn’t comfortable with any amount of awareness of the whole “having a body” thing, and wearing just a nightshirt didn’t help with that.

“Oh, yeah I can help with that!”

In one swift motion, too quick for Theta to protest, Caboose had removed his sweater and stuffed it over Theta’s head.

Church’s body wasn’t small by any objective measures, but compared to Caboose…

As Theta pushed their hands through the sleeves, far too large for them to even reach the ends, they felt absolutely tiny.

It was nice.

“Thank you…”

“You’re welcome!”

Caboose looked incredibly pleased with himself, sitting there now in just his own undershirt. Theta wondered if he was cold. Maybe they should give the sweater back. Alpha had a lot of shirts, they could wear any one of those.

As they started the offer, Caboose interjected, “Are you hungry?”

Theta paused. Were they hungry? Interpreting the body’s signals wasn’t always easy. Maybe that buzzing of anxiety was actually a buzzing of hunger. Only then did they notice the half eaten bag of chips on the bedside table. Was whoever last fronted recently snacking?

“I think I’m hungry, yeah.”

“Good! Let’s get Church to make us waffles.”

“Um.” Theta didn’t know what to say to that. They thought all of Alpha’s friends knew how it worked by now. This was the fear. The questions. The judgement. They didn’t know how to be someone else. “I don’t know. Um. Sorry I don’t think. Sorry I don’t. Sorry.”

Caboose stared at them as they nervously stammered out apologies. Finally, something seemed to click.

“Oh! Hm. I guess that doesn’t work. Hmmmmmmmm. Well… We can make it ourselves!”

“Oh… I don’t know how to make waffles…”

“I do! Let’s go!” Caboose announced as he leaped out of bed, racing out of the room.

“W-wait!” Theta scrambled to follow him. They really didn’t want to get out of bed, but they didn’t really want to be alone, either. Nervous to cross the threshold, they hesitated at the door frame.

“Um,” they called to Caboose, peeking slightly out of the door to see where he went, “I don’t think it’s a good idea to cook by ourselves!”

"Yes, it is an awesome idea!" Caboose declared, hanging from the doorway to catch his momentum. "We’ve got blueberries and strawberries and whipped cream and chocolate chips..."

He ducked into the room, his voice fading off, “And goldfish and cheese and mashed potatoes and blueberries and…”

Theta balked as he disappeared. “I wasn’t worried about the toppings…”

They definitely weren’t allowed to cook something at 2:30am… right? They tried to listen to their head, again. To call out to anyone there. Nothing. They wanted Delta, or Epsilon, or even Gamma. Someone in charge. Someone who could take care of things. Someone who could take care of them.

They thought back to the shattered phone on the floor. The message from the unknown number. Why had they fronted? Alone? The buzz of anxiety grew louder. Maybe they should go get their watch. They didn’t know who was texting them, but it clearly wasn’t good. Maybe it would be so not good it could trigger someone else out. Maybe they wouldn’t have to be alone—

“Here!”

Theta jumped at Caboose’s return. They’d been so caught up in their own thoughts they didn’t hear him approach. They blinked as they tried to reground themself, taking in the sight of the large man before them.

Caboose had grabbed a shirt identical to the one he was just wearing, that Theta was now wearing, and he was holding a…

Oh my gosh.

In Caboose’s outstretched hands was a large, LARGE bear plushie. Its huge, round belly was almost the size of Theta’s entire torso. But it’s head, oh man, it’s head was tiny. Barely the size of their fist. It’s arms and legs were stuffed at its sides, the proportions all out of whack. It’s fur looked like the softest thing Theta had ever felt.

It was incredible.

“Wow…”

“And gummy bears!” Caboose wiggled the bear at Theta, its limbs so filled with stuffing they barely flopped around.

“What?”

“We can put gummy bears on the waffles.”

“Oh…” Theta looked at the oversized bear. “Um, then what about?” They gestured at it.

“Oh!” Caboose looked down at the stuffed animal in his hands, almost looking surprised Theta had brought it up, as if he had forgotten it was there. “This is Big Fuck.”

“B- oh.” Maybe Theta would just call it Big.

“I thought he could be your friend. But not your best friend, since we are already best friends."

Theta took the bear— took Big— from Caboose.

“Okay. He doesn’t have to be my best friend, you can keep him."

Caboose tilted his head like a puppy.

"I was talking about you, silly."

“… I’m your best friend?”

"Yes, see, because Church is my best friend, you get part ownership because you are like a little him. And that's how stocks work!"

Theta clutched Big tight to their chest. They didn’t think that was how stocks worked, or how friendship worked but…

“Thank you.”

It was nice to have a friend.

“Yeah! And best friends make each other waffles. Let’s go!”

***

“Are you sure this is all okay to put in waffles?”

“Yes, definitely.”

Theta was sitting on the kitchen table, Big clutched in their lap. Their head peeked out over his, looking at the display Caboose had laid out in front of them. Plates and boxes and bags of junk food, candy, chocolate, frozen fruit, sauces. Leftovers. Theta didn’t think a lot of these things would be yummy. Or could even be cooked.

“Yeah, I’m basically an expert in waffles,” Caboose said, shaking the bottle of Bisquick furiously. You have to do it as fast as possible, he’d said earlier, right before shaking the loose cap off and splattering batter all over the kitchen. Tucker will clean that up later.

Theta plopped another marshmallow into their mouth. Their sticky hands had already left some mats in Big’s fur, but someone would probably clean that up later, too. Probably.

Now, though, they were just having a fun time hanging with their friend.

“Mmm. Okay. I trust you.”

“Good! Watch.” Theta watched as Caboose poured the batter onto the waffle iron. It glooped out, overfilling the squares.

“Cool. Now what?”

Caboose gestured towards the display. “Now you put stuff in it!”

Ooooh yes. This was what Theta was looking forward to. They delicately placed Big onto a chair before going, what some might call, absolutely feral. Some logical part of them said that grabbing handfuls of every sweet that adorned the table and throwing it onto the uneven batter probably wouldn’t end up with a good waffle, but they ignored that part. After all, they were Theta, not Delta.

“Okay! Done.”

Caboose appraised their mountain of sugar-y goodness with serious consideration. Theta grabbed Big again, suddenly nervous about their creation. Caboose narrowed his eyes. Theta held their breath.

“This…………. is a good waffle.” He slammed the iron shut with what was probably way too much force. Even still, Theta beamed.

It didn’t take long until the smell of burnt caramel started wafting from the machine.

“Is that okay…?”

Caboose nodded sagely. “That’s how you know it is going to be good.” In a swift motion, he extricated the waffle from its burning home, planting it squarely on the table.

Theta didn’t think it was supposed to look like that. There was burnt chocolate and bubbling gummies and melted hard candies and uncooked batter. It didn’t get to look ugly for long, though, as Caboose helpfully started pouring on syrup and chocolate and whipped cream.

Theta hadn’t seen this much sugar in their whole life.

“Bone app to eat!” Caboose pushed the waffle in front of Theta.

They grabbed it with both hands (ow. still a little hot.) and took a bite.

Oh….

It wasn’t what most would call “good.” The flavors clashed in ways Theta didn’t have the words to describe, but which Sigma might’ve called “offensive” or “an affront to nature.” But still. It was interesting, and it was sweet, and they were having a lot of fun trying not to spill sugar all over Big’s tummy, so maybe Caboose was onto something.

Caboose looked pleased with Theta’s reaction. They could only guess their expression was some mixture of disgust and intrigue, but they kept eating it, so maybe that’s what Caboose was going for.

Caboose started on his own creation.

Or maybe, Theta thought as they watched him work, “creation” was a generous word for it. Maybe Sigma would call this one “monstrosity.”

Caboose systematically grabbed every single topping they’d laid out on the table. He seemed to consider all of his options with great importance, putting some straight onto the iron, some into the bottle, yet others on the side, presumably to be added later. Once he was happy with his choices, he took the bottle again (being very careful, Theta noted, to make sure the cap was on fully this time) and shook with an incredible vigor. The items on the pan continued to sizzle. He emptied the bottle’s contents into the iron, squeezing to get it out as quickly as possible. Goop dripped over the sides. The ingredients that had been saved for later had now found their later, triumphantly thrown onto the pile.

It was way too tall to be closed, Theta thought.

Well, apparently, they thought wrong.

With somehow even more force than he’d used for Theta’s, Caboose acted like a hydraulic press, crushing the lid into its bottom. And, much like the greatest hydraulic press videos, mess squeezed out the sides in a spectacular fashion.

Theta chewed idly while the scene played out before them.

Caboose gave a thumbs up, his other hand still holding the iron down as it continued to cook.

If before it smelt like burnt caramel, this was just burn. Theta crinkled their nose.

And nearly jumped out of their skin when the fire alarm went off.

Caboose looked at it, both annoyed and quizzical. “I thought I took the life out of you.” He reached up, easily able to pull the alarm off the ceiling, and dumped the batteries out.

He turned back to Theta, “That is how you know it will be really good!”

“What the fuck are you two doing?”

Theta jumped again, clutching Big even tighter to their chest.

There, standing in the hallway, was Tucker, wearing nothing but a nightcap and a blanket.

Well, maybe there was more to describe there, but Theta wouldn’t know, as their eyes were suddenly covered by Caboose’s large hands.

“Tucker! Put some clothes on! There is children here!”

“What??? What are you talking ab— Dude, get the fucking—!”

Theta heard a scuffle. They tried to pry Caboose’s hands away from their eyes, but the man was too strong.

“Hey! Don’t touch my waffle!”

“You’re gonna burn the fucking apartment down!”

“I am not! I know how to contain a fire, Tucker. Excuse me,” Caboose removed his hand from Theta’s eyes and turned to them, “Hold this please.” He grabbed Theta’s hand and put it over their own eyes.

Theta stayed like that for a moment. Then they remembered that they could remove their hand themself, and felt a little silly.

The waffle iron was now unplugged and slightly smoking. An annoyed looking Tucker waved the cord at an equally annoyed looking Caboose.

“You are ruining waffles time.”

“Yeah, like a fire wouldn’t?” Tucker rolled his eyes, then turned towards Theta. “And what the fuck are you even doing?”

Theta’s blood turned to ice.

“I-”

“Do not yell at Theta.”

Caboose was a very large man. It was easy to forget, with his genial demeanor, just how much bigger he was than everyone else. How much stronger he was than everyone else. As Tucker’s eyes widened and he took a step back, staring at Caboose’s uncharacteristically stoic expression, he was certainly remembering.

It was a little nice to have the strong person be the one protecting Theta.

A wave of confusion washed over Tucker’s face as he registered what Caboose had said. “Theta…?” He looked over at them, in Caboose’s oversized pajama shirt, still clutching Big like it was a lifeline, still looking absolutely terrified. And confusion was replaced by realization.

“Oh, shit— uh, shoot, uh— fuck—” Tucker looked down at his blanket, the only thing covering his body, now even looser than it was earlier. He pulled it tighter.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” He whispered at Caboose.

“I said to put on pants.”

“That’s not— look, just,” Tucker sighed, then looked towards Theta, “Don’t eat that, okay?” He pointed at their waffle.

“But we’re hungry!” Caboose protested.

Tucker groaned. “I, will make you guys…” Tucker looked at the waffle iron. A bit of batter filled with leftover chicken and gummy worm slopped onto the counter. It continued to smoke. “Pancakes. Just, go into the living room and let me get dressed.”

“Okay!” Caboose happily bounded away, as if this was his desired outcome all along.

Theta looked down, sheepish. “Sorry…”

Tucker sighed, “It’s fine. This is nowhere near the worst it’s gotten.”

Theta looked up at the batter on the ceiling. Tucker followed their gaze.

He laughed. “Yeah, still not the worst.”

“Okay…” Theta got up from the counter, trying to make themself as small as possible.

“Hey.”

They froze. They looked at Tucker, bracing themself for scolding, yelling, reminders of how terrible they were for letting something like this happen.

But when Tucker spoke, it was soft.

“Next time, just wake me up, okay?” He looked exasperated, but, somehow, Theta could tell he was being genuine.

They nodded.

“Okay.”

Tucker smiled, and went to get dressed, and Theta went to go meet Caboose in the living room.

He was already sitting on the couch, flipping through some list of shows.

“Do you wanna watch something?”

“Um, whatever you want.” Theta plopped down on the couch.

“Okay! I will watch… Pokémon.”

“You like Pokémon?”

“Oh, yeah, sometimes me and Church watch it when Tucker isn’t home.”

“Oh… I didn’t know Alpha still liked Pokémon.”

“Yeah… I don’t know who Alpha is but… Pokémon is good.”

“Um, yeah, it’s my favorite.”

“Yeah.”

They stared at each other for a moment.

“Are you… gonna put on the show?”

“Okay!” Caboose clicked the remote, opening to some random episode in the Gen V seasons. Theta didn’t know the episode, but they could tell because of the art style.

“All right,” Tucker called from the kitchen, “you guys are getting chocolate chip pancakes and that’s it.”

“BUT TUCKER!” Caboose immediately jumped up in his seat. “YOU CAN’T DO THAT! IT’S WAFFLES TIME!”

“You almost burned the house down! I’m not hearing it!”

Caboose bounded over the back of the couch to go yell at Tucker in the kitchen. Leaving Theta alone on the sofa.

Alone.

Theta was alone. They didn’t hear anyone in their mind. Their thoughts drifted back to the cracked phone, the unread message. What had caused them to be here alone in the first place.

But, as they turned around to look back at their friends, arguing over blueberries, as they clung to the largest teddy bear they’d ever seen, supremely sticky with sugar and syrup, as Pokémon blared in the background, a connection to their host they didn’t know they had…

Maybe they weren’t all that alone, after all.

[edenfenixblogs]

I don’t put my long posts about antisemitism under a read more because I don’t want it to be easy for y’all to ignore.

It is vital that y’all know we are living under a very real and very constant stochastic threat, not even including the Israeli Jews who are living under both stochastic and non-stochastic threat right now.

The only posts about antisemitism that I ever put under a read more are things that discuss the Holocaust in any level of detail, because it is extremely traumatic for Jews, still. Jews should have the right to avoid that content without having to hide all content about antisemitism in general.

Those posts are hidden under read mores for the benefit of Jews.

I wake up fearing the antisemitism I will experience every day. Yesterday, as I sat down to dinner with my family, I received a direct message from someone who would have very much preferred that I was not alive.

I sat through the whole dinner just thinking “wow. Someone actually wants me, personally, dead.”

Any website I go on. Any time I turn on the news. Any conversation with friends.

It’s inescapable. I’m either actively processing recent antisemitic attacks and rhetoric or on high alert for the next attack likely to occur.

It’s actual psychological torture. It is actually psychologically damaging to be this scared all the time. Especially while everyone outside my community (obviously not including Palestinians and all groups affected by Islamophobia, who I’m sure are also dealing with the exact same thing) is just living in a normal world. And I’m constantly gaslit about it.

I haven’t been able to sleep until 4am for the last several nights. I’m tired physically and emotionally. I’m scared. I want this war to be over. I want Palestinians to have equal rights. I want people to leave us all alone.

I need the hostages released and the bombings in Gaza to stop. Netanyahu’s ruthless response is making Jews all over the world less safe and obviously harming Palestinian civilians. It’s all so big and overwhelming and constant and I don’t get to look away, because people are literally advocating for the elimination of my entire people as a way to prevent the elimination of another culture.

None of this will stop until we are all on the side of achieving peace.

Here’s some ways to help Palestine: https://www.tumblr.com/edenfenixblogs/736824311149707264?source=share

Here’s some more great charities focused on individual groups you may want to help as well as ones devoted to facilitating peace.

Next time you want to spew hate at a Jewish person try donating or volunteering with a cause that will actually help Palestine AND not hurt anyone else.

Remember, we make peace with our enemies not with our friends. If you hate me that much, try even harder to find common ground.

I don’t get to look away.

You don’t either.

[prismaticpichu]

A genuine favorite of mine: Sane Sephiroth gets a wing and the main inconvenience is that it reacts to his EMOTIONS. He's trying to be cool but he's nervous and it SHOWS that. Stuff like that! What's your take on poor Sephiroth who can't hide his emotions?

Oooooh oooh oooh oooooooooooh!!! That is SUCH an adorable premise 😭 And man can I see poor “lock those feelings up tight” Sephiroth having some trouble! If y’all haven’t plz go read One-Winged Feathers are EVERYWHERE by the amazing Holly you see here!! The story follows CC-era Seph sprouting his wing and like the title suggests shenanigans sure do ensue and ahhhhh it is such a cute ride!! Anywho back to the show.

🪶 🪶 🪶

Unlike his emotionally-barren, insane, pyromanic bipolar half, CC-Sephiroth has a lot of emotions swimming around in that heart of his. Sure his overall toughness (and swagger) isn’t a facade—this guy IS strong as heck. But at the same time… he is also squishy. He can be vulnerable, just like any other person out there. He can get overwhelmed. And the only reason people don’t see this is because he is stellar at, as corny as it is, bottling those jello-like feelings inside.

So! What happens when you make those emotions into a transparent window case for the world to see…?

First off, Sephiroth can’t figure out how to put the darn thing away. He tries desperately to find a way to tuck it in—to furl it, or fold it, or SOMETHING—but all his efforts are in vain (and ends up tripping over the couch + keeling over three lamps in this endeavor). It’s also through this first encounter that Sephiroth realizes just how intertwined his emotions are with his wing. The more his panic rose, the more his wing stiffened and beat and thrashed.

And this realization terrifies him.

The remainder of the day is spent at his place, trying to train the wing like a mischievous pet to NOT mimic his emotions. He tries deep-breathing, relaxing himself into a calm, steady rhythm, until his wing is able to slacken…….only for the telephone to ring and for the black pinion to jolt out of complete and utter fright (knocking over a replacement lamp in the process). He tries physically scolding it like some kinda mantra—“I am not anxious, I am NOT anxious”—only for the wing to still quiver in complete defiance. Poor thing. He eventually surrenders, slumping against the wall with his face in his hands. And the wing sags like a wilted plant right beside him.

It isn’t long until Genesis & Angeal (once the, y’know, initial shock passes upon finding him) catch onto the wing’s transparency. And this, this right here, leads to a whole lotta denial in the coming days as Sephiroth continues to not know how to retract properly. They constantly catch sight of the thing quivering, or sagging, or going completely stiff, and always end up approaching Sephiroth afterwards. Sephiroth can’t even believe how ineffective his stone-hard, ay-okay face has become. It’s practically useless. Useless. Genesis & Angeal are always able to know when messages from Hojo were sent to him (annoyed twitching), or when new press conferences were scheduled (quivering), or that one time when he overheard one of the cadets talking about the “M” word (somber wilting). It’s exposing. It’s weak. It’s unbecoming. It’s…

Cathartic.

One thing that Sephiroth can’t deny is the weight that lifts from his chest after talking about these triggering burdens. Without any way to conceal them, without any way to deny them, his two buddies always manage to chip the answer out of him. And… and… it’s not bad, being able to confide those things. Not at all. It’s healing, for Angeal to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder, or to hear Genesis say he would throw Hojo in an industrial shredder on his behalf. So healing that he begins to wonder why he would let those burdens plague him alone.

Eventually, Sephiroth manages to guide the wing back into his shoulder. But just like the stray feathers that lingered behind, a new lesson remains with the raven-esque SOLDIER. He doesn’t need the wing to quiver for him to confide in his friends. He doesn’t need to grit his teeth and bite out “fine” for every “are you okay?” thrown at him. He knows better now. Why it took for a flipping bird wing to burst from his shoulder to learn this, Shiva only knows.

…

…

…

Of course, on the occasion that the wing DOES come out, it’s still not any less emotionally-tangled than before.

Genesis has recorded the wing:

• Swaddling Sephiroth

• Joyously vibrating

• And he’s pretty sure the thing slapped him on its own accord when he called him a woman

[werewolf-femboy-maid]

me after another episode (multiple meanings)

yes, another "keep reading" this is gonna be fun

guys :"0 I got cooked by my own stupidity (malnutrition, dehydration, inconsistent sleep schedule, adhd, bpd, lack of self awareness, lack of discipline, not doing breathing exercises when upset, trauma, broken phone I didn't have money to pick up today, stupid university applications I still need to do, red40 from last night and undiagnosed autism) again, look it me the fried.

dude I was not having it man. Idk if it was the red40 again or im just a genuinely horrible person. I must hate people, I must not give a single shit about anyones feelings, im super selfish and I only care about my own useless opinions and feelings.

I literally do property damage. I littered today. I am just the worst person. and yet I am not "that guy". how can I be this shitty of a person and not be "that guy" but noOoOo if I even TRY to be violent he threatens me with the police. (I unbuckled and opened the passenger side door to see if I could just die while he was driving and slapped him multiple times at a later point not while he was driving)

I screamed so much guys it hurts I don't want to be alive. this next story was from a month or two ago already but yeah basically one day I decided to steal my potential mother's in law alcohol and now she's hiding it from me :}}}}

I am so happy with myself! look at what a trustworthy and safe and loving person I am with her son! wow what a great way to introduce myself to this new family that welcomed me wow (she even took me to a pride parade when my bf couldn't because of work. they've both taken me at least once by now)

wow and I told his catholic grandma that I hope god sends me to hell (she wouldn't stop talking) (yes im a bad person for that, that's the whole point of this post, to talk about what a shitty and fake and ungrateful piece of shit I am) (im looking for excuses to throw myself away because I cant take it anymore) (its either live a life of isolation or live a life of constantly making mistakes and "learning" and disappointing everyone in my life and constantly hearing shit from other people about how I don't clean up enough or how violent I am) (id rather die alone) (but im too much of a coward to break up) (wow I cant believe my selfish incompetent ass could ever want kids) (how sadistic could you possibly have to be to look at my miserable useless genetics and think I should have offspring) (its so delusional to even think for a second I was ever capable of a happy and normal marriage or life) (I will never be a good mother) (I will never be anything to anyone except another mouth to feed and a danger) (if my only two options is complete isolation or learning by listening to other people criticize my actions (which I inevitably think is my character) without getting violent, then I would rather be in complete isolation) (well I want to choose complete isolation) (but im a fucking coward and im addicted to substances so I don't want to leave yet) (im such a horrible piece of shit) (yes im making my mindset as shitty as possible just like he says I always do on purpose) (idk either, I don't know why I do that but I think its a subconscious coping mechanism that worked at some point in my life (I think I realized early on that if I just overwhelm myself to a crazy amount, I won't be physically be able to think anymore, and then I don't have to process the yelling) (I think that might be what happened and why I always instantly try to make my problems as bad as possible so I don't have to think about them because ive already lived out the worst possible scenario by the time im too tired to process anything else)

e

the world is evolving too fast for primitive humans like me. I can barely start researching EVEN TOPICS I AM INTERESTED IN and I cant stick on the screen for more than 30 seconds before I have to close the laptop and there's too many things

I don't even answer my messages, not here, not on snap, not text, not email, not anything, not reddit or anything I just don't interact. I don't even go to Omegle because I cant find the "right time"

its such a stupid fucking lie the "right time"

I don't even talk to many people on pony town. im so fucking sad, like talking to people was my thing

and I always say I am gonna shut up and I never actually shut up because I forget, I hate my voice so much rn I cannot just shut up, im sure everyone that knows me wants me to just kill myself so (I was distracted by a conversation irl here)

I mean yeah idk

its just survival of the fittest at this point, it is just faulty systems dying out and making way for stronger organisms. (this isn't about poverty or classism, fuck all that)

I don't think realistically anyone is cool enough to picture my head on a platter, and I don't think even more realistically that anyone actually wants me to straight up die. I could be wrong tho. maybe some day I'll pull someone's last little straw, and my food will finally be poisoned and I can just die! :)

he almost finally broke up, but he took it back like a fucking retard. I hate love so much, it's all a lie. "love" is really just a retarded coping mechanism where these people cant live without each other, but trying to understand each other is fucking hell, and either way, both parties are fucking miserable.

I have so much privilege and im wasting it all

my life is so nice and I am ruining and wasting every second. I could be so happy right now and I am throwing it all away because the world and myself make me believe I am a useless piece of shit, and the sooner I throw myself away, the sooner these people can heal and move on with their lives.

JUST SAY IT SAY IM SELFISH

SAY IM A FUCKING SELFISH PUSSY

IM A SELFISH PIECE OF SHIT

I WILL NEVER SCREAM LOUD ENOUGH

have some fun gifs

11 year old me doing my 30 math questions and daydreaming about being a Pokemon character for 7 hours after another screaming match while my younger brother finishes his homework faster and plays video games all day (oooooh that's what happened...)

:))))))) help me help me im about to die but not really because I was never brave enough to finally go

I need to go

I ne hhhhhh what's the point of this. im just talking to myself again like I always have. I didn't even drink water today. really? just the red40 and more discipline IS THIS WHY IM SO SHITTY

I have so much privilege and things to be thankful for and people in my life who should've thrown me away a LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONG time ago, but they still sticking around anyway because they're all FUCKING RETARDED

this kind of mindset is why grape culture is still a problem (for those confused, im afraid im not referring to actual grapes. I wish from the bottom of my heart I was), because it's always the victim's fault for staying with the abuser. but now no one cares except the boy's family because he's a boy and is less likely to get [hysically hurt. I've already lost his trust tho. I guess that's what makes me even more not want to try, ive already ruined it. im still here in denial I guess. I lie to myself, "oh maybe sensory overload wont be that big of an issue if we have kids" "ill become more mature by then" "I can just discipline myself"

I had three fucking years. to just do my fucking breathing exercise any time im upset. and I cant even do that. I don't think I should be a part of society because no one will benefit from me. does this mindset also endanger other disabled people? yes it does. does this make me a bad person that doesn't care about other people? yes it does. I realized nature is so perfect because disabled individuals DIE.

I wasn't potty trained until 4, and I read somewhere that people who have anger issues tended to be potty trained later in life. so I guess im a shithead. I also had pneumonia when I was 3. I should've been dead.

don't worry about me I am very unlikely to die. im really just writing out my negative thoughts so I can stop thinking about them because I know I can just go back and look at this later.

I was tripping so many balls and I screamed so so loud out the CAR WINDOW....

there is no career for me besides the circus. except im not even funny, im just weird and annoying and violent. he's going to lose his job because of me. they're gonna pay more money to the apartment complex because I keep slamming the doors and breaking shit. I break so much shit I need to die. fbi please assassinate me at this point, I am literally only going to cause damage if I am kept alive. I should not have children. passing my genes down would be a crime. no human should live with such a poor miserable mind. im not doing that to my kids. I couldnt hope to ever apologize enough if I have a kid and they suffer the same way I did.

I have every blessing in the world and I somehow manage to be the most miserable scumbag piece of shit abusive person

he says he hates himself and he could not possibly hate himself more than I hate myself

idk what im even saying. I think my episode is almost done, but man the red40 is weird. im kinda at the point where im too tired to be angry and now im just kinda really tired and lightheaded and I cant pay attention anymore. my arms are weaker fingers cold.

I guess it was the red40 because I was doing alright but then I ate that last night. I also had another huge episode about a week ago (I broke up and also told his mom im breaking up) (yes and then I took it back after eating protein) (how am I still alive, you ask???) (please tell me idk either) ( my stress tolerance must be WILD) (im lowkey waiting for a random obsessive person to figure out the lore and say something mysterious or something idk I hate it when im in a rush and something is too mysterious and then I cant figure it out and it angers my poor fragile little ego) (yes im one of those people that give up on learning if im not good at it within 3 tries)

I suck at cleaning up after myself (I didn't clean the stove after cooking) and I forgot to mention I mopped the floors (there was grease on the floor and I didn't clean it when it was a puddle and it spread so I mopped the floor) but it's not useful to mop the floors apparently. just not as important as the stove because more stuff is on there. and the mop fuck I just feel so unappreciated but I also am aware that it makes sense that the stove is more urgent. I just keep putting my effort in the wrong places.

my movements are not steady I should drink water and eat something for the first time today

wait I had at least two dreams where I was screaming really loud but I couldnt hear myself what do those mean?

idk man I get torn between self pity and shame. its always one extreme or the other. its either "oh my god im so sad look at how sad it was omg why are people so insensitive when im obviously struggling?" or "omfg I cant stand

"you don't care enough to solve a problem, you only care enough to cause a problem" - my loving boyfriend whose family probably cant fucking stand me and is probably praying day and night for something to happen to me so I can finally be out of their lives

this is what I get for talking about my feelings. this is what I get. and he says im not paying attention to the context. maybe I am. maybe the devil is smiling as he separates us, a supposedly perfect couple.

I need to clone myself so I can fuck but also so I can kill myself and mutilate my dead body and wear my skin over my face and squeeze the blood from my heart into a basin of soju so I can take a bath in it and drink it all. i would also investigate the lungs if I remember to smoke with the clone before I kill it. dude smoking with my clone would be so cool but it would also make killing myself a little more sad

I think part of my problem is that one of my trauma responses is

Mind: oh man there's a lot of loud noise and hostile energy going around, and negotiating is not making it stop, what do we do? Mind: hmmmm how about we also get extremely loud and wear ourselves out so we physically can't process or do anything for the next 5 hours? Mind: wait excuse me what?

I wanna live in a little wood box alone in some forest for the rest of my life. I wouldn't be happy but id certainly be more comfortable. no person to please, no expectation from any human or animal, no task or thing I have to work on. just me, my delusions, and my little box. occasionally I will go and get food and water and that's it. I don't ever want to interact with anything again. I'll just die one day in the forest

which is what I would say if I wasn't a fucking pussy. im too scared to leave the people in my life and I love my mother too much. maybe I'll run away forever after my parents pass away. and I can be happy with my mom again. like I always wanted.

stay safe baby birds much love <3

and remember!

There's no such thing as the "right time".

[qualitativenotquantitative]

just a silly letter in my notes app from 2 months ago (I keep writing them lol)

[tbf they do help with the processing quite a bit]

[and you certainly did give me a lot to process considering that your text did that thing where it created a little note file it was so long; and I know I already wrote you a mini-novel in response, but that one was mostly written in relief and good wishes, and I think two months later, this one is a little more nuanced]

2/4/2024 (a little late, but here’s a response with the things I didn’t know how to say)

[redacted],

“Hi”. It’s one word, and yet it’s so full. It’s cold and it’s formal and I get that you didn’t really know what to say any more than I did. You say that you're sorry for taking so long to respond, just like you’ve apologized for it in the past. The overwhelming relief I felt upon getting a response does not make up for the shame and hurt I felt for three weeks without hearing anything back from you. And that was just this time. You’ve done this so many times. I know that you say you wanted to take a few days to collect your thoughts, but what if you were too late? I thought that I loved you, but in the worst couple of weeks in my life, you couldn’t be bothered to talk to me. And I get that we were long over by then. Your months of silence spoke volumes to that.

I don’t really know that you understood how shitty ghosting someone is. Picture this: you are a girl going off to college, and for the first time in your life, your parents aren’t there. Your brother isn’t there. There’s this whole new world, and you are learning how to navigate it in every way you can figure out. And then, you meet this guy. And he’s thoughtful and kind. He’s softspoken, but when he speaks, there is this world of games and politics and magic that springs into life. He has a gentle smile, and for a time, you are, truly and properly, smitten. And he disappears, but you reach out to contact him anyways. You start talking. He makes you laugh and you learn these pieces of himself, his family, his fears. You tell him that you like talking to him, and he tells you that he likes talking to you too.

You start spending time together again. You feel daring, and bold, and you are braver than you ever thought you would be. You start holding hands. It feels like the world is beginning to come into bloom. And then, when you start to wonder just how good it could get, he starts to pull away. He takes longer to respond to your messages, and you don’t know if it’s something you said—or if perhaps he’s just growing bored. And then, he cuts you off entirely. No words. Just empty space.

And what are you supposed to think? That he’s dead, and that’s why this beautiful and kind boy won’t get back to you? Or maybe it was something you did? Maybe he just realized that he didn’t like you that much after all. You know on some level that it isn’t personal, but how can it not be personal when one day we were holding hands and resting with my head on your chest, and the next it was like I wasn’t deserving of a goodbye? People who care about each other don’t treat each other like this. 

And even now, I think back to this girl, and I cry for her. She wanted so badly to love and be loved, and honestly, she didn’t deserve this. I didn’t deserve this. We were supposed to be friends. You were supposed to be better than this. 

And you know what? I was right. You should be sorry. It might not have been how you viewed it at the time, and it might not have been your intention. but you did lead me on and then ghost me without explanation. It was, as you said, “profoundly shitty”. You say that your choices were entirely yours and their consequences are yours to account for as well, but you’re not the only one who has to deal with the consequences of your actions. I do have every right to be mad at you, and I’m not going to hide the fact that you broke my fucking heart.

It is a small consolation to hear that you did like me after all. A lot, is what you said. I really thought so too. For a little bit at least. Truthfully, I sometimes put myself down so much, but that’s not your fault. I pick apart and criticize every aspect of myself when I feel like I’m not good enough. Not your fault. And yet. I had never felt as worthless as I did in the aftermath of what had happened with you. Of course you “pretty much knew” that I liked you. I told you that I liked you. I bent over backwards trying to accommodate you and your time, and I wrecked myself trying to justify the distance you were creating. You didn’t have the guts to tell me that you cared at the time, and maybe it was because you always knew it would end like this. I want to dig my nails into my arms until they leave indents, and I feel like throwing up when I think about every night I spent crying over you. 

Because, honestly, I am worth it. Maybe I wasn’t to you, but one of these days I am going to be someone’s fucking dream girl. I am everything that is good about this world. I was so good to you, and everything I did should have been enough. It maybe would have been enough if you were in a more stable place. Being on a downward trajectory doesn’t help, and I don’t really blame you for being hesitant to write off the possibilities of something. I will never truly understand what you were going through. And maybe someday in the future, I will appreciate that you didn’t want to bring me into anything until you knew you could be stable. But right now, I am still hurt, and as much as it helped to first get this response, I don’t think there is anything you could say that would make it better. You shouldn’t have avoided the issue like you did. It was awful of you, and you withdrawing was a cowardly way out. (Again: your words).

I get that you were embarrassed, and that you probably felt ashamed of yourself and the way everything was panning out, but there are some things that you just have to do. Not because you want to or because you feel comfortable doing so—but because doing so is the morally right thing to do. You want to work with ethics? Then start with the ethics of human relationships. The way that we as people relate to each other. Ghosting someone is shitty, and even if you are scared, sometimes you have to send that text anyways. Do it alone. Do it scared. Do it with a knife if you have to. But at the end of the day, you have to do it.

And honestly, this is the part that kills me a little. You say that you had been hoping that things would suddenly get better and you would get back to me then. Maybe if I had kept texting you—maybe if I had made it more clear that I liked you and would’ve been ok waiting it out—it wouldn’t have felt so hard to say something to me. You say that maybe you needed to simplify your life, but maybe if I had simplified things and told you flat out that I wanted to hear from you at a given point, maybe it wouldn’t have had to have felt so complicated. 

You say that you came back to [redacted] when things started to get better, and that you wanted to reach out to me, but you didn’t know what to say, and it feels like a knife to my chest. I was probably almost dating [redacted] by this point, but the idea that you still cared after all that time? After I had figured that you had long moved on? It is awful. I wanted you, and I wanted to be with you. And if I had known that you still liked me, I never would have dated someone else in the first place. I never would have unfollowed you on social media accounts. And if I had never dated [redacted], maybe I would love you. 

But I guess that what-ifs don’t really matter. Because at the end of the day, you decided not to message me. Maybe bringing everything back up would have made things worse, but it was still a decision you made. I mean, what can I say? That I wish you had texted me when that point came? That it hadn’t been too late? That two months after I’d last texted you, I was still grieving, and I would’ve given anything to hear from you? You say that you cut your losses, but you also cut mine. And maybe that was the right decision for you. Maybe you don’t regret it. Maybe you made the right choice for yourself, and there’s nothing you would have done differently if you could go back and do it again. I wouldn’t be able to fault you for it. More than all this anger and hurt and loss, I just wanted you to be doing ok.

You say that you didn’t write this to ask for my forgiveness. Is it bad that I wish that you had? You say that you think me not wanting to talk to you anymore is entirely fair, but what if I still did want to talk to you? Maybe those are empty questions. I wouldn’t do that to you. I know that we’re over, and I do have my limits. Your entire message was a goodbye. It was late, but it was everything I had asked you for when I reached out to you that night. 

The parts of me that still want you in my life are ultimately self-destructive in nature. I’ve said it so many times, but this situation wasn’t good for me. You were just a person, the same as I was, and sometimes these things just don’t work out. Sometimes, as much as it hurts, it’s for the best that it won’t. You say you wish me the best. The tragedy is that I at one time believed that that was you. Maybe progress is knowing that it isn’t.

From one bird to another,

A girl you once knew

[kirinoodles]

[vw: ab*se, racism, d*ath/s*icide mentions, childhood trauma]

i do not need to get off social media, i need to absolutely DIVE IN IT as much as i can. shit happens way too worse irl than in my cellphone, besides that if i don't like something i see on my dash i can just scroll past it, or, even sign for the algorithm not recommend that type of content. while in real life, you just can't escape your problems, you can't just 'block' someone physically to stop seeing them, you can't just act as if there's a setting as an escape for your problems, a "do not disturb" is mostly unavailable for most people, most targeting teens without privacy and people with disturbed lives and minds who need a break but sometimes even they can't bring themselves to relax, and i get that way too well. about the first phrase, i just had to literally step out of a serious conversation about my abuser (a-hem a familiar in which i have to keep more contact with than i wished) saying racist shit and i just couldn't take it by being overloaded with that so i literally felt the NEED to scroll through tumblr continuously until i felt better. gladly now i live away from my abuser and live sorta relieved, but only heavens knows how i felt embarrassed, suffocated and helpless at the time i lived with that person. i literally had my phone at ALL TIMES, actually all the time when i was home, or around them, or people I didn't know. i noticed a time ago of being free of that bout how much anxiety it gave me, feeling like i was being watched at all times, that i couldn't let my guard down with anyone, that i had to hide and blend in, never be in the spotlight, and specially by having such post-traumatic fear of adults. of talking to them, and specially opening up or talking about my feelings, god forbid i ever talked about how i felt. i could try, but every time i did i felt so overwhelmed, as if my whole world was gonna crumble and if i would only be frozen up so i wouldn't be able to do nothing about it. had times i would rather literally kill myself than to speak of my feelings with them. my trust issues started out with everyone, but as being easier to relate and talk with those around my age, i felt it was easier to have a conversation about problems with my teen friends, as a specially concerning detail being that subconsciously, i knew they wouldn't be able to solve or help me with my problems even if they knew about it. i always had this fear of people being interventional in my life and feeling like i was bothering them. so, coming back to the first topic once again (i get lost by problem roots more once than never) that's why i also felt relief in having internet friends, specially by insecurity of my own appearance and being visibly weird and anxious around people. i didn't had to worry about them sharing my secrets to anyone i may know and concern, plus i always felt so much comforted and heard, which seeing texts messages meant much more deep in my eyes than be hearing those same words from an acquaintance. i felt like in my online identity, i didn't had to worry about who i actually was and i didn't had any issues that couldn't be dealt with. i felt like, i actually had some structure and control over my life, even though it technically wasn't my "real" one. it was an air vent out of hell, and i held by that through my entire childhood. that might serve as a problem now living in a healthy environment for trying to make friends outside of my phone, but i know i'll work it out and make it through. i just wanna thank the internet for being there (yes i know how stupid that sounds) and that i'm so grateful for being raised in the tech era, that feeling of warmth by it miiiight be by the 'emotionally unavailable parents and social anxiety led me to fuck up the stranger danger lesson' trauma archetype, but eh, who cares at all? it made me survive and made me surprisingly still be alive enough to try graduating. so, thank you every single cool being online for making my life better and my child self laugh while sailing through the storm, so i hope you have a great day today <3.

[primofate]

Genshin x fem!reader [Volleyball Team AU - Inspired by Haikyuu!] He introduces S/O to the team

Before you read this, might be a good idea to read the introduction first. To give you the whole low-down of the team and their dynamicsssss.

Other works in the Volleyball Team AU Series: Click Here

Scenario: You and him have been dating for a while now. Why does the team not know and what’s their reaction in finding out/when he introduces you?

Warnings: AU if that’s not your thing then don’t read, not proofread...as usual.

#1 Zhongli (Captain/Wing Spiker/Ace)

You’ve been dating for nearly 5 months at this point. Beforehand the two of you were close friends. So the team kind of already knew you guys were close, but you’d never met the team properly.

It’s not that he was HIDING your relationship, its that he didn’t want to pressure you into meeting his team. They could really be an overwhelming bunch of high schoolers sometimes.

As it happens he walks to the gym hand in hand with you one day, his other hand on his duffel sports bag, thinking that he’d be the earliest one there as always. 

But when he slides the gym doors open his WHOLE TEAM greets him “CAPTAIN!” and then there’s an awkward silence that descends as they all catch him with his hand intertwined with yours.

KAEYA AND TARTAGLIA LOSES IT. “C-Captain, you had a girlfriend and didn’t tell us?!” “You finally made a move on her?!” “S’about time!”

Needless to say they both get knocked on the head by Zhongli’s fist. 

Zhongli sighs and turns to you apologetically but you say that you don’t mind meeting them. He perks up and claps his hands to ask his team to line up.

They do so diligently. Kaeya, Tartaglia and Thoma are giddy while looking at you. Xiao and Kazuha have their mouth slightly agape as if you’re some kind of rare species. Diluc and Albedo stare you down. 

You introduce yourself as Zhongli’s gilrfriend and as you do so Tartaglia’s eyes dart towards Zhongli who has a slightly shy expression on his face. 

“Oh, oh question time!” Thoma raises his hand “Does the captain secretly eat sweets behind our back?” You haven’t even answered when Kaeya asks “Does the captain ever glare at you (he mimics Zhongli’s face) and say 10 Push ups NOW!” Surprisingly Diluc raises his hand too “...Is the captain strict with you too?”

Zhongli gets irked the more questions are asked and he finally steps in with an ominous presence. “10 laps around the gym...NOW!” 

He apologizes to you again but you reassure him it’s totally fine and they all seem like such fun. 

#2 Diluc (Vice Captain/Wing Spiker/Defense Specialist)

The vice captain is a very secretive guy.

Not even his brother knew.

It’s not that he was ashamed of you, he just liked his privacy and you already knew that. 

But there was this one time where he forgot his textbooks under his desk and you had to go and give it to him while he was at practice.

Shyly looking into the door the first one that spots you is Albedo.

“...Do you need something?” you tense up at Albedo’s question and shakily hand him the textbooks.

“U-Uhm... D-Diluc’s...”

Albedo tilts his head and turns to shout at the team. “Someone’s looking for the vice captain,”

Everyone stops what they’re doing and snaps there head towards you.

Diluc jogs over, sweat still fresh on his forehead. Without thinking he takes the books from you, small smile on his face and thanks you.

The rest of his team freezes up all thinking: “Hold on, is he...SMILING?”

You’re oblivious to them staring and give him a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving. When Diluc turns back his team is glaring daggers at him, he stares back at them. Doesn’t say anything, and continues practice.

No one is brave enough to ask him about it.

Tartaglia whispers to Kaeya “You didn’t know about it either huh?”

#3 Kaeya (Middle Blocker)

This MF would talk about you whenever he had the chance.

Y/N this, Y/N that, Y/N is so cute. 

Frankly the team is kinda tired of it. 

But when you finally visit one of their practices the team levels their gaze at you and think “Oh shit, he wasn’t lying, she is actually cute,”

Sees his teammates expression and brags even more. “I know what y’all are thinking. You’re thinking, OH! She’s actually really cute! Hm?”

Slings an arm around you shamelessly with a grin. “Back off boys, I’ll block all your attempts,”

Diluc is the one that walks up to you and you blink at him. Kaeya blinks at him, confused as well.

Diluc suddenly bows, “I feel sorry for you but please take care of him,”

The rest of the team either bursts out laughing or snickers behind their hand.

Their vice captain is low key savage

#4 Albedo (Setter)

The team finds out about you cause when they finish practice they find you waiting outside the gym.

Kazuha asks politely while the others look on “Are you lost?”

You straighten up and stutter a little, “Ah, uh, no, I’m...” You’re at a loss for words. 

Then Albedo suddenly appears from the gym doors and sees you. “Ah, were you waiting long? Sorry,”

Thoma tilts his head in question. “Albedo...Your sister?”

Albedo at this point was standing next to you already. “...No, my girlfriend,” like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Everyone is stunned into statues.

“H-How did you get one before me?” Tartaglia looks as if his soul had been sucked out of his body.

“Next time you can just come inside and wait inside the gym, it’s dark out here,” their responsible captain suggests and you’re amazed at his kindness and bow at him with a thank you.

Albedo doesn’t see what’s the big deal and just grabs your hand and starts walking away.

#5 Tartaglia (Middle Blocker/Wing Spiker)

The team already knew since the first date. It’s because he.would.not.shut.up.about.it

That particular day at practice his spikes were a tad bit stronger than usual.

“Oi... you’re getting too excited...” Xiao mumbles at him. Tartaglia just grins and scratches the back of his head. “Aaaahhhh... I can’t help it, I’m so nervous for my date with Y/N!”

A few more dates later he starts showing off his phone wallpaper to the others. It’s a picture of you and him.

Kaeya tries to piss him off by saying, “Huh, we’ve never actually seen her in person. Maybe it’s photoshopped,” The others snicker.

Is so pissed, asks you to come immediately.

You thought it was an emergency so you come into the gym with a worried look on your face only to be hugged tight into his chest. “See? See? She’s totally real and totally cute!”

Albedo crosses his arms and blinks, then looks at Kaeya “...You totally baited him, he’s such a simpleton.”

Kaeya responds with a smirk “Right?”

#6 Kazuha (Decoy/Middle Blocker/Wing Spiker)

The most formal out of all of them and even tells them seriously that he had an announcement to make.

Next day he comes into practice with you in tow.

Properly introduces you as his girlfriend. 

Everyone is wide-eyed at how official it feels. Then you suddenly take out a big container of fruits and tell everyone it’s for them (The captain doesn’t allow sweets, he thinks it’ll fatten them up or some crap.)

EVERYONE IS BLESSED BY YOUR PRESENCE and Kazuha is just enjoying you getting along with them.

Kaeya and Tartaglia try to whisper and bribe you into making cookies for them. 

Albedo and Xiao stares at Kazuha thinking ‘If someone like you can get a girlfriend, we can get one too, right?’

You offer to come back next time with more fruits and some secret cookies.

#7 Xiao (Libero)

Tried to keep it a secret because he knows his team will make a fuss about it.

The team finds out when his phone suddenly starts ringing in the middle of practice and he asks for a timeout to pick it up.

“Mm... Yeah... I’ll pick you up when I finish,” Everyone starts nudging each other when they hear him talk to you in an unusually calm and soft tone. So different from when he plays volleyball and gets angry at them.

By this point everyone tries to keep quiet and enlarge their ears to eavesdrop.

“Idiot... I won’t be late. I promised to take you out didn’t I?” 

Hearing their tsundere libero say something so sweet makes everyone combust.

When he turns back everyone is staring at him with smirks on their faces. “Hey, why not just ask her to come here?” Kaeya sneakily suggests.

Xiao blushes “A-As if I’d let her near you bumbling fools!”

He was worried it would scare you away, actually.

#8 Tohma (Pinch Server/Middle Blocker)

Literally no one is surprised he has a girlfriend.

It would be MORE of a surprise if he DIDN’T have one.

But they find out cause he left his phone out on the bench one day and there’d been a text message while Xiao was conveniently sitting on the bench.

“...Tohma, someone me--” Xiao looks at the screen where the message ‘I love you!’ is clearly written.

Xiao is so curious but is not gunna admit it so he nudges Kaeya or Tartaglia who might be sitting next to him and secretly motions over to the phone.

They read it and ask in a real loud voice “Oi Tohma! Who’s Y/N? They said I love you!” 

Tohma laughs nervously and since it’s already out he might as well introduce you. 

“This is my princess,” he says when you enter the gym to walk home with him that afternoon. You bow and introduce yourself and everyone looks at you thinking... “Ah, they look like the perfect domestic couple,”

Low-key everyone is jealous of how you dote on him.

Hello Hello! Technically this could be counted as fluff, but I understand that not everyone is fond of AUs, so, if you don’t mind being tagged to something like this, please fill in the survey again (I’ve added AU as an option, just click that one if you’ve signed up for the others before!)

https://forms.gle/VZmJXQssHcv7YzQc6

Please do consider supporting me at my ko-fi! I’ve fixed the payment link so I think you can love me more now <3 (haha jk, it’s optional, but it would greatly help and make me happy!)

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Masterlist

https://primofate.tumblr.com/post/653296890583154688/masterlist-for-mobile-version-main-links

[duckybarnes1917]

Your Eyes Outshine The Town...Chapter 19

Bucky Barnes x Black Female Reader

18+ ONLY

Summary: In the series finale, Bucky finds some solace in the arms of his sister...and starts to truly look forward to his future.

Warnings: EMOTIONS. Fade to black smut...but if this gets a lot of feedback maybe I will post a full smut for it.

AN: THANK YOU. This is the last chapter for this series 😭 I am so proud of this series and I really hope you all found joy in seeing Bucky get everything he ever deserved (even though I had to hurt him a bit along the way). Your feedback means everything to me, so please if you have read and enjoyed this series let me know with a comment, a reblog comment, an anon (or not) message! I'll take anything! Happy Holidays ❤

*Tumblr is not letting me add links to the prev or next chapters. Please see the masterlist pinned to my page for the rest of the story!*

You refilled your drink, glad that Bucky would be the one driving them tonight, and sat on a plum velvet couch between Deena and Betty. You all laughed as you watched the many great-grandchildren fight for a turn hanging from Bucky’s arm. They had all been obsessed with him ever since he stepped through the door. The various parents gave up trying to teach them manners several hours ago. But Bucky didn’t seem to be bothered by their questions in the slightest. So many ‘whys?’ Why do you have it? Why is it gold? Why is it cold? Why won’t my mom let you show us how strong it is? 

You couldn’t hide your smile, Bucky was going to make a great father someday. A day you were starting to hope would come sooner rather than later. As if he could sense your thoughts, Bucky smirked at you and sauntered over to the couch. He picked you up easily and spun you around so he was sitting in your spot and you were  in his lap.

“I thought you forgot about me over here,” you teased as you snuggled into the warmth of Bucky’s arms. 

“Of course not.” Bucky squeezed your waist. “Had to come make sure Betty wasn’t sharing anymore embarrassing stories.”

You shook your head. “Just the one about you almost getting arrested for indecent exposure.” 

Bucky rolled his eyes. “That makes it sound much worse than it was!” 

The women laughed, and you kissed Bucky’s reddening cheek. You stayed there in his lap, giggly and tipsy, until the shadows grew long and the room quiet.

**

Bucky squeezed your waist. The feeling of you, warm and soft, underneath his fingers reminded him to check the time. As much as he was dreading the drive home, he was looking forward to getting you in his bed. 

“James, let your dame go and help me to my room. I need to lie down.” 

Betty stood without waiting for Bucky to respond. He was quick to follow, offering her his elbow.

They were quiet as they made their way to her guest room, and Bucky helped her settle onto the bed. 

“Can I get you anything?” 

“Sit down,” Betty patted the edge of the bed. 

Bucky did what she asked, still feeling–well, he didn’t know how to feel. Overwhelmed didn’t begin to cover it.

“You know I’m still older than you, right? I don’t remember you being this bossy.” 

“James–”

Bucky looked up at her light blue eyes, and his joking demeanor dropped. “I missed you.” 

Betty opened her arms and Bucky fell into them without question. 

“I can’t believe you’ve been alive this whole time. I didn’t believe Connor when he told me. I didn’t think you’d actually show up. Thought he was crazy.” 

Bucky chuckled, holding her tighter. “I’m so sorry,” a wave of tears strangled his voice. 

“What in the world are you apologizing for?” Betty sounded exasperated, the same tone she used to use when Bucky didn’t play by her rules as a kid. 

He sat up and was surprised to find she had been crying too. Her voice certainly didn’t sound like it. 

“I–should have tried to find you.” 

Betty waved his words away. “Don’t be stupid. Now stop crying and tell me about the girl downstairs that looks at you like you hung the fucking moon.” 

“Language,” Bucky shook his head. It was so easy to slip into the big brother role again. “First, I brought you something.” Bucky gave her the blue velvet jewelry box and Betty gasped when she saw the diamond and emerald teddy bear pendant inside. 

“James–how much did you spend on this? What am I going to do with this? Wear it on my robe at the nursing home?” Betty snapped the box closed and tried to hand it back to him.

Bucky laughed and refused it. “Well, if I knew you had so much money,” Bucky waved his hands around the elegant room. “I would have spent more. I made you a promise. Remember?” 

Betty went quiet for a moment, opening the box again as more tears welled in her eyes. “That you’d bring me something pretty.” 

Bucky nodded and squeezed her frail hand. He tried not to let that affect him, not now. He couldn’t think about how much time he may or may not have left with her when he just got her back. 

Betty dried her eyes and motioned to the drawer next to her bed. “Give me the black box in there. I have something for you, too.” 

Bucky did as she said and let out his own gasp when she opened it for him. 

“It was mom’s, do you remember?” 

Bucky nodded quietly and took the box with his shaking hand. Her wedding ring. A thin band with intricate lace-like metalwork. A European-cut sapphire sparkled in the middle, surrounded by little white diamonds. 

“It was always meant for you and I was the only one crazy enough to save it this whole time. Becca was pissed when I refused to give it to Charles when he got married. It’s yours.”

“Betty–thank you.” Bucky didn’t know what else to say. He remembered rolling his eyes every time his mother expressed her excitement to see it on the hand of his wife someday. The fact that she never would was enough to make him crumble. With the ring tight in his grip, he laid on his sister’s lap and sobbed. He thought he had suffered the worst of his eternal pain, but this felt new. The wounds were so fresh he could feel every rip of his heart. 

“I know it wasn’t, Buck—I know.” 

Bucky hadn’t realized he had been talking—yelling, really, about how unfair his whole life had been. Betty held him as tight as she could, her hand rubbing circles on his back. 

“S—sorry-sorry—I can’t—” 

“Deep breaths, take your time.” 

Bucky nodded, still trying to stop the sobs that were now making him hyperventilate. Betty was patient, humming to him until he fell quiet, silent tears still streaming down his face. He sat up and looked at the ring in his hand. The conflicting emotions were exhausting him… his mother wouldn’t be here to see it, but Betty would be. Sam would be, and you—he could really have a normal life after all.  

“Is she worth it?” 

“You have no idea.” Bucky sniffled, wiping his red eyes. When he looked up, he smiled at the way Betty’s face had lit up. She was happy for him, proud, and that’s all he had hoped for. 

**

Bucky was not looking forward to the drive home. The day had been amazing but draining. As he said his last goodbyes and loaded the copious amounts of leftovers Deena insisted he take, Bucky kept his smile in place. But as soon as his car door shut, he let out a tired sigh. 

“You better not fall asleep on me,” he told you as he put the car in reverse. “You made me a promise. It’s the only thing that’s gonna get me through this drive.” 

“Actually,” you smiled mischievously, “I have a surprise.” 

Bucky raised a brow as he exited the driveway. “Is that so?” 

You nodded, quickly typing an address into the car’s gps. “Just follow the directions.” 

You gave him no other information, just sat back in your seat with that teasing smile on your lips. 

About an hour later, Bucky was pulling up in front of a cute white house in the suburbs. 

“Whose house is this?” Bucky sat on the brakes in front of the house. 

“Come on, pull into the driveway.” You nudged his arm, and Bucky did as you said. 

Before he could ask any other questions, You were out of the car and waving for him to follow. Bucky shook his head and let out a little huff, but quickly turned the car off and joined your side. 

“You gonna fill me in now?” Bucky asked nervously as you turned the handle on the front door. 

You opened the door and turned to face him. Bucky took a quick glance around the inside of the house before sending you a questioning look. 

“It’s ours for the night,” you beamed. “Go get the bags out of the car.” 

Excitement thrummed in Bucky’s veins, and normally he would ask a hundred questions, but tonight, he didn’t care. He ran back to the car and found the bags you had snuck in at some point. You were giggling as he jogged back to the front door with a big smile on his face. 

“Don’t move,” he huffed as he slipped past you and set the bags in the hall. He stepped back outside and lifted you into his arms, bridal style. “I don’t know how you did this, but I’m gonna ruin you, sweetheart.” 

“It’s just an Airbnb,” you giggled, running your hands through his hair as he carried you through the house. 

It was cute, but Bucky would have to appreciate that more in the morning—maybe while he was making you breakfast—fuck, why did that just make him hard? 

He pushed the bedroom door open and laid you on the large bed, immediately joining you. “You couldn’t wait until we got home, could you?” His fingers worked frantically to pull the zipper on your skirt down.

You scoffed but helped him pull your skirt and tights down your legs. “I didn’t want you driving all the way back tonight; it’s been a long day.” 

Bucky stopped and looked up at your face. A lump caught in his throat. He loved you so damn much he felt he might burst. 

“What’s wrong? We don’t have to if you’re tired, baby.” 

“Sweetheart, you have no idea how much I want to.” Bucky kissed the insides of your thighs. “But you’re about to.” 

“Fuck,” you mumbled, still running your fingers through his hair. 

“Now, lay back and let me relax.” 

You did as he said and Bucky pushed you to the head of the bed so he could lie on his stomach between your thighs. With the first taste, so uniquely you, he felt his muscles relax and his stress dissipate. 

**

Finally in bed, Bucky snuggled against your back, holding you as close as he could.  

“Thank you for doing this with me,” he whispered as he placed a kiss behind her your. “I couldn’t have done it without you.” 

“I’d do anything for you, Bucky.” 

Bucky’s chest burned pleasantly. “I love you. Get some sleep.” 

“Love you more,” you mumbled. 

Bucky held you tight until your breathing evened out, and he knew you were asleep. The ring, now safely tucked away in his backpack, was all he could think about. It wasn’t even a question of if he would do it. It was a question of when and how. He never thought he’d even get the chance, maybe in another life, but here and now? Suddenly, he felt like things were moving far too quickly in this new life of his. He never let himself want anything, because he never thought he would have anything. And now so much had been dropped right in his lap in a matter of months. He sat up and took a few calming breaths before he opened the little box again. The ring looked even more beautiful in the moonlight. He could already imagine it on your finger, the sapphire and diamonds sparkling against your skin; the smile he’d put on your face when he asked. How would he do it? How did people propose these days? He’d have to ask Sam for help, of course. Maybe he could do it in Louisiana. Would that be too soon? He’d already been stupid enough to ask you to have a baby with him–and it was definitely too soon for that. But you weren’t running away. He glanced over his shoulder. You had turned on your side, facing him, probably seeking his warmth. His dog tags still hung around your neck and you looked almost innocent as you slept so deeply. He briefly considered never sleeping again if he got to look at you like this every night. 

He snapped the box closed and hid it away. He’d ask Sam. Sam would know what to do. 

Don’t forget to reblog! 😉

*Tumblr is not letting me add links to the prev or next chapters. Please see the masterlist pinned to my page for the rest of the story!*

Taglist: @delaber @mannien @raindrcpsangel @cjand10

[reilliane]

Flaws ★ Subject Two

— ★ Scry: Solar Umbra + Zeta + SAGAU (Cult AU) — ★ Genre: Romance + Fluff — ★ Concept: The sudden bearing of the title as Creator is massive, and you're left with the expectancy to reclaim the lost identity of who you were before your reincarnation on Earth. Perfection. Teyvat leads you to someone who is going through a similar struggle. — ★ Words: 2.2k A/N: Subject Two is referred to as Zeta. Also this is MC getting an identity crisis, who finds Zeta, who has already gone through his identity crisis lmao- Zeta/Subject Two (Appearance)

It hadn’t been long after your arrival in Teyvat.

The moment you have opened your eyes to the place that’s previously seen as detailed pixels, you saw a celebration that kicked off as soon as your [c]s are bare for everyone to see.

It had been similar to the Rite of Descension, only instead of calling forth the Archon of Geo in Liyue..

Teyvat’s Creator is being called in Mondstadt.

The summoning—which was done by the whole of the windy nation—called for you.

Ever since then, instead of seeking after the characters you put all your heart and soul into building, they are the ones at your beck and call. It had been surprising and overwhelming.

You were someone of no exact specialty back in Earth.

No, you were just someone amongst the people, living and letting things pass by. But that changed.

Now people are expecting of you, of your love, and of your perfection.

No one ever actually asked you to be this figure of magnificence for they speak day and night of your flawlessness regardless of everything, but doesn’t that simply come along with their worship?

You aren’t someone who will meet their expectations even if they say otherwise—because you know yourself. You aren’t flawless.

Divine or not, you make mistakes. Just like everybody else.

No one seems to care, though. Your ‘wrong’ will be ‘right’ in their eyes and it honestly is a little terrifying—to know that even their morals are something you can warp. But of course, it’s to be expected.

After all, you are the most supreme in Teyvat.

It’s just, to be honest, scary. To be painted into someone worthy of praise when you don’t even know a thing of what you did to acquire such reverence except to be their Creator.

Lisa’s scholarly texts spoke of how ‘you’ have perished after a great conflict that threatened Teyvat’s existence, so you’re led to believe that you are a simple reincarnation bearing the soul of the Creator.

But if that’s the case then—can it be said that you are their Creator?

Your memories are not of Teyvat’s birth, but your childhood on Earth. They aren’t of glorification from everyone, but of being one, the same yet unique, with your friends.

How can these people expect you to act on the same grace and poise you’re not even familiar with in the first place? To bestow miracles you can’t even bestow? Your power is nonexistent, yet Teyvat itself welcomes you home.

As if it has expected that you are brought back in the vessel of a human, and not of the same greatness you had in your previous life in this world.

It’s alright. Teyvat’s message is carried in the softness of the breeze, in the endless bloom of the flowers, and in the warmth of the sun. You are her, and similarly, you are your own person.

It is reassuring. At least you know that someone—or something—is with you on this whole ‘do I deserve this?’ position.

At least you know that easing into this sudden role is permitted.

As complex as it is to live up to the people’s view of you, merit always comes around the corner. Sometimes, when you wish to reminisce what it’s like to be who you were, a normal person enjoying and hating life at the same time without the title of someone so grand, you just disappear.

It does not matter where. Teyvat takes you to it in some way or another.

This time, it’s taken you across the waters and into Inazuma.

You don’t expect someone to find you—Teyvat is pretty skilled in hiding you—but for some reason, someone does. Almost like the world has allowed this one person—and it’s not just anyone.

“Your Grace… ! It’s raining, please, come with me.”

In the gentle warmth and dim light of his cottage, you eye his appearance; long raven—almost a dark, pale blue—hair… golden eyes… you won’t even know it to be him if not for his voice.

“You are… Rhinedottir’s first creation. Albedo.”

The impostor. Is what you wished to say to be specific, but it doesn’t sit right on your tongue.

He tenses, his hand subconsciously reaching for his neck as if he’s feeling a mark that wasn’t there in the first place, before smiling. “As expected, only you are able to see right through my appearance. Even the Traveler has not suspected me.”

The light sheds upon his entire figure. He altered the color of Albedo’s hair and eyes, yet kept the voice. He’s acting differently, as well—almost like-

“Of course she wouldn’t. You’re no longer Albedo, are you?”

His smile brightens—like he’s been anticipating for that question. Like he’s waiting for validation that no one will be able to give due to his reputation.

“Zeta. I named myself Zeta, your Grace.”

Zeta…

You smile. “It suits you.”

For days and nights, you ponder over the possible reason as to why Teyvat decided to trace your steps towards Zeta. In hindsight, you are relieved as much as you’re grateful.

His presence isn’t exactly narrated after the game event that took in Dragonspine back when you’re still on Earth, meaning he’s just wiped off the face of the code afterward without knowing what happened.

To think that he’s here in Inazuma all along, with a new identity of his own…

Ah.. identity?

“Your acolytes have been searching for your whereabouts, it won’t be long until even the retired Rex Lapis and Barbatos comes to Inazuma in search for you.”

Zeta’s voice, as warm as the late afternoon breeze, is heard as he appears by your side.

There is a cup of tea in his hold which he extends towards you.

“Let them,” you take the cup, gently blowing on the liquid before taking a sip, “It isn’t like I’m in any kind of danger.”

His response fades in the background and you’re back to your little ponders, absentmindedly looking at the faraway horizon.

Up until now, you can’t wrap your head around the fact that you’re staring at a real sky—a sky that used to be a bunch of code and pixels.

Isn’t this… supposed to be a dream come true? Albeit it is, you’re still somewhat hesitant.

Being thrown into this identity that you were supposed to have is staggering, but you’re surprised that you’re actually starting to adjust.

Perhaps it’s because you’re in the presence of someone who is in the same boat as you are.

Discreetly, you gaze at the man at your side. He’s still speaking the noon away with a tiny, barely noticeable smile on his face. He appears content.

Zeta. Rhinedottir’s first creation, better known as ‘Primordial Albedo’ when you last read the wiki about his profile. Revived in Dragonspine, taking on the image of perfection, only to… well, whatever went down with him and Albedo.

He traipsed away from flawlessness and opted to take on a new life, adopting a name and appearance that differed from his supposed brother and fellow homunculus. He welcomed mistakes.

For it’s the closest thing he can have to liken himself to a human. A human who has a chance of befriending others and—simply living. Like you.

Perhaps this is the reason why Teyvat linked entwined both of your paths?

The wind blows past, stroking gently as if it’s this world’s answer to your musings. Perhaps it truly is.

“Hey, Zeta… why did you choose to keep your voice.. and continue to do the basics of alchemy, when you said that you’re giving yourself a brand new start?”

You, someone who is thrown into this world with little knowledge of the supreme title over your head. Expected of greatness, but held back with knowing that you’re different from who you supposedly were in your past life in Teyvat.

Your clasp on the wooden cup tightens as he turns to you, golden eyes fathomless with messages.

“Hm, that’s because I don’t wish to wholly forget who I was. Just because I aimed for a new identity doesn’t mean I would be forgetting all that came with me in the beginning. Think of it as… accepting the past and letting it help reshape a new future.”

Maybe this world brought you to him because he’s the one who will understand your problems. And you have no problem believing that.

Like him, you’re someone slowly struggling to make an identity. You can’t just forget who you were on Earth, forget those that you’ve spent memories with, all because you didn’t ‘belong’ there in the first place.

So like Zeta… like how he valiantly recreated himself whilst taking consideration of he had been—his purpose, his life—you will do the same.

Although you have a shred of a past soul, you aren’t the previous Creator. Because that was of a different time—a different age. And that’s alright.

“Your Grace? Is there… something on my face, maybe?”

“No,” for the first time ever since you laid foot in this world, you beam, happily. “I just had a wonderful thought, is all.”

Because now, you’re you. You have arrived in Teyvat as [Surname] [Name], an average human from Earth, and you will bear the title as Creator with that memory.

You aren’t the image of immaculacy, and that’s fine.

Thank you, Zeta.

He doesn’t pry any further—or maybe he wishes to but deems it disrespectful. Instead, he plants his gaze elsewhere, on his blooming flowers, specifically.

In truth, you weren’t expecting him to pursue a life such as this; simplicity. And he’s growing crops splendidly with the aid of alchemy. There are times when he takes commissions from the Guild, as well.

Humming, you link your arm around his own, taking him by evident surprise. He nearly spills his own tea.

“.. Your Grace?”

My, my, was that a stutter just now? You stop yourself from bursting into a fit of giggles after making out the darkening hue of pink on his face. He’s oddly more expressive than Albedo, it’s adorable.

And nice. Because that only serves to distinguish him from the other homunculus.

“Say, Zeta, will you go embark on this journey with me?”

“Ah-? If your Graces wishes it, of course.”

“Of course I do!”

“I see—then when will we depart?”

“Silly, it’s not that kind of journey.”

His eyebrows jump at this, his confusion written all over his face as you continue to drink the last of your tea. “Pardon? I can’t quite follow.”

You chuckle.

You meant a journey of rebuilding a new beginning whilst accepting how the past helps in this reformation. But he doesn’t need to know that—at least, maybe not now.

He has just made a life of his own here, you’d hate to take this life of simplicity away from him just because of your whims. A time will come when, hopefully, he will be willing to stand with you.

“Hey…” you whisper, “If I ask you to be by my side, what would you say, then?”

“It’d be an honor, but are you certain of your decision, your Grace? … Should it be me?”

Someone who was previously an imposter. Who wished ill-will upon someone because of the desire to live through a life that could’ve been his.

He didn’t say it—but by the melancholy tone of his voice and the downcast look on his face, it’s obvious that it is the underlying message in his question.

Tilting your head so you can look at him properly, you tug at his arm, prompting him to turn your way.

“Incredibly certain. You’re you, don’t think otherwise, even if you are similar in some ways.. that’s not a reason for me to look at you as if you aren’t Zeta.”

“I’m.. flattered, thank you.”

You aren’t able to resist laughing this time around when he averts his face, lifting his hand in a measly attempt to cover his burning face. “Then, if that’s the case, I will be with you, your Grace.”

“Really now? It’s of your volition, yes? Don’t feel inclined to say yes just because of my status!”

“Yes, I’m speaking with my own will, I assure you.”

It takes him a small minute to get over his fluster, but when he does, he’s looking back and giving you a charming, toothy smile that froze you in place.

It isn’t one of the usual smiles he’d do—this seems more… joyous, touched. Grateful, even.

Then he looks down at you, your nose, your lips—then he draws closer- and closer and your breath is hitching until he-

“There we go,”

His grin is goofy as he draws back after wiping the corner of your mouth. His visage screams diablerie as he relishes in the sight of your red face.

“You had something on your face, your Grace, now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll have to prepare our supper.” As smooth as possible, he darts away, bouts of his chuckle ringing in your ears as you stand—flustered.

Your hands are faintly shaking, making you almost drop the cup.

He did that on purpose, that guy… ! Timidly slapping your cheeks as if it’ll get rid of the redness, you spin around and chase after him.

“Zeta, how can you be so mischievous!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, your Grace~”

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭'𝐬 𝐒𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬

[sukirichi]

earned it [04]

Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it. But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins. He also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.

cw. DARK CONTENT, graphic violence, mentions of blood, explicit murder, sexual violence, angst, tw dubcon, mentions of mass murder, death threats, cheating, implications of suicide, typical mafia business + very unedited (please PLEASE read at your own discretion! if you do not wish to proceed to read because of the aforementioned warnings but want to know what happened anyway, please drop into my asks and i’ll retell it in a much less graphic version!)

chapter song. never forget you (zara larsson, mnek)

series masterlist

Death.

The stench of it reeked everywhere. Blood pooled at the ends of your dress, the warm liquid dripping from your fingers. You couldn’t see what was in front of you, not when your vision had been obscured black, painted red with everyone’s lifeless eyes staring back emptily at you and carrying an ominous message behind words that never had the chance to be spoken.

Satoru was gone.

You ran through flights of stairs as you bunched your dress up, dried blood present on your cheek. The gray cemented walls of this unknown building began to close down on you, suffocating you, trapping you – and then there he was. Your lover, your world, your everything – he stood on top of a pile of bodies, his face as grim as the deaths he’s caused, but that wasn’t what stood out from the scene. It was the fact you couldn’t recognize him anymore; the man before you was nothing else but the devil incarnate himself. Then, just as you ran his way, fingers outstretched to grasp at his shirt, Satoru disappeared.

He was gone.

A scream ripped out your throat as you scrambled for the sheets, pulling them up in a haste to shield yourself. The images were now gone, but that fear kept drumming into you, gloops of blood making its way through your room’s white exterior.

It’s not real, it’s not real – Satoru’s arms snaked over to your side, his eyes droopy from being woken up. You would’ve apologized, knowing he never really got proper sleep, but you were already wrapping your arms around yourself, gaze repeatedly darting back to the walls – to check for bodies, for blood, for death, for him.

“Hey,” Satoru drew you close to him until your head fell on his chest. Out of instinct, you flattened your ear above where his heartbeat rested. Thump thump – he was real, he was safe, alive – he wouldn’t do that. Satoru wasn’t that kind of person. You clung to him like a koala and mumbled incoherently at the skin of his neck, clutching his shirt so tight it wrinkled horribly. Satoru merely littered kisses all over the crown of your head to soothe you, although he was not free to this fear you felt; he was just as nervous for an unknown reason. “Angel, what’s wrong?”

“You-you were leaving—”

“Shh, angel, I’m not, I’m here,” he wrapped you closer to his body, the sheets still warm and smelling like him as if to add reassurance to his words. “You’re alright. I’m here, angel, it’s okay.”

“I was going to die,” you quivered. It had only been a fleeting moment when you saw it, but you were there too. Dressed in white, arms covered in lace and a crown adorning your head; it seemed as if you were meant to be on top of the bodies, and Satoru sat upon it like a throne. It transitioned from being the witness to being the victim in a minute and your chest squeezed so hard you choked out, “I was dying, baby.”

“You’re not going to die. No one’s going to hurt you, you understand?” Satoru cupped your cheeks to force you to look him in the eye. “I’m going to keep you safe no matter what. Not leaving your side, angel, that’s a promise.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“I would never do that,” he nodded before he raised your pinky. Satoru looped both your fingers and kissed the conjoined form, not once leaving your gaze the whole time. “I promise,” he whispered, foreheads touching and breaths mingling. Like one soul intertwined, you once mused, feeling yourself get lost in the depth of azure pools he harboured. “There’s nowhere to go without you anyway; you’re the greatest gift in my life. I’d do anything for you.”

“Don’t leave me. Please.”

“I won’t, angel. I never will.”

And you believed that. Like the fool you were, you really believed that.

The bank loomed over you, its mere presence impending and bringing about a wave of discomfort to you. Awkwardly, you stepped inside, hiding your face in your hair to conceal the nausea threatening to urge you to throw up. You couldn’t help but survey the entire area out of instant wariness, holding tighter to your phone.

Seeing as there was no line, you sat on the nearest open window. “Hi, uhm…I recently got transferred this money from…an old friend, you could say,” you informed with furrowed brows, fishing your phone out of your pocket as you logged into your account. The whole time, your hands turned sweaty and the phone nearly slipped from your grasp out of anxiety. The woman assisting you flashed you a sympathetic smile, patient and kind enough to listen to your small voice through the glass. “I lost contact with them so I can’t return it. I was wondering if maybe you could help me rewind the transaction?”

“Oh, we can definitely do that Ma’am, may I see?” Nodding, you handed her your phone. In an instant, the polite smile fell from her lips, altering into a nervous one the next. “Oh…” she blinked back at the digits, clearly overwhelmed from the amount of zeroes. Dropping her voice, she leaned closer to you, “Do you…do you know the account owner personally?”

“Yes,” you admitted, “Well, I used to.”

“And they wired you all this?”

“About two weeks ago, yeah.”

The employee sat there for a full minute, possibly contemplating how to go about this. It didn’t set well with you – that mysterious, almost suspicious smile she had – that you debated whether just asking for your phone back. “Excuse me for a moment. I think I should take this to the higher-ups,” she announced while scanning the bank with narrowed eyes, leaving before you could have a say in it.

The next minutes that passed had never felt more gruelling.

You sat there with a frantic heart, your jeans damp from the countless times you’ve wiped your hand on it. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. People came in for their own agendas, the hushed ‘inside voice’ as faint as ever, then they left. Repeat. End of conversation.

It was just another normal, boring day for everyone else – but not for you.

“Miss?” a voice pulled you away from your thoughts. A half-bald man was now standing before you, the previous employee you’d been talking to right behind him, her head ducked down. Manager, his tag read, which made sense. He gestured for you to come inside the back parts of the bank, and you gripped your purse tighter as you followed them.

The inside wasn’t that special or different from the outside. There were lesser chairs but bigger, brighter white walls. His office was located right in the middle where the female employee closed the glass doors behind you, silent and timid as she prepared you tea. Meanwhile, you sat there with your hands wrung in your lap, stomach already falling from the grim expression he wore. “About the funds, I’m afraid we can’t do anything about this transaction. While it had been transferred you, neither us nor the bank has the authorization to do anything about this. Whoever sent it to you is the only one that can either take it back or liquidize it,” he pushed his glasses back to his face, an apologetic sigh leaving his lips. “I’m afraid we can’t help you with this, Miss, we’re really sorry—”

“No!” you slammed your palms on the desk, “No, I don’t want the money, wire it back to him!”

“Miss, we already told you, it’s out of control—”

You shook your head. This wasn’t real – Satoru had to be joking! He couldn’t just give you this and disappear into thin air! In fact, you never even cared for the money; you were just hoping that maybe you’d find a way back to him if nothing but digits was the only thing left to prove he even existed. Desperation clawed its way through your throat as you fell on your knees, helpless tears streaming down your face. “Please, you have to do something, I don’t want the money, I just want him back, please! I just need to talk to him once more and he’s your client, right? Let me talk to him, I know you have contact with him, Sir, please, I’m begging you—”

“Security!” the manager hollered. The sounds of doors slamming open made you stand up straight, eyes wide at the incoming pairs of guards ready to escort you out. “It’s best you schedule a personal appointment with the account owner, Miss. We also suggest you remain on the down-low instead of causing a ruckus like this. You don’t know who’s going to be grabbing at every opportunity to take what was given to you.”

“Everything’s been taken away from me!” you argued back, walking around the desk to clasp the manager’s hand. He pulled away for a moment before you squeezed his hands, the tearing of your heart too painful to bear. You just wanted to see him. “Come on, please, I don’t care about the money, I just—”

They didn’t let you finish. Just like Satoru, just like everybody else, they discarded you to the side, treated you like you were a nobody who didn’t deserve a second chance.

“Escort her out, please.”

And just like that, your fate had been decided. No...perhaps it had been determined the moment he left, and now you walked blearily along the narrowed gaps between buildings, unable to find your way back home.

Where was home anyway? Your penthouse with Satoru? Your cramped dorm back at the university? Your empty flat that had once been a happy home with your parents before they too, left you behind with nothing but a family portrait as a memory? It was pathetic. You meant nothing. Obviously, no one valued you enough, not even Satoru who’d just given you enough to let you live comfortably for the rest of your life. But no matter how much he provided, it wasn’t what you wanted. It wouldn’t bring back the one thing you wanted most, and you fell on the rough pavement, too tired to care about the stinging of your palms.

You clutched at your heart in a debilitated attempt to soothe way your chest squeezed uncomfortably. You were literally in the middle of the nowhere, trapped between the walls that hid you in the darkness and muffled your cries.

He’d left – he really left.

He didn’t keep his promise, and your nightmare had now become reality. You had to bite down your shirt to keep the agony to yourself, nails dug so deep into your jeans it left a mark above your skin. Hours passed, maybe minutes – who knew?

The sun had gone down and the streets grew busier than before, the honking and lively bustling of the night city like background noise to you.

Your key back to the penthouse weighed heavily at your back pocket. There was still the option of just going back home, but what good would that do? Everywhere you went, you were reminded of him. There was no escaping the beautiful memories he left you with, there was no exit from his miserable dream you were forced to wake up into.

Nothing mattered anymore. You felt so lost, the motivation to find your way back depleted just like your energy. You only had your bodily instincts to thank for when your stomach grumbled, demanding to be fed and nurtured even in such a hopeless situation. It made you want to laugh – that even as your heart and soul gave up on you – your body was doing its best to keep you alive and get through the day. You heaved yourself away from the wall and wiped the dirt away from your palms, the rhythm of your feet one heavy clump next to the other.

There was a nice Chinese restaurant at the end of the street that glowed brightly, invitingly. If you could just have dinner, maybe you’d feel better.

But you never got three steps across.

A cold blade had been pressed to your neck, sinister laughter echoing from the darkness of the night. “Scream and you die, sweetheart,” a gruff voice crooned in your ear, followed by a more high-pitched, maniacal chuckles. There was two of them. Fear lit your nerves up and you scrambled to run, but this man was too strong. He didn’t even have to try too much into increasing pressure to your neck, slicing the first layers of your skin that was enough to prick both blood and tears from you. “Ah, ah, ah! Resisting won’t get you anywhere. We just want to talk, okay? No foul play needed.”

You shut your eyes in submission, too afraid to even swallow the bile rising in case the movement would push the knife further. You could only let out a weak, “What do you want from me?”

“Oh, what else?” said his accomplice, showing up in front of you with a creepy smile. He tipped his head side to the side, revealing the silver replacements of his teeth that glinted under the streetlights. “You got his hidden slush fund, didn’t you?”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you don’t need to lie, we saw you leave that bank. Plus, everyone’s been talking about it!” cheered the guy behind you, pushing you forwards with his blade finally withdrawn. You stumbled on your feet as they pointed to the nearest ATM. For a moment, you contemplated making a run for it. The ATM was only a few kilometres away from the Chinese restaurant and you could be safe if you run fast enough, but you were too obvious, the deceit written all over your face. The first guy then pressed a gun against your head, a silent reminder that you were the weaker one here. “Don’t even think about it,” he warned, “Now you’ll withdraw it little by little, okay? We just want a piece of it, a fraction of it is enough to last us a lifetime.”

Exhaling deeply, you raised your hands in surrender. “I can’t withdraw it.”

“The fuck did you say?”

“I said I can’t withdraw it! I don’t have access—”

“Bullshit, bitch, you’ve got so much of it, just give to us before we kill you,” he cocked his gun, his friend following suit and retrieving a pistol from his belt. Your lips quivered at the sight of two guns aimed at your way, but you remained firm in your spot, shaking your head at them. The man’s eyes darkened, displeased by your response. He narrowed his eyes at you before nodding to his friend.

“Fuck this man, she’s a selfish cunt. Take her phone and her belongings.”

“No, please, don’t—”

It was too late. They had pushed you on the ground, your bum throbbing from the fall. The second guy rummaged your pockets before pulling out your wallet, jaw dropping from the contents. “Fuck,” he exclaimed, flashing a Polaroid you had kept the whole time. “This you and Six Eyes?”

Your heart fell.

It was a photo of you and Satoru on your first anniversary where he’d whisked you off to a sky tower, arrogantly declaring that he’d make you experience the best date ever.

He wasn’t lying – his arrangement of fireworks and a romantic date in the sky really had been the best – and he’d snapped a picture of you then, sneakily landing a kiss on your cheek while you gasped at the display of fireworks before you.

Just seeing it felt like torture all over again, and the thief snickered at your tear stained face. “Oh, I see. You’re his whore, aren’t you? Everyone called it bullshit when word got around Six Eyes had a little angel hidden somewhere around here. I gotta say though, you are a pretty thing. Makes sense you got him pussy whipped.”

“Whoever Six eyes fucks – especially someone he liked enough to pay this much – that is fine meat, man,” the other muttered more to himself. His eyes then lit up with a thought, the smirk tugging at his lips screaming trouble. “It’d be a shame to not have a taste.”

You paled. Scrambling as much as you could with sore legs, you pushed their arms away from you. “Let go of me!” you cried out, kicking harder when they’ve discarded their guns and focused on carrying you instead. Everything muted that night except for the pounding of your heart as you struggled to get away from them, arms flailing the moment one of them yanked your shirt down to expose your bra. “Don’t fucking touch me, let go!”

It must be luck that your punch landed on his nose, a sickening crack resonating in the street. All of you remained still, with you flattening your back on the wall, arms protectively sheltering your chest and the pair staring at the other guy’s broken nose.

He winced at seeing blood on his fingers, “Oh, you’re just asking for it bitch,” he snarled, snapping his fingers to get his friend’s attention and pointing at you. “Grab her leg.”

Both of them made quick work. It all happened so fast you couldn’t tell which was who anymore. Your shirt had been ripped off; the straps of your bra tugged down to free a nipple while your arms had been knocked into the building behind you. One of them kept you immobile, their grips too strong and their bodies twice your size that you were easily overpowered. You never cried so hard in your life – not even when you realized Satoru had left – and your throat ached from how much you wept.

“Stop, no, let go of me!”

“Shut her the fuck up, bruh,” the man unzipping your jeans scowled, his fingers playing with the waistband of your underwear. You sobbed and screamed, fought hard as much as you could, but you were too weak. Too vulnerable. Too pathetic.

Maybe it was just better to let go.

Maybe it was just better to stop.

Your shoulders fell as they shimmied your jeans down your hips, each and every inch of your body no longer yours. Was this how you would die? Was this how you would finish? If so, you would’ve appreciated at least one last dinner.

You were about to close your eyes the moment you heard the sounds of a man’s belt unbuckling, too lost in your own horror that you failed to hear the screeching of tires, and neither did they. And then, like a light at the end of the tunnel, like an angel dropping from the heavens – gunshots rang through the air. Blood splattered to your cheek. Heavy bodies crunched against the ground.

He’d come back.

Except it wasn’t Satoru leaning in front of a car when you opened your eyes. The man stood a few inches shorter, blond shaggy hair falling just above his eyebrows, the ends dyed black. His body was tilted to the side, half of his weight shifted on a cane upon closer look, but you were mostly captivated in his eyes. He showed no malice intent; hell, he didn’t even spare a glance at the corpses with holes between their eyes, silently blowing the smoke away from his barrel like this was a common thing for him.

He had his eyes on you, uncaring of the fact you were half-naked before him since his attention remained on your face.

“So it’s true,” he mused, “I didn’t believe at first when they said Six Eyes really gave the notes to his girl. A commoner, no less,” he limped towards you, feline-eyes slanted to inspect you. “But nothing about you is common, is there? To get the demon to soften up…you really must be something else,” his gloved hands ran a finger down to your jaw, and you shut your eyes tight, leaning away from his touch. The man clicked his tongue at your reactions but withdrew his hand anyway, stepping a few feet away from you to give you space. “Don’t be so scared. You and I are not that different. We’re both just poor victims of facing the consequences of his actions,” he tapped his cane at your shoes, his face devoid of expression. “Stand up. You won’t get anywhere by crying. You need to learn how to fight.”

You swung the door open, ready to finally get the shoes you’ve been gushing to Naoya about for days. But you were met with nothing but a tuft of white hair, blood smattered on his cheeks, and lips crashing down onto yours. Satoru pinned you against the wall in the same manner he held you on that day he left, his kisses harsh and longing while you moaned into his mouth, legs turning into jelly.

“Angel,” he rasped into your mouth, grinding his boner to the thin material of your night gown. “I told you you’re fucking mine.”

Satoru forced his tongue past your lips and kept you close to him, his intoxicating scent tempting you to give in and enjoy it already. For a split second, you faltered, kissing him back with the love you once harboured for him, but then you blanked.

This was Satoru.

You were married to Naoya.

He’d began to leave kisses at your jawline when you pulled back, landing a sharp elbow right at his head. Satoru fell on the floor and you panted above him as you tried to make yourself decent. Fuck, that hurt like a bitch. You had to roll your shoulders back to get rid of the tension as you made the mental note to train in combat harder, pinching the bridge of your noise before you summoned the servants.

Satoru was knocked out for a solid hour. You found it funny that the infamous omnipotent Six Eyes was now sprawled all over your couch, soft snores emitting from his lips. He’d been pretty unresponsive to you so ice far, not even a budge as you iced the bruise you’d left on his face.

You sighed. His shirt was stained with blood, the pads of his knuckles matted with wounds and bruises. You couldn’t help yourself from brushing his hair away from his eyes, humming a little until his eyes cracked open. Satoru stared at the ceiling before his eyes landed on you hovering before him, your touch gentle in paradox to the heat of your gaze. “What are you doing here, Satoru?” you sighed, gesturing to the mess he had on his shirt. “Where have you been?”

“In a fight.”

“No shit,” you rolled your eyes, “You still haven’t answered my question. What are you doing here?”

“I-I don’t know. I just…I lost it for a moment and—”

“Do I want to know why?”

“It’s stupid,” he mumbled to himself and faced the couch. Even after seven years, he was still very much the petty kid at heart. You could confidently bet he was pouting right now, and you crossed your leg over the other, hiding a small smile behind your palm. “I overheard one of my men making a sleazy comment that Naoya’s wife looked like a bitch who would jump at every alpha male,” Satoru grumbled, prying for your reaction by looking across his shoulder. “I don’t know what came over me after that.”

“Did you kill them?”

“Almost,” he scrunched his nose, “Then I pictured your face. Maybe you wouldn’t want me to do that.”

“So you care about what I want now?”

Satoru shut his eyes. Of course you’d never stop bringing that up – both to your demises – since you were both a sadist who didn’t mind receiving pain every now and then. Five years of marriage with Naoya taught you to be resilient to all types of pain, the experiences and horrors you’ve lived through practically making you immune to them now. Satoru, on the other hand, didn’t seem to be on the same boat as you. He sat up, his hips flushed next to your thighs, burying his hands on his head. “Angel, about everything... are we not going to talk about what happened before?”

“Is there anything to talk about?” you deadpanned, surprising the guy who widened his eyes at you. Surely, he must be expecting a different form of hatred coming from you, but you were indifferent – numb, empty. “The past is in the past, Satoru. You know better than anyone else it’s easier to just walk away.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“For what?” you faked a smile, placing your chin on your hands while blinking up at him under innocent eyes. Naoya once told you that your attitude of being unbothered bothered a lot more people, and it was a technique you’ve loved ever since. Seeing Satoru crumble before you...nothing felt more satisfying. “For barging in here or for kissing me? Maybe both?”

“For everything,” he answered brokenly, “For all the pain I’ve put you through.”

“Do you think apologies are going to suddenly eradicate that?”

“…No.”

“Then I don’t need it,” you taunted, patting his thigh as you stood up, tying the knots of your robe safer this time. You couldn’t be bothered to wear underwear beneath them; if Satoru tried laying his hands on you again, you wouldn’t hesitate to cut his fingers off, and the plain sight of a dagger now strapped in your thigh was enough of a reminder for him. He made sure to keep his distance.

“Come with me. I’ll show you what we’ve been working on,” Satoru’s footsteps were silent as you led him past the secret doors hidden behind Naoya’s study, the room leading into an even bigger part of the house that stored most of your possessions. Satoru let out an awed gasp behind you once the lights and slight whirs of the machine buzzed through the room, chemicals bubbling from one side and little pills being packaged on the other. Your face lit up in a smile from the sheer pride of your hard work, arms extended to the side to present everything. “This is mostly where we manufacture Xenet. All of this – it’s mine. My personal little laboratory, or as Naoya calls it, my playroom,” you grinned, “I feel at peace here.”

“Making drugs?”

“Being safe,” you corrected with a roll of your eyes, “Acting like I’m normal. That gives me peace.”

Satoru was hot on your heels all the way to the main laboratory, where you’d pestered him into wearing safety gloves before entering. You donned a white coat from the blast of AC that enraged goosebumps, leading him in front of a huge clear wall that formulated Xenet’s pure creation. Stacks of purple powder lined up on layers all kept inside a cooling room, and you stepped to the side, muttering to yourself while checking today’s inventory like it was totally normal to manufacture illegal drugs inside your home.

You would’ve looked domestic if Satoru wasn’t feeling the slightest bit dizzy from the drug-coated atmosphere; one that you’d gotten resistant from.

“What brought you here?” Satoru voiced out, shaking his head to himself. He looked terribly devastated, cheeks sunken and dark circles lining his eyes. “I never thought...”

“That I’d be like you?” you finished for him. Tucking a stray strand behind your ear, you smiled at Satoru and pushed past him to list down your observations for today. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not like Naoya; I’m not a mass murderer.”

“But you’re supporting him.”

“He keeps me safe as long as I’m useful to him,” you paused in your tracks, the spite evident in your tongue. “If you hadn’t left me, I wouldn’t have to be like this. There are thousands of people after me because you named me after that account. Other than Naoya, there’s really no other reason I’m still alive and breathing,” Satoru was speechless from your confession, which was good, since you didn’t want him chatting too much in the first place. You ignored him as you continued typing notes on your monitor, acting unaffected, but the way you punched through the keys told a different story. “This is the least I could do for him. In exchange of protection, I’ll be sharing my intelligence and give him what he wants.”

“Doesn’t it sicken you that we’re like this? That we do all this – for money, power, control – without the slightest bit of conscience?” Satoru scoffed, “You’ve been married for him a long time. I know you’re not a stranger to the fact we even enjoy this.”

You stopped your task, turning to Satoru with flared nostrils. “You know, Satoru, painting yourself as a demon to look like a victim won’t make me sympathize,” you spat out, absolutely losing it. “I don’t care what you’ve been doing before you met me. I don’t care that you killed or hurt people. I’m not the slightest bit of the angel you claim me to be because if I was as pure as that, don’t you think I would’ve stopped loving you?”

Everything crumbled to dust.

Years of convincing yourself you didn’t care anymore, years of healing yourself, years of working hard to forget him – and all crumbled to dust.

“What are you—”

“I knew!” you cut him off, “I knew everything. I’m not dumb, Satoru. No matter how much you tried to hide it back then, I saw the blood stains. I could smell the alcohol. I know drugs when I see it,” Satoru took a step back in surprise, but you kept going. Now that you’ve started it, you might as well finish it, and your eyes pricked with tears before you could stop it. “But I never cared. I was selfish – blinded by love. Back then, I told myself I didn’t care who you were because I loved you unconditionally,” You were breathing hard from finally releasing that damn fucking weight off your shoulders, your resolve breaking as you wiped your tears with the back of your hand while Satoru remained frozen. “Every night, I cried myself to sleep. I always asked myself why did it have to be you? Why did you have to be that way? Why did you have to be a monster? It broke me to no end, Satoru, but every time I tried to think of you as awful, you would hold me so close that it felt like everything was a lie,” your voice faltered, “I loved you in spite of everything you’ve done. I’m just selfish like that.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you cried, “Many times...I turned a blind eye to it. I didn’t want to force something out of you because I knew you weren’t ready, but I was always waiting, Satoru,” gesturing to the both of you, Satoru watched your frantic movements. “Did you think I didn’t mean it when I said I would love you no matter what – no matter who you might be? I meant every word of it. You didn’t have to leave me because I would’ve still left everything behind if you asked me to go with you. I don’t care anymore, I never did. I just wanted to be with you.”

“Angel...” he trailed off, debating whether to hold you or just stay put. Satoru chose the latter and ran his hands over his hair, breathing hard as he, too, wavered. “I was scared. Each time I see your face, I-I can’t help but think about losing you. It haunts me every fucking night that what if I’m not strong enough? What if I couldn’t protect you?” his voice broke, “You were the only good thing in my life. I couldn’t handle losing you just because you got too close.”

You shoved him hard. “That’s no fucking excuse! You told me – y-you told me that I made you feel strong, that I gave you hope, that I made you feel like nothing could stand in your way – so don’t stand there and fucking tell me you were scared!”

Satoru kept taking a step back from the force of your hits, and he took them all with a brave face, but it seemed that he too had reached his limit as you leered, “Don’t be a fucking coward!”

“It’s because I loved you!” Satoru gripped your wrists and tugged you to him, effectively taking the ability to speak away from you. “My whole life, I got everything I wanted and things were easy for me! I don’t know what it’s like to lose something because I had control of everything except you! I didn’t want you stuck and burdened with my sins all for the sake of something as greed!” he bellowed, his forehead connected with yours and the warmth of his body more than welcoming. “I am a greedy man, angel, I would take everything I want with no hesitation but I couldn’t do it with you. It was easier to let you go,” he mumbled, “Than to regret making you unhappy by revealing my true self. Because the way you looked at me – you loved me so much I don’t think I’m worthy of it,” Satoru trudged closer to you, almost rubbing his skin over your soft ones just to say, “I don’t deserve you.”

You pulled away from him.

You’d tore open every chance of reconciliation. And if you were to be honest? You didn’t regret it.

“You’re right,” you snickered sarcastically, “You really don’t deserve me. Here I thought maybe Naoya would be the weaker of the two of you, but he’s more of a man than you are, Satoru. Naoya never gave an excuse for anything – it didn’t matter whether he was capable of something or not – he always tried to the best of his ability. He’s not the type to give up before he’s even tried it,” You knew you were just pushing his buttons, this was much clear from how Satoru was holding himself back, but you couldn’t stop. You were unstoppable, harsh as you challenged your once lost lover who had now wound up before you once more.

“If you truly loved me and felt you didn’t deserve me, then don’t you think you should’ve tried harder?”

You wanted him to regret it. You wanted him to feel your pain a thousand times more. You wanted him to realize what he’d done wrong. But most of all, you wanted him to try harder, to redeem himself, to be worthy of a second chance.

But just like how he’d broken your heart before, Satoru did it again.

Because even after every fucking thing, the only thing he was capable of saying was: “I’m sorry, Angel.”

You’d grown too tired of apologies. But because it was him, because you loved him, then you’d fucking hear it all over again. Just try, you wanted to beg, try for me, Satoru.

“Your plans will continue to fail, Satoru,” you agonized, “You never protected me. The moment you left, my life turned to hell and I almost died way too many times for me to count. This time is no different. We’re all just pawns in the Zen’in’s game, so if you really want both of us to live, you should do your part,” Sighing, you turned away from him, just about ready to call it a night. You were too tired. “Give back the money to Naoya, and he’ll keep me safe until the end of it all. You can just go back to where you came from.”

“Naoya won’t stand a chance against Toji. It’s not his money anyway, he should give it back to his cousin—”

“And neither is it yours!”

“Don’t be fucking stupid, you see the flaw of his plans too!” Satoru gestured to your lab, to everything that you proudly claimed an effort of your hard work. “Even if I gave back everything to Naoya, it won’t stop Toji from anything! He might not kill you anymore, but he’ll definitely kill your husband and take over the mafia, or his kid, then where will you go?”

“Follow him into death like the good wife I am.”

Satoru was stunned by the lack of hesitance in your answer. “You’re serious about this,” he echoed, blinking back to process the gravity of your devotion to your husband. “Even if Toji somehow dies, it doesn’t change the fact Naoya will still proceed with plans to manipulate Japan to his will. He’s going to drug everyone until he’s at the top of the food chain. Your husband doesn’t want to be a businessman; he wants to be a god. Plus, he doesn’t care about you, he’s only using you!”

“Like I said,” you smiled weakly,  “He keeps me safe as long as I’m useful to him. Once he gets everything he wants, it’s game over.”

“No...” Satoru gritted his teeth, “No, I won’t let it happen. You’re not going anywhere; you’re not going to die!”

“So then protect me!” you shouted at his face, “Do what it is you never got to do before and protect me! I’m disposable, don’t you see? No matter what I do, no matter where I go, no matter how loyal I am to him, I am nothing! Each step I take forwards is just a step closer to my prolonged death!” you spewed word for word with so much venom Satoru felt like he was choking, but it was nothing in comparison as you fell on the floor, weeping with your fists pressed against your eyes. “If you hadn’t left me...I wouldn’t have to live fearing for my life every second. So protect me, Satoru. If you really want me to forgive you, at least save me this once.”

“I will, angel,” he promised – and how many more promises had he made, only to break them? You couldn’t be blamed for not believing him, for finding wariness in his words, for flinching a little bit as he crouched before you, cupping your cheek the same way he did before. “I promise you that. I’m never leaving, never gonna leave your side ever again.”

“You better not,” you chuckled darkly, eventually giving in from his touch.

Yes, he’d left you...yes, he’d hurt you – but until now it felt like home, even if it also conflicted with the fact this was wrong.

“My only wish is that when I die, I want to die without hating you,” you muttered with your lips hovering his, your breaths tangling and his hands finding its way to your hair. “So don’t make me hate you anymore, Satoru. Grant me peace before I leave.”

“You’re not going to die,” he closed his eyes and took the first leap of faith by grazing his lips with yours, a faint glimmer of the sweetness he once had the pleasure of savouring with each waking moment of his life. But he was stupid back then – he’d be even more stupid to not learn his lesson this time around.

“I won’t let that happen, you understand?” Satoru breathed out, “You will be safe. You will live.”

He had said it so confidently, so surely, that for a moment, you believed it. You believed maybe you’d really win this round and come out unscathed, to live, to survive – even if the chances were slim to none to begin with. For now, you didn’t want to be a mafia leader’s wife, nor did you want to be another’s broken lover. You just wanted to be someone who didn’t want to die, to find comfort in the empty promises from the same man who kept breaking and breaking them, and maybe for now, that was enough.

Without another thought, not even the image of Naoya’s smile, you let it go.

You pulled Satoru close to you and kissed him hard and deep, swallowing his surprised moan with that exact same greediness, that desperation to live. You knew the moment Naoya came back or Toji found you, everything would be game over. So for now, this was enough.

A/N. SOOOOO? THOUGHTS? THEORIESSSSS? DO WE HAVE A TEAM NAOYA HERE OR IS IT JUST ME HAHAHAHAHA

taglist OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @sixeyesgojo @shingekiyofeels @q-the-rockaholic @whatthefuckisthatthing @rogueofbullshit @kat-su-ki @kellyyween @sebootyforlife @greysoulthings @charlie-xo @aoi-turtle @ladywaifuuwrites @savantsoulfinder @my-reality-is-in-my-head @hannya-quinn @90s-belladonna​ @tinyfrogsinmybrain @kinekyuroo​ @evesmores​ @ambiguous-something​ @lilith412426​ @kakashiharusohma @aizawap​ | bolded users cannot be tagged ://

[ppersonna]

make me - myg | m

strawberries on a summer evenin'. baby, you're the end of June. i want your belly and that summer feelin', getting washed away in you - watermelon sugar, harry styles

↳ summary- an ordinary sleepover with your best friend turns into anything but ordinary, thanks to your ridiculously loud neighbors above you.

↳ rating- explicit / 18+ / nc17

↳ word count- 4.4k

↳ pairing- yoongi x reader

↳ genre-  pwp lol, smut, fluff, somehow the dirtiest fluff i have ever written bc there’s some depraved shit in here

↳ warnings- penetrative sex, oral sex (m/f receiving), unprotected sex (dont...pls), dirty talk, rough sex, degrading talk, dom/sub undertones, bratty backtalk

↳ a/n- yooooo dawg this... was fun.  i hope you enjoy!!  ive been in my yoongi feels lately uwu. feel free to comment, message, dm, whatever u want babes.  i love you!

Yoongi thinks if he has to hear your upstairs neighbors fuck for another minute longer he might actually go crazy.

It’s been hours now.  The girl is screaming like a feral cat and the man is doing a terrible impression of a porn star, trying his best to talk dirty but really just calling the howling banshee awful names.  

If only his dick would be as annoyed as his brain.

He knows you’re awake next to him too.  The steady rise and fall of your breathing changed when the bad porn above you began—now it’s faint and too quick to indicate anything but your wakefulness.

“Ohhhhh oppa!” The girl above you screams.

It’s finally what breaks down the silence in your bedroom.  At her wanton sound, you and Yoongi are unable to stop yourselves from bursting into laughter.

Yoongi’s stomach hurts from laughing so hard.  Tears form at the corners of his eyes as you make the bed rumble from the force of your combined laughter.

“God, do they think that sounds hot?” You finally ask after settling down to mere giggles.

Yoongi shrugs and wipes away his tears. “Apparently.  He must like the way she sounds like a dying cat.”

His comment sends you into a spiral of laughter again, and you’re clinging to your chest as it heaves with exertion.

Yoongi is your best friend for a reason.  No one makes you laugh as hard as he does.  No one understands you the way he seems to be able to—it’s almost intuitive the way he can understand your feelings.  

You live for your weekly sleepovers.  You drink wine, watch terrible horror films, gossip about your other friend’s love lives, and fall asleep in your bed together.  It’s never been anything but blissful.

Until recently…

When your heart decided it would beat too fast around him.  When your brain decided to spin and weave stories of romance with your best friend.

Now, you can’t hardly think about anything else around the dirty blonde haired boy.  It’s overwhelming to all of your senses when you see him, feel him near you.  You want to kiss him, to love him, to tear his clothing off.

Which makes lying in your full size bed while the neighbors above you fuck and attempt to act out their wildest fantasies—badly—so much harder than usual.

“God,” Yoongi sighs and tugs the blanket up to his chin. “Does she even like it or do you think she’s faking it?”

You wrinkle your nose in disgust. “Ugh, I know I wouldn’t be into it.”

“You don’t like dirty talk?” He teases with a poke to your stomach.  It makes an eruption of nerves go off in your chest.

“Oh, no I do. But that’s not dirty talk,” you shrug. “He’s just being mean. There’s no sensuality underneath it.”

He hums and lays back down to stare at the ceiling.

“Give me an example,” he asks of you. It makes your cheeks flush red and you’re thankful for the darkness in your room to provide you cover.

“Um, well,” you cough awkwardly. “He’s saying shit like ‘you fuck anything don’t you?’ which, maybe she’s into degradation, but I’m not. Not that extreme.”  Your explanation sounds lame, but you continue anyway. “I prefer to hear things like ‘this slutty little pussy belongs to me’.  Possessive and hot at the same time without being too...uhh...hurtful.”

Yoongi feels his cock rise with piquing interest. There’s a nagging guilt about thinking of his best friend this way, and a tinge of jealousy thinking someone who isn’t him has said that to you.

He feels his throat dry up, and you wring your hands nervously on the blanket. The moaning above you doesn’t stop, and you can hear the telltale sound of flesh slapping on flesh, indicating they’ve commenced into penetration and it makes your body throb with annoyance, and with want.

There’s moments when a louder slap echoes through the room—it’s clear the man is slapping her somewhere—and she whines desperately.  Your core starts building that familiar heat, a slickness gathering you can’t stop. You press your thighs together tight and squirm as subtly as you can. You pray Yoongi doesn’t notice.  

Yoongi, however, does notice.  He breathes a sigh of relief internally knowing he’s not the only being affected by the commotion above. But he doesn’t understand the meaning behind it. For all he knows, you’re just turned on because—well, because it’s sex and it’s loud and who wouldn’t be a little turned on? You’re likely not at all aroused by him, or the thought of him. Right?

Another slap echoes through the room and you can tell by the way the girl gasps that her partner slapped her in the face.

“Damn,” you shiver.  Yoongi turns to peek at you through the darkness.

“You into that?” He asks curiously. “Face slapping?”

It’s hard to swallow for a moment—it feels like you’re trying to down a boulder.

“Uh, yeah,” you whisper. “Yeah, I like pain.”

Yoongi doesn’t reply and it makes you fear you’ve overstepped the line. You’ve gone too far off the ‘best friend’ track and the whole train is about to de-rail.

You’re opening your mouth to apologize for taking it too far when Yoongi finally speaks.

“Fuck it,” he sighs. “You want to fuck louder and establish dominance?”

The world stops turning.  You’re sure that gravity doesn’t exist anymore and the theory of relativity has been proven wrong.

Did Min mother fucking Yoongi, your best friend of over twenty years, just offer to have sex with you to...establish dominance over the neighbors above you attempting to make a cheap porn?

He’s looking at you normally, but there’s a glimmer in his eye that says more.  It says he wants you.  Your stomach twists in on itself.  There’s no way, there is no actual plausible way that the man beside you feels the same way about you as you do.

“You want to have sex with me?”

Yoongi’s cheeks turn pink and he looks away for a minute.

“I also want to date you,” he murmurs.  

If you thought the world ended before, you’re sure this is the fiery explosion that brings a new earth into life with a bang.

The noises from upstairs interrupt the romantic moment with a scream, a guttural howl from the man, and then muffled whispers and sighs.

“What do you say we keep them up all night too?” His mouth turns to a smirk as he awaits your reply.

“Yeah,” you nod as you throw the blankets off you.  “Fuck those guys, lets show them what real kinky sex looks like.”

Yoongi’s eyes turn feral as he works his eyesight down your body.  Your normal sleepwear outfit of a tank top and shorts looks like lingerie to him now and he’s salivating at the way he can see the curve of your breasts, and the press of your hard nipples against the fabric.

You’re throwing yourself onto Yoongi’s body in an instant, pinning him down to the bed and pressing your lips to his.  You waste no time in waiting for him now that you know—now that you’ve heard with your two ears that Min Yoongi not only wants to fuck you, but date you as well.   No use wasting any more time—the time for action is now.

The kiss is hot and Yoongi’s hands falter for a moment in surprise before he’s coming to his senses and tugging at your tank top quickly to pull it off your body.  His hands feel hot on the bare skin of your back, rubbing at your spine and up to your shoulders.  It makes you shiver, and you slide your tongue into his mouth to explore the heat inside.  

His hands navigate forward to cup your breasts, fingers toying with your nipples—pinching and pulling and rolling between the pads of his fingers.  It has you keening into his touch and grinding down on his basketball-shorts-covered cock. 

Yoongi pulls away from you and pulls at a nipple harshly, which makes you gasp out loud.

“It’s real cute how you think you’re in charge right now,” he points out.  “Real fucking cute.  It’s gonna make me almost feel bad for punishing you.”

You’re sure your soul is going to leave your body at hearing your best friend’s sexy baritone voice verbalize your dirtiest fantasies.  If this is how you react now…, may God have mercy on your poor little pussy.

Yoongi thinks he’s possibly never been harder than he is right now.  His best friend, best girl, is sitting atop his boner and he’s twisting your pretty nipples so hard they’ll surely turn purple soon.  You sound so sweet when you whine, and you’re starting to whine louder as he continues the pressure on your tits.

“You thought you could take control, didn’t you?” He asks, slipping further and further into the dominant act.  He loves this, thrives off it.  He didn’t think you’d ever be into it—none of the girls he’s dated before have—and he’s thrilled he doesn’t have to hide this depraved part of himself.

You nod and bite your lip, wincing as he tugs once more on a nipple before letting go.

“Cute,” he sighs.  “But wrong.”

In an instant, he flips you two over and he feels his heart and cock swell at the sight of your sweet eyes widening at the quick change.  

“This feels better, don’t you think?” He asks.  You nod and he shakes his head.  “Answer me, baby doll.  You’re already about to get punished.  You wouldn’t want to make me not let you cum, would you?”

The fear in your eyes increases and you clear your throat to talk.

“No sir, I don’t want that.”  

Yoongi nearly moans.  Hearing you call him sir, being underneath him—it’s his wet dreams come to life.

“Then tell me,” he instructs. “Tell me you need me in charge.”

You’re dying to be a brat, really wanting to pull Yoongi completely out of his shell, show him the full extent of what he can do to you.  Plus, you really wanna give your neighbors a show—a taste of their own medicine, don’t you?

“What if I don’t want to?” You tease.

Yoongi’s grin turns wider and his eyes sparkle with knowing. He’s a through and through brat-tamer, and by the end of the night you’ll be crying for forgiveness.

“Little tease,” he growls as he leans down to latch his mouth on your abused nipple.  

You gasp out loud, and it turns into desperate mewling as his teeth nibble and pull.  You’ll be bruised up for days, surely.  He sucks hard, pulls on it roughly and bites with meaning. You just know your panties are completely soaked.

“Talking back to me, huh? You think that’s going to get you where you want to go tonight, little girl?”

He turns his attention to your other nipple, eyes peering into yours as you struggle to answer with the sizzle of pain in your breast.

“What are you gonna do about it?” You send back with a shake of your hips under him.

The growl he delivers around your nipple and the quick bite makes you yelp.

“I think I should shut that loud mouth of yours up.”

You smile in response and his fingers tug down your shorts.  You lift your hips and allow him to pull the clothing off and you’re left in your slicked up panties.

“Oh yeah?” You retort.  “You gonna shut me up with that fat cock?”

Yoongi visibly shivers. His spine tingles deliciously for minutes after the hair on his neck settles.  He’s dreamed of you like this, under him and begging to be put in your place.  And now, here you are.  And he can’t wait to make it a reality.  He’s even forgotten about the loud neighbors.  It’s now just all about you.

“I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Dirty little slut so horny to get her mouth on my cock.”

Yoongi allows a finger to trail down your clothed slit, and he outwardly groans at how wet you are.  You’re unable to hold back your whimpers of need—he’s so close to where you need him most and where you’ve dreamed of having him.

“You talk a big game for someone who’s drenched before I’ve even done anything,” Yoongi says with a smirk.

Your legs tremble as he pulls your panties to the side to expose your drenched folds. He dips a finger in and touches your clit. You moan in unison—he’s captivated by the heat and slick, you’re feeling air escape your lungs with every swirl of his finger.

“Y-Yoongi,” you whine.  He tsks and pulls his finger out.

“That’s not my name right now.” His hands start to slide your panties down and your stomach leaps with excitement.

“Sir, please.”

“Now you want to be my good girl?” He asks with a chuckle. “Where’s my mouthy little brat who wants my cock to shut her up?”

He leans back on his heels and watches you eye him. You’re nearly bursting at the seams. You’re naked while he remains completely clothed and while you’d normally feel exposed and vulnerable, all you feel is white hot heat. You’re burning for Yoongi, for him to do what you’ve dreamt he could do.

“Why don’t you show me what that sweet mouth can do?”  

He maneuvers to stand at the side of the bed, dick straining against the mesh of his shorts. He waits for you to sit up, which you wordlessly obey.  His cock is now eye level with you, and your mouth feels dry. You’ve dreamt about this dick, about what it looks like and how it would feel in your hand, inside you. The fact that you’re here now, about to find out all your secret fantasies is heady.

Your hand rubs at the straining material, over the thickness of his cock. He feels big, and you give it a squeeze which makes him hiss.

“Still being a tease,” he sighs with faux disappointment. “You’re in a precarious position to be such a little cocktease.  Might need to fuck that right out of you.”

It makes you whimper—his direct threats sounding like smooth promises going straight to your core.

“I’d like to see you try.”

Yoongi growls and grabs a bit of your hair, tugging your head back to look at him in the eyes.

“I think you should shut this fucking mouth up.”  His voice is dark, and his eyes glow with lust.

A grin pulls over your face as you gaze sweetly up at him—his hand still gripped tight in your hair.

“Make me.”

Yoongi is silent for a moment as he stares at you in wonder—his beautiful girl, so rebellious and yet so willing to comply.

“I fucking love you, you little fucking slut.”

Yoongi forces his shorts down and grips your chin, holding it hard in his hand.

“Now choke on my fucking cock.��

You open your mouth complacently and he wastes no time in shoving his entire length down your throat mercilessly.  

It’s hot. It feels like fucking heaven.  Your lips wrap around him and suction and he can feel your gag reflex straining against his tip at the back of your throat.  Yoongi thinks his entire spine is tingling with desire for you and the way you take his cock so well has his toes curling.

You didn’t even get to have a good look at Yoongi’s cock before it was shoved into your throat, but now that it’s there you don’t even need to see it to knows he is fucking thick and long. It stretches your mouth and you know your pussy will be taken to its limit when he finally buries himself inside you where he rightfully belongs.

“Can’t talk back now, can you?” He teases as he begins to fuck your throat. “Mmmm shit—, you suck my cock so fucking good.”

His words are nothing but encouragement for you and you fight back the growing discomfort in your throat and allow him to use it as he pleases.  Tears form in your eyes and slip down your face at the exertion and you soon feel his balls slap at your chin.  You’ve only fantasized of being used like this by Yoongi, and now it’s actually fucking happening.  You’ll be damned if you don’t give him the suck of a lifetime.

Yoongi thinks he’s staring into heaven as he fucks your tight mouth and watches as your eyes fill with tears.  They leak out and he knows you’re loving this just as much as he is by the palpable enthusiasm you accept his cock with.

“Look at my little brat,” he coos mockingly. “Not so big and brave now, are you?  Not with daddy’s cock wrecking your hot mouth.”

He picks up the pace and the sounds turn disgustingly lewd.  It’s a wet, slurping sound as Yoongi forces his cock in and out of your drooling mouth.  Saliva drips onto the bed below you as you take him all, never given a chance to breathe or swallow.  Yoongi takes and you selflessly give. You’d allow the man to split you in half—and you’re actively hoping he does just that tonight.

Suddenly, Yoongi is pulling out of your mouth and leaving you panting and keening for more. He grips his cock with a fist.  He strokes himself roughly and looks down at you.

“Gonna cum, baby girl. Fucking beg for it.”

Your hands grip at his thighs and you’re breathing hard to catch up on the oxygen you were denied.  But it doesn’t stop you from doing exactly as he orders.

“Please, daddy. Please cum on my face.  Let me taste your cum, I want to know what you taste like.  Cum on me.  Mark me, daddy.”

Yoongi whines and increases the speed of his pumps. His mouth falls open as he watches you pout so sweetly and wait so eagerly for his seed on your face. He wants to see your entire body covered in his cum and he plans on ensuring that happens sooner rather than later.

“My eager little bitch. Wants her daddy to mark his territory.”

You nod, tongue sticking out and wagging like a dog for his cum.

“Please, daddy.  Make me messy.”

It seems to be the secret password to Yoongi’s climax. Your desperation, your eager position, the way you beg so sweetly.  It sends him right over the edge and he cries out as his cock pulses white stripes over your pretty face.  

He wishes he could take a picture of the way his cum covers your face.  He’d make it his background photo so he could see it every day, show everyone around him the gorgeous little whore he gets to cum on every night.

“Shit, babygirl,” he groans as he attempts to catch his breath.  “Look at you.”

You smile as your tongue retreats into your mouth and you savor the drops that landed on your tongue.  Your eyes close in bliss as you enjoy the flavor, noting it tastes salty and sweet and you can’t wait to reacquaint yourself with the taste over and over again.

“Lay back,” he orders as he pushes his shorts all the way off.  

In his haste to fuck your throat, he only pushed them halfway.  He slips out of them and pulls his shirt off before he joins you on the bed.

“Let me drink this cunt.”

You whimper in agreement as you press your back in to the pillows and spread open your legs.

“Please, daddy.”

He grins as he lowers himself to lie between your legs.  He blows on it, cool air pushing over your folds chilling you.

“Fuck,” he sighs.  “Greedy little cunt wants it all, hm?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“So compliant for me now,” he whispers as he kisses your thighs. “I like it when you behave.”

He kisses in further, and soon he’s using his fingers to spread apart the folds and pressing the flat of his tongue to your clit and laving it over the aching nub.

“Holy shit,” he groans as he comes up and sucks his tongue back into his mouth.  “Sweetest little pussy.”

You can’t reply, the capability to speak has left you now.  He buries his face back into your cunt and gets to work.  His tongue starts flicking against the bundle of nerves and then dips down to fuck into your channel.  He works his tongue around you and your back arches off the bed and your heels dig into the mattress.  You seek purchase in his hair with your hands, digits gripping at the blonde locks between your thighs.  

Yoongi groans and moans into your cunt, and soon he slips two fingers in to fuck you roughly.

He pulls his lips away and licks his tongue over them to collect the slick that lingers.  His fingers maintain a quick pace and he drinks in the sight of you gasping at the stretch.

“Yeah, look at you take my fucking fingers.  Such a wanton little whore for me.”

He slides another finger in to join, then another, and it makes your cries echo loudly around the room.  He suddenly remembers the neighbors above you and smirks.  He pulls his hands from you, making you keen with desire and desperately beg for more.

“Daddy! Please, I need..” you gasp. “Need you!”

He pulls himself up to join your hips together and rolls his them against each other.  His cock rubs against your soaked pussy and he bites his lip at the feel of it getting slicked up.

“I want you to be nice and loud for me, baby girl,” he demands sweetly in your ear as he licks the shell.  He notes your shiver and smirks, before kissing your ear lightly.  “Tell those mother fuckers upstairs who’s going to take you to Hong Kong.”

“Yes, daddy,” you agree.  

It only takes the consent to leave your lips for Yoongi to spear his cock into you.  He’s not slow or gentle, he pushes it into the hilt immediately.

Yoongi meant to start a pace, to begin fucking into you mercilessly, but he’s frozen inside your tight heat.  You feel so good, so fucking tight and warm and wet for him.  It’s better than heaven, and surely better than any pussy he’s been inside before.  Maybe it’s because it’s you, and no one else.

“Fuck!” He gasps. “Holy shit I could cum right now.”

You whine and move your hips desperately.

“Fuck me daddy! Fuck me hard, please!  Use me like your little cock sleeve.”

Yoongi bites his lip and feels his cock pulse.

“Shit, you’ve got a dirty fucking mouth,” he grits. “Let’s see if you’ve got a dirty little pussy too.”

He sets a pace, desperately wills his cock not to cum yet.  He wants to fuck you senseless, until your eyes roll back in your head.  He’s gonna make sure you get off on his cock before he comes close to his end.

Yoongi grips your chin again, like he did at the beginning as he fucks into you roughly.

“Look at you take my fucking cock so deep,” he bites out.  “Your cunt is so fucking desperate for my fat cock, isn’t it? You need me to fuck some discipline into you.”

You’re nearly screaming now at the force of his thrusts.  He’s pushing all the way into you with each push and his balls smack against your ass deliciously.  You’re babbling, words unable to make sense as he fucks all the brain cells out of you.

“Dumb little cock slut,” he whispers as he leans down to suck a nipple into his mouth and bite at it before releasing it  “Little brat turns into a perfect little fuck hole for me, so fucking good for me.”

“Yes, y-y-yes baby! S-so close!”  

Yoongi’s had you near the verge since his oral, and now with his punishing pace and power in his driving hips, you’re hovering over the edge.

His hand drops down to rub at your clit, a circular motion that has you gasping and screaming his name.

“That’s fucking right,” he breathes. “Tell them, baby.  Tell them who’s got the best fucking cock.  Tell them who fills this pussy up so well.”

You’re eager to comply.

“You, daddy!  Fuck!  You feel so fucking thick in me.  I need your cum, please, please.  Cum on me.”

Yoongi feels his balls tighten impossibly--he knows he’s seconds away from an explosive orgasm.

“Cum on my cock, baby girl.  Let me feel you cream my fucking cock.  Wanna see you all over this fat dick.”

His free hand tugs at a nipple and pulls it punishingly, tugging it so far it pulls the skin around it.  Your screams light up the room, echoing and bouncing off the walls and surely traveling up to your neighbors bedroom.

“Yoongi! Fuck! I’m cumming!” You warn, a millisecond before your world crashes around you.  

Your cunt squeezes his cock so tightly that it causes his hips to stutter in their pace.  It grips him tight, angry like a squeezed fist and Yoongi feels the air get sucked out of his lungs as his climax follows directly after yours.  He didn’t even have a chance to pull out--he’s emptying his load into your womb and whining at the feeling of your pulsating walls milking every single drop greedily.

It’s several minutes later that you’re both caught up to normal breathing and resting beside each other on the bed.  The room is silent, save for little pants and breaths, and Yoongi reaches over to lace his fingers into yours and hold your hand tightly.

“You wanna date me?” He asks sweetly, as if his cum isn’t dripping out of your cunt as he speaks.  

It makes you laugh.  It’s so classically Yoongi that you can’t help but to laugh.  

“Yes, daddy, I want to date you.  I want to date you every single day.”

He pulls you into his embrace and kisses at your forehead.

“Maybe we should send your neighbors some flowers for getting us together,” he teases.

As if on cue, the all too familiar sound of skin slapping against skin and screeching moans comes from upstairs and plays through your apartment like an unwanted jukebox.

“God damn it, our plan backfired.” he grumbles. “I think we turned them on.”

You press your sticky, sweaty body against him and kiss at his lips.  Your hand sneaks down to his cock and grips it again, begging it to come back to life.

“Shall we try again, then?”

[ghostietea]

Furuba autistic headcanons

With it being April, or autism acceptance month, I wanted to finally drop my list of characters from Fruits Basket that I read as autistic! This is based a lot on my own experience, as well as that of other autistics I know or have seen talk online. I hope some people can get something out of it, feel free to tell me what you think 😊, though please refrain from getting upset that I would dare suggest your fave is autistic.

Hanajima

Before becoming able to better control her powers, she would be constantly overwhelmed by the things she heard to the point that she couldn't even really go out in public. This reads a lot like sensory overload.

Constantly picked on in school because other kids thought she was weird. Eventually reclaimed this weirdness and turned it into a whole persona.

Seems to talk usually in a relatively flat tone.

Had trouble socializing with no friends outside her family until middleschool.

Has a very funny, dry sense of humor that I find very similar to a bunch of autistics I know, including myself.

Hatsuharu

Listen. You have seen the funky little man, you have seen the way he talks, the way he acts around others. He is, and I mean this in the best way, a weirdo. I do not know how you could look at him and see a neurotypical.

Once again, like Hana, Haru is funny in a way that feels very autistic.

Very flat, dry, tone delivery. Sometimes just Says Things that make everyone else go huh??? Suuuuper blunt. Doesn't emote facially a lot of the time.

When this man sees a social norm he doesn't get he WILL NOT follow it. Pierces his ears just because his hair got flak, defends Momiji wearing whatever he wants because sometimes y'know the social rules are just dumb and don't make sense. Especially dress codes.

Sometimes says things not befitting the current tone of the situation.

Represses (masks) a lot of his emotions, leading to outbursts that seem uncharacteristic.

His main childhood trauma revolves around adults branding him as "dumb" and ridiculing him. Haru, however, is super smart and wise!! Just in an offbeat way that not everyone may get.

Machi

Reads as very "flat" emotionally to the point that others would call her boring. Also has a flat vocal delivery.

Relies on specific habits or ways of doing things or else she gets super upset (her hatred of imperfection.

Has trauma surrounding adults completely misconstruing her intentions and thinking she's doing something malicious when she's not.

Generally behaves in a way that's hard for others to understand, one of her formative moments with Yuki was him saying he wanted to "see how the world looks" through her eyes.

Once again, trouble socializing.

Tries super hard to please her parents but in the end they still see her as somehow inherently "defective."

Listen. A lot of this one and the last two are mostly vibes, hard to verbally define. You just have to look at them and trust me.

Tohru

Displays behavior very reminiscent of masking throughout the story, a huge part of her arc is about how she hides a lot of herself and has a very controlled persona. I think it would fit very well if she had other autistic behaviors that she suppresed also it helps explain why she is relatively socially adept, it's learned behavior to make people like her more.

Yes she is very good at saying what others need to hear, but especially early on she is pretty blatantly imitating her mother's words. She only gets better at getting through on a more personal level later on (see her with Rin and Akito v. early series Tohru). She does this by relating her own experiences, a very autistic way of showing empathy that often gets us written off as self centered. The way she relays things her mom said could also be seen as this, and she even worries at a few points that she's being insensitive for going on about things like that.

While emotionally repressed she is hyper empathetic and feels other's emotions so strongly she cries.

Her speech patterns are all imitated from her father and she often copies verbal things from others (see Ritchan-san). Noted in canon that people think her way of speaking is slightly off/not befitting of someone her age. Additionally, her father was polite more sarcastically, while she plays it straight and sometimes takes things very literally or fails to get the message, indicating trouble with reading tone. Has numerous strange verbal tics, including saying parts of her internal monologue out loud without context.

Very expressive with her hands including waving them around and flapping them up and down.

Does have a bit of trouble with accidental insensitivity in social interactions, like how she constantly fixates on her mom and realizes that might bug the Sohma.

Has trouble paying attention in school since it doesn't have much to do with her interests

Her only friend until she was a middle schooler was her mom

Has a pretty unique outlook on things compared to others, people seem to think she's pretty eccentric. There's always a "this girl is nice but in an odd way, she's our weirdo and we love her" vibe.

Sometimes has an "inappropriate" emotional response to situations

Has a lot of trouble with change, similar to Akito. Which oh, look at the time, next hc coming up.

But first, a disclaimer. It is cathartic for me to read Akito this way, but with that reading comes the baggage that she would, mayhaps, be showing a more negative side of things... It doesn't bother me since it's a joint hc with other characters and she does develop at the end but yeah, general villain hc baggage. This is in no way me trying to excuse her being The Worst being autistic doesn't absolve you of being able to do wrong . Also, a lot of these points can and do have other explanations related to her upbringing, but things can be for more than 1 reason. With that said, she really strongly comes off as autistic to me, in a way that's sorta hard to explain. I wrote a lot more for her than the other, both because I felt I needed more to convince people and that this headcanon was more sensitive and I needed to be careful in my explanation. Also hey! She's my special interest within a special interest.

Akito

Shown to have a dislike of summer weather due to heat and brightness, could be due to sensory issues in tandem with sickness things. Also covers her ears when people raise their voice sometimes which is partially her trying to shut down opposition but also 🤔 can read a different way. She'd also avoids louder Juuni like Ritsu and Ayame because she can't handle them.

Wears pretty much the same outfit every single day. Said outfit is also pretty loose fitting.

Always seen sitting in a pretty unconventional way. Evidence:

Of course this is also the isolated in a cult thing and there is a level of her purposefully doing things to intimidate but: doesn't follow a lot of social rules (overly touchy with strangers, legit doesn't get that what she's doing is wrong, ect.). Repeatedly confused when people indicate she should act otherwise without explanation. Has a breakdown when this comes to a head and approximately says that "they" shouldn't expect her to know "common sense" if "they" never explained it to her, that the way that she was was her "common sense."

Often talks in a way uncharacteristic of her age when shown as a child in a more faux mature/pretentious way. Might just be the translation and idk how to explain it but her speech as an adult also seems off from what one would normally use in conversation. Additionally, when she tries to fake being friendly in her intro chapter, it comes of as extremely stiff and unconvincing.

Generally displays behavior that could be thought of as childish as an adult, but a lot of this behavior could also read as autistic (covering ears, emotional deregulation and meltdowns, ignorance of basic social norms, ect.). It's also important to note that she knows that this behavior makes her seem younger and more helpless to the older zodiac and uses it as a manipulation tactic. Has issues regarding people treating her like a child or only hanging out with her because of pity. While she does weaponize it, we can tell that this grates on her, as seen with her finally blowing up on Kureno, which is partially triggered by the maids saying some sorta infantalizing stuff about her. Irl, a lot of autistic adults and teens struggle with being infantalized for our behavior generally or treated as little babies that can do no wrong. Even in fandom, you see people doing stuff like jumping to call autistic adult characters, such as Entrapta from Shera, "minor coded." It is also common for us to have at least one bad experience with someone hanging around us out of pity. This is something that really gave me a similar feeling in Akito's arc. She's not a baby and she can understand and do better if she is given the chance to learn and break from all the freaky cult indoctrination she's been subjected to instead of just being constantly enabled. In the end, a lot of her growth is represented by her showing that she is capable of changing and being independent.

Shows particular difficulty with socialization, often sits by herself spacing out at social events. A lot of her fear is rooted in the fact that she doesn't know how normal relationships work, becoming overly reliant on the curse because she doesn't know how to make friends.

Clings desperately onto the notion of being "special" and in some way superior to others to be worthy and to make up for perceived inherent "flaws." It's the nd gifted kid burnout vibes for me.

Easily bothered by things that don't bother others. Feels emotions very strongly to the point of getting physically ill and has bad emotional regulation.

Relatively good at reading others in an analytical sense (though has more trouble when it comes to seeing how they feel about her since she's wildly delusional) but brings up her observations in a very cold, detached way and hurts people even on the rare occasion she didn't mean to. Has extreme trouble connecting to others and understanding their point of view. This makes her come off as pretty unempathetic even though that might not fully be the case. Also thinks that people like Momiji are trying to look down on her when they try to empathize with her. A lot of why Tohru can get through to her is that she manages to convince Akito that she's not condescending by relating shared traits and experiences. As I said earlier, autistics often empathize by sharing their own experiences with someone, and I know I often have an easier time confiding in other autistics because of a fear of being seen as lesser by those that don't understand me. I think the connection between these charachters and the way that Tohru manages to reach Akito like that while others couldn't makes a lot of sense through an autistic lense!

Additionally, when Akito herself gets around to trying to help others instead of just projecting trauma, she tries to reach out to the old maid by relating back to her own experiences. This however, doesn't work.

Has "cold" emotional reactions sometimes even to things that do make her upset. For example, how sort of calm and detached she acted after her father's death can make her seem uncaring. However, we know that this event did mess her up a lot and she is still (poorly) dealing with a lot of grief from the death of her father years later.

Copies mannerisms from others, the most blatant example is with Ren, who she directly parrots lines from as a child to Yuki.

Partly just her posturing, but gestures a lot with her hands when she talks. Also seen several times clutching her hands in her hair.

Deals extremely poorly with the idea of things changing to the point that it is a driving force of the story.

Does not understand when people tease her.

Ect. Ect. Ect. Listen, I could go on for ages but just trust me, the mean gremlin lady is autistic.

[mochikeiji]

Kinktober Day 4: Fortissimo

↠ Pairing: Atsumu Miya x Reader

↠ Warning: SMUT! Squirting, slight cunninglingus, size difference. Atsumu being a sadistic monster.

↬ Word Count: 1.4k

⇢ Day 4: Toys 

As we all know, Atsumu Miya was a cunning man; can be labeled as someone who can be such a jackass— as per his brother claims or someone who seems to have some sort of love and hate relationship with society. He hated noises. He hated being disrupted for when he knows he's about to make the greatest event in his life. For example, his volleyball serving. Remembering that day made the bones inside his body cringe and at the same time amuse him at his current state.

Admitting he was a jerk back in his youthful days for when he snarled at those two innocent, lady fans of his. They didn't deserve that, even he knew it at that time, but alas was too fond of his own ego. When adulthood reached his structure, he kept all of his comebacks and rude snarls filtered as he was being seen with you. What man would you like if he was only nice to you and rude to everyone?

But that doesn't change the fact that he is still somehow irritated to noises. That little habit of forcefully forming his hand into a fist, and lowering it to quiet the adoring world that surrounds him was still carried even in the new team, Black Jackals. Some people paid no attention to this and continued to cheer, angering him a bit before sending the crowd a menacing glare that sent a clear message,

"Shut yer trap, squealing pigs."

Atsumu Miya hated noises.

Yet here you are right now, whining and sobbing without a care if your neighboring apartment rooms could hear you as you were beyond help with Atsumu's taunting. He's had both of your arms pinned above your head using just one of his hand as the other stayed palming the erection forming in his pants from watching your intimate area spasm around the vibrating device that had been thrusted inside for what seemed like an hour before.

Wrists twisting with your fingers digging at the palms of your hand, you trashed around his hold wanting nothing more than to hide your lewd expressions and muffle away the sounds his goal was to make hoarse and throaty after.

"C'mon, darlin' let me hear you."

Hot breath fanning your ear along with the vibrations now set to its high pace. He was waiting for the right moment to click on the last, highest setting he knows would shatter your entire world. For now, he licks his lips at the sight of you panting, desperately grinding the immense pleasure and crying loudly for mercy.

"Tsumu, p-please.."

Looking at him with hazy eyes, all you could do was bite your lips to prevent yourself from whimpering at the animal like gaze his eyes cast upon your sweaty body. Removing his palm away from his pants, he slides it smoothly on the skin of your stomach and latches on to your left breast, giving it a small, circular massage whilst tapping and rubbing on the nub in a scrolling motion.

"If you give me what I want, I'll give you more than what you desire, darlin'."

Atsumu Miya hated noises, but yours was exception on your current state. All of your moans and mewls he replays like a song in his head during his own heated times. Even gets himself worked up too much at the simplest things you do. Seeing you hold it all back fuels him. The kink of having you under his control was seeping through his bones.

"Tsumu!!"

He tugs on the nipple of your left breast, your back arching away from the bed with your legs shutting themselves and rubbing each other to soothe away the intense vibrations. A hum was heard from him as he removed the hand that was pinning yours down. Changing position, he quickly sat in between your legs and with gentle force, he pushes them apart, hearing you choke a moan as you felt the bullet vibrator somehow thrust in on its own when he parts your legs.

"Keep this open, baby. Wanna see this cute cunt of yours ruined by a toy rather than my cock."

Inside his pocket was a small, pastel pink remote. He fishes it out and taps on the middle button. The vibrations setting on a delicious medium pace that made you drool and your toes curl. Atsumu places the remote next to your other leg and pulls your legs up to his shoulders. Strong hands holding you by your ass as he closes in with your spasming cunt.

"Mmm, yer fucking drippin'."

Sighing to his own pleasure, Atsumu couldn't help but let his tongue out for a taste of your essence. It would be ashamed to leave them sliding down your thighs and onto the sheets, that would be a waste of good meal for him. He slurps and slithers his tongue messily around your clit, feeling the vibrations on the wet muscle as he continues to eat you out.

"Mhmm!! Ah- Atsumu!"

How badly you wanted to grab onto him, but you knew if you did he would just end up torturing you the whole night if you made a mistake. Plus with the position you were in, it was beyond help. Atsumu has you right where he wanted you. Damn his height and strength, you cursed.

"Fuck, I wanna see you cum, baby girl."

After pulling away from your sopping pussy, he raises a single finger to slide up and down your slit, memorizing your previous reactions and how it drove you close to your orgasms before along whilst rubbing your clit in rough circles.

"Scream, baby. Lemme hear you, don't be shy now."

Groaning to his own pleasure, Atsumu grabs the remote beside you and furiously taps on the top button, where the highest setting point of vibrations zapped inside of your cunt as his finger pushes in the vibrator inside, enough for it to spasm around your most vulnerable spot without mercy.

"TSUMU!!! FUCK!"

Grinning proudly above you, he hands locked onto your calves to prevent you from slipping away from his shoulders. He lets your thighs shudder from the vibrations, with your hips rolling up to his view as if you wanted the vibrator to shake out of your poor cunt. The lewd spurts of your upcoming orgasm filled his ears with the vibrator slowly slipping out due to the wetness your were producing.

With a click of his tongue, he uses one hand to hold both of your ankles locked on his neck and pushes the vibrator back in deeply, his warm palm staying in place with your clit grinding against him.

"Come on, little girl. Scream."

His voice and his fingers pressing at the base of the vibrator was enough to put you on edge. Your screams were high pitched, but it wasn't irritating to his ears. The rush of the heat inside you was strong. Far different from your previous orgasms when he tormented you. He was grinning happily when he heard you scream out a sob as drool came out from your lips. He can feel his shirt and pants get wet as you squirted shamelessly on him. And he didn't complain one bit and watches you become a sobbing mess.

You were so smaller than he was you couldn't even push him away. The way you would weakly slap your hand on his wrist has him cooing. His baby couldn't even protect her precious flower from his hunger for the delectable nectar.

"N-no! Tsumu, stop!"

Instead, he lets down both of your legs in a wide spread and grabs a hold of the soaking sex toy. Still not finished with your release, he began to thrust the vibrator back inside your throbbing pussy, the vibrations still at the highest setting and drilling at your sweet spot. Your hands gave out and dropped to your side, too immersed by the overwhelming torture and sobbed pathetically for his name.

Atsumu only places feathered kisses on your shivering thighs, your cries only inflicting the sadistic side out of him. Finally your legs gave out as well and let's him have all the access he desires to feed your needy hole with what it sinfully wants. With his other hand, his finger slides on your clit, giving both of them the stimulation it desperately needs that left you no choice but to let out a throaty scream and eyes rolling at the back of your skull.

The devil he definitely is.

"That's it, let me take care of you, baby. Louder."