#note one: go fight with a wall if you want a debate because I will not engage you. blocked and reported etc etc

[juliet-017]

Incommensurate - T.R.

Tom Riddle x fem!reader

Minors DNI!!

Warnings: dubcon (consensual sex under imperious curse), begging, unprotected p in v(? Kinda? Tom casts a spell so?), cream pie, tit play, pussy slapping, degradation, slight spanking

Synopsis: As Tom starts to feel a slip in control he becomes harsher with you, more distant as well. It's bloody tortuous, the growing distance and silence between you both driving you crazy. Making you bring up a proposition that you wouldn't have thought of prior.

A/n: yeah so.. here's this instead of that mattheo work (you guys can thank my wife @viperify for that). Side note, I might js get rid of my current wips on my nav as well so I feel less tied down?? Idk but I have so many old drafts I need to get through. Anyways enjoy!!

w/c: ~1.5k

Tom liked control, it was obvious from the way he bossed his mates around, not even scared that they'd retaliate or leave. It was.. fascinating to say the least. You pondered on whether it was because of his time at the orphanage in his formative years, he didn't speak of it much but you presumed that being a charge there wouldn't be anything close to fun.

You'd still give him shit, teasing him for being so bossy at times. A few times when you two had sex you'd fight your way on top for a few seconds before he'd roughly push you off and take to fucking you doggy style, your face shoved into his bed.

Normally things were fine, he'd take your taunts in stride, fucking your attitude out of you till your throat was raw from either screaming or being used.

**

You've noticed how he's been acting.. off lately. Snapping more, not taking kindly to anyone mouthing off. Not even the first years could escape his wrath.

He wasn't vulnerable so asking him right out wouldn't do anything in your favor. Observing him overworking himself, skipping meals as a result, and falling back into old habits.

You start slowly, trying to give him massages or attempting to pull him into bed. When none of it works you decide to just be blunt.

“Tom? What's wrong?” You ask from your perch on his bed, lying down as he studies.

“Nothing. Why.” He responds coolly, barely sparing you a glance. Hunched over, elbows on his desk as he runs his fingers through his hair.

“You're tense.”

“I always am.”

“Not this tense.”

He scoffs, finally looking over at you. “What do you want?”

“The truth. Or I'm going to sleep in my room tonight.”

You both know it's an empty threat, but Tom gives in. “You're too good for me.”

You freeze, trying to read his expression, grasping for a response.

“You can't leave me, you know.”

“Yeah… I know.” You murmur, sitting up and debating on approaching him. “M’yours, Tom.”

“Hm, you think your words matter? Fascinating” He scoffs, rolling his eyes before looking back at the open book at his desk.

It's unfair how wet his words made you. Especially when they're degrading.

You wait a second before getting up, leaning up against his desk and toying with his wand.

“Just what do you think-” He starts harshly, reaching out to take his wand back before you leap away.

“Remember that one night, where you mentioned wanting me to just be even more.. submissive?” You hum, raising a brow.

“How could I not? You were even more of a fucking brat afterwards.”

You grin, still playing with his wand and waiting for him to get the hint. And oh the rush that goes through when he does, moving quickly and towering over you, yanking his wand out of your hold. “And just how are we going to go about that, hm? Never can get you fucked out enough to just go along with it anyways.” He mutters, backing you into a wall, lifting your chin up with this wand.

Your stomach flips as you look up at him, hesitating before continuing. You know you've seen him cast it before so.. what's the big deal, right?

“The imperious curse.” You reply quickly, spatting the words out before giving yourself a second to think. You watch his reaction, studying

He smirks, and you can’t help but melt. “You sure? You know I won't relinquish it every five seconds to check on you, right?”

You nod. “I know. Just.. same rules as usual, m’kay?”

He nods, running the wand down your body, watching your face. “Ready?”

“Uhuh..” You nod, looking up at him, feeling his wand press to your temple.

Before you know it you feel otherworldly, listening to his simple hypnotic commands. Opening your eyes and kneeling like he commands. It shouldn't make you even wetter but it does.

Kneeling whilst undoing your shirt, your bra. Your mind foggy as you finish stripping. He strips too, finally removing his boxers before hold an open palm in front of you. “Spit.” He instructs smoothly, catching your saliva, using it to stroke himself, becoming even harder. “Open.”

You comply, opening your mouth, letting him find refuge in your mouth. He almost immediately gives you all of him, not even giving you a second to adjust, mindlessly drooling around his cock. Grasping your hair he thrusts, allowing you to go slack jawed as you moan around him.

He isn't sure if it's out of pleasure or defiance, but he ignored it, focusing on his release. Tom reminds himself that you agreed to it when he came so deep inside your throat that you had no choice but to swallow.

Pulling out of your mouth slowly, Tom watchs himself leave you with a pop, your eyes glassy and tearful. Only making him even harder than before. Leaning against the wall as he catches his breath. “Such a good little thing.” He praises quietly, patting your head before brushing your hair back as he looks down at you.

He steps out of the way, almost admiring you. “Crawl over to the bed.” He instructs softly, your body moving without a second thought.

You make your way over to the bed, getting on all fours whilst Tom walks around it. The silence painful, listening to Tom as he ends up behind you, squeezing your ass before landing a sharp slap.

Whining you look over your shoulder, feeling him grab your hips and pull, causing you to lay mostly flat save for your hips holding your ass slightly up.

“Beg for it.” He hums, his voice tantalizing whilst his shadow looms over you. “C’mon be a good girl and beg straight from the heart.”

“Please Tom, I need you.” You whine, the words leaving you effortlessly. “I'll always need you, please.”

He ruts into you with one deep thrust, groaning. “Such a good fucking slut, so tight f’me.” He groans, slapping your ass again as he thrusts, leaning over you to pin your wrists to the bed. “My favorite little fucktoy.”

You moan loudly, feeling him hit deeper than ever, hitting your cervix. The bit of your coherent mind grasps the concept that it'll be bruised by morning, but you can't bring yourself to care.

“Fucking love your pussy.” He groans, gripping your wrists even tighter as if fighting to ground himself, his thrust growing messier as his manicured nails dig into you like some animal. “C’mon be loud.” He encourages you, squeezing once more.

“Mm Tom,” you gasp, head to the side as you try to rut your hips. “So.. fuck, so deep.” You moan, practically screaming, the curse not letting you even try to muffle it. Your face heats in shame.

“That's it, such a good girl, letting everyone know how good I fuck you.” Freeing your wrists he wraps an arm around your waist, causing you to kneel as he still thrusts in and out of you, his free hand reaching down to play with your clit. Heat forms in your lower stomach at that, only making you more desperate.

His one hand now slides up to play with your tits, your moaning and arousal only seeming to turn him on even more. “Fuck, you're close aren't you? I can feel it, you and your greedy little cunt.” He growls into your ear, slapping your clit and causing a shot of pleasure to run through you. He gives you another slap, a sort of warning. “Answer me unless you want me to stop, that is.”

“Yes’sir.” You whimper, nodding. “I'm close.” You moan, trying to match his pace but deciding it best to go limp, allowing him to use you like the doll you are.

Lost in a bliss you barely hear his command, too dazed to even fully comprehend. “Cum for me.”

You weren't prepared for the earth shattering orgasm that wrecks your body, feeling Tom finish deep inside of you, feeling him coat your cervix you let out a small squeal.

Laying you down, Tom slowly pulls out. You hear him mumble something, the curse lifting as you look around in slight shock.

Tom hushes you immediately, gently pulling you into his hold. “You okay?” He murmurs, pulling your head against his chest and casting a charm to clean the both of you. You presume the other is a contraceptive. “It wasn't too much, was it?”

Nodding you hum, too dumbed out to even think of how to word it. “Nice. It was nice letting go for once.” You murmur, lifting your gaze up. “You liked it too, right?”

Tom lets out a warm chuckle, a rare commodity. “Course I did, got to have you all dumbed out on my cock, not able to mouth off.” He mutters, giving your hair a light tug as he takes to playing with it. “But I don't want to make it a common thing, if you do want to do it again that is.” He hums.

“Course I do.” You hum before the scent of sandalwood alongside Tom’s warmth, lulls you off to sleep.

[xavistarlight]

Thinking about Xavier’s breeding kink

you had just been on your phone in the bed scrolling through Instagram when you came up on a reel

“all men have breeding kinks it just needs to be unlocked”

You scoff at it a little, that’s kind of a bold statement to make, you think to yourself

But then you put two and two together, all the times Xavier had preferred coming inside you, how his eyes gleam like an ocean in the night sky when he sees you interacting with children

Xavier has a breeding kink

And you’re gonna unlock it.

Step 1 get him in bed, pretty easy if there was any activity xavier loved in the bed more than sleeping it was fucking you.

Step 2 allude to pregnancy and or breeding.

Xavier was in between your thighs length aligned with your core about to push inside you

“hey honey, i haven’t been able to fill the prescription for my birth control for a couple weeks, but it’s fine you can still come inside me.”

“ I mean a baby wouldn’t be the worst thing huh”

And that’s how you ended up here..

“ Fuck, that’s it” he moans out as he pounds into you at an undetectable rhythm

Xavier wasn’t usually primal but this was a primal urge , like a leopard chasing its prey.

Your hands clawing at his back

Sobs of pleasure coming out of your mouth as he grips your hips.

“ ngh , so full of your cock” you moan out

Xavier’s pace quickens somehow not even knowing that was possible at the rate he’s going

“ let me make you a mommy” he moans close to your ear

“ it’s what you want hm, it’s what you need, your womb craves my seed?” He ask so honestly like he genuinely needs the confirmation.

“ fuck , yes need your babies, need you to make me a mommy” you say breathlessly words slightly broken up as Xavier’s pounds are relentless

That’s all it takes for him

His thrusts are even more frantic but somehow more sensual like he wants to paint your walls with his seed up and down, he wasn’t fucking you anymore he was making love to you.

“ you’re perfect my star, gonna look so good carrying my baby, gonna give you everything all of me-“

As he’s cut off by your orgasms intertwining

You falling apart underneath him as he pumps you full of his cum, squirt after squirt , rope after rope

Your gummy insides so weak from his cock not even fighting just taking all that he can give like your cunt nutritionally needs it.

“ that’s it honey, I’ve got you” he says running his fingers along your hip bone before pulling out

Immediately sticking his fingers in your cunt as to block the exit making sure there was no other choice but for it to pass through to your womb.

After he’s decided your cunt had efficiently taken his bearings , he gives it a couple pats as if it had just had a full meal.

He flops down next to you kissing up your neck

“ my princess, did so good. So full and leaky”

So all men having a breeding kink may be up for debate but what wasn’t was if Xavier had one or not, because that was definitely a yes.

Masterlist

Notes, replies and reblogs are always appreciated but never expected 🤍

Taglist 🏷️ @calistaxoxo24 @mariojins @nezuswritingdesk @swaggyv1v1

@ashsillyrants @wintereve3 @deejse @lucidreamsea @monsochhichi @sxkura-blxssxm @princessofenkanomiya @yeompei @lady-wallace @weepingangel2222 @eolivy @inspiredfairy @wordsgodeep

[hellobykittys]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 (𝐈𝐌)𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐍 ✦ 𝐂𝐋¹⁶

SUMMARY: Charles Leclerc, a Formula 1 star, faces the decline of his reputation after breaking up with art curator Alexandra Saint Mleux. Under pressure from his team, he is forced into a fake relationship with one of the most popular influencers of the moment. NOTES: English is not my first language, so there might be some writing mistakes. I apologize for that, and feel free to point out any improvements. WC: 2.6k WARNING: enemies to lovers, teasing, fake relationship

MASTERLIST | NEXT PART

The meeting room was lit by cold lights reflecting off an impeccably clean glass table. Charles Leclerc sat at the head, his chin resting on his hand, visibly bored. The tension in the air was thick, and he already knew this meeting wasn’t going to end well. Around the table, members of Ferrari’s PR team sat, along with Lorenzo Leclerc, Charles’ older brother and personal manager.

“Let’s get straight to the point,” Lorenzo began, crossing his arms. His voice carried the firmness of someone tired of useless discussions. “Charles, we need to talk about your reputation.”

Charles rolled his eyes, setting his phone down on the table.

“My reputation? You mean the circus the media makes out of everything I do?”

“It’s not a circus if you keep giving them material,” Sofia, Ferrari’s PR head, cut in. A woman with short hair and piercing eyes, Sofia was known for her blunt and impatient approach.

“Seriously?” Charles raised an eyebrow. “Now you want to control my personal life too?”

Lorenzo sighed, rubbing his temples.

“Charles, we’re not here to debate who’s right or wrong. We’re here because your image is directly affecting your career.”

“My career’s fine,” Charles shot back, crossing his arms.

Sofia slammed a folder full of tabloid clippings on the table, making a sharp noise.

“Is it? Because from what we see here, it doesn’t look like it. ‘Charles Leclerc spotted at a party until 5 AM with a mysterious model.’ ‘Ferrari driver involved in a new controversy after a fight at a club.’ This affects the sponsors, Charles. It affects the Ferrari brand.”

Charles leaned back in his chair, rubbing his face.

“Look, I get it. But what do you want me to do? Lock myself in my house?”

“Not exactly,” Sofia replied with a cold smile that made Charles immediately suspicious.

Lorenzo cleared his throat, trying to soften what was coming.

“Charles, we’ve come up with a solution that could help clean up your image quickly while you focus on what really matters: your performance on the track.”

“Great. So, what’s the plan?” he asked, clearly impatient.

Sofia leaned forward, clasping her hands on the table.

“We’re going to put you in a fake relationship.”

The silence that followed was so deep that you could hear the clock ticking on the wall. Charles blinked a few times, sure he’d misunderstood.

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“We’re not,” Sofia replied, serious. “The idea is simple. We want to associate your image with a public figure who’s seen as positive, inspiring, and… balanced.”

“You want me to fake being in love with someone to save my reputation? This is ridiculous!”

“It’s not that simple, Charles,” Lorenzo tried to intervene. “We’re not asking you to fall in love. It’s a contract. An agreement. None of this has to be real.”

Charles laughed humorlessly, shaking his head.

“And who’s this poor soul you’ve hired for this?”

Sofia smiled, clearly expecting this question.

“Y/N.”

The name hit the silence like a shot. Charles frowned, trying to remember where he’d heard it. It didn’t take long before the girl’s face popped into his mind. She was impossible to ignore on social media, with her impeccable style, viral videos, and appearances at fashion and entertainment events.

“You’re talking about that… influencer?” he asked, incredulous.

“Not just any influencer. She’s the influencer right now,” Sofia corrected. “Everyone loves her. She’s elegant, charismatic, and has a solid fanbase. Associating with her will change the public’s perception of you.”

“You want me to fake dating a girl I barely know and who probably thinks race cars are just fancy toys?” Charles shot back, irritated.

Lorenzo took a deep breath, visibly trying to stay calm.

“Charles, no one’s saying it’ll be easy. But think of it as a strategy. Y/N isn’t just an influencer. She’s professional, ambitious, and has as much to gain from this as you do.”

“Great. So, she’s doing it for personal gain too,” Charles said sarcastically.

Sofia rolled her eyes.

“This isn’t about what she wants, it’s about what you need.”

Charles sat in silence for a few seconds, staring at the table. The idea seemed absurd. He didn’t want to give up his freedom for some farce that, deep down, made no sense to him.

“You guys must be crazy if you think I’ll agree to this,” Charles declared, suddenly standing up. His voice echoed through the room, but no one seemed surprised by his reaction.

Lorenzo sighed, already expecting this kind of response. He knew his brother too well to think he’d accept something so outside his comfort zone without resistance.

“Charles, sit down,” Lorenzo said, his voice firm and authoritative. “You have every right to be angry, but if you keep acting like a spoiled child, you won’t get anywhere.”

“A spoiled child?” Charles laughed darkly, pointing at his brother. “This coming from you, trying to convince me to join this ridiculous show. It’s my life, Lorenzo! I’m not a puppet for you guys to manipulate.”

Sofia intervened, trying to stay professional, but her patience was clearly wearing thin.

“Charles, understand this: we’re talking about your career. It’s not just about you. It’s about the team, the sponsors, the thousands of jobs that depend on Ferrari’s success. Formula 1 is a business, and in this business, your image is as important as your driving skills.”

“My driving skills should be the only thing that matters!” he shot back, pointing to himself. “I’m a driver. That’s what I do. I’m not a celebrity who needs a fake romance to get attention.”

“Don’t be naive, Charles,” Sofia replied coldly. “In today’s world, public perception is everything. You could be the best driver on the grid, but if your image keeps getting tied to scandals, no one will want to invest in you.”

Lorenzo crossed his arms, looking at his brother seriously.

“You know she’s right. You don’t have to like the idea, but you have to accept that it’s necessary.”

Charles took a deep breath, trying to calm down, but the knot in his throat only tightened. He hated the idea of being seen as someone who couldn’t control his own life, but Lorenzo and Sofia had a point: the external pressure was becoming unbearable.

“Why her?” he asked, his voice a little quieter.

Sofia gave a slight smile, as though she’d been waiting for this question.

“Because Y/N is exactly what you need. She has an impeccable reputation, knows how to handle the media, and most importantly, knows how to play the game.”

“And how are you so sure she’ll agree to this?” Charles asked, crossing his arms.

“We’ve already talked to her,” Lorenzo revealed. “She agreed. Obviously, she has her conditions, but she’s willing to collaborate.”

Charles laughed, incredulous.

“Of course she agreed. She’s probably loving the idea of being associated with me. She’ll gain even more followers and the ‘Wag’ title. That must be her dream.”

“Don’t underestimate Y/N,” Sofia warned. “She’s far from being a superficial girl. If she agreed, it’s because she saw value in the proposal, just like we did.”

Charles fell silent for a moment, processing everything that had been said. He felt a mix of anger, frustration, and, in a way, helplessness. He hated being put against the wall, but he knew refusing wouldn’t solve his problems.

“And how long is this going to last?” he asked, his disgust evident.

“The contract is for a year,” Lorenzo answered. “Long enough to solidify the lie, but short enough not to be unsustainable.”

“And what if it doesn’t work?”

“It will work,” Sofia assured him confidently.

Charles let out a heavy sigh, running his hands through his hair.

“I hate you guys.”

“Feel free to hate us all you want,” Lorenzo replied, standing up. “But do what needs to be done.”

Sofia grabbed the folder and gave one last look at Charles.

“Y/N will be here tomorrow to talk officially. Hope you’re ready.”

With that, everyone began to leave the room, leaving Charles alone. He slumped back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, trying to accept that, like it or not, his life was about to change.

The meeting room was spacious and well-lit, with glass walls offering a panoramic view of the city. Charles Leclerc was already there, on time this time, sitting next to the conference table in a relaxed yet attentive posture. He was casually flipping through a document, but his mind was elsewhere. The decision to accept the deal still felt surreal.

When the door opened, he lifted his eyes and saw Y/N entering with confident steps. She looked calm, self-assured. She wore a fitted blazer and pants that accentuated her confident posture. Her perfume reached him before her voice, subtle yet striking.

“Hope I’m not late,” she said, placing her bag on a chair and giving Charles a brief glance before looking away.

“You’re not,” he replied, giving a slight nod, observing her carefully.

Lorenzo and Sofia entered right after, carrying folders and an air of seriousness.

“Alright, now that everyone’s here, let’s get straight to the point,” Lorenzo began, taking his seat at the head of the table. “You both know how important this partnership is, both for the team and for your respective careers.”

“It’s not like we have much of a choice, right?” Y/N commented, not aggressively, but with a touch of realism.

“Not exactly,” Sofia answered, unfazed. “But we expect you to see the mutual benefit in this.”

Charles leaned his elbows on the table and glanced at Y/N for a moment before speaking.

“And you? What do you think of all this?”

Y/N blinked, surprised by the direct question, but maintained her composure.

“I think it’s… unexpected. But I won’t deny it’s an opportunity. And you?”

He tilted his head slightly, as if considering.

“I think it could work, as long as we follow a few rules.”

“Rules?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” he answered, with a slight smile. “Like, don’t try to kill me in front of the cameras.”

Y/N let out a short laugh, almost genuine.

“I think I can follow that.”

Lorenzo interrupted, trying to keep the focus.

“Great. Let’s start by clarifying expectations. You’ll need to attend events together, create interactions for social media, and above all, look natural.”

“Does that mean we need to get to know each other better?” Y/N asked, looking directly at Charles, this time with less provocation and more curiosity.

“Probably,” he replied, her eyes holding his for a moment longer than necessary.

Sofia cleared her throat.

“For that, we recommend starting with something simple. A dinner, maybe. Nothing formal, just so you get used to being together outside a professional setting.”

Y/N looked away, pretending to think, but there was something uncomfortably intimate about the idea.

“Seems fair,” she finally said, grabbing a pen to sign the contract placed in front of her.

Charles didn’t say anything but let the corner of his mouth curve into a slight smile. He grabbed his own copy of the contract and signed it right after her.

When they finished, Lorenzo looked at both of them.

“Perfect. From now on, you’re officially a couple.”

Lorenzo’s statement hung in the air like an uncomfortable reminder of what had just been signed. Y/N grabbed her bag, ready to leave, but hesitated at the door.

“Charles?” she called, without turning around.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t plan on complicating this, but I hope you do your part.”

Charles adjusted his watch nonchalantly, as if this kind of deal was something he had mastered.

“I always do.” A discreet smile formed on his lips. “But maybe we should establish a few rules to make sure it works.”

“It’s so nice to see you both so… invested!” Sofia interrupted, letting out a light laugh. “But I’ll leave the details to you two. Just don’t kill each other, please.”

Lorenzo stood up shortly after, giving his brother a nearly conspiratorial look before giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. When he said goodbye to Y/N, he smiled warmly, as if to say, “Good luck.”

Once the room was silent, Charles broke it with a casual tone.

“So, about those rules…”

Y/N crossed her arms, clearly determined to make everything crystal clear from the start.

“The first limit is simple: don’t touch or kiss me without prior notice.”

Charles raised an eyebrow, surprised, but entertained by her firmness.

“You do realize that’s basically what couples do, right? Touch, kiss, look close… How are we supposed to convince anyone we’re real if we’re so mechanical?”

“I never said it was forbidden,” she corrected, remaining calm. “I’m just saying, don’t do it without a reason or without letting me know first.”

He chuckled softly, tilting his head slightly.

“Do you really think I’m interested in anything beyond what this contract requires?” He stepped forward, not breaking eye contact. “What happened at the club was just an impulse, not a sign that I’m in love with you.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes, as if analyzing every word he said.

“Great. Then it shouldn’t be hard to keep your hands and lips off me.”

Charles opened his mouth to retort but stopped when he saw the look in her eyes. It was a clear challenge, with something more hidden behind that confidence.

“Of course,” he replied, finally curving his lips into a nearly provocative smile. “But I’ve got my conditions too.”

Y/N adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder, unfazed.

“Alright, go ahead.”

“You have to attend my races whenever you can. And when you can’t, show support on social media. It’s the least I expect.”

She let out an incredulous laugh.

“I’m gonna be your fake girlfriend, not your number one fan.”

“As my girlfriend, you should show support. Isn’t that what girlfriends do? Plus, my fans will love it. It’ll be good for our image.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but knew he had a point.

“Fine, but I’ve got commitments too. Don’t expect me to be at every race.”

Charles shrugged, still with that annoyingly confident smile.

“It’s a start.”

Silence fell between them again, but this time it wasn’t heavy. It was as if both were evaluating the other, trying to figure out what was coming next.

Y/N adjusted her bag again and took two steps toward the door before stopping.

“One more thing, Charles.”

“What?” He raised an eyebrow, curious.

“If you want this to work, stop trying to always have the last word.”

He smiled, a mix of challenge and amusement.

“That’s asking too much.”

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head before finally walking out of the room.

Charles stood there for a moment, staring at the door she had just walked through. There was something about her that made him feel intrigued, and he knew this story was far from simple.

Outside the building, Y/N got into the waiting car and took a deep breath. “This is going to be more complicated than I thought,” she mused as the driver started the engine.

Back inside, Charles picked up his phone and quickly sent a message to Lorenzo.

Charles: “If she thinks she can challenge me, this is going to be fun.”

On the other side, Lorenzo just laughed as he read the message.

[nhmkhnh]

#SERIES—05 ──── CHAPTER—02

devotion.

pairings: shareholders[caitlyn ;; vi] x fem!reader

preface: oh… in the presence of her.

author’s note: alr chapter two go brr, short, ik, i will make it up in the next <3

wrn: lowercase, obsessive behavior (?)

previous chapter ʚɞ next chapter.

vi never believed in love at first sight.

she believed in gut instinct, in the way a punch feels when it connects right where it should, in the blood rush of adrenaline mid-fight. she believed in action. in momentum.

but she couldn’t explain what happened that day in the boardroom—how her pulse had stuttered, breath caught like a rookie, the second your eyes swept past her in that soft, nervous glance as you introduced the q2 presentation. you’d smiled. polite. kind. unaware.

and caitlyn saw it too. vi could tell. the exact second you bowed your head slightly and said, “thank you for your time, i’ll begin with the projected impact on regional outreach,” caitlyn had gone very still beside her. spine straighter. breathing shallower.

vi wanted to punch her.

no—herself.

because that was not normal.

but nothing had been normal since you smiled.

caitlyn considered herself a woman of poise.

trained in diplomacy since she could hold a pen. debates, negotiations, tactful maneuvers—all tools in her well-kept arsenal. she was not one to lose composure. not one to stare.

but she had stared.

as you adjusted the microphone, clearing your throat gently. the little hairclip in your bun was mismatched with your formalwear—charmingly so. and when you bent down to pass the clicker to the next intern, caitlyn saw you whisper something encouraging. the girl lit up.

caitlyn clenched her pen tighter. something inside her shifted.

that night, she looked you up. and then again the next night. then again.

vi leaned against the wall outside the break room like she hadn’t waited there for ten minutes. just passing by. definitely not tracking your lunch break. definitely not doing anything weird.

you stepped in.

holding a napkin-wrapped muffin. cradling it like treasure.

vi’s mouth went dry.

you fed a little bite of it to the kitten curled up near the alley door. “you better eat that slow,” you whispered, “i fought a very scary vending machine for this.”

vi didn’t even realize she was smiling.

caitlyn “happened to” be walking past the front desk when she saw you crouching beside a little boy, gently coaxing him into calm.

“mama’s probably just in the big elevator, sweetheart,” you said softly, “it’s a scary place when you’re small, huh?”

your hand rested carefully on his shoulder. no panic. just comfort.

caitlyn didn’t even mean to step closer. but suddenly, her coat was off and around the child’s shoulders too. you looked up, startled.

“oh—miss kiramman—!”

“i’ll help you look,” caitlyn said, voice too formal, too stiff. her throat burned. “it’s no trouble at all.”

when the mother was found, tearful and thankful, caitlyn let her hand brush yours. barely. accidentally. purposefully.

you smiled at her. that smile.

she had to leave immediately after. her hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

vi and caitlyn hadn’t spoken about it. not directly.

but the tension was there.

they sat at opposite ends of the executive lounge now. meetings were colder. snappier. unsaid things piled up like weapons on the table.

“i heard you moved the new csr assistant to your department,” vi said offhandedly, sipping coffee.

“i did,” caitlyn replied evenly, flipping a report. “she has potential. i like to nurture talent.”

vi leaned back. “is that what they’re calling it now?”

caitlyn didn’t look up. “you’re one to talk. i saw you in the breakroom yesterday.”

vi scoffed. “i like muffins.”

their eyes locked.

there it was. the quiet war. civil. professional. deadly.

because both of them knew:

they weren’t just intrigued.

they were taken.

you laughed.

and vi thought it might be the end of her.

you were in the side courtyard helping an elderly man with his paperwork—kneeling on the gravel, patient and bright-eyed, nodding gently with every question. she’d only meant to pass through.

but that laugh.

she hid behind a pillar, watching like she wasn’t completely unhinged.

caitlyn stood behind a two-way mirror, watching you train the new intern.

“you’re doing great,” you said kindly, tucking a note into their folder. “mistakes are part of learning, okay? don’t be scared.”

caitlyn’s nails dug into her palm.

she hadn’t felt this type of affection in years. not even from someone who wanted her. and yet here she was—aching for kindness not even meant for her.

the company-wide mixer was being hosted downtown.

you arrived late. a soft blue dress. shy heels. that same mismatched hairclip.

both vi and caitlyn turned toward you at the same time. from opposite ends of the rooftop bar.

their drinks stalled midair.

vi cursed under her breath.

caitlyn touched her necklace.

you waved—sweet, unaware—and they both started walking toward you.

[its-in-the-woods]

Reach For Me - Meeting

Masterlist

-Part 1 , Part 2

Pairing: James Buchanan Barnes/Bucky x You/x reader (afab) no use of y/n

Word count: 3.1k

Synopsis: You are starting a new job, courtesy of one Tony Stark. Tasked with becoming the head of medical and research for the Avengers and their companions. What you don't expect is to get under the skin of one ex assassin turned good guy, James Barnes.

Author notes: Hi 👋 I've never written MCU... so umm here we go...Nothing I write is short, this will be multi-chapter. Slow slow slow burn, they may not even like each other that much to start. Any characters from the MCU may appear. I will not note them cause there are too many, k. I will also not tag spoilers... be warned. This will be graphic, sad, and tragic... but there will be sparks I promise.

MINORS and AI dickbags GET OUT.

Rating/Warning: Missing limbs, prosthetic, wounds, ptsd, long silences, brooding, Bucky (you know why), mentions of past torture, physical and mental.

All mistakes, grammar, and plot holes are my own.

You sit in your Corolla looking up at the massive building a block away. There was parking under the building for you, had your name on it and everything. Least that’s what Stark told you, Tony Goddamn Stark. He’d rolled into your lab one day and tossed your whole world upside down. You’d had no idea he had been funding the university's research into neurolink prosthetics, or that he was the one that had backed your grant to get you through medical school. Now he wants you to be the head of medical at his infamous Stark Tower, keep an eye on the health of the Avengers.

Well it was more complicated than that. He wanted you specifically because you were a jack of all trades, you’d served in the military as a medic, done several years in New York's largest ER, before you’d decided to go back to your roots in neuro-science specifically to do with prosthetics bio-connections. That’s what he needed. Also someone who wasn’t scared to stare super-soldiers down and not flinch.

The last part you’d assumed to be a joke, but now sitting here you weren’t as sure. Drumming your fingers over the steering wheel you debated whether you should go in or not. How had you even ended up here? A doctor to the Avengers? It sounded comical just thinking about it.

How was it possible that you were more nervous than when you were jumping out of the back of a plane? Maybe you’d get to do that here too.

“Fuck it,” You murmur, shifting the car into drive you head to your new job.

***

It was a whirl of paperwork, most of it you didn’t understand, really should have brought it to a lawyer. The non-disclosure agreements were lengthy and in depth, but Pepper had summed them up as ‘What happens in the tower stays in the tower’. It felt vaguely threatening, but the paperwork was almost soothing at this point. The tower is massive, it has full medical facilities, dozens of labs, lawyers on payroll, and then there was the Avenger’s end of things. You have been given a special pass to work up there. You have a small team of medical professionals you would be working with. Along with the team of assistance and crew of speciality staff that kept everyone from fighting with each other.

The first day is just that, paperwork, here is your clinic, this is the labs, please file things here and here. This is how the emergency system works, if you see an alien no you didn’t.

You rubbed at your face as you sat in the small ‘clinic room’.White walls, that mix with metal paneling, behind you was a large glass window that looks out over the city. Beside you is your home monitor, the back would be facing the patient. Beside you were four others that you could use to pull up any images or information you needed to show the patient. You’d already decide that you need at least one or two plants here, yes it was a clinical setting but it wasn’t a jail cell either.

To your right was a door that leads into a small medical bay. It has a patient bed, and enough supplies for a full operation if needed. It was overkill really. You were dealing with gods, super soldiers, a green hulk, and the occasional super spy. Besides, there is already an operating theatre on this level that could be staffed within minutes; but it wasn’t your money to burn.

Closing out your computer you grab the tablet that had all your new patients information. Most of it was standard, blood test, x-rays, ct-scan, injury lists and more. All neatly packaged inside a metal and glass case, with an encrypt password and fingerprint scan. You want to go over all the notes in detail, make sure there was nothing that was a miss.

Keys, and bag in hand you close up the clinic door and head towards the elevator. The place was quiet for such a large building, you would occasionally see agents, assistance, and others but for the most part it was empty. You were sure when the world was being threatened by alien invaders it was a hot spot, but right now it just felt cold.

The doors to the elevator open up and you come face to face with Captain America himself and The Winter Soldier. Your heart pounds for a moment, but you quickly push that down, the mask of professionalism slipping on as you walk in. They stood in running gear, Captain in all blue, and Soldier in all black.

“Hi, I am Steven Rogers,” Captain America, Steve, said with a grin holding out his hand. “Hi,” You reply, giving him your title and shaking his hand firmly, before turning to The Winter Soldier. Steve gestures with his thumb. “That’s James Barnes, we are just heading out for a run,” Steve smiles, Bucky nodding at you but keeping his hands firmly folded across his chest.

“Nice to meet you,” You nod at James, who stays silent, just staring back at you. Shuffling over you stand by the far side of the door, you remember the headlines about what happened to him. HYDRA, you’d heard enough about them to wonder how James was still standing upright.

You mentally note to go over his file in detail this evening. The elevator shifts into a mostly comfortable silence, you don’t force conservation, and both men seem more than okay with that. You can’t help that your heart is hammering. Would be difficult for anyone to stand in a small box with two Super Soldiers at their back. Least that’s what you tell yourself. A chime at the main floor and the two men go to get off.

“Nice to meet you,” Steve says, with his signature smile. “We’ll see you around.”

“Have a good evening,” You reply, resisting the urge to slam the close door button. James looks over his shoulder once, his eyes connecting with yours before turning back to Steve. You tell yourself that it was just a silent acknowledgement, but it doesn’t feel like that. It feels like he is making sure you know that you’re being watched.

***

The room was small white, with the smell of metal and disinfectant hanging everywhere. One wall has four monitors, a small 3D model of him spun on one, another had his health stats, some just blank. He was interested in the one that showed what was left of his left arm and the one of his socket that attached the metal arm. He squints trying to read the little text boxes that hover over each point as they spin. Some highlight damages, others things that could be upgraded. The Doc had done her homework.

Looking at the images made him feel itchy, his hand going up to rub along where the metal seamed to his flesh. He mentally braces for pain to shoot through his neck, surprised when nothing happens, he'd gotten so used to them stopping him from touching it. The amount of times he'd tried to peel it off, ripe it out of his flesh, had led them to add tech that made it even more painful to try and remove.

He wasn’t pleased to be there, why did he need some doctor to tell him what he already knew? The arm had been acting up yes, but he was sure Stark with all his money and tech could fix it.

Yet here he was sitting in a chair with no exit strategy, beside jumping out the window. Fingers tapping along the arm rest of the chair, hoping that things could be over soon.

A quiet knock on the door has him sitting up straight. He adjusts his shirt, hoping the wrinkles didn't show where he'd been rubbing.

“Hi, James,” You say, slowly opening the door and walking in. Giving him a small smile as you walk over to the chair in front of the monitors. “Do you like James? Or would you prefer a different name?”

“Uh- James, James is fine,” He mumbles, just loud enough to be heard. Unsure how to feel now that you are standing in front of him.

He'd seen you a few times since the first meeting in the elevator. You mostly kept to yourself, saying ‘hi’ to anyone that crossed your path, making polite conversation, and generally fitting in. He'd also spotted you hanging with Tony going over tech, and helping him modify different gear. You always smile at him and say hello, even if he barely replies. Never treating him any differently than anyone else. It was refreshing.

Steve had said you had a good air about you. Natasha hadn't scoffed, even called you pleasant. So after nearly a month of you requesting him to come by he had caved and come down.

“Alright, so Mr. Stark has asked me to take a look at the arm you've had installed.” You chatter away, you wear casual clothes, a button-up purple shirt, and black slacks. No white coat or name tag. “He noted that it was uncomfortable, and wasn’t operating as smoothly. Do you want to tell me about that?”

Swallowing, he held his breath as you looked at him. There was no intention behind your eyes, you weren't mining for intel or assessing if he was going to explode, just a simple question. Yet he could barely find words to say.

“It's not bad, just needs some maintenance.” Bucky said flatly, his jaw clicking as he kept himself stiff. He wasn't going to go into detail to some stranger, despite how calm and cordial you were.

Or tell you that the pain kept him up at night, how it aches like it was frozen, or the nightmares. Shifting, he pushes those thoughts down, bringing him back to the present.

You nod, typing a few things into the computer. Not pressing him to answer or bombarding him with more questions.

“James, I know this is all still really new. You're still settling in and learning about us, and well probably whether you can trust us.” You take a breath, his eyes watching you look at the screen. A small wrinkle appears between your brows as you focus. It shouldn’t make his skin tingle when you look like that. “Plus I am new here, so it’s all new.”

You hesitate, lip worrying between your teeth, Bucky was definitely not filing all the little quirks you had, cause there was no reason for that. “I don't work for anyone, but you. Technically Stark pays me, but he doesn't meddle with what I do, there is no overreach. If you're not comfortable with the prosthetic I want to know.”

Bucky sits there, his eyes moving to yours, his body still as rigid as ever. “It's fine.”

It wasn't fine, but he had dealt with it long enough and didn't need anyone's help.

“Okay,” You reply, he can see you holding back a sigh. Disappointment flickering under the uncertainty. Why the hell did you care so much?

“Could I take a look at your arm? Please, tell me no if you're uncomfortable.”

Bucky shifts a little, his face scrunching at the words, he wasn’t used to someone giving him space. No one had pressed him to do anything he didn't want in the tower, but there were expectations of him. With you though, that didn't seem to be the case.

He shifts to the side, moving his right hand over to his left arm, the metal reacting to his touch. Gripping the metal he shifts and twists it so that it pops off the joint. Taking the arm he lays it out gently on the glass table with a clunk.

You roll over on your chair, not looking at the prosthetic, instead coming to look at the compression sleeve.

“Are you okay if I manipulate your arm?”He nods, but winces when you touch over the residual limb. The skin is sensitive, sore, and has deep bruises, he forces himself to stay still and not move away.

You carefully look over the shoulder joint. The sleeve on it was worn, and he knew you could feel the swelling happening underneath it. “I am going to remove the sleeve, take a closer look at the skin.”

You talk to him, despite his limited replies. He watches as you carefully pull the cuff down. The joint is swollen, covered with crude scarring, there are several pressure sores that ache.

You grab gloves and carefully feeling the joint and bone, fingers feeling the rigid metal that has been used to reinforce the bone.

Bucky shifts a little as your hand pushes against one of the sores. He can feel the line of his shoulders tightening up, as you continue to palpate it.

“I would like to do a scan of the joint,” You say, as you lift and move the arm. Carefully watching how it rotates and moves. As if you hadn’t just dropped a bomb on him.

“The socket shouldn't leave these pressure sores. Especially with the advanced healing you have, I have a feeling the bone and metal are causing the discomfort."

“I can’t do scans,” He swallows, his right hand shaking without his consent. The sound of the magnets flying around his head start to echo around him. Stomach twisting and tightening as he tries to suppress the urge to run.

You blink, sliding back just a little, giving him some space. “Okay.”

He watches the way you shift, how you carefully take off your gloves and toss them into the bin. “You are not going to want to talk about it, which is fine. I am going to talk through some steps we could take so we could get scans.”

His right hand clenches into a fist, sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. Using everything in his power to stay seated. You’re speaking but the worlds are not sinking in. He shakes his head, he wants to say something but all the words have been trapped somewhere in his throat. The panic is rising up the back of his neck like fire, he feels encased, stuck, breath and heart rate elevating.

“James,” You say quietly, moving so that you were directly in front of him. “We don’t need to do anything right now. Or even in a week.”

He looks right at you, trying to see past any mask you might be hiding behind. “I can get you a new sleeve, we don’t need scans for that.”

Trying to relax, he nods his head, hoping that you will keep to your word. His eyes move away staring at the floor, the pattern of the swirling speckled vinyl. His mind is a mess of images and sounds, the thumping of the magnets, the pulse of the electrical surge. The feeling of it buzzing through his head, the pain surging passed his skin and up his neck, how his molars ground against the mouth guard.

You move away rolling over to the prosthetic, looking down into where his arm latches. Examining internal workings, you go to pick it up and struggle. For some reason it snaps him out of his daze.

“I wasn’t expecting it to be that heavy,” You squint at it, rolling it over the glass surface with a clunk. Bucky picks it up and holds it out for you to look closer at.

You look surprised for a moment but then take the moment to place your hand inside where his nub goes in.

“Oh, yeah there are latches in here.” You move over to where he is sitting, you don’t touch him just exam, lining up where his pressure sores are and the latches.

“That should actually be a relatively easy fix. Would you mind coming to the lab-” You roll back to the computer, humming as you look at it. “Let’s do next Tuesday, Lab C, it’s on level seventy-eight.”

“Sure,” Buck says, his voice a gruff whisper. He takes his arm and clicks it back into place, rotating it and twisting it.

***

The door clicks and you slump into the chair, rubbing your hand over your face. That had gone as well as could be expected, the man was a ball of trauma wrapped in stone, and dipped in concrete.

Steve had warned you that Bucky was leery of new people, and took a long time to warm up. At least he hadn’t gone running the moment you asked a question.

Taking a breath you go back to your notes, you put in to have an assistant with you next Tuesday to adjust Bucky’s arm. It should be relatively easy, something that should have been caught weeks ago. Though, judging by the lack of notes from any previous Doctors, on James Barnes, they hadn’t spent much time with him.

You plug away sipping on coffee, you need to reread the notes that had been gathered about James. Well, if they could even be called notes.

You had seen the few videos that had been found. Had taken a good chunk of first week to sit and force yourself to watch them. To see what had been done to him. Stark had warned you, everyone had, but you wanted to know. To understand why James was the way he was, this was something you took pride in. Knowing who your patients were, what they had been through, and how it affected their day to day life mattered.

The videos ended up being the worst thing you’d ever seen, they had purposefully kept him partially aware of what was happening. They had used the pain to help brainwash him, making his body be in a constant state of fight, while not being able to fight at all. As they peeled open his body, shoving metal and wires into him over and over.

Then without any recovery time they’d freeze him, putting him under for an undetermined length of time.

Didn’t even cover the neuro trauma that had happened, the machine that used a combination of electric pulse and sound waves to affect memory. No wonder he didn’t want anything to do with CT scans, you shouldn’t have even brought it up. Groaning, you try not to beat yourself up over the misstep.

The machine they used wasn’t even completely understood, Hydra had of course destroyed it before anyone could get their hands on it. Maybe if you had it you could have worked at undoing the damage. Instead you were left with half ass notes, and grainy videos.

Pushing away from the computer, you decide it was time to go home. It had been a long day already, and you wanted to be in your own space. The drive back should be uneventful, meaning you could get to the lengthy amount of notes to spill over in your mind. Hopefully it would give you enough info to help James.

Part 2

~☆~☆~

If you liked it let me know below! Reblog to let others know.

Want to be tagged comment so I know.

@hiddlebatchedloki

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Daisies and Talks

Simon Ghost Riley x Reader

Hi lovelies! Lia here and I know this pic is a bit misleading but I SWEAR on you that Simon doesn't die in this one, IT'S A HAPPY STORY OKAY. I was debating on making this a part two of Ghostie's parents progressed and though you're free to think that, I thought it would be much cuter to leave this to stay as a story on it's own.

Ghost's mum plays a big role in this one though so if you're not very comfortable with mentions of death or anything then I suggest leaving this one out and skipping. Two posts in one week? Are y'all lucky or am I just emptying my drafts? Y'all will never know.. AHAHAHA.

My CoD Masterlist

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simping4konig @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @thesnowurzikdjinn @09maruchan @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @cutenote @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @the-second-sage @starryylies @everlastingmoonlightsworld

I'd like to think that everyone is familiar with the saying "You never know what you have until you lose it", many of us having it said during childhood but you never truly experience that till your older right? Wrong, that couldn't be more wrong for a man like Simon Riley, the man who lost it all at a young age, no one left to care for him but himself.

He always used to hear that from his mother, over some the toys she used to make for him that he cherished and loved so much as a kid. Simon knew his family wasn't up their with the middle class but he also knew they weren't exactly poor, though his father might prove that wrong with how much he's driving the family into debt.

Due to this, Simon always taught himself never to get attached to another person though he tried working on it, he doesn't know what he'd do if he does. That was before you came along skipping your way into his frail heart, making all the walls her built crumble with just a few words and a soft stare, someone who was patient enough to stay.

Simon can't let you go, he took that saying that his mother used to chant and took it to heart. He didn't need to lose you to know you were so fucking important, like that the man held onto everything that you were.

Cherishing moments with you although sometimes wishing his mother could see you. He wanted his mom to know that he found that person that only is in fairy tales she used to read him to at night. Maybe you were sent by her, that's it right?

Because all Simon could think about staring at your face while you sleep next to him was "how?". How were you able to wiggle your way into his heart so easily? You make him feel so alive and full, sometimes it causes him to be self-destructive, starting fights simply because he doesn't think he deserves you but you were so patient, holding him as if he was the whole world after every fight.

Because of you, that part of Simon slowly disappeared, knowing that he should change his ways because you deserved better. They say there's one moment in someone's life where you know for sure that, that is the person you want to spend your life with. Do you wanna know what that moment was for Simon?

Every death anniversary of Simon's mother, he visits that grave, sometimes a little later than usual. You've been in a relationship with this man for a little over a year now and to say you've grown attached to that man like he did to you was an understatement. He saw you there, leaving flowers.. Daisies in particular, he told you those were her favorite.

You sat next to the grave, absentmindedly staring up at the sky, it was beautiful out that day. You talked to yourself, more like his mother really, greeting her quite casually as if you've talked to her before. Simon at first found it a bit odd, though he did tell you everything regarding where his mom was buried and dates when he'd visit her.

You've been doing this secretly for at least once a month for a couple now, not having the heart to tell Simon but it just so happens that he was a little earlier there than he usually does go. He hid himself behind among other things surrounding the grave, listening to the conversation you've been having with his mother's tomb stone.

"He's been doing better now.. I'm sure you're so proud of him because am I, I know you're watching over him and I promise to do my best to make Simon happy and make sure he's cared for, he deserves all that and so much more"

Simon listened, on and on as you continue telling his mother updates on his life and how he's been doing. He put two and two together slowly realizing that you've been visiting her grave for a while now.

"Thank you, if it weren't for you then I wouldn't have Simon. My Simon.. someday I'll help him create the life you'd want for us, I know he'd just say that you would want what we want and I know that for a fact. I wish you were here, I would've loved for you to see Simon smile again."

You looked back at the grave. "You know Mrs. Riley, I feel safe here, are you the one doing that?" Smiling as you looked up and rested your eyes a little.

You leaned back a bit with a satisfied sigh hum after a deep breath, Simon's deep voice making you jolt up, "You know she'd want you to call her mom right? Or at least Ma Riley is what the other kids who she practically adopted in the neighborhood call her" he walked out from wherever he was hiding himself.

"Simon I-" You were cut off by seeing the tears running down his eyes, you stood up from where you were sitting, not bothering to dust off your backside that probably had grass stuck to your clothes.

You immediately wrap your arms around your boyfriend and gave him a tight squeeze, letting go only to cup his face in your hands and wipe his tears with your thumb, Simon leaned his forehead on yours, looking at your eyes with his teary ones.

"Oh Simon, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have done this without asking for your permission. God I'm so stupid, you hate me now, don't you—" Before you could even continue what you were saying, Simon cut you off with his shushing, pressing a chaste kiss on your forehead.

You knew it must've meant a lot to him, he didn't have enough words to describe how grateful he was for you. Unbeknownst to you, whenever Simon did talk to his mother, he'd always find himself worming to you somehow.

One of the reasons he had brought the ring between his fingers at that very moment, coming to ask his mother's grave for guidance on how he's going to do it..

[gunilslaugh]

Chapter 3: Complication Of Feelings

Part of my To All The Boys I've Loved Before Series

WC:~1.5k

You seriously couldn’t understand it. Why would Jooyeon lie about you dating Jiseok?

“I’m not sure,” Gunil replied. He pauses and looks down at his hands that he had folded on the table. It looked like he was debating something. 

“What is it?” you questioned.

“I-” A small laugh leaving him interrupts his sentence. “I don’t really know why I’m thinking about saying this or not, but I actually had a small crush on you back then in high school,” he revealed. 

“You did?” A feeling of melancholy washes over you. 

“Yeah I did.” A small smile tugged on his lips, but his eyes gave you a bittersweet look. “Then Jooyeon told me that you were dating Jiseok. I admit that I did initially think that that was weird because you never mentioned dating him, but I can’t remember if it was the same day he told me or a few days later. I saw you with Jiseok while you were waiting for your brother. Jiseok had one arm up, leaning against the wall beside your head. Like half-way caging you. He was showing you a video on his phone. You seemed really comfortable with him. After that I thought what Jooyeon said was true.” he explained. 

It takes you a bit to try and process what he just told you. Your first crush, the one you like to call your first love, did actually like you back. On top of that Jooyeon lied to him about you dating Jiseok.(The reason why he did that is still unknown.) Because of Jiseok’s flirting nature and you being nonchalant to it, Gunil mistook Jooyeon’s lie for the truth.

“I should have pushed Jooyeon out of the window instead of trying to jump out of it,” you say, catching Gunil off guard. 

“I’m sorry what? You what?” Gunil looked at you with a mix of shock and confusion.

“It’s fine, Jiseok wouldn’t let me,” you tell him. Though your statement only makes Gunil grow more confused. 

“You were with both Jooyeon and Jiseok? I didn’t know you guys all hung out together,” he said. 

“Oh, we don’t. It’s just those stupid letters have really complicated things,” you told. 

“Excuse me if this is just me jumping to conclusions, but does that mean they both got one too?” he checked. 

“Yep.” You nod. “Two people who past me never would have imagined falling for, yet somehow, I did,” you state. 

“I mean I believed that you were dating Jiseok back in high school, so that’s not all that surprising, but Jooyeon. That one does surprise me. You two couldn’t have one conversation without fighting,” he remarks. 

“Oh I know.” You think back on how you and Jooyeon used to be. “Last year we got lost in the woods together and everything changed, but at the same time not much actually changed,” you say. 

“Say more,” he urged you to keep going. 

“Well if I tell you about how I developed a crush on Jooyeon I actually need to start with me liking Jiseok,” you tell him.

“What kind of tangled web is this?” Gunil laughs. 

“Tell me about it,” you with an exaggerated sigh. “Long story short. I only went on the trip in the woods to avoid seeing Jiseok, who I realized that I liked after doing- Actually while doing a photoshoot with. Then somehow after getting lost in the woods with Jooyeon for a few hours realized that maybe all our fighting was for nothing. That love and hate really are two sides of the same coin,” you sum up. 

“That sounds like quite the complication of feelings,” Gunil notes. 

“It is, was?” You're not sure which one. Things are definitely still complicated, but you’re not sure if it’s because of those old, or maybe not so old, feelings. “The main thing I’m really confused about right now though is why Jooyeon would lie to you about me dating Jiseok,” you changed the topic. 

“Only he knows the answer to that. You’ll have to talk to him about it,” he says. At the mention of talking to Jooyeon you feel the sense of panic start to build. As much as you wanted to know why he lied you still don’t think you’re ready to fully face him. 

“You don’t want to?” Gunil picks up on your shift in mood. 

“It’s weird. I feel really comfortable talking to you right now, but earlier when Jiseok and Jooyeon wanted to talk to me, I was so freaked out and panicky. Felt like I had to get away,” you disclosed. 

“What makes me different from them?” he questioned. Deep down you knew why. Because you were completely over Gunil, however the same couldn’t be said for Jiseok or Jooyeon. No matter how much you pushed down and ignored those feelings. No matter how much you tried to get back to how things used to be. They were never going to because feelings change things. Your heart still yearned for either of them. Writing down your feelings in a love letter didn’t make them go away. Shutting the letters away in your closet only mirrored how you shut the feelings away in your heart. 

“I’m over you…but not them.” You're forced to face the truth. You like Jiseok and you also like Jooyeon. Your admittance makes you feel just like you did a bit over a year ago. Like you're stuck in some kind of love maze. Not knowing how to navigate your way out or who will be the one at the end of it. 

“You know I actually know someone who liked two people at once,” Gunil states. 

“Really? What did they do?” you asked. 

“If you want to know you can talk to him about it yourself. You know him too or knew him at least,” he tells you. You start to feel confused. Who was Gunil talking about?

“Who is it?” you inquired. 

“Kim Jungsu.” 

“You know Jungsu! How? I mean we all went to the same high school, but you didn’t know him then right?” your question flowed. 

“We met in our first year of college. Funny enough we had both recently broken up with our girlfriends. We ended up bonding over it. Then one day I was trying to find a picture to show him and he saw the picture we took in physics when we did the lab on Newton’s Laws. That’s how we found out we were both old friends of yours,” he told you. 

“What game is life playing? Making my first love and first heartbreak friends,” you remark. 

“Since you mention that. If you feel comfortable, I think that you should talk to Jungsu. Not just about your Jiseok, Jooyeon thing, but since he received the letter I can tell that he wants to talk to you about it. I think he knows that you didn’t intend for them to get sent, so he’s gonna act like he never received it,” Gunil informed you. 

“He’s still sweet like that,” you say, remembering how much of a kind soul Jungsu was. 

“Yeah, he is and I really think that you should talk to him,” he insisted. Talking to Jungsu definitely didn’t sound like a bad thing. In fact you think it would be nice to hear his voice again, to see him again after all these years. 

“I think I will. It would be nice to see him again,” you said. Gunil smiles. With that yours and Gunil’s little reunion comes to end, but before you say goodbye you can’t help but ask one last question. 

“Gunil, if Jooyeon didn’t lie about me dating Jiseok do you think we could have been a thing?” you ask. 

“Will my answer make you push Jooyeon out of a window?” he asked humorously, resulting in you breaking out into laughter. 

“The thought may cross my mind,” you replied back with the same humorous tone. “But no. I just would like to know,” you tell him, tone becoming more serious.

“Then yeah we probably would have. I liked you and you liked me, so it sounds like pretty good odds.” It feels like his answer heals a part of your younger self. The younger you who felt like you missed out on Gunil because you were too cowardly to confess in time. 

“Thank you,” you say to him as you’re about to part ways.

“For what?” he asked. 

“For being my first love,” you say with a lighthearted chuckle. 

“Thank you too,” he said.

“For what?” you questioned. 

“For writing me that letter.” He smiled warmly at you. For once you don’t completely despise writing those letters. 

The two of you go your separate ways. Gunil looks back at you, watching as you make your way down the pavement. “Thank you for being my first love too.” You don’t hear it, you're too far away, but Gunil feels a sense of peace in saying the words. 

Rounding the corner you pull out your phone. You go to his social media and hit to send him a message. “Can I borrow your chemistry notes?” you type. It was an old excuse you used just so you could talk to Jungsu. You hit send and let out a small breath. 

Kim Jungsu: Sure :) Where should we meet?

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taglist: @purplelady85 @gingerjunhan @chewednails @ezlynkisses @mon2sunjinsuver @mxlly143 @seungseung-minmin @junhanism @bee-the-loser

[sthavoc]

watched ariana's new mv and was thinking maybe enzo angst where his ex writes the song + mv and he's trying to get into contact with her because he still loves her

࿔* 📞 𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 | ENZO VOGRINCIC

·˚ ༘ pairing: desperate!enzo x singer!fem!reader

·˚ ༘ summary: after listening to your new song and watching the music video, Enzo attempts his best to reach out to you, but there’s no answer from you.

·˚ ༘ warnings: angst, man crying, desperation, heartbreak, feeling of anxiety.

·˚ ༘ note: I was watching the mv for the first time to get a vision and it touched my heart. imagine just being able to easily erase the memories of a person that you don’t want anymore with just a test? this one is sad for me… idk how I wrote this for enzo.. lloro

It was very clear to Enzo from the moment the relationship ended, that he would give you your space, but there would be a moment where he would try and fight for you. Didn’t matter if it took days, weeks, months, or years. The man would fight.

But his world crumbled after he listened to your new song, and watched the music video.

We can’t be friends.

The term the both of you had agreed to stay at least for the moment. Why did you change your mind? What made it different? And did you really feel like you couldn’t be your complete self around him?

Just thinking about all these questions had Enzo’s head spinning around, with nothing else in his apartment but the laptop in front of him, and your voice coming out of the small speakers. He felt the lump in his throat building with the tears up in his eyes.

He had at least replayed the video three times, going on the fourth. The last scene would hit him like a stone wall that would increase its strength after counting how many times he would come back to it. If it was possible and the naked eye could see, or even the ear could hear so very clearly the sound of his heart breaking, it would sound like a million mirrors smashing all at once. Nothing would be able to stop them apart from you.

The tear ran down his cheek, almost coming close to his lip. He was able to taste the saltiness. His knee trembled nonstop, up and down, with hands clasped in front and resting them on his knee. Debates after debates about whether he should call you or not. His phone was only next to his computer.

He shouldn’t. He shouldn't push your boundaries, but he just wanted to hear your voice and talk about the situation. So he picked up the phone and dialed your number. He let it ring. With his heart hanging on his hand and the feeling of the anxiety of not knowing if you would pick up or not.

And yeah, no answer.

“Please leave your voice message—” voicemail.

Should he leave a voicemail? Or call again? He would call again. If you don’t pick up he’ll leave a voicemail. And so he did, but no answer. Only this time it didn’t even ring. His call was sent straight to voicemail.

“Ehm, hola bonita. Escuché tu nueva canción y quería decir que está muy buena, y el— el vídeo también.” He could feel the swelling growing again, making it hard for him to speak, and swallow. “Solo quería saber si podías hablar por unos minutos pero me imagino que estás ocupada.” He bit his upper lip in an attempt to not let the tears fall, but even as soon as his eyes closed, his lashes let go of the tears. “Regrésame la llamada cuando puedas. ¿Sí?— te quiero… chau.” He pressed the red button.

Sobs were being mixed with your voice singing in the background, and Enzo sitting back down on his couch. The palms of his hands were placed on his eyes as he forced them back trying to stop the tears. That even when he opened his eyes he was seeing stars from the pressure he had added. But there was nothing, nothing could stop them.

He let the minutes pass, and the sniffles continued, with a constant check-up on his phone and still no answer from you. He grabbed his phone from the coffee table again, going into your contact. The photo he had taken of you lying down in bed with his shirt on had remained his contact photo. He didn’t have the guts to change it or even the contact name he had you under. He still had you as ‘mi chiquita’.

He dialed your number for the third time after what had been almost an hour now. He hoped this time you would pick up. But to his luck, it sent him to voicemail, again. This made it no different.

“Nena, por favor… devolmeme la llamada. Se que no queres hablar conmigo pero solo quiero que me expliques si todo lo que decís en esa canción es verdad.” He didn’t even take a moment to breathe as he spoke into the line. “Me estoy volviendo loco. Dejame arreglarlo, sea lo que sea, dame una oportunidad para cambiar las cosas. Te lo ruego.” His fingers gripped the strands of his dark hair. Knuckles were turning white from the lack of blood that dispersed around it.

He stared at his laptop that had other videos of you plastered on the screen and your icon photo on the corner. “Quisiera poder haberme dado cuenta de todo esto cuando estábamos juntos. Tal ves, hubiera sido diferente— las cosas hubieran sido diferentes.” There was a pause in his sentence, but when he was about to start talking again his voicemail cut off. Saying the limit had been reached.

Great.

Enzo felt as if he had let you down. Even now, through the whole relationship. He wanted to fight for your love, but it wasn’t up to him anymore. It was you. You had the final word.

But if your answer was to ever be the opposite of yes, Enzo wouldn't know what he would do with himself.

Either way, something inside him told him he had lost you, that he had to give it up because there was nothing he could do that would get you back.

“El día de nuestra luna de miel, te voy a llevar al mar, y te mostraré, que la forma en la que las olas chocan contra la orilla, es la forma en cómo el amor que siento por vos choca contra todo dentro mí, derrumbándome ante tu disposición.”

Guess that day will never come.

[misguidedasgardian]

Wildcats (Part XXVIII)

XXVIII. While you were gone

MASTERLIST

Summary: As you were being taken…. 

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Zombie apocalypse AU, living dead, zombies, guts, blood, guns, cursing, threats, hostage situation, hostage exchange, dark themes, might miss some important warnings, but you know what this is about

+18, MINORS DNI

Notes: Alright let get this party started! what will happen in this chapter and the ones to follow will be very OCC for many characters, but, this is my party, and I really want to make this work! muahaha

Daryl was in some sort of crossroads, he had two paths ahead of him, one, was influenced by his new friend Aaron, and his experience in Alexandria, said path, led him to help other survivors, people who he could deem worthy, to become as lucky as he had become, and bring them into Alexandria, where they could be safe, and become part of his family. 

The other was influenced by his brother, Rick, and by all the awful things he had been put through, by the worst kind of people this sick world had created. That path led to not looking for more people, not helping anybody, and not bringing them inside the walls. 

But then there was you, you brought in someone who kicked your ass and shot you in the shoulder, and he had turned out to be a brilliant addition to the community. Daryl even started to feel safe with the man, and even more? to trust your security in his hands too.

So when he encountered three people in the woods, two women and this guy, even after they pulled a gun on him, he came back for them and offered them help. He offered them to go back with him to Alexandria, because they were running from people like he had encountered before. Bad people

The debate of who were bad people and who were good was long gone, for Daryl, his family was the good, and anybody that tried to harm them were the bad, as simple as that.

But again, when they pulled the gun on him again, even after he helped them hide from those guys, he was debating again.

He should have let them die, get caught by that group.

They took his bike, and they took his crossbow. He thought twice about fighting them, the thought of you in his mind, not because you’d think bad of him for killing them, but because he didn’t want to risk it, of getting himself killed and never seeing you again.

The very thought terrified him.

Now he knew what being in love was, what being loved felt like, and he was not going to throw it away.

He walked back to the town, a bit defeated, but with a renewed thirst for revenge now.

This is the second time they encountered these guys… he knew they belonged to the same group the guys in the bikes did.

This is something they will need to take care of. Find out more about.

He walked back to where the truck was, he hoped you were doing better than he did. But that took him a while, hours, several.

“Daryl!”, he turned back quickly when he heard Carol calling for him, “DARYL!”

“What’s wrong?”, he asked frowning

“They took her!”, she said quickly

“Wha’?”

“Some guys, they took (y/n)!”, his world stopped spinning in that very moment. 

“WHAT!?”, he said, looking all around, already esperate 

“I saw it as they took her, they were four of them”, she said. Daryl’s heart seemed to have dropped to his very feet, “when I got to her, she had ran out of bullets, they were four of them, couldn’t get a good shot”, she said urgently, “they said they worked for Negan”

As Daryl didn’t know what to do, Carol went into the truck and grabbed the walkie. 

“Team A”, she called into the walkie talkie, “Team B here”

“Yeah, Team A here, what’s going on?”, asked Rick

“They took (y/n)”

“What? repeat that”

“The saviors took (y/n)”, she repeated into the walkie

“We are on our way to yours”, he said, “Team C and D, stay in your tasks”

“Team D here, negative”, said Abraham, “we found a crate, and we are coming to you”

“Team C here”, said Glenn, “us too”

“Rendezvous on B”

“Which way they took off?”, he asked, looking everywhere, to every direction, and road

“It was a while ago”, she said, “From that school at the end of the street”

“DAMMIT!”, he tried to get into the truck, but Carol stopped him.

“You will never catch them in this can!”, she said, “we need to wait for the others”

“Hey!”, called a voice they didn’t recognize, so they both turned quickly, Carol pointing her rifle at the man who had just spoken, “I know who took her”, in front of them was a thin, tall guy, with bear, long hair, and blue eyes, young…

“Who the hell are you!?”, Asked Daryl, grabbing his knife, Jesus put his hands up, with one he showed him your ax

“My name is Paul Rovia, but my friends used to call me Jesus”, he said, passing him your ax, “I met her in that gym over there”, he said, pointing, “there was only one way out, so she decided to surrender to those guys before they found us both, and they took her”

“Surrender?”, asked Daryl with your ax in his hands. Carol didn’t stop pointing the gun

“A group that called themselves the saviors took her”, he said, “have you met them yet?”, he asked

“A couple of times”, he mumbled, sharing looks with Carol

“I have to assume you are part of a community”, said Jesus, “I am too”

“Do you know where they took her?”, Carol asked

“No, not sure”, he said, “but she helped me, so I will try to help her”

“Our people are coming”, Daryl warned. But Jesus wasn’t going anywhere. 

In an hour the four groups gathered in the truck

“Who the hell is that?”, asked Rick, as he pointed at a tied up Jesus sitting in the open back part of the truck

“I’m Paul, but my friends call me Jesus”, he said, untying himself quickly, Daryl and Carol just looked at him impressed

“They took my… (y/n)”, said Daryl, “they freaking took her”

“Alright, which direction did they take off in?”, asked Alex

Carol pointed.

“Making of the truck? colour?”

“I don’t know, it was… white?”

“Make? no?”

“the one with a T in front…”

“A Toyota”, he mumbled

“It had a mounted machine gun in the back”, she said

“So it has to be a Tundra or a Tacoma with that weight…”, he said, “and four people you say?”

“Tell us what you know”, Rick demanded out of Jesus

“They took her, because they want to know where she came from”, he said, “they want to know where her community is and once they know… they will extort you for supplies, guns and food”, he said, “They came to my community, killed a 16 year old boy”, he muttered, “and we give them half of everything every month”

Rick placed his hand in Daryl’s shoulders, who was about to lose it

“We are going to get her back”, he promised 

“I know”, he said, nodding, rubbing his face, “I wasn’t with her, four guys we could have easily taking them down!”, he said, angrily

“You can’t do that, not now”, said Alex, who was taking control of the situation, “the fact is they took her, and we need to get her back, do you know where these assholes have their base?”, he asked Jesus

“I… no… not personally…They will keep her alive”, assured Jesus, “because they will use her as a ticket to get into your community, you wouldn’t refuse her at the door, would you?”

“No, never”, said Rick

“So we need to get ready”, muttered Alex

“We need to get her back!”, said Daryl

“Do you know how in the movies there’s this heroe that they torture for information? or this unreadable, badass villain? They never break? well, that’s just fiction, all of them start singing before the pliers even touch the tip of their finger, and this is a fact, she will talk, I’m saying this because we need to be ready for when she does”, he said firmly, “there is no blame to her, but… they will come when she tells them”

“Daryl is right we need to put every effort into rescuing her”, said Rick

“Never said the opposite, but we need to leave people in Alexandria who knows what they are doing”

“They aren’t ready”, said Michonne

“Where’s Smith?”, asked Alex, looking around

“Send him back home”, said Rick, “to warn the others”

“Fine”, he said. “You said that not you personally, you might know some people who do know?”, Jesus nodded.

“Look, I don’t know you guys, but you look like decent people, she could have… well… try to kill me, but she didn’t, she could have let those guys find us both, but she protected me, so I’m going to… go on a leap… I’m from a community, called the Hilltop…”

They regrouped in Alexandria, from where they were preparing to go to the Hilltop, as Jesus spoke to Rick and Deanna about their chances to trade and other things, and to speak to people that might know where to find you. Daryl was spiraling quickly, at the lack of urgency (to his parameters) of the rest of people around him. He wanted to grab his bike and took to the road, looking for you, building by building, but he did not have his bike. 

If he had his bike he could have catched up to them, if you never split he could have killed the assholes, if he…

“Hey”, said Alex, when they were preparing the RV to go to the Hilltop, grabbing onto Daryl, he tried to jank his arm back but he didn’t let go, “she brought me back to life”, he said, Daryl looked back at him, “I was ready to cash in, I was losing my mind, all alone, in that city of the dead, and then you came along, and even if I beat her up, and shot her in the shoulder, she decided and convince you all to bring me here, she gave me a purpose, a life worth living”, he said, “We will get her back, even if that’s the last thing I do, I will bring her back to you”, he promised, and Daryl looking straight into his eyes, noded

“Yeah we will”, he said. You were right about him, and he was right to remember that, the example you had set, he couldn’t lose hope to still find decent people. 

They spend two days negotiating with the Hilltop, they spend the next two… trying to hatch a plan. Daryl spent all that time pacing, listening, being a thousand miles an hour. 

In the Hilltop, they discovered that a big group of saviors operated in a satellite station. Instead of attacking it, in fear that they might hurt you, they waited, as a group of saviors left the premises. 

It had been four days and Daryl was about to start climbing walls, especially when they discovered that the Satellite station wasn’t even the Savior’s main community. It was just an outpost. So the quantity of men that they had was still a mystery to them. It took them a day to capture the saviors, the trickiest part was catching them alive, and another day to squeeze the information out of them, especially the one that you were not in there, in the outpost, you were somewhere else.

That’s how they found out about the Sanctuary, where this Negan person lived. 

Daryl, Alex, Rick, Rosita, Sasha, Abraham and Michonne, were the ones to pursue your tracks, the others had gone back to Alexandria to prepare it for whatever was to come, either saviors, hostiles or whatever. 

Daryl was right next to Rick when he spoke in the walkie, when they were finally going to know for sure if you were alright, he knew you were still alive, there was no doubt in his mind, but he needed to hear your voice. The walkie that the saviors had, and he heard your voice, you were alive… and when he heard you, he felt like he could breathe for the first time since he found out they took you. 

Alex had taken control of the situation, leading each step of the process that required the abstraction of the saviors, and the way to make them break. He didn’t like to do it, he thought it was behind him, but he’ll do it for you, he had to, so he did it. 

During all this time Daryl knew he had the full support of Rick and the rest of the group. And that made him extremely happy, together him and his family, could do it all 

And now, they were getting ready to take you back, in Alexandria, with Jesus, and Smith, and the rest of them. 

“I want Sasha in that roof”, Alex said, pointing in a map they had drawn, of the layout of the place, “I want the toughest of us in the playground dealing with the exchange, so…”, he looked around the table, “Rosita”, he called, “I want you with our RPG right here”, he said, pointing to the other side, “Tara will assist you, twenty steps”, he said pointing at her, she nodded, “we need to make sure we have that distance, that’s the range of the explosion, if anything goes wrong, we secure (y/n), and then we blown them up”, he said, she nodded, determined, “Sasha I trust you”, he said, “I want the scope on the leader, or whoever is holding her… nobody else”, he said, “If I raise my left hand in a fist, you blow ‘em up”, he said pointing at Rosita, “if my hand is open, you shot whichever of the two”, he said to Sasha, “now, down in the playground, Daryl”, he called, “I want you to be the one to receive her, only if you manage to keep your cool, hostage exchanges are delicate, a wrong look, or a gun a degree too high and things can get very sour very quickly, think you can handle it?”, he asked, Daryl nodded.

“Yeah”

“Our objective is to get her back, no casualties”, he said firmly.

“What about after?”, asked Rick

“We will sit tight, wait for them to leave before we move… It can get tricky, they know we know where they are, but they might not know where we are, the fact that they hadn't come makes me think she really managed to keep the location of Alexandria a secret”, he said, ”which its formidable, on her part”

“Yeah but if we get her back… let’s blow them up”, said Rick, Alex looked at him

“I understand why you think that”, he said calmly, “but because of what we know now, we know there are much more of them, if we take, what? twenty out? they will retaliate, this is how you start a freaking war, and Alexandria is not ready, we let them go”, he said, “hear what she has to say”, Rick didn’t like it, but nodded, “this is a big operation, we need to act cautiously, we deal with them later, when we know more, right now, she is the priority, but that doesn’t mean we can’t make a show of strength”

He looked around the table, everyone nodded, this Smith guy was smirking and nodding, understandably. Alex didn’t like him, not at all, but… he had spent the same amount of time here as he has, so it wasn’t like he had something over him.

“Now… I want Abraham, Daryl, Rick, Michonne and me handling the hostages…”, they organized the whole thing, making Daryl a bit more relaxed.

The priority was you, taking you back home, he believed Alexander, he believed Rick, and he trusted them.

They spent the rest of the afternoon polishing every detail, everything that could go wrong, and they recruited more people from Alexandria, those who could hold guns at least…

Denise, Rosita and Carol sneaked a sleeping pill into Daryl’s water, who had not slept in days, barely a couple of hours each night, and they needed him sharp in the morning, so at eight he fell like a log, the women knew he was going to hate them in the morning, but that is something they were willing to deal with. 

He was the first to wake up, at six he was already preparing himself, not aware of what happened to him the night before. 

He spend every second of his days thinking about you, he knew you were alive, he always knew, you were tough, tougher than you looked, tougher than he wanted to admit, a badass, so he always knew, he was going to hold you again, it's the mere second that led him to it that almost drove him mad. 

He knew the kind of sickos that went about in this fucked up world, he knew, how bad you could have it, surrounded by men, by armed men, he flinched just thinking about it… 

But now, he was getting you back, today, and if you were hurt, he was going to kill every single one of them.

Everyone else was on edge too, so they were ready at seven sharp, and they departed to the zone where they took you, to set everything up. Alexander was creepily calm, making sure everyone was in position, Daryl, already losing his patience, draw out of the van one of the saviors, as did the rest

They were particularly nasty, this men, so he could only guess what kind of people the others were

“Oh I bet they did a number on her”, laughed one

“Shut up”

“You’re trading five of us, for whatever is left of her”

“Shut the hell up, if you don’t wanna lose all your teeth”, he had been held at gunpoint, he had been robbed of his crossbow and motorcycle, they had took his girl, and he had been forced to hear shit for two days, he was done, weirdly rested, but so done.

The meeting point was that esplanade, between a highschool and its gym, and there is where they stood while they waited for the saviors to come. 

They heard trucks soon after 8:45, you all guessed they wanted to get this over with as well as they did.

There were five vehicles on their part, each with four men. As Alexander predicted, but they were only six, on the ground, next to their hostages. and being supported by Morgan behind them, who had insisted, and then they had three more on the roof, Tara, Rosita and Sasha.

Simon got out of the truck first, with a sickening smile on his face

“Well hello there”, he said, “a pleasure to make your acquaintance”, he said

“Where is she?”, asked Rick

“Wow! I’m sorry, I like to know who we are dealing with first”, he said, “I’d like to know who had the balls to attack my compound and take my men hostage”

“I’m Rick Grimes”, he said finally.

“The name is Simon”, he said, with a big, unsettling smile.

“You took our person first”, said Rick. Alexander was watching the entire entire interaction, he also watched each of the men, posted in the back of their trucks, and around. 

“And where is it that you hang your hats, Rick?”, asked Simon

“That is of no concern to you, I want to see her”, he then took out his Colt Python and pointed at his hostage’s head. 

“Wow! no need for that”, at the words of his leader, all of his men went out of their trucks, big automatics in their hands, in a violent demeanor.

“Yeah, there isn’t”, said Rick, at his words, dozens of people appeared on the sides of the buildings nearby, holding guns as big as the saviors’, all of them pointing at the hostile group. Rosita appeared with the RPG in her hands, as did Sasha pointing with her rifle 

“...But that doesn’t mean we can’t make a show of strength”

Simon did not like this at all.

He opened the back of the truck he had arrived in, and grabbed you. Your head was covered with a sack of some sorts, and Baer got out of the truck behind you, so he was going to be the one to handle you during this negotiation. 

Simon took out the sack and Daryl sucked in a breath when he saw you.

You were barefoot, with dirty cotton pants and a single plain white t-shirt. Your arms were bruised, that is what they could see, your face too, only in the cheek, a bandage around your left forearm, everything about you screamed that you had been through hell… 

Rick was so mortified that he didn’t even move. 

You were going through things of your own. you never liked being barefoot, nor walking barefoot and now when your feet were on the concrete floor you winced. 

“Let’s go princess”, mocked Baer, “look what’s happening because of you, uh?”, he kept going. Grabbed you roughly by your arm, and dragged you forwards.

“I expected nothing less from a stuck up bitch”, of course Arat had to be there right behind you

You took a long breath when you saw all the people, your people, there, they had come for you for your rescue. Daryl’s figure stood out amongst all others, and he was there.

“Tell me something, which one of them is your boyfriend? uh?”, he teased, looking at the group ahead of you. 

“Shut up”, you growled, he squeeze your neck more, teased a gun into your head, draw his mouth too near your ear

“See? You do need a strong man to protect you”, he said, “I count at least five over there, look at them, taking five hostages for your exchange”

“I’m sorry that I do have a group that gives a shit about me”, you said simply, “and Baer, if you don’t cut it… I’m going to have to kill you”, he laughed in your ear, as did Arat, making you flinch

“You keep telling yourself you can sweetheart”, he mumbled

When they saw you, you could see it, their horrified, surprised faces. Rick tried to keep it cool, but you could tell, even from a few meters away, he was trying to keep it together, trying to contain his now famous anger. 

“Let’s do this”, invited Rick

Simon was not pleased, not at all, but he signaled Baer to bring you along, and the three of you walked until you met right in the middle. like 10 meters between you and your group.

Abraham and Daryl were flanking Rick, the two toughest guys, to assert dominance you’d gather, and then there was Alex and Michonne. 

Daryl brought one, Abraham another, as did Alexander, Michonne with her katana, and Rick had the leader.

It took everything in your power not to release yourself from Baer and run towards Daryl, and you could tell he wanted the same thing, the very same thing, your eyes never left his not for even a second. 

“A big mess you made, Rick, just to get her back”, said Simon

“Shut up”, demanded Daryl, pushing the man he was guarding forwards, “let’s trade already”, Simon looked at him, smiling, and then he looked at you

“Him? Really?”, he asked, “damn”, he muttered.

“Simon?”, you asked, he looked back at you, “I really hope that someday soon, you find yourself, barefoot, in a desert of legos”, you offered with a smile, he frowned. 

Simon nodded towards Baer, and he pulled away his gun and pushed you forwards, you didn’t think about it any longer, you took shaky steps, slow steps, as you passed the five guys on your way, once you were into “Safe” territory, crossing about 5 meters, you jumped into Daryl’s awaiting arms.

“Are ya’ alright?”, he asked, caressing your cheek with his thumb, “did they hurt ya?”

“I’m alright”, you whispered nodding. He placed his hand on the back of your head and drew you in for a hug. You then split, and it was Michonne’s turn to hug you tightly, and then Abraham, who took out his army jacket, and gave it to you, leaving himself in just a tank top. He caressed your face, your bruised cheek and mumbled something about a cocksucking bastard, and then he placed Daryl and you behind him and Alex, who only looked at you and nodded, they protected you with their bodies.

Rick watched your interaction with eagle eyes.

“I notice my men don’t have their guns”, said Simon, “they were carrying heavy artillery”

“I notice that she doesn’t have her gun, her silencer, her pants, her jacket, her boots”, said Rick, stepping up until he was face to face to Simon, his hand on his colt Python, “we did the exchange, grab your men and get the hell out”, Simon laughed

“Want to end the party so quickly?”, he asked

“There’s gonna be plenty of time later”, Rick threatened

“Oh is that so?”, asked Simon. They shared defiant looks.

While you looked at your man, you noticed he had your ax in his belt

“Oh, my ax”, you said, grabbing it

“Jesus gave it to us”, he whispered. As you had your ax in your hand, you looked in front of you, until you found Arat, standing next to Baer, you showed her your ax and she wiped that smile off of her face.

You did promised you were gonna put it through her skull, so…

It was a small exchange, but Daryl grabbed you softly by the hip, to keep you right next to him. 

Simon and Rick measured each other, then Simon looked at every single one of the people present, analyzing the situation at hand.

Yeah he had taken twenty of his men with him, the rest of the men in the outpost, and still wasn’t enough. He had miscalculated, they had a freaking RPG

“I looked forwards to see you in your nice community”, he said then, Baer smirked by his side, as they took a few steps back

“I looked forward to seeing you in your crappy satellite outpost”, said Rick then.

“I’ll see you soon”, threatened Baer pointing at you, and you gave him your finger.

“Who's that?”, asked Daryl

“Let’s just say I found my long lost member of my Atlanta group”, you whispered. 

When they got in their trucks and left, Rick finally turned to you, he cradled your head with his hand and kissed you on the forehead

“Are you alright?”, he asked, looking at you all over, “did they hurt you?”

“I’m… fine”, you said, it hurt, everything hurt, but…you were fine, you wanted to go home

“We can’t stay here, group one! go!”, he said, many of the Alexandrians disappeared. You recognized many of… civilians, neither of them knew how to shoot, but you guessed, they could just hold a gun and pretend they did know, that was brilliant.

They did all of this, for you… 

“Thank you”, you said, to RIck, and to Daryl, to everybody. And from one second to the next, all this feeling washed over you, like a bucket of iced water. Now that you had been rescued, your legs began to fail you, you were freezing because of your naked feet.

“Hey”, called Daryl softly, grabbing onto you

“Alex get her out of here”, demanded Rick, and Daryl grabbed you, and he and Michonne and Alex walked back to the HUMVEE. You with Daryl on the back, and you left.

You didn’t even realize when you started crying, tears flooding your eyes as you hold onto Daryl for dear life. 

“You r’alright”, he whispered, hugging into you, rubbing soothing circles in your back, “ain’t nobody touching you or hurtin’ ya’ anymore, ya hear?”

But you couldn’t stop, it was like a well had been opened, specially when you still feel the burn in your arm, that had been quickly bandaged before they delivered you.

“Everythin’ will be alright”, he kept saying it, hugging you tightly against him. The relief you felt by being in his arms again also contributed largely to your tears, you had been suppressing all of the fear you had felt these days 

He placed your legs over his, as with one hand rubbed your freezing feet.

Alex stopped the car on his tracks, the three occupants of the vehicle looked at him, impressed. He turned to look at you

“We can only imagine what you have been through”, he said, “The next following days you will face a side of you that you never thought it existed”, he said gently, “you will need to recuperate control of yourself, of your body…”, he said, “you will pass through stages, of grief, of rage, of anger, of sadness, of regrets”, he said, “but if you tell me yes, right now, I will turn this around and I will chase them down, and kill them all”, he said, firmly, but at the same time, softly, you calmed yourself, looking at him.

“No”, you said, “not yet”, he nodded, and started the vehicle again.

“Cry everything you need, cry it all out”, he said. And you just sniffed, against Daryl’s chest. 

Everybody made it back to Alexandria.

But despite that, with how everything went down… left a sense of worry, not only inside of you, but with Rick as well… it had been too… easy… everything went well, and you wondered why you felt so…

Uneasy.

PCN: I made turns and turns around this chapter, didn’t know how to make it more “emotional”, really, didn’t know how to put Daryl’s emotions into here, I hope I didn’t disappoint. 

Daryl doesn’t know what to call you haha, he had said twice “my…”, and then your name, he refuses to call you his girlfriend, the old school southern redneck in him wants to call you only “his”, hahaha

taglist❤️: @crazyunsexycool @capricxnt

[twyftwyt]

Warnings: slight smut, anger

Noah Sebastian x fem!reader

Authors note: this is a little something I found in my drafts that I’m debating on continuing (as a one shot tho)

“I thought we talked this through. Stop acting up. Not in public. Not right now.”

And he had a point. He really did. We both hated making a scene in public and we rarely had spats. We knew better than to throw fits and fists at each other, but my vision was so blurry from all the hurt and anger that my brain went blank the moment we stepped out of the restaurant.

We had a small argument before we left the hotel, to grab dinner with everyone else, but we agreed on postponing the conversation for later. For when we’re alone, between the comfort of the four walls of our hotel room. But things didn’t go as planned and escalated pretty quickly when something in me snapped the moment he made a sarcastic comment towards me, at dinner. I bit back, of course, and he didn’t like it. We were both on edge the whole evening. I could see him fidgeting a lot, tapping his knee, looking over at me and I purposefully ignored him. Which steered the pot even more.

“You know better than to act like this. Please, I don’t have the patience to do this tonight.”

That was the last text message that I got from him. At one point I got up and went to the toilet only to come back and sit on the other end of the table. As far away from him as possible. A change he noticed in an instant. I was too far gone to start acting right so I just grabbed my phone from where it was laying on the table and started typing away as fast as I could. My annoyance visible to those around me now.

“So you get a free pass in the asshole department and I don’t?!”

The moment I hit sent and my message displayed as “Seen” my eyes shot up at him. And he was already glaring at me. His eyes were low and darkened. I knew I hit a nerve. And I knew that I knew better than to do that, but I was seeing red at this point. I saw him move in his seat till he got his wallet out and put a 50 dollar bill on the table.

“That should cover our dinner. We’re going back to the hotel, because whatever was in that salad is not doing my stomach any good right now.”

What a decent liar. He got up from the table and motioned at me with his index finger. A lump got stuck in my throat, cause I knew what was coming. I hated fighting with him. Especially in cases where the fight had gotten so stupid that we’ve both already lost sense of reality and the thing we were fighting over.

I excused myself from the table and followed in his footsteps quickly. The air outside was cold and dry and I felt his arm wrap around me. His hot breath tickled my hair when I felt his lips press against my temple.

“You wanna finish that conversation in person?”

He felt hot to the touch and his body was starting to shake. Not from the coldness, I knew I had pressed a sensitive button.

“I don’t wanna fight, Noah.”

My tone was more desperate than I intended it to be.

“Then why do you keep saying silly shit?”

“Because you push me, Noah. I don’t even think you realize how you push my buttons at times and it takes all the strength I have in me to not go back to my old ways and tell you to go fuck yourself. It’s stupid, the shit we’ve been fighting over, these last few days. Have you noticed that?! We’re not fighting over little scenarios and situations, it’s deeper than that. But I’m not ready to talk about it and apparently so aren’t you. And that’s okay. We’ll get to it at some point, but we.can’t.keep.doing.this.”

I blurted out the whole thing in one breath and got dizzy shortly after shutting my mouth. We had picked up the pace and he was gripping my arms so tight that I felt like I could fly off the ground if I lift my feet.

“I think we trigger unhealed parts of our brains, thus we go back to old ways and I hate it. Sometimes I don’t even know what to do with you.”

I didn’t know what to do with him either.

“I don’t want fight over silly little things, cause we’re just gonna get tired of each other at one point. But you’re right. We do trigger each other in a way that I can’t understand neither explain and I don’t know what to do with us.”

I knew we weren’t gonna solve this overnight. So we spent the rest of the walk to the hotel in silence. We got in the elevator and as he was fumbling for his key, I leaned on the wall behind me. His tall frame was hovering over me and I could see his shoulders were tense. We were both worked up from tonight. The moment our elevator announced our floor and the doors opened, he grabbed my hand and lead me to our room. He was always firm but gentle. He was quick in his reactions and he kept his composure at all times. I admired him a lot for that. But he was too calm sometimes. Too composed. Too silent. Too much in his head. I was an anxious over thinker and he was avoidant. And we were trying so hard to give each other the needed space and reassurance, but there were times like this, where our worlds crashed. When all we wanted was to just collide peacefully.

He threw his hoodie on the couch and got out of his shoes as soon as we closed and locked the door behind us. The room was dimly lit by only the nightstand lamps and the orange light illuminated off of his body.

“I’m getting in the shower. Do you need something?”

“From the shower?”

He rolled his eyes at me and I smiled at him.

“I wanna take your tank top off.”

And I didn’t mean it in a sexual way. I just wanted to feel him close, to feel the heat emanating from his body.

“Go on then.”

He lifted his arms in front of me.

“You have to sit on the bed, babe. I can’t reach that high.”

I rolled my eyes at him this time. He stepped backwards a few times until his legs hit the wooden board of the bed and he sank down on the soft cushions. I straddled him and untuck his tank top from his sweats, lifting it slowly from his torso. I felt his hands slide down my waist and my breath stuck in my throat. I removed his tank top and put it on the bed beside us, looking down at him, running my fingers through his hair.

“You’re giving me the eyes.”

His own breaths were coming out short.

“What eyes?”

“The “fuck me” eyes. You’re giving me the “fuck me” eyes.”

“I am not.” A lie.

“Don’t play.”

“Or what?”

I saw him clench his jaw and his hands slid down to my thighs, gripping them hard, pulling me down on him.

“You’ve given me plenty of reasons to not be gentle with you tonight. Don’t give me more, Y/N.”

At this point I was grinding my crotch against his, feeling his erection grow behind the three pieces of fabric separating us. So much for staying mad or talking things through.

“I can handle your worst, Noah.”

We were both still coming down from that fight earlier and I knew what to expect. But then again, I think always know with Noah. I’ve studied and learned his ways so well, that I can tell what he’s thinking about the minute I look at him. It’s crazy to think that we’re here now, looking back at what we started as. Just two shy people brought against our will to a friends party.

I felt his slick fingers unzipping my skirt and lifting it up higher around my waist. The button on my white shirt flew, because apparently he didn’t have the patience to unbutton them one by one and I awed in surprise.

“I need you to be a good girl and get on your knees for me.”

His voice was huskier than ever, his eyes darkened. That was the Noah that took over when he couldn’t handle his emotions at the moment and left them for later. And I gave in, cause I was the same in that sense. So I obeyed and slipped down to my knees in front of him, looking at up with deer eyes. What next, my love? What else are we gonna bury with sex?

[recreationalfanfics]

Cursed Love of Kamen Rider Ouja (Yandere Soulmate! Takeshi Asakura x Soulmate! Gn! Reader)

Tw. Abduction, Asakura becomes a slight yandere, self-harming (he hits his head against a wall)

Note: This is a soulmate au where once you meet your soulmate for the first time, you start to feel each other's pain. Also, watch Kamen Rider Ryuki, it is amazing and I am so deeply in love with Takashi Hagino's acting.

It had been a few days after you had been held hostage in a restaurant by infamous escapee, Asakura Takeshi. It had also been a few days before you realized that said escaped convict was your soulmate. On the day of Asakura holding hostages in the restaurant, a brave man that you found out was named Shinji Kido had punched and tackled him in order to release the little girl Asakura was using as leverage. Coincidentally, your nose began to hurt as if you had gotten punched and you also fell down to the ground. As Shinji continued to try and fend off the crazed villain, you were horrified that you could feel every punch that he left on Asakura. After the police started throwing in canisters of smoke grenades, you were quickly ushered out of the area but unaware of what happened to the three men who were fighting, Asakura included. 

       Since then, you’ve been at war with yourself. The police claim that Asakura Takeshi was dead but you knew differently. Your head swells painfully as if you had been banging it against a cement wall, and you grab your hair in tight fists as you try to figure out what to do with the fact that your soulmate is an incredibly dangerous and violent criminal. You’ve debated going to the police but what if they suspected you as an accomplice or an accessory to the crime? After all, it’s rather hard to believe that your soulmate just happened to be the guy who kept you hostage, and you were one of the last people to have seen him. But if you kept the secret to yourself, Asakura could end up hurting more and more people, and all it would be on you.

 “GAH!” You hissed in agony, your head once more aching with pain. 

You wondered what kind of dangerous situation Asakura was in now that was causing you to have this hellish migraine. 

In the downtown part of the city, in an underpass no one dared to travel through at night, Asakura repeatedly hit his head against the concrete wall in annoyance and frustration. Not once growing up was he ever interested in finding his soulmate, the idea of someone who was destined for him the moment he was born pissed him off more than anything because nothing was decided for him. He was Asakura Takeshi, he did things the way he wanted to. Of course, he’d find his soulmate on the day he joined the Rider fight, now this person was nothing more than a new weakness that the other Riders could use against him, and he hated having an exposed weakness.

“Damn it! DAMN IT! DAMN IT!” He roared in between head bashes, blood starting to stain the cement. Lunging his head forward for one final slam against the cement, Asakura rested his forehead on the wall as he began to pant heavily. His shoulders raised up and down as he heaved every breath he took. Hurting and being hurt always helped him regain clarity. Licking his lips, his mind began to race about what he should do from here.

He briefly thought of killing you but that thought was dismissed as quickly as it arrived. If your soulmate dies, so do you. He knew that from the way his parents had both closed their eyes and held each other as they drew their last breath together when they realized they couldn’t escape the fire he had set.

He could leave you be, you seemed timid and scared enough to keep yourself out of trouble, and the chances of the other Riders figuring out you're his soulmate are slim. But who knows? Asakura noticed that you were feeling the same pain he was when Shinji attacked him at the restaurant, who was to say that damn do-gooder or that sleazy lawyer didn’t notice as well?

Taking you would be such a hassle, no doubt you would do everything to get away from him, and having to care for you would irritate the hell out of him. However, it seemed like the only good option for him so he could fight as ruthlessly and violently as he wanted without anyone using his soulmate to get to him. Looking around for the nearest reflective surface, Asakura spotted an abandoned and dirtied mirror leaning on the other side of the underpass and walked to it. 

“Venosnaker.” He commanded. Instantly, a giant purple cobra monster appeared in the mirror, hissing dangerously as it narrowed its eyes at its contractor

“Get the others. Find my soulmate.” He ordered.

Bowing it’s head down in obdience, the purple snake monster sharply turned from the mirror to begin it’s journey as Asakura smirked after it. Only for it to fall when he realizes that he needs to get things set up for your arrival. Letting out an annoyed groan, Asakura brushed his hand through his hair and scowled.

“Damn soulmate.” He growled. 

Whatever extremely painful thing Asakura was doing to himself, he had finally stopped thankfully. Laying on your stomach, you stuffed your face into your pillow and lay there. Unsure whether you wanted to cry or scream, you decided to do both. 

Why did this have to happen to you? Why him of all people!?

You never paid soulmates much mind or attention, mostly just assuming that you’d find yours when the time was right, but you at least thought yours would be a relatively well-adjusted person who wasn’t public enemy number 1. The radio next to your bed began to play news reports on the death of Asakura Takeshi, causing you to groan and reach over to shut it off. You hated that his name was trending on every radio station now, it made your stomach feel sick every time he was mentioned, and it only made you fall even deeper into despair. What had you done to the universe that it paired you with the most awful man in the world?

Turning over from your pillow and laying on your back, you brought your hand up to your forehead to massage your head. Only to feel your skin raw and slightly burn at your touch. Furrowing your brows, you sat up from your bed and ran to your bathroom to inspect yourself in the mirror. At some point during your killer headache, it appeared as though Asakura had been hitting his head on something to the point that it created a rather noticeable large scrape on your head that was bleeding a little. Groaning in annoyance, you began to run the water to rinse off the area so you could treat it. Splashing the cold water on your face, you tried to pretend like the water was washing away your thoughts of him. Maybe in the morning, you’d try to find those other two men who were facing off against Asakura that day in the restaurant. 

Drying your face off with a hand towel, you reached to open the medicine cabinet behind your mirror when something grabbed your wrist and pulled you into the mirror. You let out a shrill scream before grunting in pain as you were thrown onto a cold and rough floor.

 Looking up in alarm, you were surrounded by strange-looking anthropomorphic creatures. They would've been rather ridiculous if they weren’t so terrifying, especially their large and dangerous-looking weapons. As one raised its hand above its head, preparing to strike you down with its giant blade, you rolled onto your stomach and used your hands to push you off the ground. Narrowly dodging the giant weapon, you began to run as if your life depended on it. Because it did.

“HELP! SOMEONE!? ANYONE! HELP ME, PLEASE!” You screamed out loud, but no one was around. Your eyes scanned your surroundings wildly, looking for any safe space or place where you could hide from the monsters chasing you. Ducking into an alleyway, you appeared to find yourself on a city street. However, the roads were completely empty and there were no other people rushing to the places they need to go like they usually do. The only things around were you and the buildings.

Oh, and the giant animal monsters that are following you.

No longer dwelling on your questions, you began to run again as you heard the sounds of the monsters following you come closer. Your chest was beginning to hurt and your throat was starting to become dry but you still pushed for your legs to keep going. Deciding to duck into a building to hide rather than staying on the open street where you were vulnerable and easy to see. Just as you were about to turn, you were cut off by a giant purple serpent that was half as large as the building itself. It slithered its way from out of nowhere and hissed, its head angled directly at you and flicking it’s giant tongue. Stopping in your tracks, you closed your eyes and yelled as you expected large fangs to pierce themselves inside of you and rip you apart. Yet, that moment never came. The snake monster hissed but never struck, it wasn’t until you heard the sounds of another human being grunting and yelling did you finally open your eyes to survey the scene.

A man in purple armor was fighting the monsters with a large sword-like weapon that looked like a snake’s rattle. The large snake’s body was coiled around yours, as if keeping you from being hurt from the battle, while the matching purple warrior laughed sadistically as it cut through the monsters pursuing you. Your mind became even more confused as you watched him fight.

Was he…enjoying himself? Your head felt dizzy with all of the unbelievable things you’ve been seeing. 

When he had finally beaten the monsters, he turned his head towards you and the snake.

“Dinner time!” He yelled with sadistic glee.

Once he stood out of the way, the giant serpent monster lunged towards the pile of the dead monsters and began to devour them much like a real snake would. You couldn’t move, all you could do was simply observe and watch in utter horror. Asakura had been watching your reactions carefully from his spot and taking notice of your face. He didn’t really get the best look at it last time and while he was never easily swayed by a pretty face, you were quite attractive from where he stood. Your (e/c) eyes wide with horror and confusion, you looked slightly disheveled due to the madness you just went through, and he could see the matching scrape on your forehead that he shared. Absenmindedly touching his helmet where his own self-inflicted sore was, he soon clenched that hand into a fist as he began to walk towards you.

“You.” He called out harshly, causing you to flinch in surprise.

You cautiously stood up, you felt like a cornered mouse as you nervously gulped.

“P-Please don’t hurt me.” You pleaded, unmoving as the armored man continued to advance upon you.

You looked pathetic and helpless right now. It made that familiar feeling of irritation grow inside of Asakura as he roughly grabbed your wrist and pulled you closer to him.

“You’re starting to piss me off,” He snarled, pulling you with him. You were hesitant to follow him but his grip was strong as he continued to tug you along to follow him, “First you show up at my first fight with Kitaoka, then you end up getting yourself in trouble. As irritaiting as it will be, I’ll need to watch you so you can’t get in the way of my fighting!

You frown at his words, unsure why you had pissed him off when this was the first time you had ever met him. However, the way he spoke and the lust for fighting in his words soon pieced together and completed the puzzle of who this man was.

“Asakura!?” You screeched, trying to pull your arm away from him.

His grip only tightened but he seemed amused by your sudden defiance as he continued to tug you along after him, chuckling a little.

“Don’t act so brave after I just had to save you.” He taunted, walking towards a reflective window. 

Tossing you with ease into the window, you braced yourself for broken glass to pierce your skin. Only to, once again, find yourself falling onto an uncomfortably hard and cold floor.

When you looked up, you watched as Asakura’s purple armor began to disappear as he walked through the window of that empty world into the regular one,, his dark brown eyes looked on you and a sadistic smirk tugged at the corner of his lips at the sight of your disgusted and angry expression. 

“What is going on!? Why are you here!? Why am I here!?” You interrogated instantly, wanting some questions for whatever the heck you just saw. The man in the snake skin jacket to rolled his eyes in annoyance before he roughly pulled you up from the floor and onto your feet. Grabbing the collar of your shirt to pull you down so he could look down at you, he returned your bitter stare.

“Don’t start irritaiting me already.” Asakura spoke in a warning tone before letting you go. Stumbling back, you glare at him but don’t say anything. Kicking a rock out of his way as he began to pace around, you took a moment to look around at your surroundings. You appeared to be in some shabby place in the forest that Asakura was using as a hideout from what you could tell. A small fire was the only source of warm and light as Asakura continued to silently pace, his eyes still studying you.

“What’s your name?” He finally asks.

You don’t really want to tell him but you also don’t want to push him considering you were out here alone with him and the fact you saw he had a giant snake monster thing.

“(L/n). (Y/n) (L/n).” You answer back, bitterly.

“(Y/n).” He repeated, you hated the way he said your first name. While he may have been your soulmate, it was way too casual of an act for your liking, especially considering the mocking tone in his voice as he said it. Now taking steps back to you, you slowly tried to back away to put as much distance between you and the criminal as you could. “The reason you’re here, (Y/n),” He began with a sneer, “is because you’re a weakness I can’t get rid of. So I’m going to keep my eye on you.” 

You blink in disbelief at his words, not making much sense of them at first, “What…what do you mean by that?”

“It means, I’m going to keep you with me whether you like it or not.” He answered bitterly, “I don’t want to have to hold back just because my soulmate is too weak to do anything by themselves.”

He truly had a way with words. A feeling of indignance overcame you as you used both your hands to shove him away from you. “I’m not staying anywhere near you! You can’t make me!” You shout in defiance. You hate the way amusment became evident in Asakura’s face.

“You don’t have a choice and if you want to be difficult-”

A loud and deafening hiss began to rang, making you look side to side before you finally located the source of the sound to the mirror you and Asakura came through not too long ago. In the mirror, you saw the giant purple serpent that had protected you. It’s yellow eyes now staring into your soul.

“I can make things difficult.” Asakura finished, a very punchable and smug smile on his face.

Anxiety began to build up in your gut as Asakura stared down at you, eager to see what your reaction would be now. You feel tears building up at the corner of your eyes but you refuse to let them fall in front of this maniac. In shame and embarrassment, you hung your head so that you weren’t looking into Asakura’s dark eyes anymore and clenched your hands into fists.

“Tch, how could someone so irrritaiting be my soulmate?” He scoffed, causing the anger in your heart to grow.

Silently, you promise yourself that you will find some way to escape Asakura. Soulmate or not, you were not going to spend the rest of your life with a monster.

[floweryxoxo]

Men we call Daddy | j.wy

sugar daddy! wooyoung x daddy issues! black! fem! reader

warnings: wooyoung is a soft dom, oral, unprotected sex, (bad idea chat), wooyoung is also a hopeless romantic.

note: this is for @frenchkisstheabyss bc she couldn’t find any wooyoung fics (she’s my favorite author and that might be the entire reason i wore this.) erm yeah. all of the links will be from pinterest!

some boys we call men. but jung wooyoung? we call daddy. but before we get into that, let’s start from the beginning. your dad and you just finished fighting again. you wanted to spite him, by getting a boyfriend. what you didn’t intend to do is get on a sugar daddy website. in your fit of rage, you ended  up clicking on a guy that was 28, named jung wooyoung. you guys started talking and ended up skyping. wooyoung did expect a pretty girl, just not one in tears.  he let you ramble on about your dad and how much you just wanted to get away from him. he ended up asking if he could take you to the local carnival on friday, and you said sure. you woke up on friday late, and checked you phoebe and then freaked out when you saw you had the carnival plans today. you stared at the wall for at least 40 minutes debating on canceling your plans or just telling wooyoung you’d be late. you ended up telling him you’d be late and he replied with “fine by me darling” with the smirking emoji. you start getting ready and do this outfit with this makeup.  once you were ready to go, you checked your hair in the mirror and texted wooyoung you were ready for him to pick you up.

when wooyoung got there, you weren’t expecting him to pull up in a pink lamborghini, which he proceeded to say was for you. “wooyoung i can’t take this, i mean it’s yours-“ he cut you off with a shush. “don’t worry cupcake, i have 23 other ones.” he says, smirking. that’s when it clicks. you realize you clicked on a sugar daddy website, not a regular one. you panic, because you genuinely don’t know what to do. “i’m guessing you just realized i’m a sugar daddy.” he says, turning his head to see you looking like you’re about to flair your arms up in the air. he puts a hand on your thigh to calm you down. “don’t worry, i’m only 29. i’ll be thirty in november.” he says, rubbing your thigh. you relax as you take a closer look at him and realize how intimidading he looks. and then you see how he’s very likely to be the same height as your dad. and it clicks. you realize he could be your #1 defender from the tyrant you are forced to call father. you relax into his touch and he smirks. “see? you love me already.” he says with a wink. you roll your eyes and told him to keep driving.

when you arrive at the carnival, you’re stunned. it looks amazing. there’s lots of people so the streets are bustling. you look around and you realize this will be one hell of a night. bay the time you two were on your way home, you had four giant plushies in the back, and four mini ones in your lap. wooyoung pulled up to your house and left the car on. he figured he get you in and then call his limo driver to come get him. but when he rang the doorbell, a very drunk man appeared and yelled “who the fuck are you!” very aggressively. “well sir i took your daughter on a-” he tried to reply but got cut off. “ my daughter? she’s a bitch. don’t bring her back.” he slammed the door in wooyoung’s face. he then realized that’s who you were talking about when you said you had a tyrant father. he decided to take you to his penthouse instead, so he got back in the car and drove you over to his luxury penthouse. when you woke up, you were in an unfamiliar room. all your plushies were next to you. you then smelled the aroma of bacon. you got out of bed and noticed you had a shirt on, that smelled delicious. when you got downstairs wooyoung was in the kitchen, humming to himself as he made breakfast. “morning sleeping beauty.” he says, in a teasing tone. “is this your shirt?” you ask him. “because it smells really good.” you say, while sitting down at the table. “it is darling. i’m glad you appreciate the way i smell.” he says smirking. he finishes up breakfast and puts your plate in front of you. “breakfast is served.” he says, while bowing. the doorbell rings and he takes her apron off while walking to get it. suddenly seven other men enter. “i forgot to introduce you to my friends darling. these are hongjoong, seonghwa, yunho, yeosang, san, mingi and jongho.” each man waves at you and you wave back. you continue to eat breakfast as each of the men make their plates and sit around the table. you all converse in some different things.

that was 6 months ago. now 6 months into your relationship, you’ve completely moved out of the apartment you lived in with your father, and live a life of luxury with wooyoung. right now he's eating you out like a starved man. "ah-woo!" you moan as his tongue hits the right spots. "cum for me babygirl." he says, the vibration of his voice pushing you to your edge and you cum, all over his face. "good girl." he says, coming up with juices dribbling down his chin. he then stands up and takes his pants and boxers off. you marvel at how big it is, and before you can even worry about whether it'll fit, he calms you down with "don't worry babygirl. it'll fit, it has before." he says, spreading your legs. when he enters, you let out a moan you didn't even know you were holding. you feel like every time you guys have sex, he gets bigger. he lets you adjust to his size and then starts to move. he's moving at an immaculate pace. it feels so good and you release at the same time. you lay there entagled in each others arms for awhile until you both eventually fall asleep. a few days later you're watching a movie with wooyoung, cuddled in his arms. you realize while there is men who we can call boyfriends and husbands, we can simply call jung wooyoung daddy.

[writerscall]

bruises.

spiderwoman!hazel au. she's known about hazel's little secret for a while now and she's done giving her excuses a free pass.

author's note/s: 1.2k words. trigger warning for talk of injuries, switched to the use of 'you' here for reader cause third person wasn't working for me

It's routine for you to replenish the contents of the first-aid kit in your bedside table's drawer now. You even keep one in your locker and have had many silent debates with yourself on keeping a small one in your bag, just in case. For the past four months, Hazel Callahan has been climbing up to your window to ask for your help with treating a bruise or two. Because of that new women's self-defense club - the "fight club" that started up at school, she said.

Which was incidentally formed about a week after the first news headline came out about some masked vigilante swinging around the city. Fighting crime and saving civilians and beating up bad guys and all that.

Now coincidental rather than incidental for you though, since the day you saw Hazel rushing into her house then saw the infamous Spiderwoman spring out of her bedroom window mere seconds later. You were stunned, but it wasn't hard for you to connect the dots. Your already had your suspicions about some of the bruises Hazel supposedly got from her club; you doubt any of the girls there could actually land a hit that could damage her that badly.

But it's not an easy thing to bring up or just ask about, so you've kept quiet about it. Until that night, however.

You're half-asleep when you hears the incessant knocking at her window. You try not to groan as you throw back the covers and get up, knowing exactly who it is, but whatever irritation you have is gone once you see Hazel's face in the moonlight.

"Jesus Christ," you mutter as you pull her inside, hurriedly moving across the room to switch the light on. "Are you okay?"

"Pretty sure I've been better." Hazel smiles, actually smiles with that joke. But you can only sigh at her in response. Hazel literally looked like she got her face smashed into a wall or to the ground repeatedly - considering the people and things you've seen her fight against, that might've been what happened. There was a bruise along her jawline that you were sure you wouldn't be able to help cover up with make-up the next day and a cut on her forehead where a previous one just healed.

"Let me guess. It's from fight club again?" You manage not to make air quotations at 'fight club' but can't help the disbelieving tone when you say it. There's no way she expects you to believe that.

But as usual, she does. "I was just caught off guard cause we were practicing 'til late at night today and... and I was tired, cause you know, we had a whole day of school earlier and," Hazel stumbles out. The tone you used clearly got to her. "And when I fell it was to the ground and not the mat cause Sylvie got in a really, really good punch. You should've seen it actually."

You say nothing as you let her sit on the side of your bed and take the first-aid kit out, still quiet as you start wiping her face gently. She watches you intently, mouth opening and closing a few times before finally saying, "Don't be so worried. It's not the first time you've seen me like this and I'm always fine after."

"Yeah, sure." Until it happens again, you want to add. You get up to throw the wipes and tissues away and you can feel her eyes on you with every step. Hazel's never been good at dealing with friends being angry with her; you knew how sensitive she could be, which was why you were always quick to reassure her whenever it seemed like she was taking something to heart. It's why you've been patient for so long with her keeping the whole Spiderwoman thing a secret, but you didn't know how much longer you could take seeing her all beaten up and hear one lie after the other on how she supposedly got them.

"Please don't be mad—"

"When are you going to stop lying to me?"

Something shifts in the air at your question. You don't have to look at her to know how her eyes have widened and how her mouth was probably hanging open in shock, or how her mind was definitely racing at what you could possibly be talking about. Even though deep down, she knew.

You turn back around, sighing. "I know, Hazel. About your secret web-slinging life."

Hazel sits up straighter at your admission then stands up abruptly to pace the room, a panicked look on her face. "When did you— how did you even—"

"Does it matter? Why didn't you tell me?" You walk towards her and grab her by the arms, forcing her to stop. "You know you can trust me. I would never, ever tell anyone."

"That's not the point!" She shakes out of your grasp. "That's not the point," she repeats in a softer voice, continuing with, "You can't know. Nobody can because anybody who knows gets put in danger, and they'll come after you eventually to get to me, and I can't let that happen. Not to you, not to my mom, not to any of the girls in fight club. Especially not to you."

Your chest tightens at that. Quietly, you ask, "Why?"

There's a resigned, expectant look on her face when she says, "You know why."

And you do. The two of you have always been great friends but there's always been something else there, something a little more that neither of you were brave enough to acknowledge in fear of ruining what you had. You'd be lying if you said you never noticed the drop in her energy and expression every time you so much as made a passing comment that one of your classmates was cute, and you'd also be lying if you said you never thought anything about the weird feeling you got in your stomach when you saw how much closer she and Stella-Rebecca have gotten since joining the fight club together.

"I need you safe," Hazel says after a moment.

"You'll keep me safe. You'll protect me." You walk towards her again, reaching out to hold her roughed-up face in your hands. Almost instinctively, Hazel leans her cheek into your left palm. "I know you will because you would've done it whether I knew your secret or not. Because you're a good person and a fantastic superhero, Hazel."

Hazel just looks at you for a moment, clearly having some internal argument with herself, before she surges forward to kiss you. You press your lips firmly against hers, kissing her back soundly in case she'd panic and pull away too soon. But Hazel only pulls you in closer, a relieved sigh escaping her as she tilts her head to the side for a different angle.

If a kiss between the two of you was ever going to happen, then it was bound to be in some big reveal moment like this.

Reluctantly, you push her away after a moment because you couldn't let her or yourself get carried away; that first-aid couldn't be put away just yet, plus, your parents might've been dead asleep but they were still home. Both of you would have to put a raincheck on... whatever could've come next.

"Can I stay over tonight?" Hazel asks breathlessly, still eyeing your lips. You smile at her fondly and let out a chuckle, pushing her bangs away from her face.

"Yeah. I still need to fix up that cute face of yours, you know."

[lady-divine-writes]

Kurtbastian one-shot "Data Dump" (Rated T)

Summary:

Sebastian was raised to throw money at his problems. But Kurt wants more effort than that from his boyfriend. Sebastian finds a way to solve this problem in an unlikely place - TikTok.

Notes:

I started writing this back in 2021, which is when the TikTok trend mentioned was happening. Then I disappeared for four years XD But I love this and have always wanted to finish it. (3,464 words)

Read on AO3.

Kurt's phone buzzes in his pocket, but he ignores it.

Vehemently ignores it.

He doesn't need to check it.

He knows who it is.

He knows what the messages, piling up like the snow outside on the sidewalk, say.

Sebastian has been blowing up his phone for the past half hour, which is obnoxious as hell since they are sitting roughly thirty feet apart with only a door between them.

Kurt's phone buzzes again. And again. And again. He considers silencing it. Admittedly, turning it off would be better. But he's working from home today, so he needs to be available in case Isabelle wants to get a hold of him. Sebastian knows this. It's a loophole that he is exploiting.

Because Sebastian loves loopholes.

Of course, it's 3:17, and Isabelle leaves the office around four. Maybe Kurt could get away with it. As long as no fashion lines drop unexpectedly, or there aren't any "What color is this dress?" controversies brewing.

The bedroom door flies open, and Sebastian's head pops out.

“Kurt! Dammit! Look at your phone!”

“We're in the same apartment! If you want to talk, come out here and talk!”

"No! I need you to look at your phone!"

"Why?"

"Because I'm trying to apologize!"

"Then come out here and apologize!"

"But...but..." Sebastian sputters, "That'll negate the apology I sent you! And I put effort into it! Remember effort? The thing you say I don't give enough of because I solve everything with my wallet?"

Kurt's burgeoning tirade stops short, leaving him mouth agape. He does say that. Quite a lot, actually, where their relationship is concerned. But that's because, for the past few years, it's been true. Sebastian forgets an anniversary? A blue box from Tiffany's shows up on Kurt's desk. They get into a fight, and Sebastian says something heinous? A new McQueen scarf gets added to Kurt's collection. Sebastian discovers at the last minute that he has a dinner meeting scheduled for the one night Kurt's friends are coming to town for drinks? A new pair of Jimmy Choos magically appears on the passenger seat of Kurt's SUV. And whereas Kurt isn't opposed to material displays of affection, the one thing all these lack is Sebastian himself.

"Fair," Kurt admits. "But why do I need to look at my phone?"

"It's sort of a multi-media event."

"Multi-media event?" Kurt rolls his eyes. God, Sebastian can be so precious sometimes. And not in a good way. "Fine. I'll look," he promises. But he doesn't. Not right away.

And Sebastian glares at him.

"Now, Kurt. Now. Look at your phone right now."

Kurt huffs, followed by another dramatic "Fine!" He grabs his phone, throttling it like it owes him money. He unlocks it as slowly as humanly possible. Sebastian, watching from the doorway, begins to tap his toe against the floor. Then he drums his finger on the door jamb. And when Kurt still hasn't reached his messaging app, he knocks his forehead against the wall.

"Kuuurrrttt!"

"I'm getting there, I'm getting there!"

"Urgh!" Sebastian gives up his surveilling and retreats back into the bedroom.

Kurt opens his messaging app and groans. "127 missed messages? Are you kidding me right now?"

"No, I'm not!" Sebastian bellows, and Kurt can't help snickering. Sebastian might be annoying, but never let it be said that the man is unamusing. Kurt clears his throat and scrolls down to missing message number one. He opens it and reads it out loud.

-You say I don't open up to you.

-That in the seven years we've been together, you know me less now than you did in high school.

-I don't know how that's possible, but I'm not going to debate that with you.

-Instead, I'm going to admit that you might be right.

-But I have my reasons for not opening up.

-It's not because I don't trust you.

-It's because I have more baggage than your Louis Vuitton weekender set, and I didn't want to burden you with it.

Kurt pauses, rereading that last message a few more times. A twinge of guilt tightens his shoulders and ratchets straight up through his neck. He knows that Sebastian has baggage.

Kurt has met his family.

They have so many expectations that Kurt is surprised Sebastian's head didn't explode sometime before high school. Sebastian graduated from Dalton with honors and a perfect 5.0 GPA. He was accepted to all the Ivy Leagues as well as a few prestigious international schools. He worked at an internship right out of high school, and it wasn't for anyone his family had direct connections to. But as much as the Smythes treat Sebastian like an investment they are making grand returns off of, nothing he does is ever good enough.

Surprisingly, they don't have any problem with their commodity being gay. Sebastian's family loves Kurt. Either that, or they are all tremendous actors. But in genuine extended family fashion, they keep asking when the two of them are going to buckle down, get married, and find an equally well-connected surrogate to give them some grandkids.

After witnessing all that, Kurt has to admit it would be difficult to be a branch growing on the Smythe family tree and not want to yeet yourself into a wood chipper.

-I wanted a clean slate. Put my privileged past behind me.

-Ugh. Poor little rich kid, I know.

-I made myself nauseous just then.

-My childhood was fucked up.

-I'm not the best conversationalist.

-When things get too serious, I default to crude jokes and petty insults.

-I know I can't do that anymore.

-I can't hide things from you.

-And I have been. Our entire relationship.

-I've tried to brush it off by saying it's because I had a dysfunctional childhood.

-You counter back with, "Everyone did."

-And you're right.

-But you don't understand.

-When you grow up with the kind of wealth my family has, concepts like dysfunctional take on a whole different meaning.

-You say I never break it down for you, try to help you understand.

-But it's not that easy.

-And I'm so used to using humor as a cover, any explanation I can give you comes out as sarcasm and vitriol.

-You think I'm making fun of you. Which I'm not trying to do.

-Not anymore.

-So, to prove that I want to move forward with you, I'm doing a complete 180 and putting it all out there, tearing off the BandAid in the most irrelevant way possible.

-I jumped on a TikTok trend.

“You have a TikTok account,” Kurt mumbles.

The phone buzzes in his hand. A new message pops up.

-Yes, I have a TikTok account.

Kurt seethes. The bastard won���t come out and talk to him, man to man, but he’ll listen to Kurt through their security cameras and then text him? How asinine is that!?

Kurt is tempted to turn off his phone, work be damned, and set it aside, but he takes a deep breath and counts to ten. He made a promise to hear Sebastian out.

He's not going to break it because his boyfriend is acting like a goober.

He gets another message. This time, it's a link.

-Please take a moment to go to the account I made and watch as I expose myself.

-And before you ask, yes, I kept my clothes on.

-I reserve nude confessions for my OnlyFans.

-Love, Sebastian

"You have an OnlyFans?" Kurt says louder, knowing the walls have ears.

-Would you subscribe if I did?

"No."

-Prude.

"Man whore." Kurt brings up the apps on his phone and searches for TikTok.

Nope.

No TikTok.

He vaguely remembers uninstalling it the minute he got his phone.

Even as an uber-popular social media platform among designer types, he figured he would never use it.

Welp.

Now he has to download it and make an account.

After entering his info, selecting the categories he's interested in, and answering no to linking his contacts, he clicks the link Sebastian sent him and goes to his account. Sebastian's account is public, but the post in question is unavailable. Kurt friends him, and Sebastian friends him right back.

Kurt shakes his head at how adolescent this all is. But he's intrigued.

And he doesn't hate it.

Sebastian gets a 10 out of 10 for originality.

He clicks on the post, one of two available, but the person who appears on the screen isn't Sebastian.

The post is a stitch with another creator. The face of a young woman fills the screen. She's wearing no-makeup makeup and the most trying-not-to-look-expensive-but-still-expensive Versace tee Kurt has ever seen. A tag in the caption says #richtok. She smiles at her camera and says, "What's the most insane actual rich person behavior you've ever experienced? I'll go first..."

The woman disappears, and Sebastian's face fills the screen, way too close to the camera. When he takes a step back to better fill the frame, Kurt sees that he is also dressed in a super expensive tee.

Kurt snorts.

"I'm cheating on this one because they're all about me," Sebastian says. "Strap in because it's a long one." He clears his throat and inhales deep as if he's about to say a lot in a single breath. Then he fires away. "My parents hosted my first sleepover when I was in the third grade. Every friend that came brought their own butler or valet and, in some cases, a chef who also spent the night. This one kid, Trevor, had his chef making gluten-free cupcakes at three in the morning. My house is so big that another one of my friends got lost on the way to the downstairs bathroom, and we didn't find him for a week. No joke."

"Oh...my God..." Kurt mutters. When he had asked Sebastian for full disclosure about his upbringing, wanting more insight into why his boyfriend is the way he is, Kurt thought he'd hear more about his parents' unreasonable expectations, some first kiss awkwardness, self-doubt during his scrawny middle school phase (Kurt has seen pictures), or maybe some bullying about his hair. He definitely did not expect this. "That's not...that can't be real..."

"And why, you may ask?" video Sebastian continues. "Because we have catacombs on the property. That's right. Down in the wine cellar, past the casques, we have honest-to-God catacombs. It's not exactly legal, so I can't tell you where they are. Sorry, not sorry."

Kurt's eyes pop.

Kurt could tell them. He's been there.

In Sebastian's childhood home.

Kurt has even been to the wine cellar with Sebastian to get a bottle of merlot.

They had sex down there.

Oh God...

"Here's a picture of them, though. That boy in the middle? That's me. The skeleton to my right? Uncle Avery. My parents paid for my friend's therapy for over a decade, out of pocket and in cash, so no one would make the connection. Because imagine the headline on that one: Senator's son traumatized by time spent lost in attorney's illegal catacombs." Sebastian barks a laugh, but it dies quickly. "Moving on."

"There's...there's more?" Kurt asks, astonished. He expects Sebastian to answer from the bedroom, but he guesses Sebastian is letting the video do all the explaining for the time being.

"My dad is an attorney. He used to be a state attorney until he discovered that the real money was in defending other filthy rich people. Rich people who were worse morally than my parents. And because of it, for the longest time, my dad, my mom, and I were in danger for our lives. When I got my learner's permit, he bought me a Lambo." Sebastian leans toward the screen and cackles. "I learned how to drive in a Lambo. Talk about pretentious as fuck! Then, my dad bought two identical Lambos and hired drivers to drive them. They'd follow me around anytime I went out so that no one ever knew which car I was in. So I only had a one in three chance of ending up dead whenever I went for a drive. Well, higher when you consider I was a lousy driver."

"What the...?" Kurt shoots a look at the bedroom door, contemplating storming in and confronting Sebastian about why? Why did his parents do these things? And how did his father get away with all of this? But that's the point Sebastian is trying to make.

His dad is rich—unfathomably rich. Sebastian was raised among the unfathomably rich, and they threw money at any problem that arose.

That's where Sebastian learned it from.

"My dad took us to Milan for the weekend because he wanted authentic Italian food and felt our chef wasn't cutting it. But that's not all. He dragged the poor man to Italy so he could watch us eat 'authentic Italian' to prove the point that the man was slacking. Plot twist, Our chef WAS Italian. Tenth generation. No lie. His grandfather founded two of the most famous cooking schools in Europe. Our chef's whole family has worked for my family since forever, except for one cousin who works for the mob."

"Oh my God!" Kurt shrieks. It's unintentional, but he can't help it! He feels like he's watching an episode of The True Housewives of Westerville, except every character is Sebastian's dad. How can one person be so horrific? Kurt has suffered humiliating things in his life, but he can't put himself in that chef's shoes at all.

Sebastian's father did all of that to make a point? And how much did that cost? Kurt has had his share of revenge fantasies, but he can't picture spending a small fortune solely to make someone feel like shit.

But incredibly, Sebastian isn't done, and Kurt starts to wonder: Where does it end?

How awful can one man be?

"One of the reasons my family is so rich? My father’s side hustle is gentrifying neighborhoods. Loads of them. In nearly every city in the country."

Ah. That awful, apparently.

"In wealthy circles, I am considered a catch. Not because of who I am, mind you. No one is clamoring to date me because of my sparkling personality. But because of my family's net worth. Seven celebrities have offered to buy my sperm. I was thirteen at the time, and my dad almost said yes. By the way, that's not as uncommon as you would think. If you're a kid from a super wealthy family, your parents have probably been approached once or twice for your eggs or sperm."

If Kurt's eyes were bugging out before, that confession almost jettisons them from his skull.

"No one ever showed me true affection, so all I know how to do is throw money at things. And that's going to be important in a moment. Follow for part two."

The screen freezes, and so does Kurt. He sits on the sofa, frozen in place, staring into his boyfriend's unmoving face, stunned into silence.

"I...what...what did I just watch?"

Kurt's phone vibrates, and a message notification pops up. He clicks on it.

-It's not over yet. Have you watched part 2?

Kurt frowns. Why is Sebastian asking? "You know I haven't. You've been watching me this whole time!"

-I know. It just seemed rude to assume.

"You're going to have to give me a moment to digest what I just saw."

-You're right. You're absolutely right.

-You have two minutes.

-Digest.

"Catacombs, Sebastian? Catacombs!?"

-Yeah. Weird. Go to part 2.

"I've slept in that house, Seb! We had sex in that wine cellar!"

-Yup. We have trauma in common. We'll bond over that later. Go to part 2.

"And selling your sperm? I mean, I knew your parents were messed up, but I didn't realize they were underage paternity fraud messed up!"

-I tried to tell you. Go to part 2. Now. Right now.

"But...you just told the whole world about your dad's shady deals! If he ever sees this, he's going to disown you! And if what you said is true, hire someone to bury you under the house!"

-Yeah, well, I wouldn't be the first. Ba-dum-bum.

"Sebastian!"

-Relax, babe. That's why this video is set to 'friends only'. And you're my only friend, so...go to part 2.

"You mean - you did all this, signed up for a TikTok account, and recorded this video - for an audience of one?"

Kurt hears a frustrated sigh, and the bedroom door opens.

"Yes! Effort, remember? I fucking love you! You're special to me! Now go to part 2! Now!"

"Alright, alright!" Kurt fires back. "Fine! I fucking love you, too!"

"Fantastic!" The bedroom door slams shut, and Kurt returns to Sebastian's account. He finds the second part of the video and presses play. It starts with the same young woman saying her spiel and then splits off to Sebastian.

"Part 2! Now, this is the ring I bought for my boyfriend. I've been holding on to it for a while now." Sebastian holds a blue box up to the camera.

Tiffany's.

Of course.

He opens it, turning the platinum band set with sapphires and diamonds to face the camera. Kurt's heart sinks. It's the most gorgeous thing he's ever laid his eyes on.

But there's his apology, right?

"I haven't given it to him yet because a lot of my apologies come in blue boxes, and I didn't want the love of my life to think this was another attempt to buy his forgiveness." Sebastian looks at the ring in the box and sighs. No-he deflates. Because he was thinking the same thing Kurt was. He is becoming self-aware.

And that gives Kurt hope.

"What I'm hoping it will do is show him that I do listen. I'm hoping it will prove the lengths I am willing to go to make sure he wears something on his finger that he will love. Because when someone gives you an engagement ring..."

Kurt's mouth drops open. "En...engagement...ring?"

"...it should be the kind of thing you never want to take off. This one has everything he loves: platinum band and equally matched sapphires and diamonds. Plus, it was designed by Jay Z for Tiffany's. It's one of a kind." Sebastian inches close to the camera and stage whispers, "It costs three and a half million dollars."

Kurt stares at the ring, wide-eyed and speechless.

"Now, don't get me wrong," Sebastian says. "I didn't get it for him to force his hand. Money is a part of my life. It always has been and always will be. And I love to spend money on my boyfriend. But if he wants me to return this ring and get something less showy, I'm all for that. It's meant for him. I'll get him a Ring Pop if that's what he wants. I just want him to be my husband. And I'm not proposing to force his hand either. I swear, I'm not. If he's not ready for this step, I'm okay to wait. I'm okay with us being boyfriends for the rest of our lives. And I promise, from this day forward, no more secrets, Kurt. No more blowing you off when things get uncomfortable. And no more throwing money at problems instead of talking them out. I am sorry. I am so sorry I didn't give you the one thing you have been asking for for so long. And that's me. All of me. My truth, my feelings, my effort. From the depths of my soul and the bottom of my heart, I apologize. So...will you? Will you marry me?"

That last part Kurt hears behind his ear accompanied by a warm breath that makes him shiver. Sebastian reaches over Kurt's shoulder and presents him with the open box, ring exposed. Sebastian's other arm wraps around Kurt's shoulders from behind and holds him close. "So...did I do good? With the whole talking about my issues thing? Opening up?"

"Yes?" Kurt half-asks, dumbstruck, as Sebastian slides into the seat beside him on the couch and pulls Kurt into his lap. This is...so much. So much to unpack and so much to absorb. It is safe to say that Kurt didn't know any of that. He couldn't have guessed it if he'd tried. But in the end, the most important thing he got from that was Sebastian- his effort, a sincere apology, a promise to change.

And a want to go forward.

Together.

"But I am going to recommend therapy."

"Do you think we could make it couples therapy? I hear that's an important step for two tortured drama queens planning on getting married."

Kurt looks at Sebastian, eyes shimmering as his obnoxious boyfriend - no, fiance - slips the incredible ring on his finger. "I do."

[beatingtheouijaboardallegations]

do think we have some important perspective to say about the ‘all nonspeaking / nonverbal people can read minds & literally send secret message to each other across time & space. and access so much spiritual better connect to g-d in ways speaking people can’t ever’ bullshit. thta becoming so so so popular even among people we respect in nonspeaking space cause that fucking podcast being promoted everyone un escapable if in S2C etc center space. but so scared of responses because is one of my most needed communities , already thin ice don’t want to completely make people hate me who could be only bridge to connect people like me.

as dissociative person / collective , who different alters have gone through diffrent stages of thinking can read minds. and who thought could all read minds and talk to people not there before realize there is people in my brain. thinking of that one girl in head. formed because trauma from growing up thought of not human treated as worse than alien worse than object as nonthinking nonfeeling. believes will return to “ her world” where we are powerful and understood and don’t have body that needs this much care can exist as a self not need others so sheerly. believes is telepathic with that world a d also that can hear thoughts of all other nonspeakers and talk back n forth.

we dont have good enough communication for me to. ‘interview’ her for an article or do back and forth discussion debate. but she has been dormant and then sudden took over while listening to That Fucking podcast ( for ‘research’ purpose) because of course she would. and now has so much more ‘evidence’ for the trauma beliefs (is whole web of belief have barely scratch surface here) act so smug about it so annoying, know is a part of me but hate what she does to us

and think that even though many nonspeakers who have these beliefs (and their parents and professionals around them also do) not plural and not have DID OSDD ect. 1. so few of us given language understand experience of selfves experience of dissociation & multipleness & substitute beliefs & fear and trauma. so few of us get any type therapy at all good or bad , or just therapy that follows parent religion , or just behavior and ‘ skill build’ therapy and maybe psych meds and few coping strategies taught but no pne to actually explore depths of how we feel, cause not seen as able feel only able to act. i mean only reason selfves found out language of DID exists is because being on tumblr , have access to internet and informatijom not pre approve by authority & the motor plans n cognitive ease of looking through information freely was something that cultivated and early supported after learning to type. and also immersed in queer trans communities through partner and local places , where have met some other systems who willing compare notes on experience. which most nonspeaking nonverbal people dont get.

and 2. any traumatized people especially people face specifc kind trauma of grow up full life nonspeaking presume incompetent. more likely build up all kinds ideas necessary to surviving and can see exactly how when you spend life just as fly on the wall observinf the world not affecting it, no one is teaching you how to communicate in the most full most easy way possible for body mind , being abused in the big and small ways in special ed and by staff and doctors and talked about in most awful ways while you are right there. “i am telepathic” can be belief that so so so needed to survive that hell. so can “i can talk to everyone else going through this and we can fight together with just our minds from miles away.” and do relate so deeply to nonspeakers who talk about these things.

the problem lies when peope who are not us. parents or doctors or spiritual healing bio med podcaster people. take those trauma beliefs and make them so very literal, as part of their ( usually fundamental Christian or heavy based on that) beliefs that they want nonspeakers to also hold. will turn us into these prophetic creatures when we are very young instead if just letting us be people. which is terrible for thos of us who actually hold these beliefs and experience. we not getting chance to explore what means for us, in all the depths in all the ways we need to. just taken as “holy shit my kid can read my mind” broadcast everywhere like party trick treated like something other than human. which is same place trauma lies in first place, is two sides of same coin. it is all so anger making and not what any of us deserve.

[jestersprivilegee]

Hey, roomie! ch. 7

thomas j. x reader

A breakdown leads to a breakthrough, and a new guy enters the equation.

Wc: 2.5k

Warnings: like sickness/grief/angst idk how to describe it. Lots of crying. Me being extremely lazy to proofread/edit!!

Notes: I listened to exit music (for a film) while writing this

“Oh my god, what’s wrong?” You rush to his side, worrying at every step. Your arm wraps around him for a light, comforting hug, to which he stiffens under.

“It’s personal. And you’re drunk.” He hiccups.

“If this is about the kiss the other night, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to—“

“It’s not about the kiss. Just…go to bed Y/n. Okay?” He urges. You blink, staring at him, letting your hand fall from his shoulder. You slowly get up, nod, and move toward the exit, giving him one final glance over your shoulder. His lips held a deep frown and you wanted so badly to wipe the tears falling from his cheeks.

“We’ll talk about this when I’m sober,” you mutter, exiting the room.

If the cocky, arrogant man you knew was breaking down, that meant something was seriously wrong. It didn’t occur to you that not talking to him would fuck him up so badly. There’s no way you could’ve predicted it would have this effect on him; if you did you wouldn’t have done it.

If you knew what would happen, what would you have done instead?

A conversation you had with Alex years ago flashed in your head. You were upset because you had gotten into a fight with Peggy, and having no one else to confide in, you turned to Alex for support. He was the most poetic of the group, the most emotional and gave the best advice. It was only natural that you would seek moral support from him.

“You cannot undo the moves but you can make the next step better,” he’d told you. The quote replayed in your mind over and over like a broken record, feelings of unbearable grief swallowing you whole.

The night moved slowly. You could hardly sleep because you knew the man only separated by a wall was in pain, and he wouldn’t let you help him because of some alcohol in your system. Eventually, you knocked out, and woke up somewhere around 9 the next morning. Not as early as normal, but you were running on 5 hours of sleep and a hangover.

Your head pounded, body ached, and nausea surged from your stomach. After wallowing in discomfort for a moment longer, you pulled yourself out of bed and hustled to the bathroom. A quick shower had you feeling refreshed, but the banging in your head hadn’t ceased.

Then you remembered Thomas. The memory of holding him while he cried flooded your brain, and your heart immediately felt heavy from it. He never communicated what was actually wrong, just said it was personal with no specification.

Throwing on an oversized magenta sweater that most definitely wasn’t yours, you rushed out to speak with him. A soft four knocks on his door sounded from your knuckles. No response. You sighed, cracking the door open. He might still be sleeping, especially if he was crying all night.

But he wasn’t there.

You swore under your breath, searching the rest of the apartment for him. There wasn’t a trace of him except for the half-drunken pot of coffee that was lukewarm. You debated on texting him to see where he’s at, but decided against it since you figured he was probably at work.

—

“So do you wanna fill me in on what happened?” Peggy gave you a pointed look, sipping the coffee she ordered.

“Yes, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier,” you gave her an apologetic look before diving into the story. You gave her every detail, from start to finish, noting how in the moment you felt this innate urge to lean up and kiss him. After you finished, you deliberately told her you weren’t thinking, and you hadn’t meant to.

“And you’ve been avoiding him? This whole time?” She plays with the rim of her mug, her hypnotizing green eyes narrowed at you.

“Well…I mean, yeah, I don’t really know how to react to this situation. I’ve never accidentally kissed a man who I hate. Crazy as it sounds, but it is my first time.”

She rolls her eyes at your joke. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

“I’d hope so. But you need to make it right. Y/n, I hate to be the one to point this out to you, but he clearly wanted it too if he kissed back.” She says, reaching across and putting her hand over yours.

“But what if…what if he was just desperate? Like, maybe he didn’t realize what he was doing, it was just a natural thing that happens when someone kisses you?” Her thumb rubbed back and forth across your hand.

“Nobody being randomly kissed will kiss back. They’ll push the other person off and try to fight them—at least that’s what I’d do.” She offers a small grin, pulling her hand off of yours.

“Ugh. This is too much,” you bury your head in your hands, “I tried to talk to him this morning but he was gone. And I tried last night, too, but he was crying and wouldn’t tell me what was wrong.” You admit.

She blinks. You didn’t tell her that part. “Oh. I didn’t know about that.”

“Yeah. I’m gonna try and talk to him later tonight, if he’s there. He usually never is, not for these past few weeks.” You sigh.

She furrows her eyebrows, a deep frown morphing on her face. “Are you sure there’s not something deeper going on? I don’t know that much about Jefferson, but I know he wouldn’t cry because his roommate is ignoring him.”

“Like I said, he won’t tell me anything.” Your jaw clenched.

“Maybe he’s—“

“Excuse me, I’m awfully sorry to interrupt your conversation,” a foreign voice spoke, cutting Peggy off. Literally foreign, he had a British accent. You snap your head up to the source, locking eyes with bright blue ones. You quirk an eyebrow as he offers a shy smile.

“I just couldn’t help but notice your beauty, and I wanted to know if I could have your number?” He asks.

A surprised expression hits both you and Peggy’s face. The man was quite handsome, having brown hair, somewhat pale skin, and piercing baby blues. He was well built, probably a good couple inches taller than you or around the same height. The navy blue jacket he wore complemented his eyes nicely.

“Uhh, sure,” you respond. Even if you didn’t pursue him, it couldn’t hurt to give him your number. He seemed polite. He lets out a breath of relief and pulls out his phone, to which you take and quickly type your number in, along with your name, then send a text to yourself.

“Thanks. I’m Samuel, by the way,” he sticks out his hand for you to shake, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Ah—I’m Y/n. Nice to meet you, Samuel,” you smile, glancing at Peggy. She had a disapproving look in her gaze, but forced herself to smile anyway.

“Right then, I’ll let you ladies get back to your conversation.” With that, he leaves.

“Seriously?” Peggy growls. You blink in surprise.

“What? All he wanted was my number. Not like he’s asking me to marry him or anything.” You put your hands up in defense.

“I—really want to say something that I shouldn’t,” she sighs, standing up. “I’m gonna go. You should talk things out with Jefferson.” She says it more like a demand rather than an ask, and you scoff as you watch her exit the coffee shop. The same advice Lafayette had given you. Do they not realize that you’re trying? You tried last night and you tried this morning, and failed both times.

Was she really upset because you gave a guy your number? It’s not every day that cute men walk up to you and give you their number. It would be kind of rude if you told him to fuck off, you’re having a difficult situation with your male roommate who happens to be extremely attractive that you also happened to kiss.

And it’s not like you’re doing anything wrong by giving another guy your number. You’re still single, you haven’t been on a date with Thomas or anything; all you did was interlock lips with him for a couple seconds. Besides, Thomas has been with plenty of women.

Also, you and Thomas aren’t even like that! Neither of you have confessed any sort of feelings, so nothing would likely come of your relationship. It was just a slip up. Maybe if you keep telling yourself that, it will feel true.

—

The rest of the day was spent working, or exchanging texts between Samuel. He was proving himself to be a sweet guy, funnier than you thought he would be, and incredibly talented. You mostly chatted about random things, just getting to know each other better. He revealed that he went to the same highschool as Alexander and them, which was a crazy coincidence. You’d think going through Angelica’s old yearbook that you’d have seen his face.

Your boss had assigned a couple extra projects for you, but you weren’t all that mad because it provided a good distraction. When the sun dipped below the horizon and the moonlight shone through the window, he still wasn’t home. In the late hours of the night, after work when he normally arrives home, he was out. You assumed that he went straight to the bar after work, even with it being a Monday night.

After cooking dinner and eating by yourself, you stayed put in the kitchen. You were determined to speak to him tonight and set the record straight, and if you had to wait all night, you would.

The door softly creaked open and clicked behind him. The jingling of keys hit the counter, and an exhausted breath left him. He froze when his eyes met yours.

“Were you waiting for me?”

“No,” you lie. “But can we talk?”

He hesitates, but then reluctantly joins you across the table. He waits for you to speak.

“First, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…Y’know,” you wave your hands around, forming your mouth into a thin, awkward line.

“What, kissed me? Yeah, you shouldn’t have. You were right, Y/n, it was a mistake. Let’s move on.” He stands abruptly, and your heart pangs with guilt and sorrow.

Ouch. His acknowledgment hurt, but at least you were on the same page now. It wasn’t supposed to happen; he said so. Peggy was wrong about her interpretation of the story. Although you wondered what he must’ve told Lafayette because when you spoke to him, he emphasized that you communicate with Thomas.

“I’m not done,” you manage to squeak out. He raises an eyebrow then sits again, impatiently waiting for you to finish.

“If you were crying because of me last night, I’m double sorry. I never meant to make you feel upset.” You search his eyes for any hint of emotion.

“That’s not why I was crying.”

You stare at him. If that wasn’t it, then what was? “Oh. Why were you, then?”

“That’s not your business,” he says, almost a little coldly.

“Please, Thomas? Just talk to me. I’m trying to make things right here.” You plead. He stares at you, contemplating his next move. Then, he sighs deeper, hanging his head.

“You know a couple of weeks ago when my friends were over? And I kinda freaked out on you?” He starts. His voice is shaky, like he’s been holding this in for a while. You nod, staying silent to let him have his dialogue.

“Well, I got a text from my mom, sayin’ she was just diagnosed with leukemia. Said it was serious, and she’d be gettin’ treatment soon.” He inhales sharply.

“I’m so sorry…I didn’t know,” you move next to him, wrapping your arms around him in a comforting manner.

“No one does. I haven’t told anyone ‘cept you,” he admits. “The other night when you came home and asked me to teach you to dance? I was crying. She got put in the hospital and doctors say she’s been getting worse and worse—“ he stops.

“…Is she…?” You reluctantly ask, voice hardly above a whisper. He shakes his head, and you let out a breath of relief. His eyes started to water, and he blinked back tears. You let him collect himself for as long as needed.

“I’m sorry, I know this is a lot to put on you,” he breathes out shakily. You gently rub your thumb in delicate circles on his shoulder.

“No, don’t be sorry. This is a lot for you to be keeping in. I’m here for you, Thomas,” you reassure. He leans into your embrace, relaxing in your warmth.

“The doctors say she’s getting worse,” he continues, “but with treatment, she has a good chance at survival. I’m just so worried for her. I don’t know what I’d do if…” he trails off.

“Don’t think that, Thomas,” you mutter. “She’ll be okay. And whatever happens, you can get back up from. You are the most stubborn, resilient person I know.”

“This is so weak of me,” he whispers breathlessly.

You furrow your eyebrows. “Since when was having normal human emotions weak? Your mom is literally in the hospital. It would be weird if you didn’t feel sad!”

You found it sweet how he let his guard down for you. His tough, cocky persona cracked and he allowed himself to be vulnerable around you. Part of you wondered if he did this with other girls; an almost jealous thought that you fought down.

He lets out a bitter laugh, wiping his eyes. A small smile cracked on your face upon hearing him show at least a little happiness. Hearing someone laugh after crying is a beautiful experience.

“Thank you. Not sure how much longer I could’ve kept that in.” He finally wraps his strong arms around you as well, burying his head in your shoulder. You stay like that for a moment longer, holding each other.

He reluctantly pulls off, and you let your hands drop from his torso. He gazes into your eyes, examining your features. You were so close you could see every detail about him. The freshly shaved stubble, his deep brown eyes that looked ethereal under the perfect sunlight, his near-flawless skin. The thumping of his heart increased along with yours. Your breath hitched when his eyes flickered to your lips once more.

You cleared your throat, awkwardly backing up when the staring contest you held became too intimate. Couldn’t have a repeat of last time, right?

“You uh, should get some rest. And eat if you haven’t. There’s some leftovers in the fridge,” you say, brushing off your (his) sweater. He quirked an eyebrow, glancing at the magenta fabric you adorned.

“Is that my sweater?”