#quite realize how the shit she says affects me

[letmerideitchris]

𐬺𝐕𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐𐬺

summary: Chris matt and nick get a new videographer, she is funny, smart and pretty, basically everything Chris could ever want in a girl. Chris finds it impossible to not fall for her…

Warnings: angst, yelling, cursing, mentions of killing (in a joking way)

Wc: 1009

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏

“Chris would you like to tell us what the fuck we just walked in on?” matt says sternly

Y/n had previously left the house out of embarrassment to what nick and matt had walked into.

“does anyone know where some bleach is? My eyes need some” nick says looking around

“guys you're being dramatic, I'm sorry i couldn’t resist, she’s everything i have ever wanted” chris says as he looks down at the floor

“that is the least of our problems right now, shes meant to be coming over tomorrow to film a vlog for us, that is going to be so awkward thanks to you dick face” nick says hitting chris’ shoulder

“yeah chris, you need to sort it out and apologize because you are runing it for us”

“but I'm not sorry and i am quite looking forward to seeing her tomorrow even though it will be awkward…” Chris says slightly smiling at the thought of her

“im not sure if shes looking forward to seeing you, she just ran away” matt says looking at the open front door y/n previously left through.

“chris you make me want to kill you, is it hard being this dumb?”

“guys can you show some sort of sympathy? Like imagine the girl of your dreams is actually interested in you and then your brothers walk in on you fucking and she runs out of embarrassment?” chris says

“No i actually cannot imagine that i am gay if you forgot dumb shit” nick says in a duh tone

“you guys are ridiculous” chris mumbles annoyed as he makes his way downstairs to his bedroom.

The next morning chris is laying in bed half asleep, wishing she was beside him. But hes quickly taken out of his trance when he hears the doorbell, the sound he was dreading yesterday but wishing upon now.

“i’ll get it!” matt yells from upstairs

But when he turns to the door chris is already unlocking it

Nick is sitting on the couch with an unamused face, when matt looks over at him “look at this desperate dickhead”

“hes never gonna learn, fuck sake” nick eyerolls

When chris opens the door, y/n is taken aback by his face. y/n looks down at the floor and says quietly “oh… hi chris”

chris’ smile quickly fades as he hears her tone and realizes his excitement isn't mutual.

“hi y/n, come upstairs, can I get you a water or?-”

“uh no i should be good..thanks..”

Chris takes a seat on the couch wondering why y/n is acting so weird towards him. What did he do wrong? Did he say something bad?

The boys all give y/n a hug greeting her, besides chris.

“matt would you mind getting me some water? I’m really thirsty?” y/n says looking at matt

Chris looks over at her with a confused look across his face

“yeah of course, nick can you come with me, i think these two need to talk it out..” matt lowers his tone at the end so only nick can hear his last comment

Chris and y/n are both sitting on opposite sides of the couch looking at each other waiting for one to speak up.

“y/n, whats wrong?” chris speaks up

“have a think chris, have a think.”

Chris is using all of his brain and is trying to peice together what could be wrong. And then something clicks in his mind and realizes what has happened. He looks up with a concerned look on his face

“is this about yesterday, y/n? If it is im really sor-”

y/n cuts him off “chris do you not realize what we did and how this will affect our relationship and my job”

Chris is shocked by what she said “wait so your saying you regret what we did? I-I really thought we had something, something that would last, something you would care about” he says as he raises his voice and stands up angrily from the couch.

“no i don't regret it, that's not what I'm saying. I just think we should've been more careful or waited a bit longer” y/n says avoiding eye contact

“so you do regret it huh?” he starts to walk off then she grabs him by the arm

“no, chris just calm down i am not done-”

“well i sure am, get out of my house please”

y/n opens her purse quxckly, chris is standing there waiting for something that could save this relationship but instead it is something that will change their lives forever.

y/n slides a positive pregnancy test along the coffee table.

“as i was saying, we should've been more careful, should've waited longer, not saying i regret it.” she says shaking with tears forming on her waterline

She closes her purse, gets up, looks into the kitchen to see matt and nick both staring in such a state of shock. Tears start rolling down her face as she looks back at chris’ guilty and worried face. She wipes her tears and continues to leave.

The door slams

“i could choke you to death right now chris, not much is stopping me” nick says furiously as he follows y/n out of the house

Chris is still standing there in disbelief staring at that positive test.

“chris, ill get you some water, all you can do right now is sit down and try and relax yourself. Don't text anyone and don't listen to what nick is saying even though he is right, i know you would be really stressed right now and nothing he has to say will help.” matt says patting chris on the back gently

chris sits down on the couch shaking with tears falling down his face onto his pants, he can't seem to look away from the test. Regret and guilt clouds his mind and all he is thinking about is y/n.

“m-matt” chris stutters, matt turns back around to face chris, you can tell even matt is stressed out

“i, i am going to be a d - dad”

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @riggysworld @chrissturnsss @sophand4n4

@chrispycremedonut

[milo-is-rambling]

I am having weird feelings but it’s fine but also :/

[kyoohyeon]

.

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (24/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Furniture shopping is more exciting when there's talks about buying new stuff - like a bed.

Warnings: 18+ (mentions of smut), fluff, Kika is the bestest friend on this planet

Word Count: 3.4k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: hello loves! part twenty-four is here and I hope you enjoy it! feedback is appreciated!!!

The fact that Kika is just lying on your bed instead of snuggling up completely in your fluffy blanket is a miracle. 

"I liked the light blue mom jeans best," she says as you stand in front of the large mirror leaning against the wall next to the door to your room and look at yourself. "With the white oversized turtleneck - smash."

You look at her through the mirror. "Haha."

"I'm serious." She leans on her elbows and tilts her head. "If you wear white sneakers with it, it'll even work with the sandwich method. I've seen it on TikTok. And I swear to you - people will turn their heads to look at you."

"I don't want people turning their heads at me," you confess quietly, adjusting the soft fabric of your top. "I just want to look halfway okay."

"Trust me. You look more than okay."

After Kika and Pierre have stormed your apartment with their spare key - which at first annoyed you, but in the next moment made you feel quite relieved - your girlfriend has taken it upon herself to unpack your suitcase and pick out an outfit for you that matches your trip to the furniture store.

Unpacking your suitcase simply consisted of pulling out one item at a time and tossing it aside if it didn't meet her expectations. The pile of clothes next to the bed is the result of her search.

" Let it go," she warns you as you adjust the position of the hem of the sweater on your shoulder. "You look good. When I think about my first outfit as Pierre's girlfriend - it was pure horror."

"But I'm not a girlfriend," you reply as you reach for the jeans Kika is holding out to you. "I'm his friend. His roommate. Nothing more," you exhale, "and nothing less."

The Portugese woman watches you slip into your pants. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Caught off guard, you look at her. Are your feelings for the Monegasque so obvious that she can even see it on your face? Is your affection written all over your forehead? You can't name your emotional state, you can't say a word that could even begin to describe what you feel for Charles - but there's no question that it's definitely something other than pure friendship. 

No matter how often and vehemently you try to convince yourself that Charles is your friend, you are an incredibly bad liar. 

"I remember being incredibly nervous the first time we went out in public. I think I changed outfits three or four times before I was halfway happy."

Oh.

You sit down on the edge of the bed with her. "I want all of this. I want him." You clear your throat as Kika gives you a meaningful look. "His friendship, that is. And I'm also willing to take the risk of people not liking me and talking badly about me." You clasp your hands in your lap.

Kika sits up straight. "But?"

You curl your lips into a thin line. "I - I don't know." How do you explain to her that you're worried that his fans could dislike you so much that they doubt Charles? You're going public as friends, something that bothers you a little more than it should. But the Monegasque has also said that people will think what they want. 

What if they hate you so much - your looks, your mediocrity, your being - that Charles catches on and he realizes they're right in their opinion?

"I just want to make a good impression."

Your friend reaches for your hand. "You will. And after all, you're just friends. The public's opinion isn't all that important." You don't see her look, which says so much more than what she actually says.

"Right."

Kika lets go of your hand and stands up from the bed. "I'll be with you the whole time. We'll work it out. I promise." She tosses her long hair over her shoulder. "So, let's get going. This room is pretty bleak and could use some color," she says before pulling you off the bed and out of the room.

As you slip into your shoes at the front door, the men join you.

"So, Pierre and I are sitting -" Charles begins, but suddenly stops when he sees you. His eyes wander over your body and goose bumps spread along their path. He remains silent until Pierre nudges him. "Uhm, sorry. Yes. We - um - we're both going to sit in the front of the car because -" He scratches the back of his neck nervously, but can't take his eyes off you. "The plan is for Kika and you to go through the furniture store together and Pierre is coming with me. Just so that we are seen together as little as possible, but are still out and about together," he explains. 

You understand why this is all going to happen. He wants to protect you and you want to let him, but you can't stop your heart from getting a little bruised. 

When Kika notices your offended look, she crosses her arms in front of her chest. "So much planning for simple shopping with friends? Is that really necessary?"

As you look up from your shoes, you look straight into Charles' beautiful green eyes. Something that looks exactly like how you feel flickers across his face. "It is." He stands up straight. "Shall we?"

Kika smiles gently at you. "Let's liven this place up a bit, then." She grabs Pierre's hand and together the two of them walk out of the apartment towards the elevator, while Charles and you stay behind. You both look after them. 

"Is everything all right?" asks the Monegasque and stands next to you. 

"Everything's fine," you answer him curtly. You don't dare look at him. 

"Y/N," he says as he gently grasps your wrist and turns you towards him. "Mon amour, you know why I'm doing this, don't you?" His hand slips a little lower so your fingers can intertwine.

"'Mh-hmm." 

"Hey." His other hand rests gently against your cheek, making you look at him. "Hey." His thumb gently strokes your cheekbone. "I'm trying to protect you. That's my priority. Making sure you're okay is my priority. And if that means we can't walk through any stores next to each other for now, just so the public can get used to you, then I'll put up with it." His gaze twitches briefly to your mouth. "Even if it's not what I want."

You nuzzle your face against his warm hand. "And what do you want?" you ask softly. 

"You." 

His answer makes the blood sizzle in your veins. It feels as if the warmth of his skin is burning through your face, as if the nerve endings under your skin are sending little electric shocks through your muscles and forcing your heart to stop. You take a deep breath.

"I want you near me." He squeezes your hand twice before pulling away. Your skin feels cooler without his touch. "But I'm responsible for what happens in public. And I don't want to risk anything happening to you because of me."

You nod weakly before wordlessly following the befriended couple. You hear Charles behind you, but you don't wait for him as you walk quickly to the others. The atmosphere in the elevator is tense as you are transported towards the underground garage, but no one tries to ease the tension. Kika and Pierre look at each other a little uncertainly, something that doesn't escape your gaze, and you can't blame them. The situation is just awful.

Pierre has thought far ahead, because when he presses a button on his car key, a large SUV opens up in the underground parking garage, sure to fit some decorative items. Charles' Ferrari, or God forbid your old Renault, might have been able to fit a picture frame, or at most a small mirror. 

You sit behind Charles, who has taken a seat in the passenger seat. Kika and Pierre are talking through the rear-view mirror while you look out of the window.

The longer you think about what Charles said - or didn't say - the more uncomfortable you feel. The hem of the sweater seems to have slipped, the collar feels too tight and the sleeves are scratching your elbows. You're not sure what you were hoping for, what the right answer would have been. But you're not particularly happy with the one you got. 

You also want to be close to him, permanently. And you can also understand why the plan involves you staying away from each other inside the furniture store. But is that really necessary if you're just friends? Has he done something similar with his other female friends, or are you the only one who has to put up with this fuss? 

Your thoughts are going round and round in your head, but as if by magic they suddenly come to a standstill. But it's not magic, it's Charles' hand that has squeezed past his seat on the right and is now gripping your leg. You feel his fingers slide under the fabric of your jeans, where they rest against your calf. 

You try to regulate your breathing, but you can hear the blood pounding in your ears. Charles touching you is nothing new. You've been touching each other non-stop since last night, which doesn't help your feelings or your friendship, but it still feels indescribably good. 

It feels right the way his calloused hand wraps around your soft calf. It felt right the way his thumb stroked your cheek. It felt right to lie half-naked next to him in bed. 

It felt right to want him as something more. More than a roommate. More than a friend. 

And that's exactly why you slide your foot towards the car door, so that Charles can touch you more easily. You block out the voice that keeps whispering hypocrite to you as best you can. And the warmer his skin feels on yours, the tighter his fingers close around your calf, the better it works. 

"I'll let you both out right at the entrance and we'll park in the back of the parking lot," Pierre interrupts your thoughts before they're no longer PG. "You can go inside and we'll follow. That's the easiest way."

"Thank you very much," Charles says. "I'm sorry we're shamelessly taking advantage of you."

Pierre has to grin. "You're welcome to give me a position in Bahrain, then we'd be even."

"You'd have to get close to me on the track first."

The two men argue amicably until the car comes to a halt in front of the deserted entrance. Just as you are about to open the door, Charles's fingers gently squeeze your leg twice and you have to suppress a smile, otherwise Kika would tease you endlessly. As you both get out and the car drives away, she latches on to you. 

"Are you ready?" she asks as you walk towards the glass door together. 

"Definitely."

Kika has very good taste in decorating and if she hadn't become a model, she could definitely have worked at Ikea putting together those fake rooms. As you push a shopping cart in front of you, she skips through the aisles, grabbing anything that matches in color or style. Picture frames, vases, mirrors and fake plants that would look good on the windowsill in your room. 

She's examining which of the candles in front of her would go better with the vases in the shopping cart when your cell phone vibrates in your pocket. 

Charles: If one of the candles burns down our apartment, I'll have to charge you rent. 

Confused, you read the message before looking up and around. Charles is standing about twenty meters away from you, smiling at you over the shelves. You bite the inside of your cheek.

You: You don't need my money, Mr. Ferrari. After all, you make millions a year. 

You raise an eyebrow challengingly as Charles reads your message. You can see his grin clearly, even from this distance. 

Charles: If you burn down my expensive apartment, I'll have to find a new one, and they're not exactly cheap in Monaco, as you know. 

You: I thought it was our apartment?

Charles: If you let it burn down, you're welcome to keep it.

You: So you'd let me keep it? Our apartment?

Charles: I'd give you anything, mon amour. You just have to ask for it. 

You don't have time to think about his answer because Kika throws a stuffed animal dinosaur in your face. 

"Are you done flirting?" she asks, playing annoyed. "I'm trying to decorate your room and you'd rather flirt than help me."

You feel the blood rush to your face. "Excuse me?"

Her grin almost reaches your ears. "Gotcha."

"You can't possibly have caught me doing something I wasn't doing," you try to wriggle out of it, but Kika has bitten down like a little terrier.

"And why are you looking like you've eaten the last spoonful of tiramisu without asking if anyone else wants the rest?" 

"I haven't eaten any tiramisu," you defend yourself and hug the green stuffed animal tightly to your chest. 

"Not yet," she says gently and puts one of the candles in the cart with the rest. "But I'm afraid you could get diabetic if you're not careful with the tiramisu. A small piece is fine, but a double portion could almost be too much." 

You narrow your eyes. "I haven't eaten any tiramisu." Without taking your eyes off her, you put the green dino in the shopping cart too. "And I don't intend to."

"You're a bad liar," she says and stands next to you, wrapping her arms tightly around you. "But that's all right. I still love you. And when your room looks really cool soon, I'll take the outfit pictures for my Instagram in front of your mirror."

She gives you a peck on the cheek and you roll your eyes. "Charles was right. We need to change the locks, then you can't disturb us anymore."

"Disturb? Disturbing what? Eating tiramisu?" she grins and you would have loved to suffocate her with the green dino. Apparently Kika can read minds, because she quickly lets go of your arms and continues to skip happily through the corridors while you follow her with the shopping cart. 

"How much do you think the things you picked out for me cost?" you ask her as she picks out more plants.

She takes a look at the shopping cart. "Something between two hundred and five hundred euros," she replies with a shrug.

"Kika, that's too much. Way too much," you try to stop her as she walks over to the rugs on display. "I can't pay for it. I'm unemployed, remember?" You're about to turn the shopping cart around and return the selected items to their rightful places, but Kika stands in your way. 

"Charles offered to pay for this," she says, confused, resting her perfectly manicured hands on the metal grille of the cart. 

"He what?" you ask, looking around in the hope of spotting Charles somewhere. But he's nowhere to be seen.

"Pierre sent me a text message to leave the car at the checkouts when we're done. He said that Charles wanted to pay for it and that we should wait outside for them," she explains, tilting her head. "I thought he would have told you. I know you're unemployed, but because of the text message, I thought that - I assumed we could just pick out nice items without looking at the price."

You run your tongue over your teeth. "Give me a moment, please," you say briefly and leave her standing there with the shopping cart. 

You walk through every aisle, looking over every shelf in the hope of seeing Charles standing somewhere. And when, after ten minutes, you spot his brown curls in the furthest corner of the store, you don't care if the two of you are seen together. He's standing in front of a gray, hip-high box spring, with nice, dark bedding and comfortable-looking pillows placed on it. When you stop next to him, he doesn't look at you.

"I want to buy a new bed," he begins the conversation. "The one I have now is too low for me. What do you think of this one? I've tried it out. It's really comfortable and the perfect height for -" He falls silent before he can finish the sentence. 

"Kika says you want to pay for my things," you change the subject without answering his question. You don't take your eyes off the bed either. 

"That's correct."

"I don't want that," you say tersely. "I don't want you to pay for it."

"But I want to," he replies, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. "Think of it as a gift."

"As a gift?" You raise an eyebrow. "As a gift for what?"

"For your friendship."

"You can have my friendship without buying me new things," you assure him, but you fall on deaf ears. 

"But I want to. I have so much money that I can't spend on my own, so I want to buy you nice things." He leans a little towards you so that your hands touch. "How expensive are the things? One thousand, two thousand euros?"

"Kika says five hundred at most."

"Then think of it as a small, early Christmas present," he says gently. Before you can object, he continues. "I want you to feel comfortable and if it costs me some money, then so be it. And it won't hurt my bank account in the slightest. So just say thank you and accept the gift."

"Thank you," you whisper reluctantly, but you know that it wouldn't do any good to go against his wishes. "Did you find something you want to buy?"

He smiles. "This bed, apparently. And bedding. And a mirror."

"Doesn't sound bad. I just hope you have as good a taste as Kika. After all, our things have to match," you joke.

Charles turns his head in your direction. "Then lie down on the bed, mon amour. I'd like to see how you look on it before I spend thousands of euros on it." As he says it and his fingers curl around your wrist, that feeling blossoms in your chest again.

You want to throw him on the bed in front of you, kiss him until you can't breathe and touch him until you can see stars. You want to feel his warm skin under your fingertips, feel his muscles tense as he pulls you on top of him and presses you against his firm body. You want to feel his weight on you as he lays you down on the bed and his lips trail down from your mouth. You want to - 

"Do you really think I'm going to try sleeping without you again when we've figured out that we both sleep better when we're together?" he asks, gently stroking the thin skin on your wrist with his thumb. You hope he can't feel your racing pulse underneath. "When we first met, you said that you hadn't had a decent night's sleep in a long time. And if it means I have to hold you in my arms so you can get a good night's sleep, then so be it. And it's not as if I don't enjoy having you close to me."

Before you can answer him, you feel a person standing at your other side and when you look, Kika is standing there. Her gaze flickers briefly to your hands before she turns to the bed as well. "Do any of you fancy a bite to eat?" she asks. "There's a restaurant nearby that serves incredibly good tiramisu. And it's never busy. We can go there if you like." She turns slightly in your direction and nudges you. "What about you? Do you want some tiramisu?"

More like a need than a want.

[yolli-es]

I love jinx she’s my everything and my comfort character so I’m really insecure not even in normal insecurity like I’m on an deep level and I have a really bad eating disorder was wondering how would yandere! Jinx handle that I’m insecure about everything about me and i hide all my body I can’t eat or look in mirrors if I did I’ll break them (you don’t have to do this request I think it’s absolutely ridiculous also I’m okay I’m in therapy now)

Is it my fault? 🧊

Tags: NO spoilers for season 2, mention of blood, theme of uncertainty.

Well, I was gone for quite a while, lol, but I was able to fight off the teachers and come back 💪🏻 I hope you are glad to see me again, and I also have to say that I wrote about this from my point of view, and I am sorry if I did not understand your state of mind. This topic is not so close to me, and I really tried 🙏🏻

Jinx knew from the start that something was wrong. You were always too shy, closed off, and scared. You never exposed your body. The world saw nothing but your palms and head. Is this your style? No, you always look embarrassed when your clothes suddenly ride up and just a little bit more is visible. She thought that society, all those people around you, were to blame for everything. They must have just rammed their shit into you and are enjoying themselves. Jinx won't let them trample you that easily! But nothing changes even when you become a couple and Jinx becomes your rock and protection from any unwanted contact. No, she cut you off from the world. Seeing your insecurities seemed right to her. Jinx just makes your life easier, doesn't she? You didn't change.

It seemed to only get worse.

Mirrors. It took Jinx a moment to realize you were doing this. Everything in Zaun was broken, even the people. And yet there was something strange about the mirrors in your house. She resisted for a long time and attributed everything to her new quirks. Then she counted the number of cracks on all the mirrors you could reach. And she knew. Her stomach twisted, her pupils dilated, and she wanted to pass out. No, she was going to do it right now. You were breaking mirrors. Everywhere you could reach. How could she not notice? There's blood in the cracks that can't be washed away. Damn, did you do that with your bare hand? No, no, no.

"It's my fault."

It took all her strength not to lose the last fragments of her sanity. She honestly didn't understand why. You weren't threatened, you didn't talk to anyone, and you were always under Jinx's supervision. Unless....no. She would never have affected you like that. Jinx held back then and didn't tell you anything. No matter how much Mylo screamed, Claggor was right. This would scare you; she had to act rationally now. She needs to give you time and herself time too. Jinx needs to know the real reason for your behavior. Now she will be even more attentive.

Jinx had no idea then that the broken mirrors were just the tip of a deeper problem.

You rarely dine together, usually having to eat on the run or while working. But today is a special day—your anniversary. You've been together for a year. 

Jinx bites her lip, Her nails make an audible sound as they scratch the tray with the rich cake on it. She baked it herself. But right now she's not thinking about the cake or even the anniversary. Jinx can't sleep, can't work, and even explosions don't bring pleasure. What else are you hiding? She's been watching you for weeks now after she found out about your horrible habit, but Jinx still hasn't found out anything new. But there's something else going on with you, something she doesn't know about. She feels it. Mylo chuckled. Jinx hissed. She smiled tensely before starting the conversation.

"We've been together for a long time, haven't we?" She forced herself to smile, but it came out ragged and menacing. "I mean, we're like family now. Do you consider me your family?"

Jinx, trying not to make it too obvious, leaned forward. It looked menacing. You certainly noticed it. She's just trying to keep herself together, not to give away the pressure that's built up inside her.

"Hmm, yes, Jinx, I've told you that many times! You mean a lot to me." You smiled, sincerely as always.

But Jinx doesn't believe you now. No, she just can't. Anxiety, fear, and misunderstanding are eating her up from the inside.

"Good," Jinx sat down on the chair, creaking it closer to the table. "Then let's eat."

But Jinx doesn't even try to start eating, just looking at you. A new thought flashed through her mind. Strangely, despite her obsession with your existence, she's never watched you eat.

"Are you okay? You're looking at me like that," you swallowed nervously. The atmosphere was definitely not friendly.

"Oh, sorry," she didn't even try to put on a happy face this time, "start without me."

You hesitated, looking down at the plate. Jinx carefully cut a small piece of cake and placed it right in front of you. It was fluffy, with lots of cream, and covered in food coloring. It looked beautiful and delicious. You picked up a fork and began to break it into pieces.

"So.. how's your work?" You looked up, suddenly more confident and clearly in high spirits. This confused Jinx. She responded without really thinking. Her gaze was glued to you and your hands. You didn't like it and began to distract her in various ways. This had been going on for ten minutes now, and you still hadn't put a bite in your mouth.

Jinx's eyes, which had been looking at you emotionlessly until now, suddenly narrowed in concern. And you realized. Your seat suddenly became uncomfortable, and the room was hot.

"You don't like it?" Jinx asked quietly, cautiously, almost scared. Shyness, hiding your body behind baggy clothes, breaking mirrors, and not wanting to eat your once favorite cake. Was it ever your favorite? It seemed like the puzzle was coming together in her head.

"What? Oh, no! I'm just not hungry." You were caught off guard. Is this the end? Has she figured it out, and is she going to leave you? Will she be angry or cry? You couldn't stop thinking, going over all the possible reactions Jinx might have. Unfortunately, your girlfriend wasn't stupid. She noticed it was evident on her face. The trick that worked on everyone else had no effect on her.

You can't eat. Every time you eat something like this, your conscience gnaws at you. You want to spit out everything you ate.

"I'm so sorry," was the first thing Jinx said. "I'm sorry; I should have noticed. Are you... is this because of me?" Jinx spoke softly, but there was no hint of tears on her face. There was no emotion at all. You were hurt by what was happening. Any reaction she might give would hurt you.

Jinx is about to explode with emotion. She's trying so hard to be "normal" right now so you can rely on her to open up. It's heartbreaking, but it's having the desired effect, and you're plucking up your courage.

You took a breath. This is going to be hard.

Of course Jinx thought she was just taking shitty care of you, cruelly ignoring your problems and leaving you to suffer alone.

But that's not true. You never shifted responsibility to others, realizing that you were simply insecure in yourself. You certainly met shitty people—more than you wanted. But who in Zaun pays attention to them? You just suffered from constant comparisons to others and couldn't do anything about it. You honestly fought with yourself, your shyness, and other shit that was dragging you down. Jinx only helped you along the way, without realizing it. Every time she proudly held your hand walking along the busy streets, every time she unashamedly said, "Yes, this is my future wife," and every time she ignored the advances of a conventionally beautiful girl.

Your silence and her speculations brought you here.

And yet you came to understand Jinx. How could it be otherwise? She will never let you go.

But you will never want to leave.

"Oh, I'm always here," Jinx hugged you, and you did the same in return. It was a pleasant ending after several hours of relentless altercations. You were silent, whispering, screaming, crying, and didn't understand each other. But now everything became clear.

Jinx, on her yandere side, is not ready to leave everything just like that. Now in your house there is only one whole mirror, specially stolen from Piltover. You often eat together, and Jinx tries to make each meal as relaxed for you as possible so that you simply forget about the food itself. She will definitely not let you go, love you less, judge you, or make the situation better by force. Not with this problem. She will do everything you ask to make you feel better.

Jinx loves you.

In her strange way.

That's all! I hope you haven't forgotten about me 😅 This work is quite short, but I hope I was able to convey the main points and mood.

[formyloveoflove]

The Bear S3 and the Choices We Make

Ok. After a second watch of S3, I'm feeling a little bit more optimistic about the future. Trust - it's a sad ending. It's my worst nightmare for Sydney. But there's still hope, and that all lies in what Carmen and Syd decide to do next. Season 3 Spoilers - read at your own risk :)

In S3 E10 Forever, we see our two mains go through a breakthrough. Starting with Carmen, he finally confronts his former boss (who has a name, i think, but fuck him, I ain't using it). It's the first (and only time) that we see Carmen proactively voice his resentment. He avoids his mom (rightfully so imo). He never got the chance with Mikey. But he approaches him, expects the man to have repent (maybe), or at the very least, have a little remorse.

He doesn't. He regrets nothing. In fact, he takes credit for Carmen's success: his hard work, his skills, and his talent. He tells Carmen that he should be thanking him, and that's not even the worst of it. No, for me, it is when he says

Carmen: My life stopped. Chef: That's the point, right? [...] You wanted to be great. You wanted to be excellent. So you got rid of all the bullshit, and you concentrated, and you got focused, and you got great. You got excellent. It worked. You're here. Look at all this

Sound familiar? It should. It's the same sentiment that Carmen said in the Season 2 finale. Remember, he said,

I wasn't here. Right? What the fuck was I thinking? Like I was going to be in a relationship? I'm a fuckin' pyscho. That's why I'm good at what I do. That's how I operate. I am the best because I didn't have any of this fuckin' bullshit, right? I could focus, and I could concentrate.

Carmen's thoughts about himself aren't even his own. They were drilled into him by a man who wouldn't piss on him if he was on fire. He was emulating the abusive behaviors and patterns that crushed him, that gave him "uclers, panic attacks, and nightmares" on the people that he cares about. On his sister, on Richie, on Tina and Marcus. and especially on Sydney, who is the only one who knows exactly how bad it can get. He's hurt those closest to him. He hurts them daily. And for what? And for why? For his own ego.

And this realization leads us to Carmen's first cry.

For three whole seasons, we see this man lose his idolized brother to suicide, witness his alcoholic mother physically, emotionally, and mentally abuse him, and experience mental degradation to the point where it affects his physical health. Not once did he shed a tear. This is the first time Carmen Berzatto lets himself cry. And I think this is the best thing for him. If he chooses to acknowledge the err of his ways, turn back course, and begin again, I think The Bear could be what he wanted it to be. He needs to decide to stop running, stop fighting himself and everybody around him. He needs to let go. Let it rip, right?

However, if this is what he decides to do, the cards ultimately fall into Sydney's hands.

If anybody's been through hell and back, it's Ms. Sydney Adamu. All season she's been forced to work in a volatile environment, putting herself between Carmen and whoever's the victim of his anger. She has her ideas shut down, her skills demeaned, and her credit is outright non-existent. Staff keeps quitting; they're not making any money; and Cicero and Co. is doing some shady background shit.

She's trapped, but not really. Not until she signs that Partnership Agreement. But like she told her dad in S2 E9 Omelette, she doesn't think she has another one in her. She can't have The Bear fail like Sheridan Road. She doesn't want to make the same mistakes she did last time. She wants to grow and learn and make her mark on the industry - prove she's not a failure.

She's waiting for Carmen to make good on his promises from The Table Scene, but he's not.

"You deserve my full focus." But his focus is not on her. Remember the Carmen that noticed when something was off with her? Remember the "say more?" or the "what's up with you?" Remember when they worked together, when the menu was truly theirs? Where was Sydney's "margin" moment? What did Carmen do this scene that signaled to Sydney that he was there and present.

"I couldn't do this without you." He does everything without her. Don't even get me started. From the menu to the list of nonnegotiables. Syd gets to make no decisions after being forced to make ALL the decisions. What is she there for? To be Carm's wrangler, his doormat? What has he does to convince her that she is invaluable?

He's egotistical. He's verbally abusive. He's the exact person that she warned him not to be. That he assured her that he wouldn't be in S1 E3 Brigade. She said,

You know I think this place could be so different from all the other places we've been at. But, in order for that to be true, we need to run things different. [...] But you just didn't really listen, and if this is going to work the way I think we both want it to work, I think we should probably try to listen to each other. The reason why I'm here, and not somewhere else or for someone else, is because I think I can stand out here. I can make a difference here. We could share ideas. I could implement things that make this place better. And I don’t wanna be wasting my time, working on another line or tweezing herbs on a dish that I don’t care about.

He didn't follow through the first time, so she left. But now, it's different. She's put her blood, sweat, and tears into this place. She's made a place (a home even) at The Bear. Leaving is not as simple anymore.

S1 Syd would've taken that CDC offer in a heartbeat. But building something and it failing (like The Bear. like Sheridan Road.) is terrifying. Slowly but surely, Carmen has been chipping away at her confidence and her fire. So much so that good things, like The Offer or the review of her risotto from The Beef, don't feel like good things.

Sydney's Panic Attack is HUGE for her character. We see Sydney at her lowest: her most frightening and vulnerable. She's uncertain. She's in a constant state of panic. And the person that she trusted with her fears and insecurities facilitated this, drove her to this point. It's heartbreaking. I cried when I saw it. No one would blame her for jumping ship. At this point, I encourage it (but she has to talk about it, acknowledge it. no running).

Now, if Carmen decides to change his ways, he'd have apologized to Sydney twice without changed actions. She'd have to believe him after many, many broken promises. At this time, she doesn't trust him, can't rely on him. But when having to decide between staying or going, will she try to trust him again?

Will she? Should she?

That's where I'm at so far. I have more thoughts, but I'll write those out when I get back from my weekend trip.

[nadvs]

What if Rafe and his friends goes to a party at her college and a fight happens 😄

Maybe its after a game and Max is jealous because he sees them flirting at the game and then he sees them at the party. Maybe he says something to her and Rafe cant hold back.

omg i LOVE this. protective rafe throwing punches always gets me 👀

based on this fic

» au masterlist

the first time she invites rafe to a party on her campus, especially after he just won a game against her college’s team, he doesn’t even have to think about it. it’s an automatic yes.

but because it’s rafe, he’s casual in his response, giving her a simple, “sure. text me the address.”

he brings a couple of his teammates to the loud frat house, loving the fact that he’s getting dirty looks from some people.

they recognize him as the guy who mercilessly antagonizes his opponents on the court. and if there’s anything rafe likes more than being known for how good he is at his sport, it’s being feared.

when he sees her, rafe approaches her and ducks to kiss her cheek.

he can see that idiot max hammond’s eyes on them. he noticed him scowling at them when rafe was chatting with her after the game. she recently told rafe how just a few days ago, her ex switched up from begging her for a second chance to shit-talking her to school’s team and cheerleaders.

in small, almost imperceptible moments, he’s seen the frustration flash on her face whenever she mentions how max has affected her reputation.

so, his hand slides down her hip and grabs her ass, making her laugh against his chest.

“you know your asshole ex is still hung up on you, right?” he murmurs in her ear over the music. “fuckin’ staring daggers.”

“is that why you’re grabbing my ass?” she says with a smirk.

“that’s part of it.”

she laughs again and shifts to take his hand.

“i’ll take you to the keg,” she says.

he follows her as she walks deeper into the crowded house, her fingers linked around his.

it’s odd how much comfort rafe simply being here brings her. she didn’t think the person to make her feel better after a messy break-up would be a common enemy, the guy known for playing dirty and shouting insults on the court, but she’ll take it.

this thing with rafe did sort of start as a revenge plot, but she stopped caring about that before she even walked out of the bar the night she first spoke with him.

as they fill up their solo cups, she sees max in her peripheral vision. he’s getting closer. and he’s clearly drunk.

“what the fuck are you doing here?” max mutters.

rafe turns, looking down at him. he’s got a few inches on him and he loves to show it.

“celebrating,” rafe replies with a self-assured smile. “we won. did you forget?”

“you can celebrate somewhere else,” he says.

“give it a rest, max,” she sighs.

“nobody’s talking to you,” he says.

“really,” rafe says, his smile disappearing. “you were pretty fucking desperate to talk to her a few days ago, weren’t you?”

max is clearly embarrassed. she’s satisfied.

“that’s none of your business,” max mutters. he looks over at her. “what kind of bullshit have you been spreading?”

“me?” she laughs. “you’re embarrassing yourself. just leave us alone.”

max’s jaw hardens in frustration. she could tell he had quite a few drinks, but when he says his next words, she realizes just how out of his mind drunk he is.

“why are you being such a bitch about this?” he mutters.

within a second, rafe throws a punch, his fist colliding with max’s cheek. the crowd splits in mania. rafe lands another punch. then another.

max lunges low to tackle rafe onto the floor. max’s friends jump in. then, so do rafe’s.

she’s overwhelmed. in shock. frozen. she watches in disbelief. thankfully, a few guys pull them apart.

she’s been at this house before and knows the layout, so when she grips rafe’s bicep, she pulls him towards the door past the kitchen, leading into the backyard away from the chaos.

rafe is heaving, spitting out blood onto the grass. the music is muffled once the door shuts behind them.

“piece of shit,” he mutters. “he’s fucking lucky they pulled me off of him.”

she stares at him with wide eyes. she’s never felt this way with any man before. protected. safe.

so, she gives into her adrenaline-fuelled impulse and hugs him. his chest rises and falls quickly against her cheek. she can feel his pounding heartbeat.

“nobody’s stood up for me like that before,” she admits. “thanks.”

rafe doesn’t say anything for a moment. his reaction wasn’t solely out of hatred of max. it was because he genuinely likes her as a person. and someone upsetting her pisses him off to a ridiculous level.

finally, he places a firm hand on her shoulder. they’ve hooked up countless times now, but this sort of gesture feels out of their element.

“sure,” he says tensely.

she steps back, her eyes on the ground.

“there’s another party down the block if you want to go there instead,” she says.

“alright,” rafe replies.

“hopefully nobody calls me a bitch there.”

his lips pull into a small smile.

“alright,” he echoes. “let’s go.”

[janeyseymour]

your personal and professional was soooooo good hear me out

pt 2 the date. reader takes their time and truly goes all out alt baddie for their date as per mel’s request. melissa realizes those weren’t the only piercings and tattoos reader was camouflaging. a top that accentuates her nipple piercing and a slitted skirt that shows leg tattoos for days mel doesn’t know how many more surprises she can take

ask and you shall receive. written half drunk, on the phone with my boyfriend, and inhaling a pad thai. not edited in the slightest and hoping it's good enough :)

Personal and Professional pt 2

Part 1

WC: ~1.75k

Melissa just had you pinned up against your desk, her mouth roughly on your own. It takes you a few minutes to even be able to function again, brain now all over the place as you try to process what just happened.

She told you to meet her at The Capital Grille at six… That’s a couple hours from now. And she doesn’t want you to wear the outfit you’re in now: your clean yellow blouse and sweater, your dress pants and flats. So you shake your head and practically sprint out to your car. If she wants the alt girl that you are, she’ll get it.

You spend the entire drive home planning what you’ll wear on this date. You know that The Capital Grille is a relatively fancy place to go out to eat, so you can’t roll up in the usual band t-shirt or tank top and your jeans.

But you know that have quite a few skirts that you wouldn’t wear to school, and you have more than enough tops to impress the woman.

When you get home, you immediately change out your clear stud for your nose ring, and your small hoops are exchanged for your bigger,  black hoops and put in your ear spike. Your blouse is switched out for a rather revealing, black top that accentuates the piercings on your chest. You swap out your slacks for the shortest black skirt that you own that has a nice slit up the side to show off the tattoos that make their way up your thighs and hips. The ballet flats that you chose to wear to school are off, and you instead lace up your heeled boots.

You glance in the mirror, and while you would usually change your eye makeup for something a bit more… daring, you decide to just touch up the light and minimal makeup that you had on for today. There should be at least some small aspect of you that the redhead can recognize. And besides, you think your makeup looks good today. So, you head for the bathroom and start heating up your curling iron. An hour later, your hair is curled into big bombshell curls, and you make sure the few front pieces frame your face.

You still have a bit of time before you have to meet her, so you head back into the living room, pull out some of your work, and grade some papers until it’s finally an appropriate time to start heading out to the restaurant.

You park your car, and text Melissa that you’re on your way.

I’m sitting in the back, she replies back. Do you want a drink?

Whatever you’re having, is your answer, and you continue walking towards the restaurant.

When you walk in though, she’s waiting by the door to escort you over to your table.

“Hey there, pretty lady,” you say suavely.

The redhead doesn’t answer right away. She’s too busy practically drooling over your appearance.

“Mel,” you chuckle.

She blinks a few times before she’s able to take her eyes away from your chest and the rest of your outfit. “Wow.”

“Like what you see?” you give her a little twirl.

“More than I think you realize.”

You roll your eyes playfully before looping your arm through hers. “You look beautiful.”

“You look… holy shit,” she whispers as she pulls you in close and kisses you with more passion than she had in the classroom.

You kiss her back, but you do pull away. Your cheeks are red and hot. Despite appearances, you still are the woman that you are at school, and you can’t help but feel quite flustered with the public display of affection.

She takes you into the back of the restaurant, where your table is. There’s a small bouquet of flowers waiting for you, along with two glasses of wine.

She pulls out your seat, and you gently kiss her cheek as she helps you situate yourself before she takes a seat across the table from you.

You smile softly as she practically drinks in the sight of you. Feeling just a bit flustered, you reach for the glass that she has waiting for you and wait for her to grab her own. The two of you silently toast to each other before you take a rather large gulp of wine.

“This place,” you say softly. “It’s… really nice.”

“I know I flirt with you rather crassly at school,” Melissa chuckles. “But you deserve the best, hun.”

You feel your cheeks heat up even more, and you can’t help the warm feeling that settles in your chest. “Thank you.”

You glance down at the table for a menu, but there isn’t one.

“Food is already on its way,” your coworker tells you. “I know what you like.”

She’s right. She had ordered you a nice filet minion, and she had ordered the same for herself. This food is to die for.

Conversation flows between the two of you easily, but you’ve noticed that the redhead has a hard time focusing on your eyes the way that she usually can at school.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you finally ask.

Her eyes flit from your chest to your eyes, cheeks flushed. Whether that’s from the wine or from her being caught staring at your tasteful piercings, you don’t know.

“I know I told you to come dressed as your little alt girl self, but…” she hums. “Wow. I wasn’t expecting… those piercings, or the flowery vines that travel up your legs.”

“You saw those?”

“Of course I did,”she whispers. “You look absolutely… stunning.”

You feel the way that her boot finds its way to your leg, and she runs it up your calf. You feel a shiver run up to your spine. But before you can really react, it’s gone, and she’s acting like nothing had ever happened.

The two of you are back to talking about your days and the things that your students had gotten up to today.

Before you know it, dessert is being brought out, along with two glasses of champagne. She moves from the seat across from you, and the teacher makes her way around the table and to your side. She takes up the seat next to you, daringly running a hand up your thigh. You can’t quite help the way that your body reacts. You nearly purr.

“You like that?” she whispers.

You nod, words caught in your throat. You don’t think you can answer without letting out a soft moan.

“No time for that now,” she says huskily. She dips the spoon into the tiramisu that had been brought to your table before bringing it up to your lips.

Deciding two can play at that game, you take the spoonful of dessert before letting out a moan. You lick the spoon clean as seductively as you can.

Melissa’s eyes go wide before she spoons another bite and taking it herself. The two of you finish off the dish in front of you, her hand on your thigh the entire time. She’s rubbing gentle circles on your skin with the pad of your thumb before tracing the tattooed vines up your leg as high as your skirt will allow.

“You cold, hun?” Melissa whispers into your ear.

You swallow harshly before shaking your head. Daringly, you take her hand and move it to your hipbone. She doesn’t know it, but that’s where the vines end- they’re attached to a beautiful flower that is engraved into your hip.

Her eyes linger where her hand has been placed before looking into your eyes. She pulls you in for a gentle kiss, one that conveys just how she feels for you: that this isn’t just some small fling but instead holds deep and passionate feelings for you. She gently squeezes your hip, and you whimper at that.

“Mel,” you mumble into her mouth.

She pulls away, and she can tell with the way that you’re looking at her that you feel the same as her. “Should we go to my place?”

You nod, and she grabs both of your bags before gesturing for you to stand.

“The bill,” you say softly, not moving from your place.

She shakes her head and rolls her eyes.

“We can’t just dine and dash… especially at a restaurant like this,” you whisper.

She waves you off. “My cousin Anthony owns this jawn. It’s fine.” She offers you a hand, and you take it gently.

As the two of you exit, she waves to a few of the people, expressing her thanks to them. They all give her small smiles, a few of them raise their eyebrows as they look you over, and the two of you walk out hand in hand.

“Where’s your car, babe?” she asks you.

“In the garage on Samson,” you tell her, and she walks you over.

“Anthony let me park by their loading docks,” she grins as she opens the door to your driver’s seat.

“Let me drive you back over then,” you offer.

“If you insist,” she chuckles as she makes her way around and settles next to you. Your hand rests gently on her thigh as you pull out of your spot and exit the garage, only to turn back onto the street that you had dinner on. Her car is waiting for her, and she gives you a quick kiss before heading to her car.

“Follow me over?” she asks. You nod and wait for her to start leading the way.

As you pull in behind her in her driveway, you glance at yourself in the rear view mirror. You make sure that your hair looks nice, you wipe away some of the makeup that is under your eyes, and you grin when you see her standing at your door waiting.

You open the door, and her arm is immediately out and waiting for you to take it. She leads you up the walkway before she unlocks her door.

You barely have a foot in the door before she has you pinned up against it.

“You have any other surprises in store for me?” she asks huskily as her mouth finds your neck.

You hum, entirely distracting with the things that she’s doing to you. “That’s for you to find out, isn’t it?”

Her eyes turn dark and full of lust, and as she’s leading you up to her bedroom, you silently thank God that she found you in that grocery store the other day.

[niningtori]

to know him is to love him, and i do | chapter one: do you not love me? like at all?

pairing(s): choi beomgyu x you, kang taehyun x you

summary: you love beomgyu more than anything. you just wish he loved you, too. or you finally break up with beomgyu and move on, but as for him? maybe he's starting to realize too little too late.

genre: romance, angst, angst with a happy ending (?)

word count: 2.1k

notes: hi friends! ... r u mad at me? be honest (*´ｪ｀*) i'm sorry i've been gone for so long, but i've had the worst writer's block with my other story. i decided to just post this because i couldn't get the idea of toxic!beomgyu out of my head. don't worry, he will suffer. anyway, i hope you like it!! if not, please don't hurt my feelings i beg.

"i told you it was nothing. why are you freaking out?"

"she was fucking you with her eyes, beomgyu!" you exclaim in frustration.

"and that's my fault how?"

"it's not your fault, but i'm sick of you entertaining women, let alone your actual fucking ex, while i'm standing right next to you!" his ex is just another fish in the barrel, or at least that's what he says, but the thought that they were intimate together at one point still makes you feel sick. truthfully, your boyfriend is handsome, so you've spent the better part of the past 10 months warding off the women who circle him like vultures. you wouldn't mind as much as you do if he seemed at all interested in helping you do so, especially when faced with his ex that you suspect he still has feelings for, but he does not. quite the opposite, actually. it's like he thrives off of the attention and god it hurts.

"i'm not entertaining anybody. i told her i have a girlfriend now," he, well, you would say argues, but it's said so nonchalantly it doesn't warrant the term.

"a girlfriend you proceeded to ignore while she hung off of your shoulders and laughed all night! i just don't understand how you don't understand how much it hurts my feelings. i'm a human too! how would you feel if my ex, who was very clearly interested in me, hung around me right in front of you?" and it's like you're explaining empathy to a child.

"me? i wouldn't give a fuck because it's not that serious," he replies with a slightly irritated shake of his head.

it's always like this. always. you're always the one who cares more between the two of you. you were the one who asked him out in the first place. you were the one who initiated your first kiss. your first fight. hell, even your first reconciliation. you're not stupid, you know he doesn't feel quite the same way you do, but he has to feel something, right? otherwise, why would he say yes to you when he's rejected so many other women? your brain hurts trying to wrap your head around it all.

"you're missing the point! if you were me, you would—" you begin frustratedly, but you cut yourself off. "you know what? i don't even have the energy to explain this to you. i don't understand why i have to explain basic human emotion to you and i really don't understand why i have to beg and plead for you to care about how i feel!" you all but shriek.

"you don't have to do shit, just leave if you're that fucking unhappy," he spits out angrily, which is the first real emotion — besides mild annoyance — you've seen out of him this entire conversation. he gets impatient when you're like this, which usually results in you relenting, but not tonight. you're far too hurt to let go so easily.

"you're right! i am unhappy! i just — why don't you care that i'm unhappy? what can i do to make you give a fuck about me?" you have a brave face on but you can feel your eyes getting hot and your voice trembling ever so slightly.

"you could try not being so damn needy, maybe that'd help."

your eyes redden even further and your lips unintentionally twist themselves into a sour frown. you hate it when he calls you needy because you do need a lot from him, it feels like. his time. his care. his attention and affection. yet you never seem to get it.

"do you not love me? like at all?" you ask. all of the venom in your tone has been sucked out mercilessly and you sound more helpless than angry.

"do you not realize how fucking crazy you sound?" he scoffs as if he can't fathom why you'd be upset. as if he's not watching you break down in real time.

"why won't you give me a straight answer?" you question, voice softer than it was before.

he does nothing but scowl and you know beomgyu well enough to know that he's avoiding your question. that's enough of an answer as it stands, really. he doesn't care. never has. probably never will.

"then why'd you even say yes to dating me?" you truly don't understand. you thought you were different. you thought he saw something in you he didn't see in his harem of other suitors, and trust that there were many.

"i dunno. i was just bored, i guess," he answers with a shrug and your world as you know it collapses. the man you love sees you as nothing more than a way to kill time. he's picking you up right now just to toss you away when the next shiny toy presents itself. and so far, you've let him drag you around because you love him. that's how much you love him. but looking at him now, at how unbothered he is, you wonder if you've even got anything left to give.

"i really do love you," you manage to squeeze out with a bitter smile. your poor heart is on display for the naked eye to see and it seems like he really couldn't care less, but that won't stop you from asking. "does that mean anything at all to you?"

"well, i'm sorry you feel that way," he says simply, "but that's not my fucking problem."

your heart sinks to your stomach and you feel like you're going to throw up. in this moment, as you watch the love of your life dismiss you like you're a fucking dog begging for scraps of food, you feel an overwhelming sense of clarity as you realize he doesn't love you. he doesn't even like you. he probably hates you, actually. like a mental montage, every moment in which he showed you that exact sentiment plays all at once in your head.

all those times you let him choose everything from movies to dinner because the idea of a compromise was inconceivable. all of those occasions, special and otherwise, where you were supposed to go out on a date, but he'd bail without a word and you'd forgive him with no apology. when you'd offer him your share of dessert because he ate all of his and you knew he wanted more, and he'd take it without so much as a thank you. how you'd sit and listen to him tell stories about how amazing his friends were, but he'd never even ask about your day. when those same friends would jokingly call you the perfect girlfriend and you thought it was an indication of how good your relationship was, but in reality, it was a way to tease him because the thought of actually being with you was so abhorrent and ridiculous that it must be a joke. all those times you told him you loved him and he'd just smile and kiss you deeper. memories like these flood your brain with a vengeance so cruel it makes your head ache, and in a way, you realize it's ridiculous to be surprised when there was so much proof of his feelings in the first place.

"oh. okay," you say with what you hope is a soft and unbothered laugh, but comes out more as a choked one. "i guess there's nothing left to say. i'll get my shit and go."

you hesitate for a few excruciatingly awkward moments before collecting yourself enough to start gathering your things, which are scattered haphazardly around his apartment from his bedroom to his bathroom. it's like a walk of shame, almost, and you feel even shittier when he plops down on the couch with a long suffering sigh as he begins to massage the bridge of his nose. you feel so small in this moment — like a petulant child who just got done throwing an unsuccessful tantrum — and you're now soaking in the sobering aftermath and sitting with the thought that he just watched you have a meltdown like he was watching a monkey putting on a show. how much more is he going to humiliate you? enough is enough, you think, so before you can actually finish collecting all of your belongings, you're scurrying out of the apartment. before you go, you glance back at him one last time. "beomgyu?" you ask tentatively, tears clouding your eyes.

"yeah?" he replies with a sigh. this is it, you think.

"i don't want to see you ever again," you say firmly. before he can reply, if he ever intended to in the first place, you slam the door.

-

there's a lot to love about beomgyu. for one, he's handsome, which is obvious, but he has a certain allure you could never help but be drawn in by. he's always been a charming man, but even more so when he's talking to a woman he's interested in. as interested as he could be, that is. he's funny and comically pompous when he wants to be, but still somehow down to earth despite it all.

he's been described as a mood-maker, and while he grew to resent that term, you thought it was at least partially true, if only in the context of your relationship. when he's sad, you're devastated. when he's happy, you're over the fucking moon. his feelings are your whole world. or were, you guess, since all that's over now.

it wasn't all bad all the time, you think. there were times where you thought he really might reciprocate even a fraction of what you felt for him, and most of the time, that was enough. you could work with that. love looks different for everyone, you would reason. maybe he just had a funny way of showing it.

there were days where you'd laugh together and end the night lying in each other's arms while you'd cradle him like he was the most precious thing in the whole world because, to you, he really was. he was normally so boisterous when with his friends, but while he would never admit it to anyone else, he'd tell you about some of his insecurities while you gently combed your fingers through his long, silky hair. he'd speak of regrets and longing for people to take him more seriously. he'd never say it, but he wanted people to see you like you saw him. the real him. you'd let him cry while your hands cupped his cheeks and you'd shush him while he fiddled mindlessly with your hair like a child. you'd kiss his the tip of his reddened nose until he laughed instead of cried. times like those, you'd really think you were someone special to him. but now you realize you were wrong. you were just an outlet for him, and anyone willing to be an emotional dumping ground would do the trick too.

after a few weeks of moping, your sadness has begun to morph into anger and resentment. you spent nearly a year of your life trying to make an emotionally stunted man care about you, and that's not even counting the years of pining over him before you finally worked up the courage to ask him out. it was difficult to see it in the moment, but after being away from him for so long, it's crystal clear that he was honestly just an asshole who didn't really like you. nothing more, nothing less. maybe he'd find someone to change for someday, maybe he'd even work things out with his ex, but for whatever reason, you weren't her. that's just the way it goes, you guess. what really bothers you are the "what if's" of the situation. what if you were prettier, or smarter, or kinder. would he have seen you for who you really are? would he have grown to appreciate you if you had given him more to appreciate?

either way, there's no use crying over spilled milk now. you won't be going back to him any time soon and he certainly won't come crawling back to you. you'll continue to think of him less and less until your time together fades into a distant (and unpleasant) memory. you smile at the thought.

[fategoflatass]

I used to be so against the slow burn trope. Not because I thought it was shit; it's just, I usually don't have the patience to wait whatever-amount-superior-to-three damn chapters for my dear ship to finally be able to look at each other without blushing and/or hold hands. Thus why you often times see me reading oneshots or fics with the "Established Relationship" tag on them.

So you can imagine just how surprised—or maybe not, maybe I just didn't think enough about it—I was when I realized my newest fixation's main pairing is—canonically—the embodiment of slow burn. Because holy shit they're taking their time.

Nothing against how Kusuriya develops its love story—quite the opposite, actually. The relationship between Jinshi and Maomao, two characters that are written as beautifully as their romance, is a rather realistic approach as to how the same or a similar dynamic would developed in real life. In such a complicated situation, with such complex feelings about emotions—both external and their own—and attachment, makes sense that it takes so long for the relationship to finally sail.

The problem is, I didn't know I was signing with the Devil the moment I decided to pick up the light novel. Ten volumes and nothing has happened. Nothing.

And you can say that technically things have happened, because they have. I mean, Jinshi is just so desperate for Maomao to give him the time of day, you know what I mean? And even that isn't enough anymore and thus he has committed some of the craziest shit I've seen in any romance. Which okay, I don't usually read these type of romances but still.

What I mean by "nothing" is just, their relationship hasn't changed status. I could also say that it seems to go nowhere, but that'd be lying. Since, you know, it has changed quite a lot—just not in the way my impatient ass wanted it to. Because he can be as honest with his feelings as he pleases, and those around them might be heavely conscious of the tension and thus constantly tease those lovebirds (as they should), but babygirl's not helping, you know?

And I get it, Maomao's not the best at expressing and understanding herself, and she's also way too busy worrying about going as unnoticed as possible (she should give up on that one already, tbh) while keeping her head where it should be. But like, I can't help feeling frustrated over it like ‼‼

GIRL, FUCK THE RULES. TAKE THAT PATHETIC EXCUSE OF A MAN AND RUNAWAY SOMEWHERE NO ONE WILL BE ABLE TO IDENTIFY YOU. YOU THEN CARRY THAT BITCH BRIDESTYLE TO THE CLOSEST CHURCH AND MAKE HIM YOUR WIFE. PROCEED TO FROG AROUND, EXPERIMENT WITH YOUR UTERUS AS MUCH AS YOU'D LIKE, AND THEN TEACH THE PRODUCTS OF YOUR PRACTICES AS YOUR OWN GUINEA PIG THE WAYS OF HERBAL MEDICINE. AS EASY AS THAT.

But she won't. She'll take her sweet ass time being in denial about both Jinshi's and her own feelings, then maybe she'll proceed to analize herself and find out that maybe, just maybe, that affection that she'd been feeling for that loser became something else. Did said affection also become something more complicated? Absolutely. Does she know how to deal with it? Hell no, but fuck it. If I learned something from school is that you always leave the hardest parts for later.

Now you see why I was so against reading slow burn?

And you wanna know the worst part? I loved it—I loved every second of it, every word, every page. Every scene that seemed to help the relationship advance, only for Maomao to say nope and leave like she owns the place, which at this point she fucking might.

It feels like I, as the reader, am in the middle of a heatwave and some sadistic bastard won't stop teasing me with ice cream—they put it in front of my face, close enough that I can smell the cold. Then take a spoon and eat little by little while staring directly to my eyes. At times they seem to show mercy and feed me a spoon, only for it to be a rather small quantity of serving—serving that tastes so damn good at first, only for it to have such a bitter aftertaste. But if I gotta have something in common with Jinshi is that I'll never be able to beat the masochist allegations, so I'll wait patiently for the next spoon and its corresponding and seemingly enless teasing from that faceless being.

So yeah, I'm still against it, only that now I understand the appeal—even if I have yet to find out about the whereabouts of my sanity while still mananing with the little I've left.

[three--rings]

So for obvious reasons I have been thinking about IWTV a lot recently, and thinking about the books a lot. I was OBSESSED with The Vampire Chronicles when I was in middle school, into early high school.

But something that I think may not really be clear to people reading them now, or to people who only know the show, is that there's a reason the books got away with being so incredibly queer and being Bestsellers in the 70s, 80s and 90s: there was no sex.

If you're unaware, in the books, Anne Rice's vampires cannot have sex. They are impotent, sex in the human way is just not a drive they have anymore. Instead physical connection is all about sharing blood. (For the record I think the show is right to have changed this. It's not worried about censorship on that front and having sex as part of the relationships makes them way easier to communicate to the audience.)

So while the books are very homoerotic, homoromantic, and at times quite suggestive, they never have on page sexual activity, they never label relationships with explicit romantic terms like lover or husband, characters never declare their sexuality. (In early books at least.)

What this meant is that The Vampire Chronicles existed in this Plausible Deniability space where anyone who had read them realized they were gay, but they weren't LABELED AS SUCH and therefore mainstream audiences didn't know that was part of it.

So me and my friends could be 11 or 12 carrying these books around our Catholic school and didn't get anything said about it. One of my English teachers had read the first one, and we talked about it, and her only complaint was that it wasn't philosophical enough for her. But she was cool.

So, I KNEW Louis and Lestat were in love. I knew Lestat had male and female lovers. And it affected me PROFOUNDLY because it was the first depiction of queerness as anything but a joke I ever encountered.

But it wasn't "gay fiction." If it was the target of right wing criticism it was about being satanic, not queer.

I was thinking of the 4th book in the series, which I read when it was first released, in 1992. In it, (spoilers) Lestat becomes human again. And he turns to his human openly gay friend David and says "omg I'm human. Let's HAVE SEX!"

Reading that and the fucking THIRD EYE that opened for me is BURNED into my memory. I remember how scandalous that was, because it was ON THE PAGE. Here was a book with men talking about having sex with each other. And I was reading it! And it was just casual and nonchalant. (Unfortunately they don't actually do it, to my young disappointment.) Despite all the queerness that i'd experienced (and recognized) already in the series, THAT was shocking.

You can't know what that was LIKE to a kid in 1992, before the internet was anything more than bulletin boards, before fanfiction online was really a thing. And these weren't niche novels, things only people in liberal literary circles read. They were massive, massive bestsellers.

IDK, you know. I have given Anne Rice a LOT of shit in my time, and she's deserved a lot of it. But she also performed some miracles of representation that affected a lot of people. IDK if I even have a point. Just. I was remembering what it felt like. To encounter a gay character in fiction for the first time, talk about gay sex for the first time.

I don't think it's an accident that me and my friend who shared this obsession both ended up being bi. We passed the books back and forth and pointed out the really juicy sections and other people were never quite as into these books as we were even when we made them read them.

[dirtydixonsgirl]

Can you write reader taking care of a very sick Daryl after he collapses while on a run? Feverish, he tries to tell her how he feels but she blames the illness. He gets better, gets embarrassed, but then they talk and make out session ensues - interrupted by the rescue party for shits and giggles.

Sick

Daryl Dixon x Fem!reader

A/n: this is gonna be fluffy mostly, thought this idea was super cute. sorry it took so long ):

WARNINGS: heated make out, deliriously speaking, illness yeah yeah yeah

Daryl was sick, it was exactly what you feared these last few weeks. The flu was running rampant in the prison, taking out your group one by one, it was horrible to watch. You and few others were safe, luckily. Your nerves have ease since the outbreak of this illness but when Daryl started to avoid you, you crept around to see what his deal was and when you found him coughing and sniffling you knew something was up.

Although you knew he’d never admit to being sick, you could see it in his eyes. Your worried eyes searching his face everytime he coughs or sneezes, he knew something was off, passing it off as ‘allergies’, but your worried gaze broke his heart, he didn’t want you to worry about him. But he also didn’t want to be locked away with the rest of the sick people, away from you of all people, he needed to be here to protect you, he knew that if something happened to you while he was locked away he would never forgive himself.

Here both of you stood, in front of Rick, Daryl demanding he go on this run with you instead of Glenn or t-dogg, he knew they were good out there, there was no doubt but the only way to settle his nerves about you going was to come with you. Admittedly, you were on the fence about Daryl going, you could see in his eyes he was getting sicker by the minute and Rick could also sense something was off, but he was well aware of how stubborn Daryl could be.

“Daryl,” you stood behind him. “You don’t need to do this, you should rest.”

“I’m fine.” He coughs a little bit before readjusting the items he was bringing with on the motorcycle. “Jus get in the car women.”

You cross your arms, watching him struggle a bit, biting back a few coughs. You wanted him to ride in the car with you instead of his motorcycle but he wouldn’t budge. Another thing you noticed as well was he wouldn’t let you be too close to him.

“I will as soon as you get in the car with me.”

He sighed. “M’ fine. I told you, I need fresh air. Missed this.”

“I’m just worried about you, Daryl.” You knew the affect your saddened voice has on him, how could he ever say no to you? It just wasn’t possible.

He knew you were only worried about him, as his cough was starting to deepen he realized he might be worried about himself as well.

“Okay,” he agreed, grumbling. “Let’s go.”

The car ride was almost silent, Daryl wasn’t much of a talker and your nerves were getting the best of you, he sat a seat away, you driving after a small fight about him being the man and wanting to drive but you felt like he was in no shape. His coughs turning into hacking, you kept glancing over at him.

“M’ fine. Quit lookin’ at me like that.” He mumbles, resting his head against the window.

“You don’t seem like it.” You turn your focus to the road. “You know I’m just worried.”

“Nothin’ is gonna take me out, sunshine.” He jokes, you blush at the pet name.

“You can’t promise me that, anything could happen, Daryl.”

Daryl was your best friend, the first person you had continued with since the group found you out there stumbling around, dying of dehydration. You both have been close since the beginning and you were well aware of the attachment you had grown to your best friend, realizing it was unhealthy, you knew it was okay because it would never go further than that.

Arriving to the desired spot, an old run down gas station across from a neighborhood you put the vehicle in park, turning off the truck. Your eyes turn to meet Daryls but suddenly they widen, taking in his features.

“Daryl,” you panick. “You’re sweating.”

“It’s hot in here.” He grumbles, wiping the small beats of sweat off his head. “Let’s go.”

“Maybe we should go home, I don’t think you need to be doing this.”

“God damnit, I said I’m fine!” He suddenly spats.

You jump slightly at his tone, realizing you’ve heard him talk this way to other people but somehow have never been on the other end. His eyes soften instantly due to your reaction, sighing harshly.

“M’ sorry. But seriously, I’m okay, can we just go? I don’t wanna talk ‘bout this anymore.”

You sigh, hesitantly agreeing. His skin was getting pale but you knew at this point saying anything to him was useless, he was too stubborn to listen to your words, he’d rather keep pushing.

You followed closely behind him, your gun raised, searching the area. His crossbow up as well, you always felt safe with him, he always would protect you, almost like he would jump in front of a bullet for you, as your friendship grows so does your love but both of you knew neither of that would matter because neither of you would ever admit to it.

After searching the gas station and few houses, making sure to stay close to one another, you had found a few items but when you got back to the truck, you noticed no Daryl, and nothing had been loaded on the truck. Your heart instantly stops, panic rushing through your veins. Where could he be? Did he get hurt? Did someone take him? The thoughts were running endlessly.

“Daryl?” You call out, the worry lacing your voice.

You leave the items unattended, you knew he hadn’t gone far off on his own will, he wouldn’t do that you. He always kept his word and stayed close. Running back down to the neighborhood, your feet continuously smacking the pavement, you find the first house he was in, searching it.

“Daryl? Are you in here?” You call out.

Nothing. Silence. You run up the steps, checking the rooms, again nothing. Your mind was racing at this point, your heart beat thumping against your rib cage. The emotions wanted to spill but you held them back, your eyes filling with water. You can’t lose him, not now.

The next house you seen him go into, the door was left open. Indicating that there was possibility he was still in there. You fling the door open, the living room empty, your eyes searching every corner, the liquid threatening to spill from your eyes. Nothing.

“Daryl!” You call out, shakily. “Daryl please tell me you’re in here.”

You search the living room, upstairs, the hallways, nothing. That’s until your footsteps patter into the kitchen area.

“Y/N?” Daryl calls out weakly.

You heart instantly filling with sadness at the site. The tears were now spilling down your cheeks, your eyes wander down the pale, sweating Daryl sitting on the kitchen floor next to the fridge. He is sick, very sick. Your heart pangs, instantly running over to get down with him.

“Daryl,” you cry, wiping his sweaty hair from his forehead. “I knew something was wrong, I knew you were sick.”

The emotions were over whelming. Your were scared, more scared than you ever have been in your life. This had confirmed your feelings about him indefinitely. You knew there was no hiding it now. His pale sunken eyes meet yours, his breathing slightly shallowed. Your hands were shaking.

“M’ okay, don’t worry ‘bout me.” His voice shakes.

You shake your head at him. “God damn it, Daryl Dixon. You’re the most stubborn person I know.”

He cracks a smile at your sudden outburst. But you were serious, he really was. You bring your hand to his forehead, feeling his temp. He was hot to the touch, burning up. You could feel the body heat radiating off of him.

“You’re running a fever, we have to get you back to Hershel.” You tell him quickly.

“Jus’ give me a minute.” He shakes his head. “I love ya so much.”

Your eyes meet him, sudden confusion written on your face. Daryl wasn’t aware of his words, the fever over taking his emotions. He wasn’t in the right state of mind but he knew those words were truthful. He always knew he loved you, but the words spilling out at the sight of you caring for him just came so naturally, he didn’t have to think twice.

Although Daryl has told you that he has loved you before, it was clear this was different meaning. The way his eyes were sparkling and how desperate his tone was. Like it was something he’s been holding back for a long time, true feelings. Your heart began to melt as you thought of your next words, stunned.

“Daryl, what are you talking - you know what? Nevermind, we need to get you home.”

“The only reason I wanted to come out here with ya is so I could be with ya, take care of ya. You mean tha’ world to me, Y/N.” He mumbles, his eyes searching your face.

His speech was slow, you were well aware he was now speaking delusionally which only made your mind race more. How high was his fever? You blushed at his words and shook it off instantly. He has no idea what he’s saying.

You take his arm, lifting him up, he wraps it around your neck, carrying most of his body weight himself but he was still heavy against you. He was slow, dragging his feet with yours taking all of his energy just to lift himself.

“I mean it Y/N, yer ma world.” He slurs. “Never felt tha’ way ‘bout anyone. Jus’ you.”

Your heart flutters at his words. You had wondered where this sudden outburst came from but ultimately you knew it was a result from the fever. He was delirious, speaking out of his ass. You didn’t say anything back to feed into his rambling you were surely going to tease him about this when he felt better.

“Y/N,” he speaks again. “Look at me.”

You glance up at him and realize he’s been looking at you the entire time.

“Ya so god damn beautiful, bunny.” He murmurs. “Hope ya know I mean all these words.”

Your face turns beat red at the nickname. Remembering he use to tease you with it when you first met because he took you out hunting and you caught bunny, just one, so from there on he tease you with the nickname. You couldn’t believe he still remembered it after all these years. It still made your heart flutter.

“That fever is really kicking your ass.” You laugh, trudging him along.

“Not the fever, Y/N, ma’ real feelings. I ain’t afraid of nothin’ but I’m afraid of dyin’ and not gettin’ to tell ya how I feel.” He starts. “Yer the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

His words although slow, you felt they meant something. Something in his voice told you his words were sincere, they were coming so effortlessly, like he didn’t need to think about it because he had been practicing this forever. You wanted him to shut up. The words had you a blushing mess, but you knew as soon as this sickness was over you’d have to confront him about it, you were not looking forward to that.

You helped him into the front seat, your face still red and your heart thumping nervously, you needed to get him back to Rick and Hershel.

“We’ll talk about this when you feel better, Daryl.” You spoke softly.

“Whatever you say, Bunny.” He mumbles, his head against the window.

-

It had been about two weeks before Daryl was feeling better. You had came to visit him multiple times a day, worrying about him. The sickness hit him hard, you worried so much that you were begging Rick to let you inside the place, risking getting yourself sick just to have your last moments with him. There was a big glass between you both and he couldn’t stand it, he couldn’t stand being away from you.

You hadn’t told him about his feverish words back on the run, you could tell he was just starting to gain actual consciousness of his surroundings a few days ago, he hadn’t mentioned his words, he just kept asking what happened and how he got there.

He was healing fast, his cough has resided, the blood from the cough was now gone, he was alert, awake and stubborn as ever, threatening to break out of sick groups cell as soon as he got the chance. The group had taken a fall from Daryl being sick, considering he was one of the important men and Ricks right hand man.

“You miss me?” Daryl jokes, throwing the curtains back to your cell room.

You eyes lit up in surprise, god how you’d missed your best friend. Your nervous mind was instantly calmed when he took you up in a hug, squeezing you.

“Daryl,” you choked out. “I can’t breathe.”

He chuckled, his big arms unwrapping you. He looked like himself, you missed this, you missed him. You knew it was time to ask him about his words, but you were scared. Really scared. Of his reaction and rejection, embarrassment was already running through your body. He must of noticed your serious look, he could always sense when something thing was wrong,

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asks, questioning look crossing his face.

You didn’t want to look at him, your cheeks already lighting up. You knew you weren’t getting out of this without telling him, you pondering if you actually wanted to tell him or just lie about it, you didn’t enjoy lying about things but some times calls for drastic messaures.

“Y/N?”

“N-nothing.” You finally say. “How are you feeling?”

“Nah, what’s wrong? I know that look.”

Of course he does. Shit. You finally meet his eyes, his eyebrows furrowed down into his normal curious look. You hated when he looked at you with those eyes. You could melt under them.

Daryl was worried you weren’t exactly happy to see him. He wasn’t even sure of how he got to where he ended up with all those sick people, what if he did something to hurt you? Said something to hurt you?

“Just something you said when you were sick.” You admit.

Instant fear ran through his body at the possibly of what could’ve been said to you. He was clearly delirious and out of his mind but the look on his face told him whatever he said was important to you and weighed heavy on your mind.

“W-what’d I say?”

“Just that you loved me.” You shrug.

“Why’s that bad?”

“Because your tone was different.”

Daryl looked at you for a moment, hiding behind his beautiful long brown hair, blue eyes you’ve came to love, staring deeply into your eyes. He knew he loved you, he thought it was obvious enough. After everything you both have been through how could he not love you? You were everything to him and he would do anything to protect you. He just couldn’t believe he didn’t get to say it to you in a more conscious state of mind, he might have saved himself the embarrassment because he was for sure that you didn’t feel the same way.

You noticed his posture, he was nervous, his nerves were eating him alive. You knew that look all too well. He was panicking inside. You knew exactly how to fix his situation, without a word you leaned up, cupping his cheek, feeling the bristles from his beard poking at you, connecting your lips. The sparks inside you were running rampant at the feeling. Daryl’s lips felt perfect on yours, without hesitation he kissed you back with the even more passion.

His body reacting before his mind he pushes you up against the wall, his hands pulling your back closer to him to close the proximity. Your hands waver up his shirt feeling his warmth and muscles under your touch making him shiver with the contact. Your kiss was needy and desperate and he was falling putty into your hands, allowing your hands to roam where they please.

But your hands found there way to his hair, it set something off in him. Tugging on his hair slightly erupted a groan from him straight into your mouth and you felt it travel all the way down you. This wasn’t suppose to be happening but the adrenaline coursing through you both was too much to handle.

You couldn’t help but pray that none of this ruined your friendship.

“Daryl, are you-“ You could hear the sound of Rick walking past the prison cells. “Well holy shit.”

You both instantly disconnected bodies, staring into the faces of Rick, Glenn, Hershel and Maggie staring back at you. Some faces shocked, some faces smirking as they knew all too well. The embarrassment burned both of your cheeks, readjusting yourselves. You both were never going to live this down.

“You comin’?” Ricks voice wavers through the prison once more.

“What?” Daryl asks back, slightly confused and taken back by his words.

“You comin’?” Glenn repeats now, a smirk littering his face causing a swat from Maggie. “You know, to help take out the walkers at the gate?”

“Oh.” He sighs, realizing that’s not what they meant. “Yeah, yeah, M’ comin’.”

A few of them begin to snicker, walking away from the cell to leave you both drowning in your own embarrassment. At this point you just wanted to run away and hide, being both of the shyest people here being caught in a hot and heavy make out session was just not exactly what you wanted to envision for yours and Daryl’s first kiss.

You looked at him, giggling and he let a half smile cross his lips. You weren’t sure of a lot of things anymore in this world but one thing you knew is that you love Daryl back, probably even more than that.

[flower-boi16]

Bring the thunder down

Well time to give my thoughts on the latest episode.

POSITIVES:

-Seeing callbacks to previous episodes in season 1 was pretty nice

-Holy shit Verosika development? HELL YA!!!! I'm just going to say it; Verosika is the best part of the episode hands down. I like that we get to see a real side of her beyond just being a one-dimensional bitch, her being friendly towards Stolas due to seeing him, and how SHE felt when she was hurt by Blitz.

And she deeply empathizes with people who were also hurt by Blitz and holds this party so people can cope with their experinces for how Blitz damaged them, a place where they can all get together. Viv developing a female character...? That's insane! Verosika feels like an actual person in this episode, not just a one-dimensional bitch.

-We don't get a rushed resolution to Blitz's feud with Verosika like we did for his feud with Fizz, which I am very happy for. I liked how they handled the reletionship between the two here,

-The development for Blitz here is genuienly great...? Like, the episode does a good job of showing him finally realizing how his actions have hurt others, and shows him trying to play victim here in the final scene of the episode before accepting that HE IS THE PROBLEM. And it's now the begining of him finally deciding to grow and become a better person, which is probably going to be a major arc in both season 2 and the rest of the series.

-The characterization here for Blitz is also great. Again it shows him playing the victim here because he's too much of an asshole to accept how he might have hurt others, until he realizes how his actions actually affect those he hurt. He feels genuine remorse now for his actions after the song that Stolas' sings on the stage.

-SPEAKING OF THAT SONG NUMBER; I have some issues with it when it comes to Blitz victim blaming but for the most part it's not bad. The visualls during it look quite nice and the singing is really good. This also serves as a good moment for Blitz as a character; as he sees that actually did, genuinely, have real feelings for him, and it helps Blitz realize all the mistakes he's made throughout his life and how his actions have genuinely hurt others.

-The episode, generally, does a good job of showing how Blitz's actions have hurt others.

-The finale scene in the episode is fantastic. Like I said we get some great development for Verosika and some insight on how she felt when Blitz ran off, characterization for Blitz and growth with him finally realizing his mistakes and the begining of him growing as a person. The voice acting from the two especially sells the emotions in it.

This episode has a suprising amount of good stuff in it when it comes to Blitz and Verosika...unfortunetly there are still some issues.

NEGATIVES:

-Unsuprisingly the Stolas stuff here is awful. The episode constantly frames him as another one of Blitz's victims who was hurt by him which just shows more Stolas victimization. Whopee. The begining scene is especially awful when it comes to this. The thing that really gets me is the line "since when have I ever looked down upoun you", like, dude, YOU CONSTANTLY BELITTLE HIM THROUGHOUT THE FIRST SEASON. OF COURSE HE'S GOING TO THINK YOU LOOK DOWN UPOUN HIM.

And then he says that Blitz is like Striker which is fucking stupid.

(though tbf Blitz is deffiently an ass in this scene so I can get Stolas' perspective to a slight extent, but some of the framming here and dialogue is still questionable)

-Speaking of that begining scene, its...eh. It has the issues with Stolas victimization as I already talked about here but then there's the fact that they used Blitz not telling Stoals about Striker as a way to create cheap drama. YAY! Also this...never gets resolved in the episode btw.

-The stage scene where Stolas sings his "motherfucker" song is good enough in terms of development for Blitz but since Blitz isn't in the wrong here for not believing Stolas loves him it still come across as another instance of Blitzo victim blaming to a slight extent. I already expressed my opinions multiple times about why Blitz is not in the wrong for not thinking that Stolas has real love for him so I'm not gonna repeat myself here, but I'm really sick of the Stolas victimization in this season and I just wish the show would stop pretending that Stolas is the victim here.

-The conversation the two have after the song isn't an awful scene but still shows Stolas victimization. Again, more Stolas victimization and a lot of the dialogue from Stolas here really seems to point to this. Like the scene has Blitz apologize to Stolas and act like the latter deserves better than the former because the former was soooo mean to him UwU, and it just. Ugh. And then the episode has Stolas whine about how he just wants someone to care about him and I'm just like. Viv. You aren't going to make me sympathize with this stupid fucking owl. You just can't.

-The episodes seems to be implying that Blitz has feelings for Stolas...? Huh???? Since when??? And also why does Blitz even have feelings for Stolas to begin with? Like everytime Stolas and Blitz interact Blitz always shows physical discomfort around Stolas, why tf is he suddenely interested in him NOW???

-How exactly was Verosika able to know of Stolas' reletionship with Blitz?

-Blitz decides to go into the party WITHOUT A DISGUISE. Like he takes one eventually but why didn't you bring one to begin with...?

-Is there no one guarding the entrance to this party? Because Blitz should have not able to get in here.

-Blitz comeing in without a disguise doesn't bring any attention for some reason???

This episode was...actually kind of good. Like, I'd say this is probably the best episode of season 2 so far. It mainly suffers from more Stolas victimization and some very weird plot holes and the out of nowhere development of Blitz getting feelings for Stolas but there is genuinely fantastic stuff in here that's good enough to make the episode at least a 7.5/10, hell maybe even an 8. I could forgive a small amount of plot holes if there's enough great stuff in the story and in this episode there is.

So ya, I actually kind of enjoyed this one.

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

we’ve already talked about the more blatant forms of ableism concerning entrapta, like the way the princesses treated her, but another thing i want to mention is how the narrative around entrapta is also a bit ableist. namely, i want to talk about the way entrapta’s reasons behind being a morally grey character.

entrapta is morally ambiguous, that’s pretty obvious and i have no complaints about it. i do like morally grey and complex characters. however, what rubs me the wrong way is the fact that entrapta’s moral greyness is a direct product of her autism, according to the narrative. she doesn’t join the horde just because catra manipulates her, she also does it because.. the horde has cool tech stuff and gadgets. basically, entrapta is okay with endangering thousands of innocent civilians, if it means that she gets to play with fun gadgets. she says it herself, that she’s “on the side of science”.

now as an autistic person myself, i get that neurodivergent people can be quite passionate and sometimes singleminded about their hyperfixations. but never to this point. if i was offered a job that involves my hyperfixation, but that job was corrupt or directly hurt other people, i wouldn’t accept it. same goes for most neurodivergent people that i know. especially for those who are more on the high-functioning side of the spectrum, like entrapta. we know how to differentiate good from bad. we use our critical thinking skills.

i saw a few spop critics say that they don’t blame entrapta for joining the horde, because the princesses treated her like shit. and i have to partially disagree with this take. yes, entrapta had all the right to be mad at the princesses. but the horde wasn’t just targeting the princesses. war isn’t, and has never been, a heroes vs villains conflict. if anything, the princesses are the ones who are least affected by the war. entrapta should at least have had a moment of epiphany where she realizes how terrible the horde truly is and the harm she has helped it to cause. but no, even though she gets “punished” (i.e. mistreated) in s5, it doesn’t really drive forward a good message. the princesses are only mad at entrapta because they feel personally betrayed by her, not because her actions were wrong on a larger level.

i guess it’s no surprise coming from the show that treats the war like a silly game, but i still resent the fact that the creators basically imply that autistic people are stupid and don’t have a moral compass. also if i’m not mistaken, i believe someone in the crew made a really distasteful joke about entrapta being a tr*mp supporter because “she doesn’t know any better”. again, all of this boils down to ableism and the trend of infantilizing neurodivergent people.

[multifandommilfs]

Perks of Living Forever

Pairing: Andy x reader

Wc: 1834

Tw: death but they ressurect because immortality :)

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

"who's that?" Nile held up a photoframe that encased a black and white picture of you and Andy posing together, her arm around your waist and yours hung around her shoulder. Andy seemed genuinely blissed and sober with a gaze from you directed to her. There was something intimate about it, Nile could tell, for your gaze held such affection, pure content by the meek crinkle of your eye. The photo seemed accidental, captured on the spur of the moment.

 

Nile turned the frame between her fingers in the direction of the team in her outstretched arm, seeing how Andy averted her eyes instantly, Joe and Nicky chuckling wryly. Andy snatched up her bottles of vodka and crossed the room, right out to the pier. Nile had her confusion thinly veiled.

 

"That's uh-" Joe scratched the back of his neck, his eyes finding Nicky's, an affirmation garnered. "Andy's lover. Taken quite recently I'd say. A year or two before World War Two, she got her hands on a camera, never told us how she did it, that's the first picture in our team. I'm quite proud that I took it." Nicky punched his arm lightly, eliciting chuckles. "We took it together!"

 

"A year before- why isn't she with Andy? With us? Is she-"

 

"We wish, but she's too stubborn for death itself." Nicky righted her.

 

"They had a disagreement on who they supported during the Second World War; you see- she had a psychopathic streak that longed for world dominion, took sides with Germany and went off the grid after the war ended. We couldn't find her but Andy persisted that she's alive, she was there for every soldier's death."

 

"Why hadn't you told me about it before? Why keep this from me?" She felt like a pariah, like the camera that captured the picture in her grasp, intruding on something that wasn't privy to her.

 

Nicky and Joe exchanged a conflicted glance. "We don't like to talk about it."

___________

Goussainville, just outside of Paris, September 2, 1940. A cacophony of gunshots hollered throughout the Charlie safe house, hauling them awake from sleep instantly, hearts pounding loudly in their ears, contrasting their silent footsteps that threaded fast on the wooden floorboards, pistols angled downward in their stiffly outstretched arms.

 

Book slammed his shoulder into Andy's room, a damp splat onto the ground as it broke off from its rusty hinges. "Oh shit." Book swore. The smell of metallic blugeoning them in the face. "Foterre!"

 

"What is it?" His chest heaving, the sight obscured by his two tall friends provided him with more consternation before they parted and he almost retched.

 

Andy, chest flat against the floor, lips dipped in a spreading puddle of her own blood, they could see the cragged outline of her blown-apart skull; the flesh gave way to bullets.

 

They stared, drenched in their own shock. Nicky made the first move, hands turning her on her back, the Glock in her hands slipping out of her loose grasp was it then that he realized the true extent of the injury and grimaced in disgust, recoiling away from the disfigured face, hair crusted with blood.

 

Then Booker lunged forward, rutting her against the ground by her shoulders. "Wake up Andy! Wake the fuck up!"

 

A wheeze and splutter filled them with immediate relief. They looked on as the trauma healed itself familiarly, flesh filling out the hollow, skin sticking itself back together as her pupils adjusted to the light. Booker released her, trembling from adrenaline, from fear. Nicky reached for Joe's hand and held it in a vice grip. They could see the disappointment clearly in her eyes as she heaved herself off the floor, tucking the gun into the back of her jeans. "Get back to sleep boys." Her tone of voice reminded them of a failed mission as she staggered for the bathroom.

______

 

Nile looked between the lovers, then out of the window to see Booker and Andy. She held a reassuring smile on her face to quell his tears. She could tell that they were going to split up; Booker would have to craft his own path, a consequence of his treachery that harboured a pure goal at heart. "She'll make it into a bedtime story when she's ready, or perhaps you'll dream about it." Nicky chided, throwing Nile a half-grimace smile. She really had to give it to Nicky's welcoming nature for the instant comfort she felt.

____

Andy's arm acted as a barricade at the doorframe, being the first to step past the threshold of their safehouse, stilling the rest of them.

 

"Someone's here." She kept her voice low, only audible to the ones behind her, her eyes left the haphazardly rolled-up mat by the doorway. Her gaze sweeping the darkened room, the shadows that drove up the walls made it all the more unsettling.

 

There was nothing, not even a whisper of wind from the window left ajar, but her hand readied on her gun, another hand reaching into the house at an awkward angle to slap the light switch on.

 

Light bathed the room in a blink, the darkness shrinking away to the corners. The hasty shuffle they heard then was unmistakable. Andy drew out her gun in an instant, the others following suit.

 

She zeroed in on the root of the noise, making a daring step onto the wooden floorboards despite Nile's less-than-erupting protest.

 

"You two keep watch." And Joe disappeared past the doorframe, Nicky's demurring trailing behind him.

 

Nile scrambled to the edge of the doorway; she had Andy and Joe at the corner of her eye now as they crept further into the house. She held her breath as Andy rounded the corner, bracing for a gunshot, a scream, something other than the heinous silence that was ceasing her breath, ladened on their shoulders and squeezing their throats.

 

She forced a breath in, adamantly staying calm even though she was anything but that. Then Andy said a name she didn't know, the silence perforated, Joe sprinting away from her view and Italian words were churning out of Nicky as he stepped past Nile and right into the house, his eyes wide as he shoved his gun back. Nike was compelled to follow without a word, her feet fast, gun pointed towards the floor by her thigh. Her heart beating fast in her chest at the urgency of others.

 

But it didn't need to last when she saw Andy, her arms wound around a silhouette so tightly that she would've thought it was a chokehold if it weren't for the pair of grasping hands pulling the back of her shirt taut.

 

The haste that passed her nerves was replaced with gnawing uncertainty, the feeling of intrusion coming back into her again as she watched Nicky and Joe being pulled into the embrace. Her heart twisted uncomfortably at the feeling, yet she couldn't help but watch as a raw sob escaped from one of you, pulling into each other unyieldingly.

 

When all of you broke apart, she scurried to the nearest couch.

 

She could faintly hear a watery chuckle, a few exchanged words that brimmed with affection and she wondered if she could ever find that kind of connection outside of the formed group. Immortality was the ultimate curse for someone who loved too much.

 

Nicky and Joe appeared in no time, hauling her away from her thoughts. "You should meet her." Joe offered. "The partner." Nicky filled in the spaces and everything seemed to click together too fast for Nile to handle. "What, really? That's the woman in the photo? Andy's wife?" She had to force her voice down from the shock.

_______

 

With Nick and Joe splitting away from the both of you to the girl you didn't know, your lips sought Andy's out. She stumbled backwards from the force, gasping softly before maneuvering you closer by your jaw, her actions tentative yet knowing. It was all familiar when you let half your weight on her, knees trembling as your arms hung around her shoulders. All familiar and fervent, filling yourself with what you missed for the last few decades.

 

She was quiet when you parted, her eyes glazed with affection as her thumb ran rounds from your cheek to your jaw. It was a warmth you had forgotten and arose tears that blurred your vision, your lips cracking into a smile.

 

"I don't think I've been so haunted by someone." You said it with mirth and she let out a scoff of wet laughter.

 

"Shut up with your poetry." She ducked her nose into the crook of your neck; you could feel her smile on your skin, her hand on your jaw dropping to another side of your shoulder as you held her.

 

When the adrenaline fell away, you remembered what you wanted to say during decades where you were manipulated by fear. Fear made you hunger for control and power. But you knew deep down that you couldn't ever be sorry for living that life. It was every human instinct to replace what was lost with something else. So you said so.

 

"I'm not sorry for wanting what I wanted." You whispered and felt her stiffen beneath your fingertips, the weight on your shoulder beginning to lift.

 

"But I am sorry for leaving." You got it out fast before she could look you in the eye and steal your courage, making you swallow your words. "So s- sorry." Your voice broke and you pushed your face into her shoulder with a sudden burst of tears as she rose from yours, catching you in time. "I'm so- I'm so sorry." Your lips twisted with ugly sobs and this time you didn't know if you were apologizing to her or yourself for putting the both of you through this torture.

 

A warmth smoothed over your back, her hand on your shoulder cupping the nape of your neck as her lips pressed against the crown of your head again and again and again. "I have nothing to forgive you for." She said. "But I cannot say the same for the others."

 

You nodded wordlessly in her clutch, tears soaking her sleeve. You laid against the damp fabric, listening to her pulse beating through bone and skin and basked in it, letting your breath level with hers as her fingers weaved through your hair, momentarily scratching your scalp.

 

"Lovebirds, an introduction is needed." Joe's words left you moving apart from each other, her hand finding its place on your waist as yours hung around her shoulder.

 

A girl stepped into your view, her eyes widening, a grin spreading across her lips as Andy became the medium of introduction.

 

"God, you look so much like the photograph!" She spilled with wonder tinted in her features. "I mean it's like you haven't aged a bit and that photograph was what- 10 years ago?"

 

"Perks of living forever." You glanced at Andy before shaking Nile's hand. "You never age."

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Here's a link to my masterlist ^^

Comment, reblog, drop an ask! Feedback is greatly adored

[campbenji]

jwct s2 thoughts after first watch (spoilers under the cut!!!):

ok.... look, i'm just gonna say it: i put my expectations too high for this season and i ended up slightly disappointed. it's not a bad season or anything of the sort, but i guess i just didn't enjoy it as much as i did s1.

individual thoughts now, starting with the good:

-brooklynn. she's always been the camper i ignore most because i've never been able to connect with her but HOLY SHIT they really changed that this season. i desperately need to know what's going through her head, i'm so glad we got to see a good part of her pov from before and after the attack, and how she's adapting to losing her arm. i can't wait to see where she's going after that finale, the stakes went off the roof fr

-THE ANIMATION??? THE WET HAIR, THE RAIN, THE DINOSAURS LOOKED MAJESTIC, THE WAY YOU CAN ACTUALLY SEE THE CHARACTERS TREMBLING NOW IT'S SO BEAUTIFUL

-ben's arc. the amount of stress i felt for him he was going through it </3. the moment i realized he always wanted to tell them broke my heart, he knew it was a huge thing and tried to be careful with how he revealed it but never got the chance. i really wanted them to address other things about him but this will have to do

-episode 7 seems to be the best episode in every season now. yaz getting a solo adventure was something i didn't expect, and it was interesting to see how another one of their own going missing affected the group.

-kenji being reckless and putting himself in danger for other i dreamed and feared of times like these i shit you not. this was his entire arc in a jwcc s4 rewrite i made, i've been waiting for this for so long. it didn't go exactly like i wanted but i still found it interesting

-BEN AND KENJI SCENES BEN AND KENJI HEART TO HEART I'M QUITE LITERALLY SHAKING. that was the best part of the season actually (heavy /hj btw). them finally getting to open up to each other, the gyrosphere callback, them bickering around in the last few episodes, and the fight?? i really hope they're setting up a good continuation for that next season, i need more moments with them

-kenji taking care of speckles (bumpy's egg) so much throughout the season was lovely, he's such a proud father omg. the day that egg hatches is gonna be the happiest day of his life

-loved to see more of ronnie, it was kind of obvious that it was her who saved brooklynn and talked to her through dark jurassic but it was nice to have it confirmed

-it's still so weird to me to have a recurring cast who isn't just the villains, but i'm growing quite fond of them

-the blind baryonyx from episode 9 sent chills down my spine, my sister and i were fucking terrified. i would've loved to see more of it

-THAT FINALE HAS ME DEVASTATED. brooklynn giving them the egg, i hate that everyone was right about "i'm not the same brooklynn you knew", i have no idea if they're coming back from this one because what the fuck

now to the not so good stuff...

-darius felt, and oh my god i hate to say it, sidelined. again. so much of the season was centered around others that even crucial moments like him realizing brooklynn is alive were underwhelming. there was barely any followup to his issues from s1, it felt like he didn't even have an arc this season, he was just there.

-they dragged a lot of stuff in the middle of the season. i can't pinpoint it exactly but everything from the a plot in episodes 4 to 7 is a blur in my head.

-there was nothing about sammy either. it's still heavily implied that she's on bad terms with her family (her crying when aminata hugs her and her almost sibling-like bond with zayna), but she just doesn't get to talk?? about anything??? i'm so tired

-although i really liked her character, i feel like they could've done so much with zayna?? they had this girl joining them on the adventure who's around the same age as them when they got stranded, and did... nothing about it. sammy mentioned her age, but that was it. with how much they doubted her knowledge sometimes, it would've been interesting to see darius approaching her and making sure she's heard, with him being the youngest in jwcc and whatnot. the group making sure zayna didn't have as bad of an experience as they did could've been a great subplot.

-i DESPISED the dinostar flashback scene and everything they added to it. i needed to be convinced on dinostar, not completely drawn away from the ship! the implication that brooklynn was with darius ONE WEEK and darius was already head over heels when he wasn't before is insane; of course she wasn't ready for a relationship, SHE BROKE UP WITH KENJI LESS THAN A MONTH BEFORE WTF. anyways canon unrequited dinostar is out long live fanon qpr dinostar

-atp i hope they don't make dinostar canon or set brookenji back together, they should all be single for a while after everything that's gone down, although i can't help but be a little mad because then why make darius go through that, the grief was strong enough as purely platonic

-where was the handler. i'm not even obsessed with her and i missed her

-i think it was slightly obvious that soyona was going to be the broker so i'm a little confused as to why the promo made such a fuss about it, but anyway

-dr. sarr was wasted potential, those creations were insane and admitting to having fed the rest of the crew to the baryonyx felt straight out of a horror novel. that was some good horror stuff and then it got all thrown away in one episode.

-something i noticed a lot is that, even if there were barely no clips, they still revealed a lot about the season from just the trailer. half the trailer came from the last three episodes and there was a lot of spotlight to things that in the end didn't amount much to the plot (*cough* the DLN *cough*). i feel like that may be one of the reasons i didn't enjoy this season as much

that's pretty much it, sorry for being a hater about it but I had a lot of mixed feelings that i needed to get out. it's still not the worst season ever, it would take something truly awful to defeat s4 in my heart, but it's definitely in the lower middle.