#stay away from the concealer she hates you and wants you dead she can do nothing for you

[githvyrik]

I rly don’t wanna imply like “just get over it” about insecurities with your skin and whatnot especially as someone who hasn’t struggled as much with my skin as others but when people say stuff like “well if you wear a full face every day because it makes you feel better about yourself that’s fine!!!” it does not sit right with me. it just doesn’t. when I very rarely wear foundation + concealer because I’m doing a makeup look that’s complicated, my skin always looks worse to me after because society has told me I’m supposed to look like that. and it’s better and easier for me now than it was in high school when I wore it a few times for performances or “because I felt like it”, and when I took it off at the end of the day I thought I was so ugly and realized I had to not do it every day because it would make me feel worse about myself (this was easy for me because I have always been lazy and would rather have gotten as much sleep as possible before school every day). anyways basically if you are going out with a full face every day that’s not in fact going to actually help you and will absolutely make you feel worse and worse about your natural face and if you feel like you cannot leave the house without foundation and concealer I am so sorry society failed you. you look fine the way you are I promise, you look like a human being and you don’t need to change that for anybody.

[lirational]

Fluttering in the Mist

Yandere!Adela x Reader

Content warnings: Memory alteration, memory loss, dubious consent, fingering, yandere behavior. DARK CONTENT. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT.

SMUT UNDER THE CUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Clink!

As soon as the doorbell rang, you heard her voice.

“(Name)? Welcome, is there anything I could help you with?”

Her voice was familiar, comforting, followed with the scent of lavender that made your tense muscles start to relax. Though it was a small thing, it was still a gesture you appreciated.

You were giddy, eager to all but spill your newest achievement to your best friend. Though your friendship started on not so smoothly, with Adela, still a stranger at that time, offering to make you forget everything that hurts, with no prompt or explanation. You reacted as anyone sane would if they were offered hard drugs by a stranger, yet to your luck, she did not take it personally, even helping you get settled in the area.

She did not have any reason to offer you that much kindness. Not while you were strangers to each other. Yet, if you knew she would be this much of a close friend to you, you would turn back time and admonish your past self for almost turning her away.

“Just thought I’d stop by,” you answer, voice barely able to contain your excitement, “Can I get a trim, too? I mean, sure, I know you, but your skills come highly recommended by everyone here,”

“Come, now, take a seat right there, I’ll wash your hair, and you, my dear friend, can tell me what got you leaping over the moon,” she gestured at the washing table, the emphasis of the word lost on you. Humming a disjointed, happy tune, you obliged, letting yourself sink on the plush chair.

“Remember to close your eyes, now,”

Warm water cascaded from the top of your head, the temperature just right to coax you into a state of relaxation. Her fingers sometimes brush against your ears, and you had to remind yourself not to get too lost in the feeling, or you would’ve fallen asleep. Her fingers occasionally brush your ear, prompting a shiver down your spine.

“So, what did you want to talk about?”

Her voice snapped you out from the comfort, bringing back the joy you had almost forgotten to tell her.

“Do you still remember the girl I met in the flower shop? The one I told you about before? Well, she agreed to go out with me this weekend!” You couldn’t keep the giddy tone out from your voice, excitement almost prompting you to open your eyes. “She said we can go for a nice meal and talk. I really can’t wait! Dammit, if only time can go by faster…”

Adela was massaging your scalp as you talked, fingers almost coaxing you to talk more with each gentle press. She seemed content to listen, while you, in your bliss, did not see her furrowed brows and stiff expression.

“Congratulations, I wish you the best. See? Living here isn’t quite so bad,” Adela replied, though in your relaxation, you did not realize that her voice wavered ever so slightly even as her hands went through practiced motions.

You still remained oblivious.

“On another note, have you considered my offer yet?” She asked, changing the topic. “I have room for one more, and you could save more by living with me, hm?”

With a distinct creak, she turned off the water, prompting you to answer.

“Really, thank you for the offer, Adela, but I would hate to impose,” you rejected, a bit more firm this time.

Snip.

You felt like you were snapped out from a long, deep daydream, brought back to reality to meet her light blue eyes. Under the dim light of the place, her eyes gleamed, hidden intentions concealed behind loving gaze.

“Why would you? You were already staying with me all the while. All we need to do is to make it official.”

“I’m… ah, you might be right, I thought—“

Snip.

“Shush, you’ve been so wound up all this time… poor little thing, you didn’t even have a proper place to sleep, and now, look at how disoriented you are.”

Her voice wrapped inside you, filling the strange cavity in your head that seemed to blossom out of nowhere. Overwhelming comfort bled from each word she spoke, hugging and grounding you to her, only letting you hear the distinct snip snip of her scissors and nothing else. Strands of your hair fluttered down to the floor, and relief washed over you each time they hit the floor.

Another snip, her finger brushed the curve of your ear, and you leaned into her touch, driven by something you cannot quite place.

“Let me just tidy you up a bit, then we can relax, hm?” Her voice have lowered to a gentle whisper, like a caress that fills the cracks forming in your memories, like liquid gold applied to mend a fractured porcelain. She adjusted your head to its proper position, eyes meeting yours for a moment before she continued.

“That is right, I do feel tired… thanks, Adela. I was so excited for the date with, with…”

Snip.

“You must be so exhausted, even forgetting the date plans with your girlfriend right here…” she finished your words, and once again, a strange calm washed upon you, the conflicting sense of wrong and right fighting for dominance in your mind with the former on the losing side. White wisps flutter in your vision, bathing the place in thin, flowing mist, yet the only other person with you did not seem to notice.

Your lover, no—

Your thoughts were interrupted with a deafening, firm snip so close to your ears, and it disappeared through your fingers, much like the mist covering your vision that you could not attempt to even grasp.

Adela never let you dwell long enough on each gaping void in your mind, and this time, there was a lilt full of desire in her words, “Shush, it’s okay, I know you were so tired these days. No one would hire you all because you didn’t have any references to vouch for you.”

There it was, once again, a sense of wrongness, only lasting for half a second at most before another snip tore through these thoughts, leaving another gaping void for Adela to fill and mend with her sweet voice. With your proximity, you could smell her perfume, the sense of familiarity stronger than anything else you could come up with.

“It’s okay, my love, I will always be here for you.”

A traitorous, oh so pleasurable shiver went down your spine, settling between your legs.

You could feel the tug of a strong, strong connection with her, a connection that stayed taut and grounding even as everything else crumbled down into the dark cracks of your thoughts. Any attempts to pull anything out from the void only disoriented you further, while her voice became an anchor, the one rock you can rely on to steady your feet.

Your hair looked immaculate, clever layering creating the illusion or volume and care you certainly did not put in. Pieces of hair littered the floor below you, and for a moment, you felt the strange urge to grab a strand.

Perhaps, it would alleviate this sense of deep, clawing wrongness.

A final snip on your bangs banished the thought, the metallic gleam of the scissors was reflected in the mirror in front of you. Adela placed the tool back into its box soon after, her lips so close to the shell of your ear, enough for her canine to graze it. Her breaths fanned your skin as she moved lower, sucking a smudged mark stained by dark lipstick, a mark that will almost certainly bloom into a bruise on your shoulder.

“Oh, is my lovely girlfriend still wound up?” She asked with a smirk, sucking another mark at the delicate spot that beats along with your heartbeat. Not giving you a chance to ponder, she spun the chair around, forcing you to face her before she locked her lips onto yours.

There was urgency to the kiss, a hunger similar to a person who was deprived from sweets so long they would crave it no matter how or what has to be done, however, she still savoured the feeling, pale hand pressing on the back of your head to force you to deepen the kiss. Her other hand reached onto your clothes, undressing you and letting your clothes lay forgotten on the chair and the floor, not caring that the hair strands might stick to them.

“See, I was right,” she smiled as she broke the kiss, licking the strand of saliva connecting the two of you while admiring you in your undergarments. With a gaze full of love, she cupped your drenched underwear, almost purring in delight at the strand of liquid that followed her index finger.

“My dear lovely girlfriend seem so stressed. Shh, let me take care of you.”

“But, Adela, wait, I think… something is missing.”

“Shush, everything is okay. I am supposed to unwind you here, after all. You struggling to think is a little against the point here, my love.”

She hooked her index finger and moved aside your ruined underwear, exposing your folds to the cold air of the place. It was like all life outside has faded into a deathly quiet, and nothing existed other than you, Adela - your lover - and the white mist that seemed to blanket the two of you. One experimental finger slipped easily in, and your walls swallowed her up, your body made desperate, so desperate for any kind of stimulation from your attentive girlfriend. A crimson flush colored your cheeks at the thought, yet she just smiled and added another finger in, pumping, spreading you apart, and pressing on that spot that made your toes curl and your fingers grip on the armrest.

“Ah… Adela, please, I—“

She started slow, gleaming blue eyes not breaking contact from yours all the while, though as she moved faster and faster, each movement accompanied with embarassing squelches and moans that slipped unbidden from your lips. Your eyes have rolled to the back of your head, drool slipping out from the corner of your lips.

She licked it off from the corner of your lips, then flashed you a smile, neither breaking eye contact nor ceasing her movements down there all the while. Her other hand rolled your stiff nipples with her thumb and index finger, before she leaned in to swirl and circle patterns onto the sensitive nub with her tongue.

This must be why you felt so giddy when you came here, after all, having such a loving girlfriend was something not everyone was lucky enough to achieve.

“Adela, I am… close!”

“Then let it all out, for me,”

She increased her speed, intent to split you apart with her fingers, and you screamed her name as you tip over the edge, your juices coating her fingers and the chair. It felt like a huge burden has been lifted from you, and as she pulled out, your body fell limp, like a doll with its supporting strings cut. Now, with your worries unreachable even as you struggled, your consciousness started to darken, sleepiness hugging you with a blanket that tempted you to just stop thinking too much.

“See? You were very tired, after all. Close your eyes. Tomorrow, your worries will be nothing but a distant dream…”

With her smile to reassure you, you closed your eyes.

[naivesilver]

WELL HELLO THERE 💖 Lemme just repay the favour this is not the last ask you're gonna recieve right now hehe BUT what say you to a littleeeeeeeeee no.2 from the Angsty Found Family Prompts for Archie and Pinocchio, huh? 👀

So, to conclude this absolutely RIVETING round of prompts... Do you perchance remember when I was talking about the eventuality of a certain s2 event happening in Thousand Problems? 🥰🥰🥰

ANGSTY FOUND FAMILY PROMPTS

2. Needing help but being unable to ask for it

Archie feels watched. 

For someone who was recently stuck in a predicament such as his, it should be unnerving, but he's pretty sure he's not about to get kidnapped again soon - his disappearance was meant to serve a purpose, and now that he's been revealed to be alive, he's safer than most people in town. At least, that's what Emma said, and he has no reason to doubt Emma's judgment on the matter, given that she's the one who had to crack the case. 

Still, he's acutely aware that he's not alone. He's lingering at Marco's house because for now, his own feels a little daunting, as does his office; luckily, his friend is more than happy to let him stay for as long as he needs. Too happy, even - he has a tendency to hover, Marco, fretful to the point of being overbearing, though it can be forgiven, in this situation. 

It's not Marco who's watching him, however. The realization almost makes his smile - he hides it, because he doesn't want his observator to feel mocked, but he must admit it's a pretty endearing sight, the poorly concealed red-haired head peeking from behind the frame. “Do you need something, Pinocchio?”

The boy startles, then, his hiding spot revealed, shuffles forward sheepishly, his eyes firmly fixed on his shoes. “No.”

Archie's faint amusement tinges with sadness, and he reaches out to take Pinocchio's hand, squeezing it gently. “How are you doing? I'm sure it must have been confusing, what you've seen these past few days.”

And confusing is a polite euphemism, he adds, in the privacy of his own mind. It was shocking enough to find out that he'd been declared dead in his absence - he can't imagine what it could have been like, to go through all of it as it unfolded. Marco seemed troubled plenty, and he is a man grown, capable of taking things in stride; for a boy of eight, it must have been a nightmare, especially so close to the end of the curse. 

Still, Pinocchio doesn't deign him with a response, and simply shrugs, not looking up at all. Archie sighs, sinking onto the couch to be at a passable eye level with him, if the boy ever changes his mind. “It's alright. I understand. But look- everything's back to normal now. I'm sorry you had to think I was dead, but they were wrong, see? I'm still here. Like it happened to you, remember?”

“But Papa says I was dead for real that time,” Pinocchio replies, his voice small and wavering. “Were you dead for real?”

The doctor resists the urge to hang his head in defeat, instead brushing a wayward strand of hair off the boy’s forehead. “No, I wasn’t. Nothing happened, I promise- it was all just a big scare, and it’s over now. I know it’s hard to believe - it’s hard for me, too - but everything’s fine. You and your father held the fort for me just fine.”

He’d hoped that would grant him a glimmer of a better mood, but Pinocchio seems to sink even further into himself, his hands balled into fists at his sides. “I didn’t do anything. There was a funeral, but Papa figured all that out himself. I just held Pongo and kept him away from the food, ‘cause it was people food.”

“Oh, Pinocchio…”

“Lampwick came too. He said it was just to eat for free and that you’d hate that he was there, but I know he just wanted to check if I was freaking out- but I wasn’t. I swear, I was being good.”

At a surface level, Archie would be almost peeved. He’s having the rare, almost unique chance of experiencing something most people won’t, hearing what happened at his own funeral, and he’s sure he’ll have to unpack all of it painfully and methodically, once he can bear the idea of being alone with his thoughts - that a certain rough-and-tumble boy was cracking jokes in poor taste for most of it is just the cherry on top, really.

But he’s not alone, now, and he can appreciate that someone thought to keep an eye on this boy when he couldn’t - and that he can resume his job when it’s most needed, as well. “I’m glad you had your friend with you, to talk about it,” he says, choosing every word with the utmost care. “Do you…want to talk more?”

A stiff shake of the child’s head, as stubborn as it is clear. “I see. Would you like a hug, then?”

Again, there is no answer; but when the doctor opens his arms it’s a matter of moments before they’re filled with a trembling bundle of child, all but clinging to him as Pinocchio shakes with sobs so hard it’s a wonder he isn’t snapping a bone. Archie lets out another sigh, then gently engulfs the boy into the hug, rubbing his back and shushing him as best as he can. “It’s alright,” he repeats, though it’s hard to determine how effective it might be. “You’re alright. I’m here. I’m not going away again if I can help it, okay?”

Pinocchio gives him what could pass for a nod, sniffing loudly now that he’s not trying to conceal his face anymore. “I woulda taken real good care of Pongo,” he says, rubbing at his nose with the sleeve of his shirt. “I swear.”

“I know you would have,” Archie murmurs, squeezing the boy tighter, and he doesn’t know which one of them is being soothed more by the gesture, but he doesn’t think it actually matters, at the end of the day.

“You’re a good boy, Pinocchio. I know I can count on you.”

[child-of-of-the-sunshine]

His Rodeo Queen

Prologue

Abbie and Jake have been dating since just before sophomore year of high school. But there are ups and downs from Abbie but let’s go back to when Abbie was a kid and then to when her and Jake started dating.

Trigger Warning: Death of parents and suicide

It was a hot day in June 1995, Abbie was up in the stands watching her dads bull ride, it was the second ride of the weekend on the last day of Paul Valley Heritage Days Rodeos. But this day wasn’t going to be like the other rides Abbie had watched her dad do, she was up in the stands, with her mom watching her dads ride, Abbie was happy content with watching her dad do what loved, sitting up in the stands, but like I said this isn’t no ordinary day in the dirt, something was about to go and in a blink of an eye Abbie watched her dad get stomped on by the bull

“Abbie, you stay right here.” Her mom said before running down, Abbie waited up in the stands until she she saw the ambulance pull into the area, that’s when Abbie ran down the stands and into the area of the athletes but her Uncle was standing by the area gate and grabbed Abbie before she could see her dad “No, uncle Rhett, I need to see my dad.” She cried as he picked her up “Abbie you can’t, okay he’s really hurt.” Rhett said “No.” Abbie cried more into her uncles shoulder, the red and blue lights flashed in Abbie’s face, as she watched the Ambulance drive away, she saw her mom get in, but she wasn’t listening to anything else, besides when she heard her aunt talking and saw her little bag that was up in the stands, “Rhett we have to get to the hospital.” Her aunt said, Abbie could feel her self being put into the truck and buckled by her uncle and then truck taking off, a couple minutes later the truck stopped, Abbie doesn’t remember of finding her out her dad was dead besides the weeks, months and years after until she was 13 and her uncle picked her up from school an hour after he dropped her off, tell her mom had killed herself

2 years later Troy Rodeo (After her mom died)

Abbie was gearing up to carry the American flag, putting on her dads old saddle, and putting on her hat making sure it stayed in place, her aunt was making sure her hair was good to go, first year as Miss High School rodeo in Troy TX. “Okay kiddo you got this.” Her aunt Melissa said “I know.” She nodded gettin up on her horse Megan, her aunt handed her the flag, back in the bull shoots you have the county’s best bull rider in high school Jake Seresin and his best friend Javy standing in the fence near the bull “Don’t get distracted by the pretty blonde man.” Javy said laughing “Dude that’s the hottest girl in our school.” Jake said smiling “Hottest girl in our school and she hates bull riders.” Javy said, soon the national anthem was play and Jake was paying attention to Abbie, how her hair blew in the breeze, from her riding her horse after the anthem the rodeo started and Jake was first, up in riding he scored and 89 points, he noticed Abbie was nowhere to be seen until her name was called for Barrel racing “Abbie Moore 15 years old, straight out of Troy herself, born and raised here.” The announcer announced, Jake finally knew her name, he watched her ride it flawlessly. According to him, her horse was fast, “I’m going to get her.” Jake said turning towards Javy “Man I would love to see you try.” He laughed shaking his head, Javy kinda knew Abbie since he was dating her best friend “I can totally get her.” He said by the end of the rodeo day, Jake was trying to look for and finally found her, talking to Javy and his girlfriend. Jake walked up “That bull rider earlier was pretty good.” Abbie said “Abbie you know your rule about Bull Riders and Bronc riders.” Sadie said “Yeah I know no bull riders I already saw what they’ve done to my family.” She said looking towards the dirt, even with the concealing her aunt and uncle put her into it still hurt her a lot, Jake heard this but still wanted to give it a try anyways “So Abbie.” Jake said “Nope, not happening.” Abbie said before grabbing Sadie’s hand and walking away “Way to go Jake.” Javy said looking at his best friend “Wait, was that Abbie, Sadie’s best friend?” Jake questioned “Yes, I told you she doesn’t date Bull Riders.” Javy said patting Jake’s shoulder “I’m going to at least try, she’s confident and I don’t know what else.” Jake said looking at where Abbie and Sadie went “She can resist your bull rider charm?” Javy laughed “Beside we both know I’m not going to do this forever.” Jake said “Right you want to go to the Navy.” Javy said “Yes you are going with me remember.” Jake laughed “Yes we may because you and your dad convinced. Besides it will help Sadie if something happens to me.” Javy said “Do think, I could be friends with Abbie?” Jake asked Javy “Nah, you missed your chance, man.” Javy said before walking away “Wait if you and Sadie get married.” Jake said running after Javy “If me and Sadie get married oh me and Sadie are getting married.” Javy said, Jake followed Javy to a trailer “Really Javy you had to bring him.” Abbie said looking at Javy, “Okay, first of all, he's my best friend.” Jake said crossing his arms “Well your not my friend our best friends might be dating each other but you and me aren’t friends and will never be friends.” Abbie said before, “What the hell is her problem, I did nothing.” Jake said, actually confused at Abbies blow up “Her dad was a bull rider.” Sadie said before going after her best friend, Sadie caught up to Abbie who was leaning against the side of something. “You can’t blow at someone just because they're a bull rider.” Sadie said to her best friend “I can if I like them.” Abbie said before covering her mouth with her hands “You what?” Sadie questioned “I like Jake, he is literally chasing after me.” Abbie said pointing back towards the trailer “We just will avoid them.” Sadie said nodding her head “We can’t one of them is your boyfriend.” She said

Through the summer Jake and Abbie couldn’t stop talking about each other they saw each other everywhere now rodeos and church finally Javy and Sadie had enough and set them at a park and left them there hoping Abbie wouldn’t rip Jakes head off but they had to try these two pinning for each other was killing both Javy and Sadie, but this plan had hitch in it Jake had to meet Javy at the park, but that would work in Sadie in Javys favor since, Javy picked Sadie and Abbie up from Abbie’s house, once at the Park Jake was already there waiting under a tree for Javy and Sadie, but he didn’t know Abbie would be there, once they walked up “Wait Javy, I forgot in the truck will you come with me.” Sadie said looking at Javy, “Yeah I’ll come with you.” Javy said, both of them left there best friends standing until both walked to a bench after three minutes “You know they left us here.” Abbie said sitting on the bench, “Yeah I know.” Jake laughed “So tell me something about you like why the hell you hate bull riders so much.” Jake said “Well, my dad was one and he died doing it was supposed to be last ride ever, like he after that ride he wouldn’t do bulls again he would do team roping with my uncle. But the bull had other plans that day…” Abbie paused and wiped her tears “I was seven and up in the stands with my mom. When it happened he fell off and the stomped him. My told me to stay in the stands which I did until I saw the ambulance and went down there, but my uncle grabbed me, after that day seeing what it did to my family. I refused to like bull riders or date one.” She said wiping her tears “So what about your mom?” Jake asked, “She killed herself when I was thirteen.” Abbie said looking at Jake, who wiped her tears “I shouldn’t have asked about her.” Jake said feeling bad “It’s fine she was absent from seven until two weeks before she died.” She said looking at Jake’s green eyes “I really like you Abbie. Your so confident the way you walk around rodeos and church like nothing can scare you or touch you. Hell you scare me Abbie, I just want to know you the girl who just told me about her parents. I don’t want to know Miss High School Rodeo, or the best barrel racer in our class. I want to know Abbie.” He said which made Abbie smile “I want to know the Abbie that Javy and Sadie are always telling stories about.” He said “They tell stories about me?” She asked “Hell yeah they do.” Jake laughed “But I don't do bull riders and you guys make this your whole damn career.” She said “Yeah I plan on after high school joining the Navy to keep up a family legacy. Bull riding even though I’m damn good at it, I don't want to do it forever.” He said “Jake I don’t if can handle.” Jake cut her off “I don’t care if your mad at me after every ride I just want you.” With that Abbie leaned forward and kissed him

19 years later Coronado California ‘Hard Deck Bar’

Jake walked in with confidence with his wedding ring on his dog tags which were tucked into his shirt, he saw his best friend who everyone knew was married, Javy wore a silicon ring, the actual wedding was at home around his wife Sadie’s neck. Sadie and Javy have two kids, a boy and a girl Cory and Emily. Jake and Abbie haven’t had kids not for lack of trying either. At this point they kinda decided kids weren’t in the cards for them they are both 34 now and Jake was just called back to Top Gun and Abbie was running her family legacy and still running barrels and team roping, which is why Abbie didn’t come to this post with Jake like she normally would, Abbie has been everywhere Jake when she can Hawaii, Virginia, Florida, Maryland, she has been Coronado when Jake first went to Top Gun she got them a little air BNB, Javy walked over and handed Jake some darts “She take the test before you left?” Javy whispered “Yeah and it was negative, I don’t think it’s in the cards for us man.” Jake said “It’s all about timing man.” Javy said as they started shooting darts “Yeah timing.” Jake said rolling his eyes “Hey don’t you dare get all depressed.” Javy said, “I’m not I’m just pissed we’ve been doctors and there is nothing wrong with either of us.” Jake said throwing a dart “let’s just have fun, beside I already know Sadie and the kids are at your house.” Javy said smiling, they did there around of darts before starting on pool, at that time more people showed up and Javy was getting updates same with Jake

Troy Texas

Both Cory and Emily were out in Jake and Abbies guest bedroom “Sadie, I need to make an appointment there has to be something wrong with me.” Abbie said looking at her best friend “Girl we aren’t going down this road again.” Sadie said setting down her glass of wine “How can I not me and Jake have both been to doctors there is nothing wrong with either of us, so why can’t we get pregnant?” Abbie questioned

Taglist: @kitty-marie725 @hcwthewestwaswcn

[godstaff]

Happyhoganon AU Questions: What would Supes interactions with the older heroes be like? Would he get-a-long well with the adult heroes? What happens if he encounters an adult Lois Lane who's THE best reporter around in Metropolis w/o any competition? And what happens if the Boy of Steel met her while she was foiling Lex's plans (after her interview with the devious man)?

I think the first interaction with other heroes would be an exchange of intel on a criminal subject they are trying to catch individually, then discovering they can make their goals coincide.

Usually the approach of the many movies on the subject seems to be the correct one: there's a global emergency forcing people of different paths of life to band together to solve a situation. It's kind of extreme but plausible. Every hero has something to contribute to it. That's when they take notice of the powerful youngster and call him to help. At first, young Clark acts humble and somewhat lost. They all welcomed him until he told them he knew who they are. Bruce was the one who particularry hate him for that, given his efforts to conceal his public persona. But Clark showed them his wilingness to the cause. He's eager to learn. He's eager to help. Adult heroes look at him in amaze of all the things he's able to do. He looks at them astounded of their organizational skills and knowledge. He developes a strong respect for all of them.

All except Batso. Batso is there because he must be by sovereing decree and his only task is to bark orders and annoy everyone. And, of couse, look cool in his car and plane. Okay, he may have some valuable intel as well. Nothing much. Young Clark tends to stay away from him. J'onn J'ontz told him Bruce could be of some use as a liaison with humans. So they need to tolerate him.

Since he moved to Metropolis, he met two persons like Batso: Lex Luthor and Lois Lane. Also humans. Their main talent is also barking orders and annoy everybody. They, like the bat, think they are always the most intelligent persons in the room. Clark wanted to do the following experiment: putting the three of them in a room with nobody else. He's sure one or two of them would end up dead. They seem pretty smart, but if you buy them for their real worth and sell them for what they think of themselves, you are doing good business.

Clark was, at first, taken by and enchanted by Lois Lane's flashy image, until he met Wonder Woman. Diana of Themyscira reminded him a lot to Lana Lang, trustworthy, loyal and strong women, whose sole presence is noteworthy, they don't need to bark their credentials all the time to make people notice them. That's the main difference: He learnt what's compelling and what was magnificent. Diana was magnificent. Lois forces people to notice her by being loud and commanding attention, Diana and Lana can't help but being noticed by their mere presence and silent actions. Lois was certainly beautiful, but, more often than not, she weaponized her physical attributes to get a scoop or enter a restricied area. Well...to each its own, thought Clark. He particularly disliked when Lois snatched an assignment she was interested on from other coleagues and published it before them, without mention of the other. It was rude and disrespectful. Clark loved fair play and noticed humans, specially successful humans, often take unethical short cuts to get what they want. He sensed Diana also stayed away from Lois Lane and her tactics. His respect for the Amazon grew as consequence. So did his love for Lana.

[inertflouride]

Chain my heart

Prompt: Jake and MC dated in the past but somehow, between love and responsibility, Jake chose his responsibility, leaving his love to bleed behind. It's been 2 months since that and MC's blood still churns to avenge her broken heart. What she doesn't know is things are way more complicated than they appear.

Warning: Violence, Weapons, Angst?, Cuss words.

"Lemme give you a little advice. Never wear a backless red dress for action", I mumble to Dan who is aiming his sniper from the roof of a five storey building.

"That's why I got you a backless red dress with a slit", he replies back in a low tone, emphasising on the word slit.

I push part of my dress back, revealing all of my bare thigh and strap a gun holster around my upper thigh. "Yeah, the ONLY good part about it", I say as I slip a pistol in the holster.

"Boo, stop complaining about petty things", he relaxes his posture and looks back at me, leaning his head on his arm. I roll my eyes at him and push back my dress over my thigh, my lower leg still revealing.

"Sure. Now when will you stop sniping like a pussy and charge in with me?", I ask in exasperation from waiting in the chilly air in tiny ass clothes. "Though I hate you for making me wear this. Why can't I wear my usual assassin outfit?", I whine and irritatedly move my dress back and forth.

"I not only want those perverted men distracted, but also you concealed in the filthy rich crowd. Plus hackerman would recognise your badass aura", he says as he shuffles his bag for an energy drink.

"Come on Dan, he has a name", I groan at his habit of coming up with new names.

"One I don't give a fuck about AND one who shouldn't either", he scoffs back at me, "Aha, found it", and opens the can with his teeth.

That stung hard but hell with admitting that. "All things apart, I must say though, Jack Daniels without a beard is a tragedy", I quip back at him, masking the sudden grief I felt.

"Yeah yeah. Insult me all you want but if you let hackerman slip today, I'll strangle you myself with my bare hands", he nonchalantly replies back, chugging at the red bull. I look away from him, moving towards the terrace. Chilled Chicago air slaps my face, reminding me of how I was shattered, cheated, used and thrown away. And how I'm again feeling weak for that wretched man.

Who ruined me. Who broke me. Who made me beg for him to stay.

And I'm here again feeling bad for that man? I must be a fool. A dumb fucking fool.

But no more. I'll have him by his balls. Be it dead or alive.

"Okay little one, now's your time. The show's starting", Dan alerts me, snapping me out of my little self reflection.

"Hmm, okay. Right. I'll get going now", I tell that to myself more than him and take a quick breathe in as I feel my feet falter. Dan gets up and jerks me by my shoulder.

"Listen MC. I'm gonna be there in a few myself. Do not panic, do not give yourself away. If you feel suffocated, just merge in the crowd and give yourself time. Most importantly, if you manage to put your finger on hackerman, maintain your distance and observe. He'll recognise you the moment you speak or even look at him", Dan gives me a run through of the situation and presses my shoulder.

"Yeah right. Thanks again, Dan", I quickly add in before starting my mission. As I move towards the elevator, I hear Dan deeply sigh and crush the can he was drinking in anger. He knows what happened the last time Jake... he and I met. Dan was the one who helped me stick together the pieces of my shattered self, pushed me to move on and now is helping me with this.

If not for myself, then for Dan, I have to do this. I need to.

I rush towards the flashy building where the gathering has assembled, wearing my heels before exiting the five storey building I was previously in. The moment I see the door in front of me, I start walking elegantly, allowing my hips to sway from side to side.

"Your invitation, Miss?", the guard in front of me asks. I pull out the VIP token which Dan gave me, and flash it at the guard who quickly stiffens and bows as I make my way through.

The open doors reveal a giant gathering of powerful men and their wives. A few powerful women and their escorts too. I roam my gaze over everyone, spotting the infamous mafia who was arrested for adultery a few months back. But that's not who I am here for, I'm here for...

"Looking for somebody?", a voice breathes in my ear and I jerk my neck around, turning back at the source. But there's nobody there. Strange.

I grab a champagne from the waiter passing by me, and I gulp down the drink in my glass in one go and ask for another. The fuck is with me already hallucinating about him?

"Are you sure you can handle it?", a guy standing behind me asks. I look at him, my gaze going over him. Another rich aristocrat. Or a mafia's son? I don't know. He's wearing a crisp white shirt and black pants, one of his ear studded and hair reaching his neck. "Please excuse my rudeness, I'm Rygel", he extends his hand towards me in a handshake, which of course I return.

"I'm MC. Hello", I awkwardly babble at him. I'm not here for this, how should I tell him that. I do not have time for this!

"You seem a bit lost", he tips his chin and asks me, crooking one of his brows at me.

"Oh no no. Nothing like that", Fuck MC, compose yourself! I find a couple of people dancing towards the side. "Would you like to dance?", I ask, trying to divert his attention from me. A few moves won't hurt right? Plus it would keep me concealed from...

"I hope that isn't the alcohol speaking", pretty face tries to be quirky. Nah, I hope I don't throw up, especially on him.

"Oh haha, you're so funny", I reply back, sarcasm dripping from my sentence and lightly hit his arm in humour. He takes my hand and we move towards the dancing crowd.

"It's a mixer happening", Rygel tells me as he looks at the crowd, sounding disappointed.

"What's that?"

"Ah it's just normal dance with people switching their partners from time to time. C'mon now, the song just ended", he explains and then pulls me with him to the crowd. What did I get stuck into! Also where the fuck is Dan?

The song starts playing and so does everybody's dance. I can't help but think, what is the point of all of this? Yeah right. Rich people having too much time and money on their hands. Pfft.

Amidst my zoning out, I'm suddenly pushed forward by him towards the next person in turn but since it was so sudden, I find myself stumbling as I'm thrown forward.

"Woah, careful. Are you okay?", a familiar voice asks me, concern reflecting in his tone. I don't dare look up at him for he's going to recognise me. The place where his hands are, trying to break my fall, burn with excruciating pain.

Suddenly the champagne tower collapses down, diverting his attention from me. I quickly scram from his embrace and rush towards a less denser area, holding my holstered gun through my dress. Abruptly I'm pulled into a corner harshly via my arm and held against the wall. Out of instinct my voice moves ahead to scream but a hand is put on my mouth and Dan hushes me. My gawking eyes seem to return to normal when I take him in, deeply breathing to tone down from the sudden panic.

"What the fuck, Dan?", I whisper at me angrily, pushing him away from me, "You gave me a fucking shocker of my life!"

"What the fuck me? What the fuck were you doing? How did you land up exactly in that asshole's arms after I specifically asked you not to?!", he whispers back at me, more like a 'whisper shout'. "Thank fuck I arrived when I did and saved your sorry ass or I wouldn't know where would you have been by now. Probably on his bike into the unicorn world", he scoffs at me and gets out, revealing himself with his rifle in hand.

I rush towards him, not to stop him though. Screams fill the place by the people who notice the rifle and start calling for their bodyguards. But Dan already killed them. Aw, sad.

Dan hangs his rifle on his back and runs towards Jake, jumping on him from behind. The element of surprise takes Jake out, who then struggles to push Dan from above him. Dan starts landing punches on Jake's face after which I ask him to stop. He gets up and lets me take charge of the situation.

I offer a hand to Jake to try to help him stand. I snicker as I think about Dan's pissed off thoughts going like, "What the fuck, MC?" "Why this?". I pull Jake up who stumbles a bit, swaying a bit from side to side just from a few hard blows and look at him for a second. Man, how did we reach to this? I really wish we hadn't but no point doing that.

I push my dress behind, revealing my holster and take the pistol out, aiming it at Jake's forehead. "Any last wishes?", I dramatise the whole scene which keeps me from letting tears fall from my eyes.

"Yes. Just a second", I look at him bewildered when suddenly one half of the building blasts off, making me crouch down low. I scream from the suddenness of it when the pistol in my hand is kicked off and I'm being pulled away via my arm.

"Oh hell the fuck no. I'm not coming with you", I shout at being pulled away by Jake, trying to free my wrist, "Let me go, you bastard." But he still doesn't quit and lifts me up. "No no no, put me down. I can't be with you Jake, not anymore", I sob as I throw punches on his back to somehow get him to put me down but no, he stays stoic as hell and keeps going.

"MC, where are you?!", I hear Dan shout as he tries to find me in the chaos.

"Answer him and he dies", Jake cooly tells me and drags me out of the building. I see ambulances lined up outside through my tear blurred eyes and throw a few more punches on his back.

"I fucking hate you Jake! I fucking hate the very existence of you", I spit back at him from the disgust of again ending up with him.

"I know, doll. Now shut the fuck up", he tells me and opens his car's boot space and throw me in there. "Now if you want your hands or limbs to come in between the door, by all means, resist." He crooks one of his brows at me pausing briefly for any reaction from me before slamming the door shut.

Now reader, you must wondering that why didn't I resist. Well, I have a few... tools of me, one which can use to open this door. So why resist and waste my precious energy on putting on a show when I can easily escape out.

So, I lay calmly in here since I don't wanna pass out from less oxygen in here, waiting patiently for Jake to start the car.

To be continued...

(I had this draft from a few months. I just felt like posting it. Lemme know how you like it)

[whump-tr0pes]

Human Heart (Terminator Salvation fanfic) Chapter 5

Masterlist

AO3

Marcus Wright sacrifices himself and donates his heart to the leader of the human resistance against the machines. What he didn't take into account was how hard his friends would fight to get him back - and how he would be accepted in his second life.

Contents: post-surgery, heart transplant, cryo (kinda?)

~

When Kyle and Blair returned with an old water pump they had scrounged, Kate was already long since finished with John’s surgery. He was starting to wake up, his rasping voice just audible over the beep of the monitor behind him. Kate bent over him, her hand pressed against the side of his face and her forehead against his. A massive bandage wound around John’s chest, concealing what was sure to be a ferocious wound.

Marcus lay on the cot beside him, exactly as he had been when the two had left.

Kyle fell to his knees beside Marcus with a cry. Blair fixed Kate with a hateful glare. “You… you didn’t even untie him?” she seethed.

Kate chewed her lip. “Um… I mean, he might… fight when we wake him up again, so—”

Blair hissed out a breath through her teeth as she bent to peel the tape gag away from Marcus’s mouth. “You could at least have taken this off,” she muttered, and pulled the greasy cloth from between his lips. “Jesus Christ.”

“I’m sorry,” Kate said softly.

“If you’re really sorry, help me with this,” Blair shot back. She held the water pump aloft.

“Wait,” Kyle whispered. His fingers hovered a few inches over Marcus’s cheek. “Wait, he’s… something’s… happening.”

Kate blinked as she looked down at him. “I don’t… see anything.”

“No, I mean…” Kyle gently laid a hand on Marcus’s forehead. “He’s cold.”

Kate pressed her lips together. “Oh, no. I mean… if he’s been… without a heartbeat for this long…”

“No,” Kyle said urgently. “He’s… freezing.”

Blair placed a shaking hand on Marcus’s cheek. It was true: even in the blistering heat of the day, the man felt like he had just come out of a meat locker. Condensation gathered on his brow and temples. And, as she pulled one eyelid back, a red light flickered back at her from his pupil. She yanked her hand back like he had burned her.

“Wh-what does it mean?” Kyle murmured.

Kate shook her head. “When people drown in cold water, you can sometimes get them back after they’ve been dead for… hours.” She swallowed hard. “The cold acts like a… pause button, I guess. It can preserve your neurons. Is it all over his body?”

Kyle felt Marcus’s hand – his flesh one. Blair pulled up his pant leg and felt the skin there. It felt like ice.

“Yeah,” she said roughly.

“I think so,” Kyle replied.

Kate nodded slowly. “This… might be his body’s way of keeping him preserved. So maybe we should… hold off on that, for now.” She eyed the pump in Blair’s hand. “Maybe we wait, until John can make something permanent and I can put it in. Then we wake him up. And then…” She trailed off into silence.

“Then what?” Blair said uneasily.

Kate blew out a breath. “Then we hope that turning him on again didn’t… undo whatever deprogramming he had already done.”

Blair got to her feet and met Kate’s eyes. “He tore out his chip,” she said. “He made a different choice. He saved John, don’t—”

“I know that,” Kate said, holding out a hand. “I know. But… he’s clearly machine enough to still do… this.” She looked down at Marcus, still stretched out on the cot.

Blair looked down at him, too. She could see all the way into his chest cavity, into the mess of blood and lungs and twisted, broken metal ribs. She forced himself to look at his slack face, instead. She prayed that whatever was happening in his skull, his memories of her would stay intact – and that she would have the strength to do what needed to be done if he came back the way the machines had always wanted him to be.

[notlycheesden]

Rearview Mirror

Heyyo ✌🏻 this is my first written piece for Endeavor , as a gift for my friend @kogo for the evil exchange. so I hope you like it my dude 👍🏻. A piece I will def be coming back to write more for sure.

⤍ Endeavour x reader

⤍ 3.6k

⤍ TW.incest, TW.dubcon, TW.father/daughter

⤍ Summary:

Enji was trying to be a better father, a better man.

And you never lied to him.

Guess it was a time for a lot of firsts.

Everything was always red between the both of you.

It's past four when his phone rings.

He was awake. even on his day off -those becoming more frequent now- years of routine were still strong. His body alert and aware way before the break of dawn for hours of training before patrol, and later to go to his own agency, the literal empire that wouldn't run itself.

He was pretending to be asleep, unmovable laying on his stomach, face buried on his pillow. Deep breaths in and out in a rhythmic pattern. His massive frame takes most of his king-size bed that for more than a decade he slept right in the middle, no reason to let the right side of it unoccupied.

It was almost meditation-like. There in the quiet and calm of his bedroom between his sheets, he could organize -or at least try- his thoughts. A time in his day where he gets lost in self-reflection. The things he would have to do that day, what work in his agency he would have to supervise, and even stubbornly he would do a little steaming out, analyzing his “actions and emotions”, passing commentary from the resident agency therapist threw his way.

“A strict but good man, if not for some, mishaps, from your intense and fiery nature.” was his professional opinion about Endeavor. The man really lived to throw things his way.

It used to help calm his turbulent mind. But lately there was nothing in his head but turmoil.

It was something he would do until 6 AM, when he couldn't take any longer and had to get up, body and muscles aching from staying in bed for too long, the sun already rising on the horizon, painting the sky with yellows, pinks, and reds.

The silence of his room is broken by the ring of his phone. Instead of the familiar tone of the morning alarm, it was his normal ringtone. When he opens his eyes, the room was not bright as he expects, still shrouded by darkness. Endeavor sits on his bed at once, alert.

Getting it from the bedside table quickly, his posture falls when he catches the time and the already saved contact of who was calling him: Natsuo.

Enji picks up, but before he could question the call, the time, or even say hello, Natsuo speaks, voice grave and serious.

“You need to pick up your daughter right now.”

It’s a punch to the gut. One that makes all the air from his lungs escape at once. In a second, he feels like he is thrown into a rollercoaster.

The only thing he can muster in his shock is a guttural and deep bark of incredulity “What?”

Natsuo cuts Enji off immediately. His tone triggering him into snapping, memories hushing in -not the time for this- “She just called. She was a crying mess, begged me to come for her but I live two hours away-Shouto is on patrol and not picking up and Fuyumi is with her fiance's family at the onsen-”

Enji inhales sharply. Dread takes hold of him while he can't even see straight with the sudden rush of adrenaline, sirens blasting off in his head.

“She was supposed to be with fuyumi at the onsen.” His voice echoes back at him in his bedroom walls, he doesn't realize he is shouting.

“Look, this is really not the time. She has no money and her phone’s dead. I was able to get her to tell me an address before the call dropped. she's all alone there. Are you gonna pick her up?”

Natsuo calms his own breaths now after snapping and shouting back, and he can hear shuffling noises on his father’s side of the line. The older man was up in a second, not really seeing anything, rushing through his stuff picking his keys and wallet. He hates the way his father could make him snap so easily.

Enji was completely distraught.“She said she was going to be with fuyumi…” He mutters under his breath while running through the corridors, even forgetting the phone by his ear, his son still on the line.

But Natsuo hates even more the blatant difference in the way his father treated all of them and you in comparison. Always. Like he could fix his mistakes. Hide his sins.

“Well. Think your little princess lied to you old man.”

Enji didn't even register the venom in his son's words, nor when he hangs up on him.

He’s out of the house in a blink. He tries not to rip the door out of its hinges on his way out.

——

He drives fast, almost no other car in the streets making it easier to speed up in his nervous state. The GPS voice droning about the directions, a forty-minute drive that he would make in twenty.

you said you were going to spend the weekend with your sister.

You lied to him.

Enji’s heart hammers in his chest and his flames burst multiple times on his face out of control. His grip on the wheel tightens to ground his shaking hands, his jaw set with such force that he could feel a headache already forming.

Thoughts were flying through his mind a mile a second. Where are you? What happened to you? Who were you with? Were you safe? Why were you crying?

Why did you lie to him?

It was like his heart was being squeezed by dread and being broken at the same time.

You were his youngest. After he realized what he did to his children as a father, he tried his best to do better; connect, communicate, but he was emotionally and socially stunted -Thanks doc.- and by the time he tried to reach out, it was just a little too late.

Fuyumi was the pillar of the household, replacing their mother too much young and having to fit in a mould not meant to be hers, barely holding the treads of the family and house together. Natsuo was out of the front door as soon as he finished high school and got into med school, choosing to live in the dorms and work part-time rather than stay at the manor. Shoto was another history in itself.

And there was you, a couple of years younger than your now up-in-the-ranks pro hero brother, at the time just a pipsqueak. Too young to remember Rei, remember the worst of Endeavor.

And when he tried to connect, you were there. As if just waiting. Wanting your father to look at you. Frail and innocent and just in want of care, of attention, of love. You welcomed him into your life with open arms and heart.

Enji did try to make it right by you. And for some time things were progressing, even his other children were starting to turn their heads around his direction.

Until Touya’s incident.

The media cracked down on him and his family with a vengeance, almost nothing was left unturned or whole.

Natsuo was the first to cut ties. Shouto threw himself into his hero work, completely closing himself off. Even Fuyumi decided that she was done, took the next step, and went to live with her now fiance, completely ignoring whatever Enji tried to shout about costumes or honor.

Then it was just the two of you.

He tried to be a good father.

He was a quiet man in his private life, strict and with a violent nature, but he reached out for outside help to make it right. An older and trustworthy housekeeper to not chain his daughter down at the manor, guidance from therapist to help him become a better father, a better man, anything to do right this time.

Call it atonement, call it his redemption, call it hypocrisy, he didn't care.

He only cares that at the end of the day, you were there at his side, happy.

This morning he saw the note on the fridge.

Going to onee-san family trip,

Be back on Sunday.

You never had lied to him before.

Guess it was a time for a lot of firsts.

——-

The music blasting through the night tipped him off even before his car's GPS tells him he arrived at the destined location.

He parks way down the street and assesses the place inside the darkness of his car.

Enji’s way out of the city now and inside the industrial district, the building seems old and falling to pieces, people are lingering all around the street, but it’s thicker there. At surface level the building was empty, but the music was definitely coming from there.

He dreads the worst.

Getting out of the car still in his sleeping sweatpants and tee, he throws the hood of his workout jacket over his hair to conceal himself. He’s going for discretion, get you and get out, no need to make this a public affair. Not with this, not with you, not right now.

He searches around but still can't find you. Half an hour has passed since Natsuo called. He's in a frenzy. Endeavor forces himself to calm down and think.

His son didn't mention music. He looks far into the street and he can see the entrance of an alleyway, he hushes there.

His stomach tied in knots when he sees in the dark your small figure crouched down beside a dumpster. your shoulders ate shaking with silent sobs holding your dead phone for dear life, trying to make yourself smaller than you already were, head down.

Enji barks your name and your head snaps to the entrance of the alleyway in shock, your body trembling and fat tears running down your smudged makeup.

“Daddy!”

In a second you were up and running, throwing your body against him and hugging his middle. He doesn't know what to do first, but he opts for following his instincts. Enji hugs your shaking form, shushing you lightly while petting your head. He doesn't know if it's him or you who's shaking more.

He doesn't remember how, but he manages to walk both of you to his car without being seen, his hulking form covering your smaller one.

He's shaking. When Enji puts you in the passenger seat and the car lights momentarily shine everything in an amber glow, rage fills his chest. You are in a dress he has never seen before, he knows it was not yours. He would never allow a thing like that or let you use it in public. Your makeup that before being ruined by your smudging and crying, was heavy and meant to seduce.

He closes your door and gets in the car.

He's shaking.

——

Enji can only control himself enough to not rip the wheel or step on the gas right through the flooring for only three blocks. and thank the gods again for the hour, because he could not quite see the streets in front of him. If they weren't deserted while he drives double the velocity permitted, it would be likely that the fears of his family being again under the cruel and ravenous judgment of the public eye would become reality, although for a completely different reason from the ones he has been dreading until this point.

When he reaches the fourth block, he makes a sudden stop, turning and parking harshly with the front of the car almost all the way over the curb, the tires skidding loudly into the quiet of the night and scaring you out of your still shell shock state. your small sniffles stop when you let out a muted yelp of surprise.

Enji quickly pries his hands that have a death grip on the wheel and smash the roof of the car to turn the lights on in such a way that later he’s impressed he didn't send the entire ceiling flying. As fast as he did that and the darkness of the car is now cast in warm gold, his hands are on your small frame like a striking snake, a big calloused one gripping your face between meaty fingers, squeezing your wet cheeks and the other one in your far shoulder, turning you in his direction with a barely controlled yank. Enji wasn't sure if the shaking was coming from your body or his.

He's frantic, hectic, eyes going up and down your body trying to find anything, something. “Are you hurt? tell me,” His voice is harsh, too loud into the small space. You jump startled, but his grip locks you in place, he doesn't notice.

Why did you come to a party? Why are you dressed like this? Why did you do this?

“Are you?? Someone did something? Gave you something, touched you?” He barks again louder, bending and twisting to be in your face now, eyes scanning all over your body. But again and again, they would be drawn to the too short hem of your dress, from your ruined tearstained makeup and down again to your soft and creamy thighs, trying to find a mark, a scratch, a stain. Anything, something.

“Fucking answer me!”

“Dad please!”

Enji lets you go as if you just slap him in the face. He blinks.

You are shaking. Looking at him in fear, silent tears running down your cheeks. Your jaw is set as you try to hold your whimpers back, his fingers make red marks bloom on your face and arm under his digits.

Memories come back rushing. Phantoms scourging in blue flames.

He releases you as if you burn him.

His hands hover in place, and he doesn't dare to move, still crowding you. Both of you staring at each other in fear and confusion as if something would break.

He slowly backs away, and you keep still. He turns the light off and stares at the road.

Enji couldn't take more things between both of you breaking.

He takes a deep breath. Starts the car again to drive back home.

——

Friday nights are your nights.

Enji doesn't really remember when it started. But he knows it wasn't something that was spoken of or agreed beforehand. It happened once, then twice, then his job got in the way, then thrice, and when he noticed, it was a routine between him and his daughter.

Like most things between both of you, it just… fell into place. And it just felt right.

Endeavor would arrange his schedule in a way so that his Fridays would be empty, any emergency at the agency could be easily solved that way, patrols and hero work set on the weekends so he could come home at a sensible hour, just by dinnertime.

He would be just taking his blazer and shoes off at the entrance when Enji would hear your running steps from the kitchen, your pinky apron-clad figure hushing to meet him with a bright smile, eyes shining.

you would get a hold of his tie and gently tug down for him to bend at the waist to your level, your arms were thrown in a warm hug on his neck and a sweet and lengthy kiss on his cheek after he steps through the threshold. you would giggle against his face from the tickles you got from his stubble while warmly welcoming him, the food still hot on the table.

It was one of your multiple habits together, just the two of you. And it felt right.

It was routine. And it felt so domestic, warm and right.

Friday nights are your nights. After he gets home, you guys have dinner, something you cooked by yourself, sending the older housemaid away earlier.

Sometimes it is a new recipe, sometimes something you already tried before. But it's always good, and when Enji compliments your cooking skills and how much he enjoys it, your cheeks blush red. You daintly try to hide your smile as you thank him, bashful behavior so alluring even when he knows is just a little act, playing coy. There's warmth in his chest.

The lights in the dining room cast everything in this whimsical warm glow and maybe it's the beer, but Enji thinks it reflects lovely on you and the color of your blouse today. He says so.

“Looking so pretty tonight, princess.”

The red on your cheeks grow stronger. From across the table, he hides his smirk behind his can at seeing how you fidget in place, trying to contain your coquettish smile while biting your plush bottom lip. The warmth spreads lower.

Only later it dawns on him. Enji was flirting with his own daughter. And it was a habit.

It was routine.

Enji is sprawled on the big sofa comfortably, already showered and in his sleeping clothes after dinner, the second movie of the night halfway through.

It was a period drama and he tries to pay attention to the main points for your quiz about it the next day, but he was mostly checked out, lulled by the comfy dark of the living room, the buzz of the beers he drank, sleep and your warm body draped over his.

He doesn't really remember when it started, but he knows it was gradually. One day in your Friday movie nights, he notices you were glued on his side, and on the next one you had an arm draped over his torso while both of you were laying on the reclining couch, and since then, you were always over him, arms and thighs and breasts glued to his body, but most of the time cutely laying on his chest.

That night was no different. You are laying on his broad chest, using your arm as leverage to look down and back at the tv in front of the sofa, and for you to not slip he has one big palm over your waist and the other in a secure hook on the slope of your knee, propping your bent leg higher across his stomach. Your breathing matches his, and if not by your little grunts and noises of surprise, the redhead would have thought you had fallen asleep on him. It would not be the first time.

The clothes you are using are small and had hiked up a long time ago, a loose tank top and booty shorts, both of them old and worn out, sleep clothes.

From where he was, he could see all your body over his. From the crown of your head to the slope of your waist as it dipped under his scarred hand. His gaze follows the curve of your thigh draped over his waist to the fat of your ass pointing high. He muses in a daze that he could see the inside of your tank top, the soft swell of a breast making an appearance. He leers.

You move a little, and this time, he can make out the shade of a nipple. It’s pert and small and pretty, and blood rushes to his clothed cock, but is late, and he's tired and buzzed out. It doesn’t connect in his mind.

You move. you are getting yourself higher on his chest. Enji feels small hands wandering under his shirt. Presses of lips on his neck. Wet kisses on the stubble on his jaw.

The soft touches pull him deeper. There's a young and wanton body over his. It’s been so long since he truly touched another, let himself be touched. Smooth lips and an uncertain tongue were kissing him, and he wants to devour them. It’s hot and burns and makes his insides coil, his cock hard and heavy inside his pants. A warm slit humping it.

Could have been the tiredness, the beer, the comfort of the situation, anything really.

Enji kisses you like a man starved. Head moving and ravaging your much smaller mouth with his tongue. His hand yanks your tank top down exposing your breasts, and now he’s pulling and pinching the sweet nipples in a way that makes you moan against his tongue with a voice he couldn't recognize.

His other hand was down at your ass, guiding your movements back and forth on his erection with vigor, the friction against your slit makes you weak, but he keeps you moving, his calloused hand encompassing most of your behind. At each needy thrust his fingers would slide down between the cleft of your ass more and more.

His meaty fingers push the bottons of your shorts aside with a flick of his wrist, and now he's touching directly your puffy lips that are messy and wet all over. Enji growls in your mouth as you moan louder when he starts playing with your pussy, a pitched whine as he flicks your clit up and down, a strong hold on your breast.

A loud bang from the TV is what snaps him back to reality.

It was his daughter.

His daughter was over him. It was his daughter that was humping his cock, that he was sucking her small tongue and tweaking her nipples until he made her squeal.

He jumps to his feet and throws you across the couch.

Different from him, you look wide awake. Flushed face and startled eyes stares up at him, exposed breasts still heaving. Nipples rosy and hard. Between your legs, a glistening trail of where his fingers dragged when he ripped them off of you. Your shorts are drenched.

There's a moment of silence.

Enji snaps. He sprints to his bedroom, leaving you alone in the living room.

He locks his door, drops to the floor, and whips his hard and heavy cock out. in three pumps, thick ropes of cum cover his hand and clothed middle.

Taking big gulps of air trying to calm his breathing, his eyes glancing everywhere in a panic state, he looks down, and spot the wet patch on his clothed thigh. Yours juices that leaked on him. Its still in his other hand, fingers wet.

Enji wants to cry.

He tried to be a good father.

He ruined it again.

[arty-shadow-morningstar]

Graveyard Siblings (2)

Alright, Here is the addition to the first post I made about Marinette having a somewhat of a similar backstory to Jason.

[Masterlist]

WARNING: the Revenge part have some suicide, death, physical abuse and bullying stuff mentioned. Extreme Lila Bashing.

--------

Marinette runs a business called Afterlife (I am bad with names, gimme a break) with Wayne Enterprise as a partnership. She is the mysterious designer MT.

Jagged knows about Marinette and the whole LB thing after one scare and an explanation and promotes it a lot.

The Waynes can’t believe that she knew Jagged Stone.

So Afterlife brand is taking off and is the hottest new thing since Jagged is wearing it and MT is apparently the mysterious newly adopted Wayne who hasn’t appeared in public much and the family’s personal designer.

Loads of Celebrity commissions.

Gabriel loses sales as the new line they launched ‘coincided’ with the launch of Afterlife’s newest fashion line called Karma.

I should mention that Edna Mode(?) and Audrey Bourgeois gave many praises to MT because they are amazing designs and to spite Gabriel a little bit.

Gabriel doesn’t panic yet. A lie

I haven’t talked about Lila much, have I? Let’s just say she got a visit from a ghost, well, several ghosts.

Remember that guy Marinette mentioned that could get her fake documents. It was John Costantine, who owes her a favor ( he owes her more than a few and he would do anything she asked for her brownies. )

Tim and Babs dig up dirt on Lila Rossi and their silence was brought with a delicious cake.(coffee flavored for Tim)

Gets John to do a little summoning for her.

------

(Suicide implied, death, bullying, You have been warned)

“~Lila~. ~Oh Lila~”

Lila turned to her other side, wishing the voice would shut up.

“Oh, Lie-la, sleeping so peacefully. So silent. I wish you would stay that way forever.” The voice said menacingly.

Lila’s eyes snapped wide open to come face-to-face with supposed to be dead Marinette Dupain-Cheng with a manic look. Did Marinette had red eyes before?

Lila screamed.

“Oh, it’s no use. No one will hear you. Remember when you said those words. To poor Bianca. Every day at lunch break in the old unused bathrooms when you beat her up for not doing as you say.”

A girl with long dark hair appeared. Covered in black and blue bruises. Looking at Lila with hate.

“Let’s not forget. Poor Tommy. Alex. Andrea. Wil. Gary. Nico. Freya. Magnus. Della…” As Marinette listed off names, more and more teens appeared, the youngest being a 10 year old girl.

They all had the same expression as Bianca. Utter hatred.

“And there is me. The latest in your long line of victims. Lie-la, how do you feel right now, looking at the casualties of your greed for fame and fortune? Your ‘enemies’. And you know that English saying, ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend’.” Marinette gave a sinister laugh.

“You are dead. You were all supposed to be dead. This isn't real. This isn’t real.” Lila chanted, closing her eyes and covering her ears.

She felt cold fingers lifting up her face to meet red eyes, promising many Bad things.

“Sorry, sweetie. This is the cold harsh reality. You thought that you could get away with it. The deaths you caused with your filthy lies and ‘so-call accidents’. You danced on our ashes and you built your kingdom with our blood on your hands. I hoped you enjoyed it while it lasted. ”

The nails dug further into her face, drawing some blood and sure to leave some scars.

“Because, Lila Rossi, this is the last time you would know peace. And could you pass on a message to the Agrestes for me. Tell them that Death cannot hold back the wrath of Ladybug.” Turning to the other ghosts. “Get her.”

Marinette stepped back as the other teens pounced on her. Scratching, pulling, biting. Inflicting pain on Lila. She jumped out the window and landed next to John smoking.

“Thanks for everything. Will she be okay?” Lila’s screams can’t be heard due to a soundproof charm.

“She will wake up in the morning, a little sore thinking it was all a nightmare.”

“That is until she looks into a mirror. I left a little something to remind her that it actually happened. By the way, can you help me with this curse?” She said, pulling out a notebook.

“Let me see. Hmm.. Oh.. that’s a good one. Nice. Wow...You are very creative with curses, remind me to never get on your bad side. But are you sure about that last part?”

“Lila needs a lesson and as much as I hate her and wants her to suffer for the rest of eternity. She doesn’t deserve being tormented for the rest of her life. At least, she should learn that actions have consequences, especially for everything she had done so far.”

“You are too kind despite everything that has happened, Pigtails.”

“Doesn’t mean I am going to give you the resurrection spell I used.”

“You are no fun. You are as bad as Bats.”

--------

Lila’s curse is that she sees her victims when she leasts expects it. Alya, talking about her blog, is replaced with Bianca cracking her knuckles and about to punch Lila. In everyone else, it looked Lila screamed ‘Please don’t hurt me” to a confused Alya.

Lies some more to save face but the more she lies, the more the ghosts keep appearing. Some actually hurt her but there are no bruises or cuts to prove that it happened.

She is just so jumpy all the time and during photoshoots, Adrien gets replaced with a rotting corpse and every picture comes out with fear in her eyes.

Gabriel fires her after a million complaints.

Not before relaying Marinette’s message. “She cursed me. She came into my room and did this to me (pointing to the scars on her face.) She sent my dead classmates after me.”

“Who?”

“Ladybug. She told me to tell you that even Death cannot stop Ladybug’s wrath. So better watch your back, M. Agreste.”

(Gabriel didn’t feel threaten not at all. There is no such thing as ghosts. Sure magic is real with the Kwamis and the Miraculouses as proof. But ghosts? Those are just stories. Lila Rossi just had a nightmare that was too vivid for her. He definitely is not searching Google for warding them off. Especially revenge-seeking ones. He was just looking for inspiration. That MT caused a lot of trouble and sleepless nights for Gabriel but this next line was sure to be a success.) He was wrong.

No matter how many NDAs he made people signed and how much security measures he took. Afterlife seems to hosts fashion shows, launch new lines or their designs made the cover of a famous fashion magazine and SHOWING UP the GABRIEL brand EVERY! SINGLE! TIME!

Gabriel is rarely in the headlines these days and most of the billboards in Paris is filled with products from Afterlife (Chloe as a model with a mask to conceal her identity which adds to a mystery.) or WE.

He is super frustrated and a little desperate.

------

Got any ideas for revenge on Gabriel, Natalie and Adrien? Also the rest of the class?

(Part 3)

[wheelsup]

the taming of the shrew | two

if i be waspish, best beware my sting

after some setbacks, penelope is willing to do anything to get you back on board. but has spencer already ruined things?

A/N: hello! im so sorry that this posting schedule is super inconsistent. the more i thought about this chapter, the less i liked the more technical aspects of it. but! i hope you enjoy to plot aspect of it nonetheless <3 thanks for reading!

category: fluff, slow burn series, spencer reid x fem!reader

wc: 4.4k

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Since that phone call with Penelope, she’d been over nearly every night for a week with plates of treats and onslaughts of apologies. Each time she came knocking, you told her there was no amount of persuasion that could change your mind. And yet the following night, she’d be there, a new type of pastry in hand and a new set of reasons why Spencer was worth the trouble.

First, she brought blueberry muffins and reasoned that deep below that prickly exterior, he really was everything she promised –– sweet and caring. But that must be deep, deep down. Like, The Lost City of Atlantis, deep down, because you didn’t expect it to surface any time soon. 

Then, she brought fudge brownies and explained that his behavior wasn’t personal –– he was getting snippy with everyone lately. And while you maintained that anybody would have a hard time getting along with Spencer, you were absolutely positive that it was now impossible for you. 

Quite frankly, it wasn’t just Spencer who was unwilling to play nice. You hated him. More than you’ve ever hated a stranger. 

You wished him a lifetime riddled with minor inconveniences that would drive him to the edge of insanity. You wanted him to miss all his trains by just a quarter of a minute; close enough so that he could see it leave the platform, knowing he almost made it on. You wanted him to constantly feel like he was about to sneeze. You wanted his socks to be perpetually wet, and if he should happen to put on a dry pair? You hoped he stepped in a puddle.

That was all you could think about as you laid out on your couch, munching on one of Penelope’s lemon bars while she paced around your apartment. She kept going on and on advertising Spencer to you. As annoying as it was, she was also saving you a ton on groceries that week. 

For the most part, you filtered her out. Not a single word that came out of her mouth was believable anymore, especially not when she was talking about Spencer. Despite what Penelope thought of him, you saw in him what she refused to accept. 

As her speech came to a close, she looked at you like she expected a response to dignify her prattling. 

“Give it a rest, Penelope. He’s a lost cause,” you laughed dryly. “He doesn’t need –– nor does he want –– anyone in his life.” At the very least, he definitely didn’t want you. 

“Yes, that’s the problem!” If you’d been listening to her, you would’ve heard her saying the same thing. “He doesn’t want to date!” 

Your head just about exploded when she said that. 

There had been countless, fruitless conversations about this, and all along she saw the gaping hole in her supposedly airtight plan?

“If he doesn’t want to DATE, then WHAT was the point of this?!” Your fingers pressed the bridge of your nose; you suddenly felt a headache coming on. Funny how it always happened around the time of day that Penelope came to visit.

Penelope stopped pacing. She stalked over to your couch, picked your legs up by your ankle, and moved them to make space for herself. You begrudgingly sat upright as she took her place beside you. 

“Because he’s not himself anymore. He’s not open like he used to be. Not to the people who care about him the most, and certainly not to the world.”  

Penelope toyed with the hem of her dress, distracting herself from her quivering lip before pressing on, “Spencer Reid has always wanted love. And it’s not right that he no longer believes he can have it.” 

You hadn’t seen Penelope look so desperate until now. It was concerning. Because what could make her look so hopeless? What could make Spencer so hopeless? 

“Penelope, I don’t know what’s wrong with your little friend, but… there’s a lot more bubbling inside him than you’re letting on.” 

She chewed up the insides of her cheeks, wincing to herself at your incredibly accurate claim. 

“You are hiding something, aren’t you?” You narrowed your eyes on her. You were no detective, or whatever exactly her team did, but she was just awful at concealing her thoughts.

“It’s not my story to tell,” she murmured. 

She could already feel herself about to give it away and doubled down her mental defenses against it. Focusing extra hard on keeping Spencer’s privacy intact. If only you knew her track record with secrets, you’d be proud of her for staying quiet this long.

“What isn’t your story?” 

“That his girlfriend died last year.” 

She spilled it before she even realized what she was saying. You’d just asked so nonchalantly that she forgot she was talking aloud. Penelope turned purple, terrified now that the whole truth was out there. 

You couldn’t even take satisfaction in the fact that your trick worked. You were just as mortified as Penelope, and if you weren’t already sitting down, you knew you’d need to. You assumed there was something deeper going on with him, you didn’t think it was a dead girlfriend. That was some Nicholas Sparks shit. 

“He pretends like he’s fine but I know he’s not. And if he found a way to move on, maybe he’d start feeling as okay as he claims to be,” she sniffled before snot could run from her nose, tears lining the rims of her eyes. “I know I should’ve given you the full picture, but I didn’t think you’d go for it if you knew…” 

You were too floored to process it all right away. This added a whole new layer of complicated to an already uneasy arrangement.

“Well, I know you’re right about one thing. I would’ve said no.” 

She gave you a set of pleading eyes, praying you’d see where she was coming from. 

“I know,” she whispered defeatedly. “But maybe... now that you know, you can understand why he acts out the way he does.”

“Penelope, I can’t just… make someone move on, or –– or get them to believe in love! Especially when it’s fake.”

How on Earth did she expect you to pull that off? Did that guy from A Walk to Remember move on when Mandy Moore died? You hadn’t seen the ending of the movie, but you assumed not. 

“I’m sorry, this is just… a lot bigger than the favor I thought it was ––”

“What if I could return it?” she cut in. The gears in her head started to turn, figuring ways to patch up the holes she made. 

“There’s nothing I need from you.” 

That couldn’t be true. Penelope looked around the room and it didn’t take her long to think of it.

“I can help you sell your art,” she tempted, gesturing to the scattered canvases. “You make all your income from this, right?” 

You didn’t want to give any fuel to her fire, but you nodded. “What if… what if you didn’t have to settle for local buyers? What if I told you that you could make way more money selling them to the whole world?”

You chortled at her idea. 

You were a local artist, through and through. Your art got put in local galleries and sold to local buyers. Nothing more, and that was fine with you. You realized it a long time ago that it was just a pipe dream to think you’d be more. 

“I’m serious! You could get a separate painting studio, and stop living in one? Huh?” She wrapped her hand around your shoulder, waving the other in the air, urging you to picture it with her. “Imagine this: a kitchen that’s separate from your living room. A bed, inside it’s own four walls, and more than twelve feet from where you cook your meals.”

Pushing aside her so blatantly insulting your apartment, if that were a possibility, you’d want nothing more. But it already sounded foolish and you hadn’t even heard how she planned to pull it off. 

“Penelope, I’m fine where I am. I make the money I need, and that’s... it’s fine.”

She gave you a pointed look. “You know, I can hack all search engine results to make sure you are what comes up first anytime someone enters the word ‘painting’, right?

An airy chuckle left your lips. Of course she could. You patted her thigh twice and stood up, prompting her to follow you to your door –– hopefully, so she can show herself to the other side of it. “Still no, Pen.” 

“Just take some time to think about it!” Her voice carried through the wood as you shut it on her.

*

There was this one bench in Kenilworth Park – the one that overlooks the crystal clear pond – that you’d always been able to rely on to fix any problem.

There was hidden magic in the bushes that sprawled out from the edges of the water, surrounded by spiky green blades of overgrown grass. A simplicity you loved in baby ducklings paddling into the tiny body of water, swimming close together so they don’t get lost in, what seems to them, a whole ocean. And clarity provided by the freshest air in the world, under the shade of the big oak trees on a late summer afternoon.

But at the present, none of that came close to being enough.

The artist’s block started off as a minor inconvenience, but without your permission, had stretched into weeks of steadily declining motivation. Each new idea felt even worse than the last, and you were acutely aware that there would come a point where you’d officially hit maximum capacity for how awful they could get.

Still, that didn’t seem to light a fire under you. You happily coexisted with the blank pages of your sketchbook. Staring down at them, laying open on your lap in their stark-white glory, you felt like you were playing a waiting game. If you stared long and hard enough, maybe they’d flinch. 

Unfortunately, you never got to find out who won, because your phone rang inside your pocket. As if the caller had interrupted an incredible genius at work (which couldn’t be farther from the truth), you hastily raised the phone to your ear, slamming your sketchbook shut.

“Hello?” Your voice wasn’t as kind as it could be for someone with nothing better to be doing. Two seconds later, you learned who was calling and came to regret it.

“Hi, This is Rebecca from District Arts, calling with a message from Andre ––”

“Oh, hi!” you tried to walk back your previous tone, straightening up in your seat and pitching your voice higher, “Yeah, I’ve been waiting to hear from him!” 

While Rebecca intimidated you, Andre happened to be your closest friend at the gallery. He worked closely with the artists to curate their collection and help them make sales. 

“Does he want to sort out what to set the opening bid prices at for my new pieces?” A handful of days ago, you sent him pictures of your new work and were waiting to hear his thoughts. You’d always been able to trust his opinion, and a vote of confidence from him might be just the thing to inspire you.

“Uhm…” There was a criminally long pause on the other side of the line, ended by Rebecca’s weary inhale. “Unfortunately, we’re calling to inform you that your pieces will not be included in the next rotation.”

For a minute, you weren’t sure what to make of what she said. You’d never heard those words before.

“What – what do you mean?” you laughed nervously. She probably misspoke. Perks of friendship aside, Andre always included you in sets. 

“Ugh, let me just get him…” her voice faded away as she put the phone down. 

That wasn’t exactly the reassuring statement you were looking for. In the time it took for the call to switch hands, your confusion finally melted in. And then quickly boiled into anger.

The District Arts gallery changed their entire collection every two months. The pieces shown accepted rolling bids throughout the full eight weeks, finally selling at the end of term to their highest offer. After that, the pieces got taken down, sent to happy new owners, and the entire gallery reset with entirely new works. 

So if you missed one rotation, that meant waiting two months to get back in.

“Andre, how am I just cut from the gallery!” you barked before he could get a word in. If he didn’t like your work, he could’ve just said so. 

“No one said that ––”

“Okay, let me rephrase.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, something you found yourself doing quite frequently lately, and took a deep breath in and out. It was seemingly just for show because it did absolutely nothing to calm you down. “Why wouldn’t you put me in the next set? I’m in all of them!”

“I know you are!” He sounded just as upset. “It’s just that… we give you the biggest space we have, because you always manage to fill it up. But this time… I’m not so sure you can.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you scoffed. “What makes you say that?” You asked that, but you knew.

“You’ve only finished three pieces… I’m worried how you’ll deliver seven more before we set up.”

“But… it’s four weeks away, I could do ––”

“And it took you four weeks to make what you have... I’m sorry. We couldn’t take that gamble.” 

He took your silence as an opportunity to turn off the work talk and speak, just friend to friend. 

“You know that I trust you and I’d hold that spot if I could. But, I also know what you’re going through right now, and… I don’t know, maybe letting yourself rest would be a good thing?” 

Your heart paused. By, “knowing what you’re going through”, you assumed he didn’t mean the little artist’s block.

“If you’re implying that I can’t do my job because of what happened with Cyrus –”

“I’m not, I’m not....” he backtracked as quickly as he could. “But take another look at the paintings you showed me and tell me if they feel like you.”

Even if he was right, you wanted to fight him. You wanted to cry. You wanted to beg that you didn’t need that big space; you were willing to downsize and just turn in the three that you had. Even if they got shoved into the corner where hardly anybody bothered to look. You just couldn’t afford to go two months without the income. 

But even with tears beading up, you realized that the gallery couldn’t afford it either. They needed to bring in money and you couldn’t do that for them this time. So they were right to go to someone who can.

“Right,” you sniffled, recollecting yourself so he can’t hear the shakiness in your voice. “I understand. It’s a big risk, like you said… It’s for the better.”

Andre tried to thank you for being understanding and spewed some sort of encouragement. The words flew over your head. You managed to toss in a few ‘mhmm’s and ‘sure’s at the right places to coast you along until the call finally ended. 

As soon as it went dead, you dropped your phone to the side and brought your hands to your face, rubbing them furiously over your cheeks. Your fingertips pressed hard into your eyelids, trying to forcibly reabsorb the tears threatening to spill. 

It almost worked, until you tried to breathe. 

A full sob escaped in that one gulp of air and you succumbed to it. But the loud crunching noise of some pedestrian walking over the falling leaves destroyed your sense of privacy, and you quickly wiped away all signs of your breakdown. The crunching stopped just short of your bench and on instinct you flicked your eyes up to see who the intruder was.

You did a double take. It was him. That fucking asshole.

He was standing there, looking dumber than you could even remember, with his hands in his coat pockets and a curious look on his face as he watched you cry. Tucking your sketchbook under your arm in haste, you made it a point to stand up with as much aggression as possible, rolling your eyes at him.

“Don’t worry, I’m leaving,” you barked. “No need to yell at me this time.”

You bristled past him, barely refraining yourself from checking his shoulder as payback. You wanted to believe you were better than him, but it did sound incredibly tempting. He stood there for a moment before turning on his heel and following you.

“Wait,” he groaned.

You didn’t listen, neither stopping nor slowing down.

“I said wait,” he huffed as he caught up to you, popping up at your side and jogging along as you kept going.

“Yeah, because I need to listen to a guy who yells at strangers in bookstores.” 

Now that you’d brought up the elephant in the room, your feet started moving even faster, working double time to get you away from him.

Damn the fact that he had those long legs. He didn’t even break a sweat trying to keep up. He was inescapable.

“Well, if you waited like I asked, you would’ve gotten an apology for the ––”

“Gee, thanks!” you yelled, stopping for only a second to turn to him and give him a mocking bow of your head, hands clasped together like you were praising at his altar. “I was waiting with bated breath for that! Thank you, kind sir, for now my life can go on.”

“Look, I’m actually sorry,” he snapped. Then in realizing the irony, softened his voice, “I’m sorry for being rude. I was having a bad day… not that that’s an excuse.”

You stared at him blankly, just watching his mouth moving quickly and waiting until it finally stopped. 

“Did you need something?” 

“Did you… did you not hear what I just said?!” 

“No, sorry,” you smiled, voice sweet like sugar. “My ears filter bullshit. Wanna try again?”

He scoffed, looking away like he couldn’t believe you before stepping even closer. “What’s your problem?”

“Me!? The fuck –– what the fuck is your problem?” You turned and stormed off again, seething at his audacity. Spencer just couldn’t relent his annoying tendencies and followed yet again.

“My problem is that I’m trying to be nice, and you’re not letting me!”

You got a good, hard laugh out of that. “Okay, first of all, having to apologize for yelling at me and pushing me isn’t exactly the best starting point for the journey of becoming a nice person.”

“Like I said, I was having a bad day.” 

Under your breath, you muttered, “Well, I hope this one’s even worse.”

“Why are you such a ––” He stopped himself from finishing that thought. Even in his worst mood, he wouldn’t cross that line. 

But he didn’t need to finish it, you knew exactly where he wanted to take it. The soles of your shoes scraped against the loose gravel as you came to a grinding halt, ears ringing.

“A what?” You turned to face him, a sarcastic smile on your face growing wider as he started to shrink more and more. You got up close in his face, daring him to say what he really wanted to. So he could reinforce your belief in exactly the type of person he was. “A what?” 

Spencer pursed his lips and shook his head, refusing to say it no matter how much you challenged him. If he wasn’t going to have the balls to say it, you decided to take it upon yourself.

“Tell you what, you keep thinking about it and get back to me the next time you’re in a cunty mood.” 

The word he was thinking of was probably not as bad, but you had a habit of escalating things. Even if you took this one too far, you didn’t care. 

Before you tried to take off again, Spencer’s hand flew to your elbow. He tugged you back, forcing you to turn around and face him. He didn’t know his own strength; without any resistance, you came stumbling into his chest, at risk of falling over if it weren’t for his tight grip on your arm.

It took you a beat to push him away with both your hands on his chest, vocalizing your disgust for being so close to him. 

“Can you stop trying to disagree with me for a second? I’m trying to tell you that you’re right, I was being a… well, you know…” He avoided the word. Apparently ‘cunt’ was where he drew the line. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve it.” 

Your nostrils were still flared and blood hot as ever, but he made you pause. He looked sincere, if not a little tinged with guilt as well. You were suspicious of it.

“You saw me crying and felt bad, didn’t you?”

He laughed darkly. “Well, I saw you, yes. Did I feel bad? No.” 

“Oh, my God,” you growled, berating yourself for getting close to believing he might be capable of decency. 

“I’m joking! I’m joking.” He squeezed your elbow twice in earnest. “I did feel bad, but that’s not why I wanted to say it.”

“Okay.” You weren’t ready to give him a real smile, so you flattened your lips into a thin line and nodded once slowly, and left it at that. 

You still weren’t a fan, but the apology did dampen some of the resentment. Maybe he wasn’t the worst person alive. You’d settle for saying top ten most annoying, instead.

Minutes later, you came to the startling realization that he was still on the path, just two paces behind you. You flinched when you saw him out of the corner of your eye, not expecting him to still be here. 

“Uhm. Where are you… why are you still following me?” 

“I’m not. My car’s that way,” he gestured to the parking lot at the end of the long walkway. “I forgot my loaf for the ducks.” He didn’t mean to offer that information up, it just slipped out. He could practically see your smug expression coming before it even got there.

“You’re not supposed to feed bread to the ducks. It’s bad for them.”

“I don’t.” He didn’t care to explain this to you, but he couldn’t have you thinking he was any less competent than he really was. “It’s a special bread made from water and seeds that were ground into flour. It’s duck-safe.” 

“They make duck-safe bread?” Now that was something you’d never heard before. 

“No… I make duck-safe bread,” he said softly under his breath. 

You didn’t know how else you were supposed to react to that besides laughing wildly. 

“You make it?” He nodded like you were the crazy one here. As if he wasn’t the one spending his spare time grinding up seeds and baking loaves of bread for ducks, donning a frilly pink apron and oven mitts as he did so. At least that’s how you imagined it. “Why not just feed them the seeds?”

“Because, loose seeds will sink in the water and can potentially clog waterbeds and cause foreign bacteria growth in the pond.” 

“So you… hand-make the seeds into a little loaf of bread so it doesn't do that?”

He confirmed. You pondered silently for a moment, then absolutely had to ask, “You ever eaten the duck bread before?”

Spencer was caught off guard by that question. His cheeks deepened to a rosy color.

“Yeah, well, it was the house so…” he laughed nervously and stared at his sneakers. “It’s actually not too bad.”

You weren’t entirely surprised by that. You remembered what his grocery basket looked like, and given those same options, you probably would’ve tried the duck bread too. Still, you cracked the smallest of grins at knowing he makes bread for ducks. The one, sole redeeming fact you’ve learned about Spencer. 

You reached your car first, and Spencer stopped in front of it with you. 

“I’m actually sorry, you know,” he whispered once more, hand resting at the top of your car door as you opened it. He wasn’t talking about the incident at the bookstore.

“Yeah…” For a while you were so busy being angry at Spencer that you forgot about your own problems. 

He noticed your nose was still red around the edges, eyes still a little bleary. “Are you okay, by the way?” His voice was too soft, too genuine.

You shook your head no.

“Is there anything I can do?” You shook your head again. And then you had an awful thought.

You knew he was just offering to help just to say it, because that’s how people react when you say you’re not okay even if they don’t care. But there actually was something he could do for you… Something that Penelope could do.

“Uh, no but…” you fixed your hair and tucked it behind your ear, seamlessly switching to a flirtier voice. “If you still feel bad about the other day, you’re welcome to make it up to me.”

Spencer cocked his head to the side, unsure of how he could do that. 

“Hang out with me sometime.”

“H-hang out?” You could tell that it flustered him, even if he tried to play it off. He swallowed thickly, nose twitching and brows scrunched together.

“Relax, I really do just mean hang out.” You were lying through your teeth. He didn’t need to know that. 

As if he didn’t want to think about it for a second longer and just get out of this conversation as quickly as possible, he agreed without thinking it through. He didn’t even ask why an almost complete stranger would want to hang out with him. 

You stuck your hand out, expecting him to hand over his cell so you could put your contact into it. He rocked on the balls of his feet, watching as you input your contact and sent yourself a text on his phone.

“Hi, this is…” you read out your message as you typed, pausing at just the right place. “What’s your name by the way?”

“Oh-uh, I’m Spencer.” 

A devilish grin took over your face, hidden from his view while you were looking down at the screen. He was going to be easy to fool.

-

-

agh! im still not in love with how this chapter is turning out, but it came to a point where i just had to stop fiddling with it and just post it. any feedback or comments about this story is very much appreciated 💕

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if you’d like to join, the link is at the top of my masterlist

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[zuluc]

@kookieyachi​ requested: i hate to be that one person but i doubt they'll increase the rate but imma try my best & start saving for zhongli & childe 😼🤚 anYWAY-, i was wondering if u could write another diluc x reader whr they're in a secret relationship (only kaeya knew somehow-) & one of the mcs & paimon heard rumours of diluc having a s/o & decide to follow him, to see him gg on a date w the reader or summ,,, hope its not too confusing haha🥺💖

pairing: diluc x gn!reader

style & genre: written; fluff

warnings: none

notes: i meant rng rates those screw me over when it matters but i hope we get good ones when their banners come in, i wish the best of luck to everyone pulling may we get our dream teams; THIS IS CUTE ty for all your requests you know what’s good 😪😪

the mc in this is aether because i love aether

“I hear someone has Master Diluc’s heart!”

“Is that so?”

“Aw, man! I wanted him...”

It’s been the talk of the town for longer than he expected and wanted it to be: Diluc’s love life. He was always the private one and never shared anything about his personal life so it was only natural that no one, minus Kaeya it seemed, had a clue as to who took Mondstadt’s most wanted bachelor.

“Are they sure he’s even with someone? Isn’t it just a rumor?” Paimon asks her travel companion as they make their way into the tavern for a late night drink. The pair had travelled back to the town for a few days and while walking through they listened in on what the townspeople were gossiping about this time around.

“Not sure, he doesn’t seem like the type. Why not ask him, Paimon?” 

Paimon flies in front of his face and places her hands on her hips, “You don’t just ask him! He’s so secretive and... and well just that! Also, Paimon thinks he’d just avoid the question.”

“You won’t know it’ll work if you never try.” Aether suggests and opens the door to the tavern. He himself actually wanted to know the truth to those rumors because, well think about it, it’s Diluc and any information that made him seem more emotional than he let on was interesting. He steps inside, seeing the people inside drinking and laughing. They all greet him with their cheerful, yet drunk replies, and Diluc nods his head in acknowledgement. 

“Welcome back. What’ll it be for tonight?” He asks them. Aether places his drink order and Paimon hovers over the bartender with a judging look on her face. Convenient that he is working tonight. He raises a brow, “Can I help you?”

“U-Uh,” she turns her attention to Aether who simply looks back at her and sips his apple cider vinegar, a look of you’re on your own for this one on his face. “Have you heard what’s being said around Mondstadt, Master Diluc?” She asks in a way to slowly lead into the main question. Diluc picks up a glass and shakes his head, turning around to place the item on one of the shelves. 

“I’ve never paid attention to gossip if that’s what you’re referring to. And like I’ve said before,” he eyes the emergency ration suspiciously, “I don’t dwell on idle chat.” Those words, while they weren’t intended to be as cold as they sounded, prevented Paimon from pressing on. She pouts while flying, but her gaze lands on his hands. They are void of his usual gloves and Diluc wore them even while working. She brushes it off as a useless observation and the door of the tavern opens. 

“Evening!” Charles greets them. He waves a hand to Diluc who finishes the last of the glasses he is cleaning, silently thanking the bartender for taking the rest of his shift. He walks out the back and Paimon floats up.

“Does he have something else to do? He usually stays for the rest of the night.” She questions Charles who shakes his head in amusement.

“He must be working hard,” Charles comments, “or maybe taking some time for himself.” Paimon perks up at what he says and she looks at Aether. The traveller finishes his drink and narrows his eyes at her.

“What?” He barely gets another word in before she is rushing out the door. “Paimon!” He places mora on the counter and bids Charles a good night before following her. The door swings open and Aether is met with Paimon flying in front of his face.

“We’ll follow him!” She states confidently, a glint in her eyes.

Aether stares at her blankly. “Uh, why?” Again, she doesn’t give him an answer when she sees a flash of red hair behind his head. They keep quiet and hide behind the stone building when they see Diluc look side to side, almost catching them in his sight.

“He’s definitely going somewhere!” She is much more invested in this than Aether thought, but his own curiosity was overpowering the possibility of getting caught by the pyro user as well. He wordlessly agrees and they quietly tread behind him through Mondstadt, hiding behind every pole and wall whenever they thought he believed someone was following him.

Minutes into their mission Aether catches sight of the Knight of Favonius building and his suspicions are raised. Diluc wouldn’t be caught dead near this place, what more just by walking by it? He stops at the side and Aether tugs his hovering companion away from Diluc’s line of sight when it opens, a familiar person stepping out.

“It’s--!”

“Honorary Knight!” Huffman interrupts Paimon’s exclamation as he rushes to the both of them. “Would you be able to help us out near Windrise? Quite a lot of slimes showed up and the other knights are preoccupied with their own missions. I know you just got back but...”

“We’re good!” Another knight shows up, running to them, “Captain Kaeya helped us out!” Aether looks back and forth between then before looking at the door. It seems that the person and Diluc had already left. 

“Ah, I see. Sorry to intrude on your evening.” Huffman excuses himself and leaves with the other knight. Paimon flies towards the empty stairs, floating around premises as if looking for clues.

“Paimon saw y/n! Do you think they’re together?” She questions. 

“Isn’t that too much of an assumption?” Paimon floats to Aether’s face with mock anger on her features. “Maybe they could just be well-acquainted.”

“Let’s just see who’s right then! I bet...” she places a finger to her chin, “...5000 mora!”

“You don’t even carry mora.”

--

The commissions burned you out but you are more than happy to see what awaits you after you leave the building. Bidding Jean goodbye, you settle into your coat and push the doors open. He’s standing there waiting like he said he would and you notice there is no one around, though you had an inkling that someone was watching you. You are broken out of your thoughts when Diluc’s warm hand cups your face. He was initiating more touches after becoming comfortable in your relationship, so you felt happy that he could do so outside though with no one to see.

To you, it was hard to believe that you managed to attract him in the first place, considering his many suitresses, but despite that he insisted that it was you he was after.

“Something the matter?” He asks gently, removing his hand when he could hear steps behind him. You shake your head and smile at him causing his heart to warm at the sight. “Good, shall we?”

Your dates aren’t like the usual ones. You walk around the sides of Mondstadt when everyone is asleep as you both share what has gone on in your day. Sometimes, you even take a stroll outside the city and sit under the large tree in Windrise, watching the stars twinkle. Going on many secret rendezvous were fun and brought an excitement and mystery to both of your lives when they occured. 

But even so, sometimes you wondered what it would be like if the townspeople knew. 

Diluc never explicitly mentioned that he wanted the whole town to know and you both came to the conclusion that keeping your relationship from the public would be beneficial. He was known to be aloof yet protective of Mondstadt. He had a reputation to uphold and the enemies would otherwise have vital information to his weaknesses if they came to know of your connection.

You know he loves you, he tells you every night before you have to part until you see each other the next day. And any doubt in your mind is gone when your hand is held tightly in his.

--

“Paimon, we’ve been following them for too long. They’re just talking.” Aether felt uncomfortable doing what they were doing and spying on the both of you. He watches the both of you engage in a regualr conversation. After losing sight of you at the Knights of Favonious building they glided around trying to track you both. He couldn’t see that your hands were intertwined due to how your coat concealed it. 

“Ahh! Fine, we should go rest,” Paimon says defeatedly, “Paimon can’t believe she lost 5000 mora!” Aether rolls his eyes and jumps down from the roof to head to a nearby inn. The streets are quiet but there are audible footsteps from their right as they move through the houses.

“Hey, it’s nice to see you back in town.” Kaeya greets him with the usual lilt to his voice. “Why are you two still up?”

“We were following Master Diluc because we think he’s seeing someone!” Paimon really has no shame, does she? Aether thinks to himself and he looks up at the Cavalry Captain when the latter lets out a light chuckle. 

“What an interesting activity... I do hope you find your answer,” Kaeya nods his head to direct it behind them. Aether and Paimon follow his direction and see the two they had been trailing for the past hours. “Good night.”

“I almost forgot!” The duo’s ears perk at the sound of your voice. You and Diluc are at the front of your home and their eyes widen at the sight of your hand in his. You reach into your coat pocket to pull out his gloves, “You left them here.”

“Thank you,” Diluc replies, lifting the hand he held to his lips and kissing the back. “Good night, my love.”

“Good night, Diluc.” The smile on your face is ever radiant and he leans down for his kiss. You oblige but pull away to lean closer to his ear, “It seems that we have company.” Your hold leaves him and you open your door, disappearing inside. Diluc turns his head and sees the shocked faces of the traveller and ration. 

“Paimon wins.”

[barnes-dameron]

hi, do you think you could write a mandalorian x reader where the reader gets hypothermia? maybe din goes off on a bounty hunt for a few days and a couple days into him being gone the heating completely stops working and reader can’t fix it and she gives almost all the blankets to grogu to stay warm? cue din freaking out when he comes back to a barely conscious and freezing reader and he warms her up and it’s just cute

Frigid 

*gif not mine

Mandalorian x reader

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: This seems very fitting for me right now since there’s a foot of snow outside of my house! The reader is gender neutral  

***

You looked out the wind shield of the Crest to watch the frantic swirls of snow that encompassed the ship. Though you couldn’t feel the cold at that moment, the sheer thought of it was enough to send a shiver down your spine, causing goosebumps to rise, and the tiny hairs on your arms to stiffen. The howling wind outside was so strong that it gave the Razor Crest a gentle shake. You hated the idea of coming to Hoth, but the Mandalorian insisted; a bounty worth a ton of credits was hiding out in a cave somewhere nearby.

Shaking your head, you descended down the ladder to be greeted with the beskar clad bounty hunter who was packing for his hunt.

“I shouldn’t be gone for long,” he said, his deep voice doing nothing to comfort you. “Keep the heater on, and you and the Child should keep warm.”

You nodded at his words, pulling your jacket closer to you at the mere thought of being cold.

“How long will you be gone?” you asked, trying to conceal your anxiety.

“A few days at most,” he replied, shoving a blaster into his holster before slinging his prepared bag over his shoulder. “But I’ll be back in no time.”

That was the last thing he said to you before departing into the white abyss, leaving you and the Child in solitude.

It was quiet in Crest, except for the hum of the heater and coos from the Child every now and then. There was little to keep you occupied, much less to distract you from worrying about the Mandalorian. There was nothing on board that interested you, and the Child couldn’t do a lot, much less talk. The only thing that kept you company was your anxieties. However, you put all those thoughts aside when it was time to eat. You heated up some pre-made soup, serving both the Child and yourself. But as soon as the hot broth reached your lips, the humming stopped.

Your heart began to quicken its pace as fear began to spawn within you. At of all the times for this to happen, why did it have to happen now? You stood up from your seat on the floor, grabbed the toolbox, and made your way to the control panel for the heater. Removing the metal paneling that was concealing the controls, you stared at the wiring and tried to make sense of the thing. You didn’t know much about this sort of thing, only how to hot wire a speeder, but you hoped that this wouldn’t be too different. You rearranged the wires, and nothing. You reprogrammed the system, and nothing. You stepped back, putting the panel back, then began your frantic search for anything that will keep you warm.

Days. That was what the Mandalorian said. He would be gone for a few days. A few days for you and the Child to survive without heat. You gathered all the blankets that you could find, all your clothing, the Mandalorian’s capes and shawls, and an old animal pelt you found in the back. The Child watched in curiosity as you began to make a nest of blankets and clothing in the small bunk. You grabbed the little guy, placing him on the make shift bed, and continued to wrap him in the Mandalorian’s capes.

“Go to sleep, little one,” you murmured. “Hopefully you’ll keep warm, and by the time you wake up Mando will be back, and we’ll be far away from here.”

You closed the door to the bunk, praying that the Child will stay warm and that the Mandalorian will come back soon. If anyone knew their way around this ship, it was him. You sighed to yourself as you pulled on more of your clothes, the layers hopefully keeping in your body heat. You made your way to the cockpit, and settled in the pilot’s seat, looking out the wind shield in hopes that a beskar clad figure would appear in the winter desert. You didn’t care how long it took, you will stay there to make sure he comes back.

Hours have passed by. The never changing scenery doing nothing to keep your interest, much less to keep you awake. You lost all feeling in your toes and fingers. You were now able to see your breath every time you breathed. You continued to shiver in place, trying to stay awake to see the Mandalorian. But the swirls from wind and snow caused your eyes to grow heavy, lulling you to sleep despite the cold that was beginning to bite your cheeks.

***

The Mandalorian dragged the body of the his dead bounty behind him as he approached the Razor Crest, but a certain dread overcame him when he entered the hull only to find the interior was just as cold as it was outside. His heart dropped as the idea of the situation washed over him. He released his hold of the corpse’s feet, the thud echoing. Din closed the hatch to the hull, and began to look for you and the Child.

He opened the door to his bunk to find a little bundle of blankets on top of his cot. Din pulled aside some of the blankets to find the little womp rat, curled in a ball with his eyes closed as he napped. Turning on the heat signature on his visor, he was relieved to see the Child warm. He nodded to himself, placing the blankets back on top of him before going to find you.

Din climbed up the ladder to the cock pit, and his heart began to sink when he laid eyes on you. You were nearly blue through the heat signature vision, and panic started to arise within the Mandalorian. He turned off the heat signature, and began to examine you.Your features lost color; your lips were pale and chapped, and eyes shut. Your body was shivering, and your teeth were chattering softly. Din shook your shoulders, and began to repeat your name, trying to will you to wake up.

Relief flooded him as he watched your eyes flutter open, though they seemed lifeless, it held the light of someone who had hope.

“What happened?” Din asked, trying to keep your attention before you go back into your sleep.

“H-h-heater,” you stammered out, your teeth chattering as you did so. “B-b-broke.”

Din nodded, before hastily ripping off the cape that rested on his shoulders. He wrapped the garment tightly around you, making sure it covered a good portion of your head so that some warmth could return to your face. It was then that he set forth towards the control panel, pulling out the tools that Kuiil gave him from what felt like ages ago. Din recounted the words and advice from the wiser being as he fixed the wiring and checked the internal structures of the heater so that it would last. When he gets back to Nevaro, he will pay a mechanic to install a new one so that this will never happen again.

Din sighed in contentment when he began to feel the haul warm up, the soft humming filling the air once more. Turning back, he returned to the cockpit to find you once again sleeping. Taking off a glove, he pressed the back his bare hand to your cheek but then instantly pulling back when feeling how cold you were. It would take some time for the whole ship to warm up, and he would have difficulty carrying you down the ladder. You were still unconscious, practically dead weight. He would have no problem with anybody else, but this was you. He didn’t want to even risk hurting you.

Weighing his limited options, Din decided to do what he thought best. One by one, the Mandalorian removed pieces of his beskar armor, setting it aside on the floor, but not removing his helmet. Once it was all laid side by side, Din dragged you off the pilot’s seat, moving you towards the door so that the heat could get to you sooner. He pressed his back to the wall, holding you close to his chest as he circled his arms around you; pressing as much of his weight on you so that you could receive some his heat as well.

Din didn’t know how long it took for you to begin to warm up or even regain consciousness. To be completely honest, he enjoyed this intimate moment with you, despite the circumstances of the whole situation. He took this time to remind himself that you were safe, alive, even though he was gone. Even though you were helpless in this situation, you remained alive.

He was pulled from his thoughts when he felt you shift under him. He turned his head to look at you; the color has returned to your face and your eyes fluttered open to reveal the light of life within them. Din brought his hand to your face once again, relieved that it was warm instead of frigid cold.

“Mando?” you whispered, your voice hoarse.

“I’m here, cyar’ika,” Din said, grabbing your hand and holding it in his glove less one. “Are you okay?”

“Better,” you replied, snuggling closer into his chest. “The Child?”

“He’s okay,” Din assured. “Sleeping soundly in the bunk.” Din stroked your hand, relishing in the soft texture that he so rarely felt. “Can you move?”

“I think I can,” you said. “I can wiggle my toes.”

“That’s good,” Din affirmed. “Do you want to get up?”

“Not yet,” you answered. “Can we stay like this for a bit longer?”

“Whatever you want,” Din replied.

He leaned his head back to rest on the wall behind him, allowing you to get closer to him; resting your head on his collarbone, right underneath his chin. If he were to lean forward, he was sure to feel the top of your head beneath his helmet. But this wasn’t about him, it was about you. He wound his arms tighter around you, but still held your hand, tracing patterns on the back of it.

“Hmmmm,” you hummed, causing Din to draw his attention to you.

“What?” he questioned, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Nothing,” you replied. “I just never really realized how warm you are.”

Din felt you squeeze his hand tighter, but he pulled away for just a moment. He positioned it so that your fingers would interlock with his, palm to palm. It was this moment that Din would cherish forever: holding your hand with you so close to him in the solitude of the ship with the heater humming in the back and the harsh cold outside.

Taglist: @tangledlove27 @absurdthirst @caswinchester2000 @16boyfriends-and-me

[rumblelibrary]

I was listening to Dust to Dust by The Civil Wars and it came to my mind that this song would be a great source of inspiration for a headcanon for Modern!Laszlo Kreizler. What do you think?

What me? Crying my eyes out??? How did you know?

The night was happy and light, the chorus of laughter that bursted around him made his lips twitch instinctively into a tensed smile.

A sense of emptiness pervading him, a sense of loss even though in the happiest of times: the case was solved, the disappeared child was back.

The joyous parents kissing those puffy cheeks, Sara sipping her wine and darting engaging looks at John. Laszlo scratched his cheek lightly as he observed them, he didn’t need all those degrees to see what was bare in front of his eyes. His soft scratching was a mix between a show of tension and a reassurance to himself.

After all that running around, fear of finding the corpse of a child, after all that begging and researching and striving.

Then why happiness didn’t hit him? Why there was no relief?

He knew the truth, but the reality of things was that he wasn’t ready to admit it.

“Already going away?” John asked him as he picked up his coat from the chair where he abandoned it.

“Yes, I have an early round of appointments tomorrow”

“We couldn’t have done it without your insight” John insisted. To celebrate in the conference room of the police station just showed how much the happy ending of such a potential tragedy struck everyone.

Laszlo’s eyes darted slowly over the happy family in the corner, the father holding the baby daughter kissing her cheeks as the mother kept a steady hand on her small back, her smile was everything that a sight should be graced of: fullness, undivided love and tenderness.

“I know” Laszlo said only making John huff and chuckle joking that he is humble as always. Laszlo only smiled holding the coat under his arm as he gave him a nod and left.

Only once he was out he realised he came in John’s car, so he resumed to walk his way home, he needed some fresh air.

He never regretted his divorce, he was dragging a dead horse. His ex wife hated the guts of him and he never realised how much he didn’t trust her until the time to get parted came. Until he saw how many times he closed, how many times he felt that she was there to hurt him and, ultimately, she did when the right time came.

He brought it upon himself, that’s what he kept saying.

He tried, but not hard enough, he offered his heart but her pain was so vivid back then that he wondered did he ever gave it all? Or maybe he just believed it, he believed to have done it.

The happy smile of the woman that just had her baby back kept hunting him, the unfiltered happiness they felt caused him a primal form of envy that he refused to acknowledge to himself.

The soft tug on his back woke him from his trail of thoughts. Hand pulling his shirt shooting him back to reality.

A lone man walking home with the damn expensive watch he wore, any other person would have been worried.

And yet, when he turned around and saw you he was the worried one, like you just pointed a gun at him. He opened his mouth lightly but didn’t speak up.

“John told me you left, I hoped to catch up on you”

The way you spoke, the way you smiled, the little huffing in your breath showing you run after him. This is so wrong. He kept telling himself.

He just, he didn’t deserve this, the way you looked at him.

You’re just good at crushing anyone else Laszlo.

The words of his ex engraved onto his mind more than he would ever admit.

“I was just going home”

“Are you close?”

“Yes”

You looked at him with a soft sigh veiled by a smile, like you were dealing with some stubborn child.

“May I walk with you?”

“If you like”

“I do”

He titled his head down looking up at your frame, the way you looked at him teasing something inside him, something that was scratching, a loud white noise in the back of his head that you made audible.

He moved on side as you positioned yourself on his right.

You didn’t speak as you just walked with him, he didn’t talk either.

A shiver run through him, a sense of nervousness pervading him as his street got nearer after every step.

“You should go home, I mean, it is already late, I could call you a taxi”

“Do you really want to get rid of me, don’t you?”

He didn’t answer, because the answer was yes.

He needed to keep you far from him, since he met you your presence was both joy and pain to his eyes.

You sparked a new light, you opened his mind, got his interest. Hearing you talk, watching you move, even the smallest quirks and the little pet peeves of you. Everything was entertaining to him. He felt this need, the need to get under your skin, both mentally and physically. He wondered how it is to blend against your body, to kiss your lips, to taste your tears and your skin. He wondered if you cry while watching sad films, if you have childhood fears, if you talk in your sleep. He wondered if you ever found him attractive, if you’d refrain from his touch, if your kisses begin slow or passionate.

The truth was that he was the one not ready for you, he was the one afraid to let you touch him, to be bare with someone once again.

“I live here” He said noticing the apartments building standing on his left.

You looked up at it and smirked as it was an old building, one of those that survived after hundreds of restyling and it ket this old beginning of 1900 kind of feeling.

“Can I come in?”

“You’re shameless” he said as he indeed was admiring your persistence.

“Also that”

He looked at you for a moment, you didn’t blink away, not even for a second.

Just leave, please, just go away, stay with me, no go, better if you go.

He kept debating inside himself as you waited silently.

“I can’t do this”

You leaned your head on side at his words, you waited for him to explain himself.

“This thing, I mean, I can’t really get anyone in my apartment, alright? It is still a work in progress”

“You have done fooling me around with your excuses Laszlo” you said to him “you can’t take decisions for me and you won’t”

“I am not good at this, I will just hurt you, I am good at the beginnings but I just fail with time, I get sloppy, I won’t be a good choice on the long run”

“Laszlo” you interrupted his rambling as he stared at you. His eyes were begging you, begging you not to force him into this.

“Stop it now” you took a step forward as the space between you two closed abruptly, he felt the warmth radiating from you, the way your eyes shone for him, a sense of being lost and found taking over him, the unreasonable fear of something happening at that ungodly hour, like the building falling, anything, something that will ruin this moment.

“Aren’t you tired?”

You asked it so simply and yet he felt like he was the child that got lost in the night and was now being found again.

He parted his lips, eyes erratically escaping yours as he looked for any word, any excuse, any reason.

“Terribly”

He just said it as your hand gently raised, it was a slow movement like you were about to touch some frightened animal.

His eyes were fixed onto yours as your fingertips traced his cheek and up his temple. Your hand was a little cold against his skin, yet warm into your intentions. He leaned forward slowly pressing his forehead against yours.

“I can’t do this to you”

You smiled as your hand gently moved down his neck giving him a soft caress.

“You have been lonely for too long” you whispered.

He opened his eyes slowly, dark lids blinking into yours as his jaw tightened, a little redness forming as he tried to conceal the emotions running through him.

“Don’t let me hurt you”

“You won’t”

“I will”

“Then I’ll be there” you just said “I’ll be there for you, for us”

He shivered closing the space between the two of you with a sealing kiss, the push that got through him, like his whole body rebelled his mind, made him crush you against the heavy bricks of the entrance.

You could almost sense the immediate regret he felt, but you tugged him in, you pulled him closer as your lips sweetened the kiss from its initial desperation.

There was no pain in what it was about to begin and you wanted him to feel it.

You had no fear, no fear of the empty dark spaces of his mind, of the loneliness of his soul or the searing pain of his past.

You watched him consume himself for too long.

The time of excuses was over, and as your hands cupped his cheeks and whispered softly to him he could almost feel the abrupt silence of his mind after the loud noise of you tearing down his first defence wall fainted into that kiss.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief @thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved @fictionlandslanddreams@charistory @greeneyedblondie44 @apparrio @hb8301 @whatawildone @rhymerhymerhyme  @thehuiabird @lilith-blackrose @unbeatablecurlgirl @obsidianlaszlo @alindeluce @zemosimp05 @baronesszemo-blackwood @nocapesdahling @everythingbeginsineternity-blog @archangelproperty

[chasingpj]

𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞

"You’re really sweet, water boy.”

pairing: percy jackson x child of hecate!reader

words: 5,379

warnings: angsty, mentions of breaking down, one curse word

timeline: post sea of monsters

if you want to be tagged every time I update this story click here

a/n: hi hi! I hope you guys like this chapter. If you have any feedback let me know. i've read this chapter over like 1,000 times while editing so i can't even give my own opinion on this chapter lol. i hope someone likes it at least cause i'm a little iffy about this one.

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

“Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality!”

The singing voices of the Apollo cabin harmonize as Atticus stands in the middle of their cabin, eyes closed with his arms swaying side to side in the air. You sit against the window frame at the end of the room, your lips curl in a soft smile as Harvey prances around his feet, enjoying the spotlight as much as Atticus is. You were glad that Atticus was still up for karaoke night despite his mood. Although you didn’t plan on coming yourself, you had hoped that he would as he needed it as an outlet to let loose. A part of you wasn’t surprised when Atticus was begging you to come with him, insisting that your plan of staying in and sleeping early was too lame for a Friday night at camp. You didn't want to make him upset so you decided to suck it up and go with him. Besides, you did need to get out.

The past few days, you’ve had your nose in books, drowning out your thoughts with everything from studying demonology to enjoying fantasy novels. You’ve been keeping an eye on Lou Ellen as well, noticing that she too was avoiding her feelings by drowning herself with books back to back. And now, as a result of your similar coping mechanism, you two have an exclusive book club where you spend hours reading and mercilessly criticizing Twilight. Meanwhile, Atticus has been up and around, constantly surrounding himself with people to distract him. He seemingly was doing fine on the surface, but it was a facade. Sorrow was radiating off of him like never before. Even if you didn’t have the ability to sense his emotions, his song choice for tonight was a dead giveaway. Bohemian Rhapsody is his comfort song.

“I’m just a poor boy. I need no sympathy!” Atticus sings passionately into the microphone. Cheers break throughout the cabin, and you giggle, joining in, cupping your mouth as you whoop for him. You look over at Lou Ellen, talking and laughing with a few girls across the room. You smile, content that for right now, the two of them are occupied and happy. You, however, couldn’t get into the mood. Sure, the chaos of the Apollo Cabin easily entertained you, but you were having trouble shaking off the heavy feeling in your chest. You frown, your hand coming down to pet the top of Ambrose’s head, the other nuzzling his snout against your leg to comfort you. You look down at him, smiling softly as a silent thank you, and you sigh, hoping to lighten the feeling in your chest, but to no avail, it remained.

A nudge on your shoulder draws in your attention, and you turn to face the boys standing to your left. You meet Lee Fletcher’s bright blue orbs, a smile plastered on his flushed face.

“You’re next!” He shouts over the music, pointing his index finger at you in the same hand he held a red solo cup in. You scrunch your face, moving a little closer to him and the group so they’ll be able to hear you.

“I’m not really in the performance mood tonight,” you say, and the immediate protests from the boys around him made you smile. They insisted that you had to sing tonight and that they were going to make sure you went after your brother. On any other night, you would have agreed, gladly taking the mic. You weren’t a stranger to singing karaoke, and you had to admit you did enjoy it just as much as Atticus did. Last week, you sang an interesting rendition of Wannabe by the Spice Girls with Lou Ellen, Silena, Katie, and Sage. You were Scary Spice, of course; you wouldn’t have been anyone else. But tonight, you were unable to see yourself singing. Now that the boys returned to whatever they were talking about, you were planning your escape. You tune back into the song, realizing that Atticus was almost finished.

“Nothing really matters; anyone can see. Nothing really matters. Nothing really matters, to mee.”

You take a deep breath for a moment, accepting your fate. It’s only one song, you tell yourself; it’ll be quick. You cringe, expecting to be pushed up to the front by the others any second now. Suddenly, chanting fills the cabin,

“Encore, encore!"

Atticus smiles, bowing like a Broadway actor as the crowd cheers. You sigh, relieved, and you hoped whatever he picked would be able to conceal your exit. There was no way Atticus was going to pass up the microphone, and over the chanting, he announced his next song choice: Dancing Queen.

He’s so depressed.

You didn’t want to miss your opportunity, slowly scooting yourself away from Lee Fletcher and the others. As the instrumental of Dancing Queen fills the cabin, a chunk of people get up from the bunk beds and the floor to dance and sing along. You take your chance now that everyone is distracted, and you walk into the crowd, carefully weaving through bodies.

The cool summer night air was refreshing on your skin compared to the stuffiness of the crowded cabin. The collective singing of Dancing Queen becomes faint as you make it across the camp. You didn't realize how loud the song was while you were in there, and you could just imagine what the other cabins were doing. You couldn’t help but smile at the idea of an annoyed Ares' cabin, all of them with pillows covering their ears in an attempt to drown out the music and screaming.

By the time you reached the beginning of the woods, the disco instrumental was long gone, and you took in the stillness of the night. There was barely a breeze tonight; the only sounds were the faint chattering of campers hanging around the hearth and taking walks. You stare into the forest, uncertain if you should venture by yourself. You hear a soft whine come from Ambrose, signaling you that it was a bad idea. It was a couple of hours away from curfew, and you can already hear the faint roars of monsters. That wasn’t enough to turn you away, though. Your desire to be somewhere silent was more prominent than your fear of the monsters.

You walk in without another thought, your pace slow and slack, and Ambrose unwillingly follows close behind you, checking around to make sure you are safe. As you walk farther in the forest, the thoughts you had sent to the back of your mind were returning with a vengeance.

The departure of your siblings felt surreal. When you had woken up to their empty beds the next day, you had chosen to believe they had left for breakfast earlier than usual and that everything that happened was a dream. Yet, as the days went by, the absence of your siblings became more apparent. A part of you refused to grieve. You had wanted to declare your brothers as monsters and convince yourself that you didn’t care. You had hoped that deciding to hate them would allow you to move on, but even that came with a desolate aftertaste.

You had blacked out in your thoughts, allowing your feet to take you where they wished, and you find yourself at a familiar boulder. You look to your left at the picnic table, staring longingly at it. It was quiet for a moment before the sight of your brother and sisters sitting on the top of the picnic table, their feet resting on the bench, appeared. They sat quietly, Atticus frowning as he looked out in the forest.

“Focus on your breathing. You won’t shift if you’re impatient.” Your gaze snaps in the direction of the voice. You saw yourself slouched in defeat as Alabaster’s hands gripped your shoulders. His green eyes peered into yours.

You were the only one that hadn’t become ethereal after trying for the past 30 minutes. Atticus had transformed on his second try, Lou Ellen on her third, and the others followed close after. But you had lost count, growing more tired and discouraged after every failed attempt. Alabaster noticed you were on the verge of tears, your lip trembling, and he easily saw that you were crawling into a bad headspace.

“I can’t do it,” you sniffled, feeling embarrassed as your siblings waited for you. You were aware they weren’t judging you and had instead been encouraging you the entire time, but you still felt ashamed. The voices in your mind taunted you, making you forget any positive feedback you received that day. You were the weakest link of the group. You were never going to be powerful as your brothers, and so you’ll never be recognized by your mother, it said.

“You can, Y/n. You’re getting too in your head,” Al reassured you, his hands falling to his side, taking a step back. You were confident that he had given up on you, and you didn’t blame him. You looked down at the ground and fiddled with your fingers. It was silent for a moment before you heard him sigh.

“Try again,” he said softly.

You groaned and rolled your eyes at yourself. You were drained from trying so long, and you were ready to accept your defeat and stomp away. You looked at Alabaster again as he patiently waited for you.

You swallowed hard, and you closed your eyes as you heard the encouraging words of your siblings. Their words failed to cancel out the negative thoughts in your own head, though. You were already bothered by the little voice that said you would never transform. You dwelled on being the last one and what made you feel worse was that it was nighttime - when your magic is at its strongest - yet you still hadn’t transformed. Maybe you weren’t as powerful as your brothers gave you credit for. Disappointment swirled in your stomach, clouding your brain, and your fist clenched as you tried to shake off the thoughts in your head. You were well aware that your mindset was holding you back. You inhaled deeply, somehow finding the will to set aside your negative thoughts.

You decided you won’t allow yourself to be the only person who couldn’t transform. You weren’t going to let your insecurity of being the “weakest link” get to you, at least not on that night. You huffed out and felt a tug in your core before your fingertips and toes began to vibrate. You gasped, and your eyebrows furrowed tightly, the vibrating sensation gradually becoming more intense to the point where it almost hurt.

You heard an excited cheer come from one of your sister's lips as the feeling crept up your arms and legs. It finally met your core, and it was as if a ball of warm, electric energy sat right in the pit of your stomach. You opened your eyes, immediately seeing the bright smile on Alabaster’s face. A relieved laugh came from your lips as a few tears ran down your face from your previously pent-up anger.

“I told you.”

You snap back to reality, looking around you to see that you were still alone. No one was at the picnic table other than Ambrose, who was laid down at the foot of it, watching you cautiously. You swore you heard the sound of Al’s voice as if he was right in front of you, but that wasn’t possible. As much as you wished for it to be, you knew your siblings were long gone.

Though you were incredibly grateful for Atticus and Lou Ellen deciding to stay, the dynamic that your siblings had as a whole was something that you wouldn’t be able to get back. Now it was the three of you, left to figure things out on your own. It’s not as if you three were incapable of figuring things out, but you’ll miss your brother's guidance.

You think perhaps if your mother didn’t give them the okay to leave, they would have never left. You couldn’t help but be mad at her, and lately, you’ve been a little petty towards your mom. Tonight, you had decided to go to dinner and dedicate your burned offering to Hestia instead. You’ve been praying to her every night as well, hoping that maybe she’d be able to bring your siblings back to you.

You hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary to inform you if your mother was aware of your silence or if she cared. You also found yourself wondering what she thought of you for not leaving. How could she not visit you? Were you really not worth, maybe, five minutes of her time? Did you have to prove yourself worthy? If so, how? You were yearning to know, but even for that, you were unable to find the answer.

Your jaw clenches, feeling your sorrow shifting to rage in your core. Take a deep breath, Ernest would say, and you do, filling your lungs to their capacity, and you hold it. Think of your surroundings. Meditate on the question: If I erupt, will I hurt someone? If the answer is yes, take a step back, breath in for 10 seconds, out for another 10 until you’re calm. If the answer is no… well, fuck it. Everyone needs to be angry sometimes.

Your head tilts slightly, taking in the clear night sky for a moment. From your peripheral vision, you can see your green aura wildly swirling and flickering around you. You close your eyes, and your chest expands, ready to release the air you’ve been holding. There was no rustling of the trees or grass, no monster screams, no sounds of the surrounding camper. The forest was still until it wasn’t as you let out a deafening scream.

After hearing the news of your siblings running away from camp at the counselor's meeting a few days ago, Percy had made a mental note to check up on you. In the time between his activities, he had checked the strawberry fields, the arts and craft center, even the arena in an attempt to find you. For a moment, he had thought you had left with them, but when he saw that Atticus was still at camp, he knew you had to be somewhere. It wasn’t until he passed by the Hermes dinner table the other day did he decide to ask your brother where you were. By then, you had not shown up for your meals for two days straight. Atticus told him that you weren’t doing too good, deciding to isolate yourself in the company of Lou Ellen. He had offered to let Percy come with him to drop off your dinner, but he had decided not to go.

He figured that you needed time for yourself, and he didn’t want to intrude. He was also worried if it would have been weird to check up on you. Surely, you were friends? You considered him as a friend, right? He hoped so since he had considered you one. He thought maybe he was overthinking it but then he began to worry that you would blame him. He had to do some mental gymnastics to come up with a reason why you would be mad at him, but he was able to come up with something. He would understand if you were mad at him since he is, well, suspected to be the child of the prophecy. So obviously, none of this would have happened if he wasn’t born? Right? He had told Annabeth about it, and from the way she blankly stared at him, he knew that the reason wasn’t solid, but still, he was nervous.

He was surprised to see you walk out of the Apollo Cabin. After hearing that you were hiding away, he didn’t expect you to attend one of the most lively events tonight. From afar, you seemed upset, but you also glinted with determination as you walked with purpose. He was seated with Annabeth, Grover, and Thalia by the campfire, listening to Annabeth ramble about the architecture of the Palace of Versailles to Thalia and Grover. It was her newest hyper fixation, and Percy had been listening though he got a little lost at some point. He didn’t want to lose his chance to approach you, not sure when the next opportunity would be so he quickly finished up the s’more he was eating before getting up from the bench.

“Um, I’ll be back,” he says. The only person who had heard him was Grover, who nodded to acknowledge him while Annabeth didn’t miss a beat in her ranting.

He checked in the usual places you would hang out in, but you were nowhere to be found. He found himself walking along the gravel road in front of the forest. He slows down, turning toward the trees and he hums,

“Did she go in there by herself?” He mutters softly, becoming concerned. It was kind of an unspoken rule that campers shouldn’t venture out on their own.

He looks over when he hears chattering, the wood nymphs slowly making their way out of the forest. They seemed to be gossiping about something as they huddle in a circle right outside of the trees. Percy found it strange that they were away from their homes, especially at this time, and he noticed they all looked a little stunned.

“Hey,” he smiles as he walks over to them. He halts hesitantly, the girls becoming quiet as they turn to him. “Have you guys seen, y/n?”

They exchange looks with each other, Juniper shifting on her feet as she stands in front of him. “Yeah…” she trails off, facing the dark trees. “Just keep walking. You’ll hear her.”

Percy furrows his eyebrows, unsure what they meant by that, but he takes their advice anyway. It didn’t take him long to find out what they meant, hearing your yelling before he saw you illuminating in the dark. He had imagined that you would be upset, but he definitely did not expect you to be yelling at the sky, rapidly throwing blasts of energy at a boulder.

Seeing you like this was odd. It was so different from the calm and collected demeanor that you gave off. He had considered you as the quieter twin. Compared to your brother, you weren’t as out there. He hadn’t seen you have many interactions with Atticus, but he could tell that you took on the big sister role. You just seemed more mature.

“How could you- how could you offer something like that?! I’ve never seen you once an- the first message I get from you is to join his stupid army! You took them from us!” You ignore the burning in your throat and the trembling of your arms. You felt lightheaded, and you didn’t know if it was due to how hard you were yelling or the amount of energy you were burning out. “I HOPE YOU KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING!” You shout weakly, looking up at the sky, hoping that your mother was listening to you. You wanted her to know how you felt betrayed, angry, and heartbroken.

Despite your anger, you still held back on what you said. You were wary not to push too far, preferring to not meet your mother's wrath the first time she visited you. You wanted an explanation; you wanted to hear the orders and the promises she made from herself. But you doubted she would appear.

Hot tears roll down your cheeks, your breath ragged, and you wail, blasting the last long beam you were able to muster at the boulder. You stumble from your own force, a sob leaving your lips, and your forearm wipes your tears.

“I really hope you know what you’re doing,” you strain in a whisper.

You gasp as you hear a twig snap behind you. You freeze in your spot, your heart beating hard in your chest. You were confident that you had summoned your mother. You took a deep breath, ready to face her, but to your surprise, you were met with Percy.

Percy's body tenses the moment you snap your gaze to him, swallowing hard as your glowing eyes bore right into his. He was hoping that his speculations of you being mad at him were wrong. The burning smell from your beams filled the air, and he definitely did not want to be charred up like that boulder. To his relief, he watches your clouded expression soften. He shifts, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Are you okay?” He asks, immediately cringing at himself afterward. Of course, she isn’t okay, why would you ask her that?

You sniffle, and you nod, “Yeah, I’m just doing my nightly prayers.” Though you tried to lighten up the mood, your voice was sad and hoarse.

Percy frowns, and he steps over a log in his way. He walks over to you as you plop down to sit on the grass with your legs crossed. Ambrose comes to your side, resting his head on your thigh, and you pet him softly.

“I heard what happened,” Percy’s tone is soft as he hesitantly invites himself to sit beside you. He wasn’t sure you wanted to be comforted right now, but you didn’t tell him to go away, so he took that as a good sign. He hums, looking down at his hands, “Travis reported it during the counselor meeting the day after,” he mentions. “Atticus told me you weren’t doing too well. I can’t do much, but if you want to talk about it, I’m listening.”

You didn’t want to dump everything on Percy, but the genuine concern in his tone made you feel comfortable enough to consider laying all your thoughts out on the table.

You haven't had the chance to discuss your feelings yet. There was a silent understanding between you, Atticus, and Lou Ellen that none of you were ready to bring it up and would rather go along your days pretending it didn’t happen. But as you continued to avoid it, it began to fester like an infected wound.

You were so lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize for how long you were quiet. In your silence, Percy waited patiently, not wanting you to feel pressured. Every once in a while, he would look over, noticing the flickering of your aura slowing down until it’s absorbed into your body, leaving you both with the soft white light coming from Ambrose’s body. If you decided not to talk about it, he told himself he wouldn’t pry, but he would be worried about you for keeping everything in.

You didn’t know how much Travis had said at the counselors meeting. Your mind was rushing with thoughts, asking yourself where you should start while also deciding if you should be completely honest with him. It wasn’t until now that you were faced with all the conflicting feelings you’ve had in the past few days. They came at you all at once, and a sniffle cuts through your silence. You sigh shakily, resting your head on Percy’s shoulder.

Percy looks down at you, able to make out some of your features in the dark. Your eyelids were a little puffy from crying, and you look exhausted. He frowns as a small sob leaves your lips, shifting to wrap his arm around your shoulders. He debated if he should say anything to you. He didn't find that this was a situation where an “it’s okay” was appropriate. Kronos was rising, war was on its way, and Luke was recruiting campers, 5 of those campers being your siblings. None of that was okay. He felt a pang in his chest, grasping on to the fact that you’d be fighting against them when it was time for battle.

“I’m sorry,” your voice quivers. You hated feeling as if you were losing control of your emotions. You didn’t want Percy seeing you like this, and you began to feel embarrassed.

“Don’t be sorry,” he shakes his head, and he opens his mouth to say something else but is too stunned when you pull away abruptly. Your gaze is fixed in the opposite direction as you try to catch your breath, hiccuping and gasping softly for a bit. “Y/n?”

“I almost left, and I feel guilty because a part of me regrets not leaving,” you blurted out the confession that was eating you up the most. It was what you were afraid to admit out loud, especially to Atticus and Lou Ellen. You didn’t want to admit that you, the one who found the courage to voice your opinion to your brothers, the one that declared she was staying at the camp, had begun to regret her decision. As much as you wished to not regret it, the what-if questions that filled your mind were hard to avoid. Were you actually missing out on the opportunity to be taught by your mother? Was it true what James said? Was deciding to stay a death wish?

You refused to look at Percy. You were wondering if he thought he was talking to a potential traitor to the camp. You were wondering if he would think of you differently now that you have confessed to having the slightest thought of joining Kronos.

Percy was lost for words, his face flashed with surprise, and he was glad you weren’t looking at him. He didn’t want you to think that he was judging you because he wasn’t; he was just taken aback. The tension between you started to thicken the longer he stayed quiet. His eyes scan the ground, frantically searching for something to say.

“Why did you stay?” He asks hesitantly.

Your teeth chew on the inside of your lip, and you now regret saying anything. You didn’t know if the shift in the air around the two of you was in your head, but either way, it bothered you.

“Because…” you trail off. The list of reasons why you stayed was long, and you didn’t want to go through all of them. You were determined to keep this conversation short, afraid that if you keep dwelling on this situation for too long, you will find more reasons to be angry.

“Because I’m not going to die for a cause I don’t believe in,” you declare. “I understand their side. I understand why they decided to leave. Alabaster was always saying that he wished things were different for us here at camp. I mean, so do I. They also had the approval of our mother, and they were promised to be taken care of if Kr- the Titan Lord wins. I can’t blame them for not giving that up because even I was hesitant to give it up,” you confess.

You sniffle softly, peeling the skin around your fingers before continuing, “But… for the change they're looking for, I don’t think this is the way to do it. Like really? Allying with him? Yeah, the gods are big jerks, but I don’t understand how he would be any different of a leader.” You sigh, “I considered leaving just to be with them, but I couldn’t go through with it. I wouldn’t feel right. I tried to convince them to stay, but they were set on leaving.”

Percy was quiet for a moment, and you found the courage to look up at him. His vision is fixed on the forest ahead before he meets your gaze. “I don’t think you should blame yourself for regretting not going. I think if I were in your position, I would have thought about the same things. They mean a lot to you. They’re your family.”

You nod, relieved that he understood where you were coming from. “Atticus was my last straw. If he had decided to leave, I would have left despite everything.”

“Understandable. He’s your twin,” Percy shrugs. You sigh shakily, your chest feeling a little lighter after being able to voice your thoughts. You felt more satisfied with yourself now. Your challenged morals felt solidified, and you decided with confidence that your choice was right for you.

“I give you a lot of props, Y/n. You were in a tough situation, and it must have been hard to stand your ground, especially since most of them decided to leave.”

“Yeah…” you say softly, and you realize that maybe you should have been kinder to yourself for having that feeling of regret.

“I think it’s really awesome what you did. Doing something like that takes a lot of guts,” Percy says, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Thanks…” you say shyly.

A soft smile plays on his lips, and he can tell you were starting to feel better. He was glad that he could help because he understood what you were feeling. He didn’t exactly go through the same thing, but he knew how it felt to second guess your choices and how it was easy to spiral when you dwelled on it for too long.

“You’re really sweet, waterboy. Thanks a lot," you say playfully as you return the smile. Your heart flutters as Percy’s face brightens before sheepishly looking away from you for a second.

He didn’t get compliments like that often. Well, he has, from his mom, but he didn’t count that. It wasn’t the same as getting the compliment from a girl, a girl as pretty as you are.

“I-it was nothing,” he moves his hand in a dismissive wave, and you giggle. “Well… I don’t know if you were done with your ‘prayer,’ but I think you should go back to the party in the Apollo Cabin. I’ll come with you. It sounded like a lot of fun in there."

"Ugh, but they’re going to make me sing,” you slouch, and Percy laughs at the slight pout on your face.

“I’ll sing with you,” he says, and you furrow your eyebrows, surprised at his offer. You’ve only seen him at karaoke a few times, and he always stayed on the sidelines.

“You can sing?” You ask, amused. Percy definitely didn’t seem like the musical type.

“Nope, I’m pretty much tone-deaf, but I’ll embarrass myself for you since you had a rough day," he nudges you softly before standing up. You look up at him as he pats down his pants, and you lean back on your hands.

“I’m gonna pick a ballad so you can embarrass yourself even more," you smirk at him, and he stops patting his clothes, squinting at you.

“Don’t make me take it all back,” he jokes. He reaches his hand out to you, and you grab it, letting him help you up from the ground.

“You know, I’d kill to hear you sing a Britney Spears song," you mention as you pat your own clothes down and begin to walk out of the forest, Ambrose acting as your guide by trotting ahead of you.

Percy is quiet for a moment, and you glance over, positive that he's starting to regret his offer to sing with you.

"Please don’t do that to me.”

You laugh at him; the thought of Percy singing a Britney Spears song was way too funny to you. Percy gave you a cautious look, not sure if you were serious or not. “Fine, fine! I shouldn’t take advantage of your kindness,” you admit as your laugh ceases. Percy nods, playfully agreeing with you. “You listen to My Chemical Romance?” You ask, and he scoffs,

“Of course, I listen to My Chemical Romance.”

“Let’s sing Teenagers then,” you suggest. “It’s a crowd favorite. Everyone sings along, so no one has to suffer through your singing. What do you think?” you tease, and you take in his bright smile as he nods his head,

“Sounds good to me.”

masterlist taglist: @nct127bee @xxyrr @mochabreezeee @minamisulemisa @yanfeisluvr

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.2)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

*SNEAK PEAK*

Summary: On the worst days, Yoongi is judge, jury, and executioner. But he judges you and finds you worthy of protecting (and loving too). 

Tags: Dead bodies, blood, murder/crime themes, guilt, childhood trauma, drugs (cocaine, heroine), domestic abuse, emotional abuse, physical abuse, controlling behavior, implications of omega mistreatment/discrimination, anorexia, blood, graphic depictions of violence, manipulation, talking behind someone's back, morally gray Yoongi, 

W/c: 14.5k

A/N: Honestly this took me way too long to write and edit. I can’t tell if this is my favorite depiction i’ve ever written of falling in love or if I hate it. But yeah- i didn’t want to sit on it for much longer. This part takes place chronologically before the last part, and documents what happened while yoongi was away from the rest of his pack. 

Previous part — Masterlist

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

CHAPTER 2: THE DON

“She’s just an omega- you know how they are- they need a firm hand to keep them in their place.” Yoongi scoffs thinking of his omegas. Anyone who even dared to think that Seokjin and Jungkook did not wear the pants in their pack had another thing coming to them. 

He watches his older brother cut another line of cocaine. 

The amount of drugs in this Geumjae’s study cost enough to feed a small family for a year. But Yoongi knows better than to partake. He pretends to take a Bump and taps it off when Geumjae tips back a shot."Omegas aren't even fucking worth it if you ask me, brother, you're supposed to give half of yourself away, and for fucking what? A glorified bed warmer?"

Yoongi boils and stays silent, letting Geumjae get himself wasted on drugs and alcohol. He can't tell what distresses him more Geumjae has such little regard for life that he can't recognize that omegas are fucking people- or that he's so freely sharing this with him. 

He knows he’s toeing the line. More pushing might hurt you more, if he provoked aggression from his brother- it would no doubt come back to bite you. Yoongi can’t imagine wanting to hurt someone he loves or speaking with the same callousness that Geumjae speaks. “Don’t you love her?”

Geumjae laughs at Yoongi’s childish question “Oh little brother, don’t you know that love makes you stupid?”

His brother has it all wrong but Yoongi’s powerless to say it. Those threats from the funeral linger. And it's not only your life and Yoongi’s at stake here but the rest of his pack. He has to fool Geumjae into thinking he is on his side. 

“Work with me here- what will the other omegas in the pack think of you if they find out what kind of shit you pull? And they’ll take their concerns straight to their alphas and say you’re unfit to lead. You know I have to listen to the bulk of them regardless of what you want.”

If he can’t appeal to Geumjae’s humanity- he can appeal to Geumjae’s better interest and common sense. His image in the family is arguably the most important thing in geumjae’s mind, and Yoongi can tell by the way that Geumjae stiffens when he says the words that it’s stuck.

Geumjae might have been trained in torture, but Yoongi was trained in manipulation. And he take the bait- hook, line, and sinker. 

After that, he has the good sense to act softer with you in front of the rest of the family at the very least. But he fears he might have done more bad than good when he sees the way you stiffen and fail to meet his eyes more consistently as the days go on. You’re sensitive about eye contact, Yoongi gets it. you don’t have as much control over your facial expression as the rest of these robotic mobsters.  

Group dinners are routine, and while Yoongi could find an excuse to see you during the day, he’s also often pulled in 50 different directions by the expectations of his family.

He finds himself reading for dinner in a hurry most nights, eager or maybe a little panicked to check in with you. You never request his presence, you never text (though he made sure you have his number just in case), and the family dinners are tense between the two of you.

You maintain none of the easy friendship you’d started that day in the rain or that closeness. You avoid him like the plague at dinner, and It’s like that day in the rain never happened. 

Geumjae sticks to your side like glue too. A hand that probably looks protective to anyone else but looks possessive to Yoongi slung around your waist. Yoongi sees the harshness and pain in your body when Geumjae’s hand tightens digging into the swell of your hip. You’re soft in the way that most omegas are a little soft- and it’s as expected as it is distracting.

He manages to corner you during one of the dinners. you're not alone- and you can hear the grannies and omegas prattling to each other in the kitchen. the alphas are outside enjoying a cigar and investigating one of the new rolls royces that one of yoongi’s uncles recently purchased. 

The corset portion of your dress making your chest soft looking, plump and inviting if yoongi was the kind of man to get distracted by something like that. As it is- all he notices is how it’s making your chest heave. Breath uneven, he thinks he can hear the boning in the dress creek. It’s a designer thing, but it looks way too tight on you. he can tell how uncomfortable you are. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, though it's clear you’re not, you dont reply, looking down and away worried. Hand hovering over your stomach, “I won’t get mad whatever it is.”

You bite your lower lip. hand catching yourself on a side table before you teater over, dizzy. Yoongi grabs you before you fall. “He did my corset too tight, it’s hurting my ribs. I feel like im going to pass out.” Yoongi quickly looks around, but there is no one around in the part of the house right now, the garden is a backdrop, speckled with lights. you’re alone. 

Yoongi turns you around quickly, setting his champagne to the side and grabbing yours out of your hand. He undoes the top knot of the dress and you inhale gratefully as he tugs at the strings looser, fingers touching your bare skin. “Is that better?” he has to be quick. This isn’t exactly scandalous- but- its not quite proper. 

You inhale deep and grateful. “So much better, thank you.” you barely have a second to both straighten up, Yoongi's fingers pulling the bow back together. grabbing your champagne and sipping at it a careful distance away from Yoongi. looking for all intents and purposes like you’ve been swathed in uncomfortable silence the entire time they were gone. The picture of propriety as Geumjae and a few other alphas return in a puff of rich smoke. 

“Don’t mention it.” Yoongi says it softly so that only you can hear it.

More than once. Geumjae catches him staring at you during the dinner. you look so much more comfortable now that it’s been loosened. Your hand hovering in front of your dress to conceal your cleavage under the guise of fiddling with your necklace. During those moments, Geumjae rewards Yoongi’s wandering gaze with bold touches. A hand sliding from waist to hip and your sudden straightening in pain. 

Geumjae’s harsh fingers digging into a bad bruise on your hip. you’re so trained, you barely flinch when he does it. And still- Yoongi’s hands tighten in his slacks. Gritting his teeth and biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from making a scene and reaching across the table to stop Geumjae from hurting you.

Many of the other members of the family notice Geumjae’s sudden dogmatic approach to your presence in his life. Confirming what Yoongi suspects. That he’d never given you too much attention at these family meals before Yoongi came with his wandering eyes. He should do better be better not to put you in harm's way.

Yoongi keeps his eyes firmly trained on his plate full of spiced soft-shelled crab as one of the grannies comments on how sweet the two of you seem. Yoongi wants to gag. “You know how new love is. I feel like we’ll be in the honeymoon phase forever. I want her all to myself so bad I think she’s worried I’ll chain her to my bed” he says- feigning drunkenness. You laugh too- trying to play it off but Yoongi can see your barely concealed fear.

Staying silent and letting your husband hurt you is the hardest thing that yoongi’s ever had to do. But there are many more battles, fights and skirmishes to win in this war. Yoongi has to be patient.

He’s a poised snake, ready to strike at the perfect moment.  

COMING WEDNESDAY APRIL 21 @ 6PM EST

[baureidalvez]

Angels Chasing Demons • Spencer Reid

This is my first Criminal Minds blurb! I'm new to the fandom and haven't even watched the whole thing yet (at the start of s11!) but I couldn't resist writing a little something. Feedback and reblogs would be SO appreciated, as I'm a little nervous to post this!

Summary: you try to hide your feelings from Spencer after he got shot, with little success. Mainly just lots of fluff and emotions!

Word count: 2,181

Episode: 🚨S9 ep 23/24🚨

“Are you sure you’re comfortable?”

You plump up the cushion behind Spencer’s head, being careful not to jostle him, noting the wince in his throat as he settles against the sofa. He nods as much as he can, a small smile on his lips, now that he’s out of the stiff hospital bed and back in your flat where he belongs. He’s on strict bed rest; Rossi told you to hide his work phone for at least a week, but you know he won’t allow that. You know it’ll barely be a few days before he’s asking for it again.

“I think I’m as comfortable as I can be for someone who just got shot in the neck,” He replies, the usual sarcastic twinge to his voice. “You know, the doctor told me that the bulle-“

“Babe,” You swallow the lump in your throat and try not to let Spencer see the tears in your eyes, this being one of the reasons having a profiler as a boyfriend is so inconvenient. You can’t hide anything. He narrows his eyes as he observes you, a free hand reaching to squeeze one of yours. “When it’s been more than a few days and you’ve healed and rested, you can tell me all about the science behind you being shot. For now, I don’t want to hear it.”

He nods once more and remembers that you haven’t seen the things he’s seen; it’s not part of your daily routine to find dead bodies and analyse every aspect to work out who committed such a thing. It’s engrained in him now, it’s second nature – you can listen to so much, but when it’s regarding the sweet man sat in front of you, you can barely look at him without wanting to burst into tears. There has been many tears over the past few days – first following the call from Garcia, and then again in the waiting room as Blake tried to keep you sane.

“I do need one more thing,” He murmurs, his hand still clutching yours, thumb stroking over the back like he doesn’t want to let go. “Will you lay with me?”

There’s nothing you want more than to be close to him, yet you know you need a minute to compose yourself. From hearing that he got shot to waiting for him to come out of surgery, to then hear that Garcia had saved him from being shot once more in a place that should have been safe – it’s all been a little too much. You lean forward to brush a chaste kiss to his lips, his gaze set on you as he waits for your answer. “Of course. Just give me two minutes, okay? There’s definitely three more care packages outside the door that I need to bring in before one of the neighbours takes them.”

“Okay.” He whispers, and you kiss his forehead before tucking the thick blanket over his lap, with a promise to be back in a moment. He sighs and knows that you’re not okay. He’s not okay either – he knows it’s only a matter of time before the nightmares start again, and he won’t be sleeping, but somehow it was easier to deal with when it was just him alone. Now you’re around too, he hates being the cause of your upset. He lays back against his cushion as you close the door to the apartment, and it’s barely a few seconds before tears are slipping down your cheeks. You were right, there is another care package sat on the doorstep, which you know is from Garcia. It’s not the reason you’re out there though, in the silent hall, the only sound being the sobs you’re trying to conceal at the thought of your boyfriend inside. It’s so hard seeing him in pain. He loves everyone around him, he loves his job, he’s dedicated his life to catching the bad guys and protecting people, no matter what it takes. He doesn’t deserve the pain he’s been through, and every time he’s called to a case, you pray to some higher being to keep him safe. Nothing makes your heart race more than an unexpected phone call or a text, your mind instantly going to the worst scenario possible. In this case, it almost had been.

Spencer may be off work and on bed rest, but it doesn’t stop the profiler part of his brain from being awake. He hears the sound he was expecting to hear as soon as you close the door, and it goes straight to tug on his heartstrings. Sometimes he doesn’t have all of the answers, and he doesn’t know what to do. He knows he shouldn’t get up from the couch, and he’s not sure he’ll physically be able to without injuring himself further. He clears his throat before trying to call out your name.

“Honey…” He calls again, when your name doesn’t get your attention. Not enough to come back inside anyway. “I really want to be able to comfort you right now but I physically can’t move, so, can you come back inside please?”

You chuckle behind the door through your tears and shake your head, feeling silly for thinking even for a moment that he wouldn’t know what you were doing. Swiping the tears from under your eyes, you compose yourself as much as you can, picking up the picnic basket full of snacks and tea before pushing the door open again.

“I manage to salvage this one before next door got hold of it,” You try to laugh it off, but he hears your voice wobble, and his eyes follow you as soon as he spots you. “It’s from Garcia again, she left a not-“

“Babe.” He sighs, cutting you off from rambling about anything other than the current situation. “Come here, please? You don’t have to hide from me.” Warm tears are cascading down your cheeks once more when you realise there’s no concealing it, there’s no way to keep it hidden anymore. You don’t want to push him away, but somehow your upset seems less valid than his – he’s the one who had to go through the physical pain, he got shot, it should be you taking care of him. Spencer doesn’t see it that way, though.

“Please don’t cry because of me, love,” He murmurs as you sit down next to him, pressing your face against his sweater covered chest. He wraps his arms around your body and pulls you in close, tucking your face against his shoulder, wetness from your eyes hitting the material as you cry. “Shh, I’m right here, now.”

He lets you cry it out for a few minutes, soothing sounds slipping from his lips, a warm hand rubbing the top of your back. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You know you should, that you’re going to have to at some point, although you don’t even know where to begin. Spencer stalls for a few moments though, giving you another minute to calm down.

“Did you know, crying is actually a good thing? Research has found that crying actually does make you feel better, and the lump that you feel in your throat, isn’t actually a lump at all. It’s your autonomic nervous system going into high alert, which enlarges the glottis, the opening in your throat which allows you to get more air in to your lungs. It’s the tension between trying to open and close your glottis that makes it feel like a lump.” He keeps going and all you can do is smile, even though the words aren’t registering; you’re just happy to have your Spencer back and in one piece. “But.. even though it’s a good thing, it doesn’t make it any easier for me to see.”

Spencer feels an urge to comfort people, he hates seeing people cry. He remembers the unsettled feeling in his stomach that he feels whenever he sees JJ cry, or he finds a survivor who can do nothing but let out their emotions. He’s no stranger to crying himself, and if he’s honest, seeing you fall apart in his arms has his own eyes burning.

You rub your cheek against the material of his sweater, the smell soothing and familiar, much different to the clinical scent that clung to him after his hospital stay. “Spence… we almost lost you.”

Your mind flashes back to the beeping of machines, Blake’s arms wrapped around you in the waiting room, clinging onto any shred of hope that he was going to pull through the surgery. You vaguely remember a conversation between Blake and JJ, about how Spencer wants to have kids, and Rossi saying he’s too smart to die – he has too much to live for. It’s all true. He has the rest of his life to live and knowing he got close to almost not having that, is enough to scare you to death.

“We didn’t know if you were going to pull through. My heart sinks every time my phone rings, I just get so worried about you… and then I actually got that call.” You explain, unsure where you’re headed, but knowing he needs to hear it. He listens as you cry in his arms, his thumb gently brushing each tear away as it falls. “I know this is your job, your life, and I would never take that away from you. You’re amazing at what you do, and the world needs you. I just wish I could know that you’re safe. People shouldn’t be allowed to hurt someone like you.”

He exhales through his nose as he thinks of the situation from your perspective. Obviously, he was worried, but he always pushes it to the back of his mind when he’s in the heat of the moment, doing anything he can to protect others around him. He pushed Blake out of the way to keep her safe, and he’d choose that option every time. In the moment, he doesn’t think of the repercussions. It always happens so quickly, and the next thing he knows he’s in the back of an ambulance on the way to the hospital. He hates seeing people that he loves in pain, and he hates getting those calls too. He’ll never forget the feeling of finding out that Garcia had been shot, or that JJ had been tortured. It’s a ball of anxiety that sits in the pit of his stomach, and he realises that must be how you feel, every time he goes on a case.

“The world would be a better place if no-one ever got hurt. I like to think my job plays a part in trying to achieve that,” He replies, fingertips trailing up and down your back as he speaks. “There’s always going to be more cases, more bad guys, but every day, we put more of them away. I know it’s dangerous, but it’s a part of me now..”

“I know, and I don’t want to change that about you.” You assure him, squeezing his hand to get his full attention. “I’m not asking you to change anything. I just wish you didn’t have to get hurt, or be in pain. I’m too scared of losing you. You have too much to give back to the world for that to happen.”

“I love you.” He murmurs, making sure to look right at you, your eyes locked on his. “I know I’m not easy to be with, I’m away a lot, and I get hurt… but everything feels easier with you around. And I wish I could move my neck so I could kiss you right now.”

You laugh and carefully sit up as not to jostle him, moving your face closer so the tip of your nose nudges his. “I love you, too.”

Spencer steals the first kiss, his soft but slightly chapped lips brushing yours, moving his head as much as he can so your foreheads touch. You kiss him back with as much love as you can muster up, wanting him to feel every inch of it, knowing that he does. You sigh contentedly, feeling better after your discussion, but knowing he has a long way to go to heal. The kissing is interrupted by the sound of his phone, and you shake your head, remembering Rossi’s orders to keep it away from him and to not let him answer.

“My phone, can you get it? I can’t move,” He asks, looking around the room from where the sound is coming from.

“Nope,” You reply, shaking your head, punctuating the sound with another kiss to Spencer’s lips. “Strict orders from Rossi, no phone for at least two weeks. You need to rest, and I’m about to go and turn it off.”

He watches as you push up from the sofa, going to find his bag, and pulling the vibrating phone from the front pocket. He shakes his head as he hears you head to the bedroom, keeping it tucked away whilst he recoups. He’s in pain, and he knows he doesn’t have an easy road ahead, but with you to take care of him… somehow, things don’t feel so bad.

**

Feedback would be appreciated! Let me know what you think here <3