#tearing a wall down about it like yeah it's extremely chill thanks

[unproduciblesmackdown]

also to go "wow this is just like in pentiment" about absolutely anything and/or "wow this is just like iphigenia crash land falls on the neon shell that was once her heart (a rave fable)" about absolutely anything further:

the Narratives within crash land falls where like, in the end iphigenia being Given the story of both "this is going to happen anyways" and "so why don't you see it as a noble sacrifice to accept." the situation happening to Create a story that she was killed, so her father must be tragic, and sympathetic. that iphigenia does take on that Narrative of taking on the Noble Willing Sacrifice, and it kills her, but she also would have been killed anyways, as everyone also knows. that we even get a bit of pentimentesque [other characters observe & assess things] like, the fresa girls as a chorus, and one at the end like yeah She Was No Saint, i saw everything, but being cut off by The News that's like yeah looks like iphigenia was killed, that seguing into her father saying yeah she was killed, god's will was done, She's A Saint now. seguing to the emcee who introduced the play, but that superceded by achilles, and that superceded with iphigenia's extasis monologue as the end of the play. that whether iphigenia's a saint or not, she dies. that [the whole play] tells us as much, like, this isn't a What If kind of retelling where she escapes her fate, this is a retelling examining itself like, she Will die because the story's preset, so what to do with this as the story that has to take her there, what to do with this as iphigenia who has to go there

that iphigenia takes on another narrative in addition to the one offered by like, violeta as guide and oracle telling her she has to die (As A Noble Sacrifice), that again (as per iphigenia in aulis being like uh hey daughter. let's go to aulis so you can uh marry achilles (it is to be sacrificed)) achilles is this bait, but it's only in the ending that there's any Story about being with achilles, and when iphigenia goes to the mercenary soldier who she knows will kill her, she's the one telling him what to tell her about where she's going and why, i want you to tell me achilles is waiting for me....and she still dies, because This Is The Story. as also applied to the reality, iphigenia as another dead and missing girl following & preceding many; any disappeared deaths when consumed as disposable & replaceable, not given part of any narrative about it. while also iphigenia only gets a chorus of fresa girls from there being crosses put on the factory wall with their names, with one girl even remarking like hey they spelled my name right for once. but at the same time they're also like, both mere Apparitions but also like standins for people who are simply alive. real [shades]esque kind of, i suppose, but like they're not Sanctified for dying either, they'll comment on iphigenia but not with any like, divine knowledge, just as this out of place rich girl. whether iphigenia's A Saint or Not A Saint, she's still dead either way. she wants to be a fresa girl, they maybe want to be her, but everyone's doomed anyways thanks to way larger forces and the Stories that have been told and will be told again

but there's also the moment right before the final section wherein, before she's having to say what she wants within the bounds of [she has to die], there's achilles asking "you still want me" and iphigenia answering with "i want everything" and her vision for, like, getting to be alive actually, i'm on the gulf where the sea is gray, and no one wants a piece of me....the whole inciting event here where iphigenia wants to evade her fate however she can, exiting the bounds of her life, the physical bounds and the family unit and walking away from the rank of status / class / wealth, trying for [have her body for herself] and what the body wants, the sensuous indulgences of (a rave fable), let's hear some more about the roman state like "we don't like the examination and challenge and upending of class and convention in a bacchanalia, so only do the official versions we permit;" the Threat of people's desires for themselves, when that's going to be counter to those in power who'd want these people to be resources at their disposal; the burden on the disempowered to suffer [the only way out is through] with the Additional pain & loss that has to be taken on in pursuit of their autonomy, while also of course suffering for the autonomy they lack, that restricted and controlled and mitigated versions of what you might want are deigned to be provided or permitted so that you have Something, but that everyone's actual undeniable personhood will always be spilling past those bounds, the potential power of transgressive pleasure when one's wellbeing and autonomous choices are counter to the power structures that have to constantly try to suppress and preclude this. achilles just as bait, doomed to die like iphigenia is also still doomed, sex was never going to save everyone and the [recognizing connection as these two parallel people / We're The Same] with your lover here is not going to save everyone but it still makes more things possible for them both; iphigenia does know what she wants, and gets some of it because she wants it, same with achilles in turn, while it can't save anyone from their fates still. but it can mean something even if it doesn't transcend, like even a fleeting night of insignificant dancing that doesn't change anything can mean something, and we all die, but that doesn't mean it's Nothing to be killed any more than it's Nothing to have your desires or choices one way or another to be wrung out of your life before you are

anyways, the stories. the Looking and Presenting here. achilles and iphigenia first encountering each other as images put together and presented by someone else for their own purposes. the presence of what's seen through film/camera/recording versus in person; the potential power relations and even violence in framing, presenting, and the intended looking and assessing. repeated language about eyes/looks that burn, while also that connection between iphigenia and achilles, and their finding the least room in what they do have of their lives for more of their own wants and selves and something genuine and not predetermined, is also connected to eyes and looking and being seen and light and burning. while they're also connected to the protection and possibility of night and darkness, getting to exist and be Without being lit up or seen; that with the power that's still in play, it's never like, well then you should have nothing / no reason to hide; the penultimate moment in the play with achilles being one that's in person and fades into darkness, rather than coming in from the light of a projection / video onscreen as the introduction....iphigenia needing to be guided through a crossroads to even get to achilles in person; violeta giving the Advice and Story and Tradition to pray to eleggua, as iphigenia does before getting to encounter achilles for real, who also doesn't get to break out of a role or a fate in full in any way, but their tragedies are like, pointing towards [autonomy, imagine it] in both the ways they manage to find a little bit of it for themselves, in no small part for simply recognizing each other as in the same boat here, and in the ways they still don't have it and still can't get it

and anyways it's also inevitably saying like, telling a story?? this Play is a told story!! looking? assessing? interpreting? you're doing that in the course of experiencing it! and it's really so fucking true.

[blazewatergem]

I wanna start this off by stressing 3 things.

One: I am on my period(at least, should be soon), therefore, Extreme Emotions are happening. I don’t need to be told I’m overreacting or “being silly” - I am very aware of my emotions. Thanks.

Two: This entire rant mess will be about the game called Death and Taxes. It’s been out for a bit, but I just got it, and played it. Spoilers ahead.

Three: I need to stress I did like the game. It was a very fun game and I’m sure I’ll play it more later on! But I’m taking no prisoners here.

Let’s begin

FATE IS A BITCHASS DICKFUCKER AND IM GONNA KILL HIM

*ahem*

I followed things mostly to the letter?? AND GET THE WORST POSSIBLE ENDING?? BITCH WE ARE SUPPOSED TO BE BALANCING SHIT WTF YOU MEAN YOU DECIDED TO END HUMANITY AND THEN USE ME TO DO IT

IDGAF IF YOU’RE TIRED GET TO THE DAMN BAR LIKE THE REST OF US IF YOU WANT TO CHILL

I am legitimately furious at a video game character. This fuckwit made me cry. I literally spent the last turns of the game in emotional distress frantically trying to fix humanity, thinking I broke this fake little world, only for this Sir NightEye looking whore to turn around and be like “oh lol yeah I did that”

I have TEAR TRACKS ON MY FACE. I CRIED. I FELT LIKE A ACTUAL FAILURE OVER THIS

FUCKET OF A MAN

Fate on the GODS sleep while you can im gonna eat your damn desk. I am in your walls im gonna chew on the DRYWALL

Oh oh and it’s MY reputation down the drain! Everyone saying I DID THIS LIKE IT WASNT YOUR ASS STEERING THE SHIP. YOU MADE ME MF TAKE RESPONSIBILITY.

This game was fun, im sure it was, and I think I saw a vast majority of players ended up with the same ending I got, but holy shit I am going to punch out Fate. I trusted this man. I stuck up for “oh it’s tradition im sure he knows what he’s doing” on fuck the next playthroughs I’ll break the mold. I’ll break him. Raw spite and rage bitchboy you are gonna LEARN

Who knows when I will though. I both love and hate that this game got a reaction out of me. Love because it’s a good game. It’s awesome it did that. Hate because it was - clearly - a very negative reaction that’s actually made my mood shitty and made me mad at myself. I was blaming myself and crying at the end. Im a fool.

Jackass.

[kaittalkstoomuch]

CHAPTER FIFTEEN IS LIVE! So sorry for the delay!

Chapter Fifteen: The Edge of Seventeen

TW: mentions of abandonment. Roxie witnessed her and Dustin’s dad leaving at a young age. Trauma. Angst.

The late afternoon to evening of March 22, 1986

I open the front door of my house being greeted by the news. It was coverage of Chrissy and Fred, no leads just yet. However, flashes of Eddie’s trailer don’t help. My anxiety peaks as my mother steps into my vision. “Hi darling, are you alright? How about Dustin?” I blink a few times trying to act normal. “He’s okay. He’s at Lucas’…” I begin to trail off as my eyes get stuck on the tributes for the Queen of Hawkins High and Fred flash on my living room TV.

“How was your night with Eddie? Any big plans for tomorrow night?” My face begins to feel cold as “ROXANNE” chimes and echoes through my head. I feel someone grab my hand. “Roxie, baby, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Mom mimics Robin’s statement earlier. “You feel chilly. Honey, are you sure everything is alright?”

“Yeah… yeah. I’m alright.” I say crossing my arms around my body, playing with my rings in my fingers. “It was fun last night. He made me my own Hellfire Club shirt.” “Oh that’s sweet. He’s such a sweet boy and fits you perfectly. I love seeing you happy.” I smile at her sentiment. “I haven’t seen you smile this much since.. before….” She begins to trail off a bit as I put my stuff down. “Mom.” I rub her arm calmly. “I’m so sorry honey. I just…. It’s amazing to see you smiling again. It’s beautiful.” I smile. “I get it from you.” I smile at her and she smiles back.i give her a hug and she hugs me back.

As we embrace, I eye an white envelope with “Roxie Gracie”, my stomach immediately drops. I begin to feel the walls spin. “Was he here earlier?” I squeak. “No, he mailed it. I didn’t open it.” I roll my eyes and groan, throwing my hands up. “Why can’t he leave us alone? I mean, he left us…” I can feel the tears start to form. “Like, what the fuck does he want? Is it another stupid birthday card to his little ‘Roxie Gracie’? God I’m almost eighteen. I have a month left.”

I start growing more angry while the same news blares on the tv. “Rox, I know what happened still hurts you, but he’s still your father.” “Not since he left us mom. He couldn’t handle raising two fucking kids. He is such a coward. A grown man would’ve stayed. Walter is a fucking coward.” I share as the lights flicker a bit. “ROXANNE” roams again and the voice, though distorted, becomes clearer who it was. The coward.”

I shake it off. “I just can’t forgive him, mom. Not after he left, without saying goodbye. Not one care for us. No silly birthday card is going to change that.” “Roxie….” “Mom…” She hugs me tightly. And flashes of the night he left come rapidly. The scared ten year old girl. The careless cowardice man. “Daddy, please don’t go. Please.” He looks at me as if he didn’t hear me. “Daddy, please.” He’d bend down to kiss me on the cheek. “I’m doing this because I love you, Roxie Gracie.” He’d pick us his suitcase and then leave without saying a word.

Now, about to turn eighteen in a month, I growl at the memory. “It’s been almost eight years and I vowed to myself I would protect you and Dustin, something Dad couldn’t think of doing… I have to protect you guys… and Eddie…. Oh Eddie.” I feel chills thinking of my metal head. Thinking about what true happiness was. Being with him.

“You’re thinking of Eddie right now, aren’t you?” I nod trying to keep my worry in. “Yeah… I’m extremely worried about him.” “How so?” I look at her confused. “Have you been watching the news?” “I have, but I don’t believe Eddie is a killer. Some crook probably did it.” “Yeah, some crook named Vecna.” I think to myself.

“Thank you, mom.” I start, feeling uneasy but maybe it's nothing. “For what?” I hugged her again. “For understanding who Eddie truly is.” “Well, of course baby. That’s what mothers do. I even folded some clothes for you. They’re on your bed. Go pack some more and spend time with Eds.” She sounds a little too persuasive. “Thank you, mom.” I squeeze her tight. “I love you.” “I love you too.” She kisses my head and looks at me. “My beautiful ‘Roxie Gracie’.”

I stand up and grab my bag slowly as that runs through my head. Fear courses through my veins. “What did you just call me?” I look at her stunned with as much distance as I can. “My beautiful ‘Roxanne Grace’. Roxie, sweetheart. Are you alright?” Her face begins to morph in between Walter’s and hers as my fear grows more. “Yeah… I’m okay…” I go further into the hallway and enter my room, sliding my door shut. I smile lightly looking at the clothes, but also terrified of the imagery I keep seeing of Walter.

Why do I keep seeing him in everyone I see? Why now? Is it because of the lingering thoughts of him leaving? Wait, it’s been eight years since he left. That’s gotta be it. I dig for the walkie in my bag and call out for someone who could understand. “Nance, do you copy? It’s Roxie… I need your help.” I pleaded with her quietly, but there was no response. “Figures.” I scoff while I look at my clothes.

I see old scrapbooks of old photos I took in the past. Ones with Robin, the kids, Steve being a fucking idiot, the Hellfire Club and Nancy. I laugh at how ridiculous our Elf costumes were for our brothers. I spy Barb, looking ever so radiant. “I’m so sorry, Barb.” I say running my fingers along the Polaroid, when I hear the lock of my door activate. “MOM?” I panic as the atmosphere grows dark. I clutch the walkie as I go up to the door and begin to try to pry it open. “MOM!” I bang on it. “Why did you lock me in?” “I’m only protecting you, much like you’re protecting me!” “EDDIE DIDN’T MURDER ANYONE!” I yell. “Sorry, darling. I can’t let you out.” The atmosphere grows darker as I bang on it and continue my efforts. Her sweet, nurturing voice was replaced by a dark, ominous one. “Nancy….” I squeak quietly….. “Help…..”

[seonghwanotes]

drunk words, sober thoughts | choi jongho

pairing: jongho x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 3.3k

a/n: we love me some drunk interactions

Three loud knocks on your door along with the doorbell being rung frantically were enough to get your friend rushing to the door, opening it up to be met with your friend who was struggling to support your weight as she tried to avoid you from falling over.

Jongho didn't hesitate and quickly took you into his arms, his arm slung around your waist as you threw your own around his neck. He raised his eyebrows at the sight and waited for your friend to explain herself. "Well?"

"You were in her emergency contact list… my boyfriend's staying over at mine so there's no place for her to stay at. I hope you don't mind." She explained, making Jongho sigh while you were drifting off to dreamland in his arms.

"Why didn't you send her back to her place? Her roommate isn’t around?”

"She didn’t answer my call. Plus, she kept saying your name all night, I didn't know if you guys talked or what but I had to bring her out before she slaps another guy thinking it was you and yells at their face for.. looking good." You heard your friend say and you giggle, lifting your head to meet the dissatisfied gaze of your crush.

"You're… you have a really good face." You blurted, causing him to look away and sigh. He thanked your friend and closed the door behind him before he put you on his couch.

Your mind was hazy but you were still aware of your surroundings. It had been a while since you went over to Jongho's yet it still felt the same. Nothing has changed and you let out a giggle over the thought.

Jongho walked over to you from the kitchen with a glass of water in his hands. He sat beside you and passed you the glass which you took but you didn't drink. Your eyes were slowly giving up on you but you resisted the sleep that was creeping up on you.

"Why did you drink so much, Y/N?" He asked in a soft voice, eyes fixated on your wimpy figure. While he waited for your answer, he took off your heels which made your feet feel more relaxed and it hurt less.

You shook your head, "I didn't drink a lot. I just had… 5 shots? I don't know," You giggled, drinking the water which you unintentionally spilled on your dress. The cold liquid left a visible stain on your chest area and you sighed at the sight.

Jongho grabbed the glass from your hand and set it on the coffee table. "Y/N… you can't handle more than 1 shot of vodka, why did you go more than that?" He cooed, his hand caressing your head.

"I don't know." You quickly answered, looking at him with half-lidded eyes. "Jongho, can I get changed? This dress feels icky."

He eyed you up and down, gulping when he noticed your attire which was extremely revealing and he raised his voice slightly at you, "When did you even buy this dress?"

You shook your head, "I didn't buy this. That girl lent it to me. I forgot her name but she said this would look good. Does it look good? I can't see but it feels so tight."

At this rate, Jongho knew you were mumbling words for the fact you even forgot your friend's name so he got up, mumbling a few words that you couldn't hear before he helped you get up. You grabbed his hand and followed him to his room as you fell on his soft mattress, your hand naturally reaching for his pillow to hug on.

"Y/N, get up. You need to get changed." Jongho spoke out, his words not being processed in your mind.

"Can't you help me change? I can’t reach the zipper either.” You mumbled, sighing right after as you got up but soon losing your balance as you tripped on Jongho. He quickly caught you, “Y/N… you’re not gonna like this tomorrow.” He muttered, annoyance tracing his words as innocence laced your laughter that came right after.

He couldn’t stay mad at you for too long as well, so he ignored whatever that happened before and helped you out. He took off your dress and helped you to change into his t-shirt, which rested at your thighs making it look like a shirt dress. Taking off the spare hair tie on your wrist, he tied back your hair and brought you to the bathroom.

“Sit on the toilet, don’t fall asleep or I’m gonna leave you here.” He told in a stern voice, which made you nod. Despite his instructions, you couldn’t handle the fatigue creeping up on you. You rubbed your eyes and yawned, “Jongho? Are you there?”

“Wait a second! Don’t move!” He replied, making you nod. He came back with a bag that you couldn’t make out what it was and he knelt next to you. “I don’t know how to do this but I’m just gonna help you out, okay?”

“What are you gonna do?” You mumbled, another yawn leaving your lips.

“Take your makeup off,” He stated, “Also brush your teeth cause you reek of vodka.”

You giggled and let him do the work while you were seated quietly. The wet cotton pad came in contact with your face which made you flinch, causing Jongho to giggle but he quickly hid the sound.

He was quick to clear up your makeup since you didn’t have a heavy one on, so he got up and reached for a new toothbrush to brush your teeth. Out of nowhere, memories of the night suddenly flooded your head and you felt tears threatening to escape your eyes. Sobs left your lips and it caught Jongho’s attention, causing him to scurry over to you.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asked, looking at you while you tried to keep your focus on his face but you couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore.

“I like him so much, I wish he knew." You cried, holding his shoulder for balance as you leaned back on the bathroom wall, resting your head there.

“You have to be kidding me.” He muttered under his breath. "I told you he's not good news."

“Why is he not? All he ever does is to worry about me. See, we even fought the other day about Juyeon." You sat straight, explaining yourself to the boy that you couldn't see clearly.

"What? Juyeon?" Jongho asked in surprise, now the boy thinks you have another crush. "Don't you like Juyeon though? Or is there a new guy now that you haven't told me about?"

"What new guy? It's Jongho, it's always been him." You sighed, words left your mouth carelessly whereas Jongho was only taking note of everything so that he could either confront you about it in the morning or keep it a secret until you confessed, with a sober mind, of course.

"Always been him, huh?"

"Yeah, well, I know he hates Juyeon. But he never said it to my face because he knows I would get sad over it, which makes him a really good friend, don't you think?"

Jongho's eyes were fixed on you ranting about him that he didn't bother responding back because you continued talking about him for the next 30 minutes with a mixture of giggles and gasps as you couldn't comprehend how handsome Jongho was but you were too shy to tell him that.

Shaking his head, he eventually pushed the toothbrush inside of your mouth and helped you brush your teeth. It took him a few minutes to make you spit out and wash your mouth as you mistook the minty substance as melted ice cream. You waddled over to his bed and plopped on the soft mattress, a soft hum leaving your lips.

"Wait, I want to tell you more about Jongho, you can never tell him about this though." You mumbled, causing Jongho to chuckle as he tucked you in bed.

"That's alright, we can talk when you're awake tomorrow morning, I'll see if you'll repeat your sober thoughts. Have a good sleep, doll." He addressed you with a nickname which your mind didn't register before you were sent to dreamland.

———

Other than the exposed natural light slapping your skin at seven in the morning, the sharp pain in your head was another bother to you as you winced loudly. You got up and sat straight on the bed, trying to think of what caused your headache until you realised you were not in your bed.

Your eyes widened at the familiar sight of the room and you tried to look around for anyone with you but you were only accompanied by the sunlight peeking through the sheer curtains.

You looked down at yourself to realise you were only clad in an oversized shirt that you knew all too well and simultaneously, you cursed. "Shit."

Memories of the previous night flooded your mind and you couldn't believe yourself for getting yourself in a situation you promised you would never put yourself in. Getting out of bed, you shuffled to the door slowly, looking around to see if anyone was waiting for you but you were met with silence.

Your mind was still hazy from the whole situation and you couldn't help but fall back onto the bed, massaging your temples slightly as the sharp pain started to knock on your head. You heard a door open and you looked up to see Jongho, with a towel wrapped around his waist, torso exposed to you.

"Oh fuck," He cursed, making you turn around quickly where your brain was now replaying the sight of his bare chest. "Sorry, I didn't know you were awake."

"It's okay." You managed to mumble out. The scene replayed all over again in your head, you saw your best friend shirtless for the first time and it didn't make your anxious self calm down any quicker. The tension in the air was so strong that you could cut it with a knife so you let out a dry cough and got up, scurrying over to the other side of the bed since Jongho was just standing at his place quietly.

No one was going to move if neither of you spoke so you asked him the first and the dumbest question you could ever think of. "Did we… last night?"

His eyes grew wide and he furrowed his brows, "Whoa, Y/N, no. Chill, I just changed your clothes and cleaned you up before bed. I slept in the guest room."

"Oh." Red flushed your cheeks from embarrassment and you rubbed your neck slightly before looking around the room for what felt like the millionth time. "What am I doing here, by the way?"

A small scoff left his mouth which took you by surprise, "Sabrina dropped you off, you got drunk last night and she couldn't bring you back home."

You raised a brow at him before muttering to yourself, "Why not send me back home though?"

"What can she do if your definition of home is my place?" He sarcastically replied, walking over to his wardrobe as he went through his shirts. His answer made you stop breathing for a second, making you wonder what could have possibly happened last night considering you couldn't remember anything after you drank the wrong glass of alcohol.

Hearing no reply from you, Jongho turned around to see you spacing out while you tried to figure an answer out before your growing headache could have killed you off. "I'll make us breakfast, maybe you could shower first. You know where the clothes are at." He said, taking out a shirt on a hanger before he walked out of the room.

Did he forget about your argument and forgive you? Was he going to bring it up during breakfast later? You had zero idea but you wanted to get out of his house as soon as possible and meet Sabrina.

———

You spent a good hour in the shower where you washed your hair with his shampoo that he never bothered sharing with you whenever you slept over at his and you also did your makeup with the products that you left at his place, which you were surprised that he kept.

After you threw on a basic tee along with your shorts, you went to the kitchen where you were met with Jongho using his phone as he waited for you. The strong scent caused him to look up and he let out a sigh when he saw your wet hair, "I told you to not use my shampoo!"

"I don't see your name written on it and I needed a wash." You casually explained before taking a seat across him.

He pushed a small bowl of soup towards you, "Drink up, it's hangover soup."

You didn't need the soup anymore but you didn't want to hurt his feelings more so you drank the soup quietly as he watched you, thinking of what to say.

Once in a while, you kept looking up at him and his eyes never left yours which made you set your spoon down and question him, "Do you have something to ask?"

"No."

"Then, why do you keep looking at me? Is there something on my face?"

"Do you like me, Y/N?"

"What?" Your question came out a little louder than supposed that it took Jongho by surprise and he snickered at your reaction.

"You didn't have to react like Cheon Seojin, I just asked you if you have a crush on me." He told again, with a relaxed demeanor.

You were in disbelief, what was he talking about? Did Sabrina tell him anything? Did you spill anything to him? What if you said yes? Would he tease you because he doesn't like you back? What if you said no? Would you lose a chance with him? Plenty of responses raced in your mind and you had no clue on which to say.

He sighed, "So how's Juyeon?"

You furrowed your brows, "You never ask about him. What's the matter? Did he talk to you?"

"No, I'm just curious. Your soup is getting colder." He reminded you, making you drink your soup again.

"He's alright I guess? Ever since we broke up, he's been great. He got assurance when he found out that we fought so he got together with another girl right away. It makes him happy to see me in despair." You told him everything like you always would have gone if you guys were okay. Jongho was never wrong about the people you chose to hang out with, sometimes the fact that you were in denial because you didn't want to lose to your best friend whom you loved a little too much made you attempt daring things which only brought you back to square one.

"Oh, he's the same basically." He confirmed, nodding his head as you scoffed at his answer. Classic Choi Jongho, hates Juyeon but has never made it clear.

"Do you remember anything from last night?" He asked, making your anxiety level rise again. You finished up your soup, pushing the bowl away from you in a soft motion and looked at him.

"I thought you said we did nothing."

"I cleaned you up and changed your clothes, a lot could have happened."

You gasped, "You saw me naked?"

"Goddamn, Y/N, get a grip. You wore a dress that literally showed so much of skin and me seeing you naked is your concern right now?" Jongho questioned you back, making your mind think about the dress you wore last night. He wasn't wrong, you wore something that was practically protecting your assets and revealing the rest.

"Well then, I don't remember anything. But thank you for the stay and the soup. I'll get going now." You told him, grabbing the bowl and got up. Before you could go to the sink, he grabbed your wrist, making you look at him.

"So you don't remember confessing?"

Your heart dropped. There's no way you could have told him, not when you were drunk and at your lowest. You must have been crazy to have done that. How could you have been crying over him the entire night only to tell him that you were so in love with him?

Your deafening silence was a clear answer to him which brought a smile to his face as he stood up and blocked your way. "You do like me."

"I don't." You were quick to deny but your eyes lied, which he knew very well.

He didn't hesitate making moves with you as he grabbed your chin softly and brought his face closer to yours. "You know that I would have treated you better than Juyeon, so why would you still deny?"

Your breath hitched in your throat as you listened to his words, you couldn't come up with a response cause you knew that he finally figured out what you were trying to do and there was no way out of it.

"You're so quiet when I'm speaking the truth. It would be great if you'd listen all the time, am I right?" He chuckled at your face, causing you to laugh nervously. He let go of your chin as your stiff body relaxed for a second up until he held your hands again and your hold on the bowl tightened.

"I like you too, Y/N. It took me a while but I'm sick of seeing you go back to that jerk who only uses you for what he wants and he doesn't even know your worth. So, if you don't mind, we could go on a date and think about what we could do next." Jongho confessed casually, causing you to drop the bowl, which fell on his foot and to your relief, the bowl was not made out of ceramic so it was still intact.

However, Jongho was wincing in pain.

You gasped at the incident and crouched to hold his feet, "Oh my God, wait, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to drop the bowl. Wait, does it hurt? But you're strong. Okay, maybe not. Foot injuries hurt like hell. Let's just stay at home, I'll put ice on your feet."

You stood up and helped Jongho go to the living room before he plopped on the couch. "I guess a stay at home date isn't so bad. My girlfriend puts ice on my feet. It could be a new thing." He joked, making you slap his feet hard which made him wince harder.

"I'm not your girlfriend yet! Keep dreaming, loser." You told him, rolling your eyes before you went back to the kitchen and cleared the small mess before you got an ice pack out.

"Yet, well, it could change in an hour or so. Would we kiss? Would I break your neck as we make out? Would more things in this house break? You'll never know!" He yelled out, making you scoff.

"Yeah, right. You're just gonna tease me till the end for that drunk confession. I never wanted to sate your ugly ass anyway," You muttered, sitting next to him and pressing ice on the forming bruise.

"I recorded you calling me a cute, squishy, boba ball last night. Oh, wait, let me play that." He said, taking out his phone which made you press the ice pack harder on his feet, causing him to yell.

"Yeah, I always wanted to date you, who was I joking with?" You answered back, making faces at him as he laughed at you.

"Well, at least I can finally say that's my girl instead of that's my best friend." He told with pride which made you fake cringe but on the inside, you were cheering yourself on with pompoms. Drunk words, sober thoughts are not so bad at times.

[rebeccccccaaa]

𝚃𝚠𝚘 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝙳𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚢

________________________

𝙱𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚢 𝙱𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚁𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍: ANON Hey you ❤️ Could I request an imagine with Bucky where you are his non-avenger girlfriend but you got really distant towards him lately as you found out you're pregnant and you're scared of his reaction? But then he finds out and is all happy and all other avengers are happy for you and insist on taking care of you and it's just all fluffy ? Thank you a lot ❤️

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: really fluff smut 18+ (praise, daddy kink, slight mommy kink?, breeding kink, oral fem!rec, age gap, etc), slight angst, cw: mentions of eating disorders (no one has one but bucky thinks this)

𝙰𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛’𝚜 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜: listen…. The idea of kids and having kids getting pregnant all that jazz, yeah. It fucking terrifies me! LOL! But nonetheless I really do see the appeal and sometimes i catch myself reading these kinds of fics so i really hope you like it anon! :)

PS: updates are going to slow down cuz i don’t have any drafts ready for upload and also things are a little crazy personally so yeah hope y’all understand :)

_____________________________

“You like that baby?” Bucky groaned in your ear.

“Yes daddy! Oh my god,” you moaned.

“You’re being such a good little girl for your daddy. Fuck, daddy. You're gonna make me a daddy. I’m gonna come inside you and you’re gonna get all swollen and round with my baby. You want that? You wanna be a mommy; make me a daddy?” 

Bucky and you both expressed in the past that kids were something you both wanted but with Bucky still heavily involved with missions and the avengers, and you were in college studying to get a PhD in biomechanics and computer engineering, something that would let you understand and work with Bucky specifically very closely. You were too young to have a baby but that didn’t stop you from playing into fantasies of having a family with the man you were so in love with. 

“Daddy,” you moaned.

“Give it to me, baby,” you looked him into his eyes.

Bucky kissed you hard as you both came and after cleaning yourselves up you had showered together, ate dinner quickly, and soon went to bed. 

That was two months ago. 

Three weeks after that night, Bucky was gone for about two weeks on a mission with Steve. You and the girls were drinking wine but you opted out for the tempting glasses feeling nauseous that entire week. 

As a joke, the girls were saying you were pregnant but you were sure that you and Bucky were always cautious when having sex. It wasn’t a good time to have a baby. So you joked that all three of you should take a pregnancy test and when yours came out positive you freaked out. 

“Oh my god! Bucky’s gonna kill me!” you panicked.

“Hey, relax. It’s ok,” Nat comforted you.

“We can get through this. Now did Bucky explicitly say he doesn’t want kids?” Wanda asked.

“No, we both want kids it’s just, ugh, life is so fucking crazy right now and I’m still in school, Bucky’s going on missions all the time. It’s just not a good time to have a baby.”

“Ok think about it this; if life for us was normal, as boring as that is, would Bucky be upset if you were pregnant?” Nat reasoned.

“No, he would be so happy. He wants to be a dad, it’s just so sudden,” you said in distress.

“It’s always sudden with this situation. But what’s more important is that you have support. Whatever your decision is in the end we'll all support you, even Bucky,” Nat told you.

Bucky came back home and immediately knew that there was something that was upsetting you. You promised him that you were alright but you were conflicted. You tried to tell him, you really did, but there wasn’t a good time. 

One night Bucky tried to initiate sex when you two had the tower to yourselves. You were instantly distant with him afraid he’d take one look at your naked body and know you were pregnant and that freak you out. 

“Baby, are you ok?” Bucky asked that night.

“Yeah, I just don’t feel good,” you didn’t actually lie, the pregnancy did affect your appetite drastically and many foods you used to adore before were repulsive to you. 

“Oh ok, do you need anything?” he was concerned.

“No, I think I’m ok.”

Now present day, you and Bucky hadn’t had sex since. It’s been a little over two months and Bucky wasn’t frustrated per say but he missed you; he missed having his hands on your warm and soft skin. He missed the way you squirmed under him and the little whimpers you made. How good your walls felt as he thrusted in and out of you torturously slow. 

You two were in the kitchen sitting with some of the other team members. So far only Nat and Wanda knew about your pregnancy as hard as it was to not tell Vision or Steve or literally anyone. You stared at the breakfast sitting in front of you; it used to be your favorite but looking at it and smelling it was making you extremely nauseous. 

“Baby?” Bucky rubbed your back.

“Hm?”

“Why aren’t you eating? It’s your favorite,” he said.

“I’m not too hungry,” you said.

Bucky wasn’t convinced but because you were in front of other people he didn’t want you to feel embarrassed like a father scolding a teenager. His hand rested on your thigh and immediately felt your leg tense up. 

You retracted and stood up walking away without saying a word and Bucky was confused and followed you quickly shoving as much food in his mouth as he could and tossed his plate in the sink. 

“What’s going on with them?” Steve asked.

“Oh no are they gonna break up?” Sam asked with genuine concern, as much as he fucked around with Buck he did admire your relationship. You are really good for him and he loved you unconditionally.

“No, it’s just-” Wanda started.

“Wanda,” Nat warned. 

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” she rolled her eyes, “There fine. Y/n’s just not feeling well and she doesn’t want to be bothered.”

Bucky walked into your shared room and found you changing into yet another hoodie. That’s when he started piecing things together; or at least he thought. You were always wearing very big clothing and covering your body; that he thought was the most beautiful he’d ever laid eyes on. You were constantly nauseous and refused to eat even some of your favorites dishes and meals. You wouldn’t let him touch even though he’s initiated a couple of times.

“Y/n?” Bucky asked.

“What?” you played dumb.

“Y/n, what’s going on?”

“Nothing, I told you I don’t feel good.”

“That seems to be your excuse a lot.”

“What does that mean?” you asked.

“Y/n, be honest with me. Are you starving yourself?” he had tears in his eyes; he couldn’t even think about you doing this to yourself.

“What! Bucky no! I’m not, ugh, just,” you stuttered.

“What is going on, please tell me, baby?”

“I’m pregnant!”

Silence. Bucky was shocked. You were pregnant? How long? Why didn’t you tell him? 

“I’m so sorry, Buck,” you started crying.

“No, no, no, no, don’t cry babygirl,” Bucky hugged you tightly while you sobbed into his chest.

“I’m happy, I’m really happy and excited for us. We’re gonna be a family,” he smiled.

“You’re not mad?”

“Why would I be mad?”

“I don’t know, I know we talk about this and having a family but not now. I thought you’d be mad at me.”

“Well, I’m a bit bummed that you didn’t tell when you found out but no; I’m so happy. I love you from the bottom of my heart and I would do anything for you. I’m gonna be here every step of the way and we’re gonna get through this together, ok?”

“Ok,” you sniffled. 

“Are you ok? Do you need anything?” Bucky already started going into protective dad mode and he just found out.

“No I just need you,” you whispered. 

“God, I love you,” Bucky picked you up and laid you on the bed littering your face in kisses.

“Does anyone else know?” he asked you.

“Well, uh, the girls,” you said.

“You told the girls?”

“Well, they were drinking and i declined because I was feeling sick and they joked that I was pregnant so we all took pregnancy tests as a joke but mine came out positive. I took two more and they were all positive,” you started tearing up.

“Hey don’t cry, it’s ok.”

“Sorry,” you laughed.

“We’re gonna be ok, right baby?” he whispered.

“Yeah, I love you.”

Bucky leaned down again and pressed kisses to your neck making you giggle. His warm hands trailed under your shirt making your skin burst into chills. Bucky’s lips continued their assault on your neck and before you knew Bucky started lifting your sweater over your head.

You did the same to Bucky and your chests were pressed against each other instantly as he kissed you hard. Bucky trailed kisses down your body slowly, hands rubbing your skin softly, lips staying longer than usual around your stomach for obvious reasons. 

Bucky peeled your sweats from your body and didn’t hesitate to dive in. His tongue licking a long strip against your pussy. You moan softly and your hips wiggled under him. He pressed down on you to keep you from squirming but you were getting very close to your orgasm and it just felt too good. 

Bucky brought his fingers and circled your entrance before inserting a finger slowly. He looked up at you moaning at his fingers and this encouraged Bucky to insert another one. His fingers slipped in and out with ease with your arousal practically dripping from you. 

Bucky leaned forward and circled his tongue around your clit. The obsecene sounds of Bucky finger fucking you echoed in the room and you finallly climax, cumming all over his finger. Bucky crawled up your tired body after taking his pants and boxers off. 

Bucky didn’t bother putting a condom considering you’ve been his only partner the past couple years and he got you pregnant. He pumped his cock a few times before grabbing your legs to wrap around his waist and easily slipped between your folds. 

“Fuck, baby girl. You feel so good,” Bucky moaned in your ear.

“Oh shit, yes,” you whimpered.

“Oh you’re gonna be so beautiful when you're all big and swollen, shit. You’re gonna be the sexiest mommy in this whole fucking world.”

“Ugh! And you’re gonna be such a sexy daddy,” you smirked and cupped his face.

He leaned down and kissed you passionately. He thrusted into you harder and your back arched into his chest, moaning high pitched and loudly. Your hands tugged on his hair and Bucky groaned in your mouth. 

“Oh Buck, I’m gonna come,”you said against his lips.

“Let go, baby. Come for me, mommy,” Bucky said. 

You came hard; your body contracted and trembled, your stomach tightened, your toes curled, and your legs pulled Bucky deep inside you, hot spurts of his cum coating your walls. Bucky settled on you but bounced back afraid he was crushing the baby.

He went to the bathroom, well practically sprinted, and returned with a warm towel to clean you up. Your body laid still while you were cleaned and you just watched Bucky with adoration. He left again and returned wearing boxers and held a bottle of your favorite lotion that you usually saved for special nights or for Tony’s parties.

You smiled and got comfortable as Bucky poured some lotion in his hand. His hands spread the lotion evenly on your body; thumbs skimming your sensitive nipples, gently caresses all over your stomach, teasing grazes along your inner thighs. You closed your eyes and felt euphoria. 

The love of your life was really pampering you and you felt so good. 

“I love you,” you whispered.

“I love you, too,” Bucky kissed your forehead, crawling into the bed with you.

“Let’s stay in all day. My girl is pregnant and she’s gonna need all the rest she can get,” Bucky joked.

“But what about-”

“No, who cares,” bucky interrupted.

“But-”

“No buts.”

“What are we gonna tell the rest of the team?”

“Oh, well. It’s your body, your comfort. You tell them when you feel it’s best. But I do hope it’s soon because I’m so happy and I don’t think i'd be able to keep this a secret for long,” Bucky dived his head in your neck making you laugh.

“Ok,” you whispered.

“Man, I’m gonna be a dad,” Bucky sighed happily.

“You’re gonna be daddy,” you said innocently.

“I’m already your daddy,” he playfully growled.

“Then you’re gonna be two types of daddy,” you smirked.

“Two types of daddy.”

=======================

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@mathletemadison 

[21burritoseavey]

for corbyn based on hard!

hello! hope you enjoy this I’m so sorry it took so long. Let me know what you think:)

here’s a link to my masterlist for my other stories:)

a/n: oop i kinda lied about when i was gonna post...but i actually like this a lot so read it...or else....jkjk. 

Summary: When Y/n knocks on Corbyn’s door, he lets her stay the night without an explanation.

Hard (c.b.)

Corbyn jerked his head up at the sound of a faint knock on the front door. His hoodie was draped cosily over his head and his tired eyes were now focused on the wall opposite him. The printed frames of the band’s accomplishments stood out brightly in the beams of a streetlamp’s light that poured through the window. Corbyn stayed on the sofa, resting back against the cushions, and letting the dim T.V. screen grasp his attention again as he thought his mind was just playing tricks on him. On a measly, sluggish Wednesday night, who would even have the energy to show up at his place right now? Eben and Jonah went to bed just before midnight settled around them, painting the sky with deep jet black and shooting daggers of heavy raindrops from above along with loud thunder. They’d left only Corbyn awake to suffer through a painfully boring movie alone. It was something he did often just to soothe himself to sleep. 

Sleep was always a struggle for Corbyn. Despite myriad attempts to figure out why, nothing ever seemed to shut his eyes. More often than not, he’d find himself on the living room sofa in the morning, and tonight was merely one of many nights where he’d hope to fall asleep with a T.V. show or movie mumbling in the background under the eeriness and coldness of the house. 

Another knock came dancing along the quiet atmosphere. Corbyn glanced at the door again before his gaze flickered back to the T.V. 12:46am was shown at the corner of the screen. Deciding that whoever it was standing behind that door must’ve had a good reason to be,��he tiredly lifted himself up with a quiet groan. Y/n’s voice seeped into the house, gradually increasing in volume as he walked towards the door. It was weak and raspy - nothing like the usual softness Y/n’s voice had. 

“Y/n,” Corbyn breathed, feeling the hood of his sweatshirt fall backwards as a cold gust of wind swept over him. Y/n shyly stood before him. Her hair dangled in two braids, although it was damp and dishevelled at the top and her mascara stained her cheeks in streaks like it’d been painted on her face. Corbyn’s lips turned downwards into a genuine frown at the sight of her, not only visibly sad but shivering from the rain and cold that reddened her cheeks and soaked her clothes. His gaze stopped at her chapped lips when he heard her whisper. But the heavy downpour of rain engulfed Y/n’s sorrowful murmurs, barely allowing her words to be heard over the pitter patter of raindrops hitting the ground, so he just let her in with a gentle tug of her wrist.  

“Hi,” Y/n tried again once the place quietened, looking up at him. The faint sloshing of her shoes had them both dropping their gazes to the floor, roaming from Y/n’s boots to the small gap at the bottom of the door. A narrow trail of mud had followed her in from the welcome mat. “Sorry,” She exhaled again, giving him an apologetic smile. 

“No, that’s okay,” Corbyn assured her. He gave her time to take off her shoes before changing the subject. “It’s nearly 1am.” He chuckled humourlessly. “what’re you doing here?” Taking a seat on the edge of the couch, he waited for her response. But when the eerie silence emerged again, he started thinking out loud with his own guesses. “Were you locked out of the house? Did you get in trouble?” He stopped for a second, catching his thoughts before they could travel to him. The one guy he really didn’t want to be the cause of his best friend’s sadness, or the reason she risked her own safety just to come over here. A ripple of hailstones came clattering against the rooftop and the loud sounds sent Corbyn out of his mind and back into the present. 

“I didn’t have anywhere else to go,” Y/n mumbled, gazing towards him with an almost scared expression in slight fear that he wouldn’t let her stay. But that wasn’t the case at all. In fact, Corbyn loved when she stayed over, and when he noticed the small uneasiness in her expression, he assured her she was fine to stay with a gentle smile, regardless of the heart wrenching swirl of emotion inside him. 

“Okay.” He said quietly, “you can sleep here tonight.”  

“M’kay,” Y/n bit back her smile of relief and merely watched him hop off the couch and head towards her. He’d set his hands in hers but flinched back at the temperature of her soft skin. 

“They’re so cold,” He chuckled softly, resting his crinkled eyes on hers. Y/n gave a half smile back when she felt his warm breath on her skin, her hands now clutched together with his and raised up to his mouth in an attempt to warm them up. Soon, without any control, Y/n’s dimpled cheeks turned scarlet at the sight of him placing a tender line of kisses on her fingertips. He dropped both their hands after a moment and felt himself heat up from just seconds before. Did he really just do that?

“I’ll get you some dry clothes,” He stuttered, starting for the hallway to his bedroom, but turned back to meet her eyes again. “Wait, actually I’ll get you a towel,” Y/n nodded. The patter of his footsteps up the stairwell faded into the atmosphere, just like the weather that had managed to calm from a ravaging storm to an ambient patter of raindrops. 

As her clothes were extremely wet and her presence not quite welcome in her eyes, she remained standing in open space of living room. Her damp stocking feet missed the rug and only walked around on the wood floor while Corbyn was busy. 

“Here, I got you both just in case.” Y/n looked over her shoulder to see him slightly panting with some folded clothes in his hand. 

“Thank you Corbyn.” She smiled.

“And you can use my bathroom.” He said lightly, watching her brush past him and up the stairs. He followed behind her after a minute to go into his room. Y/n shut the door as soon as she got into his bathroom. She sauntered slowly to the mirror, and with the belief that she had complete privacy - although Corbyn was in his bedroom - she got changed into Corbyn’s sweatpants and hoodie.  

Corbyn was by the bed, stripping his used sheets and replacing them with fresh clean ones for Y/n, when he heard her crying. A sudden pit weighed him down to sit on the edge of the bed, white sheets clutched lazily between his fingers and face now dulled into a mixture of all sorts of emotions. Something must’ve happened with this stupid idiotic boyfriend of hers. He pushed himself to hide his thoughts away though. Y/n couldn’t know that he heard her, so he forced himself up again to finish changing the sheets. 

The click of the doorknob unlocking made Corbyn look up again. Y/n pulled a grin towards him as she walked in closer, clothed in a dry comfy outfit and face free of smudged makeup. With a small glance to the now made bed, he said “you should get some sleep.” 

“Yeah,” 

“Okay,” He sighed, picking up his phone from the bed. “I can sleep downstairs and you can sleep here.” He looked at her with a ghost of a smile playing at his lips, though it seemed practically non-existent in the subdued warm lighting of bedroom. His eyes dropped down to the sleeves of his sweatshirt. The edges were now darkened, not with raindrops, but with her salty tears he heard fall when she was in the bathroom. 

“No, I can sleep downstairs,” Y/n stopped him. Her face was blotchy with red spots from crying. “This is your room.” 

“I insist Y/n, and don’t worry I changed the sheets.” He smiled, gulping down the sad feeling creeping up his throat again. “Now come on,” He ushered her over with a wave of his hand. Y/n made her way across his room to his bedside. Corbyn started peeling back the comforter for her to slip inside but he paused when he’d noticed her hair. Her usually luxuriously soft locks were still messily braided in a pair down her back. “Do you want me to take them out?” He asked. 

Y/n glanced at him, frozen mid movement as she thought about an answer. “Yes please.” She nodded. Corbyn smiled and shuffled her further on the mattress so they sat on the centre of the bed together - Y/n cross-legged in front of Corbyn who was tending to her hair. Neither of them spoke as he unravelled her braids. 

“Okay,” He gave her back a loving pat. “All done.” He smiled as Y/n looked over her shoulder. 

“Thanks,” she said. Corbyn had hopped off the bed and Y/n shifted under the covers. The fresh comforter was a brilliant white against her pinkish skin and her hair spread like feathers across the pillow under her head. Corbyn’s eyes lingered on hers, finally softening with the relief that she was safe with him. 

“Goodnight.” Y/n’s eyes sparkled under the pleasant warm light of his bedside lamp. Corbyn’s smile that had played at his lips faltered for a second. Then he bent down and placed a soft kiss to her forehead. His delicate lips met her soft supple skin for only a fleeting moment before his lips detached again, pursed and coloured a soft red. 

“Goodnight, Y/n. I love you.” He mumbled, placing another lingering kiss to her nose. A quiet flutter of giggles spilled from her lips, and she scrunched her nose at the ticklish feeling. 

“Love you too.” She replied, glancing back at the boy close to her.  

taglist: @chilling-seavey @marthagryffindor @randomlimelightxxx @hiya-its-amber @the-girl-who-cried-wolf​ @hackerXavery @jonahlovescoffee @onlyangelavery @sadbitchfangirl

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[fandom-monium]

Kinky but Not Really

Summary: In which you make an odd request, and Spencer tries to fulfill it. “I don’t want to disrespect you...”

WC: 1.8k

TW: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader, fluff, cussing, established relationships (blegh), light use of sexual themes including light degradation, light violence, and the slamming into walls (nothing explicitly sexual or nsfw bc im a wimp), specifically post-prison Reid, ft. Garvez and Rossi

Spencer loves you. He’s never doubted that for a second.

Your laugh as you throw your head back. Your eyes, the way they crinkle when you grin too wide. Even your style, whether you’re in joggers or suits, just does something to him he can't quite explain. Really, he loves you. 

Even if you’re weird.

Spencer knew what he was getting into, okay? He didn’t consider it earlier in your friendship, but as time went on and you two grew more comfortable around each other it became apparent that he wasn’t the only… outlier in the team. By the time you officially got together, he was already used to it.

But somehow you still manage to surprise him.

“You want me to what?” 

“I know it’s a lot to ask,” You wince as Spencer coughs. With his sleeve, he wipes the coffee dribbling down his chin, staring at you as if someone hit you over the head. It has to be the only viable explanation, considering what you’ve just asked him. “But hear me out.”

Spencer sits up and sets his mug on the coffee table. “Wh...what? Why? No-what? When?”

You wring your hands together, shifting your weight foot to foot as he squints at you. “Okay. When: um, some time after you came back from prison? I think? Why, I’m not sure. That’s why I’m asking you.” 

“I don’t know, (Your Name),” Spencer rolls his lips together, anything and everything that could possibly go wrong racing through his mind. 

“Nothing extreme! I don’t expect you to slap me across the face⏤”

“Oh my god⏤”

“Just small things! Start off light,” You think for a moment. “Like shoving me around or smacking me. Calling me names.”

“I hear where you’re coming from, but I don’t want to…” He flushes, his voice hushed like what he's about to say is forbidden, “disrespect you.”

You take his hands in yours with a bright smile, “Hon, I love you, but please. I’m the one asking you to get violent with me.”

“What the-when did you up your demands?”

You continue, “Like, if you think about it, you’d be doing me a favor. Respecting my wishes by ‘disrespecting’ me. So, what do you think?” You watch him carefully, legs tucked under you, a hopeful sparkle in your eyes. He can almost see the dog tail wagging behind you.

How can he say no?

"Alright, if that's what you really want," Spencer sighs, smiling as you break out into a grin. He laughs when you tackle him into the couch, thanking him repeatedly. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll try. But starting tomorrow.”

“That’s fine!” You sit up, smiling down at him. Your lips wiggle as you try to suppress your anticipation. “No pressure, just do what you feel comfortable with and we’ll see from there?”

Spencer bites his lip and nods. “Sure.”

⏤

The men of the BAU are distinct; you can tell just by looking at them.

David Rossi, though the eldest, the senior, is suave and has a level of sophistication that could only come with age. It’s in his blazers, his stride, the warm yet knowing eyes. A reassurance that eases the people around him.

Matt Simmons rocks the young dad vibes, with the smooth-shaven face and simple clothing. Not to mention a smile that makes him good with both children and adults alike.

Then there’s Luke.

“You!”

Luke nearly falls out of his chair as Garcia stomps over, sitting up in attention as the click of her pumps grow nearer. “What? What happened?”

“You! You happened,” Garcia hisses, looming over him while Rossi comes up from behind. 

“Penelope, we don’t know for sure⏤”

“Who else could possibly do this? Matt and you could never. Only this troll could have done this,” She whips back on Luke, her eyes⏤usually bright with mischief⏤burning and accusatory. “Fix it!”

And just to tick her off, because that’s the purpose of their relationship: “No.” 

She sputters, fuming pink as her lipstick. And as Luke revels in the oncoming eruption, sneering at Garcia, Rossi⏤that wise geezer⏤squints at him.

“You don’t know what we’re talking about, do you?”

“... Not a clue.”

Maybe I should've retired. Rossi sighs, “Spencer and (Your Name) have been off today, and we think they’re having a fight.”

“And you think I have something to do with that?” Luke's face pinches in offense.

“You didn't see them today, have you?" 

"No?"

Garcia, shaking off her fury, is more than ready to spill the tea. "Kay, so this morning on the way up, I saw Spencer and (Your Name) waiting for the elevator and Spencer just snatched their coffee. And he didn’t even bother to let them into the elevator first.”

Luke frowns, “I mean, it's a bit ungentlemanly but I don’t think that means they’re fighting.”

(Had she shared the lift, she would have seen how apologetic Spencer was, nearly bursting into tears as he hands you the cup of coffee, throwing you whatever cash he has.)

“And during lunch I caught them down the hall by the break room,” Rossi recounts, wincing at the image, “They were talking in hushed tones, then Spencer shoved passed (Your Name) and stalked off.”

(If he’d check on you, he might have caught the proud gleam in your eyes, grinning wide at Spencer’s attempt at getting rough with you.)

“And you still think I’m involved?” Luke raises an eyebrow at Garcia.

She’s completely unapologetic as she scoffs, “Listen, I don’t know how Spencer can stand being friends with you, but clearly you influenced him in some way because before he met you, he was my sweet summer child. Now…” She withholds a sob, Rossi sympathetically patting her shoulder. “You’ve tainted him!”

“I… I don’t know how to respond to that.”

“Then don’t,” Garcia sniffs, drying away tears. “Just bring our Spencer back!”

“Bring me back from what?”

They jump in unison, turning to find Spencer has returned from his break and is now back at his desk. He eyes them curiously as they fumble for an explanation.

“Hey, Doc,” Luke, deciding to end all this turmoil, asks, “Are you and (Your Name) having uh... lovers quarrel?” 

“A what?”

Garcia shoots him a look, “A ‘lovers quarrel’? Really?”

“Well, I doubt they’re fighting, and honestly a lovers quarrel sounds much less intense than⏤you know⏤fighting.”

“No, we are not fighting. Why would you think⏤oh, you saw...” Spencer’s face falls, melting into embarrassment. 

"Saw? Son, we witnessed," Rossi huffs as he crosses his arms and stares down Spencer. "Would you care to explain?"

"I know what you're thinking, but I swear it's not what it looks like. This is..." After his explanation, his embarrassed flush only deepens at their mortified expressions. 

"I've never wanted to be this close to you."

"My sweet summer child is no longer."

"Guys, chill. I for one am glad Spencer is willing to…” Luke gives him an awkward smile, “keep it interesting. The best relationships take effort, right?”

Spencer hums, nodding, “Exactly. We’re doing great⏤”

“Hey, guys,” You greet as usual.

Without missing a beat, he faces you and snaps, “Damn it, (Your Name), for once stop running your mouth and get me a drink.”

Luke, Garcia, and Rossi freeze, gaze switching between Spencer and you, waiting with bated breath. They haven’t seen Spencer remotely like this, not since prison. And despite knowing that you asked for this, they’re fully prepared to throw themselves in front of him just in case. 

But instead of reacting violently as they expected, you pause, taking his poor attempt at a glare in stride. Then you smile, heading to the coffee machine. “Sure, no problem.”

Spencer turns back to them. “See? B-better than ever...”

“Dude, are you crying?”

⏤

“So you couldn't do it, huh?"

Shoulders drooping from exhaustion, Spencer slumps against your desk and sighs, “No, I’m sorry.”

You shrug, “It’s okay. Thanks for trying though. As a reward, let’s get take-out. My treat." You press a kiss to his cheek, but the smile you shoot him only serves to make his heart sink. “Meet me at the elevator, k? I’ll get my things.”

“Okay...” As Spencer shrugs on his satchel, he can’t help the guilt squirming in his stomach. Why does he feel like he disappointed you? Or more accurately⏤didn’t meet your expectations. Sure, you’ve had your fair share of disputes and as Luke put it, “lovers quarrels”, but never has he felt so… defeated.

Is this what failure feels like? It sucks.

So as the elevator shuts, as it dings with every descended level, as you babble about what you should have for dinner, Spencer makes an executive decision. 

A final stand, if you will.

You turn to Spencer, “So, what do you want for dinner⏤”

You yelp as your back hits the wall, the back of your head cushioned by Spencer’s palm because he’d rather kill himself than hurt you, pressing his body against yours. Warmth envelopes him, and as you meet his gaze, he musters all the dark emotions he can, the side of him he didn’t realize he had until prison. He feels it⏤the fury, the disgust, the merciless violence⏤bubble to the surface, and he can’t deny the satisfaction he gets seeing your eyes wide with shock; the entire day you’ve seen him coming, taking every one of his attempts like a joke in spite of his best efforts.

At least now he feels like he’s got the upper-hand.

Spencer leans in, bumping his nose against yours in an Inuit kiss. It’s a gentle contrast to his next words, and as your breath hitches, he bites back a smirk, pulling back to meet your eyes.

“What I want is for you to shut your mouth and put it to good use.”

Your jaw slackens.

The elevator dings and you both jump, Spencer quickly pulling away from you as the door opens to the parking garage. Luckily, no one else is around and Spencer leads the way as you head for your car. But you’re silent as you walk, and he wonders if he went too far. Was he too rough? Disrespectful?

“Hey, (Your Name), are you⏤” Spencer looks over his shoulder, only to halt at your expression. 

You give him a toothy grin, face flushed and eyes crinkling as you tilt your head at him. “Yes?”

...Ah. If you keep looking at him like that, his heart might burst.

Letting his bag drop at his side, Spencer pulls you into a tight hug, and for a moment you sway together, hearts beating in time, breathing steady.

Spencer sighs, “I don’t get it.”

“It’s okay, I don’t get it either!”

He smiles into your shoulder, chuckling. Yeah, he loves you.

Especially because you’re weird.

⏤

AN: hello took a break from studying and wrote this trash at 2 am whoops

to the user that requested some rough d/s smut with degradation and rough play, im sorry but my asexual ass just could not with this one. but as a kinky asexual i rolled with it✨

pls take the “rough” play and “degradation” lightly. it’s not supposed to be accurate representation. this is just reader and spencer experimenting and having fun!!

i love that yall have the hots for post-prison reid while im over here just wanting to tuck him into bed and kill anyone that brings him harm😳

[dancingazaleas]

zeke yeager | my baby

this is bc of the new episode; i’ve known his backstory for a while but i didn’t come up with the idea until now LFMAOOAOA

anyways zeke supremacy

edit: this is so bad but enjoy LMFOAOAOA

warnings/notes: this is strictly platonic, takes place in canonverse during zeke’s childhood then to the beginning of season 4, cursing, mentions of mental abuse from family, murder, fem!reader(feel free to change if u want), yeah i’m unoriginal and the reader is the female titan before annie, angst,

when you first met zeke, zeke was extremely hesitant towards you.

grisha and dina had brought you into the house, a 17 year old girl who had soft and gentle eyes along with a nice smile. zeke had recognized you from the warrior program. you hadn’t inherited your titan just yet, you still had a few more years before they would allow it to be given to you. your predecessor gained the titan around your age, no one really knows why. zeke assumes that it must be a similar case with mr. ksaver and himself.

it shocked zeke in all honesty. they’re letting a warrior watch over him? one that isn’t in cahoots with his mother and father?

it wasn’t until grisha and dina pulled him into a different room and told him to get information on your views that he understood why. they wanted to use you, just like they wanted to use zeke. the worst of it all was that zeke knows you. he looks up to you, you graduated third out of all of your peers, you express love with the younger candidates such as zeke.

he felt like curling up in his bed and crying, he didn’t want you to babysit him just so his parents could use you.

but whenever the couple left, your arms encased him in warmth. you were hugging him tightly to you, fingernails surely digging into the fabric of his shirt. he felt his eyes widen whenever he felt a drop of a liquid on his shoulder. you were crying.

you pulled away and put a hand on his cheek, looking at him with endearment. zeke started crying at this, not once had dina touched him like this. not once had grisha looked at him like this.

“it’s okay, my boy,” you pull him close again, “i’m here.”

for the first time, zeke wasn’t cowering in a corner while he sobbed. he sobbed in the arms of a person, one that loved him dearly whether he knew it or not. you were even crying for him.

“my mother and father were apart of the same group,” you whispered as you stroked his hair, “they pushed me so far to my limits.”

“so, i did something i regret,” you sob, “something i hope you’re never forced to do.”

your whimper gave him chills, “i murdered my mother with a butcher knife and pinned the crime onto my father. all at the age of ten. to this day, i don’t know how i got away with it. maybe the police pitied me or found it excusable because of their affiliations with the group.”

“you hurt someone,” he sniffles, eyes widened in fear.

it gave you a frown, however you couldn’t blame him, “i did. it was mistake and i wish i had never done it. i just wished for my mother and father to love me, not to use me. after that, i found myself in the warrior program. maybe with this power, i could do some good. to show marley that us eldians are not devils.”

you rid him of his snot and tears with your shirt, “when i saw your father the time he came to observe you, i was immediately able to tell. your reaction had said it all. i can’t allow myself to witness you go through what i did without doing something. even if it’s small.”

he blinks at you after you softly kiss him on his forehead.

“now, is there anything you want to do?”

————

that afternoon, you played catch and volleyball with zeke. after that, you bought him whatever meal he wanted from the market and ate with him at the table. he told you about his stuffed monkey, who he named jerry, and his adventures.

he was sad when you had to leave, to which dina and grisha informed him you would come to their home sparingly. although he was delighted, he was also sad.

the next day, you doted on him during the short breaks between his training. patting his head, shaking him by his shoulders, and giving him a hug. when lunch came around, you pulled out a home cooked lunch for him as you sat on a bench. you would give him advice with training and his health while he ate.

he even shared some of his food with her.

after that was his time with ksaver. he didn’t see you during that time, obviously, but that didn’t mean you didn’t come during their conversations.

zeke was surprised to hear the praising from ksaver. ksaver said that you were a good figure for him and that you had a genuine heart. it made him feel at ease.

when the day was over, you walked zeke home and even ate dinner with him and his parents. it was a surprise that made you slightly bitter, but you accepted nonetheless.

they talked to you excitedly, asking about your duties as a warrior. you exceptionally avoided answering the questions, instead prodding at their own occupations and duties.

in the end, it felt like a game of tag. avoiding and then charging.

the night you were on your way to watch zeke, you felt your heart drop at the feral screeching of grisha and the reassurance of dina. you banged your fist against the door worriedly, sweat forming at your hairline.

the yelling stopped and you heard the patter of footsteps against the floor. dina looked flustered as she opened the door, face tear stained and eyebrows knitted up in concern.

“oh, (name), we don’t need you to watch over him anymore.”

“no, please, allow me,” you put on a fake smile that made her relax.

“you can take him out for a bit,” she, surprisingly, compromised and stepped aside to let you inside.

you bolted to zeke’s dark room. he was in a corner with his knees pushed against his chest and his hands covering his ears. his tears were making puddles on his knees as he stared blankly at the wall. you rush to him, pulling his head into your chest and picking him up.

“it’s alright,” you whispered, “you’ll be with me for a little bit.”

he didn’t respond but just wiped his eyes when he realized he would pass by his mom. you gave dina a brisk goodbye before leaving and taking him to a nearby park.

“it’s alright, my boy, it’s alright,” you coo and stroke his sweaty back.

for once, he felt okay.

————

the day zeke reported his parents, you held him in your arms. from then, he stayed with his grandparents and often found himself spending time with you after training when his schedule allowed it.

now, zeke is 16 and you’re 29. zeke was often seen with you or ksaver during his free time, now having the power of the best titan secured when ksaver’s term is up.

you mentor a girl named annie leonhardt, the next inheritor of the female titan. zeke occasionally sees you and annie catching some bugs in the grass during your mentoring. other days, you talk to her or just look at the sky. once at the beginning of the year, he once saw you take annie ice skating over a lake.

when he spends his time with you, you’re often doting on him and taking care of him. one time, you convinced the kids and some of the older soldiers to all play a game of baseball after your training was over.

you walked the extra mile for zeke no matter what. zeke was in trouble during a war and you swatted him into the trenches with your hand before attacking the enemy a year ago. whenever zeke would get hurt, you’d be his nurse.

if zeke’s being honest, you’re the maternal figure in his life. you act as if he’s your son, love him like he’s your son, and sometimes you even let it slip and call him that. sometimes zeke messes up and calls you mom.

in your eyes, he is your son.

in his eyes, you’re his mom.

but with being a parental figure came with fighting. it didn’t happen often, but whenever it did it was bad. zeke would become more irritable and angry while you would become reserved and melancholy.

when zeke was 14, you got into a fight so bad that it ended up getting you bedridden. you’d been sick from stress and it lasted for weeks until zeke swallowed his pride and apologized.

it almost made bertholdt, annie, reiner, porco, pieck, and marcel laugh at how domestic the two of you are when together. but as soon as you left zeke’s side, he would revert back to his quiet and receptive personality.

“zeke, my boy,” you call as you walk towards all the warrior candidates, “i’ve got your favorite.”

“thanks,” he hums when you stand beside him.

“i also brought some food for you all too. since we didn’t have training today, i thought you all could enjoy a nice break by having a picnic,” you clap your hands with a smile and they all feel like they’re seeing an angel.

they all agree and follow behind you when you start leading them towards a grassy field. you set the basket down and rummage through it, pulling out a nice thick blanket so the blades of the grass wouldn’t poke through.

“help me lay this out,” zeke sighs but obliges.

with zeke’s help, everyone is sitting on the blanket and eating and conversing. you listen quietly as you chew on the sandwich you made.

“miss (name),” pieck’s soft voice said beside you, “thank you for the picnic.”

you smile and shake your head, cheeks puffing out from the food that’s still in your mouth.

“can we do this again,” shyly asks reiner.

you gulp down your food and choke a bit, “y-yes! of course!”

you turn to zeke and speak quietly, “how was training yesterday?”

“it was fine. my calves are kind of sore though, it’s been a while since we did squats,” he shrugs and looks up, “ksaver let me pitch to him again.”

“i’m assuming it was at least enjoyable?”

“yeah...,” he trails off, “could you massage my calves for me in a little while?”

you pinch his cheek as you laugh, “of course! anything for you, my child.”

he chuckles while he swats at your hand, “quit that. it hurts.”

before you could pinch him even harder, porco’s loud voice interrupted.

“miss (name), are you zeke’s mom?”

his brother and annie hit him, scolding him in whispers.

“i-i’m so sorry miss (name)..! my brother means no harm,” marcel stutters nervously.

“it’s alright, i don’t mind,” zeke’s slightly flustered, “but no, i’m not zeke’s mother.”

“so why do you act so friendly?”

“i met zeke when i was 17 and he was just a little boy. i would watch him while his grandparents were away,” you lie like it’s nothing.

“i’ve always seen zeke as my little boy though even if i’m only 13 years older,” it has them all gaping and zeke staring at his food.

“why’d you become a warrior then,” reiner blurts out, slapping a hand over his mouth in shame, “sorry... but with all due respect, you have a family you love and who love you... why would you let your life end so short?”

for just a second the smile on your face cracks into a frown as you feel your throat tighten up, “why are you asking such disrespectful questions? i understand you have no malicious intent, however it sounds as if you are seeing my decision as an ignorant one. are you calling me ignorant for becoming a warrior?”

zeke just looks away sadly. you never really had to put on this demanding ploy too much since no one dared to ask a question such as reiner did. not to mention that you had to in order to keep your position. reiner scrambles to pledge his loyalty to marley with your eyes burning holes into his head.

the others slightly cower in fear, they’d only ever heard that you could be like this from their mentors. but when they all looked in your, now, sad eyes, they relaxed.

“but, to answer your question,” you say reluctantly, “i was already selected to inherit the female titan.”

“now,” you cough and zeke knows it’s because you want to cry, “i need to go.”

they all help you get everything together, fidgeting anxious as they watch you walk back to the dorm. when you were far enough away, porco shouts at reiner for asking such questions and ruining the picnic. it ends up with annie joining in with the berating and marcel slapping porco upside the head.

zeke just leaves and follows you. he can’t be bothered to listen to them argue while you’re probably crying.

zeke knew it was about your 13 years coming to an end, meaning you wouldn’t be with him anymore. the first time he brought it up, you sobbed out apologies while holding his head to your chest. zeke knows not to bring it up again.

however, reiner didn’t. although he was slightly frustrated with reiner, he understood that he meant no harm to you. sometimes reiner just doesn’t think before he speaks.

zeke finds you with your head in your hands as you cry on your bed. the creaking of the door opening has you looking up and making eye contact and your eyes fill up with tears. zeke shut the door behind him and sat next to you after you pat the spot beside you.

zeke knows what’s going to happen, but allows it anyways because it puts you both at ease.

you cradle his head to your chest, stroking his hair with one hand and his back with another. zeke feels himself starting to cry when you cry out apologies and exclamations of love.

“zeke, my boy, i love you,” you whimper, “i’m so sorry i cannot be by your side until i grow old.”

zeke’s fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt and let’s out a broken sob.

“you’re the light of my life, zeke,” you whisper, “my beautiful boy, my beautiful baby.”

his shoulders shake and he wanted to tell you to stop and to pull away. but he won’t.

“you’re the son i never had, zeke, did you know that,” you sob and squeeze him tight.

it has him wailing and holding you tight. though zeke knew this, you never said it out loud.

“my baby, my baby,” you croak, “i love you so much, zeke.”

“love you too,” he chokes out, muffled by your shirt.

“zeke, my boy, my son, my zeke.”

“please don’t leave me,” it makes you sob even louder.

“i’m so sorry, zeke, i’m so sorry.”

————

zeke couldn’t look in annie’s direction after your term ended and her’s started. even at 29 years of age, he still curls up in a ball and cries himself to sleep. he carries a photograph of the two of you, he remembers taking the picture on your 26th birthday.

back on marley, whenever you were brought up in conversations, reiner, porco, and pieck stared at him with sympathy.

after zeke’s arms grow back on the blimp, he pulls out the folded photograph from his pocket. he stares at your beaming smile.

“who’s the girl,” eren asks, ignoring how yelena looks at him fiercely, “when’d you get a girlfriend?”

zeke shakes his head, “not a girlfriend.”

“who is she then,” eren gestures with his hand, the clinking of the metal chains echoing in the small room on the blimp.

“my mother,” he murmurs while he hands it to eren.

“dina doesn’t look like that.”

“eren, did you ever see a memory of a woman being introduced as a babysitter?”

“now that it’s being mentioned, yea.”

“that’s her,” the memory has him chuckling, “she treated me like her son before she died.”

eren transfers his gaze to yelena, a silent request for her to give more information.

“(name) (last name) was the inheritor of the female titan before annie leonhardt. she inherited the titan a few months after she turned 17, her predecessor, flora, was unexpectedly injured during war and was not able to regenerate. although disorganized and unexpected, (name) managed to eat flora. she died at the age of 30 when annie ate her as a pure titan,” yelena elaborates hesitantly as zeke’s small smile fades, “she was often recognized for her kind personality and optimistic attitude.”

“i see,” he said.

“were you her beautiful boy,” eren taunts.

“yes. i was.”

he sounds sad while he folds it back up and puts it in his pocket.

maybe he could be the same to eren.

[joestarwhore]

Risotto Nero - A Price to Pay

{Being the only girl in the Bucci Gang has its perks. Your familia loved you, & were fiercely protective- but what’re they supposed to do when another Capo decides to have you to himself? He’s gotta have you.}

{one way or another.}

_____________________________________

“Bucciarati were almost to Napoli, should I head straight for the city or the safe house?”

Fugo’s sharp voice woke you from your nap. You & the team have been traveling for days tracking three stand users who’ve been smuggling contraband out of Passioné’s grasp. So far, the trail has led to Napoli- and to make it worse, no one knows what they look like. But luckily, you had the name of the man in charge of the operation.

“Go to the safe house. They’re not going to move anything in broad daylight, & we haven’t been able to stop for an actual break.” Bruno circled the location on Fugo’s map. “We can spare a few hours.”

You looked to your right to see Mista asleep against the window, drool slowly coming out of his mouth. You would’ve laughed if you had any right to, with the glimpse of yourself you caught in the rear view you were surprised no one woke you up with a camera flash.

You stretched your neck side to side, your movements slowly bringing your body back to life. You could hear Giorno, Abbachio, and Narancia gently start stirring to life as Bruno continued to talk about the location, not being able to keep in their loud ass yawns. Well, honestly, that was only Narancia’s problem.

Bruno swiveled the seat to face the back, his perfect black bob not moving an inch while he does it. “Now that we’re in Napoli, it’s time to be debriefed about our current situation. Would one of you please wake Mista?”

Abbachio wasted no time to slap Mista in the back of the head, causing Mista to lurch forward with a yelp. His hand immediately went to the back of his head as he whipped around towards Abbachio. “What the hell, you dumbass!! What was that for??”

“For debriefing you idiot, pay attention.”

You giggled, resulting in a hearty “Shut up!” from Mista. After Bruno’s scolding, he started to explain the facts.

“The intelligence we received stated that the man controlling the contraband operation is a Capo. His name is Risotto Nero, the leader of La Squandra. He’s been known to defy the Familia before, so it’d make sense that he would be the one running this show.”

Bruno’s face slowly grimmed as he continued, pausing after he spoke. “While he is a traitor to the Familia, he is also one of the most powerful Capo’s in the organization. Not just because of his title, but because of his stand.”

The tension grew substantially.

“What’s his stand, Boss? Does anyone have an idea?” Narancias question rung in the air like a bell.

“No. Because no ones lived to tell about it.”

The chill that ran down your spine was unnerving. No one knows what his stand is?? No one has even the slightest idea?? How can that be?

“Boss, how’re we supposed to find this cazzo when all we have to go on is a name?” you ask, “How’re we supposed to defend ourselves against a stand that no one has ever beat?”

“By keeping your stand close. Giorno’s Golden Wind can sense life, and Narancia can track anything that breathes. Abbachio’s Moody Jazz could very well be our ace in the hole, if we can simply find where he’s been- but that’s hard to do when you’re following a ghost.”

God, that wasn’t reassuring.

Soon, Fugo’s road rage landed you at the safe house, a 3 story cabin in the middle of the woods. Mista’s excitement blossomed as soon as he saw the giant flatscreen through the window, everyone else’s did when they finally got to leave the stuffy ass van.

Abbachio helped you out of the car, letting you hang on to his arm until you’ve cracked all the bones you needed to feel relief. “Thank you Abba, I’ve been needing to do that for a while now!”

Abbachio threw you a smirk. “Yeah yeah don’t get gross on me.” He could throw up any facade he wants- you see right through his badass tough guy wall. You gave him a grin back, & grabbed your duffel bag out from under your seat. You looked back to see that the other boys had already made it inside, Bruno & Giorno already setting up the radio & laptops to start working.

Bruno def wasn’t playing around when he was looking for a place to buy. This was the nicest cabin you had ever seen, pure dark wood walls with marble flooring, a grand staircase with a BEAUTIFUL bay window?? Capo DEFINITELY had perks.

***************

[3:33 AM]

You bolted awake as thunder and lightning surrounded your bedroom. Your mind frantic as the open curtains revealed howling winds and light flashing through the skies.

You took some deep breaths and calmed yourself down. It’s only a storm, nothing to- why was your door open?

Adrenaline started to churn in your stomach as you swung your legs over your bed. You stepped carefully towards the hallway, peeking down to see that everyone else’s doors were open too. You tip toed down, peering into Bruno & Abbachio’s rooms, seeing them both empty; and upon further inspection, so were Giorno’s and Mista’s. Narancia and Fugo’s following suit.

Where the fuck is everyone, and why are you not with them?

You back tracked down the hall, your legs shaking as you slowly walked down the stairs.

Were you being attacked?

The lightning lit your path down the stairs as you kept your eyes peeled for anything out of place. As you came down to the first platform, the stench of blood overwhelmed your senses, making your eyes grown wide and your hand go over your mouth and nose. This cannot be real, why is blood in the air??

“You know when I first saw you, I thought you were an angel among the saints & sinners of Napoli.”

Your hand gripped the banister as you stood in defense, looking everywhere for the source of the deep voice. Who was that?? Where the fuck is your team??

“& Then I saw Ghiaccio getting in a fight with another Mafioso. I thought it was just one of Bucciaratis boys, but oh was i so close yet so wrong.”

You slowly made your way down stairs, “I guess your a big fan of mine then, quite a shame I can’t see where you are for such occasion.”

A deep chuckle resonated through the estate. “Our life together will be wonderful, I am very sure.”

“The fuck are you-“

Your stomach dropped.

The blood. The gashes. The gore.

All of the boys were hanging by their hands, bloody chains protruding from their wrists and connecting them to the ceiling. Blood oozed from Fugos mouth, while Narancias unconscious form clearly had a broken nose and extreme loss of blood. They all were simply.. hanging by a thread.

“Jesus fucking Christ.. you’re fuc-fucking kidding..”

Invisible hands hold onto your sides as your body freezes in shock, the pressure and heat of them telling you they were quite large. Your heart beater out of your chest as you felt a muscular set of abs press against your back, those hands weaving over your chest to hold down your arms.

“Do you see, Amore? Do you see how powerful I am compared to them?” Your eyes tore away from the bloodied boys, closing them as tightly as you could. “When I saw how powerful you were and how you carried yourself, I knew we were soul mates. I had to have you. I had to have your body, your mind,” His hand rubbed gently against your clothes crotch, shooting heated adrenaline to your core, “& your pretty little cunt just full of my kids.”

Your cheeks turned violently red as you staggered to breathe. “Who..are you..”

Lips pressed against your temple as a deep chuckle vibrated your body. “Darling, I’m the whole reason you’re out here.”

Your heart froze.

“Risotto?? It’s you?!”

Suddenly two black clothed muscular arms appeared around you, one of them tilting your chin back to reveal two black and red eyes staring straight at you. “Surprised, Cara?”

You started to panic, the danger of your situation settling in. Bruno, Giorno, all of the boys, were out of action. There was no help for you, and you couldn’t summon your stand like this. Was this simply the end? Was he just saving you for last for his sick fantasy??

“Please.. what do you even want from me??”

Risotto put your hands behind your back and tied them together. “What I’ve wanted since I saw you; a life. With just you & me.” He placed you on a chair, kneeling before you with his hands tracing you and your skin. Your breath hitched as he ran over certain spots, his eyes growing darker and darker the more you react. You had to do something, you couldn’t let your family be killed over someone’s obsession over you.

“I’m going with you whether I like it or not, right?”

Risotto chuckled a humorless laugh. “A smart one! Oh i like that, I like that. Maybe our kids will get that trait.”

Dread sunk in your stomach. There’s no escape, is there?

“If I go with you, willingly with no struggle- will you allow me to use my stand on them so they atleast don’t die of their injuries?”

Risotto stared at you, looking for any sign of betrayal, but he wasn’t gonna find anything. You knew there wasn’t a way out, and you knew you didn’t stand a chance in hell against him. Atleast if you can save the boys, there wouldn’t be any death.

“Fine. But one slip up, Amore, and I’ll make your condition worse than theirs.”

Risotto unbinded your arms, helping you stand up and get your balance again. You walked towards the boys until you were a few meters away from them. You could sense their shallow breathing from your powers, you knew if you were gonna do this you had to act fast.

“Iron Maiden.”

A steam punk victorian girl emerged behind you, wielding a glowing white scythe, its jet black hair flowing behind her.

“Scythes Blessing.”

Iron Maiden hovered to the front of you, your scythe glowing bright white as it swung a mass of energy towards them all. Their wounds mended together, the blood returning to their bodies. After the act was done, the boys passed out on the floor, surely to wake up in a few hours.

“Now, we start our life, my sweet angel.”

Tears silently went down your cheeks as you turned to the beautiful, evil man. His eyes showed a softness towards you as he extended his giant hand. Your dainty one took his, holding it as he led you to the door.

“Where are you taking me?”

Risotto swung open the huge doors to reveal the storm still actively raging, his matte black sports car in the circle drive. “Home, cara. Our home.”

You hurried to get in his front seat, Risotto closing your door and going to the drivers door. He got in, revving the car to life and pulled the car out of the drive way. Risotto placed his hand on your thigh as he took you away from the estate. Your heart hurt for your boys, but this was for the best, right? Atleast this way they’re safe. They’re safe.

“Say your goodbyes Cara. Your life starts over with me.”

“Only me.”

[morizoras-cave]

Drink (Request)

Ryan Reynolds x teen!daughter!reader

Genre: angst, fluffy ending

Request Description: Could you maybe do a Ryan Reynolds x teen!reader where the reader maybe goes to a party and something gets slipped into her drink but she calls Ryan and says she doesn’t feel well and he gets her and looks after her? Only if this is okay for you to write and you feel comfortable doing it. I love you work so much🥺 Thank you!🤍

Warnings: attempted rape, drugging, language

(A/N): this is my first ryan reynolds post. v excited. reading this back, i realized that this could be taken as victim blaming. the beginning part where ryan is talking about how his daughter “shouldn’t wear that dress out” was more of a “awww look hes a protective and good dad”. i dont believe in victim blaming at all. (off topic here) also i wrote the last part of this drunk af. anyway i hope y’all still enjoy. now smell you later losers!! break begun!

“Y/n, you are not going to a party in that outfit!”

You glared at your dad, who was both shaking his head and wagging his finger in disapproval. 

“What’s so wrong with this dress?” you protested, crossing your arms. 

“The boys and the girls will be after you in seconds! I will not have some sweaty teen thinking something nasty about my daughter!” his voice was high (as always), as he squealed his argument. You rolled your eyes. 

Your mom walked into the room to grab something from the fridge, but stopped and looked at you. “Nice dress, N/n, you going to a party?” 

“Don’t encourage this!” Ryan hissed and you smiled scornfully. Blake’s laughter came throughout the room and she stopped beside you with her glass of milk in her hand. 

“Calm down, Ryan. She’s growing up!” 

“Nuh uh!” your dad looked away, still unsatisfied. You couldn’t help but giggle. 

“Y/n, just go to your party. I’ll deal with the grump lord,” your mom pushed you towards the entrance. Ryan’s face twisted into that of someone betrayed by his closest. 

“Woah, woah, woah! Grump lord? I have a code name? In my own house?” 

You skipped to the entrance room, sliding on your jacket and your shoes, smiling playfully. “Wait!” your dad yelled and footsteps nearing you, as he jogged to the entrance. You looked at him. 

“Just.. Call me if you’re in trouble. Anything at all,” he knew he was defeated. Although, you loved basking in the glory of victory, you couldn’t help but smile at your dad’s kind words.

“I will,” you promised.

The party was loud and booming. Every inch of the house was hot (in an uncomfortable way) and crowded, teenagers rubbing against each other and dancing. You found yourself with your friends in the living room, dancing to the sound of a Nicki Minaj song. 

“I’m gonna go get a drink!” you yelled over the music. Your friends, extremely intoxicated and doing ‘the stanky leg’, gave you a mindless thumbs up, and continued to dance. You giggle was drowned out in the music. 

You squeezed your way past different people, finally making it to the table with all the liquor. The boy who was hosting had miraculously bought enough for there to just be an all-you-can-drink table. 

The unnerving feeling of someone watching you became immediately clear. You looked around, finding the person fairly quickly. It was a boy, maybe a couple of years older than you, with a drunken gaze and tousled hair. He was smirking at you. You rolled your eyes and poured yourself a gin and tonic. 

The moment the drink was finished, someone poked your shoulder. You looked up. It wasn’t the same boy as before. This one was bigger and broader. He had the same knowing smirk on his face. You felt unnerved.

“Hey. Is this your friend over here? They look pretty smashed, you might want to check on them,” he pointed to somewhere behind him, taking all your attention from your drink to your idiot friends. You told them not to drink too much.

“Can you show me where they are?” you mumbled and the boy nodded, pulling you away from your drink. He led you to somewhere entirely different in the house, where a girl you’d never seen in your life was doubled over, puking on the poor host’s carpet. 

“I don’t know this girl,” you explained and the boy’s mouth made an ‘o’ shape. He sighed and then shrugged.

“Sorry, I thought I saw you talking earlier. Sorry to bother you,” then he walked off. You shook your head at the weird incident and walked back to you drink. You started gulping it down hungrily, deciding you were definitely too sober to be at this party.

 Almost immediately, you started feeling extremely drunk. Extremely. Which was weird, you thought, but it was hard to concentrate on it, when the environment was so loud and your thoughts were so blurry. 

Then, slowly, you realised that you didn’t usually feel like this when you were drunk. You tried to rationalise it. Maybe you just put too much gin in your drink? Maybe you had forgotten that you’d drunk something? Whatever the case, you started feeling weird. 

Everything was spinning. You wouldn’t have been able to find your friends if you wanted to. Then, in your chaotic state, your eyes passed someone else’s eyes, and you recognised them. It was the boy from earlier, the broad one, smirking at you. This time, his smirk felt alarming. Chilling. 

That moment was when the penny dropped. Your head snapped to the other boy, the one who’d just watched you. He gave you a grin. 

You were shaking, blinking away tears. You realised the position you were in. You were prey. And you were vulnerable. You took a few shaky steps, trying to make it seem like you hadn’t just realised you’d been roofied. 

When your back was turned to them, and you were stood behind a wall of dancing bodies, you pulled out your phone from your bag. You couldn’t tell if it was your vision, or if your hands were shaking, but everything was buzzing, unable to keep still. 

Your finger hovered over his number. What if you weren’t roofied? What if you were just drunk and silly? How embarrassing would that be? You felt tears prick your eyes. 

His voice echoed in your head. “Call me if you’re in trouble. Anything at all.”

You pressed down on his number, bringing the phone to your ear. You could hardly form a sentence. Everything was moving and it was so loud. 

“Hello?” Your dad’s voice was like cutting open this hellspace to some sort of heaven. It felt safe. You closed your eyes, a tear running down your face. 

“Hi, dad,” you had to yell, “can you- can you come pick me up?” 

There was a moment of silence from the phone, before he said: “Sure, why? You’re at Erik’s house, right?” 

“Yeah, Erik’s house. Let’s talk about this later!” then you hung up. It almost felt like your heart was shaking in your chest. It was too much, all of it. You could hardly walk, but you took a step towards the door, then several more. 

You feverishly grabbed the door handle, trying desperately to open the door, but you weren’t strong enough. It was a chilling realisation, that you weren’t even strong enough to open a door. 

“Do you need a help?” 

You jumped and shrieked, but it was drowned out by the music. No one noticed. You looked up and you had to stand there for a moment, before you realised that it wasn’t any of the boys you’d seen before. 

This boy looked concerned. You couldn’t even process how you must look, tear-streaked face, ruined makeup, shaking and helplessly grasping a door. You didn’t care. 

“Here,” he mumbled and opened the door for you. You whispered a ‘thank you’, and wobbled out on the street. You heard the boy leave, but you kept standing there, waiting uncomfortably for your dad to show up. 

Eventually, you saw his car pulling up in the distance. You breathed out in relief and dashed to his car, opening the door and sitting down beside you dad. He was looking at you, brows furrowed in concern. 

It was a scary thing. He was always afraid of seeing you like that. Seeing you scared and drunk and desperate. As you sat down his hand grasped yours. 

“Are you okay, Y/n? What happened?” 

You shook your head. You felt so unfocused. It was impossible to understand everything that was going on. You missed being sober. “My- My drink,” you mumbled senselessly, unable to speak normally. 

“What about your drink?” Ryan pressed, squeezing your hand. You were his child. He loved you. He was worried. Beyond belief.

“I-I think someone.. I think someone put something in it..” you mumbled, head swinging. You were far from the normal you. Everything was swinging right by you. 

“You think someone..?” Ryan trailed off. You saw his knuckles turn white as he grasped the steering wheel angrily. “Did they- Did they touch you?”

You shook your head. You saw your dad breathe out in relief, his hand never leaving yours. 

“Alright, I’ll just drive you home. It’ll be fine,” he mumbled (mostly to himself) as he started the car and drove away from the booming, partying house. “It’ll be just fine, N/n.”

He kept mumbling to himself, but you fell asleep in the car. Eventually everything was too much for you, so you just decided to close your eyes. It was a good decision. Sleep was so peaceful. 

Ryan drove you home, carrying you into their house and into your room. “What’s wrong with her?” Blake would yell, confused and scared, but Ryan would just focus on getting you to bed. 

“She was roofied. Someone put something in her fucking drink! She could’ve been- She could’ve been fucking raped!” he ranted to his wife, whilst you slept peacefully in the other room. 

Needless to say both your mom and your dad were much more overprotective after that, both with parties and with boys. But it was okay. You woke up safe and sound, and you were happy your dad had gotten you before something awful happened.

Honestly, you didn’t oppose their overprotectiveness, because after that night you felt like you needed it. No matter what way you twisted it, that night fucked you up. You weren’t as reckless or careless after that. And you got help from a professional, but still. It was an awfully traumatising experience. 

You were just happy your dad had been with you that night. And that he cared for you. Of course, he would. He was your dad. He loved you more than anything else in the world. You had no reason to worry, not when you had your dad by your side. 

___________________________

Tag List:

@hera-the-writer @marvel-madness @40srogcrs @whatthefuckimbisexual @snarky–starky @garbage-potato @lozzypoz321 @allthecreativeonesaretaken @missamericana713 @rororo06 @shady80smusicsingercolor @ireadfanficforfun @deephideoutmilkshake @rae-is-typing @sophs-library @herecomesthewriterwitch @alicedanganh @eviemarvel @idk123906

[hongism]

tangled - k. yeosang 18+

day 2 of kinktober: blindfolds - kang yeosang warnings: blindfolds, sensory deprivation, sensation play, temperature play, wax play, brief mentions of yeosang being a vampire, biting, explicit smut, unprotected sex, vampire!yeosang wc: 1.8k genre/rating: pwp, smut, 18+ 

​​​​

Deft fingers fasten a tight knot in the silk band behind your head before trailing down the back of your neck and massaging the skin there. You’re expecting the touch, but nonetheless, you shiver at the sensation. The dark veil over your eyes prevents you from seeing anything beyond its silk confines.

“Is it too tight, precious?” Yeosang says, his cool tone breaching the silence and hitting your ears in a pleasant way. You merely shake your head in denial, which brings a chuckle from Yeosang before he trails his cold fingers down the slopes of your sides. You hear him shift behind you and wait with bated breath for whatever his next movements are going to be. They don’t happen right away; in fact, you count to twenty-three before he touches you again, then you’re being backed up until your knees hit the edge of the bed. You wait for impact, for him to push you back and lay you out over the mattress, but that impact doesn’t come. Instead, his lips brush over yours. It’s the softest touch possible from lips that hold no warmth, yet your gut twists and churns with the coils of arousal.

You let him control the kiss, hands wandering to wrap around his neck, and he drags his tongue over your lower lip. He pushes the wet muscle into your mouth when your lips drop open for him, a hum of approval vibrating against your teeth. You relax your jaw and let him explore your mouth without resistance. The way he kisses you is almost addicting, as addicting as the chills that run down your spine when his fangs graze your neck or when he fucks you hard and fast.

Tonight though, his pace is languid and smooth. Part of it is due to the fact that he only just woke up not too long ago. On the other hand, he is taking full advantage of you being blindfolded right now, letting you feel every flexing muscle and ghosting breath. He must delight in the goosebumps that dance over your skin because he chuckles when he pulls away from your mouth. All you can do is wait for his next touch. It comes soon enough, thank goodness, but it catches you off-guard because the movement is much quicker and intense than the last. Yeosang slides his hands over your ass and hoists you up onto his waist. There’s a brief moment where it feels like you’ve entered a free fall, then the mattress cushions your fall. The air in your lungs escapes you with a whooshing oof, fanning over Yeosang’s face, no doubt, and he doesn’t even give you time to recover before his hands and lips are on you again.

This time, he lets his lips travel lower. He traces the edge of your jaw, tongue poking out to caress the skin, then he scoots down to the column of your neck. He always says that it’s his favorite part of you, and you always assumed that it was because he liked to feed from your neck rather than anywhere else. That is until one night he revealed that it was merely because you always put your neck on display, and the temptation to lay marks all over your skin never leaves his mind. Thus you aren’t all too surprised when he spends extra night lavishing the skin there. Thanks to the blindfold, your senses are heightened to a new extreme, and every little touch causes new shock waves of arousal to blossom in your gut.

It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. You’ve only been deprived of one sense, yet it feels like your body is on fire. Yeosang continues to nip and tug at the skin of your neck. He slides lower to find the junction of your neck and shoulder, fangs slipping out only to tease not to make you bleed. When he pulls back, a small whine escapes you against your will. Yeosang huffs out a laugh and brings his hands up to cradle your face. You subconsciously nuzzle into the touch, pressing a kiss to the side of his palm.

Yeosang drags the flat of his hands down to your shoulder and continues onwards until he finds your wrists. He tugs them upwards one at a time, and even though you’re expecting the brush of silk, it still elicits a gasp from your lips. Yeosang continues to move at the same slow pace even as he ties your wrists to the bed frame with that soft silk. He leaves enough room for you to slip out of them, but you just twist the material around your palm and secure yourself to the bed frame. Yeosang chuckles at your eager movements and presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist once he finishes tying the silk.

“You’re so so beautiful, my love,” Yeosang exhales after a moment of silence. His touch disappears before you have a chance to respond. You release a whine of complaint, tightening your grip on Yeosang’s neck to keep him from leaving you. “Shh, be patient, darling. Let me get the candle, okay?”

“Okay,” you mutter back as you wiggling a bit under Yeosang’s weight.

“Are you still certain about this?” Yeosang asks all of a sudden. You can’t see his gaze but you do feel it, sharp eyes trailing over your features and searching for an answer. You nod a few times. It must not be enough for Yeosang because he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and speaks again less than a second later. “I need you to use your words, precious.”

“Yes, I’m certain.”

Yeosang hums in approval, hands dropping to your thighs and pushing them apart in one swift movement. The pretty jeweled plug he put in you earlier still sits between your legs, and you push your hips up a little to show it off. Yeosang slaps his hand against the inside of your thigh, reveling in the soft gasp it pulls from your lips, then he closes his lithe fingers around the head of the plug. His movements are slow and deliberate as he tugs it out of your clenching walls. The sensation of being empty after so long brings a frown to your lips, but Yeosang doesn’t let you stay empty for long. He presses the head of his cock to your entrance, teasing you slightly with small thrusts, then he buries himself fully in your wet heat. A broken groan escapes him. Air hisses through gritted teeth as you clench hard around his member.

You expect him to start fucking you right away, but he doesn’t do anything. It takes a moment for you to catch onto what he’s doing. The only reason you catch on at all is because warm oil drips over your bare torso. You flinch at the unexpected impact, and Yeosang’s hands brush over your skin in an act of reassurance. He massages the oil into your body, rubbing in slow methodical circles until he’s pleased with the sight under him.

“Are you ready?” He asks again, still a breath of hesitation in his tone.

“Yes, baby, I’m ready,” you respond less than a second later. “Please.”

The plea is small yet impactful. Yeosang exhales a sharp hiss through his teeth, and you hear him shuffle around above you, cock twitching inside your tight walls. Finally, wax hits your skin. You release a drawn-out moan immediately upon contact, squeezing the silk around your palms tighter. Yeosang pulls his hips back. His cock drags against your velvet walls, and he revels in the way you tighten around him when he next pours wax across your body.

“Fuck, you feel so good around me, precious,” he groans. The bed dips on your right, and the angle of Yeosang’s hips against yours suddenly changes. His other hand doesn’t come down though; he must be keeping it up because wax dribbles closer to your collarbones. It hardens there almost immediately. You can feel the way it cakes on your skin, leaving a soothing burn atop the oil Yeosang rubbed over you earlier. Yeosang begins to build up a steady pace with his thrusts. His member hits the edge of your cervix with each swing of his hips, and the pleasant drag against your sweet spot causes moans to topple from your mouth without reservation. Your pleasured sounds only spur him on and cause him to move his hips faster.

It doesn’t take long for him to forget all about the candle and wax in favor of focusing on fucking you. His cock glides in and out of you, assisted by the abundance of arousal pooling between your legs. Yeosang hooks an arm under your leg and hoists it up over his shoulder, deepening the hit of his cock in you. The moans that tear through your chest are loud against the shell of Yeosang’s ear. He seems to enjoy them though, teeth grazing your neck without breaking the skin.

“Are you gonna cum for me, lovely?” He purrs, voice vibrating through your body.

“Y-Yes, yes, yes. Yeosang, I–”

“Shh, baby, cum for me, yeah?” His soft-spoken command is all you need to reach your climax. You cum hard, walls tightening hard around his cock, and a cry of pleasure falls from your lips. Yeosang leans in and presses a hot kiss to your mouth, eating up the moan in an instant. You fall still under his touch. Waves of pleasure ripple through you without cease. You don’t even realize when Yeosang reaches behind your head and unties the blindfold, eyes still squeezed shut and toes curled. Once it finally passes though, you open your eyes to find Yeosang’s sharp eyes blinking back at you with nothing but fondness. “Ready for a bath, my love?”

You almost nod right away before you notice that something is a bit different than usual. Then it hits you. Yeosang didn’t come.

“W-What about you?” You stammer out, motioning to where he’s still buried deep inside you. Yeosang teases his lower lip with his teeth then tucks your legs around his waist.

“That’s why I’m joining you in the bath, love.”

...

a/n: i tried something new with this one??? vampire yeosang is a sexc thought tho i couldn’t resist doing that, but i tried my best with the temperature play and did my research 👁👅👁

link to kinktober masterlist

taglist: @noonawriter​ @daniblogs164​ @felixity​ @okokokok123-45​ @jeonartemis​ @crescent-hwa​ @jertazz​ @wheresmymoniat​ @nlost21​ @lonely10vely​ @monbecaratstayarmy​ @hello-its-ya-boi​ @onyxblade01​​ @kimnamshiks​​ @poutychangbinnie​​ @toothlessshiber​​ @xxbluestrifexx​​ @lokihoeforhyunjin​​ @ice-cold-taeyong​​ @essantial​​ @blueish-sun​​ @etaerealboy​​ @notbeforelong​​ @wideawakeficrecs​​ @adestinyuwu​​ @simpforhyunjin​​ @naajix​​ @seoha​

unable to be tagged: @sailing-goddess-of-ateez @gingerale-addict 

[starshine583]

New Girl on the Block (4)

(Y’all ready to read the next update??? Enjoy part four of this fic and if you’re interested, feel free to check out the mini series connected to this called the Journal Entries. It’s just little journal snippets from the two dorks that I decided to write for fun :D)

Ch.1 / Ch.3 / Ch.5

Chapter 4: Get to Know You

Marinette slipped on her white, non-flour-covered leather jacket and pushed her pigtails back so they wouldn’t be tucked into her outfit. She then smoothed out her pink dress with a smile, admiring the black flowers that she’d stitched along the bottom. This dress had been one of her stress-relieving projects, but it turned out quite well, in her opinion.

Once Papa had finished teaching her friends how to fold the dough, he put their croissants into the fridge to chill them and instructed everyone to go upstairs and wash up. Marinette dutifully took them up to her room where her personal bathroom was and taught them how to use the shower, but when she tried to lead one of them to her parent’s bathroom as well, they insisted that she take a shower there herself. 

“What kind of gentlemen would we be if we forced the ladies to wait on us?” Claude had said light-heartedly, though she could tell he meant it. Allegra’s smirk as she walked in the bathroom to take a shower first was proof of that. 

The notion had warmed Marinette’s heart, coaxing a giggle from her each time she thought about it. It might be hard to see sometimes, but Claude, Allan, and Felix truly were a considerate and chivalrous group of boys. 

Now, She’s finished her shower in her parent’s bathroom and gone back up to her bedroom, where Allegra, Claude, and Allan had been patiently waiting. Allegra was nice and clean again, wearing the long, purple shirt and black leggings that Marinette had given her, and Claude appeared to have just exited the shower, his damp hair sticking to his face and dripping across his borrowed, black and blue “O.K” shirt. Allan was still covered in flour.

Allegra smiled at Marinette from her spot on the chaise as she re-braided her long, golden blonde hair. “Thanks for the extra clothes, Mari! These are amazing.”

“Yeah!” Claude agreed enthusiastically, holding out his with a grin. “This shirt is awesome!”

Marinette glanced down to hide her blush. “I-It’s the least I could do.”

“We still appreciate it.” Allan replied.

“Oh!” Marinette said, suddenly thinking about the fact that Allan was still covered in flour. “Allan, do you want to use Maman’s shower? You don’t have to stand around waiting for Felix.”

That who she assumed was occupying the shower, anyway. The water was still running, and everyone but Felix was present. 

Allan waved a hand. “Nah, it’s fine. I’ll be getting a shower soon if Felix would hurry up.”

Marinette chuckled at Allan’s obvious call to Felix, even more so when Felix shouted back from the bathroom, “You’re the one that let me go first!”

“I didn’t know you would take a day and a half!” 

“That’s still your fault then, isn’t it?” Felix shot back.

Allan scoffed and crossed his arms, causing Marinette to offer her parent’s shower again out of guilt. She had been the one to throw flour on him, after all.

“Are you sure you don’t want to-”

The bathroom door swung open, effectively cutting Marinette off, and Felix stepped out with one hand on his hip and the other hand on the towel that was draped across his head. He shot Allan a glare, practically growling the words, “There. I’m out. Are you happy?”

“Delighted.” Allan responded sarcastically.

Marinette might have been concerned about the growing conflict had she not been focused on Felix’s outfit. Or rather, how well it suited him. The black, three-quarter-sleeved shirt that she’d given him, along with the plaid green, button-up shirt she’d provided to go underneath, clung to his waist, revealing his surprisingly slender figure. The dark grey jeans he wore in place of his dress pants didn’t fit the outfit exactly, but they worked well enough, and Marinette eagerly started taking mental notes for future adjustments.

Allan grabbed his clothes and walked into the bathroom, while Felix glared daggers at him until the bathroom door closed. 

“Woah~” Allegra crowed, easily breaking the tension. “You should wear casual outfits more often, Felix. They really suit you.”

Claude smirked. “No kidding. I swear you’ve worn the same suit for the whole two years we’ve known.”

Felix turned his glare to Claude with a scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve worn plenty of suits, each one made differently.”

Allegra snorted. “That wasn’t.. That was not the point, Felix.”

Felix narrowed his eyes, the barest hint of confusion finding its way to his features, and Marinette took that opportunity to speak up.

“How’s the outfit? Does it fit alright?” She asked. Hopefully she can find the original measurements for the outfit if it does fit fine, because Felix was most likely going to become a regular customer. Maybe he wouldn’t hire her for actual commissions, but she might end up making something for him on impulse. (as you do)

Felix caught her eye, his glare slowly fading as he registered her question.

“The fabric is extremely comfortable, and the clothes fit perfectly.” He said after a moment. “You said you made these?”

She nodded. “With my sewing machine. I was thinking of putting a green paw print on the shirt too, but I haven’t gotten around to it.”

Felix hummed, idly pulling his towel from on top of his head to around his shoulders. “I see. Thank you for lending them to me.”

Marinette blinked, suddenly finding herself captivated by the way his hair fell across his face. Still being damp, various strands stuck to his forehead and cheeks, and he reached up to brush them away. This brought her attention to his face, which, for some reason, she hadn’t quite noticed before. The defined jawline, the subtle-yet-there cheek bones, the pointed nose- all of his features were sharp. Even his eyes held a silver tint to them that reminded her of steel. 

These observations dragged her to one, rather important revelation: Felix Culpa was actually a fairly handsome person.

“Marinette?” Felix said, drawing her from her thoughts. “Are you alright?”

A rush of heat swarmed her cheeks, and Marinette straightened. “W-what? I mean yes! Yeah, I’m totally fine, I.. yes.”

“Hey, speaking of clothes!” Claude piped up, graciously saving Marinette from her own awkwardness. “How’s my prince costume going?”

Marinette twirled around in her rolling chair and grabbed for her sketching notebook. A distraction was definitely something she needed right now.

“I’ve got a few different ideas, but you need to come tell which one you like best.” She explained as she flipped open the notebook.

Claude hopped up from the stray chest he’d been sitting on and practically bounced over to her seat. She let him scan each page, smiling when he started humming “Ooh’s” and “Aah’s”.

“I can only pick one?! But they’re all so good!” Claude remarked, almost exasperated.

Marinette chuckled. “Well.. I guess I can make all of them for you, but you at least need to choose which one I start on.”

Claude gasped. “You mean you’re going to make all of these for me?”

“It’s going to take a month or so to get them all done.” She warned. “But-”

Claude scooped her into a bone-crushing hug, briefly reminding her of her father. “Thank you, Mari! Thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re the best!”

Marinette laughed and gave him a light pat on the arm. “You’re welcome.”

Her smile widened as Claude eagerly grabbed the notebook and ran back to his designated chest to look through the drawing again. It was nice to see someone who was also enthusiastic about fashion. She’d gotten tired of talking to people who simply didn’t understand the hype of creating unique styles of clothing. 

“You know he’s never going to leave you alone now, right?” Felix commented next to her.

Marinette offered him a glance as she said, “I think I can live with that.”

Felix shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

She smiled at that. Felix may be striking, but that didn’t have to change anything. Lots of people were striking. And lots of people remained friends despite that.

“Oh,” Felix muttered, seeming to remember something, “Where do you want me to put my clothes? They’re still in the bathroom because of Allan, but..”

“Uhm.. I think Maman said she was going to wash them.” Marinette answered. “She wanted to try to get them clean before supper for all of you.”

“Ah, supper.” Claude cut in, heaving a jokingly wistful sigh. “I can’t wait for that. If your mom’s croissants can taste that heavenly, then her full meals must be amazing.”

He sunk against the chest for emphasis, not realizing that there was a gap between the chest and the wall. The sudden weight threw the chest off balance, and it tipped forward, causing Claude to get jerked backwards. He flailed his arms briefly and yelped before crashing to the floor. The front of the chest hit the ground as well, and the impact popped it open, scattering various objects across the floor.

“Oh, Claude!”

“Are you okay?” 

The girls rushed to his side to help him up, but Felix shot him a flat look.

“First the kitchen and now her bedroom.” He said curtly. “Should we tear up the living room next? Or perhaps the dining room has more fragile items?”

Allegra rolled her eyes. “Felix, can you at least try to be sympathetic.”

“I am being sympathetic. Marinette doesn’t have the money to replace things at the drop of a hat like we do. It’s rude to behave so recklessly in her home.”

Marinette glanced up at Felix, not sure whether to find his words sweet or offensive. “Trust me, it’s fine. This chest is old anyway.”

Felix’s frown told her that he didn’t agree on the matter, but before he could argue further, the bathroom door swung open again.

“What happened?” Allan asked, his hair still dripping wet. “I heard the crash. Is anyone hurt?”

“Only my pride.” Claude groaned in response. He was sitting up now and rubbing his head as Allegra switched between scolding and coddling.

Allan sighed with relief. “Oh, good. You can’t hurt something that’s not there.”

“Hey!”

Marinette giggled at the comment. “Allan, how is your outfit? Do I need to make any adjustments?”

Allan glanced down at his clothes. She’d given him a maroon shirt with a blue heartbeat line in the center, a black and blue shirt to go underneath, and a pair of black jeans. He didn’t appear to be wearing the second shirt, though.

“Oh, they fit great.” He said, twisted his torso a bit to get a better feel for the new clothes. “I didn’t have time to put on the second shirt, though. I heard the crash and panicked.”

Marinette offered him a smile. “That’s fine. I can just put it back in the closet.”

Allan nodded and looked down at the mess. “So Claude spilled this chest?”

“Yeah, he was being an idiot.” Allegra remarked as she picked up one of the trinkets. “You know. Nothing new.”

“Wow. can you guys lay off for two seconds?” Claude huffed. He reached forward to pick up one of the objects as well, curiosity overtaking his annoyance. “What is all of this stuff, anyway?”

Marinette glanced at the miscellaneous objects to check- she had several trunks that acted as ‘junk drawers’ -and immediately cringed when she recognized a black hat with rainbow colors stitched along the bottom.

“Oh..” It was Adrien’s gift chest. She’d almost forgotten that she had it. “They’re, um.. They’re just crafts, really.”

“Just crafts?” Claude repeated, holding up a crocheted Ladybug doll. “These are awesome!”

Marinette watched them for a moment. “...do you want them?”

The group looked up in shock, and Marinette quickly added, “Y-You don’t have to take them! I’ve just.. Uh.. they’re like junk? I mean, not junk, but this is my junk chest.. Sort of. I’ve just been meaning to get rid of them. So if you want them, you can have them.” 

Allegra frowned. “Are you sure? It looks like you put a lot of effort into these.”

Marinette nodded. “Positive. Take whatever you want.”

Although hesitant at first, the group continued to look through the gifts, and little by little, they started to take some. A smile came to Marinette’s lips as she watched the pile of Adrien junk dwindle. She had spent a lot of time on making the presents, but there was no way she’d be giving them to Adrien now. So what was the point of keeping them in her room? To serve as a mocking reminder of how blind she had been while loving him? No thanks.

By the time they were done, the chest only had half the gifts it used to, and Marinette quickly decided that she would donate the leftovers once she got the chance. 

“Thanks for the stuff, Mari!” Claude said cheerfully, his hands full of various objects.

Allegra nodded, holding a few things herself. “Yeah, you really do spoil us.”

“Which is saying something, considering we’re rich.” Allan teased, pocketing the two items that he’d decided to snatch. 

Marinette chuckled. “You’re helping me more than I am you.”

She stood up and walked to the bathroom to grab the boys’ old clothes. “I’m gonna bring these down to Maman, but feel free to look around until I get back.”

The group voiced their agreements, and Marinette climbed down the trapdoor ladder with the pile of clothes in hand, feeling like another weight had been lifted off of her shoulders.

Getting rid of Adrien’s gifts was one more step towards happiness, and she couldn’t wait to keep walking.

~~~~~~

One can tell a lot about a person by their bedroom. How clean they were, whether they were sentimental, which things they found important- a bedroom could quite literally be considered a box in which someone stored their entire personality. That’s why Felix had been anticipating this part of the visit. Someone can be a master manipulator, but their room would always show their true selves. And it only took one look for Felix to know..

Marinette really loved the color pink.

Seriously, she had it everywhere. The walls, the furniture, the carpet- How was she not sick of the color by now? Felix was sick of it, and he’d only been there for about twenty minutes!

Pushing the pink thought aside, he continued poking around her room. Marinette had gone downstairs to pass his clothes off to her mother, so that gave him a bit of time to inspect the space unsupervised. Not that he was planning on doing anything scandalous. It merely gave him the opportunity of observing Marinette’s room on his own terms.

When she told him that her room was up in the attic, he’d been understandably shocked. The attic didn’t sound like a spacious place to sleep, let alone work on homework and other personal things. Seeing it now, though, Felix realized that that wasn’t the case. The attic was actually quite open. There was a desk, a closet, various chests, a bathroom, and she still had a good portion of the room empty. He wondered if that was thanks to the original size of the room or thanks to Marinette’s resourcefulness.

Her cleaning style wasn’t too bad, either. Don’t get him wrong, there were things scattered everywhere, but it was a specific type of scattered, like an organized chaos. He had a feeling that she knew where most of her necessities were. 

Felix moved to her desk, where most of the mess was focused. There were papers, sewing needles, scraps of fabric, and pencils spread across the surface. Her interest in fashion certainly shined through, as most of the papers were filled with various sketches and measurements. He found that admirable. When someone usually speaks of their ‘dream job’, they speak of it as a fantasy, one that they never intend to fully pursue, but Marinette was obviously reaching as high as she could to grasp her goal. She even had a mannequin in her room.

“Marinette’s room is so cool!” Claude exclaimed from the loft up top. “She even has a balcony!”

Felix glanced upwards, briefly setting the papers he’d been studying aside. There’s a balcony upstairs? He didn’t recall seeing a balcony on the way in.

“Claude, you have a balcony.” Allegra reminded him with an amused smile.

“Yeah, but mine only extends from the side of the building.” Claude defended. “This one’s on the roof!”

Ah, so that’s why Felix hadn’t seen it.

Allan frowned. “Really? Isn’t that a little dangerous?”

“It’s got a rail.” 

“Oh, okay. That’s fine then.”

Allegra chuckled as she brushed her hands against the hat on Marinette’s mannequin. “Marinette’s room is pretty neat, though.”

“I think it’s just Marinette who’s cool.” Allan remarked.

Allegra and Claude heartily agreed, and Felix nodded. “Cool” probably wouldn’t be the exact word that he’d use to describe her, but overall, it wasn’t far off.

“Can you believe we’ve only known her for a week?” Claude asked as he climbed down to their level. “It feels like we’ve known her forever already.”

“Yeah, but I think that’s just how she is.” Allegra smiled. “She draws you in and makes you feel like family.”

“Her parents are the same way.” Allan said. “You can really tell where she gets it from.”

“Where who gets what from?” 

Felix, along with the rest of the group, turned to the trapdoor, where Marinette was standing about halfway through. She didn’t have the clothes anymore, but she did have a tray of drinks.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Allegra said dismissively. “What are those?”

Marinette set the tray on the ground long enough to climb through and close the trapdoor as she explained, “Maman and Papa thought you guys might be thirsty, so she sent me up with a bunch of different drinks to choose from.”

“Sweet!” Claude grinned, swiftly walking over in case she needed help. “Do you have Dr. Pepper?”

Marinette smiled and turned the tray to reveal a deep red can of soda. “Yep! I know it’s your favorite.”

“You truly are a blessing.” Claude replied, grabbing the soda off of the tray.

Marinette giggled and brought the tray forward for the rest of them to pick. Allegra chose a pepsi, while Allan snagged a coke, and Felix grabbed the slim cup of coffee that sat to the side.

He took a sip of it, enjoying the warmth of the bitter liquid. It didn’t escape his notice that Marinette had brought up all of their preferred drinks. She even got his coffee right (Black with three sugars). 

Despite how scatter-brained she could be, Marinette still paid attention to details, which was impressive. Felix didn’t know anyone else who could space out during an entire conversation, yet remember the exact type of drink everyone ordered during lunch.

“So what do you guys want to do now? We still have about half an hour before supper is finished.” Marinette asked, setting the tray aside. 

Allan shrugged. “What do you have?”

Marinette thought for a moment. “Well, we have board games, card games, Mecha Strike 3-”

“Mecha Strike 3?” Claude perked up. “Yes, please!”

Marinette laughed. “Is everyone else okay with that?”

“Sounds great.” Allan smiled.

Allegra shrugged. “I’m fine with it.” 

Felix, being satisfied with his inspection for now, sat down on the chaise. “I’ll watch.”

The rest of the group huddled around Marinette’s computer while she turned it on, and after a bit of debating, they decided on ‘winner faces next player’ and started with Allan and Claude. Felix watched the first two games, just long enough to see Marinette cream Allan, before reverting back to his studious ways. He scanned the bedroom again, hoping to catch something new, when his gaze landed on the trunk that Claude had tipped over earlier. With everyone bustling around it, Felix hadn’t gotten a chance to sift through it, but now that they were occupied with Marinette’s game..

Felix shifted in his seat and re-opened the chest. It was only half full, as opposed to its previously overflowing contents, but that didn’t bother him. There were still plenty of things inside, such as shirts, figurines, hats, and other things. He pulled out a jacket and turned it in his hands, admiring the handiwork. The hood, along with the cuffs of the sleeves and zipper were pitch black, but the rest of the jacket was a deep red, save for the black spots that littered it. “Miraculous” was written on the back in cursive as well. Was this supposed to be based off of the Parisian superhero Ladybug? Why would she want to get rid of this? At the very least, she could make a profit by selling it.

What did she use to make this? The material is so soft.. Felix thought as he unzipped the jacket. It was completely black on the inside, save for some tiny, golden lettering near the section wear the pocket would be.

“To: Adrien

From: Marinette”

Felix frowned. How strange. Why would Marinette be giving away things that she made specifically for someone else? He dug through the chest some more, this time looking for names, and what he found was shocking. 

Almost every gift had the name ‘Adrien’ on it somewhere, whether it be a card or stitching or marker. Some gifts didn’t have a name, but at that point, Felix felt it was safe to assume that everything in the chest was supposed to be for this ‘Adrien’ person. 

That begged the question, though: Who was Adrien? And why would she create so many gifts for him just to give them away?

A small card stitched on the ear of a stuffed cat gave him his answer.

“Dear Adrien, 

Happy 19th birthday! It’s officially been five years since we’ve known each other. Isn’t that crazy? Anyway, I just wanted to say happy birthday (even though I’ve already said it) and that I’m really happy we got to meet. Enjoy the cat!

With all my love, Marinette”

Felix glanced up at Marinette, who was blissfully ignorant of his findings as she defeated Claude for the second time at Mecha Strike 3. Did she intend to use all of these as birthday presents? How many gifts were in there? Did she expect this person to have the same interests twenty years from now? He couldn’t decide if this level of planning was due to over-thinking or just plain obsession. Maybe both.

“Hey, Felix!” 

Felix flinched at the sudden call of his name, weirdly feeling as if he’d been caught in the act of some crime. He looked up to see Claude waving a controller at him.

“Are you sure you don’t want to play?” The brunette asked.

“Talk to me when you have chess.” Felix replied shortly, going back to the chest. He had hoped that seeing Marinette’s room would provide more answers to her life, but it only issued more questions. Did she have this amount of gifts for all of her friends or was Adrien special? If he was special, what way would it be? Was he possibly an ex-lover? She dated him for a while, and they had a recent falling out, which was why she was getting rid of the gifts. That would make sense.

“He just wants to talk.”

Her words from last week resurfaced in his mind. The person who chased her that day was the only one she reacted bitterly towards. Was Adrien trying to get back together with her? 

Was he the reason she left her old school in the first place?

My, my Dupain-Cheng. Felix thought. Aren’t you just full of secrets?

Tag List:  @artbyknigit @athena452 @nickristus-dreamer @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @arsaem @abrx2002 @neakco @pawsitivelymiraculous @too0bsessedformyowngood @nathleigh @lusicing @officiallydarkgeek @all-mights-asscheeks @tbehartoo @woe-is-me0 @raeuberprinzessin @lazuli-11 @miss-chaos27 @trippingovermyfeet @sadpotatoondrugs @ladybug-182 @jaggedheart11 @marinahrasauce

[remsmoonlight]

— title : point of view

— word count : 3k words

— pairing : daryl dixon x reader

— summary : tomorrow is something that is never promised, less so when the dead walk the Earth. being trapped for the night when a storm pours down upon you and daryl while trapped in a decrepit house by a few walkers are you sick and tired of hiding what you feel.

— warnings : some swearing, talk of potential death ( of the reader ) , a wee bit of angst that turned into more at the end :)

note: omg another daryl oneshot i gotta chill ajksajksk, but i had like seven main bullet points i made to follow when writing this and i followed like...... two, three at the most, anyways.... enjoy? this is brought to u by ariana’s discography lmao oops it does be cute at some point tho ... also felt a bit hsm with that one line at the end ahaha but fr lemme stop talking now

      ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*   requests are open !   *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Dark and gloomy clouds swirl over your head, blending into an extremely large and angry looking ready to descend from above. You wonder to yourself just how long you have left before the loud cracks that crumble through the air to accompany the forceful winds and pouring drops of rain are finally released. Halfway through the trip back from the town that lays after miles from the prison the car used decided it preferred to lay quietly in the middle of the road, shortly after the sickly sputters from the engine you heard Daryl mutter a few curse words. You were unable to hold in your amusement, despite the fact that a lack of transport obviously leaves you in a vulnerable position, it felt like it was your luck for that to happen to you.

It’s why you stay behind following the hunter in silence.

Studying him with focused eyes you can’t help but wonder how he never realises when you’re unable to tear your gaze away from him. In the beginning when you began to develop a certain affection for him you had been glad, for it to be too embarrassing for the thoughts you had about him in your head. In spite of this, when you realised that it was much more than a crush did you wish for him to mind read, because you have no idea just how to approach him about such a sensitive topic and while he can be tender about feelings, it’s also his downfall.

“ it’ll be gettin’ dark soon, there should be some houses down there to spend the night in. “

You stop in your tracks with a curious look that bled so suddenly into your features you had no time to stop it.

“ you don’t want to carry on? I mean, we’re not far from home? “ you question him with a hint of fear coddling your words.

“ we’d be trippin’ over our feet. Let’s back it back in one piece, yeh? “

Nodding, you regain your pace. It’s been a few months since you’d been hopping from one house to the other during that harsh winter, the bare thought of having to stay in yet another frail structure sent a chilly hand drawing its claws deeply up your spine. If you never had your group, you don’t think you would have made a winter like that, barely protected from the elements and the walkers that wished to plunge their teeth cavernously into your flesh.

“ as long as we leave as soon as the sun comes up. Please. “ you plead, your words filter off into a gentle volume from your position.

Leaves crumble and buckle underneath the weight, the sound of crickets dominate your surroundings as the two of you walk in silence. You itch to start a conversation, but the fear of distracting the man and annoying withhold the words that wish to fall from your lips, even then you don’t know how to begin. What would you say? There’s not much to talk about in a world where the dead have risen, where they wish to drag the world into decomposition.

Your wandering mind is pulled from its very own depths from a noise coming from Daryl, he’d turned to catch your attention. You both set to work attempting to enter any of the abandoned houses, hoping one had been left unlocked at some point.

Of course, luck is scarce. Despite there not being a soul who occupies them, they’re still somehow locked. Mournfully, you wonder if the owners of these homes had thought the governments and armies would eventually lock everything under their control, to the point that there would be a house for them to come back to? Your heart thuds painfully in your chest to think about what happened to them, and if they’re even still surviving.

A large thud draws you back to the present, the wooden door splinters at the force Daryl puts into a large kick to its frame.

“ well, there goes the lock. “ you mutter humourously, lifting the heavy bag higher up onto your shoulders as you walk in the open door.

“ we’ll put the couch there, stop any unfriendly types that come our way. “

“ I don’t know if there’s anyone left anymore. “ you reply, dropping the bag to the floor and moving towards the couch.

Situated on the other side of it, you grip the plush handle and lift with a struggle. It’s a strain to get it through the doorway to  turn it around the corner, but eventually it happens. Daryl is joined by your presence by his side, you both push ⏤ this time it’s an easier feat with two of you on one side to dedicate your strength and weight to advance it.

As soon as you finish, a heavy crackle cuts through the air.

“ we got here just in time, huh? “

“ just about. “ he answers you, sparing a glance before moving through the lower floor ⏤ searching for anything that can be taken back to the prison.

Thunderstorms had never been your favourite thing growing up. Of course, rain was something that calmed you from the anxieties life brought, but the thunder and lightning is what you loathed. Never knowing when you were about to receive a fright from the loud rumbles and flashing lights ruined the whole experience for you.

The rustling Daryl makes is the only thing that brings you comfort in this moment, keeping you grounded and away from your thoughts. It doesn’t escape your notice that these houses feel no more than graveyards with the memories that have no use to live, instead haunting the structures with what could have been had chaos and death not taken over. You climb the stairs, hugging your sides as you refuse to touch the handrail leading up stairs.

There is a middle room with access granted without having to push open the door to gain entry. Your eyes scan the room’s interior, even with the dust and grime that bespeckle its surfaces, you can still see its beauty. Now, who does that remind you of? Your mind cheekly thinks before you banish it into the shadows of your brain, where you know it will force itself out with an immense stubbornness.

Despite the thunder booming in the distance frequently, you can’t help but admire the beauty of rain drops falling to the ground with a dainty grace only it holds. The sky continues to grow dimmer, only seeing the rain on your level and lower, no street lights flood the street to aid you in being able to see torrent from above. Jumping at another roar of sound from the storm, your heart begins to pick up its pace, so much you don’t realise Daryl joining you in the room.

“ scared? “

Turning around with such speed that leaves you surprised whiplash did not greet you, Daryl is left smirking at your reaction.

“ yeah, I hate these things. “ you respond, a bitterness coating each word heavily as you speak.

“ more than walkers? “ he questions you, as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

“ well, I suppose not that much .. “ another clap of thunder interrupts you, the rain beating harder and harder on the windows of the bedroom. “ can we talk about anything? This shit really grates on my nerves. “

“ what y’wanna talk about? “

Your mind stalls, with the previous thoughts that had been swirling in a state of disorder your draw a blank. A continuous thump downstairs interrupts your shrug, speeding down the stairs you realise a few walkers are trying to enter the property, of course their lack of intelligence fails to realise they’re throwing themselves into the walls and not the blocked doors.

“ shall we take them out? “ moving closer to the lengthy curtained window next to the door to get a better look, you can see three walkers hauling themselves mindlessly against the structure.

“ nah, the storm’ll get ‘em soon enough. “ he shakes his head softly, your mind taking note of the lack of proximity between your bodies as he repeats your action. “ no need to risk ourselves. “

“ wouldn’t be the first time you’ve risked your life. “

“ s’nothin. “ he contradicts gruffly, wiping a finger across his nose at your words. He truly doesn’t view it as that, refusing to think of it as risking his life. To Daryl, it doesn’t feel like risking everything to help the people around him, it’s not something he can find the words to explain but all he knows if there’s a chance, he would do it again and again.

“ Daryl Dixon, so humble. “ you speak warmly with a gentle smile threading itself into your features. “ you need to give yourself more credit. “

“ stop. “

“ you’re as brave as anyone in the group. I’d say braver than Rick. “ you joke, setting yourself from the entryway to the sitting room. “ although, if I had to choose you and Carol .. I’m sorry, but Carol every time! “

“ damn woman frightens me. “

Laughter light in weight dances airily between you with an elegance in its movement. For even a fraction of a second you forget that there are walkers that are itching to break through into the property, that there’s an angry storm that threatens to demolish whatever stands in its path, because right now it’s only you both here and now in this one room.

“ she’s come a long way. “ you agree, pulling a lone chocolate bar from your bag. Your favourite and you’re thanking the universe that it hasn��t spoiled yet. Turns out all these preservatives and chemicals have some use after all you note to yourself as half is offered to the man standing across from you.

“ so have ‘yuh. “ he acknowledges, taking the broken half of the candy from you.

“ I think we all have to be honest. I don’t think any one of us are the people we used to be. “

“ now who’s humble? “ Daryl asks, his tone light in relaxed merriment. He’d long since taken note of the transformation you’d gone through, he’s never seen you so strong as a person before.

“ don’t you turn this round on me, Dixon. “

The two of you fall silent, you direct your gaze to the window and the raindrops that litter the window pane’s surface. The harsh noises thundered no more, leaving a calm pitter of precipitation to fall with no interruption. From your position on the second couch, you wrap around a thin decorational blanket around your arms, leaning your cheek against the palm of your hand.

Pretending the world hasn’t gone to hell, that it’s just a normal evening where you’re admiring the scene before you. Skies that weep heavily is what the Georgian greenery has been calling out for, especially since the warmer temperatures have returned in full force. Switching your line of sight to Daryl, you feel a mellowness in the pit of your stomach as you watch him fondly. You can’t be sure if it’s the lack of distractions or eyes from your group, but you feel a miniscule spark of confidence within your confines.

“ come sit down, you can relax for a bit. “ you call, trying to convince him lightly. Your hand moves to pat the seat next to you.

“ can’t relax in this world. “ despite the disagreement in his words he does move towards your position on the plush seat.

“ it doesn’t mean we can’t make it. Otherwise we’d be burnt out, I’d hate to see that happen to you. “ You divulge as you reply to him, little inklings of hope in your tone.

“ y’don’t gotta worry ‘bout me. “

“ but I do, Daryl. “ you groan as a dull glumness contorts your features into something new. “ I mean, the lengths you go to .. you scare me to death. “

“ don’t be dumb. “ Daryl warns lowly as he shakes his head, few have shared their vulnerability with him. Perhaps only Carol, his mind can’t wrap itself around the fact that people genuinely care for him. Growing up, he’d been taught of it as a weakness. Something that should not exist, no one cared when he went missing for a short while as a child, and now having people who show him the opposite? It leaves a strange feeling to settle within his heart.

“ please, I need to tell you. I mean, I might not even be here tomorrow. “

“ nah, don’t say that. Y’will. “ he argues, he doesn’t even want to entertain the notion of not seeing you even for a day ⏤ let alone forever.

Truthfully, you’d not been particularly close. He understands it now, he pushed everyone away wherever he had the chance to. But after the downfall of the farm? You wouldn’t let up in trying to forge bonds that could rival even the strongest of metals. You had no idea, but he’d overheard you talking to Beth one day. When you said you didn’t want to be afraid of living, to have something worth dying for. That struck him deep.

“ neither you or I can guarantee that. Now, call me selfish but I can’t die with what ifs in my brain. “ you explain, you know it’s probably selfish to announce any kind of fondness for a person nowadays, because you can be ripped from their existence without any kind of announcement. But if you were to depart from the realm of the living, you’d want to have affectionate memories to experience and for them to look back on.

“ what y’sayin? “

Your eyes well up in frustration, whether it’s over the way you find the words are hiding beneath your tongue like cowards under the cloak of night or over the fact that you have begun this topic of conversation, backing yourself into a corner. There’s so much you want to say but how you should is not coming easy. Eloquence in your words is something you find yourself yearning for with all of your being should it bring you a happy ending to this discussion.

This isn’t a fairytale, there’s no happy or bad endings in real life you sorely think. There’s just reality, and the conclusions for that are neither black or white.

Fingertips grip the roots of your hair for a fleeting moment before letting go as if you’d never clutched them in exasperation at all.

Shutting your eyes so hard they hurt, you muster up the courage to speak the truth you’ve locked away in your heart, allowing it the light it has been deprived of for so long.

“ Daryl, I ⏤ “ your voice shuts off with a painful sound, sighing as if to psych yourself up. “ I feel more for you than I probably should. “

When Daryl says nothing, you open your eyes. Your entire being preparing yourself for the worse answer, this moment may hurt now but the pain will lessen. At least your soul feels lighter with the hidden information no longer chained to it as a burden, no longer will it have to be weighed down by its mass.  

“ I know it’s probably not what you want to hear, but I couldn’t keep it in any longer. “

“ who said I didn’t wanna hear? “

“ ⏤ what ? “ you question, your brows falling lower as you squint in disbelief. You wonder if your brain is forming a false memory to protect itself later on.

“ y’don’t nothin’ to do with me though. “ he hesitates, the automatic response to push away anything good that comes his way to the furthest reaches. “ nothin’ but trouble. “

A sorrowful smile full of grief clouds your features, your unshed tears threaten to fall. If only he could see himself from your point of view, he doesn’t see just how admirable of a human being he is. Yes, he has his flaws but who doesn’t? In all of humanity, you don’t think there has ever been a perfect person, but it’s how they approach their downsides that shows the peak of their humanity, that they don’t let the darkness fester in their heart, to poison their soul into becoming a shell of a kind hearted person. That shows the strength of their character.

Daryl? You feel honoured to have been a first hand witness to see him turn from a hot ball of anger to a softer, kinder soul.

“ Daryl, you really don’t see what I do.” you forsake everything, leaning forwards and laying your hands across his. Taking in the immense warmth from them. “ That? It hurts me, because you’re rather amazing. “

Saying nothing, Daryl looks down at your intertwined hands. He wants the chance that’s being offered, though the fear of being the one who poisons everything he lays his touch upon settles heavily on his shoulder. No one has come out unscarred when dealing with a member of the Dixon family, his family tree being nothing more than toxic, with weeds that wrap around the limbs of the poor fool who got involved with them, as they drag them to their lowly depths. He doesn’t know how to let go of the past and for this he continues to pay, with the high price being his happiness in the present world. No response leaves his lips, for the first time in a long time he doesn’t know what to say, while knowing what he wants to say. It’s not until he feels arms wrapped around the top of his shoulders is he brought back down to Earth, a shudder of a breath is released from him as he realises what is going on. The action is reciprocated in earnest, you’re full of gratitude that he’s accepting your comfort ⏤ knowing it could have been a gamble of a decision, a fifty fifty chance of him reacting negatively or positively. You, too, draw comfort from the position you both find yourself, clutching the other. Hope dawns on your heart, knowing Daryl is not a particularly affectionate man. This means a lot, for it’s a leap for you both.

“ thank you. “ he whispers in the night. You know that this is the start of something new.

[mcwriting]

The Marriage Project (12)

Hi all!!! This is the long awaited 12th chapter! It took months of rewrites of not only this chapter, but future ones as well to ensure this was written to the best of my ability.

This chapter marks the heaviest moment in this story, so please, please be mindful of the content warnings for this chapter. I marked the section that includes this moment.

I also chose not to add tags so that this is not everyone's first impression of this series!

Masterlist

Word Count: 2700

Warnings: s*xual ass*ult, language, alcohol consumption, blood/injury mention

% end of the first week of November- cont. %

Throughout the game, you and the other homecoming court members (aside from any football players or cheerleaders) had been sitting on the sidelines right in front of the student section, so you were somewhat able to talk to your friends.

The team was playing good in the first half. It was probably Tom’s best game that you’d ever seen. At halftime, they did the “official” crowning of court members and recognized football and cheer seniors.

The seniors were presented first, having their parents with them as they walked across the field. They started with the cheer team so Daisy could change back into her white dress.

Then came the court recognitions, you and Tom stepping onto the field after everyone else as the crowd cheered and clapped.

Tom’s arm linked around yours as he helped you stay steady walking across the grass, since your heels weren't quite meant for the soft ground. Someone handed you a large bundle of roses and you smiled widely.

The bright lights, the cheers, the smile Tom gave you.

It was a moment burned into your memory forever.

Then it was over, and the team went back to their game, winning 42-27, their best win by far all season.

You were saying your final thank you’s to people’s congratulatory comments as you began heading out to the parking lot. Alexis caught up with you amidst the chaos.

“You still on for Tyler’s? I’ll drive,” she offered.

“Yeah. Let’s go home so I can change and then we’ll head out, okay?” you said, finally getting to your car.

She followed you to your house, where you changed into a tight long-sleeved bodysuit, skinny jeans, and some heeled booties. You also packed some other things into a bag to sleep at Alexis’s house later.

You told your parents you were staying the night at her house. They definitely knew better by the way you’d left on your makeup and put on real clothes, but didn’t question you, instead tossing out a “stay safe” and “don’t do anything stupid” as you headed out the door.

Things were pretty much in full swing by the time you and Alexis pulled into the yard outside Tyler’s house and found your friends inside, red solo cups in hand. The speakers were blaring something with a strong beat and most people were dancing.

You had a white claw to loosen up. After having refrained from partying throughout volleyball season, Alexis would be designated driver for the night to let you have your fun. You saw plenty of football players hanging around but didn’t find Tom anywhere.

Weird.

*CW below*

After a little bit, you ran off to use the bathroom just down a hall. You went alone since it would only be a couple minutes, you knew everyone there, and weren’t drunk.

When you stepped back into the hall, you almost ran into a large figure. It was Harrison.

“Oh, hi there, little lady,” he sneered.

“Fuck off, Harrison.” you commanded, brushing past him. He grabbed your wrist and yanked you back.

“I don’t think you want to be saying that to me,” he pinned you against the wall. His breath reeked of alcohol. You looked around, but it was dark and no one was close enough to see your predicament.

“What the hell do you want? I’m just here to have fun.”

“And what do you think I’m doing huh? Don’t think I forgot about that little stunt you pulled going to Johnson. It’s your fault I missed two games.”

“Don’t think so buddy. Maybe if you respected women you wouldn’t have been in trouble in the first place. Now get off me,” you commanded, trying to push forward.

Big mistake.

He drove a knee between your legs and placed a hand over your chest, gripping your breast so tightly it hurt. For the first time, you were actually scared, but still stared directly into his eyes.

“Nah. I just think you’re too much of a pussy to take me. Now you’re gonna stay quiet or something much worse is gonna come to you,” he threatened, then placed his lips on your neck.

You squeezed your eyes shut to focus your thoughts. It was like you were frozen in shock and pain.

His other hand started sliding up the inside of your thigh when you panicked, kneeing him in the groin and shoving him from you before sending a fist into his jaw.

You were thankful he was drunk, as it made him disoriented and off balance.

Harrison reeled back, looking at you in confusion as he bent over, holding his mouth in pain. There was blood around his gums. He looked at you angrily before another voice called out.

“What the hell is going on here? I thought I told you to stay away from her,” Tom seethed. There was a fire in his eyes that you’d never seen before.

“You think I really care what you have to say? I was just trying to teach y/n a little lesson about consequences,” Harrison replied, slurring his words, before spitting blood onto the hardwood floor and pointing a finger right in your face. “You really think a couple hits are going to stop m-”

Tom was about to step forward to do something when rage overtook you and you threw another punch to his nose, causing him to fall backwards unconscious.

Tom looked down in shock at the limp body beneath you, then back up to you. Once your eyes met, his features softened.

“Y/n? Are you okay?” he asked, stepping over Harrison and guiding you away from him. As you finally began processing what had happened, tears slipped down your cheeks.

“I… he- he…” you couldn’t get the words out and your breath quickened.

“Hey, hey. I know. You don’t have to say anything. It wasn't your fault. Can I hug you?”

*end CW*

You sniffled and nodded, not meeting his eyes. He engulfed you in his arms, rubbing your back as you buried your face in his neck. Your chest throbbed from Harrison’s grip and knuckles ached from where they’d met his face twice.

After a few minutes, you straightened up and wiped your face, trying to be tough. Harrison was still out cold on the floor.

“Do you want me to go get your friends?” he asked, to which you nodded. He ran off and only a minute later came Alexis and Caroline.

They fawned over you, making sure you were okay. Tom put a hand on either of your arms and looked you directly in the eyes.

“I’m going to make sure he and his awful friends leave, okay? You haven’t done anything wrong.”

The girls led you back into the bathroom while Tom began dragging Harrison off. They helped you clean the mascara stains on your cheeks and make sure you were okay. After about 10 minutes, you finally felt confident enough to go back out.

When you got back to the main room, word had it that Tom, Jake, Chris, and some of the other guys were making sure Harrison’s crew would leave and not come back.

Knowing that you were safe from him finally, you decided to drink in the hopes of forgetting what happened for a little bit and have some fun. You started off with a shot of strawberry lemonade vodka, which led to shotgunning a beer and tossing back another shot (or two) of bacardi.

Not a half hour later and you were plastered. You went crazy on the dance floor, jumping around like a fool as different people came up to dance with you.

You were barely aware of what you were doing and extremely clumsy. The room was turning as you clambered up onto a table. You were spinning in circles until your shoe’s heel missed the edge and you started to topple over.

You couldn’t even react, but after a second realized you hadn’t hit the ground, and were instead in Tom’s arms.

“Alright I think it’s time for you to take a breather,” he said. It was hard to understand him as his voice sounded distant. He carried you out of the warm room and outside, where the cold air hit you like a truck. He set you down on the edge of Tyler’s porch.

“Y/n are you okay? After everything that happened I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

What he said wasn’t funny, but you found yourself cackling anyways.

“Better than everrr! Did you see my twerking?”

“Yes, yes I did. Are you feeling okay? Your face is super red. You aren’t nauseous?”

You shook your head with a big grin.

“I’m fiiiineee, pretty boy. Just because you’re my husssband doesn’t mean you have to follow me everywhere! I’m alllll gooood.” You slumped onto his shoulder, still giggling.

“Alright, princess. Let’s just chill here for now alright? I’ll text Alexis in a little bit.”

You sat in silence twisting your star ring as you began to cool down and your hearing was returning to normal. Tom was rubbing his thumb over your shoulder and had you drinking your second cup of water, but the effects of the alcohol were still present.

“Tom?” you whispered. He hummed. “You’re a really good husband.”

He chuckled.

“You think so?” he paused. “I think you’re a pretty good wife, too. No matter how much trouble you manage to get us both in.”

After a little longer, you felt yourself getting sleepy as the night took its toll on you. Alexis came outside and rushed over.

“Hey! I was looking everywhere. Sorry I didn’t see your text. Let’s go, y/n. You’ve had a looong night.”

Tom picked you up from the porch and led you to the car, half carrying you. He helped you into the car and buckled you up, then stood leaning in the doorway.

“Thanks for your help, Tom. Glad you were there for us,” Alexis said with a small grin as she buckled in.

“Of course. I’d do anything for her,” he replied, giving you a wink before shutting the door and waving. Alexis had barely pulled out of the driveway when she looked at you.

“Okay spill. What’s been going on with you and Tom?” she asked in a serious tone. She was clearly using the alcohol against you, and even though you were much more aware than before, you still started talking.

“I think I really like him.”

“Like we didn’t all already know that. I meant what have you been hiding from me the past three months? I know there’s more to the story.”

You sighed.

“It started last month, when Tom beat up… you know… the first time. We held hands on his bedroom floor that weekend until his mom accidentally walked in. And then we took those pictures and kept saying all these flirty things. I accidentally caught him naked, don’t ask.”

“Oh I’m definitely asking about that later. But continue.”

“Well then I stayed for dinner that Thursday and Sam caught us in the kitchen goofing around. Oh, and then last weekend we kissed, and-”

“YOU WHAT NOW?” she yelled, causing you to wince at the sound before you started rambling.

“We didn’t really kiss per se… It’s because we were fake dating for that couple. It just kinda happened! And now we’re going to homecoming together but it was supposed to be a secret so… don’t tell anyone before dinner tomorrow. Or tonight I guess since it’s Saturday morning.”

“I knew it. Dammit I knew it! Why didn’t you just tell me!”

“You’d make fun of me! Do you think I want to like him? We’ve been at each other’s throats all this time and now I’m just supposed to forget all that because of a little crush? You don’t get it, Lex. It’s not like he’d ever feel the same way.”

You looked out the car window, trying to settle your breathing after getting worked up. Your head hurt and you were still thirsty. Alexis pulled into her driveway and cut the engine.

“I know I would clown you about it, and I probably still will, but we’re friends for a reason. And you’re joking, right? Everyone knows Tom is head over heels in love with you.”

“What? No way.”

“Yes way! Have you not seen the way he looks at you, and follows you like a puppy dog, and gets so protective over you? I mean come on, y/n. He literally said he’d do anything for you and winked before we left. You must be blind to not see that.”

You sat and tried to think about it for a minute, wondering if she was right about him.

“Let’s go in, y/n. It’s getting cold and you need to sleep it off. You’re not going to have a fun morning, that’s for sure.”

You followed her into the house, trying not to stumble. Your balance definitely wasn’t all there. Her garage door led straight to the kitchen where you chugged a glass of water and took some antacids, grabbing more water to take to her room.

You went into the bathroom to shower off the makeup and sweat and hairspray. When you got out and looked in the mirror, you saw the way your chest was reddened from what Harrison did to you. It took everything to hold back more tears.

%

The moment your eyes opened, everything hurt.

Your head, stomach, feet, chest. Your head was flooded with memories from the previous night. You rolled away from the window to find Alexis sitting on the floor next to a plate and glass of water.

“Well, well, well. Sleeping beauty awakes. I brought you my hangover cure.”

You looked down to see that on the plate sat two advils, an alka seltzer, and some cinnamon pop tarts. It was almost 11 am.

“Thanks, Lex. For everything. You’re the best,” you said, taking a bite off one pastry.

“Don’t be thanking me. Tom’s the real hero. He got a bunch of people together this morning to report Harrison for what he did to you and he’s suspended again, can’t go to the dance. I guess Johnson is gonna deal with it more next week and he might be expelled. Do you have any proof other than Tom?” she said gently.

“Let’s see,” you said, tugging off your shirt, revealing a sports bra. She gasped when she saw the purple bruising around one breast and the hickey marks that had been left on your neck.

“Oh my God, y/n. That’s awful.”

“I know. It didn’t look like this last night. We need to get some pictures.”

After taking some pictures for proof and finishing off your “breakfast,” you and Alexis began preparing yourselves for the dance. You were going to do makeup and hair at her house before going home to change, and then to Tom’s.

If he even still wanted to go with you. You decided to call him while Alexis curled your hair.

“Hey, y/n. Are you okay?” he asked, voice deep and raspy. He must have gone to bed again after organizing the reports against Harrison.

“Yeah, I’m way better. Thanks for everything last night. For saving my ass. I heard what you did this morning, too. You’re the best.”

“It’s the right thing to do, y/n. I’m glad I was there. And you’re sure you’re okay? We can skip the dance tonight if you aren’t up for it. You know my mom would love to have you come hang out any time.”

“Hey, now. I’m not about to leave the dance without a king and queen. I mostly wanted to check if you were still okay with going together after everything.”

“Of course! I want to go with you, y/n. Nothing’s changed that.”

You smiled.

“Okay, well, I’ll pick you up at 5 for dinner. Bye, Tom.”

“See ya, princess.”

You ended the call and sat quietly looking down. You almost forgot Alexis was there until she said,

“So you’re driving him, huh? I alway knew you wore the pants. Now tell me about that whole ‘seeing him naked’ thing...”

%

A/N: so... there's that chapter. I hope you all understand that this moment is not at all meant to romanticize or glorify the terrible experiences so many people endure, but instead highlight one way this issue is dealt with.

I wish you all the best. Please remember that my messages and asks are always open ❤️

Send a message or ask if you’d like to be added to my permanent or series taglists so I can verify you’ve been added!

Story tag list: @jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl, @l0lmk, @primadonnasdream, @bookworm06, @thenoddingbunny-blog, @agentnataliahofferson, @spider-babe, @stxfxniexreads, @justafangirlduh, @supraveng,

[liibrii]

Built for eternity  

deity!Atsumu x gn!reader || crack/fluff || wc: 1.6k || 🦊

Synopsis: Once Atsumu was a great deity, equally loved and feared but after taking a very long nap he wakes up to a world that has forgotten him. Everyone but your group that’s digging up his old shrine. He's sure you'll be his new followers so why on Earth are you destroying his house?!

warnings: barely proofread, general stupidity, cursing, suggestive moments, archaeological mumbo jumbo, Atsumu is a god of something but it's vague and not really important, also gods exist and everybody is chill with that, reader is a very tired archaeologist and done with everybody’s shit

a/n: after 3 days of rain and 6 straight hours of shovelling dirt I had an epiphany. idk, it made me laugh so I decided to scribble it down. and yes, don’t mess with a profile unless you want archaeologists to hate you forever as always feedback is greatly appreciated!

Once Atsumu was a great deity with shrines and temples at every corner. Nowadays the only ones remembering him are obscure books only used for collecting dust. But that is about to change. Atsumu is sure of that. 

Group of loyal followers has gathered where his shrine once stood, a small one, one he never really cared about but these days he'll take every crumb of adoration he can. And the crumbs are a plenty as the group digs up the shrine, excited about the pottery shards and walls coming to light. 

They call themselves archaeo-something, architects probably since they will rebuild his power. Yes, excellent, it pleases him to see you all rejoice, taking pictures of everything, you will be his new followers and more will follow, he'll be a great deity again, equally loved and feared-

“Aright, take the wall out!“

Huh?

Why are ya destroyin’ his shrine?! No, no, no, stop breakin’ apart the walls! That was the inner altar, what are ya pigs doin’?!

Thunder rumbles and a downpour falls for days, and still those little crawly humans continue to destroy his shrine, his precious walls, and take away the last remains of old offerings. Oh he's going to have a word with all of you freakin' stumblin’ humans, ya better know yer damn places. But he'll start with the one in charge.

The excavation site is empty when he decides to approach you. You're shovelling away dirt, though you should've started with your shoes and clothes. You turn when you hear someone approach and your eyes widen, as they should, thinks Atsumu, at least someone 'round here should show him the respect he deserves, he's a god after-

“Hey! You're standing on my feature! Get off, shoo, shoo! And watch out for the profile! I just cleaned the damn thing. Excavation site is closed to the public Mister so I'll have to ask you to leave.“

Exca- what? Leave? It’s his shrine! Humans shouldn’t react to his presence the way you did, that's just, it's not what humans do! 

“But I live here.“

“You-? Oh. You're still standing on my feature, get off already,“ you pull him off the patch of dark soil that to him looks the same as the patch where he's standing now.

“Why are ya destroyin' my shrine?“

You wipe away the sweat on your forehead, or maybe it's rain, with raindrops still falling he can't really tell. “We're not destroying anything, we're digging it up. Documenting it. It'll get destroyed once the apartment complex is build here. Come on, stay away from the profile!“

You return to scrapping the patch of dirt and Atsumu feels some very confusing mixture of rage that you, a lowly little human being, are talking to him like he's a nuisance, and being very pleased because when you lean down to scrap the soil he has an incredible view of your behind, and whew, that's a very nice ass. He shouldn't look, staring is rude, but what else is he supposed to look at, there's just soil, and holes dug into the ground, a weird green box atop a yellow tripod, a shovel, and some stones, one beside your left leg, such good looking legs indeed, there's a mud stain all over your ass-

No! You're tearing down the last remains of his shrine! “Human. I order ya to stop doin' what yer doin' and answer my questions!“

You glance over your shoulder. “Sure. I'll keep on working and you ask me what you want to know.“

Why are you so calm?! He's a deity, a god, you should be on your knees begging for your life to be spared, not scrapping the ground, oh holy bean sprouts and apples, why does your ass look so good? “Do ya know who I am?“

“The one of many names. The Twofaced god.“ You straighten up just to change gardening hoe for a shovel.

“Why aren't ya scared then?“

“I've met your kind before,“ you shovel the dirt onto a big pile a few steps away. “Though they usually don't go around destroying my surfaces. A clumsy god is a first. Oh, what's this? Pottery, nice,“ you mumble as you turn a small object covered with soil in your hand.

“Hey. Show me some respect or-“

“Or what? You’ll make it rain again? Joke's on you I've been soaked through and through for the last three days. Hand me the trowel?“

“Yer extremely impolite.“

To his utter surprise you burst into laughter. “Listen your holiness it's Friday afternoon, I’m tired, my clothes are completely wet, I'm cold, I have gravel in my shoes, my shoulders are killing me, and I'm more than ready to go home. But before that I have a feature to document. The one that you so kindly stepped in. Now, please show me your godly powers and hand me the trowel. The mini shovel. Red handle. No, left. Left. That's the one, thank you, what did I tell you, watch the profile man!“

Good grief, have humans always been so demanding?

“Will my shrine be rebuild?“

“If your shrine is an apartment complex, sure. Give it a few weeks and it will be good as new. Literally.“ When you see his face your expression softens a little. “No. It won’t be. We'll look at the remains to figure out when it was abandoned, what happened, that sort of thing.“

“But yer an architect. Architects build things.“ He heard people of your group call themselves that. They talked about how the walls had been built though he quickly stoped listening. “This shrine was built for eternity!“

“Archaeologist.“

“What?

“You meant I’m an archaeologist. Not architect. I don't plan buildings, I dig them up once their eternity passes.“

“It's eternity! It doesn't pass! Go dig somewhere else!“

You sigh. You look almost as exhausted as he did before taking his a few thousand years long nap. “Great, you're one of those people. Always complaining, why is it taking so long, why do you have to dig on my building site? Well mister it ain't my fault you decided to build atop of my neolithic settlement. Hey, grab the hoe.“

“The what?“

“The thing by your feet. No, that's a trowel. The one with the long handle. No, that’s a pickaxe, yes that's the one. See there? Your footprints. Clean them. Come on, don't just stand around and look pretty, get to hoeing.“

“Right here? Out in the open?“ He wiggles his eyebrows at you. “Yer an intriguin'-“

“Clean them away.“

Atsumu does as you say all while grinning. You're getting flustered. Humans and their brave facades, we'll see how long you manage to hold your own up.

“There.“ It only took four scraps to get rid of the footprints but Atsumu proclaims it so proudly he might as well just have dug up the entire excavation site on his own. “That was as easy-“ As he steps away ground under his foot crumbles and he hears your shocked shriek.

“My profile!“

Oh dear. The word he’d use to describe the look on your face when you see the collapsed pile of dirt beside the hole in the cross section would be heartbroken. Devastated. On verge of tears. Irritated. Angry. Enraged? 

“What did I tell you?! I gave you one job, one job you clumsy wanna be deity! Oh fuck, come on, I’m to tired for this.“

“’m sorry,“ Atsumu mumbles. His ears are on fire.

“Yeah you better be. Shit, fuck, what am I supposed to do?“ You look at him the same way someone in a hurry looks at a doorknob when their jacket gets caught on it. “You. Here.“

“What's-“

“Don’t tell me you don’t know what a shovel is. You destroyed my profile. I'm very tired. I'm very angry. I don't care if you're a god or a plastic straw, right now you will help me fix it. Shovel straight down. I want a right angle.“ 

With his strength evening out the cross section proves to be no problem at all. He glances over at you, do you see what a good job he’s doing, maybe he messed up before but now he’s doing great, as you pay him no attention and write something on a small blackboard. A bunch of numbers and words. He recognises there's a date. What could the others mean? You lean down to reach for, oh that mud stain on your trousers is actually a hand print. You must've wiped your hand on your ass- 

The shovel slips. Luckily you're too preoccupied with your camera to take notice of it.

“Are you done?“ you ask without looking up and he stutters out an 'almost' since he's almost sure it isn’t just the shovel that’s slipping. “Looks good.“ You say more to yourself than him. 

He thinks you're pretty cute when you're not chewing him out for stepping onto that one patch of dirt. The way you lift the camera up and take photos of that patch of dirt is pretty cute too. 

“Help me pack up,“ you say once you’re done. He doesn’t need to be told twice, already gathering your tools. “All things considered you weren’t so bad. Maybe you should consider becoming the god of archaeologists.“ Your smile is incredibly cute too. “Fancy a drink?“

[leejungchans]

— unexpected.

🆕 ask juliet anything!! | juliet’s masterlist

word count: 2.1k

warning(s): mentions of self-doubt, insecurities and intrusive thoughts; someone says some pretty harsh words to juliet here but nothing extreme

disclaimer: please keep in mind that the trainer mentioned in this is a completely fictional character hence why his name is never mentioned!!

set in june 2019; a few days after ateez’s first win for wave

summary: in which the boys help juliet when she gets a message from someone who she never expected, nor wants, to see again.

a/n: putting juliet in a bit of Pain™️ here 😔 as always, you are always welcome to leave feedback or chat with me!! 💕💕

As Seonghwa clears away the dishes after dinner, he notices Juliet curled up on the sofa with her phone in hand. Normally, he wouldn’t think much of it, given the other members are doing the same as they lounge around the living room. But one look at the maknae’s grave expression tells him that something is wrong.

Jongho, who’s been helping Seonghwa take the plates into the kitchen, catches him staring and follows his gaze. The two silently watch as Juliet types something on her phone before furiously tapping on the screen to delete whatever she wrote with a frustrated sigh, her long acrylic nails creating a crisp tapping noise. This draws the attention of the other six boys as they all turn to look at her with concern, though she doesn’t seem to notice from being so focused on her phone.

“Minyoungie, is everything okay?” Hongjoong finally asks, sitting up from his spot on the ground.

“Hm? Oh, yeah. I’m fine, don’t worry,” she reassures with a stiff smile, but it’s evident that something is clearly bothering her.

The leader gets up to sit next to her on the couch. “Do you want to talk about it? Or do you want some time to yourself first?”

Juliet contemplates his question for a few seconds before speaking again. “It’s nothing serious, I guess,” she admits, “but one of my former trainers at SM messaged me just before dinner asking me to meet up with him, and I don’t know how to respond.”

“Oh,” Hongjoong says. The mention of her former company causes the others to pay full attention to their conversation, knowing how unpleasant her experiences with a few of her former trainers were though she never talked about such incidents in detail. “Do you want to, though?”

“No,” Juliet responds immediately, expression turning cold. “Not now, probably not ever.”

“What happened with him?” Wooyoung asks before quickly adding, “you don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to.”

Juliet sighs, stuffing her phone into the pocket of her hoodie before hugging her knees to her chest. “No, no. I think it’s about time I told you guys what happened exactly, I guess I never did because it felt like there was never a right time to bring him up, and also because it feels stupid to talk about it when I haven’t seen him in years, and have no intention of changing that.”

Wooyoung pats her knee comfortingly. “Tell us however much you’re okay with,” he says with a gentle smile, “you don’t have to go into full detail if you don’t want to.”

Juliet pants heavily when the music stops, crouching down to catch her breath desperately while cursing the horrible cold she’s been dealing with for the past few days.

She just knows everyone noticed how her movements have gotten more sluggish with every time they go over the dance, and the humiliation sears through her body like a raging fire.

Someone—she can’t see who and is too dizzy to even turn her head in that direction to check—comes up from behind to rub her back soothingly as her chest continues to heave from exhaustion.

“Five minutes,” the gruff voice of their dance trainer says, and the group of girls instantly scramble to where their water bottles are lined up neatly against the wall. “Baek Minyoung, not you.”

At the sound of her name, Juliet looks up to see the man crooking a finger, motioning for her to walk over to where he is in a secluded corner of the practice room. Shakily, she stands up as the other girls murmur quiet encouragements, though they quickly leave her side from the glare the man sends towards them.

Juliet knows that no amount of mental preparation is enough when it comes to this particular trainer, and it makes her heart sink deeper and deeper with every step she takes towards him.

Her head is bowed when he starts speaking, not daring to look into his flaring eyes. “What’s wrong with you?” the man wastes no time in asking accusingly. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice how terrible your dancing has gotten these few days? Do you think slackers have a place here? You looked like a dying slug out there.”

“No, Sir. I’m sorry. I’m not trying to slack off, I have a cold, which is why—”

“I’m not interested in hearing your excuses,” he cuts her off icily. “Do you know what idols do when they get sick? They keep pushing. And that’s the complete opposite of what you’re doing.”

“I understand. I’m really sorry. I will do better,” Juliet replies softly, voice barely above a whisper, hoping that he’ll let her off easy.

But today is not her lucky day. The sound of a dry chuckle sends chills down her spine.

“Do you want to know something?” She doesn’t. In fact, she dreads knowing. But something tells her she doesn’t have the luxury of choosing, so she continues to keep her head down and tries to zero in on her shoes to hold back her tears.

She can feel the weight of everyone’s stares on her back, and she wants nothing more than to disappear into thin air.

“There were discussions about adding you to Red Velvet along with Yeri. A few people thought you were too young, others saw potential in you,” the trainer sneers. “Personally, I don’t see any of that, and I’m glad that they ultimately did not debut you, because all I see is an ungrateful, lazy brat.”

Juliet bites down harder on the inside of her cheeks to keep the tears at bay, and it doesn’t take long for her to taste iron.

“You better go back there and get your crap sorted out. Because if I see you not being up to par with the others again, I will not hesitate to go to the higher-ups with this, then you can kiss your future in this industry goodbye. Am I clear?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Look at me when you answer.”

Juliet swears she’s never seen so much hatred and disdain in someone’s eyes until the moment their eyes meet. And it takes everything in her not to burst into tears as she repeats her response in a trembling voice.

The man scoffs, dismissing her with a wave of his hand as though batting away an insect before clapping his hands together to gain the others’ attention.

“Break’s over! Let’s hope some of you actually know what you’re doing this time,” he says scornfully, blissfully ignorant of the fact that every word he said feels like another stab to her heart.

When Juliet looks up at her reflection in the mirror, she barely recognised herself from how hollow and empty her gaze looks, a far cry from the girl who started her journey as a trainee with starry eyes and a fiery passion.

What had she become? is the last thought that comes to mind before the music starts again, and she can only hope that she can make it through the rest of the session without making a mistake or collapsing.

“So... that’s basically what happened,” Juliet chokes out, leaning her head back as she blinks back tears. To be honest, she had to give herself credit for getting through that story without crying, knowing that that incident in particular instilled a new, and much more profound, sense of fear and self-doubt within her. “You can now probably see why I don’t want to meet with him.”

San comes to sit on the armrest of the couch so he can wrap his arms around the girl. “I’m so sorry that happened, but I’m glad you’re not in that situation anymore.”

“Yeah, me too,” Juliet chuckles bitterly, still not meeting any of the boys’ eyes by looking down at her hands. “I don’t think I’ve been the same since then. I mean, not that it’s completely his fault because there were so many contributing factors, but... I’ve never looked at myself so negatively until that day... it suddenly felt like I was the only person who couldn’t see how utterly worthless I was... I don’t know.”

“But what did he text you?” Despite the anger he feels for this man for hurting her in such a way, Seonghwa still manages to stay levelheaded.

Juliet takes her phone out to reread the message. “He said he was watching M Countdown a few days ago and recognised me when we got our first win. He congratulated me and apologised for everything he said to me when I was at SM. Then he asked me if I wanted to meet with him for lunch.”

“But how did he get your number?” Yeosang wonders out loud, frowning deeply. “That’s kinda creepy.”

The girl shrugs. “Who knows? I don’t know what he’s up to now, but he likely still has contacts in the industry and asked around for my number.”

Wooyoung scoffs. “The fact that he only reached out now shows he’s probably not that apologetic, since he’s the one who implied he remembers everything he’s said to you. If he really felt guilty, he would’ve made use of those contacts of his to reach out to you to apologise a lot earlier.”

“That’s what I thought,” Juliet agrees. “The fact that he texted me right after our first win doesn’t seem like a coincidence.”

Mingi huffs. “Maybe just tell him to get lost or something. He’s not worth the time.”

“If she isn’t an idol, she can cuss him out all she wants. But if like you said,” Hongjoong muses thoughtfully, turning back to Juliet, “and he’s either still in the industry or has contacts, then you can’t be too rude to him in case he tries to use it against you to paint you as some villain. You know how some people are.”

The others nod defeatedly. He has a point.

“Then... what do we do? We can’t let her go meet with him,” San says, his arms subconsciously holding Juliet a little tighter protectively.

“Of course not,” the leader assures, “I think the best course of action is to thank him for congratulating you, accept his apology—even if you don’t really want to, it can just be for show—and politely decline his invitation because your schedule is full.”

Juliet hesitates. “But what if he says that I’m lying to get out of it?”

“I mean, it’s not really a lie,” Yunho points out. “Our tour is coming up soon and we’re gonna be busy practising for it, so it really is the truth that you don’t have the time to see him. Plus, you don’t owe him anything, who cares if he thinks you’re lying or not?”

Juliet nods slowly, fingers hovering over the keyboard as she tries to think of a response, but her mind is so overwhelmed from the sudden message and the memories that nothing comes up.

“Do you want me to help you type it?” Seonghwa asks tenderly after a while of watching her struggle to formulate anything.

“Yes, please,” Juliet says immediately, visibly relieved as she pushes her phone into Seonghwa’s hand. The oldest member cocks his head to the side while he thinks before typing something down.

A few moments later, he hands her back her phone. “Here. If you’re okay with this, then you can send it to him.”

The other boys crowd around Juliet so they can all read the message Seonghwa typed out. When done, she looks up at Hongjoong for confirmation.

“It’s good, I think,” he says approvingly. “It’s short and concise, polite but not too friendly or curt so there’s no way it can be taken out of context in case it somehow gets leaked.”

Juliet nods, pressing on the “send” button with bated breath. The moment she sends the message, she feels as though a huge weight has been lifted off her, having spent the whole time during dinner silently stressing over how she should respond to the point where she could barely get down her food.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she says, leaping off the sofa to throw her arms around Seonghwa’s neck. “I wouldn’t know what to do if it wasn’t for you guys. I actually contemplated pretending he had the wrong number or even meeting with him once so he’d leave me alone after that,” she admits, “but I’m glad you stepped in before I did either of those things.”

“And I’m glad you told us about this so we could work through it together,” Seonghwa smiles, stroking the girl’s head. “You don’t have to struggle with these things alone.”

“Now that we took care of that jerk, I think we should order chicken to celebrate!”

Seonghwa looks at the younger boy in disbelief. “Yeosang, we literally just had dinner!”

Juliet laughs. “It’s okay, there’s always room for chicken! Besides, I’m paying this time as a thank you!”

“In that case, who am I to complain?”

a/n: that incident was a pretty huge turning point for juliet in terms of her mental health. she already doesn’t feel confident in herself as most trainees are, but to hear from someone directly that she didn’t get to debut because she was apparently all those horrible things made a lasting impact on her, and since then she’s felt even more horrible about herself :( but she’s gotten a lot better at managing those feelings now and of course she has the support of the boys!!