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puppy-eyyes · 6 days ago

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The Chosen (Jungkook x Reader)

Preview:

A village in the woods. Creatures made of shadows. An unwilling contract. She always felt his presence—the weight of his gaze—but never tried to escape. He watched, waited... and finally tricked her into giving what he needed to claim her.

Pairing: Yandere Jungkook x Reader

Word count: 4k.

Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Obsession, Manipulation, Forced Relationship, Kidnapping, Mention of sacrifices, Fear, light smut, will add more for next chapter.

Author's note: Hi there. This is my first fic. I TRIED! It was supposed to be a one shot, but decided to split in two or three chapters. We'll see. The supernatural beings were inspired by Wildwood Dancing and Heir to Sevenwaters by the incredible Juliet Marillier.

PART I

Bloodbark, 15th Century.

The village sat like a forgotten relic, nestled between the blackened trees of the endless forest. Its cobbled streets were uneven, worn down by centuries of footsteps and wagon wheels, and the air always carried the thick scent of burned wood, damp moss, and iron.

The houses were old, their timber frames warped by time, their roofs sagging under layers of thatch and moss. The narrow alleyways between the buildings were cloaked in shadows, places where light seemed to hesitate, and where villagers hurried past without daring to look too long.

In the market square, merchants sold rough bread, dried meats, and bitter herbs beneath weathered canvas stalls, their voices hushed, their eyes flicking toward the towering Old Tree at the village’s center.

The Old Tree.

It stood twisted and massive, its bark blackened and scarred with deep, unnatural grooves—marks that no villager dared explain. No fruits, no leaves, no life. Just a skeletal thing, looming over the square, casting long, claw-like shadows that stretched across the cobblestones.

Long ago, when the land was still young, the massive tree gave enough fruits to feed the village. But on one moonless night, a mark, black as ink, thick as oil, appeared on its trunk. The fruits became rotten, and the villagers felt eyes on them at every single moment. They thought it was a prank of the troublemakers of a neighboring village and paid no mind to the mark.

By morning, the first child was gone, and a message was left behind. The black mark would return during the new moon, a warning that the Night People would need to be fed again.

The Night People are not like any creatures they know. They are shadows made flesh, with eyes that see through walls and voices that only the wind can carry. Some say they were once men, and others that they are the very embodiment of darkness.

The villagers do not fight. They do not resist. They leave their offerings at the tree, whispering prayers to gods who do not answer.

One mark meant they needed a man. Two marks meant they required a woman.

And if there was a third mark, smeared across the door or window of a villager’s home?

It meant the Night People had already chosen.

The villagers would do what was necessary, the only solution is to send a sacrifice into the woods. They resorted to kidnapping outsiders and kept them as possible offerings as a way to preserve the inhabitants.

It was better to give the sacrifice willingly than to risk the creatures taking more.

But once the mark was placed on a home, the family had no choice. No one dares to trick them, for the Night People always know, they are always watching.

Park family home, a day before the new moon.

The farm sat on the village’s outskirts, where the land bled into the forest’s edge. The house was old, but spacious enough for a family of four. It was the worst option the Park family could find.

Y/N knelt near the chicken coop, scattering feed to those little feathered monsters. The birds pecked greedily, while the girl was impatient to return to her room. She hated being outside.

There it was again.

That feeling.

The weight of unseen eyes pressing against her skin, sinking into her bones like a sickness.

Her fingers twitched around the bag of grain. She didn’t turn around. Didn’t lift her gaze toward the forest that loomed beyond the crooked fence, where the trees grew too close together and the shadows stretched.

It had been this way since she came to Bloodbark.

A year ago, the flood had taken everything—her family’s farm, their animals, the land they had lived for generations. When they arrived in Bloodbark, the villagers welcomed them with wary eyes and whispered warnings, but no one turned them away. Her parents looking defeated, the young woman carrying her little brother in her arms.

They could have had the same fate as the people locked in the main barn: the sacrifices, but her father was a strong man and her mother had a way with words. They would become what they call as The Hunters: people who attacks and snatch outsiders.

The villagers gave them land, a place to rebuild.

The first time she felt observed was on her second day, while assisting on settling in. Surely, the villagers probably were observing the newcomers as a freak attraction. No one was in sight.

At first, Y/N thought the unease would pass, but every once in a while she felt that feeling again, sometimes accompanied by a scent - something cold, sharp, and sweet all at once. Like the breath of the forest before a storm.

At this point, she doesn’t even look around anymore. She knows the rules. The Night People never come out during the day.

“Y/N! Hurry up! Dinner is almost ready!” she hears her mother yelling from the window. “Bring eggs if you can find any!”

She laughed. A normal family in such an abnormal place.

Y/N focused on gathering the eggs in her apron and walked back to her house.

The kitchen was warm, filled with the rich scent of stew and fresh bread, but it did little to shake the cold that clung to Y/N’s skin. She set the eggs on the wooden counter, rubbing her arms as she watched her mother move about, ladling thick broth into bowls.

Her father sat at the head of the table, looking out of the window, his brows drawn in quiet focus. Her little brother, Sunwoo, kicked his feet beneath the table, swinging his legs too short to reach the ground. He was humming, oblivious to the unspoken dread hanging in the air.

They all knew what night it was. Hopefully, it would be another month without a demand

Her mother finally sat, smoothing her apron before folding her hands together. “Some stew to keep us warm,” she said, voice light.

The stew tasted good—her mother’s cooking was always heavenly. Their family laughed, ate, and bickered like always—just another evening, just another meal.

If she focused on the familiar rhythm of it all, she could almost forget the iron bolts on the doors, the salt dusting the windowsills.

Sunwoo, swinging his legs beneath the table, slurped his soup obnoxiously.

“Eat properly,” their father muttered without looking up, splitting bread in his hands.

Sunwoo grinned. “I eat properly.” The three-year-old already had a feisty personality.

Y/N snorted. “You sound like the neighbor’s horse.”

Their mother shot them both a look, though her lips twitched. “Sunwoo, don’t play with your food. Y/N, be nice.”

“Why?” Sunwoo asked, still grinning. “Horse eats well.”

Their father sighed, rubbing a hand down his face, but Y/N caught the slight shake of his shoulders—he was holding back a laugh.

For a moment, the heaviness in the room lifted. The stew filled their stomachs, the warmth of the fire softened the night’s chill, and the walls of their home felt safe.

Beyond the glow of their home, where the forest swallowed the last light of day, he watched. A tall figure stood at the treeline, leaning against the bark of a tree, arms folded, his posture deceptively relaxed. Patient. Certain. His dark eyes never strayed from the young woman at the table, her laughter slipping through the cracks in the walls, wrapping around him like a whisper.

She looked so at ease. So unaware.

Jungkook exhaled slowly. He had waited a year, observed her every move, every emotion, and invaded almost every dream.

He had waited long enough.

The dream had become familiar, like a secret she had visited many times before.

She stood near the edge of a dark, still lake. The water stretched out before her, reflecting the faint outline of the waning crescent moon, barely visible, a thin sliver of silver light cutting through the sky. The forest behind her stretched on in shadow, its towering trees reaching out like twisted fingers, enclosing her in a world that felt both familiar and terrifyingly unknown.

A house loomed nearby, she already knew the place— an intriguing structure, yet strangely inviting. Dark glass windows reflected the faint moonlight, glimmering with an eerie, almost unnatural glow. It was a place meant for creatures like him, where the line between what was real and what was not blurred.

The scent of wet earth lingered in the air as she took a hesitant step towards it. And then, it was there—the weight of a hand on her waist, slow and deliberate, as though testing the very limits of her space. Her breath caught in her throat, but she didn’t move. She never did. Not here.

A figure emerged, tall, cloaked in darkness. His form was made of shadows, of smoke, shifting in ways that defied the world she knew. His eyes—though she could never see them clearly—felt like they pierced right through her. His very essence seemed to demand her attention, to pull her closer, even as she fought it.

“Did you miss me?” His voice slid through the air like silk, smooth and dangerous.

She didn’t answer at first, she knew exactly what would come next… and how she enjoyed it everytime. With her silence, the creature pulled her into him. His body, or whatever part of him was tangible, pressed against her. He was warm and cold all at once, like the night itself was alive. She shivered, but not from the chill.

“You ignored me today once again,” his voice murmured, low and dark against the curve of her neck. The touch of his lips there sent a tingle down her spine, a shudder that made her breath catch. His touch was intoxicating She shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t want this, but she did. His hands slid down her side, claiming her without words.

He pulled her closer, his lips ghosting over her skin. “It’s time for us to be together,” he whispered in her ear, his breath so cold it raised goosebumps on her skin. “Give me your name, and we can end this waiting.”

Y/n felt his fingers trace around her breast, teasing her nipples even with her nightgown separating them. For the past year he has been teasing her body, touching her in places she never thought someone would make her feel good. Always edging, but never completely giving what she needed.

His other hand traced the path of her lower back and moved forward, fingers going straight to her core and teasing her entrance. “Give me what is mine and I’ll give you exactly what you want.”

She gasped, the words dancing on the edge of her tongue. Y/n felt the wetness pooling in the fabric separating his fingers from her core.

His lips were so warm against her skin, making the straps of the nightgown fall down her arms. She wanted to touch him, tangle her fingers into his hair while she delights in the feeling of his mouth in her breast. He made it hard to think, hard to pull away. He felt… real in ways she didn’t understand.

“Your name. It’s the only thing you need to give to me and I’ll give you what you seek” she heard his silky voice, her mind lost in pleasure.

“Y/N…”The name slipped from her lips before she could stop it. The moment it left her mouth, her breath hitched, her chest tightening in horror, as if the very air around her had turned to ice.

His smile—if it could be called as such —spread, and she felt it deep within her, like a seed planted in the dark soil of her soul.

“No…” She stumbled backward, her heart racing in panic, fumbling with her flimsy clothing. The weight of her mistake hit her like a crashing wave. “No, no, no…”

With a sudden force, she pushed him away and turned, running for the house. Her bare feet slapped against the cold earth as she fled, the sound of his footsteps following her, like a silent shadow. She reached the door of the house, her hands shaking as she fumbled with the old wood, throwing it open and slamming it shut behind her.

Y/N shut her eyes closed, trying to disappear if she could. But then, the air grew still. Silent. The shadows no longer moved.

A loud sound woke her up. The clatter of metal—pots, pans. Her mother’s voice called out softly in the house. Y/N blinked, her eyes snapping open. She was back in her room, in her bed, safe. The faint sound of her mother moving about the kitchen lingered in her ears.

It was just a dream…

The Night People don’t come inside.

They never come inside.

But for the first time, Y/N wasn’t so sure.

Y/N’s footsteps echoed softly on the cobbled streets as she made her way to the market. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a rare amber glow over the somber village, but the warmth felt distant. The air was thick with a mix of fear and anticipation, as though the village itself was holding its breath, waiting for something inevitable.

When she arrived at the square, her gaze immediately found the towering Old Tree.

Her heart sank, but only for a moment. Two black marks marred its ancient bark. No one spoke of it directly, but they didn’t need to. The marks were a demand. The Night People requested a woman—any woman.

The offering would be one of The Herd—or, as Y/N had always thought of them, the “people from the barn.” Outsiders, kept in captivity for this very purpose. It was cruel, but the village had long since made their peace with it. It kept them alive.

For a fleeting second, Y/N felt a bitter taste in her stomach. She would have expected more… discomfort, maybe guilt. But that feeling was quickly suppressed, buried beneath something more practical. With the new marks, the village wouldn’t have to sacrifice one of their own. She allowed herself a brief, almost imperceptible exhale.

It was sick, but it was survival.

The others had already lost so much. First Soojin, then Minju, and finally Jeonghan. None of them had deserved it. But the world didn’t care. They had all been given, or taken, as the Night People demanded. It was just the way it worked.

"Y/N!" Wonhee’s voice sliced through the haze of her thoughts.

Y/N turned to see her friend walking toward her, her face taut, a mixture of exhaustion and relief. She spared a glance at the Old Tree, and Y/N watched her eyes flicker with something like dread before she looked away.

“Did you see?” Wonhee asked, her voice low, almost incredulous. “Two marks this time.”

Y/N nodded, almost absently, her gaze flicking back to the tree.

“Yeah,” Y/N replied, her voice emotionless. "I saw."

Wonhee exhaled sharply, shaking her head as she came to stand beside Y/N. Her eyes were wide with something like disbelief, but there was no surprise in Y/N’s gaze. She had seen this before. "I never thought it would come to this," Wonhee continued, her voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N glanced around at the villagers, noting their unease. They were avoiding eye contact, the quiet whispers of their guilt hanging in the air like a fog. They knew what this meant.

“The Herd... They’re people, too,” Wonhee murmured, as if trying to justify the suffering.

Y/N didn’t flinch. It wasn’t her problem. Not really. "It’s better this way," she said, her tone flat, almost clinical. "At least it’s not one of us."

Wonhee shook her head, her lips pressed into a thin line. "It doesn’t make it any less cruel. The village can’t keep using them like that,” she whispered, her gaze drifting toward the barn. “They’re not just cattle, Y/N."

Y/N didn’t look at the barn. Her mind was already far ahead. She couldn’t afford to feel anything for them. It wasn’t just her survival—it was the village’s survival. And if the price was cruelty, so be it.

“I know,” she murmured, though the words felt hollow in her mouth. "But... they’re not the ones we have to protect."

The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy, but Y/N barely noticed. Her thoughts were already elsewhere, moving through the motions of the day.

Wonhee broke the silence. “We kept hearing Jeonghan’s mother every night after he was sent into the woods. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget her wails… Her second son in two years," she said quietly, her voice thick with sorrow.

Y/N felt a flicker of something, but it was too fleeting. She had learned not to let herself be affected. There was nothing to be done, after all. “I’m sorry,” she said, not really meaning it. She didn’t know what else to say.

The conversation stilled, and no more words were needed. They both knew the truth. The Night People demanded their sacrifices. The village would give them what was required. And that was all there was to it.

"I need to go back to the farm," Y/N said, her voice breaking the stillness. "I have to get back to work and take care of Sunwoo."

Wonhee nodded, her eyes lingering on the tree one last time. "Take care of yourself, Y/N."

Y/N gave her a tight smile, but her mind was already elsewhere as she turned and walked away, heading toward the path leading back to the farm.

The day wore on, the sunlight beginning to dip below the horizon as Y/N worked tirelessly in the fields. The soil beneath her fingers was familiar, as was the rhythmic motion of plucking weeds from the ground. In the small breaks she allowed herself, she would sit on the grass, her younger brother Sunwoo tucked beside her, his small hands picking at the blades of grass as she brushed the sweat from her brow. She would laugh and joke with him, trying to create a normal environment for him.

But it was when the sun began to sink low, casting an amber glow across the land, that the sense of foreboding returned. The air grew cooler, and the shadows of the trees seemed to stretch longer, like the fingers of something waiting.

"Sunwoo?" she called out, scanning the field, her heart giving a quick, erratic thump in her chest when she didn’t see him nearby. “Sunwoo!” she called again, louder this time, panic rising in her throat.

"Y/N... Y/N, come here!" She heard his voice, too clear and too familiar, carried through the air, but there was no sight of her brother. The urgent call of her name drifting from the edge of the woods, where the trees thickened into darkness.

Her heart skipped a beat, unease crawling up her spine. She looked toward the shadowed line of the forest, but the trees remained still, offering no hint of movement.

It wasn’t like him to wander off, not this far. Her feet moved of their own accord, urgency propelling her forward. She didn’t think, not once, as she ran toward the woods, the trees swaying gently in the evening breeze. The stillness felt… unnatural. The shadows, longer now, seemed to press closer around her, as though they were alive, watching, waiting.

Her pulse quickened. She couldn’t feel Sunwoo, not anymore. Actually, there was no sound at all. The space ahead of her had become vast, dark, lifeless.

And then, she heard it.

A soft chuckle. A voice, smooth like velvet, but so dark it sent a chill through her. “You’re finally here,” it said, low and reverberating.

Y/N froze, the blood in her veins running cold. She recognized the voice, the scent in the air—the smoky, intoxicating fragrance that clung to him, a heady mix of something dangerous. It was him.

She whirled around, her breath catching in her throat. And there he stood, a tall man, face sculpted like an expensive art piece. His dark, penetrating doe eyes—seemingly innocent but filled with an unsettling darkness—locked onto hers. His figure was fluid, like smoke that had taken shape, his presence suffocating, as though the very forest itself bent to his will.

A sharp gasp escaped her lips before she could stop it. “You…” she whispered, her legs trembling beneath her. The shadow man. The one from her dreams. He was real.

"I’m Jungkook, my dear," the man said, a smile curling at the edges of his lips, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I told you it was time to be fully mine.”

The words echoed in her mind, and before she could comprehend the full meaning, her body reacted on instinct. She turned, heart hammering, and ran. She pushed through the trees, branches scraping at her skin, her breath ragged in her throat. But no matter how fast she ran, the woods seemed to stretch endlessly. Every direction led to the same place—a deepening darkness.

“Y/N...” His voice rang out again, closer now, as if he had always been right behind her, waiting. She could feel the weight of his presence, the pull of it.

Suddenly, she stumbled, avoiding falling to the ground. Her chest rose and fell in quick, panicked breaths as she looked around, her eyes wild, searching for some way out. But there was nothing. The shadows had thickened. The forest had turned into a maze that swallowed her at every turn.

Then, she felt him. His presence so close, just a breath away. His hand brushed lightly over her shoulder, the touch like ice. A shiver shot through her body as his voice echoed in her mind.

“I’ll take you to our home, Y/N,” he murmured, his breath cool against her ear. “You already know the place, been there hundreds of times in the past year.”

“No,” she gasped, trying to twist away from him. “There was no mark on my home, on my window! You can’t take me, I’m not a chosen one” she desperately tried to win her case.

Jungkook’s fingers dug into her wrist, holding her in place with a force she couldn’t break. He chuckled darkly, low and slow. “It doesn’t matter whether a mark was left in your family home, Y/N,” he said, his voice smooth and almost tender. “With or without a mark, you willingly gave me your name. You willingly gave yourself away.”

Her breath hitched as realization struck her like a bolt of lightning. She tried to pull away, but his grip was iron, unyielding.

“No...” she whispered again, the truth settling like a heavy stone in her chest. “I didn’t mean to... I didn’t mean to…”

“You gave me your name, Y/N,” he murmured, his breath cool against her ear. “You belong to me now.”

Jungkook stepped closer, his smile widening, revealing just how much he relished this moment, like he was savoring being able to finally claim her. The prize he’d been waiting for. His lips parted slightly, a twisted, almost gleeful expression crossing his face as he leaned in, his breath cool against her skin.

“You can try to escape, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerously sweet, like a predator toying with its prey. “But there’s no way out. You’re mine. You always were.”

The dark gleam in his eyes grew, something feral awakening in the depths of them. He leaned in closer, until his breath was a whisper against her ear. “Your name… it was the last thing you had to give. And now you’ll stay with me forever.”

Her legs trembled beneath her, her body betraying her as she felt a pull toward him, like gravity, an inevitability that made her want to fight even harder. But she knew now. She was bound, marked—not by a visible symbol, but by the act of her own surrender.

to be continued…

#yandere jungkook #jungkook smut #yandere jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #yandere jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #dark fic

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flamingpudding · 2 years ago

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Ghost Twins: Lost in Gotham

A/N: I finally got my copy of AGIT and it sparked this prompt idea, I might continue on...

"Of all the times why were we thrown into a different dimension…"

"I am not happy about this either, twerp."

Danny gave his body double a scorching glare. Dan only shrugged as he leaned back into the park bench, hiding a chuckle. Even if the situation was dire, it was kind of funny too. Good things had changed so much since he got a human body. Danny had become more of a brother to him than his nemesis or time original, especially since Danny had gotten the crown and was trying to smooth things over for ghosts and humans. Plus he finally understood why Jazz like to tease them so much as her younger siblings. He got to tease his time original / cousin / 'younger' brother now too, well he did see himself as the older one when they could technically pass as twins.

"We are stuck looking like this! Our powers don't work and I can't open a portal, Dan!"

"And what do you want me to do about it? Clockwork is not responding to either of us."

Dan studied Danny who was still pacing in knee-high snow, then looked down at his hand which was smaller than he remembered. He tried reaching out to his ghost powers but nothing responded. From the corner of his eyes, he noticed Danny stopping his pacing and looking back at Dan, his voice soft from resignation.

"What is the last thing you remember?"

"It's... nothing." I don't remember what I did last. Why do you ask?"

"It's the same for me. We are stranded for some unknown reason in an entirely different Dimension in six-year-old bodies, with no clue or solution to get home and our ghost powers being all wonky as shit! And clockwork won't react to us yelling his name into the snowstorm we are currently in! At least we are cold-resistant!"

Danny resumed pacing in the snow, kicking random little snow hills he was making with his pacing as he ranted. Dan was watching him from the park bench with a scowl of his own. Both had found themself waking up to each other in a pile of snow in a park that was located in a city they had no idea about, the only thing they had was a green sticky note with the words 'Code Bat: Different Dimension'.

That led to Danny yelling for clockwork into the starting snowstorm. They knew their powers weren't completely gone. Wherever they were they were in a place with a lot of ambient ectoplasm.

"We should look for a way out of the snow twerp. Even with cold resistance, we should stay out here." Dan huffed as he tried to make out the buildings around them outside of the park, Danny instantly stopped pacing tilting his head.

"Where should-"

Both boys yelled in absolute horror as they suddenly got picked up and were carried like a sack of potatoes under the arms of strange guys. Instincts kicked in and the two instantly fought back but the guys carrying them didn't appear to be bothered.

The wind whisked past their ears making hearing anything difficult until they finally got put down next to each other. Instantly Dan took half a step before Danny, glaring at the ones that abducted them from a park. "Who the fuck are you, guys?!"

"Language kid. And I should be asking what the fuck you little kids were doing out in the middle of the worst Snowstorm Gotham had in a long time?" The guy in a red helmet said towering over them with crossed arms. "I know you street rats are smarter than staying out in the open like this. Don't you kids have a shelter?"

Street Rats? Okay, so what if their clothes looked a little ratty? Hold a second. Danny and Dan looked at each other briefly as if for the first time noticing how worn the clothes they had looked compared to what they were used to wearing. Great so not only were they in twin six-year-old bodies but also wearing such worn-out clothes that people saw them as street rats.

"None of your fucking business." Dan retorted, the fun of the situation now gone and anger and frustration settling in as he glared at their abductors. Danny on the other hand tilted his head miming the confused child as he stared up at them.

"We got lost."

"You got lost?" The other guy in blue with a mask asked them unbelieving and Danny only nodded.

"Yup, we got lost."

Dan watched how the two adults playing dress up exchanged glances. He peaked back at Danny and then back at them. Before making a probably short-sighted decision.

"Fuck this!" He said out loud and grabbed his twin's hand. Once more he reached for his ghost core and powers, internally yelling at it to get a response. And it worked, sort of.

He felt intangibility wash over them so he attempted to escape by phasing him and Danny through the ground only… to get halfway stuck as the old on his ghostly powers got lost. Dan's eye twitched as he realized he was stuck in the ground up to his tights.

"Dan what the fuck?!" Danny who was now stuck knee-deep into the floor yelled.

"I was at least attempting to escape!"

"We are stuck now! This is even worse! You could have just let me talk our way out of this!"

"Oh hell no. I remember the others saying often enough that you should not do the talking!"

"Phasing us through the floor is not better at all! Our powers are wonky or did you forget that?!"

While the twin boy's where fighting Nightwing and Red Hood exchanged worried glances.

"Hood…"

"Yea… Probably Meta Twins on the run."

"I will contact the others."

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georgiapeach30513 · 2 years ago

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Your Mark On Me, Part 1

Summary: when you need something to help you stay alert study, you found a whole lot more than you were looking for. Tatted and massive. He was what your dreams were made of, but is he a nightmare? He claimed you, and now he intends on keeping you. No matter what the cost.

Pairings: Tattooed!Steve Rogers X Innocent!Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, selling drugs, taking drugs (adderall/marijuana), non con/dub con thigh riding, thigh riding with an audience, taunting, threating, a bit of degradation, teasing, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 3.3K

Series Masterlist

*Tattoo edit by the amazing @randomagnes0210

Putting your car into park, you take a deep breath as you stare at the club in front of you. If you weren’t desperate, you wouldn’t be here. You had run through all the possibilities in your head, and this seemed like the best solution. Your grades started to slip after the breakup, and it was like you couldn’t concentrate. You couldn’t stay awake, and you weren’t able to study.

But this was beyond desperation. This was complete lunacy to be driving up to the belly of the beast. The rumblings of this club were more than just gossip. People who started doing more than taking the pills came here. The allure of big money and protection with Steve Rogers was hard to resist.

You didn’t want to sell, but you also didn’t want to buy from anybody on campus. You just need a few pills to get through finals. That was all. Enough to keep you awake to study, and then you were out. It made sense to go straight to the source for that. You didn’t care what it took. You just need to stay alert.

Exhaling deeply, you get out of your car. The bass of the music rumbles deep in your body the closer you get, mimicking the pounding in your chest. You can hardly breathe, and you know that your pulse is visible. You didn’t do things like this. You can’t afford jail time or even a mark on your record. You’d lose all scholarships, and have to drop out, and this would all have been in vain.

Stepping up to the door, a brutish man towers over you. His shoulders are wide and broad, and his arms as thick as your legs. Casting your eyes down to the ground, you get a glint of metal as his fingers. The man tilts chin up, and you tremble. Your whole body shivers with fear.

“Why are you here? You look like a scared little lamb coming to slaughter. It’s just a night club, darling,” his silver blue eyes look behind you, casting their gaze all through the parking lot. Seemingly looking for someone with you before looking back at you.

“Are you alone?”

“Y-y-yes,” you hiccup, trying to tilt your head back down, but even his finger was enough to keep you in your place.

“Why are you here?”

“I-I-I…”

“You’re not cut out to be a pusher. Your fear shows you know exactly what goes on upstairs. You offering up your flesh? I’m sure there are several that would love to feast on you.”

“Oh, god, you eat people? I’m sorry,” tears blur your eyes, but the man lets out a harrowing laugh at your expense. Grabbing onto your wrist as he pulls you in the club. This was it, you are going to die, and all because you thought you needed Adderall to stay awake.

“Oh, you’ll be eaten. There’s nothing more delicious than the honey between a woman’s legs. Your body will be trembling for a very different reason besides fear. It’ll be pure unadulterated pleasure. Pleasure so grand you won’t even know where you are. That is, if you get the right client.”

“I don’t want to be a whore. I want to go home,” he pulls you into an elevator, waiting on the doors to close before his sneering face is rounding back on you. Inching ever closer before both his hands go on either side of you. “I’m sorry. I…I don’t know what I was doing. I’m sorry.”

“You’re right. You are just a scared little girl. Steve will have fun with you. Tell me, little lamb, why are you here? You wouldn’t be good at selling, and judging by the sweat beading around your hairline, and you recoiling into your skin, I bet that cherry is still fresh and ripe in between your thighs, so selling your skin doesn’t seem like you. Someone offer you up as a sacrifice, giving you all sweet and innocent up to some man that is going to destroy you? You wired, sweetheart?”

“No,” you sob. Shaking your head. “No, I’m by myself. Honestly.”

“Tell it to Steve,” he growls as the doors open up, and he pushes you forward. “Go on,” it is hard to move with the adrenaline coursing through your veins. Your body pulses with fear. Convulsing uncontrollably, and when you see the cherry of a blunt light up in a corner, a dark figure clouded by even more darkness, and you yelp.

Attempting to turn around, and get past this behemoth of a man, but it was pointless. You are trapped. Just like a mouse in a maze waiting on her predator to pounce. A hand drops down on the arm of the chair, and almost every inch of it is covered in black ink. Rings adorn all his fingers. Rolling them along the fluffy arm, but never bringing his face into the light.

Inhaling a long drag of his joint you can almost make out some features on his face, and it only gives you more to be afraid of. He was just as big as the man that was refusing to let you go. “What have we here, Bucky? Did you bring me a little angel to sit on my lap? What’s your name, darling?”

He clears his throat when you don’t answer. Chuckling when you’re able to squeak out your name, “You’re just as sweet as an innocent Dove. I think that’s what I’m going to call you. Now, why don’t you come and sit on my lap, and let me get a better look at you?”

“No,” the answer comes out quickly, and much more surely than you were expecting.

He slowly stands up from his chair, twisting his neck to the side and a sickening pop rolls through every bone in his spine, and he takes one solid step forward, and his body is out of the shadows. Another step, and you see just how dangerously handsome he is. Tattoos erupt over every inch of his skin, except his face. A boyish quality to him with the smile of the devil, himself.

You have nowhere to go, because the brick wall behind you is nudging you closer to Steve, and the gap gets smaller. Steve’s thick hand raises the roach to his mouth, and inhales long. Flicking the stick to the side, he completely closes the gap. His hard muscles, coupled with the ones behind you stifle your breathing, and all you can do is stare up at him.

He blows out a puff of smoke, before his thick fingers close around your neck. Not tight enough to hurt you, but it would take only a second for him to start crushing your windpipe. “What did you say to me? Did you just tell me, Steve Rogers, no? Dovey, I could have you bent over this couch, and let every man that works for me stuff you full of cock, and there’s nothing you could fucking do about it. I was being nice when I asked you to sit on my lap. I just wanted to look at you. And now that I’m closer to you, I’m demanding you sit in my lap. The pleasantries are gone, sweetheart. So if you don’t want everyone to watch you take my fat cock, I would suggest you listen.”

Without warning, he walks back to his chair in the dark, and that ringed finger rubs over his thigh, “He won’t ask twice,” Bucky whispers into your ear, and you shuffle your feet over to Steve.

“You won’t hurt me?” His eyes roll up to meet yours, and he shakes his head no. Waiting for you to gently sit down, and a possessive hand, lays too high up on your thigh. Rubbing on it, and his fingers dip too low between your thighs. “I don’t like this.”

“I would have been much kinder had you just sat down, and not defied me. You wired?” You shake your head no, and his fingers move all the way up your legs. Roaming around at the apex of your thighs before cupping your covered core. Drifting up higher, and he cups each breast, and runs up the swells of them. Another hand sweeps down your back, until he grunts in satisfaction.

“You understand why I have to check? A pretty and sweet girl in a place like this. It’s like they know my weakness. There is something about fresh meat. Has anyone ever touched you, sweetheart?” You stare dead faced at him. You weren’t answering. You didn’t have to defy him, but that's none of his business.

“They haven’t. Your pussy was throbbing so hard, and that sweet little sigh you let out. I can make you feel good if you let me touch you.”

“I’d rather you didn’t. I just want to go home.”

He clicks his tongue as his eyes roam over your body. Getting too close as he sniffs up your neck, “You even smell sweet. You wanna know a secret?” Don’t answer. Just stare. “I can feel how hot that cunt is. Feel how she’s pulsing so hard at being filled. You hide nothing, Dovey.”

“Why can’t I go home?”

Steve settles back in his chair, glancing towards Bucky who also sits on a couch, and kicks up his feet. Rubbing his hand slowly up and down your back, but keeping a firm hand on your thigh. Keeping you spread out a bit more than you would want. “Why did you come here in the first place? You sought me out. I had to question things. Everyone knows I love pretty little things with tight pussy.”

“Stop, please,” your voice deadpans. There’s no emotion in you even though you want to scream and flail around. But it wouldn’t help. You chose to walk in here on your own accord, so now it was time to just listen.

“Why? You don’t feel that heat radiating out from between your legs? I have asked you why you are here, and you can’t provide an answer. So until you tell me, you’re going to sit like this. Have your panties become soiled with that sweet nectar. Uncomfortable, and desperate for friction. I just know you’re going to go home, and touch yourself thinking about me.”

“I won’t,” his eyebrow cocks up, and he waits. It would just be easier if you told him the truth. “My grades are slipping.”

“Oh, she’s sweet and educated. Let me guess…early childhood education? It will come in handy for when you take care of our kids,” Bucky snorts, leaning his head back on the couch, but you look at him horrified. “Oh good grief. What are you studying?”

“Early childhood,” a deep chuckle erupts out his mouth, tilting his head to look at the ceiling. Distracting you while his hand moves further up your thigh. “I…I need to cram in some studying.”

“I can definitely help you with some cramming. So you thought you would come to the supplier for some Adderall? Is that it? Why not ask one of the many people on campus? I’m sure they’re good and stocked up. We know it’s finals season.”

“I don’t trust people,” Steve moans, and his hand starts to rub in and out of the gap between your legs, only inches away from your core. “All it would take is for them to get caught, and then they’re ratting everyone out that they sold to. Even you.”

“Oh, trust me, if they sing like a canary and mention my name, it’ll be the last thing they fucking do. So let me get this straight, you, this sweet little Dove, come to the seedy part of town, thinking you’re going to march in here and ask for a few pills from me to get you through finals?”

“I have money,” you close your eyes as his fingers lightly graze over your panties. A skirt was a terrible idea, but you can deal with being angry at yourself later. Right now you just need to remain calm, and get out alive.

“I don’t want money.”

“I don’t want sex.”

“Oh, sweetheart, there’s definitely ways I could want you without having my cock going into your pussy. Fine. I’ll give you your fucking pills. If you don’t pass, you get to suck my giant cock. If you’re lucky I might let you ride my face before I split your pussy open for the first time,” don’t answer. Don’t even look.

“Why so wet Dovey?” Don’t answer. Don’t look. Definitely don’t moan. “Wet and so hot. I bet it feels like heaven in between your thighs. A pussy like this is something I would need all the time. Make you sit in my lap, with my cock buried so deep in your warmth, all while I hand out everyone’s product. Every seller would know you were taking my cock like a big girl, but they would see how much I stretch you out. Is that what you want? To be my pretty little cock ornament for all my sellers?”

Don’t answer. Don’t look. And stop whimpering. “You better answer me, you little bitch,” you gulp as he twists you around, making you stare at Bucky as you straddle his leg. Holding onto your hips as he forces you to grind on him. “How much do you have?”

“Carol told me they were fifteen dollars a pill.”

“I could give them to you for free. Just come on my leg, and tell Bucky what a pitiful little birdie you are.”

“I can pay like a normal customer,” you moan. This is humiliating. Bucky sits in front of the two of you, munching on some form of nut or cracker with the biggest eat shit grin. “Steve, I’d rather just pay.”

“Your money's no good with me. Who sent you? Carol? She’s the one that told you to come straight to me? Whoever told you to come here, sent you right into a mousetrap, sweetheart,” his own moan echoes yours as you clench your eyes close. You can’t look at Bucky or him. Your body is betraying you. Feeling things deep inside of you that you have never felt before.

Even the thought of Bucky watching this all unfold is making you weak. You hate it, but the pleasure is proving you didn’t hate it enough. “I have a type, Dovey. Sweet little ladies like you. One that wants to deny themselves all this pleasure is even better. I promise there are things that feel better than this.”

You didn’t want anything that felt better. It was like Satan had his finger curled, wiggling it towards you, and beckoning you deeper into depravity. First the pills, now riding someone’s thigh while another man watched. What was next? Did you even want to know? Or did you not want to let go?

Your hands slap down on either armrest, and you can not control the sounds that seep out of you. His tattooed fingers dig even deeper into your hips. He was going to leave marks on you, but it didn’t matter. What mattered now was the high that was all through your limbs. This shouldn’t feel good, and you are irritated by the fact that it was Bucky watching that made this more enjoyable.

“What is it that you want more than anything, Dovey?” Don’t answer. Keep your eyes closed. “The way this cunt is making a mess of me, I think you want to come, huh? Does this pretty little bird want to come? I’ll keep going until you pass out, so you better learn to talk to me.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what, little darling? Yes isn’t a damn answer,” he grinds you down even harder on his thigh, and you have to brace yourself. Holding onto his knee as your head tilts back to the ceiling. The most strangled of cries as you come undone, but Steve doesn’t slow. Doesn’t stop, but goes faster. Harder. Leaving you screaming. Writhing around.

Your fingernails dig into his knee, but still he goes harder. He is trying to kill you. “What does my little bird want more than anything, hmm? Yes, isn’t an answer. And I won’t stop until you tell me.”

“I want…” your eyes roll into the back of your head as another orgasm builds up in your belly. You couldn’t think. Couldn’t process what is even happening. “I want to come!”

“Done,” Steve growls, giving your neck a little nibble, and you lose all self control. Your body trembles as you come undone. Whimpering even more when you hear drips onto the floor, as you squirt onto his thigh, and he gives your sensitive skin a hard suck.

“I figured you’d want your little pills to keep you awake for studying. Maybe even to pass your finals. But making you come is so much easier, and cheaper for me. Now how many pills do you need?”

“What” you pant out, turning to look back at him.

“You need pills. I’ll give them to you.”

“How much?” You ask, shifting on his thigh. No matter which way you turn, you’re uncomfortably wet. Slick coats the inside of your thigh, and Steve’s leg just further wipes it on you.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Really, oh my god, thank you!” He releases your hold, and you stand up, ready to hug him, but take a step backwards instead. Staring down at his drenched leg in horror. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Bucky, get her five pills?” You give him a sweet little smile, nodding your head. “No more than one a day. If you need more, just come to the club, and Bucky will bring you straight to me, and I’ll take care of you.”

You can’t believe he’s being so nice to you, but you’re thankful. Delighted even as Bucky hands you a bottle, “It has my name on it.”

“I don’t need you getting in trouble, Dovey. I need you to pass your finals. Come on, let me walk you out to your car. It gets dangerous at night. You don’t need to be alone,” you forget about the mess left behind on Steve’s pants. Don’t even pay attention to how his eyes darken as he leads you through the club.

Don’t notice the stares that are pointed right at you, and all because you have a nasty little hickey on your neck, and Steve’s possessive hand on the small of your back. No one approaches the two of you. No one points. You’re able to get out of the club without some man hitting on you.

Steve opens the door for you, letting you get seated before buckling you in. “I don’t want you to be out by yourself.”

“Yeah, okay,�� that is a weird request, but you weren’t going to be seeing Steve anymore for it to matter.

“Good luck on your finals, Dovey,” he licks his lips as he looks over the expanse of your body. You’re just thankful that it is over. It wasn’t that terrible. And you saved some money.

Bucky comes to stand beside Steve as he memorizes your license plate. A sinister grin on his face, “Don’t lose sight of her. You know what to do,” he tells his friend before walking back into the club. Bucky goes over to his bike, already sensing some late nights for himself.

Steve had a mission. To keep you safe. Because you are his. And your scent engulfed him fully. He was going to break you down. And he was going to have every part of you. You just didn’t realize it. But everyone else did. He saw the club goers look at you and their sight was quickly averted. He’d wear your juices for the world to see. And soon, you’d wear his mark as well.

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @missusbarnes-rogers @peaches1958 @seitmaii @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @theinheriteddutchess

#your mark on me #tattoos #tattooed #tattooed!steve rogers #tattoos!steve rogers #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fics #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #druglorg au

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jav-animations · 2 days ago

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✨Trix in different AU's!✨

Pizza Cruise (by @lunar-dal)

Trix Valenzuela is our classic Trix but she comes from the South Zone of Chile. In the cruise, unfortunately nobody can understand her accent, But people have heard her sometimes yodelling something like "UYUI!" when she's happy or jolly. She likes to prepare traditional chilean food for the other sailors to eat and try. They say its very tasty!! 💜

Wintry Tower (by @lunar-dal)

Trix in this AU works in a cafeteria in a cozy little cabin called "Trix's Cozyhouse" She makes sure everybody can take a break after the skiing, skateboarding, ski jumping, etc! She serves cookies, Tea, Coffee, Pie, Cake, Sandwiches, Homemade Bread and her famous Hot Cocoa!

She also has a degree in Nursing and First aid. So if someone is injured, you know who to call! ✨

Noir Tower (by @lunar-dal)

Trix in this AU also works in a Café. She works 10 hours a day as a pastry chef and she seems to not get any break. You can assure her 10 work shift will worth it. She has a goddess hand with pastries!

Just don't be rough with her. She has suffered enough.

Summer Camp AU (by @cutechan555)

Trix, or also known on the Camp as "Tía Trixie" is Peppino's sweet and cheerful assistant. She has a pinch of "Pinkie Pie" vibes to her personality. She's enthusiastic, optimistic and kind. She always looks at the good side of everything even if it seems it has no solution! She loves to gift neon bracelets, dance, do braids, gift candies and encourage everyone to do all kind of activities!! 💜✨

Torre de Boludos (by @simplefanatic)

Trix. Or in this AU known as "La Trini" is Trix but she's from Argentina. You can see her wandering around with perhaps a different phone everyday. Not quite sure its hers though. Maybe in a disco or in a nearby park smoking or at a nearby bar watching football. She's sweet but I really don't recommend you to provoke her.

For your wallet's sake lmao

(I'm so sorry Argentinian People-)

Well. These were all the AU's that were commented on this post ⬇️!

You can still send me your AU's so I can add Trix on them, if you'd like!! (⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)

#oc art tag #oc art #pizza tower #peppino spaghetti #pizza tower au #peppino #peppino pizza tower #trix pizza tower #trix empanada pizza tower #trix x peppino #trix empanada #pizza cruise peppino #pizza cruise au #wintry tower au #noir tower #summer camp au #summer camp tower #torre de boludos #others au

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janeyseymour · 9 months ago

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Love Thy Neighbor, Family Matters- pt 1

Love Thy Neighbor (FINISHED): Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8. Part 9. Part 10. Part 11. Part 12.

Love Thy Neighbor Oneshots: Ousted. Title Change.

Two Families Become One (FINISHED): Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4.

Summary: It's been almost three years since you and your wife got married. Ellie wants a dog or a new sibling- and she is nothing if not determined.

WC: ~2.8k

Melissa Schemmenti is your wife. Your wife. And Ellie is now officially a Schemmenti too. Legally, she’s Melissa’s daughter. Life could not be better. With those two by your side, you know that you’re going to be set for life. After everything that you’ve been through, you’re finally settling into this new married life with the redhead, your job is as steady as it’s ever been, your wife could not love you and your little girl more (you can practically hear her correcting you that Ellie is both of yours now), and Ellie is blossoming into a beautiful little lady. With your sweet soul and Melissa’s strong outlook on life, the now nine, almost ten year old is beginning to have thoughts and opinions of her own and can stand her ground. While you and your wife sometimes wish that she wasn’t trying to stand her ground against the two of you, you couldn’t be more proud.

But now with Ellie growing older, she isn’t as afraid to tell you and her mother exactly what she wants and needs in order to survive.

“Elizabeth,” you sigh as you cook dinner, Melissa’s arms wrapped around your waist. “For the millionth time: we are not getting a dog. You do not need one to survive."

“I do!” the not so little girl protests. “I need one so bad! It gets boring being the only one who wants to run around!”

“We take you to the park almost everyday,” the redhead sighs. “You have plenty of fun with the other kids there.”

“I have plenty of fun playing with Carter’s dog!” Ellie states. “Come on! I think it would be so fun to have a puppy to play with, and it would teach me responsibility! Please, moms!”

“You are already plenty responsible,” you tell your little girl, turning to gestures at the way that she’s already set the table without either of you having to ask. “And we do not have room to house a dog! We barely have room for the three of us.”

“Then I want a baby sister,” the nine year old rebuts.

Both you and Melissa pause at that statement. “What?”

“I told you when you guys were getting married that I either wanted a puppy or a baby sibling,” Ellie says. “It’s been years.”

“Two and a half,” you say slowly.

“Years,” your daughter stresses. “If we can’t get a puppy, then I want a sister.”

Your wife looks to you. Clearly, you’re going to have to talk about all of this later.

“If we don’t have the room for a puppy, what makes you think we’re going to have room for a new baby?” Green eyes meet young ones that match yours.

“You two have also been saying that we’re outgrowing the apartment and want to buy a house. If we did that, we could get a dog, and you could have another baby!” Ellie looks extremely proud of herself for that solution to the issues she was presented with.

“El,” you sigh as you turn off the burner. “Have you been listening in on mine and Mom’s talks lately?”

Your daughter turns sheepish at that. “Maybe.”

“You’re such a troublemaker,” you run a hand over your face. If she heard that conversation, only the lord himself knows what else she’s heard. You just pray she hasn’t heard you and Melissa engaging in more adult activities.

“Maybe,” Ellie shrugs. “But you love me, Momma.” She runs across the room and engulfs you in a hug, as if that will butter you up. And it absolutely does.

“You’re lucky,” you chuckle softly as you kiss the top of her head.

She’s growing, and she’s only going to continue to grow- you don’t have to lean down as much to hug or kiss her anymore. One of these days, she’s going to be towering over both you and Melissa. But for now, she’s still you’re little girl. And in all honesty, even if and when she is taller than both of you, she’ll still be your little girl.

“Momma and I would love you even more if you stopped leaving your socks all around the house,” Melissa teases. “If we ever got a dog, you wouldn’t be able to do that anymore.”

“I’ll start picking them up when we get a dog then!” Ellie responds cheekily.

It’s later that night, once you and your wife are positive that Ellie is asleep, that you turn to her.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Melissa sighs.

“Look at you like what?” you chuckle as you pull her into your side.

Emerald eyes meet your own. “I’ve seen this look before, and it always means you’re going to give into what your daughter wants.”

“Our daughter,” you tell her pointedly. “And I- I don’t know. She’s kind of right. We have a decent amount of savings- enough to get a nice house with a yard for her to run around in… and whatever else we might want.”

“You’re really thinking about getting a dog?” the woman groans. “Babe. I don’t want to constantly have to carry a lint roller with me to get the fur off of me.”

You just shrug. She doesn’t seem to understand that you’re actually leaning more towards maybe bringing another life into this world.

“If you want to move,” your wife takes a breath. “We can look into it.”

“Really?” you ask hopefully.

“I mean, we are outgrowing the apartment,” the redhead sighs as she begins to lazily draw patterns on your thigh with her fingertip. “And I think it might be nice to be able to barbecue without Pat always trying to steal a burger off of me.”

You laugh at that. “Tomorrow. Right now, I just want to watch trash television with my wife.”

“Real Housewives is not trash!”

It’s about a month later that the Schemmenti family is officially moving out of the apartment complex that you’ve built your little life in. You’re moving into a stunning townhouse in Walnut Hill with four bedrooms, a deck, and a beautiful sunroom. The only thing that’s missing is a backyard, but even then, it’s a residential street, and there’s a park nearby. It still isn’t far from Abbott- you could easily walk to the school if necessary. It’s not far from Center City, and there are Septa stations all around you if you didn’t want to take the car.

It takes another few months for the three of you to settle into your new living space. There are touches and pieces that make it all your own, and you genuinely couldn’t be more thrilled.

Ellie loves it here. Despite not having a private backyard like the three of you had hoped for, your daughter is free to run around with her neighborhood friends, and the amount of children roaming your house at any given moment is a different change of pace.

But there’s still something missing. Elizabeth Schemmenti is determined that she is going to convince you and her mom to either get a dog or have another baby- preferably a sister.

The little girl takes it as far as using your work computer to create two separate PowerPoints in attempts to convince you. She sits you and Melissa down one night to present them.

“Moms, before you tell me no, just… hear me out?” She’s picked that phrase up from the redhead, who raises a brow.

“Elizabeth, we are not-”

“I said hear me out!” Your daughter whines.

You just take a deep breath and set your hand over your wife’s, a silent plea to at least listen to the girl. You both agreed that giving your girl a voice was important in her upbringing. At your silence, Ellie smiles. She taps a few keys and clicks the mouse a few times before turning the laptop towards the two of you. And in big bold letters are the words, ‘Why We Should Get A Dog’.

For a now ten year old, a rising fifth grader, her arguments are solid. You’ll have to sarcastically thank her former fourth grade teacher for helping to raise a child who is a solid argumentative writer. She has an opening, lists her reasonings, actually rebuts a few of the points both you and your wife would have made if she had given you the chance, and then closes. If she were to join the debate team in high school, you wouldn’t be shocked in the slightest.

“I’m very impressed, little girl,” you praise her gently. “You clearly put your heart into this presentation.”

“So does that mean we can get a dog?” Ellie asks hopefully, and she’s bouncing on her toes. For a split second, you remember a five year old Ellie doing the same thing as she tried to convince you to let her have ice cream on a night where she wasn’t meant to.

You glance to Melissa and shrug your shoulders with both brows raised, your bottom lip being worried between your teeth.

“Ellie.”

“Mommy,” your daughter says right back, and- oh, she’s good. She doesn’t call Melissa by that name anymore, feeling as though she’s outgrown it, but she’s bringing it back right now. And it almost works on the redhead.

“I- I don’t know. Momma and I would have to talk about it. And even then, I’m not so sure getting a dog would be a great choice.”

Your daughter nods along thoughtfully for a few seconds before reaching back for the computer. She again taps away at it for a few seconds before facing the screen towards the two of you again. This time, the screen reads, ‘Why Momma Should Have Another Baby’.

Her presentation is very similar to the first one, but you can tell that she wants this one more- and you didn’t think that was possible. Her arguments are even stronger than her pleas for a puppy, there’s passion in her voice, and you know in your own heart that she’s appealing to your own desires- ones that you had made offhandedly as you continue to watch your little girl grow into a not-so-little girl.

Melissa is stone faced through the entire thing, but you can feel the way that her hand unconsciously shifts to lay on your stomach.

This presentation only makes you think about how much you would love to have another child running around- one that would have Melissa from the start, have Ellie as an older sister. To have a child that has unwavering support from both parents from the start, without any rocky story like Ellie does with her absent father, would be… it would be wonderful.

This time, when your daughter is finished presenting, Melissa shifts to look at you the way that you looked at her over the dog situation.

“Momma,” Ellie looks to you. Her puppy dog eyes are strong as she launches herself at you to cuddle. “I really would love to have a little sister. I mean… you and Mommy aren’t going to be around forever, and I want to have someone to be with me throughout my life.”

She then turns to your wife. “And Mommy, I know you and Aunt Kristen have your moments, but you love her more than anything. I want someone like that in my life.”

“That isn’t true,” Melissa chuckles, although she does nod along. “I love you and Momma the most in this world.”

“But after us,” Ellie exasperates. “Please. Just… think about it?”

“About which one?” you ask your daughter curiously. “Because if we are going to do one, we can’t do the other. So… which one would you rather us think about?”

“Baby,” is the ten year old’s immediate response. “I want a baby sister.”

“You know that if Mommy and I have a baby, there’s a chance it could be a boy,” you laugh as you kiss Ellie’s head.

Your daughter shrugs against you. “I guess having a little brother wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”

So that night, curled up in bed, you and your wife begin to discuss the idea of adding another child to the family. Ellie’s really sold it to you, and now you just have to get Melissa on board with the idea.

She, of course, has her doubts and trepidations about it. You do everything you can to squash those feelings.

“Baby,” you whisper as you hold her close. “I know that it makes you nervous, but… you’ve raised generations of kids at this point. You’ve done wonderfully with El for the past five years, and you’re only continuing to be a wonderful mother to her.”

“I’m… I don’t know,” Melissa sighs softly. “I mean, I can be a mother to Ellie girl, but what if I fuck up the kid we have together?”

“I fucked up with Ellie constantly,” you admit through a small chuckle. “We’re going to continue fucking up when it comes to El. But we’re going to do it together and get through it together.”

“Yeah,” your wife concedes.

“When we were getting serious, we did talk about having a baby together,” you tell her through a yawn. “And if you really, really don’t want to, we don’t have to. But I think… I think we could do it.”

Melissa just hums and kisses your head. “I think… it isn’t off the table. I would have to look at our finances and all of that, but… give me a bit to think on it?”

You nod into her as you turn to fully hold her now. It’s becoming clearer and clearer to your wife that you’re on the brink of sleep.

“Get some sleep, mi amore,” she tells you softly. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

That night, you dream again of your future. You so clearly see yourself in a hospital bed holding a newborn. Melissa is at your side with tears running down her face, telling you how proud of you she is and that your little girl is beautiful. Ellie is curled up on your bed, looking at the baby with big, loving eyes as she thanks you up and down for giving her a new baby sister. She’s begging you to hold the new baby.

It feels so real that when you wake up because your only daughter is climbing into bed with you that your heart aches. How much you wish that dream was real life. You roll out of Melissa’s arms and pull Ellie into your own, kissing her head a few times.

“Need Momma cuddles?” you whisper.

“Momma cuddles,” your daughter repeats sleepily as she curls up into your figure.

The conversation of expanding your family isn’t brought up for a few days, and then a few weeks, and then a month.

But one day in August, Melissa asks if you’ll go out to dinner with her.

“Yeah,” you smile. “We haven’t had a date night in a while.”

“I know,” your wife chuckles softly. “We’ve been so busy giving Ellie a great summer.”

“I can ask my parents to watch her tonight.”

“Barb and Gerald are already coming over at five to keep an eye on their beloved niece.” You feel a gentle kiss being pressed to the side of your head.

“You’ve had this planned for a while?”

The woman you married more or less shrugs.

“Auntie Barb! Uncle Ger!” Ellie beams when they come into your home.

“Baby girl!” your coworker sweeps your daughter into her arms. Gerald ruffles the girl’s hair with a smile.

“You be good for Barb, yeah?” you chide your daughter gently.

“I always am, Momma!” Ellie chirps.

“She always is,” Gerald chuckles.

“We’ll be home by nine,” Melissa tells the two of them before grabbing your purse from the couch and guiding you at the door.

Once the two of you place your order and receive your wine, Melissa pulls out a few pieces of paper from her purse, handing them over to you. For a moment, a sense of dread fills your soul. The last time you were handed papers when you weren’t expecting was when Jared served you divorce papers.

“Look at them, hun,” your wife encourages you with a soft smile. “I think you’ll like what you see.”

So you begin to thumb through them. The redhead presents you with your combined finances, a few papers with suggested doctors to go through for artificial insemination, a list of Lamaze classes the two of you should attend if you do indeed have another baby, and the last paper is a list of names for both boys and girls that she favors.

You look to her with tears in your eyes. “Really?” you ask hopefully.

“Really,” Melissa smiles at you, tears now blooming in her own eyes. “The whole being a mother thing terrifies me, but… if I have you by my side, I figure, what can go wrong?”

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo

#melissa schemmenti fanfiction #abbott elementary #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary fanfic #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you

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velvetm00light · 1 year ago

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Peace

photos: pinterest dividers: @benkeibear, @mariariley, @haerinism

Word Count: 3.4k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: Y/n's dog tackles a handsome stranger in Central Park. As her and the stranger spend the rest of the afternoon getting to know each other, they part too soon and without even telling each other their names. The solution appears quickly in the form of a handsome, lanky man appearing at her apartment the next morning.

Warnings: fluff!!!! pretty much it i think

A/N: I accidentally posted this on my primary that I don't use a few days ago so I decided to just reupload it here. Thought ya'll deserved a cute one. <3 Enjoy!!!

THE GOLDEN LEAVES RUSTLED along the cracked sidewalk, towering mixtures of trees loomed overhead, their branches reaching for each other, the Creation of Adam painting itself in the nature around her. Her charcoal boots thudded lightly, the sound overtaken by the rush of bicycles and the flutter of passing conversations as she strolled through Central Park. The leash in her hand was rough against her soft palms. The dog at her side trotted happily, smiling at the strangers rushing past.

As a native to New York, the city specifically, she made a habit of spending most of the daylight she could spare exploring the park. A habit that proved almost impossible to break because no matter how many times her feet walked the same sidewalk, her eyes took in the same leaves in all seasons - lush green in the spring and summer, amber and fiery red in the autumn, and withered and crunchy spread across the sidewalks and grass in the winter - there was no where else she could truly feel peace.

Peace has been a complicated thing to find her entire life. As soon as she felt it in her grasp, it became sand slipping through the cracks between her fingers before she could even close her fist in an attempt to capture as much as she could. But, that sand turned into the soft wool of her favorite coat as she pulled it tighter around her in an attempt to warm herself. Peace became tangible the moment she threw her coat on, strapped on her pup’s harness, and made her way to her safe place.

She was snapped out her thoughts by a sudden yank on her arm, the soft grip on the leash in her hand gave way before she could consider tightening her hand. Her gaze snapped to her now sprinting pup, heading in the direction of a red maple tree just a few yards to the right of the trail they had been walking. She didn’t allow herself time for confusion on why her normally calm and behaved pup had randomly chosen to run off.

Her lungs burned as cold air pressed into her lungs as she ran in the same direction. Her confusion only grew when she neared the maple to see her dog bouncing onto a man sitting against the trunk of the tree, a thick blanket underneath him and the book in his hands flung into the grass. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” She called, slowing her speed as she reached the poor man who was just tackled by her dog. “He’s never done that before.”

“It’s okay,” he chuckled, his hands gliding along his fur, accepting the sloppy kisses attacking his face. “I love dogs.”

She grabbed his book from the dewy grass and laid it on the blanket next to him. “I’m so sorry about your book, it got kind of wet. I’ll give you the money for it,” she apologized, reaching into the pack strapped across her chest to rummage for any loose cash.

“Don’t worry about it, my books are definitely worse for wear normally.” His smile was bright, contagious. A smile crept up on her face, the corners of her lips tugging insistently upward as her hands abandoned her pack.

“Are you sure? I can totally pay you for it. My dog is the reason it got wet.”

“I’m sure. Don’t worry about it.”

The cover of the book she had laid on his blanket was in fact worse for wear. It was curled up at the edges as if this wasn’t the first time it had gotten wet. The spine was so cracked the book almost splayed open just laying on the blanket, the wind a gentle hand trying to pull it fully open.

“I’m glad someone else’s copy of The Fisher King looks similar to mine.” She smiled, her eyes lingering on the blemished book then to his face. Her dog had finally calmed down, splayed next to the stranger with his belly up. He ran slender fingers up and down her pup’s belly.

The first thing that caught her eye was his eyes. There was a flaming halo of amber, with a dirty, leather brown inside. His eyes reminded him of an old leather book - worn with love, pen marks torn through the pages with passion. The sweater vest he was wearing and the circular glasses that sat upon the bridge of his nose established her thought - he just looked like he belonged in a library, reaching for outdated texts, sitting in a poorly lit corner, stacks of books hiding his bowed head from view as he endlessly read books upon books for hours.

His eyes had widened at her statement about his book. “You’ve read The Fisher King?”

She laughed lightly, “Do I not seem like the studious type?”

“I’m just surprised, that’s all.” He smiled up at her from his spot on the blanket. “I’m not sure I’ve ever met anyone who had even heard of it before.”

“Good thing I’m not just anyone.”

He nodded lightly at this, the corner of his lips tugging up so far she thought his jaw might start to hurt.

“I personally like Shadowlands better,” she teased. It wasn’t a lie, however. She had always been a sucker for romances - it certainly raised her standards unrealistically, but it’s not her fault fictional men are so much better than real ones. “And you can never go wrong with Les Misérables but it feels cliché to say that’s my favorite.”

His smile reached his dancing eyes. His fingers still rubbed at her dogs belly almost subconsciously. “You’ve got good taste in books,” he says finally.

“I guess I could say the same for you. Mind if I sit? Since my dog seems insistent on staying here the rest of the day.”

“I don’t mind at all, have a seat.” He pulled his legs up, sitting cross legged instead of stretched out like he had been. She copied his posture as she plopped down on the blanket with him and her attention whore of a dog - understandably, because if she had seen him first, she might’ve just ran over and demanded he touch her too.

“Who’s your favorite author?” She asked, placing her elbow ontop of her knee and resting her chin in her hand. She titled her head to the side, and his smile returned slightly at the image of her - innocent and sweet.

“I could probably list about fifteen.”

“Pick one,” she chuckled.

“Thomas Merton, probably. I’ve got a soft spot for his poetry.”

“Love is our true destiny,” she began. His eyes sparkled as he joined in on her recitement from Love and Living. “We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone - we find it with another.”

“You really are perfect, huh?” He smiled. Resting his head on the bark behind him, his gaze never leaving hers, and the relentless smile still plastered on his face.

“Your words, not mine.” She smiled back, it was impossible not to smile back at him. She felt like the only person in the entire world when he smiled at her, like she was truly the only thing that mattered. A heat bloomed in her neck and rose into her wind-kissed cheeks. She hoped the cold prick of the wind rubbing her cheeks raw hid the redness heating her face.

Their conversation about literature continued, both of them talking animatedly and rushed, as if the amount of time they had with each other would never be enough. It was a shocking revelation for them both to realize how much in common they had and how effortlessly the conversation between them flowed, like they weren’t really strangers at all.

The sun had begun to set, laying over the horizon as if slowing it’s own process down to give them just a little bit longer. The chill had picked up as the sunlight turned into dusk but neither of them really noticed until the park was empty and hungry whines escaped her dog.

“I didn’t even realize we had talked for so long,” she said, a laugh escaping her lips. She just felt so…at peace. Sitting here with him.

“Honestly, me either.” He gave her a sweet smile back and a shrug. Unspoken words hung on his lips, but he decided not to voice them.

“I suppose I should get going,” she started, standing up from the blanket she had sat on for hours, her joints and muscles protesting against the sudden movement.

“Let me walk you home.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.”

“Thank you.”

The stranger gathered his blanket and his book, shoving both in between his arm, following her lead out of the park and towards her apartment. Her teeth chattered so harshly it rattled her skull. The sun had set, becoming impatient waiting for them to finally part.

Without a word, the man her dog had jumped on just a few hours ago unwrapped the blanket from under his arm and laid it across her shoulders. “It might be a little dirty but I put the upside on you.”

“Thank you, my jacket has seen better days anyway,” she smiled, pulling the thick wool around her, engulfing her like a hug. She sighed of relief at the warmth it provided her chilled bones. They walked in easy silence, sneaking occasional glances at each other when the other wasn’t looking.

He was the first one to break the silence. “Have you always lived in the city?”

“Mostly. I grew up just outside of the city but it’s close enough. You don’t look like you grew up in the city,” she teased. Her dog trotting beside her sleepily but eager to get home for dinner. Her grumbling stomach agreed with her dog’s eagerness.

He laughed lightly, “You’re not wrong. I’m from Las Vegas.”

“Wow! That’s really cool actually. I’ve never been out West. Why did you come here?”

“I was tired of it, long story short. But I’ve always loved being in a city, being able to walk mostly everywhere I want to go, the sense of community.”

“Unfortunately, most New Yorkers have no idea what the words community or kindness mean.”

He laughed, nodding in agreement. His laugh was just like his smile - infectious. If he laughed, anyone around him wouldn’t be able to stop themselves from laughing along even if nothing was funny. When he laughed hard, his eyes fluttered shut and he tipped his head back slightly. When he laughed lightly, he had small wrinkles at the side of his eyes, and he always had that toothy grin. It startled her to realize that in the few hours she knew him, she already knew this much about his mannerisms.

Too soon, they reached her apartment building’s door. She fished out her keys from her pack, her pup pushing his head up to the door, ready to kick it down if he had human legs. “Thank you so much again for walking me home. I hope you’re not too far, it’s pretty dark out now.”

“It was no problem, I wanted to make sure you made it safe. Don’t worry about me, I might not look like it but I can put up a fight.”

She smiled at him because he was right. His lanky frame and nerdy look in fact made him look like he didn’t even know how to throw a punch, but who was she to make judgements?

The door unlocked with a click. “Hopefully, we’ll meet again soon,” she smiled, handing him his blanket and heading inside the foyer of her apartment building.

She plopped onto the couch in her cramped living room and let out a sigh she had no idea she was holding in. Then the realization hit her, she didn’t even ask for his name or how to contact him. She groaned. Of course she would be stupid enough to let the only guy she’s had a connection with in years slip through her fingers.

The rising sun shone through her living room curtains, spilling like honey over her face. Her eyes fluttered open, confusion fogging her brain for a moment. She must have fallen asleep on the couch though she wasn’t sure when she even fell asleep. A book laid open, splayed on the hardwood floor next to her couch. This is a familiar scene she sees way more often than she’s willing to admit. There’s no greater way to relax than to read a good book in ambient lighting. It had started raining shortly after she got home last night, the hard patters of rain drops hitting her window. That was enough to cause her to pass out before even finishing a chapter.

She was abruptly snapped out of her daze as her intercom buzzed. Her confusion deepened, completely unsure if she was expecting anyone this morning or if she had overslept and missed a meeting. When the second buzz rang through her apartment, she rushed over to answer it. “Hello?” She said sleepily.

“Hi, I’m sorry uh..I’m the guy your dog tackled in the park yesterday.” If she could see his face, she’s pretty sure he’d have a nervous smile on it. His hand running anxiously through his curls, hoping he buzzed the right apartment and desperately hoping she didn’t feel uncomfortable at him showing up.

“Oh! Hi! Sorry, come on up. I’m in apartment 3B.” She groaned as she realized he probably already knew that, considering he had buzzed her apartment.

She buzzed him in quickly and realized the state she was in. She rapidly ran her fingers through her knotted hair, combing through as many knots as she could in the time it took him to reach her front door. She straightened her clothes, the same ones she had gone to the park in minus the coat hanging by her front door. She rushed over to pick up the book from the floor, setting it gently on the coffee table in the middle of the living room.

A soft knock rattled her front door and she rushed over to it, fixing her hair and clothes again before pulling it open. “Hi,” she breathed, her chest suddenly too tight. She wasn’t sure why she was nervous, he was the one who showed up to her apartment.

“Hi,” he responded, a sheepish smile tugging up the corner of his lips. His hands were shoved into his coat pockets, as if to keep himself from fidgeting in front of her, a feign of confidence. “Sorry for showing up randomly.” He finished quickly, realizing she was waiting for him to explain himself.

“It’s okay, to be fair I did let you walk me home. If I thought you came to kill me you wouldn’t be standing here.”

“Fair enough,” he chuckled. She stepped aside and motioned for him to come inside. He didn’t hesitate to step through the threshold and take in her apartment while she shut the door behind him.

“Your apartment is beautiful, it feels like nature but home.”

“Oh, thank you. That’s actually the best compliment I’ve ever gotten,” she smiled, gazing around her apartment with him. She had a variety of plants scattered around her apartment - large potted plants that reached toward the ceiling in the corners, small plants in decorated pots lining shelves, settled on her coffee table, and even in her kitchen. She always assumed having fresh air to combat the natural stench of New York City was never a bad idea. She had posters and picture frames hung up with precision, decorative throw pillows scattered on her couch from a night tossing and turning, bookshelves filled to the brim with books, plants, and trinkets.

“Make yourself at home,” she said, intending for him to sit on the couch while she made them…tea? She wasn’t really sure what kind of expectations she had as a host. “Do you like tea?”

“Love it.”

“Perfect.” She rummaged through her cabinets in search for tea, it would be slightly embarrassing to have run out of tea bags after she already asked if he wanted tea. Thankfully, she found a few loose boxes of tea and made steaming cups for them both.

She carried the tea out carefully so as to not burn herself or spill any on the floor beneath her bare feet. She gently handed him his cup which he gratefully took and cupped between two palms, waiting for it to cool.

She settled in the seat next to him on the couch, copying his actions and cupping the warm cup between her hands. Her apartment luckily didn’t feel like the outside world with the biting wind and the bone-chilling cold, but, this man’s presence was enough to send a shiver rattling down her spine and goosebumps rising along her flesh.

“Thank you for the tea,” he smiled, delicately blowing on his tea to quicken up the cooling process.

“Of course, I’m sure any normal host would offer tea, it felt like the socially acceptable thing to do.” She gave him a small smile back, just enough to lift the edges of her lips upward, but not enough to bare her teeth.

Her brain still felt rattled at the fact that this stranger she had only met around 24 hours ago had remembered where she lived and showed up to her apartment.

They both took ginger sips of the steaming tea before setting their respective cups on the coffee table. “It’s delicious.”

“Thank you, I don’t make tea often but I’m glad I’m still good at it.”

He chuckled lightly and the sound reverberated around her apartment. Her mind betrayed her and thoughts of that laugh just swimming around her apartment on a regular basis caused an ache in her chest. She hadn’t had a man in her apartment in probably years, most likely for the best.

Her work was her life, she had the terrible habit of drowning in her work when life got rough, or when her feelings got inevitably hurt. She almost wanted to kick this gorgeous man out of her apartment before he could hurt her feelings or disappoint her like the rest.

“I’m sorry for showing up randomly,” he started, rubbing his sweaty palms across the legs of his jeans. “I never got your name or your contact information so I hope I’m not crossing any lines by coming by.”

Despite her better judgment, a smile grew on her face. It really was sweet.

“It’s okay, I’m just surprised.”

“Understandably. I just couldn’t let you slip by,” He said shyly. He grabbed his tea cup again, an attempt to still his fidgeting fingers.

Her breath hitched in her throat. Her mind swam as she attempted to push back her assumptions. It wasn’t every day that a random stranger showed up at her door, a handsome one at that.

She realized she must have been staring wide-eyed at him because he chuckled softly. “I’m sorry if that was a little too forward.”

“Oh! No, it’s okay. I just- What do you mean?”

He ran a hand through his chestnut curls, the other gripped onto the tea cup like his life depended on it. “I just-I’ve never been able to talk to someone like that.”

She nodded slowly - she knew exactly what he meant. She had thought the same thing as she sat on her couch just hours ago, turning the events of their meeting over and over again in head, as if it was a coin in her hand.

“It was just…easy. Peaceful.” He smiled sheepishly. She relaxed into the couch. Peace. It was all she ever wanted in life and she tried tirelessly to keep control of it, to stuff it in a cage and keep it locked up so she could never feel its absence again. With him sitting in her apartment in front of her, she felt like she didn’t even have to try to reach out and grab it, it ran into her arms like a friend.

“I thought the same thing,” she admitted as she fought a smile rising on her lips. The man in front of her didn’t try to hide his relief or the upturn of the corner of his lips.

“That’s relieving.”

“Agreed.”

They smiled at each other for a moment, both in a daze. “I guess we should do a proper greeting this time,” he suggested, holding out his hand in front of her.

She took it with a grin. “Hi, I’m y/n.”

“Hi y/n, I’m Spencer.”

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takes1 · 10 months ago

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p. 3 bratty tsukishima x manager!reader enemies to lovers

notes: genuinely very unsure of what direction to go in after this. if you feel so inclined, hmu and drop suggestions for what to do with the next one either under the post or in the: request box :)

warnings. sfw somehow, but suggestive themes so minors dni

details. sfw / questionable touching / bus ride / leg wrestling / unspoken feelings / change of pace / aggravated tsukki / implied virginity / 1.3k words

🤍 kei series. part one / part two / part four / FINAL PART / reply and get added to the taglist to get notifs for the next one!

more links. my ao3, my mha stuff haikyuu collection

Your eyes adjusted for a moment at the shift in brightness. That gaunt, gangly son of a bitch was backlit by the bus lights and towered over you in the center aisle.

"Move over," He muttered, blunt and singularly unhappy.

With an anguished scan of the rest of the packed bus over your seat, it was clear that there was no other option. You didn't have the luxury of time to think of a better solution than to haul yourself up and slump into the window seat.

"Oh my god." Fell from your lips in a tiny, defeated groan.

Your desolate sighs as you both sat down were nearly identical to one another. The bus started moving. This would be your harsh reality for the next two hours.

After a moment of trying to mess with his new seat, he pressed his hips as far back as they could go and still had one knee out of the aisle -unable to fit behind the chair in front of him- and one clacked against yours.

His size pissed you off. Common sense reminded you that it wasn't his fault, but so often did he make it your problem that it was nearly automatic to become enraged as soon as he inconvenienced you.

With an annoyed huff, you pushed his leg back out of your space with your own.

Narrowed eyes pierced to your direction, but you were already staring out of the window. The parking lot would soon be far away.

He forced his thigh back open, further into your side this time, and matched your infuriated gaze with a signature smirk.

The bus jolted to a stop and it gave you the momentum you needed to return the same proportion of strength. His knee caught on the fabric of the forward seat.

You both stared at each other with the same fierce intensity.

It was a silent, concentrated, but inevitably short struggle for leg space as soon as the bus started moving again.

Of course Tsukishima had you squished against the cold, metal lining of the wall in the end. He wasn't just skinny- this bleak reminder rang in your mind as you gave him one last nasty look over your shoulder.

He wore a pleased expression. Soft, proud smile and a look that told you, "Nice try."

Right on the heels of his latest ordeal, this seemed all too calculated to you.

Just at the last practice, he made some snotty remark and, to your delight, was overheard by Coach Ukai. Instead of punishing Tsukishima himself, he let you do it. One lap of diving drills shut him up quickly but left him extremely standoffish (somehow more than usual) until now. If he even caught you giving him a passing glance, it was like he radiated a nuclear field of animosity.

The only saving grace from this otherworldly arrogance was that fact that it was still dark outside, and you both wanted sleep. If the sun wasn't even up, how could you keep the motivation to care?

So it faded after ten minutes. He had his eyes closed, arms crossed, but you weren't foolish enough to think him asleep just yet.

You loosened up a bit and reached to the floor for your bag, where your earbuds were-- but it wasn't there.

It was still on the floor under his legs. You sat back up, crushed, but kept watching him to see if there was a chance you could retrieve it in peace.

He wasn't moving. He hadn't for a while, now. Besides, what was he gonna do anyway? Not let you get your bag? Coach Ukai was sitting in front of you; Daichi and Suga were behind you.

So without warning, you carefully reached across his bulky thigh and stretched to grab for your bag on the floor, closer to the aisle.

The journey was more difficult than you thought.

It was like a giant bar you had to push your torso over- and even then it wasn't stable with the bus moving, so you had to use a hand on his upper thigh to steady yourself.

And: even though he was relaxed, it didn't have any give. So when your weight shifted onto your chest, it stung.

Still, the attempt was successful and you dropped back into your seat once more.

While you reached for the pocket your earbuds resided in, you spared a peek in his direction. The sight brought out an uncontrollable chuckle.

His arms were no longer comfortably crossed, but raised up to his chest individually, and his hands were splayed in a natural off-guard response. You caught him just in time to watch him close his mouth into a tight line, though it showed the same amount of emotion an open one would have- and his eyes were wide, somewhat worried, as what was evident to be a million thoughts racing through his head.

It was profoundly clear to you then that he had never known the touch of a woman.

"Wow," You laughed, though it was hardly louder than your whisper, "Relax."

His cover-up was awkward and rushed. "You could've just asked me to get it."

He faced away from you, arms crossing once more, but his shoulders were raised and he even moved his leg further towards himself.

As surprised as you were that you found this reaction to be so endearing, maybe even cute, you were more surprised that you wanted to keep eliciting it from him. The embarrassment made him redeemable, in some way.

"Why is it such a big deal?" You grinned, putting in your earbuds.

It was too often that this was the other way around. He couldn't exactly handle what he dished out, and that piqued your interest.

His head whipped around to deliver a merciless look, but when he landed on your small, intrigued smile, he found that he didn't have the strength.

His face twitched with effort for a moment. No shitty remark? No scowl for you? Not even a frown?

He turned to the aisle and by the time he came up with an answer, you were already starting to fall asleep against the window.

taglist:

thanks for the support!!! ya'll are awesome

@hotvinimon @cyzvx @aloveablechaos @kozumesphone

@beaniedoodz @idiotboys @djmoyolehuani

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wohrparking · 3 months ago

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Efficient Multi-Storey Car Parking by WOHR Parking.

Maximize parking space with WOHR Parking's multi-storey car parking systems, providing reliable, efficient solutions for high-density areas. Learn More:

#multi storey car parking #automated parking system #automated car parking system #automatic car parking system #tower parking solutions #smart parking system

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tropinano · 2 years ago

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List of As Many Fiction Podcasts As I Could Think Of

NOT ORGANIZED! This is a big list of fiction podcasts with no descriptions, meant for the sole purpose of picking one based on the title and just trying it out. Just a big ol' list of titles. Kindof like a blind date! Explore a couple of the ones that intrigue you and come back later for more.

The Hotel

The Night Post

I am in Eskew

Whisperling

Residents of Proserpina Park

The Daedalus Compound

EOS10

The Magnus Archives

Francis Forever

SMILE GROVE

Janus Descending

The Godfrey Audio Guide

Old Gods of Appalachia

Camp Here & There

The Way We Haunt Now

Jack of All Trades

SUPERSUITS

Illuminati Interns

Death by Dying

Life with Leo(h)

Hello from the Hallowoods

Malevolent

The 12:37

Spirit Box Radio

Lost Terminal

Desperado

Neighbourly

The Switchboard

The Mistholme Museum of Mystery, Morbidity and Mortality

Aurora Everlasting

The Swashbuckling Ladies Debate Society

CARAVAN

The Amelia Project

Jar of Rebuke

Monstrous Agonies

Where the Stars Fell

Kisses In The Dark

The Town Whispers

Uncommon Commons

The Author's Anathema

Elevator Pitch

Brimstone Valley Mall

Kane & Feels

Middle:Below

The McIlwraith Statements

Caledonian Gothic

I have seen Niagara

Petrified

In Darkness Vast

The Outside Tapes

Seren

Gather the Suspects

This Foul Earth

John from Home

Glasgow Ghost Stories

The Tower

The Antique Shop

either

Tales from Aletheian Society

The Secret of St Kilda

The Green Horizon

Road X

THE NOWHERE MALL

Seven of Hearts

The Department of Variance of Somewhere, Ohio

SubverCity Transmit

The Nuclear Solution

Inkwyrm

Jim Robbie and the Wanderers

Burst

With Caulk and Candles

This Planet Needs a Name

The Glass Appeal

Mar's Best Brisket

Nym's Nebulous Notions

Midnight Radio

The Bright Sessions

When Angels Visit Armadillo

The Mysterious Secrets of Uncle Bertie's Botanarium

Nowhere, On Air

Dark Ages

Welcome to Night Vale

The Silt Verses

Care & Feeding of Werewolves

The Bridge

The Far Meridian

ars PARADOXICA

Among the Stars and Bones

Counterbalance

Primordial Deep

Hannahpocalypse

Someone dies in this Elevator

Mabel

Seen and Not Heard

Abyss FM

Bodies in Space

Among the Stacks

Station Arcadia

Station Blue

Mnemosyne

Wolf 359

Tranthologies

Mx Bad Luck

SAYER

Limetown

What will be here?

Wake of Corrosion

The Pasithea Powder

SINKHOLE

Tell No Tales

The Vesta Clinic

Dreamboy

Georgie Romero is Done For

The Domestic Life of Anthony Todd

Alice isn't Dead

Stellar Firma

Unwell

The Strange Case of Starship Iris

The Heart of Ether

The Orbiting Human Circus

Wooden Overcoats

Greater Boston

Valence

Moonbase Theta Out

The Penumbra Podcast

Desert Skies

Deviser

Leaving Corvat

Red Valley

Back Again Back Again

Sidequesting

#camp here & there #chnt #tma #wtnv #ch&t #welcome to night vale #indie podcast #podcast reccomendation #the penumbra podcast #the hotel #the night post #hello from the hallowoods #old gods of appalachia #i am in eskew #podcasts #audio fiction

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vizona-australia · 1 year ago

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Road construction projects are a common sight in our ever-evolving urban landscapes. These projects often demand the deployment of temporary lighting solutions to ensure the safety of workers and general traffic during the night or in low-light conditions. Among the many options available, solar lighting towers with fixed concrete blocks and trailer-mounted solutions stand out as practical choices. In this article, we will explore these temporary road lighting solutions and shed light on their benefits and applications.

Read more here: https://www.vizona.com.au/blog/temporary-road-lighting-solutions-for-road-construction/

#australia street light suppliers #decorative street light poles #roadway lighting #leading street light suppliers #Solar Light Poles #car park lighting #led street lights australia #Solar Lighting Towers #innovative lighting solutions #street lighting #Street Lighting Solutions #Solar Bollard Lights #Sports Lighting #led street lighting #Light Poles #Temporary Lighting #solar lighting #lighting designs #Lighting Towers

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bullet-prooflove · 7 months ago

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Heyyy could you do 25. Intertwine in a car's dirty backseat, Stare at a drive-in screen with ez?

Tagging: @kmc1989 @infinity-mars @danzer8705 @keyweegirlie @est1887

Community Living Universe:

Counting Stars - EZ thinks about you all of the time.

Give Me A Chance (Feat Riz) - EZ asks you to give him a chance.

Trust Me I Know - EZ and you share a moment.

Walk Me Home - EZ walks you home.

Reputation - EZ tells you about his reputation.

Promise Me (NSFW) - EZ asks you to make him a promise.

The Water Tower - EZ tells you a secret.

A Study in Love (NSFW) - EZ is a dedicated student.

Back To The Wall - You make a change that surpises EZ.

Rumours - Someone's been spreading rumours about EZ's fidelity.

Pound of Flesh - EZ realises the situation with your debt has taken a violent turn.

"you have my life in your hands" - EZ pays off your debt.

Drinking Tonight - EZ reflects on his decision.

Partners - You and EZ come up with a solution to your problem.

Polaroid (NSFW) - EZ discovers the polaroids you left him in his book.

It’s in the backseat of your car that EZ ruins you. It’s date night and the two of you are at the drive-in theatre, parked in the final row, fucking to the sounds of Top Gun as it emits from the speaker on the dashboard.

“Dios, I missed you.” He whispers against your skin as his palms grip your ass holding you in place as he ruts up into you. “A week is too long to go without this pussy.”

Your hands grasp the leather of his kutte, bunching it in your fists as he hits that sweet spot, the one that makes you tighten around dick.

“Mi Tesoro, you’re coming for me already?” He says, that sinful smile creeping across his handsome features as he looks into your eyes. “Am I that good or did you miss me that much?”

You don’t get to answer because the rapture, it claims you. Your synapses explode with ecstasy, your hips arching up to meet his as you grip his cock so fucking hard that he sees stars. His mouth covers yours, drinking down your pleasure as he spills his release inside you.

His kisses become languid, messy, his thumb ghosting over the apple of your cheek as he stays there buried deep, your thighs locked around his hips.

“I missed you.” You tell him, your palms sipping underneathe the hem of his shirt chasing over his bare skin. “I missed you that much.”

Love EZ? Get added to his tag list!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#ez reyes #ez reyes x reader #ezekiel reyes #ezekiel reyes x reader #mayans #mayans mc

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dxckgrxsonx · 8 months ago

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Out of office is ON. Absolutely ZERO customer service duties until Monday and I am sososo relieved!

May i give you all a look at my exbf!dick WIP?

Watching that first edge of your relationship catch at the precipice of failure felt so much like grief it was alarming; letting go has never been something you’re good at, especially not when it comes to him.

But you couldn’t stop Dick Grayson from slipping through your fingers the same way he couldn’t stop you from slipping through his.

Ending the relationship was a mutual decision. But that fact brought no relief. He was still leaving you, and in the terrible reflection of that, you were leaving him too.

There was no coming back from that.

Your relationship ends on a Tuesday and first thing Wednesday morning you walk into Titans Tower to find Dick standing at the kitchen counter.

Time stalls, your whole life stuttering in a furious backfire.

Whatever you were expecting. It wasn’t this.

Memory blooms against the palms of your hands and it’s tangible, focus hard enough and your fingers could trip along the interlocking bones of his spine. It’s historic recollection, almost twelve months eclipsing the time it takes to blink; one trip around the sun together and your life comes back to you irrevocably changed.

Three hours of sleep isn’t enough to deal with this; you don’t think any amount of sleep is enough for this.

Dick stares at the wall just past your head, mug held halfway to his mouth. He’s still wearing the same clothes as last night, doesn’t look like he’s slept for even a minute, and you could throw a dart at what you’re feeling about that and still not pinpoint it exactly.

Silence seems to echo, then swell, and you can't help but fumble in the face of it, caught in foreign territory. You wasn’t quite sure what you were expecting, but seeing him again so soon wasn’t really on the list. For a moment you consider turning on the balls of your feet and leaving, and yet, you know that won’t solve anything.

A cup of coffee is pushed across the counter in your direction and you stare at it, bewilderment shoved up against the roof of your mouth. You know it’s made exactly the way you like it; know with the same sort of certainty that you bring into mission briefings, the same concrete accuracy you display in combat.

It feels like you’re going fucking crazy.

Glancing at Dick you try to gauge the look on his face but you can’t.

When you first starting dating it was hard to read between his lines–difficult to spot the miniscule changes in his mannerisms–you could stare him straight in the face and miss the switch; miss the split second where emotion filters through the cracks and he shuts it down, hides behind a smooth facade of indifference.

After all the time you spent together it got easier. You learnt. But you look at him now and you might as well have never known him at all.

Dick opens his mouth and every muscle along your spine flexes in preparation, "Let’s not make this weird, yeah?"

Your teeth grind.

What a fucking diplomat.

One thing about you is this: you’re petty. Hand on heart you can’t help it. You get wronged and hit back in the lowest form you can think of–the most inconvenient way your mind can conjure up. The satisfaction you get from it is unparalleled.

Years ago, your uncle told you to leave your own house after a disagreement and in retaliation you parked your car so close to his bumper he couldn’t get out of the space. Then you blocked his number and didn’t come back for three days.

Not once did you regret it.

Dick knows exactly what you’re like; who you are on the inside, and yet he arrives at the solution of damage control. As if that would have ever gotten a positive reaction out of you–as if there would be any moment in your life where you wouldn’t bite all the way back to your molars into something glaringly spiteful.

There’s a split second where you wonder if he’s doing it on purpose.

He knows you on a level you can’t speak about–knows you through all four seasons and right down to the cosmic dust that interlocks with the fabric of your being–and he’s so brilliantly clever. Strategist since he was a child. You don’t have a doubt in your mind that he knows what you’re about to do before you do it. The revelation stings the same way a papercut does, wound superficial and with clean edges, yet painful no matter what.

Dick Grayson knows you, and in a fit of something helpless and tearful, you wish he didn’t.

The mug of coffee tips in your fingers and you pour the whole damn thing down the drain.

“Yeah.” You say, blinking furiously, refusing to acknowledge the wobble in your voice. “Fuck that.”

Dick stares at you the whole time–the blue of his eyes almost flashing with something un-named–his free hand tightening into a fist. The exhilaration is damning, blood rushing up to greet the sick satisfaction sparking in the hollow of your throat.

Fuck him.

Fuck him so goddamn much.

#exbf!dick grayson my beloved #I’ve missed him #being petty to push his buttons is my number one goal in life #to the anon who sent the ask inspiring this #I owe you everything #dick grayson x reader #ella writes #WIP: Event Horizon

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catenary-chad · 1 month ago

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Electra headcanons part 2: mostly random pointless stuff this time. How human vs train they are varies wildly. I have a lot of weird contrarian takes I explain in the first part here but the shortest explanation is that the 2013 tour videos are generally my starting point and I expand on things with heavy irl train context.

-their ire for older equipment is pretty much limited to diesel and steam engines. This is because the former is a dirty stopgap solution with surprisingly heavy links to the auto industry that has absolutely dominated the US since after WWII and shuts down valid economic arguments for electrification with short-sighted complaints. The latter just won the propaganda war despite being proven losers, and tends to overshadow if not outright erase electric history from their time. These same factors also exist in the UK to lesser degrees. Basically it’s a very political thing in a way that other old equipment isn’t.

-Electra is generally fine with old coaches and freight though. I think there’s actually more respect for elders among electric trains vs other traction because of how long they can last, especially if you’re talking the US circa the 70s-80s where there were still a ton of 50+ year old boxcabs and EMUs. Electra would definitely prefer somewhat newer (30s-on) lightweight coaches vs really old heavyweight ones for speed purposes, but it’s not a deal killer.

-they do try and egg old coaches (and even freight and other engines) into getting makeovers for PR purposes because if you’re going to be a sad old commuter train, pretty colors slapped on top go a long way. “We have better paints now you don’t have to be dark brown/green/maroon”. See the New Haven Railroad, early Amtrak, and low-cost trains in France and Sweden, where painting oooold equipment fun colors made it more endearing.

-Electra cares a lot about PR and marketing in general and usually has a good eye for it as long as they don’t try too hard. They’re good at casually making things look or sound cool but when they make a concerted argument they tend to come off strong and overly hostile and turn people off.

-Related to the part about how old many electric trains are: they were raised by the equivalent of a grandparent, due to the previous “parent generation” of electric locomotives being dysfunctional. This goes for both “GG1 successor” 80s Electra or “AEM-7 sucessor” more modern Electra. Electric trains have unusually long “generation lengths” to begin with and it’s not rare to be raised by someone that old, but it’s usually not exclusively so.

-Because of that, Electra actually has some weirdly antiquated tendencies that pop out. Like calling car drivers “Moloch worshippers”, wanting interurbans to come back, and being unusually fond of 20s-30s era jazz for their age (80s era). Or being way too into ABBA deep cuts and familiar with 70s-80s politics and pop culture that time forgot, like a literal “30 year old boomer” (modern). I think Electra of any era likes old amusement parks (ala Coney Island) because of their heavy links to trolleys

-They made up a zodiac system based on transmission towers.

-Their favorite instrument is “hijacked stepper motor” and they think all random consumer electronics should be able to play a cute little song when ready/done

-I think they feel weirdly safe in enclosed spaces because larger/combustion engines can’t get in there (without smothering anyone and/or getting escorted out). A piece of them also kind of yearns for the mines…

-hazardously close to being an elevator enthusiast. hazardously close to being a fire alarm enthusiast too. I’m on the fence about whether I see them as autistic or not because I don’t really see them having sensory issues and there’s another explanation for traits they have. They just have inherent reasons to care about mundane urban/electrical infrastructure because they depend on it so much, and were isolated during their equivalent of childhood and are socially weird because of that.

-Unlike many others I don’t see Electra as terribly anxious, just socially clunky, but I think they flee when they sense physical danger. They’re a bit more European-style vs most of the cast and operate more on the “avoid incidents all together” mindset. When it comes to words though, they’re a lot more confrontational. I feel like Electra can really enjoy arguing and yelling at people. It can even be weirdly easy to get through to them that way if you hit them with hard numbers.

-In a similar vein, I feel like they’re broadly very forgiving. It’s easy to make them hate you but just as easy to flip them back, unless you’re Robert Moses or General Motors. People laugh at them going from bitter rivals to hugging other characters in the megamix but I’ve known people like that irl.

-They tend to understand counterintuitive things but get frustrated by more conventional/straightforward ones. And likewise get frustrated when others are the exact opposite.

-Surprisingly not awful as a deserted island/camping buddy since they can learn the basic skills reasonably well… they just eat way more than people expect and oops you run out of granola bars two days in. You really don’t want to be too far from a convenience store or even vending machine with Electra because they get faint and weak FAST after getting hungry (and can’t just eat extra beforehand or they’ll also feel miserable)

-barely capable of cooking, prefers to eat out or minimal-prep stuff. Would have been the target audience for Gerber Singles and have no shame because “it’s efficient and glass is recyclable”

-I always imagine a more human Electra/Components living in one of those unrealistically large sitcom apartments in some ambiguous large city

-On a related note to the above, I think they have a notable communal streak. A lot of electric trains do as a reflection of how they share a power supply and are heavily associated with left-leaning economic politics. Electra will just grab food off your plate and treat all shelves as shared until stated otherwise, and doesn’t mind at all if you do the same.

-I don’t really see trains as having much of a “child” phase outside of commissioning/testing, but I think a more human Electra would be good at entertaining (and even teaching) kids. Awful as an actual parent and maintaining any kind of order, and I wouldn’t even let them be a babysitter or you might get the house burned down. But they have an almost endless tolerance to a lot of annoying kid stuff, like bright, obnoxious things, and will play silly games with them for hours if needed. I think they’d have a weird knack for making unapproachable and “pretentious” things weirdly easy to understand, and could get most kids engaged with taking apart busted appliances, Balkan folk music and free jazz, and early 20th century abstract art because they can explain it and break it down in approachable ways.

-I think they would be at least mildly enthused by maps. There’s just a weirdly heavy overlap between that and electric/transit oriented railfans. Bold and well-designed subway maps are their favorite.

-Electra likes roller coasters but REALLY likes intense, European-style spinning rides because they’re a lot more forceful. But not as much as Krupp, who is the kind of guy who will just ride the Gravitron/Rotor all day if not stopped.

-I’ll vary a bit on basis but toothpaste/80s era Electra is a DC-motored engine no matter how I slice it and thus runs surprisingly hot and is more comfortable in cold than hot weather. They have more issues with heat with age as their traction motors wear out. In a more human verse, it still works out this way because I have them short and thick, they make a lot of heat but aren’t built to shed it well.

-Human Electra is small and cute enough to pass as a kid until about their 30s. They have exploited this to get discounts plenty of times.

-They’re also generic enough looking dressed down and without makeup that it’s deceptively easy to lose them in a city.

-In my mind and probably my mind alone (because I base their proportions on EMD E-units vs “typical larger European electric loco” more than casting conventions) Electra and Greaseball are similarish size-wise going around, but NOT vertically. Greaseball could just about wear a lot of Electra’s clothes… but they all turn into crop tops and capris on him because he’s so much longer, especially in the torso.

-Electra’s natural speaking voice isn’t very high and actually sounds like a somewhat smoother, lighter version of Greaseball’s. They just talk higher for various PR reasons but will flip between the two as desired.

-Electra and the Components have a communal trainset that’s a bizarre hodgepodge of whatever electric models Electra could buy and all their various other interests all smashed onto one fictional, isolationist, highly mountainous tropical island. It’s got wacky animals, an elaborate military base, elaborate ice caves/mines, a detailed economy, and public referendums on what color to paint the lightly used cast-off trains they bought from de-electrified lines in the US. They have extended lore for it and roleplay as government officials complete with stupid hats and unreasonable numbers of military medals. Greaseball and the Nationals come over to roleplay as ambassadors from other countries.

#stex #starlight express #my headcanons

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dr-futbol-blog · 15 days ago

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The Tower, Pt. 15

Just as soon as they succeeded in punching a hole to the surface and while his trusty local guide is still admiring his work, McKay tries to contact someone on the outside. And although he would settle for pretty much anyone at this point, we may recall that earlier -- like always -- his first thought had been to get Sheppard. This is not only because Sheppard is the team leader that is meant to be responsible for telling them what to do, he is also the person McKay most wants to hear from, the person he most wants to help him, to soothe him, to calm him down, to tell him everything is going to be alright. And what is more, he needs to know Sheppard is fine and not in need of rescuing himself. The last he has heard, Sheppard was still being held prisoner by the cast of Shakespeare in the Park. He is quite anxious to hear from him. But it is not Sheppard that responds to him, it is Teyla.

McKay: This is McKay. Is anyone reading? Teyla: Rodney, where have you been? McKay: Where have I been? I have been trapped underground by an earthquake that blocked off our one exit from this section of the city, that's where I've been! Teyla: Do you have access to the ZPM?

Teyla answers McKay's call down from the village, and like they had been since the very beginning of the episode, she and McKay are quickly again sniping at each other. The cause for this antagonism we can only guess at -- at least at this point, they are all feeling anxious over the worsening situation, which of course does not explain why they were already doing this at the start of the episode -- but it is of course possible that McKay is still feeling some kind of way about that whole kiss thing. Things still appear to be somewhat tense between them, and neither seems to have time for the other's bullshit at the moment. We may note that McKay seems to be feeling somewhat neglected, and let us recall that not being chosen, feeling like he does not matter and is of no concern to anyone, is his deepest injury.

Because no one had tried to get in contact with him while he had been trapped underground (that he knows of), McKay is feeling like maybe they had all just forgotten about him and if his brilliant mind had not been able to come up with a solution to get himself out of the trouble they were in (just like he had felt he needed to get himself out while he had been trapped under the sea, to get himself out because he did not think anyone else could and possibly would not even be motivated to get him out), they would have forgotten all about him, and maybe even left him there buried alive and vamoosed the planet, possibly even to only remember his existence when Atlantis needed something fixed. Even in spite of Sheppard and Zelenka's recent rescue mission at a risk to their own lives, his poor self-esteem keeps whispering these things to his ear.

Obviously it is not a realistic fear because even though we never even find out how McKay and the youth found their way out from the underground part of the city -- presumably they had required help with someone digging them out or to guide them out through the catacombs´-- as mentioned, there is no way in hell Sheppard had simply forgotten about him. It seems like ever since they had first been told to leave the planet, Sheppard had been trying to find his way to McKay. The mainstream audience sees him looking for Mara where Mara may very well only have been a way of getting to McKay, the thing he actually cares about. Regardless, while McKay first sounds kind of hurt, when Teyla asks about the ZPM instead him, he quickly moves on to offended because disregarding him in favour of the thing he can do for them, she seems to confirm his every fear.

McKay: No, I don't have access to the ZPM, but thank you for your concern, by the way! Teyla: Rodney... McKay: No-no-no-no-no-no. No, it's fine. Your beloved friend has nearly died and while he has had to face the imminent threat of death, your first concern is for the ZPM? It's only natural!

McKay is using sarcasm, and this clearly expert level use of defensive sarcasm seems to be something he has picked up from Sheppard. And while McKay is going off on Teyla, it seems as though just like his tirade over Zelenka in the previous episode (even though he never said those things to his face, he was just venting to himself), where it had seemed like much of what he was saying about Zelenka had actually been about Sheppard if you looked underneath the surface at all, we see the same thing happen here. Similarly what he is saying to Teyla now seems to be more than a little bit about Sheppard, aimed at Sheppard.

McKay is going off at Teyla not just because she just happens to be there to hear it and Sheppard is not, but also because McKay simply does not know how to deal with his complicated feelings toward Sheppard, the man that he loves and whose love he needs more than breathing, who he wants to invite near and not push away but whose actions he still resents because he has been hurt by them. He loves Sheppard and needs him to love him back, and so he fears that if he lashes out at Sheppard with these things that he cannot help but think, cannot help feeling, Sheppard will choose to walk away and not bother with him any more. Because he feels like he needs to be constantly on his best behaviour around Sheppard, all of that hurt is coalescing into resentment that he then takes out on others.

McKay does not have a healthy idea of how human relationships work, and it is important to remember here that, as far as he had understood it, his parents had hated each other and they had dealt with those feelings by taking them out on him. What ever the truth of their relationship had been, to a child's eye they had resented each other and had taken it out on him, and although probably inadvertently, he has wound up recreating this dynamic in his own relationship, as people are wont to do, since his dysfunctional childhood home is naturally the main model for having a relationship that he has.

Instead of dealing with their clear and obvious issues with the person he loves, he is allowing his feelings to fester into resentment and then instead of letting them spill out on the person he cannot live without (and while Sheppard and McKay do not have children -- presently -- that necessitate them staying together, they do have to keep working with each other on and for Atlantis, which does create somewhat of a similar situation where they cannot get away from each other even when they could really use some time apart to figure things out), he has chosen to take his feelings out on other, innocent people. People working with and for him. Where he may not have a son that reminds him of Sheppard like both of his parents had a son that reminded them of the other, Teyla certainly reminds him of what his current issue (or at least, the issue masking the real issue which is trust, as broached in Trinity, S02E06) with Sheppard is: women, and sucking face with them.

The thing to note here is that what McKay is saying to Teyla is in response to things he thinks Sheppard thinks: Have you fixed the thing? Have you figured it out? He says the words "Your beloved friend has nearly died and while he has had to face the imminent threat of death...," which are words that he might have said to Sheppard at the end of the previous episode whose first question to him had been "Where's Griffin?" The reason for this had not been because Sheppard did not care about McKay's well-being and had not wanted to make sure that he was alright but because it had been too difficult for him to ask how he was. He was afraid of the answer. Sheppard was too afraid of what the answer might be to ask McKay how he was feeling. McKay thinks that Sheppard's first concern had been for another man when he had nearly died, and we can tell that he is still talking about the previous time because he had come much closer to dying then than just now.

What had happened to them now in the underground city, he was still doing fairly well with his trusty local guide. They were not in imminent threat of death, just maybe in the neighbourhood. McKay still seems to have a lot on his chest about the almost dying under water, and not one part of that has anything to do with Teyla. And what is more, he seems to know not to say words like these to Sheppard because hearing him say this, having to think about these words, about McKay having come very close to death, would really hurt Sheppard. It would hurt Sheppard in ways that go far beyond the impact that McKay expects the words to have, and he may even suspect this to be true and therefore purposefully keeps them from spilling out when he is with Sheppard. He wants to feel better, he does not want Sheppard to feel worse. He knows hurting Sheppard is not going to make him feel better, it will make both of them feel worse. McKay is trying to protect Sheppard from himself and his worst attributes, which is relevant to how this episode plays out.

Teyla: I am sorry, Rodney, but we have a few problems of our own. Colonel Sheppard and Doctor Beckett are no longer responding to our radio calls. As well, there is a good possibility that the Lord Protector is about to launch a drone attack on this village. If that happens, everyone here will die. McKay: Oh.

Teyla may not fully understand where McKay is coming from but she can at least usually muster up some sympathy for him. However, she seems to be fresh out, too many other things now on her mind to bother with coddling McKay and certainly has no time to try to figure out what the man is saying underneath all of the things that he is saying. But she does -- again, like she had at the start of the episode -- settle on the one thing that McKay cares about and that makes him stop to take stock of the situation, which is to mention that Sheppard may be in trouble and hence in need of his help.

Notable here is that she uses the same phrase as Carter had used at the back of the jumper in Grace Under Pressure (S02E14), "I'm three million light years away with problems of my own." And although Carter claimed to be manifested from McKay's subconscious, it does not seem like McKay cared about her problems any more than he cares about Teyla's problems now -- it is Sheppard and Sheppard in particular that makes him stop using his mouth and start using his brain, as advised by Sheppard himself in 38 Minutes (S01E04). However, the fact that Teyla uses the phrase seems to connect this exchange to McKay's time stuck in the jumper at the bottom of the ocean, seeming to contextualize what McKay says here specifically to Sheppard and what had taken place then. We are invited to read what he says to Teyla in the context of the previous episode. Regardless, using Sheppard Teyla is able to cut through McKay's mind spinning out of control over his own issues to the issues at hand, and just as soon as she presents him with a problem that he needs to solve, he is able to function again. You don't got to tell him Sheppard might be in trouble twice.

Continued in Pt. 16

#john sheppard #stargate atlantis #sga #sga meta #rodney mckay #sheppard is bi #rodney is gay #mcshep #ep. the tower #ep. grace under pressure #ep. 38 minutes

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