#whatever the hell THAT is supposed to mean

[kiyoomiee]

one. two. three. four. five.

A groan escaped your lips as you clutched your head. What the hell happened last night?

You woke up feeling absolutely terrible. Your head was pounding, your throat felt like sandpaper, and your entire body ached as if you’d been hit by a truck.

The taste of alcohol still lingered on your tongue as fragments of memories came back in your mind.

That voice—low, rough, and unmistakable.

“Tell me you don’t feel the same.”

Your breath hitched.

Oh.

You squeezed your eyes shut as more pieces of the night fell into place. Sukuna. His gaze locking onto yours, intense and unwavering. The weight of his words settling heavily between you.

“I want you.”

You remember passing out in his arms. The memory struck like a jolt of lightning, cutting through the haze of your hangover.

Your throat tightened. How were you supposed to face him after that?

Before you could spiral any further, another wave of nausea hit and you stumbled to get out of bed. The world tilted dangerously as you made your way to the bathroom, vomiting the contents of last night’s bad decisions.

By the time you managed to make it downstairs, the dizziness had only worsened. The lights to the kitchen were on, and that could only mean one thing. Your stomach twisted as you slowly turned your head—and there he was.

Sukuna.

Unlike you, he looked completely fine, leaning against the counter with a mug in his hands. Before you could even open your mouth, he glanced up and immediately scowled.

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks.” you croaked, your voice barely audible. “Do we have any medicine?”

His frown deepened, and you saw something flickered in his gaze. Concern?

Before you could make sense of it, your legs gave out.

You barely registered the moment Sukuna closed the distance between you, catching you before you could hit the floor. Strong, steady arms wrapped around your waist, holding you up with ease.

“Fuck, how much did you drink last night?” His voice was lower now, softer. It felt almost… worried.

“I’m fine.” You tried to protest, but even speaking hurt.

“Shut up and let me help you.” he muttered, scooping you into his arms as if you weighed nothing.

Your hangover must’ve been worse than you thought, because you didn’t even have the strength to argue.

He sets you down on the sofa and quickly wrapped a blanket on your body. As you drifted in and out of sleep, a cool cloth was pressed against your forehead, the quiet sound of a chair scraping against the floor as he moved around to get you some water and medicine.

It wasn’t like him.

You were so used to Sukuna’s was harsh words and teasing insults that his lingering stares left your head spinning for reasons entirely unrelated to hangover.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” you mumbled, when you woke up fully.

Sukuna was sitting at the edge of the sofa. His hands that moved to fix the blanket with unexpected care, hesitated.

His crimson eyes flickered to yours with an unreadable look beneath them. Then, with a quiet sigh, he leaned back and ran a hand through his hair.

“You don’t remember, do you?” he asked.

You remembered enough. Enough to know that whatever had happened between you two last night wasn’t a drunken misunderstanding.

Sukuna’s confession. His words, sharp yet desperate. The way your heart had pounded in your chest as you listened to every word.

You looked away, gripping the blanket tighter around you. “I—I do. I just… I don’t know what you expect me to say.”

Sukuna exhaled, his voice was steady and unwavering. “I like you. And I know you feel something too.”

You swallowed hard, a thousand thoughts racing through your head. “It’s not that simple, Sukuna.”

His gaze darkened. “Why not?”

You hesitated. “Yuuji wouldn’t approve. You know that.”

Sukuna scoffed and shook his head. “Since when do you care what he thinks?”

“I don’t—” You stopped yourself. “I just… I don’t want things to get messy. Your brother offered me a hand when I needed it the most, I don’t want to go behind his back and fuck his older brother.”

Technically, it was him that helped you because it was his house after all.

Sukuna leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Things are already messy,” he said, voice quieter now. “And I don’t care what anyone thinks, least of all my brother.” His eyes locked onto yours, intense and unwavering. “Yuuji knows I care about you.”

Your breath hitched. The room suddenly felt too small, too warm.

“Sukuna—”

“I know I was an asshole to you when we met. Maybe you think this is a joke and you don’t trust me, but I’m really serious about you.” he interrupted, his tone softer. “I don’t deserve it, but I’m asking you to give me a chance.”

You looked at him, really looked at him. There was no teasing smirk, no mocking glint in his eyes. Just him, raw and sincere in a way you’d never seen before.

And maybe that was the most terrifying part.

A long silence stretched between you. Then, slowly, hesitantly, you reached for his hand.

“Okay.”

Sukuna’s eyes darkened the moment your fingers brushed against his. His fingers curled around yours instantly, warm and solid. His grip tightened just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“Okay, huh?” he murmured, voice low and taunting. “Just an okay?”

Your throat went dry as he leaned in, the heat of his body dangerously close.

“Sukuna—” You tried to sound firm, but it came out more like a breathless whisper.

He smirked. He knew exactly what he was doing to you.

“You’re hesitating…” he breathed, his fingers grazing over your wrist, trailing up your arm, slow and deliberate. “But your body? It’s telling me something else.”

You sucked in a sharp breath as his thumb brushed against your pulse, feeling the way it pounded beneath his touch.

“Great, cocky Sukuna is back.” you mumbled but didn’t pull away.

His grin widened. “You love it.”

Before you could protest, he shifted even closer, his lips a breath away from your ear.

“I meant what I said last night.” His voice was a husky murmur against your skin. “And I’ll say it again, sober.”

You felt his fingers trace along your jaw, tilting your chin up until you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

“I want you. Do you want me too?” he teased, his lips just barely ghosting over yours.

Your heart hammered in your chest, every nerve in your body screaming at you to close the distance.

The way his eyes burned into yours, the way his grip on you was both possessive and impossibly gentle.

Fuck what happens next—you didn’t care anymore.

Instead of answering, you grabbed the front of his shirt and crashed your lips against his.

Sukuna groaned, deep and guttural, before yanking you into his lap without hesitation. His hands were rough as they gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him, swallowing your gasp as he deepened the kiss.

It was messy, feverish, filled with so much need. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, making you shudder as you tangled your fingers into his hair.

When you finally pulled back for air, his tongue chased yours lips, not letting you go.

Your body felt like it was burning and Sukuna’s smirk was downright sinful when he finally lets you go. “Now that’s more like it.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore how breathless you were. “Shut up.”

His fingers tightened on your hips, dragging you just a little closer. “Make me.”

And, god help him—

You did.

——————————————————————

taglist: @emyyy007 @thebumbqueen @domainofmarie @cheriiepies @jumpinjaxx @mothstvrnz @grveyrd4 @tojisbabymommasblog @realalpacorn @starriesworlds @go-go-gadget-autism @ieathairs @oidloid @krispywhisperswhispers @satorupied @zeunys @chosos-prettyprincess @trsh-kitty @seellove @xlilycoco @chososlvr @7haze @charlie-xo @kunascutie @chiizuyu @aldebrana @bnbaochauuu @junitries @kaidostwin @grignardsreagent

[reignpage]

suddenly thought of a question— what are your pet peeves in smut writing? like stuff ppl write on fanfics that doesn’t actually happen during sex, stuff you find corny of stuff you know fucking hurts and makes u think the author might be a virgin

terrific question. my answers are half joking and half serious because smut writing is supposed to mix in reality with fiction right? so things are exaggerated for sexy purposes so it's really not a big deal for me, but I will be reading something and think, oh...ouch

He shoved into me without prep - WHO? NOT TOJI AND HIS 12 INCH MONSTER COCK FOR SURE, like wdym no prep????

Any talks about entering the womb - I've read far too many that says his cock went inside her cervix and blew his load directly into her womb like what in the hentai is this bs I'm reading did a reddit mod write this?

Improper size use - by this I mean, the guy can't be 'towering over you' and then somehow, whether in doggy or missionary or whatever, be thrusting in and is kissing you? because by your own description, his head would be out of reach. he'd have to break someone's back, like literally, to do that, trust me, I'm short and I've been with much taller guys, most I'm seeing if they come close is their chest

Any immediate orgasms - do notttttt play with me. you did not cum from him putting it in immediately. or one spank does it for you. orgasms need build up. this might be hard to do which yeah fair nuff but you seriously cannot believe a woman cums from making eye contact. it has to be on top of everything else

Tongues being long - his tongue did NAWT tease your cervix please what in the Venom is this 😭 have you ever been eaten out before???? hell spread those legs I'll do it for you so you can write it

Guy doesn't go soft ever - he can't have cum buckets inside you and be hard as hell talking about the next round, like some guys have shorter refractory periods sure but just doesn't work like that

Couldn't wrap both hands around it - MISS GIRL try it out yourself, put those fingers tip to tip and you tell me if that can go inside you

He spat on the coochie to get it wet - like saliva is drying, which is why when you lick your lips a lot, they get drier, but I get it in using it as a starter to get things going but let's be clear on this

Eating real food and then eating pussy - call your motherfucking doctor right now if you're doing this fr like cut the cameras

highkey tho, I am guilty of some of these. I think some times delusion is better than reality like f realism and logistics lets just be horny

[eliasmelody]

Love Beneath the Depths

(part 2)

Zayne x f!reader

Sequel to: Love Beyond the Surface (part 1), Love Beneath the Depths (part 1)

Words: 3529 Warning: depressed reader, slow burn, reader is not MC, parallel universe(isekai), grammar & spelling

INTRO: The warmth of the café never quite reaches you. Not when your hands sting, not when his voice cuts through the air, sharp and cold. Please, let yourself accept his help and the heart he silently offers with it.

✦.───────── ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ───────── .✦

Poverty was a curse.

People liked to dress it up with words like "temporary struggle" or "just keep pushing forward." but you knew better. It clung to you like a stain, a constant reminder that no matter how hard you tried, you were always one step away from sinking even deeper.

If you were lucky, you’d find a job in a week.

If not… ah, well.

That’s why you came here, to the dingy little cafe with its late-night discounts and free refills. It was cheap, quiet, and most importantly, no one bothered you.

No one but one of the sources of your trouble, of course.

You glance at Zayne, sitting at the corner like he belongs here.

How the hell did he even find this place?

It wasn’t exactly well known. Half the reason you started coming here was because it was tucked away, practically invisible to anyone who wasn’t specifically looking for it. A perfect hiding spot.

Now, you had to run from not one, but two.

At least with your previous job, quitting has been an easy option and you can stay away. The pay wasn’t worth it anyway. But this place…

You glance down at your near-empty wallet, lips pressing into a thin line.

…I’m hungry…

And the croissants here were so good. The kind you shouldn't be thinking about when your next meal was never a guarantee. But damn it, you were already here, and what was the point of saving a few miserable coins if you were starving?

Your stomach twisted in protest, and you clenched your jaw.

You did everything in your power to ignore him. To act like he wasn’t there.

At least he doesn’t approach.

… Or glance at you.

That would be worse. That would mean you’d have to acknowledge him, and the last thing you wanted was to get tangled up with yet another problem.

Shoving another bite into your mouth, you make the mistake of glancing up. And at that exact moment, he suddenly looks up too.

Your eyes meet.

Your stomach twists with something unpleasant, like being caught in the act of something you weren’t even doing. His gaze is sharp, piercing in a way that makes you feel seen, and not in the way you’re used to. Not like the occasional wary glances from strangers who size you up and move on. No, this is different.

You look away immediately.

────── ♡ ──────

The night was supposed to be quiet. You glance at Zayne's usual spot in the corner, tapping something on his computer. Wish you can be as relaxed as him.

You didn’t ask for much, just a cheap drink, a full stomach, and maybe a few minutes of peace before dragging yourself back to whatever hole you called home.

But peace, apparently, was too much to ask for.

You knew trouble the second she walked in. The woman was already irritated when she stepped up to the counter, her posture stiff, voice sharp as she scanned the near-empty shelves. The cafe had already started winding down for the night, and most of the good stuff was gone.

When the barista told her that the last drink had already been sold, she turned, her glare landing directly on you.

"Are you serious?" She snapped. "You took the last one?"

Barely glancing up. "I ordered it before you got here." You said flatly, already exhausted by whatever this was about to turn into.

The woman scoffed, folding her arms. "So what? I have-"

"Miss, if you’d like, we have other options-" The barista tried, but she wasn’t listening.

She was looking at you.

And you were already done with this conversation.

You weren’t some rich, pampered brat who threw money at whatever you wanted. And yet here she was, acting like you owed her something just because she was too late. Her face twisted, nostrils flaring. A vein at her temple pulsed. She looked like a ticking bomb, seconds away from detonating.

So you narrowed your eyes and deadpanned. "Too bad then."

That did it.

There was a sharp intake of breath. A flicker of rage in her expression. And then-

Crash.

The next thing you knew, heat.

Scalding, searing pain splashed across your hand and wrist, soaking into your sleeve.

The cafe fell silent.

You stared at the overturned cup, at the dark liquid dripping onto the floor. Then at your own hand, burning bright red beneath the dim lights. But you just… watched.

Watched as the angry woman froze, her expression shifting from fury to something more uncertain.

Watched as the barista’s eyes widened, hands flying to their mouth in horror.

Watched as Zayne suddenly stood up so fast his chair scraped against the floor.

Nothing.

Not the pain. Not the heat. Not even the weight of their stares as you simply sat there, watching the way the coffee clung to your skin, the way your nerves should be screaming.

A second passed. Then another.

And then…

"Are you out of your mind?!" Zayne’s voice cut through the silence, sharp and cold.

The woman flinched as his gaze locked onto her, no trace of warmth in his expression. 

"What do you think you're doing?" His voice was calm, but there was something dangerous in the way he spoke, in the way his hands curled into fists at his sides.

"It was an accident!" She snapped, defensive now.

"An accident?" Zayne cut her off, his tone razor-sharp. "You threw boiling coffee at someone. That’s not an accident, that’s assault."

Your eyes widened slightly before you could stop yourself. That was new. Even in the games, you rarely heard him raise his voice.

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her eyes flickered at your hand, at your complete lack of reaction.

The cafe was silent, save for the barista’s frantic movements as they rushed forward, napkins in hand, fumbling for words. "We should–we should cool it down, we need-"

Before they could reach you, you jerked away. "No need." You said to the barista.

His sharp gaze flickered just for a second.

The air around you changed. A sharp chill, unnatural and biting, crackled against your burned skin, numbing the pain a bit. 

He hadn’t moved, but the slight tension in his fingers told you enough. And then he spoke, voice quiet but firm. "You need to treat that properly."

You swallowed, glancing at your hand, then back at him. And for the first time tonight, you weren’t sure what to say.

Something flickered in his expression. Not pity. Not shock. Something else. 

Zayne’s gaze lingered on your burned hand, then flickered back to the woman. When he spoke again, his voice was cool, measured like he was stating a fact rather than making a threat.

"Second-degree burns can cause nerve damage, infection… in some cases, permanent scarring." His tone was casual, but the weight behind it wasn’t.

The woman swallowed hard.

"If left untreated, it could lead to serious complications. Pain management alone can be costly, not to mention any long-term effects that could require physical therapy. But of course" He exhaled, tilting his head slightly. "That’s if the victim chooses not to press charges."

You knew exactly what he was doing.

And the worst part? It was working.

The woman paled, her fingers curling tightly around the strap of her purse.

Zayne turned to you then, his gaze expectant. "Do you want to sue?"

You stiffened.

He was giving you the choice. Letting you decide. But there was an edge to his voice, a pointedness in the way he asked.

You swallowed, looking away. "No."

Zayne’s expression didn’t change, but you could feel the displeasure rolling off him. He sighed through his nose, then turned back to the woman.

"Then you’ll pay for the treatment."

The woman bristled. "What?! I "

"Unless you’d rather we get lawyers involved?" His voice was soft, polite even. But his cold, unwavering made it clear there was only one right answer.

She hesitated. Then, with a sharp exhale, she pulled out her wallet.

Zayne barely glanced at the money the woman pulled out, his jaw tightening. It wasn’t enough, not even close to what proper treatment would cost. He knew it. She knew it. And judging by the way your fingers curled slightly when you took the cash, you knew it too.

His eyes flickered to you. "That’s not "

"It’s fine." You cut him off, shoving the money into your pocket. You weren’t about to push your luck. You didn’t have the luxury to.

For a second, you thought he might argue. His fingers twitched at his side, and there was a tension in his posture that hadn’t been there before. But then, after a long pause, he sighed.

The woman, sensing her moment to escape, muttered something under her breath and hurried out of the cafe.

Zayne didn’t waste a second. The moment the woman disappeared, his focus snapped back to you, sharp and unwavering. There was no hesitation, no room for argument in his voice as he said, "Let me see."

Instinctively, you took a step back.

"Cold water first." He said, already reaching for your wrist. His grip was firm but careful as he guided you toward the barista’s station, where a sink stood just within reach.

You jerked it away. The movement sent a fresh jolt of pain up your arm, sharp and searing. You sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, fingers twitching. Ah. There it was. The sting you should’ve felt the moment the coffee hit your skin.

Zayne’s expression darkened.

"You’re shaking." He noted.

You opened your mouth to snap something back, but the words got caught somewhere in your throat. Because now that the initial shock was wearing off, now that the heat had fully settled in your skin, the pain wasn’t something you could ignore anymore.

Zayne must’ve noticed the way your fingers curled inward, the tension in your shoulders. His grip softened slightly, thumb barely brushing over unburnt skin.

After a few moments, he glanced over his shoulder. "Do you have a first aid kit?"

The barista, still shaken, fumbled before nodding quickly. "Y-Yeah! One second." They disappeared into the back, leaving you alone with him.

────── ♡ ──────

You sat back in your chair, staring down at your wrapped hand, fingers flexing slightly. testing the discomfort. It stung. More than you expected. The cafe was quieter now, the initial chaos of the incident having faded, but you could still feel Zayne’s presence beside you.

Zayne’s gaze flickered to the movement, unimpressed.

You exhaled, pressing your thumb against the edge of the table. Then, without looking at him, you muttered, "Thanks."

Zayne didn’t react right away. Just a small shift, the weight of his gaze pressing against you.

Then, finally, he spoke. "You don’t have to thank me."

You hesitated, glancing down at your bandaged hand. Then, before you could overthink it, the words slipped out.

"How do I pay you back?"

That got a reaction. His brows pulled together slightly, a faint crease forming between them. "You don’t."

You frowned. "That’s not–"

"You don’t owe me anything." He repeated, firmly this time. Like he knew exactly where your mind was going and wanted to shut it down before it could start.

But that didn’t sit right with you. You didn’t like owing people, especially not people like him. 

Zayne watched you for a moment longer, then exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. He turned toward the menu, scanning it with an unreadable expression. "Coffee, then."

You blinked. "What?"

"For payment." His tone was flat, like he was already resigning himself to the idea. "Buy me a coffee sometime."

You stared at him, unsure whether he was being serious or just trying to get you to stop thinking so hard about it.

"…That’s it?"

He shot you a look. "Would you rather I charge you hospital fees?"

Your lips pressed into a thin line as you glanced toward the menu, considering. "What drink do you like?"

Zayne opened his mouth, probably to say none, but then his gaze flickered toward your cup, still half-full, steam curling faintly from the surface.

"…That one ." He said finally, nodding toward your drink.

You raised an eyebrow. "You don’t even know what it is."

He huffed. "Then surprise me."

You clicked your tongue but didn’t argue. He was giving you an easy way out, and you weren’t about to make this harder than it had to be.

────── ♡ ──────

You weren’t sure why you were doing this. It wasn’t like Zayne needed you to buy him coffee, he had more than enough money to afford it himself. And yet, here you were, standing in line, staring at the menu as if debating your choices when, in reality, your decision had already been made.

What am I doing?

You let out a quiet sigh, shaking your head at yourself. Maybe you should just turn around and pretend you never came.

But before you can decide, movement in your peripheral vision catches your attention. A girl, rushing past in a hurry, missteps. Her foot skids against the smooth floor, and with a sharp gasp, she loses her balance.

Without thinking, you move. Your hands reach out instinctively, catching her just before she hits the ground. 

"Ah- I'm so sorry"

You steady her back on her feet, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear, unconscious action. "No problem. Be careful, okay?"

She blinks at you, her cheeks flushing slightly before she nods. "R-Right! I will!"

You observe her for a moment, noticing the way she fidgets with the hem of her sweater. She looks like she wants to say something but hesitates.

"You in a hurry?" You ask casually, tilting your head.

She shakes her head quickly. "Not really. I just…" She bites her lip, stealing a glance at the cafe counter before looking back at you.

Your eyes catch a small stain on her white shirt. It’s faint, like a coffee spill that was hurriedly dabbed away.

You gesture lightly, "Your shirt…there’s a little stain here."

Her eyes widen in mild horror, and she looks down immediately. "Oh no, really? I thought I got all of it!"

"Here." Without thinking, you reach into your pocket and pull out a napkin, handing it to her.

She takes it gratefully, dabbing at the stain with a small pout. "Thanks… You’re really nice."

You tilt your head, confusion flickering across your face. "Just… being decent?"

You notice the way her shoulders relax, a bit of tension melting away as she brightens. "Still. People don’t always do that. Hey, what’s your name?"

Without missing a beat, you offer a fake name, letting it roll off your tongue smoothly. It’s just another layer of distance, another precaution. You pair it with an easy, practiced smile.

She seems pleased, her own smile widening. "Nice to meet you."

There’s something familiar about her, like a memory just out of reach. You can’t quite place it, but the feeling lingers. At least she seems harmless. No suspicion, no hostility, just friendly curiosity.

You nod occasionally as she chatters away. She talks a lot, filling the silence effortlessly. It’s not unpleasant, but that nagging feeling in your gut doesn’t fade. At the counter, you exhale softly, shifting your focus to the menu. Might as well get this over with.

"You come here often?" She asks, leaning in slightly, curiosity shining in her eyes.

Your fingers curl around the change in your palm. "Sometimes."

She tilts her head. "Haven’t seen you before."

Your fingers drum against the counter. "I don’t stay long."

The barista calls your order, and you grab the cup, grateful for the excuse to end the conversation.

She flashes another friendly smile. "Maybe we could hang out sometime?"

You meet her gaze, forcing another polite, noncommittal smile. "Maybe."

It’s vague enough to avoid commitment but not outright rejection. She seems satisfied, laughing lightly before giving a small wave and disappearing around the corner.

You watch her go, the strange familiarity still tugging at you, then shake it off and take a sip of your drink. Rolling your shoulders, trying to shake off the lingering unease. 

Zayne always said you were too tense. Relax a little, he’d say, you’re going to end up with permanent back problems.

You never listened.

A presence settles beside you before you even bother to look up. You don’t need to. You already know who it is.

Without a word, you slide the extra cup toward him. "Here."

There’s a brief pause before Zayne takes it, his fingers brushing against yours for half a second fleeting, barely there. He studies the drink, then you. 

"You’re in a decent mood." His voice is casual, but you can hear it the way his words are slower "What’s the occasion?"

You hesitate. The words sit heavy on your tongue, reluctant. You exhale quietly and just say it. "I’m moving."

The shift in his demeanor is immediate.

The usual sharp, effortless response doesn’t come. Instead, he just stares at you, brows drawing together in a way that makes something inside you twist uncomfortably.

"…What?" His voice is quieter than before, but it carries weight. Something unsteady.

You shift your grip on your cup, suddenly feeling awkward. "I don’t know. Just figured I should tell you."

Zayne’s hand tightens around his cup, the tension in his shoulders more pronounced now. "Why?"

You don’t answer right away.

Because it feels wrong to leave without a word? Because despite everything you told yourself you’d never be like the people who vanished without warning, leaving nothing but empty space where they used to be? Because, once upon a time, Zayne had shared something with you and you had ignored it. And now, for reasons you don’t want to unpack, you feel bad.

But you don’t say any of that.

Instead, you just shrug. "I don’t know."

His jaw clenches slightly, like he doesn’t believe you. "Where?"

You hesitate. You don’t want to answer. So you don’t. "Somewhere else."

His lips press into a thin line. "Why do I get the feeling you’re running?"

Your grip tightens around your cup, fingers going white against the paper sleeve.

He notices. He always does.

His voice is lower now, steady but sharp, like he’s already preparing for a fight. "Who’s making you leave?"

You shake your head, trying to brush it off. "No one."

Zayne doesn’t believe you. It’s in the way his posture stiffens, in the way his breathing slows like he’s trying to keep himself in check. He’s not just questioning you he’s assessing, calculating, turning the possibilities over in his mind.

Then, wordlessly, he reaches into his coat the same one he once tried to give you, the one you firmly declined and pulls out a small card. It lingers between his fingers for a second before he holds it out to you.

You glance at it warily. "What’s this?"

"A contact." His voice is firm, unwavering. "In case you need something."

You hesitate, but take it. The cardstock is thick, expensive. A name you don’t recognize is printed in neat, bold letters alongside a number.

"…I don’t need help" You mutter, but the words feel weak.

Zayne exhales sharply, raking a hand through his hair before looking at you again. His eyes flicker with something unreadable. "Maybe not now." He pauses, studying you carefully. "But things don’t always go as planned."

Your fingers curl around the card. He doesn’t push. He doesn’t force anything on you. He just watches, waiting, like he knows you well enough to understand that pressure won’t work.

You roll your eyes but pocket the card anyway. Maybe you’ll never use it. Maybe you will.

Either way, it’s yours now.

────── ♡ ──────

"You noticed him lately?"

"Yeah, he’s so handsome, isn’t he?"

A judgmental stare followed.

"I mean, he seems off."

"Oh. Yeah."

The barista leaned against the counter, pretending to clean a spot that wasn’t really there while sneaking another glance at Zayne. He was in his usual spot, but something about him felt different. The way he sat, the way he stared at his coffee like it was just a prop in front of him.

"He’s been coming in a lot more, hasn’t he?"

"More than usual," her coworker said, following her gaze. "And he barely drinks his coffee now."

They both watched as Zayne stirred his drink absently, never actually taking a sip. His shoulders were tense, his usual sharp presence dimmed.

"You think something happened?"

"Well…" She lowered her voice, leaning in slightly. "He used to always meet someone here, right?"

Her coworker frowned in thought. "Now that you mention it, yeah. Haven’t seen her in a while."

"Exactly."

They exchanged a knowing look.

Zayne exhaled slowly, fingers tapping against the cup in a restless rhythm. He lifted his head just once, scanning the cafe like he expected to see someone. His gaze lingered for a second, then dropped again, jaw tightening.

The barista sighed, shaking her head. "Whatever happened, he looks miserable."

"Yeah." Her coworker muttered, watching as Zayne finally stood, pushing his barely touched coffee aside. "Poor guy."

✦.───────── ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ───────── .✦ Art work and characters: belong to Infold Game ✦.───────── ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ───────── .✦

[tonycries]

Gojo Satoru is a simp. A menace. A walking god complex wrapped in a designer coat and sunglasses, with infinity-level power and zero self-control when it comes to you.

Not the type to fall often—hell, he barely gives a shit about anything that isn’t sugar or saving the world—but you? One look and his entire brain rewired to say, “Hers. I’m hers.”

The man is down horrendously, and the kicker? He’s fine with it. Loves it, actually.

You walk into the room? His jaw’s on the floor.

You so much as glance his way? His pulse jumps like you just whispered “fuck me” in his ear.

He tries to play it cool, sunglasses down, grin all smug, leaning lazy-like against the wall—

But inside? Feral. Screaming. Brain cells? All on fire, all saying “Mine, mine, mine.”

He’s supposed to be untouchable—the strongest, the cockiest, the man with the answers and the power and the charm. But that first time you looked up and caught him staring like he’d never seen anything so goddamn beautiful—

Boom. Brain gone. Dick hard. Soul yours.

And when he realizes that you showed up with Naoya Zenin, he loses his goddamn mind.

It was a blind date, you’d said. Not serious. Just seeing where it goes.

Gojo hears that and thinks cool, I’ll kill him later.

Naoya’s fake smiling, showing off, trying way too hard, and Gojo sees right through him.

Knows he’s only there to flex. Knows he’s baiting him.

But Satoru’s not about to let some Zenin rat get the best of him. Oh no. He’s gonna make you laugh first.

So he shows up. Loud. Flashy. Sitting way too close.

Arm slung behind your chair, his voice low and smooth by your ear, breath hot against your skin.

“So… this the guy you’re risking your life with? You sure, pretty girl? Because I promise, you could do way better.”

You snort-laugh, can’t even cover it, and he sees stars.

You glance over your shoulder, smirking like sin.

“What, like you?”

He grins—filthy, bright, devastating.

“Exactly like me.”

Your eyes meet, heat between you electric, and for a second, it’s just you two, Naoya forgotten, tension crackling like a live wire between you.

You both know it’s not just flirting anymore.

And Gojo?

He’s fucking gone.

⸻

The Naoya thing dies quick. You didn’t like the vibe is what you tell Gojo and while that’s true…maybe the strongest played more of a role than you’d ever admit.

Even though it’s over, Gojo remembers.

Remembers you being with someone else.

Remembers him touching your lower back.

Remembers having to smile through it.

And when you offhandedly mention a hookup that came after?

“Didn’t count. Wasn’t good.”

Gojo stares at you like you shot him in the chest.

“Not good?”

You shrug, casual.

“Just one of those things. Whatever.”

Whatever.

WHATEVER.

He’s pacing now, running a hand through his hair, sunglasses off, eyes burning.

“Let me get this straight. Some loser got to have you—got to touch you—and didn’t absolutely worship the ground you walk on? Didn’t ruin you for anyone else? Didn’t even try?”

You blink. “I mean—”

He’s in your face, voice low and dangerous, frustrated but not with you—with his newest arch nemesis, the dumbass who got the opportunity of a lifetime and didn’t manage to make you cum ONCE. He hated this man with every fiber of his being.

“You should’ve been trembling. You should’ve been wrecked—blissed out, begging, ruined.”

You laugh—nervous, breathless.

He leans in more, grinning like he wants to ruin you now.

“I’d die to touch you like that. You think I’d let you walk away thinking it was just okay? Nah, baby. I’d make you feel it for days.”

His voice drops, hungry, heated—feral.

“One chance, pretty girl. One night. Let me show you what worship really feels like.”

You stare.

He smirks with that insufferable look in his eye and you end up stuffed to the brim, crying, breathless underneath him as he ruins you for anyone else and finally shows you he’s so much more than just talk. It’s hot, desperate, perfect.

When you’re tangled in his arms, voice hoarse from the screaming, lips swollen, covered in his marks (hand prints and hickeys), still delirious from all the orgasms, giggling from pure joy satisfaction - he thinks he’s going to die a happy man.

When you say, still breathless, “God, I adore you. We’re doing that again. A lot.”

He blinks. Stops breathing.

Adore? We? Again? A lot?

His brain explodes.

Heart gone. Ring finger itching.

He presses a kiss to your shoulder, smiling like a man who just found religion.

“Yeah, baby. A lot. Forever, if you want.”

Because Gojo doesn’t just want another night.

He wants all your mornings. Every damn one.

Oh HELLOOOOOO??? 😈 I need more of this right NEOW nonnie mmm this has me fed. Hehehe love Naoya being used as a lil' plot device...

[simpforbbarnes]

Dust and Destiny pt.6

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x Stark!reader

Summary : Bucky Barnes and you used to be lovers , madly in love. But you lost him in the blip and lost him again after the blip because he need to “find himself”.

Warning : cursing

Words : 2.1k words

I am so sorry for the late post :( im not feeling well and just getting better now :)

Previous Part (pt.5) | Part 6 | Next Part ( pt.7 )

—————————-

The unspoken tension

Joaquin is still standing there, wide-eyed, arms crossed as if he just walked straight into a live grenade.He turns to Sam, muttering under his breath, “Okay. So. Just to be clear. That was not a normal team meeting, right?”

Sam sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Not even close.”Joaquin exhales. “Good. Because I genuinely thought I was about to die in there.”

Sam huffs out a laugh, but it’s tired. Joaquin hesitates, glancing toward the door. “So… what the hell was that?”

Sam looks at him. Really looks at him.

And then, with a heavy breath, he says, “That? That was seven years of grief, heartbreak, and trauma finally catching up to all of us.”

Joaquin frowns. “I mean, yeah, I got that part. But what’s the deal with her and Barnes?”. Sam sighs. “That, my friend, is a whole other can of worms.”

Joaquin raises a brow. “Give me the short version.”

Sam rubs a hand down his face. “The short version? They were in love. She lost him to the Blip for five years. She risked her life to bring him back. And when she did?”

Joaquin waits. Sam exhales sharply.

“He left her.”

Joaquin blinks. “Damn.”. “Yeah,” Sam mutters. “Damn.”

Joaquin shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, uh- remind me to never walk into something like this again.”. Sam snorts. “Oh, trust me, you don’t need reminding.”

Joaquin crosses his arms, still processing everything. Then, after a beat, he turns to Sam and asks,

“So… how did they even meet?”

Sam lets out a breath, shaking his head like he’s been waiting for that question. “Man. That is a long-ass story.”

Joaquin smirks. “Good thing I’m not going anywhere.”

Sam huffs a laugh, leaning back against the table. “Alright. Buckle up, Torres, because this one’s a rollercoaster.”

Joaquin raises an eyebrow. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”

Sam exhales, glancing toward the door where you and Tony had both walked out. His expression softens just a bit.

“It was back where Sokovia Accords kinda shit, tony versus Steve beef,” Sam starts, voice lower now, like he’s telling some old legend. “Bucky was still on the run, brainwashing still messing with his head. And her?” He huffs. “She was still just Stark’s daughter back then. Smart as hell, but young.. hell, we were all young.”

Joaquin leans in slightly. “So what happened?” Sam smirks. “She met him. And from the second she did? It was game over.”

Joaquin tilts his head. “Love at first sight?”

Sam chuckles. “More like enemies to whatever-the-hell-this-is.” Joaquin grins. “Sounds messy.”

“Oh, it was,” Sam confirms. “She was supposed to hate him. Did hate him, at first. But that girl’s got a heart bigger than her damn ego, and Bucky?” He shakes his head. “Man, I don’t know what it was, but something in him just… gravitated toward her.”

Joaquin listens, intrigued. “And then what?” Sam gives him a look. “And then they spent years dancing around each other. Fighting, saving each other’s asses, getting way too close but never close enough. Until finally?” He exhales. “They stopped running.”

Joaquin nods slowly, piecing it all together. “And then the Blip happened.” Sam nods. “Yeah.”

“And she lost him.”

“For five years,” Sam emphasizes, voice tinged with something sad. “And when she finally got him back?”

Joaquin already knows the answer. “He left.”

Sam sighs. “Yeah. He left.”

Joaquin leans back, rubbing a hand over his face. “Okay, yeah, I definitely shouldn’t have come here today.”

Sam snorts. “Told you.” Joaquin shakes his head, still wrapping his head around it. “So what now?”

Sam glances toward the door again, his expression unreadable. “Now?” he says. “Now we wait for the fallout.”

Joaquin smirks, tilting his head as an idea sparks in his mind.

“Or…” he drawls, crossing his arms with a grin. “Let me be the knight in shining armor.”

Sam immediately groans. “Oh, hell no.”

Joaquin raises an eyebrow. “What? She’s single, I’m single, and let’s be real, have you seen me?” He gestures to himself. “I’m a damn catch.”

Sam looks like he’s fighting for his life not to smack him upside the head. “Torres. Listen to me very carefully.” He leans in, lowering his voice. “That woman? She’s been through hell. And if you so much as think about playing games-”

Joaquin holds up his hands, mock offense on his face. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Who said anything about playing games? I’m just saying, maybe she needs a distraction.” He smirks. “And who better than me?”

Sam deadpans. “You really got a death wish, huh?”

Joaquin just shrugs, still grinning. “Hey, if Barnes doesn’t want her, someone’s gotta step up.”

Sam stares at him for a long moment. Then, he exhales, shaking his head. “You know what? Fine. Go ahead.”

Joaquin blinks. “Wait, really?”

Sam nods. “Yeah. Go be her knight in shining armor.” Then, his lips twitch into a knowing smirk. “Just don’t cry to me when Barnes rips your head off.”

Joaquin falters slightly. “…He wouldn’t actually-”

Sam claps a hand on his shoulder, grin widening. “Good luck, lover boy.”

Joaquin swallows, his smirk faltering slightly as he glances at Sam again.

“He’s really gonna rip my head off?”

Sam doesn’t even hesitate. “Oh, absolutely”. Joaquin blinks. “Like… actually?”

Sam crosses his arms, giving him a pointed look. “You see the metal arm, right? The one that could punch through a truck like it’s cardboard?”

Joaquin shifts uncomfortably. “Okay, but-hypothetically-what if he, I don’t know, doesn’t kill me?”

Sam huffs out a laugh. “Then you’d be the first.”Joaquin scoffs. “Come on, he’s not that bad.”Sam just stares.Joaquin hesitates. “…Right?”

Sam exhales, shaking his head. “Listen, Torres. I like you. You’re a good guy. But if you go anywhere near her?” He whistles low. “Let’s just say, I don’t think they make caskets pretty enough for what Barnes is gonna do to you.”

Joaquin rubs a hand over his face. “Shit.”

Sam grins, clapping him on the back. “Hey, at least you’ll die pretty.”

Joaquin groans. “You’re so supportive, man.”

“Hey, I’m just being honest,” Sam says, shrugging. “And I’d rather you hear it from me than from Barnes- because trust me, his warning would involve a lot more broken bones.”

Joaquin throws his hands up. “Okay, but let’s think about this for a second. Maybe just maybe he doesn’t care anymore. Maybe he’s moved on, and he won’t even—”

Sam cuts him off with a laugh so sharp and disbelieving that Joaquin physically flinches.

“Oh, Torres,” Sam says, shaking his head. “You sweet, naive little idiot.”

Joaquin frowns. “Why do I feel insulted right now?”

“Because you should,” Sam tells him. “Barnes still cares. Deeply. And if you think he’s just gonna sit back and let you swoop in like some knight in shining armor?” Sam chuckles darkly. “You got another thing coming.”

Joaquin clicks his tongue, thinking it over. “Okay. Alright. But what if she actually wants me to swoop in?”. Sam raises a brow. “You sure you wanna test that theory?”

Joaquin hesitates. “…Not anymore.”

Sam laughs, shaking his head. “Smart man.” Then, after a beat, he smirks. “But, hey—if you do wanna test it, just let me know first. I’d love a front-row seat to the ass-whooping Barnes is gonna give you.”

Joaquin glares. “You are the worst wingman ever.”

Sam grins, completely unbothered. “Nah, I’m just trying to keep you alive.”

But Sam knows better. Joaquin will try even after the warning.

…..

The compound is quiet. Too quiet.

You’re sitting in the kitchen, nursing a drink, staring blankly at the countertop. The day had been… exhausting. Between the mission, the confrontation with Bucky, and Joaquin’s sudden presence stirring things up, your brain feels like it’s been through a blender.

And then, because the universe clearly isn’t done fucking with you, he walks in. Bucky stops when he sees you, his jaw tightening. For a second, he looks like he’s debating whether to turn around and leave.

You roll your eyes. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Barnes. I’m not gonna run just because you’re here.”

His lips press together, and then because he’s just as stubborn as you… he steps further inside, heading toward the fridge. “Didn’t say you would.” You snort. “Right. Because you’re the expert on not running.”

Bucky freezes for half a second, his fingers gripping the fridge handle a little too tightly. Then, he exhales through his nose, pulling out a water bottle. “You’re never gonna let that go, huh?”

You scoff. “You left, Bucky. Twice. What, do you expect me to just pretend like that didn’t destroy me?”

His blue eyes flicker to you, something dark and guilty lurking behind them. He doesn’t say anything.

You shake your head, taking another sip of your drink. “It’s funny, you know. We used to- .” Your cut your words, your voice falters slightly, but you push through it. “Now I don’t even know what we are.”

Bucky swallows, gripping the water bottle like it’s the only thing grounding him. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Yeah?” You let out a bitter laugh. “Well, congratulations, James. You did anyway.”

Silence. Thick. Heavy.

And then, because fate has the worst timing, Joaquin’s voice rings out from the hallway.

“There you are, Stark! I’ve been looking-” He stops in his tracks when he sees you and Bucky, the tension in the air practically suffocating. “…Oh. Shit. Should I, uh—?”

Bucky’s entire posture shifts. His jaw clenches, shoulders tensing, like he’s preparing for battle. Joaquin notices, and because he’s either bold or completely reckless, he smirks.

“Well,” Joaquin drawls, stepping further inside. “This is awkward.” You sigh, rubbing your temple. “What do you want, Torres?”

Joaquin leans against the counter next to you, eyes glancing between you and Bucky like he’s trying to piece something together. “Was just gonna ask if you wanted to take a walk.” He smirks again, looking directly at Bucky this time. “Unless you’re busy?”

Bucky’s grip tightens around the water bottle. You glance between them, realizing exactly what Joaquin is doing. And for some reason… you let him.

You set down your drink, standing up. “You know what? A walk sounds nice.” Joaquin grins, throwing a glance at Bucky. “Cool. Let’s go.”

As you walk past Bucky, you swear you hear the plastic of the water bottle crack in his grip.

You don’t look back.

….

The night air is cool against your skin as you and Joaquin walk side by side, the compound fading into the background. There’s a quiet ease to the moment, but the weight of everything still lingers in your chest.

Joaquin exhales, shaking his head. “Man… I really should’ve stayed home today.”

You snort. “Yeah? What gave it away?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he says, counting on his fingers. “The insane tension, the death glare from Barnes, the way you looked like you were gonna throw a punch at any second.” He smirks. “Seriously, Stark. That was some heavy shit back there.”

You sigh, rubbing your temple. “Yeah. Welcome to my life.”

Joaquin glances at you, eyes scanning your face like he’s trying to read between the lines. “So… you and him. That’s some real history, huh?”

You hesitate, then nod. “Yeah.” He hums in thought. “And you still love him.”

and you still love him. It’s not a question.

You swallow hard, keeping your gaze forward. “Doesn’t really matter.” Joaquin watches you for a second before shaking his head. “You say that, but I don’t think you believe it.”

You huff out a dry laugh. “You a mind reader now, Torres?”

“Nah.” He grins. “Just really observant.”

Something in his tone makes you pause, and when you turn to look at him, there’s something in his eyes… something unreadable, but warm.

He tilts his head slightly, studying you. “You know… I get the feeling you don’t let a lot of people in.”

You hesitate, caught off guard by the shift in his voice. “Not really.”

Joaquin nods, like he already knew that. “Well, if you ever wanna let someone else in…” He gives you a small, knowing smirk. “Just say the word.”

Your breath catches slightly. It’s subtle- not a declaration, not a grand confession. But it’s there. The interest. The possibility.

And for the first time in years… it makes you think. You shake your head, smiling just a little. “You really don’t have a survival instinct, do you?”

Joaquin chuckles. “Hey, what’s life without a little risk?” You roll your eyes, nudging him playfully. “You’re insane.”

He grins. “You have no idea.”

And as you both make your way back toward the compound, you realize something..

Bucky Barnes may still hold pieces of you… but Joaquin Torres?

He’s starting to see you.

Taglist : (lmk if you wanna be apart of my taglist ♡) @sebbymybaby21 @learisa @julvrs @chuiisi @caity1995 @wintercrows @greatenthusiasttidalwave @natxandra @drop-cherries @sebastians-love

[dontcallpanic]

Several sentence Saturday

I was tagged by @all-or-nothing-baby undercover at @eddiestightywhities (which firstly made me laugh but then your WIP broke my heart - in the best way obviously!)

But I do actually have something to share. More from Lineman which is the post apocalypse au where Stiles highjacks the airwaves and Derek can't help but fall in love with the idiot. So here he is, being an idiot.

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

"Guys… guys… I fucking superglued my hands together. Seriously. Guys. What the fuck do I do?

I need my hands. I wasn't kidding about being attached to them. I mean I kinda was - but also I really fucking wasn't. How am I gonna do anything now?

I had to hit the big red button to broadcast with my face.

Fuck you, this isn't funny.

Okay it's kinda funny but seriously, seriously. What the fuck? How am I gonna eat? How am I gonna drink? Fuck, how am I gonna jack off? I have needs!

This is hell!

The fuck do you need superglue for anyway? This is the apocalypse right? Aren't you supposed to be out there making desert-proof suits out of car seats and safety pins? Superglue seems to be very… anachronistic if I'm being honest with you.

Whatever happened to sewing? Does nobody craft now?

I bet I could knit. I bet I would be an awesome knitter. I could totally bitch and stitch - if I could use my fucking hands!"

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

Based on real life events when I tried to fix a steering wheel!

So tagging chief cheerleader @greyhavenisback (I desperately need to write some Derek soon.)

And then no pressure whatsoever tags to: @violetfairydust @gege-wondering-around @patolemus and anyone who sees this and wants to do it, use me as an excuse! Doesn't matter if we're moots or not!

[readingwritingstuff]

Daryl Dixon and the Five Love Languages

Part One: Gift Giving

A/N: I'm only writing up to Alexandria because that's all I feel like writing up to! Love the whole show but in my head, everyone lives happily ever after in Alexandria <3

The Quarry

At the quarry, Daryl's distant. Very distant. Fitting in with the group doesn't matter as long as he has his brother by his side. When you show up, wide-eyed and jumpy from your time stranded on your own in the city, it doesn't affect him much. Even if he does find himself studying you from time to time, wondering how such a doe eyed scared kid survived out there

But you're not a kid, something Daryl learns very quickly. You're in your twenties, sure, but the look in your eyes the first time you kill a snake and bring it into camp for dinner...it reminds him of something older. Of something harder. Darker in a way some twenty something from the city shouldn't know. You don't even know how to cook the snake. But you sling it over your arm and, to his surprise, walk up to him and ask him point blank, "do you know how to cook this?" He does. He shows you. And you aren't scared to grip the carcass and rip back when he tells you too, exposing the meaty insides. You finish up, and when you bit into it at dinner, you smile at him and, through a mouthful of snake, thank him

That night, after dinner, he sneaks over to your tent, expecting to find you asleep. But you're not. You're up, digging snake meat out from under your nails with the tip of a knife. You wince and jerk it back when you dig a bit too deep, but when he walks up, you assure him you're fine. You grin up at him, so happy and you ask if he enjoyed his dinner

For a moment, Daryl sees who you might have been before. Bright, content maybe. Rare. Most people, people Daryl knew in his world and the people out in the city, they were never fully content. But there you were, smiling up at him like snake meat was a five-course meal. He cleared his throat and shrugged, "s'ok" he murmured, rolling the item in his hand back and forth. You notice, because of course you do. "Whatcha got?" you smile, and he holds his hand out

"Always get ta keep your first rattle off a snake," he says as you take it, eyes sparking like it was jewelry or roses or whatever the hell girls like you were supposed to be happy about

You thank him, and he can tell you mean it. He shrugs it off, turns, he leaves you standing next to your tent and he tells himself he doesn't care if it made you smile. If he made you smile. Only that it was your rattle, your kill. Fair for you to have it. And if it made you smile, well. That wasn't a bad thing.

The Farm

It's stupid. He knows it's stupid, but he passes the same damn field every time he leaves the farm to look for Sophia. And it's flowers. Yellow ones with red centers. And one day when he's passing by he sees the yellow and it reminds him of the scales on that damn snake you killed. And then, no matter how much he tries not to, he can't help but think of you every damn time he passes that flower field

So even though he knows how dumb it is, he stops to pick flowers. He picks a dozen or so. He even ties them together with a long piece of grass. He scoffs at it, he can't help but hear Merle's voice in his head telling him what a pansy he is. Then he wonders if you like pansies

He hangs onto it for the rest of the day, shoves it in his tent, he convinces himself he won't give it to you.

And then he hears you head to your tent, and something sounds off. He listens in, even if he isn't totally sure why he's doing it. Carol's following you, and she's telling you it'll be alright. The sounds of your footfalls quieting, and he hears you pause. "What's the point Carol? Nobody here listens to me." Carol shushed you, and Daryl shifted up in his tent to listen closer. "I'm not a mother. I'm not a sheriff or a deputy. I'm not anybody who had something to fight for before all this besides myself. And yeah! Maybe I like pretty things and I like to take a second here and fucking there to think about something else. But Shane had no right to say that shit to me. Not that it matters, not that any of this shit matters," you laugh, and it's such a broken, awful sound that Daryl cringes. Carol follows you, and Daryl hopes she can say something to you that means something. That'll help cool whatever fire Shane lit under you. Shane. What the hell had that asshole said to you? He made a note to himself to listen more when that asshole was around you, to see just what the hell he thought that had gotten you this worked up

He stays up for a while later, long enough to hear Carol pass by his tent and head up to the RV with the others. You don't camp up there, you don't like how cramped it is. You camp out past even where he thinks is far enough away. He thinks about it, long and hard, but eventually, when camp is quiet and he's sure no one will see him, he grabs the flowers and slips out of his tent

He leaves them in front of your tent, not pausing as he does. He doesn't want you to see him, doesn't want to look into your doe eyes if they're full of tears and he doesn't have a damn thing to say to make it better. But he has this. He has these stupid flowers. So he drops them in front of the zip to your tent, heads back, and tries not to think about it again

But the next day he catches your eye over the fire, and he blinks at the flower you have tucked behind your ear. You cant know, there's no way you could. But you look at him with a quiet, small smile, and you mouth the words thank you. He shrugs, like he doesn't know what you're talking about. But you know, and he knows you know. And that feels pretty good.

On the Road

Being on the move agrees with you. It doesn't agree with anybody else in the group, but you do okay. Daryl wouldn't say it out loud, but watching you watch the world makes things better. No day is easy, but watching you stop to admire a stream or stare into the sunset when camp was made for the day, it softens things, if only by a bit

When you stop to admire a spiderweb one day, he feels something raw clench in his chest. You turn to him, noticing his stare. You're dirty, hair tangled even though he's seen you rake your fingers through it at night in an attempt to manage it. You smile and point how intricate the web is. How hard something so small must have worked to build something so beautiful. He shifts on his feet, and before he can think better of it, he pulls out the tacky, plastic spider ring he picked up back on the main road. It's scuffed and chipped, like some kid had thrown it from the car. He liked to think that maybe the kid had been dangling his hand over the edge of the window and it slipped off. Maybe the kid had thrown a fit. An awful afternoon for the parents, but a normal one. And maybe that's why he grabbed the ring out of the dirt, just to hold something normal for a second

He holds it out to you, and he shifts on his feet, but he doesn't leave when you take it this time. "You like this kinda stuff, huh?" he gestures to the spider web, "small stuff."

You nod and take the ring, looking at it, inspecting it, "small stuff's worth noticing Daryl. It's the only stuff that's ever been worth noticing."

And then you do something he doesn't expect. You bounce up on your toes and kiss his check, quick and simple. "Thank you Daryl, really." He stills, the spot where your lips had been was burning, and he blinks at you as you turn to follow the group, he doesn't miss you slipping the ring onto your pinky finger. Daryl Dixon does not blush. Not ever. Not once. But he did duck his head then, letting his overgrown hair fall in front of his face, so no one would see if he did. Just in case.

The Prison

It's the first time he looks for something for you. He doesn't realize he's doing it at first. But he and a few others from the prison stumble onto an abandoned strip mall. It's beat to hell, but there are only a few walkers inside. They can't pass up the opportunity, so they clear it, and set the rest of the day for scavenging

Daryl isn't thinking about finding a jewelry store. He's thinking about food, medicine, the shit he's supposed to think about out here. But he passes it, and he stops. He wants to keep moving, but he freezes up and combs it with his eyes. The cage that had been pulled down on it is open wide enough to crawl through at the bottom, and he can see how empty the spot is. It's too easy

So, against his better judgement, he drops to the floor and crawls inside

He grabs a few things. A silver band bracelet for Carol, a pair of clip-on earrings he thinks Judith might like when she gets older, and for you...a charm bracelet

It's laying on the floor, like someone had dropped it and forgotten it there. It has a few different charms on it. A horse, a star, a moon, but the part that really solidifies it as yours is the spiderweb charm. It's out of place, admittedly. But it's silver and shiny and it has a tiny gemstone spider right in the middle

He doesn't give it to you for a while. He gives the other bracelet to Carol, and he gives the earrings to Rick for safe keeping. But the bracelet feels too personal. He's starting to regret grabbing it when you swing by his cell one night

You're holding a plate full of food, and he frowns, realizing he'd been so caught up on watch earlier that he'd missed dinner without realizing. But you noticed. You always noticed. He coughs, and not for the first time that day, he reaches into his pocket to toy with the charms. But he forces himself to do it this time. "Here," he says, holding it out. You shift the plate, then give up on holding it and gesture for Daryl to take it. It's an awkward exchange, and Daryl feels himself redden at how un-smooth this is. But you smile down at the bracelet in your hand and, without a word, step forward and hug him

You're warm. Warmer than anything he's felt in a long time. He doesn't expect himself to do it, but he lifts a hesitant arm and wraps it around you, too. You pull him tight and, your voice full of something that sounds softer and kinder than he thinks he'd ever deserve to hear from you, you thank him and say quietly, "you see me, Daryl. Maybe better than anybody else ever has."

And then you're gone, taking your warmth and your kind words and your bracelet with you, and he's left standing there in his cell with a plate full of food and the distinct impression that you maybe you're beginning to see him, too.

The Woods

Things are bad when you lose the prison. You make it out with Daryl and Beth, and the three of you do what you can to keep going. But Beth's a kid, and Daryl is a man who'd finally found a home, only to lose it in a hail of blood and gunfire, and you? You just feel lost

Daryl lost it at that damn cabin. So close to what he'd lived in before all this, to what he'd been before all this, that everything that had happened finally slammed into him full force. The moonshine hadn't helped. And he'd said shit to you and Beth he wished he could take back

You all talk after, when things calm down, and when Beth suggests burning that shithole down you're more than up for it. And as the three of you stand there, burning the past and all its evils with it, Daryl feels lighter than he has in a long time

After that, it gets easier for him to show how he feels about you, even if he isn't sure what exactly that is

He gives you some of his portion at dinner, no matter how much you argue. He gives you little thing he finds as you walk, pretty stones and bird feathers and sometimes, sometimes he just points things out. The way the sun turns everything gold as it rises, the way dew clings to everything in the morning, turning it wet and cool with relief, a respite from the heat, and, of course, how it clings to spiderwebs, turning them into catchers of little water droplet gems. You always stop, no matter how tired you are or how long you'd walked that day, and admire it. At a certain point, Daryl realizes that while you're busy admiring the world, he's busy admiring you.

Alexandria

It's been a long, long time since he's felt nervous to give you something

You've been in Alexandria for years now. Things are good, really good. For the first time in a long time the future is beginning to feel real. When you'd arrived, you'd clung to each other. This place was too good to be real and you both knew it

And yeah, you'd been right. The place had seen its share of blood and destruction. The picture perfect idea the founders of this place had wasn't realistic. But what you built it into? What you created from the remnants of the destruction there? That was real. And now, after all the blood and death, you and Daryl Dixon were together in a way he'd wanted for a long, long time

Things had grown slowly for years, since the very first time he'd seen that look in your eyes, that drive. Since you'd smiled at him when he gave you that first gift, that rattle. He'd known it somewhere deep inside him that he loved you differently than he loved the others. You were something to him, something he didn't know how to have

But you showed him, every day you showed him how try. How to try to be together in this new world and how to try to leave the ghosts of the old one far behind, and now, now he wants to set down roots with you, to look you in the eyes and tell you exactly what it means to be in this place with you, with a future that feels solid and yours

So when he finds a ring, the ring, he knows it's time. He'd found it in the woods. He didn't want to know how it had gotten there. Didn't want to think about who had worn it before. Because before didn't matter anymore. All that matters is here and now and the fact that it's, to his best guess, your size, and unique in a way he knows you like

So he cleans it up, the simple band and pointed gem scrubbed clean with water and a little soap. He doesn't wait, not when he knows with such certainty where it needs to be

It's like any other night. He comes back from his run, the freshly cleaned ring sitting snug in his pocket. You're in the kitchen, the smell of food from the garden mixing with some of the spices he'd brought you a run all mixing together to make the whole place feel warm. And that's how you feel to him, warmer than anything in the world. Daryl never wants to be cold again

He helps you with dinner. You eat together, clean up, share stories from your day. It's normal. It's perfect. And when you stand from the couch at the end of a long night, Daryl stops you. He's looking at you with this stare, the one you know means he's sorting through the words to tell you something

And he wants to, he does. He wants to tell you that he loves you more than anything in the world, that knowing you, being with you, it makes a world of the dead feel alive again. But you know him, you know that look in his eye, and you aren't all that oblivious either. You'd felt the way he'd rubbed his thumb over your ring finger the past few nights in bed, like he was trying to memorize it. And you'd known he'd been listening when you were talking to the newlyweds down the street, listening in his easy, casual way, yes, but listening with a look in his eye that said something more than words ever could

And so, before he ever gets a chance to pull out the ring and get down a knee properly, how he knew he wanted to, how he knew you deserved, you leaned in and press a warm, gentle kiss to his mouth and say, with absolute certainty of your love for the archer before you

"Yes."

[ilikekidsshows]

Have you seen anything about the latest ML episode? It's the way they started to take a step in the right direction and flung themselves all the way backwards again for me. But if you've seen it, what did you think about it?

---

Yeah, I’ve seen plenty and the more I see the less I like it. It's such an obvious, manipulative way to present the issue and, of course, it's done in a way that places Marinette's comfort as more important than Adrien's. Even while the episode literally calls out this attitude of sidelining Adrien's right to know and decide, the characters still won't respect it, meaning the writers don't commit to Adrien having that right even when they say he does. Like, yes, I know it seems like we’re going to have Marinette’s secrets “be addressed”, but, like, I don’t have any faith that “addressing” the lies with be anything but “Marinette is the biggest victim in this situation so let’s comfort poor, widdle upsette Marinette!”

The episode is downright two-faced. Alya is livid with Marinette for this awful thing she is actively doing, and all Marinette can do is wobble her lip until Alya’s memory gets wiped, with the episode ending with the idea that it's good that Alya doesn't know, because her knowing hurt her and especially Marinette so much. Adrien isn't even mentioned outside of Alya and Marinette’s argument and that makes it incredibly apparent that the point of this secret isn't about Adrien or even his relationship with Marinette, it's about Marinette and her relationships and that distinction might be small, considering Adrien and Marinette are in a relationship, but it is so important because it leans on a thing I’ve already pointed out: Miraculous prioritizes abusers’ and abuse apologists’ feelings over those of abuse victims, and that is at its clearest between Adrien and Marinette.

The show is basically saying Marinette can keep this information as long as she wants to as long as she intends to eventually tell him. Because that’s how post-memory-wipe Alya phrased it even as she protested Marinette deciding what Adrien gets to know before the wipe. Not even the fandom can agree what the point is, since the fandom is either insisting that Marinette will choose to do the right thing eventually or they’re insisting she shouldn’t need to, with the implication that someone else should go against Greatest Ladybug’s orders to do it instead (but, by golly, if someone dared to, they’d be vilified to hell and back). But, like, Marinette is so unapologetic about her lying, she only gives excuses, there's no regret. Why should we have any faith left in a habitual liar who has now shown she has no remorse? I’m saying it now: Marinette will not tell Adrien jack, not of her own volition, because no one is holding her accountable for her decisions with Alya’s memory wiped, with memoryless Alya insisting Marinette has the right to keep whatever secrets she wants. The episode goes “nevermind all that” on its own moral conundrum!

It is actually so important about this episode: that it drops its own moral conundrum to give some bullcrap lesson about the right to privacy instead. This isn’t some embarrassing secret about Marinette herself, this is Adrien’s father and his very life. Adrien’s right to safety is more important than Marinette’s comfort, but the writers only see Marinette’s comfort as something that matters. They really do think that Marinette should get to wait until she feels safe from any kind of uncomfortable emotions before she tells Adrien about this absolutely vital information. This is still a mostly episodic show, and that’s what they choose to end the episode on? That’s supposed to be the take-away to the child audience? This show’s morals are rancid and it's all for the sake of some cheap drama that will culminate when this all gets revealed and Marinette will be so very, very upsette.

And, like, there is another really huge element in the entire “Marinette is keeping things from Adrien” situation: Marinette is demanding that others follow her judgement on this. Marinette is making the choice to decide what Adrien gets to know and everyone who isn’t a villain will have to follow her orders on this. Like, that’s the thing about all the Maripologists crying how it’s not Marinette’s responsibility to tell Adrien anything: yes it is. Marinette made it her responsibility when she demanded everyone else be complicit in her lies. She could have handed over the responsibility to someone else at any time, she still could, Alya was practically volunteering instead of being voluntold for once, but it’s not about telling Adrien being too hard for Marinette, it’s about how Marinette can’t control how Adrien will react to the info and that’s the part that scares her.

We also have the episode actively discrediting one of the sources of criticism towards Marinette. The interviewer is making things up when he claims Marinette is manipulating Adrien because he can't possibly know about her gaslighting him, and he's doing it spitefully for attention. This means that the mostly accurate accusation against Marinette is being voiced by a character the audience is being wired to hate and automatically view as being in the wrong, just like in ‘Sublimation’. It's manipulating the audience into seeing the accusation itself as spiteful when it's the literal truth that happens in the show with only a touch of exaggeration by applying malicious intent instead of Marinette just happening to benefit from this manipulation.

This episode is so predictably manipulative towards the audience. The most obvious takeaway to me is the writers trying to go: "see how badly Marinette would be hurt if she told the truth? Clearly her lying to cover herself is the only choice she has!" Once again "Marinette is upsette" is meant to be her only "punishment" aka “realistic consequences for her actions”. Nah, she should face the music and then become a better hero to win people over again instead of pretending she's a good hero and getting praise for failing. But instead the episode ends with a rare case of Miraculous actually spelling out its lesson, because this time the writers see it as important, and it’s: “Marinette should get to tell the truth when she’s ready,” like these secrets are Marinette’s to keep instead of Adrien’s to know.

I take back that thing I said about no one deserving to be ganged up against like this. Gaslighting World-Destroyer Worst Superhero Ever should be facing this kind of disdain until she actually proves herself a hero instead of only being motivated by making herself look good to her remote control RealDoll. I am so exhausted of being expected to root for a character who still shows no sign of self-reflection or actually changing her ways. I just can't summon sympathy for Marinette when Adrien has it worse because of her. If we actually had an arc about Ladybug winning the people over again after losing to Hawkmoth so spectacularly, I'd actually be siding with her.

Marinette is blatantly in the wrong, even the writers can't deny that, but they will bend characters and reality backwards to make Marinette look like the real victim of her own actions. Adrien is barely present in the episode after the inciting incident, but they dedicated so many shots to Marinette looking as pitiful as possible, using money to make an entire “stressed out Marinette” model to use for manipulating the audience into seeing Marinette as the one who's suffering the most. Even while the fact that Alya got to stay mad at Marinette is promising, I just feel like even that is mostly going to be used to justify Marinette being too scared to tell the truth because what if Adrien gets mad at her instead of being instantly understanding and thinking of her comfort first and foremost?! How can we expect Marinette to deal with something so horrifying?!

Also, once again the writers introduce a new way for the characters to keep Adrien safe as a Sentimonster and don't have the characters realize it could be used for that purpose. Like, because intent matters, destroy the Amoks and/or get Cat Noir to make everyone forget Adrien was a Sentimonster and no one will ever knowingly use his Amok. In fact they should make everyone forget about sapient Sentimonsters period. Boom, instant safety to Adrien, Kagami and Félix.

This episode just feels like the exact dosage of “Halt the presses! Marinette is upsette!” I expected.

[evermoredeluxe]

rant ahead.

seeing people villainize omark is weird to me. like yes you can absolutely be mad at him for being condescending to imark or not seeing the full humanity of innies, but to say that he’s The Evil Character and having no empathy for him is not the point. you’re obviously supposed to have empathy for the innies (and btw i totally see why imark chose 10 mins in hell with helly over choosing doing what omark would’ve done), but that doesn’t mean that you can’t feel for the outies simultaneously.

i saw someone talking about how omark is a man in his 40s and was a history professor so he should’ve known better and not gotten severed etc, and yes while i may agree that falling for a capitalist company is not the smartest move and he created imark, he didn’t do it because he wanted imark to bear his pain; he actually did it so he imark could be pain-free! mark’s life was built with gemma, in losing her he lost himself, and he was literally an alcoholic and not in his right state of mind when he got severed. this cult company literally targeted gemma and him to be their test subjects and manipulated both of them. severance is obviously a controversial procedure in society in the show, but there’s still a side of society that is not necessarily against it because no one knows what goes on down there. lumon sold the severance procedure to omark in the prettiest wrapping paper. they told him his innie would be content and this is all for work/life balance and they told him that he is a person, his innie isn’t. they didn’t tell him the implications of their lies (which they actually believe to be true) about innie’s not being real people and being sub-human. ofc a smarter version of mark may have called bullshit on it, but he was literally down in the deepest dumps known to man.

omark made a mistake and currently he is failing to see his innie with humanity, but consider that gemma means more to him than whatever self-torture he is doing. people applauding odylan for seeing idylan and giving him agency (as they should!), but ignoring that that’s another man who chose to undergo severance, and so by their logic, he is evil too. what does that say about you view odylan’s intelligence? it’s a tv show, and yes omark is imark’s antagonist in ways, and typically the audience is supposed to hate the antagonist, but consider that you can have empathy for him and root for his happiness despite the fact that he made mistakes. it’s very human of him to make bad decisions after his loss and it’s okay to be gracious towards him.

same with helena btw. i absolutely think she is evil just by the virtue of being the eagan heiress. she literally chose to undergo severance to benefit lumon and spied on innies and assaulted imark and so much other fucked up shit. despite all of that, the audience is allowed to have sympathy for her and what she has gone through life with her father and how she has never experienced love, and also how she’s been brainwashed and indoctrinated since she was a child. would love a reality where young helena grows up and unlearns all the eagan bullshit, but that’s not the reality and we’re allowed to feel for her for that.

lastly, people pick and choose to fit stuff into their narrative. hating omark, but liking milchik? im not against liking milchik because he too is a victim and faces so many microaggressions and all, but he is still on lumon’s side so how do these people justify liking him? you are allowed to sympathize with the characters because they are all victims of lumon, it’s okay and it doesn’t make you a bad watcher with no philosophical knowledge or a bad human being with no moral code.

[charlesollielandooscararthur]

A Real Argument

summary:Arthur and Y/N get into a heated argument over something petty before dinner at the Leclerc house.

Arguments between Arthur and me were usually stupid—petty bickering that lasted five minutes before we laughed it off.

But not this time.

This time? We were actually pissed.

It started in the Leclerc house, just before dinner. Pascale had been setting the table while Charles and Lorenzo were in the kitchen, helping bring the food out. Everything was fine—until Arthur and I started snapping at each other.

I didn't even remember exactly what started it. Maybe it was something Arthur said, maybe it was my tone, but suddenly, we were arguing.

"Are you serious right now?" I scoffed, standing in the living room while Arthur glared at me from across the room.

"Obviously, y/n," he shot back. "Or do you think I'm joking?"

"I hope you're joking because you sound ridiculous."

Arthur let out a humorless laugh. "Oh, I'm ridiculous? That's rich coming from you."

I narrowed my eyes. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You always act like you know better than everyone else!" Arthur snapped. "Like you can just say whatever and get away with it."

I froze.

That actually stung.

Arthur never talked to me like that.

"Right, because you're so innocent," I said coldly. "You never say stupid things, right? Never do stupid things? I guess I should just let you talk out of your ass 24/7."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Oh my God, y/n—"

"Can you two not?" Charles suddenly interrupted, appearing from the kitchen with his arms full of plates. "What is this even about?"

Arthur and I both ignored him.

"Why do you always have to push everything?" Arthur demanded.

"Why do you always have to be such a child?" I shot back.

"Are you kidding me?" He laughed bitterly. "You're calling me a child?"

I scoffed. "If the shoe fits—"

"Alright, ENOUGH," Lorenzo said firmly, stepping between us before it escalated further. "We're eating. Whatever this is, solve it later."

Arthur and I glared at each other, neither of us willing to back down. But Pascale's voice suddenly called from the dining room—

"À table!"

We had no choice but to drop it and sit down.

But the tension?

Still thick as hell.

Arthur and I sat across from each other. Normally, we'd be laughing, making jokes, stealing food off each other's plates.

But tonight?

Silence.

Heavy, uncomfortable silence.

Even Pascale noticed. "You two are awfully quiet."

No one spoke.

Charles? He just sighed, already fed up. Lorenzo was busy eating, pretending not to be involved.

Arthur stabbed his fork into his food aggressively. "I don't have anything to say."

I scoffed. "For once in your life."

Arthur glared at me. "Do not start."

"Oh, but you can?" I shot back.

"Oh my God—"

Charles slammed his fork down. "Can you both shut up? Please?"

Arthur and I snapped our heads toward him.

Charles ran a hand over his face. "I swear, you two argue more than I race. Just eat your food and fight later."

Arthur and I exchanged glares, but neither of us said anything else.

Lando, who had been silent this whole time, finally spoke from the other end of the table—

"This is the best family dinner I've ever been invited to."

Pascale sighed. "Mon dieu."

And just like that, the argument would have to wait.

Dinner was painfully quiet.

Well—quiet between Arthur and me. Everyone else was doing their best to pretend like nothing was wrong, but the tension? Unbearable.

Arthur still looked pissed, stabbing his food like it had personally offended him. I wasn't much better, aggressively cutting into my chicken like I was trying to murder it.

Lorenzo sighed. "You two are being dramatic."

Neither of us answered.

Pascale looked between us. "Arthur, y/n, can you please—"

"I'm full," Arthur suddenly said, shoving his chair back.

I rolled my eyes. "Of course, you are."

Arthur shot me a glare but didn't say anything as he grabbed his plate and walked into the kitchen.

The second he was gone, everyone turned to me.

Pascale gave me the look. "y/n."

I groaned, leaning back in my chair. "What?"

Lando, ever the instigator, smirked. "So, who's winning this fight?"

I deadpanned. "I will literally throw you out the window."

Lando just grinned. "So, you're losing."

Charles looked beyond exhausted. "Just fix it."

"Why should I fix it?" I snapped. "He's being impossible."

Lorenzo raised an eyebrow. "And you're not?"

I opened my mouth. Then closed it.

Pascale sighed, standing up and taking my plate. "Go talk to him."

I groaned but pushed my chair back. I hated being the one to back down first, but I also hated feeling like this with Arthur.

With an annoyed huff, I walked toward the kitchen.

Arthur was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, still looking pissed off.

I stopped in the doorway, crossing my arms. "Are we really doing this?"

Arthur looked at me. "Doing what?"

I rolled my eyes. "Being mad at each other all night?"

Arthur scoffed. "You started it."

I gave him a look. "Did I?"

He huffed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't even know how this got so bad."

I sighed, leaning against the counter next to him. "Neither do I."

A long silence.

Then—

Arthur sighed. "I don't want to fight with you."

I glanced at him. "Yeah. Me neither."

Another silence.

"...So, are we good?"

I smirked. "Depends."

Arthur groaned. "y/n—"

I nudged him. "Say I'm right."

Arthur shot me a glare. "Absolutely not."

I grinned. "Then I guess we're still fighting."

Arthur let out an exasperated laugh. "You're so annoying."

I nudged him again. "And you're stuck with me."

Arthur sighed dramatically, but I could see the fight draining from his expression. He wasn't mad anymore—just annoyed, which was our normal state anyway.

Finally, he bumped my shoulder. "Fine. We're good."

I grinned, throwing my arm around him. "See? That wasn't so hard."

Arthur groaned. "I regret this already."

Lando suddenly walked in, grinning. "Are we friends again?"

Arthur and I glared at him.

Lando backed up instantly. "Okay, okay, got it. Still tense."

Charles' voice called from the dining room. "ARE THEY STILL FIGHTING?!"

Arthur and I looked at each other—then both yelled back—

"NO."

Charles sighed. "Finally."

And just like that, the dumbest fight ever was over.

[valentine-cafe]

guys. i need a possessive reader with valerius. like reader and vale goes to the bar and like reader is tipsy but not drunk and they see like valerius being like flirted on (bc bro is beautiful i cannot) and then reader just goes up and starts peppering kisses on his neck because bro does not want their man taken away from them

(take this as you will. if we end up fucking i mean 😋😋)

🍒 𓂃 𝑶𝑹𝑫𝑬𝑹 𝑼𝑷 : kourabiethes !! demon ⊹ gn reader .

. ᘛ 𝑓𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟​​​​​​​𝑖𝑛​​​​​​​𝑔﹕realm abhorration ꮽ  valerius ariti

 𐔌𖹭 ˖ ࣪  who's that ?⠀﹕a rhytaari & demon prince of hexes, charming and alluring

ּ  ֗ recepit ℘ ... a bunch of girls in the bar you and your boyfriend are visiting for the night attempt their luck in gaining his affection and attention. Naturally, you feel possessiveness stir and walk over to show who he belongs to ⊹ cw ٬٬ cussing . mean girls . reader is savage . possessive reader

It twists like poisons of the finest calibre in your stomach. Jealousy. more than the alchohol coursing through your system. Sure you might be a bit tipsy, but you sure as hell ain't no lightweight either. And the girls that gather around your boyfriend need to fuck right off.

He was the type that attracted just about everyone with his presence, be it by external beauty or what most assumed to be internal. That mouth of gold carries strings of insults the bimbos gathered around him wouldn't be able to withstand if he snapped.

Not that you cared, the thought was incredibly amusing. But what you did care about, was the fact he was attempting to simply ignore them. As he usually does.

Suppose it's something someone gets used to when men, women and all in between stream all around you in hopes of them having a chance.

Hah

Fools, each of them. In comparison to them, Valerius knows his time and what it's worth. None of them would have a smidge of importance in his picture. Other than the one that stands to the farthest corner at the bar, with a pair of drinks ready in each hand.

You, that is.

One sip, two. You step towards the man and cock your head to the side with a jolt, so that you may catch the attention of the crowd. "Piss off," you grunt as the two drinks for him and you find a spot on the table you were both at.

"Who do you think you are?" The girl to the farthest right chuckles. Poor girl, born with a voice that shrieks that much? You could compare it to the sound of nails scratching down the surface of the blackboard in the ECU literature classroom.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" You counter in the time you wrap your arms around your boyfriend's shoulders. His face turning a little so he can press a soft kiss to your flushed cheeks. "You're the one slutting it up in front of my husband."

"Boyfriend?" One of the other girls laugh, hand covering her mouth. "He'd want a wreck like you? Are you a hag under disguise or something?"

What a boring comment. Your eyes roll in tandem with the twitch of a blonde brow. Yet your hand moves up Valerius' back in reassurance that all is in control.

"I prefer witch, but go with whatever you want plastic doll." Laughs bellow out of you, as you take another sip of your glass and straighten yourself. "How much a cheap whore like you pay for that new face? it looks botched, you barely had the money did you?"

The woman recieves an elevator look of judgement, you gag her before she can even continue. "Blowjobbed your way to get the money didn't you? I don't judge, we all have priorities I guess."

Your soft lips meet your boyfriend's and you smile against them a little, before pressing a kiss to them again while side glancing the girls who start throwing their bad insults at you. It sounds like a choir if you had to say so yourself. Especially when it fades out and they leave to comfort the girl you'd snapped the head off of.

Occupied, the man you hold in your arms moves his right hand to the small of your back to bring you closer and deepen the kiss. Sighing against your lips with a smile.

"When we get home. You're getting fucked so hard into tomorrow you can't walk." Shivers rush up your spine at the husky words whispered against your neck as the demon's kisses trail down your neck.

You let out a stifled noise of anticipation and tighten your grasp on him. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

꒰ ۪ ˖ ࣪ 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑢 ... info ꮽ mlist ꮽ verse ꮽ wiki .

[bluephoenixprincess]

Yeaaah this is too real. Fandom, especially on certain sites twitter has come down with a terrible case of Flavor of the month syndrome.

What i mean is, fandom spaces have become overwhelmed with normies who dont actually like fandom culture. They just bandwagon over whatever seems popular on their timelines, acting obsessed cause they want to fit in. But immediately discarding their supposed interest whenever the next new shiny thing comes around.

Hell i think thats why theres come to be this weird cycle of fandom where something will get super hyped up and popular. But once the hype dies down even a little people act like the thing they were praising last week has been trash the entire time.

Because people get caught up in the hype train without taking into account their own tastes. And then once the hype train moves on they realize the thing they forced themselves to like to feel like part of the ingroup isnt actually something they enjoy. But because they dont recognize that they just act like the thing became bad suddenly

Fandom Problem #8072:

Not trying to gatekeep but the thing that grinds my gears the most about fandom is that I can be in a small or dead fandom for years and years and everyone acts like you're lame for liking something that's so unpopular or old... and then those same people suddenly gets hype when there's new content and acts like they're the biggest fan ever, while you, the one who has ALWAYS been there gets ignored by the hype train... after wishing you had new people to interact with... and then they disappear again after the hype is over.

I dunno about you guys but I think "true" fans are the ones who have stuck with the subject matter the longest and not the ones who breeze by it quickly because "omg popular".

I think anyone is allowed to like anything they want to. I welcome anyone into any fandom. But don't act like you're the BIGGEST and BESTEST fan of all time just because you're suddenly fixating on it because some new content is out and you get swept up in the hype. Because you're not the biggest fan ever. Especially if you lose interest and disappear as soon as hype dies down.

Honestly, I love new fans. I love seeing new fanart and fanfic and everything people can add to the fandom. It just sucks that it seems no one cares anymore after 2-3 months has passed.

[onceuponaroast]

So here's a lukewarm take for you all:

I love the "Doesn't understand implied context and has no critical media literacy because you didn't pay attention in English class" joke as much as the next guy, but uh.... it's not entirely correct

Because I DID pay attention in my English class, and the one thing they did NOT tell us to do... was form our own opinions on the text.

And absolutely it could have just been my teachers! It is in fact highly likely that my teachers specifically were just particularly shit at their jobs, but the main thing I was regularly instructed to do was just. Memorize whatever the teacher told us and move on. In fact, we were encouraged to focus on the absolute bare bones of any given story and spend as little time or mental energy in any given text. We were taught novels the same way we were taught history and science; to memorize the facts and move on.

We were not encouraged to engage with the text. When I offered a different interpretation of a passage I was told it was wrong and to 'not think about it so hard.' My Least Favorite Teacher- who I am biased against for unrelated reasons but nevertheless- once docked me points because I suggested a passage could be interpreted as referencing pregnancy. This was, of course, wrong; because she obviously was referencing menopause. (???)

We had so many standardized tests crammed down our throats that we were pretty much forced to just memorize the basic plot setting and characters- and do absolutely nothing else.

This is not to say tiktok is not ruining our brains- it's not even to say that every half assed massive Corp movie made of crappy ai writing isn't ruining our media consumption- because they both probably are. But when you see kids not understanding things like subtext and unreliable narrators, please don't laugh at them. Please do not assume it is a failure on their part. They can not help what they are not taught.

[crustyfloor]

A new pop-up store dropped for ALIEN STAGE's 2nd anniversary and wow. It's so sick.

It's Interesting what exactly these experiments are focusing on and monitoring.

Instrument practice

I found it interesting earlier that Till was so tame, more so than he usually is when he's going through experiments, but music, and making music is what he loves doing, So he was fully in his element here. This was probably the only thing he was made to do by the aliens that he at least tolerated.

(Additionally, judging by his collar (orange), he was at least calm. maybe he just isn't fazed anymore.)

//Side note, that head contraption looks familiar BUT this most likely isn't related at least i hope

(It puts me at ease, at least..)

Dance practice

This surprised me, but I suppose Mizi needed more skills.

She looks very startled here, and nervous(?) +It looks like she's doing this while singing. And with that face covering I assume this was a test monitoring her dance balance, precision, etc. At first, I did think it was odd, "Why would Shine put her through that" But alas I was reminded that even though Mizi is the flower of the group she was never untouchable, to Shine, this was the equivalent of teaching your dog to sit and stay.

(seeing this it reminded me of those scenes in movies where the people are dancing, and the music gets faster and faster until they fall. I wonder if she was doing through something similar to that)

Singing practice (?)

Similar to Till she also looks quite calm outwardly, if the machine around her neck is an iteration of the collars they have, then this process wasn't something she liked, or given how intense this experiment looks, this was a test of high-pressure to ensure she always stayed calm during performances (?). Then again this could also be a posture practice given all the structure focused on maintaining her position.

(What I believe was another form of this test was shown before so I think so)

(With her hands in a praying stance I wonder if she was praying to herself or singing a religious song (sweet dream?) It's also interesting that the machinery around her looks like a halo, and she looks so...angelic? holy?)

Image making practice

By image making, I think they made Ivan replicate expressions with his face. Whether this process was painful for him or not...I'm not sure. But it looked visibly uncomfortable, maybe that was the point. (His expression, even in this circumstance is so dubious..)

Ivan, among other things, needed to have a spotless appearance to be successful, his image was a priority given his skills were certainly guaranteed.

I assume the aliens eventually took note of his lack of expression, in the real world this can be a detriment to one's career, so the Aliens had to ensure quality was perfect. (To a more...dedicated level)

Superiority test

'Superiority test' Is very vague.

HyunA is very calm here too, likely sedated in that water with all the tablets on her. I guess this was a test to get an idea of a pet human's strengths and weaknesses, endurance, and temperament to compare and contrast them with others, testing who is more viable for Alien stage?

Another interesting, and sad part about this is that HyunWoo was there, watching his sister through her experiments.

(Also, it looks like both of her legs are normal, no alien leg yet.)

Heart rate variability

And finally, the most visceral of them all. The wording 'variability' makes this all the more sickening, the Aliens were testing his heart hours, testing it at different rates, speeds, and states. And he was in agony the entire time. Even the way he's clutching his chest, it gives me chills. This would've been a completely harmless test in a normal setting, as something quite similar to this can be performed efficiently in real life. But he's being tortured in the process.

This is one of the first times we've ever seen Luka's face so truly clear and unprotected, (understandably so.) He's even crying.

[somerandomdudelmao]

Ngl, Viktor vaguely reminds me of Husk from Hazbin hotel. Both grumpy softies :]

On that note, have you heard of the series Helluva Boss :0 ? (It's free to watch on yt)

I don't know your exact tastes in media but the art in the show is incredible in my opinion and the story is cool.

Just wanted to know what my favourite artist though on it if you've ever heard of it. Anygay!

Love your stuff 💙. You keep doing you Cass and i wish you a good day!

I think Victor is more like Tai Lung from Kung Fu Panda. But you have a point.

Yeah, I watched Helluva Boss, but I can't say I liked it much. The animation is beautiful and the art style looks interesting. I can appreciate well-done work, but this show doesn't really make me feel anything. I could have turned on a random youtube video instead and been more interested.

[p3rson27]

After months of amulet curse (my shit memory and the pictures not rendering properly) here it is. Let me take you on The Haunted Basement Tour. Long Post Incoming!!!

So some context first: I've said before that I'm a community organizer, and yeah I do that. I've also said that I work at the Combination Coffee Shop, Gay Bar, and Grill. This is also true. Community organizing does not pay the bills and we live in a capitalism. We're talking about the Combination Coffee Shop, Gay Bar, and Grill.

Second: Yeah, you heard that right. It's vibes only in this place. I live in the rural midwest (usa) so we stick out like a sore thumb, and yet we persist. The point here is, we are in "historic downtown" (read: poorly maintained buildings that because of legal technicalities have never had to be up to modern code.) Keep this in mind as we delve into The Horrors.

Third: Yeah, I promise I'm mostly joking when I talk about ghosts and demons, but I shit you not, this place is very likely haunted. Not to just drop this and run, but someone very recently died in this building and yes I will tell you the story in this lovely saga, so trigger warning for that.

Disclaimer: I do not own this building. I do not have any authority position here. I'm just the resident gay bartender who loves causing problems and decided to do a silly little photo shoot for the little gay people on my phone.

With all that out of the way: Allow me to be your guide through... whatever the hell is going on down here. We begin our decent with these stairs.

These stairs have tasted blood. The photo doesn't show, but some of them are straight up ) shaped. As long as you mind the stairs, they will mind you. It's been roughly 5 months since they last demanded blood. Let's move swiftly on while they still allow us to.

Shitty editing to remove anything branded that might get me in trouble idk. Yeah, this is the vibe for this place. The light (don't get used to it :) washes this place in a cozy off yellow. Believe it or not, we keep this place as clean as we physically can. The floor just Looks Like That. Oh, and yes

That is a hole. There's no reason for the pipes to be installed like that. this building is from the 1800s, ok?

Now, I bet you're wondering what's behind that door. Put a pin in that, ok? We'll get back to her later. We're actually going to peek behind this room.

I think this is supposed to be a sink. It doesn't work. I've never seen it work. I'm scared. 6/10 vibes. Not haunted, just icky.

We use this basement mostly for storage, and you can vaguely see some of our shelves in that last photo. We're going to go behind those, to look at something fun.

It's another massive hole! This takes us under our doorway. We're actually going to climb into the hole a tiny bit. Don't be scared, we're not at the haunted part yet.

This hole used to straight up lead outside! That's the wonders of 1800s midwestern architectural design, and yes it was a pain in the ass to get anyone to plug up out hole! That's capitalism babeyyyyyy

Let's look at more shelves :)

Haha, is it getting darker in here or is it just me? Anyway this photo is less about the shelves and more about the weird almost hallway getting blocked by these chairs. Don't touch them. They're not for keeping us out, they're for keeping the demons in.

Next to the Hellway, I mean Hallway, we have this room, I like to call Snowman Jail.

This room was a semi recent addition, at least in comparison to the last renovations down here (like 50+ years ago.) It's one of few good things the previous tenants did with the space. Here is where most of our supplies will be, but you must first survive The Snowmens' Gaze (I did that to be funny when we were putting christmas supplies away and no one moved them to a normal position yet.) We like having our supplies here because there's actually light :) ... uh... yeah. Anyway, I'm running out of photos allowed on a single post, so sit with that for a bit while I write out part two.

Part 2 coming soon. Nothing spooky going on yet, just some blatantly non-compliant shit that we can't technically get in trouble for because again, the building is

Historic

Well anyway, part two is where we'll go to the Other Side.

oh, and we're going to have to talk about the body

They call me ouija

The way i.

Bored