#you know he probably would have kept me and everybody else fooled if he had not been so shamelessly overt with the book’s allusions

[wannabepoeticischiya]

Weak

[ 06 ] — the line of idiots

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A loud, obnoxious wail shattered the tranquility blanketing the Gojo Estate, waking the few people still held by the warm embrace of slumber. The sun had yet to pass the skyline, hues of blue and orange painted on the canvas overhead, morning dew shimmering like gemstones as the first rays of sunlight refracted against them. A lone morning breeze swayed against the figures in the courtyard, ruffling the snow-colored threads perched upon their heads, and the fine silks adorning their body.

"OJII-CHAN, WHY? TAKE IT BACK!"

How it came to this, Satoru did not know. A few moons ago, until the midnight sun was directly overhead, he kept his eyes peeled, wracking his brain trying to figure out why his friend (still self-proclaimed) had yet to make her appearance despite the many, many days that have passed them by. At first, Satoru tried to maintain a positive outlook about it, repeatedly chanting to himself that (Y/n) was busy, that she probably had other errands to run but... what exactly can a seven-year-old be assigned to that would take her this long to complete? And why didn't his grandfather tell him anything about it?

So, the young Gojo heir came to the conclusion that perhaps—this time around—he took some things too far or that he never exerted effort on something his grandfather had told him to do. And this was the old man's way of setting his punishment for slacking off... by taking his only company away.

Nonetheless, he was not delighted. Oh, not one bit.

As a way to get back at the one who caused his misery, he clung to the back of his grandfather's kimono, wiping his snot and tears on the newly commissioned garment. Satoru's weight was not necessarily a hindrance for the experienced sorcerer, what was a bother was his incessant wailing and ridiculous pleading.

"YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME." He cried.

"As far as anybody is concerned, my dear grandson... yes, I actually can." The older man said, calmly. He was used to the young lad's tantrums, often just letting the boy tire himself out—which he would... eventually—but that didn't mean that it made dealing with the event itself a lot easier.

"NO! JUST TELL ME THAT YOU DON'T LOVE ME ANYMORE!"

"Child, you are being dramatic..."

Satoru's brain could not comprehend why this was happening. Still sagged against his grandfather's kimono and being dragged to the meeting hall, he tuned out all the tumult; pondering about the things he had done that just fell short of the Gojo Clan's expectations.

You're doing great, Gojo-sama!

What remarkable talent at such a young age!

Just a few more practices and you'll surpass even the greatest of masters! As expected of you, Satoru-sama.

He was doing just fine—excellent, even—according to the people around him. They smiled at him as though he would be the one to bring salvation into this monkey-infested world; praised him as someone would when met with an individual destined to be greater than everybody else. If they could, these people would have worshiped the ground he walked upon; built a temple in his honor.

Satoru bathed in their flowery sentiments. He reveled in the way they would grovel at his feet if he asked them to—and he did. The Gojo Heir would get a sick thrill out of others lowering themselves for him just so that he could step on them one by one. They would deem it a privilege—something to be grateful for even if it meant that they would lose their dignity and their entire identity altogether.

Still, no matter how much glory was served to him on a silver platter, it did not change the reality that they lacked sincerity.

Empty. That's what they were.

These people spoke words that he wanted to hear. Always the words of encouragement. Words that would get them to his good side. They were nothing but hilarious soliloquies sanctimoniously performed in front of the human they equated as a god but behind closed doors, wholeheartedly believed and made out to be a fool. All superficial flattery that hid their rotting desires inefficiently.

Idiot! You're doing it wrong.

That's what'll happen when you don't listen to instructions. Do it again!

Are you blind? It's right here. You see, this is what happens when you're so quick to use your mouth to complain instead of using your eyes to actually look!

The words of his one true friend (again, still self-proclaimed) were not any better. Most of the time they were insults, things uttered to purposely provoke him, declarations made in the heat of anger and annoyance. They cut deep, often leaving a trail of tears in their wake.

But they rang true.

Well, most of the time they did.

It was nice to be acknowledged for the things that you did, yes. To be praised for your accomplishments, no matter how menial or grand.

But over time, it does become overbearing.

To be free from flaws. For your actions to be compartmentalized as nothing less than righteous and just. To be so incandescently perfect, to be condemned to no more than a figure of false divinity.

Who could stand to bear such a fate?

Hypnotized to be kept in an endless cycle of perfection left him thinking he had no more room for growth.

If you get hurt, I'm not gonna help you.

Say it with me now, I did this to myself so I shouldn't complain.

Take my hand, stupid. On three, I'm going to pull you up.

But her words shattered the chains that bound him to the destiny he did not want to follow. All those tears he shed, the crevices scattered upon the meadows of his pride, forests of ideology burned to ash—even if he did not know the reasons for them at the moment, he would soon come to find that they happened because it would give way for a new him to come into being.

Even if (Y/n) would not admit it—which he doubts she ever would—but her declarations, no matter how much she coated them with anger and spite, to Satoru... they held more warmth and sincerity than what his entire clan could ever hope to gather beyond their lifetimes.

Satoru knew he could confide in them because (Y/n) did not want anything to do with him.

He knew that, of course.

Satoru would be an even bigger fool than what the elders believed he was if he tried to deny what was so painstakingly obvious...

That (Y/n) did not like him, and that she did not want to be his friend.

The Gojo Heir did not want to say that she was different because she wasn't. Naturally, no one wanted to be near him for fear of inferiority or endangerment, it was all a matter of what would come first, really. Even if it wasn't spelled out in big, bold letters, he knew that people only confided in him because they needed something. He knew that the only reason someone would approach him out of their own jurisdiction was because he was useful—because he had the six eyes, the limitless.

It never strayed far from that... and he doubts that it ever will.

(Y/n) did not want to be near him. So, regardless of her reasons... she was just like everyone else.

The only difference is that she stayed.

And that was more than enough for Satoru.

"OJII-CHAN!"

After that punishingly tedious task of walking to the meeting hall, Satoru had yet to cease his hold on his grandfather's robe; opting to bury his tear-stained face in them rather than to be continuously denied of a simple request.

Some would say Satoru got a little too comfortable with always getting what he wanted. His grandfather would agree, for he was facing the consequences of it first-hand. It was hard to say no to him.

"I PROMISE I'LL BE GOOD! I WON'T CAUSE YOU ANY TROUBLE FOR A WEEK—NO, A MONTH! PLEASE!"

The old sorcerer could do nothing but sigh for what seemed to be the hundredth time that morning at his grandson's relentless beseeching. He almost caved into that very tempting offer, almost. It seemed far too good to be true—too good to pass up. No crying house aids? No ridiculous stunts on the estate grounds? Peace and quiet not for a day, not for a week... but for a whole, entire month?

"Satoshi-sama," a call from opened shoji screens shattered the Gojo Head's impulse to agree, "they're waiting for you."

At the mention of other people's presence, Satoru's attention diverted from ruining his grandfather's clothes to trying to peek past the figure of the person standing in the middle of the way into the room.

"Wonderful."

The alternative meaning of Gojo Elder's statement was: Oh, thank the heavens! I didn't think I could stand another minute dealing with a whiny Satoru, not when he nearly caught me in that trap. He shuddered at that thought. His grandson could be devious if he wanted to be.

The servant moved away from the threshold, folding his knees, and bowing deeply to the prominent figures of the Gojo Clan.

Clothed feet thudded softly against the tatami flooring, sunlight streamed through the opened window panels, flooding the room with light dyed in a warm hue. The Gojo Elder stopped shortly in front of the two kowtowing figures awaiting his appearance, his grandson still absentmindedly tailing (dragging) behind him. The people who awaited his command wore the standardized hakama for household servants: a dull blue, loose top with sleeves that were held back by a white string, accompanied by gray ankle-length pants. They were simple clothing, really, every household aid wore them even...

"(Y/n)?"

And there she was, the person Satoru had been longing to see for the past two weeks, kneeling before him as though she was nothing but less than him. It seemed that Satoru would often forget that she was. But even so, he wanted to ask her so many things...

Are you alright?

Were you getting enough sleep?

Are you eating enough?

Where did you go?

Why did you take so long to come back?

Her hair, which was nearing the bottom of her spine when he last saw her, now only went a little past her shoulders; a little uneven. Anyone could tell it was done in haste. Clinging to the skin of her right cheek was a big, white plaster. At the littlest movements of her arms, Satoru caught a glimpse of a sliver of white cloth encasing her forearms. Bandages.

Did she get hurt... why?

Who... who would hurt you?

"Ah, I'm glad the two of you have made it." Satoru's grandfather seemed elated at the sight before him. As for why he was, the Gojo heir was yet to find out.

"Satoru, I'd like you to meet someone."

The older sorcerer ushered his grandson out of his hiding place, which proved to be a much harder task than what he initially thought would be just a simple nudge in the general direction of the newcomer, for the young boy stayed rooted to where he stood... which was directly on top of the hem of his grandfather's very stained, newly commissioned kimono.

Satoru's gaze remained on the apathetic expression painted on (Y/n)'s face, frozen. He wanted to ask her so many things, tell her all about the events that transpired during the time of her absence. 

But he just stood there like a statue.

"Satoru, this is Nagano Kiyu." The words his grandfather spoke fell deaf to his ears. It sounded as though he was submerged underwater, sinking deeper into the abyss as the breath in his lungs escaped him through the bubbles that would part from his lips. He had an inkling feeling of the next phrases that old man would say... and he was willing to use all his birthday wishes for his instinct to be proven untrue.

The young Gojo heir didn't think he was particularly indigent of (Y/n)'s companionship, he took what she gave him with open arms and had been grateful for every single one of them. So, right now... he didn't know what to make of it. Satoru, for once, did not know how to react.

"—this is Kiyu, Satoru's new... aide."

Not when her actions towards him breathed as though he was anything but himself like he was nothing more than a passing stranger.

(Y/n)... his friend, (Y/n)... was being replaced.

Why...?

The only one who's ever been true, (Y/n)... she was...

It was almost comical how every single person in the room took the news. Kiyu, the newcomer, had stars for eyes at the sight of the snow-haired boy. It didn't take a genius to tell that she had been dreaming of this moment for a long time. (Y/n), as per usual, looked as though she wanted to be anywhere but right here; the previously spotless bandage on her cheek now had little dots of red decorating it. Finally, Satoru, who was only informed of (Y/n)'s uh future short voyage just last night, had blanched at the change of plans; no one mentioned a replacement. All his begging to tag along with her had now looked as though it was all for naught.

The Gojo Head stood in the midst of it all, staring awkwardly at the outcome his information had brought.

Satoru tried to catch (Y/n)'s gaze. He wanted to see that familiar glint of haughtiness—even go as far as to make jokes of his own blind faith. He hoped that this was one of the lessons he needed to learn the hard way, you know... by shattering his hopes along with his heart completely. Anything but whatever it was that was approaching. But (Y/n), as she was, had found the floor a lot more worthy of her attention than him.

"Well? My boy, say hello to—"

The sound of his grandfather's sorry attempt at cutting through the tension snapped him back to retaliate.

"But Ojiichan, why?" Satoru's voice echoed within the four walls, loud enough that even if some of the screens were undone, his complaint hit the older sorcerer at full force. It was evident that the young lad didn't take the news all that well. And he was going to make sure that everyone else would suffer from it.

"Well, it's because (Y/n)-chan here—"

With her heart pounding desperately against the walls of her chest, (Y/n) darted her eyes to look at the Gojo Head, an impudent action for she was not given permission to raise her head, but the realization came a little too late.

A stinging feeling erupted from the base of her foot all the way to the back of her eyes, forcing her to keel over once more; reminding her of her place, where she stood amongst it all. (Y/n) wanted to protest. To have the Gojo Elder withhold just this fragment of information from his grandson—from Satoru. Yet her lips remained shut, bordered by the teeth she ground together.

"—has to go somewhere."

The young sorceress let her thoughts run freely. You didn't have to sugarcoat it. Tell him the truth. It didn't even register at first, the slip-up of the Gojo Elder, far too occupied with cursing everyone and everything that damned her to this fate. The news of her departure was not meant to be disclosed until the day after she actually leaves, for good reasons—and the mortified reaction of the white-haired creature a few paces from her had proven why.

"What...? Where?! Why?! OJIICHAN THIS IS UNFAIR!" He complained, a disbelieving tone at first before it transcended into frustrated, angry, accusatory yelling. "You told me it was only for a while! Why does (Y/n) need to be replaced when she'll only be gone for a while? Are you lying to me? Just—just tell me you don't care about me anymore!"

Why does he have to be so dramatic?

"Don't be sad, my boy... that is why I have arranged a temporary substitute for (Y/n)." The older sorcerer gestured to the new arrival, with half a mind berating his grandson for acting like a dimwitted fool who was heavily reliant on another.

Satoru took one look at the person now standing beside his grandfather, eyeing her from head to toe before saying a clear, hate-driven—

"No."

Stepping away from his grandfather and his stained garment, Satoru sat himself beside (Y/n), whose forehead still laid flat against the floors. He crossed his arms over his chest, superciliously craning his attention towards other mundane things.

Oh, he meant every bit of disrespect.

Satoru made it clear with his wordless response: either (Y/n) stays here, or he was going to make anything and everything harder than it had to be. He is a hard worker after all.

Deafening silence permeated the distance between the four people in the room, even the clamor of the workers preparing for the day did not pierce through the tension in the air.

"B-But Satoru-kun..."

Satoru whipped his head to face the one who had spoken, his sky-dyed eyes glared coldly and threateningly at the poor girl. "It's Gojo-sama to you." He snarled.

It didn't escape the young lad's eyes the way this Kiyu girl cowered away from him, he got that a lot, so it seemed. Satoru didn't mind. In fact, he was more than happy to put this servant back in her place, who did she think she was? Calling his name with so much unwelcome familiarity. However, what unnerved him so was the expression carved upon her face the moment her eyes strained to the floor.

What's there to smile about? Weirdo.

. . .

The sun began to hide behind the towering skyscrapers of Tokyo, painting the once azure sky with hues of pink and orange, dyeing the rest with shades of dark violet and ocean blue. A lone afternoon breeze swayed the trees to its melody, causing a few petals to drift toward the large estate bordered by well-kept gardens.

A thunder of footsteps echoed within the corridors of the Gojo estate accompanied by faint whispers of 'Go away' and 'Leave me alone'; answered by a very persistent 'No' and 'Let's have a sleepover'. (Y/n) ran through the hallways of the massive residence, careful not to break anything she could not afford to replace, chased down by what looked to be a bundle of blankets with feet and snowy-white hair.

"You two, please don't run in the halls!"

It baffled her so; how could that idiot even see? The sheets are practically taller than him!

Was the thought that raced through (Y/n)'s head as she turned the corner. She hurriedly slid her door open, eager to lose that demon-spawn hunting her down. Shutting it tightly, the young girl let herself fall to the floor... too tired to silence the incessant knocks on her doorway.

"(Y/n)?"

Silence.

"I know you're in there..."

(Y/n) deemed it futile to hide her snarl. After all, no one but herself could see that nearly unpaintable expression of annoyance plastered upon her face.

"You know I won't go away until you let me in!"

This idiot! Satoru could really be persistent if he wanted to.

"Oh~ is that Grandpa I see—"

And with that, the door opened with a bang. Satoru nearly jumped out of his wits as he heard a very noticeable crack come from the wood.

He stared as the girl looked from left to right, taking in the sight that the threat was empty and that if she were to put him in his place, she would not get in trouble right away. A wicked smile graced her face at the thought as she intimidatingly loomed over him.

Girls were normally taller than boys during this time of life but to Satoru, (Y/n) looked as though she would continue to tower over him like this for all eternity; like prey being stared down, ready to be killed at a moment's notice.

Satoru would've never admitted it out loud, but the sight of the older girl, up and ready to mutilate his body terrified him beyond existence.

"I—I'm—"

"You," she seethed, pointing a daunting finger down at the poor quivering boy, "I've had enough of you—don't make me peel off your face."

(Y/n) spread and hovered her fingers over Satoru's neck, all it took was a little more fire and the root of all her demise would be as good as memory. He did this. It was all his fault!

Looking at him had (Y/n)'s heart beating in an irregular manner, she felt the back of her eyes burn painfully at the sight of him, as though the scenery was being carved into them. The anger. At this moment, rang true for (Y/n).

This is exactly why you're being sent away, you ill-mannered brat.

How many more acts of disrespect did you think he was going to take from you?

This is what you deserve. Either you crawl out of there by the skin of your teeth... or die trying!

To her, he had no right to assert himself as a concerned friend when he—he was the one to—

"I just—I just wanted to spend time with you, (Y/n)! You're... you're leaving soon, aren't you? So, I—I just... wanted to..." Satoru found himself losing his script, the words flew out of his mouth so unceremoniously. He had it all planned out, what he was going to say, the right words that were sure to get him out of the gutter with this one but right now, it felt as though he was digging an even bigger hole for himself.

"I missed you, (Y/n)."

"And you're going away again when I only got to see you today so... I wanted to make up for all the time we spent apart... if you would let me."

It felt odd to ask for other people's agreement. Satoru was so used to taking what he wanted when he wanted, to be given something he wished for simply because he asked for it.

This time around, he didn't want to be like that. He feared that if he clung desperately to (Y/n), it would only push her away from him even more. So, he waited; told himself that no matter her answer, he would accept it. Satoru's eyes stared at the floor with such ferocity that he was sure he would burn through it if he kept at it for the rest of the night, which he silently hoped he wouldn't. No matter how many times the Gojo heir told himself that he would take any answer that (Y/n) would give him, the sorcerer in question, knew that Satoru did not want to be rejected. She could easily tell; it didn't take a genius to see that much. The way he braced himself as though he was going to get hurt, that alone gave it all away.

Because Gojo Satoru valued her thoughts of him more than anybody else's.

As (Y/n) took an intake of air to politely answer, her head craned to look at the person standing at the end of the hallway.

"Gojo-sama, supper is awaiting you in your sleeping quarters."

At the sound of that voice, the events that took place earlier today rushed back to (Y/n) at full force. It did not occur to the young sorcerer that she had been putting off thinking about it until she was left with no other choice but to confront the situation.

Much like the incident that transpired hours before, Satoru spared not a single breath towards Kiyu's direction, even after she closed the distance between them to a mere arm's length; preferring to keep his gaze settled on the person standing before him.

"You can have it. I'm not going there."

Satoru's short, seemingly sufficient answer was enough to snap her out of her momentary reverie.

(Y/n) didn't dislike her replacement. Nagano Kiyu's existence served as a constant reminder of her approaching departure, that she would be away from the creature before her even if she had to spend those moments walking between the borders of the living and the dead. Kiyu was tolerable—or so (Y/n) liked to tell herself—and her gratitude did extend itself to the person in question when in reality, it was only extensive enough to graze its recipient. (Y/n) was grateful that Nagano Kiyu would stand as that demon spawn's companion in her absence. However, what aggravated her was that look Nagano was giving her.

"Sa—Gojō-sama, you have to rest... we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow—"

The insolent expression painted on her face said it all: I'm going to take your job.

To be perfectly blunt, (Y/n) could care less. She'd be more than willing to hand over this horrifying task to Kiyu if she was so desperate for it. She was sure of it.

So why did her hand ache to crush that audacious hand valiantly reaching out to touch the Gojo Heir?

"Who said that I was going to spend tomorrow with you?" His head titled sideways, for the second time that day, looking to the servant who had so brazenly declared such sentiments. Satoru sneered at her in such a way that it almost looked as if he was daring Kiyu to finish her interrupted assertion.

"You low-class scum."

It felt as though the three of them starred in a theatrical performance where the world is the stage; left to be puppets tied to the script, actions controlled by a director they could no longer reach.

"You're just a liability. Taken in by my grandfather because you couldn't give anything for the world—who would ever want you? Filthy monkey."

Gojo's words echoed throughout the halls, ringing in the ears of the two servants. He forgets sometimes... that when he utters words to degrade Kiyu, they come right back to push his one true friend to the ground.

And for a pause not longer than a blink of an eye, (Y/n)'s heart breaks a little more.

To hear the words come right out of his mouth—from Satoru who had so boisterously declared to the world that they were friends. To see the mirror of herself in the person he was reducing to something less than human—to be reminded that during once upon a time, it was her who was at the receiving end of those harsh remarks.

(Y/n) didn't want to hear any more of Satoru's insults towards the innocent replacement. The older girl might as well stand in the shoes of Kiyu if she had to hear another insult come from Satoru; be the one whose eyes brimmed with a silver lining, the one whose cheeks were reddened, hair tangled from all the pulling and dragging, thrown across the floor from a hit so strong it would leave your face bruised for a long time. Might as well go back to that place, stay in the presence of that man.

There was no denying that Kiyo was bitter and held all sorts of envy towards her—that Kiyo was quick to anger, to covet the things (Y/n) had, to assume that she would be the villain standing in her way to greatness.

But was that truly a reason worthy enough to hold against the younger girl?

It wasn't.

Because Kiyu was mistaken—and because just like Kiyu, (Y/n) had once longed to find her purpose... to find something meaningful to do with the life she was allowed to keep.

And for a while, she thought she was lucky to have been given one.

After all, (Y/n) and Kiyu were on the same boat.

Just like Kiyu, (Y/n) was taken in by the Head of the household. And just as (Y/n) once was, Kiyu longed to find something precious to hold onto—to serve as an anchor in a world so tumultuous.

If Satoru deemed Kiyo worthless, nothing more than another burden for the Gojō clan to shelter... how would (Y/n) be any different?

So, she walked away.

Failing to lull the tremble in her breath or hide the shudder of her hands... leaving the pieces of her battered heart scattered across the floor, dying just a little more at the echo of his words, at the stain of tears on the mahogany ground.

. . .

Moonlight flowed like silver water through the opened window, shining down on the figure of a girl lying on a futon in the middle of the small room. A lone evening breeze waltzed in between the curtains, making them flow like waves crashing on shore. (Y/n) snuggled further into the warmth of her covers, recalling a faint, albeit unfamiliar voice, whispering in a soft, kind manner. Words that she could never quite hear nor understand.

(Y/n) didn't bother looking up or retaliating when she heard her door open for the millionth time that day.

The intruder was probably far too daft to notice that she wasn't even asleep anyway.

As much as (Y/n) wanted to crawl away when she felt something lay near her space, she couldn't... not even when she heard him whisper into the stillness of the night.

"... please stay a little longer."

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Satoru's grandfather, or any relative aside from Yuuta has no name so I'm just gonna make one up for the sake of the story. Also, hair length in this chapter may sorta be sometimes set... I hope you don't mind.

[power-chords]

Gray suit, white shirt, Mr. Anonymous, moving with precision as he browses the engineering section and selects the book Hanna now holds in his hand. Self-contained, focused, alert. Neil flips pages back and forth. The camera angle shows electronic microphotography of various kinds of steel.

Michael Mann & Meg Gardiner, Heat 2, 2022

And how curious, what a distance he sought to travel from the grating sound of that c-h with its breadth of reference, its guttural history and culture, those heavy hallway smells and accents—from this to the unknown x, mark of mister anonymous.

Don DeLillo, Underworld: A Novel, 1997

Hanna was haunted by dreams, dead bodies at a long table looking at him. They didn’t say anything. Their look imposed obligations. (Mann & Gardiner)

Ever in search of the father who disappeared, Delmore bade everyone call him by his first name. His name was the first contradiction to engage his poetic sensibility; it was not the name of a "nice Jewish boy." [...] Lou Reed, his former student, may know the truth: the writer who wrote a timeless story framed as a movie was named after Frank Delmore, a dancer in silent films. Perfect, for Schwartz's consciousness danced through towering, flickering images. His name was emblematic of concerns he explored in his work: generational divides between immigrants and their American-born children, tensions between old-world values and American social aspirations, the old manners and a brash new culture that celebrated the breakdown of class divides and made a liberating religion of artistic endeavor. [...]

Words read for decades or centuries are never erased. Schwartz once said that his subject was "the wound of consciousness." He was a dazzling writer whose work captures the quicksilver mercury of time, the enormous weight of anguish, and the exaltation of finding meaning in what might have been lost sadness and desperate waste. Irving Howe said that Schwartz "found a language for his parents' grief," but the story transforms history, place, and character into primal truth.

Jayne Anne Phillips, "The Wound of Consciousness: An Introduction to 'In Dreams Begin Responsibilities,'" The Iowa Review, 2014

[zae-heeyyy]

Pastiche

Summary: You and Arthur escape through writing. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x gn!Reader Word Count: 2,345 Trigger Warning: Tuberculosis, death Tags: angst, sadness, high honor Arthur

a/n: Thanks for you kind words on Chiaroscuro. I've enjoyed writing again so much! I'm in my tragedy era. My hs english teacher's voice haunts me when I'm writing, so I spent a lot of time scrutinizing this. Didn't mean for it to be so long, but I hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading!

pastiche: a work of art or literature that imitates the style or character of another, often as an homage or tribute.

You knew there was something special about Arthur Morgan the day you met him. Despite his best efforts to believe otherwise, he was easy on the eyes, and his dry humor combined with his strong sense of honor sealed your crush on the cowboy. Everybody else could see that he was sweet on you, too, noticing when he pulled you to sit at the fire with him or how he watched you around camp. As more time passed, you'd become mostly inseparable, taking every moment you had to sneak away together. One of your favorite places to escape to was the fields of Little Creek River in Big Valley. You'd be reading a book and glance over to find Arthur staring intently at an animal until it was out of sight. Then he'd open up his journal and sketch it.  He wasn't doing that today, though. He was staring across the field, but you could tell he was elsewhere in his mind.

"Got somethin' to say," his eyes met yours earnestly. When he told you he loved you, a laugh erupted deep from your belly. Dumbfounded, he asked, "The hell is so funny?" his own laugh betraying his attempt to be solemn. It was hilarious to you that he didn't think you already knew that and that he didn't know you absolutely felt the same.

Another day, you were lying in Arthur's lap in the grass. Just the day before, he had returned to camp with bruised knuckles and some poor fool's blood on his face—one of Strauss's clients. You longed for a life where bruised knuckles and loan sharking were distant memories.

"Where would you be if you weren't here," you'd asked, holding his hand in yours. He stroked your thumb with his and gazed over the valley like always.

"Hard to imagine." He mumbled, sounding far away.

You nodded in agreement and replied, "You're always writing or drawing in your notebook. Maybe you could've been an artist or a writer." The thought brought a soft smile to your face, and you imagined, just for a second, a life where Arthur's biggest worry was perfecting his latest masterpiece.

He huffed in dry amusement, "Probably wouldn't have known how to read if it weren't for Dutch and Hosea."

You assented again and sighed, the smile on your face growing wider.

 "Arthur Morgan: author and illustrator." You held your hands up in dramatic fashion as if envisioning the words in front of you. Then you untangled yourself from him and sat up, "You could, you know? It's not too late. Maybe a biography?"

"A story about my life, huh?" He looked at you with a dumb smile, "I think a book about dirt would be more interestin'." He bobbed his head up and down as if nodding made his thought more true. You shoved him playfully, and he raised his eyebrow at you and held out his hands questionly. "What? There's all different kinds of dirt," he started counting on his fingers." Brown dirt, red dirt, hard dirt—"

You cut him off, "I'm serious, Arthur! This life…it ain't one normal folks live." A shit-eating grin crept up his face as he fought not to make another joke at his own expense. He shoved it down and kept listening. "Sure, it's just your life to you, but other people might find it interesting, exciting, even."

He thought for a second, then put his hands in the air, mimicking you, "The Confessions of Arthur Morgan: The Detailed Life of a Gunslinger by Arthur Morgan. Sounds like a Pinkerton's wet dream."

 "I see what you mean," you trail off, fingers playing in the grass. "Could change the name. People publish under a different name all the time. There's a word for that, I think."

"Pseudonym," he responded, his accent thick. "Think it's got one of those silent letters in front." He said it so matter of factly, and it confirmed what you already knew about him: he was far more intelligent than anybody ever gave him credit for. Still, you left the idea alone and thought Arthur had, too.

Then, on another afternoon in the fields near Little Creek River, he spoke out of nowhere. "Arthur Callahan or Tacitus Kilgore?" 

"Hmm?" you asked, barely glancing up from your book.

"For the pen name," he confirmed, scratching his chin thoughtfully. 

From that day on, your trips to Little Creek River became writing sessions. He bought a notebook that you two would trade off, coming up with ideas for the dramatized life of the gunslinger. You'd taken some creative liberties, and the story wasn't exactly a biography anymore. It had shaped into a Western love story. Arthur Callahan, after living a bad life, met someone who made him want to be better, an angel sent to rescue the devil himself. Arthur Callahan would get the perfect ending; a normal life. It was all Arthur's idea. 

"It's not my story; it's ours," he'd told you. 

You had been daydreaming about the possibilities for your novel for some time, but the chaos of life with the gang left little room to focus on it. The sudden move from Horseshoe Overlook to Clemens Point made things worse. Somewhere in the move, the manuscript was lost or destroyed—either way, it was gone. You couldn't hold back your tears during your next trip to Big Valley. Arthur's big hands swallowed your face as his thumbs wiped your tears away.  

"Shhh, we'll rewrite it, sweetheart," he promised.

Despite Arthur's gentle nudges, you couldn't find it in you to rewrite the story. Another day, he'd invited you to ride with him, heading off to your usual spot. He'd asked once more if you were feeling up to writing again. When you rejected the idea, he shook his head, seemingly surrendering. 

"Fine! You're so damn stubborn." There was no malice in his voice, though, and his eyes twinkled a little. "Looks like I gotta take matters into my own hands." Instead of stopping the horse in the fields as usual, Arthur stopped short, cutting into nearby woods. Eventually, he halted outside of the small cabin that was Vetter's Echo and hitched the horse outside. 

"Come on," he said, helping you down. "I've got a surprise for you." You walked up the cabin's steps, and he swung the door open to a small living quarters. "It don't got a back door, and I'm pretty sure the feller living here got mauled by a bear, but it's got one of these things." He gestured to the desk in the corner of the small cabin, a typewriter sitting atop it, "I don't have the first clue about using it." So he left it for you to figure out. He'd sit on a stool beside you, reading from a notebook, and you'd type slowly at first, but as time went on, the keys felt as familiar to you as a gun trigger did to him. 

Then things started falling apart. You'd moved from Horseshoe Overlook to Clemens Point, then to Shady Bell in a matter of weeks. The men went on a job to rob the bank in St. Denis, and most didn't return. You'd forgotten about the manuscript while trying to survive and spent weeks worried about Arthur and everybody else.

Then he came home to you, waterlogged but alive. You'd never felt more relieved. He was skinny and had a persistent cough, blaming it all on his rough journey. But it didn't stop him from finishing the book as promised. He'd write whenever he had a chance, and you'd go back to the little cabin in the woods, you typing and him reading.

Then he couldn't get through a page without coughing. You listened, concern etched on your face as he told you about his coughing spell and subsequent visit to the doctor in the city. Tuberculosis: practically a death sentence. After that, he'd step back when you tried to be close to him and wouldn't let you kiss him or be intimate with him. You spent a lot of time crying while he dipped his head in profound shame. 

Weeks later, he woke you up at night, gently shaking you and whispering to not alert anyone else. "C'mon, get dressed and ride with me." He was serious, his jaw set, his voice low but demanding. You didn't know what was wrong, but dread ran through your veins. You rode far away from camp, mostly in silence, your anxiety not letting you say anything. 

"You're gonna live a good life. "he finally said, breaking the silence. Your eyes stung, and you felt a lump in your throat.

"I don't want to hear this right now, Arthur."

He shook his head, frustrated, and spoke through clenched teeth. "Listen to me." His tone made you flinch. He'd never taken on that tone with you, ever. "This whole thing with Dutch, it's over. You gotta run. Gotta get out and make a good life for yourself." 

You wanted to protest; you weren't going to leave him, not now. But then you saw the waiting stagecoach up ahead. Your heart dropped and shattered into a million pieces. You reached around him to pull the horse's reins, coming to a skidding stop. You hopped down and started shaking your head, frantic in your movements and words. 

"No, Arthur. No."

You wiped away the quickly falling tears as you turned, fast walking, almost running back to that godforsaken camp that was Beaver Hollow. Even in his sickness, it only took Arthur a few big steps to reach you, grabbing you by the waist and turning you to face him. And then you cursed at him, pounded your fists against his chest, and wailed into the night. He just pulled you close to him, squeezing you until you didn't fight anymore. He gave you a stack of cash, made you promise to run, and said he'd come find you after it was all over. But both of you knew, deep down, that you were setting eyes on each other for the last time. He kissed your head. You sobbed into his chest, only letting go when the impatient stagecoach driver beckoned you.

"Never could've imagined I'd know somebody as perfect for me as you." All you could choke out was, "I love you," over and over and over again. He slipped a folded letter into your hand and helped you into the coach filled with your things. He stood silently with his hat in his hands while you rode off into the night. You sobbed for as long as your body let you while the coach took you down to Copperhead Landing.

First, Tilly showed up with Jack, and then Sadie came with Abagail. But then John arrived bearing Arthur's hat and satchel with a look in his eyes so terrible that it brought you to a screaming sob. That night, when everybody had finally settled down to sleep, you slipped away, leaving a note of thanks and well wishes. You were alone then, the way you wanted it to be without Arthur.  

Eight years; it had been eight years since everything went to shit. In eight years, you worked your ass off with any odd jobs you could find. Keeping busy was how you cured your broken heart. You'd tried as hard as you could to forget about the life you'd once lived until you read a headline in the newspaper: MICAH BELL KILLED. The memories flooded back to you, and you returned to a place you hadn't visited in a while. You only kept 2 things from that time: a letter from Arthur and the manuscript you'd written with him. Forged in Fire, you called it. After all this time, you couldn't remember who came up with the name, but you remembered why. You two were like tempered metal; the more you walked through hellfire, the stronger you became.  

Then there was Arthur's letter. You'd read it only once before today.

"Things I wanted to say but did not have the courage to say aloud." was scrawled across the top of the page, followed by a list.

"Keep visiting Big Valley.

Keep writing.

Publish the book.

Watch every sunset.

Trust your gut.

Please, be happy."

You heard his voice through every word. He'd underlined the third point: publish the book. In that moment, you decided to take a leap. You wrote to a publisher and sent a copy of the manuscript. And that's all it took. Things went into a tailspin after that, and before you knew it, you were holding a hard copy of the manuscript you and Arthur had worked on together all that time ago.

You'd made an effort, then, to find Abigail and John and Jack. They were held up at a ranch, Beecher's Hope, and were married now. You caught up with the Marstons and apologized for hastily disappearing all those years ago. They were happy for you, and you for them. 

On your departure, John took your hand, "I don't talk about him much these days, but I don't think he loved anybody like he loved you." He paused for a moment and forced his eyes to meet yours. "He's buried out in Ambarino, near Donner Falls. Top of the mountain. I can take you." You declined John's offer but set out east toward Donner Falls the next day. 

You found him around noon and watched wistfully as an eagle flew from its spot on a rock behind the flowery grave. You fell to your knees, no longer able to control the tears flowing down your face. "I did it, my love," you choked through tears. It'd been a long, long time since you let yourself feel this pain—a longing to reach something impossible. You dabbed the tears away from your eyes and sat in the grass, hugging Forged in Fire to your chest. "Thought I'd read it to you," you spoke into the air. You opened the book, cracked the spine, and read "Chapter One: Heaven's Fall, Hell's Rise."

[knoxic]

A kiss may ruin a human life.

Oscar Wilde

-Masterlist- part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4

wc: 2,7k

warnings: sexual tension (?), mentions of death and kidnappings, reader has adhd, horny aaron, miscommunication again. pls let me know if there's more!

a/n: the story changed a bit but it will go back to the first plot eventually! is just that i had a few more ideas and decided to add them here instead of writing another fic. part 3 is aaron's pov so we'll get back to the angst of part 1. no use of y/n.

a/n²: did i make it seem like reader is gender neutral?

Silence.

Nothing but the sounds of your breaths could be heard in the room.

A room that now felt cold and dark, if it was uncomfortable before, now it was unbearable. None of you spoke, you were still waiting for him to say something and he was too shocked to form any coherent sentence.

"If you're not going to say anything-"

"No- i just, don't know where to start." his voice was low, quiet and unsure.

"Start from," you paused, trying to decide what you wanted to know more, "Sunday morning."

"What?" was he playing dumb?

"We got this case on sunday morning, that was when you started acting weird." please Hotch...

"Oh," he still didn't know what to do, but whatever he did now would change your relationship anyway, so, he should probably tell you the truth. "It's because, i- i knew we would have to share a room," he paused to find words that explained what he was feeling but you took it another way.

"What is so wrong about being around me that always gets you like this?" your voice broke a little, and you hated yourself for showing weakness.

"There's nothing wrong!" that came out louder than he intended and he saw the way you flinched, "sorry, but i need you to understand, there is nothing wrong about you. Please just stay quiet so i can finish this?" he pleaded and those usually frowned eyebrows were now raised, his eyes were pleading.

"Okay."

There was a pause, he was gathering his thoughts and giving you both time to calm down.

"From the moment i heard we would be staying together, i knew i would have to get a hold of myself, as a unit chief i couldn't just let go like i wanted to... like i want to," what?

"I love spending time with you, more than i should and it scares me. I thought that if i didn't get too close i would be fine and it worked, until we shared a room for the first time," he sighed, "You were so sweet and caring and it surprised me," that sounded more like a question "i expected that but i didn't expect to... like it so much."

"Hotch-"

"Wait." he glared at you.

When you remained quiet he started speaking again "Ever since you came to my office, i knew i was in trouble." he sighed and shook his head, "When Strauss told me about you i was ready to treat you just like any other agent who came to my unit, but when i saw you... I didn't know what it was about you that kept pulling me in but i didn't want it to stop, being around you healed a part of me that i wasn't aware was bleeding. The way you treated me, with no judgement for what I've done... you treated me like everybody else and still made me feel special... i let myself be fooled by hope, of... what we could be."

...

At this point you were speechless, Hotch has never said so much and your mind was still processing what he implied.

"I know it's wrong, i am your superior, fuck, I'm your boss, the one you should look up to, the one who should take care of you and here i am being the creepy guy." he laughed but there was no humor behind it. "I am so sorry i made you uncomfortable, it was never my intention to let my feelings come forward. If you want to file a complaint against me, i understand."

"Hotch... no." it came as a whisper, you coughed and tried again, "No, but, i still don't know what it means..." fuck, I'm dumb. "Feelings?"

"Feelings. For you."

"Like, romantic feelings?"

"Yes? i mean, if they were harmless i wouldn't have to tell you," with his usual frown back he looked at you unsure, as if you were discussing an unsub's methodology.

"Oh..." harmless? why would it be harmless? him having feelings for you was all you wanted!... file a complaint?

"That is... what i wanted for as long as I've known you." you looked at him not sure what to expect but he kept eye contact, you could see the moment he understood what you meant.

He did not look relieved.

...

"Fuck." he whispered and threw his head back, rubbing his eyes roughly with the pad of his fingers. "What do we do now?"

"I don't know, but from the way you're acting i take it you don't want to do anything..." it hurt to realize he did not want to do something, deep down you knew it wasn't so simple but at the moment you couldn't really think past the possible heartbreak.

"It's not like that."

"It seems exactly like that..."

"I'm just not sure we should act on it, i am not good for you." He raised his voice and turned so he was sitting with his feet touching the floor.

"So we should just pretend this conversation didn't happen?" you said while pushing the blankets and mirroring his position, except his legs were covered by plain black pants. Your grey shorts that barely showed underneath your oversized shirt did not help your fake confidence.

Your question was met with silence.

"Maybe." Yes.

Careful to not let him see how disappointed you were, you kept his gaze, looking just as tough as him.

Under your stare, his resolve almost slipped until you got up, the same way you did after finishing an interrogation. The way you seemed so sure of yourself almost got him believing that what he said didn't affect you. That same sound of your bag opening is what snapped him out of his trance.

"What are you doing?"

"I'll spend the night with Emily." your voice was low and steady. The walls you built up to protect yourself from things that could hurt you coming back up strongly, walls that you used to hide your emotions when you didn't want people to know how you were feeling and my god did they work. He hated to be met with a emotionless expression when you turned to grab something from your bed-

"You don't have to..."

"Yes i do." again, low and steady. "I'll sleep there tonight and tomorrow I'll book another room."

He didn't know what to say, that was the best thing to do but you being away meant he wouldn't get to hear you breathing...

"We only have a few hours before we need to go back to work, you should let Emily sleep." trying to make you feel guilty didn't seem to work as you kept gathering your things. He was getting anxious now and when you passed him to pick up your phone from the bedside table he pulled the device out of your hand. "Stay. it's too late for you to be walking around the hotel." he was hoping that if he used his work voice maybe you'd listen.

"Give it back."

"No."

He was towering over you and the feeling he felt before came back, if you kept looking at him like that, he would break.

He couldn't afford to break.

So he left you standing there, walking to the bathroom with your phone in hand. You stood like that even after he slammed the door, shocked he had really just taken your phone just like your parents did when you were a teenager. After the shock passed you almost laughed at how insane this was, did he really think that this would stop you?

He knew it didn't stop you but he hoped it would. He had taken your phone but it's not like you needed it if you were going to stay with Emily. Looking at himself in the mirror, the eyes he was met with did not seem like him, for the first time in a while he did not know what to do. When he went inside he didn't even know what he was thinking exactly, only knew that he wanted to get away from you as fast as possible without making you leave the room. Looking around, his eyes fell to the same towel he used earlier that now was folded beside the sink, in his rush to take a shower he didn't think much about where to put it but he was sure he hadn't folded it.

You don't remember hearing the lock, if he didn't lock the door you could just go in and get your phone back, even the idea of fighting again seemed appealing, maybe if you fought with him some more your feelings would dissipate...

A shower always helped him take his mind off of things but right now he could barely move without being reminded of your presence. The towel you folded because he had thrown it somewhere carelessly and you knew he would want to shower again before work, your own towel and dirty clothes that laid together on the floor, the liquid soap you used that normally would be kept in a corner with your skin care products but that now was right beside his shampoo, you were also desperate for sleep and yet you made up time to fold his towel... yeah a shower wouldn't hurt.

Hearing the water running somehow duplicated your want to go inside, finding yourself right in front of the door with your hand on the handle when-

"Fuck!" a whispered scream, muffled by the water yet distinct enough for you to understand.

If you were to go in, you would have to be prepared to face him... the door would make noise and there was a chance that maybe the curtain was not closed enough and he would see you coming in, if you were to go in... it would have to be now.

This is definitely not what he planned to do, the initial idea was to take a shower to clean his head from any thoughts of you, not to fill it it more thoughts... definitely not these kind of thoughts. Now he was hard and even more frustrated.

Both his hands were on the wall, his head resting on it while he contemplated what to do, touching himself while thinking of you when you were at the other side of the door right after a fight felt dirty. When his left hand started slipping down a couple knocks echoed followed by your voice, no longer the voice that made him feel small.

"Hotch? can i come in?" he should tell you no, what if you somehow managed to see the evidence of his perverted thoughts?

"Yes." yes please, come in, come see for yourself that I'm just as worst as those guys on the street that you held yourself back from punching.

You were right. The door made a loud noise that made you cringe, looking at the mirror you were met with the damp white curtain, the fact that he was standing naked behind it right now was enough to make you forget why you were here in the first place, a loud buzzing made you remember. Walking quickly to where he had put your phone, right above his towel, picking it up you were met with a call from Rossi and 3 new messages.

"Dave is calling." you figured Aaron had also heard the phone buzzing. "Hello?"

"You're awake!"

"Uhm, yeah..." weird.

"Good, is Aaron with you?" come on Dave, you know he is.

"Yes he is." you were facing the mirror and saw when Aaron reached a hand up to pull the curtain back before letting go, apparently he remembered you were there and he couldn't just get out, especially given his current state...

"Great, i called him 3 times and he didn't pick up" there was a pause, "Thought that was unusual, he usually picks up in the first ring..." he was talking in a suggestive tone but, he often used it when talking about Aaron.

"Oh, he's taking a shower..." no, no, no you shouldn't have said that! he can probably hear the shower running-

"At 3am?" he laughed, "Weird guy, but well, tell him boy genius found something that could help the profile, we're heading back to the station right now."

"Okay, I'll let him know."

Guess you weren't sleeping tonight, at least Aaron did, having a sleep deprived guy driving you wouldn't be good.

"What did he want?" you didn't realize you hadn't said anything after the call ended, snapping your head up you were met with Aaron watching you from behind the curtain, his hair was damp and he looked flushed.

"Spence found something, they're heading back to the station now." he nodded, his wet hair shaking and a few droplets of water falling down his face, it looked obscene really. "Anything else?"

"He said he called you and found strange that you didn't answer," you were avoiding looking at him now but still saw in your peripheral vision when he nodded while humming.

There was a moment of awkwardness until you realized you could just leave, so you did just that.

"Wait!" he called out before you could fully step out of the room, "Can you hand me the towel?"

You didn't answer but still went back inside to grab it, the fabric felt soft and comforting unlike his wet and cold hand when it accidentally touched your fingers.

"Wait for me? I'll be out quick."

"I don't-"

"Please?"

"Sure." you sighed.

...

Closing the door behind yourself felt more relieving than catching an unsub... okay, that was an overstatement but the feeling was there. Not knowing how long it would take for him to be out but aware he only had the clothes he was wearing to bed in the bathroom, you tried to change as fast as you could, having Aaron seeing even more skin would be too embarrassing.

You had done a good work earlier picking up your clothes, all of them were stuffed inside your go bag and you could see a white button up, white tank top and the black pants you wore today sticking out, it would have to do. Deciding to take one step at a time you pulled the shorts down, your shirt was big enough to cover your ass if Aaron suddenly opened the door, thankfully, it did not happen. Taking your shirt off felt a bit too risky, just having the cool air of the room hit your bare back and chest would make you shiver, if Aaron saw it you would be left shaking. Pants buttoned and shirt left for later you picked up your sneakers, boots were too much for a time you were supposed to be sleeping, just as you were finishing tying them the loud noise of the door opening and heavy footsteps filled the room.

"Ready?" he seemed out of breath, you hadn't looked up yet but you were sitting in your bed and he had to walk in front of you to get to his. When he did, you could see the black pants pooling around his feet.

"Not yet."

Picking the shirt and tank top you had throw a little further on the bed you risked a glance in his direction, bare shoulders, pale enough you could make out the outline of where his hand were gripping a second before, his tense muscles were aching even more now, having to interact with you and pretend to not have almost jerked off to the thought of you minutes ago had only made it worse.

Hearing your bed creaking he looked back, he supposed you were walking to the bathroom to change your shirt, oh what he would do to have you change right in front of him... fuck, not again!

Adjusting his pants, again, he tried to focus on the case.

Women around 20-25 were being kidnapped, found dead 3 days later. The case was pretty much like any other but the city decided to not cooperate, the team was stressed and it doubled when another woman went missing yesterday, one of the police officers knew her family and almost started a fistfight with Derek when we took a break, not pleased with the fact that we weren't machines and actually needed to take breaks eventually.

"Now i am." you were back, he hadn't even realized he continued moving while thinking.

"Good. Let's get going."

Now with the work mask put on, both were ready to act like no words were exchanged tonight.

a/n³: i read this like 3 times and i still don't trust my work lol, I'll try to find a beta reader so i can post faster.

[jeansplaytoy]

aot people and what dogs they have

this was funnnn , no warnings !!

starting off , i feel like eren would have a french bulldog 😭 he don’t even seem like a big dog typa person (not in the animal way) but he would def name the dog after him like with the same initials or something. like ej (eren jeager) jr.

“ej jr, getcho ass back over here.”

“bruh ej jr ian even playin nomo bruh.”

“junior, why you eat my new…” and take a deep ass breath. “why you eat my new shoes?”

but to be honest he can’t even be mad cus him and the dog act just alike 💀 and i feel like ej jr would be hella nice, just play too much (like eren). like the amount of times this dog has took off down the sidewalk and eren just stood there, sick and tired of the bullshit. he’d definitely be one of those people that would be like “dogs too much to handle” but kept the dog no matter whatttt.

next up is connie, who would prolly have a doberman i’m not even finna lie. like he would want a dog that looks scary, but isn’t actually mean. and that’s specifically his dog.

like he’s trained enough that if connie tells him to attack like for real, that mf gon attack. but he’s trained enough to know if connie just playin or not. but he got it kinda good cus when i say everybody is scared of this boys dog …. it ain’t even funny 💀

everybody is scared of it except for the main group. he gotta keep it in its room (yet it had its own room) for somebody to come over his house.

and i feel like he’d name it like domino or spade (ykyk).

“yo spade come here lil bro!”

“spade go eat yo food, you had me fixing that shit for nun.”

“spade. go in yo room fool.”

he also squares up and play fights wit the dog 😭.

next up is jean. now this mf know he wrong, but he would have one of them tall ass dogs, like a irish wolfhound or sumn.

now this dog is sum else, jeans dog would be hella chill, but taking it out in public? 💀shiddd. everybody staring and looking like a mf and he honestly, HONESTLYYY don’t understand why. people will literally be like “bruh, that dog is huge as fuck.” and he’ll just be like “ion know what y’all be talmout, but ight.” AND IT AINT NO ACT cus he tall too😭.

the dogs name would prolly be clifford, ngl. the only difference is that the dog ain’t red. but other than that, he chill as hellll.

“clifford, stop tryna eat paper and shit!”

“cliff’ you chewed my bottle of water bro.”

“clifford, go. just go sit down, damn.”

there’s really no problems with this dog other than the fact that it’s big, but it’s trained a lot and hella good. like the dog knows to sit down in its normal spot when people come over and not to try to jump on people when they’re standing up, stuff like that.

so ony would probably have a small dog just like eren, and it’d probably be a papillon and lemme tell you, he would literally treat this dog like a princesssss omggg.

buy her clothes, paint her nails, brush and comb her hair, brush her teeth, treats everywhere in the bottom of the pantry. like he’ll treat the dog like his own daughter. he always holds her, she’s trained (kind of), like what else could a dog ask for?

but the namewise, i feel like he’d name his dog princeee, honestly. 😭

“princess, bring yo tiny ass-“

“you hungry, P’?”

“princess get that shit out yo mouth!”

of course he’ll only fuss at the dog if she really being disobedient like the time his bed was covered in toilet paper, like ten rolls.

now speaking of fussing, mikasa will forever get fussed at for buying not one, but two black perro de prasa canarios. when i say this girl don’t give a damn bout walking at night with her hands full at all, even when the dogs ain’t on a leash, they’re trained REALLY good. so when she’s actually scared or nervous about somebody following her, they’ll do exactly what she says. full on barking and then stopping mid bark when she says so.

everybodies scared of her dog (and connie would be jealous because not that many people really care about his when they see hers) but it’s not even on purpose, she just wants them for protection honestly.

their names would probably be bullet and gun. obviously.

“gun, bullet, why is there dog food everywhere?”

“gun, bro stop tryna fight bullet.”

“bullet, stop shaking water everywhere!”

bullet is bullet because he got a lot of energy and gun is gun because he’s more intimidating. like they got the spike collars and all, mikasa was not playing.

last but not least, sasha would have a dog that she could laugh at everyday, like a greyhound.

now honestly her and this dog will argue each other from the minute she wakes up to the minute she goes back to sleep. they would be so on and off. 😭 but she’d dress the dog up and stuff and be really nice to it.

the only thing she’d really laugh at is how skinny the dog looks. but the name would probably be bones.

“bones, stop chewing on my airpods cases!”

“bones, get out. please get out.”

“bones stop scratching meee!”

but she obviously loves her dog cus she’s the type to have it since she was like 16 maybe. and they play fight too but she always ends up losing the fight, and one of her lashes in the process.

let’s not talk about how i fg to put armin, hope u enjoyed.

[queen-diamond-serenity]

The final pushing force that actually got Angelo Bronte killed

So we going to talk about something we going to clear something up a bit. Because the crowd that always want to talk about Dutch going crazy and shit you know I think you're reading to stuff way too much. And I feel like a lot of people that have a negative view on Dutch and the unreasonable way that they do is simply because these are the main people that played the first Red Dead Redemption that came out years before the second one. Y'all already have it in your mind and y'all have your minds made up about who y'all think Dutch is and y'all coming in with a negative view of him to begin with. So when you play the first game it's easy for you to say well I already saw Dutch for who he is in the beginning of the game because you were looking at him from the perspective of the first game. For those of us who never played the first game and walked into the second we don't have that sort of perception. But I think that's a conversation for another time. I need to just point one thing out. And while Dutch may have a bit of crazy in him and give him the circumstances he's under who the fuck wouldn't be. I'd say what really got Angelo Bronte killed was his mouth. Do y'all remember what this man kept saying to him? You could look at how irritated Dutch was getting with him.

Angelo Bronte made it very clear about how he felt Superior to Dutch. And even in his stupidity knowing he was captured by these outlaws couldn't help but keep rubbing that in his face. Y'all give Dutch such a hard time. Anybody in Dutch position would have killed Angelo Bronte a long time ago. But Dutch for whatever reason manipulative or otherwise was willing to work with this man and some kind of way after taking his prodigy son. I'm sorry was anybody else I know including myself would have not taken the kidnap of their child lightly. But they were willing to let things go and let things fly with this man for him to do what set them up to get killed and played games with them.

And then to add insult to injury he still ran his mouth talking shit to Dutch even insinuating that his own men would turn on him for $1,000 hence why Dutch said I possess things that you don't understand that you will never understand.

Angelo Bronte insisted to continue to talk his shit talking about how he run this city and that they're all what people are running from and just kept psychologically and verbally fucking with Dutch and you can see it in his face how fucking tired he was at everybody. Tired of the pinkertons hated the fact that the Braithwaite and Gray situation went soured away it went.

Angelo Bronte insulted Dutch's intelligence and made a fool out of him. And when they were on that boat I didn't get the impression that Dutch was actually going to kill him. Until he started running his mouth talking shit and there it was his head going under water. Angela Bronte running his mouth and kept fucking with Dutch is what got his ass killed. Of course among other things. Go look at the video on the boat when they were having that whole conversation and you can see the anger just growing more and more in Dutch's face. If his ass would have sat quiet and be humble he probably would have had a chance to live and they probably would have used them for some type of ransom. But no he wanted to run his mouth and talk shit crying about how he run this town and so head honcho in town. Well Dutch proved him no matter how much money and swag he had it couldn't save him from a bunch of Outlaws that he deemed lower than him.

So with this being said Dutch going crazy no longer works here even if he was going mad which I believe he was we can't use that for a soul purpose to demonize Dutch. I can understand why Angelo Bronte got killed. I know many that would have killed him sooner. But let me shut up cuz you know y'all like to look at Dutch apologist like we make excuses. No we just see things for what they are. Y'all came in playing Red Dead Redemption 2 after playing the first one looking at Dutch like the bad guy regardless. That's why y'all can't see him the way we see him. But I digress. I simply digress.

Rewatch this video and you'll see exactly what I'm saying.

Like I said he should have kept his mouth shut! And he might have not became an alligators late night snack.😂😂😂

My grandmother once told me a quiet tongue makes a civilized head. And when I look at this clip over and over I begin to realize and see what she really meant by this not that I didn't understand it before but that proverb really hits home in this situation. My grandmother had a saying for everything.😅

[daidonzo]

Chapter 14 - You don't know how you've betrayed me [Chishiya x Reader]

Something was wrong.

Chishiya seemed to think so, at least. And if he did… Well, he was probably right.

He had been called to an executive meeting that morning, again, so soon after the last one. Which was not a common occurrence, but you assumed it had something to do with the Hatter returning from the game. Maybe he had been hurt?

The blonde man hadn't shared his thoughts with you, so you were basically stuck guessing.

"Maybe he found the ten of hearts and left?" Kuina asked, walking by your side.

"Maybe, yeah. I still think it has to be something worse."

"Isn't it bad enough that the Hatter won't be here any longer? The militants would go crazy…" She pointed her index finger to her temple and moved it in circles.

"Maybe it didn't work. Can you imagine? We got all the cards, but nothing happened."

"I thought you and I were the optimistic ones from the group."

"I try to be. I just can't really shake this feeling off…"

"Okay, enough! Tell me more about your kiss!"

You blushed, intensely. Of course, you had mentioned it to Kuina first thing in the morning, excited as you were. You even had said "NOW, I definitely am high on love." which had brought laughing tears to the eyes of the dreadlocked woman.

"It was just that. I sang him a love song, and he kissed me. He did say that if I did it, he would give me something in return. I guess that something was the kiss."

"Did something else happen?" She raised her eyebrows one, two, three times, a cheeky smile on her face.

"No. We kissed, and we went to sleep."

You remembered the moment, and felt tingly all over when you did. Whatever you had, it was becoming something more, something special. Slowly, sure, but good things came to those who waited.

"I was looking for you. Care to join us?" Chishiya's voice woke you up from your daydreaming. Your tuned, with the brightest smile still on your face, only to be met by the most serious expression. Arisu and Usagi were there as well. You felt your own smile wither, and disappear.

Something was, definitely, wrong.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Hatter had died. Chishiya and Arisu had seen his corpse, and could attest this was not like The Lord of the Rings where he would later on return like Gandalf, with a different outfit and newfound powers. Aguni was the new leader of The Beach.

You were having a lot of difficulty wrapping your head around it.

"The black envelope." Chishiya started, sitting on a chair. The five of you were in Arisu's room, surrounding him and listening intently. "The poker cards gathered by all the members of The Beach are kept in the safe in Hatter's royal suite room. The passcode to the safe is kept and sealed in the black envelope. The envelope is opaque, and kept in utmost secrecy, and can only be opened when there is a new Number One. The new Number One will check the passcode alone, in front of all executive members. Then, he will place the paper with the passcode written on it into a new envelope, and seal it again. It will then be signed by all executive members, and stashed away again."

You had never heard him say so many words at once.

"First, Arisu will infiltrate the royal suite. Then, he will search for the safe, and steal all the cards inside." He finished.

"What about the passcode?"

"I have an idea of that. I'll tell you when you are in front of the safe."

Chishiya placed five walkie-talkies (handheld transceivers, Kuina had said, laughing after you had called them that) on the table, one for each of you.

"The three of you…" Chishiya pointed to Usagi, Kuina, and you, his gaze lingering on you a few seconds more than on the rest. "Will be on the lookout."

"This is too dangerous. If we're discovered, we'll be killed." Usagi whispered.

"She has a point." You added in support. You trusted Chishiya with your life, felt safe whenever he was around, knew (or at least so you thought) he wouldn't put you in any danger, but the plan…

"This is the only way to change the current situation." Arisu said. "Now that Hatter is dead and there is no unity at The Beach, the time is right for this plan."

You exhaled, suddenly feeling very tired.

"Okay, then. When do we start?"

The plan was set into motion a lot faster than you thought, leaving no time to prepare, or to think it through and back out. Aguni would give a little speech, to let know all residents of this little utopia he would be the new king, which meant all executive members and militants would be at the annex. You wouldn't get another chance like this.

You were surveying the area Chishiya had placed you in. You were supposed to use your walkie talkie to inform the others if you saw anyone, were it executive, militant or just random passerby. You were fidgeting, wishing this would all be over soon. Hoping everyone would be okay.

You had not spoken with Usagi before today, but you had with Arisu, and had found yourself caring, if only a little bit, for the guy. Not so much because you were friends, you weren't, but because even though he had lost people and had every right to be crying on a corner seven days a week, twenty-four hours a day, he was still there. Holding on, trying to find answers to his questions. You admired his tenacity, his intact empathy and still remembered what he had told you, about wanting Usagi to return to the real world, at the very least. You could relate.

Nothing was going on around you.

You knew you shouldn't have, but still, you were tired of waiting, it seemed like everything was going according to plan and maybe you could support each other, since it seemed Usagi had also been on the fence about Chishiya's idea. So you went to the area she was supposed to be checking on, near the Hatter's suite.

Only to see her being grabbed by militants, and being taken into the room forcefully. You hid yourself, as best as you could behind a table and two armchairs that were close to the entrance of the room. If someone decided to look your way, you were dead. You couldn't see very well what was going on, but could heard her scream Arisu's name, as well as someone taking a beating. And then, Aguni's voice.

"You saved me, Chishiya."

"I did what I had to do."

Your heart broke.

So, he had betrayed them.

You gasped, and instantly covered your mouth with your hand, hoping the noise of most likely Arisu being beaten to a pulp had been loud enough to mask it.

You were trying to process what had happened, tears streaming down your face. It seemed you still had sympathy for others. For those who were alive, and had shown you a kind smile, or given you a hand when you needed it.

Like Arisu had.

So, Chishiya wanted to get on Aguni's good graces. To steal the cards, and get out of here. And instead of using you for it, he had used Arisu, who had fully trusted him. And Usagi, who got hit by the recoil. And, to keep you out of it, had you patrol an area he knew would be deserted. This was not what you wanted. None of them deserved what was going to happen.

How could he?

[drustvar]

Ch.9: Chameleon

Sneaking around with a stolen face doesn't go quite as planned.

WC: 3,062 A/N: I know, I know. Another 3k chapter. I just couldn't find a good place to chop it other than its natural ending :"). Rosie's accent really pops a bit in this one, she's stressed AF Ao3 Link in reblog || Full text available under read more.

Rosie quickly began to regret her choice in illusions as Julian spent the entire journey back to the Palace practicing his Asra impersonation. Having to take on Asra’s appearance seemed to have sobered him faster than anything else could have. He also walked at twice the speed she and Portia did, and the two women were out of breath by the time they had reached the bridge to the Palace.

“How do you suppose he’d be feeling at this moment?” Julian asked as he glanced back at them. “Like a lamb entering a den of wolves? Or maybe a wolf entering a den of vipers? Hmm, vipers he probably wouldn’t mind, he and Faust would fit right in.” 

“Well for starters, Asra walks at my pace,” Rosie said as she doubled over to catch her breath. Marble squeaked under his heels as he came to an abrupt halt. He turned to her, his brow deeply furrowed. 

“Faust, that’s the snake’s name, isn’t it?” She nodded, and his brow creased further. He rubbed his temples in irritation. “I-I remember the snake. She nearly squeezed the life out of me, once.” 

“Pythons tend to do that. They’ve got no venom,” she said. He’d been trying to hide the anxious melancholy that had hung around him since they had left the tavern, but it had only become more and more apparent. He had kept a constant, careful distance between them. She wished she could reach out to him, to hook her arm in his and provide her shoulder for support. 

“So it’s safe to say he would be surprised. When he’s surprised, is he more of a…this? Or more like this?” He made an exaggerated expression followed by a slightly less campy one. 

“Neither. He has an excellent poker face.” 

“Hey, Ilya,” Portia said as she grabbed her brother’s arm. “I know this is gonna be a challenge, but try not to talk so much, okay?” 

“Oh no, naturally not. Asra doesn’t talk much. Believe me, it’s hard to maintain such an aura of mystery once you open your mouth.” 

“Maybe he was just quiet around you?” She teased. “You’ve got a real bad habit of doing the talking for everyone, Ilyushka.” The Palace threshold loomed over them. Despite the structure shining beautifully in the sun, it felt hostile. Portia took a deep breath and squared her shoulders before she thrust her arms against the great doors and led the way inside. The doors shut heavily behind them with a sound of grinding stone that made Rosie’s ears ring.  “Stay behind me an’ let me do the talking,” Rosie said as she grabbed Julian’s hand. He murmured something quietly, and she felt his thumb ghost over her knuckles. 

“This is weird, where is everybody?” Portia asked as they made their way through empty marble halls. “Well, uh, where can I take you first, oh great magicians?” 

“The bedroom, of course. Bring us to the room where the dark deed was done.” “Oh dear,” Rosie couldn’t keep herself from laughing. “You had really better let me do the talking.”

“What? I’m doing great! Uh, aren’t I?” “Tone down the theatrics. By like, a lot…and don’t walk like that.” 

“Walk like what? I’m walking like normal!” “Asra doesn’t walk like that, though. He’s kind of…floaty. The way you hold yourself looks more like a hare ready to run for his life.” 

He let out an indignant huff. “And I’m the one being theatrical?” “But am I wrong? Certainly doesn’t help that you’re so much shorter now, no longer as imposin’.” 

Portia sighed and put her hands on her hips. “Guys, as cute as it is to watch you two bicker,” she tapped her foot. “Are we going to the Count’s room or not?”  || The hounds were nowhere to be seen as the three made their way to the Count’s abandoned wing. Rosie took this as a good sign; she had a feeling her illusion wasn’t advanced enough to fool animals, especially if they had known Julian from before. Sounds echoed from the end of the hall, only adding to the haunting atmosphere. Rosie could feel Julian tensing beside her. “Didn’t you say that no one ever comes to these rooms anymore?”

“Nope, never,” Portia said as she peered ahead into the gloom. “In the years I’ve been here, nobody does if they don’t have to. And when they do…Let’s just say there are a lot of stories floating around downstairs. People have heard things, seen things!”  Rosie wrapped her fingers around her amulet, once again reminded of the ghostly being that had cornered her on her first night in the Palace. A faint moan drifted through the rafter just as they reached the door to the bedroom. Julian bristled from head to toe, and Rosie squeezed his hand tightly. Portia turned the handle, and to their surprise the door was already unlocked. Just as she started to push the door open, a crash shook the room from the inside. Rosie swore and pushed closer against Julian as the door swung open before them. The room was a flurry of activity on the inside; servants scrubbed at every surface, trying to dislodge years of grime. Huge, sweeping  streaks of ash coated the wall behind the canopied bed. The Countess stood beside it, her eyes wide as she looked at each of them in turn. 

“Portia, there you are.” In a flash, her composure had returned. “Hello, Rosie. It is good to see you are well again. As you can see, we are at last attending to the ruin of this room. There have been a number of…curious accidents.” She paused, her eyes settling on Julian-Asra. “Who is this?” 

“I am the majulian—magician Asra, here to help my apprentice help you, Countess.” As Nadia stepped closer, Rosie could feel the hair on the back of her neck begin to bristle. “Asra, at least we meet.” “Y-yes, I’d have offered my help earlier you see, but I was on a, uh, quest to open my third ear.” “Third…ear?” 

“Eye! He meant eye. I’d had an ear ache so ears ‘ave been on the mind, isn’t that right, dear?” Rosie shot him a look that effectively shut him up.

“I see. Well,” Nadia paused. “I simply thought we might have met before, but you are indeed a stranger to me. Or perhaps my eyes deceive me; it is terribly dim. Perhaps if that lamp was lit?” The Countess pointed to a sconce covered in cobwebs, too high on the wall to be reached without magic. From the corner of her eye, Rosie could see Julian swallowing hard. “Oh, goodness!” Rosie shouted and pointed to a darkened corner of the room. “What in the world could that be?!” As the Countess turned, Rosie made sure to step between her and Julian. “What is it? Oh, my.” Rosie had hoped that she could shrug it off as a rat or a stray cobweb, but no, something was actually there. The portrait of the late Count was smoking. Its eyes appeared to be dripping red, as if they were bleeding. Several of the servants gasped, and one even fainted into the arms of another. “That is uh, that is a bad omen.” 

“Indeed,” The Countess’ voice was quiet and unwavering.

 Portia laughed nervously and clapped her hands. “Oh, don’t worry about that, milady! I’ll take care of it!”  “Don’t go near it,” Rosie said in a hoarse whisper. But Portia didn’t hear her, just grabbed a nearby ladder and hurried to the portrait and scrubbed at its eyes with a rag. Rosie wheezed and clutched her amulet as she watched a shape form in the corner, white smoke rising and coalescing  into a vague, human sized shape. She reached behind her for Julian, who clutched her arm. To her horror, the smoke darted across the room and slammed into the ladder.

“My heavens, Portia!”

Portia landed in the Countess’ arms as the ladder came crashing down.

“So quick!” Julian said, as Rosie hung onto his arm, trying not to shake. “That was a feat of amazing foresight, Countess. Almost as if you saw the future. You may have uh, abilities in magic.”

Nadia gave him a curious look as she set Portia on the ground. “I wonder…Perhaps when I am through here, I shall join you both in the investigation.” 

“In the library!” Portia said, having recovered from her fall. “Investigating the library.” “Yes, a perfect place to start. I believe you keep the keys.” 

“I, uh, yes! Yes I have them," she coughed and waved some lingering dust away. "Follow me." As soon as the door had shut behind them, Rosie grabbed their hands and dragged them to the end of the hall as fast as she could. Once they had put some distance between themselves and the Count’s room, Julian’s fine control of the Asra facade broke. His face split into a grin, one that was unmistakably his own. 

“I think that went well.” “Oh sure, fantastic,” Portia said as she punched his shoulder. “Well, what do you think, Rosie?” Rosie didn’t answer, she was still staring back the way they had come. “Rosie?” She jumped and hissed quietly when he put his hand on her arm. “Sorry, I,” she ran a hand through her hair and tried to breathe. “I’m sorry. I-I cannae go back there, not again.” Julian put an arm around her and pulled her close, trying to comfort her. “E-everytime I’ve been there somethin’ happens I-” she shook her head. “Let’s just…Let’s just get to the library.” The Devoraks exchanged a brief, worried glance. “Of course. This way,” Portia said, leading the three once more away from the darkened wing.  ||

The illusion Rosie had cast fully unraveled once the locks on the library door clicked behind them. It was as if a sheer fabric dropped off Julian’s frame and evaporated like dew, how quickly “Asra” vanished. 

“Well, that was certainly an experience,” he said, looking at his arms—now his again. “I may not know magic, but there’s definitely something going on here. Something beyond my knowledge. Luckily for us, we’re at a library, so let's see what we can learn.”  The pair began to snake through the stacks, weaving through the shelves that rose up around them like protective walls. Julian’s eye scanned the rows quickly as his fingers fluttered over the spines. Rosie followed his lead as they slowly made their way deeper and deeper into the shelves. By the time they had reached his desk, he had grabbed at least a dozen different books.

“All these books, and I just kept coming back to this same old desk, just around the corner. It’s coming back to me…it’s close at the back of my mind. I can just taste it.” 

“Right. Let’s get studying then, I suppose.” Rosie said, before she noticed his gaze lingering on her before he bashfully looked at the ground. 

“Are you mad at me?” 

“I’m not mad at you,” she said as she grabbed one of the books from the pile and began to flip through it. “If I were mad at you, you’d know.” 

He sighed and looked past her. “You’re not, huh? You know, Rosie, they do say there’s such a thing as being too forgiving.” 

“I was never mad, but I was—I am, frustrated,” she snapped the book shut. “You’ve no idea how much I want to help you. I dunnae care the cost. I mean, what have I got to lose, really? I’ve not got much, if we’re being completely honest.” 

Julian opened his mouth to speak, but she held up a hand to silence him and continued. “I know, you would love for me to be angry. To be acting like a woman scorned and to punish you. But that’s not how I feel. You punish yourself enough as it is.” 

He didn’t respond, his eye had grown wide as he quickly stepped around her and stood in front of the desk, staring at it. It was still cluttered and unassuming, but not exactly. She could tell it had been touched. “This isn’t just any desk…this is my desk.”

“Pippin didn’t do this,” Rosie murmured as she stared at one of the drawers that had been left slightly ajar. “Pippin? Who’s Pippin?”  “My familiar.” 

He didn’t dwell on that information, he was instead fixated entirely on the desk. He started to frantically dig through its contents; papers fluttered in the air, covered in meticulous drawings and logs. Rosie plucked one from the air and studied the image: it depicted a scarab beetle of some kind. Something about it drew her in, so much so she hardly noticed how still Julian had gone. His arm was trembling; clenched tightly in his hand was an oily metal key with a red stone in the eye. As she stared at it, she could feel the blood roaring in her ears. Something about that key…it felt so familiar. As if she had had one of her own before. But that couldn’t have been possible, she reasoned. 

“This is it. This is what was calling to me,” Julian spoke quietly. “Don’t ask me how I know, but I know. It’s not any of these old scrawlings. It’s this!” He tossed the key in the air, snatching it on the way down and pocketing it; a conspiratorial gleam in his eye. “I’m one step closer.” He grabbed her shoulders and pinned her to the desk, an adoring grin plastered on her face. “If it wasn’t for you, dearest Rosie, I’d still be two behind.” 

“I really didn’t, oh!” He swept her around victoriously in his arms, only stopping when his nose was an inch from hers. “Rosie-”

A horrible screech came from the window, sending them scrambling to hide in the nearest corner, pressing close together as they tried to stay as far out of view as possible. She watched him, the way he swallowed nervously and the sweat that beaded on his brow as they both stared at the window, fearful of discovery. He took a slow, deep breath, his face  reddening as his chest pressed against hers. 

“Just…just a bird. Sorry,” he said. His gaze slowly drifted downward, pausing at every point of contact between their bodies. He bit his lip as a low groan rumbled at the back of his throat. 

‘Already?’ She thought as she raised a brow at him. 

“About everything, I’m sorry,” he said as he hung his head, looking to askance to face her any longer. “I don’t know what I was thinking, pushing you away like I did. Temporary madness, driven by despair, I guess. It perhaps goes without saying that I find you very, very attractive. Whether,” he paused as he took another shaky breath. “Whether I’m destined to hang or not. And if by some miracle, you see something attractive in me, too. Ah, but for what? I pace, I drink, I tear my hair out. And I still don’t know what to do. Rosie…what do you want me to do?” He finally looked at her, a fiery passion burning in his eye. 

“Stop moping and kiss me,” She grinned at the way his eye widened and the way he stared her down, as if unsure he’d heard correctly. “Do I need to repeat myself?” She took a step closer and pressed a hand to his chest.

“Well, if you insist.” 

Gloved, leather fingers grasped the back of her neck as he pulled her in, his lips meeting hers eagerly, ravenously. She was surprised by how needily he kissed her, and her heart fluttered as his other arm came round the small of her back, tipping her off balance. She clung to him, her fingers tangling in his hair.

“Easy baby,” she murmured. She could feel his heart racing, practically beating out of his chest. “You’re so worked up already,” she said as she brushed hair out of his eye, her nails following his brow. She murmured soothing words as she tried to guide him to rest his head beneath her chin. But he suddenly pulled away, giving her a suffering look. She could tell he was about to launch another miserable tangent, one that they would both undoubtedly  regret. 

“Don’t speak,” she said as she reached up to cup his face. Her long nails rested on his cheekbones, just below his eyes. “I didn’t give you permission.”

She pulled him close again, herding him back against the wall as she kissed him. Her kisses were slower, less about hunger and more about savoring him. She lifted her leg and hooked it over his hip, making him groan and press closer against her.

“Oh, hello,” she purred as something firm pressed against her thigh. His breath audibly hitched as one of her hands started to trail down his chest. “Oh, if we had the time, the things I would do,” Julian said after he broke his lips from hers. “Who says we don’t?” She asked as she traced his jaw. “And, I dunnae remember giving you permission to speak yet, did I?” 

“Oh, uh, no…” He sighed happily as she kissed him again. She tangled her fingers in his hair, lightly scratching his scalp. 

‘What are the chances we could be caught right now?’ She wondered. ‘Even hidden in the stacks…if we were both arrested…’ But her worries were quickly chased off as Julian leaned back against the desk, pulling her onto him. “Don’t mind those,” he said, nodding at the books that fell unceremoniously onto the floor. “Hadn’t even noticed,” she grinned as she tilted his head back and exposed his neck. He moaned low in his throat and arched as she pressed teasing, open  mouthed kisses against his throat. Just before she could sink her teeth into him, a noise from beyond the library doors startled them. 

“Ah! Milady! Finished up so soon?!” Portia’s voice came from the other side of the door, the cheerfulness in her voice barely masking a worried tone. “That’s a surprise!” Nadia’s words were indecipherable from beyond the door, but just the faint sound of her voice was enough to make Rosie’s blood run cold. 

“That’s our cue,” Julian whispered. He patted her hip as he ushered her out of his lap and into the shadows. 

[itsallyscorner]

Baby’s First Heartbreak

pairing: marvel cast x teen!fem!reader, Scarlett Johansson x reader, Elizabeth Olsen x reader

prompt: the youngest member of the marvel cast experiences her first breakup.

warnings: not much—crying, a break up.

A/n: Tom is 19 here because this is set during Civil War. He was such a baby omg🥺

You were always a firm believer in having hope. No matter what the situation was, you knew that you had to at least try before fully giving up. You were only 18, but it was the mindset you grew up with. You were taught to face things with bravery and confidence, you faced things head to head with all your might. Though some things never went the way you planned, you were still the ray of sunshine you were, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, eager to learn and explore the world.

You had the same mindset going into your first relationship. Love was something you’ve always wanted to experience. Sure, you received it from your friends and family. But you wanted the different kind of love. The special one that was shared between two people. The one that made your heart skip a beat and made you breathless. Where staring into that special someone’s eyes felt like you were being transported into another world where it was just the two of you.

You’ve found that kind of love in a boy from your hometown. The two of you had been friends since pre-k, growing up along side each other, and being there for each other’s success and failures. You’ve known him all your life but the feelings didn’t come till sophomore year of high school. It all just clicked all of sudden; that one day where he said you looked cute in his jumper and the next moment you knew you were seeing him in a new light. Junior year, you were both beating around the bush; constantly pining over each other with longing stares and fingers always brushing against each other. Though you didn’t see him all the time due to your job as an actress. You spent half of the school year in your hometown and the rest at Atlanta. Of course he knew of your job and as much as he hated to see you go, he knew you were doing something that made you happy. So he spent as much time as he could with you before your time together came to an end. A few days prior to your flight to Atlanta, under the night sky of your backyard, he admitted his feelings for you. By senior year, the two of you had been dating for half a year. It had been the best moments of your life, you were in love and high on happiness, it was like nothing in life could ever go wrong.

Now here you were, in your trailer on the set of Captain America: Civil War, sobbing you eyes out. You knew loving could hurt, but not this much. You still felt your heart skip a beat, but it was clenching in heartache. You were still breathless, but because you’ve been trying to catch your breath after every sob that wracked your body. You felt broken. The boy you loved had ripped your heart out of your chest and threw it onto the floor, stomping on it till it stopped beating.

You hiccuped as you stared at yourself in the mirror. You were nothing but a fool. A fool who had hope in something that was never going to work. You sniffled as you snatched tissues out of the box on your bathroom sink, dabbing the material onto your eyes and blowing your nose. Your eyes were red and your cheeks were puffy. A sigh of frustration releases from your body. There was no way you could walk onto set without people asking you what was wrong.

You debated asking your assistant to ask your designated makeup artist to do your makeup in your trailer, you didn’t want to be a bother. But your thumbs were already shamefully typing away the request on your phone. A few minutes later Eleanor, your makeup artist on set, arrives at your trailer with her supplies in hand.

She doesn’t directly question you, but she has the look of a concerned mother once she sees your face. You lie to her and tell her you weren’t having a good day and chalked it up to being homesick.

You dreaded going on set. You weren’t sure if you could face anyone without bursting into tears. The moment you felt like you were okay, your heart would clench, reminding you of the ache it was feeling.

You were in your costume, sitting on the sidelines of the set while you rehearsed your lines. The dialogue from the script acted as a distraction from the current pain you were feeling. The tears had stopped but your eyes felt dry, making you blink multiple times to keep them wet.

“Hey, sweetheart.” You look up and meet the stunning blue eyes of Chris Evans. That typical goofy smile of his was etched onto his features. Usually you would reciprocate that smile, but today you just couldn’t find it in your heart to do so. His smile falters when he sees your face.

“Morning.” You greet him, forcing a smile. Concern shadows on his face as he shifts a bit closer to you. “You alright?” He asks, eyes softening at you. Being the youngest of all the Avengers cast members, everyone had a soft side for you. Especially Chris, who saw you as a daughter.

“Y-yeah, I’ve just got—allergies.” You lied, another fake smile forcing itself onto your lips.

“Well have you taken something to help your allergies? Do you need Allegra? Claritin or something?” He looked around ready to call one of the runners on set to get you some meds.

“No! I took some already, a few minutes ago! It probably hasn’t kicked in yet.” You tell him. He eyes you reluctantly, not knowing if he should believe you. He decides to let it pass and nods, “Ok, tell me if you need anything though.”

You hum in response and tilt your head down back to your script.

The day goes on and everyone had caught on to your lack of—being you. The infamous smile everyone knew you by was barely on your face. You didn’t crack jokes with Anthony or share a giggle with Elizabeth. Instead you were quiet, a frown was on your face as you stared blankly at the floor. You didn’t interact with anybody, keeping to yourself and walking off set whenever one of the Russos called cut.

Anthony and Sebastian watched as you walked off the set. You have all finished a sequence of the airport scene and the Russos had given everyone a break while they rewatched the scenes they shot. Anthony’s brows furrowed while he watched your figure go further and further away. He had tried to cheer you up, telling you a joke about how Seb’s arm lube kept leaking out his fake arm. Your response was nothing but a fake laugh—it wasn’t even a fake laugh, more like a huff of laughter.

“She didn’t laugh at my joke.” Anthony thought aloud. Sebastian quirked an eye at his friend, “Does she have to laugh at all your jokes?”

“No, but even if I tell her a corny ass joke, she’ll still laugh at it.” He expressed, throwing his arms up. Sebastian’s lip pouted as he thought back to your behavior on set. You were acting unusual. He turns to Tom (Holland) and asks, “Hey, has (y/n) said anything to you? Like anything bothering her?”

The Brit shakes his head, “Um, nope. Besides filming, I haven’t spoken to her today.”

Anthony crosses his arms, approaching Tom, “Have you tried speaking to her? We’ve been trying to figure out what’s been going on with her today and you’re the closest to her age here.”

“I—I tried to talk to her, but she didn’t seem in a talking mood. I thought I was bothering her so I just stopped.” Tom answered. He gestures to the direction of the trailers, “I could check up on her right now? Maybe I’ll get her one of her favorite snacks from crafties, it might cheer her up.”

Half of a smile makes it way onto Sebastian’s face at the boy’s efforts. Though you were clearly upset and he felt like they were all prodding at your privacy. “Maybe we should give her some time alone.”

Tom frowns at the older man, “But (y/n)’s upset. Shouldn’t we do something?” Anthony agrees with Tom and looks at Sebastian.

Seb raises his hands up in defense, “I’m just saying—maybe she wants to be alone. She went back to her trailer away from everybody. She probably doesn’t want us shoving our noses into her business, we should respect that.”

Chris joins the group along with Scarlett and Elizabeth. He had overhead the group talking and urged the two ladies to join him in on the conversation.

“You guys talking about (y/n)?” Chris asks, hands on his waist.

“Yeah, Seb says we should leave her be.” Anthony fills him in.

“She told me she had allergies.” Chris starts. “She’s an amazing actress, but kid’s gotta work on the lying.” He finishes. Elizabeth and Scarlett glance at each other.

“Well has anyone talked to her at all today? Besides Chris?” Elizabeth asked the group. Everyone shakes their head. Elizabeth sighs while looking around at anyone else who could’ve talked to you. She spots Eleanor hanging along the sides with her makeup belt on, ready for touch ups. Elizabeth calls her over. Eleanor has her brush ready to powder her down, but Elizabeth politely declines.

“You do (y/n)‘s makeup right?”

Eleanor nods, “Yeah, I do.”

“How was she this morning? We’re just a bit concerned since she’s been acting different today.” Eleanor sighs, knowing if she told them it would be an invasion of your privacy. Although, they were all concerned for you and so was she.

“I got a text from her assistant telling me to do her makeup in her trailer today.” She began. “I walked in and her eyes were red, cheeks puffy—“

Chris apologizes and interrupts her, “Because of allergies?”

Eleanor shakes her head, “No, she never mentioned anything about allergies. But she looked like she’s been crying. She was wiping her face when I arrived.”

“Did she give you a reason for why she was crying?” Scarlett questions her.

“She told me she was feeling homesick.” Eleanor answered. Scarlett turned to Chris and shared a look. Elizabeth thanks Eleanor then turns back to the group.

“We need to check up on her.” Anthony says. All the men nodded and began to make their way to your trailer. Suddenly, they were stopped by Scarlett and Elizabeth.

“But (y/n)—“ Tom said pointing to the trailers. Scarlett shakes her head, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Lizzie and I will go. You guys are gonna overwhelm her with all your questions.” Scarlett insists, much to the men’s dismay. They wanted to be there for you, but maybe a mother figure might help you open up with what’s bothering you. They agree and let the two women go to your trailer. Before they can get to you, they get some snacks from crafties for you.

As soon as you shut the trailer’s door behind you, the tears welled up in your eyes again. It only took a matter of seconds until they fell from your eyes and down your cheeks. You heard some people walk by outside and cover your mouth to muffle the whimpers that came out your mouth. You slid down the door and shoved your head into your hands. You leaned forward against your knees as you cried into your arms. You felt pathetic, embarrassed, anger; you were feeling so many things and the only way to let them all out seemed to be crying.

They heard your cries from behind the door. Scarlett sends Elizabeth an alarmed look as she rushes up to your door. She knocked on it repeatedly, causing you to jump from behind the door. Your cries come to a stop while you try to wipe away the tears as best as you can.

“(Y/n), honey, please open the door.” You hear Scarlett say. You remain silent, getting up and dusting your legs off. You stare at the door, debating whether you should open it or not.

“(Y/n), everyone’s worried about you. We just want to help.” Another voice coaxes you behind the door. Elizabeth. “Please let us in.”

Outside, the two women had their ears pressed up against your trailer’s door. Scarlett tries to get you to open the door again, “It’s only me and Lizzie. I promise.”

There was some shuffling heard behind the door. The door pushes open slowly, making Scarlett and Elizabeth back away. A worried expression appears on Scarlett’s face once she sees you. She cups your cheeks, her thumbs gently swiping away some tears that fell from your eyes. The two of them shuffle inside your trailer. You burst out into tears once again when Scarlett wraps her arms around you. She moves you both to sit on the couch that was in your trailer. She lets you shove your head into the crook of her neck while her hands smoothed your hair. Elizabeth sits behind you rubbing circles onto your back. Your cries broke both their hearts. You were a fairly happy girl, to see you in such pain and heartache was hard to watch.

Scarlett rocks you back and forth, trying to calm you down by whispering comforting words into your ear. She presses a motherly kiss onto your forehead once she sees you start to calm down. Elizabeth waits patiently beside you waiting for when you’re ready to talk. When your whimpers turned into hiccups, Scarlett pulls your face away from her neck to look at you. She frowns when she sees your tear stained cheeks.

“Are you going to tell us what’s going on or are you going to keep bottling it up to yourself?” She asks you softly, tucking strands of your hair behind your ears. Elizabeth chimes in from behind you, “You know, sometimes it helps to tell others what’s bothering you. You don’t have to keep it to yourself, (y/n), you could talk to us.” She gathers your hair together, splitting it into two parts as she began to fish tail braid your hair. 

You take a moment to compose yourself before eyeying the two women. You knew you could trust them. Scarlett was like your on-set mom and Lizzie was like one of your aunts. If you could tell anyone on set what was going on, it would be them.

“He broke up with me.” You confess, eyes trained on your lap. Lizzie’s fingers stop braiding your hair, “What?”

“Peyton, he broke up with me.” You whined, not wanting to say it again. You fiddle with your fingers while a tear falls to your lap.

“Oh honey.” Scarlett cooes pulling you back into her chest. You sniffle and wrap your arms around her torso. Silently crying into her shoulder.

“Did he give you a reason why?” Lizzie asks softly. You move away from Scarlett’s hold and lean against the couch with your knees to your chest. Lizzie wraps an arm around your shoulder for comfort.

You glanced at your phone that was on the coffee table, “H-he texted me earlier this morning. He said he couldn’t do the long distance thing anymore and that he has feelings for somebody else.”

Anger flashes in Scarlett’s eyes, “He broke up with you over a text message?” You nod in response.

“What a dick.” She mutters glaring at your phone. It’s quiet for a few minutes. Until you ask them, “Am I not worth trying for a long distance relationship?”

Lizzie shakes her head, “No, don’t you ever think that because you are.”

You sigh and throw your head back, “Then why did he break up with me? Is there something wrong with me? Am I not pretty enough?” Scarlett interrupts your questions by shushing you.

“There is not a damn thing wrong about you. Don’t you ever let a man, let alone a boy, make you question your worth.” Scarlett advises you a stern look on her face. “You are the most sweetest and loveliest girl I have ever met in my life. You’re kind, you care about the people around you—you even laugh at Anthony’s stupid jokes.”

Lizzie snorts beside you and squeezes your shoulder, “And his jokes are the worst.”

Scarlett continues, “You are a talented young woman already making it big in the movie industry and you did it all on your own. You are beautiful inside and out. You’re perfect, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“Then why did he leave me?”

“Because he’s an idiot that doesn’t know your worth.” Lizzie answers resting her head on your shoulder. “I know it hurts now but these things happen for a reason. He wasn’t meant for you and you weren’t meant for him. Maybe somewhere in the future you guys will meet and try again. Or maybe you’ll move on with someone new. That’s just how it is. It may sound harsh, but it’s the truth.”

Scarlett nods at Lizzie, “Take it from me, I’ve been married twice. When it seems like you found that special person, sometimes it’ll all come crashing down. And it’s not an easy thing to go through. It’s full of pain, heartache, self doubt and a bunch of other heart wrenching things. But in the end you come out a stronger version of yourself.”

You stare at Scarlett, “How did you do it?”

Scarlett softly smiles at you, “Well, I had lots of friends who supported me every step of the way. But most importantly, I valued myself. I did things that made me happy and took care of myself mentally and physically.”

You bite your lip in thought as you stare at the ground.

“Listen to me.” Scarlett urges you, “You’re young, (y/n). You’re going to meet so many more people in the future that’ll bring you so much happiness and love in your life. Don’t beat yourself up over one boy who decided to leave you because he wasn’t committed for a long distance relationship. You’re going to be okay.” She assures you, cradling your face. Your lips form into a tight smile while you nod in response.

“You have us and the rest of the people outside of this trailer to support you. We’ll always have your back, whatever it is, I promise you that. You’re not going to go through this by yourself.” Lizzie promises you, taking your hand into hers. You hum and rest your head on her shoulder. You pull on Scarlett’s arm to join you and Lizzie. She chuckles and hugs you from behind.

“Thank you guys.” You whisper, genuinely grateful that you had them in your life. Lizzie pecks your temple, “Anytime darling.”

[mypoisonedvine]

peaches & cream || soft!dark Jake Wyler x reader

for @stargazingfangirl18​'s 5k challenge! I used the prompt, "the town golden boy isn’t as sweet as everyone thinks."

word count: 3.6k

warnings: smut (noncon), stalking/obsession, some degradation/negging (but lots of praise during the actual smut), kinda yandere vibes?, touch of breeding kink at the end, definitely flirting with the boundary between soft!dark and regular dark but I like to think it’s a fine line

“Sorry, but that’s a seasonal flavor,” the girl at the counter explained in a snarky monotone.

“Well, yeah, but isn’t it still… the season?” you pressed; normally you weren’t the sort of person to argue with a cashier over a milkshake, but the look she was giving you made you feel like she was holding out on you— especially when the promotional poster for the very thing you were trying to order was just behind her head, and said the flavor was available for two more days.

“We’re out,” she answered firmly, but then her face suddenly shifted to a much more pleasant expression as you heard the chime of the front door opening behind you.  

You felt his body hovering behind yours just as his hand laid on the counter beside you, caging you in.  It was even more unsettling with the context that there was a whole line of people waiting behind you already.

“I’ll get your usual,” the girl promised to the man beside with a flirtatious smile as she disappeared to the back, returning almost instantly with a shake in her extended hand.  “Peaches and cream milkshake— extra whipped cream, no cherry.  Enjoy!”

Your eyes widened at the reading of your own order.  “I thought you were out!” you protested, going completely ignored.

"If you were my girl, this sort of thing wouldn't need to happen."

You recoiled from Jake's voice in your ear, and he smiled in spite of your snarl, bringing the straw to his lips slowly.  With a shudder you walked away, deciding it was probably better to forgo a milkshake anyways— especially if it was a chance to avoid everyone’s favorite senior, the football king who basically owned the whole town for no other reason than being good-looking, athletic, and allegedly “charming” or whatever.

Of course, he followed you, sitting across from you in a booth and silently shooing his posse of fellow teammates to go off and give you two some space.  If only he would give you space.

“We can share,” he offered as he held the milkshake out towards you.  “I know it’s your favorite… it’s mine too.”

“I’ve lost my appetite,” you explained quickly as you pulled a book out of your backpack, intent on ignoring him since you couldn’t physically force him to leave.

He shrugged and returned to sucking on the straw, watching you unwaveringly as you tried to read your book— staring at the page was going well, but you couldn’t seem to actually get any words down.  Had you forgotten English as a written language or something?

“Could you leave?” you finally asked as you groaned and looked up from your book.  “You’re distracting me.”

“I’m literally just sitting here,” he reminded you.

“And it’s distracting!”

He smirked proudly.  “My presence tends to have that effect on people.  Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

You rolled your eyes, burying your face back in your book.  “You know, you may have everybody else fooled, but someday you’re gonna have to leave this pathetic little town and go into the real world where throwing a ball isn’t a career and nobody fawns over you just because you have the audacity to be attractive.”

He chuckled lightly.  “Right, because you have those big city dreams of yours, but believe it or not some of us like this ‘pathetic’ little town.”

“Well, of course you would,” you snorted.  “Your dad’s the mayor and your girlfriend’s the head cheerleader.”

“My ex-girlfriend,” he corrected, finally getting your attention enough to make you shut your book.

“What?” you blurted out.

“Yeah, she dumped me,” he explained plainly.

“Why would she do that?” you asked, making him look much too proud of himself again.  “Finally snapped out of the brainwashing, huh?” you added, effectively killing his smug expression.

“I guess you could say that.  She met some college guy from out of town… I think her parents liked me too much, she needed a bit more rebellion.”

“Well, my condolences to you,” you smiled, “and my congratulations to her.”

“I thought you hated her,” he scoffed.

“Well, now she and I have something in common: a complete lack of interest in you!”

“I mean, I wouldn’t go that far,” he smirked, “she still comes over every now and again to suck my cock.”

You choked on nothing, face getting warm at his crude language.  He didn’t talk like that with anyone else; it was so cruel the way he kept everybody in town under his spell except you, the way he let you in on his real darkness with no one else to confide in or believe you.  

It was so fundamentally lonely, being the one person who wasn’t in love with Jake Wyler.  It was even worse being the one person Jake Wyler loved.

At least, that was the word he used multiple times in his semi-anonymous letters, his incessant calls and emails, his speeches outside your window.  He’d actually cooled off lately, you wondered if maybe he had finally let go of this ‘the one thing I can’t have’ obsession and learned to appreciate his girlfriend (who, for all her personality flaws, was objectively gorgeous, and seemed to at least be nice to him if nobody else).

But now that she left him (which you were still trying to process, honestly), you were surprised he hadn’t already moved on to the next best wannabe model and/or reinstated his campaign to win you over.

Then again, the look in his eye kind of made you think you were about to witness the second one.

“You know, when she does come over, I can only ever finish because I’m thinking about you,” he revealed in a low voice.  You grimaced and slid out of the booth, stuffing your book into your bag and barely managing to throw him a goodbye before you dashed out.  

It wasn’t like you really thought you could get away from him— he had made it clear over and over that you couldn’t— but the idea of being crammed in that booth with him, surrounded throughout the diner by his adoring fans who somehow didn’t manage to overhear him when he said those awful things, made you feel nauseous.

What you should’ve considered was that, fans or not, those people were witnesses, and now that you were running out into the dark streets of the town and he was chasing after you, you didn’t have any.  It was just you and him, and when you turned into an alleyway to try to get home faster, even the dim glow of the streetlights couldn’t see you anymore.

“Hey,” he stopped you with a tight grip on your arm, pulling you back into him.

“Let me go!” you whined, trying to tug yourself away but only ensuring that his hand would leave a bruise on your arm.  

“I will when you just hear me out, okay?” he hissed, spinning you around to look up at him.  "Why don't you just give me a chance?  Don't you wanna be popular?" 

"I don't want to be anything that requires being within ten yards of you!" you spat.

He seemed bewildered, but you knew he wasn’t actually that stupid.  "Why?"

"Because you know why!"

He sighed, slumping his shoulders a little.  "Are we still on that, really?  I told you, you should take it as a compliment.  You know how many girls would kill to catch me jerking off in their panties?"

"You're sick, Jake,” you sighed, “and you're really good at hiding it from everyone else but I know what you really are.  You told me you needed help with algebra and I actually believed you, for months you were lying to me to get close so you could perv on me when you already had a girlfriend and two side chicks anyways— god, Jake, you're crazy!"

You yelped when he pinned you to the wall, blue eyes darker than ever.  "I really, really hate that word."

Against the wall, your back straightened as you felt the tone shift completely for a moment before he was back to his jovial self again, giving you a somber but almost-genuine smile.

“The only kind of crazy I am is crazy about you,” he defended with a laugh, leaning in a little closer.  “Why can’t you see that?”

As his eyes moved from your own to your lips, a renewed sense of fear shot through you.  “Jake…” you mumbled, apparently your feeble attempt to ask him to stop.

“Just one kiss,” he bargained, “and then I’ll let you go.  Okay?  That’s all I need.”

“N-no,” you whimpered, turning your head away as he leaned in even further.  “Stop.”

“Come on, it’s just a kiss, baby,” he cooed.  “Then you can leave.  Hey, you might actually like it.  You know, I think that’s what you’re really scared about… and I get it!  When I first realized I was in love with you, it was scary for me, too— I mean, I’m the most important guy in town and you’re just some bookworm, it’s sort of social suicide for me so I had a lot to worry about.”

There he went with his negging again, trying to bring you down to his level.  Your brain knew that, it saw right through it, but your gut still sank with doubt.

“But I know now that love is nothing to be afraid of,” he concluded.

“No, Jake,” you whispered, feeling tears well in your eyes, “I’m afraid that you’ll hurt me if I don’t do what you want.”

“Well, that is something to be afraid of,” he replied with the coldest laugh you’d ever heard; you didn’t hear any agreement, but the lack of denial was deafening.  “So just be my good girl and let me kiss you…”

You swallowed dryly, your eyes wide open and searching for anywhere to look but up at him.

He was so close now that his lips brushed against yours with his command: “say it.”

You stammered over your breath, not sure exactly what he was asking for, and you winced as you felt his grip tighten on your arms.

“Say, ‘kiss me’,” he clarified in a harsh whisper.  “Say, ‘please’...”

“Please,” you repeated awkwardly, hearing it in your voice but so clearly not your own words, “kiss me.”

He let his mouth intertwine with yours and your eyes were still wide open as he let his own fall shut, moving his hands to clutch your face gently instead as you gave a weak effort to kiss him back.

Objectively, he was good at this.  A lot of things were objectively true about Jake: as much as you forced yourself not to see it, he was handsome; as much as it didn’t really matter to you, a boycotter of all things sports, he was talented; and, as much as no one else realized it, he was completely deranged.  For every word of kindness from him there was another of anger.  For every love letter in your locker, there was a threat left scrawled on crumpled paper inside your bedroom, just so he could remind you that your parents would let him into the house if he asked and never question it.

Which was why it was extremely important that you did not enjoy this kiss.  You needed to hate the way his fingers traced over the pulse in your neck, the way his tongue tickled yours, the way his teeth just barely grazed your lip until your knees went a little weak.  

But wow, there was something primally satisfying about melting into his arms, feeling his strength support you like it was nothing when he held your waist and pulled you closer.

You could almost forget that it was him.  But then he mumbled your name into the kiss, nearly moaned it in fact, and it pulled you back to reality.  With a gasp, you pushed him away and blinked your eyes open, not even realizing you’d closed them; hating how quickly you’d started to give in to him.

“There, one kiss,” you mumbled, wiping your mouth with the back of your sleeve.  “I’m gonna go home now—”

“You can’t be serious,” he laughed incredulously.  “You’re gonna kiss me like that and tell me you don’t feel this, too?  We’re so meant for each other— we even order the same milkshake!”

“That doesn’t matter!” you denied.

“I love you!”

“That doesn’t matter either!”

You turned to leave but he grabbed you again from behind, covering your mouth with his hand when you opened your mouth to scream.  “Don’t fucking talk to me like that,” he hissed in your ear, “and don’t walk away from me.”

Fighting against his grip did nothing but exhaust you: he only needed one arm to hold you back as he dragged you deeper into the alley.  Your legs swung wildly and landed a kick to his shin, and he plugged your nose while he was covering your mouth so you couldn’t breathe.

“Listen to me, you stuck up little bitch,” he growled.  “I’m really sick of this ‘hard to get’ act.  I know you want me.  So shut up and let me show you what you’ve been missing out on, okay?  You gonna be good?”

In that moment, you would’ve agreed to anything for a chance to fill your lungs with fresh air, and so you nodded, the back of your head rubbing against his chest.

“You gonna be nice and quiet so nobody catches you getting fucked like a whore in this alley?”

Another nod, more feverish than the last, ended with a sharp inhale as he let go of your nose.  But he was still covering your mouth, his arm around you now feeling less like restraint and more like an embrace.

"I've wanted you for so long, you can't even imagine," he explained softly as he leaned down and kissed your neck, gripping your waist tighter.  "You and this perfect body of yours.  This smart little head that thinks too much…"

You swallowed dryly as his hand trailed lower.

"This pussy you've been hiding from me for much too long," he added darkly, roughly shoving his hand up your skirt.

You whined behind his hand but he didn’t seem to care; he pulled your skirt up and grinned at the sight of your panties— because he recognized them.

“I remember these,” he purred.  “They look good on you, baby, but they looked better covered in my come.”

Your cheeks burned with shame— you already hated yourself for still wearing the pair he’d tampered with, but it was harmless after a few runs through the washer, right?  You weren’t going to stop wearing your favorite panties just for him, that would mean he won, in a sense; or, that’s what you told yourself to justify not burning them.

“Don’t worry, they’re gonna be soaked by the time I’m done with you,” he purred, slipping two fingers between your legs and growling slightly.  “Well, actually, you’ve already done a lot of the work for me.”

He pulled the fabric aside and explored your pussy instead, tightening his grip over your mouth as you made little muffled yelps.  The rough pads of his fingers found and targeted your clit instantly, that megawatt smile pressed against your ear as he started to rub your bud harder.

“Mm, feels good, huh?” he taunted, moving even faster as your hips jolted unintentionally.  He stopped only to bring the fingers to his lips, humming at the taste of you which he sucked off of them.  “So sweet, babygirl— better than any peaches and cream milkshake, that’s for sure.”

The wet fingers trailed down your body again, finding your entrance that he suddenly pushed into; it was a little too much without any warning and it made your eyes shoot wide open, a squeak barely escaping your throat.

"Just as tight as I imagined, baby,” he sighed, “all those times I used your panties, or hooked up with somebody who almost looked like you from behind.  You’re gonna feel so good on my cock, I know you want it so bad.”

He took his fingers out of you to reach back and open his belt with one hand, the sound of the buckle matched in upsettingness only by the sound of his jeans sliding down to his thighs.

You heard your own breath loud and heavy against his hand as you felt his hard cock press against your thigh, a drop of precum smearing on your skin.  Your breathing halted suddenly, though, when he slid himself between your legs to rub his cock over your exposed and swollen pussy.

“Oh, babygirl, you really are too good to me,” he grinned, kissing your ear tenderly.  “So fucking wet and ready for me, huh?  You need it that bad?  You’re gonna get it, baby, ‘m gonna give it to you so good…”

Bracing yourself as best you could, you felt the head of his cock push against your entrance before he slammed in all at once, making you hiss in pain.

“Oh god,” he groaned, “fuck, you’re so warm…”

Already he was fucking into you roughly, pumping faster and deeper, paying no mind to your choked sobs of pain from the wide stretch.  Even when it stung it felt oddly good, and the underside of his cock seemed to slide perfectly over your g-spot with each movement until your eyes began to roll back in your head.

“So fucking good,” he moaned hoarsely as he braced you against the brick wall for leverage, reaching back down with his free hand to rub your clit again.  He chuckled when your legs quivered, and he must have felt your walls tighten around him, too.  “I wanna hear those pretty moans, baby, if I take my hand away are you gonna be good?” he asked darkly.  You nodded, enjoying the brief feeling of freedom that came from not having his hand over your mouth anymore.  But then again, it was humiliating that now he could hear your panting breaths, your desperate mewls that you failed to swallow down.

He made a sound that was almost like a laugh as he watched you squirm in his arms, one more way he had to lord this all over you, as if forcing you to take him in an alley wasn’t enough on its own.

His breath against your ear was hot and strained, each meeting of your hips to his accentuated with a little grunt from him.  It didn’t help at all that his fingers were rubbing you just right, with so much skill that you wondered if he’d somehow figured out how you touched yourself when you needed to get off.  Honestly, you wouldn’t put it past him to have spied on you before, even if you couldn’t figure out when or how.

The hand that used to cover your mouth slid up under your shirt and pulled your bra down, a large, rough hand groping each breast and pinching your nipples until you bit down on your lip to stay quiet.  For all the mocking and teasing he’d done before, he was pretty direct now— like he was trying to make you come as fast as possible, overloading your body with sensation.  

And did he have to be so fucking good at it?

“I know you’re close, babygirl,” he whispered in your ear, “just let go…”

“Jake, please,” you sobbed, too far gone to appreciate that no begging would make him stop now.

“Come for me,” he demanded roughly, fucking you even faster as he sucked a mark onto your neck, and finally it all came crashing down with a choked-out cry of his name and a gush of warmth dripping out around his length.

“Ohh fuck, there you go, fuck it feels good when you come for me,” he grunted, thrusting even faster.  “You’re gonna milk my cock with that pretty pussy, babygirl— you’re gonna make me come…”

“J-Jake, not inside!” you interjected, getting his hand back over your mouth in return.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he soothed, “waited too long for this to pull out now.  Feels too fucking good.”

Behind his hand, the difference between whines of hatred and moans of pleasure was irritatingly subtle.

“I love you,” he reminded you in a voice exhausted yet heavy with desire, “so fucking much…”

A few more erratic, brutal thrusts accompanied by heavy pants and he was gone; you could feel his cock pulsing with each rope of come that filled you, so deep that your head fell dejectedly with the realization you had no hope of washing it out now.

His hand fell from your mouth but he didn’t pull out for another few moments as he caught his breath, gently peppering your neck and cheek in slow kisses.  “Baby,” he finally sighed, breaking the crushing silence, “you’re so fucking perfect.  I knew you were made for me.”

I hate you, you wanted to cry out, but words escaped you as he hugged you tightly and pulled your panties back into place, soaking them with his come as it leaked out of you just like he’d promised.  He stuffed his cock back into his jeans and helped you adjust your clothes back to looking almost presentable, finishing it off by turning you around and smiling at you with serene pride before kissing your forehead.

"You're gonna make such a beautiful prom queen," he cooed, “especially if you’ve already got a nice little bump showing…”

His hand rubbed beneath your belly button for emphasis, making you whimper and force your eyes shut as tears rolled down your cheeks.

"Shh, don’t cry, baby,” he soothed, kissing your cheek softly.  “Trust me, you're gonna love being my girl."

[cafedanslanuit]

♡   —   pairing: eren x reader

♡   —   tags/warnings: mentions of cheating and alcohol. side aruani and yumihisu. honestly just a feel-good fic, with humour and fluff <3

♡   —   a/n:  honestly, this is the most “romantic comedy” fic i’ve ever written and i love it <3 shout out to @ofoceansandtombstones​ that beta read this one mwah thank u

♡   —   masterlist

There was an ill taste in your mouth that wouldn’t go away, no matter how many drinks you had. And you already had more than a few. From your spot on the table, you could see your friends dancing and having the time of their lives. You really wished you could join them. Nevertheless, you had wasted all your energy forcing a smile and clapping along during the ceremony. Once you had arrived at the hotel reception with the rest of the guests, you had slid a bill to a kind waitress and told her to keep the drinks coming. 

Ymir and Historia were dancing in front of you. Stoic, sour-faced Ymir couldn’t help but smile as her sweet girlfriend twirled and giggled, her cheeks red and eyes just the tiniest bit unfocused. Next to them, Sasha, Jean and Connie were owning the dance floor, moving in sync to the happy music. A grin formed on your face as you saw Connie lifting Sasha up and her almost falling to the floor. Jean was holding his stomach as he laughed loudly.

On a nearby table, Mikasa looked over at them, a small smile on his lips. She was sitting next to her girlfriend, who was holding her hand as they watched their friends dance. You saw her girlfriend leaning over to her and whispering something in her ear, to which she chuckled. It was so strange -and so beautiful- to see Mikasa laugh that it took you aback. And apparently, also the girl she was with, because her lips slightly parted as she watched her in awe.

“How’s the party animal doing?”

You looked up and saw Eren staring down at you with a funny expression. He was wearing black dress pants and a white shirt. The first two buttons were undone, and he was carrying his suit jacket over his shoulder and a beer on his other hand.

“Someone’s gotta keep an eye out for everyone,” you replied with a shrug. Eren scoffed and took the seat next to you on the empty table, leaving his jacket on the nearest chair.

“I mean, I know attending your ex’s wedding isn’t bound to be a good time, but you’d think you would try to put on a happy face.”

You rolled your eyes. “Hey, at least I’m here.”

“After Mikasa tried her best to convince you during a whole week,” he said. You turned your head to Eren, eyes wide open. “What? Of course she told me.”

“That little… That’s it, I’m going to tell her girlfriend about that one time Mikasa got drunk with us,” you muttered angrily, standing up. Eren was quicker and pulled you back to your seat.

“You and Armin broke up a year ago. Why are you so upset he’s moving on?”

Before you could answer, the music stopped and the dance floor erupted in applause. Eren and you watched as Armin and Annie walked in between their guests, greeting everyone as they made their way to the bride and groom table, covered with a pearl cloth and decorated with the finest flowers. Every detail screamed elegance and you knew Armin had been the one to decide most of it. It had his taste written in every napkin and strategically placed flower.

Armin’s smile was almost too big for his face and if you had to guess, those small red marks on the external corner of his eyes meant he had been crying just a few minutes ago. You rolled your eyes. So sentimental. On the other hand, Annie’s smile was far less noticeable, but for someone who always repressed her public displays of emotions as much, that little smile must have felt heavenly to her new husband.

Husband. You took a big gulp of your drink.

“I’m telling you this because I care for you,” Eren said, redirecting your attention to him. “You’re looking like a petty ex.”

“Rather be petty than a cheater,” you shrugged, finishing your drink. You gestured to the waitress and she immediately walked to you, handing you a full glass. Thanking her, you wasted no time in taking a sip.

Eren’s eyebrows were deeply furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Armin never told you why we broke up, right?”

Eren scooted his chair closer to you and you bit back a laugh.

“He said you just weren’t good together,” he said, trying to remember his friend’s words. “And you said something similar when I asked you back then. Where does this ‘cheating’ thing come from?”

You let out a long sigh. “Maybe it wasn’t cheating. Not by definition, at least. But when your boyfriend starts dating someone else a week after you broke up a two-year-long relationship and he gets engaged four months later… you draw your own conclusions,” you explained, taking another sip of your drink and making a grimace. “Fuck, this one’s strong.”

After not getting a response from Eren for a long moment, you finally turned to look for his emerald eyes. You could almost see the numbers flying around his mind, trying to make sense of everything you had just told him. It was endearing.

“Wait, no-- wait,” Eren gestured at you with his hand. He stopped himself again and took a sip of his beer. “The first time Armin told me about Annie was in February. I remember it clearly. We were shopping for Mikasa’s birthday gift and then he went to pick something for Annie. And you guys broke up around Halloween, that’s the time I found you crying-- in Jean's backyard during our costume party.”

“We had a big fight at that party. We hadn’t broken up,” you clarified with a smirk. “He broke up with me after Mikasa’s birthday party. The same party he convinced me not to attend.”

Eren’s face dropped once all the pieces clicked together. He turned his body to look at the bride and groom table, where Armin and Annie were taking a sip of their champagne glasses and talking to each other enthusiastically, while the rest of their guests kept dancing.

“That son of a bitch,” he breathed out. You burst out laughing at his reaction. “No, I mean it! I really thought you had broken up during that Halloween party! You didn’t upload any more photos together, I don’t even remember even seeing you together--”

“I told you, we were fighting and… not in the mood for photos or public dates. Most of those months were spent at his apartment, fighting over really, really stupid things or just not texting each other for days,” you explained. “Honestly, when he broke up with me he made the decision I was too afraid to take. He was right, we weren’t good for each other anymore. But... fuck,” you chuckled icily. “I wish he would have broken up with me before getting with Annie.”

Eren listened in silence, his eyes still on his friend. You gave him time as you kept drinking, your gaze drifting to your friends again. You really wished you could have the energy to join them and forget Armin and Annie. It was true you didn’t love him anymore, yet seeing them together only made you remember how you had been fooled by someone you thought loved you the most.

You had had many dates ever since, but no one ever stuck. It was fun, getting someone’s attention for a couple of weeks, but then you couldn’t help but ghost them, putting up shitty excuses like wanting to focus on yourself and not having enough time to spare with them. You had lost so many amazing opportunities with both boys and girls that a couple of months ago you had decided to stop dating at all. It was lonely for sure, but at least you didn’t find yourself feeling guilty for not being able to open yourself up emotionally for someone else.

“Want to get back at him?”

You turned to Eren so fast you almost hurt your neck.

“What?”

“I have an idea. Just play along,” he explained, standing up.

“Eren, hey, what are you--”

“Everybody! If you could give me a minute please!”

You watched horrified as your friends started turning to you and Eren, confused at the commotion. Eren kept waving his hand, gathering more and more people’s attention, Armin and Annie included. He even gestured to the DJ to lower the music and she complied. In a few seconds, all the guests of the party were looking at you, who was still sitting down with a confused expression, a drink in your hand. Once he deemed enough people were looking at him, you saw him fumbling with his hands nervously.

“Eren,” you called for him again in a whisper, but all he did was take the drink you had in your hands and put it on the table.

“Sorry for interrupting, I know a lot of you were having a lot of fun dancing. But all I’m asking is one minute of your time. I hope that’s okay with you guys,” he grinned back to the bride and groom table, where they were as confused as all the guests around. “I have something really important to say.”

“Eren, no, you can’t tell them about--”

“No, no, give me a moment,” he hushed you again. The DJ walked to both of you and handed an inalambric microphone to Eren.

You didn’t like how devilish his smile turned.

“Great, thanks, this is much better,” he told the DJ, who just kindly smiled at him. “Anyway, I don’t want to take much of the bride and groom’s time, so I’ll try to be concise. The thing is…” he said, turning to face you. “I love you.”

Your mouth flew open as you heard multiple gasps coming from the guests. Yet, you couldn’t bother with looking anywhere but Eren’s eyes. What was he doing? Since when did he have feelings for you? If he wanted to say something, he could have easily said something a few minutes ago, when--

Just play along.

Oh.

Your questioning glare turned into a big smile and you noticed Eren softly nodding at you.

“You already know how much I love you. Honestly, I never get tired of telling you so. And hiding our love from our friends has probably been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Sorry about that, Mikasa,” he said, gesturing to the woman.

You could imagine your friend’s dumbfounded face, but you knew better than to turn and check for yourself. You knew you wouldn’t be able to hold in your laughter.

“So I’m here in front of all our friends and some other guests I don’t know to ask a simple question.”

In a swift movement, Eren got down on one knee. Your hand flew to cover your mouth, trying your best to hide any trace of laughing on your face. The flash of the cameras startled you for a moment, but that only meant Eren’s plan was working. The excited murmurs and squeals only fueled Eren, as he pulled up a ring and showed it to you. You immediately recognized it as one of the rings he had been wearing a few moments ago. 

“Would you marry me?”

A huge, honest grin made its way to your face and you nodded quickly. You grabbed the microphone Eren was holding and spoke right into it.

“Yes, I’ll marry you!”

You hadn’t listened to a crowd erupting in applause and cheers as loud as the guests at Armin’s wedding when Eren slid his ring on your finger. Once again, the flash of the cameras were right into the both of you as you leaped into his arms. He stood up while holding your body close to him, even giving you a small spin and you buried your face in the crook of his neck.

When he finally put you down, the music resumed and all your friends began running to the both of you.

“You’re fucking crazy,” you whispered to Eren, holding his face between your hands. He laughed.

“Kinda ruined the reception, huh?”

“When the fuck did this happen?” Jean inquired as soon as he reached you.

“Dude, why didn’t you tell us?” Sasha whined, with a small pout. “But congratulations!” she quickly followed, hugging you tightly. As you hugged her back, you felt someone taking the hand that was now wearing Eren’s ring.

“This is one of your rings,” she noted, shooting Eren a dirty glance. He lifted his hands in surrender.

“Hey, I didn’t plan this! But I will get her a prettier one soon,” he said, winking at you. You laughed and shook your head.

“Nah, I like this one,” you replied. You shared a knowing grin and soon it was Connie’s turn to hug you.

While you were hugging your friend back, you saw in the corner of your eye Armin getting up from the table and starting to walk to both of you. Your smile immediately vanished from your face and once Eren caught it and followed your eye trail, he understood the reason why. You heard him mutter a curse before he pulled you from Connie’s embrace.

“Well, we’d love to stay, but my fiancée and I want some time alone.”

“C’mon, you haven’t told us yet how you got together!” Sasha complained.

“Next time, we promise,” you hurriedly assured her.

Eren picked his suit jacket from the table and before Armin could reach your group, you quickly walked away, exiting the hotel. Eren whistled to a taxi and you jumped inside, telling the man behind the wheel to drive. Loud laughter filled the vehicle as soon as it began moving.

“How-- how did you even have this idea?” you asked him, holding your stomach as you laughed. “Dude, Armin looked so upset, we totally stole his thunder.”

“That was the plan,” Eren shrugged, a winning smirk on his lips. “Knowing the gang, everybody’s going to be talking about us and the engagement for the rest of the party.”

“Remind me to never have you as an enemy,” you chuckled, leaning back on the car seat. Letting out a long sigh, you took off Eren’s ring and handed it to him.

He shook his head. “Nah, keep it. As a souvenir of today,” he winked.

“Thank you,” you smiled. You put the ring on your thumb this time, since it was too big for your ring finger anyway. “You didn’t have to do this at all, and yet--”

“It’s okay,” he assured you.

“No, really. It’s just-- I’ve been having a tough time since the breakup,” you admitted. “To have you doing this for me means a lot. Makes me feel someone really cares for me. I never said anything to anyone back then because Annie is also a part of the group and I thought…”

Eren leaned his head towards you.

“You thought…?”

“I thought you would pick her too. It’s stupid, I know,” you shrugged, turning your head to Eren. “But Armin had just broken up with me and a week later he was already in public with Annie. Back then, I thought everyone knew we had just broken up and if no one had said anything was because they didn’t care. So I just… stopped hanging out with all of you as much as I did before.”

“Yeah, I noticed that,” he muttered.

“You did?”

Eren nodded. “That’s why I asked Mikasa to pressure you into coming to the wedding. I hadn’t seen you in a while.”

“You could have just asked me to hang out, you know,” you teased him. Eren chuckled, pushing some of his loose hairs behind his ear.

“I think we know by now I don’t take the conventional route.”

“Yeah, all of the guests know that too,” you quipped, making both of you laugh.

This time, when the laughter came to an end, you realized how close your faces were. Your noses were almost brushing as you both were lying your heads on the back of the car seat. You looked into Eren’s emerald eyes and noticed he wasn’t looking away from yours either. Was it the alcohol that made his cheeks turn a lovely shade of pink? If it was, then you could say the warmth crawling up your face was its fault too. It had to be the alcohol, or else, you would have to also ponder about the reason your heart was beating out of your chest at having your friend so close to you. He was handsome, he had always been and you knew this. But why were you losing all your composure just now?

A brief look at Eren's lips gave your thoughts away and, in less than two seconds, he was pressing his lips against yours.

For a spur-of-the-moment kiss, as you thought this one was, it was rather soft. Eren kissed you as if he thought you were the most expensive and fragile thing he had ever seen. But of course, this was just a product of the adrenaline and the fact that -as far as you knew- he hadn’t been dating anyone as well, right?

Your small theory crashed and burnt when you felt his hand softly cradling the side of your face. No. This wasn’t an adrenaline kiss, neither one that you gave without a thought. Maybe it had been unprompted and maybe you hadn’t seen it coming, but it sure as hell seemed he did. Eren’s lips gilded against your with ease, revealing a soft tenderness you didn’t know he possessed. You kissed him back, matching his rhythm as you softly pressed your hand against his chest.

Eren pulled away from you softly, and if his longing eyes were any indicator, a bit reluctantly.

“Hi,” he breathed out, making you grin widely.

“Hi,” you replied. You gently caressed his cheek with the knuckles of the hand that was previously resting on his chest. Eren took it and kissed your palm, making your heart flutter.

“Sorry to interrupt kids, but where are we heading?”

The voice of the taxi driver startled you, making you pull away from Eren. He chuckled at your reaction and then looked back at the man.

“Take us to that pizza place near the central park. Gotta have a celebratory dinner with my fiancée,” he said cheekily, taking your hand into his. You squeezed his hand back, his ring digging a little on your skin.

“So young and engaged already? Congrats!” the driver said, turning left and heading towards the direction Eren had given him.

“Thank you!” you smiled brightly at Eren while he took your joint hands to his mouth and placed a kiss on your knuckles.

A part of you knew you weren’t taking that ring off anytime soon.

[rwprincess]

Two Worlds Collided

Masterlist

A/N: Oh, an anachronistic songfic from RWPrincess? But this time it’s about John Bender! :D Inspired by Never Tear Us Apart (originally by INXS in 1987, but I particularly like this Paloma Faith version)

Word Count: 2K

Synopsis: Bender met reader at the Breakfast Club and the two seemed like opposites, but they shared a common hidden sadness. Over the years, feelings and relationships change.

CW: Swearing, sexuality, Bender being a general asshole

Bender had met her the same way everyone in the Breakfast Club had, on the Saturday detention on March 24th. He had seen her in the hallways prior to that as he was always observant. He had seen everyone in the Breakfast Club before that day; but he hadn’t given her much thought. Now, he was paying attention to little else. He had no idea why he was drawn to her; they were both so different and he could never picture himself with a goody-two-shoes like that. But the way she had reacted to his more vulnerable, real moments, how she tried to make a connection with him...that stuck with him. He knew he should have learned from his disastrous blow-up with Claire that two people who were so different just wouldn’t work out. He repeated this to himself over and over, like a mantra, but it never changed how he actually felt.

After the breakup, the Breakfast Club had a split between those who chose Bender and those who chose Claire. Of course, Andrew sided with Claire unconditionally, but John considered that as no big loss. Allison tried to play the middle ground and Johnson had sided more with him, but he was surprised at the wholehearted backing he received from Y/N. He had assumed that she would either try to be neutral like Allison, or pick Claire. She had no reason to side with him, he had always come off as an aloof ass. But she had, and he was eternally grateful for that. He had originally decided to get together with Claire because the notion had a hot, forbidden quality to it. They spent time insulting each other and making out to make up for it. It was as passionate as it was destructive, so of course it couldn’t last. However, when he was alone and reflected to himself, he had been attracted to Y/N all along. She was hot, yes, but he had plenty of good-looking girls to choose from. He was more drawn to that kind, quiet inside she had displayed that day. How she had gone out of her way numerous times to reach out to him and had been genuinely nice to him. Most of the time, someone only did that to gain something for themselves. Whether it was to use him or to make themselves feel better, it depended on the person, but with Y/N that never felt like it was the case.

Don't ask me

What you know is true

Don't have to tell you

I love your precious heart

He thought back to the first time he saw her on that Saturday, walking into the library and looking so out of place. He was already adjusting into his spot when she entered and she froze in front of all the tables like a deer-in-the-headlights, as if she had just materialized there and had no clue what she was doing. He remembered feeling both attracted to that doe-eyed look and scoffing internally at it. While she wasn’t part of the cliques that Andrew and Claire were, she had a very sheltered look to her and he was envious of that type of innocence. Her ignorance must have been bliss compared to the hell he lived each day at school and at home. She was just as out of place as the preppies or ultra-dweeb Johnson, but instead of being offended by that notion, she looked terrified. She meekly put her items on the front-row desk opposite to him and he thought about all the fun he could poke at everyone here, including her. However, the first blow did not land well. Bender loved making people uncomfortable, but he didn’t necessarily want to make them cry. He’d made some off-handed remark towards her. He had been circling her and eyeing her, employing the discomfort he liked inflicting, trying to ‘guess’ why she was in detention. “I bet you were caught fooling around with a teacher, right? Always the quiet ones that you’d least suspect…”

John Bender rarely regretted his words or actions. He knew he was an asshole and let unfiltered thoughts through so that he could be the center of attention. In doing so, he had to stand by all the shit he said, even when he crossed a line. This was one of the scattered occasions in which he felt remorse, though. She didn’t reply, not verbally, anyway, but she looked scared shitless and was rooted to the spot. Tears instantly sprang up in her eyes and she looked as if she were about to hurl right on his combat boots. He backed off after that. He didn’t apologize, because that’s not something John Bender could have on his reputation, but he didn’t target her. There was something so sincere about her reaction and he saw himself reflected in that expression. Not the tough-as-nails persona he projected, but his secret self who had seen too much too early in life and could barely stand another blow. He didn’t know what her deal was, but there was a heavy sadness behind those eyes that was far too real for him to tamper with.

When he had shown the group his souvenir for spilling paint in his garage, courtesy of his father, she must have seen that reflection back. No one in that group actually knew him. They all thought he was a lying sack of shit; what could he say? His reputation preceded him. But he caught her gaze as he backed away from the group, and the sadness in her recognized the sadness in him. He felt an odd sort of click, a mutual understanding, but he turned away from them all and trashed the library.

I, I was standing

You were there

Two worlds collided

And they could never tear us apart

That was months ago, and out of everyone he met that day, she was the one who truly stuck by him. He’d surprisingly connected with Johnson, sure. Everybody likes to get high and Bender was the supplier. And he and Allison had similar interests, but she wouldn’t give up Andrew and with that territory came Claire...there was just no going back to that. But Bender still had Y/N, and he could never understand it. The first time he had brought her into his friend circle, he tried to justify it as sticking to his word and ‘having the balls to stand up to his friends’ like he had told Claire to do. He also reasoned that it was some sort of social experiment. As much as he liked to portray himself as someone who couldn’t care less, Bender was entirely social. He craved attention and admiration for others and could read just about anyone like a book. Maybe that’s why he didn’t mess with Y/N after that first comment landed so wrongly. He felt like he knew exactly what she was thinking and feeling and decided to back off. However, it wasn’t just some ‘watch and see how she interacts’ set up; Bender genuinely wanted her there. He wanted to integrate her into his life.

She was still extremely quiet, mostly a speak-when-you’re-spoken-to type, but he started to peel back layers in her personality. He found that, despite that lurking sadness, there was an unending pool of optimism. She tried to see the best in situations and in people. She meshed incredibly well with his friends because she listened instead of judged. She would nod along like she knew exactly what they were talking about and how they felt. He started to develop an attachment to her. While he was still dating Claire, he told himself it was akin to having a pet. Y/N was like a goldfish that he could tell his problems to and know the secret would be kept. But after Claire, he realized that wasn’t the case...particularly when he sought Y/N’s comfort above all else. He divulged the entire last big fight he and Claire had to her, and she was just so...reassuring. After that day, he began to see her in a different light. He argued with himself over what his feelings and intentions actually were, but he couldn’t keep them at bay for long. She was good for Bender. He had never felt lighter.

Of course, Bender had not known stability in his life ever, and the risk of falling for Y/N and having it mean something and being accountable to one person overwhelmed him. He did what he knew best: he fought it and ran away from it. At first, he tried to avoid her, just distance himself. But he’d gravitate back; being without her was too heavy to bear. He wanted to try to actively push her away, to fuck up this relationship with his words, just like he did with everything else. But when he opened his mouth to try to lie, to say he didn’t need her or want her around or whatever, he would look into her eyes and it became impossible. He remembered the way he had shaken her to her core the first day they met, and he couldn’t allow himself to bring that sadness up again in her.

We could live for a thousand years

But if I hurt you

I'd make wine from your tears

Eventually, he gave in. While he was able to control his words to not say anything harmful, he wasn’t able to contain them from slipping up and telling her, “Dammit, I love you!” It wasn’t in a context that could be taken as joking or being said flippantly; she knew immediately what he meant and that he meant those words, wholly.

She took his face in her hands and told him, “I love you, too.” There was no turning back, and as the years passed, they fell deeply in love. He'd dug up her secrets and fears, but she seemed to trust him enough to not use them against her in any way. They both dreaded the prospect of never getting out of Shermer and falling into the same circular trap their parents had. However, he reassured her that the moment they had the opportunity, they would bust out of there. He lucked out that Claire had never asked for her diamond earring back. It was probably one of many and she had forgotten she had even given it to him as a token. He decided to pawn it to top-off the savings he and Y/N had accrued. "You're too good for me, you're sure as hell too good for this place,'' he told her. The trade-in was enough to get them out of town and start anew, but only one of them could really ‘move up’ for now. While they argued back and forth about who should get to pursue which dream, Bender rationalized to her, “I was barely cut out for high school. I can’t really do college. And that’s okay. You’re the brains in this relationship, I’m the beauty.” He winked at her and with her laughter as response, that sealed the deal of who was going to school.

I told you

That we could fly

'Cause we all have wings

But some of us don't know why

She searched the crowd, holding her diploma. Bender had supported her both financially and emotionally these last four years and now they had the degree to prove it. She felt pride in being able to take over from him and let him follow a new path. He had always been good with his hands, but despite his protests, he was good with his mind too. He was a sharp-thinker and she knew that he could make a career that he loved out of that. She’d be there to push and brace him as he had done for her. Finally, she spotted him. When their eyes connected, she felt that same crackle that she had the first day they had met, all those years ago. Before the friendship and the love, she knew there was a spark there, that they were two of a kind, even though they were so different.

I, I was standing

You were there

Two worlds collided

And they could never tear us apart

[babymetaldoll]

Birthday wishes (Spencer Reid/ Reader)

Requested: Nope

Summary: Spencer overthinks Reader’s birthday present ‘cos he doesn't know if they are dating or not

Warnings: No… maybe a few sexual references but nothing too explicit. 

Category: Pure sweet, delicious fluff 

Word count: 3,2K

Part II

Masterlist

.

What makes a relationship official? Are you just "going out" o "just seeing each other" after five dates? Five incredible, unique, perfect dates? or do you have to ask: "Would you be my girlfriend?"

Spencer rolled in bed and kept asking himself questions he couldn't answer. Were he and (Y/N) a couple? So far, he hadn't asked, ‘cos he was scared, which made no sense, ‘cos he had already asked her out and they had already kissed. Besides, they had already met for five years, which meant, well, it felt like they were already a little ahead on the "getting to know each other" part.

So, after five dates, were they already dating? Were they exclusive? Could he tell her he loved her? No, probably no. Who could he ask about it? No one in the team knew what was going on between them. They didn't want to tell them. It was too soon. Besides, Spencer didn't even know if they were an actual couple.

Reid kept rolling in bed. It was already three in the morning. He was overthinking everything, and he knew it. But it was (Y/N)'s birthday, and the present he had for her was hunting him. He couldn't shake the thought he had gone a little too far with it. He wanted to give her that present ever since he saw it, months ago. He bought it and kept it hidden in his closet. He had no idea why he was hiding it if no one was ever in his house. No one but (Y/N), but she never went through his things. If so, she would have found the picture of her he also had hidden in his drawer.

It was a picture of the two of them sitting together at the round table in the BAU conference room. They were eating a cupcake, and their lips were covered in frosting. They were laughing. They were happy. It was Penelope's birthday, and they had thrown her a surprise breakfast celebration. JJ had taken that picture, and secretly, Spencer asked her for a copy.

When they were just friends, he didn't overthink that present, he just got it for her. But now everything was different. And he was scared of every movement he did around her, terrified he could frighten her away.

- "Stop!"- he commanded himself and closed his eyes. He had to sleep at least an hour, or the rings under his eyes were going to scare (Y/N) away. Not like she hadn't seen him looking like he hadn't slept before.

.

Penelope had baked a gigantic Halloween themed birthday cake, ‘cos he knew (Y/N) was a sucker for horror movies. It had pumpkins, a Jason mask, and a knife stabbing the cake. It was perfect. JJ and Emily brought presents and more food. Everyone had helped to make sure her day was special. Derek decorated her desk with balloons and confetti, got her a funny birthday paper crown, and wrote "pretty girl" with his terrible handwriting. It was adorable. She was like a little sister to him, and he just wanted to make her smile.

And Reid, well, he… he was all over the place. Hanging more balloons all over the bullpen and making sure all the food was ready. He actually got there an hour and a half earlier than everybody, just to make sure everything was set.

No one got how he could think he was fooling them about his feelings for (Y/N). To be fair, he wasn't trying at this point. He was now too concerned not to scare her away by accidentally saying "I love you" or saying they were in a relationship, ‘cos he didn't know if they were. All those things Spencer could quickly fix asking, but he was too scared to ask.

.

- "Happy birthday!!!"- Penelope yelled as soon as (Y/N) set foot outside the elevator. She was greeted by her friend's tight hug, and along came the rest of the team.

- "Thank you so much!! Thank you!"- she was moved by all the love they gave her, they were her family far from home, and they meant the world to her.

- "Hey! happy birthday"- Spencer was the last one to hug her; he waited until everybody had walked back to the conference room. She smiled and bit her lips as he moved a step closer and wrapped his arms around her.

Those arms made her feel safe and loved, and it was an addictive sensation; she didn't want to quit. She was a self-declared addict to Spencer Reid, and the latest weeks had been the best of her life. But she still felt she was walking on eggshells around Reid. She loved him so much, and she was scared, 'cos she thought she might say it too soon. Was it too soon considering they had known each other for the last five years? she had been in love with him for the last four and a half years. But yes, it was too soon.

They hadn't even had sex yet.

Sex with Reid. That was a thought that had kept her awake many nights. It kept coming to her mind, especially when he held her the way he was doing now. She could feel herself melting to his touch, and the idea of feeling his skin against hers, the idea of being naked with him. The thought of having him inside of her was too much to process. If kissing him was breathtaking, having sex with him had to be heaven.

- "So, happy birthday"- he repeated and smiled at her, still holding her tight but now staring at her blushed cheeks.

- "Thank you"- she giggled nervously and looked down

- "I hope you are hungry, ‘cos we've got a whole breakfast party ready for you"- she nodded, but neither of them moved- "Garcia really went overboard with everything she brought…"

Why would Reid hide the fact he had gotten half the things on that table? Something inside him kept forcing him to hide his true feelings for (Y/N) 'cos he was still sure she would reject him. Again, they had been into five dates, held hands, kissed, looked at each other with puppy eyes for hours over dinner. Why did he feel he needed to hide his feelings?

- "And maybe we could go out tonight…"- he whispered as they walked to the conference room- "I would love to take you out for dinner on your birthday"- (Y/N) turned to him with the brightest smile and nodded.

- “Sounds like an excellent plan”

.

- "And where's your present, pretty boy?"- Derek asked Reid frowning after (Y/N) finished opening all the presents the team had gotten her.

- "I…"- he had an awful excuse- "I left it at home, I'm sorry."

No one was ever going to believe that. He knew it

- "I was…. well, I had a lot of things to bring, and I left it on my table, but I'll bring it over later, ok?"- (Y/N) just nodded and smiled, thinking they had a date later. But the rest of the team was confused. Reid would never forget something. Never, eidetic memory, he was doomed.

- "Are you ok?"- JJ walked to him as they cleaned the table after breakfast and looked at him, worried.

- "Yeah, why?"

- "You look nervous"- Spencer even stuttered to answer

- "I, I, I'm not nervous, JJ, I don't know what you are talking about"

- "Spence, come on… tell me, what is it? What happened with (Y/N)? why didn't you bring the present you had for her?"

Reid sighed. He knew he could trust JJ. He was just… ashamed of sharing his feelings with someone.

- "I didn't forget it"- he whispered- "I want to give it to her later."

- "Later? when?"- he stayed quiet for a few seconds and then took a deep breath

- "Wehaveadatetonight"- Spencer slurred and closed his eyes, ‘cos he didn't want to look at JJ's face

- "What? Sorry, I couldn't understand that"- he sighed, frustrated

- "I said, we are goingoutonadatetonight"- it took her a second to understand it, but when she did, JJ wide opened her eyes and looked at her friend in shock- "Don't say a word"

- "But oh my god!! Spencer!"

- "Shh!! please don't say a word!"

- "Spence! It's huge! It's your first date!! When did it happen? when did you finally ask her?"

… And Spencer actually thought no one knew about his feelings.

- "It's not… our first date"- he whispered and looked at his shoes. JJ stood next to him in shock and hit his arm as her mouth fell open.

- "JJ, please, I'm just telling you ‘cos I trust you I don't want anyone else to know?"- he begged

- "How many dates so far?"

- "Six, including tonight."

- "Oh my god! are you two together??"- JJ was making her best not to yell, but she was in shock. However, she realized it was a sensitive subject for Spencer. She wanted to make her best not to make him feel uncomfortable.

- "We've been going out for a few weeks now, but…"- Spencer made a pause and sighed- "How do you know when you are in a relationship with someone?"

- "Usually, you talk about it… you haven't?"- his silence was too long, enough sign for JJ to get he hadn't had that conversation.

- "Ok, you should ask her, Spence. If you've been out on several dates already, it means she likes you the same way you like her."

- "But I love her…"- Reid looked at her friend with puppy eyes. He was honestly anxious about the whole situation and couldn't say another word.

- "She is crazy for you; you have to believe me"

- "I know she likes me, but it's nerve-wracking to feel you love someone who just likes you"

- "Believe me, Spence, she doesn't just like you"- he just sighed and nodded, not because he believed her, but because he didn't want to persuade that conversation. However, JJ wasn't going to let it go so quickly.

- "So… what did you get her?"

- "It's nothing, just something I thought she might like"- he tried to make it sound like it wasn't a big deal.... like he wasn't freaking out. But he was dying inside.

- "What is it?"

- "A necklace…"- JJ nodded, surprised- "And a ring"- surprise was not enough to describe her face. Shock might have been closer. Yes, JJ was in shock.

- "Are you going to…"

- "No! no, no, I'm not, I mean, it's too soon to…. I just don't want her to feel pushed, I bought her the present months ago, and I never thought we were going to be … well, whatever it is that we are now… that's why I need to know where we are now… I don't want to blow it."

Spencer bit his inner lip and pouted. He was upset, he was having a hard time explaining his feelings and his mind, and most of all, a hard time sharing what he was feeling. JJ smiled at him and simply shook her head, with an honest, proud look in her eyes.

- "I know it sounds scary, but the only way to know is asking her"- he just nodded and let out a deep breath. That wasn't the answer he was waiting for.

.

(Y/N) looked at herself in the mirror and smiled. She was glad no psycho killer had decided to start attacking innocent that night, ‘cos it meant she could actually go out on a date with Reid. Their sixth date. Usually, the sixth date meant sex for her. But she had no idea what it meant for Spencer, and she wasn't going to push him. She just couldn't shake the thought off her mind, but she had to. Thinking about sex with Reid was too much.

- "Wow"- that was all Spencer managed to say as soon as (Y/N) opened the door for him. He looked at her up and down. His eyes couldn't stop running through every inch of her skin. It was like the dress was hugging her body, wrapping her and following every curve of it. He couldn't believe someone so beautiful wanted to go out with him.

- "You look very handsome"- (Y/N) smiled and chuckled. Reid just shook his head and stared.

- "Come in, just let me get my purse and put on some shoes, and I'll be ready to go."

Spencer couldn't speak. He just nodded and watched her walking to her room. He couldn't even be subtle at that point. He couldn't and wouldn't stop staring. Not if she was going to look so hot.

The thought of having sex with his best friend was hunting his mind since they were on their third date. That was the very first time they made out on her couch. They hadn't even passed second base, but for Spencer, that had been enough to start fantasizing about how it would be, how it would felt, and… when it would be.

- "Buttercup?"- he asked and couldn't see (Y/N)'s wide smile as soon as she heard that word. She loved it when he called her cute names. It made her feel special and closer. She had always called him "honey" even before they started going out. After their second date, Spencer had finally seemed comfortable calling her that.

- "What is it, honey?"- she asked, walking out of her room, wearing her favorite shoes and carrying a tiny purse.

- "I just wanted to… give you your birthday present before we leave"- Spencer smiled at her, and she could tell he was nervous.

- "Sure… thank you, by the way."

- "I still haven't given you the present. Why are you thanking me for?"

- "‘Cos you organized the best breakfast celebration the BAU had ever seen"- she simply answered, and her smile stopped his heart for a second.

- "You deserve it"- he simply replied, standing right in front of her. He could only think about leaning in and kissing her, but he was so nervous, he just stared at her, feeling his hands sweating.

- "Are you ok?"

- "Yeah, it's just that… sorry, you look stunning, and I can't stop looking at you"- (Y/N) felt her cheeks burning red in a second. Spencer Reid had just told her she was beautiful. That wasn't something she was used to, but she would gladly live the rest of her days hearing him saying it.

Slowly, (Y/N) wrapped her arms around Spencer's neck and moved closer, not taking her eyes from his.

- "Can I ask for a birthday kiss?"- the way she whispered those words did things to Reid. Things he didn't know how to handle just yet. All he managed to do was to smile and reach her lips. It started like a sweet, loving kiss, but soon it changed. It was getting harder and harder for the two of them to hide their true feelings.

That kiss was screaming: "I love you." It was hungry and also filled with the deepest desire. It wasn't plain lust. It was the eagerness to feel the one you love as close as possible, for as long as possible.

- "Are these "birthday kisses" a limited edition, or can I keep asking for them for as long as I want?"- she murmured, rubbing her lips against his.

- "All the kisses you want, as long as you want them"- Spencer whispered and deepened the kiss as a soft moan left (Y/N)'s lips. That was music for him, the music he wanted to listen to all day long, if possible.

They had saved way too many kisses during those years. They could kiss forever, just to catch up. But there were dinner reservations and a present in between. So the kisses had to wait a little bit.

- "I got you this"- Spencer whispered and moved his lips from hers, smiling at the soft whine that came from her as soon as he did.

- "I thought about you when I saw them a few months ago ‘cos I knew you would love them, and I've been saving them for today"- he opened his satchel and handed her a small box.

- "Thank you, honey"- (Y/N) was blushing, trying not to show she was so nervous. It wasn't just because of all the kisses. It was because now she knew he had thought about her months ago, and got her a present. That was melting her.

(Y/N) was speechless when she opened the box. She looked at him. He was blushed and excited at the same time.

- "Spencer… you shouldn't have"

- "You deserve to have these; do you like them?"

- "Of course I do, you were right, I love them… would you?"- (Y/N) handed Spencer the necklace, and he clasped it around her neck. She looked at the ring and smiled, sliding it in her finger.

- "I didn't want you to feel I'm pushing you to…"

- "No, honey, it's ok. I know you didn't mean anything like that"- she was blushing as well, but loving the gesture- "It's beautiful, Spencer."

- "No, you are beautiful"- (Y/N) giggled at his words and sighed

- "No, you are beautiful"- she repeated and hugged him again.

Spencer looked at her in adoration and ran his fingers sweet and carefully down her rosy cheeks. 

- "I... wanted to ask you something"

- "What is it?"- that was it. It was now or never for Spencer.

- "Do you… want… do you want to be…"- Spencer was trying to say it without stuttering- "Would you be my girlfriend?"- her smile made him sigh relieved, as she leaned in and kissed him softly.

- "Of course I would…"- he held her closer and pecked her lips once, twice, three, four times, before cupping her face with both hands, deepening the kiss.

- "Do you want to know something funny?"- she whispered when Spencer rested his forehead on hers and looked at her in adoration

- "What?"

- "That was my birthday wish."

- "What?"

- "I wished you'd ask me to be your girlfriend."

Reid smiled and sighed. He held her hand and kissed it, speechless, thinking he had been a fool for holding that question for so long.

- "Do you want to know what I wish for right now?"- she whispered and smiled- "I'm wishing we were having dinner 'cos I'm starving."

Spencer chuckled and shook his head.

- "Come on, Buttercup, let's get you the best birthday dinner"- he walked with her to the door but stopped when he felt her pulling his arm. 

- "And do you think we could come back here after dinner?"

- "Sure, what do you have in mind? Wanna watch a movie?"- but she shook her head.

- "I wanna kiss you until I can't move my lips anymore"- she confessed- "Now that you are my boyfriend, I think I can say those kinds of things, right?

Reid was in shock, his mouth hanging open, his red cheeks burning. And his girlfriend - he loved the idea of calling her that - smiling in front of him.

- "Would you like to do that, doctor?"

 - "What if we ask for take-outs and stay on that couch all night long?"- he simply answered, finally not overthinking every word.

- "I thought you would never ask."

[zintranslations]

Kaleidoscope of Death, Extra 4

Kaleidoscope of Death by Xi Zixu Link to Chinese / Novel Updates

Extra: Twin Lives, Twin Deaths (1)

The first time Cheng Yixie understood that he likely wouldn't live for long was on the day of his fifth birthday. While other five-year-olds were still bumbling about without much concept of life and death, he had understood something in his mother's tears and his father's frowns. His fifth birthday was spent in the hospital, alongside his foolish brother Cheng Qianli. With IV drips in their arms and eating horribly bitter medicine, they stuck five candles into a lovely cake to make a wish.

Cheng Yixie looked at the candles on their cake and quietly thought, he wished he could grow up quicker, because there were still placed he wanted to see in this world.

Cheng Qianli clearly didn’t think as much as Cheng Yixie. He wore a brilliant smile in sharp contrast with the impassive Cheng Yixie sitting next to him, and all of his attention was on the sweet and spongey cake before him. Fools had an easier time than geniuses. A single sweet candy could bring a genuine smile out of him.

Cheng Yixie and Cheng Qianli were twins, but everything about them beside their faces seemed completely different.

Cheng Yixie had realized long ago that they were different from other kids. He'd even heard a doctor discuss their condition with their parents. From that discussion, a single sentence had been imprinted in his brain. Their primary doctor had said that, at the current level of medical progress, he and Cheng Qianli would not live past sixteen.

Sixteen—sixteen. Life would only just be starting. Cheng Yixie went back to their hospital room and watched his brother sit in the hospital bed, giggling at the cartoon on TV. There wasn't a single shadow in Cheng Qianli's eyes; they were as bright as the blue skies outside their window.

Cheng Qianli was a lot skinnier than he was, and his body was weaker too. Though he was almost ten, he still looked like an undernourished bean sprout. For treatment, neither of them had any hair. All over their heads and wrists were green and purple puncture marks.

Cheng Yixie came into the hospital room and Cheng Qianli looked up at him, calling out Gege in a sweet voice. That pair of adorable cat eyes were overflowing with palpable joy; he'd never bothered hiding his affection for Cheng Yixie.

"Gege." The tiny Cheng Qianli looked right and left, before carefully waving Cheng Yixie over.

Cheng Yixie went to his bedside, and Cheng Qianli indicated he should bend down. Cheng Yixie thought that Cheng Qianli had something to say to him and obeyed. But the moment he bent, a tiny piece of candy was pushed between his lips.

"Sh," Cheng Qianli said. "Don't tell nurse-jiejie. Grandma gave it to me in secret. I gave it a lick, it's super yummy."

Because they were sick, their diets were under strict control; the amount of snacks they got to eat in a year could be counted on both hands. Cheng Yixie thought, how nice would it be if they were normal children? Then Cheng Yixie could eat all the food that he wanted, and they wouldn't have to be doing such a pitiful thing.

"You're feeding me something you already ate?" was how Cheng Yixie responded to Cheng Qianli's good will. "Gross."

"You're lying," Cheng Qianli harrumphed. "You like candy too, I know it. Mean gege."

Cheng Yixie said nothing. The candy's sweetness was dispersing through his mouth, but all he could see was their future. He couldn't imagine losing this foolish brother of his; he wanted so badly to see Cheng Qianli grow up and have a life of his own.

Cheng Yixie thought surviving was just wishful thinking, until he was chosen by the doors.

The terrifying world of the doors was perhaps an awful sort of torture for many, but for Cheng Yixie, it was a blessing of mercy from the heavens.

When he entered the first door he wasn't even sixteen, and looked completely out of place in the pack of adults.

His first door was very difficult. Cheng Yixie believed that he would die inside, but his fortune was good—he met a veteran who'd passed through many doors. That veteran opened the door, and Cheng Yixie successfully left that extra-dimensional world.

After coming out from the door, Cheng Yixie's physical condition began to swiftly get better.

The doctors called it a miracle. They were getting the same medicine and the same treatments, but Cheng Yixie's body was getting better and quickly approaching normalcy, while Cheng Qianli's was getting weaker.

Cheng Yixie knew why this was happening. He tried telling this absurd yet genuine truth to his parents, but both parents thought he was joking.

In everybody else's eyes, Cheng Yixie had only sat on his bed and spaced out for a bit. He hadn't gone anywhere. Everything he said was probably just a child's imagination. How could they take the imaginary as truth?

Cheng Yixie was smart enough to know that the adults would never understand. This matter had already gone beyond explicable bounds, and he had no evidence to prove the existence of the door.

Then what about Cheng Qianli? Cheng Yixie thought. What about his little fool of a brother?

Before Cheng Yixie had an answer, he entered his second door. And in his second door, he met Obsidian leader Ruan Nanzhu.

Ruan Nanzhu had been in a dress at the time, and called him kiddo with a smile.

Cheng Yixie only shot him a cold look, not bothering to respond. What good was any of this talk? In his first door he'd seen plenty of adults who acted all arrogant and coy one second end up dead the next.

Cheng Yixie figured the same would be true of Ruan Nanzhu. But then he discovered that Ruan Nanzhu didn't seem to be as he'd thought. Ruan Nanzhu was good. Cheng Yixie was keen enough to pick this up after observing Ruan Nanzhu's following actions.

As Ruan Nanzhu got ready to leave, he gave Cheng Yixie a way to contact him, telling Cheng Yixie that if he wanted to know more, he could get in touch.

Cheng Yixie looked at that contact point and memorized it silently.

After leaving the second door, Cheng Yixie got in touch with Ruan Nanzhu and learned about the existence of Obsidian.

"Do you want to come to Obsidian? Maybe you can live for a bit longer here," Ruan Nanzhu said.

Cheng Yixie agreed. He didn't even get his parents' permission before leaving the hospital. He flew to the city where Ruan Nanzhu lived that night.

This was actually quite the risky gamble, because Cheng Yixie couldn't be sure if Ruan Nanzhu actually had any good will toward him. He was just a helpless kid, and if Ruan Nanzhu really wanted to do something to him, he had no chance of even resisting.

But Cheng Yixie could only make the gamble, because Cheng Qianli didn't have much time left.

There was an obvious contrast now that Cheng Yixie was getting healthier. Cheng Qianli was like a plant approaching winter; life was flowing out of him at a rate visible to the naked eye.

After arriving at Obsidian, the first thing he asked upon meeting Ruan Nanzhu was, "can other people get the doors too?"

To his question, Ruan Nanzhu was silent for a while, before saying, "yes, but I'm not telling you how."

"Why not?" Cheng Yixie asked.

"Because you pay with somebody else's life," Ruan Nanzhu said. "Can you do such a thing?"

Cheng Yixie was silent.

Ruan Nanzhu didn't continue the topic, only gave him a simple introduction to the doors. He told him about the hints, about Obsidian, and about some other things. Of course, from start to finish, he never once told Cheng Yixie how to steal somebody else's door. He only warned Cheng Yixie to hide his identity inside the door, or else there would be danger.

Cheng Yixie paid close attention. As he listened, however, he kept thinking about Cheng Qianli. He was thinking that even if he did steal a door for Cheng Qianli, would Cheng Qianli be able to make it out?

The worlds inside the doors were so scary, and didn't suit the naive Cheng Qianli at all. Even if he stole the doors for Cheng Qianli like Ruan Nanzhu said, would it be just another form of torture for Cheng Qianli?

He was so small, and so scared of the dark. He was so completely different from Cheng Yixie. He was just a normal kid.

That night, Cheng Yixie sat in the garden by himself for a long, long time. It wasn't until dawn emerged over the horizon that he rubbed his dry eyes and went impassively back into the house.

What Cheng Yixie was thinking, nobody knew. Since that day on, he never once returned home, and he never once contacted Cheng Qianli.

Is it because your brother's too stupid? So you don't like him anymore? someone asked Cheng Yixie once. Cheng Yixie didn't say anything in return, just shot that person an icy look.

The reason he didn't go back and didn't contact Cheng Qianli was because he was scared. He was scared that he wouldn't be able to control himself, and he would do something out of bounds.

He didn't even dare try to think about Cheng Qianli dying. The moment he thought about it, many terrifying thoughts would surface in his mind.

Cheng Qianli was the calamity in Cheng Yixie's life that he could never escape; he knew that for this brother of his, he could cross even the lowest lines.

And when he became conscious of this, the only thing Cheng Yixie could do was reduce the influence Cheng Qianli had on him—even if the reduction process was tantamount to cutting out a part of himself by brute force.

They were twins. Twins linked by blood. A single glance, a single look, and they could understand what the other was thinking; even a thousand miles away, Cheng Yixie could feel Cheng Qianli growing gradually weaker.

Cheng Yixie thought everything would end like this. But one afternoon, he got a call from Cheng Qianli.

To this very day, Cheng Yixie could recall the weather then.

It was a drizzling spring day, and the shrubs in the yard were lush with greenery. Everything was filled with the breath of revival. And Cheng Qianli's voice came from the other end of the line, sniffling and a little bit weak. He cried, "Ge, Ge, I'm so scared—"

Cheng Yixie, "what's wrong?" He'd sensed something, and his voice couldn't help but tighten in alarm.

"I went into a door." Cheng Qianli spoke in frail stutters. "There were so many ghosts inside. I finally came out. Am I dreaming…When are you coming back…I miss you so much…" It seemed he was growing unconscious, slowly beginning to mumble nonsense.

As Cheng Yixie listened, however, he began to laugh quietly. He laughed until tears came out, and said, "don't be scared. Gege's here. Wait for Gege to come back."

Gege will protect you.

And so, Cheng Yixie understood that he'd never escape Cheng Qianli the calamity. He would use every single method at his disposal to protect Cheng Qianli's life. He would see him grow up, marry, have children. His children would have children and he would definitely live on and prosper.

Author's Note:

Here's the long-awaited twins extra!

[Extra: Shameless Couple(2)] | [Extra: Twin Lives, Twin Deaths(2)]

[equal-shipping]

Why Kaishin Still Holds Up, Even Now.

I FINALLY watched the 23rd Detective Conan and let me tell you what...

Why are there not more episodes with these two working so closely together? Like please?! They got that solved so quickly and just shared information with one another and can I please just have them interact before the series ends pleaaaaaase.

Yet I'm not here for begging. I'm here to rant and cleverly disguise that rant as an essay.

I want to rant about trust in Detective Conan (specifically with a look at Kaishin) and the Enemies turned Rivals turned Friends turned Lovers trope.

[Mild Spoilers Ahead]

Trust as a Driving Force in Detective Conan

If someone asked me what is one of the many driving forces in the DC plot as well as the cornerstone of many of the relationships in DC it would be trust. Most of the characters in DC are living their lives with lies as the foundation of who they present themselves to be.

And here is something that I love about the relationship these two have with one another:

The trust that Shinichi has on Kid was earned and vice versa.

I don't think that Shinichi thinks that Kaito Kid is the most honest person in the world, but he does know that the magician works by a code and he trusts him to not put someone in any immediate danger despite the fact that Kaito Kid does not inherently talk too deep about his heists with him.

Ask yourself this. Where in canon did it say that in Kid's heist nobody gets hurt by Kid? I've read the manga and nowhere does he really say 'this is a safe show for everybody!' Let me tell you where it says it: Nowhere.

So why do we all assume it to be that way? Because even we have trust in our favourite thief that he won't do something to actively hurt someone. Since the story is being told in Shinichi's point of view, most of the times, we can rely on the trust that Shinichi has placed on Kid to not get anyone hurt.

One big example of this would be in the Detective Conan Movie: The Sunflowers of Inferno:

Leaving Ran in Kid's care is a conscious decision he is doing despite the fact that he doesn't know if Kid is even going to make it out. Shinichi loves Ran probably more than he loves himself and he wants her out of danger enough to place trust in someone that, situation wise, has no business whether Ran or Shinichi live or not. I honestly think that even Kid was surprised that Shinichi made that decision.

Now I'm not going to put my shipper goggles when I make this statement and go 'OH MY GOD THEY LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUCH IT SHOWS IT EVERYWHERE. LOOK AT THE SHOW, STUPID."

But these two have something that not many of the characters in DC have and that is a mutual trust without knowing all the details of their lives.

Kaito happened to guess that Conan was Shinichi and I doubt that Shinichi is going to meet Kuroba Kaito by the end of the series. These two barely know each other but through their interactions just happen to understand each other enough to work together amazingly when thrust into a situation where they have to help each other out.

Which brings me to the second thing I want to talk about.

My Enemy Went From Being My Rival to My Friend to my Lover, What Happens Now?

I want to break into Gosho's house and ask him to please let Kaito Kuroba meet Shinichi Kudou. Like this is such a might need that I'm almost scared of looking forward to the ending of DC because I just have a feeling it isn't going to happen.

I might also ask him why the hell every side character needs a romance subplot but that is neither here nor there.

But now that the ships have been decided and canon has sealed the final nail on everything, I just want to talk about the trope that makes Kaishin just so amazing for me.

If I am remembering my facts right, Magic Kaito came before Detective Conan. Kaito was a realized character, somewhat, and was clearly a very likable chara with a ridiculous high IQ and a secret he couldn't reveal to anybody.

I mean he's a goddamn beautiful man is what I'm trying to say.

When I first read the series I could immediately tell that Aoko was set to be the romantic interest, Gosho really ain't fooling nobody. She seemed cute, extroverted and a girl who seems to really care for Kaito. Of course there was the juicy tidbit of Kaito being the thief her father is hunting down that also kept the relationship interesting.

So I was more than okay with having these two together.

I was already a bit aware of Detective Conan so I was all for the ShinRan as well. The pining, the secrets, the care that Shinichi has for her that transcends the organizations doing!

Also fun fact: Kaito/Aoko was the basis for Shinichi/Ran! Which is why ShinRan is thematically better than Kaito/Aoko but I will not go into that.

So one sad day during quarantine, I decided to rewatch the series to see if I could get any writing inspiration.

Now I don't know if it was quarantine or a change of heart or just me growing up but Gosho's friend trope seemed boring to me the more the episodes continued on. I AM NOT THROWING THE FRIENDSHIP TROPE DOWN, IT IS BEAUTIFUL I STILL SHIP SHINRAN

But I was tired of picking vanilla and wanted to see what else was on the menu.

And as luck would have it, I had decided to watch episode 515: Kaito Kid's Teleportation Magic and fate decides to deliver me a wonderful hit to the heart:

What is it about characters pointing guns at each other that I love so much?

And Shinichi doesn't react like a normal fucking person he just goes:

He knows this man ain't gonna shoot. They have had five interactions before this (if we are going by anime episodes) and through all those interactions Shinichi managed to get to a level of banter with this guy that he hasn't had with any of his other enemies.

If he even considered Kaito Kid an enemy to begin with.

Both Kaito and Shinichi have a mutual respect for each other's skill.

They test each other out in several situations and are pleased when the other figures it out, kinda transitioning their little chases to more of a 'two really smart guys trying to outwit each other' and less of a detective trying to outsmart a thief.

Shinichi enjoys figuring out his magic and Kaito enjoys the challenge of making some of his magic tricks near impossible to figure out. Their friendship is something really special and if they can have it without even knowing the details of each other's life, imagine how strong it would be if they truly met each other face to face.

I don't really want to cross into headcanon territory that would turn them into lovers, lord knows we have more fanfiction to do so, but it is just wonderful to see these two men both living a lie respectively but finding some solace in each other that they can shut their brains off for one second and just...play.

Hell, Kid's heists might be Shinichi's safe place. In those heists he is known as the 'Kid Killer' and not just some brat who happens to figure shit out. His opinion matters in those heists.

And not just to the police, but to Kaito as well.

BUT IM GETTING OFF TOPIC!

I just wanted to show love to this wonderful ship q wq

[xpeachesncream]

perfectly wrong | one

summary: there were rules that had to be followed: no one could know about you two, there was no ‘getting to know each other,’ and there was absolutely no emotional attachment allowed. if this could be done, there should be no complications. but somehow, the rules always get bended.

pairing: reader x fuckboy!kth

genre: college au | fluff, angst, smut

words: 2301

chapter warnings: cussing, mature language, very slight angst, some hints of jealousy, alcohol consumption

notes: pls remember that this is set a few months after you and tae have been going at it, so it will seem like things are happening a bit fast. i’m not trying to prolong this series. also most importantly, i tend to usually write shorter chapters > shorter, but more chapters published. enjoy!

> series masterlist <

Jungkook decided he was going to see if he could jump over your couch and land perfectly in a seated position.

"Wait, wait, wait. Absolute silence everybody." He says as he's stretched over, trying to estimate the timing and height of his jump. He had always been super athletic and competitive since you two were small, so there was really no changing his mind on this. He always had to prove something, even if that meant creating his own competition of jumping over the couch.

"It's just me and you." You watched him from the kitchen, making sure the pizza in the oven was baking properly.

"I have an audience, okay? Don't be rude, Y/N." He says as he points over to the fake audience clapping and laughing during a 'Friends' episode.

"Whatever, as long as you don't go breaking my shit, Jeon Jungkook." He was 22, but his mentality was 8. That was for damn sure.

"Siiiiiiilence." He says at a whisper, his eyes shut as he puts a finger to his mouth. He lets out a huff and a puff before he gets the courage to throw himself over the couch and land a perfect landing. "And once again, he sticks the landing!" He stands up with his hands up in the air.

"You're annoying." You laughed, getting paper plates ready for the pizza that was about to be done because you were in no mood to do any dishes tonight.

"Thank you! I'll be here again tomorrow, same time." He calls out to his fake audience.

"No the hell you're not."

"Ouch, nevermind. Someone apparently doesn't want me here." You laugh at how dramatic he is. At this point, you just let him be because that was something you always loved about your bestfriend. He embraced the kid in him and always brought good times. You had similarities, but you also had some major differences. You liked being in your comfort zone & you were labeled the innocent nerd amongst your friends. You just like to consider yourself simple, though. A 'take it day by day' kind of person. Kookie was fun, adventurous and childish at times. He was also shy, but loud at the same time? An introverted extrovert, you could say.

But you loved each other nonetheless, that's why you've clicked so well since you were young. You taught each other things & grew together.

"Here, fool." You placed the pizza in front of him with the paper plates.

"Set it up, I'll grab us the drinks. You want anything in particular?"

"That bottle of Stella Rosa, please." JK knew you loved that Stella Rosa, so he happily grabs the bottle and two wine glasses. He plops back next to you on the couch, pouring your glasses and grabbing a heaping serving of 4 slices of pizza.

You both decided you want a good laugh, so you throw on Kevin Hart's newest installment: Zero Fucks Given. It isn't long before you both are rolling on the floor, almost gasping for air at how much you're laughing at Kevin Hart's stand up. The pizza is gone, the wine is gone, and you're still feeling pretty tipsy. The whole thing sounds nice, until your head starts to wonder what Taehyung is doing and if he'll text you to come over tonight. You know he probably already has plans with another chick though, and that hits you.

Curse this fucking alcohol.

Let's get this straight - the only time you 'talk' is when he's trying to fuck.

And yes bitch, you let him do this to you. You're out that door before you can even fully slip your shoes on. Dick is just that good. It's something about Taehyung that makes you addicted. The way he gives you a stupid ass smirk when he opens his door, the way he touches your skin and gently lays his shit on you until you both become really invested in the moment. So invested that shit hits the roof. It gets messy. It gets rough. It becomes unspeakable.

You aren't friends. No one knows about you two, or that you even know the other exists. You don't know shit about each other. The only thing you know is that he's fucking other girls. He has a whole roster, you'd imagine - a starting five, at least.

He doesn't care about you, and for the most part, you don't either. At least, that's what you like to portray because it's been some months now since this whole thing started and you can't help but feel some kind of emotional tie to him. You're leaving your house between 12-2am in the morning and sleeping in his bed until 6-7am. It's a routine; a routine you've become used to. You skip out on some late night kick-its with your friends cause you anticipate a text to come through from him.

But, he doesn't care. You aren't the only female slipping into those sheets, and boy does it fucking make it hard to swallow. Reality hits hard when you think about it and you feel this huge pit in your stomach. You try to be different, you try to stand out one way or another. But it doesn't work that way. You knew what this entailed going into it, so it makes zero sense as to why you're hurting and getting jealous from time to time.

You know it still doesn't matter to him.

He's only fucking you over cause you let him. You know damn well you're not gonna change and let this go, though. You love thrill of it too much. It's the most thrill your life has had. You're not perfect and you're only human. You make mistakes, but this one definitely puts the cherry on top. Because not only do you refuse to learn, but you let it repeat itself over and over again.

"Aishhhh, my stomach hurts from laughing too much." Jungkook laid his head back and patted his belly. "But that was good though. I needed that."

"Yeah it was. Thanks for coming by to watch that with me, Kook." He tilts his head over to look at you and smiles.

"Sure thing." He checks his phone and sits up. "Yoongi is blowing up the group chat." You check your phone to see multiple unread messages from none other than Min Yoongi himself.

[yoongi] 10:37pm: aye

[yoongi] 10:45pm: all of a sudden, everyone is ghost in this group chat?! you all had a lot to say not too long ago.

[yoongi] 10:52pm: even though you guys are fake as fuck, does anyone wanna come with me to the bars tonight? meet at my place so we can head out.

You and Jungkook laughed at how butthurt Yoongi was in the groupchat. Yoongi definitely was the most serious and blunt one in your group, but he still liked to party and have a good time. It was just how he was. Hoseok was always full of energy and probably the most extroverted one out of all 4 of you. He was never shy. You and Jungkook met Yoongi and Hoseok your first year in college and became inseparable ever since. You all just click with your different attributes.

[jungkook] 10:53pm: lmaoooooooo

[yoongi] 10:53pm: fuck you dude lol

[jungkook] 10:54pm: i'll come through in a sec, i'm at y/n's right now. not sure if she's gonna come though?

[y/n] 10:55pm: i'll pass, i'm tired and wined out.

[hoseok] 10:55pm: ahahahah yoongi shut up, blowing up my phone for no reason. i'm passing on tonight too. im tired from working that overtime *cries*

[yoongi] 10:56pm: you both are boring. i'm especially offended at how i didn't get an invite to your little powwow, y/n. and now you don't wanna hang out?

[hoseok] 10:57pm: she mentioned she was going to watch kevin hart's thing yesterday and offered us to swing by if we wanted to though....... selective hearing, maybe?

[y/n] 10:58pm: ^ okayyyyy and that's on period! thank you hobi <3

[hoseok] 10:59pm: anything for the baby

[yoongi] 10:59pm: lmao you're a brat, y/n. whatever, i'm still hurt by you both! kook, hurry on over so we can drink

"Fuck I regret this, I'm gonna die." Jungkook laughed as he stood up and stretched. He quickly helped you clean up before he figured it was time to go or else Yoongi would have a fit.

"I feel like it has to do with that one girl he's been talking to on and off."

"Perhaps." Jungkook shrugged before putting on his shoes. "We shall see." he sighs before giving you a tight hug. "You sure you don't wanna come out?"

"Nope."

"You don't even have plans tonight."

"Yes I do."

"Doing what?"

"Laying in bed." Jungkook snorted as you shook your head and shrugged. What else did he think you were trying to do? He should know you by now, at the very least.

"Alright, I'm not even going to argue. I'm off."

"Be safe, have fun, text me if you both need anything, okay?" He nods as he shuts the door, leaving you to your lonesome. You swirled the teeny tiny drop of wine leftover in your glass around before picking up your phone.

No new texts. Well, let's be specific: no new texts from taehyung.

You did forget to respond to your oldest cousin though, when he was just trying to check up on you.

[seokjin] 8:35pm: pssst y/n

[seokjin] 8:35pm: psssssssssst

[seokjin] 8:35pm: oyyyyyyyyyy

He was damn near 30 years old and hated talking on the phone so much that he decides to blow up your phone this way. But, he was the cousin you loved dearly and you had a very tight, sibling-like relationship with him. He was like the older brother you've always wanted. He watched you grow, protected you, kept you safe, supported you and cheered you on - especially when your family talked so much shit about how you and him weren't gonna get anywhere with your goals. You know, the fucking stupid ol' saying of 'chasing your passion isn't going to bring you money & wealth.' Your family was all about the titles and money, but Jin was passionate about cooking and wanted to open his own cafe. You, on the other hand, wanted to pursue your art. Jin was the biggest role model for you because he was the first to defy your family's wants and wishes. He was the black sheep of the family with a huge 'I don't give a fuck' mentality and he taught you that along the way.

Don't ever be afraid to do what you're passionate about. Fuck 'em.

[y/n] 11:13pm: hi sorry, jungkook was over and we were watching kevin hart's new thing on netflix over some wine and pizza.

[seokjin] 11:15pm: that sounds fun! sorry, i just wanted to check on you but i see you're doing okay lol

[y/n] 11:16pm: i am. :) i'll hang out with you tomorrow

[seokjin] 11:16pm: how sweet, my freeloading baby cousin is coming by

[y/n] 11:17pm: hahahah shut up! although you're not wrong, i am going to steal some food. but most importantly, i do want to hang out and see my bestest oppa <3

[seokjin] 11:18pm: awww y/n, you're so full of shit <3

[seokjin] 11:18pm: go to bed

[y/n] 11:19pm: haha love you tooooo

And so, that's what you did. You got yourself all ready for bed, believing you wouldn't be leaving your house tonight. You pampered yourself, put on a face mask and got yourself all lathered up in lotion just to lay down. You're in Jungkook's shirt that he left behind (and never looked for, so technically it's yours now) when the guys had stayed the night and some Vicky Secret panties.

You're scrolling through your Instagram feed, seeing Jungkook's newly posted story with him and Yoongi already at the bars, acting a damn fool. You laughed at the video he took of Yoongi trying to dance in a tight, awkward space on the crowded dance floor even though he was never the best at dancing. It lowkey made you wish you went out with them so you wouldn't be stuck here thinking about your feelings and how lonely these hours get.

And then you see Jimin's story from an hour ago. He knew you were friends with Yoongi, and although Yoongi wasn't fond of their group too much, he was still an avid party-goer and mingled with people there. You've only spoken to Jimin once because you had to work with him in the same group on a class assignment. You tried to keep it that way though because he was Taehyung's bestfriend. They went everywhere together, did everything together. He, too, was very popular among the ladies and across campus. I guess it was just their thing.

You assume they were at a party cause Jimin quickly flashes the camera at Taehyung, who's in front of him getting a lapdance from some chick. Jimin quickly turns the camera back to his face as he's laughing uncontrollably then abruptly cuts it off.

Great.

She's forsure going home with him tonight.

You set your phone down on the night stand and put on a show on your laptop to help you fall asleep.

Just as you're about to get some shut eye, your phone vibrates. You let it slip at first because you thought it could be one of the guys playing around, but it vibrates again, signaling another text coming through. You pick up your phone just to make sure Yoongi and Jungkook aren't in any trouble and need you to bail their asses out.

[taehyung] 12:17am: hey

[taehyung] 12:20am: come over.

You scoff at how he assumes you're still up and that you'd be coming over. You hated that. He knew he just had your ass.

track two: hit different - sza & ty dolla $ign