#and it makes me so mad on behalf of every other person who probably got told no over disability accommodations for even more important and I

[dojunie]

into you; hrj [sneak peek]

[★]; YOU LIKE HUANG RENJUN MORE THAN YOU’VE PROBABLY LIKED ANYTHING IN YOUR ENTIRE LIFE. Sure, you've only been more than friends for like, two weeks— a title-less thing that has you hanging out nearly every day but still hovering in the gray space between people who kiss sometimes and something a little more concrete— but it didn’t take you long to realize that he's pretty much everything you've ever wanted. What you’ve got going on with him right now is perfect in its own way, even if you find yourself almost overwhelmed with how much you like him these days… but considering that Renjun seems perfectly fine with the way things are, you’re not really gunning to tell him that.

(Though, after an incident at a party has you blowing up on your ex for a less than savory dig at your relationship— however unofficial it may be— you might not have to tell Renjun anything at all.)

info;

huang renjun x fem!reader

college au but no learning is going on

oneshot

genre/about; friends-who-kiss-sometimes to lovers, semi-established relationship but much pining is to be had, mc is Smitten, the full fic will have nsfw elements

teaser wc; 1k / full fic wc; 8-10k…ish (5k already written, woo, short fic era incoming)

[a/n: here is a very brief peek into a renjun fic that came to me in a fever dream, the one i’ve been working on non stop for like four days straight!!! renchins and others pls leave your thoughts in the replies or send me an ask, i beg]

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YOU'VE SIMMERED DOWN EVEN FURTHER BY THE TIME YOU'VE GOTTEN INSIDE HIS APARTMENT AND TAKEN A LONG, HOT SHOWER; scouring both the party and Jihoon’s touch from your skin, the nearly burning water is a welcome cleanse from the nights earlier events. (Though, if you’re being completely honest, the reason your face is so warm isn’t only because of the heat.)

Upon opening the front door and hustling inside, not a second had passed after toeing off your shoes off before Renjun spun you around kissed you.

And it wasn’t— It wasn’t rare for him to kiss you first. You didn’t want to make it seem like you had to chase him down for a smooch. But Renjun, as you’d guessed from his personality even before you started dancing around each other like this, was much more reserved than you were. He chose his moments for affection purposefully; a hand held here, a kiss on the cheek there, or (on more delicate occasions) a press of his lips against yours, mainly whenever you’d drop you off late at night, a quiet goodbye whispered against your mouth.

So it wasn’t rare but it wasn’t an exact science either, which is precisely why you didn't know what was happening until it was already over. The giant, dopey smile on his face only served to explain that he’d known exactly what he was doing by surprising you like that, and you held back the urge to launch yourself at him.

“That was my thank you,” Renjun started airily, teasing but still looking a little pink around the edges himself, “For trying to fight someone twice your size on my behalf. No one’s ever done that for me before. However, I would be very happy if you never did it again, because if you got hurt I would be very mad. Do you understand?”

You only stared at him. Your lips were tingling. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he murmured. “Do you want to shower first?”

“…Yes,” you said lowly, finaly finding your voice. God. “Yeah. You take forever.”

“Well then I’ll get you something to change into,” he said. Then, terrifyingly, he leaned in as if he was going to kiss you again— but right when he was close enough for your eyes to cross, waiting, waiting, unwilling to not be ready this time— “What are you waiting for?" he whispered. "You’re blocking the closet. Go.”

He laughed when you ran, cursing him the whole way. 

Once you were out, sufficiently clean and doused head to toe in Renjun’s clothes (despite the fact that after like, the tenth time you’d been here, you brought a change of clothes to keep in his closet for spontaneous nights exactly like these), you found yourself both alone and introspective for the first time since the Jihoon incident. It was only expected that your mind would wander to how you got yourself to this point in the first place, draped across the couch of a guy you hadn’t even known the name of three months ago—

And it had started as a seating chart.

Seating charts were always a risky game. You could either be stuck next to the too-loud or the too-quiet, the cheaters with wandering eyes or the chatty kids who didn’t understand that class wasn’t only for socializing— or you could be put near an angel, someone would end up changing your life in a way that you never would have expected from that first day of classes. 

Thankfully, in Chinese Literature 201, it was the latter.

Renjun was a Language Study major; the pretty guy with soft brown hair, a pair of big silver glasses perched on his face and a sweet little smile to match— the quiet student who sat across the aisle from you in the lecture hall. Being dismissed by row after collecting your midterm practice grades meant that, out in the lobby, he had a front row seat to catch you pulling your hair out over your less than desirable grade— and seemingly out of nowhere, he tapped you on the shoulder and asked if you wanted a little help. Grateful (and frankly terrified by the idea of failing Chi Lit and having to take it again if you bombed this midterm), you’d taken him up on his offer: three times a week in the Sulim Library from 6 to 8PM.

The rest was pretty much history.

You got to know him outside of just flashcards and extra assigned readings, learned that he liked to sing and did ballet for four years in high school and hated the taste of matcha anything. You learned who his friends were and what he liked to do on campus. Renjun wasn’t like any guy you’d— actually no, scratch that, he wasn’t like any person you’d ever met before. He was quiet, but he wasn’t shy. He was able to shut you up with startling accuracy; an ability your friends even found miraculous when you told them after the first few tutoring sessions, a dumb smile on your face and swinging your feet, that you’d finally found someone who could argue better than you could.

Renjun could bring a smile to your face by saying your name alone. He was nice and he was sweet and he was thoughtful, but he had a temper that matched yours and the most endearing frustrated face you've ever seen on another person.

You often left his side feeling almost ill with awe that one person could be so… perfect. As awfully mushy as that sounds.

Thankfully, after a few weeks of woo-ing him with your roguish charm, when you bit the bullet and told him you liked him, he replied with a smile and a challenge— because Renjun was nothing if not focused on the goal of actually tutoring you— he told you that if you passed the midterm with a grade of B or above, he’d let you take him on a date.

Easy fucking money. There wasn’t a chance you were going to let this opportunity slip away from you. You studied so hard for that test that for nearly six days you only came out of your room to eat and pee. 

(You got a 96%— A big, beautiful red A+ on the midterm and a professors recommendation for your accompanying essay. Renjun only later told you that the alternative to a good grade was him taking you out instead, the prick; and he laughed so hard at the look on your face that you thought he was going to throw up.)

[a/n; crying screaming i'm so excited to post this lol]

[will put full fic link here when posted] [other works]

#huang renjun #renjun fic #huang renjun fic #nct dream fic #nct renjun #renjun oneshot #nct dream x reader #renjun x reader #nct dream smut #renjun smut #renjun x you #renjun x y/n #renjun imagine #nct dream imagine #nct imagine #renjun drabble #renjun scenario #renjun fluff #renjun fanfic #nct x reader #renjun teaser

[howdon-aldi-death-queue]

Please can you tell you friend @theborders that it’s too late to delete posts and act like nothing happened. Alexa has seen them and is upset. I think she should apologise. I didn’t realise telling her would be so bad considering they were posted on a public website. How can you post stuff about someone on a public blog and expect them not to see? Also she probably told Sam about how she loved country just to be close to him

Okay, this is a late reply considering this was sent to me the other day, but I wasn't sure whether replying or not since I thought this would've simmered down. Well, I was wrong.

Things that drive me insane: a bullet point

• Faceless users on the internet exhorting strangers online to do something.

Going 28 and I usually don't take any advice from people who aren't in my personal bubble, but I'll make an exception today. So, I oblige. @theborders this anon is dying to let you know what they think 👉🏻🥺👈🏻

• Faceless users (omg! once again) not paying attention to the content of the different blogs they dive into.

I don't know if you're new here, but I have said many times that I'm not interested in it, therefore I have never posted any gossip, it's my policy. I don't give a flying sock about it. I don't know why you sent this to me, you would've spared this wordy rant from my behalf. We were talking about gossip, weren't we? Well I don't like it, but other people do and it's fine because it's life. Everyone's different, you know. A blog is like a house; every house has its own rules, same goes with blogs. Everyone's free to talk about whatever they please on their blog and I am nobody to tell people to apologise for things they've said about certain matters (I don't have an opinion about as I don't care about the matter per se). It's not my purpose on Tumblr. I am nobody's mother lmao

• People venting about something they've done and I have nothing to do with. Sorry, but you did tell Alexa and put theborders in a very bad mood and now you're gonna take the consequences that come with it. It's too late.

(For the record, I have just got the gist of what happened with Alexa considering I don't give a shit about gossip - yeah, I think it's good pointing it out every now and then to make it seep in order to avoid the wordy rant mentioned earlier. You say she's upset and I get it, but I mean she's a public figure and people on the internet talk about public figures, that's nothing new. Same thing for what you've said on chatting about what she did on a public blog. There's no difference. So... 🤷🏻‍♀️)

• People thinking they're the good ones for the purpose of """helping""" their peers, but they drag others down instead.

Can you imagine giving away to thousands of bystanders private information, like the place where someone lives just because you don't like what a person has said/done?! Mad stuff that. You doxxed her. I don't believe you realise what you've done. It gives unhinged vibes. You are eligible for a charge. Plus, you cyberbullied and harassed her by leaking her personal info online. I think the penalty for the guilt commited isn't quite right. There's a significant imbalance. We're only human after all, making mistakes is within our fallible nature. Your actions reek of arrogance. You can make mistakes as well, and sure enough you did so I am having words with you. No one is infallible and you're not a judge to decide what to do with people you think they did wrong in your eyes. Believe it or not, she didn't say anything that lousy to give away her info online. Stop being obsessed with this whole thing. We're trying to forget about it but you seem to be relentlessly devoted to drama.

• People hiding behind anonymous asks and not having the courage to come off anon to have a normal interaction with the person everything started with. Do you think that sending anons to every Sam Fender blog related on Tumblr is a clever move? Think twice before you do something.

One more thing before I go, are you trying to plant the seed of gossip on my blog with "Also she probably told Sam about how she loved country just to be close to him"? Anyway, I don't know what you're referring to as I don't know every detail of what happened AND I DON'T WANT TO KNOW.

[lolosrollercoaster]

Grief is fcking weird.

TW: DEATH, GRIEF, MENTAL HEALTH ETC (take all the TW and run away from this now, I rambled and went to it all and the last thing I want is for this to trigger someone. I only wrote this to express myself not to hurt anyone with my pain). Welp. Let me just start this off by saying - If anyone ever finds this - It's 7:51am and I haven't slept a wink... it's also the 1yr anniversary of the death of my favourite person... which is probably why I haven't slept a wink. So if this gets super incoherent then let it - because I just need to ramble for a moment. I tend to prefer creative writing to this blog/letter/diary type of style, and man is that probably why I suck at dealing with certain things (read: most things). In fact its probably one of the reasons why I've been so fucking frozen in time for almost 3 years, guess all the years of overthinking amplified and brought things to a complete halt. so yup - I've been completely stuck. And there hasn't been enough media, enough imagination or creativity etc to get me to do anything. Was it the pandemic? was it my penchant for overindulgence in all of it that finally stopped working as a coping mechanism and became one of the beams that now holds me down joining the rest of my collapsed psyche that now pin me to the ground? honestly who knows - but maybe I'll address that in another post- because today is about one issue, and that is GRIEF. what a fun little word - and yet so bad at encompassing what it can mean. I mean I feel like we're honestly just starting to get each other despite the fact that I think I've had it in my bag all these years. And man can it mean so much even in the same context if it's with different people? like you think you know what to expect but really (trust me) you don't. I feel like it should be in the human starter kit - the manual - that you absolutely don't know anyone until you've seen them grieve...or even worse- had to grieve alongside them. Like the fact that you never have felt closer yet farther from those people that share this common loss. Oof - if you had told me the whole "anger" part could mean "you're never speaking to this B*tch again" and part of it is mostly because you're angry on the behalf of someone who is already gone or because they made you bring that negative energy to them during their last few hours? I would've thought you were exaggerating. But nope - here I am, 365 days later still thinking - ONE DAY - I will let this person know how fucked up they are- but not today - because the person who died was my abuelita, and the b*tch is my tia - and honestly I can just see my abuelita being mad at me for being mad at my tia. Actually that's a lie - my abuelita could hold grudges when necessary, but she never got mad at me - I think she'd be more disappointed which is somehow worse. But see, anger, grief, rage? they make no sense. Because here I am still pissed af at my tia, a whole year later, and still I haven't called her a b*tch to her face - because my dead abuelita wouldn't like it if I said it. Even if she was actually being a b*tch ( that being said I'm human - so of course I've vented to everyone I know and gotten reassured) and everything she did prior to my abuelita's passing was cruel, stupid, wrong, and absolutely not ok (glad I can at least say that with certainty).

But anyways - Grief is cruel - and aloof, and odd. Grief has pulled me further from my mom than closer to her. More resentful. And it's funny because it's like it's brought out every quality I know my Abuelita would not want out of me. Honestly I might be in my villain era (or at least it feels that way - since I've decided to be strong and set boundaries - and enforced them... in a family where boundaries are non-existent... I might as well be).

But see the grief of her death came at me at the worst possible time. I know, come on universe? can't you check my calendar before you set me up for another one of these eternal redirections/world flipping moment/life "lessons" - and can we please discuss a maximum quota per decade? or at this point per year? I don't think I have the bandwidth for anything else at this point. (please don't take me typing that as a taunt or invitation! I'm good, I swear!)

You see, for some reason I guess the universe decided 2022 ( a year of my favourite numbers) was meant to be my most tested year yet - so much so that it started off with a serious accident for my dad, which happened on the day I was home after quitting the job from hell, on the first month of the year and didn't truly let up from there. By the 3rd week of 2022 I was catatonic - see, I guess 2 can play at that game and my brain+body+soul all collectively decided I needed a time out... so I just clocked out. for a month (?) I still cant tell you. but I guess I had what y'all call a little mental/nervous breakdown? ... anyways by march I was talking again, so I guess that's good - I mean at least basic communication, I wouldn't say I was out in the world, nope that took some more therapy, and A LOT of convincing from pretty much anyone who could try. And of course, given that I was bed bound, and not actively taking care of myself everything afterwards felt pretty much exactly how you'd expect it. Which was incredibly demoralizing - feeling like a zombie, unsure as to why you're alive to find that what little you appreciated about yourself is also not in shape atm - had to cut off all my hair, so that was fun... then more little issues came up, dental problems, and health problems, etc. Oh and on top of it all I had finally caved and filled one of those little mental health assessments (obviously had to lol I had stopped functioning- that was probably not a good indicator). And that led to seeing how much stigma still exists in the medical field for patients. Truly loved that. (I've worked on my mental heath for years but never fully put it all on "paper" fearing the stigma. preferring to have it be known but not written down for fear of how it could affect me - and unfortunately not even 6months later I got to experience it - gotta say it was also lk just the full meal: super fun & humiliating, y'know? even worse than what my overthinking brain had dreamt up so 11/10! great job to all involved!) But anyways, grief! that was also something I gained from my mental breakdown! who would've thought! ... definitely not me!

so anyways, I'm unemployed, living @ my parents house - parent's who definitely don't know how to deal with my mental health, they didn't know for the first decade, maybe its too much for me to expect them to know now going into the 2nd one 🤣 but yeah - idk they somehow kept me alive and here, so they definitely did something right. I gotta give props there! this is one crisis they didn't purposely start and stuck through to the end and provided what I actually needed at the time so 🎉 ( I know I sound like an asshole, but this whole mental breakdown and previous # of mental shithole years have provided me with an insane amount of introspection and reflection on my childhood which... surprisingly 🙄... didn't give me less to be angry about but more 🎉 I'm still unraveling it all, but I've definitely got enough content to keep a therapist employed for a while.) WHICH is a fun next point... access to mental health services ... why is is so fucking hard? man also so expensive when you're employed, even if you live in a country with "universal healthcare". The therapist my mom helped me get with (yay mom!) was with a service that didn't charge me too much, based on a sliding scale, and well I was unemployed and mentally broken, so income was low (thanks for 2021 Lolo for keeping some savings) so at least I could afford it ish but it turns out they worked based on "goals" and my goal in March was to get up from my bed... and hopefully make it outside my room, then eventually outside my door to actually breathe non-recycled air... maybe actually see some other human beings outside of the ones that live with me (or see them more often at least!) eventually be sort of a functioning human again.

And then my teeth got fucked and my abuelita was sick all at once - and my family is not in this country, so we thought ok - lets fly home (10+hrs air journey)... and also lets bring my 13yr old pupper - because my abuelita loved her, and this might be her last chance to go home and see that fam. Also she has separation anxiety and all 3 of us were going (yeah I'm also an only child, unless you count the pupper as my sibling, which sometimes we do). So anyways - here we go - Four anxiety ridden overthinkers on a sad journey to see their fam - it was as insane as it probably sounds - my mom thinking about her mom, in denial of the situation, and also forgetting she had promised to take responsibility for the puppers, me trying not to break down again bc ppl, airports, anxious/stressful parents who always freak out during travel and turn to you for calmness but now you're the stressed one - overwhelmed pup bc its a long ass air journey and she doesn't love being confined to a carrier and would rather be on our laps or roaming the cabin.... yup. Also I needed a root canal - so I was in PAIN. But my tia is in dentistry and it would be a much better job + price back home anyways so it was worth the craziness.

And then I got home - and I saw her. And I lost it. And my dad lost it and that's also when I knew ok well we're fucked. Because my mom is the one that had kept it together this year - she was the one who had to care for us and now it was her rock who was about to leave her. But my mom was in DENIAL. See my mom believes in miracles, but to the point where she expects them to happen regardless of reality and if there's one thing she was never going to do was give up hope in this particular case. But that also meant we had absolutely no idea how it would hit her once it happened - and as much as my abuelita and my mom taught me to believe in miracles, I unfortunately couldn't see one here. See life beat me into becoming a realist, and I worked in healthcare for a while too so there was only so much my brain would allow me to deny or have any type of hope.

Hell, I thought I would be able to handle it better because I'd seen death now more than once. But nothing prepares you to loose your favourite person, specially not when they're suffering and slowly withering away. And I think that's what pisses me off the most still. I held the hands of strangers, I sat with them through their worst times, their last few days. But from the moment I saw her - I knew I couldn't. And in some act of bravery, or dumbfuckery - I did it again - I talked my brain into compartmentalizing it, into rationalizing it, into ensuring I would be present for her. I don't regret that, don't get me wrong - I would hate myself more if I had walked away that first day and never gone back. But in shutting myself off from my feelings regarding it - in minimizing it - because I just told myself "how could I do this for strangers and not for her?" I shut myself down emotionally enough to survive it, but I think it might come back to kill me later.

You see, I make myself useful - because I was taught that's what I should do. so I did. I helped wherever I could, I drew knowledge when I needed it from people who had it, I became the voice of reason when necessary. I organized and learned all I could about what she was going through, I researched what it could all mean. That was the hardest- knowing she was like this because she fell through the cracks of a broken healthcare system. I helped by learning and arming myself with what I could to fight for her, to do what I could to make things better, or less painful for her if possible. But it still didn't feel like enough (and yet it all felt like way more than too much). And then we finally had to bring her into a facility - you see my grandfather was also a victim of the healthcare system - in his case a mistaken dose of a medication not meant for him meant instead of going home that day... he went to a funeral home instead. So of course my family, my mom, my abuelita all feared ending up in a situation like that again. She never wanted to die in a hospital, but even in her pain I think she did it because she didn't want us to deal with what it would entail for her to die at home. So she agreed and asked to be taken to the hospital. And to make it about me again - "everything happens for a reason" is a sentence I hope to never hear again because what do you mean the one they sent us to was the one I was born in (not the usual hospital she would've been sent to, but that one was too full so they sent us to my birthplace) and in that same building 48hrs later after being admitted almost to the minute - she took her last breath ....( just 2months and 1 day before my 26th birthday) So 25yrs, and 10 months after I took my first one in that same building. I now know 2 dates/events to the minute.

my birth and her death.

I'm not angry about that - I'm just confused but not mad - I just still don't understand the meaning of it all if it is supposed to have one. I do remember the last ~14hrs of her life. Since I was the one who was by her side for most of them. So much for that schedule I made (she needed to have someone with her at all times), some would've thought I made it on purpose to get her all to myself one last time. And I don't think I regret a single minute of it -even if it was one of the most painful nights of my life. if not THE most painful. I remember my mom coming to take over and my abuelita looking like she was doing better - like she was giving me permission to go - but I didn't, because I still had stuff to do, I was doing some paperwork for her, and then trying to get an extra visiting pass for my cousin, and then, and then... and then... I found the chapel - by chance, took a wrong turn ended up in that hallway. (you should know, my abuelita was one devoted woman, and the only reason I still had some faith in all of that - but she never pushed, she wasn't a fanatic, she just had true pure faith and it was so pure she did witness miracles and had them happen to her and around her and all of us.) And I sat down and I prayed. I hadn't done that in years. but I did - and I just said one thing: "if its her time, and that time is now - then don't let me or my connection to this hospital be what holds her here. I don't want to be the reason she suffers, I don't want to be what's holding her here if it's her time. I'll figure it out, I'll deal with it all, just please don't let her suffer any more. She doesn't deserve that" And 30 min later she was gone.

My mom held her hand in the end. I saw her face because of course I had to come back for something I forgot and I walked in as she was taking what I now know were her last breaths. I didn't run to her - I'd said my goodbyes in a way when I switched with my mom - I ran to switch with my cousin who was outside so she could go in and say hers.

she didn't make it.

I barely walked the 5 steps outside to my dog's carrier (who was there waiting for me as we exchanged) before my mom called only saying"she's gone" and I dropped.

if you asked me what happened after that I'd tell you flashes of it. I wailed. my dog wailed. I still feel guilty for that - she saw me drop and probably thought I'd been shot or something.

** Oh yeah I forgot to mention we had to extend our trip but my dad couldn't stay bc of work so he had to go home, and it was now just my mom, my dog and I (with the rest of our extended family of course). I eventually managed to start calling ppl - because right - we're the ones that know. my phone was at 16% and dying fast. I'd forgotten to charge it the night before, more focused on her care and not messing any of it up. I remember calling my cuz and just wailing "she's dead" then "sorry gotta hang up and call the others, my phone is at 15%" before hanging up. Still glad she doesn't hate me for that.

my dog stopped breathing and her tongue went purple/blue for a second on the taxi back to her home. we don't know what it was - grief, anxiety, the hand sanitizer my baby cousin was sniffing to keep from throwing up. it was only a second but my life flashed before my eyes again and I somehow got her back with some type of crazy cpr. My mom only found this out a few days ago - she was in the hospital with the body arranging it all. I helped pick out an outfit for her to be put into.

I helped my 19yr old cousin who lives where we live get plane tickets and helped her break the news to her mom (my tia) who was on holiday in Europe... they were supposed to come see her on Oct 4th, but they didn't make it in time. I heard their flight home kept getting delayed and she passed out in the airport.

I had nothing to wear - not that it mattered -but at one point they offered I could wear a set of her shoes and it kinda felt wrong - like why would I wear her own shoes to her funeral. it just felt wrong.

her funeral turned into 4 days of viewing - waiting for my poor cousin and tia to arrive because we couldn't get them there any faster. I don't know if it made it easer or harder to delay it. I stopped sleeping the moment she went into the hospital and didn't start again until ....still unsure. maybe a week after? when exhaustion took me out. I helped organize the funeral, deal with them trying to overcharge us, informing ppl, etc. I even managed to get her interred where she wanted her final resting place to be before our flight back (which when we'd managed to push it we'd changed our return date to Oct 15). I pushed to make it happen so my mom and I could leave knowing she was finally where she had to be. I stopped crying maybe 2 days after she died? ... I only cried 3 more times after. one being when I was a pallbearer.

My mom went... I want to say insane but that feels mean. She definitely did not handle it well, and absolutely pissed ppl off, also said some horrible things that she didn't take back - and hasn't taken back to this day.

I can't say how I was, but I do know I wasn't that bad? I think I spent more time ensuring my relatives saw me as an adult and separate from her so I wouldn't loose relationships than I did trying to offend ppl for no reason, so that was a win. and as far as I know I haven't been blocked by anyone yet - so clearly I did something ok.

I wish my dad could've come but with his health scares + being 70 + having done the journey there and back already it kinda made sense as to why he couldn't - rationally I know that. Irrationally I'm still mad I was left to deal with my mom on my own.

we got back and halloween no longer felt joyous (it was my favourite holiday). I still dressed up for her because she loved that. Apparently she always told my baby cousin that Aurora from tangled reminded her of me so I dressed up as her and watched the movie again and cried it out with my parents.

My dog survived the journey home and actually is now more of a fan of airplanes - we survived somehow.

(my biggest fear was my abuelita and dog dying at the same time, leading to my mom either dying or breaking down like I did and then me having to deal with it all on my own practically. I was sure I would not survive that.)

I tried to talk to the therapist I'd been seeing, he told me I had to reapply to the program... because its goal based, and when he took me on the goal was to get up from bed and leave my house. which I had. Grief however was a different goal and I had run out of appointments for this session set.

I stopped going to therapy.

**somewhere around here was when I had my first stigma filled experience with a GP I went to for a health problem I had. My birthday sucked. despite a bit of a time difference - my abuelita was always the first call I'd get that day. I didn't have enough time to prepare for that one since it happened so soon after. I decided to make my birthday nonexistent. I felt I had nothing to be thankful for and I definitely had nothing to celebrate. I didn't even feel like myself.

I got a job, it was supposed to be a good one. I was excited. I would start it in the new year.

Christmas - sucked. It is(was?) my mom and abuelita's favourite holiday. Not last year. We didn't even put up a tree.

New Years Eve felt like more lk YOUR YEARS GRIEF. I rang in 2023 half conscious as the absolute train wreck of a year finally hit me - and I could not stop crying or being angry or passing out from crying so hard then waking up again to be annoyed again.

And that's when it hit me I had two types of grief.

I'd completely lost myself.

and

I'd lost my true North Star.

see the one thing that questionable therapist got right was that I'd become such terrible people pleaser my entire identity crisis was happening because of it and it had helped push me into that freaking mental breakdown. I had no sense of self bc I would make myself whatever or whoever I needed to be to fit into where I needed to fit. so much so that now I had no idea what part of any of it was actually me and what was just me adapting to survive.

fun, eh?

And then my favourite person, the centre of the most joyful perfect memory in my mind - died. aka the unthinkable.

And now here I am 365 days later - with a fuckton of unfelt grief because I just COMPARTMENTALIZED IT LIKE A PRO. To a concerning degree according to just about everyone who knows me or asks about it. I mean I can't talk about it, or her. I can't read things about grandparents, or death, I definitely have almost broken down at seeing numbers like 82 (her age) anywhere. But nope, I somehow kick it back - shut it down. it almost feels like when you're about to sneeze and then you just don't? y'know that feeling? that's the closest I can compare it to. My eyes start to fill with tears and then suddenly they're dry as a desert and <I'M FINE> (read that like Ross in that one scene in friends). Anyways what's happened in the rest of those 365 days? had a job, left a job (toxic environment - so yay!) put some of that money in savings, spent the other. fought a lot with my mom. Went home by myself this time - took cuz who's my fav adult and also the one who took care of my abuelita all throughout that last year on a much deserved vacay with the liquidated vacation days I got *thank god for our birth country's currency being devalued. I feel terrible about it for my people but since I don't live there it makes it easier to do things like that one - visited Abuelita for Mother's Day. didn't cry. So clearly still repressed af.

but what's new.

Saw Beyonce at the Renaissance Tour with my friends- of course we got tickets back in February so I only realized months later that it was on my abuelita's birthday - but hey - Virgo's groove almost got me to cry in her honour since Bey asked all her Virgo's to get up and dance.

Saw a couple of plays. (Mom got a volunteer gig there and can get me tickets, also she thinks it's a bonding thing. it is kind of fun as long as it's not forced.)

Tried to challenge myself to reading 200 books - pretty sure I've only read 3 so far. BUT I'm trying and that's what matters, right?

also there's a fucking recession apparently? and finding a job is SO FUCKING HARD. that I'm spiralling harder than before. it's been fun - I'm so unmotivated and idk how to fix it. I'm back to hermiting tbh. Also my financial anxiety is at an ALL TIME HIGH. because I only calculated to have fun off work for a couple of months, and it's been more than that - I was so hopeful that I'd get a new job a lot quicker than I did.

Also for another healthy form of *🤡DEALING🤡* we're about to go to Cirque du Soleil with my parents- because we couldn't get tickets for another date (quite literally. these were the only left and we got a special deal with my parents' job). and isn't that funny? or fun. Y'know back when I had lk hopes and dreams, and I was a naive little girl I used to have these ridiculously grand ideas ahah like having acrobats at my wedding ... and that was when I'd only heard about cirque du Soleil which I'm actually only seeing for the first time today. But I don't think I ever thought "HEY- here's a thought - lets watch them for a deathaversary instead since you're so into the dark side nowadays"

But y'know what? I'm just going with the flow at this point.

Because apparently that's grief. And that's life. And that's the universe.

anyways if anyone has a treatment for repression - I'll take it - because this constipation of feelings has me down bad.

also pls pray for your girl to find a job. Her mental health is in the shitter bc living at home is not ideal when they're part of the reason you got shit mental health.

I pray to one day be a mentally healthy individual and actually maybe hopefully have a healthy (or as healthy looking as possible) relationship with my mother. and maybe even my father . but that shit aint happening with all of us under the same roof. that's just a fact. Despite how bad the real estate market is out there, in this case braving it is a life saving measure.

[it-started-in-april]

Tuesday May 30th 10:27am

One of the most frustrating things about being the only person to go to college is that my family doesn't have any idea how to process works. My dad assumes it's easy and that he'll help and figure it out when it comes down to my transfer to a UC, but I've been on my own this entire time, I've had no financial support from him, he hasn't asked about my classes or even attempted to support me. Instead he leans on his horrid sister, who hates me for taking her brother's attention (weird bc i'm his kid and should have it) and he only cares to get her opinion. She used to work in the financial aid department at a local UC, a smaller one, probably not one that you would guess if you were to start listing them out (not UCLA, UC Davis, UC Irvine, UCSD, UCSF...) He wants to work with her WITHOUT ME to fill out paperwork for the pell grant so I'll move to LA. He literally thinks that'll cover every single cost and that I will be able to sustain myself without a job just on that. When I said no that's not how it works he blew up on me. Absolutely screamed and yelled about how I'm a pretentious (he didn't use that word i'm paraphrasing, he doesn't know that word) brat and that I'm mean and a loser. I think he's using my success to make himself look better, to connect with other people, but he's not actually helping. When I suggested I can't afford LA rent next fall and I'll have to consider closer Universities he rolled his eyes. When I said I'm not a dependant and I would have to fill out my own paperwork and he's not able to do things on my behalf and behind my back he got frustrated and said I was wrong. The worst part about trying to find a path to better my life is when they people who are supposed to love and support you create barriers for you, and get mad at you when they feel insecure.

A good idea of who my dad is... I read books quickly,I don't know why, but if I'm really into a book I'll devour it in one or two sittings. It's becomes an addiction and rather than study or watch tv or even talk to my friends I'll turn everything off including my phone and just read. My dad got mad at me for finishing a book in a day. He said "well some of us like to actually take our time reading because we want to actually remember the material and enjoy it." I responded that I do remember and enjoy the material it's just a different speed than you which is fine. He can fix cars quickly and I can't, different people have different skill sets so what? Then he blamed me for being an unemployed loser and that's why I can read so much. Like why can't you just say, "omg cool! good talent, proud of you!" why try to hurt me because you don't have the same talent. If we were all the same how boring would that be.

#personal #it started in april #it-started-in-april

[lifeasatargetedindividual]

There was a time I actually considered in the back of my mind, there may be some kind of good intent on behalf the Program in my targeted situation. I genuinely hoped and believed despite the madness of the tactics "played" against me, there must be some silver lining underneath it all, like maybe in their own warped out way, my enemies were trying to "help" me better my life and personalities some kind of way. For a few years they'd indirectly said as much, even growing frustrated when I'd air my critism towards their hostility.

After today, I not only understand but accept, there is no true positive intent towards Targeted Individuals from the Other Side. They basically set you up with lies to fit into their hateful agenda, and from that moment on, they twist just about every little thing you say and do against you to further their hate campaign. They can set you up as anything they want, but the worst thing they can damage your rep with is lies of being a pedophile. Everyone hates pedophiles and once the Elites have brainwashed the masses into running with this lie, they're all off like marathon runners, spreading their diseased lies around like prostitutes. As a Targeted Individual, whatever lies they spurn becomes impossible to fight against. You can be the most loving, caring person who'd give the shirt off your back to a complete stranger. Doesn't matter. You've now got hoardes of blood thirsty monsters at your throat. Nothing you say or do in opposition ever changes their minds about you. Many have been paid off, some actually believe they're doing the work of "god" and most just want to feel better about themselves, "powerful" and "superior" over someone they've been conditioned to believe is "below" them. There is nothing truly humble about any of those involved. First opportunity they get, they WILL stomp all over you, either with words or actions meant to humiliate and degrade you. From relatives to complete strangers. Everyone gets a hardon at some point to put you down and boost their own selves up.

I had to go out in public today. There wasn't a single place I went to where I wasn't dealt verbal cruelty by those passing by me. Everyone involved knows what's being done against me to the most extreme, cruelest degree. Not one ounce of empathy or remorse from anyone I came in contact with. No one. One black guy, trying to look like the world's coolest pimp stared straight ahead as he walked past me, but said loud enough for me to hear: "That's what you get. You deserve it!" While getting some food with my aunt, a Mexican-looking woman with a boy by her side, called me a bitch while standing behind me. I couldn't make out what else she said. But when I turned and moved away after putting my order in, it was impossible not to notice the proud smirk on her face, and she kept watching me out of the corner of her eye. Lucky for her, I'd forgotten to carry my blade on me. It's probably a good thing I didn't. In the mood I was in, I would've made a scene more than likely, ensuring the cops would be called to haul me away for attempted murder. People think my anger and rage are something to play with, until it isn't. Her little boy, who looked about 12, had stared at me for a moment too, a smirk on his face as well, and yes, I'll admit, I did snap at the kid asking what he was looking at. Unlike everyone else, I own up to my shit. He never did answer, his smirk just kinda deepened as he turned away.

I've gotta start wearing my body cam again. People aren't so bold and "brave" when I'm all suited up collecting evidence to share across social media.

Of course when the B.Y. Neighbors realized my mind kept playing on some of the cruel words aimed my way, they snatched it up to play on it, adding it to their V2K rhetoric as well as hyping on the lies they choose to believe about me. I had to deal with a lot of shit today, there were more instances of people talking at me as I'd walk by them but those are the most memorable. I couldn't make out in totality what others were saying anyway.

The B.Y. Neighbors are in the backyard smoking weed and talking loud. They've got company over, sounds like. They like to talk and act even bigger and badder when they've got their friends gathered around. Yet the 3 times I showed up at their house, nothing but crickets. They didn't say shit, that last time they hid behind the curtains. It was obvious one of them was home and aware I was on their property. Yet out of all the sick, evil shit they do against me, not a one of them could confront me in person. Only hide like the typical cowards they are.

Funny how that works. I don't need a crowd, don't have a crowd, it's always JUST ME when I breach the scene because I'm a strong ass bitch. I don't need groupies backing me up to make me feel bigger and badder about myself. All I've got is ME and there is still no one who can take me without hiding behind the fake ass bullshit of the Program, throwing rocks and hiding their hands to keep themselves covered because they know I'll physically fuck them the hell up if they got in my face with their shit and didn't have enough sense not to keep moving like the scared bitches they are.

Anyhow, I heard a young sounding dude shout out, "Yeah, I love pedophiles! I know how to handle you!" I didn't even respond. Just cued up one of my favorite reality tv shows as a distraction. Now more than ever, the masses are pumping up that lie. Every time I think on how I once wanted to get married and have kids of my own, they jump all over it calling me "sick" and keeping with their stupid accusations, all lies. I'd have more respect for these people if they just came right out and said they're doing all this extra evil shit against me because they simply don't like me as a person, my personality is just too aggressive and confident for them. They USED to call me a big ass bully for the way I'd defend myself and since I've never been perfect, in a sense I probably did come off as a bully in the past to different people once I'd snapped and had enough of bullshit. It'd make more sense for them to come at me for that than to hype over some false ass lying ass shit they've gotta make up to try and "justify" the vile shit they like doing against me. I really would have more respect for them and understand shit just a little, but nope, they just hype up the lies so it's whatever.

I just sat back on the inside watching and listening to shit go down all day, eating it all while trying to carefully mask my feelings. Once they force you into this position, you have to learn to stomach a lot of shit you normally wouldn't. Not because you want to, but because you know if you fight back the way you really want to, you're gonna be in prison for the rest of your life. Something they all want. It's always just a matter of whether it's worth it or not.

I'm not dead on the inside, but today definitely opened my eyes a little more. These people WANT to believe the lies, to make me out as something I'm not and they're going the extra mile to make shit look the way they want it to look by still Sickening me out everyday with their DEW's. They want to take you all the way down, and as a T.I. you have to fight to bring your own self back up. To better yourself from all the abuse they constantly put you through, and put your body through with no remorse, all because of a damn lie they want to beef up to serve their own corrupted agendas. Sometimes they claim it's all merely a "game" and I'm "losing." Other times they say it's "serious" and my life's in danger. I no longer believe and damn sure don't trust anything coming from their end. They're snakes; they switch up way too much, and snakes are never worth trusting because their hearts ain't right. They don't even see themselves as needing to change. They see nothing wrong at all with what they do to me on the daily. Abusers can only change if they want to change. These people don't want to change. Hurting someone they believe they can get away with it against is way too much "fun" for them. Yet they call ME evil.

Yeah. Rethink that.

And to think, the REAL reason I'm enduring this hateful bullshit is because I didn't choose the man who signed me up for all this. All of this because I made the wrong move in walking away from him? THEN when I came back, several times mind you, he played me like a damn fiddle to further play into the shitstorm HE started in signing my life away.

Yeah, I've definitely learned a lot about humanity, especially today.

And when I make it in life ending up better than I've ever been before, I'll say it right now, I don't want any of the people battling hard to make me feel like shit all day everyday trying to kiss my ass. Nope. Save it. Don't try and explain yourselves when the time comes, don't flip the script. Just remember your endless lies andwhat you're doing against me NOW. Because the only forgiveness you'll ever get will be from God.

Not from me.

And Michael, you damn sure better watch your back, Backyard Neighbor from Hell. I've got a complete hardon for taking your ass out. Fuck going after Brinley, YOU will be my first target. Keep thinking I'm playing. I'll show you a demonized stalker. You'll see one day, and you won't see me coming until it's too late. Remember this shit you keep putting me through. Remember it.

#gangstalking #harassment #organized stalking #organized crime #organized harassment #targetedindividual #persecution #v2k

[aggravatetheaxe]

Hey! Saw your post and saw you said you were upsettie spaghetti so I wanted to cheer you up!

Slashers who stop everything they’re doing because their “My S/O needs me” senses are tingling and go to their rescue to comfort their angry s/o?

I was hoping to come up with A way for you to get your emotions out through your writing- 😅

Hope you feel better! 🖤

I've never done a post in this style before so hopefully I do okay! I think I covered pretty much all the slashers I write for so far (I didn't do Billy Lenz because I still need to read the novelization). I may have gone way overboard, so if I do these in the future, I'll probably just pick a few instead of doing the whole roster 😅 (or you can pick for me). But doing this much work did distract me!

Above the cut:

Bo Sinclair

Vincent Sinclair

Lester Sinclair

Included below the cut:

Michael Myers (OG)

Jason Voorhees

Leslie Vernon

Thomas Hewitt

Bubba Sawyer

Brahms Heelshire

Erik ("The Phantom")

Deacon Billings (OC Ghostface)

Courtney Dwayne Delmont (OC slasher)

Kathleen Montgomery (OC slasher)

Masterlist

***

Bo Sinclair

Despite being autistic, Bo is very in tune with peoples auras and body language. He has to be to manipulate and deceive people with any modicum of success. He's trained himself when it comes to these things; even besides masking or manipulation, he needed to be keenly aware of when his parents were in Bad Moods so he could either avoid them or prepare himself.

The mood he's probably best at when it comes to this, for those reasons, is anger. He can smell anger a mile away. So if you're fuming, you better believe he notices.

At first he's annoyed and will demand to know what your problem is. He's not a very tolerant person, and he can be a bit of a hypocrite. He's allowed to have big, messy feelings, but when it comes to others having big, messy feelings ... he's not so comfortable with that. He gets overwhelmed.

Once he realizes that this is more than an attitude problem, he'll take it much more seriously. And assuming you're not mad at him, he'll want the rundown on the whole situation from beginning to end. He wants all the dirt.

He'll let you rant, and honestly, he'd think you being this angry (when it's not directed at him, but even still sometimes) is kind of sexy. And don't expect him to shut his mouth, either; he'll be ranting right along with you, affirming you and insulting whomever/whatever you're angry about.

He doesn't wanna cuddle. He genuinely thinks you can't cuddle anger away. He'll put on some loud-ass music and let you vent your frustration however you prefer. Maybe suggest a long drive down to the lake or into town or just ... picking a direction and going. He has fantasies of running away from his anger sometimes. He knows how it is.

Depending on what you're angry about, it could definitely get to the point where he's angrier about the situation than you are. And if it really hurt you, he will not let it go as long as he lives. The best he will ever do is maintain a grudging neutrality or distance from the person/situation that made you angry.

He's very protective. If you're angry at someone you need to maintain a relationship with, you're going to have to keep an eye on Bo to make sure he doesn't deliver revenge for you behind your back. If it's something he can solve, he'll do it, so if you don't want him running his mouth, watch him.

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent is in the same boat as Bo when it comes to sensing auras, though his handle on body language and facial expressions is not as keenly honed. While Vincent was not physically abused as brutally or as often as Bo, this wasn't because of some sterling quality he had that Bo lacked. He was always The Good One because he saw what his parents did to The Bad One and knew he needed to protect himself. He tried not to do anything that might provoke his parents.

You can feel anger before a fight like you smell ozone before a storm. Vincent is attuned to the feeling not just because of his parents but because of Bo's temper, too. Because of this, like Bo, he can very accurately sense anger in particular.

His initial reaction is to observe you, gauging if you need time to cool off. If you need space, Vincent is the Sinclair for you. He's used to being quiet and deflecting and riding out anger.

However, once he realizes that your anger is not directed at him or isn't explosive enough to become a problem for him, he's concerned. Rather than asking what happened, he will ask if you're okay, and leave it up to you whether you'll tell him about it or not.

If you vent, he'll sit and listen patiently, maybe even thoughtfully working on a sculpture while you rant. He's not judgemental and he can be very emotional himself, so you could say the most ridiculous, dramatic things and he wouldn't even bat an eye. Let out all your messy, destructive thoughts and feelings. Just try not to throw or punch anything; that's when he shuts down.

If you decide you just want comfort, or decide you need comfort after ranting, art is his first suggestion. It may seem cold to you at first, that his instinct isn't to hold you or kiss you but rather to redirect you to a project - once you got to know him, however, you'd know that's his most genuine way to show he cares. Redirecting to something creative calms him down more than platitudes ever could, and he wants that for you. He's nonjudgmental about the art you create as well, even if it's objectively terrible. It's not about the quality.

He won't turn you down if you need physical affection, however. His twin is extremely tactile, so it wouldn't be the first time he held someone after a breakdown. He prefers to do this if he's certain you won't lash out physically, but if you were in a really bad way and needed to be touched, he'd do it regardless.

Lester Sinclair

Lester witnessed his parents' anger, but it was usually indirectly; if Bo was the Bad One and Vincent was the Good One, he was the Overlooked One. He's not a perfect person, probably not even a good person, but of the three brothers, he's the most normally socialized. He isn't trained to be tuned into everyone's every shifting mood in order to survive.

It takes Lester a little longer to pick up on your anger than his brothers, but not too much longer. It takes him a couple tries at trying to talk to you or get your attention before he realizes something is really wrong.

His first reaction is to get upset. He soaks up emotions like a little sponge, so he's suddenly cranky, too. He also jumps to conclusions and assumes that you're angry with him, and he does not take rejection well. He might be bitter and passive aggressive. You being angry just makes him want to go in another room and not be around you, and yet at the same time, he wants your reassurances. It's messy and sad.

Once he realizes - either through observing you or through you communicating with him - that you're mad at another person or situation, then he'll feel comfortable enough to approach you and ask you about it. You'll definitely need to reassure him that you're not mad at him though.

If you wanna rant, he'll take you on a long drive and let you vent your heart out to him. He won't be quite as aggressive as Bo, but he'll be on your side, frowning with disapproval, telling you "Ya can't fix stupid." If you want only comfort or need comfort after venting, he feels much more equipped for that. He'll put something relaxing in the VHS or let you play his old Super Nintendo, get you a beer, just let you chill out. And he'll let you win at Doctor Mario.

If the situation is something really serious, you best believe he'll be talking to his brothers about it the second he gets a chance. He may be a sweet guy, but he can be real nasty, and he doesn't fuck around when it comes to you. You might have to keep an eye out to make sure he doesn't tell someone off or punch out someone's lights.

Michael Myers (OG)

In 1978, Michael is not very in tune with any emotions besides fear, and even then he only really understands it in an abstract way, as his condition and upbringing haven't really been conducive to him learning about emotions. Unless you're screaming in terror, have tears running down your face, or are shouting angrily, he really can't read your moods. Without any obvious change to how you normally act or look, there's a huge chance he might just not notice if you're angry. He spends a lot of time in his own little world.

In 2018, even though he's spent over 50 years institutionalized, Michael has had time to take in the world, and he's seen a lot more. He understands fear much more than he did when he was 21, but what he understands most of all is anger. His anger fuels him. He would pick up on yours right away and be curious, though he wouldn't verbalize it.

If you tell him how you feel, he'll take note of it. If he witnesses you doing something destructive because of your anger, he'll simply observe. He would be fascinated with this thing you're doing, because it's not something you normally do, and though he might not notice emotions, he certainly notices routine and pattern. Either way, you'll have to tell him how you feel, because he'll simply watch you otherwise.

One thing that can be said for Michael is that he's a good listener. He may not internalize everything you say, but he will remember what he thinks is important. You may be surprised; he may remember tiny little details that seem inconsequential to you but loom large in his mind.

Unless you were caused serious physical or mental harm, he would not be angry on your behalf. He would, however, do nothing to assuage your anger. He thinks it would be kinda neat and interesting to see you snap. He's not 100% sure why you don't just do it.

In 1978, he won't be much help beyond listening to you, but he would be curious to see what you do to vent your anger. You may find him by your side more often, observing you. He may also want to find and observe the object of your anger, especially if it's a person. In 2018, he would, in his own way, suggest you solve the problem by murdering someone/something. He's insatiable, but killing is the closest he's ever come to satisfaction. You should try it.

Jason Voorhees

Out of all of the slashers, Jason is the most likely to actually literally sense your anger, especially if you're psychically sensitive/powerful like Tina Shepard. I'm talkin'—assuming you have a pre-established relationship—he'll be doing something else and just get this itch that tells him you're out there somewhere, pissed off.

Obviously this is untenable. As long as he's not super busy or Pamela has other plans, Jason will stomp his way through the woods to get back to you, regardless of the urgency of your anger. If Pamela doesn't approve, well, he'll let a little anger go and assume you're okay. If he suspects you may be in danger, though, he's sprinting regardless of what Mom says. There's time for both things, Ma!

The first thing he'll do when he returns to you is scan your dwelling, then you, making sure nothing is broken. At that point, you'd probably be able to sense his confusion even without him signing. Jason doesn't experience emotions quite like a human anymore, and he's quite tactile besides, so a lack of tangible or visible clues as to why you're upset would trip him up for a second.

He doesn't want to comfort you at first, he wants to know what's wrong. He'll listen to you vent only long enough to understand the situation and identify his target. His immediate next move would be to eliminate the problem. You'll definitely have to hold him back, and it may take a bit of convincing. Earthly consequences don't really apply to him.

Before comfort comes blowing off steam, for you and for him. His first choices would be mangling some trees (you can pretend it's for firewood) or skipping/throwing stones into the lake. You're welcome to join him if those things calm you down; watching him get his stone to skip like 11 times on Crystal Lake may make you feel better, at least.

You might hang out there for hours before he suddenly decides it's time to go home. He'll do what he can to make your comfortable or stay out of your way while you make yourself comfortable, then comfort you as you please. His go-to choice is always foot or hand massages.

Leslie Vernon

Leslie is extremely observant and surprisingly analytical given how silly he is in the day to day. His intuition makes it pretty easy for him to read people, but especially you, since you two are so close. Especially-especially if you're his Survivor Girl (gender neutral term of course). You two are in sync, so he knows if something's up. Maybe even before you fully figure it out.

God, you're so hot when you're angry, you really are. He almost wants to let you scream and holler and go nuts. But he prefers you only get angry like that at him, especially if you're his Survivor Girl, so his first move is to comfort you or talk you down to a place where you can be comforted. He'll speak to you calmly and rationally, reassuring you and touching you if you wanna be touched—on your upper arms or shoulders or face, or with one arm around your back.

He doesn't just want to comfort you, though, he wants to calm you down enough that you can tell him what happened. Even if you claim you don't want to talk about it, he will coax it out of you eventually. He's gotta know what got you so upset. It's his business to know everything about you!

Assuming you're angry at someone/something that isn't him, he'll talk it through with you. If you're upset about an argument with someone, he has the capacity to see it from the other side, but ultimately, he's there for you. He'll let you bitch as much as you want, still touching you, and he'll be disgusted and/or disappointed with the situation.

Above all, though, what he wants is to see you smile again. The only worries on your mind should be the ones he comes up with, and man, he's not even halfway done grooming the next batch of unlucky teenagers. He'd pat your face or touch your hair and tell you to cheer up, and probably defuse the situation with a stupid quip or joke. Take you out somewhere fun, maybe.

Once you were cheered up, he'd humbly suggest you solve your problem with a little murder. "I mean, I know killing's not really your thing—you're really good at it, though, a talent! You know that..." Pause, considering you. "You want me to do it? 'Cause I can clear my schedule for the rest of the night." If you decline, he'd be like "Suit yourself" but may or may not still murder whoever upset you. If you agree, he'd be super excited to make a romantic night of it. His mind would be going a million miles an hour planning everything out.

Thomas Hewitt

Tommy knows anger when he sees it. Not only does he have loads of internalized anger, he's been on the receiving end of it plenty. He's far too large to be scared of anyone in a physical sense anymore, but he's been shouted at countless times. To know when to shut up and do as he's told versus arguing back, he's learned to gauge intensity and direction of anger, and he well knows that anger can be redirected to him.

So, he instantly recognizes your mood, but it might be a while before he approaches you. When he does approach, he'll let you decide what to do, whether that's throwing your arms around him or banging your fists on his chest to vent your anger. You won't hurt him.

Eventually, once you're all hugged or cried or screamed out, he'll wrap his arms around you and give you a reassuring squeeze. There's no need to tell Tommy what's wrong—he won't ask unless you're obviously in serious distress or injured—but if you decide to speak, he'll listen, brows drawn tightly the whole time. He's thoughtful about the situation.

If you're mad at someone in his family, there isn't much he can do for you besides comfort you and assure you that whoever upset you—Hoyt, probably—didn't mean what they said. If you were hurt physically, it would be another story, but his family gets in shouting matches all the time.

Rather than offering help, he'd wait for you to request it of him. Whatever you ask, shy of hurting his family, he will do. Murder someone? No problem. Make you some food? You got it. Bring you a blanket? Sure. Give you some quiet alone time? That's fine, too.

If you need to vent, he's got plenty of ways to get out your frustration. Plenty of farm work to do, or you could work on something around the house with him. He might suggest knitting or sewing or some other handicraft you enjoy. It always makes him feel better to buckle down and use his hands for something.

If you're still preoccupied/upset by the time you two bed down, or heaven forbid the next morning, then he starts taking it more seriously. Something that disturbs you for that long is bad news. He'll watch you carefully the next couple days to see how you're doing, waiting for you to need him for something.

Bubba Sawyer

Like Tommy, Bubba has been on the receiving end of anger many, many times, so he's familiar with what it looks and feels like. Despite his size, he's still susceptible to physical violence at the hands of his loved ones, so he's very wary of anger.

However, he doesn't have a female presence in his life like Luda Mae, who expresses her anger through passive aggression—so, he's more used to shouting and screaming. If you aren't prone to screaming and shouting, it might take a little bit for him to realize you're not just sad or upset, you're angry.

Bubba will be over you. He'd give anyone else their space because he'd be afraid of retaliation, but you're his special person, and he's pretty sure you're not going to hurt him. He'll touch your hair, your arms, your wrists; he'll babble as he tries to figure out what's wrong. He just wants to comfort you and let you know everything is all right.

If it's too much or you're overwhelmed and you snap at him, he'll ease back. He'll blubber like a kicked puppy, but he won't give up. He'll still try to comfort you, just in other ways, such as getting you a comfort item or article of clothing, or maybe some food. And boy will he helicopter.

There's no need to tell Bubba what's wrong. In fact, it might be better if you didn't; if it's something he can't fix, it would do nothing but majorly stress him out. If it was one of his family members who upset you, as with Tommy, he wouldn't be able to do much. Even if you were hurt, he's just not in a position to stand up for you. That fact would absolutely kill him, though. He'd end up getting even more upset than you.

He doesn't know what help to offer you beyond comfort, but like Tommy, if you requested something specific, he'd try to carry out your wishes. He'll also try to cheer you up with some music and dancing, or just being silly like you like.

Need to blow off steam? He's got plenty of coping mechanisms! Bubba's idea of a perfect de-stress session is turning up the radio and getting lost in crafts. He's got lots of supplies, mostly to create clothing and accessories, and you're special, so you can have your pick. A drive and the radio might be nice, too. If neither of those appeal to you, he'll try cooking or baking with you. He loves sharing the kitchen with someone.

If none of that works and you're still upset, be prepared, because he's gonna be an anxious mess until you're better.

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms is somewhat familiar with other people's anger. He certainly has a whole fountain of internalized anger brewing just beneath the surface, but that's different. He knows that when Mummy is angry, she yells and cries, and when Daddy is angry, he seethes and stews. The former would be obvious to him, but the latter would take him a few minutes to be quite sure about. You're not acting how you usually do. Are you being stern or are you angry? Are you cross with him?

He does not have a lot of empathy for other people, so if your anger gets in the way of his routine or the attention he wants, he'll be irked, cranky, sad. Not necessarily at you—though that is possible—but the situation in which you find yourselves.

Much like Bo, he's allowed to have big, messy feelings, but it makes him uncomfortable and scared when other people have those feelings. He might even hide from you for a while, especially if you screamed and cried.

Once he realizes something is really wrong and you're not mad at him, however, he'll start thinking of ways to cheer you up so things can go back to normal. He hates having his routine interrupted; he's very particular. And he cares for you, so seeing you in distress is very scary and uncomfortable for him.

He'll start by fetching you something you like—something manageable for him like your favorite juice or a sandwich, or if you have a special item or article of clothing, that. He's quite shy, though, and like I said, he'll probably be hiding, so he'll leave it somewhere he knows you'll find it (on the bed, outside your door, on your desk, etc.)

If that doesn't calm you down and your anger is really getting in the way of his routine, or otherwise making him uncomfortable, he'll finally make an appearance. Very bashful and timid at first, using his little boy voice. "What's wrong, Y/N? Did something bad happen?"

If it's something that can't be helped, he'll suggest you do something together to take your mind off it (most likely something he likes to do). He may even be coaxed into taking a walk around the grounds, though he doesn't like to leave the manor at all, so you'd have to convince him. He prefers quiet playtime, maybe some coloring books or loud music to vent your emotions. It would intrigue him to see someone else use his toys to calm down. As long as you recognized he was being very nice, sharing them.

If it was an argument you had with someone, he would want more information. Are they likely to leave you alone, or will they come to the manor? Will he have to deal with them? Because it's scary, but he'll do it for you.

If, for some reason, none of those things work, he may cry or throw a fit. Either way, he'll be frustrated. Adult Brahms may make an appearance and try to help you in more Adult ways.

Erik

Though he lives five cellars beneath an opera house now, Erik hasn't always been entirely reclusive. Even these days, when he can stomach it, he sometimes goes out to see the world. As a younger man, he observed people's lives and moods with a hungry fascination (that has now mostly been replaced by melancholy and longing and bitter anger). Like several of the other slashers here, he's had to train himself to sense fury to protect himself. He's also incredibly wrathful, so you could call him an expert!

He has a very keenly honed sense when it comes to you specifically, since he's watched you so much. He notices the change in your demeanor immediately.

If you know him as the "Angel of Music," his voice will appear to you once you're alone, asking you what's wrong and assuring you you can confide in him—he will insist you tell him, though. "There are to be no secrets between us, Y/N." He will listen without interjection as you vent your heart out, and when you're done, soothe you. Don't let his calming voice deceive you, though; behind that mirror, he's seething, planning to take matters into his own hands.

If you know him as Erik, he will go to you the second he recognizes the shift in your mood and take you from what you're doing, regardless of your wishes. He'll sit you down, kneeling before you with your hands in his, and gaze into your eyes, imploring you to tell him what's wrong. He'll absolutely allow you physical comfort, but he will also absolutely insist you tell. He'll need reassurance that you're not angry at him, because that thought would break his heart.

He will let you vent however you wish. You could have the most dramatic breakdown ever—throwing things, beating your fists on his chest, wailing—and he wouldn't judge you. He would be awfully concerned, though.

Will be 110% on your side. You are his poor little meow meow. "My poor love, my poor Y/N!" He is beside himself with sympathy for you and you only, and is very offended on your behalf.

He will always suggest music as an outlet for your anger, but he will have taken note of your other hobbies and interests as well. He'll fetch your things for you without being asked, as long as it won't separate him from you for very long. If you'd rather just have comfort, that's fine, too. He could hold your hand and caress your face for hours on end under normal circumstances, so no problem there. He may also suggest a little time on the surface, if you normally live in his home. Fresh air will do you both good, he reasons, and he enjoys spending time with you where others can witness it. It fills him with pride and love.

Otherwise, he's at your service for any other soothing activities you need. A calming bath, some sweets, shopping, anything. Perhaps avoid asking for any sexual contact, however. First of all, being asked directly makes him very skittish and nervous; second of all, his method of love-making (when you can coax him) is very intimate and tender, which may be tedious if you're in an angry mood.

Unless the situation is extremely serious or dire, his first priority is making sure you're soothed. Once that duty is fulfilled, however, he is absolutely angrier about it than you are. If it's not that serious, he won't skip straight to killing, if only because he knows it upsets you. He will definitely be writing an extremely strongly worded letter, however. If someone slighted you seriously, they're getting threatened. If someone hurt you physically, they're meeting the Punjab lasso.

Deacon Billings (OC Ghostface)

Deacon definitely knows when people are angry. His step-mom was a passive-aggressive laundry-folder and his dad was a storming out of the house kinda guy; when the two of them were together, they were all hushed but heated arguments at night when they thought he couldn't hear them, or else extremely embarrassing passive-aggressive arguments in public. Growing up, he found himself around a lot of angry people. And there's no shortage of anger in him, either.

So yeah, Deacon knows when people are pissed, and he knows when people are pissed at him. The thing is, he just thinks it's fucking hilarious. He was that kid that would goad peers and teachers just to be an asshole and had virtually no friends as a result. He's a menace on the internet, too: a horrible troll for no reason, stirring the pot even when he doesn't have a stake in the argument. He's trained himself to find people's weak spots so he can strike at them. He does it to make himself feel more in control of his life and his own anger.

So when you're ticked off, he's gonna notice the change immediately. If you made a vent post on social media, he probably knows you're angry before you even see him. He follows all your social media (even if you don't realize it) and checks it constantly. He'd call you out of curiosity to ask what happened. He's open about his stalking tendencies: "I saw your post, babe, who do I need to stab?"

If you otherwise come home angry, he'll be up on his feet, following you around the house and pestering you, trying to get you to tell him what's wrong. If you try to hug him, he won't push you away, but he'll be distracted, trying to needle answers out of you the whole time.

There's no question in his mind as to whether or not you're angry at him. He just assumes you're not; he has a pretty good handle on how you act when you're angry at him specifically.

He'll let you rant all day if you want. You could talk about the shit that's pissed you off for hours and he'd still listen. Outwardly, he might poke you a bit and play devil's advocate for the other side of the argument, if there is one. This is purely for the purposes of being a little shit.

Internally, he's already going down his pre-murder checklist. If it was someone at work, they're dead. Someone in the neighborhood, dead. Online? It'll take a couple days, but they're dead. Even if you're not angry at anyone in particular, just a situation, he'll find someone to menace. He'd walk through fire for your approval.

He's not good with soft, emotional comfort, so instead he'll try to think of something to help you let off steam. His go-to is something competitive, especially if it involves you chasing each other. A Nerf or water gun war, a PVP game with you on opposite sides. He'll put up a good fight, but you always kick his ass.

Once the immediate situation is addressed and you've ranted your heart out to him, he can't keep his hands off you. "Seeing you all pissed off drives me crazyyyyyy." He's grinning, brown eyes sparkling. "Come onnnnn ... I'll get it off your mind!"

Courtney Dwayne Delmont (OC)

Courtney is a hunter of all manner of game, so he's used to interpreting non-verbal cues and body language—when an animal is in distress, when an animal is about to attack, etc. His grandfather was a very angry man, as well, in a simmering sort of way. He would seethe about something before suddenly delivering one decisive strike. Courtney himself is not a particularly angry man, unless some prey is really giving him a hard time, but he can read your body.

If you come home angry, he'll stop in the middle of what he's doing and watch you, still and quiet, just confirming his suspicions. If you leave the room he's in to go collapse on the sofa or something, he'll follow you, looming over you and waiting for you to tell him what's wrong. He's patient.

If you want to vent, he'll sit and listen thoughtfully, doing something with his hands while you speak—probably cleaning his gun or some other weapon. He doesn't look at you. He wouldn't demand greater context to the situation but he would ask "Why?" and "Who?" until he understood Enough.

If you want comfort, he'll sprawl on the couch and let you lay on top of him. He'll probably pull a blanket on top of you to try and encourage a nap. If the nap doesn't make you feel better, he's feeding you protein. Do you like homemade jerky?

Sex is also on the table (not literally ... unless). He's found it's a great way to blow off steam, and he's more than happy to make all worries, troubles, and other thoughts go away for a little bit. Expect that to be the rest of your night, though, because he doesn't do quickies.

Generally, he trusts you to handle your own shit, so he would be more focused on you than whatever made you feel the way you do. However, if days passed and you were still angry/upset/sad, or if it plunged you into a breakdown or was an otherwise extremely serious situation ... just give him a target. It's up to you, but if you tell him to take the shot, it'll be quick and clean. If you're unable to make the decision, he'll decide for you without hesitation.

Kathleen Montgomery (OC)

I'm still developing her so this one won't be as in-depth and is subject to change.

Kath makes it her business to know everything about you. Chances are she's seen you explode screaming while stalking you ... chances are, if you've been in a relationship for a while, she's made you explode screaming. She knows what you look like when you're angry. Besides, she's strong for her size, but she often has to take down people who are much bigger and stronger than her; she uses manipulation and trickery to help ease that divide, so she's good at reading people.

Like Deacon, she also monitors all your social media, so if you made a vent post, she already knows you're in a shitty mood before you come home. Unlike Deacon, she doesn't tell you how she knows, so you're left to assume she's just all knowing. Considering her god complex, that works for her.

She'd probably text you to come home, and she expects you to answer. If you're unable to come home, she'll call you to ask what's wrong.

Once you're together, she wants to know everything about the situation. Even as you're speaking, she's already on her phone or laptop, looking up the people involved. Instead of getting mad on your behalf, she laughs. She's a fan of emphasizing how pathetic or weak the opposition is.

She takes your feelings on the subject seriously, but everyone else in the situation? Insects. Not even worthy of your time or concern, let alone hers. You're obviously in the right here (even if you're not). She'll tell you as much, and say some pretty intense, over-the-line things about whomever/whatever you're angry at.

Overall, however, she's calm and collected about the situation. Your bout of anger is a chance to get you to be reckless with her. She'll do your hair and makeup and dress you up nice, then take you out. Fast driving, drinking, baiting people at bars, menacing neighborhoods ... maybe a little killing, if you'd like.

***

Masterlist

#imagines #slasher imagine #slasher imagines #slasher x you #slasher x reader #slasher x y/n #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #lester sinclair #courtney dwayne delmont #kathleen montgomery #og michael myers #deacon billings #michael myers #jason voorhees #leslie vernon #thomas hewitt #tommy hewitt #bubba sawyer #leatherface #brahms heelshire #erik the phantom #ghostface #slashers #slasher fandom #slasher community #slasher fic

[warmau]

Love Struck!AU x SF9

lately i just need to write about every member of every kpop group being in capital L love. find other love struck!aus here: monsta x | day6 | ateez | the boyz

youngbin

overcompensates with selfless acts that go above and beyond what any person deserves

offers to carry your bags, learns about plumbing when you mention you have a leaky faucet, asks if you want him to drive you to your appointments which you are perfectly fine getting to on your own

if there was a puddle of mud on the ground, youngbin would throw his brand new jacket over it just so you could walk over it

even though you could literally just. walk around it

doesn't even realize he's overdoing it

he just loves you and therefore knows he has to show it at any given part of the day

but not like in an aggressive manner

just a small smile and a "i can pick you up and drop you off if you want!"

dawon: actually, youngbin, we have practice at that tim-

youngbin, shoving a sandwich down dawon's throat: so you said noon right?

when you respectfully decline any of his help, mostly because you are worried you're using your friend for his kindness, everyone assures you that's not it

actually everyone is super confused how you haven't seen why it is weird that youngbin would commit hours of research for you when you ask offhandedly if you should visit europe for the summer and then show up at your door with ten pamphlets on different european destinations 'by chance'

because - that's weird - and weird means, in the great way of sf9, that he has a crush on you

"youngbin, you're being so nice to me these days how could i ever repay you?

youngbin about to say that there's nothing you need to do, he just likes being able to help

dawon, shoving a sandwich down youngbin's throat for revenge and also to answer on his leader's behalf: "actually, if you could finally go on a date with him - i think that would repay it."

you get all shy and murmur that you don't know if youngbin wants that, and youngbin can only vigorously nod that he does

(due to the sandwich)

inseong

no clue if puppy syndrome is a thing, but he's got it

the human embodiment of big puppy eyes whenever you're around, big puppy pout, big puppy wagging his tail at just the mention of your name

even without all that - the energy that exists around inseong when you are near him and giving him attention - it's enough to quite literally blow everyone and everything else away

and there are lasting effects

as in you walk away from the conversation and fifteen minutes later inseong still can't make out a single word, just chin on his palm - daydreamy look in his eyes

jaeyoon tries snapping his fingers in his face, tickling him, even flicking his best friend straight on the forehead but.

nothing.

the only way he breaks out of the spell you cast on him is either a long time passes or you show up again and inseong is back at your full attention

it's getting bad, like to a point where he walks into walls or drops his phone in the sink when he starts thinking about you

incidents where he nearly topples over onto poor chain who is like get off of me you are built like a skyscraper

or just flat out doesn't move a muscle in the right direction during practice and it's literally driving youngbin mad

so jaeyoon (like the best friend he is) arranges for you to come hang out with him but tada it's actually a candlelight dinner in the sf9 kitchen he and the rest of the boys set up for you and inseong

and you're like w....whats all this and inseong is like i don't know either

and jaeyoon (who like the best friend he is picked the nicest smelling candle from the tj maxx sale aisle) appears and lights it and is like this is for you two to confess and for inseong to be cured of puppyism

you: puppyism?

inseong, red as a tomato: i think he means like the way i act around you like a - um -

jaeyoon: like a lovesick puppy, so like....collar him or whatever

you and inseong both looking at him like do what? and jaeyoon is like sorry that didn't come out right

either way you get the point please date the oversized man whose brain wont work unless you give him a kiss

jaeyoon

opposite of his best friend, jaeyoon doesn't need to fall over his feet when he's lovestruck

he will literally just let you know how he feels

"i like you"

you smile at him and laugh, "i like you too!"

and jaeyoon is like amazing so we are both "liking" each other how lovely how nice

and that is....................where it ends

he literally is so preoccupied with the concept of confessing that he forgets the part where he has to like.

confirm the relationship

so for like a month after you are both just saying 'i like you' to each other and he thinks it's romantic and you still think it's platonic

it's a mess

he keeps asking himself when the right time to ask you to go to the movies with him is, if he should pull out the home cooking - why haven't you pulled out the home cooking? do you not "like" him enough for that?

he paces around before you come over because is he dressed too casual - i mean he's your boyfriend, he should put effort into it right?

and then you show up and nothing is different and everything is the same and when inseong is like

jaeyoon you're dating them right, why don't you guys like kiss? and jaeyoon is like holy shit i haven't even thought about that yet

and dawon is like how have you not thought about that kissing is all i think about ever

and so jaeyoon's head gets even more scrambled because now you come over and he's like ..... kiss......lips......mouth...hand? kiss on mouth...hand...lips.....hug?

and you're like what? and he's like hug lips mouth? and you're like jaeyoon are you ok?

oh my god at some point you're both alone and jaeyoon is walking you home or something and he reaches out to grab your hand because like that's normal right? people dating do that right?

and you're like oh! and he's like is this ok? and you're like a-does it mean something?

and jaeyoon is like it means the same thing as i like you....you know....like how i said it a month ago and i just thought we could take the next step-

he's rubbing his neck and blushing and he has always been sauve and straightforward and it dawns on you that the entirety of this month he has been saying he likes you like in that way

and you're like wait you like-love me? and he's like yes wait what did you think- and you're like i thought it was like-like ....like friend like?

you and jaeyoon just staring at each other and then he's like should i let go of your hand then

and you're like no. actually just kiss me we've wasted a LITERAL month

dawon

always the class clown, being lovestruck somehow only tends to make it worse

but not worse like oh he gets louder and cracks more jokes.

my man has upgraded to mildly dangerous body humor.

you are all together and dawon is suddenly like you guys think i can climb that uneven, rickety tree? and youngbin is like no and you're like no but dawon is like it'll be fun just watch

dawon: should i drink spoiled milk

you: why-

dawon: im hardcore it'll be fine - look im just a goofy guy who - oh my god. call an ambulance.

the idea is that every time you are in the vicinity and glowing like an angel without a halo dawon is like

gotta do something so outrageously stupid that it grabs their attention and/or lands me in a situation where i can excuse myself to run away from my feelings. perfect.

it's literally the dumbest logic on the planet

everyone tells him it's the dumbest logic on the planet

but dawon is convinced it's the best reaction to....to the butterflies in his stomach

of course, you don't find any of it amusing, you are just in a constant state of worry

one time dawon takes it too far and probably tries to do something that could actually seriously hurt him

and you stop him by grabbing him and being like stop - i don't know why you don't care about yourself but i care about you so stop being stupid

and dawon is staring down at you like

"pause, you care about me? like on a scale of 1-10 how muc-"

you kiss him and mutter a "11" and dawon thinks he sees stars

youngbin thanking you profusely like we were worried for his actual literal life

zuho

rather scream into the void than confront how he feels about you

the private twitter account is blowing up with tweets about how he wants to hold your hand and how that makes him pathetic

dawon replying under each of them: tru

rowoon replying under each of them: not true!!!!! love is awesome!!!! pog as chani would say!!!!!!

you talk to him about something and his ears are full of white noise and he cant help but think about how your face is somehow the most beautiful thing he's ever seen and how he could write a whole album about the curve of your nose and the color of your eyes and -

you ask him what he thinks and he can only reply with a sound that is both pained and high pitched and when you raise your eyebrow he's like gtg uh feed my cats

when you're around he disappears to "feed his cats" like . ten times

surprisingly being a lovestruck fool does fuel his ability to make music

but it is also sad and about being heartbroken and the members are like hey do you wanna talk about it and zuho is like no

there are spotify playlists with your name, there are journal entries about you, there are iPhone notes app scribbles about you

he's down bad

everyone knows he's down bad

you also figure out he's down bad and so you finally confront him

except you're like......... zuho who are you in love with? ill help you if i can

and he looks at you like a deer in headlights because that's the most bizarre shit you could ask him

and because of the shock he blurts out the truth

"you. i love you."

screams after and you jump up and he's like i need to leave and you're like AT LEAST LET ME SAY IT BACK?????

rowoon

it's the cluelessism of it all

he looks at you one day and instead of just being a person you are beaming at him like a direct sunray and he's like woah! weird!

he just kind of becomes more clumsy around you since you've got this new effect on him

trips over his big feet, giggles randomly while you're talking, forgets he's in the middle of the street when you're walking by his side and someone has to honk three times for him to start walking again

honestly no one can tell what's wrong with him

because is he like ... is it early onset amnesia? is he just spacing out?

even chani notices the shift because rowoon has gone from annoying him to laying half off the couch with his hand in an empty pringles can

"what are you thinking about?"

rowoon just mutters your name and chani is like .... i don't know about all this but maybe you like them?

reality hits rowoon like a freight truck .... liking you? that's new

he googles 'what to do when you like someone?' literally googles it

tries to show you by playing it cool, tries to show you by showering you in random compliments but he's tongue tied when you smile so he's like i love your hair it looks like. cheese

embarrasses himself over and over and over until he just hunches himself over one day and is like

why is liking someone so hard? isn't it supposed to be easy?

and you're like haha i know the feeling, ive liked someone for so long but he never takes a hint and rowoon is like omg who

and you look at him and you're like well he's a tall clueless handsome guy

and rowoon stares at you like he sounds nice

and you're like you

and he's like oh that's nice - WAIT

taeyang

flirts with you but it flops because he's been flirting with you since you first met

so you cannot tell the difference and taeyang is like what am i doing wrong

inseong: karma for always winking and calling them cute when now you want them to do it back to you

taeyang: shuttup sad old man

inseong: you've been hanging out too much with chani. sniffle

he decides ok so regular flirting doesn't work, so what about lowkey flexing?

he wears the expensive watch and puts his hand in front of you like, hey and you're like hi? and he's like notice anything? and you're like .... um..... oh, your tag is sticking out of your shirt! and taeyang is like .........F

ok so not flexing, what about compliments?

he piles like ten of them on you and you're like oh - thanks, but i don't really like this outfit anyway and he's like....F

ok so not flexing, compliments, let's try playing hard to get

he gives you the cold shoulder when you come over and you immediately are like taeyang are you mad at me if you are im sorry so stop being a weirdo and he's like........F

finally he just reverts to himself and just keeps up the regular flirting and the soft touches and smiles

and he realizes the difference now is when he flirts - he just has to follow up on it

so when he asks " i cant taste my lips, can you do it for me?"

and you reply with "sure" and roll your eyes

he just . does kiss you and you're like oh.

and he's like well what do you say and you're like your lips taste sweet and he's like NO I MEAN-

you just kiss him again because now you get what he actually means LOL

hwiyoung

sulks when you're not around, and then doesn't go near you when you are around

it's like please make up your mind

is the definition of if i stare at you long enough you will fall in love with me right?

but he stares from ten feet away

it takes everyone all their strength to drag him out of his room when you're over and even then he puts his hoodie up and plays with his shoelaces and acts like he's a five year old

when he gets put next to you in the car ride somewhere he almost passes out from holding his breath from nervousness and you turn to him and you're like hwi you're turning purple?!?!?

you tap his shoulder when he isn't looking and call him hwi~ and he thinks his knees like. give out he crumbles to the floor and you're like oh my god are you sick??!?!!?

to put it simply, being in love forces him to lose his human ability to live

gets a pep talk from literally every member about how he cannot act like this. it's giving you the wrong impression and yet he just

he can't do anything about it you enter his personal space and the little nerves in his brain go haywire

"i don't want them to think im being rude, but it's kind of like im allergic to them."

"oh - you're allergic to me?"

hwiyoung turns and you're giving him a look and he's like oh god i mean - i don't - i mean like -

and he doesn't know what to say but you just giggle and you're like "fine, if you're allergic we'll have to make immune"

and he's like blinking like wha-

you wrap your hands around him and he's like !!!! and you're like here just take me in large doses until you build up immunity ok?

hwiyoung nodding because he has forgotten the entirety of the korean language

chani

realizes he's being freaking weird when he bails on his plans to eat and game to hang out with you

prioritizing social interaction over being alone in his room......now that's not normal

yes, ok, so he likes you - but now he's like

no one can ever know that. i will not be left alone if anyone finds out.

unfortunately, he asks jaeyoon of all people if he knows what food you like and jaeyoon is like

OH YOU WANNA ASK THEM ON A DATE RIGHT SO YOU WANNA LOOK UP RESTAURANTS WITH THAT FOOD RIGHT?

chani standing in the doorway like. what. no....

the minute chani starts picking the spot next to you when you're all together is his downfall

the entire world knows how he feels and he's like oh fuck seriously

he helps you go shopping and he comes home and every member is just like :) tell us about the date :)

and he's like SHUTTUP

calls you by a nickname and rowoon almost chokes on his food in surprise, because chani?????? gave someone???? a nickname????? and it isn't a combination of the word ass and hole?????

he cannot escape the fact that little things for others, are big things for him

being attentive and caring and even just smiling in your presence is enough to give away how he's feeling

let alone he dropped a rank in league so everyone is like ah - he's distracted with someone~!

it gets unbearable to a point where chani is like i cant live with these people always bothering me so im just going to confess

he pulls you aside and is like "i want to date you - is that ok?" and you're like of course, was wondering when you'd ask dummy and he's like,,,,,,listen,,,,

assumes the teasing will die down when you both come into the room holding hands

BUT OH IS HE WRONG

inseong: i got dibs on being the wedding planner, eat dirt youngbin

#sf9 scenarios #sf9 au #sf9 imagines #sf9 x reader #youngbin scenarios #inseong scenarios #jaeyoon scenarios #dawon scenarios #rowoon scenarios #chani scenarios #hwiyoung scenarios #taeyang scenarios #zuho scenarios #youngbin au #jaeyoon au #chani au #inseong au #rowoon au #zuho au #taeyang au #sf9 #sfw #lovestruck!au #youngbin imagines #inseong imagines #jaeyoon imagines #dawon imagines #rowoon imagines #chani imagines #hwiyoung imagines

[biconderoga]

Part 1: Here

Scenario: The death of Itadori hung over Y/N’s head at every waking moment. The circumstances were shrouded with mystery, and Y/N couldn’t do anything but carry on with a heavy heart. Minor Spoilers ⚠️ (Just briefly mentions the way Itadori was revealed to the first years).

Word Count: 2,069!! (My longest piece to date-)

“It’s me! The dearly departed Itadori!”

Megumi liked to think he could take a joke. He could handle teasing on his behalf. Gojou was relentless in that field, so it wasn’t a foreign experience for him. Years of dealing with the blindfolded sorcerer taught him to deal with sometimes tasteless jokes.

But this…this was the most distasteful joke he had ever seen. It left an incredibly bad taste in his mouth. He would rather chug curdled milk than deal with the spectacle that was playing out in front of him. His so called dead comrade was wheeled in by Gojou, and surprise surprise! He was alive and well.

Megumi closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and took a very deep breath. He opened his eyes again, and glared at Itadori. Itadori, sensing the tense atmosphere, feebly made jazz hands in hopes of alleviating the mood.

It did not work.

“So, um,” Itadori rubbed the back of his neck, and continued in a quiet rushed tone, “Sorry about not telling you I was alive and all...”

Nobara’s eye twitched at his apology while Megumi turned around to join the second years. The shikigami user didn’t have time to deal with this. The Goodwill Event currently took priority. Perhaps after it was done, Megumi could properly wrap his head around Itadori’s revival.

He didn’t know what to feel. If anything, he felt anger. Anger on Y/N’s behalf. How would she feel about Itadori’s return? She didn’t know how he died, and would especially not understand the fact he was alive. Megumi was not one for strong emotions, but the swelling of anger in his chest was too great to ignore.

“Oh? What’s got you so pissy, Megumi?” Maki leaned against the wall as she placed her head on the back of her hand, “You seem upset. Shouldn’t you be a bit more relieved about Itadori?”

Megumi silently huffed, “It’s nothing.”

Nobara, who was marginal to Maki, rolled her eyes, “Always so secretive.”

“You know you don’t have to keep visiting me…”

Megumi merely nodded at Y/N’s statement, “I know, but it’s only fair that I check up on you.”

Y/N groaned at his statement, “I appreciate the sentiment, but you don’t have to babysit me. I may have been Itadori’s girlfriend, but I’m not nearly as rash as he was.”

He nodded once again. Megumi himself didn’t understand why he habitually returned to Y/N’s residence. She didn’t properly know him, and if anything she most likely associated him with Itadori’s death. He wouldn’t be surprised if Y/N was just being polite. She easily could’ve been putting up a facade as she silently seethed on the inside.

“You can say you hate me,” Megumi paused as he chose his next words, “You can kick me out if you want. I know you probably blame me for Itadori’s death, I know I blame myself.”

Y/N’s breath hitched as Megumi ended his miniature spiel. She shook her head before she firmly placed her hands onto his shoulders, “We haven’t known each other for long, but Itadori did tell me you were strong. I’m not sure where your strength lies, but I do know it’s not your fault. Itadori’s stupid mistakes don’t have anything to do with you. If anything, I hate myself for not asking him more questions,” She lowly whistled, “and I would be lying if I said I didn’t blame Itadori. He was always doing the most, and never took a break.”

Itadori was right, Megumi did like Y/N. Despite the fact she knew absolutely nothing about the circumstances of his death, Y/N was still able to continue forward. She was hurting, but she still took her time to confirm her faith in Megumi.

“Before he…” The sorcerer paused and swallowed thickly, “…died. Itadori told me I would like you.”

Y/N weakly laughed, “And do you?”

“You’re nice…” Megumi smiled, “Itadori got lucky.”

With the goodwill event said and done, Megumi found himself back in his dorm. His blinds were shut, and he was curled beneath his covers as he nursed a headache. No matter the occasion, Megumi found himself injured…

A quiet knock resounded throughout his room followed with a weak, “Hello?”

Megumi shifted under his covers and huffed, “Who is it?”

Silence was heard before the voice mumbled,“Itadori.”

‘Ah,’ Megumi thought, ‘He’s alive’ Following all of the hustle and bustle of the festival, Itadori’s miraculous revival was the last thing on his mind. Megumi processed his answer. He liked his lips before he uttered a, “Come in.”

Itadori entered the room and stood awkwardly by the entrance. He rubbed the back of his head, before gathering the courage to speak. “I heard you made everyone the meatballs I taught you how to cook…”

“Yeah,” Megumi sat up, “Everyone liked it.” The black haired male scratched his head. Itadori was usually a straightforward and happy-go-lucky person, this tense small talk was beneath him. “What do you need Itadori?”

“Ah! Well-you seem distant? Are you still mad at me?”

Megumi shrugged and feigned indifference, “I was never mad. I’m just not used to dead people being revived.”

“Oh, true!” Itadori visibly calmed, “Well if your not mad, can I ask you something?”

Now there was the Itadori that Megumi knew, blunt and straight to the point. The male raised his eyebrow, a silent indicator for Itadori to continue.

“So um…about Y/N…” The vessel fiddled with his hands, “She’s probably real mad I went M.I.A without telling her. Especially, after going a two months without contact! Can you be my excuse? Like we can say we were on a surprise field trip in the middle of the country.”

Megumi sighed at Itadori’s rambling. It seemed to be an ongoing trend that he was the bearer of bad news. First, it was Itadori’s death to Y/N. And now, it was the fact Y/N now thought Itadori was dead. What was first an act of kindness on Megumi’s part was now a huge problem for Itadori.

“So whaddya say?”

“She thinks you’re dead,” Came Megumi’s blunt reply, “If you’re ever going to talk to her again, she deserves the truth. She isn’t going to blindly trust you after thinking you were dead. It’s the least she deserves.”

Itadori’s eyes widened into saucers, “Who told her? Gojou-sensei said no one would—“ He threw himself to the floor and rolled back and forth, “He said since she was a regular person no one would bother telling herrrrr.”

As Itadori continued his senseless bemoaning, Megumi took in a deep breath. The black-haired male rose from his bed and approached Itadori. He gently kicked his side (in a silent hope that it would shut him up) before he spoke, “I did.”

“You did? I thought you hated doing that type of thing.”

“I do,” Megumi rolled his eyes, “But it isn’t fair that she would’ve been waiting for a dead person to call her.”

“But I’m not dead!”

Megumi’s vein nearly popped out of his forehead, “Well I didn’t know dumbass!”

“Can you pass me the ginger paste?”

The male nodded as he foraged through Y/N’s fridge. Once found, he tossed it to her. The girl fumbled to catch it, and playfully glared at Megumi when she did.

“Did Itadori teach you how to make the meatballs?” Megumi queried, “He taught me how.”

“Yeah right, it was me who taught him.” Y/N kneaded the meat in the bowl, “He failed to mention that didn’t he?”

The stutter of the subway cart knocked Megumi out of his thoughts. To his right was Itadori, who appeared to be contemplating something. They exited the cart, and like many times before, they started on the familiar route to Y/N’s residence.

This current predicament eerily mirrored his first meeting with Y/N. Except this time, Megumi brought good news instead of bad news. Hopefully Y/N would take it well and not blow up in anger. She had every right to be angry, but Megumi had an inkling she would hear them out.

“Should I surprise her like I surprised you and Kugisaki?” Itadori pumped his fist, “She’ll probably swoon and fall into my arms! It’ll be super romantic!”

Megumi deadpanned, “I don’t think she’ll appreciate that.” Was Itadori truly that dense? Didn’t he see how Nobara reacted to his revival? He could only imagine how his actual girlfriend would react, “Didn’t you see how Kugisaki reacted?”

“True…” Itadori pouted and placed his hands on his hips, “She looked like this, and she kept glaring when I spoke.”

“I wonder why…” Megumi rolled his eyes at Itadori’s theatrics.

“Then what do you suggest?”

“I suppose I should break it to her…” He ruffled his black locks, “Then when she’s ready you can come in.”

“Alright…”

With a nod, Itadori walked out of view. Megumi took a deep breath, before he knocked on the door.

“Where do you keep running off to? The second years keep nagging me whenever you skip training.” Nobara crossed her arms, while she tapped her foot on the ground as she waited for Megumi’s answer.

“To visit Y/N,” Came his short answer, “After I told her about Itadori’s death we exchanged numbers and kept in contact.”

“Oh…” Kugisaki murmured, “Tell her we should meet up sometime. Maki’s the only girl I’ve talked to on a regular basis,” She pinched her nose, “There’s too much testosterone here.”

“So…what is that you need?”

“Uh, can we sit down?”

“Right, ok...”

Megumi awkwardly trailed behind Y/N as she led him to her couch. He tugged at his uniform’s collar. Was his uniform always so stuffy? No, it was just the nerves. Megumi was at a lost about how to break the news. He wished it was as simple as watching a YouTube video titled ‘How to tell a girl their boyfriend isn’t dead!’. But alas, here he was, with a choked up expression painted on his face.

“What is it Megumi? You’re freaking me out.”

“Itadori isn’t dead.” Megumi truly needed to practice on his execution. His forward way of speaking could easily rub someone the wrong way. The poor guy couldn’t help it! His nerves always loosened his mouth. It wasn’t normal to just vomit information like that. His execution was so poor that he couldn’t help but internally cringe.

Y/N’s eyes widened, “You’re joking. This has to be a sick joke.” She leaned back onto her couch, “Then again you’re not really one for jokes.”

Megumi slightly recoiled from her subtle insult. It may have been nothing malicious on Y/N’s part, but Megumi was still irked. He could tell a joke! Instead of pursuing the matter any further, he kept his mouth shut. It was inappropriate to complain now.

“I found out a couple of days ago. I would’ve told you sooner, but I was busy with school.” He started, “It would’ve been unfair of me to just tell you over the phone.”

“C-can I see him?” Y/N mumbled, “Is he here now?”

He nodded, “I’ll grab him for you.”

Within minutes, Itadori is ushered into Y/N’s living room. Megumi quietly excused himself as he was not keen on being caught up in a couple’s quarrel.

Itadori was uncharacteristically silent as he witnessed the tears falling from his partner’s eyes. Itadori’s arm slightly raised out to her, but he ultimately faltered. He wanted to reach out and hug her, but he was unsure if the situation called for it.

“Y/N please don’t cry—“

“Two months.” Y/N hiccuped, “Two months I thought you were dead. I got no explanation. I didn’t even get to see your body.” She tugged down her sleeve to wipe her eyes, “Megumi was the only person I could talk to. He couldn’t give me a reason, but he respected me enough to tell me.”

“I’ll explain everything to you, I swear.”

“You’re an asshole for this…you tell me you transferred to some fancy school, and then you die! This isn’t some drama Itadori, you better not have joined some cult!” As her tangent ended, Y/N stumbled over to Itadori and threw her arms around him, “Please trust me, tell me everything from the beginning.”

Itadori tightly returned the hug, and littered kisses on her forehead. Once done, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, “Of course. I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“So you did join a cult.”

“Y/N I swear it’s not like that-“

#imagines #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen megumi #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk imagines #jjk x y/n #itadori imagine #yuuji itadori x reader #yuuji itadori #jjk sukuna #megumi fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen angst #Itadori angst #megumi x reader #gojou satoru #jjk yuuji #jjk megumi #jjk nobara

[arty-shadow-morningstar]

Graveyard Siblings (6)

Class revenge. And mention of suicide.

[Masterlist]

(Part 1)(Part 5)

------

Normal class day and most of the class was still together. This is set after the class’s trip to Gotham.

Alix and Chloe had transferred to another class or a different school. There were a few new students but they transferred out within a week, when they all had tried to point out Lila’s lies and the class picked on them on Lila’s behalf.

Class is still taught by Mme. Bustier.

She rolled-calls and somehow Marinette’s name was on there and she just absentmindedly read it.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng”

“Present.” A cheery voice said.

Goes to the next name before everyone froze and looked at the source of the voice which was where they exiled Marinette to before her ‘suicide’.

There she was. An older-looking Marinette who would look the same age as them as if she was still alive, her longer hair was in a high ponytail and her clothes were switched out from her usual pink to red and black and had a more mature look that was stylish instead of cute.

She wore her signature bright grin but the sight of it brought chills down everyone’s spines.

Lila thought that it was her curse kicking in and since she hadn't seen Marinette until then, fainted on the spot, thinking she was finally going to be killed.

“M-ma-marinette. What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean?” Older Marinette said with a confused face. “Oh. You mean why am I not late? First time for everything, I guess. I am not late today so Yay for me.” She giggles but everyone else thinks that it sounds terrifying.

“But this is impossible. You simply can’t be here.” Max said, “Odds of you still alive are zero.”

“Can’t I? I mean I woke up early and got here on time. What is impossible about me being early? I would normally be a zombie during the morning, Max but nice one.”

Some students checked their phones for akumas. Hawkmoth had mysteriously disappeared around Marinette’s death making a few rumours about Marinette being Hawkmoth floating around. (Lila was the first to suggest that as a theory.)

Mme Bustier cleared her throat, terrified out of her mind and scared that if she provoked the ‘ghost’ of her former star student, there would be consequences like the horror movies. But she was not going to let it hurt any of her students.

“Marinette, there must have been a misunderstanding. You should be home.”

“Why?’

“Because um...you are... you are sick and you don’t want to infect your fellow classmates, right?”

“Hm..I feel fine but now that you mention it, I feel a little dizzy. I think I am going to take the day off.”

The rest of the class murmured in agreement, scared not to offend the ‘ghost’. A few of the girls like Mylene had tears running down their cheeks. Horror movies logic dictates that you should not remind the ghost that they are dead or make them angry.

Juleka was half-scared out of her mind for Rose who was also crying and herself and also half-excited, even though Marinette might be a vengeful ghost, there is still a ghost in their classroom.

Mme Bustier started muttering prayers under her breath.

Marinette packed up her things and was out of her seat when Adrien came into the class.

He was held up because he started sneezing non-stop this morning. Turns out Natalie had some black feathers on her.

He sees Marinette in the back row.

“Ma-Marinette! How are you here?!” to which everyone in the class sans Lila who was still passed out, shushed at him.

Ignoring them, he blurted out, “You are dead.”

The word echoed through the classroom. It was silent for a moment and you could hear a pin drop.

“Dead? What do you mean dead?” Marinette took a step down the stairs, the perfect picture of confusion but her eyes seemed a little crazed and Adrien took a step back, the word ‘Traitor’ carved into his back started burning.

Everyone in their seats shifted slightly away from her. Some considered making a run for the door but they didn’t want to draw attention and face the ghost’s wrath. They all mimed at Adrien to stop.

He ignored them again. “Don’t pretend you are innocent. You did this to me. YOU MADE ME LOSE EVERYTHING. EVERYTHING. YOU SHOULD HAVE STAYED DEAD. I DON’T REGRET KILLING YOU FOR THE HORRIBLE PERSON YOU ARE, LADYBUG. YOU DESERVED TO DIE FOR WHAT YOU DID.”

Realizing what he said, he covered his mouth, hoping it would somehow fix the damage he had done.

Marinette smirked. The picture of innocence gone.

It took a moment for what Adrien’s outburst meant to register in their heads.

Adrien, in an attempt to get back into their good graces, had once claimed to be Chat Noir, the ‘hero’ of Paris. They had brushed him off. If what he had said was correct then that meant that they drove Marinette who was Ladybug to kill herself. Horrible realization sets in as it meant that Hawkmoth won.

Lila chose that moment to came back to the land of the living to scream bloody murder once she saw Marinette again.

The scream brought everyone out of their trance from their shock and started screaming or yelling.

The windows slammed open and the wind whipped. The doors of the classroom closed shut with a loud bang. The clouds were dark outside and there were some flashes of lighting and thunder. (Thank you Longg.)

Marinette’s hair was undone and whipped around her. Her eyes were glowing blue. As she started laughing at the chaos she had unleashed, the class and Mme Bustier ducked for cover and hid under their desks. Except for Adrien and Lila.

Lila, fueled by anger, pounced at the ravenette but was thrown against the classroom wall before she even had a chance to lay a hand. Fell down and appeared to be knocked out. Alya made a move to check up on her.

Adrien was thrown back against the floor when the strong winds started. The scars on his back were burning with a lot of intensity now and it was a miracle that he still hasn’t passed out from the pain.

Unknown to him, the words were glowing red and seen through his shirt. Mme Bustier, Nino, Sabrina and Nathaniel were the few that saw the bright red letters spelling out ‘TRAITOR’ on Adrien’s back as he got back up.

“Marinette, this isn’t you. Milady, please.”

“Shut up.” She flicked her wrist, sending Adrien against the teacher’s desk. He hit it hard and was knocked out like Lila.

Alya after making sure that Lila was fine. “Marinette, stop this. I know that you are probably mad at Adrien for killing you but we never did anything to you.”

“Never did anything?! Never did anything? Hah. What about the time that you slapped me in the face in front of the entire school and said our friendship was over? You called me names. You said that I deserve every bruise you gave me. The rest of you weren’t any better.” She turned around and with the flick of her wrist, the heavy desks were in the air, robbing anyone of a hiding place.

“You stood by and allowed it to happen. You destroyed my stuff, claiming I deserve it. My sketchbook, filled with commissions, torn and stepped on like trash. You all crossed a line that Chloe didn’t even dare and you call it the right thing to do. Hypocrites all of you. Some of you have known me since l'école primaire. What was it about me that you believed her over me?! ”

What happened next was all a blur to everyone, there was a lot of screaming involved, some blood, lightning and thunder everywhere and then, black.

Nino opened his eyes to see Alya peacefully sleeping on her desk. What happened?...Oh Crap I fell asleep. The last thing I remember was….MARINETTE!

Nino snapped his head up. And saw the rest of the class and Mme. Bustier asleep in their respective places.

But there was a sense of wrongness. Something was off... and he can’t pinpoint on what.

The bell rang, startling everyone awake. Nino checked the time. And crap did they all sleep through the first period?! Turning towards his now-awake girlfriend, “Hey Alya, Alya, what do you remember?”

He was surprised to see red eyes like she had been crying. “I- I- I had the weirdest dream. Marinette was there, like she never died and she… why are you looking at me like that?”

“Don’t freak out but I don’t think it was a dream.”

On the rooftop, above the classroom, a red clad figure lounged at the edge with her airpods in and chuckling to herself.

-----

Marinette didn’t torture them. Scared the hell out of them, sure but it was harmless. Mostly. She left carved words on everyone’s wrists which no one else but the class can see. (This one is more mental than anything.)

The scars are unique depending on how close they were to Marinette before she died. Most of the class had the word ‘friend’ crossed out. FRIEND

Nino and Kim had Childhood friends. It serves as a painful reminder of how long they had known the girl.

Alya was a special case with BEST FRIEND and ‘A good reporter always checks her sources’ underneath it. She remembers saying those words to Marinette a long time ago, back when she thought she knew Marinette.

Mme Busitier had Best Teacher and when she was in the comfort of her own home, saw ‘Bully Enabler’ on her other wrist.

Adrien and Lila were questioned as they weren’t the only ones with scars on their wrists. (Although Lila had LIAR written in big letters across her forehead with a sharpie and a drawn-on-moustache of a cartoon villain.)

Nino managed to get the class to back off on Adrien and later to pull him aside to explain about the scars on his back and why did Ladybug (who was apparently Marinette this whole time and she was dead... he thinks.) called him ‘Traitor’?

Adrien told Nino everything. The curse didn’t interfere so for the first time in months, Adrien was able to say the truth.

-----

That was also the day that Lila’s reign finally ended.

The class had suspected for a while about her lies and false promises. There were a few inconsistencies in the beginning that were overlooked and brushed off as Lila’s memory problems.

They all had for the first two years had defended Lila against anyone (mainly Marinette) who thought she was a liar. Lila herself made sure that her lies were believable, actually putting in research for once in her life and planting evidence here and there about her achievements with a few faked articles. They staunchly believed her lies until Marinette’s death.

With her main enemy finally down and everyone else who opposed her, lost their morale along with their ally, Lila stopped putting in the efforts to make her lies seem real and then the cracks of her kingdom began forming.

At first, the students of Mme Bustier class believed them but the stories soon seemed like bragging but they were too polite to point it out to their ‘nice’ and ‘shy’ classmates.

Lila began making mistakes from her lack of research and a few of them later pointed out the few inconsistencies but they were brushed off as memory lapses.

More and more of these ‘memory lapses’ happened more often and soon, most of the class had their suspicion of Lila.

They were just in denial of Lila lying to them.

A few like Max, Nathaniel, Juleka and Sabrina who finally find out that Lila was lying and confront her about it were threatened and they were too afraid to do anything.

After all, Marinette had tried to disprove them and look where she is now. Six feet under.

And the ‘ghost attack’ from Marinette was the final straw.

The class tried to help Lila get rid of the sharpie, especially the one on her forehead and Alya made a comment how it was so typical of Marinette despite being dead and some half-heartedly agreeing.

Max, frustrated that his friends still can’t see it that Lila is a liar and they were the ones who drove Marinette to death that she is now haunting them and it was all their fault, took out his detailed research to disprove Lila’s lies. Nathaniel, Sabrina and Juleka spoke up and brought out their own research. The seeds of doubts which had been planted the past years were finally sprouting

A while later, the entire class was in chaos, everyone was shouting at Lila, some of them were shouting at Adrien, Alya being in complete denial and Mme. Bustier trying to maintain the peace.

Unknown to them, the camera in the classroom was being live streamed to a screen in a room in Le Grand Paris, complete with audio as a group of teenagers watched the chaos unfold.

“You know.” Chloe said, “I thought it was hilarious when you went all bloody mary on them but this shit is way more entertaining.”

Maria smiled, satisfaction on her face as she snatched some popcorn from Alix. “Oh, I had fun. Took years but Lila is finally getting what is coming to her. In about an hour, Signora Rossi is going to come through the door with the police.”

“What did you do, M?”

“Let’s just say the Italian Embassy and the French Police got an anonymous tip this morning about Lila Rossi and the incidents following her around the schools she had attended in the past couple of years.”

“No..” Alix gasped.

Maria just smirked.

-----

Gabriel was freaking out when Adrien came home and told him about what happened to his class.

He did not need another ghost attack on top of everything else.

First, Afterlife had managed to steal some (read: a lot) of Gabriel’s investors and Gabriel’s shares were plummeting.

Secondly, there were a few important documents leaked onto the internet, showing a few suspicious purchases which had the brand and himself under scrutiny.

Third, Natalie told him about her recent condition which occurs during the night and raised a few suspicious glances from Emilie when there was a raven in the house while Gabriel wanted to see proof of this transformation.

Lastly, Emilie had been poking around about the years she was in her coma and it was sheer luck that she hadn't found out about Hawkmoth and connected the dots.

He called up John again to complain that it didn’t work and asked for a refund or face a lawsuit. John pointed out that the spell only worked in the house and kept ghosts out of it and other places were free game.

Needless to say, Gabriel pulled Adrien out of school to be homeschooled again and made sure Emilie stayed inside, no matter what.

The longer Natalie stayed as a raven, the whiter Gabriel’s head of hair became and he was beginning to lose hair at a very fast rate.

----

(Part 7)

I swear I didn't mean to forget tagging you guys.

Taglist: @local-witch-of-mn, @ladyqnoirr, @lolieg, @istoleyourcookies

#maribat #ml class salt #adrien salt #lila bashing #lila salt #gabriel is slowly losing his sanity and I am enjoying this too much #tw suicice #suicide mention #graveyard siblings

[jiminrings]

yoongi grills stem koo’s ass <3

cold senior!y/n x stem major!koo masterlist :D

stem koo wants to explain himself and yoongi may not want to listen

"hyeji's never packed you a sandwich before?"

jungkook pales at the mention, mouth drying when he sees yoongi bring up the soft smile that doesn't comfort him at all

“the one that’s all knuckle?”

oh my god

IS THIS A RIDDLE????

yoongi tilts his head in amusement when this pathetic excuse for your past crush is calculating what he just said in his mind

what is a sandwich that’s all knuckle?? but it doesn’t even rhyme!!

aren’t riddles sUPPOSED to rhyme????

jungkook’s more than well-versed in stem-related problems that are just rephrased 237 times over and over so that it wouldn’t be as easy to solve

he can solve that!!!

but this!!! :O his mind is short-circuiting pls do not approach him

“hm?” yoongi’s smile patronizes him further and puts him on the spot, straightening his figure and jungkook’s quick to stop him from coming back inside your dorm

“i want to-“

“i asked you — have you ever had a knuckle sandwich?”

yoongi enunciates with so much clarity that kook finds his mind blanking, tripping over his words he hasn’t even formed yet

“i-is it-...” he stalls, trying to rack his mind for the bread he’s not sure he’s ever even heard of in his life, “i-is it like, a pork thing? uhm, t-the pig’s knuckle? and then you put it between, uhm, bread?”

,,,, laughable

jungkook’s supposed to be smart, isn’t he? or atleast that’s what yoongi thinks he’s supposed to be

lmao he would’ve laughed at the boy’s poor attempts if only he wasn’t furious at him

he’s dumb but not the endearing kind ://

“no,” yoongi drawls out, pretending to fish something out from his pocket

jungkook watches in intrigue, thinking that yoongi’s reaching for his phone to show him a picture of what it looks like

the hypothetical situation in jungkook’s mind is clearly not the one that happens

jungkook SHRIEKS as he stumbles on his heels backward — crystal clear to him that yoongi was not looking for his phone, but instead balling his fist and him being the receiving end

almost the receiving end

yoongi almost sucker-punches jungkook in a blink, fist literally a millimeter away from his nose and the only thing he could see at the moment is red

... red and jungkook’s wide eyes that have never carried this much fear up until now

“that’s a knuckle sandwich, kid. would’ve fed it to you if only y/n isn’t in the room right behind me.”

holy fuck

his heart is beating right against his ribcage and that shouldn’t be possible, fists closing upon themselves nervously as he tries to soothe his thumb so his mind relaxes

spoiler alert: it doesn’t work

jungkook’s mind is all over the place, even more rattled than it was when he takes a text without studying (he was so low he got a 98), but the only thing that’s clear is that you’re behind this door

“yoongi — mister yoongi, please. i-i need to explain myself, and if only you let me try, i can!! i swear. i’m not forcing you but-...”

there he is again

jungkook’s only been in his sight for like two minutes but his eyes are already sore

“why are you even here?” he scowls and even if the younger boy’s taller than him, every bit of his posture and demeanor at the bite of his words scream small, “why go all this length for someone you stomped on today, then have the gall to be a crybaby about it?”

he's speechless and it only serves him right, looking at his mudded-up converse and trying to focus on anything besides the guilt within

"m-my explanation," jungkook mutters, hands behind his back as if he's being scolded, “will you tell y/n?”

yoongi releases an agitated breath at him muttering your name

he dOESN'T get to say your name!! no!!! not after what he did to you

“i’m not concerned about you. what i decide to do or not, has nothing to do with whatever you say right now.”

kook solemnly nods, and even if yoongi's much harsher in your words compared to yours, the gravity of yours with him not being related to you cuts deeper

there's nothing else he could care about, actually

jungkook follows campus curfews to a T and would come home two hours earlier in the rare event that he goes somewhere

but now, he couldn't care less when the dorm master could just be there any second and he'd pass a hall monitor like usual

for the whole day, you were the only one that occupied his mind

"i know hyeji isn’t the one."

god, it was clear as day

he'll be the first one to admit that he can't read people very well, but he knew from the start that it's probably not hyeji who's been packing his lunchboxes

jungkook sometimes takes attendance in behalf of the professor because as much as he's shy, he's also a teacher's pet

the classes she shared with hyeji? she wasn't present everyday for the whole duration of two weeks, and how could it be that she still managed to make him a lunchbox if she wasn't present in the campus at all?

there was a probability that it could've been her, but it was so low that it sat right next to improbable

"i-i entertained the possibility briefly that she was, but then nothing was making sense the more i thought about it."

jungkook sometimes also checks papers because his professors trust him enough and he has perfect scores anyway, so he uses his own as his answer key

"i needed to interview y/n for an assignment, a-and a signature above a name was needed and it was just so familiar."

the moment he racks his head for hyeji's writing, it seemed fAR from the writing on the sticky notes on the lunchboxes

"then she seemed mad at me, but when i went to her on the field to try and confront her-" jungkook pauses and almost whispers the next part, the shame on his skin starting to seep into his bones, "she told me that we weren't related for me to feel hurt about it."

yoongi clenches his jaw, a pressure forming on the center of his eyebrows because he knows where this is leading

"a-and i thought it was hyeji again."

jungkook can't bring himself to be elated that it's been you the whole time because he might be a little too late; a little too late when he's already subjected you to the heartbreak you didn't deserve

"i-i didn’t know what clicked in my mind but i was just so hurt that-"

that's the fiNAL straw for yoongi

this has been him trying to keep his anger at bay the whole time, but this one!! this one he can't just accept

"you are a fucking asshole. honestly."

jungkook slightly winces with the sudden cussing, but it barely scratches the surface

"you think you’re the only one hurt? tell that to me who’s never seen y/n cry so hard before — or even cry at all."

his explanation wasn't an excuse and he knows it, but nonetheless, it tears him apart

"i’m sorry."

his lips quiver and he's trying sO hard not to cry in front of his senior, but yoongi doesn't feel even the slightest remorse for the kid

"i don’t care. you don’t apologize to me; you apologize to y/n. whether she forgives you or not, which for the record i don’t think she should, you cannot take back what you said."

if what jungkook said was eVER said to yoongi, given that he had the same circumstances as you did, he wouldn't know how to bounce back at all

it's a pain he doesn't wish to feel and he could only helplessly look at you who's trying to navigate it

perhaps you don't even plan to navigate it — knowing you, you're just gonna sail through it all to the point you're not giving yourself enough time to even realize that you already are

it was the same cycle of trying to move on without grieving through it properly that it hurts yoongi and seokjin and the tiny amount of people around you

"grovel at her feet. cry her an ocean. commit penitence. whatever you wanna come up with, no matter what, you do not make my y/n feel like she isn’t deserving of love."

you're family and yoongi goes above and beyond for family.

"i don’t care if you make up. i don’t care if you don’t. all i know is that in any other place besides outside the room she sleeps in, i’d hurt you like you hurt her."

jungkook almost wishes that yoongi punches him now and he won't even try to dodge it

"i deserve it."

"you do."

they whole-heartedly agree and it's the only time that yoongi can get behind jungkook's words

"i’m always gonna be on y/n’s side, kid."

there's no other way around it and as much as you know it or not, you've cemented your position in yoongi's heart unknowingly

"the only way that i’m gonna be on yours is when you’ve earned my utmost respect," he can't even see when that happens, crossing his arms across his chest, "and you don’t."

jungkook's tears are falling to the floor but they don't get on his cheeks, the sudden set of footsteps coming from his side making his head straighten and wipe his eyes immediately

he's the only one alarmed and he spares yoongi a glance, then to said person

yeah right that couldn't have been you :((

the guy who's approaching doesn't stop walking and he looks like.... he's uh,,, coming to where he's exactly standing????

he seems oddly familiar though

“oh, taehyung!"

where did he hear that name before??

taehyung stands at the same height as jungkook, maybe a centimeter or two taller, but he just couldn't stop looking at him from the corner of his eyes

yoongi's oblivious to jungkook's ongoing deduction, immediately engulfing taehyung in conversation

"y/n’s already asleep. i could do her part of the project-“

he offers because he recalls that right, you told him that taehyung's coming over to finish your shared project of a business plan late tonight

uhhhhh you're kinda zooted and going through it rOUGH so yoongi doesn't mind doing your contribution for you

“yoongi!! oh no man, it’s not what i came here for," he leans for a side hug, eyes landing on jungkook to drop a polite smile to acknowledge him

jungkook only slightly bows, confused but even more intrigued because he heard your name in the conversation

"i just uh, i just saw y/n crying while i was on my way home awhile ago, and i didn’t get to ask why, but i felt bad, so i came by to drop some cookies.”

oh

taehyung continues talking and it leaves yoongi and jungkook stunned, but he only focuses his attention on the former

“you looked like a hazelnut cookie kind of guy, so i baked some too!! is y/n allergic to peanuts? i put some too in a separate container in case she is.”

yoongi laughs and they go from there

IT'S LIKE JUNGKOOK ISN'T EVEN HERE!!!!

baby he's here he's nOT a hallucination!!!!

despite the fact that he's sticking out like and (unacknowledged) sore thumb, no one makes a move to take the conversation elsewhere

“thanks, tae. damn, you did all this yourself?”

yoongi whistles when he takes the tupperware opening it and almost watering at the sight

he doesn't mind baking cookies for you in case you wake up hungry, but taehyung really just did himself a nice favor without knowing it

he smiles softly, eyes narrowing in intrigue now that he realizes

"taehyung. no offense, but you’ve only interacted with y/n like once and it’s only for a project. why would you bake her uhhh 28 cookies?”

hehe

“35, actually :D”

tae interjects, waving him off when yoongi's jaw drops even further

“yeah, i know. i just felt so sorry for her — i’m not related to y/n but i just felt like i wanted to make her feel better.”

jungkook's jaw locks at this, his breathing becoming shaky all over again, fists balled this time

“it’s like,, economics!! i don’t actually know, maybe??? i’m in visual arts. y/n took over my part for me when i was sick-“

".... so you made her 30 cookies."

taehyung's the personification of a golden retriever and now that he thinks about it, jungkook reckons seeing him more than a handful of times

he laughs deeply at yoongi's rebutt and it may be in unfortunate timing that jungkook realizes he kNOWS him

he's in the same year!! he's the one that takes the portraits for the school paper and it's always his name in the credits

"good night, yoongs. hug y/n for me. tell her i'll take over her part, no questions asked."

taehyung walks away and he's perfectly content even if he didn't get to give you the cookies like jungkook thought he would

"night, taehyung."

yoongi looks at the retreating figure briefly, then looks at jungkook pointedly

he doesn't realize that he's still budging and listened on an entire conversation, dropping his head when yoongi points to the elevator

"bye, jungkook."

"good night, yoongi."

he feels hesitant to leave but it's probably for the better, putting his hands in his pockets still not enough to make his hands stop trembling

kook stops at the middle of his walking, turning his head to look back at yoongi whose mouth already has crumbs

"c-can i see y/n tomorrow?"

"i'm not her dad."

jungkook nods somberly, leaving it at that while his bulk of emotions consume him

he thinks all about the ways he could attempt to make it up to you, a million ideas in his head but his head doesn't hurt

his nose twitches at the lingering scent the cookies left, annoyed at the persistent smell and perhaps the boy that brought them

jungkook's never really liked cookies.

#WHAT'S GONNA HAPPEN NEXT :O PLACE UR BETS BESTIES #stem koo #jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #jungkook oneshot #jungkook drabble #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook au #jungkook angst #jungkook angst imagine #jungkook scenario

[mc-lukanette]

Marinette tried not to be obvious with her annoyance, but it was difficult when she knew that Lila had come to the Liberty specifically to irritate her. It wasn't even her paranoia creeping up, as Lila had made it clear from their first day of face-to-face interaction that she wanted to make Marinette's life miserable. The worst part was that everyone else either believed her or tolerated her, meaning Marinette looked unreasonable no matter what she did to combat it.

She figured she should've known that Luka would be Lila’s next target. The Liberty had always felt like somewhat of a safe haven - funny, considering who owned it - so it had only been a matter of time until Lila had heard enough to decide to show up there.

"Oh, she seemed so curious to actually be on a houseboat! She's only ever been on yachts and stuff before! How could we say 'no'?

Marinette tried to keep her lips shut tight so the gritting of her teeth wasn't seeable to anyone. The best she could do was watch from afar and keep any unkind comments internal while vaguely fantasizing about being Ladybug and dumping Lila in the garbage where she belonged.

Luka, to his credit, didn't seem to take Lila's bait like everyone else. She'd sought him out and he technically listened to her (as she lied about all the music people she knew and all the connections she could give him), but he was mostly occupied with tuning his guitar, only giving her a vague noise every now and then to signal that he was listening.

It was one of Marinette's few joys of the day, which made it twice as infuriating when Lila ruined it.

"Anyway, Luka," Lila added, her voice saccharine and fake, "I really hope you and I can become great friends."

Luka's eyebrow twitched.

"And don't worry, I would never force you. I know there are some people like that, who want to make everything go their way—"

Marinette knew it was a jab at her even though she definitely wasn't that kind of person; from Lila's point of view though, of course she'd think that.

Lila continued, "but I'd never do that to you, okay? I promise!"

For the first time since she'd been talking to him, Luka turned to her, his expression somewhere between neutral and the annoyance he showed at listening to XY's "version" of Kitty Section's music. "Can you please—"

He didn't get to finish that sentence, as Lila suddenly leaned in to kiss him. Luka jerked away the moment it registered with him, but it was already too late; the contact had been made.

All the anger that had been stewing in Marinette's stomach bubbled to the surface. She stormed over, her body language confrontational as she asked, "What do you think you're doing?!"

The outburst had gotten the attention of the other girls. Though they hadn't seen it, what happened was obvious given the way Luka was covering his mouth.

Lila turned to face Marinette, sinking to that vulnerable state she used so much whenever she got caught. "I-I didn't mean to! I meant to kiss his cheek and he turned too quickly."

It was a lie, and Marinette knew it. Lila had intentionally said things to make Luka look at her so she could kiss him, all to irritate Marinette.

"You see..." Lila pressed her palm to her cheek. "I-I thought a cheek kiss would be okay. You don't seem like the type of person who would be close to someone like him, and everyone told me that you do it all the time."

Marinette was fuming at the implication, feeling personally insulted at the idea that she and Luka weren't close.

And they'd told her. Her friends had been gossiping about her to Lila, or at least telling her details, which Marinette herself had definitely not consented to.

She went to toss a glare her friends' way, but they were already rushing forward to assure Lila that everything was okay, with Marinette having to step away or risk getting knocked back with the way they formed around her.

"M-maybe I need to re-learn French customs. I spent so long away from the country and other places have—"

Marinette wasn't listening anymore. She knew how this went and didn't want to be around to see another repeat of it, nor her friends potentially shouting at her. She turned away with a frustrated exhale, speed-stomping away and going up the stairs to head outside.

Passing by the cabin, she went into the greenhouse-esque area with all of the larger plants, plopping down on the long flower-patterned seating with a heavy sigh. She'd fallen right into Lila's trap, again, and couldn't help being angry at the whole situation.

Going after her was one thing, but Luka? And to kiss him like that on top of trying to lure him in with her deceit? Marinette knew deep down that she had a right to be upset at Lila's actions, but the way she reacted to it just ended up making Lila look like the victim instead of Luka. Had she failed him?

She groaned into her clasped hands, imagining that Luka must've thought that she looked like a fool shouting like that. She liked to think that she would've done things differently had she been able to do it again, but she was still angry and honestly just wanted to go off on Lila again.

She didn't move, though briefly considered going home. After all, it'd be pointless going back downstairs, as she'd probably just end up being glared at and blamed for Lila being upset. Luka probably didn't want to see her either after that display anyway.

As if her concerns had summoned him, she suddenly heard his voice call out to her from nearby. "Marinette?"

She stiffened, then lowered her hands enough to peek at him. When none of the negative emotions she expected showed on his face, she lowered them the rest of the way.

"Are you okay?" he asked gently.

She straightened, jaw slack that's that what he was concerned about. "Am I okay? What about you?!" She gestured wildly to him. "That—that akuma-luring harpy just kissed you!"

She realized what she said and covered her mouth, knowing that it was a much more direct insult than she usually would've gone with. Luka, however, tried to suppress a laugh from it, snorting loudly into his hand.

"I—" He cut himself off, still chuckling too much to speak. After a few seconds, he took a breath to calm down, then gave her a calm smile and continued, "I washed my mouth out, just to make sure."

Marinette tried to keep her negative emotions at the forefront, but then she was trying to suppress her laughter as well. She almost felt bad about it, but the wide grin on Luka's face showed that he'd fully intended for her to have that reaction. He walked over, taking a seat down next to her and leaning forward to maintain eye contact.

He waited until she quieted herself down with a final squeak that he asked again, "Really, are you okay?"

The smile she had on from laughter faded, though her spirits were still much higher than before. "Not really. She—she's always doing that." She glanced at him. "Let me guess, they're catering to her?"

He nodded. "They're planning on having lunch without you since you—" He made a face, clearly displeased. "—'made her so upset.'" He stared out of the glass opposite of them. "I wasn't going to join them."

"You didn't have to do that," she said, though her voice was soft from being touched by the gesture.

He gave her a smile. "I know, but I'd rather have lunch with you than with everyone else and that—" He smirked. "—'harpy.'"

Marinette tried to bite back a smile of her own, but couldn't. Hearing the pure-hearted Luka say an insult so brazenly, even if he was just parroting her own, was too funny not to smile at.

"Thanks~" she said gratefully.

"I should be thanking you," he argued. He leaned back in his seat, but didn't stop looking at her. "For being so upset on my behalf."

She blushed, looking away with both shyness and embarrassment. "I-I was really loud though."

"You play your song for everyone to hear, Marinette. I love that about you."

She blushed deeper, mentally cursing his smoothness. "How are you so okay with this?"

"I'm not," he replied, "not really, but..." He shrugged. "That kiss didn't mean anything to me. It wasn't real."

She looked over at him, frowning. "T-that was your first though, wasn't it?"

His brows rose in surprise, his face telling her everything she needed to know even before he responded. "...Well, yeah."

Now that she'd had it officially confirmed, Marinette bristled. "It's not right!" She huffed and turned to him, throwing her arms out. "Your first kiss is supposed to be special and with someone you really love! It's not supposed to just be stolen from you like that!"

He touched a hand to his chest, clearly touched by her passionate anger. She turned red and forced herself to look away from him, finding it hard to stay angry when he stared at her that way.

"...And I know you were already pretty upset with her, I could see it," she explained, "so it wasn't like I felt like I had to get angry for you, but still. She doesn't care what anyone thinks and I'm mad at her for kissing you like that and I'm mad at me because she only did it to get on my nerves and I know I shouldn't be mad at me because she's just mad that I won't fall for her lies but I'm mad anyway because I still let her rile me up when that's exactly what she wanted." Burying her face in her hands, she whined and added, "I guess I wasn't jealous at least - not in that way anyway - since I'd never want to do anything to you without your permission like she did, but I know she meant for me to get to jealous because I just—"

She cut herself off, the words clogging up her throat and forcing her to swallow them. She raked her fingers through her hair, mentally debating with herself if she really wanted to tell Luka everything.

But of course she did. Not only did he deserve it, but she felt responsible for her feelings and it was her fault that things happened the way they did, even if it was indirect on her part.

"I..." She closed her eyes and sighed, her voice lowering itself to a whisper. Hunching over, she wrung her hands together and admitted quietly, "I wanted to be your first kiss..."

Silence took over the conversation from there, but she understood. She just dropped a bomb on him and couldn't expect him to reply right away, so she let the seconds drag on without any judgment on her part.

Eventually, she heard the sound of Luka sliding himself closer, so close that the side of his hand briefly touched her leg. He inhaled softly like he was about to speak, stopped, then tried again.

"You... you what?"

She steeled herself up, the words only slightly easier to say than before. "I wanted to be your first kiss. I-I'm selfish, and I know that. Everyone knows it, and that's why—"

His hand touched her leg again. She briefly jumped in surprise, then realized moments later that the touch was intentional this time, as he'd fully settled his hand on her leg. Fighting against her nerves, she turned to look at him and saw how relaxed his expression was.

"You can be selfish."

"W-what?"

"It makes me happy. It means that—" He paused, his cheeks tinting pink as he smiled wide. "—you really want me."

It almost sounded like a question the way he said it, his eyes distant only in a way that implied that he's still absorbing what she'd said.

Her chest filled with hope as she squeaked out, "I...I do. Of course I do." Looking down at the hand on her lap, she placed her own onto it and gave it a squeeze. "But..."

The hope twisted and fought with the shame attempting to take its place, memories of the past coming back to haunt her. She averted her gaze fully, staring off at nothing in particular. "I-I can't give you my first kiss." She squeezed his hand tighter, as if that made anything better. "There was this akuma, and I had to... I mean—"

She felt his hand shifting in hers and immediately worried that she'd squeezed it too hard. She loosened her grip, only to feel his hand turn itself around to hold her hand back, pressing their palms together. The motion made her look back and make eye contact with him.

"Then that wasn't real either, was it?" he asked gently. Giving a fond glance down at their joined hands, he added, "This might be more Rose's type of music than mine, but I think the only kisses that have to matter are the ones that you put meaning into playing."

She gaped. It was still registering with her that he was not only okay with her crushing on him, but still returned it. "S-so... it's not any different? You'd let me kiss you anyway?"

"I never thought about first kisses or second kisses, or any verses beyond that," he told her, placing his other hand on top of their joined ones. "I only care about your kisses."

Marinette's cheeks turned crimson, and she nearly burst into happy laughter. She settled for beaming at him, still amazing at how easily he could ease all of her worries and doubts.

"Then... I'll give you all of them."

She shifted, continuing to hold his hand while her other went to his face. He leaned into her touch, making her all the more eager to pull him in. He didn't protest when she did, his hand moving away from their joined ones to grab her shoulder.

They kissed. Marinette was momentarily surprised when Luka's lips seemed to have a hint of wetness to them, only to realize that he'd meant it when he said that he'd washed his mouth out. She giggled mid-kiss, positively delighted to have someone like him, and he responded to the sound with a soft noise of content. She stroked his cheek with her thumb, then slid her hand down to his neck to urge him closer. He did the same with her shoulder, pulling her in and deepening the contact.

It took a few seconds of internal debate for her to convince herself to break the kiss to talk to him, and she enjoyed the slight whine he made as she did so.

"Better than Lila?" she asked, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it regardless.

"Definitely," he replied without hesitation, leaning in to touch his forehead to hers.

She hummed. "Mm, good." She pulled him back in for a smaller, quicker kiss that was no less loving than the last. Full of confidence, she felt it safe to say, "I should always be playing my boyfriend's favorite song."

His reaction was immediate, his eyes sparkling and his smile wide. She blushed red, overwhelmed and half-regretting saying anything. He was just too much.

"What is it?" he asked when she averted her gaze.

"P-please stop smiling like that," she whined.

"I can't," he said. More to himself than her, he added cheerfully, "I'm your boyfriend."

"Luka!"

#lukaneventte: No Context November #Flower Arrangement Shipping #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

[gentlemancrow]

idk if you’re still taking requests so no pressure but maybe jmart 18 about jon’s scars? or,,, honestly however you wanna interpret that lol

Hehe bet you thought you weren't getting one. But of COURSE you're getting one! <3 HERE YOU GO!! Sorry it is late I am not a fast writer haha! This was a VERY interesting one to interpret and I got a little wonky and metaphysical there for a bit WHICH I LOVE and THE IDEA MIGHT HAVE BEEN A BIT LONG FOR A DRABBLE BUT! It's soft and I'm soft and I enjoyed this one SO SO MUCH ; w ; I hope you do too!!

Jon had Seen enough. Martin had decided that long ago. He had witnessed enough, been forced to witness enough, been the vessel into which literally everything had funneled into in an unrelenting typhoon of unspeakable, unfathomable horrific knowledge comprehensible only to him long enough that he damn well deserved the luxury of imperception. He had earned the right to not notice when Martin accidentally bought the wrong brand of chai, the one he insisted tasted like someone rubbed a stick of cinnamon on plasterboard and jammed it in a cardamom pod, but honestly tasted just like the one he preferred. The universe, whichever one they happened to be in now, owed him not realizing the buttons on his cardigan were one off until they were about to head out and Martin had to fix them, fingers humming with the warmth of him lingering in the cashmere every time. He deserved to forget his keys and then also have to go back to check that their flat door was locked twice, just to be sure. He deserved tossing cabbage in the trolley at the market, only to get home and realize it was a head of iceberg lettuce instead, and also he had completely forgotten the onion anyway so back he would have to go. Tiny and insignificant, patently human foibles that any normal person might tally up to a really rotten day overall and gripe about over a glass of Châteauneuf-du-Pape he had won as gleaming, pyrrhic badges on the ruins of his humanity yanked back from the claws of the yawning, devouring dark matter of the cosmos and stitched painstakingly back together with love.

But mostly Jon deserved to not notice the way people looked at him.

He need not see the painted-on expressions of strangers that ran the gamut from quiet pity, to voyeuristic curiosity, to outright revulsion that Martin could not help but see everywhere they went. They had no idea. Not even the slightest inkling of what, exactly, had composed that magnum opus of horror and pain scarred resplendently on his flesh, his bones, his sinews and synapses. To even try know was to go mad, the mind looping through and around and between consciousness and logic and love and fear and philosophy and metacognition until it squeezed into an ouroboros black hole singularity of dense unknowing that collapsed in on itself and perished in cataclysm. They had merely gotten lucky that being extruded through the plumbings of creation seemed to straighten out their fibers enough to be woven back into the fabric of reality, but they were too kinked and snagged and gnarled to ever lay fully flat again. And that was why they stared.

The invasive beings of Jon and Martin had come to mutual terms with it long ago, but they also knew they would be forever incongruous with an innocent world, with a world where they did not belong and that collectively looked at them both like an ontological cancer, benign but festering and ugly. They would never know the thing that crouched behind the stars with pointed knees and elbows that even then, groped to find their new world in the lightless vast, and Jon deserved to not perceive any hints of that either. He deserved their quiet, their peace, their wordless human acceptance.

Jon deserved to be innocently chewing a periwinkle-painted thumbnail in front of the ice cream counter, just as he was that gossamer spring afternoon, turning woeful and forever mismatched brown and green eyes at his husband and asking if he should get mint chip or rum raisin before deciding, actually, could he have a sample of the salted caramel ribbon first? He pointed eagerly at the various frozen tubs behind the glass with his gnarled right hand, where the fingers never did quite open or close properly again, and missed in his wonderment at the veritable cornucopia of sweet delights available to him the mingled look of pity and horror on the cashier’s face as she doled out samples at his request. Martin lurked protectively behind, silent, sentinel, seeing it all, a hot brand of fury boring its way through his chest as he glared icy blue daggers at the clueless young woman, who only compounded her crimes by complimenting the permanent white forelock in his ginger curls as she took his order.

Martin snatched his double scoop of rocky road and pralines and cream out of her hand with a withering scowl and said nothing. Jon, frowning in the dread shadow of Martin’s hushed wrath and finally deciding on just the mint chip, took it upon himself to pay while the poor young woman skirted around both their gazes. They took their ice cream to enjoy in the balmy sun on the metal patio tables outside the shop under a cloud of unspoken insults and slander which Jon was more than happy to pop open the conversational umbrella beneath before the downpour.

“Something wrong?” he asked solicitously.

“Nope. I’m fine,” came the curt answer, suspiciously also lacking in eye contact as Martin stabbed his pink spoon into the rocky road.

Jon’s mismatched eyes narrowed shrewdly. There was one thing that never escaped his notice, even now, and that was the painfully obvious way Martin always broadcast his inner hurts and the physical language of his turmoil he had become fluent in over the years.

“Okay, yes you are probably fine. And I’m guessing it has nothing to do with you actually, because you’re angry and you rarely get angry on your own behalf, which means it’s probably something to do with me or some perceived slight. What happened in there? Did someone make a snide remark about my eccentric ice cream selection? The long skirt on a warm spring day? Oh, no, I’ve got it. It was probably the earrings, yes? I knew I should have gone with the feathers instead of hoops, matches the outfit much better.”

The corner of Martin’s mouth quirked up in a hapless, crooked smile as Jon coaxed a laugh out of him, and he looked up into his gaze adoringly to grant him unspoken conciliation.

“No, no not at all. Nothing like that. It’s nothing, love. It’s not a big deal. Just low blood sugar or something. Just eat your nasty mint chip or rum raisin or whatever that unholy concoction is,” Martin snorted, gesturing at his cup.

“Liar,” Jon crooned with loving reproachment, reaching out to thumb a little bit of rum raisin on the tip of Martin’s nose as punishment.

Even breathed with such unfettered, undying affection, Martin hated that word. He hated how transparent he still was to the man he loved, how much he still truly saw him, saw through him. At least all it took to compel him now was a little melted ice cream rubbed clean off his nose and a winsome smile with love-puddled green and brown eyes.

“Okay, okay… fine,” he admitted with a resigned smirk and a sigh, “I don’t like the way they look at you. Okay? That’s all.”

Jon’s brow knitted together curiously.

“Hmm? Who? What do you mean?” he asked.

“Everyone!” Martin finally effused in frustration, “Everywhere! They look at you like you’re… like you’re damaged goods! Like you’re some pitiful beaten animal on the street, or worse, like you’re some sort of- some sort of um…”

“…Monster?” supplied Jon, lips pursed and lids drooping.

“…I wasn’t going to say that,” Martin stammered.

“What other word is there?”

“Fine, they look at you like you’re a monster. They take one look at your face or your throat or your… your hand. And I can just see it on their faces. They look at you like you’re a monster, and I hate it. You don’t deserve that. You never did! They don’t even know you! They don’t know what happened to you…! And sorry, Jon, but I get angry about it because it’s not fair, and I can’t exactly go about lobbing right hooks into the faces of everyone who even looks at you cross-eyed, now can I? Much as I’d like to…"

Jon went quiet as he listened, dabbling first in the rum raisin, then indulging in a little mint chip chaser, cocking his head to the side thoughtfully as he nibbled on the plastic spoon.

“Is that what you see?”

The color rolled out from Martin’s freckled cheeks along with the very spirit from his eyes in a fog, his entire mien awash in pallor.

“What? How could you say that to me? I would NEVER think that about you, Jon! How could you ever think I would think that? I-I know I said some awful things in the past about your scars, but I-“

“No no! Martin, no! Of course not! I know you would never!” Jon cut in, reaching across the table to snatch his hand and squeeze it reassuringly, rubbing his knuckles and over his wedding ring, “You misunderstand! I was asking if that’s what you see in their eyes?”

Martin clung to Jon’s hand, heart palpitating and breath easing.

“Oh…” he blurted dumbly, flushing with lively hues of reds and golds once more, “I-? Of course I do, what else could it be?”

“I don’t see that. I don’t see that at all,” Jon answered simply, “It’s… hard to describe but, damaged goods, disgust, morbid curiosity, those are all… Hard things. They have sharp edges. And when people here look at me, I don’t feel anything hard or sharp, it feels… soft? It feels gentle.”

Shaking his head, Martin frowned.

“Gentle? How is openly gawking at someone’s scars in any way gentle?”

“It’s just a feeling I have. I suppose,” Jon mused, thumbing at his beard with his free hand as he constructed an analogy that would make sense in his mind, “Mmm… Think of it like this. Humans, life, we’re all very visually oriented creatures, right? We respond to visual cues in our environments that are universally understood. We wear these rings so that everyone knows we belong together, just the same as bright colors usually mean poison, or how specialized feathers, or horns, or dewlaps and the like let others know they’d be a good mate, or how some things look like eyes or like entirely different creatures to scare off predators, and so on.”

The creases in Martin’s forehead only deepened in confusion.

“Okay sure, but scars aren’t a natural adaptation? We don’t look at scars the same way we look at pretty eyes on a moth wing or something.”

“I know that, that’s not what I’m saying,” Jon reiterated tenderly, “What I’m saying is I’ve always felt like my scars are a visual cue, but one that says to others ‘treat me gently’, because clearly I haven’t been. And it’s… well it’s been quite nice. You were about to tear that poor girl’s head off, but didn’t you see how she not only gave me about six samples when the sign clearly said two per customer, but then she also gave me the rum raisin ‘by mistake’ and then conveniently forgot to charge for it?”

“Wh-did she?” Martin gasped in shock, rewinding the transaction to remember that indeed, Jon had only asked for mint chip, but there was clearly also a generous scoop of rum raisin in his cup, ”She did… No I… I guess I didn’t notice…”

Jon let Martin’s hand go to cup his cheek pointedly in his scarred palm, running his thumb over the soft curve of his cheek and the spray of his ruddy freckles comfortingly.

“You want to know what I think? I think what you perceive as disgust or aversion or even pity is just fear, like you had. Fear of pain, fear of disfigurement, of fallibility. People are always afraid of seeing what can become of their mortal bodies, but that has nothing to do with me, or being disgusted by me. People are, at their cores, good and gentle, Martin. I know they are, we both do. They see me, my cane, my limp, my hand, my gray hair, my face, and they don’t even ask, they just know, on some primal level, that life was not kind to me. And so in some tiny way, like free rum raisin, they almost always try to give something back to me.”

Jon had known. He had noticed. It had never escaped his perception as Martin had assumed. Jon had known all along, but it was only Martin who still saw daggers in the smiles of strangers while he had taken the last vestiges of his powers irrevocably branded on his body and soul and sowed something delicate and beautiful and blossoming in his new earth. Martin had made a weapon. Perhaps no less delicate and beautiful, but still cold and sharp and deadly. The razor white edge of the sun through frigid fog.

“I’m so sorry, Jon,” Martin choked, his throat pinching shut with the threat of tears, “I-I had no idea…. I-I only thought…”

“It’s alright, please don’t cry, darling, you have nothing to be sorry for. I understand. You only thought you were protecting me. I protected you for so long, when you were desperate to do the same for me, to save me, but had no power to do either. Now you’ve got your turn to do the protecting in earnest, and honestly, it’s a… can I- can I say hot? Can I say it’s a hot look on you? Or is that weird?” Jon asked, tips of his ears blushing coyly.

Martin managed a laugh as he sniffed back the tears and thumbed both sets of lashes dry under his spectacles.

“It’s a little weird for you, in particular, to say it, just because it’s you. But I’ll take it.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Perhaps then, Martin thought as Jon leaned over their whimsical little metal table outside an ice cream parlor by a park with a striped canopy above them and birds singing and kissed his tears away and then kissed his lips into a smile, that sharp things needn’t always be weapons. Perhaps his sword was, in reality, a spade, or a hoe, something to tend and nurture the new and fragile happiness Jon had tilled. Gentle things deserved gentle protection, and he was still going to devote every iota of his being to protecting Jon until the end of their days. After all, as they finally got to enjoy their slightly melted ice cream, Jon still dribbled a bit of rum raisin down his beard and carried on none the wiser. Martin let him go on like that, blissfully unaware, talking about Polyphemus moths and the myth of the cyclops and something about someone going about as Nobody, until he finally reached out with a napkin to attentively wipe it away.

Other than a gracefully paced ‘oh, thank you dear,’ Jon never missed a beat.

#The Magnus Archives #TMA #JonMartin #Jmart #Fan fic #Crow Writes #Ask Drabble #Fricklefracklefloof

[mandoalorian]

The Secret Of The Wish [Max Lord x F!Reader] SEX POLLEN

Summary: You’re a new intern for the Wall Street Journal, sent out to interview Maxwell Lord, a businessman who has suddenly found financial success in the oil drilling industry. When you ask him what does he owe his success to, he gives you a surprisingly honest answer: through the power of the wish. You make the mistake of humouring him, and playing along with his little story until he proves to you just how powerful wishing can be.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT (sex pollen in the form of wish granting therefore there is automatic dub-con) unprotected p in v, male oral, handjob, tit play, butt play, spanking, cockwarming, creampie, degradation, praise kink, office sex, power-shift, dom/sub dynamic, implied age difference, mutual pining.

Word count: 4400>

Masterlist

REBLOGS appreciated! 🤍

Black Gold Cooperative was booming with business. Even the outside of the building was swamped with hundreds of people who were desperate to get inside and speak to Mr Lord himself. Luckily, you were a journalist for the esteemed Wall Street Journal and your position in the company had earned yourself an interview with the successful CEO. The entire world had thousands upon thousands of questions for Maxwell Lord, and you were the lucky intern who got to meet with him on this humid Wednesday afternoon.

A tall blonde woman who you assumed was his secretary, led you to his office. All his employees seemed to be young, attractive and wore only the best designer clothes. It was almost intimidating. You couldn’t mess this up. You were conducting an interview with one of the most successful people alive - this could actually be your big break in the industry. Taking a deep breath, you made an attempt to swallow away your nerves before making your way into his own private office.

It was extensive in size, with large plants and statues in every corner and on every surface. Honestly, you found his taste in furnishings to be quite tacky. You knew it was just his way of bragging about how wealthy he was without actually saying anything. He was neck deep in paperwork and he hadn’t even noticed you were just standing there, in his office. Your eyes flicked across his messy desk, taking in the sight of multiple opened bottles of vitamins, colourful smoothies and other supplements. You made a mental note, not exactly pinning the salesman as a health freak. You’d been standing there for longer than you’d anticipated and he still hadn’t looked up, so you cleared your throat and prepared to grab his attention.

“Mr Lord… I’m here on behalf of Wall Street Journal, we’re doing a segment on Company Sudden Search....” you began to introduce yourself but a roll of his eyes and a flimsy yet disapproving gesture of his hand cut you off.

“Yeah yeah, I know,” he grumbled, taking a swing of his green juice before fastening the cap back on the bottle and pulling a face of disgust. If he thought it tasted so bad, why was he drinking it? Maxwell took a minute trying to compose himself for the interview. He’d waited his whole life to be interviewed by the Wall Street Journal and no matter how bad his migraine was… he couldn’t mess this up.

In fact… there was something about the way Maxwell Lord looked in this moment. His bottle blonde hair was sticking up in random places, probably due to the beads of sweat that laced his forehead. His tie was pulled open and his suit jacket was crinkled, yet he still made the effort to keep it on for whatever reason. He didn’t look like the persuasive, bright eyed salesman on the television, that’s for sure. You supposed all those studio lights could make anyone look different, but that didn’t necessarily mean he looked bad. He didn’t look sick as such, just a little disheveled. He kept rubbing his temples as if he had a killer headache. You considered asking him if he was okay, but that wasn’t why you were here.

The prolonged silence made Max Lord look up at you from the many papers on his desk. He was frowning, and if one thing was clear, it looked like he was having a bad day. It looked like he could do with some major stress relief. The first two buttons of his pinstripe shirt were open, and his collar was wonky, and honestly? You had to fight the urge to stalk over to him and help him out. You imagined running your fingers through his golden hair, caressing his face and letting your hands wander down his chest. You imagined whispering dirty little things into his ear until he ached for you. There was something about teasing a higher-up that you just couldn’t resist. Nevertheless, you cursed yourself for the inappropriate thoughts. You were a young intern for one of the most successful journalism companies… and shit, he was the CEO of what had suddenly become the richest organization in the world. He was a powerful man, more powerful than you knew. It would be foolish to mess around with a man like Maxwell Lord.

Maxwell took a shaky exhale and done what he could do best. Fake a smile. Feign confidence. Pretend like he was okay... like he had it together. He promised himself that he would not lose control of his power— he couldn’t— but this moment was only the start of his descent into madness. He never knew how hungry he could get... how satisfying his power could be, until he met you.

“Come here sweetheart,” his frown curled upwards into a smirk and his eyes began to gleam again, just like they did on his famous infomercials. His voice became a little louder, and a little more confident as he stood up and padded around his desk, pulling out a chair for you to sit down on. You hesitated, his change in attitude wasn't lost on you, but still, you obliged, and shuffled into the golden plush chair. The material was so soft and you struggled to suppress a moan. “Everything okay?” he asked you, placing a large ring clad hand on your shoulder and giving you a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah I just… I’ve never sat on anything so comfortable.” you confessed, shuffling around. Maxwell’s eyes lit up with desire at your comment and his gaze fixated on your face.

“Really?” Never?” he chuckled lightly, brushing his thumb against his lower lip as he took in your appearance. Just the shape of your perfect body was enough to initiate something primal in him. The tightness of your blouse and the vision of your short pencil skirt that cut off mid-thigh already had his cock straining against his tailored suit pants. “I can think of at least one more comfortable thing in this office for you to sit on.”

You’d be lying if you said you were unfazed by his little flirtation. If any other middle aged man had said something so crude to you, you’d have snapped back with something witty to put them in their place. But Maxwell Lord wasn’t any man and his charm alone had cast you under a spell. Your knees were weak and you felt like putty under his touch. Even when he removed his hand from your shoulder, you felt completely and utterly submissive to him. 

You cleared your throat and opened up your notepad. “I’m just here to ask you a few questions…” you told the businessman, biting your lip nervously. Maxwell nodded and sat on the edge of his desk, waiting patiently for you to get started. “So uhm, Forbes is reveling in the fact you’re self made… but not much is known about your past. We don’t know about your family or where you come from… is there anything relevant you’d like to share with the world?” you asked curiously.

And for the first time, Maxwell Lord broke his gaze with you and looked down at the carpeted floor. “There’s not much to say, really.” he said, but there was something in his tone of voice that indicated he wasn’t willing to provide any further details. Hoping you hadn’t struck a sensitive cord with him, you glanced back down at your notepad to ask him another question.

“I hope you don’t think I’m prying, but not much is known about your personal life. A handsome, wealthy man like yourself can’t be single, right?” you asked, even startling yourself over how over bearing you’d begun to sound. Maxwell let out a chuckle and quirked an inquisitive eyebrow.

“I’m single, yes. Tell me darling, is this Wall Street Journal or US Weekly?” he joked, and you felt a flush of heat radiate your cheeks. You knew better.

“I’m sorry. It was an unprofessional question,” you quickly backtracked. “Do you uhm… do you have a pen… I could borrow?” You asked awkwardly, feeling a little irked over how flustered his simple presence had made you. You'd been so nervous to actually meet with Max Lord, you'd even forgotten to bring something to write with. You were so embarassed. But Maxwell was hardly paying attention to your lack of organization, and instead he just smiled and grabbed a gold encrusted company pen from his desk. “Thank you.” you said timidly. “Can I ask you something?”

“That’s why you’re here… isn’t it?” he retorted playfully. 

“The interview is about Company Sudden Search and for some reason there are no questions about your company… just you,” you frowned apologetically. You hadn't come up with the questions, one of your executives had. You were just there to look pretty and milk as much information out of him as you could. “I guess the world is curious about you, Mr Lord. More curious about your private life than this empire that you have created. But Black Gold Cooperative had been off the grid for many years only prior to this week and now suddenly you’re the wealthiest company in the world. You’re the richest man in the US. And data shows absolute no correlation towards that. Your purchased oil wells were dry until one day they just weren’t. It wasn’t gradual, but Mr Lord, we are living during the Cold War and oil is as scarce enough as it is. How… how did this happen? You must know something.”

As you rambled on, Maxwell stared dead into you. You hadn’t been asked to say this, this was coming from your own interest. You had done your own digging about this (just like any successful journalist would), snooping into Maxwell’s business and finding out exactly which oil fields he owned and how much oil was in them in the first place. This wasn’t coming from the Wall Street Journal. This was coming from you. Maxwell never expected to be confronted with such a question. You were practically trapping him, but the way you could swindle the truth out of him was an attractive quality of yours. Not many people could get the truth out of Max Lord.

Maxwell chuckled lightly. He could tell you. It wouldn't make much of a difference. Besides, you’d be foolish to believe the truth. You’d think he’d gone insane. Had he gone insane? These damn migraines… he was drunk on power… his mind had become corrupt with the idea of fortune and success. And he needed this interview to go well.

Maxwell grinned, as charming as ever, and took both of your hands. “I made a wish.” he told you, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

You paused, unsure what to make of his comment. Was he making a joke? It didn’t sound like he was joking. In fact he sounded more serious than ever. “Like… upon a star?” you asked, giggling only slightly in attempt to make a judgement of whether or not he was just messing with you. Maxwell smirked and nodded his head. He’d expected that you wouldn’t believe him.

“On my journey to self fulfilment I locked into a secret, the secret of the wish. So I wished for it. Or, someone wished for it for me…” Maxwell explained, talking in tongue twisters. His fingers brushed over your knuckles. As you listened to him, he noticed the way your eyebrows knotted together in bewilderment. He was definitely serious about the wishing thing. But if he wasn’t going to be honest with you, then maybe this interview was more trouble than it was worth. Just as you were about to break away your contact with his hands, he continued. “Tell me what you wish for you and I will show you how it works.”

That was quite the proposal coming from him.

You blinked. “Uhm…” He stared at you, waiting for you to come up with some kind of answer. You supposed that you could always just humour him. “So you’re like a genie?”

“I’m Max Lord, sweetheart, and I can make your darkest fantasies come true as long as you just say the word.” he said, his voice dropping an octave.

The sexual tension between you both was undeniable, and it had been since you had entered his office. His already chocolate brown eyes had darkened considerably with lust. You pursed your lips together into a fine line and you tried your very best to ignore the fact that your lace panties were damp with arousal. You knew he was powerful. Strong… sexy. You’d been in his office for barely five minutes and he already had a hold on you.

“I suppose I’d want success in my career. It’s hard… being taken seriously, as a woman in journalism. It would be nice to just feel respected amongst my peers.” you confessed.

“The people at Wall Street don’t respect you?” Maxwell asked, and you swore that for a split second he sounded genuinely concerned.

“Uhm… I feel like I’m not really at liberty to discuss that. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have mentioned it in the first place.” you scrunched up your nose.

“Because you deserve respect, miss Y/L/N.” Maxwell promised you, his hand sinking down to caress your thigh. You gasped under his touch and looked up at the ceiling. “Is this alright… me touching you like this?” he cooed, tracing circles over your pantyhose.

“Mm.” you mumbled in agreement, your eyes fluttering shut as his fingers dipped under the hem of your skirt.

“So if you could wish for one thing… one thing at this very moment in time, it would be for success in your career? Is that true?” Maxwell quizzed, eyeing you up with curiosity.

No.

It wasn’t true.

In fact your career— this interview— was the last thing on your mind.

Fuck.

Silently, you shook your head. “So darling, tell me, what would you wish for?”

You sighed in defeat, remembering that you’d just humour him. It wasn’t exactly professional but he wasn’t helping you out either. Just go along with it, you told yourself. You finally looked back down at him and saw that his lips were moist from where he’d hungrily licked at them, his eyes fixated on your breasts and the way he could just about see the lace print underneath the thin material.

“I’d wish for you…” you shakily exhaled. And that caught his attention. His gaze flicked up to meet yours and he waited for you to continue. “I’d wish for you to let me use you to get what I want. You’re rich… powerful… wealthy…” A gust of air distracted you and a breeze blew through your hair. The windows weren’t open, the fan wasn’t on, and Maxwell looked completely and utterly spent over your revelation. It had just came out of nowhere. There was a few beats of silence and Max looked you up and down.

“What do you want?” he croaked meekly. He removed his hand from your thigh and his whole demeanor changed in a split second.

When you noticed how stiff his manhood was, and the way his precum had already leaked out onto the grey material of his pants, it stirred something up inside of you. He wanted this too, that much was clear.

And now, the roles had reversed. You were no longer the shy intern interviewing the big name CEO, you were a sexy journalist who’s nipples had hardened significantly and you had this fresh yet welcoming air of power to you. There were two people in this office and yet suddenly, you were the one in control.

Maxwell’s perfect, plush lips had parted and his dark eyes followed you as you stood up from your seat. He looked down at the wet patch from where you were sitting and gulped, imagining just how great it would feel to slide his fingers through your folds and feel your arousal himself.

All for him.

“I think you know.” you replied softly, sitting him down in the golden chair that you had once made yourself comfortable in. You pulled off his crumpled suit jacket and discarded his tie, throwing it haphazardly onto his already messy desk, and then sunk down to your knees, spreading his legs apart.

You began to palm at his erection through his pants, involuntarily licking your lips as your fingers danced around his growing bulge. “Ngh- fucking tease.” he groaned, his eyes snapping shut the second he felt you begin to work at removing his belt. You pulled down his zipper and reached into his pants, pulling his cock free. He wasn’t enormous, but definitely above average, and thicker than you’d ever taken before.

“You just need someone to make you feel nice, don’t you?” you cooed gently before licking a stripe up the base of his cock. “All this stress from work… huh? From making people’s wishes come true.”

“You… you have no idea.” Maxwell grunted, his cock twitching in your hands as you pressed a sweet little kiss to his head. His slit was still leaking with precum and you were desperate to get a taste of the CEO. You gave him a small kitten lick, relishing the saltiness of his seed. He was delicious.

This shouldn’t have been happening. Sure, Maxwell was hard before you’d even made the wish, but holy crap, he didn’t expect for this to actually happen. And neither did you. You assumed he was lying, just like he lied about everything else in his life. Afterall, who was going to believe a man who told you his success was owed to wish granting? 

“Mr Lord… you’re so big.” you sighed longingly before making an attempt to attach your lips around his cock. He looked down at you and let his hands grip the back of your head as you sucked on his sensitive tip. 

Who would've guessed that a good blowjob was exactly what Max Lord needed to feel better about himself?

Max felt like he was in heaven. He was already seeing stars. He’d been granting peoples wishes left, right and centre. He wasn’t necessarily touch starved but it had been a good few weeks since he’d gone without sex; his only motivation being to find and harness the power of the dreamstone. But you were giving him the best head he’d ever had in his life. It was like everything was pent up inside of him. His balls were tight and he was achingly hard and in a moment of pure lust, he thrusted his hips deep into your mouth. The sudden movement had you gagging and a trail of saliva mixed with his precum dripped down your lips. You pulled off him, gasping for air but quickly wrapped your lips back around him and taking his length even further than before. If he filled your mouth this good, you wondered how he’d feel filling your pussy.

“Not gonna last… fuck!” Maxwell cried, his cum shamelessly spurting into your mouth. His load was massive and he doubled out of you, the remnants of his seed spilling against your lips and down your chin. His heart was beating rapidly against his chest as he took in the appearance of you, down on your knees, in between his legs, with his milky white cum all over your pretty face.

Despite his orgasm, Maxwell was still hard. He still craved more. More of a release from you. It must’ve been your wish that created this desperation that dwelled inside of him.

“More,” he pleaded, his eyes round and doe-like. “Please, I need more.”

“Say less.” you whispered, unbuttoning your blouse and pulling down your skirt and pantyhose so you were simply just standing there in your white lingerie set. You looked so pure and innocent, and yet you were in absolute full control of this situation. You were the one dominating him.

“You said you wish to use me, so use me.” Maxwell begged as he extended his arms and made grabby fists, desperate for you to come over and help him out. 

He was right. This was your wish. You could play along with this for as long as you wanted. You removed your panties, unclipped your bra and discarded the garments, letting your breasts fall free. Maxwell’s jaw dropped at the sight of you and you stalked over to him. You straddled him and sat on his lap.

With one hand, you wrapped your fingers around his cock again and began to slowly jerk it, beginning a handjob which was more than pleasant for him. With your free hand, you grabbed onto his shoulder and steadied yourself, before stretching your body and pressing one of your breasts into his mouth. His lips latched around your tit immediately and he began to suck on your nipple as you continued to rub his cock. You moaned with pleasure, tossing your head back as his tongue worked at the hard little bud.

You subconsciously found yourself riding his thigh, dragging your dripping wet cunt along his expensive pants and making an absolute mess of them. He experimentally flexed the muscles in his thigh a few times, trying to gauge a reaction out of you and see how you liked it. His teeth grazed your breast and he let himself get a little too excited, peppering love bites all over your chest.

“Yes, that’s it,” Maxwell groaned. “Take what you need sweet girl.” he praised.

You whimpered when he flexed his thigh again and you felt yourself begin to reach your climax. You clenched around nothing and his cock was throbbing in your hand. You knew he needed more too.

You let go of him and he pulled his mouth off your tit with a ‘pop’. You cupped his face with both your hands and adjusted yourself slightly, this time so the tip of his cock was pressed against your entrance. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for his stretch before sinking down onto his length, settling balls deep. “Fuck… Fuck fuck fuck,” you chanted, your eyes squeezing tight shut as he filled you.

“Move.” he gasped, biting down on your shoulder. You whimpered and tugged on his golden hair, sending him into an absolute frenzy.

“Fuck, Mr Lord… oh god please, you’re so fucking big.” you cried, tears of pleasure pricking your eyes. He wanted you to move, sure, but this was your wish, and you were more than happy to just sit on and warm his cock for a few minutes.

Your walls were tight and perfect around him, just like he’d imagined. You brought your finger down to your cunt and began to rub at your clit as his cock stretched you out. Your moans of gratification echoed throughout the extensively sized office and you felt your juices drip down his cock.

“So good,” he whispered. “Move, please.”

“Mmm,” you couldn’t even fumble out words, and your vision was nothing less than a haze.

He rubbed the pad of his finger against your puckered asshole before sliding it in. Your body tensed up at the intrusion but God did it feel good. “Fucking move.” he growled, biting down on your earlobe as he began to thrust his index finger in and out of you.

Maxwell brought a hand down to cup your ass and he gave you a rough spanking. “Move.” He repeated, this time his tone a lot more demanding and less polite than the first time.

And just like that— he was in control again.

You obliged, not wanting to irk him any more, and began to bounce on his cock. “Greedy bitch,” he grunted, spanking you again. “Fuck… thinking you can use my dick for your own pleasure, huh? Everything comes with a price.” he hissed as you rolled your hips over his manhood.

“Oh Mr Lord.” you sighed with every movement, as his cock pressed against that sweet spot inside of you.

“You just couldn’t resist it, could you?” Maxwell asked rhetorically, a villainous smirk crossing his lips. “One great wish and you wish to ride my fucking cock," He had a point. People had come to him wishing for Porsche's, political power,— and you, with your whole chest, had wished to be the one who could pleasure him. Help him let go. “Shit baby, you take me so well.”

Despite his growls of degradation you knew he wasn’t going to last long, if the way his cock throbbed inside of you was anything to go by. You didn’t mind though. He could disrespect you all he wanted. You were more than happy to be Maxwell Lord’s little cumslut. His little whore.

“G-gonna cum, oh fuck, please.” you screamed, pressing your fingernails into his back as you rode out your high.

“Yes,” he moaned wantonly. “Soak my cock.” And with those three words, you came undone, sat on top of the richest and most successful CEO in the world. “Are you safe?” he asked, his hips bucking up into your sensitive core.

“I am.” you confirmed, and without even asking for permission, he spilt his seed inside of you, ruthlessly painting your walls with his cum.

He kept his cock inside of you until it softened and slipped out, and you mumbled something incoherent at the loss of his fullness. Maxwell watched your chest as you heaved, making every attempt you could to catch your breath. He pressed a sweet kiss into your collar bone, and then up your neck and along your jaw. You relished the feeling of his lips against skin; post coital bliss fostering your every thought.

“You’re a good girl,” he whispered, rubbing the curve of his nose against your neck. “I grant you your wish, and in return, I give you the utmost success in your career.” he sighed, and for the very first time Maxwell Lord said something completely and utterly selfless. It was through no gain to him whatsoever. You didn’t deserve to be looked down upon by your peers and employers, he knew that much. And if he had the chance to change that, he sure as hell would. 

“You will achieve things no journalist has achieved before, you will be rich, and be the first to seize every opportunity.” he said in between kisses.

To you, he was just whispering sweet nothings into your ear, humouring your larger-than-life dreams and ambitions. But if there was one thing that Maxwell Lord admired in a woman, it was her aspiration and goals. If you were brave enough to waltz into his office as let him cum all over you, you definitely deserve this. At that moment, you had no idea that Maxwell Lord would change your life forever...

Permanent taglist: @paintballkid711  @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet @pinkninja190 @maxiarapamaya @autumnleaves1991-blog @artsymaddie @harrys-stan @kennedywxlsh @cripplingmoon @cheekygeek05 @mrschiltoncat @rye-flower @theamuz @persie33 @sleepylunarwolf @martellthemandalor

#Pedro Pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal x reader #Pedro Pascal smut #maxwell lord smut #maxwell lord #max lord #max lord x reader #maxwell lord x reader #ww84

[darkwritingsnshit]

In Due Time

Warnings: Death threats

Being Bucky’s wife was never something you wanted, but people rarely seemed to care about that. Bucky Barnes was well off, private school and a trust fund, born into a generational family business. Only a few years your senior, Bucky was your father’s dream man for you.

On paper, Bucky looked great, in person, he was far less palatable. Very much the child of his upbringing, Bucky was a hard to handle hot head who was rebellious and couldn’t be told what to do, especially when it came to money and women.  

Your father pushed dating on you as teenagers even though you two never got along. Regardless of how you felt, when Bucky brought up marriage your father agreed on your behalf and a wedding was arranged regardless of what you had to say.

On your wedding night, Bucky had told you in fairly explicit terms exactly what he wanted out of your marriage. It wasn’t comforting to hear that your new husband had no feelings for you at all, and that your marriage was purely for business and aesthetic reasons. To hear that as long as he kept you in one piece, he and your father had a strong business relationship. That as long as you looked pretty and submissive on his arm, kept quiet and didn’t ask too many questions, he would be happy.

You realized you could probably be worse off, but when he started coming home with lipstick stains on his clothes, you became more closed off. At first you weren’t sure he noticed, but as the days wore on, he became irritable. The less you spoke to him, the meaner he became, a viscous cycle of snide looks and aggressive statements from the both of you culminating in tense silence.

“Are you going to ignore me for the rest of our lives?” Bucky broke the days long silence over the dinner table. Several seats down, you glanced his way.

“I’m not ignoring you; you have my full attention.” Your eyes narrowed over your dinner plate.

“You seem to be mad at me and I’ve done nothing wrong. I’m sick of your attitude.” Bucky sounding defensive and frustrated, you couldn’t believe him.

“So, you haven’t been sleeping with other people?” You asked over your drink.

Bucky sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

“Honestly, that’s none of your business.” His tone was clipped, businesslike.

“I’m your wife.” You quipped back, not satisfied with his answer.

“You don’t seem to get it, do you? I thought my expectations of you were clear at the beginning of this. But if you keep up these antics, I just might have to lock you away for a few days so you can’t complain about anything else.”

“You wouldn’t do that,” you scoffed. “There’s no point in keeping a trophy that no one can see.”

“Let’s make a bet on that, shall we?” Bucky had a wicked grin on his face.

 -

“Your father missed you at the fundraiser,” Bucky nonchalantly told you over his shoulder.

Since that night at dinner, Bucky actually followed through with his words, locking you in your bedroom all day, coming to chat with you every so often. You were actively ignoring him, choosing instead to drown out his voice by focusing on the novel you were reading. He huffed behind you, always unhappy to be ignored. With a tug, your book was pulled from your hands, Bucky’s face appearing where it had just been.

“You know, I could kill you and keep up the charade with your family for weeks, right?” He breathed in your ear, smelling like someone else’s perfume.

A steady breath left your mouth. Turning ever so slightly, you felt Bucky’s cheek grazing your own.

“Then why don’t you?” You asked.

Bucky let out a soft chuckle in your ear.

“In due time, princess, in due time.” He gave your cheek a soft kiss before rising and walking away.

#My writing #my works #dark writings #dark!bucky barnes #dark!marvel #dark!bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barns x reader

[hamletteprinceofdenmark]

I don’t care if it’s been months. Technoblade was fucking wrong and I will die mad about it. 

Let me start this off by saying that I really like Technoblade as a character. I think he’s very interesting and acts as a great counterbalance on the Dream SMP, but drawing a parallel between c!Tommy and Theseus was wrong and it drives me up the wall that it’s become an established thing both in canon and fandom.

If you are going to draw a parallel between c!Tommy and a Greek hero, the clear parallel is Achilles. 

Here we have a man. This man has anger management issues. He is known to fly off the handle at the slightest provocation, hold grudges, and deliberately goad others in a way that can feel petty and immature. On the other hand this is a man whose fatal flaw is his unwavering loyalty to others. A man who, when properly motivated, will be the first to charge and the last to retreat. A man who feels everything to the fullest, known for his passion rather than his thoughtfulness or strategy (though don’t let that fool you, he has those qualities, they are simply not as “on display” as others may be). 

This is a man with a very close personal male friend. This friend is perceived as being sweet and calm, a balm against their rather abrasive counterpart. This is misleading. The friend is also violent and chaotic, but hides it better than most, and certainly better than their friend. 

Everyone loves the friend. Not everyone loves the man. 

The man goes into a homicidal rage when that friend was harmed and killed.

Is any of this sounding familiar at all?! 

Do you know what the name “Achilles” means? 

“He who carries the distress of his people”. 

The triple meaning of which is either: “he carries the burden of the distress of his people”, “he creates that distress himself”, or “he brings distress to others on behalf of his people”, and have you ever, ever in your life heard a more accurate description of mr tommy innit. 

Here’s the other thing. Theseus is a dick. He is the biggest fucking dick. He’s a manipulator. An opportunist. He never considers the consequences of how his choices might affect others. He betrays allies at every opportunity and takes credit for anything and everything that may reflect well on him, regardless of who actually thought of it. 

Do you want to know why Theseus was exiled by his people? Why he died alone? 

The way Techno tells it, it seems like the people are in the wrong. Why would people betray and exile their Hero? Seems pretty ungrateful. I’ll tell you why.

TLDR c!Tommy’s parallel in Greek mythology is Achilles not fucking Theseus

Please understand, Theseus doesn’t go to defeat the Minotaur for any noble reason. It has nothing to do with the fact that the people under his care are being taken on a regular basis by an opposing city state in order to be fed to an Unholy Monster of Death (who’s actually a victim in all of this but that’s a whole other post). It’s for his ego. It’s because he’s got a chip on his shoulder the size of the Mediterranean Basin egging him on to be the biggest best Hero Prince there ever was. 

It’s also important to note that the term “Hero” does not have any moral standing connected to it in the world of Greek Mythology. Being a Hero does not mean you are a good person. It means you make a good story. 

At the time he goes to defeat the Minotaur, Theseus is actually fairly new to the whole prince gig (long story) but it means that the people of Athens aren’t exactly attached to him. He kind of just turned up. He hasn’t earned their loyalty or respect. They don’t know him enough to love him, let alone reviere him.  

His dad does want to know if he succeeds though. 

This tribute is a great tragedy for their people so the ships that carry them away and come back empty always have black sails, both in mourning and in recognition of their sacrifice. So Dad says “Hey, if, against all odds, you end up succeeding and defeating the Minotaur, switch out the black sails for white sails, and I’ll know even before you arrive that our people are safe. I’ll keep a look out on that cliff. See you soon ... or not” Then he probably patted Theseus awkwardly on the shoulder or something.

So Theseus boards the ship with all the other miserable 20 somethings who think they’re as dead as freshly plated steak tartare with the expressed intention of destroying the Minotaur in a blaze of self reflecting Glory and making his name as a Hero. 

Theseus only defeats the Minotaur, by the way, because Ariadne, a Cretian princess, did practically all the heavy lifting for him. She’s the one who figures it all out. She’s the one who understands the intricacies of the maze, and she is the one who comes up with the plan of using thread as a guide back out of that maze. She’s also the one who stands sentinel at the entrance and makes sure he doesn’t run out of said thread. All of this help and guidance is given upon the understanding that, having utterly betrayed her own kingdom, Theseus will take her back to Athens and marry her, ensuring her safety. 

Except Theseus doesn’t want to marry her. He never wanted to marry her. He’s a young prince in his prime with years of Heroing ahead of him. Ariadne was only ever a means to an end. 

So they defeat the Minotaur. Big Whoop. 

The ship stops off on a little island before returning home and Theseus sends Ariadne off to get supplies (there’s a dear). Literally as soon as Ariadne is out of sight Theseus is in such a hurry to avoid his responsibilities and promises that he pulls that ship straight back out onto the open sea, before his crew can do anything else (such as change the sails perhaps, remember that).

He abandons the one person who actually helped him, completely alone, without any resources, in a foreign land, and unable to return home even if she wanted to. 

Dad now sees the sails that he’s been on a look out for this whole time, hoping and praying for white. Instead he sees black and is so overcome with despair that he throws himself right off the cliff, commiting suicide and leaving Athens leaderless.

So when Theseus does rock up, the people of Athens understandably want nothing to do with him. He’s only recently become prince anyway. No one cares about him or is loyal to him. The king has just commited suicide because of him, leaving the city state in complete disarray, he’s just abandoned a key ally, proving that his word is worthless, and has demonstrated beyond a doubt that he is not fit to be a leader, let alone their Prince. 

So they exile him. 

He goes on to have more adventures of course, and he does become one of the most well-known “Heroes” in Greek Mythology, but don’t for one second think he improves.

Theseus is a dick. He will always be a dick. 

He never learns, never grows, and in the end, dies alone and abandoned, just as he abandoned so many others before him. 

TLDR c!Tommy’s parallel in Greek mythology is Achilles NOT fucking Theseus 

#Dream smp #Dsmp #tommyinnit #c!tommy #c!technoblade #achilles #theseus #greek mythology #technoblade #so i finally wrote the essay lol #my meta #THESEUS IS A DICK I HATE HIM SO MUCH 😤 #also for those of you wondering don’t worry Ariadne was fine she ended up with Dionysus (you know the God) and they actually have one #of the few stable marriages in the pantheon

[miraculous-sunflower]

science teachers ARE cool

Mrs. Mendeleiev’s POV

Beatrice Mendeleiev sighed. She did not like the fact that Marinette Dupain-Cheng was expelled without proof, and that Lila’s parents did not come when she was supposedly pushed down the stairs. She tried to get Mr. Damocles, another fool, to look at the security cameras during Miss Dupain-Cheng’s expulsion, but he denied, saying that if she wouldn’t stop badgering him, he would fire her. She reluctantly obliged, though secretly thinking that the school didn’t even have cameras, because of course the principal used the funds from the mayor to buy his foolish “hero costume”. Ms. Mendeleiev kinda liked Marinette Dupain-Cheng, even if she came into science class late every time. She was a good student, getting straight A’s, and her family made the best pastries in Paris, though she knew pastries weren’t even relevant in this incident. She knew she had to help out Miss Dupain-Cheng. Even if she got fired from her job, it was okay. She didn’t like her job very much, as everyone here was a fool, and she could find another job somewhere else, but it was her job, as a teacher, to protect her students. _______________________________________________________________________

Ms. Mendeleiev scoured the internet, trying to find the Italian Embassy’s number. She heard Lie-la -oops i mean Lila- talking about how her mother was a diplomat, so she had to get in contact with her to tell her all about her daughter’s antics - if she knew. She finally found the number, and dialed.

“Hello, what can I help you with?” the person on the other line asked. “Hello, I’m Beactrice Mendeleiev, and I’m trying to get in touch with Lucia Rossi?” Ms. Mendeleiev questioned.

“Actually, I’m Lucia Rossi. I’m the secretary of the Italian Embassy. What do you need?” Heh, another thing Lila was lying about. Her mother was the secretary. Still must be hard work.

“I’m actually your daughter Lila’s science teacher, and I was wondering about all of Lila’s absences and missing assignments. I questioned her about it, and she said she couldn’t do her assignments because of her arthritis and many other disabilities she has.” Ms. Mendeleiev stayed up all night, trying to come up with the perfect story to seem like she was calling for something besides exposing Lila.

“Arthritis? Disabilities? Lila doesn’t have any disabilities? And absences? Are you sure she said that?” Mrs. Rossi was very surprised. Perfect. Ms. Mendeleiev grinned.

Lucia Rossi’s POV

The other woman on the other line was too surprised. Disabilities? Lila didn't have any disabilities. She was a healthy little girl, her little bambina. Was her baby spouting lies? She doubted it. Perhaps this teacher didn’t properly hear her.

“Yes, I’m sure, and on top of all her disabilities, she said that she has a lying disease which causes her to lie, by accident. She said this one a fellow classmate of hers, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, apparently pushed her down the stairs. Marinette did no such thing, and the expulsion was reversed. If you don’t believe me, take a look on the LadyBlog. It was a blog dedicated to the Heroes of Paris, but now your daughter’s face is plastered on it. If I had a daughter, I’d never want her to be bragging about her accomplishments!”

Mrs. Rossi was shocked when she said lying disease. She looked at the “World’s Best Mom” cup on her desk. Lila gave it to her when the school apparently “shut down”. Was her little bambina lying this whole time? And blog?

“LYING DISEASE?!?! I have to call the school. What has this girl been doing? Also, I want to hear more about her absences.”

“I can help you set up an appointment with Mr. Damocles. As for her absences, Lila has been claiming that the Prince of Achu, Prince Ali, has invited you and Lila personally to visit the kingdom for 2 months. Were you not there?” Ms. Mendeleiev sounded confused. Oh dear, it sounded like she also fell for her daughter’s lies.

“ACHU? 2 MONTHS? Lila told me that the school was closed for 2 months because Ladybug and Chat Noir were too incompetent to defeat the akumas!” Mrs. Rossi exclaimed. Now here, she understood. Her daughter told her that the school was closed down, and her teachers that she was traveling, to get out of going to school! She could get in trouble for truancy for that!

“I assure you, Ladybug and Chat Noir are not incopetent. They usually take care of an akuma in less than 3 hours. “Oh, this is a lot to take in right now. I’m sorry, but Lila lied about everything. Thank you for calling me, I really appreciate it. I’ll come by the school this week.” Mrs. Rossi finally breathed out.

“I’m glad I did. Clearly, you were not informed of this, and Lila was lying about everything this whole time!” Mrs. Rossi showed a little smile, but it quickly went away. Before she hung up, she had to ask-

“Before I go, was there anything else Lila said?”

“She said that she saved Jagged Stone’s kitten off an airplane tarmac, and that she knows Clara Nightingale. She also said she’s best friends with Ladybug. Now that I think about it, she probably framed Marinette to get her expelled, now that I know she lied about having a lying disease.”

Saving kittens? Being best friends with pop stars? Best friends with a superhero? She could get sued for all the stories she’s spouted! And if these stories were heard at the embassy, she could get fired! Oh that girl...

“Oh my goodness, I will have to apologize to Miss Dupain-Cheng on behalf of my daughter. Thank you again, Ms. Mendeleiev.”

Sure enough, later that day, the mother searched up the LadyBlog, and of course, her daughter’s face was there, next to the headline, “I’m BFF’s with Ladybug’s BFF!”. She sighed. She was going to expose her daughter for the liar she is, because her daughter fooled the whole school, not to mention hurt one of her other classmates!

Mrs. Mendeleiev’s POV

After the call ended, Ms. Mendeleiev smirked. Lie-la will have no idea what’s coming to her now. __________________________________________________________________________________

Marinette’s POV

“Me and Clara Nightingale are sooo close, that we’re practically sisters! I helped her with most of her dance moves for her newest music video!” Lila bragged.

“OMG girl! That’s amazing!” Alya exclaimed.

“Wow, Lila, you have a heart of gold!” Rose and Mylene gushed.

“So awesome.” Juleka mumbled.

Marinette rolled her eyes. They were talking about Lila as if she was a saint, though they probably did. She was sketching out a new design, and it was Rena Rouge inspired. Alya, Marinette thought. Her and Alya were still friends, but they were a lot more distant. All of her friends were like that. She thought about Adrien for a second, and then quickly dismissed the thought. Adrien was irrelevant, at this point. He gave her that stupid piece of advice, take the high road, and basically got mad if she did anything to prove Lila wrote if the witch spouted another lie. Her crush on him was long gone, which gave her more time to focus on her guardian work.

Marinette continued sketching her design, but then suddenly, she heard a faint but sharp, “Miss Dupain-Cheng?” She looked over to where the voice came from. Ms. Mendeleiev was signaling her to come outside. This is it, she metally scolded herself. You came to class late too many times. She’s gonna call Maman and Papa, and tell them you’re late every day, and they will try to find out what’s up, and then they’ll figure out you're Ladybug, and then they’ll forbid you from fighting akumas, and then Hawkmoth will win, AND PARIS WILL BE DOOMED! She silently walked out of the classroom.

“Hello, Miss Dupain-Cheng. You’re probably wondering why I called you outside, but don’t worry, you are not in trouble. This is regarding Miss Lila Rossi.” Ms. Mendeleiev said.

Marinette was shocked at first, then nervous. “Ms. Mendeleiev, I can assure you, whatever Lila said isn’t true! She lies with-”

“Every breath she takes. I know.” The science teacher cut in. “I called her mother recently, and she too had no idea about Lila’s antics. She will be coming in today to discuss with Ms. Bustier and Mr. Damocles, and I can assure you, she will be exposed for who she truly is.”

Marinette was stunned. Her science teacher knew that Lila was lying? She was sure that she was in trouble. Marinette blinked, “Wow, that’s a lot to take in, but thank you. This means a lot to me, Ms. Mendeleiev.” She was grateful for her teacher.

Mrs. Mendeleiev smiled. “I truly do not like liars either, so it was very tempting. I see that none of your other classmates or teacher has figured out she was spinning a tale this whole time, have they?”

Marinette thought for a second, and said, “There is one who knows. It’s Adrien, Adrien Agreste. He knew, but he thinks avoiding conflict makes it go away. He told me to take the high road.”

“Really? That certainly wasn’t good advice. Avoiding conflict isn’t going to make it go away. It will only cause more chaos. Anyways, I have to go, Miss Dupain-Cheng. Have a good day.” Ms. Mendeleiev concluded.

“Have a good day as well!” Marinette said. “Wait,” she started. Ms. Mendeleiev turned around and looked at her. “Ms. Mendeleiev, is there any way I can be moved into your class?”

“I’m not sure, but after this, I’m hoping that the leadership and staff at this school will improve after this incident. Now, run along, or you will be late for class.” Ms. Mendeleiev waved.

Marinette walked back to Mrs. Bustier’s room, feeling much more optimistic than she had 10 minutes ago. _______________________________________________________________________

In Ms. Bustier’s classroom, they were learning about authors of the world, and were taking turns saying who their-

“LILA ALEXANDRIA ROSSI! WHAT ARE THESE STORIES YOU’VE BEEN SPOUTING?!” A woman who looked like a much older Lila burst into the room. Marinette straight out smirked.

“Mama! It’s not what you-” Lila started.

“Not what I think? You know what I think? I think you’ve been lying to me this entire time! You’ve misplaced my trust, taking me for a fool! Saying that the schools were closed because Ladybug and Chat Noir were too incompetent to take care of them! Saying that you took a 2 month vacation at the Kingdom of Achu! Saying that you know all these pop stars! You realise I can lose my job if your stories wound up at the embassy! Non cercare di scappare via.” Her mother yelled.

Alya became mad. “What do you mean, she said Ladybug and Chat Noir are incompetent? Ladybug is Lila’s best friend!”

Lila’s face was panicked. She knew that if she spun the right tale she could weasel out...

Lucia Rossi took a breath and said, “I’m afraid my daughter has been lying to you all. Everything she said was fake. I’m sorry on her behalf. Also, may I speak to Marinette Dupain-Cheng?” A girl with dark blue pigtails and bright bluebell eyes raised her hand. “I’m so sorry, Miss Dupain Cheng. I wasn’t aware that my daughter framed you to get you expelled. I hope you are doing well.”

Marinette looked at her kindly. “Thank you for the apology, Mrs. Rossi, but please don’t feel bad. You weren’t the cause of this, and you certainly didn’t know.” Lila’s look she aimed at Marinette was murderous.

“Thank you, Miss Dupain-Cheng. Lila, come on. You should be happy you aren’t sued for slander and use of name.” The mother barked out at Lila.

“No, mama! They are under a spell! They are lying! DOn’t listen to them! I never said anything about traveling to Achu, or being best friends with Ladybug!” Lila knew she could get out, of course she could.

“NO LILA! YOU ARE LYING. YOUR SCIENCE TEACHER SHOWED ME THIS BLOG, AND IT HAS ALL OF YOUR FALSE CLAIMS ON IT! DON’T EVEN TRY TO WIGGLE OUT IF THIS MESS YOU CAUSED!’ An akuma showed up, and was heading toward Mrs. Rossi.

“CoMe HeRe, little akuma!” Lila sung. She deliberately tried to grab for the akuma, only to be stopped by a particular bluenette. Marinette pushed Lila over and trapped the akuma in a jar, and placed it on a desk.

“Why am I not surprised? Of course you are working with a well-known terrorist. LILA! HOW STUPID ARE YOU?!” Her mother screamed at her.

Lila was so mad, and wanted to rip that goody-two shoes apart.”YOU!” she began at the bluenette, “You ruined everything! Everything was going so well, all these sheep believed me, and Adrien was so close to being mine! You went and ruined it!” She stomped over to Marinette, and was about to slap her, until…

Alya’s hand gripped Lila’s arm so tight, there were marks. “Because of you, my blog is ruined. What’s even worse, is that you ruined my friendship with my best friend.”

“Well, it’s not my fault you didn’t fact check. You ARE a terrible reporter.” Lila smirked, but was pulled by the arm of her mother.

They left, and Marinette’s classmates immediately surrounded her, begging her, yelling out apologies, and saying how sorry they were for not believing her. “While none of you directly hurt me, it really did hurt that none of my friends had my back,” she looked at Adrien, who looked guilty, “or even believed me! You believed a girl with crazy stories over me, your friend. It’s going to take time for me to trust you all again, but I’d like to build up our friendship again.” She finished.

“We understand, Marinette. We are so sorry!” Rose cried. “Not cool what she did…” Juleka mumbled. “Girl, I’m so sorry. I should’ve researched her claims, I’m a horrible friend and reporter,” Alya concluded sadly.

“While you didn’t research her claims, the snake is very convincing,” Marinette said. “Just remember in the future, take the word of the friend you trust the most.”

Ms. Mendeleiev smiled at the scene. She was secretly watching after she came from the principal’s office. Mr. Damocles and Ms. Bustier were fired by the school board because of their incapability to control a lying student. Mr. Damocles was also charged with a fine for using school funds for personal gain, and Ms. Bustier was lectured because of her insisting that “bullies will become better people if you let them get away with everything”. Ms. Mendeleiev was now Principal Mendeleiev, as she was promoted.

Beatrice Mendeleiev chuckled to herself. “Well, Lie-la Rossi. You didn’t get away with your tricks. No matter what, I will always protect my students. And possibly get promoted while at it.”

#lila exposed #lila salt #ms. mendeleiev #class salt #adrien salt #but very little