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#and i refuse to guilt trip my followers
stag-bi · 2 years
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i keep trying to follow more ppl on here bc a few yrs ago i followed like. 230 blogs, and now its down to 120 somehow, and my dash moves SO SLOW. but when i do follow someone, even after careful deliberation, 5 minutes later i see them reblog some of the worst takes ive ever seen and im back to square one. i swear for every 3 ppl i follow, i unfollow 4
especially when the blogs are centered around bisexuality cause they seemingly cannot for the life of them stop posting absolute braindead bi vs pan discourse
#yesterday i followed someone and just now they put a post on my dash#saying 'white queers stop celebrating renewal of ofmd when AMBER HEARD is literally being shat on in court'#'YALL LITERALLY DONT GIVE A FUCK ABOUT ANYTHING EXCEPT WHITE MEN KISSING :eyeroll: :eyeroll: :eyeroll:'#like......... SHUT THE FUCK UPPPPPP WHAT THE FUCK?? WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABT HGFHGHG#i cant take it anymore. and i actually LOVE well constructed discourse and discussion#its just the way its conducted on tumblr is just. Abysmal. Abhorrent#i no longer want any part in discourse that uses guilt tripping and shaming ones interests as ammunition#i literally have to be told by other ppl that its ok for me to enjoy self indulgent stuff#bc of how this shit has made me hate myself and the fact that i have special interests as an autistic person#not that OFMD is a special interest for me. but its a show i felt ashamed for liking for some reason???#nadia keeps having to call me out for not letting myself enjoy stuff#and i love her for it soooo much#having to unlearn shame and self hatred in regards to my interests is precisely my biggest task in unlearning ableism#so when that internalized ableism and self hatred for my interests is weaponised against me#part of my journey to self acceptance is throwing that shit out the minute i hear it#interests can be criticised! and i personally do critique my interests EXTENSIVELY#esp in relation to my being a white nordic european etc#but not to the point of 'having this interest/enjoy this thing is shameful of you and something to hate abt urself'#when its like. a largely unproblematic tv show abt gay pirates#i refuse to be guilt tripped and i dont do performative activism in response to being guilt tripped
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loveshotzz · 1 month
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I guess it’s never really over
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mechanic!steve harrington x fem!reader exes to lovers
chapter one -
Late arrivals and big asks
A broken down car, a party at Reefer Rick’s, and a bandaid that needs to be ripped off.
warnings: 18+ drinking, smoking, lots of tension, some king!steve angst in the form of a flashback.
wc: 10.1k
series masterlist | series playlist
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June - 
The air is sticky, thick with the kind of humidity only Indiana could have at 9:30 pm. An annoyed breath expands into your lungs as you lean against your car that refuses to do anything but sputter. Despite your irritation, your glossed lips twitch with the nostalgia that creeps into your heart because after all these years it still smells the same.
Crossing your arms, your eyes trail over the clear night sky not polluted with the kind of man-made smog that blankets the city and the stars shimmer like diamonds in its absence. The warmth of the overrun engine is still hot on your exposed calves, the light breeze making the bottom of your sundress dance across the tops of your thighs. White beams emerge, cutting through the dark at the top of the hill, followed by the roar only a tow truck can make, and this time, the smile you fought off before spreads wide across your face.
Robin.
Butterflies wake up in a frenzy deep in your gut, with nerves that twitch from your fingertips at the thought of finally getting to hug your best friend after months apart. You push off the side of your car as the truck approaches, eyes squinting to make out the second outline in the front cabin as it pulls over. You recognize the messy mane of hair that could only belong to Eddie Munson in the driver seat almost instantly and his dimple filled smile brings you back to memories you thought you’d long forgotten. 
“Well, well, well, would you look at what the cat dragged in!” Robin sticks her head out of the window with a wide grin as the big tires slow to a stop in front of your car, “are my eyes deceiving me or is my best friend in the entire world actually in Hawkins, Indiana right now?” 
The rasp in her voice sounds just like it does over the phone and despite the roll of your eyes, your cheeks hurt from how happy you are.
“Shut up, don’t act like you didn’t guilt me out here by saying the fate of your future depends on it.” Uncrossing your arms, you open them wide, “I made the ultimate sacrifice for you, so are you gonna hug me or not?”
Dramatic? Yes. But it works like a charm when she flings open the passenger door and charges at you in a mess of honey blond waves and freckles, almost tackling you with the force of her impact wrapping her arms around you.
Too distracted by Robin, you almost don’t notice the creak of the driver's side door or the filled out frame of the man that used to be a lanky teenage boy walking past as Eddie starts to attach your car to his truck. He’s taller than you remembered even bending down, and despite the navy blue coveralls, you can still see that his pale skin is littered with even more tattoos.
“I can’t believe my guilt trip worked!” Robin beams, finally letting you go, her whole body practically vibrating with excitement as she claps her ring clad hands together.
“I really can’t believe it either,” you laugh nervously, the reality of what it means to come back starting to set in after seeing just one familiar face, but this isn’t high school anymore and you’re definitely not the same person you were five years ago either.
“Thanks so much, Eddie,” you break the ice when he stands back up, and the sound of your voice has his big brown eyes warmed with gold light up just like his face when he turns his full attention onto you. Scruff filled dimples poking even bigger holes in his cheeks.
“It’s my pleasure, sweetheart, I almost didn’t believe Robin when she called me. I thought it was a prank.” He beckons you over with open arms, “now that I know it’s not, you have exactly 10 seconds to get over here and hug me before I change my mind.”
There’s zero hesitation about giving into his ‘demand’ and when your arms wrap around his waist, you’re brought back to afternoons in the woods behind the school with heavy lidded eyes and lopsided grins. 
“Your own auto shop, huh?” You smile up at him, pulling away, “Eddie Munson, the business owner.”
He rolls his eyes but the pink tint that colors in his cheeks tells you he appreciates the praise.
“Yeah, something like that.” He chuckles, “Got a soft spot for that old man in the trailer park, couldn’t bring myself to leave.”
Your heart warms at the fondness that drips from his ton. 
“Okay, as sweet as this little reunion is. You’re late, and we have a party to get to.” Robin interrupts snatching your keys out of your hand, dropping them in Eddie’s.
“A party?” You snap confused, and Eddie takes that as his queue to walk away with a knowing smirk.
“Yes, this is the summer of fun and reckless abandon, this is the last summer of our youth before we have to be adults. Do you understand me?” Her fingers are digging into your shoulders by the end of her rant, with the kind of look in her eyes that you’re absolutely going to have to revisit after a few weeks. 
“This is the part where I remind you that I graduated college last year.” 
Your best friend scoffs at you.
“Just humor me, okay? It’s your grand homecoming.” She pushes out her bottom lip, and makes her eyes big in a way she knows you can’t say no to.
“Fine.” You huff, making her finally let you go with the kind of pleased smirk that tells you she never thought she was going to lose to begin with.
“Great, it’s time to rip the bandaid off anyway.” Robin practically mumbles the last part turning on her heel to head back to the truck.
It takes a minute for her words to stick to your ears and their meaning to ring loud through your head, but when they do it feels like the air is stolen from your lungs. 
“Rip what bandaid off, Robin?!” 
It’s his name tightens in your chest but you refuse to say it, even after all this time it burns coming back up. 
“Since you had to drive for so long, I’ll sit in the middle because I’m just that good of a friend, you know?” She winks with a shit eating grin before pulling herself up and disappearing inside the cab of the truck, ignoring your question, like she’s not asking you to do the one thing you said you’d never do. 
See Steve Harrington again.
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I tell myself, ‘draw the line.’
You wonder if Robin can feel the daggers you’re glaring into the back of her head as the two of you walk up the driveway to Rick’s house. Gravel crunching hard under your converse as you keep up with her black combat boots. She looks effortlessly cool in her high waisted jean shorts, and her oversized army green jacket covered in patches. You’d compliment her if you weren’t so mad.
“I can’t believe you guys still have parties here.” You scoff, making your sour attitude known, but your best friend ignores it with ease.
“I can’t believe you forgot to have fun. Don’t you live in the city?” Turning around with a smirk, she can’t help but laugh at the look on your face. 
She stops abruptly, almost making you run into her leaving you both just close enough to the party to hear the bass of the music spilling through the cracks in the windows. The low chatter of people echoes through the trees that surround you and bounce off the lake not that far away. The thought of hearing the calm baritone of his voice mixed in makes your chest tight with the kind of nerves that dare you to high tail it and run.
“It’s been five years.” Robin’s playful demeanor breaks and becomes pleading with a kind of desperation you’ve never seen from her before. “He’s not the person you knew in high school, I need you to understand that. You think I’d call someone like that my best friend?”
“Hey!-“ You object at the title, and it makes her lips twitch despite serious lines that crease her face.
“Stop, you know what I mean,” her painted fingers grab onto yours, squeezing them lightly, “please, just give him a chance. I’m not asking you to get back together or even be friends, just get along enough not to kill each other this summer. I can’t choose between you. I won’t.”
The genuine love she has for Steve is apparent in the way her ocean blue eyes threaten to drown you in their sincerity, and you can’t find it in yourself to say no to her. 
“Fine.” You accept your defeat in practically a whisper, but it makes your best friend squeal nonetheless. The giddiness from before coming back tenfold as she links arms with you, continuing your way up to the house. 
It’s just a summer, right?
The crowd gets bigger as more people start to come into view, between groups smoking cigarettes outside, couples arguing by cars, others making out against them. The smell of beer gets more pungent with each step, the atmosphere a stark contrast to the way the moon glows against the peaceful waters behind the madness of the house. 
Salt N Pepa’s ‘Push It’ plays loud enough for you to make out the words when you reach the front steps, walking through clouds of tobacco smoke to get to the unlocked door. The interior hasn’t changed at all since high school, the smell of stale lime and tequila stinging your nose. The bass of the music vibrates under your shoes as Robin unlinks her arms and you have to fight the urge to yank her back.
“Drinks or …Steve first?” She asks, her nerves about the situation finally showing themselves as she bites at her thumbnail. 
“Absolutely drinks! Is that a trick question?” You half whisper, half yell, looking around as if saying his name out loud might summon him.
“Okay! Okay!” Robin hisses, grabbing your wrist, leading you towards the familiar path to Rick’s kitchen.
Suddenly you wonder what your makeup looks like after a long day of traveling in your car, your fingers tugging at the bottom of your dress before adjusting the front of it so it sits just right. You itch to grab your lip gloss that’s tucked into the side of your bra, but you don’t want to deal with the look you’d get if you went for it.
Rounding the corner to the living room, your heart sinks to the bottom of your stomach before you even have a chance to stop it when your eyes meet that messy head of chestnut hair, and a pair of hot pink nails tangled inside it. 
“Oh - I - god dammit.” Robin groans, when you're met with number two on your list, making out with a pretty blond on the couch.
Despite the years and distance, there’s still a sting that you feel in the corners of your eyes. It’s not enough for any tears to fall, there’s none left for him anymore, but it’s enough for the anger you’ve clung to since the day he broke your heart to boil hot under your skin. It singes the wings of the butterflies that try to take flight when you see the way his frame has filled out, how he’s somehow grown more handsome than the last time you saw him. 
Robin coughs, squeezing your wrist in reassurance.
“Hey, - uh, Steve.” The sound of his name catches his attention, long brown lashes fluttering open to reveal the deep coffee of his eyes that widen when they lock with yours for the first time in years. 
His lips pull from the blond’s with a loud smack, leaving a small trail of glitter on the side of his mouth that he tries to wipe away quickly with his wrist. Black ink you’ve never seen before looks bold on his tanned skin that glows like it’s been freshly kissed by the sun. 
His gaze wanders up and down your body like he’s unsure you’re actually real, and if it wasn’t for the obvious shock of your arrival and the way the color seems to drain from his face, you’d snap at him for the way it lingers over your curves. 
“Um, Robin, what the fuck?” The sound of his voice makes your heart skip a beat, and again when his hand drags through his hair just how you remembered.
“Surprise?” She shrugs, wincing when he scoffs loudly and the warmth that went missing floods his cheeks, turning them bright red. The blond next to him eyes you up while she clutches harder to his waist, and you can’t stop the rise of your brows and the giggle that bubbles past your lips because of it.
Steve’s head snaps towards you, something softening the moss that hides in his eyes when he hears the noise despite the sarcasm that drips from it, and you really get to look at him for the first time since high school graduation. 
God, you wish you could’ve had that drink. 
The jawline that always drove you mad is sharper, peppered with the kind of hardly there stubble that tells you he’s only missed one shaving day. A problem he never used to have, and somehow, it makes him all that much more attractive. 
His hair is a little messier than his carefully crafted look that used to take him a good forty five minutes every morning. It curls wildly at the ends now, tucking behind his ears and fanning along the nape of his freckled neck. It still looks as soft as you remember, though. 
His shoulders are broader, stretching the white cotton of his shirt tight enough across his chest that you can see the outline of a thick patch of hair that had only just started growing when you knew him last. The dark wash of his jeans makes them look almost black, fitting snug over his thighs, cuffed at the bottoms framing the tops of his boots.
Why couldn’t Steve Harrington just peak in high school like he was supposed to?
“So yeah, this is awkward.” Your best friend laughs nervously, “We’re going to get a drink or three because this scenario is by far the worst case and not the way this was supposed to go in my head, but anyway, look who’s here for the summer! We’ll talk later!“ 
Robin grabs your wrist before Steve can respond, pulling you back into the party and away from your ex-boyfriend while the realization of the summer you’ve foolishly agreed to hits you all at once. It turns your body weightless as the two of you weave in and out of the crowd. It tightens in your chest, the music turning muffled hitting your ear drums. Suddenly, you're not the woman who crossed state lines to the one place she said she’d never come back to, happily living the lie that you’d actually forgotten about him to be a good friend.
You’re the girl who let him keep you a secret, and you hate him for it.
Sneakers hit the sticky tile floor that hasn’t changed since 1984, the harsh lighting of the kitchen makes you both squint. It’s calmer than the rest of the house, just a few groups lingering off in the corners, too deep in conversation to care about you and Robin. Letting go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding, your ears start to pop too, Eddie Money’s Take Me Home Tonight coming through crystal clear.
“The band-aid might have been violently ripped off, but hey, it’s ripped off nonetheless.” Robin shrugs, finding the half-drunk bottle of tequila on the counter. “I think we should count this as a win and take a shot to celebrate.”
“A win?! Are you kidding me?!” You hiss, completely bewildered.
“Yes a win - oh no.” Her blue eyes go wide at whatever’s behind you, but it doesn’t take you long to figure out when that familiar spice and cedar of his cologne hits your nose.
“Right so, who’s going to let me know what’s going on?”
His voice comes out close enough to send your lashes fluttering, mimicking your heart. The nerves you’d just gotten over threaten to come back tenfold, but you manage to swallow them down just like in high school, turning around.
“I think it’s obvious what’s going on, Steve,”
It’s not as hard to say his name as you thought it would be, but it is hard to stare at his face from this close. Specifically, the two moles that dot his cheek that you always used to kiss, or the ones on his neck that you hate still taunt you for more. 
“I’m here for the summer.”
Steve Harrington had thought about this moment a lot, but Rick’s house was never the backdrop for it. His eyes take in the features you’ve not only grown into but somehow are even more beautiful than he remembers. Even if they’re twisted in a glare. 
“I meant, why didn’t I know until right now?” He manages to get out with a shake of his head narrowing his eyes at Robin, who’s too busy trying to find clean shot glasses to notice.
“Why would you need to know?” You snap, making a nervous hand card through his hair
“Cause I’ve, uh,  you know, I’ve asked about you a few times,” the last part comes out a little harsher, clearly directed at your best friend, who you know is actively ignoring you both now.
“Why? Why would you need to know anything about me?” Your hostility still shocks him even though he was expecting it. His eyebrows shoot up just like his hands in surrender. “Why didn’t you tell me, Robin?”
She groans loudly, slamming the tequila bottle down on the counter before turning around.
“You said you didn’t want to hear anything about him after you moved, why would I tell you he was asking about you?”
“Wait -“ Steve butts in this time, “seriously?”
“Oh my god, can you two shut the fuck up for a second and take these shots? You’re really putting a damper on the beginning of the best summer of our lives,” Robin snaps before waving a hand in front of three freshly poured shots.
It’s a struggle to tear your eyes from him, your body responding to his presence in a way that feels like it’s turning against you. It has you downing your shot in one quick motion before anyone else can even touch theirs. 
“Wow, okay.” Robin deadpans before shaking her head, wasting no time in following your lead.
“So we’re not cheersing anymore? Isn’t that bad luck?” Steve mutters, shoulder brushing against yours as he leans forward to grab his shot, the slightest touch enough to engulf your skin into flames.
A whole summer? Fuck.
“Robin, pour another one.” You rush with pinched brows as you try to move past the bitter sting of the alcohol going down your throat, taking a step toward her and away from him, you add “and we’ll cheers.”
You refuse to meet his gaze when you say it, but you can feel the intensity of it on the side of your face, begging you to break.
“Rob’s, how are you guys getting home?” Steve finally breaks, giving up his quiet fight for now, and you hate the way his nickname for her softens your heart.
“Huh, that’s a good question, I hadn’t thought that far yet.” She admits, over pouring so tequila splashes against the countertop, looking up at him with a mischievous grin.
“Seriously–
“RECKLESS ABANDON STEVEY!” Cutting him off, she downs her shot in his disapproving face.
“You didn’t cheers again.” Steve sighs, hands finding his hips as you whine an irritated, “We needed to cheers!” At the same time.
Your eyes meet his finally, his knowing smirk twisting the corners of your lips despite yourself. You blame the tequila starting to warm the blood in your veins.
“Well, you need to take yours then if we’re doing another one ‘the proper’ way, or it’s not going to be even.” Robin points at your drink in a silent challenge. 
You know how this game works.
“Fine.” You shrug, downing it with more ease than the last one.
“Oh my god. Stop! Do not pour another one before you answer my question, please!” Steve sounds exasperated, grabbing the bottle from her before she can disobey, “How are you getting home?” 
You try not to focus on how much larger his already big hands are now, or how small the bottle looks wrapped up in his palm compared to your best friends. The second shot takes the edge off your nerves in a way that your shoulders relax. Leaning against the counter, you cross your arms, watching the two of them bicker, catching Steve’s wandering gaze on your exposed legs while he tries his best to keep his focus on Robin. It boosts your ego in a way that has the anger hiding just under the surface go from a boil to a slow simmer.
“I don’t know Harrington, do you know anybody with a car?” She wiggles two thick brows at him, the second shot making her blue eyes glassy, and her smile a little more goofy.
“Why’d I know you were going to say that? And why did I know you were going to do this?” Steve sighs, letting her snatch the bottle out of his hand.
“What? Bring her to the party?” Robin snorts pointing a thumb in your direction, making you gasp.
“Robin!”
“No! What? No. But don’t think,” Steve clears his throat looking at you awkwardly before finishing a little quieter, “don’t think we’re not going to talk about this later.”
“I can still hear you.” You remind him with a sarcastic smirk.
“Yeah, I know you can. Look, I’ll DD for you because obviously tonight is, uhh,” he gestures to you with cheeks that grow pinker by the second, “a big deal. But you gotta stop doing this to me, I need you to get your license you’re out of colleg-”
“Shots! Steve’s driving us home!” Robin whoops loudly, and an irritated Steve pinches the bridge of his nose before walking away. 
Your eyes follow him out the door, shoulder blades flexing under cotton when he runs another hand through his hair before disappearing from sight. You try to push down the small pang of jealousy that makes a familiar home inside your chest remembering the blond girl waiting for him on the couch.
“Okay, okay,” Robin interrupts your inner struggle at the perfect time, sliding an overflowing shot over to you with a giggle that's contagious and it banishes Steve from your mind just like magic. “I’m not going to forget this time, promise.”
“I don’t think I can afford for you to forget again,” you smirk, raising your glass, tequila spilling over the tops of your fingers, “cheers!”
“Cheers!” 
You both down them at the same speed, slamming the empty glasses back onto the countertop with laughter that bounces off the walls and threatens to drown out the music. And for a second you think maybe you can actually do this.
“I’m so happy you’re here!” She squeals, throwing her arms around your neck, doing a terrible job of holding her weight up. Grabbing onto her waist, you do your best to steady her, “Look I just want to say while he’s gone, I know this isn’t easy for you, okay? I know.”
She hiccups before pulling away slightly to look at you as she finishes,“But It means so much to me, and I just wanna say I’m proud of you. I mean, who knows, you’ve changed, he’s changed-”
“Nope, no, you’re done. Where’s the weed? I wanna smoke some weed.” You push Robin away, rolling your eyes at the loud laugh your reaction gets from her.
There’s a long summer ahead of you, but right now, all you need is to find a joint and try not to think about your ex in the next room.
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With a few more shots and a couple of hits from a blunt you and Robin you’d stumbled upon being passed amongst a group outside, you start to really feel like you’re back home. Nostalgia hits you hard in the gut as you walk through the crowded living room hand in hand with your best friend, giggling and stumbling back to the kitchen on the hunt for some food. 
“God, I’m so hungry!” Robin practically growls when you hit the harsh lighting again making you both hiss.
An empty bottle of tequila sits on the counter now and red solo cups litter the floor that weren’t there before, and a growing pile of bitten into limes cover the counters in a sticky mess. Alone and left to your own devices Robin begins to raid the cupboards, huffing when she finds nothing behind every door she aggressively yanks open.
“Why is his kitchen always so empty? Like? Do we just always miss the party?” You hiccup, tripping on a tile that’s coming out of the grout. 
You catch yourself on the kitchen island in front of you, a loud laugh bubbling up from your chest, too drunk to focus on how gross the formica feels under your fingertips.
“There’s literally nothing to eat in here, not even like an old bag of stale chips.” She opens the first cabinet one last time before slamming it shut, officially giving up with a thump of her forehead against the wood. “This is why he’s always at the diner.”
“Wait, Rick actually lives here still?” Another hiccup, you foolishly lean your elbows on the counter, something you’ll regret in the morning as you stare at your best friend with a toothy smile, completely unaffected by the news about the missing food that seems to be ruining her entire mood.
“How can he sell weed and not have any food in his house? What happens when he gets the munchies?!” She throws her hands up, ignoring your question and answering it all at the same time. “I’m gonna find a bathroom, and then we’re gonna find Steve - don’t make that face, he’ll take us through a drive-thru.”
“Don’t be gone long, I don’t know anyone here!” You whine with a childish drunk stomp of your foot, still sporting that sour look she told you to wipe off. The carefree girl from moments before now gone in the blink of an eye.
“Literally like five minutes, I swear!” She promises, turning around with a smirk as she crosses her heart with a ring covered finger like you used to do as kids, easily earning the smile from you she was hoping for.
You watch her disappear into the party, staring after bouncing honey waves until they’re out of your sight. 
Suddenly alone for the first time in hours, the kitchen feels quiet. The bass of the music is distant, and your thoughts are heavy just like your feet as your last shot of tequila settles with the rest. Your brain wanders to places that you thought you’d banished from the corners of your mind for years. It takes you to the pink fullness of his lips, and has you biting the bottom of yours. Then it’s the freckles that dot the bridge of his nose and explode across his cheeks, even leaving their mark on the bottom of his earlobe.
You’d found that one the night you’d tried to count them all. You never finished.
Then you remember the blond on the couch, and how her pink nails dug into the thick chestnut of his hair that you used to tug on when his kisses got to be too much. She turns into Nancy Wheeler and those stolen looks in the hallways at school, and suddenly, you hate him all over again.
“Jesus, you’re in here alone? Where’s Robin?” Steve’s voice makes you jump at the worst possible time, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scar-“
“Seriously?!” You snap, turning around with crossed arms. Leaning against the counter, you hope that you don’t seem as drunk as you are, but the way his lips twitch regardless of your attitude tells you that it’s not working. “She went to the bathroom and then was going to look for you.”
“So, it just makes sense for me to hang out here then, right?”Steve raises his hands in a silent plea for permission. 
His big boots take heavy steps towards you, and just like on cue, has your body betraying you. The plush dough of your thighs pressing harder together each time he gets closer to closing the gap. 
Cautiously taking the spot a few feet away from you, he keeps his hands up till he feels safe enough to shove them in his pockets. The spice of his cologne smells fresh, and you wonder if he sprayed it before walking in here. It overpowers everything else around you, invading your senses and committing itself to memory despite you.
“I um, I really hope this is okay to say,” he stammers watching the way one of your eyebrows arches up, and it doesn’t take long for his hand to escape from his pocket to run through his hair again, “but it’s, it’s good to see you. I m-missed you, Robin’s missed you.”
“Shouldn’t you be hanging out with your girlfriend?” You ignore him and tuck his words away to unpack another time with a sober mind.
“Cassie? She’s not my girlfriend.” He answers without any hesitation, something sparking alive inside the gold of his eyes that has one side of his mouth tugging up. 
“Does she know that?” 
“I’m pretty sure she does considering she left with another guy not that long ago.” He snorts, the confidence you’ve always known him to have finding its way back, and you don’t miss the way he scoots closer. 
So you scoot back.
“Sucks to suck, Harrington.” You sigh, impressed with how well you’re playing off the victory lap you’re shamefully running in your head at the new information.
“There you are!” Robin rushes in, face flushed and out of breath, interrupting the moment you weren’t ready to have yet at the perfect time “Somehow I got roped into like a keg stand and I think it’s really time for us to go home guys.”
“Robin!” 
“What?!”
She tries to shush you, but even you can see from across the room the way sweat starts to bead across her forehead, the blush in her cheeks going pale before she runs to the trash can. Steve pushes off the island without any hesitation, rushing to the other side of the kitchen, gathering her hair in his hands to hold it back.
“What were you thinking?” Steve scolds her in the softest way possible, rubbing her back as all the beer finds its way out of her body.  
Those big eyes of his that you’re sure are going to haunt your dreams meet yours, and in that moment the room decides it wants to spin. You’re not sure if it’s the night of tequila with nothing but a weed chaser catching up to you or if it’s the onslaught of feelings you’ve successfully suppressed for the last five years coming back to seek their revenge. The deadly combination of both comes to a head the more you watch the gentle way Steve handles Robin and it makes you realize it’s time to go.
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You manage to pull yourself together enough to help Steve get Robin in his car, heart almost stopping when you walk up to the same Maroon BMW he took your virginity in. It takes everything inside of you not to abort the mission, run to Robin’s apartment by figuring your way through the woods you used to play in, do anything but sit in those leather seats. But your best friend’s drunk rambles of how happy she is to have her ‘two amigos and how that it makes three now’ while professing her undying love for both of you has you putting on a brave face, and then your big girl pants when you have to sit in the front seat next to him.
It’s in perfect condition, just like the morning he pulled into the parking lot Junior year with it. Your stomach twists in the kind of knots that have you wrapping your arms around your waist. The smell of leather and pine pulling on the back of your throat, and all the memories that come with it. He keeps the radio low, and you can hardly make out the faint sounds of whatever late night talk show was on over the soft snores of a passed out Robin in the backseat. 
“I thought you’d have a different car by now.” You grumble sinking further into your seat, keeping your eyes trained on the trees that zoom past your window.
“You’ll have to pry her from my cold, dead hands, honey.” Steve chuckles, relaxing a little more into his own, a big hand finding a new resting spot on the stick shift.
The endearment sends you reeling, the tequila making it hard to bite your tongue.
“Don’t call me that.” Quickly realizing that staring out the window does nothing to help your already dicey equilibrium, you decide to finally look at him, but you’re not sure if that’s any better.
‘What? Honey?” He asks, fully knowing the answer but egging you on just the same with a ghost of a smirk on his lips.
Narrowing your eyes, you turn fully in your seat doing your best to ignore the way the street lights bounce off his sharp features as you face him.
“What? So you just make out with girls that you’re not dating and get away with it?” 
Steve snorts, licking his lips and meeting your angry gaze with an amused one. 
“I am twenty-four and single.”
Scoffing at his answer, you pause to collect your words that keep getting tangled on the tip of your tongue from too many drinks and how the whites of his teeth start to show in a grin as he glances in the rearview mirror to check on Robin.
“You think you can do whatever you want don’t you?”
“No -“
“What? Because you didn’t peak in high school like you were supposed to, you somehow just got hotter, you think the rules don’t apply to you or something?”
“Good to know you still think I’m hot.” Steve’s face cracks into a smile, turning into an apartment complex you’re assuming is Robin’s. 
“You’re the worst,” you try to deflect weakly, turning back in your seat with a huff.
“I definitely used to be,” he mumbles mostly to himself, putting the car in park, both of you jerking forward slightly. The sudden lack of movement makes Robin groan in the back, lashes fluttering open to look at her surroundings.
“Oh, thank god, I think I’m gonna be sick again.” Her throat sounds hoarse when she finally speaks, but it’s all she can manage before a dry heave has the boy next to you scrambling.
“Not in my car! Not in my car!” Steve’s quick to jump out of the driver's seat rushing to get your best friend out of the back, leaving you alone to fight with your seatbelt. 
Frustrated, you blow a breath out from between your pressed lips tugging on the smooth material while your thumb smashes the release button. It doesn’t budge and the cedar starts to pick at your nerves. An angry noise squeaks from the back of your throat catching Steve’s attention who finally gets Robin on her feet. The spice of his cologne swallows you whole when he emerges back into the car. Leaning over the console he’s gentle when he pushes your hand away. You don’t protest his help this time, eyes tracing the gold chain that slips out from under his shirt. It shimmers everytime it swings from his neck when it hits the moonlight, clicking the button with ease, releasing you from your self imposed trap.
“Thanks,” you grumble, using a wobbling arm to open your door, clambering out less gracefully than you intended.
“Are you good to follow me? I don’t think Robin’s gonna make it up the steps on her own.” Closing the car door, he leans over the top of it, his eyes watching the way you maneuver around his car like you’re walking on thin ice.
“I’m fine,” you growl, right as you lose your footing catching yourself with an open palm on the hood of his trunk.
“Seriously, I can help I just have to take you both one at a -“
“Steve, I said I’m fine. I don’t need anything from you.” You interrupt and if you weren’t so focused on putting one foot in front of the other, you’d see the way the harshness of your words make him wince.
He stares at you for a minute longer before muttering a quiet ‘whatever’ scooping Robin up and tucking her into his side. You follow them at your own pace up the cement steps to the second floor, thankful that her apartment isn’t too far from the landing when you get to the top. Your legs start to feel like Jell-O waiting for him to unlock the door, the long drive from New York and the night finally catching up to you in a way that makes your eyelids heavy as Steve pushes open her front door. 
“Bathroom! Bathroom!” Robin manages to get out when she and Steve cross the threshold first, a string of cuss words spilling out of his mouth as he tries to hurry her to the place she was begging to be taken to.
You use the full force of your weight with your back to the door, closing behind you with a loud slam. The navy blue couch in the middle of her living room begging you to sit down, an invitation your clumsy steps accept, leading you to the fluffy cushions. Collapsing onto them with a satisfied hum, you sink into the foam, lashes fluttering and eyelids getting heavier with each second that passes, and soon you find yourself giving in with a warm cheek pressed into the arm rest.
You don’t know how much time has passed when the feeling of your laces being tugged loose stirs you awake. Trying to focus with vision still blurry from sleep, Steve’s messy head of hair comes clear into your line of sight. Long fingers pull the white strings from the metal eyelets of your converse, a warm palm wrapping around your ankle that sends a shiver up your spine as he slowly wiggles your sneaker off your foot. The white tube socks that cover your feet make him smile with a thumb that dares to rub a small circle on your skin before dropping it to work on the other.
“Steve,” you manage to get out, voice still thick with sleep.
“I’m just tucking you in, that’s all hon- and then I’ll get out of your hair.” He clears his throat after the nickname that set you off earlier burns like acid dying on his tongue.
You grumble something unintelligible, rubbing the mascara off your eyes as he pulls your other shoe off the pad of his thumb doing the same thing to your other ankle making your toes curl. Both his hands find their way to your calves squeezing softly at the muscles before he starts to lift them up.
“Come on, let's get you laying on your side.” He coos, helping you adjust so you’re finally horizontal. You groan a little, reaching out for him on instinct, the softness of his touch making a very drunk you crave more. 
“I’d love to cuddle but I think you’d actually kill me in the morning,” he laughs to himself knowing you won’t remember any of this when you wake up.
You make some more noises that he can’t figure out if they're supposed to be words or not as he drapes Robin’s thick throw blanket over you. Grabbing the material in your fists when you feel it, you pull it even closer, a low satisfied hum spilling from between your lips that still sparkle with leftover glitter from your gloss. He watches the way you curl into yourself, fingers twitching at his side to run his knuckles over your cheek.
“Steve,” his name comes out clear as day, kicking up his heart rate.
“Yeah?” He squats down next to your face, the warmth of your breath hitting his face while your eyebrows furrow in your sleepy state trying to get whatever you want to say out.
“You really broke my heart, you know that?”
Your words punch the air out of his lungs, just like your unexpected arrival. Something he’s fantasized about happening more times than he’d like to admit.
“Yeah, I know.” He sighs defeated, giving into his urges for comfort with knuckles that brush against the warmth of your skin, a familiar burn stings his eyes when you subconsciously lean into it. 
You don’t say anything else to him, the furrow of your brows smoothing out as your face finally starts to relax under his touch. He watches the way your shoulders move with each deep breath that pulls you further into sleep and away from him. 
He takes a selfish minute to stare at you uninterrupted, tracing your cheekbone one last time before he stands up to leave, he knows he won’t get any sleep, and the words you won’t remember saying are already haunting him like a bad dream.
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“Do you really wanna love me like you say you do? Give it to me like you say you do? Cause it’s hard enough you gotta treat me like this, lonely enough to let you treat me like this. Do you really love me?”
Steve was late, glancing down at pink the digital watch on your wrist, fifteen minutes late. Five lockers down from his, you wait for him at what’s been your meeting spot for the last eight months. Far away enough from his locker that no one would suspect you waiting for the King of Hawkins himself, but close enough to the janitor's closet for him to steal you away from sight without anyone noticing for the forty-five minutes of study hall. 
Hushed argumentative whispers catch your attention, nerves making your feet move from side to side unsure if you should abandon ship and just go and study for the final in your last period. Nancy Wheeler's eyes meet yours as she rounds the corner with her best friend Barb, the corners of her lips pulling up ever so slightly giving you a small wave which you return as she tries to ignore her friend.
“He’s just trying to get in your pants! Come on, you have to be smart enough to know that.” Barb points at the note Nancy is clutching in her hand so hard that the whites of her knuckles show.
“It’s not like that, I’m just tutoring him.” She argues but the blush that creeps across her cheeks and spreads down her neck gives her away.
I’m just tutoring him.
That simple sentence is enough for your world to tip off its axis, chest tightening at the realization of who they're arguing about. All the canceled plans the past few weeks with the excuse of extra tutoring starts to feel like a knife to the gut. Prince Charming rounds the corner holding and twists the handle with a bright flirtatious smile that used to be just for you, only now it’s flashed at the dainty brunette who melts under it because no one is immune to Steve Harrington. 
It takes him a minute to see you, too wrapped up in Nancy who’s back is pressed to the lockers, caged in by Steve’s big hand splayed against the metal by her head. They’re too far to hear what he’s saying to her, but the confident way his teeth flash and the sweet giggle he earns from it tells you everything you need to know. Tears burn at the corners of your eyes, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing them fall. Fists clenched at your sides, the blunt ends of your nails dig into your palms as you hold in the sob that threatens to give you away as you walk past them, meeting his guilty eyes before you round the corner.  
The pounding in your head wakes you up before the sun that leaks through Robin’s small kitchen window. Your hangover rings in your ears with a vengeance, and has you letting out a pained groan. Everything after the joint you shared outside at the party is nothing but a blur, a scattered puzzle with pieces missing as you try and figure out how you ended up back home and tucked into the couch. 
“Are you alive out there?” Robin’s voice calls out weakly from down the hall in her room. 
“Barely,” you grumble, agitation kicking in from dehydration and the old wounds your dream decided to rip open.
“I’d say I’m never drinking again but we both know that’s a lie,” she says, muffled by what sounds like a pillow.
A giggle tries to escape, but it only makes you wince, clutching your forehead willing the pain to subside.
“How’d we even get home?” You croak, rubbing harshly at your eyes before attempting to sit up, covering them with a cupped palm as your surroundings get brighter.
“Steve,” Robin’s voice comes out right next to you, surprising you by appearing in the entryway. 
Hearing his name out loud sends the kind of rage that scorches through your veins, it burns from your fingertips remembering the look on his face when you broke up a few weeks after that day in the hallway your dreams so sweetly reminded you of. 
It was Pity.
Your best friend ignores your silence and the sour look on your face as you silently take a trip down memory lane while she shuffles into the living room wandering to the attached kitchen. 
“How far is Eddie’s shop from here?” You grimace watching her chug from a carton of orange juice.
“Oh, super close. You can walk from here.” She answers, wiping her upper lip with the back of your hand, “they opened like two hours ago, I’m sure he’s already looked at your car.”
“I think I’m going to shower and go over, do you want to come with me?” Raising your hands above your head, you stretch your sore muscles as a yawn comes out in the middle of your question.
“I think I need to rot in bed for a little while longer before I go walk amongst the living, I promise I’m all yours after I don’t feel like a freaking crypt keeper.” Your yawn is contagious, giving you a view of all her perfectly straight teeth.
“I demand something greasy for lunch when I get back then.” You point at her finding your footing on the carpet, noticing your converse are tucked nice and neat against the couch next to you. The feeling of Steve’s knuckles is a ghost against your skin, details starting to come out clear from the murky waters. 
Heat rushes to your cheek at the memory while your emotions start to go at war with each other over what to feel towards the man who tucked you and your best friend in last night, but also broke your heart in a way you don’t think you’ll ever quite forget. 
“I’m on it boss, god, I wish Benny’s was still open.” Robin interrupts the inner struggle she’s oblivious to you having as she walks past you flinging herself on the couch you’d just won the battle of leaving “But I’ll think of something good, I promise.”
Just like your yawn, the smile she gives you is contagious despite the sharp pain you get in your head from moving too much and you both laugh wincing when it only gets worse. 
Ibuprofen first, then your car.
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Birds chirp loudly, mocking the headache that's turned into something more annoying than painful after a handful of ibuprofen. The sticky air is still suffocating even in a pair of black biker shorts and an oversized loose fitting tee, while the sun shines golden against the cerulean sky without a cloud in sight to hide you from its light. 
The heat warming off its rays makes beads of sweat start to collect at the crown of your head and the nape of your neck, while the incline Eddie’s spinning auto body sign sits on top of threatens to take your breath away. Unwanted thoughts of Steve Harrington keep your pace quick, stewing over the last twenty-four hours and everything it’s unraveled.
The small parking lot is empty when you reach it, kicking small rocks with the toe of your sneaker as you cross it. The double garage doors are open, Metallica’s Seek and Destroy echoing loudly, tugging up the corners of your lips. Your Chevrolet Caprice is the only car semi-lifted in the air with a pair navy coverall-clad legs underneath it.
Opening your mouth, Eddie’s name dies on your tongue before you get a chance to shout it, clocking him and his wild curls sitting in the glass office inside. Those big brown eyes meet yours from across the way, a dimple filled grin lighting up his face waving excitedly from his chair before standing up.
“Glad to see you’re alive, princess.” He teases stepping out of his glass case, with coveralls that are gray today.
“Honestly, it’s a miracle,” you laugh, confused eyes darting to the large boots under your car that don’t seem to have any reaction to the sound of your voice.
“Oh, I heard all about your first night back home. In fact my shop opened thirty minutes late because of it,” he chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans against the open metal frame where the door should be. Faded bats that you remember when they were fresh dancing across his arm with his movements.
“Wait, what?” You ask, confusion pinching your brows together right as the mysterious pair of legs start pushing out whoever’s under your car.
“I didn’t get back to my place till almost four in the morning after getting you two home and in bed,” Steve emerges flashing you his million dollar smile as he sits up on the dolly, the sleeves of his own coveralls tied tight around his waist and hair wild like he’d just rolled out of bed, “I slept through my alarm.”
The immediate glare that hardens your face when you see him has Eddie's eyes light with obvious amusement. 
“What are you doing here? And why are you touching my car?” You snap, trying to push the worries about what you look like deep under the irritation and the distraction that begs to steal your anger with his arms on full display like this. Or how the patch of chest hair that peeks out the top of it shines with sweat. 
“I work here,” Steve snorts like it’s the most obvious conclusion, because, well, it is, “and I volunteered to look at it, Eddie’s got his hands full.” 
That was a lie, he begged him.
“Since when do you know anything about cars?” Snorting, your attitude makes him roll his eyes, pushing himself off the ground.
It’s a struggle to hold his gaze when he stands at full height, biceps flexing with his movements practically daring you to look. He pulls out a faded maroon rag from his pocket and starts wiping off the fresh black from his hands that’s already stained under his nail beds. The hard bottoms of his work boots making their way across the cement floors of the garage. 
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me anymore, that’s what happens when someone leaves for five years.” Steve antagonizes, his lack of sleep leaving him with thin patience.
He stops just close enough for you to smell how the woodsy spice of his cologne mixes with the sweet bitterness of the oil that seems to find a way to leave its mark on every surface in here. Including him.
“I’m going to finish balancing the books, why don’t you tell her the good news first and then the bad,” Eddie pours ice over the tension that threatens to boil over before it can turn hostile, catching the way both of your nostrils flare and shoulders square up.
“Wait, there’s good news and bad news?” Your focus on Steve shifts as Eddie’s words sink in.
“Like I said, I’m going to finish balancing the books.” The metal head reminds you, giving a half salute with two fingers while simultaneously shooting a stern look to Steve who’s mouthing something behind you. “Your mechanic’s going to go over everything with you, we can talk about pricing when it’s all said and done.”
“Seriously?” You bluster as Eddie shrugs with the kind of nonchalance that sends you reeling before sitting back down, tuning the dial-up on the radio in his office. End of discussion.
“Look -“
“How do I even know that you know what you’re talking about?” You interrupt, making his full lips set into a straight line.
“Are you going to be like this the whole time?” Steve sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before crossing his arms, the tops of his shoulders moving with them. 
A pleading expression softens his features instead of the hard combative one you were anticipating, and it helps your blood pressure return to normal. The realization hitting you that maybe skipping breakfast with a hangover probably wasn’t your smartest idea.
“N-no, sorry, I just feel like -“
“Shit? Yeah, I bet.” He chuckles, and your jaw clicks. Maybe if you count to three…
“Just tell me what’s wrong with my car, Steve.” It comes out clipped, but it's an improvement from your fingers twitching to rip that handsome head right off those shoulders that won’t stop trying to distract you.
“How about you tell me the last time you had your oil changed?” He counters, taking a few steps back to sit on the hood of the rusted baby blue Buick behind him. 
“Uhh, I- I think,” All the blood rushes to your cheeks, warming your skin as you try to wrack your brain and not focus on the way his legs spread wide to keep his balance. “Maybe, like, six months ago.”
“Six months?!” The number must be worse than whatever Steve was preparing for when a dirty hand runs through his hair, “and then you drove it three states to get here?”
“Yeah, I - I mean, hearing you say it out loud,” you grimace thinking of all the weeks you ignored that flashing orange light on your dashboard.
“So then you shouldn’t be surprised when I tell you that your engine locked up.” 
“Is this the bad news?” 
“Kind of,”
“What do you mean kind of?”
“Look, the good news is that I can fix it, the bad news is that I have to order a few parts that could take up to three weeks to get here, then the job itself is going to take me probably another week.” He sighs standing up, starting back towards your car with you quick on his heels.
“That’s the whole summer!” You argue like it could possibly make a difference, frustration pricking at the corners of your eyes watching him pop open the hood.
“More like half of it, but hey, you’re lucky I can even get it running again without having to replace the whole thing.” He meets your gaze from under his lashes leaning over the engine, long nimble fingers unscrewing the cap where your oil should go.
“So what am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to get around?” You know that part isn’t his problem, this entire mess is your own doing but it doesn’t stop it coming out in a whine. You blame your hangover.
“You’re gonna be just fine, city girl,” Steve grins up at you before reaching even further under the hood, muscles flexing with him, “besides we both know I can’t say no to Robin.”
He pulls at a small tube that’s purpose is unknown to you but you keep eyes trained on his movements like you have an idea, anything to keep the focus off the gold chain that dangles from his neck. 
“Or you.” The last part comes out so quiet, a focused look pinching his brows together as he continues his investigation.
“Me?” 
He doesn’t look at you when he shrugs, pulling at something with a little more force that makes you both flinch. 
“How much is this going to cost me, Steve?” Your defeat shows in your tone, as the question slips quietly from between your lips that you wish you’d have put gloss on now.
He grunts at the same time something pops against metal under his hands, muttering a string of curse words under his breath before standing back up wiping his palms on the white cotton of his tank top. Charcoal stains fill the small grooves in the fabric with each swipe of his hands, pulling the collar further down every time. It’s a losing battle not to look at his chest when every motion reveals more of the thick curls underneath. 
Steve clears his throat, letting you know that you’ve been caught and it’s at this moment you wish you could walk in front of the moving truck that drives loudly past the shop, only exaggerating the silence that follows.
“Don’t stress about that today,” he smiles, letting you off the hook for now, something mischievous dancing in his eyes for another time. “Like Eddie said, we’ll figure it out.”
“Don’t stress about it?! Have you met me?” You huff, the money you’ve saved up for the summer starting to dwindle right before your eyes. 
“I have actually,” Steve chuckles, stepping close enough for the tips of your shoes to touch his boots. He feels bold when you don’t make any attempt to move away like at the party or retreat when he closes the gap. A thumb and forefinger finding their way to your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze, “and you’re going to be fine, I promise.”
Your lips part on their own, the full force of his face from this close stealing the breath from your lungs. You can smell the coffee he had this morning and the mint from his toothpaste still lingering on his breath. The stubble that lines his sharp jaw is even more noticeable today, tapering off at the top of his neck making the cluster of moles that live there stand out even more. A pink tongue runs over his full bottom lip and it has your lashes fluttering against the tops of your cheeks.
“Now go get some food, grumpy,” his voice comes out low, a teasing edge to it that reminds you of what it’s like to have Steve Harrington flirt with you. “I’ll call when I get the parts, okay?”
It’s like detention junior year all over again as you turn into putty in his hand. Still too attractive for his own good, all you can do is nod while all the fight you had left inside you disappears as the pad of his thumb swipes soft against your heated skin just under your pouted lip before letting you go. He turns on his heel after that, walking back to the box of tools he has spread out over his workbench before adding,
“Do me a favor and tell Robin she owes me a new shirt.”
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beta’d by @sweetsweetjellybean
🌻 chapter two
1K notes · View notes
konigsblog · 5 months
Text
YANDERE 141, KÖNIG
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CHARACTERS: 141 + könig.
WARNINGS: kidnapping, murdering (not reader or any characters), panty stealing, sexual implication on Gaz's one, love bombing, guilt tripping. tell me if i missed any.
A/N: i did this a while ago, but i wanna rewrite it since my writing has changed since! also, i know it's random to add könig but he's my favourite, my husband, and i love to talk about him as a yandere!
proofread.
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Captain John Price
Your captain always had the hots for you. From stealing your panties from your clothing hamper, to perving on you in the communal showers. When he finally gave in to the nagging voice in his head and took you, it left you shocked.
He'd always put pressure on you. He'd always overwork you and give you extra reports, and when you asked the others if they had any reports due, they had noticeably less than you had. You had a lot of weight on your shoulders, always rushing reports and having them handed back, your captain expecting more.
So, you put in more effort. Quickly enough, you were exhausted from overworking yourself and the hard work during missions that you pleaded with John to give you a break. Even laswell could sense you were burned out. But John didn't believe you were tired enough. And if you really were, you should just leave the military – I mean, after all, it doesn't seem like your thing.
He made you feel like you weren't good enough to be a part of his team. He always berated you for doing something wrong, an accident that could've been made easily and by anyone. The others took notice of this but didn't say anything in fear of their captain lashing out on them instead.
No one was surprised when you left. Laswell talked about transferring you to another team, since she saw great potential with you. But with John in your ear telling you to leave this industry, you decided that this clearly wasn't your thing.
Once you were gone, you were at ease, but feel as if something was going to go wrong sooner or later. Would your new job fire you? What would the others think of you leaving them like this?
You noticed a few pairs of panties missing, and as if someone were following you around. It left you fearful and almost isolated as you refused to leave your flat, awoken by the sound of glass shattering and a dark shadow of a burly figure looming over your body. Before you could react, a cloth was brought to your mouth, forcing you to become limp in a matter of minutes due to the oddly medical scent filling your nostrils.
Waking up locked and chained to the wall in a basement wasn't what you expected when you first left the military. You imagined marrying someone and living a peaceful life, but soon enough, you were frantically shaking the chains in an attempt to flee. To no use though, as soon, the sounds of boots stomping against the floor above you could be heard and the noise of keys rattling.
John is a cruel yandere. He enjoys seeing you ruined and raw, bruised from his punishments. He sure as hell isn't afraid to put you in your place, especially when you misbehave and curse him out. “What good s'that gonna do for ya'?” he mumbled, smoking the cigar between his teeth, pushing boot down against your cheek.
He loved to humiliate and embarrass you, to make you feel worthless beneath him. He tuts and scoffs, leaning down so the stench of tobacco and smoke could enter your nostrils. Cigar burns along your thighs when you seriously missed behaved, he had to make sure he left a mark on you, that he wore you down and ruined you beyond comprehension, so he could talk to you as if you were worth nothing and have no consequence.
Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley
A very, very calm and nonchalant yandere. He enjoys having you like a pet beneath him, on your knees and forced to obey him.
He'd fallen head over heels with you when you joined the 141. God, how could he not? With the way you look at him after sparring, exhausted and panting, drained of all your strength as he slams you down against the ground for the tenth time.
Simon loves to tease you, he gets satisfaction off the sounds of your giggles and laughs. But, at times he leaves you confused with tears in your eyes from his snarky, hurtful comments. Talking with other men was a huge no for Simon, as he felt like he was at competition for his darling.
He'd planned to take you away while on deployment. He found your address and decided he'd pay you a nice visit when you were walking out drunk from a bar, kidnapping you and throwing you into his van and driving away with the love of his life.
With Simon's obsession, came delusion. He didn't fully understand how you couldn't comprehend why he'd done this. Of course, he wanted to protect you! Shouldn't you be more grateful that you don't have to do any work, that he provides and takes care of you?
Whenever you sobbed and hid against the wall, he'd roll his eyes and order you to sit between his thighs, so he could pet you like an obedient dog. You always gave him those watery eyes that made the guilt waver in his chest, but it was ignored as he scoffed and slapped you across the cheek lightly; a warning.
When you weeped into the pillow, he laid beside you, his arms wrapped around your figure, holding your precious body against his own. He shushed you, your hands tied with handcuffs behind your back and your ankles tied with rope. There was no way he was allowing you to be without him, he couldn't live!
You want him to stay healthy, mentally and physically? Then you stay beside him like an eager puppy, his one and only.
John ‘Soap’ Mactavish
A delusional, lovesick yandere. He can't be without you... he simply can't and wouldn't stand it any longer.
He met you at a bar, with the 141 and he grew a liking to you when you always listened and laughed along with his stupid jokes. It gave him confidence and made him believe that you were interested in him, despite excusing it as ‘just being nice’.
There was no ‘just being nice’, he was sold on the idea of you loving him, and once he got your number, he was over you. Creepy, overprotective messages made you feel uneasy and almost weirded out when he scolded you for wearing an outfit he didn't approve of to a party. How did he know you were at a party?
When asked, he said he was friends with someone there and that he saw you with your friends. It put your mind at ease and you almost felt relaxed for a minute, before your phone lit up with a notification from him.
“Ye' shouldnae be awake so late, love.” he typed out. You weren't on your phone, therefore, how would he know you were awake? Your status didn't say online, and there was no reason for him to assume that you were awake at midnight for no reason.
Until you saw him.
Standing in the hallway of your flat, your eyes wide open as you drop your glass of red wine all over your white carpet. You back up, panting and grabbing your phone in an attempt to call the police, before he gave you a threatening gaze that had you paused in time.
He approached you, sitting beside you on the couch and bringing you into his arms. He leaned you back against his lap so that your head was laying on his lap. Johnny traced his fingertips up and down your cheeks, humming to himself and chuckling at your fearful expression.
He put the muzzle of a gun beside your ear, whispering something to you before hitting you in the head with the gun, knocking you out. Of course, he hadn't shot you. He would never. But he had you bound and gagged on the floor of his basement back in Scotland, naked and bare and fully revealed to him. “Couldnae help mysel'...” he chuckled.
Johnny is a delusional yandere. He sees nothing wrong in what he's doing. Delusional and obsessive, completely attached to you and believes you could do no wrong. Whenever you cry to him that you hate him, a frown replaces his once smile as he forces you down against the couch, forcing you to apologise otherwise he would throw you in the basement without a second thought.
He also loves to pretend that you two are a happy couple. He only locks you away if you're naughty, otherwise he has an arm around your waist and he's bringing a glass full of wine to your lips, having you fall asleep against his shoulder. And he's also extremely creepy; giggling, you'll wake up to him taking photos of you whilst you sleep, watching as you cower and shy away in fear.
Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick
He's a delusional guilt tripper. He'd met you through other friends and became utterly and completely fascinated with your life. He'd love to fantasize about you all day long, thinking of your future together.
Kyle, like Johnny, believed you two were compatible and that had him drooling for you. Always desperate to please and impress you. He'd always gaze over at you and ask you first a question, speaking to you the entire night long until you both knew a lot about eachother.
You two hooked up which fed into the delusions of your love. He wouldn't let you leave the next morning, he'd begged and pleaded with you until tears to stay that extra bit longer. He needed you.
He wrapped his arms around you and rubbed his bare chest against your back. You were, of course, were weirded out by his sudden behaviour, but the strong sense of sorrow and guilt bloomed in your chest. Eventually, you fell asleep beside him, assuming he was also knocked out asleep.
He wasn't.
In fact, you woke up chained to the bed. Your wrists and ankles were chained and spread out, your eyes widening as he caressed your body. His touch wasn't sexual, not like the night prior, but it was tender and full of love like you two were married.
His eyes also grew big when he saw you were awake. He sighed, cupping your jaw to lean in and kiss you, all confused when you attempted to wriggle away. Kyle took offense to this and decided that if you weren't going to listen, he would make you.
Kyle dragged you about by the neck, rope around your neck and acting as a leash. He sobbed, screaming at you for acting so clueless. You lead him on, and now he was blaming you for everything wrong in his life.
How could you!? How could you lead this sweetheart on and make him truly believe he was finally loved? What sick, twisted prick does something as horrible as that?
Your eyes glistened as he yelled, gripping your jaw and crumbling to his knees. God, he was amazing, a mastermind at making you feel bad. He could for tears out of nowhere, smiling widely when you comply.
“Yes, yes... that's it, finally behaving for me?” Kyle smiled cruelly, he could see tears streaming down your cheeks from his scoldings, trapped with him and his forced love.
König
Oh, this poor man believes you want him just like he wants you. He's utterly shocked and heartbroken when you turn him down, that he's too creepy and always stalking you! He's oblivious to the fact that he does this... please, understand this poor man!
Instead of moving on, he takes matters into his own hands. There was no way you didn't love him, I mean, he believed up and down that you were made for him. Fuck, he even planned your future together.
His jaw dropped and his lips parted, anger filled his eyes as he stormed off.
Watching you from afar and admiring the way you walked. The way you talked to other men, what did they have that he didn't!? You couldn't do this, König wasn't allowing it. His jealousy grew bigger every day, and when he realised you had a boyfriend, it boiled over the edge.
Crimson stained the soles of his boots as he walked off. The sound of the snow crunching beneath his heavy weight, leaving your boyfriend's body bloodied and lifeless. No more competition, soon enough you'd cling to your ex-best friend, sobbing about your boyfriend's death.
He knew you like the back of his palm, of course you'd come crawling back with tears in your eyes. He hates to know that he caused those many tears, thinking about his sins and brushing them off so he could comfort his darling.
The police were clueless, just like you. You cried and stayed over every single night, cuddling into König and leaving his shirt wet from your tears. “Mäusi, I just can't believe all these tears are for him.” the tone of his snarky, jealous attitude was back and it immediately caught your attention.
You were shocked that he'd say something like that. Of course, they were for him! He was dead, murdered even, for goodness sake... You had cursed him out, sitting up and looking down at the man laying beside you, wiping your cheek.
He gritted his teeth and sat up, gripping you by the neck and pushing you back down against the mattress. He never wanted to have these outbursts, he wanted you to feel happy and joyful when you were with him. Guilt immediately hit him like a bombshell, but there wasn't any going back and he knocked you out with a single hit.
Life in König's basement was hell on Earth. Soon, you were crying for him not to abandon you in the basement. You'd forgive him, it was alright. A happy smile appeared on his face, it made you ill. He made you feel queasy when he hugged you so tightly you thought he'd kill you with a hug.
Spoon feeding you meals and love bombing you until you feel inclined to love him back, Stockholm Syndrome. After all, he did all this for you. Surely the giant deserves something in return.
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piggyinthesea · 3 months
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Shoelace Theory
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would they tie your shoelaces?
ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ғᴏʀᴍᴜʟᴀ ᴏɴᴇ ɢʀɪᴅ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ
ғᴇᴀᴛᴜʀɪɴɢ: ᴏsᴄᴀʀ ᴘɪᴀsᴛʀɪ, ᴅᴀɴɪᴇʟ ʀɪᴄᴄɪᴀʀᴅᴏ, ᴄᴀʀʟᴏs sᴀɪɴᴢ, ᴍᴀx ᴠᴇʀsᴛᴀᴘᴘᴇɴ, ᴄʜᴀʀʟᴇs ʟᴇᴄʟᴇʀᴄ, ʟᴇᴡɪs ʜᴀᴍɪʟᴛᴏɴ, ʟᴀɴᴅᴏ ɴᴏʀɪss, ɢᴇᴏʀɢᴇ ʀᴜssᴇʟʟ, ᴘɪᴇʀʀᴇ ɢᴀsʟʏ, ʏᴜᴋɪ ᴛsᴜɴᴏᴅᴀ
ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: ᴊᴜsᴛ ғʟᴜғғ, sʟɪɢʜᴛ ʀᴜᴅᴇɴᴇss
inspired by orange peel theory
Oscar Piastri:
What? No. You could tie your own shoes. He’s not gonna stop what he’s doing to kneel down and tie your shoes.
“But why?!” You groan, following him around the paddock with your shoes untied. Almost suddenly, you trip. If it wasn’t for Oscar swiftly catching you, you would’ve ate shit.
He begrudgingly kneels down, tying your shoes. “Next time, I won’t tie your shoelaces.”
It was a lie. He did tie your shoelaces the next time.
Daniel Ricciardo:
He’s in the middle of entering his racing car when you ask him does. He looks at you puzzled but then quickly kneels down and ties them. It didn’t surprise you though, his kids must ask him all the time.
You wished him good luck before being ushered out of the garage. After the race, he comes to you with his shoes untied.
“Can you tie them for me?”
Will be salty if you don’t tie them for him
Carlos Sainz:
You asked him in the post-interviews, shamelessly interrupting. He stammers, “Could you excuse me one moment?”. At first you thought he was asking you to excuse him, until he quickly kneels down and ties your shoelaces, giving a small smile as he looks up at you.
He gets back up, mindlessly running his hand through his hair.
“What’d you think of the race?”, Carlos asks you.
“Great results! Proud of you.” You quip, raising your hands and offering a high five in which he quickly reciprocates. He watches you walk away, until he’s knocked out of his trance by the interviewer he had forgotten was still standing in front of him.
Safe to say Carlos is not so great at hiding his little crush on you.
Max Verstappen:
You catch him lacking in the Red Bull garage, and his face falls as soon as he sees you. You were the grid’s prankster and your go-to victim was always Max.
“Leave me alone, please!” He feigns fear, holding his hands up while guarding his face. He flinches when you’re in front of him, leaving you with guilt for all those pranks you’ve played on max. You had the poor boy traumatized.
“Tie my shoestrings, pretty please!” Your words came out innocent. Max looked at you as if you had grown two heads.
Suddenly he stands up, raising a fist towards you, “Get out of here!”. Of course he wasn’t actually going to punch you, he was just pranking you back.
You clench a paper-ball in your back pocket. You slowly pull it out, and instantly throw it at him. You make a run for the door, and frantically start screaming “Help!” as you hear a pair of monster feet stomping behind you.
Charles Leclerc:
He had always been nice to you. Your conversations with him had always been friendly and extremely normal. So of course, when you asked he did it. No questions asked.
The two of you continue your conversation and end up splitting ways shortly after. A few days later, he came to you with a box of converse shoes, in your size.
“So you don’t have to ask people to constantly tie your shoes.” Charles stands by as he watches you open the box, a cute smile placed on his face. He had bought you strap on shoes. He genuinely thought you didn’t know how to tie your shoes.
You did develop a little crush on him because of this.
Lewis Hamilton:
No. He avoids you at all costs. Word had gotten around on the grid about you and your shoelaces. He refused to take part of this tomfoolery and when you asked him all he did was look straight in your eyes.
He stared at you silently. A few moments pass, and suddenly he books it and runs out of the Mercedes garage and leaves you there.
That man runs INCREDIBLY fast.
Lando Noriss:
He was waiting for you to ask him and nearly sheds a tear when you do. This boy feels incredibly honored tying your shoes.
“Why yes, Madam, I will tie your shoes.”
He definitely feels included and takes it as some sort of badge of honor being included in your pranks. He goes around telling everyone about how you asked him to tie your shoes but then he finds out how many people have already tied your shoes. He was under the impression it was only Max and Oscar who had tied your shoes already but when he found out Lewis, Carlos, Charles, and Daniel had already tied your shoes before him, he felt BETRAYED.
This man ignores you for three whole days because of how late he was included. You make it up for him by doing the one thing he loved, including him in pranks. He takes it extremely well when you surprise him by shoving a face in his cake randomly and sprinting away. He laughs and begins speaking terms with you again.
George Russell:
George Russell noticed your shoes. They weren’t regular ones, these were the strap on converse Charles had gotten you. It’s funny really, because somehow they still ended up unstrapped. How was that even possible? Wasn’t the strap made of Velcro or something?
Though there’s no possible way you could hurt yourself by having unstrapped shoes. He watches you for 10 minutes, engaging in conversations with Charles. He hyperfixates on that unstrapped shoe like it’s the end of the world. It irks him to no end.
Maybe it was an ocd thing, but he completely stops the conversation you and Charles had, to stick your strap onto the sticky part of the velcro.
“Your shoe wasn’t strapped.”
Pierre Gasly:
You CAN’T find him. It’s like he completely disappeared from the face of the world, and it sucks because this time you wore your regular laced shoes for the purpose of getting him to tie them.
I mean, he had to turn up at some point, for racing season. The day you finally saw him was during qualifying. Pierre was being interviewed and you took this as your opportunity to sneak up on him.
“Pierre, can you tie-”
“No. So anyways-”
Pierre completely shuts you down, and engages in the interviewers conversation. The interviewer gave you an awkward side-eye, luckily, Max overheard him and quickly runs to the rescue as your partner in crime.
He grabs a firm grip on Pierre’s neck from behind, “Mate, you’re gonna have to tie her shoes.” He adds slight pressure, enough for Pierre to oblige, but not enough to catch a case or a fine from the FIA.
Pierre kneels down with Max’s hand still on his neck and obediently ties your shoestrings. Max lets go of his hold on Pierre once he ties them, and gives you a high five ‘mission accomplished’ style.
Yuki Tsunoda:
Nope. Not unless you tie his shoes. He hears none of your complains and refuses to tie your shoes unless he gets something in return. Honestly, give him a piece of candy and he’ll do it. Unfortunately, you’re too stubborn.
Why won’t he just tie your shoes? Totally not cool. What if you trip, hit your head, and end up in a coma for ten years? It would be entirely his fault.
You fill his mind with all these over exaggerated ways on how you could die by not having him tie your shoelaces. It doesn’t work on him and so you leave him be & angrily huff out the room. He finds himself rethinking all the ways you’ve stated you could have possible died. It’s kind of realistic falling and hitting your head ultimately ending with you in a coma. He begins to spiral and before he knows it his anxiety has taken over his mind. He sets out to look for you, walking into various empty rooms and starts searching even more frantically.
What if you’re already on the floor unconscious??
He whips open the ferrari’s garage door and finds you talking to one of the mechanic’s you made friends with. He looks down at your shoelaces, still untied. He rushes over, double knotting your laces and letting out a sigh of relief before leaving you confused.
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mire1li · 2 months
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Reader as Alastor's Mother part 3
So I took a little while oops Part 1!, Part 2!
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𓋼 You brush his hair every morning. He pretends to find it annoying but he secretly loves it.
Whenever you'd brush his hair, you'd sometimes mention how short it was and that you couldn't do any hairstyles with it, which, on one hand, was good for his pride, but on the other hand, made you sad which also made him slightly sad. So he made the very rational decision to grow his hair out for you so that you could style it one day!
"Alastor, is your hair longer than before?"
"Hm? Is it?" he would never admit he did it for you! 𓋼 At one point, you were in the lobby with everyone else and you started wondering about Alastor's ears since he never actually mentioned anything, of course, you remembered Charlie's constant pleading to pet him, to which he always refused with his typical "Ha! No.", which made you more curious, if perhaps you could get away with it as his mother.
So, only naturally, you placed your hand atop his head and pet him, his ears lightly twitching. Charlie squealed. Of course she did.
"Oh my gosh! Can I do that too?!" she asked
"Haha! Absolutely not."
She wasn't very happy. She ended up pouting the entire day, Vaggie having to comfort her. To Charlie, it was like someone telling her not to pet a cute cat! Absolutely heartbreaking 𓋼 On that specific day, you also asked if he had a tail, and considering he had ears, it would make sense for there to be a tail too. Of course, silly Alastor was too embarrassed to answer in front of everyone, so he avoided the question!
"You're very positive today, Mother, did something good happen?"
"Nothing in particular, so about your tail-!"
"That's for me to know and you to… maybe, find out, Mother!"
You asked him about it again when you two weren't around the others, so he decided to show you! it was a nice revelation. 𓋼 You noticed that the shadow Alastor has following you around all the time, sometimes disappears, so you used that opportunity to go meet Lucifer as he invited you for tea countless times, and who are you to decline such a kind invitation?
When Alastor realised he couldn't find you anywhere in the hotel, he panicked and searched every inch of it multiple times, until Vaggie had finally had enough and asked him what happened.
"What are you doing, Alastor?"
"Searching for my Mother! She's gone missing, you see!" of course, he had a menacing look on his face.
"She mentioned she was going out for a while"
"Oh? And did she say… where?"
"Nope, well anyway, good luck!"
Yeah, Vaggie just left him. So he waited for you patiently at the hotel entrance. When you finally returned, he clung to you like his life depended on it, asking you many questions. 𓋼 I feel like whenever the Overlords had important, confidential, meetings, Alastor would immediately return to the hotel and tell you all about them, whether it be out of spite or fun. You definitely enjoyed knowing all the things going on in hell. 𓋼 You and Niffty put makeup on him when he was asleep and pinned his hair back (Alastor was pretending to sleep, just letting you two do your thing). Angel started laughing and giving him silly nicknames when he saw his hair, which inevitably caused him to shake his head very fast, removing the pin from his hair. 𓋼 Your first birthday with everyone. Of course, Alastor threw you a party. It was meant to be a surprise but considering he’s always with you, you found out because he was more secretive than before (you managed to guilt-trip him into telling you what he was hiding) 𓋼 For Christmas (if you celebrate it), you decorate Alastor with Christmas lights! He says he hates it but he definitely doesn’t, although it certainly made him a little bit scarier when he did that spooky thing with his eyes!
"Mother. Please do explain again why you decided to put christmas lights on me."
"You're more colourful this way!" you turned the lights on, so that now they were switching between multiple colours
Angel and Niffty ended up hanging a few baubles on his antlers too, before he noticed. 𓋼 Charlie had asked about your time alive so you began telling her, and everyone else who was listening, about some silly stories! When Alastor came into the lobby and heard you telling an embarrassing story about him, his ears lightly twitched and flattened against his head. He was just a little bit embarrassed.
Of course, he tried to leave again, unnoticed, however, the all-too bubbly charlie saw him and invited him to join.
"Alastor! [Name] was just telling us stories, come join us!"
"No"
"Alastor, darling, Charlie is being very kind! You need to be around these souls more! Come join."
Of course, he can't say no to you, so he ended up sitting by your side as you continued to tell the story about him, you lightly pet him and hugged him from time to time. Although his ears still stayed flat against his head. 𓋼 You wanted to make a flower crown, but since no flowers actually existed in hell, you had to make do with other things (paper). Yes, you made paper flowers and then turned them into a makeshift flower crown, which you then placed on top of Alastor's head.
"Mother?"
"Darling, I made you a paper flower crown!" 𓋼 Alternatively, you may've decided to sneak out again to find Lucifer.
"Luci, can you sneak us into Heaven?"
"Heaven?! Why?"
"I need flowers"
"Why would you need flowers?"
"To make Alastor a flower crown!"
Yeah, he wasn't too excited about that idea but he still agreed, although it did take a bit of… bribery…
"I'll… give you a kiss if you agree!"
"Let's go!" he opened the portal immediately and took you with him.
In the end, you got all the flowers you needed (after being chased out by Lute and Adam), so you were both… somewhere in hell, for sure.
"So… about what you said, before I got us into Heaven…"
"Oh, right!" You never specified where you'd kiss him so you simply kissed his cheek, he was a little disappointed but it's alright, you got Alastor a lovely flower crown! 𓋼 I feel like he would've been very afraid of spiders when he was alive, and then you were left with the task to exterminate any that entered your home (whether or not you were also afraid) 𓋼 You were quite a fan of new technology (though not completely obsessed), it made life far easier for you, though Alastor always 'confiscated' everything when he was around as he wasn't too keen on it.
"Mother, I don't see what you like about this device so much."
"It's simple to use and makes things quite a bit simpler than back when we were alive."
"I think it's pointless."
"Yes, you've always been a fan of radio… I see that obsession has stuck, even after death"
"It is not an obsession, Mother. I prefer 'fascination'!"
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auroreliis · 6 months
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Batfam would have to do research on my special interests if they want to win me over fast but also the thought of super serious Bruce and Damian watching/reading jojos bizarre adventure is really funny to me
Absolutely they would. For you, they would binge every show, play every game and read every paragraph of a book just to have something in common with you. They would all do it for different reasons, but in the end, you would have to listen to them outnerd you.
Bruce's regard for your interests is wholesome. He genuinely wants to know what makes you happy, what you do in your free time, what you could talk about for hours. In order to be able to listen to you talk for hours, he surrounds himself with your interests. You like this artist? He buys a few of their most popular albums. This game is entertaining to you? He either tries it out or watches you play it. There's this film you're excited about? He watches it with you.
Although most of your interests are different, he does actually find himself enjoying anything you enjoy. Perhaps it reminds him of you.
Dick has this one fear. He believes that no matter how persistent he is, if you aren't reciprocating his clinginess, the two of you will grow apart eventually, so he never leaves you alone, even when you beg him to. It isn't really a secret, as he makes it quite obvious, but he hopes you will one day embrace him as he embraces you. You probably get sick of him and tell him how boring he is, which shatters his heart completely.
Now he has to figure out a way to spend time with you, but he needs to make sure you are also enjoying his company, lest you hurt him with your cruelty once more, so he researches every last fact about your interests, be it an activity, a game, a book, a person, he knows everything about it. Dick doesn't want to make it obvious that he only found out this information the night prior, so he cautiously needs to start a conversation.
He most likely waits until you are occupied with your interest before walking up to you, "Hey, is that _____? Wow, I used to be obsessed with it as a kid, I'm suprised you even know it, it isn't that popular and it's quite old." He pats your head and sits down next to you, grinning as you start rambling about it to him. You are actually talking to him. It worked.
Jason is careful when sharing his interests with you. He needs to preserve his reputation as your cool older brother and usually people don't share his interests, so when he finds you reading a classic book, he seats himself nearby, waiting for you to finish reading. Once you're done, he makes sure you enjoyed the book before fanboying about it. You immediately notice how much of a nerd he is. He also recommends similar books or ones he thinks you would enjoy as well. In the end he pulls you into so many fandoms that you stop listening when he recommends books. You've already got like 40 more to read.
Tim does not have this problem. The moment he knew you existed, he educated himself and has kept up with your interests ever since. "Just in case", or ,"Just because", he said, typing a summary of JoJo's Bizarre Adventure. "I might as well", he takes notes while binging One Piece. This guy is clinically insane. Fortunately for him, he can now start conversations with you very easily, since he knows everything about your interests (and everything else about you).
Side note: If you refuse to spend time with him even after he did all that for you, the following outcomes are possible:
Either you pity him and spend time with him or Dick tries and fails to guilt trip you, only to end up forcing you to spend time with poor Tim who was awake for a whole week just to impress you (Tim frantically nods along with anything Dick says).
Damian takes great pride in having things in common with you, so as soon as he notices you being fond of something, he surrounds himself with it. You have a favourite colour? He creates a few painting with specifically that colour. You like a certain animal? He will try to adopt one. Damian would, of course, never admit it to you, but he desperately wants you to notice that you two have similar interests (As in, you have an interest and he pretends to also like it just so you maybe talk to him).
If you don't talk to him, he will become more aggressive with his attempts of having you notice him, perhaps randomly coming into your room to paint, claiming that the lighting there is better. Or he asks Bruce to adopt a certain animal during dinner. His attempts are obvious to you, but he doesn't know that.
Cassandra wouldn't really need to share interests with you. She's always close to you anyway. While she does speak to you every now and then, she is perfectly comfortable with sitting in your proximity in silence. However, if you ever asked her to, she would research anything you need her to in order to rant or ramble to her. As long as she has her eyes on you, anything is fine.
Stephanie immediately goes to Tim for help, knowing that he went insane and made a bunch of summaries and notes. First, she makes fun of him, then she apologises, because he threatened to take the notes away, she then complains about how much there is to read before finishing the essays Tim wrote, giving herself about a week. Steph then talks to you as if she didn't go through all that trouble just to have a topic to talk to you about.
Dick told Barbara all about his shenanigans. She even helped him figure out what you're interested in, even researching about it herself. She isn't as intrusive as the others, instead waiting until the moment is right, not wanting to scare you away or overwhelm you. Perhaps if you're alone, she'll come up to you and start with small talk, only really mentioning your special interest if it's involved somehow. Overall, she is the least feral of the bunch (in this situation, at least).
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viburnt · 3 months
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Divorcing Izuku Midoriya Headcanons
I'm on a creative rush, and this may make zero sense because I'm tired lmao. Anyways, have some angst <3
Tagging the babes: @doumadono @shonen-brainrot @trickster-kat @angelshimaa (babe, you've missed some very angsty posts) @xhieru @mimisxs @dabislittlemouse
Content Warning: Divorce, emotional abuse and manipulation, mention of baby-trapping, alcohol.
• As I said in my last post, divorcing Izuku is a nightmare. Think about the most energy-draining and mental health deteriorating process, and multiply it for a minimum of 6 months. Izuku won't make things easy for you at all, trying to drag and prolong the whole ordeal just to keep you close. I've divided this set of headcanons by key moments/topics to keep some order. I hope you enjoy them, I'm pouring my heart on these (also pay attention to detail because I'm working on something hehe).
Denial and confusion: the first days after you serve him papers
• Izuku genuinely doesn't understand why you want to leave, refusing to accept the fact that you're not happy being by his side. He's given you all there is to give: a comfortable house, nice clothes, expensive cars, etc. So when you serve him papers, Izuku's first reaction is confusion followed by fear. In that head of his, he's made everything a good husband has to do! So why? Why would you not be happy?
• If you were smart enough and planned your movements with care, you should be able to go through your divorce without depending financially on Izuku or having to live in the same place. You'd have to deal with his incessant calls and texts, often having to block unknown numbers to avoid hearing his whines, but it'd be less difficult. If you weren't thoughtful about the situation and proceeded without the right steps, oh, you're in for a treat: there's nowhere you can go besides the house you shared with him, no place where you can be at peace. You're at Izuku's mercy, like it or not, but that's another story.
• In addition to his denial, Izuku starts to (unconsciously) guilt trip you. Phrases like "Sorry for not being enough," and "I know I'm very pathetic" become frequent. It pains your heart to hear those things because you know Izuku loves you, you are just not compatible at all. You try to let him see it's not about being enough, it's more about effort; with much patience, you set things clear to avoid any misunderstandings, but Izuku just doesn't get it.
• "Haven't I done this or that for you? Didn't I buy you all these things? Am I not enough?" "Izuku, I didn't ask you for any of this, all I wanted was my husband..." Conversations like this occur during this phase, and they can only be held through the phone (when he is sober and not yelling/hollering how much of a mistake a divorce would be). He tries to gauge sympathy from you, telling you that his job is important but that he loves you so much!
• He becomes an empty shell of the bright ray of sunshine the public knew. It goes unnoticed by many, but the people who work around him can tell. It is then when he starts telling others about his marital situation, and you end up seeing faces you've met once or twice during galas or hero events. You "accidentally" stumble across your husband's colleagues, like Ochako, who try to convince you to give him a second chance. "I- I know we don't know each other a lot but please, consider it. Izuku is a great guy a-and I'm sure you guys could fix any problem!" It is embarrassing for you because no one wants people to know their issues.
• What's so ironic about the moment when you serve him papers is that he receives them at his office, the very root of all the problems in your marriage. It was the place where he had spent anniversaries, birthdays, Valentine's... those four walls witnessed the beginning and the end of your relationship. Izuku has a mental breakdown when he finally reads the documents but, hey, he was still pro-hero Deku, right?
Negotiations and lawyers: The first weeks and months
• If having to deal with Izuku's colleagues trying to change your mind wasn't enough, be ready for your soon-to-be ex trying to negotiate. Midoriya suggests couple's therapy to talk this through, and for a split of second, it almost sounds like a good idea! But then you remember all those times when Izuku had promised you he'd be there for you and failed. It didn't seem plausible after that... Besides, all things considered, it'd be hard to find a therapist who could see your side of the story. Who would dare to tell someone as charming and popular as Izuku that he failed as a husband?
• Once therapy is off the table, Izuku brings up children. It may be considered a low blow, especially if one of your dreams was to form a family with him, so his offer felt cruel. "W-we can have kids! Wouldn't you want that? We can be a big family, with one- No, two babies!" "Ouch, it takes a divorce for you to even think about it, huh? That's uh, slightly concerning. Besides, a kid needs a father too... I'm not planning on being a single mom in this marriage" Now, Izuku strikes me as the kind that would try to . to stay. I'm sorry if it sounds terrible, but considering how sometimes he acts on impulse, he really could try it.
• Izuku also tries to be at home more often; he "cooks" (it's takeout disguised as home meals), brings you coffee to the bed, and calls you all kinds of sappy nicknames... It saddens you, why couldn't he care like that before? Of course, this point only applies if you still live with him during this whole process. If you don't, he starts frequenting the places where he guessed could find you: cafeterias, plazas, shops...
• Finding a lawyer for you was a hard task, especially because everyone sees you as a "dumb" woman who is trying to divorce Japan's number one hero. Not to mention they were very expensive, and Izuku was certainly not giving you money for that. You tell Izuku that mediations need to happen to progress with the divorce, but he never shows up to the meetings. There's always an excuse for that man! No matter how much you plea, he refuses to sign the paper. Izuku also becomes very mean towards you, outright berating you for not understanding him. It's gruesome to see him turn into such a monster during these months.
• As an additional point for this part, Izuku hires a private investigator to follow you around. He feels bad for thinking of it, but the idea that you could be seeing someone else while you're trying to divorce him eats him alive.
Last resort: Mediatic battle
• The media is very quick to pick up your marriage's fall down. Time after time you visited your lawyer's office for them to put two and two together, and Izuku takes that to his advantage. Sensationalist articles had already been happening, a lot of them being cruel and demeaning towards you. Titles like "Is she a cheater?" "No amount of success gives you the girl!" And "Pro-hero Deku will be looking for a new wife soon" started popping up. You have to take down any social platform to avoid being targeted.
• It is when Izuku gives a public declaration that things get worse. "I'm sorry, my wife is just not happy with me anymore. Please respect her wish! Don't harass her, I failed as a husband." It may seem like a hearty and sorrowful declaration from the outside, but Izuku picked word by word to gain sympathy and pressure you into changing your mind. People in the street call you "heartless", and the stress simply keeps growing for you.
• To put it in simple words, you were David against Goliath, except Goliath was a glorified person who had all the resources and support of the people. You were nothing but a tiny mouse squeaking to be set free of a relationship that was suffocating you.
The aftermath: Supposing you haven't given up and he signed the divorce papers
• If you somehow manage to divorce him after all these problems, congratulations. You survived 5% of the drama that awaits you! Now you won't be able to date someone without people snapping photos for entertainment news or judging you for leaving "such a great man". Izuku will still try to convince you to go back to him, playing his "sad lover" role in front of the cameras so well! He'll try to send expensive gifts and tell you to keep the house, he'll call you drunk in the middle of the night, and if you're not careful enough, he may try to gaslight you into thinking nothing wrong was happening in your marriage.
• One particular thing I must mention is that Izuku only signed the papers after you yelled at him at one of the legal mediations, hot embarrassment tears falling from your tired eyes as you begged him to let you go.
• Anyways, the list could go on, but those are the main points of divorcing Izuku :')
"Please, just sign the papers..." You said through the phone, your voice tired of pleading to someone who simply refused to hear you. "I will, I will! I'm just a little under the snow with work. Can you reschedule?" Izuku said, apologizing for not being there for you. Excusing himself for failing you, but refusing to let go. "You know how many articles I've seen with my face saying how much of bitch I am for visiting my lawyer's office?"
Izuku's silence was deafening, you could only hear him sigh slightly, perhaps feeling bad for putting you in such a position. "I don't want this divorce."
"But I do, so don't make things more difficult for me, please." He heard you say, biting his lip to hold back the tears. Izuku was glad you couldn't see him, sitting alone in his office with a half-empty bottle of wine you'd gifted him for his birthday. "Do you remember what day is today?" He asked.
"I don't know, Monday? I haven't slept lately." You answered unamused. "It's our anniversary... we married 5 years ago, on this very day." His words came out as a slow slur, his breath hitching as he crumbled through the phone. "I miss you a lot, please-"
"I'll see you on Wednesday, if you're not there I swear to God..."
...
"Mr. Midoriya?" Your lawyer called, her voice bringing your anxious husband back to reality. "Ah, sorry, it's me. Is... is she in there?" He asked, pointing at her office. She just looked at him with little sympathy and nodded. "On time, as always. Maybe you should avoid keeping her waiting, that's the least you could considering how many times we've had these conversations."
"There's no way I can fix this, is there?" Izuku asked as if the lawyer cared. "Wanna do something nice for her? Divorce her."
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howaboutcastiel · 2 years
Text
Not My Intention (Moon Boys x F!Reader)
Content Warning: mentions of physical/mental abuse
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Word Count: 3.1k
Request (Abbreviated) @twhgirl
Could you write one moon boys x female!reader, where they've been dating for a while… They notice she gets anxious and startled very easily, but when they bring it up she always brushes them off so they don't pry. They don’t know she's previously been in an abusive relationship. And maybe they're at an office party and some guy comes to her when she's alone and the boys get jealous since it's obvious he's trying to flirt with their girl.
Content: Angst!! Fluff, poorly translated Spanish (obligatory) this shit is pathetic and soFT (not a comment on the recommendation just my writing) reader is dating the entire MK system
This is the first time I’ve tried to write in omniscient 2nd person so forgive me if I mess up the perspective somewhere <3 Thank you for the request!!! Much appreciated
~~
It had been just over a month since you had moved in with your boyfriends. Steven had tried to get you to move in sooner, even offering to cook you breakfast each morning to entice you, but you were trying to take this relationship one step at a time. The boys didn’t quite understand your apprehension, but they respect the boundaries that you put in place. You hadn’t told them the reason that you wanted to take things so slowly. They didn’t know about the damage your last boyfriend had left in his wake.
You had fallen absolutely head over heels for him, desperate to do anything to please him. You didn’t even care about all of the glaring red flags, like how he refused to meet your parents or to introduce himself to your friends. Before long, you had shut yourself off from everyone in order to meet his every demand. You endured the yelling, the manipulation, the guilt-tripping, and even the flat-out threats. You had even endured his escalation to violence; by then, he’d convinced you that you deserved it. It wasn’t until a particularly heated argument left you in the hospital with two broken ribs that you finally realized you had to get away from him. 
And so you did. But the damage was already done. Your self-esteem was shattered and your ability to trust equally so. You hadn’t even been looking for a relationship when you first met Steven Grant, but you were so taken aback by his gentleness. At this point in your life, it was the most attractive quality a man could have. You had been fairly understanding when Steven introduced you to Marc and Jake, as you felt safer by any of their sides than you’d felt in years. They soon all three became your devoted boyfriends, and you were happy. You didn’t fully comprehend how much your past abuse still affected you, though. How it still lingered in your subconscious. 
Tonight was the office Christmas party at your job. It would be the first time that your coworkers would meet your boyfriend (whomever was fronting tonight, that is). It would also be the first time that you would see all of your colleagues in one place, as this was the first office party you would be attending for the company. 
Jake had convinced you to wear quite a revealing dress, insisting that he wanted everyone to see how beautiful you were and maybe even be envious because you belonged to him. You thought he looked ravishing in his own suit, complete with a plum-colored tie to match the color of your dress. The party was more crowded than you had anticipated. You’d never even met many of the employees here, and you were just as unfamiliar with their plus ones as they were with your own. 
Jake was considerably more in his element than you were at a party. He was easily the most charismatic man you’d ever seen, able to stir up a conversation with any stranger in the room. You were not quite as socially confident. You spent a large portion of your night following him around. It was easy to smile and nod while he kept the conversation going with your peers. When he had spilled some of his soda onto his tie, though, he’d had to excuse himself to the bathroom, leaving you alone in the sea of largely unfamiliar people.
You started by looking for someone familiar to talk to, someone you saw on a more regular basis. Finally, you found your friend Cameron sipping wine in the corner with her girlfriend. It didn’t take you long to figure out that both of them were quite drunk. You let your small talk fizzle out after it became evident that they were too far gone to keep it going, rambling over you about some trip they were taking to Rome over the holiday. 
“Hey, pretty lady,” A quite inebriated man interrupted your half-listening to Cameron’s babbling. You recognized him as a new hire you’d seen once or twice, but you didn’t know his name. He made you uncomfortable, but you knew better than to be rude to creepy men at this point. “How are you liking the party?”
“It’s pretty fun,” You replied, trying to be polite but not intending to stimulate a conversation with him. “Was just talking to my friends here.”
“Oh, I’m sure they won’t mind.” He purred and you could smell the alcohol on his breath. He was standing just slightly too close to you, leaning into the table in a subtle effort to keep you from walking away. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing here all by yourself? Would think you’d have a man on your arm.”
“He’s in the bathroom! My boyfriend,” You added quickly, causing him to raise an eyebrow in suspicion. You hoped that he didn’t think you were lying. You continued, “I’m sure he’ll be out in just a minute.”
“Well, I’ll just wait here with you then.” He said, placing a suggestive hand on your shoulder. Your instincts told you that shoving it off would be a bad idea. “I would sure love to meet him. Say, I didn’t catch this ‘boyfriends’ name. Who’s the lucky man, sweetheart?”
“My name is Jake.” You caught a breath in your throat as Jake emerged behind the man. Feelings of relief and of guilt fought each other inside your head. Was he going to be angry at you? God, you hoped he didn’t think you were flirting. At least he was here to get this odd man away from you, though. The thoughts scrambled for dominance in your brain. 
“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Jake.” The man all but spat at your partner, dropping his grasp on your shoulder. “Quite a feisty one you’ve got here, wouldn’t you say? What a lucky guy you are.”
“Yes, she’s quite a pistol.” Jake’s expression was unamused. He wrapped his arm around your waist, more assertively than he normally did. “And uh… I didn’t catch your name. Do you work here as well?”
“Something like that.” The man replied shortly. He walked away, now uninterested as he realized you were a taken woman. And that the man you belonged to wasn’t exactly a pushover. Jake, however, looked anything but uninterested.
“Honey, who was that man?” The expression on his face was unreadable. It sent a weight to the pit of your stomach. You didn’t know how to respond.
“He’s, um…” you all but choked on the words, now genuinely upset by the look of betrayal on your boyfriend’s face. You didn’t know how to explain the man’s unwanted advances. Hell, you didn’t know if Jake would even believe you if you did. “He just started working here a few weeks ago.”
“Hmm.” Jake seemed annoyed, and you felt yourself break into a cold sweat. Despite all you knew about your partner, you were exhibiting a fight-or-flight response to his upset. Spiralling thoughts began to stir in your already fumbling brain. 
Oh God, he’s mad at me. He thinks I was flirting with that man. That disgusting man! What’s he going to do? I’m gonna have to sleep on the couch tonight. But I can explain it to him! Surely he will listen to me. Oh fuck, now he’s giving me the silent treatment. Is he going to yell at me in the parking lot?
The thoughts continued to race through your mind. Of course, they couldn’t be further from the truth. Yes, Jake was giving you the silent treatment. But it wasn’t because he was upset with you. He hadn’t noticed the man’s unwanted advances--to him it appeared that the man was being playful, and that you were joking along with him. No, Jake was being silent because he was jealous. Not so much as that you’d broken his trust, but that he’d gotten himself riled up by the idea that you were his. Well, his, Marc’s, and Steven’s, but nonetheless he knew that you belonged to him. 
Yes, Jake was giving you the silent treatment. But not because he was angry at you. Not because he felt betrayed by you. And certainly not because he planned to yell at you in the parking lot or on the way home. On the contrary, he planned to show you just how much he appreciated that you were his. Jake led you out of the doors of the office silently, going over his plan to fuck you into the mattress as soon as you got back to the apartment. 
Your heart continued to beat out of your chest as he all but dragged you into the passenger’s seat of his car. By now, you were covered in a thin layer of sweat, but you didn’t make any comment on what you perceived to be his righteous anger. You didn’t want to cause a scene with your coworkers so close by. 
He was completely silent on the excruciatingly long drive home. Your thoughts continued to escalate. So did his. 
He’s got to be so angry with me.
She looks so fucking sexy in that little dress.
I think he’s gonna yell at me when we get back.
I’m gonna have to rip it off of her. I don’t have the patience to unbutton it.
Should I just apologize to him now? Would that make it worse?
I wonder if she gets off on flirting like that. Does she like making me jealous?
I should have just stayed where I was. Then he wouldn’t have come up to me.
God, I’m gonna show her how much she fucking gets me worked up.
What if he doesn’t want to forgive me? I’ll plead with him all night if I have to.
Voy a perder la puta cabeza. Tan malditamente hermosa. Y todo mio. All mine. 
Perhaps if Steven was co-conscious he would have noticed the way you were shaking. He was the first in the system to notice how anxious you were on a regular basis. Of course all of your boys knew how sensitive you were, but they never pried as to why you were so apprehensive. To them, it just seemed to be your nature and, if it was something else, you would open up when you were ready. 
Nonetheless, Jake was failing to notice you were on the verge of a panic attack. When he did steal glances at you between focusing on the dimly-lit road, he mistook your shortened breathing and blushing skin as evidence you had gotten into the wine at the party. He wasn’t to blame for his lack of understanding, truly. He was barely keeping himself together right now. So he really wasn’t at fault when he continued his ruse by avoiding your gaze as you made your way to the door of the apartment. He didn’t know that you failed to see his disfavor was just teasing. 
After listening to his cheeky thoughts for the whole ride home, the other boys were now bordering on co-consciousness. Steven could see everything through Jake’s eyes, though he was unable to take control. Marc was holding back more intentionally, though he wouldn’t pretend that he wasn’t equally as enthusiastic. He was egging Jake on, just as heated by your body in that skin-tight dress. 
“C’mon man, show her who she belongs to. Make her work for it, too.” They were all eaten up with lust, senses clouded by their desire and their excitement. It wasn’t until the apartment door slammed behind them that they were snapped back to reality. 
You jumped at the way the door shook against the hinges, the sound of contact echoing through the kitchen. You tried not to panic as Jake barreled over to you, jaw locked with aggression. All of your trauma was flooding back to you now, manifesting in your rawest survival instincts. Jake raised a calloused hand up to your face and you reflexively put up your arm to shield yourself.
Then there was silence.
At least, to you. There was shouting inside of Jake’s head as the boys processed what they had just seen.  
What the hell was that? Did she think we were going to… hit her? Why the hell would she think that? Is she scared of us? She’s never been scared of us before. She knows that we would never hurt her. Any of us! It must have been a reflex. A reflex? Why would she have a reflex like that?
Then there was silence in his head, too. 
Oh.
Of course, you couldn’t hear any of their thoughts. Your own thoughts were loud enough to fill the room. You felt immediately guilty for implying that Jake would ever hurt you. That any of them would for that matter. But you also felt a wave of pain as your mind forced you back to where those reflexes were learned. You couldn’t stop the tears before they were streaming down your face, and you couldn’t get enough air in no matter how much you gasped for it. You felt your knees buckle underneath you, luckily your partner was there to brace your collapse to the ground.
“I’m so sorry, mi Vida,” Jake stuttered, pulling your head into his chest. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Or to make you think I was angry. I’m not mad at you, I promise. I thought I was just poking fun. God, baby, I’m sorry.” 
You struggled to regulate your breathing as he massaged your back, holding you as close as he could. His body tensed underneath you and his hands broke their rhythm, indicating someone else was trying to front. You almost felt more guilty that you were making a scene in front of all of your boys. But you were admittedly more comforted by their presence. 
“Did someone hurt you, love?” Steven asked in a gentle whisper. You could only nod into his chest, your voice ravaged by the sobs overtaking your body. “We would never lay a hand on you, darling. Not one of us. Never. I swear it on my life.”
Steven continued to stroke your back, shushing you and repeating “you’re alright”s and “it’s okay”s until your breathing finally began to calm. He planted kisses on the top of your head, waiting patiently for you to regain your composure. It was several minutes before he gently asked you if you’d like to stand up off the floor. 
“How’s about I make you a cup of tea, yeah? And then we can sit and talk if you’re comfortable.” Steven coaxed you over to the couch, handing you the box of tissues he kept on his desk. Your eyeliner had ruined his shirt, leaving uneven stripes down his already soda-soaked tie. He gave no indication that he minded though. In fact, he grabbed one of his own oversized night shirts for you to change into as he waited for the kettle to boil. 
Finally he emerged from the kitchen with your favorite mug in hand. He’d lost his tie somewhere along his little mission to comfort, his top button now undone and his hair disheveled. You almost giggled at the thought of the two of you, hot messes barely reminiscent of your elegant pre-party selves. 
“Here we are, love. Extra milk. Just how you like it.” Steven brandished an uneven grin, wary of your response as he settled on the couch next to you. He spoke genuinely as he handed you the mug. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“No, it’s okay.” You began, sipping from your piping hot cup. Perfect. Steven always made it just right. You knew now that it was time to tell the three of them the truth. They’d already gathered the big idea, anyway, you supposed. They had put so much of their faith in you. Hell, they practically worshipped you. It was time you gave them the honesty they deserved. And time that you admitted to yourself how much healing you still had left to do. 
You talked for hours that night. Mostly with Steven, but Jake and Marc made their appearances, too. Steven was a master of comfort, assuring you of the love and respect that you deserved. He even drew you a bath later that night, lighting your favorite candles and setting up speakers around the tub for you to play music. Jake made his fair share of threats and you had to make him promise not to go after your ex. You weren’t entirely sure he didn’t have his fingers crossed, though. Marc mostly listened. He listened intently. He also made sure to tell you how much he loved you every time you paused for breath. He would have given you the world if he could find a way to hold it in his hands. 
And when you finally succumbed to your exhaustion it was Marc that held you safely in his arms. His chin nestled into your neck, he whispered sweet nothings until he heard you softly snoring. Only then did he start to relax, sure that his best girl was taken care of first. It was the best night's sleep you had ever had in your life. It wasn’t far from his, either. 
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kokushibouthings · 11 months
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Upper Moon 1 and 3 requests. Doma annoys Reader all the time, and treat her like all the other women. Reader keeps telling him to stop but Doma doesn't stop. Upper Moon 1 and 3 intervene and make it clear that Doma should stop. Later, Reader goes to them and hugs them from behind and thanks them. Finally she kisses them on the cheek and leaves (they are not in a relationship)
Thank you for the suggestion anon, I'll try.. though I don't know how to write the last part but oh well
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Content: AFAB reader...well reader might be more of a gender neutral one, fluff(?) , SFW, Kokushibou, Douma, and Akaza
Pairing: None(?)
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You were a new addition to the uppermoons, strangely enough one of the top three demons took an interest in bothering you
It was odd, but you decided to try ignore it since you were told by daki before she... died. That he is very lively yet annoying.
Eventually you started to get more frustrated by each day everytime you both came across eachother, especially in the infinity castle
At that point, you ended up breaking the long train of trying to ignore him and started telling him to just stop
You wanted to punch him like how Akaza does all the time but your afraid of Kokushibou, he seems awfully protective of the hierarchy.. What a loyal dog to Muzan honestly.
"Hey [Y/N]-san! How are you doing?? Wanna come over to my place? I'll show you paradise!" "Please, stop bothering me."
You were fortunate enough upon stumbling across the other top 2 demons, Akaza and Kokushibou.
It seemed like Akaza was complaining about wanting to duel with Kokushibou but he kept refusing his request..
You and Douma stared at them, and they stared at you both
Douma was following you around, and you had no idea where Nakime was to ask her to teleport you to your house. So you were stuck walking around like an idiot with a stray puppy following behind you
"Ohh! How are you both doing, Kokushibou-dono and Akaza-dono?" He waved at them, with a smile plastered on his face followed with Akaza looking even more pissed than he should be a few minutes ago
"...Hmm." Kokushibou turned his gaze towards you, basically just awkwardly side-eyeing you presumably reading your inner body.. Whatever it is in the transparent world.
"Seriously? I could've stumbled upon your ass any other day by now." His eyebrows furrowed, looking annoyed having to deal with his presence again
"Uhmm... This is awkward." "... Whatever your doing, Douma.. You should stop it..." The intimidating gaze was finally moved away from you, you could hear a small sound of satisfaction before he said that as if it was what he had predicted before he stared at you for a few
"Huh? What was that idiot doing? Are you harassing... Uhm. That girl?" "[Y/N] is my name." "Oh. Okay." Akaza was probably the nicest out of the trio... Probably.
"What?" He paused for a few seconds, processing the two demons words with a finger pointed towards his own face..
"Ohh! No its not what you think it is!" He cocked his head to the side slightly, dramatically worried.. "Its best if you wouldn't lie... Now I have some business to attend to, goodbye..." He hissed sternly, giving Douma a sharp stare before walking away as Akaza looked surprised. Wow, it was the first time Kokushibou had cussed Douma out.
"Deserve. And just leave [Y/N] alone in the first place." Before Akaza followed behind Kokushibou again, starting his train of complaints
"Aww... I guess I have to listen to the mighty Kokushibou-dono. Bye [Y/N].." He waved at you, before walking off looking depressed
You weren't sure if you should feel bad or not.. Hes probably trying to guilt trip anyway.
You could finally relax, without being bothered by that idiot ofcourse. And yes you decided to try thank those two
When you walked up to Kokushibou, you were confused. Your original plan was to kiss them on the cheek and hug them from behind but...
Its obvious you forgot Kokushibou doesn't have any cheeks.
The space for his cheeks was taken up by his lower pair of eyes, so what were you meant to do? Kiss his eyes?
He'd probably flinch, and threaten to cut your head off afterwards...maybe a lecture too.
When you decided to only hug him, he was surprised. He knew you were gonna go near him but he didn't expect you to do such a silly thing.
"...What? Are you here to relay Akazas message? ...I'm in no mood to deal with your silly antics." He turned to look at you, and it was pretty terrifying to make eye contact with his pair of eyes in the middle. "Thank you for earlier, Koku."
Though you could admit he is quite hot...
You left afterwards awkwardly, and made your way to Nakime asking you to teleport yourself to where Akaza is.
When you gave Akaza a small kiss on the cheek, and a hug from behind
He looked a little shocked, was a bit embarrassed from this random weird action of yours... "Thank you for earlier."
"Uhh... Your welcome..?" He awkwardly pat you on the head.
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hi idk if u take requests, but if u do could u write a Din x Reader where the reader gets really sunburnt and she doesn’t want to be a burden to Din so she doesn’t tell him, and then when he finds out he helps her treat it? I’d love if they admitted their feelings for each other in the end..
Din Djarin x Female!Reader
Warning: injury, mentions of blood and pain, self doubt and anxiety
Word Count: 1,890
a/n: i changed 'sunburnt' to a different injury and i hope that's okay. i only did that b/c if i wrote the reader as sunburnt i'd have to describe her skin color, and i like to keep my drabbles as inclusive as possible. hope you don't mind!
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COMMON MISTAKE
"Pylades: I'll take care of you.
Orestes: It's rotten work.
Pylades: Not to me. Not if it's you."
.
Din told you to be careful. Actually, his exact words were, ‘Stop playing with your karking knife’. You, in all your excellent brilliance, had mouthed off a passive acknowledgement before continuing to play with your vibroblade. Although, ‘play’ was a strong word. You just wanted to get good at spinning it in your hand. Before you left Mandalore, you had seen Paz do it and since then you were determined to master that skill.
So, the summary was, Din told you to be careful, you had not been careful, and now you were bleeding. A lot. Dank farrik. In your defense, he had warned you that you were gonna cut your hand, and that was not what happened. You had tripped going up the ramp and accidentally skewered your thigh. Which, when worded that way, was ten thousand times worse. It was a good thing you hadn’t hit an artery because you would’ve bled to death before calling Din to let him know you were dying from an injury born of your own stupidity. 
“This is fine. I’m fine. No problem.” You mumbled to yourself as you wrapped your thigh with some padded gauze. You refused to use bacta on this. The thought of wasting the expensive and important medication on this injury only added guilt to your shame. “Everything is okay.” It looked good now all covered up and out of sight. Your pants were absolutely ruined with a hole in the thigh and blood that stained the entire length of your left leg, but it was fine. “I’m fine.”
If you repeated the word ‘fine’ enough times then it was bound to come true. Science.
You pushed off the cot to stand and nearly crumpled under the weight. Pain, hot and unbearable, rocketed from your hip down to your toes. Your entire left leg was angry and screaming at you. With a sharp breath, you forced yourself to walk and get a new pair of pants. Your communicator chirped a message that Din was on his way back with Grogu and that put a whole new level of panic on the situation. Getting your clothing situated, you chose to stand rather than sit. There was a solid chance if you sat down right now you wouldn’t be able to get back up.
Five minutes passed when Din came around the side of the ship to stand at the end of the ramp. Grogu was playing with an unfamiliar toy in the satchel by his side. The Mandalorian must have caved and bought the kid a new toy again.
“Hey,” Din called out without coming closer, “Are you done with the wiring?”
You had stayed behind to repair some loose wiring. Your sole job on the ship was to keep the damn thing in the air, and Maker did the Razor Crest fight you at every step. You nodded. “Yes. Yupp. All good.”
“Come with me.” Din motioned for you to follow after him. “I want to show you something in the town.”
You let out a quiet whimper as he slid out of view, and with a steadying breath you marched out with the most normal gait you could manage. Honestly, you were impressed with yourself. You’d be more impressed if you hadn’t stabbed yourself in the first place, but considering your situation you’d claim this victory. The town wasn’t far from where Din parked the ship and it was a small, but colorful village nestled in the wilds of Naboo. Somehow the fact that you injured yourself while the three of you were parked on one of the most relaxing and safe worlds out there only made your pride sting that much more. 
There was sweat beading on your forehead that you had to wipe away and your leg was burning in white, hot agony. Din continued to glance your way, you could feel his gaze, until he finally spoke. “You’re awfully quiet today, tranyc’ika.”
“Just… thinking.” You replied. It was a Maker damned miracle your words didn’t fall out with a whimper. Only a few paces ahead was a little shop that sold caf. Tables and chairs littered the outside patio and the second you and Din began to pass them, you drifted to take a seat. “Hey, how⏤ how about some caf, yeah?”
Din paused and just stared at you. You licked your lips and focused on taking slow breaths through your nose. Finally, Din shifted so he faced you dead on and his hands went to his hips. As if recognizing Din’s ‘lecture stance’, Grogu stopped playing to pay attention to what was happening.
“Walk to me.” He near demanded it.
“That’s a weird request.” You replied and made no move to stand. Din tilted his head at you. Dank farrik. Hands on hip and the head tilt. You were royally fucked. “Yeah, alright. Here I come.”
Just as you had guessed in the ship, the act of sitting down had ruined you. If your slow and shaky rise from the chair didn’t give you away, you took three steps before your left leg gave out on you completely. Before you could hit the ground, strong arms caught you with ease and you looked up to meet Din’s dark t-shaped visor.
“What did you kriffing do?”
“I, uh,” You offered him a sheepish smile, “I, maybe, stabbed myself. A little.”
You had gotten pretty good at reading Din’s body language which was why it was too easy to notice how his entire body stiffened. Without a word, he scooped you up into his arms, bridal style, and began to carry you back toward the ship. Grogu crawled up his dad’s side and found a home on your abdomen where he babbled at you in worry. The babbles were a fantastic distraction from the rage that seemed to waft off Din. When he got back into the cargo hold he carefully set you down after Grogu hopped off. His hands went back to his hip and you could only imagine he was glaring down at you through his visor. 
“Pants off. Now.” He snapped.
You had always dreamed of him saying that to you, but it always had a very different context than your current reality. With a pained sigh, you undid your belt then carefully shimmied out of your pants before leaning back on the metal crate behind you for balance. Din ripped his gloves off, tossing them down in a fit, but when his hands found your thigh his touch was soft and careful. 
Din peeled away the gauze you had applied and you realized you had nearly bled through more than half of the padding you had put down. The sound of a hiss escaped Din’s helmet when he saw your wound and you couldn’t help but wince as well. 
“Don’t move.” He said. Din’s voice left no room for argument as he drifted away. He returned with the first aid kit and you watched him pull out the bacta. You opened your mouth to argue, but the second a sound squeaked out of you his head snapped up to meet your eyes. You didn’t have to guess if he was glaring this time. You could feel the heat of it cutting through the visor and into your soul.
Moments after he applied the bacta, relief began to seep into your thigh. You couldn’t hold back the soft sigh that tumbled from your lips. Din carefully reapplied a new bandage once he was appeased with the amount of bacta he spread around and into the wound. You had hoped when he was finished he would just walk away and leave you to your misery, but you always had been a dumb, blind optimist and the galaxy loved to disappoint you.
Din set his hands on either side of you, knuckles white with how hard he gripped the edge of the crate, and he shook his head. “What happened?”
“I… I tripped. Fell on my knife.”
He sighed, “Are you out of your kriffing mind?”
“No.” You replied. “It’s not like I did it on purpose! I’m negligent, not insane.”
“You tripped, fell on your knife, stabbed yourself in the thigh, and then hid it from me?” Din’s voice grew louder with each event. His words pushing out in what was basically a growl.
You twisted your lips before nodding once. “That is an accurate description of events, yes.”
“Why⏤”
“Because Din!” You interrupted him. “First off, it’s the dumbest injury a person could possibly sustain so of course I didn’t tell you! Forget the karking wound, I nearly died of embarrassment.” You huffed a sigh and shook your head. “And, secondly, I’m so tired of feeling like a burden. You’re always there, taking care of me, and I just… I don’t want to be so dependent on you all the time.”
Din leaned in and you were surprised when he rested his head against your chest. Instinctively, your hands raised to wrap around his helmet, elbows resting on his shoulders. “Gar draar suvarir, tranyc’ika.” He mumbled and you only recognized your nickname. Din lightly shook his head against you. “I want to take care of you. I need to.”
“Why, Din? Why⏤”
“I don’t⏤” Din cut himself off with a grumble. Slowly, he lifted his head back up and your hands fell to his shoulders. “I’ve never been good at expressing myself with⏤ with words. But, I can take care of you. I can show you.”
“Oh.” You replied. Was he…? Did he…? You wondered if this was an admission or if your own feelings for him were biasing your thoughts. 
“So will you please, for the love the Maker, just let me take care of you?” Din breathed out.
You nodded. “Okay.”
Din’s body slumped with relief and he caught you off guard by pushing off the crate and pulling you into his arms for an embrace. His arms around you were tight⏤ as if desperate for the touch. When you leaned your weight into him, letting him hold you up, you heard him let out a soft sigh. One of his bare hands traced up your spine and cupped the back of your neck. Feeling the warmth of his hand press against your bare skin made your eyes flutter close.
“It’s a common mistake.” Din said quietly. It took you a moment to pull yourself out of the haze of bliss you had been lost in to hum out a reply. “I tripped and fell on my blade once.” 
Your lips pulled up into a smile. “Wait, really?”
“Yes, tranyc’ika.” Din replied. He chuckled. “Granted, it happened when I was seven.”
“Okay, touching moment of comfort, officially over.”
A laugh bubbled out from Din’s helmet, the sound comparable to a fresh breeze with the exhilaration it brought you. He pulled away from you, but left his hand on the back of your neck. Din quickly leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours for a few seconds, before his hand fell away an the moment truly ended. You stared at him as he collected the first aid kit to put away. Before he could leave, your hand shot out to grasp his wrist.
"I..." You paused. "I think I'm better with words. And I, I just want you to know that you're so important to me, Din."
"I know." Din nodded. He flipped his hand over so he could squeeze your hand, and it brought a smile back to your face. "Now put your pants back on. Your stab wound interrupted our date."
"Wait, our what??"
mando'a translations:
Gar draar suvarir: You don't (never) understand.
tranyc’ika: sunshine (sunny one)
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brisquad-unit-4402 · 5 months
Text
sitting with vox and the truth
(spoilers obvs)
happy the demon hungers everyone :D i did two watchalongs with my friends i hope we all show our appreciation to vox. he’s worked very hard and he’s very considerate of us his fans
this is all just to say that after a long, long, long two weeks i would like to rest so nicely on his chest. naturally i walked into this planning to write that but it turned into another vox breakdown fic which, really, couldn’t be a better description of unit 4402 if you tried
tags: gender neutral reader, angst, themes of self-hate, vox has a breakdown, spoilers for the demon hungers and the truth, ambiguous relationship (romantic intended but can be read as platonic; reader says “i love you”)
⚠️ spoilers for the demon hungers / the truth, vox akuma.
⚠️ contains self-deprecating dialogue
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
wings of melded leather and flesh writhe in the home of vox akuma. a dethroned lord, a wretched infernal. such a a wide reach. the talons of the wing threaten to scrape the ceiling with his greater height, while the membranous tatters hang loosely. if he represented Hell it would be a king’s robe. under wall and lamplight the sheet of skin is his chain.
gravity weighs down his voice all the same. it sinks his shoulders, drips off his hair and down his back. seven feet tall, with a shadow to cast over your body so small in comparison, and yet wind could knock him over as he stands his ground. the familiarity of gold within his eyes is gone but the guilt behind it is all the same, tainted in burning-coal. the smoke around his mouth and the embers along his tongue match the char. there is no fire. he’s put that out long ago. but what was scorched refuses to dwindle down to ash, remaining orange and red and that pink you swore you could see when there was nothing good on his mind.
nothing good, you thought, jokingly and enticingly. lightly. you see now that you were right, but without the fortune of intimacy.
he is scared, if he would be willing to admit it, and he is protective which he does. it’s why his hands are buried close to his chest, the swirling black-red, clasped together as if they were weapons. they are.
“do you understand?” vox asks. “i don’t deserve your pity.”
his frame is full with rage and power held dormant.
“i don’t deserve your attention, or your patience. or your love.”
a bead of ember rises from between his teeth. it fades to room dust as he grits them together.
when they snap apart an arc of flame accompanies it.
“It’s never been deserved. It’s never been okay. I have never been okay!”
the flames curl out of the air, following where the ember once went, room dust and hot air. without his hair in his face he can’t hide from the firing squad.
he can’t hide when you step forward, either.
“Don’t.” that’s what gets him to quit yelling. it’s replaced by inhaled cinder under his breath. “No, no, don’t. Don’t. Don’t.”
and quiet, you say, “you’ve held me before.”
“Don’t. Don’t. You can’t. No. Don’t.”
“and i’m nowhere near death.”
he backs away. “You don’t know that, you don’t know that, you don’t know, you don’t.”
“we don’t choose the bodies we’re born in. or the biology we function by.”
another step back. he doesn’t trip on anything. it’s the pure magma under his blood that sends him to his knees. “Get back.” a hiccup. “Get back!” his hands form tighter to his body. “Get away from me!”
“i trust you.”
“Don’t! Don’t! No! Away!”
“you aren’t hungry anymore. and i’m not in danger. i love you.”
vox’s back thumps against the corner of the wall. his hands tear apart. a prominent vein glides down the oil-slick arm. they tangle themselves into his hair. pale fingertips along bloodied streaks. white knuckles pulling at black locks.
he screams.
he screams again when you place yourself next to him, up against the wall, and bump your leg to him.
“if you could hurt me…” your eyes lower to where your legs are placed upon his. “then this would count. but i’m still alive.”
you look up to the ceiling. his talons didn’t scratch it but his horns certainly did. “and i’m still alive, and my soul is where it should be, with me.”
you cannot recognize the sound the voice demon emits.
“so i’ll stay with you. and we’ll figure things out.” with river under your hands you rub his arm. “do you remember this? it’s what i always do when you want me to help calm you down.
“that’s what i’ll do. just let it out. and i’ll be right here, and i’ll always be here no matter what.”
it’s a guttural, throaty cry across his register. a frog scratch.
“come on.” his blood twists under your touch. veins alight as live wires. “i have all the time in the world.”
“But I have been nothing but a blight.”
“i love you as you are.”
you place your head over his chest.
the first thing that happens is the draft from his wing wrapping around your face. your vision colors red. branches of uneven membrane along the wing’s flesh. so tight around his chest you don’t see a glimpse of the outside.
the next is how vox wracks himself over the lava within his throat.
your free hand takes over attending to him as much as you can, swaddled close to his chest.
through the wing, you can see how he forces his head away when he spits a flamethrower.
when the unpredictable flames raise to you and the wing-shield, it suffocates against the flesh. you don’t feel a shred of heat.
each fire is a bellow of pain gone unacknowledged for years. you don’t think he realizes his instinct to cover you. it would be a welcome validation if he weren’t lost in his own grief.
you spend the night beside the voice demon, listening to the shred of his screams. when he finds the courage to open his eyes, he shrieks for every moment that passes with your hand upon him, and soul within your confines.
.  . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆
✧. ┊ masterpost ✧. ┊ kofi
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colourstreakgryffin · 6 months
Note
yandere karaku and sekido vs yandere aizetsu and urogi fighting for the reader? (btw i’m not shipping the clones together)
Goddamn. All four of the clones… okay, okay. I’ll try this out! Probs be formatted in the same way as the ObaMitsu vs SaneKana rivalry post! I’m certain I can do this
Yandere! Demon Slayer Scenarios: Romantic! Karaku vs Romantic! Sekido vs Romantic! Aizetsu vs Romantic! Urogi
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This is… a disaster… a horrible disaster. You could have had anybody, demon or human, chasing after you but NO. You have all four of the infamous Upper Moon 4’s emotion clones lusting after you. God, you’re so screwed
All four clone brothers are equally as overprotective, possessive and delusional as each other over you. All four feel entitled to you and express their “claiming” of you in different ways, just hoping to win you over
They all believe you love him solely and hate his brothers. It was love at first sight but it is now corrupted, rotten love that won’t stop at murdering humans or spilling each other’s blood. It’s beyond insane
Urogi rubs every inch of his body all over you to mark his scent, Sekido straight up takes you away from everything, Karaku sends you a number of gifts with his name plastered on them and Aizetsu clings onto you and proclaims why he is better. All four are psycho and they play tug of war with you all the time
Urogi picks you up and flies away whilst his three other clone brothers angrily yell at him to come back with you. Urogi doesn’t even care, he just cares to have you as he possessively holds you and brings up to his little nest
Sekido is hyper aggressive towards his love rival clone brothers so he lashes out at them even looking at you. If he draws them away, you are all his and he clings obsessively
Aizetsu uses all means of emotional manipulation and guilt tripping to try get you to like him and avoid his clone brothers. It’s rather cruel how much he cries over you and how he can make you pity him
Karaku is a spoiler type of Yandere. He showers you in gifts, praise and confirmation, all as ways to persuade you to like him the most. You’ll never want another man if he treats you like a Royal, you’ll hate his clone brothers
Every situation with these four are hyper-aggressive arguments and all four suspecting you to pick them. Don’t like Sekido! Karaku is better! No! Aizetsu is kinder! But Urogi can fly! It goes on and on with all four yelling at each other to back off and demanding you pick them
All four clone brothers are so vitally overprotective over you that nobody can approach you. This is one of the only times they actively work together as they work together to ensure your safety
Yes. The four head Hantengu clones follow you around at night and sometimes, refuse to listen to Hantengu in favour of pursuing their favourite little demon. They are so much better, let them try win that little demon ever and protect them
Honestly, just picking one of the clone brothers is a difficult task. They don’t want to share you, they want you for themselves so if you do finally fold to their constant disturbance and clinginess, the other three will go batshit wild
It’s the most insane feat of rivalry and jealousy ever known to demonkind
“My darling. Why do you even look at those incompetent fools. I am very powerful, I am manly and I can provide more protection than they can, just admit you love me and not them”
“Cmonnn~! Just quit messing around with my brothers, you know, doll! I am funnier and I can give you all the love and presents and treats any demon could want~ pick me~!”
“Cupcake… do you believe my brother are better? I know you better than yourself and I understand you sympathetically… don’t leave me alone, I really need you”
“I smell a baby feather being tricked by three dum-dums! How about I show you that a big mate like myself is so much better than what they can do! Don’t you love flying~?”
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remedyx · 8 months
Text
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Boyfriend for Hire
BTS Ot7 x Reader
Chapter 85
Okay y'all, we're unloading here. This chapter contains some potentially triggering topics including power play (to incite fear) and derogatory name calling (not the good kind). Please be advised ⚠️🔞
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It took about another week before shit officially hit the fan.
“No, no, no! Y/N! Tell him you want pear juice. PEAR.” Jimin urged me as Jin tried shushing him so he could hear me on the other end of the line.
Not that I was talking so much as laughing. Jin had called me, telling me that he was in the process of making a grocery order that he was intending to pick up after work today since he was expecting it get off at a decent hour. I didn’t know if Jimin was already with him, or if he had just happened to show up at the right time, but the younger man was most certainly hanging over his shoulder while he was placing it, trying to guilt trip his oldest hyung into adding his favorite things into the cart.
“Literally no one drinks pear juice other than you.” Jin huffed over the phone.
“I’ll drink some.” I shrugged, smiling although they couldn’t see it as I printed off our latest shipment labels.
“See? She said she’ll drink it too, now put it in the order.”
I could practically hear the smug smirk on Jimin’s face, followed by a high-pitched cry when Jin probably smacked him for touching his phone.
“The only reason she said that was because no one wants to hear you whine about it later.”
That was… only partially true. On the other hand, I was really curious to try it.
“Are you closing soon?” Jin asked before I could come to Jimin’s defense.
I glanced at the clock on the nearby computer. I had about another two hours before store hours were up and I could close up shop for the day.
“Here in a couple of hours.”
“Why don’t I swing by and pick you up then? I’ll be done here by that time anyway.”
My heart warmed at how thoughtlessly caring they all were. I swear it came second nature to them. A product of being raised like good, respectable men.
“Sure. I’ll be a little later than usual though. Kat had an appointment, so I’m on my closing by myself.”
“Wait, you’re there by yourself?” Jimin’s voice got louder, having leaned into the phone probably thinking I could hear him better than I already could if he did so.
“Mmm hmm.” I hummed in confirmation, slapping shipping labels over the couple of boxes I managed to finish since Kat left about an hour and a half ago.
“Well, would you like some help? I can call Kookie, he should be able-“ Jin started until I cut him off.
“Don’t worry. It won’t take me too much longer than it would if she were here. Just pick up the groceries first and then head this way. I’ll be done by the time you get here.”
“It’s not just that…” Jin sighed. “I don’t like you being there by yourself. Especially after what happened.”
I knew what he was talking about. I also knew he wasn’t the only one who felt that way. But I couldn’t let fear, mine or theirs, prevent me from doing my job and what I loved. Sometimes I’d be stuck here by myself and if I was constantly afraid of it, I wouldn’t be moving on and putting what had happened past me. And I refused to let that happen.
“I’m okay, Jin, I promise. If it makes you feel better, call me when you leave, and we can stay on the phone until you get here.”
His sigh let me know that he still wasn’t happy with it, but he’d make it work.
“Okay. But if I call and you don’t answer by the second ring, I’m calling in the cavalry.”
“Deal. I’ll talk to you soon. Love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Love you too Minie!” I called a bit louder just in case Jimin couldn’t hear.
“I love you too! I’ll see you at home, alright?”
“Okay. See you later. Bye!”
I hung up, making sure I turned the volume all the way up before laying my phone behind the counter. Thinking it probably wouldn’t hurt to get as much of the things done for closing as I could now, I busied myself with small things around the shop. It had been relatively slow today, so restocking and cleaning up didn’t take long. Most of my time being spent on readying the packages I had for shipment. Double checking that everything was sealed nicely, I gathered all that I had, making sure to put them near my purse so I wouldn’t forget them on my way out.
Hopefully Jin wouldn’t mind making a quick stop by the post office before home. Remembering my ride, I checked the clock, seeing I still had about 45 minutes until he expected to be off. Deciding it probably wouldn’t matter if I closed up early considering there wasn’t much foot traffic, I went to the front doors to flip the signs over and lock the door. It was still cold outside, the winter season not losing its grip quite yet. Meteorologists predicting a rather large storm front moving in sometime over the next couple of weeks. Peeking through the windows like I always did before I shut everything down, I froze, frown forming over my features as I recognized the sleek black sedan parked out front. Damn near the same one I grew up with.
My fears were confirmed when the back door opened, and my father stepped out. Looking more than disgusted with having to be out in this weather. I groaned already dreading having to deal with him. It wasn’t really a surprise that he had come to find me. I had done a pretty good job at avoiding his calls and letting his messages go unread. It was only a matter of time before he’d decide to show up. He let himself in, barely throwing me a glance as he walked through the door.
“Well, you’re alive. I half expected you to be dead since you’ve been so blatantly ignoring me.”
I sighed, flipping the sign hanging on the door to closed before turning the lock. Last thing I needed was someone walking in on the conversation that I was sure wasn’t going to be a pretty one.
“You knew that and yet you’re still here, so what is it? I have plans this evening.”
He scoffed, ignoring me in favor of looking around the shop. The heel of his loafers clicked against the floor as he made his way around. He scrutinized everything, but avoided touching anything as if it were some kind of disease he was bound to get the plague from just being within a couple of feet from it.
“It seems you got back on your feet from that incident. Tell me, was it even worth the cost to clean up?”
“So, you heard about it, but never bothered to call.” I said, choosing to ignore his question.
“Of course, I heard about it. My name is on the agreement. Very naïve of you to assume they wouldn’t call the other owner.”
“Your name may be on those documents, but you’ve never done anything even remotely considered advantageous for the business to be called an owner.” I spit.
“You think I care to hold any responsibility for this shithole?”
I clenched my jaw hard. I’d spent years building my small shop from the ground up. And while I know it wasn’t much, it carried all my sweat and tears. All the efforts and struggles Kat and I both suffered through to make it as successful as possible. And to no surprise, my father would walk all over it.
“If you’re just here to insult me and my shop, you can leave.” I snapped, having enough.
He whirled around on me at that. The anger in his eyes making me flinch instinctively. Once upon a time, I would’ve done anything to keep him from looking at me that way.
“I thought I told you to stay away from those boys.”
The question wasn’t phrased as a question, but as a threat that he seemed furious I hadn’t listened to.
“Excuse me?”
“Apparently you think me stupid. I thought your idiocy capped at dating someone like Min Yoongi, but considered me surprised to find out that it didn’t just end there, did it? So, what’s your reason? Are you truly that shameless or are you just fucking your way around to get back at me?”
My eyes widened. He’s said many things to me, but the unbridled fury in his voice this time was something I wasn’t familiar with. Though I still had that inkling of fear deep down, I reminded myself that I couldn’t bend to him anymore. I wouldn’t. Not if I wanted to escape his grip once and for all. And so, I used that spark of fear as fuel for the anger I already had towards him. Not only for everything he’s said to me now and before, but for the things he’s said about my shop and my boys.
“Do you hear yourself? What are you talking about?”
He reached inside his coat, pulling out a thick envelope and walking over to the front counter before slamming a folder down onto it. A few of its contents sliding out of it from the impact. My footsteps were quiet carrying me over to where it laid. My heart dropped to my stomach at what I saw. Photos. Several of them of me with the guys. I reached out for one, hand shaking as I picked it up. It was Jungkook and I all over each other in the shop. One shot of me gripping him through his pants and the next one of the two of us lip locked. The next photo was me in the front seat of Jin’s car. His hand buried in my hair, mine behind his head pulling him closer as we kissed. The third photo was Taehyung and I walking into the apartment building hand in hand. More pictures of me and the others in various compromising positions.
A flurry of emotions ran through me. Shock, anger, panic. But most of all fear for the guys. These photos were undeniable proof of our relationship. And while people knowing didn’t bother me, or the guys for that matter, I knew just how dangerous this information could be in the wrong hands. The things my father was capable of just having it. But first I needed to know exactly how much my father knew. Right now, the evidence at best painted me as a harlot. Jumping from man to man without much thought. Nothing that has happened between more than one of them seeming to have been caught.
“You’ve been having someone follow me?”
My father chuckled humorlessly. Backing away from the counter and angrily yanking on his tie to loosen it.
“Please. It never occurred to me to have you followed. I didn’t think I needed to babysit you, but maybe I should have been keeping a closer eye on you when you kept popping up any time I had my men following Mr. Min and Mr. Kim. Imagine my surprise finding out my daughter had been fucking both of them.”
I winced at the hostility he spat at me. I wasn’t ashamed of my relationship with the guys, but it didn’t feel good having it thrown into my face either.
“So, I started having them keep tabs on you too. Finding you with two other men associated with them. I thought I raised you right. You’re an embarrassment. Acting like some common whore. Letting yourself be passed around.”
As much as his words stung, I was relieved. He didn’t know. In his eyes, I was just sleeping around. There was nothing else to suggest that they all knew about one another. That I was more than some slut to them. And it needed to stay that way.
“How many are there Y/N?”
“I don’t owe you anything. Especially not an explanation.”
My father’s eyes flashed in anger. A few short months ago, that would have terrified me. However, the time I’ve spent with my boys has taught me differently. He didn’t control me anymore.
“You’re not to have anything to do with them anymore. Am I clear? I won’t have my reputation sullied simply because my daughter is a tramp that can’t keep her legs closed.”
“Me?” I laughed humorlessly. “Sully your reputation?”
He ignored me, continuing on his rant the same way he would when dealing with some business negotiations that he knew he would get his way in.
“You’ll give up this ridiculous shop and your apartment. Move back home and marry whoever I am able to convince to take you. And these pictures and what you’ve been up to won’t ever see the light of day. I mean it. I’ve entertained your frivolous ways too long and I can see where that’s gotten me.”
“No.”
My voice was firm. The word loud enough to stop my father in his tracks as he looked at me.
“No?”
“I’m not some little girl you can tell what to do anymore. I have a life now and I’m not giving it up just because it’s not what you want.”
He stared at me. Almost as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He probably couldn’t. I had never stood up to him before, but damn it felt good to finally do so.
“You have a life? This sad shop and playing street hooker to several men?”
“I’m capable of making my own decisions.”
“These aren’t decisions. They’re mistakes. Ones that will not only ruin your life but anyone who’s associated with you.”
“It’s still my choice.”
The vein popping in his forehead was almost visible. His sharp eyes no longer holding anger, but cold emptiness. He took a step back from my counter, hands clenching into fists at his sides before he shoved them into his pockets.
“Well when your choices come crumbling down around you, I’ll be the first to tell you ‘I told you so’.”
And he left. Slamming the door behind him making the front window panes shake in their frames. Desperately trying to keep from shattering like my emotional state as I looked down again at the pictures he left behind.
Chapter 86》
Taglist (closed):
@mayla548 @lizzymizzy-blogg @uarmyhore @strawberry-moonpies @yu-justme @gooooomz @luvian-art @p-i-e-d-p-i-p-e-r @kiki-zb @mageprincess7 @thebisexualonesworld @mellymousie @bookoffracturedescapes @comingupwithacoolnameishard @idkreallys-blog @mushroom-main @ortiz1997 @felicityroth @juju-227592 @minholykingofkorea @purplelo @welcometomyworld13 @idkjustlovingbts @writingwithmai @k3yl337 @singukieee @taebae19 @tinyoonsblog @shawtylilsalty @bts-ruu @hopeonthestreet67 @burningfanflowercash @dvalitaes
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actual-changeling · 6 months
Note
you know, i was getting all sorts of ick feelings from the apology dance, and I'm so glad you pointed that out as not actually very cute or romantic in one of your posts, because yeah. it wasn't.
anyways i also just really love all of your crowley meta it's so well thought out and everything about trauma and healthy relationships i- it's just all amazing, so thank you (and sorry for the rambling lol)
Thank you! And never feel bad for rambling, I love rambling with people about this show.
The apology dance is such a sore spot for me, the entire first episode is, really. At first it seems - cute, funny, you laugh, and then don't think about it too much.
But then you do think about it and suddenly it is everything but romantic.
I might write a whole meta post about it at some point but the summary is basically as follows.
Aziraphale calls Crowley to meet him in the café and we're literally starting off with "don't say anything" for no reasons, but alright. Then he talks around the point, lies to Crowley's face, and eventually brings him to the bookshop only because Nina sped the whole thing up with the naked man comment. Aziraphale does not warn Crowley, doesn't say anything, nothing. Just jumps it on him.
THEN he refuses to "ask him properly", expecting Crowley to play bad cop and do the dirty work.
When Crowley tries to be a fucking adult about it and actually talk to Aziraphale in private, Aziraphale is already not listening to him. We get the "exactly" question, Aziraphale ignores every single issue Crowley points out because he has already decided what he is going to do. What he wants from Crowley is not a solution - he wants him to say "yes and" and do what he has in mind.
He THEN behaves like a fucking five year old with his "You're at liberty to go". I am holding myself back here but in short, this is a manipulation tactic. He is LITERALLY guilt tripping Crowley.
Crowley is incredibly taken aback and rightfully hurt, and Aziraphale feels bad and goes back to begging him for help - and Crowley almost says yes. He is about to say yes because he loves him and wants to keep him save.
Aziraphale however, for fucking childish reasons, goes back to his temper tantrum and throws "if you won't, you won't" into Crowley's face, sits down, and watches him leave. After HE called HIM for help because again, he didn't want help. He wanted a "yes of course aziraphale do you want a massage too or maybe a cocktail?"
But nooooo, of course it's Crowley who needs to apologize, and the fact that he is forced into doing the dance by Aziraphale is such a funny haha romantic laugh moment and not at all the fucking climax of Aziraphale's entire manipulation tactic.
Yeah. Fuck that, is my final thought. Conclusion: not funny, someone get Crowley into a healthier environment asap.
this turned into a little meta post i hope you don't mind rip i'm in a mood today
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wildbluesorbit · 2 months
Text
Wounded II || JTK
…A Continuation of London
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18+MDNI
Paring: Jakexreader(f)
LONDON SERIES MATERPOST
A/N: It’s arrival is finally upon us… so sorry it only took three weeks:( I promise the wait was worth though; out of the whole series, this installment was my ABSOLUTE FAVORITE to create !! Shoutout to @tommie-gvf for editing:) I am beyond excited to hear what y'all think!
i didn't notice the last 2k words cut off (x)
Summary || Navigating through the aftermath of your argument, you can’t bring yourself to face Jake.
Content Warnings || toxic relationship, agoraphobia, haphephobia, explicit depictions of night terrors/panic attack, brief mentions of anger and physical aggression and bodily harm and murder/death and sexual assault, verbal aggression, reckless/distracted driving, brief mention of drug use, unsolicited touched, allusions to depressive and isolative episodes, [non-aggressive] unannounced entry into readers bedroom, a very brief boner lol
Word Count || 7.2k
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— JAKE —
You wince at the strain of your stiff muscles propped against her bedroom door, eyes accosted by the morning light. The sequence of how the cold hard floor became your bed for the night is less than clear. Your only clues, the taste of liquor and guilt still bitter on your dry tongue, you are most likely the asshole. 
You will your aching body upwards, the pounding in your head follows your first step. You accomplish the odyssey that is the hallway to your bedroom and start on your appearance for the studio; the account of the night before depositing itself moment by moment as you ooze about your room. 
Still couldn’t get your puppy out of her little cage?
You cringe as you brush your teeth and fight your tangled tresses to loop into a low bun, a tangible distraction to repress the clawing conviction. 
I heard she won’t even let you pet her.
A huff escapes you as you slip on your socks and step into your boots. You grab your coat, intent on heading downstairs, but you instead find yourself not strong enough to withstand the gravity and accomplish your trek to the stairs; slave to the magnetic field of her bedroom door. You try to sketch out some impression of last night’s details, but clarity refuses to reveal itself to you. You study the ridges of the wooden frame and grumble to the clueless girl you pray is comatose on the other side.
The sound of your older brother calling you from downstairs breaks your spell as you shuffle towards the source.
The guy who put his hands on you has got nothing to do with me. 
Don’t you think you’ve carried this weight way too far?
Thick eyebrows furrow in your direction as a baffled Josh canvasses your face for any indication as to why you struggle to recite a simple breakfast order; your disconcerting recollections jerking you by the reins in and out of disassociation. You almost wish you could remain inviolable in your amnesic ignorance. 
When are you going to stop being so apathetic towards this?! 
You shake off your shame as you put aside the freshly delivered food on the kitchen counter for her to find after she wakes up. You lock the front door after Josh walks through and take a deep cleansing breath before you step into your car, knowing you can’t take this baggage to the studio with you. 
You don’t get to speak to me this way.
I’ll be out the door.
Your twin yells over the roar of the rumble strips from the passenger seat as you stray into the shoulder, “Jake?! The road!”
Fuck you, Jacob. 
Just another thing you have yet to do. 
You plug in at the studio, butchering and tripping over riffs of your own design. 
The completely broken and mortified look you painted on her face.
The vision curses you blunderingly dumbfounded.
“Okay, let’s take a quick five,” Josh says over his brother’s instruments while silently interrogating you from across the booth.  
You mentally rewind to realize you had completely missed your entrance.
An aggravatingly tone-deaf Sam challenges the sudden hiatus, “But we just started?”
Josh blusters his youngest brother a look that threatens unbridled rage. 
A sympathetic Danny steps in to rescue a clueless Sam from Josh’s wrath, “Sam, want to go get high?”
Like dangling shiny keys in front of a toddler, Sam’s attention is now fixated on Danny’s proposal. The two giggling men giddily scurry out of the booth up to no good. As soon as the exit door swings shut Josh stomps over to you, rolling his eyes.
He unpacks his authoritative older sibling's tone as his hands wildly comb through the air for your confession, “Okay, enough moping, out with it.”
You don’t even bother armoring a defense. You know very well you would end up confiding in Josh sooner or later. You ineptly unload every detail you can extract from memory in an iniquitous admission to your twin. 
You haven’t even finished speaking your closing statement when a pinching sting burrows against your skin as a result of Josh’s backhand assailing your bicep. You hiss through pressed lips and rub over the infliction with your opposite hand, yet you don’t dare challenge the considerably clement treatment. 
“You are such a prick sometimes, I swear,” Josh professes through gritted teeth.
You’re so consumed by your guilt you can’t even concoct an offense.
“Do you think she's going to leave- Fuck, I would never speak to me again,” you answer your own question.
Your pleading eyes frisk over Josh’s identical features, hungry for some kind of reprieving answer. Yet his same honest spirit that knots and kneads your stomach is the same one that always gravitates you towards Josh for counsel in the first place.
“I can’t answer that for you, but I think it's important you at least give her enough distance to think clearly,” Josh dismally warns. 
Your thumb and middle finger start at the crease of your eyebrow and rub outwards to your temples, tugging at your skin till your fingertips reach your hairline and fall through your tied-back strands, “Did I fuck this up, Josh?”
You almost wish you couldn’t read his expression of pessimism as Sam and Danny reenter the studio, bursting at the seams with a laughter that you can’t even fathom in this moment. Their giggles cut right through your exchange with your twin. Josh squeezes your shoulder and gives you a smirk of consolation before resettling himself in his designated portion of the booth. His way of wordlessly telling you to keep your chin up and you’d discuss it later. 
You try your best to adjourn your sins for now as you know it is time for studio work and studio work only, yet still stumble and topple through every note without a hint of grace until the very last beat of the session. 
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—YOU —
”Went to the studio, will be back late.  Enjoy your day                 -J “
Jake’s handwriting on the cardboard coffee cup sleeve informs you of his whereabouts. You inhale deeply, allowing the sweet soothing aroma of your favorite roast to sweep you to a better day. You are also embraced with an alluring savory scent. You restively snatch the small paper bag on the kitchen island that rests against your drink to discover an entirely different note. 
“p.s. Jake bought you a muffin too but  I got hungry :) - the other J”
You smile to yourself and unfold the crinkled brown bag to discover the comfort of your favorite grilled chicken caprese sandwich. You giddily scurry back to your room to start your day. 
You’ve found that making lists and organizing your time usually helps your mind from wandering where it shouldn't. So, you do just that. You make your lists. You order things low in stock around the house. You check your emails. 
You know you should close your laptop once you finish your clients’ work. Yet you find your mouse hovering over a new search bar. Foolishly, the hunt for apartments has begun with only a few clicks; knowing damn well you threatened your leaving in anger and don’t plan on going anywhere.
But as you scroll through listing after listing you begin to feel like maybe it could be time to leave and move on. Maybe you are suffocating everyone, but they can’t bring themselves to tread through your undoubtedly trauma-infested waters, hoping sooner or later you’ll fall off like a rotting limb. Or maybe the problem isn’t you but your lack of a clean slate. Maybe Jake ties you to the root of the tragedy just as much as he shelters you and grounds you in its aftermath. 
Instinctively, your monitor is slammed shut as your breath begins to flee from you. Even if this is true you can't make a decision based on some childish blurt. This would take genuine rumination. Which you are incapable of, considering you aren’t a hundred percent sure this isn’t some impulsive ammunition aimed at Jake. 
You sweep your consciousness clean and distract yourself with other productivity. You journal and read and wander around till you’d find a guitar. You do whatever you can to keep yourself busy.
Before you know it, the day turns into a week. You had been going to bed early before the boys got home so you really hadn’t spoken to anyone. You hadn’t even been purposely avoiding Jake, but space is what you keep telling yourself is best for the both of you since the other night. 
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It is only five in the afternoon when you hear car doors slam in the driveway from where you have been stuck in the same book for hours in the library. You instinctively shut the hardback with a smack and fly upstairs.
Even though it has been over a week, you aren’t yet ready to talk to Jake. You have certainly forgiven his assailment but you hadn’t yet figured out how to face him or his words. So you tuck yourself away in your room, never to be seen.
That is until you hear a light knocking at your door a few hours later.
You freeze, careful to not make a sound. You hope that silence will discourage whatever suitor is on the other side, enough to leave you alone. 
“It’s just me,” you hear Josh’s voice travel through your room. 
Still cautious, you impugn before moving a muscle, “Yes?”
“It's okay, Jake’s not here,” he says flatly. 
You exhale in relief but still inch the door open slowly. You guardedly investigate to discover it is, in fact, Josh and only Josh. You still greet him with narrowed eyes. 
“You can relax, sunshine, the man is on a liquor run,” Josh reassures you. 
You are accosted by his bugging eyes till he gestures to the slight gap in the doorway, “Can I come in or-?”
You ostensibly inspect him, “All right but I’m going to have to pat you for any wires.”
Josh throws his head back in a quick sharp laugh as he welcomes himself into your room, “Ha! Don’t threaten me with a good time, sunshine. But I would not spy for Jake. I’m strictly here on third-party business.”
He makes himself comfortable on your bed and sits resting against your headboard; something you’ve always admired about Josh is his ability to make home anywhere and draw close to anyone. 
Once he settles, he sets your pillows against the wall next to him and smacks his hand against your comforter a few times, ushering you to join him on your own bed. You roll your eyes with a smile and jump onto your designated spot next to him. 
You force a cheeky smile, “So to what do I owe this displeasure?”
He places his hands over his chest and feigns an offended gasp, “Well, I was just coming to check on you.”
You remind yourself that you are safe with Josh and it's only his way of showing he genuinely cares when he places his hand over yours. It's like running against the wind, but it's all you can do to not shudder and immediately pull away.
His speech carries concern as he lightly squeezes your hand, “I haven’t seen you in a few days. Is that on purpose?”
You tense a bit at the directness of his question, “Not really. You have just been going into the studio early and staying out late recently.”
“Well, just remember isolation isn’t good for anyone and-”
“Josh-,” you start but he sings over you to finish his sentence.
“...and we miss you,” he lovingly interjects. 
Your words come out sharper than you intend, “We? Who’s we?”
“Yes, we.” he mimics your satire, “Me, Danny, Sam, and especially Jake.”
“Well, obviously not too much if it's you here and not him,” your tongue instinctually retorts.
“He doesn’t want to suffocate you is all, believe me, he certainly misses you,” Josh rolls his eyes, making you curious about Jake’s behavior after your argument.
“Sunshine,” Josh cuts directly to his inquiry tired of tip-toeing, “What happened the other night?”
“Please,” you almost snort, “I’m convinced you and Jake secretly compare bowel movements. Don’t act like he didn’t already tell you every detail.”
“I mean he did,” Josh confesses, “I just want to hear what you have to say and see how you’re feeling. It might help you to talk about it.”
“Also, you’re gross,” he blurts and narrows his eyes. 
“As much as I totally want to relive your brother’s cruel words, Josh, I trust Jake told you everything like it happened but-,” you hesitate, the realization you might not like the answer just now seeping heavy into your bones, “what happened at the bar? Between Danny’s call and Jake's temper, I can tell something wasn’t right.”
Josh’s features drop with his shoulders and an exhale, “He didn’t tell you?”
You see an indiscernible visage dart across his features after you shake your head no. You recognize it as condolence as he carefully recounts that night in every stomach-knotting detail; depicting a very doleful Jake, a “bitch-for-brains loudmouth” as Josh put it and her insolent tears at Jake, followed by his solemn exit and dodged phone calls. 
Your heart writhes from its relocation in the pit of your stomach, almost sick at the thought. Your inability to leave the house is now bleeding into all aspects of his life and polluting his liveliness you loved so; a light that has seen you through the ugliest dark. 
Josh frees you from the quicksand of your spiraling thoughts with a fragmented one of his own, “He waits for you, you know?”
He must read the confusion on your face as he rephrases, coloring in the empty lines with a bit more context, “Every night- Jake- He’ll always have this stupid giddy look on his face when he tells us the good news that you should be joining that evening. And I know my brother, he genuinely believes it. I can tell he’s not being optimistic or even humoring himself, or you. Then when he shows alone, he’s never angry or upset. He’ll just tell us you were too tired or weren’t feeling up for the outing. But I swear to you- his eyes never leave the door. Even if distracted, his body is always facing the entrance. He’ll never admit it- I’m not even sure if it's a conscious habit, but he always holds out hope that you’ll show up. We all do- just can’t hold a flame up to him. I have yet to hear him speak a bad word of you or complain of your absence. He has such faith in you, more than I think you realize, and I have yet to see it dim. I’ve never seen Jake so far gone in love with someone and he only wants to see you grow.”
Your mouth opens to speak but all words seem 10,000 miles from your horizon. Your eyes begin to pool as you try to grab at any response, his last words poisoning any other ideations. Neither Jake nor you had spoken a word of “I love you” to each other since that harrowing night, much less did he mention being in love. 
You want to ask Josh a thousand questions of what he meant by that. What has Jake said? What has Jake done? How does he know for certain? You have to leave now, right? Wouldn’t that be the selfless thing to do? Yet, you can’t vocalize one.
The debut of your salty streaming eyes ushers Josh to reel in his sermon, “Look- you don’t have to say anything- unless you want to. I definitely want to hear but I don’t want to pry. And I don’t tell you this to make you feel bad, I’m just trying to give him some credit and it's something I thought you should take into consideration. Just in case you felt as if that might be impeding you. So when you do return, that's one less thing off your plate. I promise no one will look at you differently. We're all just so eager and ready to have you back by our side again.”
His immediate addition is an exact echo of his brother, “No rush though. You do what feels right, sunshine.”
You swipe at your glossy cheeks and only nod in understanding, still unable to grasp a word. 
“Alright, I also just wanted to let you know we have a flight in the morning and  we’re out of town for the next few days,” he steers the conversation in a less hazardous direction. 
“So you’ll have the house to yourself,” he playfully wags his finger in your face, “and no ragers, young lady. I mean it!” 
“No promises, but I’ll see you when you get back,” you pucker your lips, caperingly blowing him a kiss. 
“Unless you want to be a stowaway? No one would stop you,” his eyes grow wide along with his smile; the same one that always grants you such safety when it appears on his twin. 
You lark, “But then when would I have my party?!”
“Ah, clever girl,” he accepts his defeat. 
Josh takes liberty and scoots down to lay cozy in your bed, indicating he is going to regale you with his illustriously dazzling conversation. And he does. You catch up with each other on your weeks and he tells you what they plan to do on their trip. You ask him how Sam and Danny are doing, and then Jake.
Just as he's illustrating an anecdote of some embarrassing and eccentric stunt Sam pulled to infuriate Jake today, you hear the heavy steps of tired boots coming up the stairs. 
Josh’s story is totally derailed by his twin, “He sure is heavy-footed for someone so small.”
“You know you’re just as-” you start. 
“For my whole life, unfortunately,” he shakes his head in a faux grief. 
“Well, we have an early start and I was told I can’t be late this time,” he rolls his eyes, “I better head to bed.”
Josh exuberantly springs from the mattress to his feet and theatrically bows in a goodbye, knowing better than to attempt any sort of embrace. 
He pulls away to make eye contact, “Be right back, call if you need anything.”
“Will do,” you throw him one last jest, “Have a safe flight and don’t forget Sam’s leash!”
“Please, he’s Danny’s pet, not mine,” he scoffs and saunters towards the door, “goodnight, sunshine, love you.”
You tell Josh goodnight and return his love before he winks you goodbye and gently shuts your door, disappearing behind it. 
You giggle as the sounds of him dramatically stomping down the stairs in a motion to Jake’s prior thuds through your room. 
That night, sleep hides itself away from you. Josh’s words chase each other, crashing and rattling around your head like a pack of rabid wolves. With each passing second you can’t help but think of the warm-bodied man down the hall from you. 
Is he fast asleep, unbothered by you? Is he awake? Is he thinking of you too? Does your presence burden him? Is he fighting the urge to come see you? Is your name on his lips?
Your racing thoughts are broken by the trudging of a sleepy, no doubt grumpy, Jake. 
The footsteps travel from his room and seem to concentrate as they get closer to your door, until directly in front. You hold your breath as you hear Jake mutter something and hiss in frustration. You’re only able to make out his last words as they barrel from his throat. 
“Please, just- be here when I get back,” he implores the silence of an empty hallway.
Your chest pounds erratically, your heart threatening to escape its cage. It’d only been a week but you don’t realize how much you ached for him until your bones entered a state of conniption at the sound of his slumber-rasped voice. 
You know he assumes you’re asleep and these words aren't yours to hear. You can’t help but wonder if this is the first night he’s addressed your inanimate door. Your malaised heart sings a mourning song to the resentful tune of Jake’s boots dragging him towards the stairs and away from you.
A decent night’s sleep still refuses to slip into your covers with you, so it's the sun that puts you to bed. The next few nights prove the same. You try your best to fix your sleep pattern, performing laborious tasks during the day to tire yourself out but it renders useless.
You refuse to take any kind of relaxant, as the haze always takes you back to a sensation you never want to return to. You aren’t sure if it's Josh’s words or another bad storm on your horizon, but you have become an insomniac. 
It has only been 4 days, but each one is a bit more challenging than the previous; today rains over you like a hailstorm. 
You don't want to get out of bed. You don’t want to get up to use the bathroom. You don’t want to shower or get dressed. You don’t even want to eat.
You have no wants, only musts.
You must get up, must relieve yourself, must shower, must dress, and you must eat. Or you will not survive. You will die here, swallowed whole by nothingness. No one is here to tell you what to do. No one is coming to your rescue. 
Something different. Routine is a consistent companion until it is your cage.
A break. You convince yourself you need an unfamiliar happening to overwhelm your senses. An affair to shock you back to your feeble bubble of fleeting stability. A change in scenery.
You find yourself in a hysteric pace around that front door. There is nothing to lose at this point. No one here to witness if you fail. Everyone’s words run through you.
There is no rush.
But there is. You are already behind. This house is running out of oxygen. You are already rotting here. This habit will soon blur into home. 
You take a deep breath and turn the knob. Not daring to chart with eyesight first, you fling yourself through that open door as if at any moment you might be sucked back inside. 
The air enwraps you, brisk and cool. The undeniable fragrance of a distinct autumn breeze interrupts its commute, reminding you of how miserable you’ve been without it. Your sight is allured by your new porcelain shade in the sun; you have prodigiously neglected your melanin to a pallid skin tone you’ve never worn before. 
You propel forward, telling yourself to just keep moving. You secure your place at the end of the extensive driveway and unwisely decide you can make it down the sidewalk.
You should know better than to think you could outsmart panic without strategy. You feel storm clouds roll in thick all around you; and wherever there’s rain, thunder is sure to follow.
Suddenly the boundless reaches of the stratosphere isn’t enough to save you from the suffocation of the world crumbling fast around you. You pivot until you’re barreling back down the path you came. You almost lunge through the door and lock yourself back inside.
You gait about the living room performing your breathing and self-soothing exercises. All children’s play in the wake of your hijacking terror. You eventually catch your breath but the tremors bond with you. 
Whatever was eating at you earlier was only amplified by your brief spontaneous journey outside of the house. But you had foolishly led the demon inside with you, it is now clawing at the walls and howling throughout the halls. 
You search for sleeping pills having no hope to rest organically tonight, accepting their necessity to your survival. You only look at your bed before deciding it's not even worth the noble fit of tossing and turning. You make sure you are ready for bed before scurrying into Jake’s room and crawling under his sheets. Yet you still can’t shake the feeling of a lurking apparition. 
However, the ingested medication now emanating throughout your bloodstream is impervious to your stalking condemnation. You anchor your antidote to the soothing aroma of Jake present in his bedsheets as you are shoved into void. 
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You recognize the alley as soon as you are there. Beads of frigid rain pelt against your pink achy skin. The crying sky creates a misty halo against neon lights and coats everything it dances upon with a bleary gloss.
You are pinned against the wall in an instant by that vicious and nauseating smile. You try to fight but all at once you are being poked and prodded and beaten into an involuntary submission. Until your rescuer arrives.
Too enervated to attempt escape as your oppressor is distracted, Jake lunges forward. Yet he never makes contact before he falls to the ground, a dark red dye seeping from his center into his clothes. You somehow escape your attacker to see him wielding a blade.
You run to where Jake is withering away on the glittering asphalt. You attempt to cradle him, but he hisses at your touch. 
Despite his wounds, he is the one to console you, telling you you’re perfect like he always does. Your only power remains in a helpless squeeze of his hand as he pours out onto the slick black top and you see his light flicker out. 
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 – JAKE –
The headlights of the car illuminate your home sweet home as the chauffeur pulls up the driveway. The incline of the path almost causes light to leak into her bedroom window, where you hope she is fast asleep, deep enough that she won’t be bothered by the slight brightness.
You got home two days earlier than expected and you plan on surprising her in the morning. 
God, how you have ached for her, lit yourself on fire for her; all to let it sift through your grasp over some drunken slurs. You wanted her to have space, but hope tomorrow will hold mercy for you as you can’t restrain yourself any longer. 
The driver reaches the house and Josh and you exhaustedly crawl out of the vehicle. You retrieve your luggage before sluggishly dragging it and yourselves to the front door. You swear you grow weary with each second of jangling keys as Josh absentmindedly sifts through each metal shard; standing helpless till he feels the right shape in his hand. The click of the lock barely registers as you are greeted by the cool A/C of the foyer and the smell of home. 
All vitality spent on your journey, neither of you has spoken a word since you landed. As you start to head your separate ways, you bid each other goodnight through a silent nod. 
Only for it to be ambushed by her petrifying heart-grating scream, “JAKE?! JAKE?!” 
One might only assume you’re prey to predators the way you instinctively soar to the stairs, up to your level, and towards her room. Without a word, you hear Josh’s footsteps apace behind you. 
You almost slam into her door moving so fast. You swing it wide open, mouth agape as she is nowhere in sight. Your heart pounds in your temples as panic now starts to clamp tight around your chest. The only other time you recall this measure of a corrosive dread being the night you couldn’t find her anywhere at that party. 
“JAKE?!”
Another scream immediately reveals her location to you. You dart out of her room, down the hall, and into yours.
There she is. Under the warm glow of your salt lamp-lit room, wrapped in your covers, leaking eyes scrunched shut, a lump of muffled indiscernible murmurs and whimpers, and visibly shaking. 
“I think she is just having a nightmare,” you authoritatively order Josh out of the room, “I’m going to wake her, but you should go, I don’t want to overwhelm her.”  
You pad towards the bed and caress whatever limb you contact first, buried underneath your blankets. Gently, you begin to coo her to consciousness.
She springs to life, petrified by your unrecognizable silhouette under the poor lighting and only just emerged from her dream state. Clumsily, she slips off the bed and tumbles to the floor, disoriented and gasping for air.
The thud from her spilled limbs on the hardwood floor nearly syncs with yours, as your knees plunge to the cold surface the moment you register her fall.
You place your palms visibly out to her, indicating her safety, “Hey- It’s me. It's Jake. I’m home.”
“No- Jake- you- he- he’s gone,” she bewilderedly sobs out almost in a question. 
You aren’t sure if she is referring to your trip or something she saw in her dream and is convinced is reality.
You keep trying to rip her from whatever hallucination has its jaws around her, “No, baby, you're safe. You’re home with me, in Nashville. I got in early.” 
She finally seems to digest your words, her glassy eyes [partially] pacified by your newly registered presence before whispering your identification, “Jake?”
When it comes to her, your first instinct is always a consoling touch, but you have learned an unsolicited embrace only runs her further from your protection. However, you have to try. 
“Yes, babygirl,” you reassure before you approach, not wanting to spook her, “can I come near you?”
You’re astounded when she only responds by leaping into your lap and wrapping herself around your torso. 
Within an instant, your arms have gratefully found their seal around her waist. Your calloused fingertips ever so slightly sink into her buzzing flesh, wrestling with every muscle, willing yourself not to tear her apart. How have you starved for the shape of her, the weight of her, the warmth of her very skin. Fuck- to finally hold her again feels so fucking good. 
“Jake- this time- and- he got you- then you-,” she fights through stuttering breaths.
“Hey, no more of that,” you gently assert to sedate whatever terroristic figments are plaguing her in your arms, “I’m here now. I've got you.”
Still trembling, she nuzzles her face into your neck and hysterically rasps out, “Jake, please don’t leave me. I can’t- Jacob, I love you. I can’t lose you. I can’t take it!”
You have no idea as to what she saw in her nightmare, only that you have never seen one leave her this rattled. You can feel her at war with her own breath as her panic continues to steal it from her.
A trick from the therapist resurfaces and you take the dips of her waist within your firm grasp to briefly withdraw her from your embrace, “Hey, I’ve got you, but I need you to listen to the sound of my voice. Focus on what I’m saying, okay?”
You don’t wait for her to respond before taking her hand and running it across the material of your blue corduroy jacket, “You feel that? It's your favorite jacket of mine, the one you always steal when we go for a drive.”
You ever so slightly draw yourself back in closer to her, “I need you to take a deep breath. Smell that? It’s the cologne you bought me for my birthday?”
She concentrates on her inhalation, occupied with taking an exaggerated breath. She slowly begins to nod.
You can see the sensory stimulation starting to ground her so you attempt to redirect her focus, “And what did I promise? I need to hear you say it.”
She takes a long shaky breath, “You- You said no more leaving. You promised.”
You place her jaw safely within the shelter of your palm and press your forehead to hers; without warning, you’re captivated by a time of exigency to live off the same breath as her.
“That’s right, and I’m here now and I’m not leaving you again,” you vow.
You scoop her back into your arms and off the floor. She clings to you as you turn off the lamp and cradle her back into the fortress of your bed, curling up around her for safekeeping. 
You caress and console and coo until finally, her quaking stops and breathing evens out as she is welcomed back to slumber. The rhythmic rising and falling of her rib cage underneath your touch lulls you into your own dormancy. 
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 – JAKE –
The headlights of the car illuminate your home sweet home as the chauffeur pulls up the driveway. The incline of the path almost causes light to leak into her bedroom window, where you hope she is fast asleep, deep enough that she won’t be bothered by the slight brightness.
You got home two days earlier than expected and you plan on surprising her in the morning. 
God, how you have ached for her, lit yourself on fire for her; all to let it sift through your grasp over some drunken slurs. You wanted her to have space, but hope tomorrow will hold mercy for you as you can’t restrain yourself any longer. 
The driver reaches the house and Josh and you exhaustedly crawl out of the vehicle. You retrieve your luggage before sluggishly dragging it and yourselves to the front door. You swear you grow weary with each second of jangling keys as Josh absentmindedly sifts through each metal shard; standing helpless till he feels the right shape in his hand. The click of the lock barely registers as you are greeted by the cool A/C of the foyer and the smell of home. 
All vitality spent on your journey, neither of you has spoken a word since you landed. As you start to head your separate ways, you bid each other goodnight through a silent nod. 
Only for it to be ambushed by her petrifying heart-grating scream, “JAKE?! JAKE?!” 
One might only assume you’re prey to predators the way you instinctively soar to the stairs, up to your level, and towards her room. Without a word, you hear Josh’s footsteps apace behind you. 
You almost slam into her door moving so fast. You swing it wide open, mouth agape as she is nowhere in sight. Your heart pounds in your temples as panic now starts to clamp tight around your chest. The only other time you recall this measure of a corrosive dread being the night you couldn’t find her anywhere at that party. 
“JAKE?!”
Another scream immediately reveals her location to you. You dart out of her room, down the hall, and into yours.
There she is. Under the warm glow of your salt lamp-lit room, wrapped in your covers, leaking eyes scrunched shut, a lump of muffled indiscernible murmurs and whimpers, and visibly shaking. 
“I think she is just having a nightmare,” you authoritatively order Josh out of the room, “I’m going to wake her, but you should go, I don’t want to overwhelm her.”  
You pad towards the bed and caress whatever limb you contact first, buried underneath your blankets. Gently, you begin to coo her to consciousness.
She springs to life, petrified by your unrecognizable silhouette under the poor lighting and only just emerged from her dream state. Clumsily, she slips off the bed and tumbles to the floor, disoriented and gasping for air.
The thud from her spilled limbs on the hardwood floor nearly syncs with yours, as your knees plunge to the cold surface the moment you register her fall.
You place your palms visibly out to her, indicating her safety, “Hey- It’s me. It's Jake. I’m home.”
“No- Jake- you- he- he’s gone,” she bewilderedly sobs out almost in a question. 
You aren’t sure if she is referring to your trip or something she saw in her dream and is convinced is reality.
You keep trying to rip her from whatever hallucination has its jaws around her, “No, baby, you're safe. You’re home with me, in Nashville. I got in early.” 
She finally seems to digest your words, her glassy eyes [partially] pacified by your newly registered presence before whispering your identification, “Jake?”
When it comes to her, your first instinct is always a consoling touch, but you have learned an unsolicited embrace only runs her further from your protection. However, you have to try. 
“Yes, babygirl,” you reassure before you approach, not wanting to spook her, “can I come near you?”
You’re astounded when she only responds by leaping into your lap and wrapping herself around your torso. 
Within an instant, your arms have gratefully found their seal around her waist. Your calloused fingertips ever so slightly sink into her buzzing flesh, wrestling with every muscle, willing yourself not to tear her apart. How have you starved for the shape of her, the weight of her, the warmth of her very skin. Fuck- to finally hold her again feels so fucking good. 
“Jake- this time- and- he got you- then you-,” she fights through stuttering breaths.
“Hey, no more of that,” you gently assert to sedate whatever terroristic figments are plaguing her in your arms, “I’m here now. I've got you.”
Still trembling, she nuzzles her face into your neck and hysterically rasps out, “Jake, please don’t leave me. I can’t- Jacob, I love you. I can’t lose you. I can’t take it!”
You have no idea as to what she saw in her nightmare, only that you have never seen one leave her this rattled. You can feel her at war with her own breath as her panic continues to steal it from her.
A trick from the therapist resurfaces and you take the dips of her waist within your firm grasp to briefly withdraw her from your embrace, “Hey, I’ve got you, but I need you to listen to the sound of my voice. Focus on what I’m saying, okay?”
You don’t wait for her to respond before taking her hand and running it across the material of your blue corduroy jacket, “You feel that? It's your favorite jacket of mine, the one you always steal when we go for a drive.”
You ever so slightly draw yourself back in closer to her, “I need you to take a deep breath. Smell that? It’s the cologne you bought me for my birthday?”
She concentrates on her inhalation, occupied with taking an exaggerated breath. She slowly begins to nod.
You can see the sensory stimulation starting to ground her so you attempt to redirect her focus, “And what did I promise? I need to hear you say it.”
She takes a long shaky breath, “You- You said no more leaving. You promised.”
You place her jaw safely within the shelter of your palm and press your forehead to hers; without warning, you’re captivated by a time of exigency to live off the same breath as her.
“That’s right, and I’m here now and I’m not leaving you again,” you vow.
You scoop her back into your arms and off the floor. She clings to you as you turn off the lamp and cradle her back into the fortress of your bed, curling up around her for safekeeping. 
You caress and console and coo until finally, her quaking stops and breathing evens out as she is welcomed back to slumber. The rhythmic rising and falling of her rib cage underneath your touch lulls you into your own dormancy. 
the last scene cut off (x)
pretty please let me know what you think :))
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dreams-writings · 9 months
Text
Reverse Interrogation - Part 1
[sub!Feitan Portor x top!Reader]
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‼️ NSFW/MDNI‼️
Synopsis: For the first time in his life, Feitan fails an interrogation. Refusing to admit defeat and give up his perfect track record when it comes to his specialty, he begrudgingly allows reader to strike a bargain in exchange for her secrets.. and is shocked to learn what she truly wants. His body. Frustrated and furious with his predicament, he angrily accepts her conditions purely for the sake of the Troupe, agreeing to do as she says. No other reason...
Tw: eventual smut, torture, violence, NSFW/MDNI, vulgar language, Feitan gives verbal consent but still isn't happy with the situation/ (dubcon????)
Feitan's thin, pale fingers were as cold as his heart, a detail that all of his victim's vividly remembered. They always retold their horrid experience with the notorious Phantom Troupe interrogator with a glaze of shell shocked terror in their eyes. The graphic recollection of such chilled skin gripping and tearing harshly at their own flesh would make them sob even years later after the torment. That is, of the few that survived the ordeal. The man in question wasn't necessarily aware of this, he just did his job, striking an unfathomable amount of fear into the hearts of the unlucky few who crossed his merciless path, and whom were ordered to be dragged off to his eery torture chambers. He'd bring them all to the point they'd do anything in the entire world to escape it. Even giving up precious secrets, his most treasured prize for the effort.
He was nonchalant about it. Indifferent, even. Perhaps he could revel in the glory of it, just a bit - the assignment easily giving a man like him a power trip seldom found elsewhere in his youth. Anyone from Meteor City had been conditioned by a brutally unforgiving childhood.
His eyes might crinkle in delight beneath the mysterious cowl at a particularly profound scream, or those empty grey depths could also glimmer amusedly if they begged for his nonexistent mercy. But such was the nature of his upbringing. At the end of the day.. it was the pride of serving his Troupe which overruled any form of guilt or shame that a normal, perhaps more sane person could feel about butchering people into submission. He never failed an interrogation. And he didn't plan to start today, even as the woman before him.. his newest little nut to crack open, was giving him a challenge.
Someone who survived more than perhaps ten minutes was refreshing. But only at first - as he was about to discover. Feitan was accustomed to the disappointment of most human beings succumbing to their primitive instincts and fragility, interrupting his creative ideas at the worst time. It left him unsatisfied, and pent up. The confessions would soon follow after the initial wave of shock passed.. the pathetic blubbering and hiccuping sobs, as his victim unashamedly spilled their intel before he spilled more of their guts. A part of him pitied them. Only a small, miniscule part. But most of him loathed them, too. Not only for their weakness, giving in so easily... but also betraying whomever it was they worked for or served. Mostly, it was his judgement for their inability to endure. He could only think to himself at such times:
Really? That's all you can take? I could've done better in your shoes.. I wouldn't have broken so easily. I would never be a liability to my allies. How detestable.
In his opinion they belonged beneath his boot, to finally suffer the way they caused others to. Feitan trusted Chrollo's judgement. Always. He firmly believed that not one single innocent person had ever, ever found themself in his chambers beneath his vengeful will. An underground lair of hell, which Chrollo gave the order to utilize when a person was seen as fit for punishment. Another rotten pile of garbage and greed for Feitan to pick apart. He embodied a diety of unforgiving justice in his mind. Long ago, he'd stopped asking what the reason was, and just got straight to carving away.
Feitan was currently preoccupied observing today's victim. Except.. she wasn't really acting like a victim, so what was he to call her? Narrowed, steely grey eyes continued to dart up and down her feminine figure as if searching for clues to piece together a puzzle. He couldn't solve this one, not yet... Even his keen attention for catching any signs of weakness wasn't able to determine a chink in the armor. If he thought he'd found one and explored into it a bit, he was only met with the same resilience as before. Her heated, intense stare of defiance. A smirk began to play across his features, it wasn't often he maybe felt a glimmer of respect for someone in his chair.
"Tough girl. How you become immune to shock?" He asked, pausing to idly run a bloodstained cloth over one of his nasty metal tools. He tossed the mechanism back to a metal tray where it gave a harsh clatter.
A clever glint in his eye, he circled her similarly to a jungle cat closing in on alert prey. She snickered right back at him, and he quirked a brow, noticing the bizarre nature of her mental state. Or rather, it was outlandish to him, to see someone with freshly stripped fingernails acting so present and grounded.
By now, almost at this exact time in the routine, the animalistic "deer in headlights" look would appear as his victims squirmed and twisted to find an escape. Hyperventilating through a full bodily trauma response. But not her. She looked as casual as the first moment he forcibly sat her down... Expression careful and aware, but definitely not in the midst of a primitive meltdown. He couldn't help but feel a little bit of curiosity... And interest. He could treat someone like this as a human, even if his cruelty would remain the same.
He did so by talking to her. She was clearly sound enough to respond.
"You been trained? To handle your secrets like big girl?" He inquired condescendingly, pacing restlessly in front of her, looming over her with menace in his intent.
His ghostly slender hand reached forward to grip her by the hair, yanking on the tufts to force eye contact, and her face twisted into an expression he couldn't quite understand, her sharp exhale of surprise leaving a warm feeling tingling against his skin as it swept past his cheeks.
Stripped bare, she was panting lightly, a reaction he noticed. He kept his victims this way to understand them better - an expert in anatomy; he wanted to be able to take in every reaction. Every last possible weak point that could be weaponized or utilized to coax someone into unbearable agony. Being naked psychologically left an impact, making humans feel more vulnerable and insecure through the interrogation process. Subsequently, it urged them to feel cornered and small in more than one way, and let their treasured secrets slip all the easier.
But this wasn't what he was looking for. She wasn't gasping with pain or flinching away. Instead, her soft pants left her cheeks flushed red. So what was going on?
"You could say that," she purred. "Is it frustrating? You haven't had to really work for this before, have you?" She mused.
The way she was looking at him made his skin crawl just a bit. Mostly because he really legitimately couldn't read her face, and he found that unnerving. He was used to total control in this environment. Given the circumstances it should be something totally different - so how was he supposed to understand her at all? He watched a gash on her face ooze slowly with more blood, a little droplet finding it's way down to the ice cold basement flooring with a faint pattering echo. The woman was unphased by his demeanor apparently.
Feitan just sort of stared after such comments, calculating towards her with a hint of annoyance creeping into his gaze. Was she taunting him? For a moment he second guessed it because he couldn't determine why someone in their right god damn mind would mock a life threatening predator actively approaching with a set of torture tools in hand. Not to mention, she was helpless and restrained. Was she bluffing? Either way he was rapidly coming to the conclusion that she most definitely was batshit crazy, based on how there was seemingly no logical gain in being so bold.
"...Can't feel pain. As much. Can you?"
After a pause this was all he had said. Coming to this final conclusion, realizing that his vigilant eyes hadn't missed any signs after all. Initially he had thought she had gone through some sort of intense training in pain endurance, for the sole purpose of keeping her sacred, crucial information safe. But now he was realizing what he was actually dealing with. He'd broken trained torture survivors before. Easily. They always reached their limit eventually. This was different.
"That's right!" She chimed. "You finally got it, darling. I can feel pain but my nervous system doesn't work the same way as yours.. my pain receptors aren't very intense. So you're playing a losing game here. Tell me though, will you give up? Is this it for you, little sadist? Or are you the creative type~?"
He watched her give him a once over, smug expression still plastered to her features as he felt himself essentially being sized up. He wasn't sure how he felt about it other than the fact he didn't like it.. Feitan believed her close observance of him from head to toe was probably a show of her humiliating him. Maybe searching for weaknesses the same way he knew how to do.. and he hated that possibility. Who was she to reflect his behavior? She MUST be thinking up insults about him silently, that he was too short or something.. the very idea made his blood boil.
This infuriating concept made him loom closer to her, his intimidating nature taking over while his eyes bore daggers into hers. Mere inches away from her face, this was how he typically issued a challenge without speaking a word. Most people would fall apart and quiver with terror being subjected to inescapable closeness with him. Yet another unexplainable reaction followed from her instead, and his eyes darted down at the first sight of movement, noticing she was squirming and rubbing her thighs together under his fierce stare. He didn't put two and two together; he just watched, dumbfounded, unsure if maybe she was attempting to break free to no avail.
"There's more than one way to get information out of someone, you know~ but I get the feeling all you know how to do is rip people apart. The easy method. Boring. You want my suggestion-?"
"Shut up," Feitan snarled ferociously, offended and disgusted with both her and the situation, unable to stop himself before he found his hand wrapping tightly around her neck, violent fingers locking over her jaw in a vicious grip. He hated all her irritating chatter, it made his temper flare. But even more than that, although he would never admit it.. he just hated that she could take away what made him feel the most powerful and secure, simply by existing. He wasn't threatening or scary to someone if he couldn't cause them pain. And he struggled to accept that. It didn't fit in place with his comfort zone.
Gurgling, her eyes squinted with pain, but to confirm what she'd just said.. indeed, a normal person would be screaming, and this was bearable for her, even if fairly uncomfortable. His inhuman retractable claws were digging into her soft skin, causing beads of blood to appear beneath five piercing knives. Quickly, the wounds turned into crimson streams. Yet, she wouldn't yield.
Unfortunately, her time spent suffocating in his merciless grasp also gave him enough time in silence to come to another realization. He let go, instantly - watching her drop back down with a hunched head, coughing and spluttering for air.
He could accidentally kill her this way because her body and mind wouldn't be responding with the queues he needed to go by in determining her state of mortality, and likelihood of death. How could he make a judgement call without the signs he was used to expecting? He could tell when someone was close to death, based on indicators of their shock levels.. all a complete circular link between the psychology and physiology of pain.
He was completely seasoned in his job to the fullest degree. But this wasn't a normal situation, not one he'd ever dealt with. She couldn't necessarily tell him or maybe even understand herself if she was dying.
Shit... her body wouldn't freak out or sense danger. It would just remain in a perfectly neutral state. One second she would be breathing and the next her heart might just fail on her. Normally Feitan didn't have any qualms about killing but when it came to interrogations, death meant that the victim's intel died with them. Taken to the grave. To him, that was equivalent to failure.
And so.. the delimma was quickly dawning on him. He could continue, and risk killing her by accident, therefore ensuring the intel he sought was forever out of reach - or, he could stop and suffer the shame of admitting defeat.
Unacceptable... both were unacceptable. He could only stand momentarily and glare at her maliciously for the predicament she was causing him, a sudden stirring feeling of true hatred arising in his chest. Why was it, then, that there was perhaps more of that same respect from earlier appearing simultaneously? Well.. he must be unable to ignore her strength here, and found himself inwardly acknowledging her impossible feat of enduring his trials. No other human being had ever done the same.
"You will tell me. Tell me what Danchou asked for." He was making an attempt to assert his normally compelling willpower, his intimidating aura leaking into his nen which flared along with his irritability. Right now, he was fairly pissed off, the signs beginning to appear around his frame through a visual residue of nen.
"Maybe I will," she purred again towards him. He paused, surprised yet again by her, unsure if she was being serious. He would've easily taken that in as more mockery but just now - she sounded quite sincere. What was he supposed to say? He wasn't going to ask HER what he had to do for it. His pride wouldn't permit that. She needed to play by his rules in his domain.
But as a result of his confusion he was only left with a loss for words, eyes narrowing into slits as he attempted to piece her apart with his mind. Figure out what she was going on about. Nonetheless, she took the silence as opportunity.
"Take me back to your leader and I'll strike a deal with him. He makes deals, doesn't he? I'll tell you everything if he can give me what I want."
Feitan ridiculed her with that same silent stare, making it clear he was displeased with her request. She shouldn't even get the option when nobody else in her shoes ever could. She was just lucky.. just special because of some random offhand ability she either developed over time, or was born with. So why did she deserve special treatment? What, was she going to ask for a red carpet down here next as she was escorted out? He wasn't going to ask about her weird pain tolerance nor did he care. It was just an annoying hurdle he was finding himself truly aggravated with.
"Fine. But Danchou not an idiot. Most likely end up back with me.. will get you to talk. Eventually."
The only reason he agreed to this was because he was legitimately concerned about accidentally killing her. He was known for his brutality, and early on in his little career he had actually sent people into a premature grave through panic induced heart attacks. His torture techniques had to be modified and drawn out, to prolong their time in the chair and eliminate the chance of losing potential classified information. He knew what to look for, to determine when to back off temporarily. He just hadn't seen it from this woman.
Not to mention, he had carved her up pretty good already. Deep, clean slices decorated her skin in vertical designs where he had experimented for quite a while, attempting in his endeavors to find just one place where her pain was significant. Nothing had been found, and as a result, her blood loss was considerable.
Wordlessly, he made his final decision, cutting her loose from her bonds and noticing her give a shudder at the cold blade. Leaning forward towards him, a tension became present now that she was being freed, an absolutely electric presence in the surrounding air. Goosebumps raised beneath where his fingertips smoothed over her wrists, and he raised a brow, assuming it was the discomfort of cold. "Pretty," she hummed in a strangely sweet tone, and he straightened up, staring at her again in a mixture of confusion and exasperation.
"Your hands," she clarified. He just deadpanned at her. A moment passed, and she would only earn a snippy little "tch" from him in response. His eyes flickered back to her face upon hearing her chuff in amusement at his dismissal, and again he realized just how god damn nuts she was. Clearly, not even slightly afraid of him. He frowned, spiteful at the fact.
As if to make a point, his so called "pretty" hands were what he used to harshly yank her out of the chair by the scalp, dragging her across the floor to go speak with Chrollo. How could she even possibly think that about such hands, which were designed to only ever harm and kill? The amount of blood these hands carried upon them.. it could drown a person. Or several. Such a comment like that made him almost concerned for her. Or rather, it would if she was someone he cared for. He did not. Feitan was definitely judging though.
If anything, her delirious behavior was perhaps the only present sign of her being unwell... Maybe this was how the strain on her body was presenting itself even if she couldn't feel pain. That had to be it. Her compliments couldn't be genuine. This was psychosis of some sort.
He was grumbling and growling under his breath as he kept tugging on her to keep up with him. She wasn't heavy by any means but he was annoyed to even be lugging her weight around. She was a tricky bitch in his opinion and he didn't trust her one bit - not even enough to stay put in the damn chair while he went to ask for Chrollo's input. "Stop" he snarled, the second he watched her open her mouth to start speaking. So instead, she just giggled softly, blood smearing all over her legs from being dragged across the stone cold floor.
Despite his warning, she spoke anyway, and he groaned.
"What do you think I'll ask him for? If I won't cave under the torture.. surely you must be wondering what's worth all my fun secrets."
"Don't care," he stated back flatly. He gave a particularly mean tug on her hair this time, knowing the tension against her scalp really wouldn't cause her much distress anyway. He could do what he wanted.
"Oh c'mon, surely you're curious ~" she hummed. He just sighed, refusing to play her game anymore.
It didn't take long to get her back into the entryway of the hideout where the entire Troupe was sitting around idly.. likely waiting for him to finish up. After all, whatever he found out was going to determine what the group did next. It was part of the pressure he was feeling at this time. He felt himself mentally melt away a little bit, consumed by shame as all other pairs of eyes turned to witness him. Him, in his state of failure.
He noticed all at once the individual reactions - Machi's frown of impatience and the confused yet interested tilt of Shalnark's blond head. Chrollo stood up, and approached. His eyes were always empty yet watchful. He could make sense of the situation amidst the silence within mere moments. "Everyone, please give us some privacy for a moment," he called to the others in his usual collected, calm tone. His diction was consistently elegant and composed. Feitan had always admired it.
He was having a hard time coping with embarrassment however, preoccupied with the difficulty of tolerating an emotion that he hated. Being ashamed or feeling bad about anything at all could make him terribly irritable. The others figured it out eventually, but it made him difficult to communicate with at times, on top of the language barrier. They'd just get snippy retorts and the usual scornful glare out of him if they tried to dig at it. Chrollo was the best person to handle this anyway, seeing as he was entirely unphased by Feitan's personality quirks.
Once the others had cleared out with a few grumbles and sighs, deciding not to comment on the abnormal event of Feitan bringing a victim back up with him, he growled and tossed the girl forward at his boss' feet.
"Won't talk. Some kind of weird pain immunity. Can't continue.. could kill her. She want bargain for secret."
His explanation was short, eyes lowering down to glower at her beneath his boot, giving her a solid kick in the back for the hell of it just because he was mad about what he had to do. He was suffering such humiliation because SHE was too stubborn. Anger helped him feel better about admitting defeat to someone he looked up to.
The woman just squirmed under his heated eyes, legs writhing together like they had before in the chair. He still really didn't like those eyes she gave him from beneath half lidded lashes, as it made him nervous. He didn't get why she always looked like she knew something he didn't. Chrollo watched this scene unfold as well, any changes in his expression so subtle that they were hardly noticable, and past any level of observance. Even the slightest glimmer of amusement in his eye was quick to vanish as he easily pieced apart the situation with a few context clues. He spoke quietly and nonchalantly to the girl, calm gaze lowering back down to her level.
"It sounds like we have no choice but to cooperate with her, Feitan. After the extensive damage done to her body, one might even say we're lucky she's willing to compromise."
Don't praise her for such a stupid thing, Feitan nearly hissed out loud, but kept the thought reverberating in his head instead.
The raven watched his leader lower to one knee, observing her, and he then gave her one of his lifeless smiles before asking:
"What do you suggest we should trade, for your precious intel? What do you value?"
He waited, glancing up at Feitan to note how utterly furious his second in command was, the man was practically exuding steam out the ears. Chrollo wasn't upset by any means in this situation, but he could also understand why his counterpart was struggling with it.
The woman straightened herself up, having patted down her hair once Feitan let go, and she gave the Phantom Troupe's leader a coy smirk. She didn't hesitate to respond with a bold demand.
"Let me fuck him,"
"I want him. Your interrogator. Let me do as I please with him for a while, and he'll be my pretty new toy. I promise not to harm him, and he'll be returned to you in the same condition as he is now. If not perhaps a little bit more relaxed."
She lifted her eyes to hungrily drink in the sight of her captor. Chrollo couldn't help but chuckle softly, purposefully taking a moment to witness Feitan's reaction in real time.
He had to admit, this whole ordeal had his full interest now. The leader had already known where this was going the second the girl was dragged in, utterly unapologetic with the squirming and flushing red body every damn time her captor touched her. The look she gave him was one of desire, whenever she basked in his visage. All behavior that Chrollo understood from women, and he knew Feitan did not. In fact he was sure this was a complete blindsighted smack to the face for him.
She gave a little rocking motion of delight at the mere thought, and Chrollo raised a brow, seriously considering her offer. It was a simple one. So, she just wanted sex. But he understood right away that this was out of his hands. He already made a pact with himself long ago that he would never sacrifice the human dignity of his members for personal gain.
Maybe, though.. he could help his friend out with this one and take the bullet. The truth was that Chrollo wouldn't mind at all, he'd utilized his good looks in the past to get what he wanted for his personal goals, and it was really no hindrance to him to do it one more time.
"So you want pleasure? Rather than just him, I can assure you that I'm another willing candidate for you, and with significantly more intimate experience at that. Would you take me instead?"
"No-"
She began. Except, it was two people who spoke at once. The woman was about to completely reject the idea, but Feitan was already shaking his head.
"No, Danchou. You should not take consequence for my failure. My responsibility to fix."
Chrollo sighed, realizing this could now officially go one way and only one way, due to Feitan's stubborn rigidity. Even if he'd be pissed about it for easily a full week. Feitan would rather suffer any other punishment than let down his Troupe. It was connected to his personal pride and priorities. Chrollo knew this, of course.
"Well, Feitan? Do you agree? You won't be allowed to resist or argue, if you do. You would have to allow her to have her way, if we want to complete an exchange."
Poor Feitan however, was not on the same page. In fact, they'd left him behind by a significant few paces, his brain still working in overdrive to process what the fuck she just said a minute ago. What she just asked his boss for. He quite literally couldn't fathom what was happening or why. Who would want him? And no less, why the hell was Chrollo so quick to immediately consider such a bizarre request? There HAD to be more to it. Maybe she was trying to get him into a vulnerable position, to kill him. This couldn't be right.
"Feitan?" Chrollo asked again. The skull crested cowl around his face covered the view of his jaw hanging slightly open in disbelief.. but it certainly couldn't conceal his mortified eyes, round as stoplights.
"......I, I..."
He almost reverted back to his first language in this instance as he failed to find the words. How could he, when presented with such an unbelievable situation? What could he even do.. or say? How did he even feel about it? He wasn't sure. Too much at once.
At least, the woman was actually quiet as he sat there, dumbfounded and flabbergasted. He shuffled uncomfortably, feeling his face quickly heating up into what was probably a jarring bright red flush. His ears felt hot.. his cheeks were burning and his hands went all clammy. He wouldn't say it but he was scared.
Nonetheless, what came out of his mouth after a few agonizing long minutes passed, said differently.
"Fine. Whatever it takes."
"Feitan.. if you don't want to.."
"Stop it. This my job in Troupe. Let me do job."
His fists clenched, and he stuffed them into his pockets as he noticed the girl's clear satisfaction with his answer. He sneered right back at her, after seeing her snicker. He sent Chrollo a glare, truly feeling like his boss was pimping him out in some strange way. Was this even reality?? In what world would this even happen?
"I'll be so good to you~" the girl hummed sweetly, tantalizingly snaking an arm around his leg. Feitan shoved her off, but not before stiffening at her touch in surprise. He didn't know how to accept touch of any kind and he was more afraid of this right now than even something brutal, like her hurting him back. He'd have agreed much easier if she just suggested that instead. At least that was familiar.. whilst this was foreign.
"Alright. The deal is made. But you won't be leaving this place until you fulfill your end of the bargain, Miss, so long as Feitan also follows through. Now, I don't think you intend to cheat... Your interest in my interrogator seems genuine. But if you try to find any loopholes we'll likely kill you for it. Oh. And Feitan reserves the right to step away if you harm him. Understood?"
The girl nodded eagerly, standing up finally on weak knees. "So.. is that your name then beautiful boy? Feitan? What a lovely sounding name." She wobbled, eventually swerving on her right hip to reach for Feitan, arm wrapping around his slender waist to steady herself. Again, he stiffened at her closeness, expression tightening into discomfort. So then, why.. why did he simultaneously experience a sudden stirring in his lower stomach? Hearing her coo his name in such a sugary sweet way was also a completely new sensation. He didn't think anyone had ever spoken it like that before.
His eyes widened slightly in horror at the realization of feeling butterflies and jittery warmth in his stomach. Of course. He couldn't just ignore what was inevitably coming - what terrifying task he had committed himself to all for the sake of preserving his pride. Like one may try and avoid an intrusive thought, he was trying to cast out the idea that he'd.. well.. he'd be feeling inside of her quite soon. He'd never felt a girl like that before.. wrapped around him, and..
He released a breath he didn't know he was holding before and blinked to clear his head.
"What are you looking at" he hissed menacingly at the woman after catching her oggling him again, yanking her up by the forearm to drag her back to the damn basement designated for interrogation. Not to torture her now.. but.. to do whatever unsightly things she demanded. He chose the same room purely because it was designed specifically to block out noise. He didn't know what might happen, but... He didn't want anyone existing in this proximity to have even a slight audible hint of what was happening. This was a secret he was taking to his fucking grave.
Well, he could at least continue to brag about his perfect track record of successful interrogations, even if he was technically doing it the reverse way this time. He would simply have to bare with the constant embarrassment of knowing Chrollo witnessed this happen. Chrollo would know he stooped this low. But at least, he wouldn't have to suffer the constant belittlement and teasing from his allies. They could be brutal about that.. like siblings. Chrollo would likely have the decency to keep this under cover. Between the two of them.
"And don't hurt her either, okay Feitan?" Chrollo called back out to his interrogator as the small but strong raven hauled her away. He didn't respond, he just growled in frustration under his breath, already having assumed that was part of the exchange. No more torture.
He didn't know what he should be prepared for, and to be quite honest he felt almost faint as they entered the cold basement of the abandoned building in tense silence. The woman tried standing again, gripping for his hand as she pulled herself up.
"Unless you want blood all over you, I need to be patched up. And then I want you on the bed. Understood?" She asked.
Feitan gave an exhale, heavier than usual. Now that they were alone again he could ask her about her nonsensical request.
"you.. why would you..."
"Did I say you could ask questions?" She leered. And his gaze immediately hardened into a glare. He said nothing, knowing if he entertained his rage with a response, he'd probably only escalate from there. He was quickly learning he despised being told what to do from someone other than Chrollo.
"Good boy. I hope you know... I'm not intending to make you do everything for me.. I just want to please you, and watch you squirm a bit. That's all."
He was having a difficult time understanding her motives still but it might've been the haze of fog that clouded his mind after her next statement.
"That doesn't sound so bad, right? Sitting back and relaxing while a nice girl rides on you.."
His breath hitched as he felt her arms suddenly wrap around him, pressing herself into him by the hips to overwhelm him with her scent, and her voice.
"I'll make you feel so good that everyone in this building will know what's being done to you~"
And Feitan shuddered. Her whisper made his knees a little bit weak.. but he was also fucking petrified. Women never got this close to him on purpose. He may not be willing to admit it to himself, but for a brief moment at that time, he faltered... Truly terrified indeed that she was right. He just might break.
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