#but given what they said about her and her own dogs maybe she does have certain workarounds for Arlo dogs that I don’t know about

[gatheredfates]

For the relationship ask thing: Kor & Alphinaud!

Have your followers send you NPCs and you describe your OC's feelings/relationship to that NPC! I have nothing to say except I went insane.

He is just a child.

She reminded herself of this fact through gnashed teeth and folded arms; he is just a child, he does not deserve your ire.

But Kor was very tired of children. She had only recently interred one to the sea — to the crabs, the fish and the three-day rot — and the arrogant intervention wore thin in the repetitive belief that Alphinaud knew better simply because he was the prodigal grandson of a man who gave his life to Eorzea. He intermingled with the potentate, both of city-states and non, and she watched with loosely contained annoyance how he prattled on.

But she watched. That was one thing the Captain was good at, she supposed — watching. Guarding. He monopolised it with lazy gestures and self-assured smiles, and she fell easily into the role of dog to its master. Not because she respected him exactly, but because it was all she knew. Because she couldn't be better.

Should she have said something? Should she have intervened? She saw the way they looked at him like he was a thing to be used, a stepping-stone to their aspirations, armies and Warrior of Light. When Ilberd glanced to her she could see intention in the edges of his easy smile, "Daughter of Ala Mhigo, don't you see the opportunity?"

If looks could kill she'd encase him in the amber of her eyes, right at the juncture where equitable manner bordered on ridicule.

Why didn't she? Because the last time she had said something, the last time she tried to intervene, it only sent the child running.

Right into the jaws of the deep.

He is just a child. He was tired. Alphinaud doesn't complain (perhaps he knew better the limits of her patience), but she could see the weariness in his eyes — exhaustion hugging the corners, hoping to fuse with the rest of the cold truths.

And they were cold. Not just of the temperature, for Ishgard was abysmally frigid, but of the loss of their comrades and the fall of their station; how their pedigree had diminished to the kindness of an foreign nation determined to arise from the ice, even if their sanctuary to accused murders might isolate them all over again.

Or heresy. Koret thought herself more superstitious than religious, though maybe it was all the same in the end. An offering to a deity, a prayer for good luck (give Llymlaen a Dagger just so she can throw it at the bastard again), click your heels three times or whatever-the-fuck. She wasn't praying to anyone when she rescued Tataru and he from the Tribunal. She only knew outrage and the acrid taste of bile in the back of her throat at the thought she could lose them too.

"Are you alright?" It was the first time she reached for him since the banquet, her fingers just a little too tight on the groove of his shoulder. Kor hadn't even thought about it, so natural was the movement, but when he jumped and fixed his gaze to her, she immediately knew her misstep.

"...I am fine, my friend," he answered, and before she could whip her hand away he had laid his own atop of it. They stood there for a far too long in their strange silence until Kor thought to squeeze once and finally relinquish her hold. She stepped back, awkward in her intimacy, and could not look directly in the eye.

"Good."

She soon realised he was learning the values of leadership, too. He saw them in Aymeric's careful navigation, Estinien's brute force and Ysyale's hope. All had their merits but all had their flaws. He internalised them and stepped carefully over the ruins of his mistakes until his friends were whole and hearty again.

Not a leader, just a comrade... a friend.

He is just a child, but fucking hell he's a clever one. Kor couldn't deny his intelligence, especially given what she knew of Sharlayan, but she was reminded of the old idiom of teaching a man to fish: teach a boy bureaucracy and he might become a man through it. Show him what it means to lead, to plan and to prepare; allow him the privilege of the floor, but be prepared to challenge him when he oversteps. Do not squander his inexperience, but allow innovation to bleed through tried methods.

Frankly, she appreciated his methodology, for it allowed her little room to think about herself. He was the enthusiastic foreigner, not the diaspora grasping at the hems of the little culture his father felt prudent to leave him. He could meet the gaze of M'naago, Lyse and Conrad instead of staring just a little too far to the left.

She only had the left these days. When she woke up screaming in the night, disorientated from a lack of vision, his were the hands intermingled among the many that grasped her frantic fingers. "You are safe," he reassured her, squeezing tightly in the din. "Koret, you are safe."

She wasn't sure she believed him, but it was comforting all the same. There was a familiarity in their company now, whether she liked it or not. Kor teased him for his whimsy and his innocence (the art, the sword — fuck, he was a terrible swimmer) while he offered wisdom beyond his years and a hope they could make a difference in the world.

So who was holding him — why did he need to be held? It was her job to protect him, her job to guard; she knew the job well well since the banquet, it was the one thing she was good at. Kor ran to him so desperately, wrenching his lifeless figure out of their arms as if her violence might be the one thing that would bring him back to her, yet his weight was like an anchor that pulled them roughly to the ground.

"Alphinaud!"

She cradled him, one hand in his hair while the other gripped him far too tightly, but he did not wake. Not even when she shook him, not even when the other Scions had to pull her from him, not even when her voice cracked in its snarl. "Wake up you fucking — WAKE UP!"

She wondered if he was a child in body only, given all the things he'd seen. Weeks for her was a whole year for him; a year of separation, strife and sorrow. Alphinaud was so infuriatingly formal when she found him, as if embarrassed by his failings on the Source, and balked when she wrapped her arms tight around him to prove to herself he was real.

"A-Are you alright?" By the navigator did she laugh! It was a desperate, pained sound, but how could she hope to encapsulate anger and relief in the same breath?

"Just dandy. Now shut up."

And he did, bless him. He hugged her tightly back.

She wanted... a lot of things then. Mostly she just wanted to apologise. She wanted to apologise for failing him and forcing him to this foreign world. She wanted to tell him that she was alright, even when she was igniting from the inside and spewing hot ichor across the floor.

Kor wanted to lie to him, but she was a terrible liar. When she writhed on the floor of the Crystarium, and the veins in her hands turned a vibrant gold, she wanted to scream that he was just a kid! He was a child discussing how much time she had left, contemplating how they might survive if she were to purify in front of them. He did not deserve it. Alisae did not deserve it. Ryne did not deserve it.

He had weathered the brunt of her suicidal ideation for far too long. Enough. Enough.

"If the fucking bastard is going to disown you, I'll just adopt you myself. It can't be that hard. You're like, what, seventeen —?"

The way Kor paused was enough to make them snort with laugher, so stunned was she that she rendered herself speechless. The Captain looked like she had swallowed a lemon, as if she only just became reacquainted with the passage of time, and her single eye narrowed to glare at the twins suspiciously.

"How old are you?"

"Literally or figuratively?" Alisaie asked, slicing through the tension of the hour with impish wit.

Koret Swan threw up her hands as she came to the horrific realisation they weren't really children anymore. But they were hers — they were her kids — and they only laughed harder despite it.

"I think I should like to watch you contemplate a bell longer," Alphinaud teased, that self-assured smile appearing when Alisaie snickered, and she had a mind to strange him anew.

"I think I should like to kick your arse," Kor answered, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Fuck me."

"Brother, we graduated! She swears openly in our company!"

Never mind, she was going to kick both their arses. They could be orphans.

The end of the universe was no place for anyone, least of all them. They held her hands in theirs, small when pressed against the leather of her gloves, and it was their steps that carried her to the precipice of apathy.

It wasn't that Kor would not continue (they had come so far, seen so much, done too much), but that she knew what taking those last few steps meant.

She thought she knew death a thousand times. She swore It was her friend when her sister died, a siren calling her so sweetly from the craggy rocks as it ushered her into the king-tide. It wore the faces of friends — occasionally her enemies if it suited — and soothed her aching bones when exhaustion became almost too much to bear. "There is a solution," it cooed, "if you're brave enough to take it."

No! She wanted to live! For fuck sake, she wanted to live — and she wanted them to live! She didn't want to walk towards the yawning void with its songbird's dead-eyed stare; she wanted to be home in Mor Dhona with the their annoying merrymaking and cheap, frothy beer. She didn't want to keep stepping over ground earned with her loved ones' lives while the Endsinger herself prised her ribcage higher with her butchers knife. I will take everything from you, and you will only know despair.

Kor did not feel worthy. Tears streaked her cheeks as she tried not to cry, and the tension in her jaw was excruciating when she stalled.

There was no bravery in death, but they were so brave. Alphinaud sensed her pause and took the first step forward, turning just enough to face her, and smiled as he squeezed her fingers in his.

"Come, my dearest friend," he softly encouraged, "There's not much farther left."

I love you, I love you, I love you. She wanted to tell them more than anything but her mouth would not make the sound. Instead, Kor looked to both of them, desperately trying to memorise every inch of their faces on the chance she might lose them forever. I love you. I don't want you to do this. I don't want to do this.

Acceptance was the swallow that felt like ingesting razor wire. When this was over she would bring them back, and she would give them everything.

They deserved everything.

Hence, she walked.

#｡･ﾟﾟ･ — 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 : koret #my writing #THERE'S PROBABLY STILL ERRORS IN THIS BUT Y'KNOW #WE DIE LIKE MEN #i went insane i went feral #'i'll just do an npc ask' #nearly two THOUSAND words later #can you tell i have a lot of feelings about this game #can you

[arlo-venn]

I’ll get better photos later, but Ottie got a funny haircut at the groomer so we have more time to solidify a new home-grooming routine to accommodate for her sudden addition of full body fluff, so we don’t end up with a big mat again :) This will be easier for our adventuring too cos it’s hard to not get her hair in her favorite harness, which weakens the strength of the Velcro, and causes her to get free. She’s easy to catch but we live VERY close to a VERY busy road so I am VERY nervous about her getting loose. Maybe now I won’t need to put her in two harnesses 😅

#they did warn me they can’t make cat cuts aesthetic beforehand bc they’re too wiggly #I do not mind it being choppy and a little silly she is very cute #and soft! #I connected with this groomer through our new vet who we love #they said she’s the only one who can make fear aggressive dogs feel safe during grooming in all the right ways #she has a fear aggressive dog herself is I assume why #everyone who works at the vet office was raving about her skill in terms of dog cuts #I’m considering getting Arlo comfy with her if possible but she doesn’t really have a good set up for keeping him separate #but given what they said about her and her own dogs maybe she does have certain workarounds for Arlo dogs that I don’t know about #like maybe she does them after hours or something idk #I just really struggle with Arlo’s butt fur #Ottilie #catblr #my gf spells ottie like oddie and it secretly bothers me but it’s so inconsequential I can’t bring myself to correct it 😂 #so I’m telling yall instead

[nereidprinc3ss]

baby fever

in which reader and spencer discuss having a baby while at work

fluff warnings/tags: fem/AFAB!reader, bau!reader, BOYFRIEND!SPENCER or husband if u so desire, discussions of pregnancy/having a baby (obviously), reader wants a baby, so does spencer a/n: god i need him so badly. should i write follow up smut?? mwahaha evil emoji......

The coffee finished brewing minutes ago, but you’re still standing by the pot, watching Anderson’s daughter toddling around the bullpen on chubby legs. She’s not very adept at walking, but her spirit is indomitable—every time she tips a little too far forward, she catches herself and gets right back up. It’s not like she’s doing anything particularly impressive or even interesting, but you can’t take your eyes off her. Every movement makes your heart twinge, every giggle or curious quirk of her head is so adorable it physically hurts in your chest. 

From your peripheral vision you see Spencer approaching, bearing his own empty mug, but not even he can draw your attention away from the adorable little pixie and her tutu and her pigtails. 

“That is the cutest kid I have ever seen in my life,” you whisper to Spencer, hoping the quiet tone of your voice will help hide how much you feel like cooing and squealing. 

He smiles to himself as he pours his coffee. 

“That’s Rosie. Have you said hi yet?” 

“I’m afraid if I talk to her I’ll try to keep her.” 

“She is pretty adorable.” 

You turn to him as he leans next to you on the counter, sipping his coffee casually. 

“Adorable? Spencer. Puppies are adorable. You’re not understanding the magnitude of what I mean right now. I can’t explain to you how much adorable doesn’t cut it. I’m not kidding about the child abduction thing.” 

HIs eyes slide around the room as he chuckles into his mug. 

“Let’s maybe not joke about kidnapping a child in FBI headquarters.” 

“I’m not joking,” you hiss. “I feel like I’m going insane. I just—” 

At the last second you stop yourself, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“You just what?” Spencer asks, adjusting the hem of your shirt with his free hand. You glance down, watching the care he takes in the tiniest detail that you wouldn’t have given a second thought to. 

“Is something wrong with my shirt?” 

His eyes flick up to yours, hazel tinted with mild surprise. 

“No. It just was sliding up your waist a little bit.” As he says it, his knuckles brush the bare skin of your torso. You suppress a shiver, studying his profile once he pulls his hand away and goes for another sip. 

“Can we have one?” 

Your inopportune timing results in coffee dribbling down Spencer’s chin as he quickly attempts to wipe it away, wide eyes torn between you and trying to assess the mess he’s made. 

“You--you mean like a baby?” 

“Yeah, like a baby,” you say, grabbing his shoulders and squaring them to you before dabbing the coffee from his face and jacket. He watches on as you clean him up, completely still except for his wandering eyes. 

“I thought we were waiting on that.” 

“Waiting for what? A better time? There’s never going to be a good time with this job. And it’s not like we’d have to quit. Look at JJ. She has two and still does it.” 

“First of all,” Spencer begins, quickly recovering from your surprise proposition, “I don’t love the idea of either of us being in the field with you pregnant. And secondly, JJ also has Will and her mother to take care of the boys. We don’t have that. We’re both here all the time.” 

“I don’t care,” you groan, trashing the paper towels once you’ve done the best you can with his clothing. “We’d figure it out somehow!” 

“Mhm. It sounds like you’ve really devoted some careful consideration to this.” 

You drop your head to your shoulder, giving him your best puppy dog eyes and pulling lightly on his shirtsleeve. 

“Oh, come on. You haven’t thought about it at all? My perfect brain and your pretty face fusing to create a future Nobel-prize winner? Imagine how cute she would be, Spencer, we could put her hair in little braids and pigtails and we could dress her up and she could be in soccer and ballet and—” 

“She?” he smiles, studying your face intently. You roll your eyes. 

“Yes, she. Obviously we would have a girl. You—” 

The idea of Spencer as the father of your daughter hits you like a tidal wave, stopping you dead in your tracks. The images materialize in your mind’s eye so clearly, it’s like they’re already memories, so real and tangible you have no doubt it must come to fruition someday. But if before, your ranting was mostly a silly fantasy—now it’s become a bit more intense. 

He seems to sense your shift in mood. The big smile thaws slightly as he subtly grabs your hand on the counter. 

“What? What’s wrong?” 

There he goes again. Being kind. Being perfect. 

Tears sting your eyes, but you don’t let them fall.  

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong. I just... didn’t realize how badly I actually wanted that until I said it out loud.” 

The concern in his eyes softens to pure affection as he runs his thumb over the back of your hand. 

“I want it too. And whenever you decide you’re ready I’ll drop everything for you.” 

His words are like compounding pressure to the deep heat within you—forming something so solid and perfect you don’t have to wonder if it’s real. A ten on the Mohs scale, a concept that gets closer to actualizing by the minute.  

Your voice is quiet, revelatory as you admire the amber facets in his eyes. 

“You’re ready?”  

“I’ve been ready for quite some time,” he admits. And at once you feel the certainty of him paint your past and your future with one broad brushstroke. One day you will look back on your life and remember the time before Spencer, and that will be it. There is before Spencer, and with Spencer, but never an after Spencer. He wants to create something utterly permanent with you. “Come here.” 

He sets his mug down, carefully pulling you forward so you’re toe to toe with your back to the rest of the BAU; so that only he can see you. Despite how good the two of you are at avoiding PDA, occasionally an exception is made. He tenderly wipes away the few tears that have sprung from your waterline and accepts your arms around his waist, mirroring your embrace and completely enveloping you.  

“I love you,” he murmurs against the top of your hair, quiet enough that nobody in the office has a chance of hearing it. You sniffle. 

“I love you too. Also you smell really good.” 

He chuckles, hand roaming up and down your back for a moment. 

“And that is why we are holding off on this at least for a while.” 

“What do you mean?” you whisper indignantly as he gently peels you off him. His hands remain a steadying force on your waist as he smiles down at you beatifically. 

“I mean let’s give it two weeks and see if you still want a baby when you’re not ovulating.” 

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

[yanderederee]

SocialCues

a/n: Been feeling a little down lately.. very self-comfort, but I hope anyone else who has deep rooted anxiety and poor social skills can appreciate this…

cw: depictions of bullying and self-degradation/anxiety. Angst/Comfort

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Why did this always happen? How, even?

You seriously couldn’t wrap your head around how you always found yourself in these damned situations…

After being left alone at your desk, you quietly listened as the classmate who had just walked away whispered to themselves.

“What a freak…”

What did you even do? A freak? You were rightfully polite and pleasant, just as you always have been.

Did you say something wrong? Something weird? All you did was ask your classmate about their dog. Out of all the subjects you were taught to bring up in conversation, pets and hobbies were a universal win. (Strictly of the other person, because if you started going on a rant about your own pet or hobbies, you would make the person feel awkward and at a loss for words.)

How is it you always had a way of making everyone you talk to feel so awkward and bored?

But it was so lonely being forced into submissive quietness. You may have hated that more than the quiet glares of others. So still, you try to do your best and talk to people.

But only after a month of trying, it was evident that others were beginning to avoid you. To avoid talking to you. Avoiding eye contact.

You repeated what you’ve been told over and over again.

Saying less is more.

Use considerate language; words and phrasings.

Don’t make the conversation about yourself.

Avoid too specific points of conversation.

Read their facial expressions.

If they look desperate to leave, end the conversation quickly as to not bother them further.

Maybe being too conscious of what you said was your downfall?

But seriously, what else could you do? If you tried being casual, you make it awkward. If you tried too hard, you make it awkward. And if you don’t try at all, you force yourself into isolation.

Once lunch time rolled around, you started your way to the bathrooms to wash your hands before eating. How could you eat when your hands were covered in eraser shavings and lead stains? However, just at the threshold of the bathroom entrance, you could hear a conversation.

“L/n just doesn’t know when to shut up, does she?”

“Seriously! I can’t even get in a word with her!”

“Really? I just felt like she wasn’t even there when I tried talking to her! Like, she was waiting for me to ask her questions or something.”

“She asks way too many questions, like, why are you so obsessed with me?”

“She doesn’t really have much of a personality, I can’t stand people like that!”

“I dunno, I just can’t stand her.”

Honestly, they were pretty loud. People around the bathroom could definitely hear whoever it was talking.

You honestly didn’t even know how to react.

Maybe this was a good thing? At least this way you knew what you were doing wrong. Unfiltered criticism on how you could do better. So silently, you stood and listened.

It really hurt, hearing people talk about you like this. But it was your fault in the first place. Suck it up. Do better. Be better.

Holding back your tears, you fidgeted with your fingers. It was no good. You were bound to burst out in tears at any second.

“Oi.” Out came a sudden call. Startled, your heart leapt out of your chest. Looking up, you saw your classmate, Baji Keisuke, holding three filing boxes of what you assumed to be pre-graded tests and other miscellaneous paperwork. “Lend me a hand, would ya? Teach wants these taken to the teachers lounge before lunch’s over.”

It took you a few seconds to properly register that he was actually talking to you. Though it was hard to tell, given his huge thick rimmed glasses. Once it finally clicked that he was actually talking to you, a wave of embarrassment hit you hard.

“Me? Oh, uhh… o-okay.” You agreed slowly, looking at your dirty hands. You guessed it would be more suitable to wait to wash your hands after carrying a dusty box. Somewhat relieved, you nodded and walked over to your black haired classmate, gingerly shifting the top most box out of his face, into your grip. “Just this one is fine, or should I grab another..?”

You began to ask, until you were met with awkward silence.

SHIT. YOU DID IT AGAIN? Already? Embarrassed to the point of tears, you started down. “S-sorry, dumb question.”

Your classmate seemed disgruntled at your comment. Self pity never looked good. You were just digging yourself into a more massive hole. Just shut up and take the boxes.

Lift your fair share.

Almost forgot that rule.

Just as you went to shuffle the second box out from his grasp, your class mate stepped back. “I got these, just the one is fine.” He said.

“Just the one?” You asked.

“Yeah.. I mean, not to sound like an ass— I mean, um…” he clicked his tongue, trying to think of a better way to rephrase his comment.

“You can say ass, I don’t care.” You giggled quietly. You were faking it a little, what with how shot your confidence was already. But it was cute watching Baji flounder for the right words.

“Right. What I mean is, I’m probably stronger than you are, carrying these isn’t any issue. I just needed help with the third one since it was blocking my view.”

That made sense. He was damn near a foot taller than you after all. And he didn’t seem to struggle with the load in strength. Your silence made your classmate a little on edge.

“I ain’t trying to call you weak or anything. Shit. Just.. lets go.” He huffed before starting his way to the stair case.

Following close behind, you were scrambling your head with how to reply. Do you need to reply? But he sounded a little unsure of his own phrasing, sometimes validation was good for these kinds of situations.

‘It’s okay, I didn’t think you were calling me weak.’

Simulating the conversation in your head, you give up, rationalizing that your comment would more than likely go unanswered anyway.

Lost in these thoughts, you trailed behind Baji silently.

That’s right.

When it doubt, just be quiet. Just. Be quiet.

And it seemed your classmate was content with this as well.

Just as you were rounding the stairs, you were suddenly overwhelmed by a group of boys roughhousing with one another, laughing and unbothered. Before you even had the chance to move out of their way, a boy had rammed into your side hard. This caused for a series of unfortunate events.

Being as you were just making your way down the stairs, this rash shove caused you to lose your balance, trip over your feet, and topple forward. It wasn’t pretty. You definitely did at least one summersault on your crash down, the box of papers you held flying everywhere. What would have made it worse was if you had crashed into Baji on your way down, but luckily for both of you, he had walked at a much quicker pace, and had already reached the bottom of the staircase before your topple.

It was dead silent. Luckily, there weren’t too many students around, but there were enough. The boys looked back to one another, contemplating if they could just run off before you realized who they were, stay and help, or even apologize. You were the weirdo of their class after all, it’s not like these kinds of things didn’t just… happen.

“The hells your guys’ problem, huh?!” Baji yelled. It was really loud, louder than you’d ever heard him before. “Got a death wish or somethin’? Help pick this shit up, now!”

Hell with his reputation, this shit pissed him off way more than his tempter would allow him to suppress.

“R-right!” The boys who’d bumped into you nodded and scrambled to pick up all the scattered papers. “And apologize!” Baji yelled a second time, furious that they hadn’t even considered to do that first.

“We’re really sorry!! We weren’t looking, it was an accident!! We’re sorry!” They groveled low to the ground as they cleaned up the mess of their own making.

Baji huffed, but seeing as they were doing exactly as he told, he let it be for now. He sat his own boxes down gently, squatting over to help you up. “Hey, you okay?” He asked.

“No—“ you snapped in a sarcastic tone, but it was only out of bubbling up frustration and humiliation. Clearing out your throat, before he would reply, you started to pick up the papers scattered at your bruised knees. “Yeah, sorry. I’m okay; just didn’t expect it.. sorry I dropped the box. Sorry.” You repeated quietly, head hung low.

You only ever made trouble. If you’d just moved out of the way faster, you wouldn’t have messed up so harshly. Even if they were clearly in the wrong, if you’d just caught your footing instead of tripping, none of this would have happened.

“Come on, these bastards can take the rest from here.” Baji glared while his glasses slipped past his nose, leaving each boy trembling in fear. “W-we’ve got it from here..” One nodded in defeat.

Baji grabbed your shoulders, you rushed you to your feet. “Don’t worry about this, ‘going to the nurse.” He had an aura of order around him while helping you down the remaining stairs. “It’s okay, you don’t have to walk me..” you mumbled, not even sure it was worth going to the nurse for anyway. All you did was fall.

“You’ve got a few knots, and a lot of bruising. You should really be put on ice.” Baji looked you over as the two of you walked. “It had to of hurt. Seriously, those guys should have been looking where they were going. Don’t worry about it though, I’ll make sure they properly apologize again later.”

You chuckled humorlessly, and waved him off, eyes still glued downcast. “It’s not that big of a deal. It was an accident.”

“Accident or not, they’re gonna pay.” He muttered. “Sorry to trouble you, you’d probably have been better off if I just took the boxes all myself.”

“No worries, I wanted to help.”

Once you reached the nurse, Baji stopped you before going in. “You’re L/n, right?”

“Y-yeah, Y/n L/n… I sit in the front, a few rows to the right of where you sit.”

“Right. Sorry bout that again, I’ll let the teacher know you’ll be back a little later than lunch, so don’t sweat hurrying back. Just take your time.”

When was the first the anyone was this considerate of your wellbeing? Sure, it was a common courtesy, but it was still out of the norm. He gave a final look over of you, he seemed to narrow his brows further. “Well … I’m off. Seriously, take it easy.” He waved, and stepped back, waiting for you to enter.

“Right… thank you, Baji.” You have a slight bow before escaping into the nurses office.

⋆｡ ﾟ ｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆

You were so tired. Maybe it would be best to let it go. Just accept you weren’t able to make friends. Finally accept something was actually wrong with you, and just stop trying.

Murmurs about your little fall were the talk of the class after lunch. Apparently the guys who bumped into you were actually pretty popular. Spreading misinformation about what happened, and making you out to be the bad guy. Seriously, what did you ever do to them? It wasn’t fair.

Overwhelmed, the end of the day came, and it was becoming impossible to tune out all 20 different conversations happening simultaneously as students filed out of the classroom. You bit your tongue and waited. The room would become empty before too long.

One by one, everyone left. And you were finally left alone. Finally. The weight of the day finally began to settle in the newfound quietness.

You quietly laid your head down on your desk, and held your arm sleeves tightly. Just breath. Why is it no matter what, you always make things worse? It was so suffocating, you didn’t even realize how harsh your breathing had become. Tears burned your eyes, and suddenly you couldn’t hold it back anymore. Openly sobbing into your sleeves, you huddled in upon yourself closer.

This sucked! What the hell! You didn’t do anything wrong! So why…

It didn’t do any good to think about it further than that. All thinking did was make it worse. Stop thinking. Just pretend like it didn’t happen. Pretend like you don’t hear anyone when they talk behind your back anymore. Pretend like your knees don’t hurt, like your feelings weren’t crushed. No one cared anyway. Suck it up.

Do better. Be better. Stop crying. Stop—

“Hey…” you heard a soft voice call out beside you. Your breath hitched. Was the classroom not empty? Did you seriously start crying in front of someone like that? This had to be the worst day.

You felt something cold touch your shoulder, and what you can only assume to be a juice box plopped down on your desk.

You didn’t lift your head. Soon to follow, the slight screech in a chair pulled out beside you, and the shifting of clothes. “Leave me alone…” you said softly; hoarsely.

“I thought about it… but it kinda seems like you could use a friend.” Wait, you recognized that voice. Ever so slightly, you turned your head to the side, and peeked past your hair to see Baji sitting slouched and wide legged beside you.

Still, you couldn’t let him see you like this. Rubbing your eyes against the material of your sleeve, you mumbled again. “It’s okay. You really don’t have to do all that.”

He was quiet. You were hopeful that he wouldn’t push the pity treatment further. The juice box was enough. It was thoughtful, and sweet. He was trying. But it was unnecessary. You’d forget about today soon enough.

Baji wasn’t sure what he should do. Maybe he should just leave you alone. He wasn’t really that good at comforting people, and you really didn’t seem in the mood to talk.

He’d never talked to you before today anyway.

Yet he couldn’t find it in himself to do it.

Anytime your name was brought to mention, it was always some bullshit gossip he never cared to listen to. You kept a low profile and seemed to always have a cheery aura about you. Those rumors were just that, rumors. It kind of reminded himself of when people would mumble about him behind his back when he first got held back. Sure, everything that everyone said about him was true, about being a delinquent, or being dumb. But it didn’t seem that way with you.

“People are assholes and just say shit to make you feel bad about yourself. I’m friends with a bunch of weirdos— some real freaks, so I can confidently say you aren’t as weird as people make you out to be.”

Well, it was a nice thought, if anything else. You giggled, sniffling a last few times before turning away from Baji, and wiping your face clean. You faced forward, a guilty smile decorating your features.

Baji Keisuke wasn’t ever really one to notice a person’s appearance, not for girls anyway. Yet he couldn’t help but admire you. Maybe it was the puffiness of your eyes and lashes, all clumped up together in wet mattes. Or maybe it was the gentle smile of giving up that twisted his heart into feeling like he should help you. To get closer to you.

“H-here.” Baji stuttered, and held out his glasses to you. “I don’t actually need them, they’re just for show. You were trying to hide you were crying, right?”

You blinked suspiciously at him, who was a little red faced and shifting of his own gaze. Was he trying to be considerate? Either way, it made you laugh. “Why do you wear them if you don’t need them?” You took the bait, and reached out for the plastic glasses.

“Well, I’ve been told I can look, intimidating, kinda. Like I’m always glarin’ or something. S-so, I guess that’s why?” He couldn’t exactly tell you he didn’t want to be recognized for being Tokyo Manji Gang’s first division captain.

“That so?” You played along, putting the glasses on in playful banter. “Huh, you’re right. They’re fake.” You smiled, and looked back over at Baji. Immediately, Baji broke out into a fit of laughter.

“Bwaaahaha! What the hell! You look so dorky!” He toppled onto himself, holding his side. You immediately followed his fit of laughter, kicking the chair below him. “I look dorky? Speak for yourself poindexter! You’re the one who looks goofy on the daily!”

Normally, those comments would cause Baji to roll his eyes, but with how lighthearted the air was, it only managed to make him laugh harder.

It felt good, laughing so hard with someone. A stranger even. “Alright, come on’, I’ll treat you to some ramen. You had to skip out on eating lunch since I asked you to help me right? You gatta be starving.” Baji offered, hoisting himself up and out of his chair, pushing it in.

“Well…” you thought about it. You’d hate to put him out and cause anymore unnecessary trouble. Yet, for once, you felt like you understood the social cues going on around you. Being able to relax, smile and laugh with someone, and they offer to take you out for food? Would it really be a bad thing to accept?

“Sure…”

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers comfort #tokyo rev #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x y/n #tokyo revengers baji #baji #baji keisuke #keisuke baji #baji x reader #baji keisuke x reader #tokrev baji

[abouttofillhisshoes]

We started losing light - M.H x Reader // pt.2

A/N: TW for vomit, please take care of yourselves! I wrote most of this in one go, i'm sorry if there are any spelling/wording mistakes. It gets angsty, lots of yelling bla bla. Adams a cunt in this one. Thank you @beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff for beta reading once again❤️

wc: 7k

part three

The smell of fresh cut grass permeated the air. You were walking down the beaten pavement path, moss covering most of it, making it quite slippery. For the first time in a long time, you were completely sober.

It had been well over two weeks since the kiss, not having addressed it. There was no need to, since it clearly meant nothing to both of you. It was early march, and you had expected the rain to lay off for a bit. The weather forecast that morning laughed in your face, predicting another week of straight rain. Had that made you think, even for a second ‘hey, maybe it’d be a good idea to bring a coat?’ Of course not. 

“What do you think of Hann’s new girl?” Mattys voice broke your train of thought. “She's fit, isn't she? Maybe even too fit for the old man,” he lets out a disgusting cough, and you tell him that maybe it's a sign he should quit smoking. 

“Don't be a dickhead, Adams plenty attractive,” you answer, nudging him with your elbow. Matty scoffs as a way to say: Hann? Attractive? Our mate, Adam Hann? You nod, not letting Adam be the butt of yet another one of Mattys deprecating jokes. 

“Olivia’s nice, even if she was a total cunt to George,” His eyes lit up at your statement, nodding erratically. “Right?? What was even her problem with him? She was fine with the rest of us, even you, given that you're a girl. Something about him must’ve fucked her off or something.” It's true, she was a total sweetheart to you, even asking where your lipgloss was from. 

She was a sight for sore eyes, bleach blonde, waist length hair draping over her shoulders. Blue eyes like the ocean, even if you get lost in them. Ross was convinced she was some sort of call girl, until Adam had shown him the text threads from the dating site they had met on.  

You offer him a shrug. The night's events played out in your mind. You had all met at a bar near Adam and Ross’ flat. From the start, she was facing away from George, avoiding looking at him like it was going to kill her if she did. George tried to talk to her, even complimented her shoes (the shoes were ugly), but to no avail. She just wouldn't acknowledge him. He eventually gave up, nursing his drink while making conversation with a very confused Ross.  

You continued walking arm in arm, ‘Old Yellow Bricks’ by the Arctic Monkeys blaring through your headphones. It was a miracle neither of you had extensive hearing loss. 

All was well, until you felt the first rain drops hit your bare shoulders. You turn to Matty to complain, but you see a sly smile already on his face. 

“I hate to tell you ‘told you so’ but-,” You didn't let him finish. 

“Please don't do this to me, I'm having a moment of weakness!” you shiver dramatically. The wind wasn't helping your little predicament. You had a tank top on, not very ideal for the harsh British rain that was about to come pouring down.   

“Now, be a gentleman and give me your coat.” Matty shakes his head, tugging the coat over himself. You scoff at him.  

“You can steal my weed and talk about ‘girls don't roll their own spliffs’ but you wont give me your coat?? Fucking tosser, you are.” You mime his thick northern accent, your fingers forming quotation marks in the air. 

“Oh fuck right off! Y’know Hann’s the only one who does that-'' you narrow your eyes at him, cocking your head to the left, “Fine, I said it once. And besides, I'm cold too!” 

You pout at him, giving him your best puppy dog eyes. He pretends to think about it, but inevitably shakes his head once again. ‘Fuck you’ you think. 

It's not until the rain starts proper pouring down on the two of you that Matty makes you an offer.

“Share the coat? You've officially lost the plot, mate.” You laugh in his face. How would you even fit?? Then again, the coat was insanely big, sized up at least two or three sizes. You could theoretically squeeze into it. Matty and his ‘fashion’ choices. 

Deciding to try, Matty takes his right arm out of the coat, letting you into it. It was a tight fit, and it didn't close, but it worked. Your left arm rested on Mattys waist, and his right one rested on yours. He gave your side a light squeeze, laughing at you when you jump. 

You felt a familiar warmth at the contact. ‘Stop it’  you thought to yourself. Your attention was quickly pulled to the car driving past. In the pouring rain, a yellow taxi cab had hit a puddle next to the edge of the pavement, dousing you in muddy rainwater. 

Matty cursed the car out, letting out a terrifying shriek. Jesus. 

He tried to brush as much of the water off as he could, but it was no use. 

Watching him struggle made you crack a smile. It was endearing almost, seeing him curse at literal water. 

The walk back to Mattys place was rudely interrupted by him booking it down the street halfway home, ripping you out of the confines of the jacket. The rain had let up, so you chased after him. Your boots splashed against the water on the ground, the wind blowing against you. Matty almost tripped on a rogue piece of pavement, making him fall back. 

His feeble attempts at getting his keys into the lock before you got to him proved useless. You were fast.

Your head hurts from the running, so you let his bolting away from you slide, as long as he made you a cuppa as an apology. He was mental about his tea, having an entire cupboard dedicated to organizing and storing it. 

“You should be on an episode of my strange addiction,” you comment. 

Matty made tea like it was his profession, perfectly measuring the water-to-teabag ratio to a T (pun intended). You loved sugar, and you watched him put 3 cubes into yours. He took his with a splash of milk, gross.

The warm liquid soothes the sore throat you knew you’d have tomorrow. Your nose was already clogging up from all the time spent in the rain, trying to get home as soon as possible   

“So, am I forgiven?” Matty looks at you from over the top of his red foo fighters mug. Only he would have a red foo fighters mug. You smile and nod at him as he reaches for the remote.  

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

“I swear to fucking god Rome, if you fuck this up, I will rip your balls off and have that be my jewelry.” You say through gritted teeth.

You were currently draped across your mate Rome’s sofa. That same Rome who did your crooked aladdin sane tattoo, was now apparently a professional body piercer. But hey, who could turn down a free piercing? Spoiler alert: you probably should have. 

The needle tickled your belly button, and you could feel your heart racketing in your chest. And not in a good way. ‘Matty was the good way.’  

What the fuck? You pushed the thought away quickly. 

You had plenty of piercings in your ears, 5 or so on each side, but this was your first body piercing. I was also your first one done by Rome, tattoo expert and piercer extraordinaire, allegedly.        

Matty was sat on the glass coffee table across from the leather sofa, eyeing the needle even more intensely than you were.

A cold disinfectant wipe touched your stomach, making you shudder. Rome said it wouldn't hurt much, but you didn't trust a word that came out of his mouth. He had also told you the tattoo on your hip bone wouldn't hurt a lot, and that was a blatant lie. It was a piercing pain in your hip for about 4 hours straight, so not exactly pain free. 

“Just breathe, it’ll be over in a second.” you hear Rome's voice, slightly distorted. The needle pierces your skin. It feels hot, and you can feel your hand squeezing Mattys. The jewelry slipping in causes another flash of hot pain to sear through you. Now it's Mattys voice whispering comforting words into your ear. His presence helps, acting as a sort of psychological painkiller. 

Examining your new accessory in the mirror, you let out a content sigh. The green gemstone glimmers in the light, complimenting the red and green of your tattoo. The light of the bathroom blinded you, and you make a mental to let Rome know his lightbulb was brighter than the fucking sun.

Matty was waiting for you in the living room, flicking through channels on the telly. He nods when his eyes meet yours, signaling it was time to go. 

The two of you had made it a habit to walk everywhere, neither having enough money to pay for bus or train tickets. The walks had become a constant, the feeling of Mattys coat brushing up against your shoulder was routine.  

Sharing headphones once again, today's track was AC/DC’s ‘Back In Black’. Matty wasn't a big fan of AC/DC but that didn't matter, he still let you put it on, even though it had been his turn. 

That's something you’d noticed. He wasn't as prissy about the music anymore, simply humming in response to your music choice, even if it was the worst pop trash he had ever heard. Something felt off, but you couldn't quite put your finger on it. It didn't matter much at the time, it just meant you had more opportunity to listen to whatever you pleased. 

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The Sound was a pub of sorts. Exactly the type of pub you would find someone like Matty in.

Extravagant, loud, and full of life and most importantly, booze. The neon signs all littering the concrete wall gave you a headache. 

He had brought everyone here, including Hann’s girlfriend, for a round of drinks. 

The queue up until the door had been well stressful, seeing as both you and George were underage. Most pubs let you in without a hitch, but this one was new. 

Thankfully, the bouncer didn't even look twice at the both of you, simply waving you through. He did press hand to Adam's chest, and asked him of all people for his I.D. You tried not to giggle as Hann desperately searched his pockets for his wallet. Olivia stood next to him, looking unimpressed.  

Matty was already inside, ordering everyone drinks. He might fail his GCSEs, but for some reason, he had everyone's drink order down by heart. Even Olivias. You wonder where he had gotten that information from.  

The bass of the music thrummed through your veins, the disco-esque lights flashing all around you. It was full, the poor bartenders overwhelmed with about sixteen people at once shouting their various drink orders at them. You took a sip of your drink, and made your way to the semi-crowded dance floor. Spotting Adam snogging his girl in the corner, you roll your eyes at the sight. 

George and Ross were off to the side, doing shots with a bridal party of all people. The maid of honor was throwing herself at Ross, and he attempted to fend her off, going on about ‘the missus waiting for him at home’. That sure didn't stop her. 

But you couldn't, for the life of you, find Matty. You hated this about him. He just disappeared and it took ages to find him again, and it didn't help that everyone else was either snogging their girlfriend or getting hammered with an entire wedding. Your eyes scan the crowd, and you finally see him. 

Him and a girl. 

His hair was up in a half up half down sort of style, blonde strands framing his face perfectly. His eyes were lined with blue liner, complimenting the blue nail polish on his fingers. The fingers on the hands that were touching some random girl's arm. A pretty girl's arm.  

She was everything in vogue. Absolutely gorgeous black hair fell over her shoulder, framing her face perfectly. A red dress clung to her body, her legs looking a mile long. She was the beauty standard.  

You felt jealousy bubble up inside of you, stopping yourself before you could properly feel it.

‘It's Matty’ you thought to yourself ‘he does this all the time, get your shit together’ A deep breath managed to steady you. It wasn't long before he saw you through the crowd of people, a smile spreading into his face when he did. He said something to the girl. The look on his face seemed apologetic. She nodded in understanding, flashing him a smile as he turned around to make his way to you. Did he reject her? 

“All this neon is doing my head in,” you gesture at your surroundings, ”can we go outside for a bit?” Matty agrees, commenting on the volume of the music. For some reason, you can't find Adam, and you assume he's off shagging his girlfriend in a bathroom stall somewhere.

The warm air hits you as you step out the back entrance, Matty following close behind. You wedge your wallet in between the door to keep it from locking you out. A lesson learned the hard way. The brick of the wall dug into your back, you wince at the roughness of it. 

You pulled out your cigarettes, feeling around for your lighter. An exasperated sigh leaves your lips, but Matty was already way ahead of you. He held his lighter up to the cig between your lips. You notice two things. One, his hands are shaking, and two, it's the lighter. That same lighter he had on his the day you met. 

Why were his hands shaking? Why did he still have it? Was it even the same one? You check the side of it and sure enough, it had his initials scrawled on it in white ink. You're snapped out of your thoughts when the nicotine hits your system. It calms down your thinking, and you forget about it. It feels like you're forgetting a lot these days. 

“Why did you reject her? She was really pretty.” you ask, your eyes not meeting his, instead focusing on the glowing billboard in the distance. Matty frowned at you.

“Yeah, she was, but you know id rather not fuck someone i dont know.” he takes a deep drag of his cigarette. “You know I'm not really like that.”

Matty was a performer, he performed in every aspect in his life. So did you, in a way. With fake displays of confidence and that fucking kiss, you put on a sort of show. So did Matty, honing a distinct air of nonchalance, acting unbothered by everything and everyone. 

Those performances were let down when you were around each other. You got to see a side of Matty no one else really saw, not even George, who he had known since he was about 14. He was vulnerable with you, soft even. In turn, he saw your insecurities. Insecurities that ran deep through your bones. Insecurities that were the very essence of your being.  

You smoke the rest of your cigarette in silence, leaning against the wall. A gust of wind made you shiver, goosebumps forming on your skin.

The heel of your boot stubs out the butt of your cigarette, and you turn to go back inside. Mattys hand on your arm stopped you, and you felt your breath hitch at the contact.

“Ross just messaged me,” he read the text out loud, the faint blue light illuminating his face. “Adams gone back home to shag Olivia. He said to fuck off until at least 2, and to leave him alone.”

You stare at him for a second before you answer, fuming at Adam for leaving you stranded like that. “Where are we meant to go then? Fucking tosser, leaving us like that” Matty just shrugs, and starts walking around the building to the main entrance. You follow him. 

Ross and George are at the front, and George has a tiara on his head. Matty immediately questions his choice of headwear, but he just brushes him off, saying it was a gift from the bride. Her name was Ashley, apparently. Not that it mattered, how the fuck were you gonna get home? 

All your questions were answered when George spoke: “We could go to mine? I have a pretty big shed in my garden,” Matty makes a face at the thought of sleeping in someone's garden shed, but then again, it was better than being homeless for the next eight or so hours. 

“We could all crash there, it even has a mattress in it.” 

The four of you decide to walk the 45 minutes to Georges house, seeing as there werent any busses going in that direction at 11 o’clock at fucking night. Fuck Adam. 

George fumbled with the key to the shed for a solid minute before finally getting it open, revealing the interior.     

It was littered with boxes stacked on top of various pieces of furniture. You spot an old mattress tucked up against the wall. It looks dirty, and you wonder if sleeping on the floor might prove more hygienic than laying your face on that.

You get to work, moving boxes out of the way to reveal a red leather couch, dusty and grimy from years of storage, and a giant green sofa chair. You lugged your bag onto the chair, calling dibs. Ross groaned, sitting down on the mattress on the floor. It at least came with a blanket (if you could call a duvet without a sheet a blanket). 

Matty had gone with the sofa, and was now brushing as much dust off as he could, trying to get it somewhat clean. Neither one of you had any clothes to sleep in, so you opted for just sleeping in your current clothes. You hadn’t thought to bring makeup wipes, so you knew you’d be dealing with a gnarly breakout in the morning. That didn't matter to you at this point, you just wanted to pass out on the chair. You put your hair up in a ponytail, sighing as you look for a surface to put your cellphone on. Matty was stood behind you, shuffling around the sofa, trying to find a place for his giant coat. 

Everyone was getting ready to conk out, and George had already gone back to his house. He, of course, had a warm and comfortable bed waiting for him inside a heated house.   

You watched Matty as he took his shirt off, your eyes lingering for a beat longer than what was considered ‘platonic’. He had a tattoo that mirrored yours on his left hip bone. “We are kings” it read. You’d laughed at him when he showed it to you, deeming it awfully cheesy, a rose being the backdrop for the words. But nevertheless, he ignored your words. As long as he liked it, you told him. 

He had various other small, mostly meaningless tattoos littering his skin. He had let Rome practice a lot on his legs, which proved to be a mistake, given those god-awful tattoos were now going to be stuck on his body forever. It didn't seem to bother him though. He was seemingly happy just helping a friend, even if he did now have a hideous cross tattoo on his left calf.  

You had only one tattoo, the Aladdin Sane one, but you were planning on getting more the moment you could afford to not have to go to Rome for it. 

‘never again’ you thought. 

Matty had settled onto the sofa, and was now reading one of the many books that were stacked in piles in the corners of the shed. He had picked up Joan Didions ‘Slouching toward Bethlehem", scanning the pages intently. 

You don't know at what point you fell asleep, but you were woken up by a loud crashing noise. You shoot up, greeted by a stabbing pain in your upper back and shoulder. Fuckkkkk. 

The chair had made you fall asleep in a god-awful position, your neck hanging off the edge of it. The source of the noise was, of course, Matty knocking over the once source of light: A metal lamp that was conveniently placed right in the middle of the tiny shed. 

He cursed at the lamp, and then at George for deciding to put it there. George couldn’t hear him, since he was comfortably sleeping in his own bed inside of the house. Fuck. him. 

Matty looks at you, apologizing for waking you up. Ross was nowhere to be seen, and you assume he’d already left.

Your hand reaches for your back, trying to soothe the pain by rubbing it. It didn't help, and you lay back in defeat. 

“What's got you so prissy this morning?” Matty asks, cocking an eyebrow. You shoot him a glare, not in the mood for his comments. 

“It’s all Adam's fault! If he hadnt acted like a fucking dickhead and left us stranded just to shag Olivia, I would’ve fallen asleep in my own bed, and not some dusty chair in a shed! A fucking shed!”You were frustrated to say the least, your hands moving erratically around you, showcasing said frustration. “My back is killing me, I cant move, and Ross has fucked off god knows where.” You feel tears well up in your eyes, too embarrassed to look at Matty.

You were tired and in pain. All because Hann couldn't keep his dick in his pants. You mentally flip him off. 

“I could give you a massage, if you want,” Matty offered, seeing how the whole night had affected you. “And you're right, Hann’s a total cunt for doing that.” He added, making you break out into a smile at his words. He had that effect on you. You calmed down 

He motioned for you to sit down on the floor in front of the leather sofa, and you did. You took off your shirt, feeling a sudden pang of insecurity run through you. You had been half naked in front of Matty loads of times, so why was this different? 

The sudden pressure of Mattys rough hands on your shoulder blade made you groan, relieving some of the tightness in your back. 

“Thanks mate, you're a legend.” Matty chuckles at your words, humming in response. He goes on for about 10 minutes, All is going great, and your back feels better. That is, until Ross comes rushing through the door. He freezes when he sees you in your bra, shielding his eyes and spinning around to face the door. 

“Fuckin hell, why are you naked? And why are Mattys hands on you?” Ross borderline shouts, his voice seeming panicked. 

“Jesus Ross, stop acting like I'm the first half naked girl you've seen in your life,” you start, Mattys laugh interrupting you. “You can turn around, Matty’s just giving me a massage.” 

He does turn around, avoiding looking at you. You roll your eyes. Unbelievable. 

He grabs his jacket, and leaves as quickly as he came. Matty taps your shoulder, signaling you to get up. You put your shirt back on, and grab your bag from the pile of boxes. Your back still aches, but the massage did help. You tell him as much.

“It's no thing, all good,” He mutters, closing the door of the shed behind him. You now have to figure out how to get ‘round the side of the house without George’s parents seeing you. How would he explain that? “Oh yeah, forgot to tell you, three people slept in the shed last night. Tea?” 

Nevertheless, you manage to get out unnoticed, setting off home. The walk was incredibly long, stopping at a wetherspoons along the way to have a piss. It took some bickering with the barista to let you use the bathroom even though you weren't customers. It ended with Matty giving her his number, promising to take her out as a thank you. That same jealousy bubbled up inside of you as he handed her the piece of paper with a wink. 

It didn't matter, you decided. It was fluke, you were just tired and angry at Adam for being a massive fucking cunt and leaving you. You swore you’d kill him when you saw him next. 

By the time you made it home, it was almost 8:30. Hoping and praying your mother hadn't woken up yet, you slid the window open. Nothing. She was asleep.  

Matty helped you up, grabbing you by the sides. His hands lingered for a second too long, squeezing the flesh of your hips. You swore you could see a faint blush spread across his face. No. You were imagining it. He was just red from lifting you. Definitely. 

He held out his arms, enveloping you in a warm hug goodbye. You felt like crying. You really didn't want him to leave. The hug lasted what seemed like forever, your hands stroking his back. He somehow sensed this, and held you even tighter. 

“I'll pick you up at half ten, alright? Just us.” you liked the sound of that, nodding your head in agreement. “No Adam or Ross to fuck us off, we’ll get hammered and walk around. That sound good?” You nod again, brushing some of his hair out of his face. 

This is the first time in a while you'd gotten to properly look at him. You observed his features. Eye bags caressed the skin under his eyes, making him look tired. He was still beautiful, his pale skin glowing in the light of the morning. Brown eyes glazed over and full of sleep pierced yours. You felt like he was looking into your soul. He saw you. 

He pulled away, your hand lingering on his arm before returning to your side. He turned around to leave, and every fiber of you wanted to shout after him to stay. You opened your mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Defeated, you turned around and hopped off the window sill and into your bedroom. 

Your bed was calling your name, and you flopped onto it, not bothering to change. You desperately needed a shower, but your body would not move. Sleep took over your body as you settled into the cold sheets of your bed. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

For the first time in your life, Matty was drunker than you were. Stumbling down the road, cursing at cars driving past for no apparent reason. The half a bottle of vodka already in his system was being washed down by a bottle of red wine, currently sloshing onto his shirt. You weren't completely sober either, but you’re pretty sure you’d never seen Matty this wrecked. Ever.

“I need a piss,” Matty announces, searching your surroundings for the nearest gas station. You weren't quite certain where you were, the darkness of the cloudy night obstructed your view. 

You were walking on the side of some highway or other, seeing as there was barely a sliver of pavement to keep you from getting hit by a car. The honking finally made sense. 

Matty spots a gas station in the distance, and takes off running down the street in its direction. A drunk Matty was definitely faster than a sober one, you take note, hauling ass after him.

By the time you’d made it inside, Matty was already throwing himself at a traumatized looking gas station attendant, basically climbing over the counter to get to her. 

You grab him by the shirt, tugging him backwards. Apologizing profusely, you ask where the bathroom is. The blonde girl points timidly to the sign hanging above a hallway off to the side, labeled ‘Unisex Toilet’. You thank her, before realizing Matty had once again escaped your line of sight and was now yelling at the drink cooler. 

“It's absolutely mad, the amount of drinks they offer! That can't be good for the environment!” He slurs his words, making meaningful eye contact with a can of cherry cola.

“Climate change is a real thing you know, don't let the people fool y-” you cut him off, apologizing to the now even more terrified worker, ushering him towards the loo. 

“Fuckin hell, what did you do that for?? I was just inquiring on the importance of-” his expression changed drastically “fuckfuckfuck get out my way!” you knew that look. Matty was about to hurl all over you if you didnt move now. 

He bolted to the nearest stall, dropping to his knees as the copious amounts of alcohol he had consumed made its reappearance in the toilet bowl. Your hands moved to get his hair out of his face. You whisper small ‘oh god’s whilst stroking his hair, knowing throwing vodka up couldn't be pleasant. You weren't sober in the slightest, but you had to pull yourself together to help hi.

Matty had done this for you multiple times, holding your hair whilst talking you through it. 

“Jesus Matty, you have got to pace yourself,” you say, your voice having a slightly serious tinge to it. He genuinely worried you.

“Oh fuck off mate, leave me alone.” he spat, the tone of this voice sending a chill down your spine. He had never, in your three years of friendship, spoken to you like that. You gripped his hair tighter, letting out an annoyed sigh, not knowing how to react. He was wasted, but he had been wasted before. Never like this.

“Are you deaf?? I said fuck off!” His words dripped with venom, his voice amplified in the confines of the bathroom. Your eyes widen in shock, letting go of his hair. It falls into his face, obscuring it. 

The bathroom stills when he finally stops retching, having emptied the contents of his stomach fully. Time seemed to slow for both you and him, making the room spin.

Suddenly, you hear sobs coming from beneath you. Matty was crying. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckkkkk. What do you do? Comfort him? Leave him alone to cry it out? Definitely not. 

You drop down to your knees, trying to get a look at his face. Vomit covered the edges of his mouth, spit dripping down into the toilet. Everything reeked of cheap vodka and cigarettes, but you blocked out the smell. 

“Please dont look at me..” you hear, his voice shaking as he brings a hand up to wipe his mouth clean. It gets on his sleeve, but he doesn't seem to care. Your hand finds its way into his hair, massaging his scalp in that way he likes. A whimper leaves his mouth, catching you off guard. Another sob. Tears drip down his face, and he finally turns around to face you. 

“Christ Matty, what's gone wrong with you?” you ask, your voice breathy, the alcohol making you hazy. He just shakes his head, bringing his knees up to his chest. His eyes are glued to the floor, too scared to look at you. 

“Dont know whats wrong with me,” he starts, finally looking up. He doesn't look you in the eye, instead looking behind you. Past you. “Maybe I had too much to drink, I dunno.” You crack a smile. No shit he had too much to drink. 

“Lay off the vodka for a bit, it makes you mad. You almost jumped the poor girl behind the counter.” you laugh, trying to lighten the mood a bit, still too drunk to be put down by Mattys crisis. 

“I don't want to get up, I feel so heavy” he slurs, obviously still drunk. “Nah, you know we need to leave, or else they’ll kick us out for trespassing or something. We’ve been in here ‘bout an hour already.” You look at an imaginary watch on your wrist, making him giggle. 

His eyes are half closed as he watches you get up from your spot next to him. You use the stall walls for balance, not wanting to come crashing down. Extending a hand to Matty, he pulls himself up with you. The both of you stumble outside of the stall, and you take a look at yourself in the mirror. Jesus, both of you look like you've been through hell.

Your makeup smeared down your face, your lipgloss long gone. Mattys hair was a mess, sticking up in every direction imaginable. There was vomit on his shirt and chin, trailing down his neck. You look at his reflection in disgust, and tell him as much. 

He takes his coat off, along with his shirt. He runs his face under cold water, washing any vomit off of it. He stared at himself, his eyes empty. Your voice made him look at you. 

“Let's not overdo it like this again, it proper sucked” you knew you sounded like you were joking, but you couldn't be more serious. “I'm still a bit drunk, and I think you are too. Food?”

He nods at you, and takes your bag out of your hands, stuffing his tshirt into it. Putting his coat back on, you can see the skin of his chest peek out from underneath it. You look away, taking the bag back from him. As you emerge out of the loo, you nod in the direction of the girl behind the counter. Matty announces he's run out of cigarettes, and goes to buy more. The girl hands him a pack of parliaments, and he slides a tenner over to her, telling her to keep the change. 

The air outside is cool, colder than inside the bathroom. The smell of petrol fills your nostrils and you breathe. “Maccies?” He asks, pointing to the sign across the road. You smile, crossing the road together, desperately needing some grease in your system.

He places both your orders for you, taking the number and sitting down. Your food arrives, looking as good as mcdonalds at 1 in the morning can look. You take a bite out of your food, and reach for your shared fries. Mattys hand is already there, and your fingers brush against each other 

You pull your hand back and it feels as if you've been shocked by something. Matty seems as unbothered as ever, munching away at his chicken burger (yes, chicken). You stare at him until he looks up at you, your eyes quickly redirecting to your own food. Everything feels weird. Breathing feels hard as your heart pounds in your chest 

You're just drunk, stop it.  

“What do you wanna do after?” He says, licking the grease off of his fingers. You can still see his chest, the pale skin a stark contrast to the dark, fluffy material of his coat. His hair was down, covering a large chunk of his face, he desperately needed to cut it. You tell him. 

“Cut it for me then, as a payment for me coloring yours,” You agree, smiling at the thought.

“I can't exactly go home, my house is too far away and i can't be arsed to pay for a taxi at this hour.” he adds to his previous statement, turning his pockets inside out, showing his lack of funds. Typical Matty, running out of money at the worst possible moment. You had used the last of your cash to pay for your food, leaving about 6 quid in your wallet.

“What about Carolines? That's not far from here.” you suggest, finishing off the last of the fries. 

Matty sipped on his cola, calculating the distance, before agreeing and getting up to leave. You take your bag, following closely behind him. Hooking his arm in with yours, you walk along the highway together, flipping off the cars that honked at you. The clouds had cleared, showing the myriad of stars glowing in the sky. You stopped for a second, admiring their beauty before Matty pulled you along. He was never one for admiring nature, always a city boy at heart. 

The walk was calm, with Matty walking at your pace, instead of you at his. He hummed the melody to some radiohead. This was the first walk together you had taken in silence. Your boots clicked against the pavement, the sound almost deafening. 

Arriving at Carolines, the steps up to the terrace seemed longer than ever. The sofa was still there, though it had been moved, presumably by Ross, closer to the railing. The stars were clear as ever, illuminating Mattys face in a soft blue light. The city below was quiet, most of the lights in the buildings having been turned off. 

You steal a glance at Mattys wristwatch. 2:53am. Was it already that late?

You catch him staring at you, his eyes lingering. You felt naked, exposed, despite being more covered up than he was. Mattys gaze didn't let up, so you decided to stare back. Your eyes lock, and you immediately sober up. 

“D’you have any weed on you? I fancy a smoke,” he asked, his eyes flicking between yours and your bag. You did, in fact, have a pre rolled spliff in your makeup bag. By the time you’d taken it out, Matty had already taken his lighter out of his jeans pocket. That fucking lighter. 

He hands it to you, and you cock your head at him. 

“So you don't go begging for my coat again,” he grins, pressing the plastic into your hand. The way he articulated the word begging made you feel warm, flush almost. A blush spread on your cheeks, you could feel it. Matty either didn't notice, or just plain ignored it. Both options made you nervous. 

You light the spliff, rotating it to get an even burn. Passing it to Matty, you let him take the first hit. He does, his expression immediately changing to a more relaxed one. ‘He looks fucked out’ you think, observing the way his eyes drooped half closed. His hair fell into his face as he laid down onto your lap, letting his head rest on your thighs. 

You take a drag, ashing onto the floor. The ash dwindles on the floor for a second, before going out completely. The two of you take in the glow of the city, slightly obscured by the dark gray railing, but beautiful nonetheless. 

“Do you ever feel lost?” The words slip out before you can stop them. Matty moves in your lap, turning so that he could look at you from below. His expression is unreadable. Neutral. It scares you.

“Sometimes, yeah..” his voice is soft, raspy from the smoke. He passes the spliff back to you before speaking further. “But isn't that part of it? The human experience? Feeling lost, I mean.” you can see him picking at his nails, the skin beginning to bleed. His neutral expression is replaced by something else. Worry? Anxiety? 

Matty was prone to panic attacks. They didn’t happen often, but they happened. One particular time was in a club downtown. It was Saturday night, and the place was packed to the brim. His hand grabbed yours and the look in his eyes was nothing short of terrified. His breathing was irregular, and you knew he needed to get out, now. 

That was one of the first times it happened, but it wasn't the last. You quickly learned how to deal with them. He, like you, never, ever wanted to talk about it immediately after the fact. You knew they happened when he felt trapped. In crowded spaces, in high stress situations. His hand would reach for yours as if it were the anchor to reality. 

His hand reached for yours, the coldness of his making you jump slightly. Your heart was beating so fast I couldn't see straight. His eyes met yours, searching for something. Something.

What was that something? What did he want? He squeezed your fingers, playing with the rings on your index and ring. Twisting and turning and taking them off and putting them back on. The feeling made you dizzy. 

You stayed like that, his head in your lap until the first signs of dawn hit your skin. The orange glow of the sun makes his eyes appear brighter, his hair looks lighter than it actually was. The blonde highlights were a good idea. This made him appear his age. You were just two kids 

Kids on a terrace, watching the sun rise slowly over the city. 

Not daring to move, you let yourself relax on the couch. You're tired, you haven't slept all night and you could feel the hangover start to spread its way through your body. You weren't completely present. 

You convince yourself the faint “I love you,” you heard just before you drifted off the sleep was a trick of your mind.

What else could it be? 

#oh god #i really like this one actually #drunk matty is my fav to write #well except the part where he yells at girlie #the 1975 #matty healy #ross macdonald #adam hann #george daniel #matty healy x reader #matty healy angst #matty healy x you #matty the 1975 #matty healy fanfiction

[quirkwizard]

I'm not sure why I made this. I just thought it would be fun to do and now all you have to see the fruits of my labor. So, without further ado, the Pro Hero Parent Tier List. Hope you all enjoy it and try not to take it too seriously.

F Tier: Gran Torino, Recovery Girl, and Yoroi Musha: The simple fact is that these three characters are way too old to be parents. Maybe if this were a grandparent tier list, they'd be higher, but it isn't, so they're all going in the F Tier.

D Tier: Endeavor: Look, do I even need to explain this one? You all know what he did. One of the biggest problems in the story is the result of all the messed up stuff Enji did as a dad. His attempt at redemption was to remove himself from his family. Easy bottom tier.

Nana: While I'm someone who tries to understand Nana's position and decisions in regards to her kid and her role as a "One For All" user, she still didn't seem like a very good parent even when she was around. She herself even admits that, so that is what puts her so low.

Gang Orca: What few interactions we see him having with kids is screaming about their failures and throwing them when he is dissatisfied with their answers. That is bound to cause some trauma later. Like some Pavlovain response when they think of Free Willy.

Hound Dog: He may be a guidance consular that works with kids, implying some understanding of child psychology, but if his first reaction is to yell and growl at any emotional problems in front of him, he probably isn't going to communicate with his own kids.

Thirteen: I get that Thirteen is someone who takes a lot of care and consideration with her power and is quite safe to be around. That being said, I don't think that someone who is at risk of destroying their own child at the atomic level should really be handling children.

C Tier: Edgeshot: There really isn't a lot to say about Edgeshot as we don't get a lot of personality outside of being stoic, which could certainly be an issue for a parent. That being said, being willing to sacrifice yourself for a kid does push him above the bottom of the tier list.

Mount Lady: If we're considering her early in the series, she'd definitely be at the lower tier given how irresponsible and self-centered she is. Though considering her development and how mature she's gotten in general, she barely scrapes by as an average parent.

Kaumi Woods: Kamui Woods is just kind of average. There just isn't a lot going on with him that could give or detract merit from the little hero work he's done. He's here by default. His inability to hug his kids without giving them splinters would certainly be an issue.

Manual: Again, he's average. The most we have is that he seemed to do pretty well with handling Iida's whole situation but didn't seem to notice it in the first place. Otherwise, he's pretty plain. I could see him being the lame dad his kids don't want to talk to or be around.

Miruko: Definite Tiger Mom. She'd be making her kids do all kinds of sports stuff and getting them to exercise all the time. She cares, but she shows it by trying to make her kids excel at what they're doing. Great if they're into that, but I can see it fostering a lot of resentment.

Sir Nighteye: Like Miruko, but at the other end of the spectrum. He would be the kind of dad to make his kid study a lot because that's what he would think would be best for them. Cares and can loosen up when needed, but is emotionally distant most times.

B Tier: Ms. Joke: She is a teacher, meaning she must have some understanding of kids. She'd definitely be the "Fun Mom". She'd always try to keep a smile on her kid's face, even if that meant making terrible mom jokes. Be ready, she has been working on them for years.

Ectoplasm: He seems to be pretty good with kids, but the real clencher is his power. No matter what, he could always be around to be present in his kid's life. And hey, family dynamics are always changing. Who is to say a family can't be just a kid and their thirty-six identical dads?

Ryukyu: She can be hard on herself, but she seems to have a soft spot for children and do well with her wards, given how well they have turned out, being commanding without being harsh. And let's be real: who wouldn't want to have a dragon for a parent? That alone would put her pretty high up here.

Eraserhead: This may be a controversial pick putting him so low, but hear me out. I think Aizawa would try to be a good dad, but he's married to his job, being too tired and absent to really make it work. And did you see what he bought for Eri to wear? What self-respecting father would ever do this his child?

Fourth Kind: A good role model to any kid who tries to foster strong moral foundations and understanding of community in his wards. All around, a pretty stand-up guy to have as a dad. He loses points because punching kids is not a good way to punish them, even if it hurts him more than it hurts them.

Midnight: This could be because I read Vigilantes, but Midnight actually shows quite a few parental traits, like being highly empathic and understanding of those younger than her. Then again, I can only imagine the kind of teasing and general awkwardness that would come from having the R-Rated Heroine as a mom.

A Tier: All Might: If we're counting him without "One For All", otherwise he'd be working too much to be a dad, I think that he'd be a parent. If his students are anything to go by, he'd be a pretty effective parent. We can also tell that he plays favorites with his kids, and that knocks off a few points.

Present Mic: This may be a surprise pick, but I can see him doing pretty well as a parent. He can be the fun, comic dad that plays with his kids and can get on their level, but he can instantly go into serious mode if he needs to. The fact that he can do both so well, which you kind of need as a parent, puts him pretty high on the list.

Best Jeanist: Another stand-up guy, just trying to be a good role model and look amazing while doing it. I mean, the guy had an actual positive impact on early series Bakugou. That has got to count for something. Probably has all kinds of weirdly good life advice if you can understand fashion metaphors.

Rock Lock: One of the few real parents on this list, Rock Lock just seems like a responsible parent. He did try to call out the kids for being on missions, but he was kind of right in that regard and just looking out for them. Probably try to keep his kid from doing stupid stuff. He'd be a good, but restrictive father.

Hawks: Like Present Mic, I could see Hawks being a chill dad who doesn't seem to know what's going on but actually knows everything that happens and always has one eye open when it comes to his kids. He'll give his kids their freedom, but he's going to be there to catch and guide them when they really need him.

S Tier: Mandalay: Another one of the few real parents here, and one with a pretty bad hand. Mandalay not only had to take over as a guardian out of nowhere but had to do it with a heavily traumatized child while trying to lead a team as a pro-hero. The fact that she seems to be doing as well as she is puts her this high without question.

Fat Gum: No one should be surprised that Fat Gum is this high. He's super protective without being overbearing, tries to instill valuable lessons to make them develop, and does his best to encourage his wards to be the best they could be. And could you imagine him giving hugs? That would make any problem vanish.

Tensei: Tensei is just such a good guy. He's a good role model and leader for his team without it being detrimental. He knew Koichi for about a day and he was able to understand Koichi and tried to set him up for success. Imagine how well he'd do with his own kid. Plus, he's an older brother. That's like a being a parent with training wheels.

#My Hero Academia #Not Quirks #Toshinori Yagi #All Might #Enji Todoroki #Endeavor #Keigo Takami #Hawks #Shota Aizawa #Eraserhead #Hizashi Yamada #Present Mic #Nemuri Kayama #Midnight #Tsunagu Hakamata #Best Jeanist #Shinya Kamihara #Edgeshot #Rumi Usagiyama #Miruko #Shinji Nishiya #Kamui Woods #Yu TAkeyama #Mt. Lady #Taishiro Toyomitsu #Fat Gum #Mirai Sasaki #Sir Nighteye

[oddballwriter]

Lady Problems

꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦

Summary: The boys were happy to have you move in. They made it known that they wanted you to make a home with them as soon as you had gotten used to and seen everything about each other, both in the good, strange, ugly, and vulnerable. And there where no actual problems with you at all. But you did come with something that Marc didn't fancy too well. 

Warnings: None that I actually know of. There's a literal cat involved, and it does cat things. 

Author’s Snip: Yet another silly idea from my silly brain.

Notes: This isn't proof read. I wrote this last night in some weird type of "awake but the body's getting ready for sleep" like state and I just don't feel like proof reading so if there errors then suck it up /lh.

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦

The boys were happy to have you move in. They made it known that they wanted you to make a home with them as soon as you had gotten used to and seen everything about each other, both in the good, strange, ugly, and vulnerable. And there where no actual problems with you at all. But you did come with something that Marc didn't fancy too well.

Her name is Lady, and she was your pet cat.

Now, Marc doesn't hate cats. Even though he was more of a dog person, be it a big dog type of person. But a cat was fine. You fill their bowl, clean a box, maybe throw a toy around, and have them come to you when they want. It's not like he had a say anyways. You've had lady since you started living on your own. Plus, to tell you she had to go was like telling Steven he could have the Gus' anymore. Though, it seemed like Lady was the one to have a problem with Marc.

Marc doesn't know what he did to her since she always had this seeming distaste for him. And he knew that it was only him because Lady would let Steven and Jake pet her just fine and even purr while they did it. But anytime Marc touched her she'd either smack his hand, get up and leave, or let out a disapproving noise. There was one time he manage to pet her for a second but once he stopped he looked at him before cleaning off the spot he touched.

No. He did not need approval from a cat. But it seems like she was very opinionated on him and Marc felt a bit salty about it deep down.

That's why he dreaded it a little when you would be leaving town for a few days and leaving the boys and Lady to themselves. It wasn't a bad thing. You usually left them in charge of checking up on Lady before you moved in with them. But this was their first time actually being cat dad.

It was the second night of you being gone. Marc was laying in bed and about to actually fall asleep when he heard the jostle of a tiny bell. He turned his head to the side, opening his eyes and managed to make out the silhouette of something with pointed ears on the top of its head on the bed. It was dark and he could barely see through it but Marc knew that it was Lady staring right at him on your side of the bed. The cat let out a meow as she moved her footing and looking around the bed.

"Yeah. They're not home yet." Marc muttered, sleep having turned out some of his vocals. Lady let out another meow, almost like an acknowledgement to what he said. She turned her attention back towards him and moved a bit closer. Marc slowly moved his hand up towards one of her front paws and touched it, which she reacted to by pulling her paw away. "Yeah. It's me. I know you." he sympathized. "I'm probably the last person you want to wait for them to come back with." he chuckled.

Marc would have turned over to try and go back to sleep, till Lady pawed at his cheek. "What?" Marc groaned, "You were fed dinner already. And I don't want to see what happens when I feed you after midnight." he joked. Just then Lady plops down onto the bed where her head is against Marc's hand. Marc looks at her confused for a minute since she's never given any type of straight forward signs that she wanted him to pet her causing him to give a faint "What?" out of confusion.

After a moment of Marc just looking at Lady, and Lady rolling around in her spot a few times, he tested his luck and gave her little head a scratch. And to his surprise, she didn't do anything. "Oh, so you're just cool now? You're letting me do this now?" he said as he continued to pet her and watch for her reaction, to which there was none except her closing her eyes in approval.

The next morning was like the others. After eating breakfast Marc liked to lounge on the couch with his coffee for a bit to wait for the caffeine to kick in. Lady had made it to the couch and laid down next to Marc.

Marc reached over to pet Lady on her stomach but quickly got his hand smacked by her and she turned to a position that didn't leave her stomach exposed anymore. "Okay. We aren't at belly rub level yet. Got it." he remarked.

#moonknight #moon knight #moonknight x reader #moon knight x reader #marc spector #marc spector x reader

[mosquito-queen]

the last time yelena held a crayon was when she was six years old and had hello kitty bandages on both her knees. natasha had given them to her. saved her allowance so yelena could have crayola instead of roseart. so she could be like all the other kids in her class. god, she had whined so much after that first day of school when they all emptied their pretty packs of crayons and all she had was the watered down wax. it’s the same thing, her mother had argued. it’s the same damn thing. but natasha got her the right crayons anyways. she colored everything blue just like natasha’s hair. maybe that’s why it hurt so bad to look at the sky.

clear, cerulean blue was sprawled over central park. yelena kept her eyes to the ground. well, more specifically, she kept her eyes on the sheet of paper she was scribbling away on with a purple crayon. kate was laying across from her, leaned over a sketchbook and so deep in concentration she kept bumping yelena’s forehead with her own… or maybe that was on purpose. she absently wondered how long it would be until she couldn’t bear to see the color purple. at least she’d only really have to worry about it in when the flowers bloomed…

her hand stilled.

“yelena, the timer hasn’t stopped. you have to keep going until it stops.”

she couldn’t move. the panic settled like ice in her bones. fanny stirred near her, put her head on the small of yelena’s back.

she was going to lose another color. a color that wasn’t always watching over her head, a color that was only here half way through the year, a color that would barely bring her comfort.

“yelena?”

“i couldn’t do it again, kate bishop.” she doesn’t look up.

“do what? i told you, you don’t have to be good at art for this game.”

“katie…” fucking pitiful, but it does the trick: gets what yelena needs without having to say the words. kate paused the timer of her phone and sat up, tugging the paper away from yelena.

“you never said you could draw,” she scrutinized yelena’s gesture drawings of kate and the dogs. yelena squirmed out from under fanny and closer to kate. she couldn’t help the insistent need to be closer. always closer.

“it passes the time,” it gets the grief out. “i just use pencils, charcoal though.”

“no color?”

yelena sighed, feels the weight of the sky. she did look up, stared into that unwavering blue, “it’s easier without.”

and like most conversations with yelena, kate knew there was a double meaning. she took yelena’s hand, her thumb swiping soft across a scar on the backside, “do you want to see what i made?”

yelena gave a slow nod. kate sheepishly unveiled her crude attempt at drawing. yelena covered her mouth with her hands, trying desperately to stifle her laughter.

kate swatted at yelena, pouting, “it is not that bad! look, see, here’s clint and -“

“wait, that is clint? i thought,” this time the laughter does bubble up, “kate, isn’t that lucky?”

“oh, well…” kate rotated the paper back and forth next to where lucky was lazily sprawled on the blanket, “maybe?”

now kate was laughing, her head tossed back, the light shining on her face. and god, kate wasn’t just purple. she was absolutely every starburst of color. yelena could never be without a reminder of her. how could she ever think otherwise?

#bishova #katelena #bishlova #them :)

[jounosnumberoneslut]

„ Are you blushing? ’’

Jouno Saigiku x reader fluff

Sorry for the grammatical mistakes english isn't my native language!

Contains... reader and Jouno have crush on each other, they have to work a very interesting mission together, sly Jouno as always

AFAB reader

You work as a Hunting Dog, your speciality is similar to Tachihara’s. In adversary corporation, you can take any role like an actress, in order to earn information. Tachihara is different from you in that, he can integrate for months, while you can only accomplish such duties for a shorter duration of time.

You're not required to take part in such a mission by yourself this time. As per Fukuchi's orders, Jouno and you must act as a married couple in order to sneak into the home of one of Japan's most prominent families, who is hosting a private party this weekend. Teruko created fabricated publicity about you as if you had always been a famous celebrity couple attending this event.

You only have one issue with the entire operation—you've never collaborated together, always working alone. It's easy to play games and flirt with strangers in exchange for information, but the thought of having to pretend yourself as your handsome superior’s wife is sheepish. And the icing on the cake, you two have to go to the other side of Japan, to Kanazawa where you have to finish your mission.

You take a deep breath and remind yourself that this is just another mission, and you've been trained for this. You start brainstorming ideas on how to make your fake relationship with your partner seem more believable, hoping that it will help you complete the mission successfully.

When you reached your destination city, Jouno reminded you that Fukuchi had given you a large sum of money to purchase gorgeous clothes for the evening. Before taking your hotel room, you made your first stop in an expensive-looking casual clothe store. The saleswoman gave you a warm welcome and offered a helping hand.

- I want my wife to stand out from the crowd tonight, thus she would require a particular, elegant attire. It should be a half shouldered, close-fitting, from Jersey fabric, doesn’t reach down under to her knees. With metallic dark red colour, that will be match with my own suit. - he said this with flat expression, just that tipical Jouno smile, you didn’t have time to be shocked.

- I'll bring here them which correspond to your description Sir! What’s your size madam’?

- (your size). - the saleswoman nodded and vanished into the storage, let the two of you alone for a few minutes. You freak out silently to your coworker, your face was red.

- Jouno! What was this? What are you-

- It was Fukuchi’s order, don’t blame on me. - again that calm cocky smile. The woman returned with one dress what excatly looked like what Jouno said.

- I think this will be perfect, maybe it’s a little bit shorter. I found similars if you don’t like it, the fitting rooms are down the hall.

As you thanked the woman for her assistance and took the dress to the dressing room, Jouno followed you.

- You don’t have to be here, I can decide myself is it fits well or not.

- Don’t worry I won’t join while you change your clothes, I’m just curious for the result.

You went inside the cabin and pulled back the curtain after you, not that Jouno could see you anyhow. You tried not to overlook anything odd about your coworker’s act as you grew more and more confused and your heartbeat quickened. It’s merely a job that the two of you must complete.

Since the material of the half-sleeved dress is somewhat thicker, you can calmly take your bra of, so that its strap does not detract from the whole look. That idiot Fukuchi... no matter how you elegantly dressed? You donned it, and it fits your shape smoothly. The rear of the dress just covers your buttocks which is fortunate because it stretches on your thights.

- Let me check it. - suddenly Jouno pulled the curtain aside and stood in the front of you.

He put both of his hands on you shoulders, using one to investigate the clothing, and the other to delicately touch your exposed skin. You remainled silent, were so overhelmed. He gradually raised your arms and indicated to keep them high a little bit. Jouno slowly crooked down in front of you, smoothed his large, gently hand down to the bottom of the dress on both sides of your body. He stayed down and talked to your thights.

- Y/n, are you blushing?

- What, no, no....I just-

- Don’t lie. Your whole face is burning. And your heart wants to breaks out of your chest. I just have to inspect, is it appropriate. A little bit short but don’t worry, I’ll protect you from the perverts.

Jouno carefully got to his feet and move you toward the mirror. He stepped behind you and held your hands on your lower stomach. He placed his head to your crook of neck, you could feel his breath on your bare skin, you swallowed back the quiet moan what wanted to break out.

As you both stood in front of the mirror, Jouno's touch sent shivers down your spine. The intensity of the moment made it hard to resist giving in to the overwhelming desire that pulsed between you.

- How do we look? It will be better if I’ll wear my own suit with the same color.

- Magnificent. Like husband and his wife.

Jouno smiled, as heard your shaky words. He gave you a small kiss onto your neck and left you alone in the cabin, ordered you to change your clothes back while he pays, then you’ll meet outside and go to your hotelroom. You don’t understand why he acts in this manner. He never gave any indication that he desired anything from you. He might be acting in this way because he enjoys torturing you. We’re talking about Jouno, so that could be the reason. He is aware of your embarrassment.

Perhaps Jouno gets a thrill out of seeing you uncomfortable and vulnerable. It's possible that he derives pleasure from exerting control over you and revels in your unease. His knowledge of your embarrassment may fuel his sadistic tendencies, making him enjoy tormenting you even more.

As soon as you got to the hotel, you had a full hour to get ready for the event. You closed yourself in the bathroom, where you changed into your new clothes and the jewelry whats the saleswoman had suggested and Jouno bought. You apply your own makeup and put a crimson lipstick nex to your outfit. As you were finishing Jouno put on his own stylish outfit, which was made of the same metallic and dark red fabric as yours.

Once you were both ready, you admired each other's outfits in the hotel room mirror. The coordinated attire made you feel like a power couple, ready to make a statement at the event.

As a last steps Jouno stood in front of you, took your right hand, put a ring on to your finger, then one of his own. You are completely immersed in the intimate situation and came back to life when you felt Jouno’s lips on your mouth. When he leaned back, licked his lips.

- What was this for Jouno?! - your head was redder now than all day.

- I just checked did you put on lipstick or not. Good girl, I wanted to ask put on a red one.

- You are acting so strange since we left Yokohama! I don’t know what’s behind it all, but please tell me, I can’t go for this event like this!

Jouno chuckled and sat on the bed.

- My dear Y/n. You are adorable, but I don’t want to screw this mission up. How badly I want to play with you more...I’ll be honest. Originally this mission was for you and Tecchou, I asked the boss to swap with him. And Fukuchi didn’t give us money to your clothes. This was also mine idea. I just wanted spend more time with you and this is funnier than a date in a café, don’t you think? This was fun to me, hearing your emotions.

You’ve been overhelmed by the emotions after Jouno’s words. You wanted to hug and smack him out of anger and surprise but you managed to to control yourself. He just smiled at you and awaited to your reaction. You swallowed a big one, walked over to him, sat down on one of his leg, tucked his hair behind his ear.

- This means you won’t take me out to a café? - you asked. He caressed your red cheek.

- Are you free on the next weekend?

FUN FACT

It’s funny, some prompts are sooo simple like this one, but I didn’t want to write so simple fic.

I talked about this with @nikolaiismysugardaddy she said I should left here what was my first idea:

.

You and Tecchou silently ate in the lunchroom of the Hunting Dogs HQ. Jouno joined to you with his own meal. He warmed up his noodles, and asked for the salt. You reached for the salt like him and your hand accidentally met with his. You pulled away your hand, embarassed because of his touch.

- Are you blushing? - Jouno asked.

* Tecchou just eating between the two of you*

The End

.

Whatever... I hope you like this one @spenzitz 🩶🩶 have a nice weekend!!

masterlist

dividers are from @cafekitsune

#anime #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #manga #jouno saigiku #jouno #jouno bsd #jouno x y/n #jouno x reader #fluff #prompt #prompt request #bsd x reader

[omgkatherine01]

Between Your Wings - Chapter 3: Back to the City

Series Masterlist

Chapter 2, Chapter 4

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x female reader x Rick Grimes (slow burn)

Please comment, like and share

That night, you sat around the campfire with the members of the camp. Rick was recounting his journey here, "I felt like I'd been ripped out of my life and put somewhere else. For a while I thought I was trapped in some coma dream, something I might not wake up from ever."

"Mom said you died," Carl said softly, and you tilted your head sadly.

Rick nodded, his voice soft, "She had every reason to believe that. Don't you ever doubt that."

"When things started getting really bad, they told us at the hospital that they were going to medevac you and other patients to Atlanta, but it never happened," Lori spoke up.

"Well, I'm not surprised after Atlanta fell," Rick said, "From the look of that hospital, it got overrun."

"Yeah, looks don't deceive," Shane finally spoke up, "I barely got them out, you know?"

Rick's eyes shifted to Shane, a small smile forming across his face, "I can't tell you how grateful I am to you, Shane. I can't begin to express it."

Dale smiled, leaning back in his seat, "There go those words falling short again. Paltry things."

The sound of a log being dropped into a nearby fire caught your attention. You glanced over at the Peletiers, Ed sitting back down in his seat. Every night since you'd all arrived here, he had insisted that his family have their own fire. He wanted to keep Carol and their daughter Sophia as far away from the rest of you as possible.

"Hey, Ed, you want to rethink that log?" Shane asked.

"It's cold, man," Ed told him.

"The cold don't change the rules, does it?" Shane asked. "Keep our fires low, just embers so we can't be seen from a distance, right?"

"I said it's cold," Ed told him, "You should mind your own business for once."

Shane stood up, walking toward the Peletier family, standing in front of Ed, "Hey, Ed... are you sure you want to have this conversation, man?"

Ed looked at his wife, "Go on. Pull the damn thing out." Carol didn't move. "Go on!"

Carol stood up, walking around.

Shane shook his head, "Christ."

Carol pulled the log out of the fire, walking back to sit between Ed and Sophia.

Shane stomped the flames out, looking at Carol and Sophia, kneeling in front of them, "Hey, Carol, Sophia, how are y'all this evening?"

"Fine," Carol told him, "We're just fine."

"Okay," Shane told them.

"I'm sorry about the fire," Carol told him.

"No, no, no," Shane told her, "No apology needed. Y'all have a good night, okay?"

"Thank you," Carol told him.

Shane stood up, looking at Ed, "I appreciate the cooperation." He walked away, walking back toward the others, sitting back between T-Dog and Amy.

Dale cleared his throat, everyone having clearly been watching the situation as intensely as you had, "Have you all given any more thought to Daryl Dixon? He won't be happy to hear his brother was left behind."

"I'll tell him," T-Dog said, "I dropped the key. It's on me."

"I cuffed him," Rick said, "That makes it mine."

"Guys, it's not a competition," Glenn said, "I don't mean to bring race into this, but it might sound better coming from a white guy... maybe... someone like Audery?"

You frowned and looked at your closes friend, "What?"

Glenn shrugged, "I'm just saying... you are the safest person to tell him. Because he won't beat you up."

You shook your head, "Nah, nope. I'm not telling shit. Wasn't there, didn't see what happened exactly." Glenn nudged your shoulder with his while some of the group smiled with amusement. "Don't drag me into this."

"I did what I did." You looked at T-Dog, who looked down in slight shame. "Hell if I'm gonna hide from it."

"We could lie," Amy suggested.

"Or we tell the truth," Andrea said, "Merle was out of control. Something had to be done or he'd have gotten us killed." She looked at Lori, "Your husband did what was necessary. And if Merle got left behind, it is nobody's fault but Merle's."

"And that's what we tell Daryl?" Dale asked, "I don't see a rational discussion to be had from that, do you? Word to the wise--We're gonna have our hands full when he gets back from his hunt."

"I was scared, and I ran," T-Dog said softly, "I'm not ashamed of it."

"We were all scared," Andrea told him, "We all ran. What's your point?"

"I stopped long enough to chain that door," T-Dog said, "Staircase is narrow. Maybe half a dozen geeks can squeeze against it at any one time. It's not enough to break through that--Not that chain, not that padlock. My point--Dixon's alive and he's still up there, handcuffed on that roof. That's on us."

The camp went silent, everyone reflecting on the conversation. Nobody really wanted to tell Daryl anything; You knew Daryl was a hot headed like Merle, but he wasn't nearly as bad as his big brother.

You wouldn't lie, ever since you've met the Dixon brothers, you thought the youngest Dixon was quite attractive. You were shy at first to approach him--not to mention you pulled your father's gun to his face when you first met him when he and Merle stepped into your and your father's hiding place--but as time went on, he got used to you been around him.

You knew you developed a crush on him, but you kept it to yourself. Or well used to, until you and Amy had a heart-to-heart talk, and she found out you had a crush on him, she teased you a couple of times when it was just the two of you, but she definitely kept it a secret.

You sighed softly and looked down at Max who was lying on your feet. You would have to be the one to talk to Daryl about Merle.

Slowly everyone started to turn in, heading to their tents. You picked Max into your arms and walked to your tent. You walked inside and placed Max on the tent's floor. He walked to his small bed, and you put your boots outside before zipping your tent up.

You petted Max before stepping to your bed and lying down.

Tomorrow will be hard; you just knew it.

****

You woke up to a lick on your hand and opened your eyes slowly to see Max was awake and he whimpered. You groaned softly and slowly got out of the bed. Max jumped to the entrance of the tent, and you unzipped it.

He jumped out and ran off, wiggling his tail and you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and brushed your fingers through your hair. You put your boots on and stepped out completely.

You looked around at the camp and spotted only a few people around while the others still sleeping, which meant it was pretty early in the morning. "Morning, Audrey!" You looked up at top of the RV to see Jim.

You smiled as you stepped up to the RV. "Morning, Jim."

"Slept well?"

You shrugged, "Guess so. And so did Max, since he hasn't woken me up in the middle of the night." Jim smiled as he let out a chuckle. "Did you sleep?"

"Yeah, don't worry, just took the shift from Shane," Jim said and frowned, "Dale said he was up all night." You frowned at that; Shane was supposed to be on shift night but during the night Dale was supposed to take over.

"Huh," you said softly and glanced around before spotting Max running toward you, with his tongue out. You kneeled down and petted your puppy with affection. "Who's a good boy?"

"Son of a bitch!"

You looked to the direction the shouting came from and saw Ed throwing his shoe on the ground. You looked down at Max who just tilted his head up at you. You glanced slowly to Ed's direction... which was where Max was before running to you.

"Oh, you really are a good boy," you praised your dog quietly and rubbed him on the head. "Yes, you are." Max gave a small bark and fell on his back, and you giggled as you rubbed his belly. "Yes, you are!"

"Hey!" You looked over to Ed as he stormed toward you, and you froze.

Carol ran after him worried, "Ed--"

"Shut it," he said as he glared over at her and then turned back to you as you stood up with Max in your arms. He pointed in your face, and you took a step back while he glared at you, "Your stupid dog ruined my shoe!"

"Is there a problem, Ed?" you looked over your shoulder at Shane as he approached to your side.

"That little bitch's dog peed in my shoe," Ed hissed.

Shane's eyes darkened and his jaw clenched before he spoke in a calm tone which sounded scary, "First of all, don't call her that. Second, your shoe must have fell on the side, should watch how to put your shoes outside the tent." He stepped forward and faced Ed closer, "Now, anything else?"

Ed didn't answer and just glared between the two of you for another second before turning and storming back toward his tent. Shane and you watched him and Carol before you looked at Shane as he stepped around and stood in front of you.

"You okay?" he asked, and you nodded. He nodded and looked at Max for a moment before he smirked lightly and petted his head, speaking softly, "Good boy."

You let out a chuckle as he praised him for the nasty trick, and Max barked, wiggling his tail happily.

****

Everyone were now up and around. The kids had asked you if it was all right to take Max and play with him near the camp, which you happily agreed for them to do so. But your happy mood changed when Dale had told you the men would have to take parts out from the sports car you stole yesterday. 

You stood on the side with your arms crossed over your chest, watching in complete sadness as Dale, Jim and Morales worked on the car. "It's not fair," you said, while the three amused men ignored your complains, "Taking my new car apart is just cruelty."

You felt someone next to you and you glanced over to see Rick, who was staring at the men and the car. "Look at 'em," you said as you looked at them, "They took my dream car."

You heard Rick letting out a soft chuckle. Dale stepped closer with part of the car, which made you sad even more. "Generators need every drop of fuel they can get," he said, "Got no power without it. I'm sorry, sweetheart."

He rubbed your arm and walked away. You looked over at Rick, "Thought I'd get to drive it at least a few more days."

Rick petted your back with a nod, "Maybe we'll get to steal another one someday."

"Hope so," you muttered and glanced back at him as he walked toward Lori. You looked back at your ruined car in disappointment before letting a soft sigh.

You heard a honk and looked behind the car at Shane's jeep driving closer. Shane parked and leaned up, "Water's here, y'all. Just a reminder to boil before use." You watched the men approaching the jeep to help carry the water tanks.

You walked up to Shane who noticed your expression, "Oh no, what happened while I was away?" he asked with a frown.

"Stolen car has been torn apart," you answered.

"Oh boy, that's sucks," he said as he leaned to the passenger side and grabbed his rifle. "Look like one hell of a car. Don't worry, you get another one day."

"Can you go this time to the city and get me another one?" you asked with a small smirk.

He laughed, "Just because I care about you, that does not mean I'll go to the city just to get you the same looking car you stole." 

You pouted jokingly, "You mean." Your friendly conversation was cut off by screaming in the distance, and you tensed up and turned to where the screams came from.

"Mom!"

You watched as half the campers ran toward the direction the screaming came from. You followed them and immediately spotted Carl embracing his mother with Max in his arms. "What happened?" she asked, "Are you okay?!"

"Yeah," Carl answered as you watched the men running to where Jacqui was pointing.

You followed the men to the path and paused when you saw a walker kneeling down and eating an already dead deer. You leaned forward and saw the animal had a few arrows stuck in him.

You heard footsteps behind you and glanced over to see Andrea and Amy stopping near you. You turned back your attention to the men, the walker stopped and turned to them. He slowly got up and then Rick hit him with the pole, and he fell to the ground.

You watched the men beating the walker until Dale finished the walker off by chopping his head off with an axe. There was a moment of silent after that until Dale spoke, "It's the first one we've had up here. They never come this far up the mountain."

You heard small growling and looked down to see Max had left Carl's side and now was standing next to you and the sisters. His tail wiggled and he was staring at the dead walker.

You picked Max up and held him in your arms before turning your attention back to the men. "They're running out of food in the city, that's what," Jim said.

You heard branch snapping from behind him and you all looked tensed up. Andrea pulled you and Amy near her sides as you watched the men holding their weapons up.

Then after a moment of only hearing the footsteps approaching, you were relief to see it was only Daryl stepping into view. He paused and stared at the men, and they lowered their weapons down when they realized it was only Daryl.

"Oh, Jesus."

Max gave one bark in your arms when he saw Daryl, his tail wiggling.

"Son of a bitch," Daryl snapped as he looked at the deer. "That's my deer!" He walked closer. "Look at it. All gnawed on by this--" He kicked the Walker. "Filthy, disease-bearing, motherless poxy bastard."

"Calm down, son," Dale told him, "That's not helping."

Daryl walked around the Walker, standing in front of Dale, and you took a few steps forward toward them. "What do you know about it, old man?" he snapped, "Why don't you take that stupid hat and go back to 'On Golden Pond'?" He walked back to the deer, taking out the arrows. "I've been tracking this deer for miles. Gonna drag it back to camp, cook us up some venison. What do you think? Do you think we can cut around this chewed up part right here?"

As much as venison sounded good, you had to disagree because of the walker, "I would not risk that," you spoke up and glanced around at the men to see Shane nodding in agreement, before at Daryl.

Daryl looked back at you and then at the deer with a sigh, "That's a damn shame. I got some squirrel--about a dozen or so. That'll have to do."

The head of the Walker started to move his teeth. "Oh, God," Amy said behind you and you glanced back to see the sisters leaving.

"Come on, people," Daryl said and you turned back. "What the hell?" He shot the Walker's head with his crossbow. The arrow hit him in the eye, killing the walker. Daryl pulled the arrow out. "It's gotta be the brain. Don't y'all know nothing?"

Daryl walked past Shane and Rick. He petted Max on the head as he walked past you. You turned to the men and saw Rick watching Daryl leaving. "Yeah..." you trailed off and he looked at you, "That's Daryl."

You turned and took a step to leave but then Glenn spoke, "So... Audrey, you will... right?" You turned and gave Glenn a look as you raised your eyebrow. You didn't say anything and just turned and walked after Daryl to the camp.

"Merle! Merle! Get your ugly ass out here! I got us some squirrel! Let's stew 'em up."

You gently placed Max on the ground, and he ran up to the RV to where Lori was. You cleared your throat, "Hey Daryl?" Daryl stopped and turned to you as you walked close to him. "I, uh, I need to talk to you."

"'Bout what?" Daryl asked.

"About Merle," you answered, "There was a--there was a problem in Atlanta."

Daryl looked around, then he looked at you, "He dead?"

"No, I mean, we don't think so--" you started as Shane stepped to your side.

"We're not sure."

"He either is or he ain't!" Daryl yelled at him.

Rick walked closer, "No easy way to say this, so I'll just say it."

"Who are you?"

"Rick Grimes."

"Rick Grimes," Daryl huffed, "You got something you want to tell me?"

"Your brother was a danger to us all, so I handcuffed him on a roof, hooked him to a piece of metal. He's still there."

"Hold on, let me process this," Daryl said as he stepped back, facing away from everyone as he wiped his eyes. It took a moment before he turned back to Rick, "You're saying you handcuffed my brother to a roof, and you left him there?"

"Yeah."

Without missing a beat, Daryl flung the rope of squirrels at Rick before rushing to tackle him. Shane jumped into action, body slamming him to the ground as you stepped back. Daryl then pulled out a knife, swinging it back and forth at the two men. "Daryl, stop!" you called.

Rick was able to sneak in a gut punch, allowing for Shane to get Daryl into a choke hold. "You'd best let me go!" Daryl yelled, thrashing his body.

Shane shook his head, "I think it's better if I don't."

"Choke hold's illegal," Daryl snapped. 

"You can file a complaint," Shane said as Daryl continuing to thrash in his arms, "Come on, man. We can do this all day."

Rick knelt in front of Daryl, looking him in the eyes, "I'd like to have a calm discussion on this topic. Do you think we can manage that?"

Daryl thought for a moment, before choking out a quiet 'Yeah'. Shane looked at Rick for reassurance before letting the man go.

"What I did was not on a whim," Rick told him, "Your brother does not work and play well with others."

"It's not Rick's fault," T-Dog told him, "I had the key. I dropped it."

"You couldn't pick it up?" Daryl asked. 

"I dropped it in a drain."

Rick stood up as Daryl looked down at the ground, breathing heavily, standing up, looking at T-Dog, "If it's supposed to make me feel better, it don't."

"Well, maybe this will," T-Dog told him, "Look, I chained the door to the roof--So the geeks couldn't get at him--with a padlock."

Rick looked at Daryl, "It's gotta count for something."

Daryl looked away, shaking his head, "Hell with all y'all!" He looked at Rick. "Just tell me where he is so that I can go get him."

"He'll show you," Lori told him, and everyone looked at her, "Isn't that right?"

Rick looked around, nodding, "I'm going back." Lori shook her head slightly and she turned and walked into the RV. You looked at Rick and watched him walking to the tents and Shane followed him clearly pissed off with the idea.

You stepped to your ruined car and leaned against the side of it as you crossed your arms across your chest. Daryl glanced to your way before quickly he sat down on one of the rocks and started to clean his arrows.

There was a couple of minutes of silent, full of tension in the air until you saw Rick and Shane walking back to the main camp, with Rick in his uniform.

"Well, look, I--I don't, okay, Rick?" Shane asked, "So could you just--Could you throw me a bone here, man? Could you just tell me why? Why would you risk your life for a douche bag like Merle Dixon?"

"Hey, choose your words more carefully," Daryl snapped at him.

"No, I did," Shane told him. "Douche bag's what I meant." He looked at Rick. "Merle Dixon--The guy wouldn't give you a glass of water if you were dying of thirst."

"What he would or wouldn't do doesn't interest me," Rick told him, "I can't let a man die of thirst--me. Thirst and exposure. We left him like an animal caught in a trap. That's no way for anything to die, let alone a human being."

Lori was sitting on logs with Carl and Max, "So you and Daryl, that's your big plan?"

Rick turned around, before his eyes landed on you. Oh no, he was staring at me you thought. You pointed at yourself, "Me?"

"You know the way," Rick pleaded as he stepped closer to you, "You've been there before. In and out, no problem. You said so yourself. It's not fair of me to ask, I know that, but I'd feel a lot better with you there. I know she would too." His eyes landed on Lori, and you looked over at her for a moment. You sighed and nodded lightly.

"That's just great," Shane told him sarcastically. "Now you're gonna risk three people, huh?"

"Four," T-Dog said.

"My day just gets better and better, don't it?" Daryl huffed.

"You see anybody else here stepping up to save your brother's cracker ass?" T-Dog asked.

"Why you?"

"You wouldn't even begin to understand. You don't speak my language."

Dale let out a heavy sigh, "That's four then."

"It's not just four," Shane said, looking at Rick, "You're putting every single one of us at risk. Just know that, Rick. Come on, you saw that Walker. It was here. It was in camp. They're moving out of the cities. They come back, we need every able body we've got. We need 'em here. We need 'em to protect camp."

"Sounds to me like what you really need are more guns," Rick said.

"What guns?" Shane asked.

"Six shotguns, two high-powered rifles, over a dozen handguns," Rick explained, "I cleaned out the cage back at the station before I left. I dropped the bag in Atlanta when I got swarmed. It's just sitting there on the street, waiting to be picked up."

"Ammo?" Shane asked. 

"700 rounds, assorted," Rick answered. 

"You went through hell to find us," Lori told him, "You just got here and you're gonna turn around and leave?"

Carl stepped forward, looking up at Rick, "Dad, I don't want you to go."

"To hell with the guns," Lori told him. "Shane is right. Merle Dixon? He's not worth one of your lives, even with guns thrown in." Rick walked closer to them. Lori stood up. "Tell me. Make me understand."

"I owe a debt to a man I met and his little boy," Rick told her, "Lori, if they hadn't taken me in, I'd have died. It's because of them that I made it back to you at all. They said they'd follow me to Atlanta. They'll walk into the same trap I did if I don't warn him."

"What's stopping you?" Lori asked.

"The walkie-talkie, the one in the bag I dropped," Rick answered. "He's got the other one. Our plan was to connect when they got closer."

"These are our walkies?" Shane asked. 

"Yeah," Rick answered. 

"So use the CB," Andrea told him. "What's wrong with that?"

"The CB's fine," Shane said, "It's the walkies that suck to crap--Date back to the '70s, don't match any other bandwidth--Not even the scanners in our cars."

Rick looked at Lori, "I need that bag. Okay?"

Lori looked away, "All right."

As the men began loading the van for the trip, you approached Lori who stared longingly at her husband. "Hey, I'll watch over him, don't worry," you assured.

Lori looked at you and smiled a small smile, nodding. She wrapped her arms around you, bringing you into a hug. You hugged her back as she spoke quietly, "I didn't get the chance to thank you for saving him."

"What, he told you?" you asked, and you both pulled out from the embrace.

"Yes."

"You're welcome," you said, "I got his back, don't worry."

Lori nodded and then said, "Be careful out there."

"Always am."

Daryl beeped on the horn of the van with his feet, "Come on, let's go!"

Carl ran closer and you hugged him gently, "Alright, bud, remember what happens when I'm out?"

"Keep Max close," he said as he pulled away.

You smirked and nodded, "See you soon."

He waved to you goodbye as you headed to the van. You got into the passenger seat and closed the door. Rick got into the driver seat and closed his door. After a moment of waiting, you glanced over and saw Daryl sliding the back door close and sat in front of T-Dog.

"All right let's get going," you muttered, and Rick started the van and drove off.

****

"He'd better be okay." You glanced up from the map and over your shoulder to Daryl when he spoke, you saw him looking at T-Dog, "It's my only word on the matter."

"I told you the geeks can't get at him," T-Dog told him, "The only thing that's gonna get through that door is us."

You turned back your attention to the road and when you saw you reached just outside the city and on the railroad tracks, you looked at Rick, "Stop here."

Rick did as you said and slowly stopped and parked the van. "We walk from here," you said as you glanced at the men before opening the door and getting out. They followed your move and you glanced at T-Dog and saw him holding his side for a brief second before letting his arm fall. "You okay?" you asked.

"Yeah," he answered as you all ran to the gates, and walked through the cut fence of the highway.

Rick looked at you, "Merle first or guns?"

"Merle," Daryl snapped, "We ain't even having this conversation."

"We are," Rick warned him and then turned his attention back to you, "You know the geography. It's your call."

"Merle's closest," you answered, "The guns would mean doubling back." You glanced at Daryl, "Merle first."

Daryl gave a small nod to you, and you all ran all the way to the building of the clothing store, and you all paused. There were no longer herd of walkers around the area but that didn't mean there was no walkers inside. Rick walked in first, and looked around before nodding for all of you to follow in.

Rick stopped you all suddenly, seeing a Walker inside, looking at Daryl, signaling him. Daryl walked past you, walking toward the Walker, holding his crossbow, "Damn. You are one ugly skank."

The Walker noticed him, taking a step closer but then Daryl shot an arrow to the Walker's head, killing it, walking toward it. He pulled the arrow out, cleaning it from blood with his pants. "Let's go," he said, and you all ran to the stairs that lead to the roof.

At the top of the stairs, T-Dog cut the chain to the door. Daryl pushed past him, throwing the door open and running onto the roof.

"Merle! Merle!" Daryl called out, looking around.

You followed the men who came to an abrupt stop.

"Oh, my God," you whispered, covering your mouth with your hand.

Daryl rushed over, "No!" You looked at him, and he began pacing back and forth, tears welling in his eyes as he continued to scream out.

Everyone remained silent, not knowing exactly what to say; if there was anything to say.

Your eyes lingered on the ground, Merle's severed hand sitting next to a hacksaw. Semi-dried blood was pooled around it, droplets leading away from the scene. Yet, there was no sign of Merle at all.

That crazy son of a bitch.

#the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead imagine #twd #twd x reader #the walking dead x y/n #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead x you #twd rick #rick grimes imagine #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n #daryl dixon #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixion x reader #twd daryl dixon #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #andrew lincoln #norman reedus

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝓜𝓮𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮 : Empty Bed

You like being a ghost.

Tags/Warnings: Angst, hurt & Comfort, Idol!Jungkook, Hybrid!Reader, Cat Hybrid!Reader, mentions of depression and depressive thoughts, heartbreak, homelessness, it's a bit heavy sorry, mentions of mental abuse and manipulation, betrayal, slow burn, eventual smut, dead dove do not eat

Dead Dove do not eat: warning for potentially triggering content that can't be tagged without spoiling the story.

Length: 2.4k words

-> Masterlist

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"Do you want to come to Miss Kim's barbecue today?" Your owner, Hanako, asks from the entrance of your room.

Miss Kim is nice. She always keeps all of your favorite snacks in a drawer in her living room for you every time you visit her home. She's a bit old now, can't walk that well, but she's still a young spirit at heart, always trying to play around with you whenever she feels like her body can handle it. You're not a dog hybrid. You don't play fetch, or frisbee, or anything of the sorts.

But she's nice. So you do it anyways, because it makes her happy.

Miss Kim has two sons, and you know Hanako likes one of them a lot. She doesn't outright say it, scolds you whenever you accidentally let something slip that could tell him this secret. But you know she does. Because she looks at him like you did at your past lover.

She should pursue him before he finds someone else to love. And she can't if you're around to ruin that, because he tends to pay more attention to you than to her. So you shake your head at her question, watching the cars pass by outside your window, way down below. Daegu is an odd place to you- like you're stuck in an old childhood dream you're not quite sure of. Is it a bad one? Does it hurt? Or was it pretty, and you just forgot?

Hanako sighs, but walks off. She's done that for a few months now, maybe even more than a year, as if she's given up on you. You wouldn't be surprised. After all, she never really wanted you in the first place.

You wonder why she agreed to it, back then. Did she feel like she had to? Probably, because while she'd never been awful to you, she'd also made it very clear at all times that she 'could never' own a hybrid herself. And yet, when he had dropped you off at her place, back then still a small apartment in the capital, she'd just nodded, taken your things from him, closed the door. You remember watching him leave from the window of her bedroom. He hadn't even looked back once, simply got in his car, and drove off.

Never to be seen again, except on TV.

Is he still mad at you? If yes, then for what? He never told you, never really explained to you why he'd given you away, and Hanako told you that she doesn't have his phone number anymore, doesn't know how to contact him. She'd explained that your name would change from that point on, that your ID was something else you never bothered learning like you did when you were still in his care. She'd told you that this was a new chapter in your life now, that you'll both have to adjust, and that it'll be fine.

It'll just hurt for a bit, she'd said. What's a 'bit', in her terms? Because it's been two years, and it still stings every time you see him on TV and billboards.

When the front door closes, you know that Hanako has left. She doesn't even say goodbye to you these days when she leaves for work, or dates, or grocery shopping. It makes you feel invisible, and in a way, you like it like that. You like being a ghost. That way, you can pretend that nothing ever happened- that you're just waiting to go home, one day, whenever that might be.

Does he think about you sometimes? Or has he forgotten about you?

Hanako says it's bad that you still follow what he does on social media. Has taken your phone away occasionally when she deemed it fit. But these days, she doesn't seem to really care anymore. And neither do you, to be honest. His livestreams only make you dream of nightmares at night where he's still standing at Hanakos old apartment, throwing your stuff into the room a lot more forcefully than you know he actually did. You remember him being awfully quiet and stoic, with no emotions in his face, but in those dreams he always looks angry, disappointed, scolding you for something you don't know you might've done. In your eyes, you've never done him harm. You always tried to be good. But it seems like that wasn't enough.

In reality, he's never even told you he'd be leaving you forever. In reality, he just told you to stay with Hanako- and he just never picked you up ever again.

You moved to Daegu pretty much a few weeks after that, into a new home, way bigger, but a lot more intimidating as well. The neighborhood is nice, quiet and reserved. Hanako sometimes takes you downtown to the food markets, but it's become less these days. Will she soon be tired of you too? Maybe. Jungkook, back then, gave you away after about three years as well. You remember he got his hair bleached after you'd started living in Daegu with Hanako. Now he's back to his natural hair, got piercings too, new tattoos, and long hair he sometimes ties in the back. It looks good.

He looks like he's finally free. Did you hold him back?

Maybe. You remember both his members and the company not being happy about you living with him back then. It was always somewhat awkward whenever someone would visit- you'd stay in your room after the first few times, avoiding any person that wasn't him after a while. He knew why, there's no way he didn't- but he simply accepted your choice, began to have less people over instead to accommodate to you, because that's what he's always done.

Maybe that annoyed him after a while. Maybe he regretted getting you in the first place.

Jungkook had always been quite impulsive, back then more than nowadays. He'd always been wild, and it was true that he sometimes made choices he'd regret later on. Maybe you were one of those choices? Probably, considering how he usually ends up either adjusting to the things he can't change, while he otherwise searches for ways to undo what he doesn't want no more, like he did when he didn't want his helix piercings.

He just took them out, and never put them in again, holes closing and leaving nothing behind. Just like with you. Did you leave nothing behind as well?

Hanako will probably bring Miss Kim's son over tonight. She deserves to have him, deserves to undo a bad choice as well- so maybe it's best to take that off her shoulders. Sure, she's not been as nice to you as Jungkook has been. She sometimes yells, and locks you into your room, but you know she's just overwhelmed with you. She doesn't mean to be like this. It's you that's the issue.

It's always you that's the issue.

~✿~;~✿~;~✿~;~✿~;~✿~;~✿~;~✿~;~✿~;~✿~;~✿~;~✿~;~✿~

You've never taken a train by yourself before. In a way, it's exciting.

You know that at this point, Hanako doesn't know yet that you're gone. Will she be happy that you're not there? You made your bed all tidy, cleaned up what you could after cooking yourself a filling meal to last you for the next few days. Until she knows, however, you'll have to get away as far as you can, to buy yourself time to think about what to do next. Your hybrid transportation ticket will only last for a few more days before it'll expire- Hanako didn't renew the subscription on it, since you don't technically leave the house by yourself after all. It's one of those last few things you know still runs on Jungkook's name- once the ticket expires, there will really only be your life insurance left. He's really cut all ties with you, and you can't blame him.

He's thorough after all. If he does something, he tends to see it through instantly, as fast as he can, so he can make sure he's seen it through.

Daegu's landscape changes the deeper into the city you drive. Taking train after train is actually quite fun, seeing all those people go about their days, no one really paying any attention to you. You like this. You're like a ghost.

You like being a ghost.

You get up for a pregnant mother with her little child, the woman warmly thanking you, quiet as to not disturb any other traveler, and you simply watch for a second, before you get off the train yourself. You don't really have a goal in mind, not very prepared for what you did in the end, but maybe you don't need one. You could go to Seoul, right? It would take a bit, but you'd be fine. You can't really risk taking the way faster bullet train after all- your ticket doesn't work for that one, so you'll need to take the regular intercity one. You remember taking that one before, actually. You don't remember why though. Maybe a doctor's appointment? Maybe.

You step out the train, waiting for the one you want to take, when a small dog yaps at you from the side, tail wagging excitedly. You don't look up at the young man who's holding the leash, gently tugging to pick up the small animal. "All alone?" He asks with a deep but friendly voice, and you simply nod, making it clear that you don't really want to talk. And the man gets the message, simply nods as well, though you do feel his eyes on you for a moment or two.

You lose sight of him at some point when you board the train to Seoul station- but you don't mind at all.

The next few hours are spent watching the scenery change and change and change outside the window- sun setting, golden hue filling the rather empty train section you're in. Some people are sleeping, probably tired from work, while others are on their phone, or reading. It's reassuring to you how the world keeps on turning even after what you've done. It doesn't even feel all that bad, even though you don't know where you'll sleep tonight. Maybe you'll stay awake, and take a nap at a park tomorrow. Seoul is way more familiar to you, at the end of the day- you'll have a better time navigating and living there from now on.

As soon as you step out the train, legs a bit sore from sitting so long, you're greeted with a wave of nostalgia.

Hanako never went to Seoul with you for some reason. Maybe Jungkook just doesn't want to stumble upon you by accident- does he hate you that much? It's a horrible thought to have, but then again, you basically took his youth from him when he'd taken you in, signed that contract of ownership. Sure, you both had something similar to love- you'd kissed, made love, all of those things- but you're still a hybrid, while he's a full blooded human. There'd be no way something like that would be overlooked considering his status as not only an idol, but one of the most famous ones at the moment.

In a way, you can understand it. You'll keep an eye out from now on, so you can avoid him.

Has Hanako already noticed you're not home? Miss Kim usually keeps her over for a long time until late at night, so you wouldn't be surprised if she didn't. You left your phone and everything else at home, your backpack only containing clothes, some food, a bit of money you've saved up, and nothing else. You don't want anything on you that could identify you- you're already pretty much a blinking red light with your white hybrid features. Like a ghost, you think.

But you like being a ghost, so it's fine.

At Hangang river, you sit down and put down the beanie you've been wearing for a moment, let your ears and hair breath freely for a bit. It's not too chilly outside, and while you know it's illegal to sleep outside, if you're smart about it you could probably pull it off. Or maybe you'll just sleep at a cheap bathhouse. Hopefully there's space at a hybrid friendly one. There should be one in Itaewon, if you remember it correctly. And even if not, you'll find your way around. You'll be fine from now on, not bothering anybody, not keeping anyone from achieving what they want and deserve. You'll be a ghost, all by yourself, all for yourself.

Someone is playing music close by. It sounds nice, soothing, and the couples around all snuggle a little closer on their blankets, making you happy for them. Maybe you'll find someone too, one day, to snuggle up to at times like these. Seoul never seems to sleep, but you know many do, right now, as the lights in the windows slowly turn off one by one, everyone going to hide underneath their blankets until their days begin tomorrow at different times. Could you work at some point? Not really, no. You're a stray now after all, and considering all the searches police does regularly, no one wants to risk it any longer for those they don't know. And you're a ghost to everyone- people don't risk their livelihoods for ghosts.

Maybe you'll need to make careful connections. Friendships, that could help you survive in the long run, when the nights will turn cold and harsh again at some point. For now, summer will soon arrive, making it a bit easier to sleep outside at night. And if you're careful with your money, you'll be able to stay at cheap accommodations every now then, unless Hanako puts you out there as missing, that is.

She shouldn't, really. You don't want to go back to her, you don't belong there, can't even call it home. Neither is Jungkook home anymore, isn't he? Maybe he never was, who knows really. But no one should search for ghosts, not if they don't want to be found like you. You like this. The way no one pays you any mind, drunk friends stumbling past you with no attention spared. You like this. You like being invisible.

You like being a ghost.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #hybrid imagine #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader

[showmey0urfangs]

----

See, posts like this one here are what makes me think that some people must have watched a completely different show than I did.

This idea that Louis is drawn to Lestat because Lestat emasculates him is an odd one given that—do you know who else emasculates Louis? Literally every fucking white man he meets on a daily basis;

Tom Anderson, who calls Louis a most discrete negro and to whom Louis still has to say “Yes sir Mr. Anderson sir.”

The white lawyer who calls Louis an exceptional negro before condescendingly tapping him on the head like a dog—and whom Louis rips to shreds shortly after as a result.

Fenwick, who looks down on Louis and resents that Louis turned down his scraps. Who accuses Louis of being arrogant for wanting to rise above his station— and whom Louis guts like a pig and leaves on display as a warning to other white men who would want to disrespect him.

So does Louis also want to fuck all these other white men? Is he irresistibly aroused by their racist comments towards him and by the humiliating way they treat him?

Not to mention that Louis also grew up with a mother who emasculated him constantly, in whose eyes he was never good enough. She treated him as less than his whole life despite the fact that he provided for her and his entire family—including his good for nothing brother-in-law Levi, who Florence later replaces Louis with because, in her eyes, he makes a better son than Louis ever could.

His own mother who tells him “Don't come back fragile son” and who mocks him for the way he dresses and for his sexuality.

And yet you think being emasculated is what seduced Louis and drew him to Lestat?

It was nothing special to Louis, he was emasculated every single fucking day of his life.

What was different about his interaction with Lestat is that Lestat tells him they are “destined to be very good friends”, that Lestat openly compliments Louis and praises him, that Lestat says he is only in New Orleans because of Louis, that Louis is his destiny.

That's what draws Louis in and not the fact that Lestat initially talks down to him like every other racist piece of shit he meets when he enters into spaces where his society dictates he is not supposed to be.

Louis does not get drawn to Lestat because Lestat wins the dick-measuring contest—which makes Louis angry to the point where he wants to slit Lestat's throat with his cane sword—but in spite of it.

In that scene, Lestat was like one of those lame pick-up artists who insult you to lower your self-esteem so that you will respond better to their advances when they later compliment you. It's a classic manipulation technique and it works as intended because, in all his anger and frustration at the exchange, Louis still liked the way Lestat tied a string around his lungs.

I mean did you even listen to the speech Lestat makes in the church to convince Louis to accept the dark gift?

Notice how among all the things Lestat lists he includes deferential businessman.

That's because being deferential to white men is not Louis's true nature, and Lestat knows this. It is something that was forced upon him by the primitive country he lives in.

Louis says yes to Lestat in the church because Lestat promises he can free Louis from all of it and allow him to finally live, not just as an equal, but as something far superior.

Lestat promises Louis—a man who has been disempowered his entire life—a power he can't begin to imagine (and also love and acceptance as an added bonus).

We later find out this was a lie, of course—becoming a vampire does not free Louis from having to experience structural racism and homophobia. As Jacob said in this interview, as a black vampire you can kill and eat one racist or maybe even a thousand but you can't singlehandedly dismantle systemic racism.

So this implication that because Louis is disenfranchised by the racist society he lives in, it must mean he enjoys being degraded, enjoys being talked down to, enjoys being treated as less of a man simply because of the colour of his skin or his sexual preference is INSANE to me.

This kind of discourse, coming from people who claim to be Louis fans is frankly baffling because it's no different than the racist Lestat stans who always want to shift the blame onto Louis for everything Lestat subjects him to during their relationship. This is no different than saying that Louis chose to be abused, was asking for it, and even secretly enjoyed it. That Louis was looking for an excuse to fight with Lestat and probably loved getting beaten within an inch of his life like I saw some idiot say in a comment the other day.

Listen, I'm all for everyone having their own interpretation of the show but in my humble opinion, if you think along these lines then you have fundamentally misunderstood both Louis and Lestat as characters and the dynamic of their relationship. But most importantly you have completely missed the main point that both the show and the book are trying to make.

#I had to make a post about it because I refuse to let stupidity like this go unchallenged #the fact that this is the fandom's 'kang' whose fics y'all eat up like candy is frankly concerning #because this same racist and victim-blaming rhetoric is reflected in the dehumanizing way they write Louis #and yet people still eat that shit up #sad #iwtv #iwtv meta #interview with the vampire #fandom woes

[sy-on-boy]

Okay, so Ch69 was a BOMBSHELL (and I'm going insane)

SSS appearing at the beginning makes me think Yuri might take on the case, meaning he might meet Anya (Anya's not supposed to know about Yuri's job) and Damian

It would also make sense since the Red Circus was taken on by Yor (Ch17.5) and it would be funny to see the two siblings deal with the same enemy while preventing the other sibling from knowing about it

Damian is sitting with George. You would've expected him to sit with Ewen/Emile, but he let them sit together. This is very curious to me because George literally tried to get Damian expelled, and only failed because Anya stood up for him (the teacher wouldn't believe E&E). Damian, sweetie, this is a boy who tried to frame you as a smoker and sent a spy to change your grades. Good for you that you don't hold it against him, I guess

I do think Ewen and Emile are very devoted to Damian (see the boys' field trip) but maybe Damian doesn't want them to fight over who gets to sit next to him?

Anya and Damian also sit in the same row on the two sides of the bus. Knowing how Anya wants to approach Damian (and how Damian notices Anya), it's probably intentional.

Bill makes a reappearance, which is a welcome surprise. Damian sounds like a classist (literally) with his comment that the school should've at least given each class their own bus. Huh, didn't know Damian liked his class that much (or hated the other classes so much)

"Shut up. Who told you Wald hall kids you're allowed to talk to me?" ??? Is Damian still salty about losing the dodgeball match?? Does he think Cecil hall is superior? Is there a hierarchy at school? Or does he just not like Bill?

"All you other classes are our rivals" Damian bestie your classes could change next year. According to what Becky said, they're going to be divided by grades. Damian sure has a lot of Cecil hall loyalty / pride for some reason

I love Anya's impression of Damian. He's a silly, snot-faced crybaby. Like, it's really evident from the artstyle that Anya thinks of herself as "totally adorable" (with Becky nodding in agreement, aww) while Damian is just a goofy scion.

NOTE: in Anya's imagination, the teacher says Damian is "an uggo on the inside". And Anya also says, "Sy-on boy isn't ugly, he's just a piece of crap"

So Anya doesn't judge from appearances, unlike Damian who repeatedly calls her an uggo and a runt, and it's possible Anya thinks of herself as "superior" to Damian because she doesn't think he's ugly, she just thinks he sucks in general LMFAO

So Anya doesn't think Damian is ugly. Maybe. She probably thinks he looks stupid though

By the way, Anya makes herself look prettier in her own filter. Damian also makes her look prettier in his filter

Anya throws a crumbled up piece of paper to get Damian's attention. This is exactly what Damian did when they first met and he wanted her attention

Damianya violence arc omg. Damian seems to be blushing less as the chapters go on, and they have a fun sort of semi-rivalry.

DAMIAN GOT THE CAKE FOR ANYA!! "I should just hand her the stupid cake and be done with it" Awww he genuinely got her cake! And it's the crunchy sort which she likes!

And Damian let E&E eat it (it doesn't look like he ate any himself) while being all flustered and annoyed. He's a good kid, deep down

A reference to the macaron arc! Lots of references to so-called Damianya (aka school) chapters, with 1) Bill + dodgeball, 2) George and the macarons, 3) Handkerchief + cake (+ Bond's kibble which was a gag in the handkerchief chapter)

Anya offers dog food to Damian. This is hilarious because she sounds so innocent and genuine, but Damian is furious.

"Cecil hall kids sure are noisy" Whoops, even Wald hall knows about Cecil's reputation. Damian and Anya probably argue every day at school. They're going to be Those Two

It's interesting to see that Anya isn't reading minds this chapter. She didn't realize Damian got cake for her and she didn't seem to have realised the driver was a terrorist? Missing Damian's thoughts is normal because it was a fleeting thought, but the terrorist was probably concentrating on the hijacking for like, the entire bus ride. Anya, you good?

And then the bus is hijacked. Woo! Action! Drama! Wow!

I'm super excited for this arc because of how much potential it as. It's giving me the vibes of Cruise Arc but with the Eden kids. It also feels like a fanfic to me, particularly my fic when Anya saves Damian from an assassination lol. Here's a dump of my thoughts:

Damian might be a main target. We know about his dad and his influence in the political sphere. Bill says "chairman's son Damian", which might be a nod to the fact. The terrorist guy also mentions "as the nation's elite, you've probably figured out what's happening", and Damian is an elite among the elite

This will focus on the subplot of Damian and Anya's friendship. As I said earlier, this chapter has multiple references to past Damianya chapters. There's also the theme of friendship going on currently, with Loid telling Anya to treasure her friends. Anya is also desperate to go on with Plan B because she feels threatened by her mom befriending Melinda. And Damian indeed buys Anya cake even if he never agreed to it in the first place lol, showing a bit of development. Anya also fantasizes about purposefully getting Damian into trouble and saving him, and now the entire bus is in trouble (and Anya can save him maybe?). So maybe we'll have scenes of Anya saving Damian (furthering his debt to her, which is mentioned in the chapter) or Damian saving Anya (paying her back since he never got to give her cake)

The adults might come in too. The possibilities:

Yuri, as I mentioned earlier, might be one because the SSS knows about this. I know this is a stretch but we might get Demetrius debut with Yuri (or after this arc). In a previous post I noted that the Forgers and Desmonds meet in pairs of fathers, mothers, and children. Demetrius is Damian's brother and Yuri is Yor's brother, so maybe the brothers might be a pair?

Yor was previously involved with the Red Circus, and I can see her coming back to tie up loose ends. And possibly going batshit because Anya is in danger. This might end up with Yor meeting Damian, which I think certainly makes sense after the Yorlinda chapters and Yor acting shocked that Melinda doesn't seem to care much about Damian.

Twilight would be interesting because of his dynamic with Damian. I analyzed the panels during the Twilight-Donovan face-off and you can just see Damian is standing with Twilight instead of his actual father. They get along fine and I think Damian likes Loid well enough.

Obviously, all three will have to conceal their identity from Anya (and the other Eden kids), so we might get one-sided interactions (such as Twilight saving Damian but Damian thinking he's just been saved by a random man)

And even funnier would be to have multiple adults on the scene (for Anya) and they have to hide from each other. Iconic Thorn Princess x Twilight teamup maybe?!

Anya (and the rest) might get Stellars. This time, if she saves them, she'll have an entire bus full of witnesses, unlike the Ken drowning incident. This could drastically affect Anya's reputation at school and her relationship with Damian. We might also get the Cecil 5 (+ Bill and George since they're sitting close to them) working together, which will be fun.

I do think Damian might give up the "our classes are rivals" thing if the two halls end up bonding / working together

And since I have the brain of a fanfic author, imagine if Damian is in trouble and Anya has to save him and vice versa... this is going to be the first real danger the kids have been in

I know this is a bit chaotic and messy but this chapter is scratching the itch lol. I'm going to be insane for the duration of this arc.

I'm so excited. I cannot wait for the next few chapters <3 Endo really went all out on this one with drama, action, humor, and there's so many ways this one could go!! <3

#spy x family #spy x family spoilers #sxf ch69 #anya forger #damian desmond #damianya #bill watkins #becky blackbell #ewen egeburg #emile elman #george glooman #sxf analysis #i guess #long post

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Wonderful

CW: Intimate whump, frank/mocking noncon discussion, captivity, forced relationship (... sort of), threats of violence/death

(As always, Jax is @comfy-whumpee's OC and is used with permission and oversight)

-

Brayden Marcoset has never hated a single soul as much as he hates his cousin’s stupid fucking English muffin of a man.

Savvie had taken a perfectly good house slave, trained by the best man in the business, and then she somehow ruined him entirely. Placid and obedient had become watchful and cunning. As if she’d turned a fucking housepet into a caged, half-rabid… coyote, or something.

Not that Brayden’s ever seen one other than on television, but… still. Metaphors don’t matter.

She’s given the man delusions of grandeur, pulled him into her bed when he should have spent his nights in the servant quarters or bedded down with the hunting hounds where he belongs. 

It’s one thing for a Marcoset man to take a liking to staff - that's just part of life - but none of them ever demanded to marry one. And no Marcoset man ever tried to make any of the resulting little bastards into legitimate Marcoset heirs. 

It’s disgusting. 

Brayden’s eyelid twitches just looking at him, where he sits on the long end of the sectional like he even deserves to be there. Savvie dresses him in clothes that are worth more than he is, simpers and smiles and kisses him, calls him sweet little nicknames and all but throws herself at him 24 hours a day, seven days a week.

It’s hell, having to play along with her ridiculous little games.

But… here they are, he and the man Savvie insists on calling her husband sitting across from each other like this is normal or fine and not Savvie twisting and bending the rules of reality to her will like she always does.

Jax should be standing unobtrusively in a corner waiting to be given an order. He should be wearing the staff uniform of white shirt, black pants, black collar, and eyes on the ground.

He should be her little secret she brings to her bed and then sends away right after and he should be grateful for being her favorite.

Instead, he’s sitting on the couch as miserable as Brayden is, wearing a pair of tailored jeans and a sweater Brayden owns himself in a different color and now can’t wear ever again, not now that the muffin has worn it. 

Not now that he realizes Jax looks better in that style of sweater than he does. 

Grudgingly, he admits to himself that Jax looks pretty good in general. Too thin, thanks to Savvie’s iron control over how much he eats and when he gets the chance to eat it, but… good. He’s got that hint of lean muscle you can’t quite hide, and his hair looks good. Maybe he’s got shadows under his eyes, but really… that’s not so bad. He’s handsome enough, even with the shock collar permanently locked around his neck. 

Next to him, looking ethereal - she thinks, anyway - in an empire-waist gown with too many layers of faint pastel shades that she believes turn her into some kind of watercolor queen, Savvie has a hand on his knee as she gestures. She pauses, looking between he and Jax, and Brayden feigns a reaction - he has no idea what she just said. 

Neither does Jax, he thinks - he’s staring slightly off to one side as Savvie chatters about their most recent ‘babymoon’, a trip down to the beach house to enjoy the waves, work on her next album, and really just focus on being ‘us’ for a while. She’s only twenty-three weeks pregnant and they’ve already gone on two of the damn things, Savvie dragging Jax with her like the idiot little dog on a short leash he might as well be.

How many more can she plan? How many more of these stories is he going to have to pretend he’s listening to?

Brayden watches Jax instead.

His jaw is angled more sharply than it was when he’d first arrived, years ago, as if he’s always biting something back. Brayden had seen him a few times before back then, before he’d gone to the cops and it had nearly cost them all everything… Jax had been blank, then, too, but it had been… different. 

Now he isn’t really empty. 

Jax's face always looks like a computer with the monitor off but programs still whirring all the same. Whatever there is going on behind his eyes, Brayden can’t see it. And he’s usually pretty good at reading the shit the servants think they’re hiding. Or roughing them up until they tell him anyway.

But with Jax, it’s like looking through completely frosted glass. Shadows, a hint of a color, maybe, but… nothing clear. Never enough to get any understanding. Being trapped in Savvie’s life - in her bed, in her arms - has made Jax into a better liar than he’d been when he first arrived.

That’s not just irritating.

That’s dangerous.

But Savvie doesn’t see it.

Savvie pauses, leans over, whispers into Jax’s ear as she gives his knee a squeeze. Brayden watches a soft smile flicker across his face, gone as fast as it came. He whispers, Yes, Miss Savvie in that hushed voice that makes Brayden’s teeth itch. Savvie pushes herself to her feet. Her stomach isn't really that rounded but she acts like it’s already huge, rubbing her hand over it, up and down. Brayden barely stops himself from rolling his eyes. 

He gets the sense Jax feels the same as he does, for once.

“I’ll be right back,” Savvie says brightly. “Keep an eye on him for me, won’t you, Bray? Just… part of the magic, I guess, is having to go to the bathroom every six minutes. I swear…” She’s still talking when she leaves the room. Has she stopped since she got here? He’s pretty sure she hasn’t. She barely even pauses to breathe.

But at least the room gets quiet, now. 

He glances over at Jax, who doesn’t look back. But, like a shark scenting blood a mile away, Brayden sees how his scarred hands shift where they rest, falsely relaxed. Brayden watches his ring finger twitch, the simple band Savvie put there glinting dimly in the light. 

“How badly do you wish she would just drop dead right now?” He asks, seemingly idly, tipping his cut-crystal glass to watch the whiskey and ice swirl around each other. “More than before she got herself pregnant, or less?”

Jax’s jaw shifts. Those eyes move to his, briefly, all innocent uncertainty. “Don’t know w-what you mean,” He says, voice low. 

“Oh, give up the bullshit,” Brayden says, huffing as he takes a drink, leaning over with his elbows on his thighs. He finds a half-smile, but he doesn’t mean it, and he doesn’t try to look like he does. “We all know how you feel. You might as well be honest with me about it. Besides, we’re basically family, now, right? I was at your wedding. I was your best man, your best-... what, d’you call it your best mate in merry old England?”

He laughs at his own mockery of an accent that has only the slightest relation to Jax’s own, taking a drink. This is his fourth whiskey of the evening and the other three went down smooth. The world is getting brighter, with sharper edges - just how he likes it.

At the mention of the wedding - where Jax had gone where he was told, done what he was told to do, said the words Savvie gave him to say, and probably gone back to Savvie’s home that night and whispered sweet nothings like a man with a gun to his head - Jax’s fingers twitch again. They close into loose fists. He doesn’t even bother with a reply, this time. 

Just looks away again.

“Hey.” Brayden frowns, snapping his fingers, but Jax doesn’t even flinch. “I’m talking to you.”

 More silence.

“Come on. Give me something to work with.” He sits back again, raking a hand back through his hair. “You’re a treat to have around for a visit, aren’t you? So very talkative. Goddamn chatty. Jax, why are you even here, anyway? You don’t have to be.”

That gets him the briefest bit of eye contact, but nothing more. “Miss Savvie was invited for dinner,” He says, voice low and blank and empty. It makes Brayden’s anger rise like a storm surge inside him, battering his resolve. 

The rest of the staff… react. They murmur obedience, they smile when he tells them to, they answer every question with yes, Master Brayden or no, Master Brayden, or whatever you want, Master Brayden. But Jax, the worst of them all, has to be treated like he matters just because Savvie thinks his dick hung the moon. 

Brayden moves fluidly onto his feet, ignoring the way the world spins a little. Maybe, he thinks, he shouldn’t have another whiskey after he finishes this one. He moves around the coffee table, closing the distance between them. Jax’s fists close tighter and tighter, until his nails must be breaking skin. As Brayden bends and then leans in close, Jax subtly leans away, trying to keep distance between them.

But Brayden isn’t in the mood for distance.

Not tonight.

Instead, he shifts gears, switches over to easygoing, we’re all guys here friendliness. “Seriously, man. We all know she’s batshit, she always was. We all know it. Nobody really thinks this is Romeo and Juliet but her. You know? You should be scrubbing floors right now. Or… I don’t know, maybe you should be somewhere else. Like back home, huh?”

Jax takes in a breath, his eyes determinedly focused on a spot on the wall somewhere over Brayden’s shoulder, but he doesn’t reply. This close, Brayden can smell the cologne Savvie makes him wear. 

“It’s okay,” Brayden murmurs, looking towards the door Savvie went through and then back. “It’s just the two of us here. Be honest with me, Mr. Marm-... Marcoset.” He’s slurring a little as the whiskeys catch up to him, but it doesn’t matter. “You spend half the night thinking about putting a pillow over her fucking face, and you know nobody who actually knew her would even blame you, so why not do it? Or… look, it’s just us here and now. Just you and me. Tell me why you don’t just… go, get out of here, get the fuck out of my sight. And don’t say the collar. If you’re here at this house, the shock collar can’t be set to make you stay at her house, so… why not just fucking take off before she can get to the remote? You could make it outside before she even notices. I wouldn’t even say anything, I’d just sit here and wait. I’d even give you a good head start.”

He drops his voice lower, soft and poisonously seductive. The kind of voice he might use on a pretty servant girl, not his cousin’s idiot husband. Just above a whisper. The same way he might have otherwise murmured to one of the staff to be in my room at midnight, to Jax he offers a different kind of poison laced with sugar. 

“She left the keys in the car, didn’t she? You know she did. Go on, Jax. I won’t say a damn thing. Just go. Get the fuck out of our lives and be free and then I never have to see your ugly fucking face again.”

He’s nearly breathing whiskey-breath in Jax’s face, and still, the man doesn’t move. Doesn’t even wrinkle his nose.

Brayden chuckles, forcing it, because he’s getting absolutely nothing from the man still seated in perfect still silence on the couch, but he can feel under all that empty space the rising tension. He can tell he’s getting to Jax, at least a little. 

He wants to throw him to the floor, kick his ribs until he hears the satisfying snap when one of them breaks, and then keep going. Give Savvie back her man with black eyes and busted-out teeth, a broken jaw. Show him how little he means, no matter what Savvie tells him.

He’s just staff.

He’s just something else the Marcosets own.

He doesn’t deserve their name, and he isn’t even grateful for it.

“Come on,” He murmurs, nearly close enough to touch now. “You know you want to go. You could get out before there’s some little monster screaming for you alongside her all night, some bastard baby you’ll hate as much as you hate her. Throw a punch, I’ll let you hit me even. Make it look like a fight and not like you’re just following my orders, too. Go on. Or… well, wait a second.”

He sits down next to Jax, slinging an arm around his shoulder like they’re the best of friends, leaning in until he’s nearly close enough to kiss.

“Do you... do you not even want to go? Huh? Is the problem that you really want to be here? Got a lil case of the Stockholm Syndrome? That’s not real, you know. They made it up... doesn’t matter. But hey, maybe you have it anyway. Maybe you like fucking her every single night. That’s why you never take the chances, because… because we know there are chances, don’t we, you and I? After you dick her down real good, she falls asleep and you have hours, but no… you stay right there and wait to be told to dick her down again, huh? Because you want to be here." He laughs again, barely making a sound. "You sad little shit, you actually love her and you don’t even know it. Love her so much you’re having a baby together. Some little fucking clone of my cousin, but hey. Maybe the little goblin will have your eyes, huh? You can teach it to say yes, Miss Savvie like a goddamn moron just like you. Gonna be the baby's first words, right?"

There.

Jax’s back and shoulders feel like iron, tense as steel bearing too much weight under the soft cashmere, beneath Brayden’s arm. The way that tension turns to shaking makes him smile. Jax’s knuckles are bleached against the fabric of his jeans, his face paper-white beneath some red that lingers in his cheeks. 

It’s a good look on him.

It’d be better if he was bleeding.

Too much whiskey has Brayden’s hand creeping back up, over the back of Jax’s neck to the shock collar’s lock. He knows the combo, the whole family knows the combo they use for the shock collars. “I’ll take it off,” He whispers, “And give you twenty minutes. How far can you get, I wonder? I want to see. Don’t you want to see how far you can get?”

Jax’s eyes, locked as they are on the wall in front of him, flare slightly. Brayden’s close enough to hear his breathing suddenly go shallow, and then catch. 

“Come on,” Brayden whispers. “Run, rabbit. Run.”

Brayden’s fingers brush over the lock, the hair that just barely curls over it at the nape of Jax’s neck. 

“Don’t,” Jax says, voice tight. 

Brayden’s lip curls in disgust. “Why not?”

“Because, Brayden, in this particular moment he is smarter than you are.”

The voice of Brayden’s father booms from the doorway,.

Brayden feels blood somehow both rush to his face and also drain from it at the same moment. Then his vision goes red. Jax had seen Isaac coming, hadn’t he? He'd seen, and he hadn’t said a damn thing.

Brayden gets back to his feet, stumbling forward before straightening his posture. Even in his late thirties, he’s still got a hint of nerves around Isaac. Being too drunk in front of his father feels like a great way to get himself in deep shit all over again.

Isaac Marcoset, always the biggest presence in any room he enters, moves casually as he rolls his sleeves back down. Smears of faint red on his knuckles are the only sign of the work he���s been busy with for the past hour. The head of the Marcoset family is all charm and darkness. He’s sly smiles and handshakes that sometimes go on just a little too long, and he’s also agonizing, lingering death in a back room, with staff removing bodies out the back door.

Brayden takes a breath. He feels the strangely teenage urge to hide his whiskey glass behind his back and fights it. “Hey... Hey, Dad.”

Isaac only raises an eyebrow, pouring himself a drink from the bar cart in the corner. The silence draws out, awkward and heavy.

Brayden clears his throat. “I-I wasn’t really going to take it off, I was… I was just fucking with him, that’s all.”

“I certainly hope you’re not fucking with him, Bray.” Isaac takes a drink, waiting for Brayden to understand his terse joke. No one laughs. “I realize he has some sort of attractive quality to him, although I have no idea what, but still. It’s bad enough that my niece lowers herself to bedding him, surely you can abstain?” 

Brayden's face burns so hot he half thinks he'll catch fire. "Dad!"

In the corner of his eyes, Brayden sees the corners of Jax’s smile shift into a shit-eating little smirk. 

The little shit. How dare he looks like that, like he's gotten one over on Brayden, and how dare he wear the fucking wedding ring that means Brayden can’t even do anything about it. Not anything permanent enough to count, anyway.

Brayden drops back into his seat, hunching his shoulders and glaring over the edge of his glass. He tells himself if Jax so much as cracks a fucking joke, he’ll break this glass, carve that smirk into the stupid fucker's face, and beg Savvie for forgiveness afterward. 

When he looks, though, Jax isn’t even looking at him. Those hazel eyes are locked on Isaac, as if Brayden simply ceases to exist when his father walks in the door. It’s a feeling that’s far too familiar, and it makes Brayden feel… small.

Which pisses him off even more.

And Jax knows it.

“Hello, Uncle Isaac,” Jax says, serene. As if they were all simply discussing the weather. But that shit-eating grin doesn’t leave his face, even if it never makes it to his eyes. 

“Hello, miscreant,” Isaac replies, apparently in a good enough mood to humor him. “I have to assume, if I’m forced to endure your presence, that my niece is here as well?”

“She went to th’bathroom,” Brayden mutters, drinking the rest of his whiskey in two gulps, using the burn as a distraction from his embarrassment and fury at even being embarrassed in front of glorified staff, Savvie’s little toy. “Mother said… what, twenty minutes ago? I think? She said supper’s served at seven.”

“Hm. Not much longer, then. Good, I’ve worked up an appetite.” Isaac settles into his favorite armchair in the sitting room, tapping fingertips on the upholstery. “You should learn to control yourself, Bray. My niece’s choice of men may not run to the most handsome or most intelligent-... or men with brains at all, really-... but despite his many faults… well. There isn't anything we can do about those. The miscreant remains whether we like it or not."

“Now you’re just hurting my feelings,” Jax says, with absolutely no emotion whatsoever. “Thought we were family now, Uncle Isaac.” 

Brayden glares at him - he’s been silent, but now he talks? Now he has little quips to say, once Brayden looks like a moron in front of his father and Isaac is the one holding fucking court?

Jax’s smile widens ever so slightly as he finally meets Brayden’s eyes. “Didn’t you just say so? You were at the wedding. You were my best mate.”

“I’m going to pull your teeth out with pliers!” Brayden lunges forward with a roar. He winds one arm back and whips his glass right at Jax, whose hands are up fast enough that it just bounces off his forearms, sprays half-melted ice cubes and whiskey-flavored water in Jax’s hair and clothes, and then cracks into pieces on the floor. “You little shit! I’ll pull out each and every fucking fingernail and make you regret-”

“Brayden Marcoset!” Isaac’s voice is louder than the pulse of fury in Brayden’s mind. “Calm yourself!”

For a long, drawn-out moment, he can’t move. All he can think about is choking the life out of Jax until his smirk dies, until his eyes go dim, and then the emptiness isn’t fake anymore, it’s real. And he can see that Jax knows he wants to, knows just how little there is keeping him from turning him into a smear on the floor for the staff to scrub out.

He wouldn’t even be the first.

Then, he takes a breath and sits down.

“Hannah!” He yells over his shoulder. “Come clean this mess up in here!”

She’s always close by. Hannah, one of the aforementioned bastards the Marcosets hold onto for their own purposes, looks entirely too much like Savvie. She, though, wears the white-and-black uniform, her collar snug around her neck, and her hair - that Marcoset hair, wavy and thick - is cut to her chin. She swallows, hard, when she sees them all. “Master-... oh, good evening, Master Isaac,” She says, feigning cheer, but Brayden isn’t in the fucking mood for it. "Master Jax."

"He's nobody's fucking master. Shut the fuck up. Just clean up the fucking mess,” He says, and waves his hand. Hannah takes in the sight of the cracked glass on the floor and droplets of water, Jax sitting there marked with it himself, and then her gaze moves to the fury on Brayden’s face. 

She pulls a towel from where it had been tucked over her belt for easy use. Her face is carefully expressionless. “Yes, Master Brayden.”

That’s more like it.

The three of them watch her clean in awkward silence - or Isaac and Brayden do, who the fuck knows what Jax is actually looking at - and then she vanishes as quickly as she came.

Brayden points after her. “That should be you,” He says to Jax, voice flat. “Cleaning up my mess, saying yes sir and no sir, and never giving me any shit. Got it? Savvie’s weird obsession with you is the only thing that keeps me from making sure you work your hands to the bone here on my orders.”

Jax opens his mouth - Brayden’s going to kill him, whatever he says next - but Isaac speaks before he manages to say whatever was on his mind. 

“Oh, let it go,” Isaac says, waving a hand. “You’re letting him work you up. When you do this, you teach him that he matters to you.”

“He-”

The door bursts open and all three men tense, then, but it’s only Savvie returning. She’s breathless and flushed and her eyes are shining. She looks like a princess in a fairytale as she rushes forward to grab Jax’s hands in her own and pull him to his feet. “Jax! Honey, come feel!”

She doesn’t even seem to see her cousin or uncle. Only Jax.

Only.

Jax.

Brayden’s teeth grind together watching Jax’s sly cunning disappear, replaced with the play-acting at earnest, if nervous, adoration that Savvie demands from him. Everyone else on earth could disappear and Savvie wouldn’t care, as long as she had her fucking English muffin to cling to.

Nothing fucking matters but him.

“Feel what, Miss Savvie…?” Jax’s confusion, at least, is genuine. His hands hang slightly limp in her grip. She pulls him to her, pressing his palms over her stomach through her dress, biting her lower lip and looking downward.

Brayden groans as he realizes what it is.

Jax glances at him and then back, but it doesn’t seem to have sunk in for him, not just yet. Then he flinches, minutely, eyes widening. He pulls his hands back. “M-Miss Savvie-”

There are bloodstains, small but vibrant, on her dress now, from the wounds he’s made with his own fingernails in the palms of his hands. 

Savvie doesn’t notice, or doesn’t care. 

She pulls him right back, her hands pressed down a little too hard over his to keep them where she wants them. Hard enough to make him wince. Savvie’s forehead touches his, and she whispers excitedly, “Did you feel her? Did you feel her kicking?”

Jax stares down, then, at their hands, and her rounded stomach. As if he could look right through it and see the growing life inside. “Yeah,” He whispers. He looks like he wants to sink into the floor, like he might be sick. “I-... I feel it, I th-think. That’s-”

“That’s her kicking,” Savvie whispers. “That’s her. Jax, sweetie, that’s…” She sniffs, taking pause for dramatic effect. “That’s our daughter. Our baby.”

“Th-that’s our baby,” Jax repeats. He sounds numb. 

“Oh,” Savvie whispers, sounding a little amazed. It’s an oddly genuine sound, dropping the theatrics, the eternal performance. As if this has knocked even Savvie out of her usual song-and-dance. She hesitates, and then shifts Jax’s hands a little. “She’s kicking harder for you, isn’t she? She knows it’s you already.”

“Y-... you think she does?” Jax’s voice nearly matches Savvie’s. The awe in his voice might almost be real. It’s brief, but they almost look and sound like a real couple. Just for a second. Just if you tilt your head, squint, and pretend you don’t see the shock collar locked on his neck and the way she holds his hands too tight. 

“Yeah,” Savvie says, and her smile is sweet as she lifts one hand to touch his face. There’s a pause, Jax’s eyes are locked on her stomach, he doesn’t react to her touch at all. Some of the syrupy-soft smile on her face starts to fade. The warmth in her chills. “Jax. She knows you’re her daddy, isn’t that wonderful?”

Half of Brayden is amused that she still has to prod Jax to give his line, to keep up the performance. Half of him is disgusted that Jax goes along with it, tips his head into the palm of her hand and gives her the big doe eyes she loves so much.

“Yes, Miss Savvie,” Jax answers, automatically, meeting her gaze now. He turns his face and it might almost seem like he’s kissing her palm, although even drunk Brayden can see that he isn’t really doing that at all. Savvie, though, sees what she wants to see - she always has. Jax’s fingers twitch where his hands are still laid on her rounded stomach, feeling the shifting movements of the growing child, the fucking anchor Savvie has tied around his neck. He manages something like a slight, faint smile. “It’s w-wonderful.”

It’s fucking depressing, is what it is.

“Fuck,” Brayden mutters, wishing he had another drink. 

#the motherfucking gallaghers #jax gallagher #jax #savvie marcoset #sadistic whumper #captivity #whump #multiple whumpers #intimate whumper #creepy whumper #defiant whumpee #it's quiet here but jax absolutely is pissing brayden off #also features: brayden being weirdly homoerotic about jax #you uh #you got something to share with the class there buddy #alcohol use tw #pregnancy tw

[ingravinoveritas]

Have you seen AL's latest insta story? sure, it would even be cute... if she didn't set a trend of subtly (not so subtly) commenting on his looks.

also idk if you hadn't seen this one from November 16th:

(yes it looks like his handwriting) random thoughts:

"I think he likes me" tee-hee? Much need for validation?

gurl, going without a phone for a week? seriously? how? why?

... How did you even post, if you're phoneless? or did you wait to have one, to stage this pic?

maybe it's me, but sharing such an intimate note seems *just a bit* in bad taste.

Am I being too petty? Maybe. Whatever.

(Finally getting around to answering more Asks, so thank you all for being so patient!) @artificial-indulgence No, I don't think you are being petty at all. I'm really very tired of Anna's posts as of late, and all of the above is certainly no exception.

I think it's worth noting that she posted that picture with Bernard (and all of the pictures from her Insta story) in a separate post, because apparently she didn't get enough attention, and the picture of Michael and David was dead last in the post. Which seems fitting, given that the caption on the post was a "A weekend of vanity and insanity" and the first few pictures were of her, suggesting that she was using the picture of Michael and David to get more traction for her own pictures.

This ties into your comment, @longingtolinger-blog, because she did indeed post that story calling herself a "vain twat" just earlier in the same day as the story with the pic of Michael and David:

And I had the same thought, that it seemed as if she was trying to be self-deprecating, but it just...didn't land? It came across as awkward, mostly because vanity/being vain isn't really something to brag about. Do we all have moments of being vain? Of course. But Anna seems to be making it part of her personality, and it's just...not cute. Also, in the same way as Michael calling David his lover, you generally don't refer to yourself as a "vain twat" if you don't want people to think that you're a vain twat.

That said, I did see AL's Insta story from the 16th, and nearly three weeks later, it still doesn't make sense. As you said, how did she post this without a phone? Or, as we could infer, does this mean she got that note sometime earlier in the week, and waited at least several days just to stage this picture? Also, with two little kids around, how does it make sense for her to not even have a backup phone? We could certainly assume that she did, but the story above would suggest otherwise, since Michael had to email her (which is, for the record, about the least romantic correspondence imaginable). Let's also remember that on the 16th, Michael was still in the middle of being virulently attacked on Twitter after the events of October 30th, and Anna had plenty of opportunities to defend him. To say something like, "Michael's a great guy, he does a lot of charity work, he doesn't deserve to be attacked like this." Instead, it was all about her and what she gets from him. In fact, the week prior to the 16th, she posted another Insta story of flowers that he supposedly sent her, with that song "My Love Mine All Mine" in the story, thereby doubling down on bragging about him getting her things while saying nothing about him as an actual person.

Going back to the first story above, we know that Michael has previously been affectionately compared to the Tennants' dog Bernard (and David to their other dog, Myrtle). But as you said, given AL's history of making snarky comments about Michael's appearance, it feels a lot less affectionate and a lot more unkind coming from her. What surprised me about her Insta story the most, however, was how not surprising it was, as that story is actually not the first time Anna has "joked" about leaving Michael. And given that that seems to be an enjoyed pastime of hers, it almost seems like they would both be happier and better off if she actually did leave him.

It somehow becomes worse when we see this exchange, which took place on Twitter yesterday:

(Maybe she should get a refund, since she seems pretty unsatisfied with what she's got...)

Again, I would have no problem saying that this was just teasing or ribbing or whatever if it weren't for literally everything else in this post, plus what I've also talked about on my blog previously. But complaining about Michael like this publicly makes her come across as so damn rude and ungrateful. Contrast this with David "complaining" about Michael and it only makes the difference even more stark: That with David, there's a mutual respect and affection and reciprocation, which we do not at all ever see Michael do with her. And I can't help but think that if their relationship is as great as she would like everyone to believe, she wouldn't be on Twitter going back and forth with fans just to get that validation, as you mentioned.

Those are pretty much my thoughts on AL's posts/stories from the last month. It's interesting to me that more people seem to be noticing the weirdness of all this, and I appreciate both of you writing in. And as always, glad to hear from my followers about what you all think...

#artificial-indulgence #longingtolinger-blog #reply post #michael sheen #welsh seduction machine #i can't #how many times does AL need to 'joke' about leaving Michael before it isn't a joke anymore #i'm genuinely curious #but what's the old saying: when someone shows you who they are believe them the first time #the more i think about it the weirder this all seems #again if this was a one time thing i wouldn't even say anything #but i will leave it to my followers to make up their own minds #anna lundberg #relationships #thoughts #discourse

[thechekhov]

Dungeon Meshi - Quick Reacts (CHAPTER 14: Kelpie)

You know, I understand why people are annoyed by her attitude towards Senshi’s food and Laios’ tastes, but you gotta admit she’s trying her best. 

this is another one of these things that don’t really come up in games but... thank fuck they have flowing water. That would be a real deal breaker if you want to survive. And they can shave and brush their teeth? It’s a miracle.

To be fair, I think Senshi’s beard is probably its own ecosystem by now. He probably uses it as a scrub brush. 

At least if she does that, you’ll be picking way less dwarf hair out of your food. Come on guys, we know that stuff gets in there when he cooks. 

someone get this woman to design a whole ass game. 

Water walk! Good wizard. 

is Senshi afraid of water?! Dwarves I swear.....

Aww, their first party fight! I’m shocked at how coordinated Laios and Chilchuck are. 

HE’S STILL SINKING, JUST SLOWLY.

HIS BEARD? It repels magic... 😂

Laios, you don’t look as sure as you sound. 

Oh. OH yEAH. There will be NO repercussions for THAT. 

Marcille’s little “Anne.” isn’t even a question. She’s just disappointed. 

Meanwhile, that Kelpie straight up wants the blood and guts soaked into his beard.

Didn’t that thing... walk.... out from UNDER the water though? 

That seems extreme as well, but I’m on this hill with Laios and his distrust of horses. 

I see someone speaks from experience. 

Yeah, I could have maybe seen that coming. 

Though I AM legitimately disappointed by this turn of events.

Horses are horrifying when they’re given dog mouths - confirmed. 

...actually hold on

Horses are horrifying when they’re given dog mouths - confirmed.

Marcille’s been on the protein I see. 

Laios, you are right but also your little pet monster will eat you one day. For no though, the fact that you almost drowned it is adorable. 

Don’t you though? I imagine if anyone understands how monsters think, it would be you, Laios. 

It’s true that he loved her. It’s also true that letting her rot without using her would be a waste. In a way, she will carry them further this way. 

oooh, is she making soap? 

There’s something about the idea of using things you have at your disposal that makes this really cool. The fact that everything they’re making, aside from very special ingredients like olive oil, are all scavenged and created with their own hand is... I don’t know... heartwarming? 

THEY’RE!!!! BONDING!!!!

Weirdly heartwarming.

Maybe just let it air dry--

whEEZE---- I CAN’T--

There he goes............the magnificent beast............

GROUP HUG! aww

.......................... coding, man. No matter what century, that one typo will get ya.

The real BBEG was the lack of unions all along...............

YOU ASKED FIRST, YOU DINGUS. 😂

All that said, Laios doesn’t strike me as someone interested in romance. 

this is just a magical hermit crab.

NOOO HE JUST WANTED TO VIBE

You guys could probably make a fortune as dungeon delvers if you weren’t after Falin.

Who knows if souls exist? Haven’t you all died multiple times?

............Well, they do have skin and a squishy inside, and they grow..... checks out.

........you know what? I’ll take it. Wine? Necromancy. Cheese? Necromancy. Natto? DEFINITELY necromancy. 

Marcille doesn’t drink?

...........is this doodle-bob all over again? 

Senshi, who nearby died by Kelpie: WHY DON’T THEY WANT MY LIVER? IT’S GOOD FOR THEM!

.....................like respects like. These two are on the same frequency. 

If we’re being nitpicky about it, Anne never actually bit Senshi. She went after the Mimic. Maybe she just got tired because he was fucking heavy........ 

Horses, man. 

#dungeon meshi #delicious dungeon #chekhov reads dungeon meshi