#she’s usually depicted so sad

[genderlessdude92]

FORGIVENESS

Angst-Fluff one shot

PAIRING: Alastor x Wife!Reader

SUMMARY: Alastor's work at the Hazbin Hotel keeps him preoccupied, leading to neglect in his relationship with Y/N. An argument later on arises, causing both to confront their feelings. Ultimately, they reconcile, promising to communicate better in the future. The story emphasizes the importance of understanding and communication in relationships.

WARNINGS: Reader is a sensitive little baby (っ◞‸◟c) (sorry not sorry), Story gets angsty but there is a happy ending with fluff yay, Neglect, established relationship (as seen above), takes place in present-day hell, reader and Alastor live in a manor-type house idk i would imagine him rich or smth, don’t imagine the manor like a richie rich mansion manor just…yk. emotional turmoil, verbal conflict, depiction of emotional distress, Relationship strain, mild violence (not physical), Reference to a soul bond (which is in most of my fics bc i feel like if Alastor really married anybody they would own each other’s souls idk what i’m doing shut up). Angel says an Angel-type sentence in the bonus writing. LMK if I missed anything <\3. This fix is rushed because i got a lot of good comments on my last one and i felt confident but i don’t anymore so L.

WORDS: 1.3k (with a side fic not counted)

!!TRANSLATING MY WORK OR COPYING IS NOT APPRECIATED!! (But thanks for liking it :3)

It was a typical morning in the manor of Alastor, the radio demon. The sun had barely broken over the horizon, hell’s birds were chirping, and the smell of coffee wafted through the halls. Alastor, as always, was in the kitchen sipping on his cup of coffee and writing down some ideas for the Hazbin Hotel. Y/N, his wife, was sitting across from him, her hair perfectly styled, just freshly taken out of curlers. But she was still in her damp robe from showering in the morning.

Alastor glanced up at her, a small smile on his face. He couldn't help but feel a sense of pride wash over him every time he looked at her. She was his wife, his partner, and his everything. They had been married for what felt like eternity, even though they had only been married since 1936. They had met in their previous life, both living in the same city, but they didn't truly fall in love until they met again in hell.

Y/N let out a small sigh from across the table, causing Alastor to look up from his notes once again.

But today, something was off between them. Well, more-so recently. He could tell that something was bothering her, her usually bright eyes filled with sadness. Without a word, he reached over and grasped her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. She looked at him, offering a small smile in return. But Alastor could see right through it, he knew something was weighing heavy on her mind.

“Everything alright darling?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

Y/N pondered for a moment, “…It’s nothin’, don’t needa worry, okay?” She reassured, her voice faltering a bit at the end.

Alastor sat back in his seat, his expression turning serious. “…You know i won’t let this slide, dear.” he reassured her.

Y/N nodded, the feeling of unease in the pit of both their stomachs. Alastor seemed sincere, but something in his gut told him that this was more to be a serious matter.

With a wider, more forced smile, Y/N stood up from the table, “I'm going to go get ready for the day…” she said before quickly leaving the kitchen.

Alastor watched her go, a frown appearing on his face. He hated seeing Y/N like this, but he didn't want to harp her and overwhelm her.

As the week went on, Alastor couldn't shake the feeling that he was neglecting his wife.

Charlie had been giving him countless tasks at the hotel, since Lucifer told her it was good to overwork the big guys just a little bit.

psh.

Probably because Lucifer isn’t even big.

Even when he got to work from home, they were still just ghosts to each other.

Even the dinner was cold.

“Sweetheart…” Alastor called from his seat.

She looked over to him after a moment, waiting if he would say anything else, “What’s wrong, Al?”

She silently asked.

“…The dinner tastes… different?…tonight?” Alastor tried to say with a sincere aspect. Maybe Alastor could help her with the cooking?

“…oh um…I’m sorry…”

Fuck.

“No, no- it’s fine! um…be a deer and… just microwave it, okay?” Alastor reassured with a cheery smile.

Y/N paused from working at the stove to look at him and then his plate before walking over to him and doing as he said-

quietly.

“…So…acid rain today, huh?” Alastor began to start some conversation, “-must have been a bummer.”

“…the last petunias died in the yard.” Y/N replied.

Later that evening, Alastor and Y/N were in their bedroom getting ready for bed. Y/N was brushing out her hair while Alastor was sitting at his vanity, humming a tune to himself. But his cheerful demeanor quickly changed when he looked up at Y/N's reflection in the mirror.

Her bottom was lip trembling, and she had to stop in between her brushes to take a deep breath. Alastor could feel a pang of guilt in his chest, knowing that he was most likely the cause of her sadness. He quickly stood up and walked over to her, “Darling, what's wrong?” he asked, gently placing a hand on her shoulder.

Y/N turned around to face him and that's when it happened. “Just leave me alone, Alastor. You obviously haven’t been wanting to…i- interact with me recently.” She stated, “I’m doing you a favor.”

Alastor's frustration and guilt boiled over. “What do you want from me, Y/N? I have a lot on my plate right now and your attitude is really bothering me.” He replied, his tone harsh and genuine, alongside his smile that was tight and annoyed.

“You should really act your age for once, Y/N.”

She froze.

‘Act her age?’

“…I’m sorry I can’t be perfect all the time, Alastor.” She snapped back.

Alastor was to reply but she cut him off- “I’m sorry I have flaws.” She let her tears spill. Ones she didn’t even know she was barricading

“No, no- Y/N, I didn’t mean it like that-” Alastor started, but Y/N quickly was already opening the door to their bedroom, leaving Alastor alone with his thoughts.

He sat down at her vanity, wanting to inspect what she could’ve made her react like that. An object? maybe a broken object? A letter?

But nothing could have stopped him from staring at his reflection with shame and regret.

He had never gave Y/N harmful comments like that before, and he knew, always knew that words like that could deeply hurt Y/N. He had let his emotions get the best of him,

-and now he feared he may have damaged their relationship.

But he refused to let it end like this.

He quickly got up and went to find her, searching through their shared household. When he reached the living room, he could see her curled up on the couch, her face buried in one of the throw-pillows as she sobbed softly.

Alastor's heart broke at the sight, he had never seen Y/N like this before. He sat down next to her and slowly and softly began to rub his claw on her back through the silk nightgown she was wearing.

'I'm sorry, Y/N.”, He started. He stopped rubbing her for a moment to hear or see a reaction.

Nothing.

He continued, “I didn't mean it, I was just upset- things like this don’t happen, often, you understand…my emotions just got to me.” he whispered, his voice full of regret.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes still spilling tears, “I know you didn't mean it, Alastor. But it still hurt me…I can’t just be p-perfect all the time,”' she mumbled with a hiccup, slowly sitting up. “I’m afraid there’s a reason that you haven’t been around me an-“

Alastor hushed her, “I understand, darlings…work got the best of me i suppose…”

Alastor pulled her into his warm embrace, holding her tightly as he buried his face in her hair. “-I promise I’ll never, ever, do that again. I understand that sometimes we all can act differently depending on the atmosphere, and I just didn’t bring that to mind at first,” Alastor noted, his demeanor wavering in his voice, “I’ll never forget this conversation, Y/N…”

“I can't lose you.”

Y/N pulled back and cupped his face in her hands, her eyes locking with his. “I could never l-leave you, Al.” she whispered before pressing her lips to his in a gentle kiss.

From that day on, Alastor made an effort to be more open with Y/N, to share his troubles and concerns with her instead of bottling them up. And in return, Y/N opened up more to him, sharing her fears and worries.

Nothing could tear them apart.

Mostly because they most likely have bonded souls but you know what i mean.

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　

BONUS !! (ㆁᴗㆁ✿)

✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

(450-500 words)

After the heartfelt conversation and reconnection with Alastor, Y/N decided to surprise him one day at the Hazbin Hotel with lunch. She spent the morning preparing Alastor's favorite dishes, humming to herself as she worked in the kitchen.

Once the food was ready, Y/N packed it neatly into a picnic basket and headed to the hotel.

As she entered the lobby, she was greeted by Charlie, who smiled warmly at her. "Hey, Y/N! What brings you here today?" Charlie asked, curiosity twinkling in her eyes.

Charlie and Y/N had known each other since after that big battle with the angels. Like the good housewife Y/N usually was, she offered to help heal and mend to the hotel staff’s wounds. From then on, the staff just knew her as, ‘a second mom’ of sorts.

Y/N grinned, holding up the picnic basket. "I brought lunch for Alastor. Thought I'd surprise him," she replied. Charlie's eyes lit up with excitement. "That's so sweet of you! I'm sure he'll love it. Let me take you to his office," she offered, leading the way down the bustling hallway.

When they reached Alastor's office, Charlie knocked on the door before opening it, revealing Alastor seated behind his desk, engrossed in paperwork.

"Alastor, you have a visitor!" Charlie announced with a sing-song like voice. Alastor looked up, a surprised expression crossing his face when he saw Y/N standing in the doorway, holding the picnic basket. His eyes lit up with delight, and he quickly set aside his paperwork, standing up to greet her.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" he exclaimed, stepping forward to give Y/N a hug. "A surprise lunch visit from my lovely wife. You've outdone yourself, darling." Y/N chuckled, returning his embrace. "I thought you could use a break from all that paperwork. Plus, um… I wanted to spend some time with you, if that’s okay." she replied, placing the picnic basket on his desk.

Alastor's smile widened, “Of course, dear. Anytime i’m around you is like a gift sent from the overlords.”

As he opened the basket, he was revealed to see the delicious spread Y/N had prepared. "You truly are too good to me, Y/N," he said, pulling out a sandwich and taking a bite. As they enjoyed their lunch together.

Y/N noticed Charlie just awkwardly standing there, spacing out. “Charlie, dear, do you want some?”

Charlie snapped out of her trance, “Oh- no, uh, that’s okay! I’ll leave you two to it.” He gave them a thumbs up before leaving to the hallways of the hotel.

As she walked out of his office, she was surprised to see Angel and Husk standing next to each other, watching the whole things.

“So…since husk ain’t bettin’ it…” Angel began, a mishcevious mood setting in,

“…you wanna bet how loud they’ll get?”

NOTE: Second fic woohoo!!! This fic, although, was a bit rushed and i was feeling really confident in the beginning because i got SO MUCH great comments and support (tysm (,,•́ω ก̀,,) in the that fic…but then i lost a tiny amount of motivation…overtime. But i couldn’t just stop writing…my OCD wouldn’t like that (♥︎ω♥︎ ) ~♪ Also when Y/N was humming in the bonus story in the kitchen…100% was humming to a song that played on the broadcast the night before i just didn’t wanna add it in…REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!! >:3

…support is appreciated

-Genderlessdude92, Kiki

MY MASTERLIST!! (Click me :D)

#alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x wife reader #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x y/n

[thecuriousquest]

Imagine a situation where reader has two yanderes looking after them, maybe the tanderes are partners or they just agreed to work together, what would happen if reader showed favoritism to one yandere over the other. You can pick the pair!

The Darling Shows Favoritism

Tag List: @issamomma @repostingmyfavs @palesweetscherryblossom @chickennugnugnug

Warnings: Yandere themes, NSFW (spanking), I guess kind of like Reader before and after Stockholm?, minor depictions of violence, pushing, minor spanking, jealous behavior, possessive behavior, controlling behavior, over amplification of certain Yandere traits because I’m doing two scenarios and am trying to keep it from being too long

I haven’t done anything yet for Yuji and Megumi, so why not give the pair a try?

Master List

—————————————————————————

First scenario:

You hate how Yuji clings onto your arm. It’s beginning to get on your nerves. He always has to have you on his lap, always has to paw at your body, always has to have a hand on your thigh.

You try to find Megumi whenever he’s home. If Yuji gets to be too much, you’ll squirm off of his lap. You can usually find Megumi either in the kitchen or in the shared bedroom. This time, he’s in the kitchen.

You stand next to him, and he glances down at you before returning to cooking.

“What are you making?” You inquire as you glance at the food. It smells good.

“Chicken stir fry,” is all he responds with.

When you see Yuji enter the kitchen, you step a little closer to the ravenette.

“Can we…go for a walk later maybe?”

Megumi shrugs. “Sure.”

Yuji beams. “A walk sounds awesome!”

“I just wanna go with Megumi.”

And Yuji’s face falls sullenly. He doesn’t understand why you don’t want to hangout with him, and when you do, you’re always sad.

You want to go on a walk with Megumi because you know it will be like not walking with anyone at all. He’ll be quiet. He won’t talk to you unless you say something to him, and his answers will probably be clipped to the shortest length possible.

It angers and saddens Yuji at the same time, and he ends up grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you to his chest.

“What’s gotten into you? Why are you acting like such a bitch when you’re with me? You never act like this around Megumi!”

“Maybe it’s because Megumi leaves me the hell alone! He doesn’t fucking annoy me like you do!”

He doesn’t mean to, but he gets so jealous and angry that he ends up pushing you into the fridge. Your back hits the surface, and you slide down to the floor.

Megumi puts down the spatula and rushes to help you up. He picks you up, carrying you past Yuji. He gives his friend a look.

“Maybe, you should go take a walk and calm down. Come back when your head is clear.”

He takes the advice, but he finds a bench to cry on for thirty minutes, feeling so full of guilt because he hurt you.

(A jealous rage, hurting you, ultimate guilt)

———

Second scenario:

You choose Yuji over Megumi. Itadori is so much fun to be around. He’s the sunlight in these dark days, and Megumi somehow manages to make them even darker just with his depressing presence. He’s always tired about something, and it pisses you off whenever he takes a book from your hand, throws it aside, and places you on his lap.

It makes you immediately want Yuji. Yuji wouldn’t treat you like this. He wouldn’t disregard the things you’re doing for self satisfaction.

“Where’s Yuji?” You ask Megumi.

He only shrugs his shoulders, and you roll your eyes. You try to get up from his lap, but he holds you closely to him.

“Let go. I want Yuji. Yuji! Yuji!” What began as a demand ends in a plead for your more merciful captor.

He appears instantly in the living room, walking over to you and Megumi with his hands in his pockets.

“Hey, everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine. She’s just being a brat.”

“Am not! Everything isn’t fine! Yuji, he won’t let me up to see you.” You hold your arms out for Yuji to pick you up and take you away. At least he’d do something fun with you like play Uno or watch a cool movie.

Megumi never really does anything with you. He just sits there, staring blankly into the distance as he ponders something heavy on his mind. It’s so totally boring!

Megumi shifts you so that all of your weight is on one ass cheek, and he delivers a couple of harsh spanks to the seat of your shorts. You cry out in pain, and Megumi wraps his arms around your waist.

“She’s staying with me for now, Yuji. You can have her later. You got her all of yesterday. I don’t care if she wants you. I want her, so go back to whatever dumb show you were watching.”

You want Yuji to save you from this absolute torture of boredom. “Yuji, Yuuuuji, please!”

He sighs and ruffles your hair. “Just, let Megumi have you for a little while. We can find something to do after, okay? He needs you just as much as I do.” Yuji gives you a kiss on your forehead before going back upstairs.

Megumi goes back to resting his head against your shoulder as he keeps you secured against him with both hands. He rubs your hip with his thumb, continuing with his thinking as if nothing even happened.

(Staying calm, hitting you immediately, directing anger towards someone else, doesn’t feel bad about any of it)

#yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling #yandere themes #triggering content #triggering themes #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #yandere yuji itadori x reader #yandere yuji itadori #yandere yuji #jjk yuji #yandere megumi fushiguro #yandere megumi #Yandere megumi x reader

[bunniekittiee]

Bi-Han x Fem. Reader (as well as general headcanons)

Alright alright the Bi-Han headcanons was a success so ykw I’ll bless you all again. Also this is my depiction of Bi-Han so if you think I can tweak it and make it better then by all means let me know!

CW: mentions of eating problems, anxiety, illness, chronic illness, a little nsfw, nothing too crazy

Hair combing is an intimate ordeal.

He does not let anyone else touch his hair besides himself and you. He trusts you completely to comb his hair and even put it up for him.

He thinks you do it better than him, but he can manage it himself if needed.

He sighs with relief when his hair is let down, feeling his s/o’s fingers gently massage his aching scalp. It feels so good to him, he loves it.

Bi-Han does like the quietness. Especially after a long day of Grandmaster duties and irritation.

So if it is quiet during this time, he can close his eyes and almost fall asleep as you caress his hair and take care of him.

Sometimes he has fallen asleep when you are doing this.

If you were to ask Bi-Han to bathe together, he would silently go insane for a second and then agree.

Despite seeing you naked more than often, it still gives him butterflies in different scenarios that isn’t inherently sexual. Such as bathing.

He thinks you are beautiful, do not ever be negative about yourself around Bi-Han because he will immediately worry.

If you are worried about gaining weight, he is already overthinking that you will stop eating.

So instead, Bi-Han gently encourages you to train with the other Lin Kuei if you feel that you want to lose weight or prevent yourself from gaining weight.

No, he does not think you are fat at all, do not twist his words.

But Bi-Han is the type of man to give you solutions to help you but not in a rude way.

He just tries to encourage and give you options.

He will also suggest yoga with Kuai Liang. Kuai Liang usually meditates, but he will divulge himself in yoga for you if you are interested.

He does not like to see you sad or upset about your self image. It makes him feel helpless.

Bi-Han can handle a physical threat because he can eliminate it, but when it is a mental threat such as self image issues, depression, etc., Bi-Han finds himself unable to see straight.

Out of his brothers, I see Bi-Han struggling with some anxiety.

Like I said in my previous headcanons, Bi-Han worries for his s/o because she is his weakness. If anyone were to take her away from him, he would practically engulf everything in a blizzard.

I see Bi-Han having anxiety about his brothers as well, whether they are safe or going to be okay.

As much as Bi-Han shuns Smoke, he still worries for him. Smoke is the ‘baby’ of them all, and if he were to see him in any form of pain, he is already wanting to murder the person who inflicted it upon him.

That being said, if you have any sort of health issues that will literally send Bi-Han over the edge.

He is constantly having the medics check you over and he will be riddled with so much anxiety he will stop eating and sleeping well.

God forbid you have a chronic illness or anything at all, at that point Bi-Han will just have an aneurysm.

As tough as his exterior is, Bi-Han can be sensitive.

Please do not call him names, he doesn’t even do that to you and it will hurt his feelings.

He will distance himself and feel melancholy until you apologize. He doesn’t like it when you are rude or mean to him.

As I mentioned in my other previous headcanons, he does get snappy himself so he knows that he is a bit of a hypocrite.

If you were to communicate your feelings to him, whether it is your frustrations, sadness, or anger, he will understand and try his best to relax you and make you feel better.

You do the same for him, so it’s time that he repays that favor.

Bi-Han can be extremely busy with his duties and he knows you hate being cooped up for so long.

So he will allow Smoke and Kuai Liang to take you out, whether that’s for a walk or to Madame Bo’s, Bi-Han just wants to make sure you are happy.

I don’t know where people got the “jealous of my brothers being around my s/o” belief from, but Bi-Han trusts his brothers completely.

He has to, they go into battle and on quests together, they have to deeply trust each other and have a strong bond with one another.

So he lets his brothers take you out, he does not get jealous of that. They would never do anything to you, and Bi-Han knows it is completely out of character for them to do anything in the first place.

So yes, he lets you go out with his brothers and enjoy your time together when he is busy.

Again, he knows you get cooped up and he wants you to have some freedom.

His brothers love that you have somewhat changed Bi-Han but in a good way.

He is somewhat nicer to Smoke and refrains from telling him he is not part of their family. Last time he did, you gave him the absolute worst glare that even Kuai Liang felt his stomach turn.

Bi-Han is gentle as possible with you. His hands have killed and hurt many, he would hate to inflict the same pain on you.

You are like a flower to him, a delicate and precious lively being.

You have softened Bi-Han in many ways, and many appreciate what you have done.

#mk bi han #bi han #bi han x reader #bi han x you #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat #mk1 2023 #mk1 #mk sub zero #mk smoke #mk scorpion #bi han headcanon #bi han sub zero #bi han mk #bi han x y/n

[pagannatural]

2.07 The Usual Suspects

-Sam being interrogated about Dean is so so good because we get to see Sam being told that his brother is a scumbag criminal and the way he reacts by rolling his eyes like he’s heard this before. It’s almost like seeing a teenage version of Sam. The detective keeps telling him to throw Dean under the bus and the whole time he’s just giving attitude and plotting how to help Dean and work the case. He keeps looking out the window. Some of his reactions are raw and some are fake and some are both and his mind is running through his options assessing what to do and how to get out of this.

When confronted with the cliff notes on his and Dean’s life, Sam runs the gamut of emotion from sad and grief-stricken about Jessica to defending Dean and acting all scandalized to being a smartass, to whatever the hell this is when she says “it’s not your fault he’s your brother, we can’t pick our family”

The double meaning here. The not meeting her eyes, the tension on his face, the disdain. It’s giving Bitch don’t I fucking know it, yet I would choose him a thousand times and every time I would be a little bit miserable. “It’s not your fault he’s your brother, we can’t pick our [soul mates]” is probably what God tells him in his most comforting dreams.

-So the detective’s theory is what? That after a shared sordid serial killer childhood Sam escaped the life and then Dean murdered Sam’s girlfriend in a house fire to lure him back in and make him his crime wife?

Because I mean yeah I would read that AU. That fits their vibe pretty nicely.

-She says “Dean’s a bad guy….his life is over, yours doesn’t have to be” and Sam looks at her like that’s the dumbest thing he has ever heard.

She doesn’t know that they become sickly and depressed when they’re apart like a pair of bonded sewer kittens.

When she tells him he can get on with his life and Dean’s as good as gone you can almost see him tuning her out and calculating how to lie about this.

-Sam starts on his cover story, using his trademark Sweet-Innocent face. He relies on his charms and on appearing helpless to manipulate people into doing what he wants. He would’ve learned to do this when he was a child as a survival skill, and I can just imagine how well this complemented Dean’s tough but earnest seduction thing. Acting sweet and helpless when you’re actually savvy and resourceful is a trope commonly used in female characters. These traits (innocence, sweetness, feigned helplessness) are associated with women gaining/utilizing agency in the ways available to them.

Because narratively, Sam is the girl. It’s stuff like this, plus the way he’s depicted as Dean’s tempting damsel in distress in other episodes. It increases the sexual tension between Sam and Dean when they rely on these archetypes because we know what it means when two leads are masculine and feminine, when they need each other and the plot hinges on their conflict. It means they’re the love interests.

-Dean makes a joke about Sam being Scully, and Sam’s like I’m not Scully you’re Scully, and Dean says “No I’m Mulder. You’re a red headed woman.” Really spelling it out.

Dean is smirking and making prolonged eye contact and just— he’s flirting. There’s a Bruce Springsteen song titled ���Red Headed Woman” about how “it takes a red headed woman to get a dirty job done.” I have no idea if this is what Dean’s referencing or if it’s just a Scully reference but it’s a very specific thing to say and Sam is brunette. The song is very suggestive.

-Dean HATES waiting around while Sam works. Within seconds he becomes insufferable and has to leave to go do something, flirting with Sam again on his way out.

-“Sam’s story matches Dean’s to the last detail” they didn’t even SEE each other before talking to police! They’re just so connected that they tell the same exact story. Then they both work on the case in their separate interrogation rooms using different methods and arrive at the same conclusion at the same time. They also make the same joke about their public defender.

-I keep seeing this post about who knew Dean better, Sam or Castiel, and I just want to point out that these two are so in sync they can essentially read each others minds.

-We have an outsider perspective on their lives and relationship a few times this episode, and the detectives comment more than once on how weirdly connected the brothers are. Like, Dean communicates to Sam via movie reference to escape and Sam is already all over that, he’s been assessing how to climb out the window since his first scene.

-Dean tells the detective to go to Sam so that Sam can save her life, giving her their info on “how we find each other when we’re separated.” That’s very practical. It’s also true that when they aren’t together they are obsessed with finding each other and making sure they know exactly where the other is at all times. They must have felt so untethered when Sam was at Stanford. I’m imagining Sam going on a little trip over spring break and feeling like he’s forgetting something really important and starting to panic only to realize it’s just that Dean won’t know where he is.

#samdean #supernatural #spn meta #sam and dean #wincest #spn 2x07

[carolmunson]

the moon had turned to gold.

(soft!eddie x badatfeelings!gf)

and we're back folks. i'm going through it so i had to revisit my kids. the badatfeelings!gf set is a series of ramblings with no rhyme or reason, flow of conciousness. not from a 'you' perspective but 'she/her' has no physical descriptors.

tw: depictions and descriptions of depression (eddie to the rescue). because i'm sad!

Her eyes have been half closed for days -- wakes up and gets out of bed, makes coffee, reads the paper, gets back in bed for an indescerable amount of time. More coffee, hand fulls of shredded cheese, water from the side table that's been there for days. She hasn't been going into work, just in the dark of her room while the hum of the window unit drones on and on and on. He knocks, opening the door to darkness despite the warm glow of golden hour outside -- her black out curtains a bigger success than she expected. She's awake but not really, eyes glazed over watching snow on the TV she moved to her bedroom.

Summer blues she called it, summertime sad. The air is stale, he can tell she hasn't moved much this morning. She hasn't moved much all month. "Hi." Quiet and soft, rounded edges in his voice, "Bad day?"

She uses whatever strength she has to lift her arm out of the covers and give him a thumbs down. He lets a huff of a laugh out of his nose, "Yeah, I see that." Despite laying in bed all day her body is tense and he knows that maybe she'll feel better about moving when she knows the sun is going down. He thought this vampire sleep schedule shit would've been sexier -- but it's not. It hurts to see her like this, so tired from just waking up, so sick of just existing. He's seen her cry more than he has in the years they've been together. But at least she's like -- crying. She never used to cry at all.

He sneaks onto the edge of the bed, his backside and hips nestling in the dip of her waist over the covers, "Do you know what would be nice?"

"Hm?" she asks, body heavy while she flops over to put an arm around where she can reach. "Taking a shower," he offers, hand resting on her hair, thumb grazing her forehead, "You always feel a little better after." "Mhm," she nods sleepily. "I can put your jammies in the drier so they're cozy when you come out," he smiles, voice still soft, still rounded edges. Her lashes flutter before she looks up at him, glassy and glazed, half here half not. Zombie girlfriend, vampire girlfriend, monster girlfriend, sad girlfriend. She's so pretty, he thinks.

"Yeah," she nods.

"Yeah to the jammies in the drier?" he asks. "Yeah," she says, her voice is quiet -- meek. 'Yeah' was her first word of the day. "That," she nods again, deep breath in through the nose and it rattles at the exhale, "Shower, too."

He helps her up and hears the crack in some of her bones, the stiffness in her joints while her face contorts at the change in position. She's been in the same sleep shirt for three days, some field day shirt from college. Green socks on her feet, the tops shoved down her ankles, one nearly falling off. No crumbs in her bed at least -- he knows she's too anxious for that. But the dishes aren't done and the bag of shredded cheese is abandon on the counter. Mugs of varying fullness off coffee are sitting in random placeholders in the small apartment. Forgetful -- foggy.

"C'mon," he coos, pulling her in at the shoulders to take her to the bathroom. She's so tired from doing nothing that she can't help but keep doing nothing. He pulls off her sleep shirt and panties, he helps with the socks, turning the shower on to a medium heat. Forhead kiss, cheek kiss, cheek kiss. Poor baby.

"Do you need help getting in?"

She shakes her head no.

"What do you want to wear for PJs?"

She shrugs. He figured she would.

He pulls back the shower curtain and she gets inside, he waits for the inevitable sigh she lets out when the water hits her. He peeks in, her naked body not important the way it usually is -- its those eyes, half closed -- less sad, less sleepy. Contemplative, alive. Half dead lover. His ghoulish girl.

"I'll leave them in here for when you're done."

He knows he has time to clean up for her -- easy to get lost in the void when you stand in the shower and that's where she is. Here and gone and here and gone again. Tongue tucked away between her teeth -- he almost misses when she's mean. He misses her so bad, but he takes what he can get, even if it's putting sweats in the drier.

When the hot water runs out she emerges, wet hair dripping down onto the new t-shirt -- still warm like the sweats on her legs. Fresh linen scent radiating off her like her coconut conditioner. She doesn't even care that the rest of the house is warm and sticky from the air outside. It's fresher now, he opened the windows and did the dishes. Cleaned out all the mugs. Opened your bedroom door to let the coolness flow to some of the house, too make things less stale. He lit two candles, sugar cookie scented -- it's all you ever bought because that's his favorite.

"Thank you," voice still meek. Still under twentywords today. Eyes a little more open. He puts down the mug he was drying and tosses the hand towel over the faucet of the sink.

"S'no problem, baby," soft round edges, soft round boy. Patched vest left behind on the kitchen table chair, soft cut off t-shirt left behind. Tattooed arms outstretched to her in the sterile light of the kitchen, the sun is down now -- the stars starting to peek out of a dark navy sky.

She lets herself get pulled into him and it feels like it's happening in slow motion -- face in his chest, he closes in on her like a wave. The pressure is welcomed -- she's alive but barely. Biceps crush on her shoulder blades, her neck cracks -- reanimator boyfriend, zombie girlfriend. Living glass doll that feels better off dead. She falls into the hold while he sways with her, chin on her wet hair.

"Blue moon, you saw me standing alone..." he sings quietly while he sways, his own eyes shutting, "C'mon, sing it with me." He feels her head move in a 'no' on his chest. "It's your favorite," he argues, "It'll feel good." Another sigh -- the inevitable. "Without a dream in my heart..." He smiles at her voice, coming out a little stronger than before, he snickers before beginning again. "Without a love of my own..."

"Blue moon," they start together, he smiles a little stronger. She's doing her best so he doesn't push it when she doesn't keep singing. He peers down while he continues, her eyes are closed against his chest but she feels alive. Just safer. The kind of safe where she'll sleep good tonight, might even eat breakfast tomorrow.

"And then suddenly, appeared before me..."

He shakes her to the beat the song normally has, bum bum bum bum. She huffs a chuckle a the shimmying, smile stretching against the warm fabric of his shirt, the inhale like laundry detergent and summer heated skin. "The only one my arms will ever hold, I heard somebody whisper, 'Please, adore me'..."

"That's me," she interrupts, he pulls her in tighter, the sway stops slow. "Yeah," he sighs out, "That's you. Dropped right outta the sky." "Yeah," she says, head tilting up. The whites of her eyes glisten despite the redness creeping in at the edges. "I ordered pizza," he says, "Cause I know you didn't eat."

Her brows furrow, mouth souring.

"I know, I'm awful," he giggles, "Gotta feed the girl in your brain that isn't so sad -- that's my girl in there."

"M'still your girl even when I'm sad," voice back to sleepy meekness, she yawns.

"Yeah, you are," he confirms sweetly, plush lips pressing against her forhead, "Always my girl."

In the cool white green light of the kitchen they stand in damp solitude -- with a heave of her chest she starts to cry. He doesn't need to know the reason, just as long as she does -- as long as he's there to hold her through it. Alive girl. Fully alive in the darkness of another deep blue summer night.

And when I looked, the moon had turned to gold.

more badatfeelings here

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #boyfriend!eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things au #badatfeelings!gf #baf!eddie

[fluentmoviequoter]

Finally Home

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!shy!military doctor!reader (r is Lucy's adopted sister)

Summary: You enlist your boyfriend Tim to help you surprise your (adoptive) sister Lucy after being deployed for several months.

Warnings: brief angst and depictions of loneliness/depression, then lots of fluff!

Word Count: 1.6k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Being adopted into the Chen family continues to be the best thing that ever happened to you. It didn’t help your shyness much, but the love and sense of belonging you’ve found outweigh all the bad you’ve experienced. When you joined the military, becoming a military doctor, you overcame your shyness enough to be a great doctor. However, when you stop being a doctor, you’re back to the shy sister Lucy knows and loves.

The last time you were stateside, you met Tim Bradford and fell for him quickly. During the six months you were home, Tim learned nearly everything there is to know about you, and he loves all of you.

Now, in your seventh month stationed in Europe, you look forward to your weekly call home. You call one of two numbers: Tim or Lucy. They’re always together when it’s time to answer, so you know you’ll get a chance to talk to both of them and grow shy from across an ocean. Your dog is sitting beside you as the call begins.

“Hey, sis!” Lucy greets happily when the line connects.

The picture is blurry today, but you smile when you see your sister. She’s in her uniform, in an empty office at the police station. Being seven hours ahead means you usually catch her or Tim while they’re at work.

“Hi,” you answer. “Is Tim there?”

“He’s actually on patrol,” she answers. “I’m sorry; there’s a huge problem here right now so they’ve got a ton of people out there.”

“That’s okay. How are you?”

Lucy looks up when a door opens and turns the computer away.

“I’m pretty good. I want to hear about you, though, because not much has changed here.”

“Move,” Tim demands.

You can only see his hand as he reaches for the computer, and you duck away from the camera as they compete for your attention.

“Chen,” Tim says.

“Which one?” you ask.

“The one whose badge I can take. Just let me say hello.”

“Why don’t you just sit together?” you suggest. “Not to say I don’t enjoy this.”

Tim huffs as he pulls a chair beside Lucy, forcefully turning the computer so you can see both of them. He smiles, and you forget what you were going to say.

“Any word on when you’ll be home next?” Lucy asks.

“Nothing. I’m hoping to hear something soon though. There isn’t much happening, so they’ll probably need to move me soon anyway.”

“Then they should let you call more often,” Tim comments.

“I agree. I miss you.”

Tim elbows Lucy gently.

“She meant both of us,” Lucy argues. “Didn’t you?”

You nod and look up suddenly.

“I have to go,” you explain. “I’m so sorry. I love both of you and I’ll talk to you as soon as I can.”

“I love you,” Tim replies.

“Love you, sis. Be safe,” Lucy adds just before the call ends. “I miss her, Tim.”

“I know.”

Lucy continues staring at the blank screen, and Tim asks her about something he noticed days ago.

“What’s going on?”

“I just- I’m sad all the time. I don’t know if it’s just because she’s gone because I’ve been dealing with her deployments for years, but the only thing I want, have wanted for weeks, is to see her. It’s hard doing everything without her when she’s the only person I want to share things with.”

“I’m sorry, Lucy.”

“Bradford, Chen, we need you back out there when you’re done. This crime spree is getting worse each time we try to make progress,” Wade says.

“Lets go, well ride together,” Tim offers.

“Like the good old days!”

“I hope not exactly like those.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Superiors are giving you a choice,” your MC commander begins. “Transfer to Germany or temporary leave before being stationed in Fort Bliss, Texas.”

“What would I be doing in Texas, sir?” you ask.

“Continued training and teaching, mostly. And the temporary leave is only two months, but after all this time in Europe I assume you’d return to sunny Los Angeles.”

“I’d like to take the Fort Bragg position, sir.”

“Okay, I’ll let the Surgeon General’s office know. I’m sorry to have interrupted your call; video broadcast has ended, but if you’d like to make a phone call, share the good news, go ahead.”

“Thank you, sir.”

You walk into a private office, dialing Tim’s number and hoping he’s alone. Lucy has been down the last two times you’ve talked. She hides it well, but you’re her sister and can see through her.

“Bradford,” Tim answers.

“Chen,” you reply. “Are you alone?”

“Yeah, I am. What’s going on?”

“Is my sister okay? She’s seemed really sad.”

Tim sighs before he answers, “She misses you. A lot.”

“Then I need your help with something. I’m coming home.”

“When?” Tim asks. “I mean, I’ll help you with anything, but I’m so happy to get to see you again.”

You press your lips together, feeling heat rising in your cheeks.

“I should be there in a week or so, but I’ll let you know a date when I have one.”

“Okay. And the help?”

“I want to surprise Lucy. Any ideas?”

“Well, there is a restaurant she can’t stop talking about.”

“Tim? I’m going to be home for two months.”

“I get you for two months?”

“I can’t wait,” you answer sarcastically.

“Give me a date and time and I’ll get Lucy there.”

“Will she get suspicious?”

“Who do you think I am? She won’t have a clue.”

✯✯✯✯✯

A week later, Lucy has been checking her phone nonstop. She hasn’t heard from you since you abruptly ended the last call, and her concern and sadness about missing you are beginning to overflow. All of her fellow cops have noticed, so when you call and ask a few of them to meet at Lucy’s favorite restaurant to cheer her up, they happily agree.

“Get ready,” Tim demands at the end of the shift. “We’re going to dinner.”

“Why?” Lucy asks.

“Because we’re both worried and need a distraction. She’s fine, but you’re going to make yourself sick worrying like this, Lucy.”

“Okay. Give me ten minutes. Where are we going?”

“Your favorite.”

Lucy smirks as she walks to the locker room. Tim checks his phone but hasn’t received any message saying you landed.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Easy, boy,” you whisper, patting your dog over the Military K-9 vest as the plane lands.

The other passengers are kind enough to let you get your duffel bag and exit the plane first, rushing to the car rental counter and leaving for the restaurant. You’re running late, and don’t even think about letting Tim know you’re back in Los Angeles. As you park, seeing the ‘Service Animals Welcome’ sign on the door, you realize you forgot to tell Tim your dog is with you.

“Let’s go introduce you to my family.”

Pulling your phone from your pocket, you call Tim.

“Hey,” he answers. “I don’t have long before your sister shoves me over a balcony to talk to me.”

“Patio?” you ask, smiling.

“Yep.”

“I’ll be over in a minute.”

“Is that my sister?” Lucy asks, attempting to pull Tim’s arm away from his ear to take the phone.

“Tim, I have to go. I love you. Tell Lucy I said hi,” you say before ending the call.

✯✯✯✯✯

Lucy sits down, dejected. She tries to enjoy the appetizers and her friends sitting around her, but she wishes you were at the party. The door opens, and Lucy glances over before picking up her head and giving her full attention to the person walking through the door. Her jaw drops as she watches you walk toward her, a dog at your side. Lucy’s shock turns to a smile as she jumps from her seat to hug you. As you return her hug, smiling as you whisper how happy you are to see her, Tim’s hand covers yours as he takes the leash from you.

“Hey, bud,” he says to the dog. “Lucy, could I get a turn?”

“No,” she says against your shoulder.

“Hi, Tim,” you greet, turning your face away when he smiles.

“Hiding from my smile,” he muses. “Can you survive two months with me?”

“Two months?!” Lucy repeats, pulling back.

“I like your dress,” you murmur, seeing her for the first time in too long. “And, yes, I have two months of leave before I move to Fort Bliss.”

“Where is that?”

“Texas.”

“You’re staying stateside?” Tim interjects, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You shrug, turning in his arms to hug him.

“Welcome home,” he says, kissing your jaw as his arms tighten around you.

“Thanks for helping me with the surprise.”

“I’ll always be here with you.”

“So will I!” Lucy adds.

“Are you going to fight to hug me now?” you ask.

“Yes!” everyone at the table answers.

“And you brought a dog!” Lucy cheers, lowering her hand to pet your dog.

“I love you,” Tim says, pulling a chair out so you can sit between him and Lucy.

“I love you,” you reply softly. “I have one more thing I didn’t tell you, though.”

“What?” Lucy and Tim ask together.

“The position I took is a teaching job, so I’ll have more time to visit.”

They hug you simultaneously, no longer fighting over who gets to go first. You drop your chin towards Tim’s arm and smile. When your dog puts his paws in your lap and joins the hug, you know you are finally home. Sitting at a table with the two people you love most in the world, you know the next two months will be amazing, even if you're shy the entire time.

#hanna writes✯ #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford #the rookie #lucy chen #requests #fem!reader

[songmingisthighs]

Pitiful, You're Pitiful

<< prev | fic m.list | next >>

ch. ii

group : ateez

pairing : aged up!wooyoung × aged up!reader

genre : angst, mature

word count : 3 k

warning : adultery, cheating, medical condition (?), mentions of loss/miscarriage, negative depiction of wooyoung

a/n : happy valentine's <3

It had been two months since the night you were intimate with Wooyoung and it was still suffocating to think about.

It hurts a lot actually. But you can't let your sadness take over you, especially when Wooyoung hasn't shown any concrete signs that you should be worried other than your feelings. So you kept it to yourself, you kept your anxiety in and with every trip and team dinner or client meeting, you convinced yourself that he was doing what he said he was doing no matter how nauseated it made you feel. The stress must've gotten to you badly because the nausea was starting to become unbearable and even made you vomit almost every day. You figured it was psychosomatic but since it had affected your housework (aka Wooyoung complaining that you were up late several times, Dayoung grumbling under her breath about you not even caring to make her breakfast, and Woohyun refusing to go to kindergarten because he was worried over you).

Today started quite roughly.

"MOM!"

You barely held onto the countertop of your sink when you heard your daughter huffing from the other side of the door. The pain in your head and the discomfort from your stomach made your body sway slightly and the second round of angry knocks felt like a hammer to your head.

"Mom, seriously, I'm gonna be late!" Dayoung sighed sharply. You could just imagine the look on her face and while you love your children to bits, the way your body was practically shutting down on you, it felt like you wanted to scream back at her to give you a break. But you kept reminding yourself that you're the parent, she's an angsty teenager and you can't create a hostile environment for your youngest.

By whatever force that was working in your favour, you managed to walk yourself to the door and though your hands were cold, clammy, and trembling, you were able to open the door to see your daughter glaring at you. "S-sorry sweetie, mommy's not feeling well right now," you sighed, wiping the cold sweat off your forehead with your palm.

Dayoung hated the way you referred to yourself as if she was still a child or something and she let you know her disdain with a scoff and a roll of her eyes. "If you were so against me taking the bus in the morning, you could've at least made an effort to be punctual. I had to dress Woohyun, you know that? He and his milk-drenched chin almost ruined my cardigan and uniform. How is it that I'm doing things you're supposed to? Couldn't you have gotten drunk during the weekends or something?" she sneered, oblivious that it had been a while since you touched alcohol because when you tried to have a glass the week before, you ended up throwing up for some reason. The throbbing was coming back along with annoyance and you couldn't help the sharp exhale that you let out, "Can you not be like this right now? You being disrespectful won't make me move any faster." At least Dayoung had the decency to shut her mouth but from the corner of your eyes, you could see her fists clenching. "Where's your dad anyways? He knew I was not feeling well, he could've taken you and Woohyun to school." Although you were sighing and struggling to move without keeling over, you still forced your body to cooperate, determined to prioritize your motherly duties above letting sickness take over you completely. Dayoung only leaned on the wall while texting her friend, completely aware that you had almost fallen over a couple of times as you changed into your jeans, "I don't know, Daddy seemed to be in a rush this morning. He went out like an hour earlier than usual, humming and mumbling something about meeting someone for coffee before going to the academy."

The lighthearted tone Dayoung used didn't hide the heaviness of those words. You had been rather preoccupied as a mom to really follow up on your instinct so when you heard that, you felt a chill down your spine. For a moment, you couldn't help but wonder what or why you felt like that. As quick as that doubt came, you brushed the thought away as you grabbed your bag, rushed your children out the door, and loaded them into your car.

Being a parent was truly a wonder because for a moment, while focusing on your children, you felt like your body was mending itself. The headache was gone, your joints were not achy, and the bloated feeling in your stomach was relieved. Maybe it was stress, a psychosomatic symptom because you had a feeling that something was wrong with Wooyoung and because nothing did, your body directed the feeling towards your health. It's possible, the body is mysterious and things that make almost 0 sense can happen in a blink of an eye.

But once you found yourself all alone after taking Woohyun to his class, you slumped against the side of your car, clutching your head as the pain suddenly returned all at once. It was then and there that you realized that something was going on with you and you needed to get it checked out immediately.

On the way to the hospital, your mind was at war. It was plagued with scary scenarios like cancer one moment before the logical side of your brain reasoned that it could be something as simple as indigestion, acid reflux or even stomach flu. The anxiety didn't die down and you thought that at moments like this, you needed your partner, you needed your husband. Your husband who in the past had gone above and beyond to nurse you back to health even when it was just your allergy acting up. It was ironic that as you smiled and reminisced about the things your husband did for you in the past, your phone let out a long dial tone that let you know that you couldn't reach your husband for the 5th time. The anxiety bubbled up at the pit of your stomach as your fear went on automation, immediately associating Wooyoung not accepting your calls as a bad omen. One by one, your brain started ticking off possibilities such as stomach cancer, bowel obstruction, and kidney problems. Then your daughter's jabs started popping in your head, her jabs about how you drink a lot. It wasn't like you get drunk on wine twice a week like a ritual but it was never like that. You do enjoy the occasional glass but even then, it was slightly less than the amount people usually pour and it never surpassed you feeling tingly. But maybe you had accidentally subconsciously increased your intake and what you were experiencing was liver failure.

Out of all the diagnoses you were fearing, you honestly weren't expecting the doctor to tell you that you were pregnant.

As embarrassing as it was to admit, the moment the doctor revealed the diagnosis, it was like a punch to the gut and you vomited all over the ER floor. On the plus side, you no longer feel bloated.

"I can't be pregnant, there's no way. I haven't been intimate with my husband in a long while," you said after gulping down the water one of the nurses brought for you. "Blood tests are rarely wrong, ma'am," the doctor pulled her stool closer to you and sat down to look at you straight in the eyes, "When was the last time you were intimate with your husband?" It was both easy and hard for you to remember the last time you had sex with Wooyoung. You couldn't even call it making love because it wasn't. He fucked you to shut you up and left you alone like a washed-up carcass. The urge to scream and go crazy was high as it seemed like such a joke to get pregnant from that one time.

You wanted to laugh, scream, cry at how ironic the situation was. How when you tried so hard to grow your family with your husband, you were met with heartbreak. But now that things were verging on collapsing, you were suddenly blessed with a person you didn't even know you'd been waiting for. But your brain hadn't caught up to that point, still in disbelief and maybe even shock.

The doctor's voice was merely a murmur at that point. You couldn't focus, you couldn't really comprehend what she was saying because you were so deep in your thoughts, your bitter thoughts of the situation. You were worried because after what happened to your last pregnancy, it took you a long while to be okay again. There was even a period of time when Wooyoung was the only functioning parent, taking care of the role of both mom and dad while you recuperate. Of course, you weren't expecting to lose this pregnancy too. Who would do that? But the fear existed, the fear remained a part of you and as much as you want to shed it, it was so hard.

Nevertheless, you couldn't help but let your mind wander and suddenly flicker into hope. Hope that this baby will bring your husband back, bring him back to the way he was before the loss you both experienced. Hoping that his distance was because he was also waiting for this same little stranger.

"Hey, (y/n)!"

You turned around and saw Yunho jogging towards you, huffing.

When did you get out of the ER? You felt a buzz in your hand from your phone and frowned when you saw the message. When did you make an OB appointment?

Whatever the answer was, you immediately tried to shove your worries away and put on a smile, trying to appear normal or somewhat okay in front of your husband's friend.

Before you could greet him back, however, he cut you off, "I came as soon as I heard," he panted. "What?" you chuckled awkwardly, not understanding what he meant but slightly worried because you had thought someone saw you in the ER and heard what you and the doctor were talking about and informed other people. "How's Wooyoung? Was it really a heart attack? I heard he hit his head or something. Which room is he in?" It felt like you were the one who hit their head because you had no idea what Yunho was saying. You waved your hands in front of Yunho's face to stop his rants, "Whoah, Yunho, what are you talking about?" Now it was Yunho's turn to be confused. "I-I was informed by the academy's front desk that Wooyoung got hurt. They said they called Wooyoung in because he missed his special trainee class and they got information that he was hurt and that he was admitted here so I thought that he was with you."

In a flash, you turned and dashed to the information desk, Yunho hot on your tail. the both of you stayed close as you go up to the room Wooyoung was admitted in, worry evident in the way you both looked but it was definitely more prominent on you.

Once on the floor, you ran out first to the nurse's station before Yunho could even register that the elevator door had opened. Your hands accidentally slammed loudly on the hard surface of the counter, making Yunho and the nurses in the station to jump slightly in shock, "Hi, I-I'm looking for Jung Wooyoung, he was just admitted not too long ago," you were on the verge of crying because you were so worried and you felt and that you didn't even know your husband got hurt. The nurse checked her computer for a second before looking back at you, "He is on this floor but I'm afraid I can't let you visit him just yet. His wife is in there with him and considering the situation, we were instructed to let him get his rest first. Visitors are permitted once Mr Jung's doctor clears him and you will be notified by his wife." Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion and so did Yunho at the revelation, "That... That can't be right, I'm his wife," you said, surprising the nurse. She produced a guest sign-in form on a clipboard and muttered to herself, "I- well, there was this lady who came in with him and she told the doctor that they were in their bedroom when Mr Jung had the accident. She mentioned- I- I think she mentioned that she was his partner, s-so I just assumed she was his wife because of the ring on his finger," she meekly showed you the signature on the clipboard but it looked unfamiliar.

"Yeon Harin? That's our backup dancer," Yunho scoffed from behind you, "What's she doing here with Wooyoung?"

Dread washed over you like the water from a river in winter. The look on your face was enough to let not only the nurse who talked to you but the other nurses around know what was going on. Guilt gnawed at them when they saw your face paled and eyes glazed over as if they were the ones who committed such betrayal towards you. However, it took Yunho a moment to realize. His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes lingered on the name as his brain replayed the information he received. Dots connecting one by one, Yunho felt like he was being punched in the gut. "Oh fuck," he cussed under his breath, realizing what just happened. Realizing what his revelation of the identity did, "(y/n), a-"

Before he could ask if you were alright, you had pushed yourself away from the station, eye unfocused as if searching for a way to escape. "I... T-thank you... C-can, uh... Can I come back later with my hus- Wooyoung's things? W-what time is the cutoff time for visitors?" You did not notice it but your voice trembled, breaking slightly even as you tried communicating with the nurses in a voice so small, that they had to not breathe to hear you clearly. It was obvious that you were trying to hold yourself together, but it was also probably because you were processing the information. The head nurse pushed past from the back of the station and addressed you directly with a gentle, motherly smile, it was a shame you didn't see it. "Cut-off time is in 2 hours which will be at 12 pm and it will reopen at 6-8 pm. But for family members, there isn't really a cut-off time, I'll make sure Mr Jung's visitor is out of his room soon," at least someone had the decency to do what's right.

You didn't even remember if you told the nurses thank you because when your senses returned, you found yourself already walking back towards the elevator. "(y/n)? Hey, are you okay?" Yunho called out, making his presence and proximity obvious to you. You wanted to tell him that you were fine, but how could you? Your assumption was just confirmed in such a public place in a situation the same hour you found out you were pregnant in the same place you found out that your husband was hurt and you weren't there for him. Although his side piece was there and considering that he was with her when he was supposed to be at a very important class due to the account and his own ownership of account management, he must've prioritized her presence more. Yunho didn't press you for a reply though, he just wanted to make sure you were okay, he wanted to make sure he could give you what you needed which was tricky since he had no idea what to do. He too, was still processing the information and trying to make sense of things. Was his assumption even correct? Was his friend really that much of a monster? So when you hopped in the elevator, Yunho didn't know if he was supposed to let you go by yourself or jump in and drive you home. Were you even going home? Why were you even there if you didn't even know that Wooyoung was admitted?

When you finally spared Yunho a glance, the door was starting to close and with a smile that haunted him for weeks, you spoke, "Don't tell Wooyoung about this, okay?" and the door closed, leaving Yunho worried and conflicted because all he wanted to do was go into Wooyoung's room and demand an explanation but with what you said, he couldn't. Could he?

When you heard the door closed, your body slumped to the wall and you felt your legs turn to jelly. Your intuition was right, he was being unfaithful and his timing, as always, was just perfect because the day you found out the truth just had to be the same day you found out that you were pregnant with the baby he fucked into you so coldly. A wave of nausea bubbled up in your stomach and your chest burned. The moment the door of the elevator opened, you ran out and your legs took you to the parking lot where you vomited out the bile that was probably the physical form of your feeling. Though the pressure was relieved, you could still feel the sting and burn in your throat, the bitterness in your tongue, and the dread washing over you.

Hunched over the bushes, you found it hard to straighten up and walk. At that moment, you want everything to stop because it was too much, it was too much for you to bear to bear alone.

Mere realization was not enough because you were in denial, you wanted to believe that it was just a dream, that you were hallucinating, that your husband was not the asshole but you were for wanting him to be a monster so much that your brain had somehow warped reality and created this scenario for you to hold onto.

Honestly, you didn't know what to process first.

network :

@cultofdionysusnet @sandsofire @kflixnet @pirateeznet

taglist :

@atinyreads @strawberry-yeo @soobiverse @melanchobtch @vixensss @smally97 @maidens-world @yunhoswrldddd @imcoenffl

@staytiny816 @dearinsaniiity @scentednerdenemy

permalist :

@kodzukein @phenomenalgirl9 @skzatzloveismonsterous @memorymonster @surveilenceysystem @dreamlesswonder86 @maddiebabyxoxo @imababywolf @do-you-actually-care @marievllr-abg @ilsedingsx @wasteitonserendipity @bbymatz @noonaishere @honeyhwaaa @ateezourstars @yoonjunshi @yoongiigolden @camillelafaye @charreddonuts @kpopnightingale @starryunho @atinct @mirror-juliet @hyuckilstan @jayb17 @kpoplover718 @haatohwa @x-bluee @erinaimeexx @blackb3ll @mingiholic @angelicyeo @vampcharxter

#cultofdionysusnet #sandsofirenet #kflixnet #pirateeznet #ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez imagine #ateez scenario #ateez angst #ateez fanfic #kpop #kpop scenarios #kpop scenario #kpop imagines #kpop imagine #kpop angst #kpop fanfic #ateez au #kpop au #wooyoung #wooyoung scenarios #wooyoung au #wooyoung ateez #wooyoung angst #ateez wooyoung #wooyoung fanfic #smt scenario #smt imagine #smt angst

[moonom0o]

LIZZIEEE!!!

Random lore below the cut?

So, I actually took a lot of inspiration from Catholic imagery for this piece (which is wild bc I am not religious at all so I was like pretty unfamiliar with it before researching) BUT basically I was looking at Our Lady of Sorrows where Mary is depicted with the sword at her chest. Obviously, Lizzie isn’t associated with saintly imagery or anything, but I used it as a vehicle to explore her relationship to the crown and becoming queen. Lizzie’s a royal and she definitely wants to become queen, but I think through her time at Ever After High she starts to explore other elements of herself and learns to become not just like, a copy-pasted version of her mother. That’s why I have her looking away and not really caring about the crown or her knife which are representative of her duty because she’s starting to find herself in other places as well. But, at the same time becoming Queen of Hearts is still very important to her!! Also, Mary is usually depicted like really sad and in pain, but that’s just not Lizzie, Lizzie is the type to keep her feelings hidden behind her fierce expression! I felt like this piece is sort of meant to represent her growing into becoming the queen, but in a way that’s so different from her mother. It’s sort of encapsulating the energy of the royals who want to be like their parents but are also starting to question the system and starting to develop their own wants. Basically, it’s that big question of duty vs desire?

#artists on tumblr #my art #art #digital art #digital illustration #eah #fanart #eah fanart #ever after high #lizzie hearts

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : Seungmin/Minho x F!Reader TW : arguing ; reader feeling unwell ; reader depression (Minhos) ; reader fainting ; reader su**ide attempt (Minhos) ; hospitals ; IV's (Seungmins) ; the boys being jerks honestly (this is obviously not an accurate depiction of them) ; very angsty ; fluff at the end but it's like a sad kind of fluff??? ; Word Count : combined - 6.3k (Seungmin - 2.4k) (Minho - 3.8k) Request : Anonny : Can u write a VERY angsty drabble(?) but with a fluff ending when seungmin/minho argue with reader on how they don't take care of the house and don't let them explain, but the reader was extremely sick and out of the sadness they try to clean and end up fainting, wake up when seungmin/minho come and fluff at the end? A/N : OF COURSE I CAN MAKE IT VERY ANGSTY! THIS IS WHAT I LIVE FOR! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE REQUEST!! I HOPE YOU LOVE IT!!

Seungmin

Seungmin had been staying at the dorms for a while since his schedule was so packed, and usually you’d be begging him to come back home because you missed him, and it’s not that you didn’t miss him, quite the opposite actually. You had gotten ill, and at first, you thought that it was just a minor bug that you’d get over in a couple of days. You didn’t expect for whatever it was to completely take you out of commission, leaving you bed bound for what felt like forever. 

You weren’t the type to whine to anyone about being sick though, especially not Seungmin, not because you thought he didn’t care, you knew that he did, he cared far too much sometimes, and you knew that if you had told him, he’d try to juggle looking after you and taking care of everything at work at the same time and he’d end up just as sick as you. You’d hate to pass whatever it was that you had onto him, and potentially even the other members when they had so much to work on, so you took care of yourself, and honestly, it was easier that way. 

You didn’t know how long he’d be gone for, and you really thought that you’d have more time. Time to get yourself feeling better, time to get healthy enough to get back on the chores that you had abandoned for a bit just to take care of yourself. It’s not like the house was in complete shambles or disarray, there might have been a few dishes in the sink and the rug hadn’t been vacuumed in a few days. There was some laundry that was most definitely building in the hamper, but it’s not anything that couldn’t be started and finished in the span of a few hours once you were feeling like yourself once again. 

“For Christs sake…” You heard Seungmin mutter to himself before you had even registered the sound of the front door unlocking. “It’s a pigsty here. What the hell has she been doing?” He continued to talk to himself as he made his way through your shared apartment, and you could hear the dishes being moved in the sink, rather loudly, only further worsening the headache that you had. Before you had the chance to even get out of bed to explain, he walked into the bedroom, finding you laying down, surrounded by pillows and covered with so many blankets you should be overheating. “Wow!” He exclaimed, shaking his head as his tongue tsked in disbelief. 

“Minnie…” You sighed, trying to push yourself upright, the motion causing your head to spin and your stomach to tighten. “I’ll… I’ll get on the things that need to be done… I just haven’t been feeling well and-” He scoffed loudly, cutting you off mid sentence. “I’m serious… I-” 

He cut you off again, not even letting you finish before he started to talk. “How convenient that you get to lounge around and be lazy while I’m working to pay the bills. All I ask is that you clean up after yourself. You’re filthy.” He spat the last word at you, and if you weren’t so exhausted from being up all night coughing, you might have had the energy to start crying. All you could do though was stare at him, confused and wounded by the words that he threw in your direction. “I’m glad that you thought you could take a vacation though while I’m busting my ass all week.” 

Your head shook quickly, only making you more sick. “That’s not… I’m not on vacation I’m… I don’t feel good… I’m so tired and… I think that maybe I should-” He laughed loudly, although the sound was more sarcastic than anything. It had you wanting to sink down into the mattress, disappear into the thick foam and hide away from him. 

“You think I’m not tired? I shouldn’t have to come home thinking I can finally relax after working for a whole week and then have to clean up after you.” He snapped, and you wanted so badly to argue with him, but he wasn’t going to listen, he was already pissed off and he didn’t want to hear what he thought to be excuses. “You know what? I can’t… I’m going back to the dorms. You’re just… ew. I can’t.” 

Your mouth stayed shut as you watched him walk out of the room, then the front door slammed shut. He had left. You hated when he was mad at you, you wished he would just listen, but you knew well enough how he got when he was irritated. You wanted him home, you missed him dearly, you loved him. In his mind, he had every right to be mad, and while what he said wasn’t the nicest, it had come from a place of his own exhaustion and annoyance. 

“Sorry…” You muttered, not to anyone in particular, but you wanted to get the word out, the word that you had been holding onto for so long now. He’d come back if the house was clean, that’s all you had to do, and while your body was run down from being up all night and any slight movement had you feeling like you’d throw up at any moment, you needed him there with you. 

You pushed yourself to get out of bed, your legs wobbling once they hit the floor, but you hoped that you’d get better if you just started moving. The AC had been turned off and the heat had been cranked up, but you were still shivering, just another sign that the fever hadn’t broke yet, but maybe moving around a bit would help… You weren’t sure how, but you could hope. 

It was a miracle that you had managed to start the laundry, the constant bending over and standing straight back up to throw clothes in the wash had your balance absolutely shot, but a couple seconds of leaning against the machine had you feeling a little better, or at least like your equilibrium had balanced out enough for you to move onto the next task. All you had left to do was vacuum and do the dishes. 

To run the vacuum would require too much movement, and you didn’t want to jump into that, not yet at least, so you opted for, what you thought would be, the easier job. You made your way into the kitchen, just the small walk had you out of breath and hunched over the sink as you tried to keep yourself from puking. Your hands shook as you turned on the tap, it felt like you were shivering, but it was far worse, you couldn’t get it to stop. Your vision seemed to black out constantly, like you were blinking a little bit too long and far too much. 

It was like lifting weights, getting the dishes out of the sink to wash them, and even though the water had steam coming up from it, your hands felt like ice. The room was spinning at this point, and you couldn’t keep yourself upright, the exhaustion from everything, the fever, it had all taken a hold of you at once, and before you knew it, the glass that had been in your hand was shattering against the floor and you crumbled down right next to it. 

His phone vibrated in his pocket nonstop, he knew it was a phone call, and he assumed that the first two times it happened that it was you asking him to come back. It wasn’t until the third call came in, throwing him off during practice that he yanked his phone out, prepared to tell you to stop bothering him until he saw the number. 

“Hello?” He answered, confusion lacing his tone. He could hear in the background of the call a slight commotion, and while he usually wouldn’t be one to worry about things like that, there was something about the feeling of urgency, the fact that this random number had called him 3 times in a row that had a certain sense of panic creeping up on him. 

“Yeah, I’m on the phone with her boyfriend right now.” The person on the other end responded to someone nearby, and Seungmins stomach dropped. What the hell was going on? Who was this lady talking to? Obviously it was concerning you, and now he was extremely concerned about you. “Sorry, uhm… Your girlfriend, she uhm… She had an accident and…” 

He was already grabbing his jacket off the hook and pulling it on, his feet ghosting him through the practice room doors and down the hall. “An accident? What kind of accident? Is she okay?” He rushed out the questions, sprinting now as his stomach rose into his throat. Had you tried to come to the building to talk to him? Was it a car accident? Were you okay? 

“She fainted… There’s glass everywhere and… The paramedics are making sure she isn’t cut up or anything…” Those words only had him panicking even more. Glass? You fainted? Had you been driving and passed out? He didn’t hear any cars in the background, and he didn’t hear any emergency vehicle sirens. “Her fever is really high… They’re uhm… They’re taking her to the hospital… Right now? Yeah… Right now…” 

The lady was obviously talking to the paramedics in between trying to give him any sort of information, and it was extremely frustrating to have any sort of details being relayed to him through the phone. “Is she gonna be okay?!” He shouted, his mind in a haze now as he stood outside the building, probably looking like a madman as he ran his hand through his hair trying to figure out what exactly to do and where to go. 

“I’m not sure.. They’re loading her onto the gurney right now… They said… She’s breathing… But the fever is too high, she… She might have an infection or something? I don’t know… I’m sorry.” The lady spoke as fast as she could, and Seungmin tried to listen to the voices that were coming in through the background, but they were muffled and grainy and he couldn’t make anything out. 

“I’ll meet them at the hospital. Thank you.” He was sure that he probably sounded inconsiderate, and when he had the chance, he’d apologize to whoever the lady was for being so short. Right now though, he just wanted to get to the hospital that you were being taken to and make sure that you were alright. 

One text to Chan and his hyung was racing out of the building, clearly confused and worried by the vague “I need to go to the hospital” text that Seungmin had sent him. It was hard to explain everything during the ride considering Seungmin had not an inkling of an idea of what was actually going on himself. All he knew was that you were there and the last things he had said to you were nothing short of awful. The guilt was eating away at him and he knew that if anything worse happened while you were in there, he’d never forgive himself. 

“Are you gonna be o-” Chan began to ask as he pulled up right outside the emergency doors, but Seungmin was already out of the car. The thing is, he didn’t know if he’d be okay. It all depended on you, how you were right now, whether you’d be able to leave the hospital with him. He wasn’t okay right now though, he was far from it. 

A fucking kidney stone. It explained everything, but it also sucked. They had to do emergency surgery to get it out since it was becoming septic and apparently you were pretty damn close to dying. It was a good thing that you had dropped the glass and that the person in the apartment directly below you was so nosy. If it hadn’t been for her rushing up to see what the loud bang was, you probably would have died on the kitchen floor. At least, that’s what the doctors said. 

“Hey… sweetie…” Seungmins voice came from beside you, and you could have been angry, you should have been angry at him. If he had just listened, you probably would have been in the hospital a lot sooner and you wouldn’t have had to almost bust your head open on the kitchen floor just to get the attention of someone. 

“I washed the laundry…” You whispered, because even though you should have felt nothing but rage at him for being so rude, instead you felt nervousness. Would he berate you still in the hospital? Of course, you should know that Seungmin loved you, that he’d never mean to hurt you, but right now, after everything that you’ve been through, you just weren’t sure. 

He sighed softly, reaching out to grab your hand, gently and making sure to not touch the IV that was poking out from the vein in the top. “You shouldn’t have done that… You were sick, Y/N… Really sick.” His head shook as he scooted the chair closer to the edge of your bed, his other hand moving up to cup your face, his thumb brushing along your cheek. “You didn’t text me… You didn’t call me to tell me that you were feeling so bad… If I had known… Why didn’t you tell me?” 

Your bottom lip jutted out into a small pout, refusing to look at him as you averted your eyes to the TV hanging on the wall. “I didn’t want to tell you… I didn’t know what was wrong… I didn’t want you or the guys to get sick…” And even though you weren’t looking at him, you still felt comfort with his hand in yours, and you intertwined your fingers with his own. 

“It was a… a kidney stone, sweetie… That’s not contagious, it’s deadly…” He murmured, his tone, although quieter now,  still holding the same urgency it had when he had first found out from the doctors what was going on. “I could have lost you… I…” His breaths were shakier now, just the thought of being without you had him on the verge of tears. He wasn’t the best at displaying emotions, not unless it was done in a teasing manner, but he knew that right now wasn’t the time for that. “I love you… And, for the love of God, if you’re feeling any type of sick… Tell me. Please, just tell me. I don’t care if it’s something contagious, I don’t care if I get it myself. I’m your boyfriend, I’m here for you, I always will be… You just have to let me. Can you promise me that? Promise that you’ll let me take care of you?”

Minho

It was that time of year. There wasn’t anything specifically pleasant or unpleasant about it, it was just… that time. Seasonal depression was just something that you had, and as much as you tried to find happiness in the things around you, it was hard. There wasn’t a particular reason why you were so down, your mind just had those days, or moreso, months, where it made you think and feel this way. You had looked it up, it was actually a common thing, although it usually happened more around the winter holidays, but there was no set time for one's mind to decide that it didn’t want to produce the serotonin that it needed. Your mind just decided that right now was the time. 

You never told Minho about it either, you didn’t want him to think that something was wrong with you, you didn’t want him to leave you or feel like your emotions were a burden, so you had kept it to yourself, hoping that you’d be able to hide the symptoms of your depression from him when he was around. The thing is, him being around in general just helped, his presence alone kept your mind off of everything, he made you happy. If he knew that though, he’d push himself to be with you more often, and you knew that his career, his members, they needed him more. 

Thankfully and unthankfully he was on tour when your bout of depression kicked in. He wasn’t there to be that ray of light that you needed when that dark cloud above your head started to pour, but he also wasn’t there to potentially find you sitting in the bathroom crying because you had accidentally spilled a drop of tea on the counter after just cleaning it and it made you feel like an absolute idiot. Maybe it was better that he wasn’t around for things like that, it would only worry him or confuse him or push him away from you, all things that you didn’t want. 

Some episodes were worse than others, and this one wasn’t bad in the sense that most people would think. You just didn’t want to do anything, you didn’t want to get out of bed, you didn’t want to move. The only thing you had managed to do in the days that you had been laying in bed was cry, because ironically enough, you felt useless and worthless for being so lazy but you didn’t want to get out of bed so it just made you cry more because you didn’t even understand yourself sometimes. 

The only thing that you made sure to do was feed the cats and make sure they had fresh water and that you cleaned out their litter pans. It wasn’t their fault that your brain was fucked up, and you loved them like your children, the least you could do was take care of them, especially since Minho had trusted you to look after them. As soon as you were done making sure they were cared for though, you would retreat back to your shared bedroom and climb under the covers, your mind running rampant just thinking of things that would send you into another fit of tears. 

“Lovey, I’m home!!!” Minhos voice sounded through the entire house, and your heart sank, your own worries taking over. You thought that you’d be over your episode by now, but it had only seemed to get worse the longer he was gone. The only optimistic thought you had was that maybe his presence, his own happiness would rub off on you and pull you out of the slump that you were in. “What’s that… Oh my god, ew…” His footsteps carried him further into the home, but he paused right where the litter pans were, and you realized that you had fucked up. You hadn’t cleaned them yet today, but you made sure to feed the babies, and give them the water. You just weren’t in the right headspace, you forgot about the litter. “Leave her in charge for 2 weeks and she can’t even keep up on this…” He grumbled, and then his steps sounded out once more. 

The words already had you going into a state of panic, your throat closing up and your chest rising and falling faster as you held back your tears. You didn’t want him to see you like this. “Shit… Shit shit shit…” You mumbled to yourself, quickly trying to get out of the bed before he had the chance to come through the door, but you had been a little too slow, the bedroom door flying open and hitting the wall, causing you to fall back against the pillow, pulling the blanket over your head. It was childish, it was foolish, but maybe if you hid yourself he wouldn’t yell at you. 

“You’re fucking kidding me, right?” He muttered, moving closer to the bed and yanking the blankets down. The look of disgust on his face, the way his eyes rolled with his annoyance, it hurt far more than he’d probably ever understand. “Did I wake you?” He questioned, but it wasn’t genuine, it was snarky and rude and you knew that he didn’t actually care if he did wake you or not. “Is this the only thing you’re good at, ‘cause it sure fucking seems like it. You can’t change the litter pan? You don’t even have to change it everyday, all you have to do is sift it most of the time.” 

Your eyes squeezed shut, looking at him only had you falling silent, and you thought that maybe if you didn’t see him you’d be able to explain. “I… I have been cleaning it… I just forgot today… I’m sorry… I didn’t mean it…” You practically whimpered, trying to pull the blankets back up, hoping to find some sort of refuge or comfort under the familiar sheets, but his grip on the fabric stayed tight and the covers wouldn’t budge. 

“Does your brain not work? You can’t just forget a day, Y/N. They’ll be shitting all over the house. I clearly see that you don’t mind living in filth, but my babies actually like to be clean.” It was insult after insult, and you knew that he had a right to be mad, his cats were everything to him, but he didn’t understand, and maybe that was your fault for not being upfront with him about what was going on, but it still didn’t mean he had to be so mean. “Can’t believe I trusted you with them. You can’t even take care of yourself, I mean… Jesus, look at you, it’s pathetic.” 

You were trying so hard not to cry, he’d only find you more disgusting if you did, so you held it in, your lips pursed tightly shut as you held your breath. You knew that you didn’t look the best, you were wearing one of his hoodies and a pair of sweatpants, your hair hadn’t been brushed in days, you hadn’t been keeping up on your skincare routine, you had let yourself go. Instead of finding something concerning about all of that though, he immediately jumped to degrading you. 

“I’m gonna take them to my parents. Enjoy your vacation.” The words were spat at you and you were too scared to say anything, too scared to open your mouth, knowing that once you did you’d just start sobbing and you’d make a mess of yourself, although he already saw you as a mess anyway. 

You waited for him to leave, the sound of the carrier crates being loaded with the cats who he apologized profusely to as he put them into them. It was your fault, everything was your fault, you just couldn’t do anything right. You didn’t deserve to be with someone as amazing, someone as hardworking as Minho. To be honest, you weren’t even sure how you had gotten with him to begin with. You remembered it, but you didn’t understand how someone like him could find someone like you even worthy of his presence, let alone his love. 

As soon as he left, making his exit audibly known by the loud slam of the door, you were up out of the bed, making your way into the bathroom. You were like a zombie, and when you looked at yourself in the mirror you could only see yourself the way he saw you laying in bed. You looked awful, you looked horrendous. Your hair was knotted and mangled in the back of your head where you had been laying on it for far too long. Your skin was extremely dry and blotchy, your lips were chapped and your eyes were red and puffy from crying so much. You looked like a monster, certainly not someone that Minho would be proud to stand beside. 

Your thoughts were worse now than they had ever been, destructive and demeaning as you stared at yourself in the mirror. He thought you were pathetic, he thought you were useless, he thought you were ugly… And you couldn’t help but believe all of those things. How could you not? 

With shaky hands, you grabbed the first bottle of pills that you could out of the medicine cabinet, carelessly shaking them into the palm of your hands, not even bothering to count out how many you had before throwing them in your mouth and washing them down with a cup of water. He might think all of those things, but the cats… they didn’t understand, did they? Maybe you could just… show them… show them that you weren’t as pathetic as you and Minho thought you were. You at least wanted to show them that you did care, you cared about them, you loved them, even if Minho didn’t think that you did. 

You grabbed a garbage bag from under the sink and started cleaning out the boxes, your head already spinning and your vision blurring, but you were hell bent on getting this done, at least one of the boxes if you could. You heart was running like a train, the sound of it filling your ears as you lifted the litter box into the black bag, trying your best to empty the contents of it, but you felt so weak, so tired, and you couldn’t breathe and everything was getting dark and all you wanted to do was sleep. You couldn’t stop yourself from falling back, it was like you couldn’t control your own body, and before you knew it, everything went dark. 

His leg bounced nonstop as he stared at his phone, sitting on the couch in his parents home with his babies surrounding him, but he didn’t feel right, you weren’t there with him and he wasn’t in his home, he wasn’t with you. He had texted you repeatedly and you had yet to respond, something that worried him immensely considering you were the quickest texter he knew. 

Maybe you were mad at him… No, not maybe… He was 100% sure that you were mad at him, and he knew that you should be. What he said was out of line, it was uncalled for. It’s not like the litter pans hadn’t been cleaned for days, it was simply one day and he had blown it out of proportion, he had said things to you that shouldn’t have been said at all or even thought about. You were the love of his life, you meant everything to him. He didn’t want to lose you because he overreacted, and it’s not like you hadn’t been actively taking care of his cats the entire time he had been gone.

Now that he was alone with his thoughts, he could see how ridiculous he had been, how rude, how shitty what he did was. You just hadn’t gotten around to cleaning the litter pans yet, it made sense, it wasn’t the best job to do, it surely wasn’t fun. He had blown up on you for no reason and he hated himself for being that way with you. He had taken the time to cool off, and while he was most certain that you probably didn’t want to see him right now, he wanted to apologize, he wanted to make the first step in setting things right and hopefully helping to heal the wounds that he caused you. 

“I gotta go home real quick… I’ll be back to either spend the night or pick them up.” Minho called out to his mom, giving her a quick goodbye before leaving and climbing into his car. Thoughts raced through his mind about what you probably thought. Did you think he didn’t love you anymore? That he was possibly cheating on you and that’s why he had acted so horribly about something as simple as the litter? Did you think he was trying to push you away? 

His fingers drummed anxiously against the wheel as he made his way home. He tried not to go too fast, knowing that it would only be worse for him if he got pulled over, but he wanted to get back to you, he wanted to tell you, show you how much he truly loved you, how much he regretted every single word that left his mouth this afternoon. 

Your car was still in the driveway when he pulled up, you clearly weren’t out or busy, so you were either sleeping or just actively ignoring his texts, both of them seemed plausible and respectable considering the way he had left you. He had stopped off at a flower shop on his way home, and it felt like the first date all over again, his hands trembling around the bouquet as he walked up to the front door. Would you blow up at him when you saw him? It only seemed right, and he’d take every single word that you threw at him if you did. 

Unlocking the front door, he saw that all of the curtains in the living room had been drawn shut, the same as they had been, practically blacking out the entire room once the light from outside had been blocked out when he shut the front door. “Y/N…” He whispered your name, his nerves wired as he thought about how you’d react to seeing him. Would you tell him to leave? Would you scream at him? Would you just continue to ignore him as if he wasn’t there at all? 

His hands searched the walls to find the lightswitch, not wanting to trip on any cat toys as he walked through the house, and once the lights came on his eyes scanned the room. Everything was the same way it had been when he left, the only difference was the black lump in the middle of the floor. Truthfully, his eyes had darted right over it at first, the shape of it looked more like a blanket that had just been left out, especially since the light that he turned on hadn’t really illuminated that spot well, but when he walked over to the shape and his eyes finally adjusted to what it was, it was like his entire world stopped. 

The flowers that he had been holding fell to the floor as he dropped down next to you, his hands immediately wrapping around you to pull you into his lap. “Y/N!” He shouted, his hands actively working to grab your wrist, his thumb pressing down to feel your heartbeat, and his own began to pick up in pace when he felt just how slow yours was. “Fuck… Baby please… Don’t do this to me… I’m sorry…” He was already crying, his tears falling into your hair and on your face as he fumbled in his pockets to find his phone. 

It was only made worse when his screen illuminated with a picture of him and you together, your smile so beautiful that he couldn’t help but fall in love with you all over again whenever he saw it. He could barely get himself to dial the number for the police, and his voice was weak, shaky and choked out when he tried to speak. “I need an… An ambulance… My girlfriend… Please… Help… Help me!” Those last two words were shouted to the operator as he became more desperate, your body practically lifeless as it lay heavily against him. 

Everything was crumbling, his heart, his life, his universe was just falling down around him and he didn’t know what to do. He held you close against him, his cheek pressed against your forehead as he continued to cry, heavy sobs shaking his body as he rocked back and forth on the floor. “Don’t leave me… You can’t leave me… You promised that you’d be with me forever… You promised me that…” He whispered, trembling lip kisses placed across your face between each sob. “Just wake up… All you have to do is wake up… For me… God, don’t leave me… Don’t…” He begged, tears pouring from his eyes like rain. 

He refused to leave you, to let you go, even when the paramedics knocked on the door, and they had to enter the house themselves and pry you from out of his arms. “Is she dead… Don’t tell me she’s… She’ll be okay… Won’t she?” He was on his knees on the floor, his legs weak and unable to let him stand as he watched the men load you onto the gurney, but no one answered him. 

The hospital room was too cold, it was too bright, there was so much wrong with it, but the biggest problem was the fact that you were the one laying in the bed right now. They had managed to wake you up, and luckily it had just been a fainting spell instead of anything worse, but he heard… He knew what you had done, and while he was angry with you for trying to take yourself away from him like that, he was even more angry with himself for being the one to cause that reaction in you. 

He had just started to doze off on the couch, something that he hadn’t been able to do in days despite his exhaustion. The doctors had to keep reminding him that you were going to be okay, and the only reason you were still in the hospital at this point was to rest and to make sure all you didn’t have any other side effects to the medication that you had taken. He was thankful for that, but he wanted to take you home, he wanted to be the one who took care of you. 

Sheets being rustled and the sound of disoriented grumbling had his eyes opening slightly, blinking the sleep out of them before turning to see you trying to get out of the bed. “What are you- Lay back down!” He practically shouted, stumbling over his own feet to get to you. Just the look in your eyes as you dropped back down onto the uncomfortable hospital bed was enough to show him just how much damage he had inflicted with his words. “Baby… Love, I-” 

“Why are you here?” You whispered, fumbling with the edge of the scratchy hospital blanket that you had pulled up around yourself. “You don’t have to be here… I probably look more disgusting now than I did at the house…” Your eyes glanced around the room, your eyes rolling as a heavy sigh left your lips and your head fell back against the pillow. “I don’t need to be here…” 

“Y/N…” He whispered your name, not wanting to raise his voice too high, afraid of upsetting you right now when you were clearly already not in the best state of mind. “You need to be here… You do… I need to know that you’re okay.” Not only did he need to know, he just needed you to be okay in general, although he was sure you didn’t want to hear that right now. “I love you, that’s why I’m here, and I’m sorry… I’m sorry for the way that I left…” 

You pursed your lips, your eyes focused on the painting on the wall that didn’t look to be anything in particular, but maybe you found something beautiful in it. “You’re not wrong… You weren’t wrong when you left… I’m useless, and I’m pathetic and-” His hands were on your cheeks, cupping them firmly yet not too hard, his lips crashing against your own, leaving you in a state of momentary shock. “What was that-” You had begun to question when he pulled back, but you were cut off once again when he kissed you. 

“I don’t want you to say that about yourself, I don’t want you to think that… You’re perfect, you’re amazing and… God, how could you possibly be useless when you do so much for me?” Your eyebrows lowered, casting shadows over your eyes as you shot him a questioning glance. “Don’t you know? How do you think I’m able to get through hard days and excruciating practices? It’s you… I just think of you and how great it’ll be to come home… To be with you… You’re the light at the end of the tunnel, and you’ll always be that for me.” 

You swallowed thickly, turning away from him to blink away the tears that had begun to form in your eyes. “There’s something wrong with me… I’m not good enough for you… Or anyone…” You mumbled, trying so hard to keep your voice from wavering, but it was pointless when he was listening to you so intently he could hear the slightest crack. “I just… I didn’t want to not be with you… I didn’t want to be here if you… Didn’t love me and…” He shushed you quickly, his own eyes brimming with tears when he heard the thoughts that had played out in your head that evening spoken so sadly by you now. What had he done? “No… No, baby… No…” He cooed, his hands actively wiping away your tears and his own that were falling at a rapid rate down both of your faces. “You’re more than good enough for me… You’re too good for me. There’s nothing wrong with you… I think you’re absolutely perfect, and there’ll never be a day that goes by that I won’t love you.” He carefully scooted you over on the bed, making room for himself to climb in beside you which seemed uncomfortable for him, but he also didn’t seem to mind it either. “I’m not leaving you… And you’re not allowed to leave me either… Promise you won’t do something like that again. You don’t know how scared I was… I can’t lose you, not like that… I love you too much to let you go…”

#kpop headcanons #kpop fic #kpop drabble #kpop scenarios #kpop x reader #kpop x you #stray kids #skz #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #skz x you #skz x reader #stray kids angst #stray kids sad hours #skz angst #skz sad hours #stray kids headcanons #stray kids fics #stray kids drabbles #stray kids scenarios #skz headcanons #skz fics #skz drabbles #skz scenarios #lee minho #lee know #kim seungmin #seungmin #minho #minho x reader

[nastyburger]

Please say more about the awful Asian designs in Danny Phantom. I'm not Asian but I'd love to have a rundown on the elements that make them offensive so I can avoid and critique those elements in other works. And also you deserve to speak your mind about it

im gonna mostly talk about southeast asian designs since thats what i am and the most familiar with and also what i feel are the show's worst transgression with their casual depictions. tw for racist imagery im gonna link pictures.

there's not much to say about the designs aside from, you know, everything but things to note are the unnatural yellow tone for the skin and closed slanted eyes. veggie burger (fan name for the bg character in the middle) also suffers from the huge nose that sometimes shows up in racist depictions. the straight edge/cut hair as well is somewhat stereotypical. this one isn't as bad but in conjunction with everything else its not ideal. i will give the smallest molecule of credit that at the very least dp never gave any of these bg characters buck teeth.

some depictions are better than others, but theres still missteps happening in one aspect or another. kwan's eyes in a lot of shots/episodes can be too skinny and even too slanted, the girl in the middle is almost perfect but her skin is too yellow (she looks kinda okay on my computer screen but i remember when watching dp on my tv she looked real brightly yellow), and principle ishiyama (who was weirdly forgotten about pretty early on in the show and was replaced by lancer doing most of the school stuff despite not being principle?? which is a whole other issue with how dp treats its poc characters) the same usual notes about the slanted eyes but also the upturned nose is pretty reminiscent of racist japanese art during ww2. again it is not the worst way to draw a nose but combined with everything else in this show's depiction of asian characters its not great, they are on thin ice man.

not to mention, principle ishiyama is the only character here with brown eyes. this is a problem that extends to all poc characters in dp and to my knowledge i think ishiyama might be the only one with them tbh. this is, again, a whole other issue though.

i think the thing that bothers me most about these designs though is that dp is very clearly aware that these depictions are bad. the only difference between the first set of characters and the second is one singular thing: they have a clear speaking role.

suddenly when theyre not stock background characters, dp knows how to act when drawing them. i cannot for the life of me find the image of it, but the last jock guy in the first set gets a speaking role in reign storm (he's cosplaying phantom) and he is drawn with proper open eyes! (theyre also blue but whatever) it just makes me sad that this was a clear choice they made.

the show also went in a different direction in the final product, but early development stuff was really drawing from a lot of japanese/asian influences like danny was originally gonna have a motorcycle (pulling from ghost in the shell) and was even referenced in the show via the akira motorcycle reference (which i once again, for the life of me, cannot find. danny took johnny 13's motorcycle and did the classic akira slide i think it was in million dollar ghost?? idk whichever one where the giw are trying to blow up the ghost zone). danny's name was originally gonna be jackie, named after jackie chan, this i assume was given to jack fenton afterwards. and i think the show having a more martial arts direction with the action was also gonna be a thing? that one could be wrong dont quote me on that, there was an episode where danny and vlad have like a weird ninja fight though im pretty sure.

either way my point here is that they wanted to pull from all these influences and it was prominent enough during development that they sprinkle references to it throughout the show and yet their portrayal and treatment of asian characters in the show is so abysmal it just feels Bad™, you know? i cant really put it more eloquently than that, like its very take and no give with it.

it overall just puts a bad taste in my mouth, and its sad that it still affects people years later. like i mentioned in the tags of the post that started this discussion with that whole old trend of putting yourself into the bg of dp screenshots, i felt alienated by that. and its not the people who participated's fault obviously but most of the people i saw participating were white fans (going off of how they drew themselves) and it made me a bit mad that they were able to enjoy the style of the show in a more carefree manner than i ever could. i didnt want to ruin anyone's fun obviously, but a small part of me wanted to bring to light how i wasnt on equal ground with them in that situation.

#seance #considered putting this under a read more but i decided i dont want to give people the choice to just not look at it

[cu7ie]

boredom.

(๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و investigating a noise in an alley late at night turns into so much more. haitani ran x reader x haitani rindou. word count: 5.4k

cw; dubious consent, brief depictions of fighting and violence. spit-roasting. minor stalking (?) + intimidation, fear.

The day passes, and your boss informs you that 'your workplace attitude is contributing to a loss in morale'. Or in other words,

your coworkers have been complaining about you. 

probably the customers too.

Sometimes they say things to your face, (sometimes, because most times their comments can't pierce the veil of existential dread, stagnation. Thoughts buzz around fly-like, about how there's nothing here,

nothing for you) stupid shit, because the seniors always have something to say…

("Look excited for once, rookie. People want to see pretty smiles, you look so ugly frowning.

"At least pretend you want to be here."

one of your supervisors. So far up your ass she's coming out of your mouth.

and you love old people, but she is the rickety-ist old bitch you've ever had the displeasure of knowing.

"You can get more tips if you do a little … 'extra'. You're cute, so it should be easy for you."

Random customer you don't remember asking for an opinion, you just wanted to see if they wanted refills on wine,) 

You're getting tired and people are starting to notice. You don't argue, because they're right. You're not happy, and that bothers them so much, for reasons that probably don't have much to actually do with you. They care, but not really, so when you're sent home with the day's wages, the boss tells you in a not-so-nice way to clean up your act.

Don't be so sad. (Or rather, make sure they don't know about it.)

You collect your things and opt for the long walk home. Shibuya's streets are empty (ish) and peaceful about this time of night.

The wind whistles.

It threads between the leaves of trees that hadn't yet died, providing you some company,

The noise. And maybe you're paranoid, unused to walking without headphones (you dumped the contents of your bag to check, you either lost them or left them at home), unused to seeing

the empty streets when there's usually a dozen hawkers flagging down passerby to sample wares. Because you're starting to hear something. 

(First, you think it's your mind that makes the wind sound like whispers, moving smoothly along the shell of your ear. Some imagined ramblings. But that's not it at all. 

There's actually someone here. Or people. Nearby.)

For once, you're certain you're not crazy. You're definitely hearing something. You don't want to look behind you, but you do just to avoid any creeps who might be lurking. The sound of chatter grows the slightest bit more intense, and —

KLANG!

A brilliant crash (definitely not behind you) that sounds like metal bashing into something just as tough, the residual sound causing your ears to ring. It , unlike many things recently, intrigued you.

You've never possessed an interest in gangs. Never have been.

(This whole situation reeks of them, though. You either don't think or you don't care—) 

Not interested in their whereabouts, potential people of interest, they don't make you curious (or maybe it's a privilege to not be curious),

What happens to them never really concerns you.

So why now, are you stepping in front of this alleyway? Why did you choose that this time, on a frigid night walk home, you'll be interested. You'll be concerned with the sounds of commotion in the alley. 

… This feels like boredom. It feels like exhaustion has pushed you to your limit. You crave dissent. Novelty, actually being a part of something. Maybe you need it so desperately that in this moment,

You reach out to touch the darkness. A gaping maw of shadow. Light does not enter and it does not escape. This place looks a bit like

Those kinds of places, where you could go missing. Get lost. In some kind of adventure, and that ambition clamps down on that drowning anxiety, making you feel quite bold. Nobody will know you came here. (Nobody will know that, in spite of the pit in your stomach, in spite of the fear, in spite of the sweat in your palm, the tremble in your knees,

you stepped forward.) The shadow swallows you up to your ankle, then your body is engulfed in the darkness. 

You've never disappeared before. You think it'll be okay (hopefully), that it might fulfill something within you that's been desperately missing; maybe it'll be better than

being safe, 

than being

comfortable.

Just a quick peek. You'll only be gone for a second.

(you think the voices get louder and you shift, narrowly avoiding a shallow bacteria laden puddle, using the wall to quickly navigate while placing emphasis on not being seen by anyone if they happened to run past. You don't hear movement, but the talking gets louder as you get closer, and closer, and closer, and …)

(The talking has become more like shouting, and the silence from before has been replaced by the sound of a fierce impact, cracking, crashing, more yelling. Everything is loud now, the moon and street light cascading down on the scene but not revealing your position, flattened against the alley wall.)

"Rinnie.." A tall fellow sighs, his shoulders sagging forward with effort, and ‘Rinnie’ a good ways away from him looking crazy with some sort of excitement. The tall one, dead amused eyes and two braids pigtails framing his face, dark roots growing towards blond tips.

The little one is the kind of bleach - platinum - blonde, maybe a shade or two less yellow. He shares a similar look to the man standing adjacent to him, but his hair is frizzy and wild, sticking to his forehead. The tall one looks scuffed up and his eyes look tired, betraying the hint of a lip curl, a smile, maybe?

What exactly did you stumble onto? You lean in closer to catch the words that fall from their mouths, careful not to step onto the bottles and cans discarded on the ground.

"Rin rin, you might kill him before we can learn anything useful." ‘Rin’, is the belligerent one, his fist dully thudding and knocking across the face of an unknown man sprawled out on the floor, who doesn’t appear to be moving. The man must already be unconscious, or worse- dead -  the flurry of blows not affecting him in any way you can discern from here.

"Ahaha! But Ran, this is really fun!" 

Thwack!  Rin’s right knuckle catches on the man’s cheek, his other fist flying with assuredness and dead-on accuracy towards his stomach.

It is only then that the body groans, and his struggling renewed somewhat. Rin’s arm pulls back with poisonous intent, all the muscles in his fist perfectly poised to,

Hurt and maim.

Ran hooks Rin’s arm in his wrist and drags him off of their victim, who lies cowering before them, too weak to flee or do much but shake like a leaf.

"Okay. Okaaaaay. Now you're making it no fun." Ran drags Rin to his feet; doesn't respond with anything other than a snort and a shove. Rin only barely avoids flying into some refuse, his distress blowing his pupils as big as saucers, easing into relief as he stumbles and catches his balance. They look like a fever dream in the streetlights, an anomaly that should have remained hidden from you and walking down this alley has never felt like a utterly terrible idea until now - They drag the man to the side of the building and prop him up. They smile at one another, as though there’s a joke lingering in the air that nobody’s let you in on. 

It makes you shiver.

Just as cold shakes start to wrack your body, your teeth chitter for a fraction of a second; just a bit too loudly. Their heads begin to turn. Directly facing away from the light, their expressions are encased in darkness,

And while you thought they may be drunk or delirious, or both, the mood shifts neigh instantly, and you frantically clasp your hand over your mouth and stop breathing. They are looking dead at you. You don’t know if their pause is because they don’t exactly see you but instead, shadow, but your arms tense up and feel like coiled springs attached to your shoulders; legs trembling trying to maintain balance and not fall and make a sound.

You don’t move. 

Your eyes burn because you don’t blink and you’re sweating, lying in anxious wait. They don’t close in at once, because when Rin says “Ran,” that dastardly tree of a man lumbers towards the mouth of the alley and, 

He, who is not fooled by the darkness,

Dragging you out flailing, on your back and dragging your nice leather jacket across gunky, disgusting pavement -

You gasp as the tall one forces you to your feet, shoving your back into a wall and evacuating the air from your lungs. You immediately launch into a frantic explanation, your lip blubbering and your body shaking and your eyes wandering to that man up against the wall - who takes advantage of their utter fascination with you, and tries to crawl off.

Rin kicks him in the ribs and sends him sprawling. Back to you, being held up by your neck, lightly enough that he’s not choking you, and you can breathe and speak freely. Their eyes narrow at you, the baton slung on the tall one’s hip looking none too friendly. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” “Shut up.” Considering your franticness he sounds quite playful, although the growing pressure behind his grip is not friendly in the slightest. He squeezes your throat and Rin is the one who laughs then, slithering up to your side and giving you a long, long look up and down. “You’ve interrupted some important business here,” He says, gesturing to the battered man with his open hand, “But you think yourself more important, huh?  Quite a pesky little shit aren't ya?" Ran finishes the statement, and the look you fix him with is frantic, wild eyed. “But that’s okay. Clearly you have something important to share."  Rin smiles coolly. His demeanor unsettles you, (feels like his eyes pierce you, makes your heart pound out of your chest, your fingers tremble,) your mind is screaming to go far away. “So tell us,” The tall one hisses through an artificial smile, coldly amused, voice rough on the ears, “Who are you, and what’s in it for us if we let you go?” Rin slides a finger down the side of your waist, making you shiver. “I .. uh..” “Uh? Uhm? That doesn’t sound like any name I've ever heard of.” They laugh at you, and something about their ridicule triggers something in you… tired of being harangued and hung out to dry, mounting tension threatening to collapse you. Your legs buckle. You feel yourself begin to cry.

"Aww. Don't cry… we were just playing with you." Ran leans uncomfortably close, wet sheen on your cheeks glimmering in dim light. Rin sees his brother lick a slow stripe up your cheek, doesn't say anything. You whimper, petrified. 

Ran's eyes bore into yours. "Who are you?" 

You tell them your name. "I … I wait tables! I was just trying to get home from work I - I - I-"

"Through back alleys? It's like you're asking to get hurt." The one named Rin mutters, and Ran, who seems wise to your lies, presses you.

"You weren't getting home anytime soon, hunched over in that alleyway. You were watching us." He moves from in front of you and grasps the back of your skull, forcing you to stare at the battered man a few feet away. "Do you know him?"

You shake your head frantically.

"Then why the fuck are you here?"

"I just - I heard something. I heard something and I thought, I thought .." You struggle to find the words to describe your thought process. Rin helps you out.

"You must've thought: 'Oh, those guys must be having so much fun! I want to play too!'. " The blonde mocks the lilt of your voice. The one with the pigtails barks out laughter, pulls your head back until your neck bends, staring you in your eyes. "Our … friend over there is all played out. But," 

"You're not. Playing with you for a bit sounds fun. Oh, Rin?"

"We should walk our new friend home. Seems like the polite thing to do, yes? Wouldn't want them to get hurt. There's dangerous people lurking at this hour." His smile is particularly wicked, your anxiety mounting.

"Sure thing, Ran." 

….

They call someone else to take care of the man, ( you can't tell if he's still alive - they usher you out of that liminal space expeditiously,) terribly eager to dip into something else that night. You tell them your address at their goading, the two men leading you through alley's and backroads you never even knew about. As you exit the dark, the moon can be seen from where you've emerged from in-between buildings, faces of the men surrounding you lighting up at once.

It's hard to describe the emotion you feel upon meeting eyes with such striking faces. Distinctly similar, uniqueness to be found in both, (Ran looks nonchalant, at ease in his movement. Rin remains stern and orderly above all, offsetting his brother’s lack of care,)

When you talk to them, they don't divulge anything personal, not even their names, (they know you know them already) but you notice they seem more interested in you than you'd expect them to be, taking turns asking questions, fixing one another with this look whenever you answer a question a certain way. It’s nice to have people listen to you - or at least do a good job pretending. They don’t seem … as threatening as they did in the alley. 

Rin is more cordial and polite, and talks to you more emphatically than Ran does. He seems unbothered by your chatter, but is less active of a participant.

From what they observe, you seem to be a particular person. Even though you are scared (your fear, it makes you look so beautiful, vulnerable), you aren't boring. You're not trying to impress them, but they find themselves intrigued regardless.

They fish for information. 

You are an open book. 

They learn more about where you work and the assholes that run the joint. They learn about your small family. They learn about how you don't have many friends. You mention you used to have a roommate, although -

"She moved away, maybe a couple months back." You talk without fear now, acclimated to their presence for the time being, for your sanity's sake.

"Oh? How sad." Rindou says, and a part of you feels like he's mocking you.

Ran makes the mental note that you live alone.  They've begun walking closer to you, occasionally bumping into you on purpose because they know you won't complain or argue about it. Ran's hand slips into your back pocket while you're talking to Rindou, and the expression of shock, then embarrassment as you feel him squeeze—

"You were saying?" Rin glances at you.

"Yeah, sorry - uh… " Your face burns (you know Rin knows what’s happening, you see the way his eyes narrow, you see his lip twitch) and you don't know how to recover so you don't say anything. It's a safe option; he doesn't badger you.

For a few minutes, your moonlit walk is dead quiet. Rin doesn't touch you, but Ran has hooked his arm around your waist and is poking his fingers into the top of your jeans. You don't do anything to stop him. 

His fingers are fast and he is not courteous he is not polite, 

when the palm of his hand zips down and two fingers stroke your clit you gasp. Ran tugs on your waist and your hip bumps his a little as he slowly runs his finger over that sensitive piece of flesh. You feel like your skin burns where his finger meets your clit, and you can't suppress your whine as he pushes on it,

(It's like your body jumped out of your skin and he was striking a nerve, raw. You're on fire you're on fire you're on fire)

And Rin only looks straight ahead, his mouth opening like he wants to say something -

But your building is coming into view. 

You gesture to your side of the complex (Ran takes his hand out of your pants, for now) and they walk you inside the building, patiently wait for the elevator with you,

And you are suddenly overwhelmed by the weight of your emotion; which upon retrospection, felt like your brain had gone numb. Your stunningly composed self becomes a trainwreck in the four elevator stops (and short walk) it takes to get to your apartment. You feel dizzy with how hot your body has gotten and how tight and uncomfortable even your skin feels,

And you're mewling and whining, 

"Th-thanks for walking me home," many flustered thanks, appreciative hugs, trying to wave them away from the door,  but they get inside before you do (when Rin whispers ´Let me help you’, your skin gets goosebumps and you toss him the key), and act as if for a moment they were the kind of people that you'd want in your house. 

Rin is commenting on your art, 'critiquing' (shaming) your arrangements and decor, touching nothing, taking up no space,

While Ran is on everything, everywhere, all at once. He's opening your fridge and taking out the drink you were trying to save for later, flipping through the tabs you left on your computer and,

Maybe they could be friends, with the way they both get so comfortable. But eventually their eyes start drifting over,

to you. Sat on your couch, house burning down around you, you've gone too far, too deep, and they are not going to let you go. (it's not like that was the plan, anyway).

…

Ran mentioned something about playing earlier, didn't he? You hadn't a mind to negotiate a 'fair exchange' for them walking you home on such a dark night. Maybe you hoped they'd just forget about it.

(They don't. You know because before they make you show them where the bedroom is, Ran pokes his fingers through the belt loops on your jeans and tells you how much of a courtesy he brought you back, he could have fucked you and left you in the alley.

"But I didn't." Ran smiles, and you can only imagine what Rin's face looks like. Though, you can feel him on your back, grinding his erection into you.

"Just relax."  Rin leans to your ear, lips close enough to kiss the shell of it. "We'll play nice, won't we Ran?" 

The aforementioned laughs once, reaching for your belt buckle. "Speak for yourself." )

Your bedroom isn’t terribly small but your massive mattress takes up most of the space. Ran doesn’t care about kicking around your things to get to the bed easier, dipping down and baring his teeth to your neck, nibbling. Rindou does not knock over a thing (he picks up a figurine that you hadn’t noticed had turned over, flicks on your lamp, mutters something) walking between your door and hurrying himself along to the bed alongside Ran. 

At that point, you’ve already been undressed from the waist down, your clothing discarded on your living room couch. You’ve been pushed back first onto your bed, Ran is on top kissing you with the feverishness of a school boy, his tongue slipping into your mouth (which surprised you, your pussy throbbed a little) and his hand slipping down towards your cunt.

You make a mewling sound as he rubs circles on your clit, and Rin groans loud enough for you to remember he’s still here, “Jackass, you’ve been hogging them the whole night. You said-” Ran pulls back molasses-slow, fixing Rindou with a look you can’t read. “I know what I said. You don’t have to get so emotional over it, Rin. See?” He pushes himself up on his arms and leaves you there, gesturing with a sweeping motion. “I was just getting them ready for you.” Rin snorts, grabbing your arms. “Whatever. Now, you.” Your eyes meet, but the intensity in his is unlike Ran’s. Something about him seems more driven. Came here for something, refusing to leave without it. “Flip over. Get on your stomach. Make sure your head is hanging off the bed.” You don’t hesitate to do as he says. 

Ran steps into your view, tugging on the band of his boxers until his cockhead is visible from the top. You try not to drool. He pushes his cock between your pillowy lips, letting out a long low whistle.

"Just relax. Open your mouth a little wider - that's it - just like that .."  Ran is already groaning and barely half his dick is inside your mouth, but drool is racing down your chin and you have forgotten how to breathe out of your nostrils. He cups the back of your head.

"Eyes up." Tears sting at your eyes at your lack of oxygen and Ran just smiles dreamily downward at you, his brother out of your sight entirely. Now you’re as bare as the day you were born, courtesy of Ran, and you nearly forget about Rin until you feel firm hands spreading your legs; a damp muscle wriggle and work it's way in between your folds so boldly,

You cry out, groaning on Ran's cock. It's too big and your jaw has to work and strain and it hurts but he makes you do it anyway (his smell is rich between his legs, and he keeps reminding you to breathe through your nose),  telling you how much of a good job you're doing.

"... you're good at this. I didn't think you were a slut though… maybe …"

"It's just a natural talent. Like you were born to suck dick."

He thrusts his hips and holds your face so that he's in your throat, and no matter how hard you beat at his thighs he does not give. You wiggle and squirm, Rin's hands clamping around your hips and giving you less room to breathe. You're so occupied with the dick in your mouth that you don't notice how wet Rin has gotten you. 

His brother has all your attention. Even when he stands at attention and lines himself up, you don't notice. It's only when he's pulling your hips towards his, that you feel the blunt head of his cock probing at your pussy and waiting for a good moment to

Thrust in, and as Ran pulls you off his cock to cum on your face, it's a perfect opportunity for Rin to pull you onto him, and the squeal you let out sounds absolutely delicious, (made his balls clench). He begins tentatively, resting a hand at the small of your back, and thrusting into you with as much force as he can muster behind his hips, enjoying hearing you whine and whimper (perhaps more than he expected). Your body is hot to the touch and your back is a little slick with your sweat. 

Rin grunts with effort as he tries to fuck into you, getting some give as you grow weak in the hips. His cock feels like it's tearing you up, like he might break you before he night is done and the more you moan and squirm the rougher he gets, the slick sounds of his balls slapping against your clit drowning out the sound of your own thoughts.  

(Ran has fun with you. You lick his cock clean as Rin speeds up so much he's practically fucking the breath out of your lungs. Your ass feels battered, your pussy abused —)

Rin has been noticeably quiet most of this time. Too focused on the sound of your yelps and the way your body dances beneath his fingertips. You move so much. He likes the little defiance in you. He has no problem fucking it out.

You grow to gripping Ran's legs for support cause you can't hold yourself up on the bed, the tingling burning feeling of strain zinging up the muscles in your legs. 

“Ah! Oooh..”  They’re teaching you new things about yourself. Wherever they caress you, the back of your head, along your spine, on your hips, it’s like you’ve been alight with fire. Ran makes sure you’re looking at him, and he’s cooing at you, feeding you crumbs of praise as he strokes under your chin affectionately. Your heart jumps a little at the fond look he gives you, the approval is pronounced and makes you feel warm and anxious all of the sudden, moreso when Ran presses a kiss to your temple.

"Almost." Rin says to no one in particular, his grip just shy of bruising. "Just … fuck." Rin slams your hips into his, his spine stiffening as he fucks a load inside you, pulling his cock out slow so he can see himself dripping down your legs.

What followed feels a little uncertain. You know they stuck around, but their words felt floaty and distant, fucked into a stupor, you seemed a bit … dotty. (Ran thinks it's cute. You don't talk, don't ask questions, just let them pet you. But Rin liked the tension in your muscles, that skeptic's gaze, that substance. Something about having you like this appeals to him, just less.) They came hot like a fever and left you feeling ice cold.

Rin, perhaps feeling sweet, helps you slip your nighty on before Ran is forcing him out of the door, chastising him for being so soft.

You wouldn't know. 

You awake in a sea of blankets, with a salty taste in your mouth and this dull ache zapping up your spine…

You are late for work the next morning, but even as your alarm gets grating and beep, beep beeps a few feet away from your head, you're trying to shake off day dream after day dream — you get up when you realize your door was left unlocked, you rectify that, head back to bed. The supervisor who's in charge of arranging your schedule calls you, ten minutes before you are supposed to come in, and you are still lying down.

You honest to god do not have the heart to tell this withering old man over the phone that you can’t come in today. You can hear his voice sort of trembling over the phone (and you later learn that one of the head chefs quit earlier that day, this poor guy is this close to the edge) and decide you don’t need that weighing on your conscience in the future, a good enough reason to force labor upon yourself for the day. You feel weightless sitting in the tub washing off the prior night. In some places you can see indentations from fingers, lightly bruised skin around your hips, that your hands run over with your loofah and that sweet smelling body scrub,

You take your time, not urged by the ringing of your phone or alarm. Your mind decompresses and feels loosened by the steam that rises to the top of the room, fogging up your vision and keeping you warm even when you step out of the bath. Since last night, you notice you seem a lot more one track minded. There’s no dreading the shift, or fear about being asked to stay for overtime, or worry that your coworkers are going to say something to you (they always do, so fucking annoying). There’s nothing. Your head feels manageably empty. Something about it is relaxing, your underlying nervousness of ‘ Is there something i’m missing? Have I forgotten something? Am I doing something wrong?’ all gone.

You’re smiling in the cab to work. Maybe it’s been years since you went there having a positive expectation for today, you can’t remember and you don’t care. You work your shift and ignore your coworkers, boss and customers. They comment, because of course they have something to say.

“You look glowy. Something happen?” 

“... I slept well?” Your supervisor rolls her eyes at you, but doesn’t belabor the point. “Must’ve been one helluva good night’s sleep, huh?” 

You don’t respond, ready to clock out in the next thirty minutes, hoping and praying nobody keeps you from clocking out at 8:00, because the day’s been going sooo good for you so far,

But one of the managers ends up running in; out of breath, trying frantically to stop the kitchen staff from closing down for the night, from leaving. You’re stopped in lieu of all the commotion. Apparently some big-wigs from the city came in to eat, and would not accept the owner’s hurried apologies of ‘I’m sorry, but the kitchen is closing for the night,’; or their attempts at placation: ‘We can accept your patronage first thing tomorrow? A bottle of wine on the house?’. The owner looks frightened half to death by the time he comes across you, shocking you with the abruptness of his request. 

“The… the patrons. Do you know them?” He whispers, deathly close to your ear. His lungs sound like they might collapse, and he looks hot and uncomfortable. “They requested you by name. I-i know you don’t like working overtime, but this could mean big tips.” You roll your eyes. “Move over man. Let me get my menus.” He clasps his hand together in prayer and in thanks, and you mentally prepare yourself to take an order for a much larger party.

There’s only two people sitting in the booth as you walk up, their silhouettes triggering your memory immediately. Ran turns lightning-quick, his expression giddy unlike anything else. He looks so pleased with himself, licking his lips like he’s slick as your confident power walk slows to a few steps.

“Hey sweetheart.” His voice is so smooth, makes your ears tingle. Rindou is sat next to him, and looks up at you fondly for a moment. Looks back down at his hands after.

“So, Rin. Ran.” They look a little surprised you actually said their names, but Ran gives you a toothy grin, and leans a bit further forward.

“Here are your menus.” You set them down on the table, allow them to pursue the selection. “I’ll be back with your water.”  You about face, looking nothing short of cool, level-headed professionalism. On the inside, you are screaming. Telling them so much maybe was a bad idea in hindsight, (because not only is this OT blowing you, but it’s hard to look them in the eyes, for a reason you haven’t yet grasped.) you sigh, trying to make it out of the end of dinner service without your heart giving in. 

You try not to be curt with them but a part of you can’t help it. Ran knows what he’s gunning for, eyes alight with desire as he stares at you up and down in uniform for the first time. Like he’s just about ready to eat you up. He keeps staring at your lips. Rindou is ever the gentleman, is patient with you when you get flustered by Ran’s boldness, occasionally apologizing for the inappropriate comments he sprinkles in. From the moment he’s seen you, to the moment you take his order, serve him the food, give him the bill, he’s flapping his gums. 

Rindou seems irritated by this at some point, fixing him with hot hard glares, kicking him under the table and eventually telling him to BE QUIET. 

He says it with so much authority that when Ran gets as meek as a mouse, you can’t help but giggle from behind your palm. (Ran shoots you a look, but you ignore it.) Other than what he’s saying to you - working this job, you’ve heard far worse anyway - it’s not a hassle to deal with, maybe just a little awkward,

Because he says shit like:

“Hey sweetheart. There’s another kind of tip I could give you, too.” After he slides nearly half a stack into your uniform pants just because he can. That was probably (definitely) more money than both of their meals combined. 

“Hey!” The tall one shouts from the threshold, a little drunk, and swaying from Rin tugging on his arm so hard. 

“Maybe.. You get out of your little uniform and meet us outside. We’ll walk you home again.” You don’t say anything, but your face is burning. 

“Maybe i’ll take you up on that offer. Some other time.” You bow politely and hurry back to the storage rooms, where your coworkers are packing up their things and heading out the back.

You sigh, taking your time changing out of your work uniform.

…

Imagine your surprise when you’re walking out, head down as you look in your bag and make sure everythings arranged how you like, easily accessible ..

And they’re still there. 

Waiting for you.

#tokrev smut #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo rev smut #tokyo rev x reader #ran haitani #rin haitani #ran haitani x reader #rin haitani x reader #ran haitani x you #rin haitani x you #tokyo revengers x you #🌩️ L1GHTN1NG_STRIKE5.pdf

[lunaroserites]

Rosemary Tea

Pairing: Established Castiel x Witch!Reader

Summery: Set just after Cas becomes Cas again after Lucifer rode him around like a fine suit. Canon divergent.

Warnings: Unwanted physical contact, borderline SA, groping, kissing. Nothing is described in heavy detail. Lucifer gets handsy with reader while in Castiel’s body. Angst, Fluff, sweetness and a happy ending. Unedited, we die like Winchesters.

Words: 1446

Disclaimer: I’m not a practicing Wicca/witch so do not take what I say as correct. It is fiction. I do not own the supernatural characters depicted here.

If you have a request, feel free to ask me!

Castiel felt many things when he got his body back in his own control. One was guilt, another was utter sadness and the final was anger. Not at her, at himself for not being able to stop the violation of her trust.

Lucifer (Castiel) had sought her out. Castiel’s little lover. His pretty little witch. He was in the mood to make Castiel hate himself.

She opened the door to her little cabin, a place Castiel found peace in after the hardest days, the worst hunts. A place he called home for a while after Dean kicked him out. She gave Dean an ear full after finding out what happened.

She greeted Castiel (Lucifer) with a warm smile and sweet kiss on the cheek. It made Cas writh in the back of his own mind, her lips felt like heaven and foreign at the same time. Like he was feeling them though a veil. Her little familiar glaring at Castiel, something she found a little off because usually he loved the Angel. Now he seemed wary of the Angel standing before her. It made her feel on edge. Keeping her guard up she allowed Castiel into her home. Cas screamed for her to stop and just slam the door in his face.

“How have you been, love?” Her accent was old, hard to place but he loved it. She pulled a few dried herbs down from their drying spot, rosemary, dried apples and a cinnamon stick, his favourite tea. Not that he could really taste it but he liked the warmth and smell. Her next hint was when he told her to stop because the smell of cinnamon was too much.

“Love, are you okay?” She asked with concern thick in her voice. Castiel screamed for her.

Lucifer (Castiel) put his hands on her hips, an almost bruising hold. “I’ve just missed you,” he practically purred into her ears. He turned her in his arms and made her face him and he kissed her, he shoved his tongue deep in her mouth, dominating her. He was much rougher than usual. More demanding, forceful. Her Angel was gentle, sweet and endearing. This was… odd.

She pulled back for a moment and looked into his eyes, searching for something. His hands growing impatient glided up her torso and pawed her breast roughly. It felt wrong. She grabbed his hand and moved it away from her. “I’ve missed you too Castiel,” she said warily.

“Let me make us tea, and we’ll catch up,” she went to move away from and his grip on her hip tightened again.

“Now, now pet, I’m not done with you,” her stomach dropped and she felt sick. There was only one person in the entire world who called her that. She felt violated. She pushed him away. He had referred to her as the Winchesters pet witch in the past. Her blood was boiling.

“What have you done to him, Devil?” She snarled at him, trying to get out of his grasp. His hand that had been at her breast, was now gripping her hair at the base of her skull.

“Clever little Witch,” he spat at her, his voice full of venom. Her eyes were watering at the force he was holding her hair.

“You’re going to do as I say and enjoy it.” Was what he spat at her next, her cat being the smart creature it was, snarled and clawed his leg. Lucifer growled and kicked the cat back across the cabin floor. It was just enough distraction for her to free herself and slap her now bloodied palm on the angel banishing sigil on her wall. A blinding light filled the cabin and he was gone.

She dropped to the floor and emptied the contents of her stomach into the bin. Her cat came over and placed a worried paw on her thigh. She cried.

That was a couple months ago. The Winchesters had tried everything to get Lucifer out of Castiel’s body that didn’t involve him taking over Sam’s body. Finally they freed the Thursday Angel from the clutches of the devil.

That’s why he was now standing in front of her cabin hesitant to knock. She refused to see Castiel when he first ‘woke up.’

“The devil's touch is still haunting me.” Was what she told Dean when he called her to let her know Cas was back in control of his body. She spent weeks cleansing her cabin, trying to get the aura right again.

“He left a scar in my space that I can’t seem to mend.” She said quietly on phone with Dean when he called her a week prior to this moment of Castiel standing outside her door. She didn’t blame Castiel for what happened. She blamed the petulant child that was Lucifer. But her soul was scarred by him, the touch of the devil planting a seed of doubt in her. She hated it. She tried everything to mend it, nothing worked.

She felt him before he knocked, the cooling calm of his grace seeping its way back into her bones, into the cracks and crevices of her old cabin. It was mending the scars left by the devil. It cleansed the damaged aura, his grace doing something not even her witchcraft could do.

She opened the door to his raised hand as he was deciding whether to knock or just leave her to her own peace. Her familiar standing between her legs, scrutinizing his form. The familiar always seems to know what was what. The familiars glare softened and he swished his tail before sitting between her feet.

His grace encircled her, tickling her cheeks and cleansing her soul from the scar left by Lucifer. Her body visibly relaxed at the cooling embrace of his grace. “Castiel,” her voice sounded like heaven, his name like a prayer coming from her lips.

She reached her hand out and took his raised hand into it, she traced her fingers over his hands. He felt a tingling rush through his body as if she was forcing her own aura through his system, scrubbing any remnants of the devil from his soul.

“Angels don’t have souls,” he told her when she said his soul felt like a summer breeze to her. It brought her peace and cleansed her own.

“Everything has a soul.” She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. Giving him a caring smile, before preparing his preferred tea.

“Would you like some tea?” She asked softly. Already turning to gather the ingredients. Castiel followed her eagerly. With deft hands she prepared the ingredients, leaving them to steep on her stove top. Her familiar had rubbed itself against Castiel, sitting between the two.

The smell of his favourite concoction wafted into his nose, it filled him with a sense of hope, that despite everything he was going to be okay.

“My love, how I’ve missed you,” her fingers clutching his hand over the table, his grace whisped around the cabin, it moved over her body making sure she was alright.

“I’ve missed you as well,” his gravely baritone captivated her. Her beautiful lavender eyes staring into his eyes, searching his soul for anything.

“You soul feels far away, forgive yourself love. I do not blame you for the actions of a petulant child throwing a tantrum.” She squeezed his hand reassuringly before getting up and pouring a mug of the tea for him, she stirred some agave nectar into it and laid it down in front of him.

His fingers gripped the mug and brought it up to his lips, he relished in the warm scent and warmth of the tea. He took a cautious sip and everything felt right. He gave her a curious look and she winked at him. She must have stirred some calming magic into because his soul felt at ease.

She moved and placed herself delicately on his lap and his arm supported her and fingers gently pressed into her side, keeping her sturdy. She placed her arm over his shoulder and touched his cheek with her other hand. “You know I knew something was wrong. My angel holds me like a delicate flower. That menace handled me like a piece of meat.”

“You are my delicate flower, the precious thing to me. I could never harm you.” His fingers ghosted her side. “I’m sorry he left that mark on your soul love, I hope my grace soothed it.”

She pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, “your grace has cleansed my soul and cleaned my space. All is right now.” She nuzzled her nose into his cheek lovingly.

#castiel #castiel x reader #castiel x you #supernatural imagine #supernatural #Lucifer #witch!reader #castiel imagine #castiel fluff #Castiel x witch!reader #established relationship #misha collins

[xpiredcheeto]

Glass

(Not my gif)

word count

Reader stays out late and comes home injured.

Tommy Shelby x sister reader, Arthur Shelby x sister reader, Ada Shelby x sister reader

Warnings: Blood, injuries, blood, death, killing, cursing, reader gets attacked, mentions of cocaine, Arthur is sad and needs a hug very bad, mentions of prostitution. I think that's all. 

This takes place during season 2

word count:  2395

 This whole situation could have been avoided if you had decided to call it an early night and ignored your burning desire to stay awake and go to some pub in the middle of the night, but of course, being a Shelby, you decided to go out. 

You walked down the cold and dark alleyway leading to the building. The outside walls were cracking, paint was peeling from its edges. Just the place you were looking for. It was called The Red Lion. You walked up the brick steps of the pub, and the click of your shoes echoed in your mind. The mahogany door had a stained glass window depicting a fisherman. You had no idea what a pub called "The Red Lion" was doing by having an image of a fisherman as their window, but maybe they got it on sale. 

It was far away from the watchful eyes of Small Heath, away from your reputation. It freed you in a certain way. Unfortunately, being away from the negatives of your reputation also meant you were away from the protection it brought with it. Normally this was not an issue, but tonight was different. When you walked into the pub, everything became silent at once. All heads in the bar turned to face you. Maybe you were not as far from your reputation as you thought you were.  

"You think she's a spy?" one man asked another 

The old floors creaked under your footsteps. You approached the bartender to ask for your usual when a voice from behind confronted you. "Yer not allowed in our pub, little girl. Why don't you run on home?" 

You made note of his voice, he was Irish and he spoke with a level of arrogance like no one had ever told him "no" in his life. 

"Sorry, but I'm not going anywhere. I came here for a drink and I'm going to get it. If you would just leave me alone I could have my drink in peace and you won't have to worry about me."

You could tell by the look on his face that he didn't like the answer you had given him. his brows furrowed and his expression contorted into one of annoyance. 

"I asked you to leave and when I ask you to do something, you better do it. Now, this is your last chance to leave before something happens that you won't like." He was trying to scare you and it wasn't working. You were going to hold your ground until this strange man left you alone. 

  "Look, I just told you that I'm not leaving so why don't you just leave me alone-" you were cut off when two hands grasped your shoulders. They dragged you backward off your chair and onto the wooden flooring of the bar. You hit the ground with a bang and waves of pain radiated up and down your spine. You let out a hiss of pain and the hands grabbed you again. This time they angled you toward a glass table before you could process what had happened. Your body was thrown with such force you could not stop the trajectory of your body. You threw both arms out in front of your face to block the impact of the table. Suddenly, waves of white-hot, stinging pain punctured your forearms. Blood trickled down your arms as you looked up. There were two men before you, the one that confronted you earlier and another. His face was withered, and his expression bore a constant snarl as he looked down at you. 

"Are you two fucking insane?! That's the Shelby girl, her brothers will fucking kill all of us!" the bartender was seething with rage. His face was a glowing red color. You glanced back at the men, they looked scared now. 

You looked down at the floor, the brown wood now tainted red with your blood. You heard movement behind you, rushed and frantic, then the slamming of the front door. You looked back up at the bartender, he threw a dishtowel at you. "For the bleeding," he said. You held the dirty rag to your left arm, leaving the right to bleed all over your clothes. 

You limped to the door, turned the handle, and walked out. A rush of frigid air hit you, cooling the thick rivets of blood streaming from your arm. The walk home wasn't too long but the pain was making it seem so much longer. You looked down at your white blouse, patches were saturated with red blood. The way it stuck to your skin was revolting, partially dried, and sticky. The metallic stench was almost overwhelming if not for the pain coursing through your body. And, oh God, it hurt. It wasn't just the pain from your arms, your back still ached from the fall, and it made each step agony.   

You were approaching Small Heath now. The smell was normally the first thing that hit you, but not tonight, now the only thing you could think of was blood and glass. The shards still embedded into your arms made each movement painful. You could see the house now, you were so close.

You walked up to the door, twisted the handle, and pulled. Awaiting you in the kitchen was Ada. Her eyes shot up, "Do you know how worried I was-" she cut herself off. "Oh my God, Y/N, what happened? Come here     I'll patch you up." Her face was laced with concern. "Sit down, I'll get the bandages." She got up and move to the bathroom, you could hear her rummaging around in the cabinets. Glancing at your arms, you saw the rag was saturated with blood.

Behind you, you heard the door opening, then a loud gasp. It was Arthur. "Jesus Christ, who the fuck did this to you?" he was next to you now, looking at your arms. You responded, "I don't exactly know who it was. There were two of them, but I don't know what I did to upset them that much."

  Ada returned from the bathroom with her hands full of bandages and a pair of tweezers. Arthur looked relieved to see her. She acknowledged Arthur and started speaking "I found the bandages," she held up the pair of tweezers, "and these are for the glass." She sat down next to you. "How did this happen?" she asked again. 

"I got thrown through a table." You replied. Arthur let out a sigh of anger. Ada picked up her tweezers and looked up at your face. "This might hurt so prepare yourself." The tweezers grasped at a piece of glass and you let out a hiss. Arthur noticed and tried to calm you. "Shh, it's alright, it's alright." he sounded more like he was trying to convince himself of the fact. The door opened once more. All three of you turned your heads, Tommy was standing in the doorway with a look of confusion burned onto his features.   He took a step towards you and spoke. "What the fuck happened?"  

"She got thrown through a fucking table, Tom," Arthur responded for you. 

"What the fuck do you mean she got thrown through a table?! Who the fuck threw her through a table?" You moved to answer but let out a pained gasp when Ada pulled one of the shards out. Arthur looked back at you and moved his hand to rub up and down your back. 

"I-oh fuck, I don't know who it was. They were Irish and in a pub called The Red Lion. I don't even know what I did to offend them so much." you spoke through gritted teeth.

Arthur looked at Tommy, they were going to trash the pub later and find the men that did this, but first, they needed to make sure you were going to be alright. Ada moved to another shard, this one came out easier than the last, but the pain was still significant. And, oh god, you were crying now. 

"This really fucking hurts." you sobbed out. Arthur responded to you, "I know, love. I swear I'm gonna kill everyone that hurts you. I-I'll fucking kill the people that did this." He looked like he was about to cry too. Ada looked up from her work to inform you she was almost done removing the glass, just one more to go. You looked at Tommy, he had moved and was now sitting on a chair across the kitchen. He shot Arthur a glance and said "Tomorrow, brother."

Ada was getting ready to pull the final one out now, it was located near your left wrist. At this point, you were struggling to keep your eyes open, the blood loss made you dizzy and lightheaded. She grasped it with her tweezers and pulled. Your eyes shot open and you let out a scream of pain. Arthur grabbed your right hand and rested his head on the corner of your neck. It was the closest he could get to hugging you at this moment.

"Alright love, the painful part is over, all I have to do now is wrap them up." Her voice always seemed to soothe you. She placed the edge of the bandage in your palm and wrapped it around a few times. She then moved it down to loop around your thumb before wrapping it around your forearm. She repeated the process on your other arm. You looked over at Tommy, he stared forward in a silent rage.

"I'm gonna go to bed now." You moved to get up. Tommy moved from his chair, "No, love, you shouldn't be walking. I'll carry you to bed, Alright?" You nodded and he walked over, he looped one arm under your knees and one beneath your back. He lifted you and carried you up the stairs, he pushed the door open with his side and laid you on the bed. He went to your dresser and grabbed a nightgown for you. He laid it on the bed for you to put on. He turned to leave the room, "Thank you." 

"You don't need to thank me, love." He placed a soft kiss on the crown of your head before turning and leaving the room. You unbuttoned the now red blouse you were wearing and pulled it off, it dragged on your arms sending pain blooming through them. You let out a small hiss and let it drop to the floor. You reach down and slid your bottoms off, also leaving them on the floor. You pulled the nightgown over your head and down the rest of your body, you moved to get under the covers when you heard a knock at the door followed by a voice. You sat up. "Hello, can I come in? If you don't want me to that's fine... I just don't want you to be alone right now." It was Arthur.

"Yeah, come in."

The door opened with a creak and he walked over to you. He gently grabbed you in his arms and held you. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. I...I don't ever want you getting hurt and I wish I was there so I could keep you safe." he paused. "Can I stay in here tonight, so I can make sure you're safe?" he looked at you, awaiting your response.

"Yes, Arthur, you can stay in here tonight." 

"Alright, love. I'll sit in the chair over there." He pointed to the chair across your room next to your fireplace. "No, Arthur. You can sleep in bed with me. I don't mind, I'd feel safer that way anyways." He looked surprised, but he walked over to your bed and slid in next to you. He adjusted his position next to you and said, "Alright, love, go to sleep now. You need your rest."  

He looped his arms around you in a protective hug. He held you tight to his chest as if you would disappear if he let go. "Please don't scare me like that again," he spoke as if he was still scared that you were seriously injured. "I don't know what id do if I lost you." his voice was breaking, and you could tell he was holding back tears. You could tell he wanted to say more, to tell you he wouldn't be able to live with himself knowing he wasn't there to keep you safe. He didn't tell you he would blame himself for the rest of his life if you died and how he already gets nightmares about that exact scenario. Instead, he held you tighter and pushed his face into the crook of his neck. You could feel his tears run down your shoulder like shiny pearls. You felt like crying too. 

"Oh, Arthur. I would never leave you like that. I'm so sorry I made you worry about me." You turned around so you could wrap your arms around him, wincing slightly when the sheets rubbed against the bandages. "It's alright, love. It's not your fault. It's those fucking men that hurt you. I'll find 'em, make sure they never hurt you again." 

"It's alright, Arthur. They can't hurt me now." You made your voice as soft as possible in an attempt to calm him. 

"I know, love. I know," he paused. "Just...If you want a drink, go to The Garrison. Won't be mad as long as you don't end up like me. Oh god, please don't end up like me... I'm sorry. I'm keeping you up. Go to sleep now, you need rest." 

"It's Okay, Arthur. You don't need to apologize, and you need to stop insulting yourself."  He nodded into your neck. You shut your eyes and melted into the darkness behind your eyelids. You savored the feeling of protection that your brother gave you, it made you feel like you were safe from anything while you were in his arms. And you most likely were, he would do anything to keep you safe, even if that meant bashing someone's head in with a glass ashtray. Even if that meant killing fathers and sons, none of it was as important as keeping you safe. You drifted into the abyss of sleep in his arms, knowing that none of your fears would be able to harm you.

#arthur shelby #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x sister!reader #tommy shelby x you #arthur shelby x reader #arthur shelby x sister!reader #hurt/comfort #ada shelby

[noonblight]

Nemona, Female Neurodivergence, and Good Representation

Spoilers for the plot of ScarVi ahead, but here’s my full analysis and breakdown of Nemona!

So, I know what you’re thinking, ‘Game Freak making an autistic female main character? You must be out of your mind. This is clearly projecting!’

I’d like to preface this gently by saying that this is obviously just my personal conclusion based on subtextual analysis, but also, I’d like to call attention to the fact that Japan isn’t like the west when it comes to neurodiverse representation, and there isn’t a lot of Japanese media that explicitly uses the word autism. It’s a little unrealistic to expect Game Freak to call it by name, especially considering they make games for children and topics such as neurodiversity are often viewed as a more ‘adult’ thing to discuss. You are free to disagree with me, but please be polite in the replies of this post, as I only wish to have a constructive conversation about a writing decision that has been made.

Anyway, on to the good stuff and I must apologise in advance for this post being long, but I wanted to be thorough!

I played through all of ScarVi and I’m actually very pleased with Nemona as a character. I feel like despite the game’s technical quality, there was a real effort made this time around to flesh out the named characters. Nemona is one of my favourite examples of this, because her arc isn’t solely about being autistic, but it’s clearly a large part of her character and affects her life in a lot of ways.

Nemona is a battle fanatic, and it’s very likely one of her special interests. It’s how she connects with other people such as the main character, and it’s something she devotes her entire being and effort to. She never says she does so in order to impress others, but rather because it’s something she heavily enjoys.

Right from the start, Nemona is a successful champion rank trainer and wants you to become a trainer who can rival her in skill, and feels like it would lead to a better friendship if you could do that. Nemona’s priorities always centre around battling, and doing as much of it as possible. She’s the one who asks Geeta for permission to bestow a Tera orb upon your player. She gives you tips about the battle courts at different gyms. She even raises a new team of Pokémon throughout the game just to have an excuse to battle you at your level and watch you improve.

Nemona even loves battling so much that she finds it a little strange when others aren’t as enthusiastic about battling as she is, below is a quote I found particularly interesting because it really does show that she can be socially oblivious at times when it comes to societal expectations about what is an appropriate place or time to have a Pokémon battle.

Accompanying this, multiple times throughout the game she exhibits impulsive or oblivious behaviour and asks you to have another battle with her straight after another battle you’ve just had, usually due to being excited. Sometimes other characters will need to remind her that your Pokémon require healing first, or that there are other things that need doing. She doesn’t always understand how things should be handled in a conventional manner, despite being an expert on the topic of battling! (Or, she gets too excited and can’t help herself.)

In post-game, there’s even a scene where she doesn’t seem to understand that another student is reluctant to battle her and makes an excuse to leave early because she’s so far from being a casual trainer that it intimidates him. This is, in my opinion, actually quite a sad scene. She genuinely continues to think that he will challenge her to a battle at a different time, not realising that her ‘unusual’ enthusiasm and skill has scared him away, and that he has no intention of returning. A situation I’m sure a lot of neurodiverse children would connect with because it so accurately depicts what it’s like when others don’t share your interests to the degree that you hoped they would. This scene also hints at Nemona’s trouble with reading the emotions and intentions of others.

Nemona’s final post-game scene (which please, I BEG of you to go watch, it’s so good) confirms this outright, and also gives one of the most relatable lines in media about what it’s like to be neurodivergent in any way, especially as somebody who is younger:

Something I like about Nemona is that despite being socially oblivious and pushy with her interests, she is still a very sympathetic and friendly character. Not only does she cheer you on throughout the game, but she doesn’t only do it for the sake of serving only her own interests! She’s genuinely caring about others around her too.

(Nemona, congratulating the player when they beat her at the end of her storyline after she goes full-out. She is thrilled that you beat her! I love this moment.)

Throughout the last chapter in the game, there’s a lot of great moments with Nemona that show how caring she is. I think the best moments however, are where she tries to understand and support a scared Miraidon, and where she tries to help Arven.

Initially, she is misunderstanding and expects that the second Miraidon will be friendly and that it will be a family reunion, but once she realises this is not the case, she immediately switches to trying to support your Miraidon in any way she can. Despite not understanding why Miraidon is so afraid of returning to the Crater and facing the other Miraidon, she can be observed multiple times attempting to encourage it during the final battle, and can be seen in the final cutscene of the game with her arm around it as the group walks back to the academy.

(Nemona, displaying an implied struggle with visually judging the emotions of others.)

Nemona is also the one who suggests after a very heavy story ending that everyone goes home, and that they take the scenic route back to town. She clearly doesn’t know what to say to Arven about what he’s just been through, but she attempts to make him feel a bit better regardless.

I think this makes for particularly good representation, because not only is she less feminine than previous female rivals with her more sporty style and interests (something very common with autistic women) it also shows depth. I’ve seen autistic characters before that fall into the stereotype of coming across as emotionally detached or cold, or far too over-reactive. But I think Nemona strikes a lovely balance of caring, emotional, and socially lacking.

Now, on to a smaller detail that I want to point out that I really like the inclusion of is that glove. I could talk about how Nemona displays memory issues at times or other smaller symptoms of autism, but I really want to talk about the glove. I made a post on this subject the moment Nemona’s design was revealed on the official website, but I like that the game content openly confirmed that Nemona has motor issues with her dominant hand.

(Nemona, needing to support her arm when about to throw a Pokéball, or when she is about to terastalise her Pokémon. The burst of energy from the tera orb must make things a bit more difficult for her. A lovely small detail in her battles.)

(Nemona, confirming that she has trouble with Pokéballs. Something her website entry also stated.)

Now I’ve saved this until last because this is, in my opinion, a smaller detail that they didn’t need to include to make Nemona read as neurodiverse, but I’m thrilled they did. Nemona is the only character who wears an arm brace, something I picked up on immediately in the trailers before the games released. No other trainers wear one for the terastalisation mechanic, unlike the Z-bands from Alola. And even though Pokémon battling is her bread and butter, she still struggles with certain aspects of it! Not only is this trouble with motor skills realistic, but it’s also a very accurate portrayal of motor dysfunction that a lot of neurodiverse people experience in their day to day lives.

To bring this all to a close, I think that even though it isn’t stated outright, I believe Nemona isn’t just representation of neurodiversity in women, but I think that she is also GREAT representation. She knows that she has problems, and tries her best regardless! She is kind, and caring, even though she has difficulties with reading the emotions of others and understanding social expectations. Her entire story may be about making friends with you through the medium of battling, but it’s also a story about how she’s struggled in the past to connect with others because of her love of that medium.

I truely do feel like she’s a lovely depiction to be in a children’s game, because she is a very positive depiction of something that a lot of kids go through, and in the end, she gets to be herself and she gets to be happy by being true to that self. She is never forced to change to make friends, and instead befriends you and the other characters simply by remaining as she is.

#I’m sorry this post is so long I actually could have analysed it scene by scene but I wanted to be nice to everyone #and have a semblence of conciseness! #pokemon 2022 #nemona #pokemon #pokemon scarvi #autism #pokemon scarlet and violet #miraidon #arven #analysis #character analysis #actually autistic #representation

[zukotheartist]

LONG tbosas (book, mostly) post ahead, about Reaper Ash specifically

A lot of people, rightfully, point out when Reaper cuts Panem's flag and throws it on the dead kids but something that gets to me as well (that I think is a really nice touch and should be talked about more) is his other uses of the flag (in the book, anyway).

The first time he cuts the flag, it's to bargain with Lamina.

Yes, he's doing it for himself because his mentor* won't send him food (or water) unless he puts on a good show (aka killing or at least attacking another tribute), which he isn't doing, and it's been days so he needs to eat (if I remember correctly, he had been able to get a few of Lucy Gray/Jessup's extra/leftover water bottles). But he was strong and big enough to hunt down another tribute and then steal their food. Not Lamina, probably, I don't think a big guy would be able to climb a pole that well? (I feel like that'd be easier for a smaller-skinnier person like Coral but idk, i dont climb lol). Regardless, he couldve hunted any of the tributes that were on the ground.

Instead, he notices that Lamina is heavily sunburned (enough for the skin on her nose to be chipping away) and tells her that he'll get her a blanket (piece of flag) to cover herself with, in exchange for some food.

Then he cuts another piece of the flag to cover his dead peers (and ofc that's the main use of it and the most important one).

But then he also cuts a piece of the flag... for HIMSELF. Not to use as a shield from the sun or to wrap a wound or any other "logical" or "useful" reason.

He drapes the cloth on his back and wraps it around his neck.

He makes a CAPE.

And what does he do, right after?

He twirls around and tries to look back at the cape as he's twirling. Then he runs up and down a bit, with his arms out-stretched, letting the cape fly behind him.

And the next time we see him? He's still wearing the cape.

That moment speaks VOLUMES imo.

A lot of people have pointed out that Suzanne Collins does the complete opposite of the usual tropes placed upon black characters: the girls aren't the caretakers, they're the ones being taken care of by other characters (Katniss and Rue + Tresh and Rue + Reaper and Dill) and the boys aren't treated as agressive fully grown men ready to attack, they're depicted as kind and righteous boys who don't wanna cause harm > the way they show it with Reaper (tho we also see it with Tresh) is soo so... idk, I don't have the words for it.

Not only does he apologise, before the game starts, to all the tributes for having to kill them and also promises them that he'll fight the Capitol and avenge them, to then refusing to murder them during the game.

Not only does he respect his peer's dead bodies when he absolutely had no necessity to and would even get repercussions for doing it (cutting the flag = defying the Capitol = no chance of him winning aka surviving).

He's also shown to be just a kid himself.

He's in an awful situation and trying to stay kind and safe and what's a little something that he does for Himself (the ONE thing he does for himself, basically his entire time in the arena he's doing things for others, even when the thing is just refusing to murder) to cheer up? He makes himself a makeshift cape and runs and twirls around a bit.

i have... so many feelings and thoughts on his character... Suzanne Collins' pen is definition of on fire. That's all.

*btw, something that also makes me incredibly sad is how he's taking care of everyone/not harming anyone but his own mentor still won't send him food or water :( and it's especially sad when you remember that Clemensia was one of the only mentors and Capitol people shown to be Actually against the Hunger Games, at first.

She wasn't bored by them (like it can be said for Festus or Arachne) and she wasn't simply disgusted from a gore/imagery perspective (like Snow and Livia too, if I remember well).

She was actually disgusted at them from a human perspective (not nearly as much as Sejanus but still) and even asked if "the Districts hadn't suffered enough" and "why couldn't they stop now that the war was over". Meaning, she was probably gonna be a good mentor (or as good as a mentor can be) before the snakes bit her and messed her up... it's all one big tragedy🥲

EDIT: wait, she Does send food by the end! But the point stands because she sends it after she's healed more and her brain's clearer.

#reaper ash #clemensia dovecote #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #thg series #thg #the hunger games #al's post

[helplesslypurple77]

Day 14-Priest!Fyodor/Nun!Reader- with the prompt Masturbation

Notes: in an effort not to offend anyone, i'm using a made up fantasy religion that's not explicitly explained. I'm not religious and I don't want to accidentally offend anyone with this nasty little fic.

Also, if you’ve been reading my other Fyodor stuff and noticed that i mention his accent every chance i get, yes, i do love accent, probably a little too much(especially his it makes me h*rny)

The grand cathedral was a pristine place, sparkling white walls and large stained glass windows. You disliked it, the walls seemed to be always watching you. You preferred the smaller cathedral, the walls were a comforting wood paneling, and the arched ceiling was black, its stained glass windows showing pictures of orchards and dancing fairies, and not the angry eyes of the goddess. The goddess always seemed to be watching you in that cathedral, and lately you felt like avoiding her eyes. 

Chores are comforting in a way. They let you escape from the busy world for a minute, dodge the gossip of the younger nuns. You loved gossip, but sometimes you were just too tired to keep up, and escaped to the smaller temple to wind down. The goddess in this temple somehow seemed different than the angry one in the cathedral, as if they were two separate entities, two sides of the same coin.  

Carrying your mop and bucket, you open the large doors to the temple, taking a moment to soak up the atmosphere. It's a large room, long with a high arching ceiling. Blackwood beams arch into the sky, as if it's reaching for the goddesses mercy itself. You would appreciate some mercy, but you fear her too much to pray for forgiveness. 

The walls are made of blackwood too, and rough with tree knots interspersed throughout. Large, arching windows let the sunset light in the light sprawling across the floor in large spires, collared different colors as it reflects the stained glass. These stained glass have always been your favorite. They depict the goddess, but in a softer light. She’s smiling, and not looking directly at you, judging you for your sins. She frolics in the grass in one, takes a bite out of some fruit in another, and yet another depicts the goddess with her lover, smiling so brightly you mistake her for real for just a split second. 

A pedestal stands at the head of the room, a large statue of the goddess behind it. She’s pretty, your goddess. Tall, with curves and long, long wavy hair that trails the floor behind her. She stands with her hands outstretched, flowers flowing from her fingertips and trailing the ground. Her eyes are curved, her mouth carved into a pretty smile, a welcoming smile. Her eyes seem alive, and although the statue is made of marble, you get the vague sense that they are a startling vivid green. 

You feel her eyes on you, berating you with her upset face. A face of disappointment, a face of sadness. And that hurts you much more than the stakes of anger ever could. 

“I'm sorry, goddess.” The words echoed in the empty chamber, bouncing off the walls. The goddess looked on, unyielding, her face carved into a permanently happy expression. You hate the other statue of the goddess, the one whose face is carved into an unyieldingly blank smile, her eyes forcing guilt upon her worshipers. 

You turn your eyes away from the statue, and carefully work the mop across the wood floor, avoiding the metals impeded in it. Sister Mila said never to scrub the metal, it offends the goddess. And you really don't need to be offending the goddess anymore than you surely already have. Your heart is heavy as you try to banish the thoughts from your mind, the nasty wrong thoughts. The goddess would be disappointed in you. 

Finished with the moping, you move to dust the small confessional booth in the corner. It's tucked away from the main room, used by nuns who want to confess a sin of sorts, although the sins are usually trivial things like eating an extra serving of breakfast, or losing a friend's prize possession. Father Fyodor, the priest who usually takes care of the confessions is out right now, enabling you to clean the room in peace. It's good too, because seeing the Father right now might truly break you. You don't dare visit the confessional yourself, and confess your dirty thoughts to the star of your fantasies. 

The dangerous thoughts are coming back, terrible, dirty thoughts and you wash the wood paneling harder, as if it will scrub your brain of the dirty fantasies. 

It had started a few months ago, when Alina, one of the younger Nuns, had snuck into the village bookstore and purchased a certain kind of book.

⭒ ༺ ♰ ༻ ⭒

“Guess what I got.” Alina says, flipping her hair over her shoulder excitedly. She’s holding a book in her freckled hands, the cover a rich deep red with the title ‘Divine Desires: A Tale of Forbidden Love’. You wince at the dubious title. The room is lit by a single candle, you and Alina huddled around it. Alina’s fiery red hair bounces dangerously close to the candle, and you subtly pull the flame away. 

“What? You were in town, right?” you say, pearing curiously at her. Alina nods. “Yep, Sister Mila took me and Hikari downtown to get the usual grocery run. And I snuck off.” She giggles, waving her book excitedly in your direction. You eye her curiously, a little apprehensive. Alina is the troublemaker of your little group, always sneaking off to do this or that or something. Although usually the kind of mischief she would get up to was wholly different. A book is a little, um, normal for her. You are almost more scared of the unknown it presents. 

You hush her with a finger, leaning close. “Remember, be quiet. We don't want Sister Mila to discover us.” She whispers. The three of you are huddled together in the middle of your shared room. The large lamps that usually light the room have been extinguished, and Alina leans closer to the candle, reading by the small ring of light it gives. You lean closer, becoming her to speak. Despite your apprehension at the dubious title, you love books. 

“It was a dark and stormy night…” Alina begins. Her soft voice is perfect for storytelling, and the story is interesting, about a nun like yourselves. It's not until Alina’s halfway through the second chapter, and the warning signs start to pop up, that you begin to have doubts. 

A character named Mikhail is the first red flag. A priest who the main character, Sofiya, speaks of a little too highly to be normal. “...Father Mikhail stole my attention once more, his piercing eyes undressing me from across the table…” 

And then, it turns out the book is a romance novel. Which is fine, actually. Great, considering you love romance novels. But then, the first explicit scene starts. 

“...He caressed my body with his thick hands, smoothing the goosebumps that lingered from his kiss, driving my body wild with his touch...” Alina is barely holding back her grin as she reads, looking up every so often to see how you respond. You can feel your face heating up, and you glare at her balefully, but make no move to protest. She continues on. 

“...‘oh Father Mikhail.’ I said, clutching desperately at his shoulders. ‘We mustn't do this. It is forbidden.’ he kissed the protests from my lips, his thick hands sliding beneath my skirt and caressing the meat of my thighs. ‘Do you really care what they think?’ He said, his voice rough with emotion. ‘Or do you care about us, about this heat we create—” Alina dissolves to the ground in giggles as you yank the book from her hands, face flaming. “Alina! How could you buy a…a…” You lower your voice, your face burning. “A dirty book.” You say, face on fire. Alina giggles at your response, yanking the book back. 

“It's an Erotica, and it's perfectly healthy to be curious about these things.” She says, a bit too loud. You shush her and she continues in a whisper. “Besides, I saw you enjoying it.” You blush, but don't deny her. It will do no good to lie after all. “But Sister Mila will be furious.” You say. Alina frowns with a sigh. “We’re already in our nineteenth year, old enough to make our own rules.” She says, opening the book back up. “So where did we leave off…‘Or do you care about us, and this heat we create’. I nod desperately against him, the heat of his…”

⭒ ༺ ♰ ༻ ⭒

And ever since that day, when Alina had read her ‘erotica’ book to you, it was all you could think about. And everytime you laid eyes on Father Fyodor, all you could think about was the dream that had preceded it. You were ashamed when you woke up in the morning, a sticky wetness between your legs and the Father’s name on your lips. It was such a strange and uncomfortable feeling, the guilt thereafter. You had been driven nearly crazy by the heat between your legs that had abated only with a cold bath, but had left you feeling strangely unsatisfied and pent up. You hated it, and you hated how you didn't know what to do to make it go away.

It wasn't strange how you were fantasizing about Father Fyodor. It's quite embarrassing to admit but you’ve always found him handsome. The two of you entered the church around the same time, but he had risen through the ranks much faster than you, already a priest at the young age of twenty two. You were ranked high as well, but had yet to reach the rank you desired, that of a goddess nun. 

You remembered well the day you had arrived at the temple. The children who were sent to the temple every year were few, but still notable. You remember very clearly being plopped onto the carriage with a kiss by your mother, the only other occupant a pretty boy with long hair, who teased you and played with your hair. He was so cool to your ten year old mind, a boy who at fourteen, was practically the coolest thing in the world to you. The veneer had faded slightly, as the distance between you two had widened, until you barely spoke anymore. It hurt you more than you would let on. 

But, until now, you had thought your feelings were simply admiration, and nothing more. But as even the memories of the dreams made that frustrating heat pool in your lower regions, you are forced to accept that maybe your feelings are a little different. You clearly want him to do those things, the things Mikahil in the book had done to Sofiya, the things that would make this heat go away for good. But for now you would have to ignore the heat and avoid him for the life of you. It wouldn’t be hard, the two of you barely interacted anyway.

The guilt that always accompanies the heat is slowly eating away at you, the worries that you are a bad person, that this heat is bad. The dreams are bad, desiring a holy father you're sure is against the rules. Although you would never ask Sister Mila, you’re sure that it's wrong. 

Pushing away the spikes of sadness and guilt that those words bring on, you sigh to yourself and finish your chores in record time. 

⭒ ༺ ♰ ༻ ⭒

“So, what did you need?” Alina is sitting across from you in the cafeteria, knitting something teal that vaguely looks like a hat. She’s already finished her blueberry pancakes, and the empty plate rests in front of her. You clear your throat.  “Well, um…” You say. You don't know if you should even ask this question, let alone at breakfast in the cafeteria, in earshot of the older Nuns. You play with your own pancakes, spearing a blueberry on your fork. Alina, worried at your silence, puts down her hat thing, and fixes her brilliant green eyes on you. 

“Name, is something wrong?” She says. She looks so genuinely worried and you start to feel a little bad. The issue isn't that bad, and you don't want to make her feel guilty by telling her the problem. Alina is a kind soul, who has been your best friend in this place for many, many years. You love her, but you don't want her to worry over your stupid problems. 

You do your best to paste on a smile, taking a bite of your fluffy pancakes. “Who’s supervising grocery duty today?” You say, hoping your voice sounds optimistic. Alina picks up her hat again, worries assuaged. “Um, I think it's Sister Katya? Not sure.” She says, leaning closer with a whisper. “You wanna sneak off and get more books?” She wiggles her eyebrows, the last word dripping with insinuations. You flush, and slowly shake your head. You're tempted though, because the books are not sinful themselves. It's your brain that has come up with the sinful scenarios involving a holy father. You feel that horrible guilt, accompanied obviously by that heat. You rub your thighs together. 

“You sure?” Aline says, still whispering. She leans forward with a wink. “They have Divine Desires: A Tale of Forbidden Love volume two…” She leaves the question open ended, her voice going up temptingly at the end. You hate how tempted you are.

“Alright, fine.” You whisper back. Alina grins in triumph, and pulls back as a senior nun walks behind the two of you, eyes full of suspicion. You quail under them, while Alina stares back defiantly. You’ve never been good with authority, and now it's even worse. All you can feel is guilt and hatred, hatred of your poisoned mind. For how could you think such thoughts of a pious man like Father Fyodor. You tense under the nuns searching eyes, and breathe a sigh of relief as she walks away. You hate yourself for it. 

⭒ ༺ ♰ ༻ ⭒

Alina’s waiting for you by the large wrought iron gate that blocks the temple from the outside world. She waves you over, handing you a large canvas bag. “For the groceries.” She says with a wink. You look around, noting the suspicious absence of supervision. “Where’s Sister Katya?” You ask. Alina gestures towards the path back to the monastery, and sure enough here comes sister Katya, talking to a familiar dreaded head of pretty black hair. You immediately look away, making desperate eye contact with Alina. She shrugs, looking just as confused as you are.

Sister Katya is young, for a senior Nun, and blond. She’s very pretty too, and you feel a nasty emotion you know as jealousy as she smiles at Father Fyodor, their conversation too far away for you to hear. Alina, smirking by your side, asks the question as the two of them join your small posse by the gate. “Hi Sister Katya.” She starts out, as you avoid all eyes, staring instead at the red roses growing by the fence. “Why is Father Fyodor joining us?” Sister Katya frowns in disapproval. “Alina, don't speak so rudely. And Name?” She says. “Raise your eyes and greet your superiors.” You raise your eyes, focusing them on Sister Katya and not looking in the other ones direction. 

“Hello Sister Katya, Father Fyodor.” You're proud of how your voice doesn't waver, even though that guilt is eating you from the inside out. “It is nice to see your Name.” Fyodor’s familiar voice sounds from next to sister Katya, and involuntarily your eyes are on him again. He looks as handsome as ever with his dark, dark hair and piercing eyes. He somehow even manages to make a priest's outfit look attractive, and you feel that familiar heat built in the pit of your stomach. You quickly look away, flushed, embarrassed and oh, so guilty. 

Sister Katya spares you a small smile, and then unlocks the chains blocking the gate. The carriage is waiting, and you hop in across from Alina, hoping and praying to the goddess that Fyodor will take the other seat, the one far away from you. The goddess must be exacting her revenge for your nasty thoughts however because instead of sitting on the other side, Fyodor chooses to sit right next to you. You try your best to curb your nasty thoughts, but they creep back, almost involuntarily. The heat, that pulsing heat in your groin overtakes your thoughts and you rub your thighs together, seeking the nasty bit of friction it gains you. 

“It's been a while since I've seen you, Name.” Fyodor says. The carriage goes over a bump and you bounce a little. The seam of your underwear pulls against your crotch and you bite back a sound. “I suppose so, yes.” You reply, once the bumpiness has passed. You sound cold, you know, but you hope to discourage him from talking to you. You don't deserve his attention, with your nasty thoughts. 

“It seems you are doing well?” He says, that accent catching prettily on your ears. He’s had it forever, and for some reason it hasn't seemed to fade, even after years at the monastery. “I guess so, yes. You?” You say. You can't help continuing the conversation, even as you mentally yell at yourself. Fyodor smells like an idea, like an old abandoned church covered in moss, surrounded by lilies and ivy, alone and unforsaken but not lonely. He smells like heaven. You cough, embarrassed. 

“I've been busy, many come to confess lately.” He says. The idea of confessing your sins drives you crazy at night, tormenting your soul. You sigh as he continues. “Remember dear, if you ever need to confess a carnal sin the booth is open.” The phrasing catches you, stopping you dead in your tracks. An idea, a seedling planted in your brain, ready to sprout at the first drop of water. Your curiosity peaks, you dare to ask a question. 

“Carnal sin? Have many people been confessing sins of that sort lately?” You try to devise the anxiety in your voice, doing your best to sound casually curious. Sister Katya is sitting across from you still, lecturing Alina about proper worship positions. Fyodor leans down slightly, his breath tickling your ear as he speaks. “An erotic book cart had been stationed downtown for a couple weeks now.” He starts. Your heart pounds in your chest even as heat pulses in your groin. He’s much too close. He continues, seeming not to notice your distress. “I must reassure them over and over again, that such physical desires are natural. They insist on apologies to the goddess it seems.” 

A spike of home roars to life in your chest, but then you remember the kinds of dirty thoughts you're having. The goddess would never forgive a woman who desired a holy man. Maybe she would be happier if you did indeed confess your sins. Your mind made up, the tree in your brain sprouts, growing into a pretty little sapling, white lilies falling from the branches. Trying to probe subtly for information, you lean a little closer. 

“Are you working in the confession booth tonight Father?” You don't think you could confess your sins to the man you fantasized about. You don't have the guts. 

“I'm not sure, Dear, Father Nikolai and I switch off.” He says, laying a hand on your thigh as the carriage bumps again. The heat in your gut pulses, and you bite your lips to muffle your cry. Resolved to confess your sins tonight and beg the goddess for her mercy, you settle back into the torturous ride, with a small sigh of relief. 

You miss the smirk that carves its way across Fyodor’s face, the pieces of his little puzzle falling perfectly into place. 

You’ve always been such a good girl, and he knows you’ll be good for him too. He’s always loved you that about you.

⭒ ༺ ♰ ༻ ⭒

The shopping trip had been uneventful. Alina had disappeared for a while, and returned with a bag packed full of books, both erotic and regular. Father Fyodor had been glued to your side for some reason, and Sister Katya had spent the trip flirting with him. You had done your best to ignore her, and control your perverted urges around the Father.

It was night now, just after the curfew for the younger Nuns and you were sitting on your bed, still clothed, carefully lighting a lantern. You were technically breaking curfew, but there were certain rules that allowed you to go out after curfew, and confessing your sins was one of them. The temple had such strange rules, that if you wanted to, could be easily exploited. You yourself had never used this particular rule, simply because you didn't have a reason to.

The halls are quiet, the shadows arching gracefully along the high ceilinged hallways. The lamps flicker, and the shadows come to life, joyfully dancing with each other along the walls. The candlelight lamps through large circles of golden light along the floor, but they never touch. Forever alone, always watching, never touching. You hurry along the hallways, kitten heels making faint clicks on the hardwood floors. 

It's more well lit near the grand cathedral, and the sound of choral practice fills the hallway. You hurry past, taking care not to disturb the older nuns. While technically you were not doing anything wrong, you didn't want to poke the sleeping bear so to speak. The strains of music fade behind you as you move deeper into the church. The goddess's room, and subsequently the confessional booth, is in a much older part of the church, past the white marble of the newer sections and back to the black hardwood and titanium that the church had begun with. The lights turn purple, their shades a muted lavender and you hurry faster, wanting to escape the aerie hallway.

The door opens with a creak, and you notice the light that signals a priest is in fact inside. You can't tell who, but you pray to the goddess that she may grant you small mercy’s and that it's Father Nikolai. 

Father Nikolai is a strange man, with silver hair and a dramatic eye patch. He refuses to wear the uniform and instead wanders around wearing a strange jester uniform. He’s honestly not as weird as some of the other priests(Priestess Yosano who occasionally does strange experiments in the basement, and Father Dazai who owns a giant white tiger.) but Nikolai and Fyodor are the only priests who listen to confessions, you're not sure why. Father Nikolai tells way too many jokes and occasionally forces people to partake in his weird quizzes, but he’s harmless. You think. You're not totally sure, but you are sure you would rather take the weirdo with the stupid outfit than the object of your dirty fantasies. 

You step forward, knocking lightly on the door to signify that you are here. The confessional is one of the oldest antiques in the Temple, made of ancient black wood with real silver accents that have to be polished. It's two-sided, with two doors that can be locked just in case. You take a deep breath, extinguish your lantern and enter the chamber, closing the door with a resolute slam. Your side of the confessional is larger than you would have guessed, with enough room for three people to lay comfortably side by side. It’s wooden as well, and while a bench lines the far end, you choose to kneel in a worshiping position, begging the goddess for mercy in your mind. 

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It has been many years since my last confession.” You say, your voice low to match the atmosphere. The words feel foreign and heavy on your tongue. The man on the other side of the one way partition, Father Nikolai you hope, hums gently, signifying you to continue. You know he can see you, but you cannot see him. The glass is full length, and a special one imported from a foreign land you were told. You bow your head, and begin your sordid tale.

“I pray the goddess will forgive my sorry self, for I have sinned of the utmost. The sin of carnal flesh.” You're already trembling, but in horror you realize the dirty thoughts are pouring back into your head, and that dreaded heat is pooling in your stomach.

“I have desired a holy man, and I have felt temptation and I simply do not know what to do.” You're close to tears, but that heat in your gut is pulsing, and you rub your thighs together, your vision growing warm and fuzzy. You continue in earnest. “Even now, as I think of the dreams my body heats up, and I don't know what to do, Father, but beg for the goddess’s forgiveness.” 

The silence scares you, but you bow your head and beg the goddess’s forgiveness like you've been taught. And after a while, the voice you were least wanting to hear comes through from the other side. 

“My Dear, what a pleasant surprise.” Fyodor’s accent is unmistakable, and while your brain feels fear the heat in your guy pulses. The hardwood floors scrape your bare knees, and the thought of him makes that heat, that fire grow into a raging curtain, hell bent on ruining you. You bow your head lower, as the priest continues. 

“You wish to know how to stop the desire? That heat in your gut?” He sounds kind, his voice softened to almost a pur in the golden lamplight. You nod, expressing your enthusiasm but not trusting your voice. He chuckles. 

“I see.” he says, and you hear some shifting through the glass. “Well, then follow my instructions closely. Can you do that dear?” 

You nod, thanking the goddess gratefully for such an opportunity. The heat is still present, and has increased as the Fyodor has spoken. His accent does things to you, things you’d rather not think too hard of. When he speaks you want him to do things to you, forbidden things. Feeling rather guilty at the turn this has taken, you thank the Father as well, most profusely. “Thank you Father Fyodor, I am much indebted to you.” He chuckles behind the glass.

“Well then dear, sit down on the bench behind you.” He says. You scramble to do as he instructs, sitting down on the hardwood. The priest continues. “Now, do you feel a pulsing heat in your stomach?” At your nod, he continues on. “Now bring two fingers between your legs.” 

Your face is aflame, but you follow his instructions, slipping your hand beneath your skirt and hesitantly touching the gusset of your undergarments. To your surprise, the fabric feels damp. Your confusion must show on your face, because you can hear Fyodor chuckle.

“It's wet, isn't it Dear.” His voice is all husky, and the tone shoots a bolt of white hot pleasure between your legs. You feel your insides clench around nothing, and suddenly feel so dreadfully empty. You nod, and the priest continues. “Spread your legs for me, and pull up your skirt.” 

Your face is flushed with embarrassment, your heart pounding double time in your chest, but you do as he instructs, bunchin your skirt around your legs and spreading your thighs apart, baring your plain undergarments to the world. Fyodor makes a pleased sound through the barrier. 

“You're such a good girl.” He says. You whine at the praise, biting down on your lips to keep the embarrassing sounds in. A faint rustling can be heard through the partition, and Fyodor continues, almost slightly out of breath. “Now take off your panties Dear.” 

“I'm embarrassed Father.” You whine out. Your voice is unfamiliar to your ears, all breathy and full of something hot and needy. The man across the partition chuckles. “Call me Fyodor Darling.” He says. “And there is no need to be embarrassed, desire is a natural part of life my Dear. The goddess was a married woman, who partook in these types of things all the time.” His reassurance greatly helps, and the guilt slowly drains away with the rest of your common sense. Still slightly embarrassed, you slide your panties off, setting them gently beside you on the bench.

A slight breeze hits your cunt, and you shiver, another embarrassing sound working its way dangerously up your throat. “What’s next Fyodor.” You say.

A faint sound can be heard through the partition, almost as if someone is oiling a slick surface, and Fyodor’s voice comes out a little rough when he speaks. “Touch your cunt again dear, what do you feel?” You do as he instructs.

You can feel the lips, and you push past them to where you pee. To your surprise you jolt as a bolt of pure pleasure shoots up your spine. An embarrassing noise bullies its way past your bitten lips, echoing in the wooden chamber. Fyodor chuckles. “Feels good right Dear? Now slide your fingers down slowly, until you feel the wetness.” His accent is a little thicker now, and his words slur ever so slightly. The effect is much too sexy, you feel another bolt of pleasure, this is softer than the one before.

You do as he instructs, sliding your fingers away from the spot and down. You startle as you feel the large amounts of sticky wetness pooling down there. You pull your fingers away from your cunt, and up to your eyesight. They shine, and a thin string of the strange liquid stretches between your fingers as you pull them apart. Fyodor makes a choked up sound behind the partition. “So good darlin, so pretty. Now do you feel an opening down there?” He says.

You ring your fingers back down, and feel around until your fingers sink into something. You nod your assent, and Fyodor speaks again from behind the glass. “Sink one finger in until the knuckle to start.” He grunts out. For the first time you feel a slight bit of discomfort as your finger sinks in. You're being stretched open, and you feel the urge to pull them out again but you trust Fyodor, with your whole heart and soul. You let it sit in the heat for a moment, adjusting to the strange intrusion. 

“Now, sink in a little further Dear.” He says. The pet names are driving you crazy, giving you hope as another shot of pleasure rockets through your nerve endings. You whimper a moan, embarrassed, and do as he instructs. It takes a minute to sink the whole finger in, but you manage it, panting into the steamy air. The intrusion feels new, but not bad, not at all. It feels good to be full, but you also feel hollow, like you're missing something. You communicate this in a breathless voice.

“Want more Fyodor.” Your voice doesn't sound your own, torn with pleasure and bliss. “Pull your finger out, then put it back in.” Fyodor says, voice gruff. “Keep doing it.” The advice is strange, but you do as instructed and pull your finger out, then put it slowly back in. The sensation is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. Every time your fingers drag against your walls, pleasure rockets though your body, leaving you mentling on the bench, legs wide open. You're making weird noises, too busy with the pleasure to stop the noises from leaking out of your bitten lips, legs twitching against the floor as the pleasure rockets through you. 

“Oh goddess, feels so good Fyodor!” You moan, speaking the goddess's name in vain and not even caring. You're much too far gone to feel guilt or remorse anyway. “Want you more, want bigger.” You're begging for something you don't even understand, you're not sure what you want, you just want more, more, more.

Fyodor speaks from behind the glass. “You want more, pretty girl? You want me to come over and make you feel good?” He says. The prospect is so arousing your insides clench around your fingers, gone stupid with arousal. “Oh yes, oh yes please!” You say, thrusting your fingers in and out, in and out. You faintly hear a door slamming and then the door to your chamber is opening and Fyodor is in front of you.

He’s wearing a night outfit, just normal pants and a t-shirt, and his cheeks are flushed the palest pink. Your eyes catch on the tent in his white pants, and you feel spit gather in your mouth. He looks slightly disheveled, and devastatingly handsome. You pull your fingers from your cunt with a moan. 

“Oh Fyodor, I want you so bad. Is that wrong?” You whine, legs still spread for his viewing pleasure. He smiles, pulling off his gloves and laying them on the bench beside your panties. “No, it's perfectly all right.” HIs voice is slightly rough, his accent thick and gravelly. One hand draws teasing patterns on your thighs, driving you nearly insane with want. He continues, his other hand unbuckling his belt. “I want you too darling, you can see my desire for you clearly.” Your eyes catch on that hand, that tent in his pants. You remembered the description from the book, the long hard thing called a ‘cock’. You remembered how the main character had described the pleasure, and your cunt feels dreadfully empty. You whine.

“Want you to fill me up, Fyodor.” You say, reaching out a hand and pulling him closer. He grins at you, all feral teeth and clouded eyes. “You want me darling? Want my cock in your pretty pussy?” He says. You nod, trying to say with expression alone how much you want him. He seems to understand, because he pulls the thing out of his pants and in one move, lines the tip up with your drooling cunt. The stretch is painful, at first.

It burns a little, and as Fyodor grips your thigh, ever so slowly easing himself inside you, your head falls back against the wall of the confessional, a moan slipping past your lips. Is a moan of half pain, and half pleasure, and as he finally bottoms out, you wrap your legs around his back to keep him still. You feel too full. You can feel his length pulsing inside of you, you can feel the heat radiating through your entire body. He pants against you, his eyes never leaving yours for a moment as he speaks. “Feel good darling?” His voice is low, pressed almost into your lips as he speaks. You nod. “Oh yes please, move, please. I oh—” You cut off as he obliges your wish, pulling out slowly and then slamming back in repeatedly.

Loud squelches fill the confessional and your moans spill out unbidden, joined by his occasional grunts and groans and the naughty slapping of skin on skin. You don't remember why you were so guilty, all you feel is pleasure, white hot pleasure coursing through your veins and driving you nearly crazy. 

You feel a tight knot of something in your stomach, something hot and strange and you arch up, as it breaks. “Ohh Fyodor.” You moan out, your voice so full of pelasure it emberasses you. He grinds against you. “Did you cum Pretty girl?” He says, voice occasionally interrupted by grunts. You nod furiously, as you feel another strange knot building. “Warn be next time.” He continues, his breath hitting your ear. A hand works its way down your chest, and then Fyodor’s finger is playing with that bundle of nerves above your hole, and the knot brakes with a crash. 

“Oh god ‘m cumming!” You scream out, gripping Fyodor’s shoulder furiously. The second orgasm is more intense, the pleasure lasting for longer as Fyodor’s cock continues to fuck you through it. You come down again, and Fyodor’s hand on your clit drives you right back up again. He smiles, his hips stuttering slightly.

“Gonna cum again, sweet heart?” He bites out. You nod hurriedly as his hips piston in and out. “Hold on for a moment Name.” He continues. “I'm almost done.” You do your best to hold back, concentrating instead on his face. He’s biting his lip, his pearly white teeth leaving red marks in them. All the while, his eyes have never left you. 

“Fyodor, ‘m cuming, ‘m cuming.” You say, and he grips your head, pulling your close with a whisper. “Me to Name.” He says, and then crashes his lips onto yours. 

You cum for the third time with a muffled cry, and his hips stutter, driving deep into you one more time as hot liquid splashes inside you.

Endnotes: so uh, this ended up resembling christianity a little two much, but also not because the only church i've ever been to was a black baptist church, and this...is not that

#bungou stray dogs #mariannacrxss #kinktober 2023 #helplesslypurple77kinktober #bsd smut #kinktober #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #fyodor x reader