#there were other things but I can’t remember them

[dante-mightdie]

MORE ANGST.

Like, okay, more angst for reader, but I need some angst for 141. Like PLEASE.

So, the reader, frustrated (mentally and physically), decides to take things onto their own hands. If they treat them as if they don't exist, so will they. It starts simple. They don't greet them good morning and goodbye anymore, when the team would only offer a grunt or nod of acknowledgment. Reader doesn't ask them to hang out, or to join into their plans. They start living for themselves, not quite leaving them, more like treating the four men like roommates. Whenever one would initiate intimacy, reader would slip away, offering some lame excuse. At the same time, just an hour later, they'd see a glimpse of reader, all dressed up and pretty, not bothering to let them know where they'd be going as they run out the front door, only to be heared from a couple of hours later. Stumbling through the front door with a second pair of footsteps following suit, and a hearty male laugh. The apartment was as much reader's as it was the boys' so it should be normal they brought someone home ... but was this what the task force 141 though?

changed it ever so slightly but I love this yes

c/w: poly!141, mentions of emotional neglect, alcohol, intoxication

you got the idea after scrolling through social media, rotting away in bed had become a common routine for you. an advertisement had popped up for a bar that opened up a few months ago, you remember asking johnny and kyle to go with you but they were too busy at the time

it looked like a nice enough place. not like the dive bars in camden that simon takes you to, or those annoying ass scotch bars in canary wharf that john insists on ‘introducing’ you to. as if you’ve never had a glass of scotch before. the memory makes you scoff to yourself

surprisingly, it doesn’t take much to convince yourself to just… go. if they won’t go with you, there’s no reason why you can’t convince yourself. they were too busy ignoring you to notice you’d be gone anyway. so, you drag yourself out of bed and rifle through the wardrobe for something to wear

looking good really does make you feel good, you say to yourself when you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror once you were ready. you’d decided on a fitted black dress with a pair of black strapped heels. they wouldn’t notice but you added a bit of detail to the outfit

if they did notice that every piece of jewellery was a piece they had bought for you, it would fucking burn. the diamond skull-shaped studs that simon got you, the vintage locket that john had found for you when he was deployed, and the anklet that kyle had grabbed from some fancy jewellery store on oxford street paired with the stunning ring that johnny found at a local market in scotland

you took a deep breath and held your head high before grabbing your purse. when you entered the front room, all conversation stopped as usual. but only because they were too busy eyeing you up and down, “where’re you goin’ dressed like that?”

you roll your eyes when john speaks up, not even stopping to respond. a curt ‘out’ leaving your lips as you walk out the front door and slam it loudly. the boys all looked at each other, shifting in their seats uncomfortably at the interaction

john narrowed his eyes as he glared at the front door. he didn’t like not knowing where you were. even if you didn’t know it, john always knew about your whereabouts

the bar was nice, nice enough for you to drink your feelings away in. in your head, you imagined flirting with anyone just to make the boys jealous. but every time someone approached you, it just filled you with more sadness. perhaps a part of you just wanted the boys to grab you, persuade you to stay with sweet words and gentle kisses like they used to do when you looked this good

it was a few hours past midnight when you finally returned, simon awakened by the sounds of giggling outside and your keys jangling in the door. he didn’t plan on getting out of bed until he heard a male voice speaking along side yours

he stalked down the stairs, following the sounds of your heels stumbling until he found you in the front room. you were drunk out of your fucking mind with some random bloke holding you up. simon’s fists clenched at his side and he decided to make his presence known

“better take your hand off her before you fuckin’ lose it, mate.” he spits, taking a step closer to yank you from the man’s grip. you squeak and stumble from the harsh tug, landing right against simon’s bulky frame as he holds on to your arm to keep you steady

the man takes a step back, holding his hands up in surrender. “woah, i’m not here to cause any trouble. was just making sure she got home safe. my colleague over served her and she said her roommates were too busy to pick her up.”

simon clenches his jaw, keeping his gaze on the man and just waiting for him to step out of line. he doesn’t even notice that the others have climbed out of bed too, coming downstairs to hear what the commotion is about

he turns his head only to shove you into price’s arms, squaring his shoulders as he stares the bartender down. “well, our girl is home and safe now so you best be on your way.”

“relax, mate. she’s really not my type. that one there is more my type.” the bartender chuckles, nodding his head towards soap before turning around and walking out the door but not before giving you a goodbye

price steadies your body against him, already getting an idea of the kind of drunken state that you’re in. he lifts your basically limp body into his arms before carrying you up to bed but he doesn’t take you to the spare room. he takes you to what you have recently come to know as their room

“had a bit too much, princess?” he chuckles, placing you down on the bed. you look at him confused before letting your head fall to the pillow

“‘m still your princess?” you mumble into the fabric. price frowns slightly, turning his head to look at the boys before making work on taking your heels off

“course. you always have been.” he mumbles. you respond with a small hum before completely passing out against the sheets…

#mw2 #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #captain john price #john price #john price x reader #ghost x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #john soap mctavish x reader #soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader

[badjokesbyjeff]

There were three race horses; ernie, bill, and ted. 

the three of them were good friends; they enjoyed racing each other and generally won and lost to each other equally. every evening, after the races, they went to a local bar to relax and drink some beer. they would often discuss racing techniques, their families, etc.

one season, bill wasn't doing so well. he rarely beat the other two, and was worried that he'd be sent to the glue factory if his luck didn't change. one night, at the bar, he talked with ernie and ted about it.

"you know, guys, i just can't figure it out," he said. "everything's fine at home; the kids are doing great, my wife is being nice, the bills are paid, my mother-in-law rarely visits - nothing could be better. maybe i'm just getting old. if things don't pick up soon, they'll send me to the glue factory."

the bartender, a big llama from peru, overheard the conversation. he looked around, to make sure nobody else was listening, then said, "hey, pal, i got something for you that'll make you feel like a young colt again." he reached under the bar and pulled out an unlabeled bottle of beer. "here, drink this; i guarantee you'll start winning again. come by each night for a week and I'll give you one. if it doesn't work, i'll give you double your money back!"

bill looked at ernie and ted, who only shrugged, then drank the contents of the bottle. "oh, just one thing," the llama said, "it'll make your ass itch, but that's okay; it's just a side effect. don't worry about it." the three horses stayed a few hours, played a few games of pool and darts, and went home.

over the course of the next three days, they went back to the bar each night, and bill continued the regimen of mystery beer. his racing times did improve! he was slowly moving back up in the rankings, and was soon back into the top three with ernie and ted. bill was ecstatic, and thanked the llama profusely.

"hey, my pleasure," said the llama.

a few weeks passed by, and ernie started slowing down. after losing three races in a row, he sobbed to himself, "i just don't get it. my life couldn't be better. i can't believe I'm getting old! they'll send me to the glue factory if i don't get back in the groove!"

that evening, at the bar, he told the llama bartender about his troubles, and asked if he too could try the mystery beer. "okay, but remember, it'll make your ass itch - but don't pay it no mind. it's just a harmless side effect."

"no problem. it'll be worth it to get back in the groove," ernie said.

a few days went by. ernie's ass did indeed itch, but after a few more days, his races improved, and he was back in the top three with bill and ted.

at the bar one evening, ernie bought a round of beers for all the horses, and thanked the llama profusely.

"i just can't believe how great that mystery beer worked!" ernie said. "you're sitting on a gold mine, there!" the llama said it was his pleasure, don't worry about it, etc.

a few more weeks went by, and now ted started slowing down, losing races. he, too realized that he'd be shipped off to the glue factory unless his races improved.

"say," he said to the llama one night after a particularly humiliating loss, "i think i need to try that mystery beer too. they'll ship me off to the glue factory for sure if I don't start winning again."

"no problem," the llama said, pulling out an unlabeled bottle. "here. come back every night, and i guarantee you'll be back in top form again, or i'll give you double your money back."

over the course of the next few weeks, ted's races continued to improve until he was back in the top three with bill and ernie. he pranced into the bar, full of vim and vigor, and thanked the llama profusely. "you know, my ass itches a lot; it's almost unbearable. but i can't thank you enough. they would have turned me into glue by now if it weren't for you. anything you want, let me know and i'll see what i can do."

"no problem," said the llama, "i make this beer at home using an ancient inca recipe. it's just my way of thanking my regular customers for their patronage over the years."

"i'm not kidding," ted said, "this is the greatest thing that's ever happened to me. anything, you name it, anything you want, let me know, and it's yours."

"well, now that you mention it..." the llama began -

right then, a greyhound walked up to the bar. he was obviously depressed.

"barkeep, give me something strong. i'm on a losing streak you wouldn't believe," the greyhound said.

ted looked at the greyhound, then at bill and ernie, and said, "hey, look! a talking dog!"

#funny #jokes #humor #lol #comedy

[yuquinzel]

— nobody’s business.

feat. itoshi sae. a little sensual. 700+ wc. self indulgent :> publicizing your relationship with japan’s star player.

itoshi sae is holding onto your hand, a little more firmly than ever before. teal eyes out ahead on the field in front of you both searching for something you can’t name. you follow his gaze— it’s on the bleachers first, then hastily eyeing every player on the pitch. it’s on the spectators one second, then it’s on the cameras panning and zooming in from every direction.

sae grimaces when one such camera directs at the two of you, pulling you behind and away from the prying eyes of the media eager to catch just a glimpse of japan’s prized player and his partner who he keeps oh so hidden from the world.

he’s never denied being in a relationship. never tried to refute dating allegations with a non-celebrity, never once fazed to address the blurred pictures of him making out with someone in his car, never tried to hide the bruises on his neck that catch the eye of every fan leaving nobody wondering what it really is. he knows what they’ll do once they really know who you are— the paparazzi wouldn’t fucking leave you alone, following you everywhere. magazines would be willing to kill to get just one word from you and twist it to their likings. sae’s discreet with his words though, never gives them something to work with.

it was not until you addressed it to him yourself. just another article surfacing all around social media. something that had left a bitter taste on your tongue. ‘ itoshi sae and his supposed girlfriend ! ’ — it’s a picture of sae with a model you don’t know the name of, attending an event you weren’t invited to. he looks clearly unimpressed. but it helps little when every single comment under the article is how of well the two look together.

how well itoshi sae looks with someone who’s not you.

“you’ve already denied the rumours, so then why...” you’d said, avoiding his gaze for reasons you can’t pinpoint. “they always make up shit to write when their lukewarm ass doesn’t have real shit to sell.” he’d answered, “don’t think much about it. they’ll forget about it soon.”

when you didn’t say anything back, sae had known what he was to do. he’d known what it was you were asking of him with your silence. and for you, he was more than willing.

he’s sure a few cameras would’ve captured him with you by now, your face clear and beautiful for everyone to see and engrave on their papers and headlines. they’ll adorn you with pretty words and pretty adjectives, and he’ll have to share you with the eyes of the world now. something about it leaves a bitter flavor on his tongue, so he kisses you instead to taste the sweetness of your lips.

“don’t take your eyes off me,” he rasps between the kisses, one hand coming to cradle your jaw while the other hooks around your waist. “look at only me.”

“only you.” you say and sae breathes you in. he leans down closer, lips moving against yours more desperately than ever. he’s pleased with your answer. phantom touches of his hands slithering under your shirt and tracing the skin of your abdomen.

you forget about the match about to start in a mere minutes, about the cameras still desperate to get one glimpse of this very scene, and if you do remember that his teammates would march out any second now— sae makes you forget about everyone else when he tugs on your bottom lip lightly, “afraid? ” he challenges you with a long, languid glide of his tongue, “of what? I’m the only thing on your mind. ”

later when the game ends with the final pass from sae leading to a goal, the camera pans to you sitting in the vip section and cheering for sae and his team. another pans to sae when he notices you on the screen. sae ignores the roars of the crowd, ignores his teammates gathering around him, screaming for their win. he looks at you, waiting intently. you know what he’s asking of you — did you watch? he shifts forward ever so slightly — was i good?

you’re smiling as you mouth a clear I’m so proud of you — and only then does sae feels like he’s won.

© yuquinzel2023 [ plagiarism is a violation of moral rights ! ]

why am I posting this it's a year old 🧘🏻‍♀️🧘🏻‍♀️

#❀˖° ─ hana writes. #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae x you #blue lock x reader #itoshi sae fluff #sae x reader #sae x you #blue lock x you #blue lock x reader fluff #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi x you #bllk x reader #bllk x you #bllk fluff

[lowgothree]

𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ━━ ❛ 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 ❜

chapter no. 001!          

𝗈𝗈𝗈.               ⠀CONTENT : paige “with” another girl (for the plot). reader is so terribly down bad. also, i don’t proofread so if you see typos or grammar mistakes i’m sorry. and this chapter is kinda boring but it's necessary soo.

𝗈𝗈𝗈. ⠀      WORD COUNT : 1.5k

𝗈𝗈𝗈.   ⠀AUTHORS NOTE : yall seemed to like the prologue so i hope yall like this too!!

THEY’RE KISSING. and she’s enjoying it, by the looks of it. you can tell because she’s doing that thing where she pulls the other person closer like they could never be close enough. the thing she used to do to you. 

it’s almost comical that the first time you see paige again, she’s kissing some other girl with eyes like yours outside the diner where you and the girls were. she thinks she’s being sneaky (she’s not). she always thought she was sneaky, you remember that much. in fact, you somehow remember everything about the blonde except what her lips tasted like. so of course you’re a little jealous, feeling a bit out of the loop. that’s normal. right? and maybe definitely it’s stupid to mourn so deeply over a relationship that you ended but, whatever, you can’t help that you miss her.

there was nothing human about the feeling, it was more like a typhoon or a volcanic eruption, something so completely out of your control. it was purely sickening…but whenever you see the peroxide-blonde with someone new, you  find yourself apprehensively scanning their hair, their skin, the words that they would say –– always finding a hint of yourself within them. the delusional part of you wanted that to mean she still wanted you, but logic said that maybe she just started having a type. but then you’d think back to before…the paige before you never had a specific type. but since you? there’s an unmistakable one. but that’s not enough proof that she still feels for you. in fact, it’s nothing. it’s hard not to see yourself when you’re actively looking for it. you’d keep up with the torture by staring at paige kissing that girl through the window but then you feel a sharp kick to your shin from underneath the table. 

“stop staring, perv.” nika mutters, rolling her eyes lightly. although nika was one of the few people who knew about the dead relationship, she didn’t know that your feelings for paige still lingered. she only knew what paige told her, that the two of you were friends.

“i wasn’t ––”

“you were.”

okay –– maybe you were. you sigh silently to yourself, taking a sip of your milkshake. this is the first time you’re actually hanging out with your friends together rather than just one on one (which you only did because you didn’t want to see paige). the two of you agreed to be friends but that was clearly not going to happen. however, you felt bad for denying your friends every time they asked to spend time with you. so, you sucked up your pride. you could spend an hour in paige’s presence, it wouldn’t kill you. at least not literally.

angel, a redhead who shares a dorm with nika and a major with you, is sitting in between azzi and you. she’s eyeing you carefully, after all, the two of you are very close and she knows why you and paige broke up. she also knows that you still care about her. her gaze is simultaneously suffocating and protective.

“...are you okay?” she whispers only loud enough for you to hear. you simply nod, munching on your fries trying not to look out of the window again. in truth, your head was spinning. you haven’t seen paige face to face since the breakup. you were hoping you’d never have to again…

then she finally enters, walking up to the booth. every step she takes is just as confident as they always are. her hair is down, running across the length of her back. her eyes meet yours, they’re more familiar than your own name. her beauty is still unquestionable –– but you wouldn’t admit it. it would make looking away from her even more difficult. so instead you pretend not to look as she sits down at the booth right next to nika…right in front of you. she pokes nika’s side just to piss her off  before snatching a fry from angel’s plate and dipping it in her own milkshake. angel rolls her eyes but says nothing.

“that’s disgusting.” nika turns up her nose as paige bites it. 

“don’t knock it till you try it.” paige dramatically licks her fingers. nika makes a fist, gently hitting the table a few times with her knuckles. you chuckle at nika’s attitude.

“what are you giggling about? you used to like it too.” paige mutters, smiling lightly but her words send a pang to your chest. nobody else seems to catch the bitterness in her tone….but you do. her eyes look almost guilty when she sees the sharp intake of breath you take. but before she could say anything else, you look away. you avoid her eye contact like it’s deadly.

nika clears her throat, eventually sensing the tension, and turns her attention to azzi whose eyes are close and head is rested against the booth. “you okay?”

“mhm…just really tired.” she mutters, opening her eyes to sip her lemonade. 

you chuckle. “i bet you are, we stayed up all last night studying.”

“finals?” angel questions.

“yeah…” azzi mumbles.

“can we please not talk about that right now?” paige groans.

“says you, scholar athlete.” azzi mutters, rolling her eyes at the blonde.

“she’s too busy with that girl to focus on studying these days.” nika chuckles. angel looks over at you for a quick moment but you keep your gaze steady on your plate.

you nearly jump out of your skin trying to relax your tensing shoulders before someone notices. you ended things with her…she couldn’t even call you her girlfriend. so why did it hurt so much to even hear of someone else in your place? this wasn’t exactly the plan, you were meant to move on by now. but seeing her…again…all you can wonder is what she’s thinking about right now.

“who? cleo?” paige snorts. “we’re not talking about that either.”

cleo. cleo. the girl who just had her tongue down paige’s throat no less than ten minutes ago. you feel sick to your stomach at the mention but you hide it well, then you feel sicker when you think about how pathetic it is that you even felt this way to begin with. it’s just another indignity among many.

“why not?” nika mutters. “it’s more interesting than talking about studying.”

“true.” azzi adds.

paige looks over at you, her way of saying that she’s not going to talk about another girl in front of you. “where’s aubrey?” 

you appreciate the conversation shift even if you know it’s in vain. they want to know about this mystery girl and honestly, so do you.

“late.” nika mutters.

“i ordered her food for her.” angel smiles softly. 

“and she’s gonna wanna talk about the girl too.” azzi chuckles. angel’s leg shakes underneath the table, she’s clearly empathetic for you. she knows the girls don’t mean to hurt you but she also knows that it is hurting you. you wanted to relax her, make her feel less guilty for not saying anything even if she wasn’t participating in the conversation.

so you chuckle lightly, pretending to be completely fine and say, “can you please be still?”

“can you please be still?” you sigh softly, braiding her hair in its signature style. paige is sitting in front of you on the bed with her legs crossed. she has a game later, and she asked you to braid her hair for her. 

“you’re pretty.” paige mumbles as you finish up her first braid, still squirming at your touch. 

for a second you almost forget yourself, paige being damn near sickeningly sweet. she seems to notice how her words have temporarily struck you, pride swelling within her since she loves making you happy. 

you shrug it off and remember that her back is facing you, so you chuckle at her commenting on your appearance. “you can’t even see me.”

“i don’t have to. i’m thinking about how your face looks right now.” she turns back to look at you over her shoulder. “pretty.”

you bite back a smile, turning her head back so you can braid the other side. “you’re corny, you know that?”

“i’m enamored.”

“oh, someone learned a new word.” you snort, continuing braiding her hair, being as gentle as you can with her. (though it gets increasingly difficult when she won’t stop moving).

“shut up.” she mutters. “i’m super smart.”

you finish braiding her hair, tapping her side to let her know that you’re done and she can go look. she stands up from the bed, long legs taking her to the dresser which has a mirror over it, she eyes her braids carefully. “they’re a little crooked, babe.”

you roll your eyes. “cause you wouldn’t stop mo––”

she turns back your way, walking back to you. paige towers over you while you sit on the bed, she puts a hand under your chin and kisses you. “i’m joking. they’re perfect. thank you, baby.”

“anything for you…” you whisper back and your words make her smile. it’s wide and toothy –– the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

#anything but you ✹ꯣ #paige bueckers x reader

[magics-neptunes-things]

Ready, Aim, Shoot (3)

Hi guys!

I post it again, the other one just disappeared without any reason. Sorry if you already red it.

TW : Blood, creepy psychologist, panic attack, angst, depression.

PART 1 | PART 2

Blood. There is blood everywhere. The more you look, the more there is. You look at your shaking hands, cover in red. You don’t know whose blood is it though. The room you are in is only white, adding to the contrast with the blood color. Breathing quickly, you look around and that’s when you finally see her.

Alexia.

Alexia is laying in the middle of the room, her body surrounded by red too. Panicking, you kneel next to her, shaking her to try to wake her. But she doesn’t. She stays still in your hand, not moving. Not breathing. This is when you scream.

You scream so much that it wakes you up suddenly. Heavily breathing, you sit on your bed, blindly trying to find the button on your bedside lamp. You finally managed to find it, but when you put the light on, Alexia isn’t next to you in your bed.

It’s only when you left your room to look for her that you remember. She’s not here tonight, she’s sleeping in Tenerife, where she played today. Or yesterday, because it’s actually three in the morning. It’s the first time she leaves

you alone for all the night since you came back.

Alexia Is not here, but it’s your fault. You assured her that you will be ok, almost pushing her out of your flat. She made you swear to call her if you need her, no matter what time is it. She asked Mapi to come to look for you last night, so you watched the game with the blonde before she went home. You fell asleep quickly actually, you were far to imagine a wake up like that.

You should really call her; she will be disappointed with you if she learns the state of panic you are in without calling her. But you hate the idea to wake her up at this time of the night. She played yesterday, she’s coming home today. She needs to rest.

You find refuge on your couch, putting the TV on. But you can’t forget the picture of Alexia and the blood everywhere. You feel like it’s still on your body, no matter how many times you look at your hands to be sure that you don’t have a little red on you. Thirty minutes after you wake up, you decided to go take a shower.

You pass a long time under it, water burning, washing your body again and again. You ignore the scare that your accident left on your body. You hate them. No matter how many times Alexia kissed them, telling you that you are strong and even more beautiful than before.

You feel guilty as hell when you think about your girlfriend. She is amazing with you, so patient and so loving. You don’t feel like you deserve her. You don’t make any progress with your mental health and it’s disturbing. You even think about breaking up with Alexia one time, disgusting by yourself. She deserves so much more than you. But right after you had a panic attack, because how can you live without her? She’s your whole world.

You are not even strong enough to make the things right for her.

When the feeling of the hot water and the strength with which you rubbed your skin became too much to handle, you stop the water and get out of the shower. This time your skin is red, but you know why.

You pick a hoodie from Alexia and one of her old Barcelona’s short. If you can’t have your girlfriend’s arms, at least you can have her smell. And, after some hesitation, you even take her pillow to go with you to the couch of your living room. You take snack and watch some stupid things on TV while scrolling on your phone.

You are still tired, but you don’t want to take the risk to fall asleep again. You’re terrified to have this dream again. Every time the images came back in your brain, you try to hug Alexia’s pillow harder. It kind of work, but it has nothing to do with Alexia’s comfort.

You fall asleep after 8 o’clock, after your girlfriend told you that they are boarding and that she will be home soon.

You are still asleep when Alexia comes home. She smiles seeing you laying on the couch, cuddle against her pillow, in her clothes. You are watching YouTube now, from her account, and you choose the playlist where she puts all the games she finds interesting. Only putting her suitcase on the ground, she comes to sit next to you, softly stroking your hair.

“Alexia?” you mumble, opening your eyes with difficulty.

“Hi sleepy head”

Her smile is affectionate, and you get up on one elbow to rub your eyes and have a better look at her. Her hairs are down and she seems fine. She seems happy, maybe to see you? The plan was that she takes a taxi with Jana to come back home, Alexia didn’t want you to drive because some noises sometimes make you jump.

“How are you?” Alexia asks softly.

“Can I have a hug?”

She smiles and passes her arms around you to hug you. But you lay on the couch again, taking her with you on it. She giggles and you smile, forgetting for the first time your nightmare.

“I’m glad you’re here” you whisper after some minutes.

“I’m glad to be back to you too.”

You hum, turning a little to pass a lag around her knees and cuddle tighter against her. She’s stroking your back lovingly, sometimes kissing your head. You started to wonder how much mental pressure you are putting on her when she talks again.

“You remember Marta? From the media team?”

“I think I do” you answer, frowning. “Why?”

“She just left for her maternity leave, and she doesn’t know for now if she will come back.”

“Ok?”

You are still frowning when you look at your girlfriend, not understanding where she wants to go. I mean you are happy that people have baby and all. But what does it make a change for you?

It looks like Alexia’s idea was that you apply for the job. You try to escape that idea, not really happy about the idea of meeting tons of people who will know about your story and look at you with pity in their eyes. But Alexia assures you that it won’t happen, adding that you just can go for the interview without saying yes after.

Long story short, you are now sitting on your desk for your first day.

Your job is basically to find idea of activities to anime the games, a little more marketing than journalism to be honest. But it looks fun and like Alexia said before, when Marta will come back, you don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to.

********

“Hi, I’d like a meeting with the new media manager?”

A voice in front of you make you raise your head, even if you recognize it immediately. Alexia is smirking at you from the door of your office, looking like she just finishes her shower. Which she probably did given the time.

“I’m sorry, but you have to talk to my assistant first, she will give you my time schedule” you smirk back.

Alexia frown slightly, closing the door behind her before coming for you.

“You have an assistant?”

You know that frown and you roll your eyes while standing up to great her like she deserves it.

“Yes, I have” you answer, letting yourself go against her when she takes you in her arms.

She hums, her lips against your hair, trying to look discreetly in the open office by the window. The gesture makes you chuckle and you raise your head to have a better look at her.

“What? I was just looking to know if you knew her, that’s all.”

“Sure, mi Amor.”

She pouts and you kiss it better, just to see the smile she has right after. You weren’t really happy to start to work again to be honest, but you have to admit that it’s a good thing for you to keep your head busy with something. Alexia was right, once again.

“Are you ready to leave? I’m taking you home.”

“I am.”

You take your stuff with you, before letting Alexia passes her arm around your waist to take you with her. You don’t know if it’s only the jealousy talking right now, but you have to admit that she is way more openly affective with you since your accident. Not that you have a problem with it, obviously. But the way her gaze is scanning the room when you left after saying goodbye to your colleagues, it makes you think that there is at least a little part of jealousy in it.

Which is totally stupid, you only see her.

“You seems happier” Alexia says cautiously over her plate that night.

You look at her for some seconds before nodding. You are, but you are scared to mention it in case that it makes your nightmares coming back.

“I am. Thanks to you” you smile softly.

“Are you really? Or are you hiding something for me like when I was away for the game to Tenerife?”

You blush and almost chock on your tomato, but you somehow are able to keep some dignity. You don’t take the time to try to deny her statement though, you know that she knows. Of course she does. She reads you like an open book. Alexia has the decency to not point anything else, waiting patiently for your answer.

“I really am better. You were right, I really needed to get out from here even if it was difficult at first. It’s great to have something to do, not that cooking for you wasn’t entertaining. But going out… It’s great.”

She nods softly, without leaving your face with her eyes. You know immediately that there is something else in her mind, but you don’t push, letting her carry the conversation.

“Do you think I was too suffocating with you? Maybe if I…”

“No!” you cut her after some seconds of incredulity. “Alexia how could you…? Are you joking? You are the reason that I’m still here and mentally good. You are the reason that I keep fighting to be fine again. I couldn’t have done it without you. I forbid you to think of anything like that.”

“I’m sorry. It’s some insecurities and I shouldn’t have told you that” she frowns again, playing with her forks and some pasta left in her plate.

“Alexia, don’t please.”

She looks at you again when you stand up, just to come sit on her lap. She welcomes you by taking you close against her with her arms. You pass your arms around your neck, one of your fingers playing with the baby hair on her neck.

“You are so perfect to me. I don’t know if I’ll be able to thank you enough one day for it. You were always right and done nothing wrong all those days. A lot of people would have abandoned, but you are still here with me.”

“I’ll never abandon you” she mumbles right into your eyes.

You can see how much she means those worlds and you have to take all your strength not to start crying like a baby. You’re pretty sure that your eyes are shining from tears but you busy yourself by stroking her cheek tenderly.

“You said one time that my come back is a miracle, do you remember? Well, you are my miracle.” you add, after she nods.

She kisses you and the way she did makes your head turned. She only let you breath for several seconds when you need air, before kissing you again with even more intensity. You had sex again after some weeks of rehab from your part, but not like you did before your departure. And it’s hard to see Alexia restrain her gestures, scared as hell to hurt you. Tonight though, you feel like that maybe it will come back.

********

It came back.

You are laying on your bed, lovingly enveloped in your girlfriend’s arms. Her skin is so soft against yours, your face hiding in her neck. You are lull by Alexia’s deep and slow breathing and you are starting to wonder if she’s falling asleep when she talks quietly.

“How are you feeling?”

“Great. Safe. Warm.”

“Perfect” Alexia sighs softly, moving a little to be more comfortable on the mattress.

You look up at her, admiring the shape of her jaw, her perfect nose, her beautiful eyes, and her so kissable lips.

“What?” she asks when she sees you staring.

“Nothing” you giggle. “You’re just so beautiful.”

She rolls her eyes before closing them, tightening you harder against her. You don’t need anything than her body to keep you warm and you love it.

“Would you be angry if I stopped working there?”

The sudden question makes her open her eyes again to look at you. She seems to be thinking for several seconds before answering.

“Of course not. Why do you want to stop anyway? Is someone nasty with you?”

“Not at all” you deny, already imagine her hunting the person who would do that to you. “I was thinking that… maybe I could finish one of my book projects?”

“You mean one of your thousand amazing scenario who are desperately waiting on your computer?”

“Exactly that” you answer, rolling your eyes.

She teases you way to much about it already.

“If it’s what you want, of course I’ll support you. But what about going out to meet people?”

You see the worried already and you answer, kissing her cheek.

“I’ll go write into a Café or something. Maybe seeing people, crowd and streets will help me to get idea.”

********

That’s exactly what you did, after finishing your job with the media. The first days, you weren’t really effective, more focused on what’s going on around you and which story you want to choose. After some debate with yourself and help asking to your mother and Alexia, you choose to mix two stories and start writing again. It made you start from the beginning, but it’s maybe better like this.

You still get to your psychiatrist to your session twice a week, always a little more scared to go without Alexia. Your psychiatrist told both of you that it could be good for you to come without your girlfriend. Alexia accepted immediately, always being interested in everything that can make you feel better.

You always have a strange feeling without Alexia’s halo, and it’s only happened when you come here. You don’t have trouble to go grocery shopping without Alexia or go to the Café to write.

It’s particularly hard to come today, you talked to Alexia by the phone before your appointment to ease your stress. She seems to realize that something is wrong, because she talks a lot about her day. She only does that to change your mind, and you love her for that.

“Hello Y/N” your therapist greats you.

You great her back and start talking about your new occupation, your activities since the last time and the travel Alexia proposed to you last night. It was something you can’t stop to think about since she mentioned it, eager to go away for some days in the sun with the woman you love.

“Don’t you think it will be too soon?” the doctor asks, only looking at her notepad.

You are taken aback. You would never have thought that she can be thinking that it’s a bad idea. She never stops to tell you to go ahead and try new things since the beginning.

“Taking a plane, going to an airport, in a place that might remind you of your trauma? What would you do if you have one of your panic attacks there?”

You don’t know what to answer to that. Alexia mentioned Canary Islands and a private hotel with a private beach, which seems far away from the Middle East.

“No, I mean… I’m going better now. And I’ll be with Ale. Everything will be ok.”

She looks at you this time, raising an eyebrow. Her look is sharp, almost mean and you have trouble swallow your saliva. You feel like a schoolgirl getting bullied by her teacher.

“Don’t you think you already lean too much on the poor girl? Maybe she suggests the holidays to have some rest, are you sure she wants you to go with her?”

You don’t really remember the end of the appointment and you don’t know how you managed to find yourself in the Barcelona’s facilities. You can’t think straight anymore, it’s like this woman knew all your insecurities and tell you that you are right to have them.

What if she’s right? What if Alexia can’t stand your presence, your toxics dreams and mental health? You already knew that you weren’t good enough for her and that she deserved better. You can’t believe that you let her makes you believe that she can love you. How can she? How can anyone?

You were turning around to go home when you hear someone call your name.

“Y/N?”

You recognize Mariona through your tears, but you can’t say anything. She doesn’t seem to mind though, carefully taking your arm in her hand.

“What are you doing here? Are you looking for Alexia?”

You try to scream at her to let Alexia alone and not to get you to her, but you can’t. When you don’t say a word, Mariona decides to take you to Alexia. Luckily the Majorcan woman came late today and she knows exactly where to find your girlfriend.

You let Mariona drags you around, hearing her soothing voice without being able to understand what she’s saying. Sweets, encouraging words, for sur. You can’t figure out really what happens next, but after several minutes of walk, you hear Mariona calling your girlfriend’s name. And more seconds after, you are surrounded by her arms, her perfume, everything that is her.

Everything that you don’t deserve.

When Alexia realizes that she’s facing a wall and that you won’t say a word, she takes you home. You are like anesthetized at this point, letting her do what she wants with you. When you are laying on the bed you retake some reality and stare at Alexia who seems to be choosing clothes to put on you after taking a shower.

“I’m breaking up with you.”

The words were lifeless, but you see Alexia froze. She turns in your direction, with eyes wide and the most chocked face ever.

“What?”

“I’m breaking up with you” you repeat, looking at her straight in her eyes.

A silence pass and you see Alexia watching at you, probably waiting for you to say something else. Maybe to explain yourself, but you don’t say another word. Plus, the reasons are obvious, no?

“Are you- don’t you love me anymore?”

She seems broken. That doesn’t make any sense, she is supposed to be relieved, not sad. You don’t understand her reaction, so you shrug before answering.

“That’s not the point, Alexia. You are free. I’m giving you your liberty back.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Are you drunk? Did someone give you something to you?”

She seems angry now, almost shouting with her eyebrows frown. You frown too, because why the hell won’t she understand? You sit in the bed while she’s still standing in front of you.

“No! I just… Why won’t you…”

Why is your brain suddenly transformed in pudding?

You look at Alexia when she comes to you and takes your face between her hands. She does it with so much care that you want to cry again.

“Why don’t you let me break up with you?” you whisper.

“Because I love you. I told you; I’ll fight for us every day if I have to.”

There we are, you are crying again. But this time Alexia is here, she can take you against her, rock you will you cry and whispers sweets nothing in your ears. She waits for your sobbing to stop, holding you tightly. Only when you can breathe normally again, she speaks.

“What happened?” she asks softly.

You don’t know really where to start, so you just shake your head without answering anything. But she waits, again and again. So, after some minutes, you talk too.

“I just want you to be happy. I know you’ll be happier without me.”

“You are wrong.”

Her voice is gentle, but as the same time strong enough to let you know that you don’t have to try to deny it. It’s her truth and that’s enough.

“Well you need to take some time apart from me so it’s not –“

“Where the hell does that idea comes from?”

She’s lost. You were good when you end up your call some hours later. And then you appeared crying during her training, only to say her when you come home that you want to break up with her. But you frown again, lost too. And tired, to be honest.

“My therapist said that I’m leaning on you too much. And that’s way you wanted to go on holidays without me.”

You explain that like it’s the more logical thing in the world, but for Alexia it doesn’t make any sense. She starts to understand where it comes from however, even if she doesn’t understand why.

“I’m not going anywhere without you, what the point to have holidays if you’re not with me?” she answers, looking right into your eyes. “Did your therapist say other things?”

You nod and start to explain everything happened and everything she told you. The more you talk, the more Alexia seems to be furious. Her jaw is clenched, her eyes are literally throwing lightning and she so tense that you are really concerned that she can have a cramp somewhere. But when she talks to you again, her voice is infinitely soft.

“Nothing of that is true. I love you. I will do everything to help you to make you feel better. I’m not going to give up on you, Y/N. I’m not going to give up on us.”

You look at her, almost desperately. But she has the same gaze that she has when says things like this. Her eyes are soft, caring and so loving that you can’t do otherwise than believe her.

“I don’t feel like I’m better, Ale” you whisper. “I don’t think I will be one day.”

“You are. You are working, you are getting out, you are smiling again. It’s ok to have bad days, like everyone else. Yours are a little more complicated because you had to go through horrible things. But you have the right to not feel good or needing help a little more some days. And what she said was wrong.”

You are lost, honestly. Alexia can see that you are coming back at yourself again though. Like if you are waking up. You seem always a little desperate and she takes you carefully against her. You let her, sighing of relief when you find the comfort of her arms.

“What if she’s right and you haven’t realized for now?”

“She’s wrong. And she will know it.”

You don’t question what she was implying, too tired to realize what her words may imply. You let Alexia taking you in a bath and more generally taking care of you. You look at her through the mirror when she does your hair.

“When I get better, it will be me who will take care of you” you inform her.

She smiles and finish to undo a knot in your hair before answering, looking at you through the mirror too.

“Okay Cariño.”

She’s smiling but doesn’t seem to make fun of you. You relax, letting your shoulder go down a little bit. That’s mean that she really believes that you will be better.

********

Alexia keeps her promise, going to your therapist’s office in the early hours to talk to her. You don’t know what she told her, but now you don’t have to go to your appointments, and you even have a new psychiatrist, advised by someone from Alexia’s staff.

Rumor has it that Alexia’s shouts still resonate in the psychiatrist’s office.

You don’t know if it’s your breakdown of the change of therapist, but some days after this episode, you feel better than ever. You wake up with your head and your body feeling lighter and Alexia is surprised to see you coming in the kitchen when she’s taking her breakfast. Usually, you stay way longer in bed.

“Is everything alright?” she asks nervously.

You nod, rubbing your eyes before coming behind her to pass your arms around her waist.

“Just wanted to be with you a little bit before you leave.”

Alexia hums when you kiss her neck. You can feel a gaze studying you while you are making yourself coffee, before coming to sit next to her.

“Are you sure that you’re ok Cari?” she asks, almost shyly while you stole a strawberry from her bowl.

“I’m sure baby” you smile at her.

Alexia is looking at you suspiciously during several seconds. She red things about people being “high” before getting down and of course she is scared. But you seem really good today and she can’t help but smile when you kiss her cheek.

“Uhu” she said, taping her lips with expectation.

You giggle but kiss her anyway, smiling against her lips. You are still smiling when she strokes your cheek with her fingertips and when she puts her forehead against yours.

“I love you so much” she whispers before kissing you again.

“I love you more” you smiles.

Alexia makes no with her head and put a finger on your mouth when you want to talk again.

 “Would you like to come with me to training today?”

You hesitate for several seconds before answering. It’s been a while since you came to see Alexia in training. You can’t remember who you saw some days before, only Mariona. But you hope that they weren’t a lot.

“You can say no if you don’t want to.” Alexia adds after seeing you hesitate.

“No, I want to come. But… Who were here, the other day? You know…”

“Only Mariona. And I’m sure that she doesn’t say anything to anyone.”

You are relieved to learn that, even if you don’t know how Alexia can know.

“Did you treat her?” you smirk.

“No” Alexia laughs. “I know the girl, she’s one of the most loyal, sweet and discreet that I’ve never met.”

She was right. Mariona didn’t told anyone about what happened and after several minutes you realize that Alexia was right once again. You hug the Mallorcan woman a little longer than Alexia’s other teammates when you met them, silently thanking her. She seems to understand because she smiles at you before taping your cheek affectionately.

And today, as you watch Alexia training and laughing on the pitch with the teammates that she considered like her family, you’re starting to have hope again. Alexia was right every time, so maybe she will be right this time again. You will be better.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas

[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

sunlight ☀️

hii it’s me againn. could you also do tasm peter who is nerdy and nerdy reader? and it’s kind of like a meet cute at the library? that’s literally my dream 😔 (you can tell i’m in my spiderman kick again)

-🎀

love a good spiderman kick ☺️ hope you like it!

pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x reader word count: 1.4k tags: just fluff

The exam was next week, and Peter still hadn’t gotten a chance to so much as glance at the most helpful textbook. The only copy the library carried had been way over due for ages, and the damn things were way too expensive to buy. He hoped it would be back by today because the late fees would be so much worse after today’s cut off. So, into the library he strode to look for it for what felt like the millionth time. 

He was sure the librarian remembered him, and which book he was after, after so many attempts, so he went straight up to the desk. Peter raised his eyebrows in question, in hope. He wrung his hands together as the librarian gave him a look he couldn’t quite decipher. “So?” he finally couldn’t help.

“You just missed it,” the librarian deadpanned. How could she be so damn calm? She must know his life depended on getting his hands on this book! Well, maybe not his life, but definitely his grade… important enough.

“What?! And you didn’t hold it for me or something?” “Hold it for you? What do you think this is, kid? We don’t take reservations.”

After a moment, though, she sighed in slight defeat, something akin to pity entering her hardened features. She gave a sideways nod toward the person standing at the other end of the desk. 

“Maybe she’ll share,” she whispered. 

Peter followed her look. His eyes landed on a girl. She looked mortified. Given the books lying next to her open backpack on the desk, she’d clearly been packing them up. At the top of the pile lay the coveted textbook. And she’d clearly overheard his whole exchange with the librarian. 

You lock your gaze onto the books in front of you. You could feel your cheeks warming, and the last thing you wanted was to accidentally make eye contact with this stranger. This ridiculously attractive stranger you’d noticed in class before… Peter Parker… who had clearly had the same idea about the book being returned today…

You feel terrible at having snatched it up just before him. You hadn’t known someone else was after it, too, but you could’ve guessed, and it felt like pure luck that you got it first. You have no idea how to react, and before you can come up with any idea at all, you sense him stepping toward you and freeze in panic.

“Um, hey,” Peter whisper-says. God, why didn’t he just speak at a normal volume? He was in the library, sure, but just the entrance. He’s sure he sounded weird, and that’s the last thing he wanted after his little outburst clearly made you uncomfortable. It wasn’t your fault you’d gotten the book before him. 

Your eyes dart up to meet his at his words, and when they do, his nerves increase tenfold. Your eyes are so damn pretty. All of you is. And you look half way to an anxiety attack at his approach. “Hey, sorry,” he tries. “Sorry, I know we don’t know each other, but I just… Um, well… Sorry about that,” he ends lamely, gesturing back to where his exchange with the librarian just occurred. “It’s okay,” you whisper, smiling awkwardly and tucking your hair behind your ears. You look back down at your hands, pulling at the too-long sleeves of your shirt. 

Peter’s hand comes up to his head, messing with his hair in a typical nervous tick. He can’t stop staring at you, and you can’t stop avoiding his stare. He had to say something else before the mounting awkwardness blew up. Why couldn’t he think of anything? God, why was his heart racing faster than it ever did when he had to fight giant, scary monsters? Somehow you were scarier. 

“Um,” he starts again. “You in, uh, you in Vidal’s biology class?” he ventures, guessing you need the book to study for the same exam as he. It blows his mind he hasn’t noticed you before if you are.

“Mmhmm,” you nod softly.

“Me too,” he says and cringes. “I don’t recognize you.” “Oh, I don’t know. I tend to sit in the back.” You finally look up at him as you say this. Your eyes meet, and it’s too much to handle. After what feels like an eternal instant, you both look away chuckling. 

Peter’s just nodding like an idiot, chewing his bottom lip, reeling for something else to say but failing miserably. At this point, the thought of getting the book has totally vanished from his mind. The fear of failing next week has been completely replaced with the fear of failing right now.  The idea of your walking away and his not getting to talk to you again makes his stomach sink.

You’re just staring at your hands, unsure what you’re supposed to do in this kind of situation. How do people just know what they’re supposed to do when other people are involved? 

You still feel really bad that you got the book first, and you figure he’s only still talking to you to ask when you’ll be done with it. The exam is so soon, you hadn’t really been planning to return it till after. But keeping it to yourself when he needed it too made your stomach twist. You didn’t even know him, but you wanted to help him. So, you mustered the courage to do something you know, from experience, you otherwise wouldn’t do.

You say softly, “If you want… um, I don’t know… maybe, we could share it?”

“What?” he responds, too quickly, confused, his voice nervously airy.

You’re not sure if he didn’t hear what you said — possible with how softly you’re speaking — or didn’t understand what you meant, so you don’t know what to say. Words are too hard, so you just grab the book — your hands grateful for something to do — and hold it up to him like an offering. 

“Oh!” he hiccups. Then, “Oh,” he says more quietly, chuckling lightly. “I mean, I don’t want to bother you. You got it first fair and square.” “Yeah,” you shrug. “But you need it, too, right?” 

“Yeah…” His mind begins stirring up images of the two of you studying together… maybe laughing together eventually… sitting closer together to both get a good look at the book… 

It’s making his heart beat faster, and he realizes he’d be an idiot to not seize the opportunity. It’s the perfect excuse to spend more time with you, and he doesn’t even have to ask you out. Yet. 

So, he quickly says, “Yeah, um, sharing would be great. If you don’t mind. I can just meet up with you whenever you were going to study anyway… Wherever is good for you; I don’t mind; you choose; whatever you prefer is good with me —” Having started, he can’t stop talking now, his nerves morphing into words, eager to leave his body. 

You giggle at his garrulousness, and he knows he’s in trouble when the sound of it makes his breath hitch. 

“Well,” you say. “I was planning to get started now… you know, since I’d been waiting to get my hands on the book. If you wanted to, um, maybe go to the café maybe?” 

You hadn’t in fact been planning to start right away. If you were honest with yourself, you’d been planning to put it off till you couldn’t not… like you always did no matter how hard you tried to get an early start. Note to self: the only cure you’ve found to procrastination so far: ridiculously pretty boys with warm eyes and a voice you could listen to forever. 

“Yeah, that’d be great. That’d be great,” he nods, smiling. It’s the first time you’ve seen him fully smile. You’d be happy to just hand him the book as long as you could watch him study, the exam be damned. 

“Great,” you repeat, grabbing your things and turning toward the café. Your eyes widen in panicked disbelief at what just happened. You glance slightly back just to make sure you hadn’t imagined it, and sure enough: Peter Parker is taking a quick step to follow you. He falls in step with you as you walk, and it’s terrifying and invigorating just how much you like the feeling of him close beside you.

#peter parker #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #tasm!peter fluff #tasm!peter imagine #tasm! peter oneshot #tasm!peter fanfic #spiderman fanfiction #ria1k

[bunny-yan]

Hi! I'm a fan of your yan! Hero/reincarnated reader and I would like to ask if you could write a scenario where the reader has reincarnated again but this time instead of running away they just stay in the village, and in this life, Tasman doesn't end up searching for the reader because they haven't left the village. Because of this, the reader just stays in the village and just so happens to start a relationship with a kind farm boy.

So while Tasman is out marrying another mermaid/fairy queen/princess, the reader is just having the time of their life on a large farmhouse with their new lover. By the time Tasman finds out it's too late because he's already married and it would ruin his reputation if he ever decided to leave his wife for a (now married to a farm boy) reader because while he will stay a hero he won't be as respected by the kingdom for leaving a kind and respected woman, then trying to go for a married woman.

Reputation? Respect?? What does he care what the kingdom thinks of him when he’s the only thing standing between them and world devastation? The only reason he’s morally “good” in the eyes of the kingdom is because they follow the goddess’s teachings which so happens to be who he’s blessed by. The crimes he commits always have something to do with you so there is a much greater chance that you receive the backlash for his unhero like behavior than he does. They can’t hurt him, both because they physically can’t and they need to remain on his good side so they don’t die. But, you? They can hurt you.  In one of the realities he makes a deal with the king to legally imprison you so others turn a blind eye to his not so moral actions. A deal they’re willing to make if it’s for the greater good, ya know?  Tasman doesn’t care about other people. He barely considers them people. The only reason he plays nice and doesn’t take advantage of his supernatural abilities is because he believes it would be too much of a headache to completely upend life as you know it. He keeps up appearances of the righteous hero so he can comfortably do whatever he wants. The only person whose opinion matters to him is yours, though it doesn’t seem to mean much when your wants and desires stray from a future where the two of you are together or you’re alone. 

TW: suggests death

—

The cicadas always seemed to scream the loudest right before the sun pierced the horizon. 

A feverish kiss was shared right before a frantic embrace as promises of his quick return caressed your ears. You held each other like it was the last time you’d ever get to. 

You promised you’d wait. 

Unwanted tears flooded your eyes and you couldn’t help but feel selfish because you knew why he had to go. To want him to stay by your side when he was destined for something greater, the destined savior that would be revered when his mission was successful, because it had to be successful. Because he was going to return to you. 

So you let him go. 

Waiting long after his caravan disappeared from the dirt paved road, you remembered his words, his vow. It was enough to ease the burden on your heart for now. It had to be. 

Life was never quite the same without him. 

The first year, you’d look to every corner as if he’d appear, every closed door as if you were waiting for him to burst through and wrap his arms around you and promise something new. That he’d never leave you now that his mission was fulfilled. 

It was a hope that was too soon. 

You felt anxious the second year. Attempting to live as if such desperate yearning wasn’t what consumed your mind the minute you opened your eyes. You worked, ate, slept, moved through life as if someone else was living for you. 

By the third, your loneliness had reached a peak. It was suffocating. His memory, the touches that no longer lingered, words that you’d play over and over in your mind to convince yourself to trust him. To trust that he was coming back. To chase away the anger that would turn into guilt, knowing full well why he couldn’t visit you. You’d convinced yourself that sending letters would compromise his position. That he would if he could, but fighting the demon king was already too much of a burden. You didn’t want to strain him further with your selfish expectations. You’d wait. You’d waited this long, you could wait a little longer. 

The fourth was bright with celebration. It rekindled a new hope in you as people praised him, thanked him, worshipped the ground he walked on for saving you from the disaster. Joy was bright in everyone’s faces as they danced and laughed now that the dark cloud had finally lifted. You clasped your hands together, fingers fidgeting as you looked along the horizon, waiting. Almost every day you waited, impatient but understanding that there was probably plenty he had to do now that the war was over. He couldn’t just rush back to you. So you waited. Long after the sun disappeared. Long before the cicadas grew so loud you couldn’t bear to think. 

You were treated like a widow. 

Five years had passed with no word. People tried to be careful whenever they discussed the boy who’d grown up in this town. Everyone knew the relationship the two of you had, which is why they were especially careful when mentioning his marriage. Occasionally someone would slip up and you couldn’t help the flinch that would rip through your body.

You couldn’t understand. You waited. You did what you said you’d do, so why? Did the promise the two of you made mean nothing? You couldn’t help the days you locked yourself in your room, unable to bear the heartbreak drenched in grief. 

The town was quiet on nights like those. Grateful for the cicadas that almost drowned that haunting wail. 

It was too soon to think about a new relationship. 

Sure, it had been six years since you’d last seen him, but you still felt an ache in your soul and it was too new of a wound to hide with friendly smiles. 

He was someone you’d grown up with. He was well aware of your relationship with Tasman. It made it even harder. You don’t know why you accepted his offer to go out on a date. Maybe it was the persistence or if you had grown tired of hurting with no relief. 

You wondered if it would remind you of him. If you’d compare the two, and you were right. But he was nothing like Tasman. The more time you spent with him, the easier it was to recognize he was nothing like your first love. 

It was a relief. 

For the first time you thought, maybe you could move on.

You began to smile again. He pointed it out on one of your dates. The two of you would often camp out wherever the sun shined the brightest, content to feel its ray on your skin as you held each other and talked. His observation didn’t cause the knee jerk reaction you thought it would. 

The raging pain from memories of who you were before. The dull ache you carried that seemed to sting a little less with each passing day. 

You looked at him and finally realized what he meant to you.

The man who brought back your smile. The one who helped you realize your would had scarred nicely.

It wasn’t much. He couldn’t offer you the world, but what he did offer was worth more. He was kind and thoughtful, he listened, and his flaws touched you a lot deeper than you thought capable. There was no question, no hesitation when he asked you to marry him. 

For the first time, you truly began to remember what happiness felt like. 

It happened during the night. On a day you would never have assumed would hold as much importance as it did. 

Your eyes were forced open as a violent cough racked through your body. Sitting up from the bed, you felt a pounding in your skull. 

It was supposed to be night. A strange uneasiness crept in your body at how bright your room was. 

You climbed out of bed when you realized he wasn’t laying next to you, shuffling to the window and feeling your heart stop at the sight of the barn. It was engulfed in flames. 

You screamed his name as you ran down the stairs, knowing he would’ve woken you if he realized something was wrong. Gasping at the sight of flames spreading through your house, you ran to the back door to escape the heat that was dangerously creeping towards you. 

Slamming the back door open, you called for him again, rushing towards the barn before coming to a dead halt when you realized it was too late for the hose. You would have to watch helplessly as his family’s home burned to the ground. 

Where was he? Why wasn’t he answering you? Did something happen to him?

Anxious fear told you  to do something. That you needed to find him. You didn’t know where you would go or who to ask for help, but everything else could wait. At least until you knew he was okay. 

“Lover,” a familiar voice said, causing you to whip around. .

It felt as if time had stopped as a look of realization passed across your features when the stranger walked close enough for your eyes to make out his features. What was he doing here? Standing still, watching you as if this was completely normal.

Tasman.

You couldn’t help the dread you felt at the smile on his face. The familiar smile he always wore. A smile that didn’t ackowledge the dumbfounded horror on your face or the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes that stung from the smoke or the unwilling realization that there was no chance you’d ever see him again. 

His eyes seemed alight with something sinister and the flames that licked the barn behind you only heightened the unearthly glow in them that grew as he came closer. 

This wasn’t the reunion you imagined. It wasn’t one you wanted anymore. Why was he here? Where was he?

He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, your body too limp to resist his affections as he squeezed you tightly. 

“I’ve missed you.” 

The cicadas always seemed to scream the loudest right before the sun pierced the horizon, but despite the crackling flames that lit the sky, they were quiet. 

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere x you #male yandere #yandere x gn reader #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #ask #yandere male #gn reader #yandere hero x reader #yandere hero #yan!tasman

[fairyysoup]

it will come back

part one

a.k.a. sever the blight (eddie's version)

pairing(s): werewolf!eddie munson x fem!milkmaid!reader

summary: You don’t go into the woods. You don’t talk to strangers. And you don’t, under any circumstances, approach a wolf. Unless one shows up bleeding at your door.

cw: dark themes, mature content, animal cruelty, animal death mention, gunshots, physical abuse, reader is a servant to an abusive master, misogyny, suggestive themes, fairytale au, some kind of historical fantasy period, inspired by The Company of Wolves by Angela Carter, eventual smut (in later parts)

a/n: hiiiiiiii :) so remember when i said i'd stop posting fic on tumblr? well one mental breakdown later i decided that was literally making me miserable and ruining my hobby! so i'm back. it's me, hi, i'm the problem it's me <3 this is a reupload

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

There are things they tell you about the woods from the time you are born, weaning you on them just the same as you are weaned on milk. Don’t go into the woods on a full moon. Don’t talk to strange men. Likewise, if you see a strange man alone in the pines on the full moon, run and don’t look back. And don’t, for any reason, approach a wolf at any time. They’ll kill you before you turn the other cheek.

In your twenty-some-odd years, you have never seen a wolf. You’ve heard them howling, distantly, so deep in the forest that you don’t even feel the need to be frightened by it. They exist in there, somewhere, going about their business as wolves do.

Sometimes you hear about the wolves wandering into town. Old Mr. Thatch, from just over the creek, said his pigs were slaughtered in the night. He’ll have to spend a fortune to get a few more. Torben Plack from the end of Warder’s Row saw one drinking from the horse trough outside the inn last month. 

There are whispers of wolves when a baby is missing from its crib. There are whispers of murder in the night. There are accusations that some of the townsfolk themselves are wolves in disguise.

Nonsense, the lot of it. Or, that’s what you believe. That’s what you choose to think about it– even though you’ve been told time and again that a pretty girl doesn’t think, a pretty girl believes and does what she’s told. She doesn’t go into the woods. She does her chores and she says her prayers and she marries a boy with a healthy income and lives quietly, rearing children until she can’t anymore.

(You don’t believe that, either.)

You don’t have the luxury of making any other choices, though. You are a servant, a milkmaid in the employ of a rather cold Master– you have no time for philosophy or discerning what you do and don’t believe about the local folklore.

You milk the cow. You chop the firewood. You feed the chickens. You harvest the cabbage and you don’t complain. You sleep on your bed in your shack– or, servant’s quarters– behind the grand house and you don’t, under any circumstances, question the Master or his wife. You wash the bedsheets after he sloppily takes his wife to bed, and you try to hide your disgust. 

You usually do what you’re told. Usually. 

On a night when the moon hangs round and full in the sky, lighting the stretch of land beyond your small shack in a milky blue haze, you’re building a small fire in the fireplace when you hear it. The howling. It’s so much closer than you’ve ever heard it, almost as though the wolves are just beyond the treeline that backs up to your master’s land.

You pay it no mind. Normally, the wolves are on the hunt for something– small animals that titter through the woods, unassuming until it’s too late. The howling will be distant soon, and you’ll be able to sleep soundly while the rest of the town frets about the dangers of the wolf-men, locking their windows and bolstering their doors. 

Just as you thought, the howls drift away slowly. You snuggle down into the covers of your bed, and you barely flinch when Mr. Thatch fires off a pistol over the creek, ringing through the dead night louder than hell. These things mean little to you. You’re more interested in what the land of dreams holds for you tonight– it’s one of the only reprieves you get from your long days of work.

It isn’t until ten minutes later, when you are mere inches from sleep, that you hear a soft whining outside your cabin door. At first, you think it’s the wind. Then, when it gets louder, you wonder if you’re imagining it.

And when it turns into a soft howling, well. That’s not your imagination.

You wrap a woven blanket around your shoulders and leave the door open when you step out into the chilly night. You don’t have a candle– you could always knick one from the Mistress, but that might risk getting caught, and you don’t love that idea. So, you contend with the little amount of light that spills out of the open door from your small fireplace, and you squint into the dark toward the source of the sound.

It takes shape in the form of a wolf. A big one, covered in black fur and curled up beneath the gabled roof, as though attempting to make itself smaller. It shivers and whimpers miserably, tucking its paws close to its body. 

You shrink back in the doorway, drawing your blanket closer around your shoulders. The hum of crickets in the bushes and in the grass across the pasture covers the shakiness of your rapid breathing. You don’t know what to do. You couldn’t possibly be expected to bother the Master this late at night– even if it is a wolf, the barn is shut up and the animals are safe. You’d probably be expected to just stay put in your little cabin and wait for it to go away on its own. Maybe in the morning the Master will find it and skin it for the Mistress’s bedquilt. 

The image makes you shudder. This poor thing– even if it is nearly as big as you, even if it’s a nasty predator in the eyes of everyone else– is clearly looking for some sort of reprieve. Just the same as you do at the end of the day. You can’t let it be skinned alive just for searching for safety.

“Hey,” you whisper softly, and you know the creature hears you, because it flinches badly. Almost as though it may bolt away in a panic. “No, no… don’t be frightened.” 

You lower yourself down towards the ground, tentatively inching forward as the creature turns its head to blink up at you. Water brims its dark eyes, sparkling in the low light from your open door. Streaks of tears flatten the fur on its snout; the wretched thing lets out a noise like a sob, hanging its head like it doesn’t have the energy to stand you off.

“I’ve never seen a wolf cry before,” you tell it quietly. You’ve never seen a wolf, period, but you don’t need to tell it that. You’re not sure that it can understand you, anyways, but you keep talking like it can. “Are you hurt?”

The wolf snorts, sneezes loudly, and then trembles. There’s a high pitched whining, a heart-shattering noise that cuts deep into your chest as the beast cowers away from you. The whine turns into a low growl when you move a bit closer, but it doesn’t sound like it really means business. More like it doesn’t know what to do with your closeness. 

“Hey,” you say again, more insistently. You inch your way forward, crouched low to the ground, holding your blanket around you with one hand as you reach the other out toward it. You’ve never tried to approach a wolf. You don’t know if it’s similar to trying to gain a domesticated dog’s trust– hold out your hand, let it catch your scent. Show it that you mean no harm, allow it to come to you. “I’m trying to help you, okay? Let me help.”

The wolf growls for a moment longer before finally relenting, and reaching its head forward to sniff curiously at your hand. You don’t know what you expect– perhaps that it would drop its head again, or back away cautiously. Instead, the wolf surprises you by pushing its head into your outstretched palm like a sad puppy.

“Oh,” you coo, stroking the wolf’s soft head as it trembles. Its ears twitch against your fingers, and it snuffles a few times, its body shaking with each, like an all-too-human fit of sobbing. “Okay, baby. Let’s get you inside.” 

Again, it’s a shot in the dark. You back slowly away from the creature, whose watery eyes blink up at you, and then you stand, and open the cabin door wider. The wolf doesn’t move, still continuing to shake with its uneven breathing.

You take a step into the door, and watch as the wolf slowly struggles up out of its cowering position. On all four legs, it seems to be favoring its right front leg, lifting its left paw limply upward. When you take another step back into the cabin, and it follows, it shudders a breath and limps badly on its left leg. 

“Good job, honey,” you tell the wolf gently as it tentatively follows you into the cabin. 

You don’t know whether to leave the door open or to shut it; you’re not sure if there’s any wisdom in shutting yourself in close quarters with a wild animal, but you also don’t want the Master to find it come morning. You suck your teeth and swing the door shut, quietly latching it and hoping the damned thing doesn’t suddenly decide it’s too hungry. 

You turn, and take two steps before dropping to your knees in front of the fireplace, where the most light hits the ground. You drop your blanket to the floor, and pat your lap as you look at the creature shivering a few feet away. “C’mere. Lay down.”

As far as you know, wolves don’t normally lay down and play lapdog for strange humans, but this one does. You wonder at it, remarkable in its size and beauty, as it flops down tiredly onto your floor and rests its head in your lap. Through your cotton chemise, the wolf’s chin is warmer than the heat of the fire.

You pet the wolf’s head again gently as you examine its left leg. It doesn’t seem to have any major wounds except for a spot of wetness on the side of it. When you lift it, the wolf in your lap whines loudly.

“I know, baby,” you coo at it, trying to pet its head as soothingly as you can while you look over the mangled leg and paw. Through the fur and dirt, you see a patch of pink skin matted with bright red, and your own hand comes away smeared with blood. There is a bad gash, enough to still be bleeding. 

You don’t want to jostle the animal now that it’s relatively comfortable, so you bend backwards and sideways to reach the cup of water on the shelf at your bedside. It’s what you have on hand to clean the wound– you suppose you could sneak into the grand house to steal some soap, but just the same as the candle, you’d rather not risk it. You take your time in pouring cool, clean water on the wolf’s wound, rubbing dirt and blood away from the gash. In your lap, the beast huffs softly in response.

“I don’t know what you’re doing out of the woods,” you tell it as you tenderly clean its wound, expecting that you’re only speaking to settle your own nerves, “but you ought not to come around here too often. The men here are bloodthirsty. Don’t want you getting any more beat up.” 

The wolf heaves a sigh. For what it’s worth, you take that as some sort of acknowledgement. 

“I can’t do much else for you besides this,” you continue softly. The wound is clean now, the fur gone wet enough that you can pull it aside and peer at the gash itself. It’s quite deep, straight, and slices from the middle of its leg upward at a diagonal. It continues to ooze even as you examine it, painting your fingers red. You tip a little more water onto it. 

You grab one corner of the blanket you’d used to wrap yourself, and rip a strip off along the grain. The light pink fabric looks almost comical when you wrap it around the wolf’s leg, tying it and tucking the tails in gently so that it won’t fall off too easily. You figure, eventually, the damn thing will come off while the wolf goes off on its merry way. You don’t delude yourself into thinking you’ve got a pet, now.

“I wish I could give you more,” you tell the beast, petting your hand down its mane, feeling the silken fur slide through your fingers like the plushest finery that you’ll never be able to enjoy for yourself. “But, I suppose, you can rest here tonight. If you promise to stay polite.”

The wolf doesn’t fuss when you slide a stiff pillow under its chin, and slip back under the covers of your bed. You gaze at it, curled up in a big black mass on your floor in front of the hearth, and you wonder why on earth a wild animal would be so well behaved. 

You wonder how a wolf is capable of crying.

You wake in the early morning light expecting to find a big black wolf sleeping in front of your hearth. Instead, when you rouse and rub the sleep from your eyes, you find that the wolf is gone.

In fact, there appears to have been no wolf at all. No blood on the floor, no black fur on the pillow that has inexplicably reappeared on the foot of your bed. Your water cup is full. And the door to your cabin is latched, just the same as it had been last night, after you let the wolf in.

By all appearances, nothing happened last night. There was no wolf. You half expect that you dreamed the entire thing. And you would continue to believe so– but, the end of your pink woven blanket is still torn, missing a strip from the end, frayed along the grain.

You slip from your bed and fling open the door to your shack, emerging into the cool morning air. You look down at the nook beside the door where the wolf had huddled in the dark, seeking shelter away from harm. There is nothing there to suggest that it had been there last night. 

But you know it to be true. You know it.

How could a wolf, a four legged creature with full use of only three of them, manage to unlatch your door, step out, and then relatch it from the other side? How could your water magically refill itself? It’s a mile to the well in the town square, and it’s not like the wolf could have done it. 

Broken from your thoughts, you hear a shriek of your name. You lift your head to see your Mistress, fully dressed, feeding the chickens. The daily chores have already begun.

“What are you doing outside in your underclothes?!” your Mistress yells, flinging grain down at the birds. “Go inside and dress yourself this instant, you wretch! And begin your morning duties!” 

You jump, darting back behind the door. You hadn’t thought anyone would be out yet. “Sorry, Mistress!” 

You rush to grab your stays from the end of your bed. You’ll pay for that one, you think. 

There are a million reasons why you prefer doing your chores out of the house. 

One, the Mistress isn’t around to rag on you over every little thing. Two, you don’t have to be watching over your shoulder to make sure you aren’t in the Master’s way. And three, you can take all the time you want to do other things as well, as long as you get done before dinner has to be served. 

Your skirt is filthy, but it’s a beautiful day, and the creek that separates your Master’s land from Mr. Thatch’s land is babbling quite a bit, and it makes doing the washing up much easier than it otherwise would be. Which you’re happy about, since your arm is so badly welted you can barely curl your fingers. 

You sniffle and lift your apron to wipe your nose. Then you wring out the Mistress’s petticoat– of which there are far too many for one woman to reasonably have– you whine at the strain on your injured hand, and you move to the basket of other soiled clothes. You think about blowing your nose in the Master’s linen shirt, and you’re about two seconds from doing it, too, when you hear a splash nearby. 

“Shit,” says a man’s voice. There are a couple more splashes around the bend, and then yelps, and then there’s one enormous splash, and a laugh. 

“Hello?” you call, trying to peer around the bank of overgrowth beside you. Then, there’s a cacophonous amount of splashing, which makes you screw up your face, and a man emerges from around the bank of greenery.

You pause, holding your Master’s laundry in your hands over the water like you’re wondering whether to dip it in or not. Really, you’re just shocked to see a strange man on your Master’s property at all. He’s out of breath, rosy cheeked and soaking wet from the chest down.

“Um,” is all you can say.

“Hello there,” the man says with a rakish grin that flashes sharp teeth at you. You blink a few times, just to make sure he’s really there. And when you do satisfy yourself with the fact that, yes, he’s very real, you then have to acclimate yourself to the idea that he’s also absolutely beautiful.

His very pretty face is framed by long, dark hair, and his eyes are strikingly dark. There’s something on his skin peeking out of the open collar of his burgundy blouse, but to look at that from this distance means to look at the way his shirt clings to his body, and then his trousers, and if you weren’t already struck dumb, now you are.

“How– how are you– um.” You wave your hands around, gesturing to the general area around you. “Whatareyoudoinghere?” 

“I think I was going for a swim, of sorts,” the man laughs, holding one arm out a bit to indicate his damp appearance. 

“Who are you?”

“Now, there’s a question for the ages.” The man tromps forward through the water, splashing along gracelessly and with exaggerated steps, like he’s trying to make you laugh. “Generally speaking, no one really cares who I am, just what I want.” 

“Okay,” you snap, irritated by the man’s jovial attitude and his need to speak in riddles. “What do you want? Why are you on this land? What business do you have here, and with whom?” 

“Whoa, hey–” the man holds up his hands, and grimaces like it’s painful to do so. Then he recovers with a flashy smile. “I don’t mean you any harm, princess. I have no business anywhere, I was just following the creek and seeing where it leads. Guess the time got away from me.”

“I’m not a princess,” you grumble back at him.

He tilts his head, his smile lingering as he looks at you. “Just an expression, no need to be nasty.”

You scowl down at your master’s clothes, and then plunge them into the water like they personally offended you. “Following the creek from where?” He points his thumb over his shoulder, towards the trees. “You came from the woods?”

“Thereabouts.” 

You squint up at him. “What’s your name?”

“Eddie Munson, at your service.” He bows dramatically and takes another step towards you. “And may I ask who you are? Or shall I just call you ‘My Lovely Lady of the Creek,’ for time immemorial?”

You tell him your name flatly, and turn your face away as he gets closer, suddenly very invested in getting sweat stains out of your Master’s linen blouse using a cake of lye soap. “You should know not to go into those woods alone. There’s wolves.” 

 “Oh, I think I can handle myself in the woods, sweetheart.” Eddie smirks down at you. “Anyways, who wants to be in the trees on a day like this?” 

You grunt. You don’t think the man will be going away anytime soon, which is bad news for you, because the closer he gets, the more inclined you are to look at him. Then, you’re more inclined to talk, and you’ve already been punished once today. You don’t think you could handle another.

The man, Eddie, sits himself down on a large rock jutting out of the water next to you. He watches you for a moment, scrubbing with one hand at the cloth on the board in the water, and then he points down at your arm. His billowing sleeve flashes red in your peripheral vision, along with the silver of the rings on his hand.

“What happened here?” he asks softly, his voice losing its humorous tone.

You look down at the welted skin. It stings, but the cold water numbs the pain just a bit. Now that he’s brought your attention back to it, your eyes prick with tears again, and you sniff. “My Mistress caught me outdoors in my chemise.”

“She should count herself lucky. It’s a sight to behold.” 

“What?” You blink up at him. From this angle, him looming over you on a boulder, the sun rings his head in gold like a halo. “How would you know?” 

“I’m… supposing.” Eddie bites his lip, staring off to the side for a moment, as if suddenly at a loss for the right words to say. “You’re a very… beautiful girl. I can only imagine.” 

“That’s forward of you.” 

“Besides, it doesn’t answer my question,” he rushes out. He scowls back down at your arm. “What did that to you?” 

You heave a sigh. “Well, the Mistress told my Master. And the Master is very heavy handed with a cane.” A small sob constricts your throat for a moment, tears pricking your eyes again so badly that you have to stop working and close them. Your sinuses burn from the effort of holding it in.

“You were beaten because you went outside without a petticoat?” Eddie remarks incredulously, “That’s ridiculous.”

“Well, I… I was also late to start my chores,” you admit in a wobbly voice. “So I suppose I got off easier than most would…” 

“It’s cruel. I’d love to see how he would take it, if the tables were turned.” Eddie’s dark eyes flash dangerously when you look up at him; there’s something in the set of his jaw and the steely expression on his face that makes you think of the growling wolf last night. After a moment, he softens towards you again. “Why were you late to your chores?”

“I…” you trail off. You think about telling him about the wolf, but you wonder if he’s the kind of person who will go into town and yell about the wolves trying to steal women in the night, and you could do without the embarrassment. “I had a nightmare. Slept too late.”

Eddie clicks his tongue and rocks backward a bit. “A nightmare,” he repeats, considering the word like it’s a part of life’s philosophy. “What about?”

You don’t respond for a few moments. You’ve moved on to washing a pillowcase now, which is significantly less soiled than your Master’s blouse. “Why do you care?”

“I care because I hate to see My Lovely Lady of the Creek in distress. Even if she is completely vexed by the sight of me,” He says lightly, as you tilt your head down to hide the way your cheeks burn. He reaches up his right hand and produces a silver coin from behind your ear. You stare at it in puzzlement as he hands it to you. “What was your nightmare about?”

You hesitate just a moment before taking the silver coin. “Is this bribery?”

“Absolutely,” Eddie announces with a wry smile. “For your thoughts.”

You sigh. You could use the coin, you’ll admit. Maybe you could buy yourself a new robe, or a loaf of bread from the baker, or any other of the myriad things you’re in want of. 

You tuck the coin down the front of your bodice, where it slides down and gets stuck between your ribcage and your chemise. Eddie’s eyes follow the path that it takes between your breasts with a hungry glint in them. 

“There was a wolf,” you tell him quietly, going back to your work. “It came to my door bleeding. I brought it inside and nursed it. But when I woke, there wasn’t a wolf. It was just a nightmare.”

“Oh,” Eddie hums amusedly. “I wouldn’t call that a nightmare. I’d rather call it a dream.”

“A dream?” you echo with a scoff. 

“Yes. A lovely dream, with a heroine and a lonely beast in need of kindness.” He leans towards you, his hands on his knees. “But, you know what they say about wild things.”

You huff with indignance, but humor him, because you’re curious in spite of yourself. “I don’t know. What do they say?”

“You shouldn’t show them kindness,” he whispers, so close to your ear that you can feel his breath on your neck. “They’ll keep coming back for more.”

You startle, standing up with a noisy splash of water as you yank the last of the laundry from the creek. There’s a flush under your bodice that you don’t like, sticking to the coin that’s going hot against your skin as you think about it even being there. That it was produced by his hand. The more you think about it, the more you imagine it as an extension of his body, touching you just beneath your breast. 

Eddie snickers to himself as you hurriedly, shakily, smack the last piece of laundry into the basket with the rest, and pick up the washboard from the water. With a frustrated huff, you stand and rest the basket of laundry on your hip. You gaze out across the creek, and then away towards the trees, and finally, when you’re sure you can form words, you turn back to him. 

“Goodbye, Mr. Munson,” you say stiffly, so that you don’t trip over your own tongue. It comes out icily as a result, and you turn away to hide the way that you blush.

“Until we meet again.” Eddie presses his lips together, as though he’s stifling a laugh. Then he says, in a slightly bossy tone, “Take care of that arm for me, princess. Don’t want you getting any more beat up.”

You whirl around to ask him to repeat that– what the hell did you just say?– but when you do, the man is already gone. Along with any trace of his presence by the creekside. 

Except, the coin he bought your dream with still grows warm against the heat of your skin, under your bodice. 

#teaser for what's coming. if you even care #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #werewolf!eddie munson #werewolf!eddie munson x reader #stranger things #werewolf!eddie #roses*

[verdantcrimson]

Kanna Natsu Idol Story - 1

Written by: Akira

Season: Spring

TL: verdantcrimson

(Unproofread)

[Two years since ES was established. In a corridor of an ES building leading to the Starpro office]

Kanna: Thank you very much for helping me, Miss Anzu.

Kanna: As you can see, I am a child, so escaping from a situation where I am surrounded by a crowd of people is difficult.

Kanna: Though, if I had used my head, I think I might have been able to escape, call for help, and have my pursuers apprehended.

Kanna: But using my brain on those people is a total hassle.

Kanna: A complete, and total, hassle.

Kanna: … Yes? No, I’m not lost. 

Kanna: So you’re the type of person that judges people based on their appearance, right.

Kanna: No, I’m not criticizing you. Just categorizing.

Kanna: I find talking to other people to be a hassle.

Kanna: Ideally, I would like to be able to have a conversation by categorizing people as much as I can, and then only using a fixed set of phrases that correspond to that category.

Kanna: I want to have conversations using only a set of standardized phrases, like: “For sure”, “Maybe”, “That’s nice”, and the like.

Kanna: A computer could do that. It could handle things with just some numbers and a program.

Kanna: Why can’t the same method of operation work for humans?

Kanna: Ah, It’s okay. I wasn’t actually looking for an answer. It was just a question I asked myself, and presented.

Kanna: Please don’t worry. I will think for myself and find the answers to all of my questions.

Kanna: Yes. I have no expectations of you, or anyone else.

Kanna: Now, if you would excuse me. And really, thank you very much for helping me out just now.

Kanna: … Hm. Yes, what is it?

Kanna: Quite the annoyance you—

Kanna: Aren’t. Yes, yes, how can I help you?

Kanna: Yes. No, I’m affiliated with ES.

Kanna: I’m Kanna Natsu, and I’ve recently begun working as an idol here.

Kanna: Yes. People say that I’m like a stray cat that can’t quite get used to humans. It means I am ‘Natsu Kanna-ected’ with and don’t miss other people. Quite interesting, right?

Kanna: Would it be better if I had laughed? But that would be a hassle.

Kanna: I think my life would be much easier if I at least learned to smile politely, but that really is such a hassle.

Kanna: Yes. Ah, you know about me? I thought so too.

Kanna: I have long since concluded that I am like an exotic creature that has a tendency to make the headlines of newspapers and magazines.

Kanna: The people pursuing me earlier were magazine reporters that have been following me around recently.

Kanna: The entertainment industry is a world where you could throw a stone into the crowd and hit a genius, quite literally, so I didn’t see the need to bring it up.

Kanna: When humans see something behaving oddly, it’s surprising and interesting to them, it seems.

Kanna: That sort of sensibility, I envy it.

Kanna: Ah, I wasn’t being sarcastic. I honestly envy it. It’s quite tedious to have to add a note clarifying my intent at the end of each and every sentence.

Kanna: Hm. Eh? You’re asking me if I’m a celebrity…?

Kanna: So you only knew who I was because of me being a new idol, Miss Anzu? You remember seeing my name and face on the roster?

Kanna: I get it. Yes, you are that kind of person. I understand now.

Kanna: So. It seems I have overestimated my importance.

Kanna: That’s right. There are people who don’t know who I am. Heh.

Kanna: Ah, that was my first laugh in fifteen days. Tomorrow, my facial muscles are going to be sore.

Kanna: Thank you very much. I was able to have a rare experience.

Kanna: …Hm? Yes, anything else?

Kanna: I am an ES affiliated idol, so you should know that it isn’t out of the ordinary for me to be walking around here.

Kanna: Do you not understand this? It would be a hassle if you didn’t.

Kanna: Hm. So you thought that there might still be reporters remaining around the area? You thought to call for security, just in case?

Kanna: ……

Kanna: “A kind and gentle person”, “A respectable member of society”, “A very noble, goddess-like person”.

Kanna: Of these three, which do you prefer?

Kanna: I would like to present you with an evaluation. Because I appreciate your concern, and your words are commendable.

Kanna: However. I am inexperienced at communicating with people, so I don’t know which words would be most touching.

Kanna: That is why, I would like you to pick what words I should give you.

Kanna: That is all. ...Is that wrong of me to do?

#Kanna Natsu

[brucewaynehater101]

I hc Damian sees dick as more of a father then Bruce, my reasoning is that when Bruce was dead, dick was there for him and Damian already mourned that father and accepted dick as his dad.

and since in my brain Bruce causes most of the issues between the brothers, in a au where Bruce wasn’t rescued all the bats are happy and friendly to each other, dick is the older brother who’s basically their dad, Jason who’s very caring yet also insists he’s not (he has anger issues as well), Tim who can’t seem to fully grasp how much everyone cares for him but it’s getting better, and Damian who actually acts his age and not like a 20 year old man with murder problems (he still has murder issues but dicks made him realize that’s wrong)

There was probably quite a bit of an adjustment period in the beginning. When siblings are faced with a change in dynamics so that they need to rely upon each other instead of being pitted against one another, there tend to be big blowups and fights until they get the hang of things.

In this AU, it would be a bit hard to wrangle all the batkids into getting along. Does Tim never find that portrait that starts his search? Did Bruce actually die? Does Alfred find the portrait first and burn it so his family can finally be free (very ooc, but a cool concept)?

Tim finding out Bruce is alive is like a match near gasoline for him. He destroys all of his current relationships (justified or not) to save his dad.

There's also the grief aspect. The Battle of the Cowl could be seen as just the kids trying to find footing with the changes and the grief of loosing their dad.

It doesn't matter how much of a bastard Bruce is in this AU, the kids will still grieve his loss. If he was just unredeemable, they wouldn't have hung on so much. It doesn't matter how much Bruce hits them, verbally abuses them, manipulates, or abandons them when he turns around and acts like a good dad. He has good moments. That's the confusing and complicated aspect of it.

Bruce is the type of man to remember a fact his kids mentioned once off-handedly and distracted. He'd remember when they mentioned a childhood toy they loved but could never find again. He would spend months tracking down that company and hiring them to make they toy again if they didn't have any on hand. There's so much time, effort, and money he would put into such a notion, and he wouldn't make a big deal about it. The kid would probably just find it in their room one day and know it was Bruce.

Then he would turn around and try to convince the kid that all of their friends are out to get them and they can't trust anyone.

This AU would be hard to manage because only Dick is at the stage where he would be willing to give up on his dad. With the fallout of Robin, Dick moved on from unconditional love and belief in Bruce. He went to anger and hurt. He slowly healed those pains, but they were changed. Dick couldn't go back to how they were, but ultimately still loved his dad. Jason's death shattered their relationship. Even after Tim interfered, Dick would never be able to forgive Bruce for that. In the comics, he confronted Bruce about not being told about Jason's death. Bruce's response? He screamed at Dick, hit him, told him he shoulf have never had a partner, told Dick that he would've fired Jason in a few years like he did Dick, and then told Dick to hand his keys to the Manor to Alfred on his way out.

Bruce and Dick can go to therapy for years to work on their relationship, but Dick will never trust Bruce with his siblings again. He can trust the man on a battlefield, but he can't trust him at home.

Dick's love to Bruce, I hc, would turn to apathy, longing, and bitterness intermingled with spurts of reluctant fondness.

Jason, on the other hand, is pissed at Bruce, but he has too much passion to just let him go. It's a transition stage from love to anger to indifference. Through his reactions and actions during the Battle of the Cowl, it's obvious he still cares about Bruce somewhat. The opposite of love isn't hate. It's indifference. If he didn't somewhat care about Bruce, his death wouldn't impact him so much. I personally feel that the incident with Penguin and Gotham Wars is where Jason starts to become indifferent instead. To hate Bruce is to want to change him. It's to want him to be better because you know he can be. To be indifferent to him (outside of horrible actions the man commits) is to know he won't change. It's to give up on him.

Jason still remembers getting ice cream on patrol, sharing popcorn on the couch, reassuring promises of protection, and the laughter he could startle out of his dad. His anger and aggression against Bruce is because he believes that his dad could kill the Joker. He had believed that Bruce would have. Regardless on whether it was the right thing to do or whether a younger version would have wanted that, Jason had faith in Bruce. He ultimately considers his father to be a good guy. Perhaps someone that hurts Jason, but still a good guy.

Dick doesn't regard his father as such. He knows better.

The other kids are still at the love stage, where they rely on Batman and Bruce to be decent and a hero.

Tim may have complicated feelings about Bruce being his dad (how credible that is especially given their history), but he trusts Bruce to make the right decisions. That gospel has been shaken a few times, but it still holds.

Damian is still a child. Capable, kind, fierce, and strong, but still a child.

Cass was given the mission of the Bat by Bruce. He has shown her love and kindness others have not. She can see what he feels and intends to do even as he hurts others. He does not kill.

Barbara has Dick's back before she has Bruce's. Barbara is independent. She does not have the confidence in Bruce that the others do.

I hope Duke is enjoying his time with his parents free from bat drama.

Anyways, I do think the Bats would be better off if Tim hadn't found proof of Bruce's continued existence (it is not his fault that Bruce returned to do horrible shit. He is not to blame). Without it, there might not have been as big of a fallout between Tim and everyone else. There would have been lots of drama and fights between the remaining Bats, but they would eventually settle into a healthier unit.

If anyone wants more about any of this, feel free to send me another ask with what parts you'd like elaborated.

#dc comics #dc universe #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #bruce wayne #batfam #thank you for the ask!!!!

[circeyoru]

Entertainment & Attachment = Requested

[Poltergeist!Alastor x Medium!Reader]

The Request

For as long as you can remember, you were different from the people around you. No one understood you, no one could be by your side like you’d wanted. You couldn’t rely on others like a human should, as social as humans were made to be, you can’t be normal. You can’t make long lasting friends, and you can’t even rely on your family. For years, you thought you were an anomaly

In your eyes, you see things. Things others can’t. As clear as day, you’d see a transparent figure walking or floating around. Some were fine to stare at, but some were living nightmares to even spare a glance. As a child, you’d point them out and try to convey that there was something there to your parents or friends, they’d all say you were doing all that for attention

So as you grew, you learned to keep quiet about what you saw, even ignoring them altogether. You found out some time later that these were things called spirits, entities of the departed. Or what’s more commonly known as ‘ghosts’

You were lonely and so you did what you anyone would, seek companionship

You approached the little boy that was already in the storage room, he was quite harmless and rarely ever moved out of the room. He was aware you could see him, but he never made any movement to approach you. When you kneeled down in front of him and called out to him, tears came down his eyes and quiet sobs turned to cries. You tried calming him down, yet through his cries, you caught what would make your heart ache

“You noticed me! Someone noticed me! No one noticed me until now! No one cared that I died!”

“... What’s your name? Want me to make you a little burial?”

“What’s a burial?”

“It’s… Something… Something to honour the dead. A place for you to sleep and rest. To move on.”

“I… I want that…”

From then on, you’d try to approach similar spirits like that boy. It turned out, the spirits you saw couldn’t move on and stayed where they died or was most attached to. Hearing their stories was always hard for you, since you’d feel their emotions when they spoke to you like a tidal wave, but all was worth it when you get to see their figure fade to nothingness and a peaceful smile on their faces

While you studied and made yourself a stable lifestyle, you grew to be more adapt in your little world of spirits. You found yourself more at ease there because there was nothing to hide and you were accepted in a way. Everything was so very good for you, there were ghostly friends you’ve made that weren’t ready to pass on because they were busy to something, the most heartwarming ones were them staying to be their loved ones’ presence

There were many that wanted to communicate to spirits like you could hear them. You don’t feel like being a parrot since it lacked that emotional quality. So you built a radio box, or what’s more commonly known as a ‘spirit box’. A device that can allow spirits to communicate through radio frequencies, or something like that

It worked wonders and allowed you to communicate with spirits more easily as well. You slowly modified it to be smaller so you could carry it around, then perfecting it when it hang to your side like a handbag. It worked on electricity, but it has little solar panels so it could constantly charge when you out and about

Yet everything changed when you received a particular call from a homeowner. You made a visit, when you were there, they were positive that their house was hunted. Everytime technology was used, phones, TVs, and even the tablets, it’ll all glitch and malfunction. There was a foul stench in the basement that can never be cleaned. Mostly, the master bedroom and study was always cold

The family tried everything, even trying to renovate the place and destroy the house to build a new one over it. But mysteriously, the workers would fall ill, have unexpectable accidents, tools gone missing ot malfunctions. These were the better endings, at times, someone would end up dead

The parents begged you to do something, they had children, they can’t let this continue. You fail to understand this familial bond. Seeing the little children so close with their parents, how you envied them. But you don’t blame your ability to see or communicate with them, you welcome your title as a ‘medium’. That was in the past either way, this is the now

You couldn’t promise that you’ll ‘deal with the problem’ as they phased it, but you’ll try. Either way, you advised that it was best they were prepared to move out. You can’t say for certain, but you think this spirit was very very attached to the memories in the house, or the fact that it was once their possession

From the moment you stepped through the front door, you felt a heavy weight over your body, you felt a chill around you that was constantly shifting, even more around your little radio invention. You could feel eyes on you, staring at you like a predator has its next prey

You went to the basement when the family left you to your own devices. You had to cover your mouth and nose with a handkerchief so you could stand and walk down the steps. The deeper you gone, the worse it got. You wanted to back away, but you couldn’t help it, you were worried for that linger spirit more so than the family

When you got to the basement, you noticed that it was quite empty and dusty. There was only an old table and a chair, you found a light switch and turned it on, the lights flickered on, but only dimly lighting up the room, giving it an eerie vibe

It wasn’t until you turned on the radio that the stench was completely gone. You were shocked yourself, but not of the lack of rotten smell in the room. More so on the transparent hand that tried to play with the radio while you were still tinkering with the dials

“I’m surprised to see one of these old machines. What with all those fancy technology, I thought radios went extinct! Hahaha! This has to be an invention of your own making. A very well made one I much compliment. Finally someone with taste!”

“What unfinished business do you have? I’ll try to resolve it so you can move on.”

“Oh, you can see me? And hear me? Why! This day is turning out to be quite entertaining indeed! My Dear, make no mistake. I have no unfinished business.”

“Then why haven’t you leave this realm when you died?”

“Because my death was one I didn’t expect nor did I welcome it. Imagine, you minding your own business and suddenly you were shot in the head and mistaken for a harmless deer. Anyone would be enraged by such a death. No, no. I don’t think I’ll ever move on. Though, thank you for asking and trying.”

“So you need to accept your death then.”

“Accepted? Hahaha! Dear, I have accepted my death! I deserve it quite honestly! Do you know why? Because I was the reason why many died.”

The spirit, or Alastor as he introduced himself, was a former radio host. That wasn’t the detail you focused on, it was the fact that he was once a serial killer. He wasn’t a vengeful spirit, more of an unrest one. So that calmed you down, somewhat

It wasn’t the first time you encountered spirits that were once dangerous human beings when living. You met some robbers and even human traffickers, but you listened to their stories and helped them pass on. There were always some that you couldn’t do much to help except warn others away from the area so the spirit wasn’t disturbed

But Alastor. He was the first serial killer you encountered. One so shameless in his crimes and prideful of his work too. He didn’t hide the gory details and his creepy human knowledge whenever you were around

As you didn’t stay at the house and would only investigate the house (him) for the duration of the afternoon, Alastor would talk your ear out the moment you step through the front door. When you left to stay at the hotel room you rented, Alastor would wave you bye and stay at the doorway as though he was the host of the house bidding his guest a good day

Of course, you couldn’t stay forever and you had to leave. With Alastor’s activity, you stayed firm on your advice for them to stay somewhere else that wasn’t this house. Then you left, oddly enough, you didn’t feel unrest that you left things between you and Alastor unsettled. Especially when you told him that was your last visit and he gave you a cryptic answer on whether he’ll continue to ‘haunt’ the house

“The family here will return tomorrow, will you leave them alone?”

“Hmm… I’m not sure, Darling, maybe I will and maybe I won’t. Who knows? I go where entertainment takes me you see.”

“Can’t you answer a simple yes or no?”

“Hm… Maybe!”

When you were back home, you noticed how spirits seem to avoid you a bit. Some even flinching and hiding when you walked pass. The moment you tried to approach spirits, they outright flee like you were a ghost scaring them in a haunted house. You were always left wondering if you did something

Still, it all made sense just as you heard the familiar voice of a spirit that should even be in your room. Looking up from your phone, you saw Alastor smiling down at you with his hands behind his back while he floated over your form on the bed. You took note of the faint trail of red smokey substance connecting him to your radio on the far end of the room

You quickly figured out that Alastor changed attachments, from the house he lived and killed in to your radio. When did it start? Perhaps the day after you saw Alastor, then he slowly moved attachments and connected to the radio. He was a beloved radio host during his glory days after all

“Darling, you approach other spirits too. Why not talk to some more actively ones instead of the common folk? I can provide some assistance. You see, I am quite feared and persuasive too. And I’m sure you know that I am no dainty stick figure. Your noble quest to help spirits pass on, I’ll lend you a hand! For my ongoing entertainment, I’ll protect you from anything. What do you say?”

Now you understood his answer. You were his entertainment and true to his words. He followed you, perhaps follow isn’t the right word. Attach, yeah

Note: Just a treat. I'm getting back my free time so I did this. Hehe. A bit long and boring though. Oh well

Circe Y.

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist:

@aconfusedwonderland @crowleysthings @donustellaron @mistpurpl3 @lucifers-silhouette @fluffy-koalala

#Circe's Nighty Writings #Circe's requested writings #alastor headcanons #alastor imagine #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor #hazbin hotel oneshots #Entertainment & Attachment

[accio-victuuri]

4/29 candies to enjoy ^^ 🍭🍬🍩

this was a busy day for us cpfs. so i’m gonna compile some bits that made our cpn-senses go off! 😂

the most obvious, and my fave, because of how it follows the pattern is them not overlapping their releases. i thought gg was gonna release the gucci stuff at his usual 10:05 or 10:10 but he didn’t. that’s because wyb had jeanswest release on 10:30. i love how that was given it’s time till 13:00 when gg posted the ad. i’m clowning cause 13 is yizhan! and then 13:20 will be the weibo live for FPU, which was kinda delayed too when it went on. some more materials for GUCCI was released throughout the day but moreso on international platforms.

it’s hilarious cause i saw a hot take from an xz anti before who said he is “afraid” of doing stuff alongside wyb. that is their perception. lol. but i think even if you don’t believe in the whole cp thing, maybe it’s professional courtesy? maybe these two are friends and have this unspoken rule? 🤷🏻‍♀️

tho i was very happy to see them both pop up on my weibo opening screen! and to experience them having these international campaigns, for wyb, lacoste recently— makes me proud. 😌

a funny cpn from today is this parallel. in a segment at FPU, there was a moment where a fan said jiayou and wyb said cheering is not always necessary. It reminded us of that time xz was told to jiayou when he was about to go to the restroom and he’s like???? why do i have to jiayou???

oh these two. 😂😂😂

yibo is the resident gremlin who always has a smart ass reply or some savage comeback for you but xz usually doesn’t. but we know what he has that in him too and i wish we could see more of that!

bonus cuteness before we proceed, this edit of them looking like they are doing the choreo for jisoo’s flower 🌸 and they are BP fanboys so it fits!

now some double standards. in the movie channel interview, they were asked where they first met, and wyb couldn’t remember. compare this to how he was with xz! he was always very proactive that they met in ttxs!!!!

there was also a part where they were asked to give an example of what they wanna learn from each other. and if they communicated to learn. so HJY said street dance and WYB said jiu jitsu but they both weren’t able to learn from each other. in the meantime, wyb taught xz a dance routine 😂😂😂 among other things. i’m sure yibo will be more than happy to help someone out, but i think you have to be at a certain level of closeness to him. or he is really comfortable with you.

this last section is for the beaded bracelet. i think it’s time to discuss it again because this is the 3rd time he is seen with it. so this looks like something personal for him. tho i have to say, you have the coco crush which is both personal and part of him promoting chanel too. i’m invested in this cpn and at the same time frustrated because of the questions.

( p1: him wearing it for the fpu bazaar magazine shoot // p2: worn during the movie channel interview // p3: what so/os are saying is the bracelet not that it matters cause i can clown this too )

1. i hate how no wardrobe accounts have confirmed what it is. and i kinda understand cause we never see it fully, plus there is cpn attached to it so they are extra careful. which is also another source of my frustration. why does he wear it when he has long sleeves on??? he was wearing a shirt earlier and his arms were bare! but wait.. he changed his clothes and as soon as he had something to sort of cover it, the bracelet was on. 💀💀💀💀

it’s like he is purposely clowning us!

2. if this was a jewelry to show off and promote Chanel, why can’t we see it well? and i want to see the change in the beads’ color to confirm if it is what the solos say it is.

i’m also side eyeing international solos who are proudly commenting how wyb’s bracelet is luxury and not some cheap buddha beads like xz’s. what? it’s such an insult to a culture that is important to yibo. those bead bracelets made in specific temples for protection is part of his culture. he knows it’s importance and respects it. but what can i expect from solos really? lol. the bar is already very low when it comes to them but they still manage to disappoint me. 🪦

3. and if it is Chanel, i can still clown by thinking GG bought it for him so they can match. 😂😂😂 atleast with the aesthetic.

bonus: the bone necklace!!!!!

another bonus, i saw this photo of like a celebration i guess for queen of tears. and the cake! the way the actors are cutting it! lol. reminds of xz and wyb! 😂

banner edit source 圣衣雪琳

-END.

#this became longer than i intended too lol #yizhan #bjyx #there is no science here i’m just clowning like i always do

[yourheart-inmyhands]

Just remembered the fallen god reader thingy- what if reader just one day regains their power ;)) and then just leaves them, I'm like super offended ;(( I dont wanna be mistreated by them

ahaha this ask made me chuckle a little! unfortunately my version of yandere archons aren't sweet in every scenario, i do still hope you enjoy though! :D

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including mentions of being held against ones will, mentions of manipulation, mentions of violence, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

Venti:

Well, he certainly can’t just let you leave, not after all that hard work he put into nursing you back to health. No no, don’t you see, you owe him. You could try and claim he was doing it out of the goodness of his heart, I mean he’s an Archon, a god just like you, doesn’t he see how unjust it is to demand payment?

You could beg and plead all you want, but unless your powers are enough to break the elemental barriers he’s set up, then I’m afraid you’re trapped. He won’t mistreat you, he’ll be nice and sweet to you so long as you behave, but your freedom will forever be removed.

“It’s not fair you say? A lot of things in this world aren’t fair, it’s just how it is.” His bright smile and humorous laugh do little to settle your unrest. No matter how hard you begged, how fast the tears poured from your eyes, or how strained your voice became from constant pleading, nothing worked. Perhaps if you learned to behave he’d let you see the sun again, until then, think long and well about all he had done for you. Remember exactly just how much you owe him for the things he’s done for you.

Zhongli:

He finds it curious that your powers have suddenly returned, but it does little to change his authority over you. Regardless of the strength you show or possess, Zhongli has ingrained into your mind just how weak and pathetic you are. You are nothing without him, your silly little powers mean nothing if you aren’t here with him. Can’t you see that? Can’t you see that you need him?

There’s little that would change about the dynamic between the two of you, if anything it just gives Zhongli an excuse to be around you more. His eyes seem to always be observing you now, watching keenly to ensure you don’t dare step out of line. There will be consequences if you should try.

“Dinner is done, come eat.” His tone is warm, but there’s a familiar sense of sternness in the undertone. Since the resurgence of your powers, Zhongli had made sure to remind you of your place below him. It didn’t matter how hard you fought, the elder god showed little remorse when overpowering you. It was astounding to think that even after the loss of his gnosis he could still hold such power over you, but then again, Morax wasn’t known as the God of War for nothing.

Raiden:

She doesn’t believe you at first, those who lose their divinity are not simply granted it back. It would take a long while and many displays of your capabilities to convince her. It doesn’t much change her opinion of you though. Raiden still thinks you are foolish and weak to have lost your powers to begin with. And for that, you should suffer the consequences.

Every escape attempt or effort put in to fight back is quickly shut down. She doesn’t even let you build up the hope that you’ll be able to land a hit before she’s got you disarmed, pinned, and once more shown your place beneath her. It gets a bit frustrating, having to always correct your silly outburst.

“When will you learn that you are nothing compared to me? You should be grateful I have enough decency to put up with this behavior, if you were anyone else I’d have tossed you to the streets like the pathetic waste you seem keen on acting like.” Her words are as rough and painful as her hold on you is. She has you under her, pinned to the floor in the living room of her home. It’s an embarrassing sight, your face held down to the hardwood as she scolds you like a child. This wasn’t the first time it had happened, but Raiden had hoped that by now you’d have learned your lesson. She is getting incredibly fed up with you.

Furina:

Your return of power puts her in a tough position because before when you were powerless, she had something to hold over your head. Now, you hold the power and she’s left to flounder.

There isn’t much she can do to keep you from leaving, sobbing on her knees as you walk towards the front door. It wasn’t fair, it wasn't fair that you got to get back what you lost, it wasn’t fair that you got to still be connected to divinity when she was cut entirely from it. 

“Please, please don’t leave me…” Furina kneels on the ground, hands balled into fists as she begs and sobs. She can just barely see the sides of your shoes as you walk past, disregarding her as you head for the front door. When she’s sure you’re not looking she ceases her crying, the tears were fake from the start. Reaching for the pipe she hid under the couch, she silently grabs it before standing. It was easier to hit you, having stopped in the doorway to admire your freedom, you had been too caught up to hear the soft patter of her footsteps behind you.

#genshin x reader #genshin x male reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin x male reader #venti x reader #yandere venti x reader #venti x male reader #yandere venti x male reader #zhongli x reader #zhongli x male reader #yandere zhongli x reader #yandere zhongli x male reader #raiden x reader #raiden x male reader #yandere raiden x reader #yandere raiden x male reader #furina x reader #furina x male reader #yandere furina x reader #yandere furina x male reader #yandere genshin #yandere furina #yandere raiden #yandere zhongli #yandere venti

[h0neylevi]

tags: fem!reader, spanking, use of 'good girl', praise, fingering, implied overstimulation

w/c: 866

It takes all of ten minutes after you get home from the airport for Levi to have your mind numb with pleasure.

He’s been gone for a week—away for some work conference that sent him halfway across the country. Often, when he’s gone like this, he hardly has time to even call you at the end of each day, and this last week has been no exception.

You missed him, and from the way he all but throws you onto the bed after he’s put his suitcase down, you’d be foolish to think the feeling wasn’t mutual.

You’ve been stripped down to nothing. The set of cute lingerie you’d worn to pick him up lays in a pile with the rest of your clothes, quickly disregarded by Levi in favor of feeling the soft give of your flesh underneath.

Now you’re draped over his lap on your stomach, struggling to string together a single coherent thought as two of Levi’s fingers stretch you open.

He’s still dressed. The creases of his dress shirt remain wrinkle-free despite your wiggling, sleeves folded neatly up to his elbows. His tie is the only thing discarded, the silky fabric now deftly wound around your wrists in a makeshift bind, freeing him from the hassle of your roaming hands.

A week apart and you’re not allowed to touch him. If you could think, you’d call it a punishment worse than torture.

“Does that feel good, sweetheart?” he coos. “Is this what you thought about while I was gone?”

You open your mouth to reply, but he takes that moment to curl his fingers in just the right way to heat your blood to molten levels. An airy moan slips from your throat instead and gets smothered by the pillow supporting your head.

His other palm comes down on your ass, striking once and then again.

“Answer me.”

Your mouth hangs open without a sound, momentarily caught between delicious pain and pleasure. “Yes.”

“Good girl.” He rewards you by rolling his fingers over your clit, generously coating it in your arousal. “You always make such pretty noises for me. Let me hear them.”

Sparks ignite in your belly, hips rolling to chase the sensation of his fingers, but he pulls away just as your legs begin to shake.

You whine. “Levi–”

He ignores you in favor of watching his fingers slowly sink inside of you again. His eyes practically glow with reverence in the dim lighting. “Look at you, making such a mess.”

Embarrassment burns your face. You’re probably dripping all over his finely-pressed trousers, staining the fabric, but you can’t bring yourself to care about stopping. All you can think about is the growing, aching need in your belly as he starts again.

“Levi, please. I–”

His fingers disappear. Another smack to your ass makes you flinch and squirm.

“I didn’t tell you to speak.” He frowns. “You’re not in any position to be making demands. Were you this fucked out when you forgot to put away the toys?”

You still for a moment, trying to connect the dots. It’s like your brain is attempting to wade through quicksand but slowly, you remember.

There was one rule you both followed when he went away on long work trips: no touching without permission. The one rule that up until last night you’d never broken.

Pleasure ebbs from your limbs, and you breathe a pathetic whine into the dampened fabric of the pillow. You need to move, but you’re at Levi’s mercy like this—bound and unable to do anything without his help.

You feel his free palm caress your hip, right over the sensitive spot he’d spanked just moments prior.

“M’sorry.” Your voice is a labored half-sob, half-gasp, muffled from being pressed against the pillow. “I just missed you.”

It’s a last ditch effort and you know it. Discipline is a language that Levi knows well, and his capacity for self-control sometimes makes your head spin. He already looks barely affected by comparison. The only sign that he’s worked up at all is the subtle feeling of his length against your side, concealed but nonetheless straining beneath layers of fabric. Your hands clench into loose fists in the binds. To have that level of restraint aimed at you sends an excited thrill up your spine.

You almost expect him to discipline you for speaking out of turn again, but instead you feel his hand move from your thigh to grant you a few slow swipes over your aching clit. Just enough to keep you on the edge, eager for more.

“I know you’re sorry,” he says softly. The shift in his tone makes your shoulders relax, but his fingers swiftly move, pushing deep inside of you at a pace that has your toes curling.

“Since you want to come so bad, let’s see how many you can give me.” His fingers begin to pump and curl inside of you more quickly, hitting the spot that makes your legs quake and turn to jelly. Your back arches, finally giving him full access to the clear and punctuated moan that’s ripped from your throat. “Let’s start with one for every day I was gone, hm?”

#levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman x fem!reader #aot fic

[freshmangojuice]

Long after Lister and the Cat are gone, and Rimmer has shut himself down, Kryten is left alone again. Going senile like Holly and suffering with android dementia, he wanders Red Dwarf still trying to keep the ship in order.

Warning: very sad oneshot

Grade 2 dust on the G deck pipes again. Kryten flapped his microfiber dusting cloth and took care of the unsightly dust that had settled on the oxygen pipes that run along the corridor. Such details were important. Five minutes later— or was it ten? He’d have to recalibrate his internal clock. His cloth was now significantly blackened, he would have to make his way to the laundry for it to join the next load. It was just two decks down. All he had to do was get to the Xpress Lift at the end of the corridor and head down. It couldn’t be simpler. Big jerky steps took him along the guiding yellow line on the floor that led to the lift.

He was following the yellow line. Definitely the yellow line. Just like Dorothy. It was patchy in places and crossed over the green and red lines in several places. It was a right mess. They were meant to be directional, somebody was going to get lost if they tried following these to get to where they’re trying to be. Those lines need to be repainted. The skutters should be able to take care of that. Kryten stopped his walk to quickly program a reminder for himself to organise the repainting.

Kryten had always related to the tin man, but the scarecrow in need of a brain was who he felt more like these days. He wasn’t sure why, isn’t this how things have always been? That was a 20th century film. What was it called again? He wondered why he even had the information on disk. Who would have shown it to him?

Humming the tune to ‘follow the yellow brick road’ as he carefully stepped on the patchy and wonky yellow line, what Kryten wasn’t aware of in that moment, was that he had painted those wonky lines 10 days ago.

His mind was confused. He forgot things, he got lost and turned around, things that should be familiar sometimes scared him. He hadn’t always been like this. 4 and a half million years ago he was top of the range exquisite technology. His head was packed with RAM and memory far larger than any mechanoid before. Now his components were failing him. He’d long-since run out of spare parts, with no materials to replace them. Maybe it was one too many corrupt files he’d had to scrub from his harddrive. Maybe it was a scorched circuit somewhere, or a screw loose. Maybe it was because he was so, so old. His system computer hadn’t updated his status in a very long time, he wasn’t aware of what was wrong, so that meant that nothing was wrong.

The Xpress Lift parted its doors and Kryten took his robotic jerky steps inside.

‘Where to?’ asked the lift.

Kryten stood there for a few moments, calculating and examining, scanning his surroundings for clues. He’d already forgotten about heading to the laundry, even with the dirty cloth still in his hand.

"Do excuse me," he said politely to the lift, "I seem to have taken a wrong turn. I will not be needing your services right this moment," and he stepped back out of the lift. He looked at the thick, flat, intertwining breadths of colour on the floor. It looked like a muddled bag of jelly snakes all wrapped around each other, and the longer he looked at them the more muddled they became. Kryten shook his head to recalibrate his eyes. He could’ve sworn he’d seen the snakes wriggling.

There were toilets further up the corridor, and Kryten ignored the jelly snake lines as he went back the way he came to get to them.

These toilets were never dirty, never clogged. It was as if nobody ever used them. That can’t be. There had to be a crew using them every day.

Hold on. 

Where was the crew? 

Kryten’s internal cooling fans started to spin faster. 

The ship had a crew, it did. He remembered Miss Anne. She had big black hair, it got everywhere, he was always cleaning it up. But he hadn’t seen her or her hair for a long time. Hadn’t she died? Hadn’t they all died?

The noise of the fans spinning as he overheated buzzed through his body.

Yes, yes. She had died. She was on the Nova 5. They had crashed and the humans had died. Then he was alone. He’s still alone. How long had he been alone?

No, no. He was a mechanoid. He wasn’t supposed to feel alone, he wasn’t supposed to feel anything.

So why did he?

He couldn’t remember breaking his programming, nor could he remember who it was that helped him do it. The name of the ship he was on, and had been on for over a million years eluded him. The only companions he knew of now were the last remaining skutters. The only voices he heard were automated. There was nothing left to remind him of how much it meant to him to be a person. There was no one to look after, no one to joke with. Kryten had lost his friends and lost himself long ago.

#red dwarf #fmj #fmj: fic #ridiculous and predictable that this is my first red dwarf fic I'm posting

[television-overload]

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 2/34 - decaf coffee

[Read on AO3]

In the next week, the topic of adoption doesn’t come up again, and she tries to put it out of her mind as much as possible. They wrap up their case, spending several dull hours working on their reports, and wait impatiently for something else to come across their desk, ideally something a little more intellectually stimulating than the last few duds they’ve worked.

The good thing about not having any cases, though, is that no one blinks twice when they take a long lunch here, or leave work a few minutes early at the end of the day there. A spontaneous mid-morning coffee break at their favorite cafe down the street gets them out of the building, enjoying a rare warm day in December.

On the way to the coffee shop, they walk side by side—as always—until Scully stops suddenly in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Oh, Mulder. Look,” she says sadly.

He follows her gaze to the other side of the street, where a little boy no older than four stands with frightened eyes, looking back and forth helplessly while busy businessmen and women in suits pass by without sparing him a glance.

Mulder checks for cars quickly before jogging across the street, giving Scully little warning before taking off. She follows behind, carefully dodging traffic as it approaches.

“Hey, buddy, you lost?” Mulder asks, approaching the boy and kneeling down to his height.

The boy nods, red-faced and eyes brimming with tears.

“That’s okay, we’ll help you get this figured out,” he says consolingly. “Are you here with your mom?”

“Uh huh,” the little boy answers shakily.

Mulder gives him a comforting pat on the shoulder, offering him a reassuring smile. “Alright, well let’s find her, yeah?”

“Okay.”

“I’m Fox and this is Dana,” he says, nodding up at her. “We work for the FBI, do you know what that is?”

He shakes his head. “No.”

“Well, we’re kind of like cops.”

He sniffles.

“What’s your name, bud?”

“William.”

The world slows to a halt, and Scully’s eyes widen.

It’s a common name. So common, in fact, that she can name at least six Williams, Wills, or Bills off the top of her head without hesitating. But that’s exactly the problem.

It’s a family name. Both her family, and Mulder’s.

Fox William Mulder.

“William? Hey, that’s my middle name!”

She won’t think about it. She won’t think about the way that she wanted to use that name, if they were lucky enough to succeed at in vitro fertilization. She won’t think of that little boy she pictured, or the man she hoped would stay and be his father.

“Really?” William asks, eyes lighting up for the first time.

Mulder smiles. “Yeah, better than Fox, right?”

She hears a giggle, and remembers Emily. Mulder got her to laugh, too, even under the most harrowing circumstances. She shakes her head, focusing on the situation at hand. She won’t be of any help if she can’t get her head out of the clouds.

Mulder asks, “You know what your mommy’s name is?”

“Um—Susan,” William answers.

“That’s great. Good job, buddy, that helps. Where did you last see her?”

“We goed to get me shoes for playing soccer,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Soccer, huh? I’m partial to baseball myself—”

“Mulder—” Scully stops him, tapping him on the shoulder. When he looks at her, she points to the other side of the road, and he nods his thanks.

“Hey, look, there’s a shoe store across the street,” he says triumphantly, refocusing in on William. “I bet you she’s right over there looking for you!”

He stands, reaching out his hand for William to hold, and they cross the street together with Scully following closely behind. She watches them, and thinks that if she were a passerby, she might think they were father and son, out for a midday stroll.

It’s a side of Mulder she doesn’t often get to see. A side she suspected lay dormant for a long time after Samantha disappeared, but it’s still there, popping up here and there when it is needed.

“Hey, Scully, can you go in and check if there’s a Susan in there?” Mulder asks, looking to her for assistance. “I want to stay out here in case she comes by looking for him.”

She nods, clearing her head once again of the swirling thoughts that had occupied her. “Yeah, of course.”

She goes in and comes back out just as quickly, shaking her head despondently.

“The clerk said she and her son left about 10 minutes ago,” she reports.

“Did he say which way they went?”

“To the right.”

Mulder glances in that direction and nods. “10 minutes, well she couldn’t have gotten far. We found him just over there,” he says optimistically. “William, keep an eye out for if you see her.”

“Okay,” he agrees.

They head to the right, Mulder now carrying William on his shoulders up above the crowds. They pass a few stores, finding no luck so far, but then are startled when some pedestrians up in front of them nearly get bowled over by the sudden opening of a shop door. A frantic woman exits, then darts off, apologizing as she goes. 

Mulder starts jogging, knowing that it must be the mother. He dodges other people walking, skirting between them expertly, which leaves Scully behind by a fair few paces. Luckily, she’s used to it. The woman is poised to enter the next shop when he calls out, “Susan?”

She turns.

“I think this little one belongs to you.”

An instant wave of relief washes over the woman’s face, and she runs to reach them. “William!” she gasps.

The boy all but leaps into her arms, curling in close while she strokes the back of his head, comforting them both.

“Where did you find him?” she asks through tears, holding tight to her wayward son.

“Just across the street,” Mulder says with a smile, pointing to where they came from.

Susan sighs in muted frustration. “There’s an ice cream shop over there, I should have known.”

“My sister did the same thing when I was about 9. Gave us all a heart attack,” Mulder chuckles.

The casual mention of his sister causes Scully to look at him in shock, but he’s too preoccupied to notice.

“I can’t thank you enough. I turned my back for one second.”

“No problem, just glad he’s back where he belongs,” Mulder responds.

After waving goodbye to William, he turns around, a content smile on his face. He starts in the direction of the coffee shop, as if the events of the last few minutes had never happened. Expecting Scully to follow, he walks right past her, but she stands frozen in place.

It’s insane. It’s impulsive. She’s going to do it anyway.

“Okay.”

He pauses and glances back at the statue that is Dana Scully. Amusement plays at his lips, though there’s more than a little confusion there too.

“Huh?”

“Okay.”

He laughs, backtracking a few steps so he is closer to her.

“You’re gonna have to say more words, Scully, I don’t know what you’re—”

“I want to adopt a baby.”

His eyes widen, and he looks to his right and left as if someone might overhear their personal conversation and go tell on them to their supervisors.

“You’re bringing this up now?” he asks, a little incredulously.

“Yeah.”

“And– and you’ve thought this through? You’re sure?”

No, not really. To be honest, she’d barely thought through this at all. There are so many reasons why they shouldn’t, why this is a terrible idea. They’re not ordinary people. They have enemies who could use this against them, careers that have proven to be life threatening on multiple occasions.

And yet…

“Mulder, seeing you with that boy…” she says, her eyes trailing off in the direction the mother and son had disappeared. “Yes, I’m sure. Only if the offer still stands, I won’t hold it against you if you’ve changed your—”

He stops her. “No! No, I’m in. Let’s do it. Let’s– We should talk about this.” He grabs her elbow and starts toward the coffee shop with her in tow, and the pace of his step forces her to walk faster to keep up. “Buy you a cup of coffee? Breakfast sandwich?” he asks, scrambling for something to say.

“I feel like I’m gonna throw up.”

“Just the coffee then.”

The bell jingles as they enter. They sit down at a booth and Mulder leans in, his voice low and placating.

“Okay, no need to panic. We’re just talking about it, yeah? Breathe.”

She huffs out a laugh. “How are you so calm about this?”

He smirks. “I’ve been reading about this stuff for months. You only found my stash of brochures last week.”

“Months?” she breathes, voice laced with disbelief. Her head feels like it’s spinning. “It’s just a little… overwhelming, I suppose,” she says.

“I have that effect on people,” he jokes. “It’s not a rush. If we do this, it will take time, we just have to decide if it’s something we want to pursue. There’s an application process, and getting approved, not to mention finding the right placement...”

Scully feels out of her depth. He knows a lot more about this than she does. She almost wants to ask if he has a slide show prepared.

“I want to do it. I do,” she assures him, carefully choosing her words, “I just don’t know where to begin. It sounds like a crazy idea. Is it crazy?”

“Probably,” he says with a shrug and a grin. “Kind of just makes me want to do it more.”

She’d never admit it, but she feels the same way. Maybe Bill’s right. He has rubbed off on her.

“So… where do we start? What do we need to do?” she asks, needing more information before she starts spiraling.

“Why don’t we take it slow? Start with you and me and an actual adult conversation about our priorities, and then maybe this weekend I can stop by with some Chinese and we can look into next steps.”

She takes a deep breath, heart rate slowing back down to normal.

“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.”

How do we do this? How do we have this conversation we should have had months ago?

Before they get a chance, a waitress stops by to take their orders, and Scully opts for decaf. As electrified and anxious as she feels right now, she really doesn’t need caffeine to make it even worse. She can feel her knee bouncing relentlessly under the table.

Once the waitress is gone, Mulder gets the ball rolling with the first order of business. 

“I guess to start us off, I need to know how involved you want me to be. I can help you find an agency and be your personal reference on your application, or I could—” he pauses. Breathes. “Like I said, I’ll be as involved as you want. I just need to know what you’re thinking.”

She shakes her head. “Mulder, I couldn’t ask you to—”

“I should tell you that the agencies favor couples over single parents,” he adds before she can finish, “It might be more difficult to get approved on your own, but if that’s what you want, I’ll help you.”

She studies him, the nuance of every microexpression on his face. She knows what her heart is wishing for, but what about him? Would she be asking too much of him?

“What do you want?”

He ducks his head, staring at the chipped surface of the table before glancing up at her with an apologetic smile.

“I’m a selfish man.”

She looks at him, needing more of an answer before she dares to respond. If he doesn’t mean what she thinks he means, one wrong word could spell disaster. Upset the delicate balance that is their friendship. She has to hear it straight from his mouth, this is no time for assumptions.

He sits back in his booth, and she braces herself for what he’s about to say.

“I want to coach little league,” he confesses. “I want to drive an ugly minivan, the ugliest one you’ve ever seen. I want to help with math homework, to tell crazy stories at bedtime and go on camping trips together.” 

He looks deep in her eyes, and she shudders, feeling like his words have penetrated her very soul.

“I want it all, Scully. I want a family.”

I want you.

She feels tears pool in her eyes, her throat closing with emotion.

“I want that too,” she chokes out, unable to form any more words.

He reaches out a hand across the table and takes hers. She holds on tight.

“Well, that’s one thing settled,” he says, blinking back the pinpricks of tears in his own eyes.

~~~

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#msr #txf #x files #xf fanfic #mulder and scully #my fanfiction #fox mulder #dana scully #of our own making #ooom #msr adoption fic #adoption