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sttoru · 8 months

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𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃 . . .

⟣ sypnosis. you’re fed up with your rich abusive husband and finally decide to hire a skilled assassin to get rid of him in secrecy. one night when you’re left alone in your penthouse, you invite the assassin named toji over to give him the money he’s demanded to accept the job. things turn for the worse when your husband comes home early that day and catches toji and you together.

⟣ note. eeek. never thought i’d be here to write this out but i did and it turned pretty detailed if i must say. hope u all enjoy and appreciate my hard work. feedback / comments are greatly appreciated ! if the fic does well, i can make an alternative ending that’s smutty :3 wc: 7.4k

⟣ tags. toji fushiguro x female reader. angst, comfort. themes include abuse. reader is in an abusive + toxic relationship with her husband. implied age gap with husband. implied size difference with toji. mentions of guns + blood + m.urder. knifes.

“what is a successful marriage?”

that is one of the many questions that keep you up at night. you’ve laid awake for hours on end ever since you’ve married your husband, in search for reasonable answers. you’ve got many of them sorted out, however that specific question is one left unanswered.

it is very subjective—many can vary about the concrete answer. but one thing you know for sure is that your marriage is the exact opposite of what ‘successful’ means.

you were so full of yourself. you didn’t realise that your pride would also be your downfall one day; you’d constantly brag about having a rich husband who gets you everything you wanted. you were too blinded by love—or actually—by his money to notice the real him. the real, twisted and manipulative face of the man you were determined to marry.

his name was daisuke. from the yamamoto family. a family known in japan for its generational wealth and the many buildings and famous corporations it owns. you’ve worked at one of those companies and had met daisuke whilst he was on a visit. you’ve heard about his image by the public; sweet, caring and apparently wouldn’t hurt a fly.

unfortunately, the true him matched none of those descriptions. the true him only you—his wife—came face to face with at your shared home. you remember when it started. when daisuke began to turn into a nasty, abusive man whose anger is never restrainable.

your dating years were nothing but a dream. or, maybe you were too gullible to notice the signs and red flags your then boyfriend was showing. his love bombing, the manipulation, the gaslighting—you didn’t know better. if you complained about a minor thing that he had done, daisuke would apologise by sending you lots of money and presents. toxic, isn’t it?

but you didn’t care. you were happy and content with that being your compensation. the money was the evildoer that made you lose all your morals. the teenage you who said that you’ll never put up with a man’s disrespect was long forgotten.

even now, 4 years later, you put up with his verbal and physical abuse just to continue staying in that big mansion you live in. to continue getting everything paid for you. to continue getting lots of money by doing nothing but be his wife—his trophy wife, at this point.

it’s an easy life; ‘all i have to do is get through his abuse and it’ll be just fine’, you tell yourself that every night. it’s the only thing keeping you sane—a coping mechanism of some kind.

however lately, daisuke’s never skipped a day without being abusive towards you. he’d enter your home yelling and shouting, complains about the tiniest speck of dust in the house (which is not even your fault, it’s the maids’), reminds you how worthless you are in his eyes and the list goes on. he sometimes gets physical and throws stuff at you, causing multiple bruises and cuts to appear on your body after he’s done having his daily tantrum.

he might even kill you one day. it’s scary to think about; if he would, he easily could. he could one day just decide to be done with you and stick a knife in your body, leave you to bleed out and then order one of his men to get rid of your corpse. just like his family does to whoever stands in their way of success. you don’t want to discover how many people your husband has killed.

daisuke can easily get away with murder after all—the law is nothing but a thing to exist to keep the common citizens in the government’s control. to the rich, it’s like those rules don’t exist. court? justice? the so called independent judge? nothing money can’t buy. after all, money is power. money is innocence.

after four years of sticking with that rich man, you were getting tired. you were staying with him for his wealth, but was it actually worth it? besides, if daisuke hates you so much, why wouldn’t he divorce you instead? you don’t have anything going for you. except for your looks and youth, probably. that’s the main reason why daisuke coaxed you into marrying him—to show you off during events or parties. a complete and utter trophy wife you are.

you’ve been going to sketchy bars lately to let off some steam. you weren’t even there to drink alcohol. the sole reason for attending pubs was to forget about your own situation. you’d get weird stares since you’re always alone, sitting in that one spot in the far corner, no one wanting to come up to you because of that gloomy aura you’re emitting. and because you’re always dressed modestly from head to toe—not an ounce of skin showing. it was all the opposite of what most people would normally look and act like in bars.

‘what is normal?’ also a subjective question. society has turned it into an objective one, however.

“good day, miss.” a deep voice had interrupted your thoughts one day whilst you were doing your usual routine; sit near the bar counter, get a non-alcoholic drink, stare at the table for hours and question your purpose in life before going home to the reason of your problems.

a man, probably in his late 30’s or early 40’s, sat next to you on an available stool. he nonchalantly ordered a drink before making small talk. it was a nice change of pace for some reason. you had asked him his name. it was shiu.

that stranger had kept you company for hours until a call from your husband made you snap back to reality; you had to be home as soon as possible. judging by daisuke’s tone, you were in big trouble.

you remember how shiu outed his concern for your well-being by pointing out the bruises on your arm which you didn’t even know were showing.

you dismissed his worries with a fake smile and told him it was nothing, quickly pulling your sleeve back down. shiu seemed to let the topic go, but before parting ways with you, he handed you his business card. you didn’t know what it was for—what kind of services he could offer;

“call that number if you need someone to get rid of your problems,” was all you got before the mysterious man walked away. you couldn’t shake off the emphasis on the word ‘rid’. it sent a shiver down your spine.

that sentence of shiu’s echoed in your ears as tears streamed down your cheek after you arrived home. you were in your personal bathroom, hands shaking as you put a bag of ice on your fresh bruise, the small red and blue-ish area stinging. once again—you couldn’t avoid your husband’s wrath.

after having slept for a mere two hours that day in your bathtub, you’ve awoken to an empty house. daisuke was gone for work. luckily for you.

you hastily grabbed the business card in your purse and dialled the number. staring at the card, you’d think it was some kind of house cleaning service. that’s the kind of vibe it gave. little did you know that it was far from that.

a few rings later and you heard the same familiar deep voice in your ear; “good morning. with shiu kong.”

your heart was beating in your throat as you couldn’t gather the right words to say. maybe it was due to the little voice in the back of your head that warned you for something—you couldn’t pinpoint what the specific cause was just yet.

you answered eventually, “hi. uhm, you said i could call this number if i needed someone to get rid of my problems.” you pause and inhale deeply, “wh-what if my problem was.. a person? would you…” your voice trailed off, but the implication could not be missed by anyone if they heard the tone you used.

shiu seemed to recognise your voice, though stayed silent for a second or two at your request. when he replied, it sounded like he had expected you to ask him this—like he’s heard this many times before; “certainly.”

that’s when you realised what you’ve gotten yourself involved with. you were sweating and you had trouble breathing as you realised that.. this was your chance. to get rid of that man called your husband. your abuser.

you had decided to take on that opportunity and that’s how you ended up getting a phone call from an anonymous number right after your talk with shiu. the agent hadn’t told you anything other than the name of the person who’d contact you; ‘toji’, and said that he’d help you further.

you stared at the ‘no caller ID’ on your screen. this was him: the person who’d help you get rid of your problem. you gulped before sliding your thumb across your mobile to answer the call.

“hi, good m—”

“location.”

the husky male voice cut through your introduction and got straight to the point. your lips were parted to answer the man whom you guessed was ‘toji’, but your breath got caught in your throat for a second. do you just randomly give your address to a stranger? was that okay to do? you didn’t know—no, you didn’t care. if you got killed in the process or something similar, that’d be way better than to live another day in hell with your husband.

you dropped your address after some hesitation and toji just added a quick, ‘be there in an hour or so,’ before hanging up on you.

fast forward to 50 minutes later and you were pacing back and forth in your living room, trying to breathe properly and not have a second panic attack. daisuke wouldn’t be home until noon, so at least he won’t see whoever will enter your mansion in a few minutes. and if there’s a possibility that you get killed by this stranger, you’re sure that your husband would be more than happy that the job was done for him.

a loud tune. the sound of your doorbell. normally, you’d find the short melody relaxing, but now it sounded like something out of a nightmare. you made your way to your intercom and looked at the small screen—seeing a tall black-haired man with a compressed shirt and beige baggy pants standing near the gates. that must be toji—the man you talked to an hour ago.

he must be confident in his abilities since he didn’t cover up his identity at all when coming all the way over here.

you press a button and the gates open with a buzz. toji disappears from the little screen as he enters your front yard. the screen fades to black and you’re left alone with a sense of dread in your stomach. that only lasted for a couple seconds since the doorbell of your front door goes off.

“c-coming!” your voice cracks. you make your way over to the entrance of your home and breathe in. you open the doors slightly, peeking through the gap at the tall, intimidating man standing before you.

toji was kicking a rock to the side whilst waiting and looked up when you opened the doors. he seemed laidback, as if this was nothing but child’s play to him, “took ya long enough.”

you were appalled as toji simply barged into your home like he owned it. his strong, masculine cologne wafted through the air as he passed you by without giving you a second to process his intrusion.

your shaky eyes followed his bulky figure—the muscles that bulged through his shirt, which tensed every now and then. his aura was no joke either; it was horrifying to someone whom didn’t even know who he was or what he exactly did for a living.

“phewww,” the dark-haired man let out a low whistle as his eyes scanned the interior of the entrance hall, shamelessly touching a few expensive looking decorations, inspecting the material, “pretty damn rich, ain’t ya? this y’r daddy’s money?”

you shake your head and close the door behind you, staying there in case you needed to run. you are still wary of this situation, even when you had been the one that started this all.

“h-husband’s.” your voice was a quiet whisper. toji raised an eyebrow and turned his attention towards you. his eyes scanned you from head to toe. you looked pretty young. a fragile little thing, is how he described you in his head.

“husband? you?” toji chuckles dryly, before stepping closer to you, his body towering over yours. he lowers his head and stares at you from up close, his hands in his pockets whilst wordlessly looking at you.

you swallowed a bit of saliva and glanced back at the big man whom belittled you twice in just a couple seconds. you fumbled with the sleeve of your hoodie as the silence grew deafening—the only sound being your own soft yet shallow breathing.

your fingers scratched at the bruises under the fabric of your clothes, causing the cloth to slightly crinkle and glide up a few centrimeters with each rub before coming back down once your fingers stop. the instant you start touching those bruises, the itching just wouldn’t stop.

toji noticed this and looked down at your arm. his eyes caught a small glimpse of a wound on your wrist, but he didn’t seem to comment on it. with a sniff, he straightened his back and cocked his head to the right—face cold again as he glared at you;

“do ya know what kinda stuff i do?” his voice was booming, the deepness to it making you shiver. you press your lips together and search for answer, only to find nothing;

“n-no, i mean—“ your itching increases the more nervous you felt, “th-the man who directed me to you said you’d explain things further. all i know is that you can get rid of uhm— a problem of mine.”

toji scoffs and mutters something incomprehensible under his breath about his ‘stupid agent letting him do all the work’ before turning around. he lazily walks ahead as if he had all the time he needed in the world. once arrived in your living room, the man plops down on your couch, spreads his legs and leans back against the cushions. he really acted like he owns this place.

“i’m not the type to beat around the bush, little lady,” toji starts whilst his eyes follow you as you nervously sat on the chair next to the sofa, “so i’m gonna get straight into it. and if ya back down after this or get too scared ‘n call the cops, unfortunately, y’r pretty ass gotta go.”

toji swipes a thumb across his neck to indicate what that latter meant; killed. you’re gonna get killed if you learn his real identity and decide to expose it to anyone, especially the police. you blinked your tears away whilst thinking of that possibility and shook your head, putting on a determined face. you need to take responsibilities for your actions. you were the one who started this.

“all right. i promise that i won’t back down.” you reply after getting yourself together. toji’s eyes had left yours for a second to look around the grand living room—as if inspecting for something—before settling back on you. he quickly exhales through his nose; leaning his head on his hand while his piercing gaze burned holes in your skin,

“i’m an assassin.” toji says in a bored tone. he’s done this little introduction to his job so many times before to clients who hire him in for the first time, “i kill people in exchange for money. so, ya basically hired me to get rid of someone ‘nd i’m here to collect the money and information i need to finish the job. got that?”

there it was. the confirmation you needed and got without an ounce of hesitation coming from the man in front of you. you had expected this outcome (from the many you created in your head), of course, thus you weren’t that surprised. yet the fact that you actually have a hitman in your house, someone who can easily kill your husband, still makes you nervous.

“yes, thank you.” you eventually replied and nodded, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves. you looked up at toji and this time it wasn’t in a nervous way. this time it was in a determined way. toji notices this change and the scarred corner of his lip curled into a smirk.

“how much. . . money do you want for this job?” you go straight to the point. the dark-haired man grins whilst scanning your figure up and down shamelessly, enjoying the confident look on you. it suited you better.

“depends. who is it that i gotta kill?” toji asks, using his thumb to crack his index finger. you look around as if anyone could hear you. you were sure that no one was there with you, no maids no bodyguards no husband, yet your anxiety was still at its peak.

“my husband.” you reply quietly and point at the big picture frame on the wall near the chimney. it was a picture of daisuke and you. you seemed happy there, but it was all for show. that photoshoot was simply for his benefit, “daisuke. daisuke yamamoto.”

toji raises his eyebrow and stares at the picture. he’s heard of that name before. it was mentioned many times in the articles he reads. the assassin stands up with a grunt and walks to the chimney, letting out a small hum like he was thinking about it. not about if he could get the job done—no, his pride told him he easily could—but about the amount of money he wanted to get out of this.

there was a silence before toji turns around on his heels and walks over to the couch again, plopping down on the soft cushions whilst propping his feet on the table in front of him, “around seven million yen will do.”

that was about 50.000 dollars.

your jaw slightly dropped. it’s not like you haven’t seen nor heard of such big numbers before, it’s just that it was a little unexpected. but then again; nothing you can’t afford. with your husband’s money. the same money that ruined your life, is going to be used as a weapon to save it.

daisuke’s own money is going to be the death of him. and you’re the one to guarantee that.

“all right. i can get you that in cash.” you nod idly. your mind was clearly somewhere else—trying to remember the password to daisuke’s safe that was situated in a hidden room near his office. you recently found out that he keeps most cash, gold and other valuable pieces there, away from your sight. he was bad at hiding that fact from you, however.

one night, he came home drunk and it ended up with him confessing to you that he ‘won’t ever let a gold digger like you near his money again’ and proceeded to spill that he ‘has a secret safe which you won’t ever get your hands on’. eventually, you did. after a bit of snooping around, you easily found the hidden room behind a bookcase.

those fat stacks of money in there definitely add up to more than seven million yen. you’re sure of it. the only obstacle in your way is gathering that money. most of the time, daisuke locks his office before leaving home—or if he doesn’t—his maids will be in there cleaning.

“it will take me some time, but…” your voice trails off as a pensive look falls on your face. you bite your bottom lip and try to figure out something—a plan. toji catches your attention again by letting out a deep sigh. he dismissively waves your worries away with one hand;

“tha’s fine, lady. i need some time to prepare for this job too—it ain’t an easy one after all.” the assassin comments whilst scratching the scar near his lips, also seemingly deep in thought about his own plan, “bet he got lots of guards on his ass, too. tch.”

there was another thought in the back of toji’s mind that bothered him. normally, he’d be pissed off if his client didn’t prepare any kind of money beforehand. maybe some compensation bills, or at least a little thing he can have before they give him the full amount.

but with you, he seems not to mind. he wouldn’t be mad if he left this place empty handed for the time being. maybe he actually feels pity for your situation. or was it something else?

toji scoffs at his wandering mind and inwardly tells himself to shut up about such dumb stuff. getting his money is what’s most important to him. if you die afterwards, he wouldn’t care.

that’s what he tells himself.

“anyways. you should gimme all ya know about him. y’re his wife, right? ya should know his routine ‘n stuff that i can work with.” toji speaks up after the ten seconds of silence. you nod at his question—he wanted every single piece of information about your husband, so you’ll give him everything. no details excluded.

you pull out your phone and show toji pictures you took from daisuke’s computer in secrecy. pictures of his daily schedule for the upcoming month. your prior intention by taking those was to know when to be back home or when to avoid him, but they could be useful for this as well.

you continue to explain when and where daisuke holds his breaks, where his main office is located, the bodyguards that accompany him every day and when they leave him alone— all the information you gathered.

toji can’t help but be amazed by your memory. and the fact that you can recall everything, small or big, about your husband. it certainly did make his job easier; now he doesn’t have to pry out more hints on daisuke himself.

of course, you had your reasons for knowing all the miniscule facts about daisuke. it’s how you managed to survive those four years of marriage.

“good. tha’s enough.” toji nods and stands up with a grunt, stretching his arms—the muscles retracting. you couldn’t help but stare at them; he must have gone through a lot of training to become an assassin. a skilled one at that.

“before i go,” toji continues as he walks past you without looking back, heading straight for the exit of the living room, “you should delete all cctv footage that ya got going on ‘round here. i’ll take care of further evidence, yeah?”

toji moves his index finger in a circle, pointing at all corners in the house. he doesn’t want to risk anything, “i’ll call ya once i get things sorted out. then i’ll get to work when ya hand me the money.”

you nod and make a mental note for yourself to do that immediately once toji’s gone. you still had an hour or two before your husband would return. you don’t think he checks the cctv footage often (otherwise he’d have caught you sneaking into his office before), but it’ll be a big problem if he actually does and sees a random man in his home.

“will do. thank you.” you reply to toji and get up to politely see him out of your house. that’s when the realisation kicked in; your husband will be killed by this man right here in front of you. goosebumps appeared on your skin—not from fright. but from… happiness?

this stranger will end years of torment for you. yes, it’s his job. he’ll probably disappear after he’s got the money and completed your request, and yet, you can’t help but be extremely thankful.

without thinking, you reach out and grab onto toji’s wrist to stop him from moving. the assassin doesn’t stiff or tense up by this sudden touch. in fact, he’s already sensed it coming and allowed it.

toji’s actually more surprised by the fact that his mind and body allowed you to touch him. if it were anyone else, he’d probably have avoided their touch, broken their hand or worse—cut it off.

he moves his head to the side and looks at you from his peripherals, though not fully turning to you yet. he doesn’t speak up either; he’s waiting on you to go first.

your heart was somehow starting to beat even faster. you bit your lip and mentally cursed yourself out for pulling such an action; you could’ve just waited to show your gratitude through the phone.

well, either way, there was no going back now so you might as well spill your words of gratitude right this moment. you took a deep breath and parted your lips, ready to talk, but was then interrupted by your biggest nightmare.

a familiar, chilling voice. your heart drops. your body freezes.

“i knew it.”

a looming figure stood near the entrace to the living room. you recognised him instantly, as did your body, which went into an almost paralysed state. your mouth went dry, your hands started shaking and your eyes widened to the point you weren’t blinking anymore.

your husband, daisuke, appeared out of thin air in front of toji and you. his gaze was solely focused on the way your fingers were curled around toji’s wrist. to top it off, he had only heard the last bits of your conversation: something about deleting cctv and money. his brain hadn’t heard the entirety of it—he had already taken wrong conclusions in his head.

daisuke’s veins were on the verge of popping as he took two big steps towards you—you taking two steps back in response.

“i knew you were cheating on me, you fuckin’ slut.” daisuke spits with his finger pointed right at you. he was ignoring toji’s presence for the time being. he had to deal with you first;

“i work my ass off all day and night to provide for you and this is how you repay me? by inviting a random dude over whilst i’m gone? ungrateful bitch.”

two insults in a row; one more and daisuke’s putting his hands on you. it always went like that. your mind felt like it was emptied, but you somehow felt relieved that your husband didn’t seem to know the real reason of why toji had come over. daisuke really thought you were just cheating on him, and that your words of ‘deleting all cctv footage’ was to hide that infidelity.

“it’s n-not.. like that, daisuke.” you try to soothe the raging man in front of you, but your attempts were futile. he was just three quick steps away from resorting to physical violence.

toji, in the meantime, had stepped off to the side. you were only his client, thus there was no need to interrupt a couple’s ‘dispute’. you weren’t anyone dear or special to him—just a client. a stranger that owes him money to perform a job.

the assassin leans against a nearby wall, crossing his arms over his chest whilst watching the scene unfold. it was unfortunate that toji’s target was right there in front of him; he could just kill him right now. get the job done and over with. but, once again, toji only got to work if he had the money. he only assassinates when his skills are paid for. not any earlier and not any later. those were his morals—the rules he lives by.

if toji wanted to, he could simply walk away and let you handle this stuff by yourself. daisuke accusing him of being your ‘thing on the side’ didn’t bother him. as long as your husband doesn’t know his real identity, he’s fine with whatever accusations that get thrown at him.

but, for some reason—the same reason from earlier—his body was yelling at him to stay. toji sighs; he knows he won’t ever win a battle against his heart’s needs. he decides to stay.

daisuke still doesn’t seem to care about this; all the man wants is to out his anger and accuse you of things he now has enough ‘evidence’ for. he was seething and fuming at this revelation.

“god knows what else you’ve done behind my back. i bet he isn’t the only one you’ve fucke—“

“stop! i’m not cheating,” you finally yell back. it was the first time in a while that you had gathered the strength to do so. it felt good now that you had stuck up for yourself, but you knew how this would end for you—probably on the floor. crying.

despite all of that, you decided to keep on going. it’s now or never: all you have to do is make up a lie, probably withstand daisuke’s anger again and hope it doesn’t kill you. just this once; all you have to do is survive this once and then you’ll be freed from him.

you’ll give toji his money and he will do the job for you. just a few more days—

“he’s.. he’s my friend’s husband. i invited them both over and he just arrived earlier than expected.” you quickly made up. it sounded a little convincing to you. toji’s low snicker of amusement in the back confirmed that it maybe was the opposite of convincing.

daisuke scoffs at the pathetic attempt of hiding your ‘infidelity’. with another step forward, he raises his voice a notch; “yeah, right! what a pathetic excuse.”

a second step—you were waiting on that third curse. that third swear word that would set hell loose in this house, “do you really think you can fool me with that? huh?!”

it hadn’t happened yet. you still had time to think of a plan to perhaps escape this situation. your eyes flickered over to toji, although it didn’t seem like he’d be of any help. of course, he’s just an outsider after all. a stranger whom you just met today.

assassins have already disregarded their heart emotions the moment they decided to go down the path of killing for a living. you wouldn’t even blame toji for not stepping in. you’re also but a stranger to him.

toji could see the glimmer of hope in your eyes when you looked at him. or maybe it was a call for help. a desperate look. he can’t tell the difference. though, what he can tell, is that there was a gnawing feeling in the pits of his stomach. a gut feeling that told him it’d be smart to interfere.

but there’s his rational thoughts that tell him to not get involved—to avoid any more trouble than needed. besides, what other benefits would it bring him if he did? toji doesn’t want to be seen as a hero or saviour by anyone.

his jaw clenches as the time ticks. only a couple seconds left before the cold-hearted assassin has to make a decision.

daisuke’s patience was running low. the tension was increasing and could burst at any given moment now. one wrong move and you’re done—

one wrong breath could result in the worst possible outcome.

your silence spoke volumes to daisuke. the way you held your head low, your eyes that flickered from the floor to the ceiling, your fingers that nervously fumbled with your clothes and your bottom lip that trembled unstoppably. that pissed him off.

everything about you pissed him off. daisuke didn’t see any benefits of having you around anymore. he hadn’t for the long time, however didn’t know how he’d get rid of you.

divorce? no, he’ll have to give some of his earnings to you. kick you out? a possibility, but that would ruin his reputation. blackmail? that option was now the best choice. he’s caught you with another man after all. with camera evidence.

but, daisuke wouldn’t be satisfied with that outcome. his rage was blinding him—more than usual. he has to make you learn your lesson. in a way that will have you begging for your life to be spared.

and thus, the last step was made. the deciding hands were raised—aimed for your neck. the final curse had left his lips;

“come here. i’ll show you how whores like you should be treated.”

killing intent. it was the first time you’ve seen daisuke’s gaze darken that much, his demeanour emotionless yet full of rage. you close your eyes and expect for the worse.

“tha’s enough.”

everything went blank to you. it was silent, your vision was black, your hands were above your head, your heart felt like it wasn’t beating anymore—had you met your end? had you already been murdered?

in that same instant, you could feel drops of liquid splatter on your face. a faint ringing sound in your ears—it sounded like fireworks had been set off. a loud ‘pop’ sound.

something hit the ground right after. it wasn’t your body since that someone or something landed right at your feet.

after that: utter silence.

you gathered all your strength once more and slowly opened your eyelids. your vision was a bit blurry, though the first shape you could make out was one of a man on the ground. and not just any man—it was the man whom you hated most. at your feet.

you would’ve never thought of seeing that image before. of your husband laying at your feet; both literally and figuratively. a red liquid gushed out of his head and soaked into your shoes.

a normal wife would’ve let out a blood hurling scream at the sight of her lover laying lifelessly near her. a normal wife with a healthy relationship, that is.

you did let out a scream at the sight of your husband laying lifelessly near your feet. but that wasn’t done out of panic for your husband’s life—or due to the pain you were in to see him dead.

it was purely because you hadn’t seen a corpse before.

“d-daisuke..?”

a normal wife would’ve called out her husband’s name in a futile attempt that he’d answer back. that all of it was a dream. that her beloved wasn’t dead.

your reason wasn’t anything close to that. you called out that name in hopes he wouldn’t answer back. that all of it wasn’t a dream. that your abuser was dead.

it was real. you were glad, yet extremely disturbed by the fact that there was a corpse at your feet. you didn’t want to see all of it happening—that wasn’t part of the plan.

you stumble back a bit, hands clutching onto the chair you bumped into as you did your best to avoid the gruesome scene before your eyes. you just wished someone would clean the mess as soon as possible.

it’s then that your gaze fell on the other person present in the room; the man who was standing with a gun in his hand. toji scratched his head with the barrel, cold eyes looking down at the corpse with a faintly visible disgusted expression.

the assassin clicks his tongue as he walks towards the lifeless body and puts the sole of his shoe on daisuke’s cheek as if he was stepping on a pile of dirt, moving the head back and forth to check for any possible ounce of life in there.

there was none. the soul had left its body almost instantly after that bullet went through his brain. toji sighs; this time at himself for acting irrationally, “should’ve tortured you to death for tryin’ to put y’r hands on that lady instead of givin’ you the easy way out.”

with a harsh kick to the head on the floor, toji gathers some of his saliva on his tongue before spitting on the man. doubling the disrespect; “consider yourself lucky.”

toji cocked his head to the right. that’s where he spotted you with a familiar look on your face. the expression of someone who just went through a traumatic experience. he’s seen many people react like you when facing a near death experience or when witnessing somebody die before them.

usually, he’d tell them ‘it’s normal, get used to it’ and leave it at that. this was different. it felt different with you.

“are you okay?” the words slipped out of toji’s mouth before he could hold them back. his tone was a mixture of genuine concern and confusion. the latter was due to his own state of mind at the moment.

you didn’t answer, but you put your hands on your mouth as if you were going to puke any moment now. your vision was getting blurry with tears, head spinning and body feeling numb and weird.

toji hesitates before stepping towards you. his hands reached out to hold you, though he stopped them. he’d figured you wouldn’t be comfortable with him touching you in any way or form. he just killed someone in front of you—

it’s not like you cared that it was your husband. that much was clear. you sniff and glance up at toji with such a relieved yet devastated expression that his arms instinctively wrapped around you and pulled you into his warm embrace.

it was an awkward hug since toji doesn’t really know the basics of comforting someone. he was a bit stiff, but you didn’t show any discomfort due to that fact. instead, you clung onto his body and left tear stains on his black shirt.

“shhh, shh. it’s fine. it’s okay.” toji whispers, whilst his big hands indecisively move around, trying to find a spot to rest on. one eventually lands on the back of your head whilst the other starts to slowly rub up and down your spine, “it’s over, yeah? all of it—it’s over.”

toji doesn’t have a clue about the exact details of what your life was like. why you asked him to kill your (now ex-)husband was none of his business. all he knew was that he was going to get paid for it, so he didn’t care what the reason was.

it wasn’t like he hadn’t noticed the scars and bruises on your body throughout your conversation either—but that as well—was none of his business. assassins do their job without any further questions. there was no need to have personal connections or relations with their clients.

yet, toji was going against those unspoken rules once more. all because of you. for you.

“thank y—you.” your voice was weak as you speak up. it sounded hoarse and tired, though the sense of gratitude was undeniably there, “thank you, thank you, thank you.”

a series of ‘thank you’s’ leave your lips whilst your body and mind were still trying to recover from the whole ordeal. toji was trying his best to keep by your side until you calmed down. that’s the least he could do—after the fact that he singlehandedly got rid of the main problem in your life.

“no need to thank me, lady.” the dark-haired man whispers, allowing you to mess up his shirt with your tears and tugs, “i did what i had to do.”

toji didn’t actually have to do what he did. he never does his job before he’s guaranteed the money. however this time, it was a different story. he did it without thinking. he had to. his body was telling him to move—and in a flash—it was done.

he tries to tell himself that it’s just him slacking off. that he isn’t possibly starting to care about another person. he shouldn’t; those complicated emotions would stand in his way. and yet. . .

“c’mere.”

toji lifts you up bridal style while you keep quivering against his shoulder. his hands had a tight grip on your body, his eyes a sharp gaze on the mess he created. with a sigh, he takes you upstairs to a random room—kicking the door open.

toji carefully puts you back on your feet and guides you to sit on the edge of the kingsized bed. he absentmindedly brushes a few strands of your hair back after wiping some more tears away from your face;

“i know it’s a lot to take in,” toji kneels down before you, looking up with an unreadable expression whilst wiping the tears from your cheeks. his warm palms make contact with your skin and it’s like you’ve forgotten all about what just happened, “but is it okay if ya stay here while i go take care of the rest? i’ll come back once i’m done.”

toji has his own ways of cleaning up after he’s done a job and most likely wants to put one of those techniques to use before any maid or guard comes to check in on the house situation. you sniffle and hiccup afterwards, trying to form a verbal response through your broken sobs, but to no avail.

you simply nod and lean into toji’s calloused hands—such rough and masculine hands—ones that were meant to protect instead of hurt you. you weren’t able to trust men after your marriage, however this one in front of you was unlike any other. even if he may not seem like it on the outside.

his touch was gentle yet firm. the pads of his thumbs swiped the wet skin under your lower eyelashes and you could’ve sworn toji’s gaze had softened for a split second before he caught himself.

he had to stand up, get rid of the mess and leave the place before he got too attached to you. the assassin cannot make such a grave mistake.

“i promise,” toji speaks up after a bit again, standing up after giving you a soft pat against your shoulder, “you’re fine. i’ll be back—ya have my word.”

there he goes; making promises he knows he probably can’t keep. ‘i’ll be back’, will he? he can’t. for your own safety. he has to treat you as just another client. none of what he did in this house could be spoken of anymore.

he slipped up this once. it needn’t to happen again. money. he does his jobs for money—when he obtains the money. he doesn’t kill his targets for the sake of others, for the protection of others.

he doesn’t kill for love.

toji wishes that all of this had never happened, because he knows that his heart will lead him back to you at the end of the day. he knows he won’t leave once he cleans up the mess downstairs. he’ll come right back to you.

and you have faith in that. you trust this stranger whom had practically saved your life with just one shot.

“i don’t know how to repay you.. thank you.” you manage to mutter through shallow breaths. you stare at the back of toji’s head as he makes his way to the door. he stops in his tracks to reply to your comment.

he stands still at the doorway and looks over his shoulder at you—the scarred corner of his lips twitching;

“prepare the money. tha’s how you can repay me.” toji replies and you don’t know if he’s joking or being serious because of that little grin on his face. a breathy chuckle follows and then the assassin disappears.

the door closes and you’re left alone in this space. left alone in the silence of the home that had treated you as its prisoner. you remember how your husband used to lock you up in your bedroom whenever you had done something to piss him off; taking away your freedom by keeping you in a room.

now it’s yours—your life is yours. you’ve fully gained your freedom back and can decide what to do for yourself. it seems like a foreign situation, a foreign world, a foreign concept; you can now actually do whatever your heart desires. without any restraints.

“what is a successful marriage?”

well, to you, it’s one with a satisfactory ending.

🏷️ : @satoruhour @squicksquak @omgeto @xmintpie @cursingtoji @obsidiannero @elmoees @x1aosg1rl @fushironi @ceceher @ajax1230 @toji-is-hot @jayugh @rinshoe @sligerate @satoryaa @luveblad3 @happystrawberrytyrant @ezraiix

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #toji x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x you #toji x you #jjk fic #jjk x y/n #toji fushiguro x reader #i tried my best :#:(…

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eyesofshinigami · 3 months

Text

Brave

Rating: G

CW: None

Tags: Love confessions, fluff, so much schmoop

Prompt: From @sidekick-hero "Love is what makes you brave"

WC: 1812

Written for @steddielovemonth Day 7

Steve, admittedly, has done a lot of really stupid things in the name of love.

He hid so much of himself, what he liked, and who he wanted to be to make his parents love him. He was a perfect child, always seen but never heard, the perfect little trophy for his parents to put on display. He thought that was love for a long time. That it was performative, transactional. If he just did this one thing, surely they would love him, right?

Then, Steve forced himself to fit into a mold. He slid on a mask, played a part that was really easy to hide behind. People like Tommy and Carole seemed to love him when he was mean, when he looked down his nose at people they deemed unworthy of their attention. They would laugh and clap him on the back and keep him close, even if he knew deep down that it made him a little sick. And for some reason he still can’t fathom, it made other people love him too. Well, that superficial, surface kind of love where he was still seen as an object, an achievable goal. Be friends with King Steve and you’ll get something out of.

Transactional.

It wasn’t until Nancy that Steve really began to understand what love really was. He threw his whole self into loving her. In hindsight, maybe it wasn’t the smartest idea to go all in on something that he still didn’t really have a grasp on, but for the first time, it felt like he was being loved for love’s sake.

Until it wasn’t. Until Jonathon. Until the house. Until the world quite literally turned upside down.

Even with that falling apart, it opened up a whole new world of love for Steve. A new understanding to just what the word meant, the weight behind it when it really matters.

Love is protecting those that matter most. Love is staring down the mouth of a hell creature and still swinging even though your arms feel like jelly. Love is redirecting punches so that they don’t have to hurt. Love is diving into a murky lake into hell to help fix what someone else broke. Love is late night drives when you can’t sleep and the nightmares are too much. Love is admitting that maybe, just maybe, love looks a little different than what you expected it to.

Love is being brave.

All of these lessons, all of these people in his life that showed him that love can be so many things, if only you’re willing to give as much as take.

Which is why Steve makes a decision. It might be a bad one, but he’s learned that sometimes love means having to jump into the fray and trusting that they’ll catch you. He knows, deep down, that someone will, even if it’s not the person he really wants to.

“I’m going to do it. Tonight,” Steve declares that evening as he’s shelving movies. He’s working the late shift with Robin, but has plans to hang out with Eddie later. The very thought of it makes him flush, with happiness and nervousness in equal measure. “I’m going to tell him how I feel.”

It was a slow sort of descent, realizing that he loved Eddie. It started with their talk in the woods of the Upside Down, to pulling Eddie’s broken body out of that awful place, to helping him heal once they realized he might actually pull through. He was drawn to Eddie, drinking him in whenever they were together. He loved when Eddie was loud, or when Eddie was quiet, settled. The fact that Eddie trusted him with the different facets of himself blew Steve away. And Eddie listened when he talked. He listened when Steve talked about sports, or his newfound interest in carpentry thanks to helping Hopper fix up the cabin. He listened when Steve couldn’t sleep, or when Steve got scared about what the future was going to bring, now that it felt like maybe they could actually move on from the nightmare that is Hawkins, Indiana. Little by little, it made Steve realize that Eddie made him happy and maybe a little stupid. The good kind of stupid, the happy kind.

Robin turns to look at him, smiling softly. It’s her soft sort of smile, the one she only saves for him when he’s actually doing something for himself. “Good on you, bud. You’ve only been pining for him for months now.”

“You’ll have a pint of ice cream at the ready in case this goes south?”

“Sure, but I doubt you’ll have to worry,” she replies, rolling her eyes. “Now go find something to do before you pop out of your skin. I can see you sweating from here.”

He lasts about another twenty minutes before she lets out a gusty sigh. “Okay, you’re starting to make me nervous. It’s dead in here, why don’t you just leave and head over there now?”

Steve wants to argue. It’s on the tip of his tongue, but she’s right. If he waits any longer, he might just vibrate right through the floor. Once upon a time, he was good at this, smooth and suave and so fucking fake. It was easy to talk to people he didn’t care about, but this? This thing with Eddie?

It matters a lot.

“Okay, okay. Sheesh. I know when I’m not wanted,” he jokes, clocking out and heading out the door.

“Go get your man, Harrington! I expect non-explicit details in the morning!”

He waves her off and gets into his car. The drive takes about fifteen minutes, heading to the little house that Wayne and Eddie got as compensation for their trailer being confiscated for study. Steve’s just glad that Eddie doesn’t have to live in the reminder of where everything went down.

He parks his car and sits for a long, long moment, fingers tight around the wheel and his breath coming in harsh pants. He can do this. He can do this. He can be brave.

“Steve? What are you doing out here? I thought you had work,” Eddie calls from the porch. He must have been sitting out here longer than he thought if Eddie had come to find him.

Steve takes one more big breath before he heaves himself out of the car. “I did, but Rob sent me home. It was dead and she said I was bothering her.” He smiles, trying to ease the angry butterflies he feels building in his stomach. “You good with me coming now? I guess I should have called.”

Eddie smiles, wide enough his dimples pop and Steve wants to feel them under his thumb. “Of course, Stevie. I’m still working on dinner, but you can keep me company.”

Steve eagerly follows him inside, feeling himself relax as he steps through the door. The place is always a little cluttered, a little messy; Steve loves it because it looks like people actually live here. The fact that he’s welcomed into this space makes him feel a little warm and gooey inside. “Thanks, man. What’s on the menu?” He’s babbling, he knows he’s babbling, but he can’t help it.

Eddie gives him a look but answers, “Just some spaghetti. Nothing fancy.” He heads to the stove and starts stirring a pot, the smell of it hitting Steve full force. “You okay? You seem a little off.”

He wants to brush it off, pretend it’s nothing. It would be so easy and he knows Eddie would let him. They’ve learned each other’s tells, when it’s time to push and when it’s time to leave shit alone. Just one more thing that Steve loves about Eddie.

So, no. He needs to say it. For himself, to let go of this thing that he’d been trying to hide for fear of it being yet another stupid thing he does for love. But his love for Eddie could never be that, even if Eddie says no. Eddie will still be his friend, will still love him, even if that love doesn’t look the way Steve wants. He doesn’t expect anything, doesn’t want more than Eddie can give him.

“Uh, well… actually, there’s something I want to talk to you about?”

Eddie nods and sets the spoon down, during the fire down as he turns to face Steve. “I’m all ears, Stevie.”

Steve nods, taking a deep, shaky breath. He can be brave. “Okay, so. Can you… let me just say it? Don’t say anything until I’m done, okay?” At Eddie’s nod, he continues, “Um, all right. So. Uh. Eddie… I’m… I like you. I like you a lot. Actually, I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you.” Eddie’s mouth drops and Steve has to look away, before his heart beats out of his chest and he gets sick from the way his stomach churns. “It took me a while to realize it, but I am. I just… I love you. I love everything about you. Even the weird, shitty parts that I know you don’t like, but they’re part of you, right? And I don’t… I don’t expect you to feel the same, or want me back. It would be great if you did, but like… it’s not why I told you? I told you because you deserve to know. To know that someone loves you because I can’t imagine not loving you anymore.”

There. It’s out there. Steve swallows around the lump in his throat and tries not to count the seconds as they pass. It feels like they’re beating against his ribcage, in time with his pounding heart.

Suddenly, there’s a hand cupping his cheek, gently turning his head until he’s looking at Eddie. The look on the other man’s face is soft, his eyes sparkling and the curve of his mouth small but so so kissable. “Stevie… baby…” The words are like a gut-punch, making Steve weak in the knees. “How could I not love you back, hmm?” Eddie chuckles, his thumb caressing the skin of Steve’s cheek. “Always the brave one of the two of us, aren’t you? I didn’t want to say anything because this… I didn’t want to lose this. If I was wrong, you know?”

“Me too,” Steve whispers. He’s afraid to break the bubble that’s surrounding them, like if he speaks too loud it will break and he’ll realize this was all just a dream or something. “Eddie…”

Eddie doesn’t say anything, he just pulls Steve in until they’re kissing, mouths moving against each other softly as they press closer.

It’s warm. It’s sweet. It feels like coming home.

Something settles in him as they kiss, as they touch and move together in this new way. He wants to cry. He wants to laugh. He feels like he could fly.

#les writes things #steddie #steddielovemonth #rating: g #fluff #schmoop

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atxxzist · 5 months

Text

sweetest lies | c.s (02)

prev // next // series m.list

pairing: choi san x f!reader

word count: 7.3k

warning: not any i can think of

a/n: not much drama but lots of trips down memory lane

in all honesty, you can't remember when the line between respect and infatuation started to blur when it came to yunho.

you met him at the age of twelve, just as you were about to enter junior high. you had found him crying outside the choi's residence one afternoon, and was shocked by the news; both of his parents' passing and that he was now one of them, because the choi only had one son and he was nothing like the sweet and obedient boy in front of you.

despite him being younger, you had a lot of respect for him because he was smart and treated everyone he ever came across with only nothing but kindness.

yunho wasn't only well mannered and pleasing to the eyes, but he was hardworking--a trait that made him incredibly easy to like, although you did felt bad at times because you were afraid he was pushing himself to meet the expectations of those around him.

but he was never fazed by any of it--the hard work, or the efforts he had to go to. he simply did it because he wanted to.

by the time he finished high school, he had enough trophies, medals, and certificates to fill his entire room.

yunho💕: can we please talk

the sigh that leaves you is both the contrasting combination of irritation but also relieved, because you weren't sure what was gonna happen after last night.

if you were gonna have to be the one to go out of your way to settle things or whatever they are at this point.

you leave him on seen just long enough to be petty, until another text comes.

yunho💕: i'll come to your workplace after you get out?

y/n: 👍

yunho is there and waiting for you just like he said he would, the moment you catch the other's gaze, you think he must've swallowed down some tension. he usually isn't one who's ever nervous about anything.

it's a lot of awkward fidgeting and humming under breaths until you two agree on a bench just outside of the office, just about when the area's cleared of most of your coworkers.

it's like an air of dreaded silence, considering you've never got into a fight with yunho before, the moment feels never-ending.

"h-how are you feeling?" he asks, everything about his voice to the question surprising you.

a part of you wishes he had said something else, or at least for the delivery to come out meaner just so you'll have another reason to get over him and not think about the million others why you can't.

"how do you think i'm feeling?" you reply, a little snappy in nature that yunho almost wants to be surprise by the tone, but he knows better than anyone that that's just how you are.

you have a way of showing emotions, often times flip flopping between vulnerable and cynical, the latter of which he always believe to be a defense mechanism.

"sorry..." he mumbles, like the word falling out of defeat. "i should've told you sooner. i mean... i was going to."

you can't help the scoff that slips despite yunho doing his very best to make the conversation as tame as a situation like this can be. but you suppose you also hold some rights to complain and be a bitch about it.

"yeah, but you didn't. i had to walk in on you and my own sister myself."

yunho recoils from the sentence, your delivery poking at something he's not sure what is, but he knows he don't like it.

"i didn't know you were coming," is all he says, calm in his voice but also ominous to a degree.

you cross your arms, continuing to stare ahead. the entire time, the both of you haven't looked at the other once.

"i was able to get off early and texted you like a bunch of times."

"i don't always have the constant need to check my phone, so i'm sorry."

he's apologizing, but there's an impatient edge to his voice that if you just continue pushing it, he will burst; at least it feels like it, the undertone of his response not sitting well with you.

a moment of unpleasant silence passes before you speak again.

"so it's true what san told me? all this time, you've always had someone else? and you've never thought of telling me any of it?" that same hurt and betrayal multiplying by the second just bringing up the reminder.

you add on, "and of all people, that someone is my sister? just when exactly did it even fucking happened?"

yunho opens his mouth to say something only to retreat with a sigh instead, waiting for just long enough in order for the appropriate words to strike.

"it just kind of happened naturally, i guess."

naturally. it stings more than it should, the visual in your head of the progression day by day as your sister's smile or small quirks catches the interests of yunho to the point he falls for her, and she falls in return.

that he sees what everyone else sees, and it's the part you hate the most.

the attraction toward one another built on a foundation similar to gravity where one cannot help but to be pulled toward each other. unlike you and yunho. even if you were magnet, he most likely still wouldn't stick.

no matter how much you try pushing the thought away; know that you're being immature and unreasonable, bitter is a feeling you've always acted on.

consumed by the jealousy and rage that your sister once again, took something from you.

"oh... i see," you murmur, yunho could've missed it if he wasn't next to you, but he can hear very clearly how your voice drops after, following with a dry chuckle that makes him turn head.

"tell me, what is so special after her?" you hold his gaze, your head now tilted as the mean and mocking look in your eyes says everything. "what made you fall this hard when i was the one who was actually by your side?"

now you're starting to really push it, yunho doing his best to contain the brewing temper but you have such a way with words that knows how to hit exactly where it hurts.

"she's really that fucking good, huh? that you--"

"--stop talking about your sister like that!"

the outburst takes you by surprise, your body flinching at the sudden crank of volume, yunho sounding and looking the most angry you've ever seen since almost 11 years ago when a group of boys were picking on you.

"can you for once, leave your sister's name out of your mouth?"

his heaving chest and stern look on his face is something entirely new. you didn't even think yunho could ever be this pissed off about anything before.

it leaves you speechless, your mind scrambling for something to say in return just to make yourself feel a little better.

"this is exactly why i couldn't tell you," he says, now calming down but still serious as he runs a hand through the front of his hair. "i knew you wouldn't be able to face the truth."

“because he didn’t want to hurt you,” he unveils, much to your stunned reaction. “he knew you’d lash out and act exactly the way you did when you saw them back at the party.”

"and what would that be?" you push, really setting yourself up for all the hurt and pain that's about to come because yunho is absolutely right.

"that me and your sister love each other."

his words sink in like a bad ache, your brain still refusing to accept the pain receptors but it's all very real. the heavy and uncomfortable sensation running through your chest and the curling of your grip as they tighten.

you don't wish to hear any more of how perfect they are for each other, or more specifically, how more perfect she is for him than you.

"but i love you, too."

it's awful and cringe and makes you regret it the second it comes out, but you literally couldn't think of anything else.

"no..." yunho talks under his breath, shaking his head. "i'm not sure you've ever really loved me."

you draw back slightly, the puzzled expression on like he's accused you of a crime you didn't commit.

"i don't think you love me," he finishes off.

yunho didn't want to tell you (just yet) for numerous reasons. the fact you wouldn't be able to accept the truth is one thing, but he mainly held it back for this long because he didn't want to hurt you.

no matter how frustrating you can be at times, often than most acting on impulse and letting the unreasonable voice in your head get the better of you, he didn't want to be another someone who had let you down.

disappointed you and tossed you away; and for your sister of all people.

he grew up with you and watched as you go from a somewhat lively and carefree person to the one you are today.

how, you actually used to love and care for your younger sister, always by her side to protect her and fend off anyone who thought any less of her.

he's watched and sat through dinners and social events of family members comparing the two of you, able to vividly recall the both embarrassed and sad look on your face when they'd all praise her instead.

how much prettier, smarter, and better she is than you.

and he was definitely there when your parents sidelined you for your sister's accomplishments, over the years also a witness to the relationship that soon turned sour and leaving a huge wall between you guys.

he can't remember the last time you two even spoke to one another without all the lingering tension and bitterness up in the air.

so he more than anyone knows how much of a sore spot just talking about your sister is, the prolonging of the revelation one that is to protect you from the hurt he knew you'd undoubtedly experience.

but he's afraid that it's been going on too long; the need to tear the band aid right off and tell you everything for what it is.

"of course i love you, yunho." your soft tone rips him from the thought and to the desperation in your eyes.

"if you love me then you would be happy for me."

you've never been shy of letting such a thing be known, whether saying it outright or making implications of it. yunho always well aware to the fact that you've been silently hoping he'd take matters into his own hands one day and ask you the long awaited question or say those three words.

but truth be told, even if it wasn't your sister, it would've been someone else.

not because he don't think you are wonderful and worth loving in your own little ways, but because ever since he turned 18 and graduated high school, his cognition much more developed and refined, he was sure of a suspicion he had quite some time ago: that you don't actually love him. at least not for the right reasons.

"how can i be happy for you when it's her of all people? you know how she makes me feel!"

that all or most of it is just to one-up your sister, this twisted game having turned into obsession and masked under the pretense of love, succeeding in convincing yourself to believe it as well.

"i know that you've spent all your life being compared to her, and i understand... but don't you think it's time to grow up a little and start facing those issues?" his voice turns a serious, reprimanding tone without coming off too harsh.

"i'm not some trophy to be won over to prove who's better, and just because i like your sister doesn't make you any less. i'm sorry that the adults were so awful to you growing up, but it's time you start loving yourself. not look to someone else for validation just to feel better temporarily, but i want you to be happy..."

he pauses to catch his breath, an empathetic expression washing over before closing it off.

"i should've told you sooner, i'm sorry. i was a coward. but i don't want to carry any more baggages or be responsible for someone else's entire self esteem. let's free ourselves... from each other."

you stay quiet and yunho's not sure what to make of the lack of reactions, but although he's said everything he's always wanted to, the guilt blooming in his chest weighs heavy; it's always been too easy to sympathize with you.

another reason he's sure made you cling onto him as hard as you did, was because he was really the only person to accept you for who you are.

yunho never asked for anything, or for you to change.

if someone was to tell you that one day, you'd go out of your way to look for san, you would've laughed and told them to go fuck themself.

but you're standing in front of the door to his condo--somehow surprisingly able to recall the location just from the trip earlier today, and silently going over everything currently wrong with your life and how you have no one else to talk to about your problems but san.

the one person you swore up and down to that you wouldn't even give the time of day to if you and him were the last people on earth, but now seeming like the only option.

you place a few knocks but for all you know, he might not even be home. he could be back at his parents' place or fucking off somewhere else.

the door comes apart when you were least expecting it, san's figure standing before you with his black shirt, sweatpants, and hooded beanie.

his rather dull pair of eyes turning a wide one when he sees it's you. it's not everyday that you'd come waddling through the front of his doorstep. or at all.

"i thought christmas is still a month away," he remarks lightheartedly, the comment honestly slipping before he can even fully process the strangeness of the situation, or the fact you obviously look like you had been crying.

"can i come in?" you ask, the soft, vulnerability of the question takes san a step back because he most definitely expected a snide comment in return.

"yeah, sure..." he replies hesitantly, widening the door and moving aside but unable to help but be suspicious that at any given moment, you just might come clear it’s all just a cruel joke.

you stay still in position, gaze fixated on the interior that you saw this morning until you hear the shutting of the door and snaps around.

"missed the place already?" he lets another one slip, a smirk at the corner of his lips that prompts an eye roll from you.

but he might just be doing it because he's not sure what to make of a conversation if you're both not spewing hateful things to each other's faces, or that he just remembered what he said to you this morning and feels just the slightest awful about it.

the complete and utter silence from you makes the scene both uneasy and unsettling, he lingers in the awkwardness for a few more seconds before opening his mouth, only for you to beat him with words that's been dying to get out.

"i'm uhm... i'm sorry," you utter lowly, sounding and appearing ashamed by the way your fingers fiddle with each other at your front, san almost can't believe it.

"pardon?"

"i'm sorry, about this morning."

because all it took for you to realize how pathetically nonexistent your social life is, or that you practically chased off anyone who has ever given the slightest fuck about you, is that other than yunho, you're not sure who else to confine in.

who can stand you and listen to your problems; and now that he's the cause of it, the lack of a support system you have is quite eye opening in a depressing sort of way.

"oh," he says, sounding similar to a whisper and eyes downcasting to the floor for a quick second. "it's fine, really. i didn't think too much of it."

not of what you said because you've definitely spewed worse things before, but he did think a lot about what he said and how carried away he got.

you might've called him a manwhore and told him to fuck off more times than he can count, and he'd retaliate with sensual remarks bordering offensive, but there seems to be some kind of unspoken ground rules between the two of you and he might've broken it.

he still grew up with you nonetheless and holds some weird, sentimental value over the fact.

you just nod, both of your body language so unusual and the atmosphere oddly pleasant.

he breaks the silence with a rather heartfelt apology, "i'm also sorry. that was a really mean thing to say."

"no." you shake your head to rebut. "you were right. i was just in denial."

your mind races back to the departure not even two hours ago, like you can almost hear yunho's voice through the flashback.

"you should probably start heading back. it's cold out here," yunho says, the swift glance at your attire makes him wonder how you're not shivering just yet.

"i can walk you to your car," he adds.

"i'll be fine."

your cold, cut-throat tone stops him dead in his track, yunho only able to stare as he tries to predict your next movement.

"you can go."

the words die in yunho's throat, a tiny protest on the horizon but he knows it's best if he leaves you alone for now. take the time to dwell in your own emotions as you try to process the changes, and eventually and hopefully, accept them.

he nods, clearing his throat the same time he stands up and takes one last look at you, giving into the last thing he wants to tell you.

"i hope you won't think of it as a loss, but instead, i want you to see it as an opportunity to find yourself."

"also, thank you for looking after me last night. if you didn't, i most definitely would've ended up on the news, or worse."

san's stoic expression soon morphs into a somewhat cocky smile at that, one eyebrow raising to complement it.

"this day cannot get any weirder. i mean, not that i'm complaining." he shrugs, and it makes you want to yell at him for ruining the moment.

"no, really. thanks to your stalkerish behavior, i was able to wake up in one piece," you snark playfully, half expecting him to be offended, but it has the opposite effect with his smile growing even bigger.

it's not the first time he so shamelessly takes pride in the fact.

most of your greetings or first words upon seeing him always within the line of "did you follow me?" given ever since your parents got acquainted with the neighbors next door and forced you kids to get along, choi san has had a knack for following you since the mere age of nine.

you still remember his much smaller figure back then trailing behind you and around the entire perimeter of the gated community, annoyingly pleading for you to play with him or else he's gonna wipe his boogers on you.

he was very much a kid of his words and had done exactly what he said he would when you told him to get lost, smudging your new shirt with what he'd call "shrek" because he was a disgusting nine year old boy who liked to name his boogers.

it was the first out of many that you made him cry, retaliating with a hard push to his shoulders that sent his frail body to the cement, and in turn, got you in trouble.

(if you try that now, you'll get it handed to you)

it was the start of your dislike for him that only seemed to grow the older you two got. because san went from being a defenseless little kid whose most threatening act was to tell your parents, to a middle schooler with wider, meaner vocabularies, and by the time he entered high school, you practically had no chance against him.

if he wanted to corner you in a room or put another of his snot on your new shirt, you were just gonna have to put up with it.

"how do you, by chance, always know where i'm at?" you ask genuinely, thinking back to all the instances he just so happened to be there.

"you're predictable," he simply says, making you raise an eyebrow in response, wondering if that's the case or if he just pays way too much attention to you, which, you never fully understood.

you both existed to piss off the other person, but san always knew more about you than the other way around.

"hmm," you dismiss it with a hum, followed by a pretentious act of checking the surrounding because you have a big favor to ask him, and your lips at the moment feels like they don't want to cooperate.

"san," you call even somewhat sweet-sounding, it might be the calmest you've ever said his name, watching as some kind of amusement takes over him and he reacts with a head tilt, hands shoved inside the pockets of his pants, replying with a cool, "yeah?"

"can i stay over? just for tonight?"

you almost expect him to crack a snarky comment, something in the fashion of how he's been waiting for this day where you practically get on your knees and beg for his help, but where you're predictable, san is quite the surprise.

he doesn't drop any smart comments or take the very tempting chance of rubbing your helplessness in your face.

he just nods and proceeds to state, "but you're gonna have to tell me why you're here."

you scoff.

"you literally already know why i'm here."

you think you're gonna go crazy if you have to retell (and relive) yours and yunho's 'relationship', and how disillusioned you were in all of its expectation.

"yes, but i'm gonna need to know how you managed to piss off so many people for you to show up here of all places."

you didn't have many friends growing up, san recalling you being tough as a nail and frightening most of the kids away, girls and boys.

most of the time, if you weren't busy sniffing yunho up who was right by your side, you were alone at a table ripping stickers from sticker sheets and decorating the journal he's seen you with since the first day he got moved to the same school.

he still doesn't know what's in it, but he knows you gave a kid a black eye once when they tried to steal it.

the only other people he's ever seen you with besides yunho, were hongjoong and seonghwa.

it was during his first ever college party, an invitation by a fellow classmate and now friend, mingi.

he might've had far too many drinks that night and a small makeout session that left his shirt wrinkled and neck stained with kiss marks that he just needed to find a restroom and get cleaned up; it being the first party and all.

that was how he winded up near the hallway of you and two males, one of them leaning on the wall with a drink in his hand, and the other debating with you as both of your voices fight to become the dominant one.

none of you guys noticed him as he quickly slipped into the found restroom, too entirely distracted by your own interests.

he assumed they were sophomores just like you, and he was right.

he wasn't as surprised that you were even capable of making new friends, but more so at the fact that yunho wasn't there.

probably the only instances he'd see you at a social or public event without yunho was when you were with them, sometimes even using either hongjoong or seonghwa to locate your whereabouts because you were whatever they were at.

his and your friend group even started banters on the occasion and just do stupid party shit together sometimes.

but by the time you were about to graduate and leave school, you stopped hanging out with them for some reason he never dared to ask.

it was a bummer for sure because san's never seen anyone just click with you as much as they did.

"it's complicated," you tell him when he finally brought up the question, seated across from you on the single sofa while you take occupancy of the big, modular one.

similar to how you've dealt with most of your problems, you don't like talking about it or reopening wounds of the past. but if you're gonna be using san as a getaway, you figure you owe him at least an answer.

something about his current state and attentiveness a telltale sign that you can trust him. though to be frank, you never felt threatened or endangered with san having so many knowledge of you in the palm of his hand. oddly.

you tell him of the last conversation you had with hongjoong before the both of you declared you two were better off without each other.

the conversation a heated one, but neither about stupid politics or gross food combinations.

one that ended nastily and with a lot of bad feelings that leaves enough grudge to fill an entire room, unable to bear the sight of the other for more than a minute at most.

"tonight. at chan's party. he said he can hook up some equipments and i can just bring my laptop. so it's like a reveal party or whatever," hongjoong informs over the phone.

"oh shit, tonight?" you repeat, pacing around your room to find something to wear.

"yeah."

"i uh... i can't," you break the news, catching yourself in the mirror and recoiling almost immediately because you know how much of a shit friend you're about to sound. "i promised yunho we'd catch a movie. i'm actually getting ready right now."

the silence from hongjoong's end makes you nervous, but it wouldn't be the first time you blew him and seonghwa off for yunho.

you realize that day, you have a limit, and it would only be fair that so does others.

"it's just a movie. can't you reschedule?"

the shift of tone going from cheerful and excited to impatient takes you by surprise, having to scramble quickly for what to say in response.

"i can't. yunho's gonna be busy for the rest of the week."

"okay? so am i. it's probably still gonna be in theaters for the next couple of weeks or so anyway."

"i already said i'm going and we're leaving in like 20 minutes," you say, the annoyance in your voice very clear to hongjoong.

"it's a fucking movie, y/n," he states, the more careful tone from before all gone, unable to believe you. "you're acting like it's not gonna be available online a month or two from now."

you fume through your nose, time running shorter as you spend it arguing with hongjoong over the phone.

"and it's a fucking song, hongjoong. show me on your laptop or send it some other time. beside, i already told you i'm not going to another college party for the rest of the year. they're always so filthy, filled with stupid people, and i always end up making bad decisions."

hongjoong scoffs from the other side and you don't miss how dry and sarcastic it sounds.

"i'm asking you to come listen to a song i've been working on for almost two years, not for you to come snort some fucking coke."

"well it's too late. you should've called earlier."

"maybe i should've, but i also thought you were gonna be better than this and not leave your friends for a guy who barely gives a shit about you."

granted, you both did say a lot of fucked up things that day that neither can take back, and you were, undoubtedly, furious at the time (and especially at that comment) and only thought of how to hurt him the same in return.

the guilt passed with time, but you wouldn't ever tell him that you knew you were in the wrong. everything all your fault because you always placed yunho above them despite knowing that deep down, the two cared for you and treated you like family.

they always looked out for you at all parties and never pressured you to do anything you didn't want to. all the stupid, bad decisions were by your own choice because you were too sad and depressed and didn't want to hear any more of your sister's acceptance to one of the big three universities, nor read another email from one of your professors about withdrawing the class before you'd most likely end up with an f.

but you're too prideful, selfish, and a bit ashamed, you won't ever admit it to hongjoong's face. especially not after all these years.

"that's it?" san exclaims after you finished.

"well, yes."

"if you know you were wrong, you should just apologize. nothing good about prolonging some bad blood. especially when it could be easily mended."

you admit the scene is a bit bizarre; san giving you advice and you sitting calmly as you try to digest his words that doesn't trigger a nerve, because for once, it actually sounds somewhat reasonable, though unrealistic (according to you).

but you suppose it's what this night is gonna be all about.

"it's not that easy," you counter, "a sudden apology all these years is... weird."

san chuckles, picking up the manner in which you curl your hands together in your lap as you said that.

it's hard to take your tough act seriously sometimes, because he can see the guilt or fear in your eyes and that you just want to give into it.

"yeah, and look at where that behavior got you," he says, not mean or intending to hurt. if anything, he actually takes sympathy on you "stuck talking to someone you don't even like."

you twitch an eye for a second at that.

"but i'm not having too bad of a time so far."

"hmm," he hums, quick to move the topic along. "i suppose you haven't eaten?"

"i had lunch... a couple hours ago."

well, it was more a snack that you had gotten from the vending machine because there was no time this morning.

"i could probably whip up something real quick."

you watch as he stands up and trails to the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets left and right before a smile quirks up on his lips.

"buldak or shin ramen?" he waves both of the packages as he awaits an answer.

"shin ramen. i don't feel like destroying my stomach tonight."

he nods it off with a light snicker, your lips puckering from the silence after and deciding to throw in a lighthearted tease.

"i thought you were gonna be making steaks or call for delivery."

he looks up from the pot he was washing and sends a smirk your way, completely unfazed.

"i'm a 23 year old guy, of course i don't know how to cook. but if you want to call for delivery, suit yourself."

"if you're gonna be living by yourself, it would be beneficial to learn how. but i'm good with just ramen for now," you reply, eyes moving away to wander the area before fixating on san again.

"you have any extra towels?" you ask.

"should be in the bathroom."

"okay. then i'm gonna head in for a quick shower while you do that."

you can see his nodding from where you're at, stopping as you have the bathroom door halfway open and looking over your shoulder to bother him with one last question.

"uh, do you have any extra shirt and shorts i can borrow? just for tonight. i'll return it by morning. i've just literally been wearing this thing for almost two days now," you refer to the red dress, not as satin or clean as it was yesterday.

your boss almost went into cardiac arrest when you showed up with it, considering the strict dress code, but he took pity of a story you made up and was honestly just relieved you even showed up at all—though you did get a written warning for the late arrival.

"i should. you can go to my room and pick them out for yourself."

you're a tad taken aback by the freewill but thanks him anyway before going into his room and taking the first black t-shirt and shorts you see because it feels wrong in every way even if it isn't.

you catch the sight of him humming a tune under his breath and rocking his head to it before you disappear off into the bathroom, releasing the giggle you've been holding.

"this is definitely overcooked," you pass the comment while examining the soft, mushy, yellow strands of noodles in front of you.

"i might've gotten distracted," san explains, sitting in the stool beside you on the kitchen island where he might've been for a while, it makes you think back to the soft call of your name after you finally got out of the shower and stuffed yourself into his clothings.

"i gotta give it to you. it takes a real lack of skill to mess up something as simple as ramen," you poke fun at him, the words more casually sounding than anything because you're used to putting him down, but still taking a sip of the broth nonetheless because he worked hard on it--more or less.

he smiles it off, and even while guzzling down the noodles, you don't miss the way his gaze lowers to your chest, and then legs, prompting you to cower just slightly because it's just you and san in a big, almost empty condo.

san's good at making you feel a lot of things, but nervous and flustered usually weren't the cases.

"you look good in it," he says casually, your heart bursting in relief because you have no idea what the hell you thought he was gonna say.

you look down at his shirt you're wearing before meeting his eyes again, mustering an unnatural sounding, "thanks."

you return to your food and let the thought die, but san's gaze burning the side of your face makes you snap back.

"what's wrong?" you ask, and you can see him tensing up from the question.

"so what after this?" he breaks it clear and direct, though filled with joy just sitting and talking to you, the air never this nice and pleasant before, he's also curious to an extent. about you and the steps you're gonna take.

you shrug, releasing the spoon and chopsticks in your hold before engaging in a silent stare-off with him.

"i haven't given it much thought. i was kind of busy burying my relationship with yunho, whatever that is."

he lets a quiet hum of acknowledgement coast by, figuring it's fair enough you would need time, only for you to start talking again.

"but there are things i've always wanted to do, too," you tell him a little shy, because it must sound crazy that you also have your own dreams and wants beside yunho's attention.

yunho was many sources of your happiness, but he also held you back in many ways. not he the person, but the ideals and expectaions you've built for him.

you've had a lot of chances and opportunities to better yourself, and you threw them all away for a fantasy in your head.

true friends, ambitions, some sort of true calling that you're not existing just to exist--you don't have any of those at the age of 24.

"yeah? and what are those things?" he asks, so much enthusiam, you want to believe he actually cares what you have to say.

"it's not that big of a dream or goal," you say with a chuckle, like he might find it ridiculous. "i just want to... travel."

you await his reaction, your heart wrapped in a foreign warmth when he just smiles.

"a dream is a dream. no matter how small or big," he comforts you, "but traveling is definitely not anything small. where do you want to go?"

"everywhere," you answer, "i want to go to many places... but preferably anywhere but here."

he cranks an eyebrow.

"you're not planning on running away, are you?" he questions, the delivery innocent enough but also slightly concerned because he thinks there's a chance that might be exactly what you plan to do.

"no," you reply, giggling only shortly.

"i hope you won't think of it as a loss, but instead, i want you to see it as an opportunity to find yourself."

you're still mad at yunho and hate how he chose your sister over you, but if anything, you hate how reasonable and logical he still managed to sound amid all of it.

that you pretty much placed everything else on the backburner just for the hope that his reciprocated love would fix the sorrow and unhappiness you experience on a daily basis.

"just brainstorming," you assure, "thinking about what i can do, now that i don't have to consider yunho and leaving him."

leaving him for your heart's desire, so afraid that you would let the chance slip right through the palm of your hand if you did. but now, there's nothing left to lose and you suppose it's a conflicted and warped up feeling of freedom.

san nods to it, snapping himself out of the trance and catching just how immersed he was to every word that you said.

"i should probably finish the noodles before it gets cold," you say, once you realize how long it's just been sitting there while you two talked.

you get two gulps out of it before you're pulled away by a question.

"why do you care so much about what others have to say about you and your sister?"

he's aware it's a bit blunt and inappropriate considering how well it's going, but he doesn't say it to be mean but because he wants to understand you.

he's been there and has seen as much as yunho have, watching you throw nasty glares your sister's way or growing irritated at the drop of her name.

he knows there's psychology behind how all of this works (that he's unfortunately lacking of knowledge about), but he wants to hear it from you. why you always put yourself down and chooses to live in your sister's shadow when you're as equally capable.

"you wouldn't understand," you mumble, refusing to look him straight in the eyes although he isn't shying away from it one bit, going to pick at the noodles with your utensils.

"if you tell me, i might."

the shift of atmosphere is heavy, the air no longer lighthearted but now serious as silence fills it briefly.

"is it because you're insecure from always being pitted against her?"

you still don't answer, instead taking a bite out of your bowl and hoping he'll just let it pass because you're aware in some ways that you're gonna sound unreasonable, childish, and petty.

just an older sister jealous of her younger one because she's better in every way.

but you've always been one to sit and brew in your own emotions and anger until they eventually turn into something much worse.

"if you want some help, you need to talk to me. i understand you might not want to, but i promise i won't run off with the information or use it against you. i'm much better than what you give me credits for."

you swallow and drop the utensils, facing him on and releasing a sigh.

"yes," you say, "i care so much about what others have to say about me and her because i already know they'll just talk down on me."

"and why would you assume that?" he asks.

you scoff, as if he's making you state the obvious.

"because i always fall behind on everything. even small things like socializing and making friends comes so much more naturally to her," you say, strong at first but tapering out eventually. "but it's not as easy for me... i-i find it hard talking to people or trying to make friends."

and even when you do, you seem to have a habit of driving them away.

san takes a deep breath and stares at you in pity.

"but you shouldn't be measuring your worth based on your sister's accomplishments or setting her as the standard. comparison sucks, i understand. and i know it's easier said than done, but you're great in your own ways. trust me."

you don't say anything back, not because you don't want to, but it's how your heart takes a dive and leaves you speechless hearing san tell you that.

a light pink blush makes an appearance on his cheeks but he's quick to move it along with a clear of his throat.

"what i meant to say is, i've been there before. you really think i was spared any of it when yunho of all people is my stepbrother and i'm the biological son?"

you suppose if she was your stepsister instead, it might be a lot worse.

but with san, he's always been nonchalant like nothing ever bothers him. it would be a lot easier for him to dismiss it.

"well if only i could be as carefree as you," you mumble.

"it definitely bothered me at first, but i didn't see why i should be losing sleep over it. me and yunho are two very different people after all who does our own things. i'm proud of what he's achieved so far, and he's always had my back when needed."

when the night drags on and you're both getting too tired for overwhelming conversations, you go to bed in the spare bedroom after helping him clean up and let today's event sink in. so many things to process at once.

despite all of yours and san's history and indifferences, you can admit that there may be a thing or two you can learn from him.

so unusual seeing his irritating and cunning self turn so much more soft and empathetic, you're starting to feel bad for all the times you've cursed his name over simple mishaps.

thinking back to what he said earlier and being surprised he even had the kindness to do so.

"comparison sucks, i understand. and i know it's easier said than done, but you're great in your own ways. trust me."

that san would be able to make one of your worst days into something a lot less worse and even comforting.

then you think about yunho, wondering if he's right about the fact you never loved him, before drifting off.

when san wakes up in the morning, he almost forgot you had stayed over until he makes way into the kitchen and the yellow sticky note plastered on the front door takes his attention.

thanks for letting me stay the night :) you're kind of pleasant to be around when you don't think with your dick. btw i left your clothes in the laundry basket. see you around i guess - y/n

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#ateez angst #san x reader #choi san x reader #ateez x reader #ateez series #yunho x reader #fic: sweetestlies

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bunni-v1 · 7 months

Note

My request is for riddle x reader where the reader is a very skilled equestrian

Riddle and His Equestrian Partner

TW: My little pony reference; swearing

Info: Riddle x Reader; Horses; Idk shit about horses

🍓This low-key turned into a whole short story in several parts before I remembered these were head cannons and forcefully split it up lol. It’s not too long, because little concepts like this aren’t exactly the easiest to write a multi-page story about, but I try my best. I kinda of just went off on my own though, so I hope this is what you wanted lol. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy it, and sorry about the whole waiting thing only for a mini piece like this.

Riddle

-Ah! Riddle Rosehearts, we meet again.

-Riddle is a proud man. He’s multi-talented, incredibly hardworking, intelligent, and not so much kind, but it's not his fault his mother shoved a stick up his pompous ass.

-He takes great enjoyment in being the best at the things he does, but he fully accepts that… maybe… possibly he won’t always be at the top of the top.

-He does try, though. Very hard, because if he doesn’t his mother will be very cross with him.

-Something he takes greatest pride in is his talent in horseback riding. He’s a very talented equestrian, and he adores his horses. It’s one of the very few hobbies he was pushed into that he genuinely loves.

-He loves it so much that, when he gets accepted to attend NRC, he willingly and excitedly signs up for the equestrian club. In fact — other than his mother forcing the school down his throat — NRC’s equestrian club was one of the main draws of the school to him.

-This is where he meets you, his freshman year of college.

-He walks into the stables, the smell of hay, feed, and mud (and horse shit) filling him with nothing but delight.

-Students are allowed to bring their own horses from home if they’d like, but the school provides a handful of wonderful purebreds for those new to the sport or not willing to transport their own to campus.

-Riddle decided against bringing his old girl the first semester, even though she would be more reliable. He wanted a change, something new and exciting. He was good with horses, so he was sure whichever one he was given would be easy enough to work with and train how he liked.

-While he was looking at the different horses, one in particular caught his eye. A beautiful Appaloosa with a shiny clean coat and pretty braided hair.

-It was love at first sight for him. This was his horse, gaping at it with an open mouth, he looked rather stupid.

-At least, that’s what you thought at least. Stupid and endearing staring at your big baby of a horse like she was the most perfect creature on earth.

-To be fair, she was really pretty, just not… not pretty enough for this reaction, you think.

-“Hey, you okay?” You ask.

“Ah- Uhm, yes. Just… appreciating the horse.”

-Riddle is bright red trying to explain why he felt so… inspired by your horse.

-Surprisingly, however, it goes well, as you very enthusiastically tell him all about Rainbow Dash, “Dashie”, the third.

-You’re his first friend on campus! (Other than Trey).

-However, your name sounds very familiar, and he can’t quite get it out of his head after your first meeting.

-So… he looks you up, and he sees your insanely impressive track record. First-place medals, championship trophies, the whole shebang. You’re far more talented than him, and it almost makes him jealous he wasn’t so incredibly impressed.

-Truly Night Raven College has the most impressive students attending within its walls.

-He would initiate some sort of rivalry, but you’re just so… cool. So relaxed, and confident about your skills. He can’t help but admire you more than he wishes he were you.

-The two of you have very different schedules, so you hardly get to see each other outside of club meetings, your interactions are strictly horse-related.

-However, you hear about his violent temper and you find it kind of funny.

-“You’re like an untrained horse, you need a good rider to reel you in.” You always tease with a wink whenever he gets particularly angry at a match or during practice.

-To everyone’s surprise, he doesn’t blow up at you, just flustered and grumbles like a toddler being scolded by his parent.

-In fact, you’re the only person he really doesn’t blow up at. Your mutual love for horses and hard work in classes make you a nearly unstoppable duo.

-When he gets frustrated training his new horse from the school, you’re there to help cool him down and find a productive way to retrain the horse. When he doesn’t perform well in a match or compares himself to you and your records, you remind him of how different your training was compared to his.

-You two become incredibly close through all of this.

-So it’s no surprise when you both decide to start meeting up outside of class to study together. Then you start meeting up to just hang out in his dorm room. Then you start treating him to sweet treats off campus. Then you start showing up to Heartslabyul’s tea parties.

-It was honestly only a matter of time before the two of you decided to make things official, and when you do, it’s incredibly easy!

-You both plan horse riding dates with each other and spend the majority of your time together talking about training techniques or studying for your upcoming tests.

-Him bringing you home to meet his horse was honestly a bigger deal than meeting his mother.

-He was afraid you wouldn’t find him as beautiful since you own Dashie, but you were absolutely in love with his old girl. She seemed to like you too, given she didn’t try to buck you off the second you claimed onto her back.

-He’s incredibly supportive of you at your own matches and your matches alongside him.

-Now he’s proud of not only his skills, but you and yours as well, and he wouldn’t want it any other way.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #x reader #twst headcanons #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader

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kafus · 4 months

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why 100%ing the pokeathlon in HGSS is one of the longest challenges in all of pokemon

ok so the pokeathlon right. the fun minigame collection in HGSS that is sort of but not really a replacement for sinnoh contests. one of the achievements you have to get to upgrade the HGSS trainer card to 5 stars is beating all 10 preset records for each minigame in the pokeathlon, and this is probably what it's most known for outside of just being a fun minigame collection. i think most people beat all the records if they're going for completion and call it a day but despite how easy it is to get that trainer card level, it's actually barely scraping the surface of what this game expects out of you for 100% completion. i genuinely think it's one of the most insane pokemon challenges in terms of the amount of grinding and for WHAT??? WHAT WERE THEY THINKING AAAAA

okay deep breath hear me out. all of the images in this post are pictures of one of my own HGSS files that i have been slowly working on 100% completing the pokeathlon in. i am not done yet and you will soon see why

in the basement of the pokeathlon, there are four rooms that get progressively unlocked as you play. the first one ("solidarity room") is there at default, then you unlock the "trust room" by winning a medal in all five courses at least once, then you unlock the "potential room" by winning a medal for all five courses on the same pokemon (AKA what is called a "medalist pokemon"), and then lastly you unlock the "friendship room" by beating all the preset 1st records, which also gets you the aforementioned trainer card level. each of these rooms is there to display various pokeathlon achievements and holy shit there are a lot of them that just get more crazy as you go further back in the rooms so BUCKLE UP

this is the solidarity room, aka the first room. very easy stuff, the only records down here are in the glass case and they show your highest collective score in each of the five pokeathlon courses. for 100% completion of this room you need to get a score of at least 450 in each course and you can tell you've done this when there are two trophy icons filled in next to each on the right hand side. a couple examples:

the only one in particular that took me more than one or two attempts to get the score i needed was the jump course for some reason and i have no idea why honestly, i think i just suck at lamp jump. on the other hand the skill course is extremely easy entirely because snow throw can be cheesed (video of me doing this here)

next up is the trust room. mainly it features the glass case that shows off every pokemon you've ever received a medal on and also totals how many full medalist pokemon you have, as shown below (i don't currently have any pokemon who AREN'T medalists here, but medalist pokemon are given the red ribbon on the bottom screen, so any non-medalist pokemon won't have that icon):

yes i have 73 medalist pokemon at the time of writing this post. don't worry about the trophies right now, we're going to talk about it later

despite the glass case being the main thing here, the flag, jersey, and golden shoes on the back wall aren't actually there at first. they show up for accomplishing certain things. from left to right you have to switch 200 times in any minigame that requires swapping mons, join the pokeathlon (not necessarily win) 50 times, and dash in any minigame where you flick the stylus to dash 5000 times. these numbers might sound kind of high but it's potatoes compared to later and if you're trying to 100% the pokeathlon these will just naturally show up here eventually without you even thinking about it

amusingly after you get them and interact with them, it doesn't actually tell you what you did to get them there lol. it's just like wow! those are yours! crazy!

next up, the potential room: yet another glass case and a couple of tables on the back for more golden items that appear as you achieve stuff. the glass case this time contains all the records for each individual minigame, including those 1st records you have to beat as i've mentioned a few times.

here are some of my records that i am not so subtly taking the opportunity to show off here lol. i have played so much pokeathlon that all of the 1st records are completely gone from the list, i've overwritten the entire list from each event LOL. on the bottom screen, 1st records you've beaten get a little ribbon on the event icon... but hold on, there's trophies too!

yes there's actually two records to beat for each event, the one that gives you the little trophy is called the mastery record and some of them, unlike the 1st records, are actually pretty damn difficult to achieve. circle push requires 60 points for example, which requires you to get a score of at least 60 - and the theoretical highest score you can get, aka a perfect score, is 66!! that's only 6 points off from perfect!! and don't even get me started on pennant capture, imo it's by far the hardest mastery record, it requires you to pick up 50 entire flags in one game and for a variety of reasons this is very difficult and required me to soft reset over and over doing attempts for multiple hours lol. the mastery records are really where i'm like, damn as a kid with undeveloped motor skills this would make me fucking explode (and it did when i was a child. it almost did even as an adult. fuck pennant capture)

oh yeah btw that "Link" button in the top right is specifically for local wireless playing pokeathlon with friends and there are zero achievements related to it, there's no preset records and no local play is required for completion. figured i'd mention lol

anyway as for the two things in the back, the first with the golden pokegear is for 100 first place wins overall and the one i don't have on the right side is for winning each individual minigame/event in first place... 50 times. 50 times each. there's 10 individual minigames, and some of them don't repeat on any other course, so you can start imagining just how many pokeathlon playthroughs this takes. this is getting ridiculous considering the amount of time investment needed but it Gets Worse!

ah yes the last room. the friendship room. it's cute, it has a statue of you and the last three pokemon you won the pokeathlon with, so you can go in with a team of 3 pokemon you care about and take a photo of your screen surrounded by statues of your favorite guys. here the mons are just random though lol

however there's more to this room and this is where the true insanity of the pokeathlon reveals itself. if you interact with your statue, you get this screen:

as you can see, all of the trophies from the previous rooms are totaled here! the collective trophies are the ones from getting a good score on each course from the solidarity room, the trust trophies are from the amount of medalist pokemon you have shown off in the trust room, the potential trophies are from all the 1st records and mastery records you've beaten in the trust room, and the friendship trophies... well those are actually obtained from the big point score on the top screen, of which you need a minimum of 4500 to get the 10th and final friendship trophy. this total is made up of the sum of all five course high scores, the highest score from each individual minigame (after converting to athlete points, AKA the currency earned), and one point per each medal shown off in the trust room, so five points for each medalist pokemon.

and that's the issue. medalist pokemon. you may have noticed that despite me having a whopping 73 medalist pokemon at the moment as well as getting every other trophy in the pokeathlon, i only have 6 of the 10 trust trophies. do you know how many medalist pokemon you need to 100% the pokeathlon and get that last trust trophy? 200 OF THEM.

let me break down why this is fucking ridiculous. so first of all i've been waiting to mention this until now, but medalist pokemon aren't actually logged by individual pokemon, they're logged by species. this means if you go in with a cyndaquil, and then go in with a different cyndaquil, winning medals on both cyndaquils does not count as more medals after you've already gotten them on that first cyndaquil once. this means that to even attempt getting 200 medalist pokemon, you have to OWN 200 individual pokemon species - as of gen 4 there were 493 pokemon in the national dex including mythicals and stuff; that's a little under half the entire fucking pokedex!! think of it this way, there's 30 pokemon per PC box, and assuming no duplicates, you would need to fill 6 and 2/3 PC boxes with different pokemon species.

pokedex requirement aside, let's break down how many times you have to play the pokeathlon minigames MINIMUM assuming you win first place every single time and don't ever bring repeat species on accident. it's math time babey

you need 200 medalist pokemon but you join the pokeathlon with a team of 3 pokemon at a time, so let's divide that by three and round upwards. 200 / 3 = 67 full medalist runs. for each medalist, you have to beat all 5 courses, so let's multiply 67 by 5 to get 335 total pokeathlon wins. but wait, each course has three minigames! so the total amount of minigames you have to play MINIMUM to get 200 medalist pokemon is 1005. and again, that's at minimum assuming you don't fuck anything up!! these minigames aren't exactly short either, they last 1-2 minutes each and this doesn't count spamming A through dialogue and menus, picking your pokemon each time before each course, watching the cutscene of points getting totaled at the end... 1-2 minutes might sound short but even if we take out all that time menuing and assuming every course is JUST 1 minute for math's sake, that's 1005 minutes - that's 16 hours and 45 minutes of JUST pokeathlon gameplay, and that is absolutely an underestimate.

as you can imagine as a person with chronic pain these minigames are kind of painful after a while and so i'm definitely going slow with this grind but i intend to have every trust trophy eventually. i'm not the first to do it but i've seen very few people online who have even wanted to make the attempt and i want to be able to look at that friendship trophy screen and feel accomplished. (i'm also going to get that last achievement in the potential room but if i don't have it somehow at the end of getting all these medalists i'll worry about it then)

side note i think it's really funny how there's something called the Supreme Cup which is just pokeathlon but harder and the only thing worth doing it for is extra athlete points for winning (300 instead of 100), there's literally 0 achievements tied to it lol

oh, and an aside about how ridiculous the pokeathlon is - the data cards. despite all my rambling here about all these different rooms with various achievements, there's actually even more pokeathlon data that is accessible... for a price.

the lady behind the counter here will sell you data cards for athlete points which let you view more personal pokeathlon data on the computer screen right next to her. the issue is some of these are really expensive, most of them 1000 points or more, which is a minimum of two full pokeathlon courses probably won at first place each. and there's also one card that costs 9999 for some fucking reason, it's the one that shows your total pokeathlon playtime, which i think is really funny. you also can't buy it right away, you have to buy most of the prior ones first. they really said ok here's your reward for grinding enough AP to buy all those data cards including this 9999 one: checking how much time you've wasted on getting here! in total getting all the data cards costs 39499 AP. just to view all your data!! if you get an average of 500 AP per pokeathlon course, that's a minimum of like 79 pokeathlon wins!!

i assume most people have never bought a data card much less all of them, like most people are going to use all that AP for purchasing evolution stones and heart scales from the main shop on the right, but it's kind of nutty how much data the pokeathlon actually saves. very minute stuff. since i've bought all of them, here's my current stats at the time of writing this:

anyways don't do this unless you have a lot of time on your hands to tediously replay the same minigames hundreds of times, and if you do for the love of god rest your wrists btw. these minigames were not built for my bones and they probably weren't for you eitherSFDKSFD

#pokemon #hgss #pokemon hgss #pokemon heartgold #pokemon soulsilver #pokeathlon #kiki was here #kiki.txt #kiki plays games #long post

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miraculouslbcnreactions · 24 days

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I hope I'm not being rude, this ask also isn't intended as a call out for anyone. As much as I'll be happy if you'd willing to answer, if my ask somehow make you uncomfortable, please feel free to ignore it.

Here's my question :

I've been seeing many post saying that Adrien end up being Marinette' trophy boyfriend instead of proper boyfriend and at the end of the final, Marinette's fight against Gabriel isn't just simply good vs evil rather it's a fight of Adrien's "ownership" so to speak.

I want to ask your opinion about it, especially about the former. I'm personally conflicted about the trophy boyfriend thing because the urban dictionary define it as "A boyfriend that a girl is proud of being with." Which more like what Chloe did at s1, but at the same time it does feel fitting in a way since Marinette do get Adrrien as a trophy for "winning" against Gabriel. Either way it just feels like an objectification and it doesn't seems like something good to show in a show with kids as the target audience, yet I do feels like Marinette's love for Adrien is so shallow that her objectified him like that just make senses for her character.

So, what do you think?

You're not being rude at all! As long as an ask doesn't use names or otherwise make it easy to find the source of the question, I'm cool with it. I don't even mind if it's something uncomfortable, though I will do my best to state my expertise (or lack there of) on those. I think it's really important to be willing to acknowledge your ignorance. No one can know or even be informed on everything.

On to the question.

To start, let's actually define "trophy boyfriend" because the definition you gave - a boyfriend that a girl is proud of being with - is not the one that I would use. It's way too kind!

"Trophy boyfriend" is just a male variant of the term "trophy wife" or "trophy girlfriend." I'm gonna be a little lazy here and just have wikipedia define that one for me as their definition accurately reflects the way this terms is generally used:

A trophy wife is a wife who is regarded as a status symbol for the husband. The term is often used in a derogatory or disparaging way, implying that the wife in question has little personal merit besides her physical attractiveness, requires substantial expense for maintaining her appearance, is often unintelligent or unsophisticated, does very little of substance beyond remaining attractive, and is in some ways synonymous with the term gold digger.

When someone calls Adrien a "trophy boyfriend," they're saying that he's just there to be Marinette's pretty arm candy who supports her unconditionally while requiring nothing from her. A fully one way relationship that's all take and no give.

Unfortunately, canon does seem to be going this way.

Season five was the season which saw Gabriel's slow, agonizing death and final... defeat is too strong a word, so let's just go with reveal. It also saw the end of any hope for Emilie to be revived, assuming that wasn't her at the end, which does seem to be the case. We also saw Nathalie slowly wasting away, triggering all of Adrien's trauma from losing his mother. In other words, this season was all about Adrien losing or fearing the loss of every adult that he has ever loved, none of whom he even got to say "goodbye" to even though they all knew that they were dying.

So it makes perfect sense that Adrienette's big couple conflict was Marinette getting over her trauma and being able to tell Adrien that she loved him! She was absolutely the one who needed unconditional love and support this season and it was so nice to see Adrien giving that to her by laying his own needs to the side since he knew that she needed more support right now.

To be clear, that was sarcasm.

Marinette was an awful, selfish girlfriend this season. Yes, she doesn't know the full extent of what's going on until we get to the final, but in Passion (S5E6) we get this:

Adrien: Marinette? Marinette: Adri-mine! I mean, Adri-fine! No! I mean, you're not mine and you're not fine, I mean, you are fine. (gasps) Adrien, is something wrong? Adrien: No, no, everything's fine... no, everything's not fine. Not fine at all. Somebody I care about is sick and... there's nothing I can do. I feel completely hopeless.

Gabriel then akumatizes Nathalie, leading to a fight that ends with Marinette seeing just how sick Nathalie is. All this means that, by the end of Passion, Marinette is fully aware that Adrien is really struggling with Nathalie's condition and just how bad Nathalie's condition, so it makes perfect sense that the episode ends with Marinette and Alya talking about... how thirsty Marinette is for Chat Noir.

Marinette: You should've seen him! He was so... (growls like a cat) in his cute red suit with black spots. Can you believe it? I asked him out to the movies and I didn't even stammer! True, the timing was bad, but still, everything is so easy with Cat Noir, I can tell him everything I never had the courage to tell Adrien.

Marinette, sweetie, I know that you're going through some stuff, but you're better than this! You've always been shown to care about others! I just don't believe that you wouldn't at least comment on how sick Nathalie is, which really is all that this scene needs because I don't expect Marinette to have no wants or needs outside of supporting Adrien anymore than I expect the opposite.

Marinette can thirst all she wants, especially since she's not dating Adrien yet. Just let her acknowledge that this is who Adrien must have been talking about earlier! Instead, she says nothing, forgetting about Adrien's struggles and not informing his other friends of what's going on, leaving Adrien to basically suffer alone as the Nathalie issue will continue to come up on his end, but he never again reaches out for support from others.

Remember how the NYC special saw Marinette and co protesting Adrien not being allowed to go on a school field trip? And how The Bubbler saw Nino trying to organize a birthday party for his best bro? And how Reverser saw Marinette pairing up Marc and Nathaniel into the dream comic book team? You ever look back on all that and wonder what happened to these characters wanting to love and support each other, even if their attempts where sometimes a little misguided?

Ever since the start of season four, loving and supporting each other has gone out the window. If it's not about shipping Adrienette, then no one cares even though Adrienette was totally one sided for most of the show. First it was only on Marinette, then it was only on Adrien, and it only became mutual in the episode where they... got together? Kind of? Seriously, when did they actually start dating? The second half of Kwami's choice sees Marinette say this:

Alya: Then, how did we go from “I’m pathetic and I’ll never love again” to “Yay! I’m going out with Adrien”? Marinette: I’m not going out with Adrien…

But then the very next episode starts with Chat Noir talking about his girlfriend! When did that transition occur? For a season that's all about Adrienette getting together, it's kinda funny that we never technically see them get together. It's also kinda sad that them getting together was the result of Adrien once again not taking Marinette's "no" at face value... I know it's a romcom trope, but writers, please, can we not use it in stuff aimed at little kids? Plus haven't we mostly agreed that it's a bad, lazy, overused trope? Does anyone actually like it?

This is getting long, so I'll just give some final thoughts and call it a day.

A relationship starting off of shallow feelings is totally fine and normal. Outside of your family, that's how most relationships start. You meet someone with similar interest or whose vibes you like or who is taking the same class as you. You start talking and get to know each other, which can lead to a deeper relationship in the form of a friendship or a romance, which is basically a friendship with bonus features.

The issue with the love square is that the writers are absolutely botching the "deepening relationship" part of the equation. They're not letting Marinette support Adrien or learn about his struggles or even acknowledge the struggles that she does know about, which makes her come across as ridiculously selfish, a terrible lead in to a final where she now has knowledge that could destroy him. Most of the audience doesn't trust her to tell him about this knowledge because of course they don't!

As always, I lay the blame for this at the feet of the writers because so much of Marinette's bad behavior and issues make no sense when we look at her previous writing. She's never been the best at emotional intelligence, but she has always tried to help others, a thing that the show somehow acknowledges during her fight with Gabriel, leading to his win, but doesn't in acknowledge in Marinette's own romantic relationship. Of course, that would require the writers to see Marinette's season five behavior as a flaw and I don't think that they do, which is why I blame them and not her. I have no issue writing her - or reading things that write her - as better than this.

#ml writing salt #ml writing critical #ml season 5 salt #adrien deserves better #marinette deserves better

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fuokir · 1 year

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Aena Florence Cowell - Profile

◊ Basic Information ◊

▹ Gender: Female ▹ Date of birth: 19th of February ▹ MBTI: Defender ISFJ-A ▹ Nationality: British | Welsh ▹ Blood status: Pure-blood ▹ Wand: English Oak Wood | Unicorn Core | 14 ½" Length | Slightly Springy flexibility ▹ Nickname: - ▹ House: Slytherin ▹ Patronus: Red Squirrel ▹ Boggart: Dragon/Fire ▹ Amortentia: Juniper, menthol, lime ▹ Animagus: -

◊ Appearance ◊

Aena is slightly above average height. She has long blond hair, to be honest it's hard to say what color, her hair was once very burned out in the sun, I would call it a pearl blond, with a warm undertone. Violet eyes, in her favorite sly squint. A long, straight nose, it is very easy for them to get into other people's business. Freckled skin and two facial scars.

▹ Clothing style: Ready to dress up in anything, the main thing is that it be washed and ironed. She loves trendy blouses and comfortable shoes, otherwise she just wants to look neat. ▹ Accessories: Silver earrings. A brooch with which she secures a bow on her collar. ▹ Other distinguishing features: Two scars. First received before Hogwarts, her younger sister hit her with a candlestick in a fit of rage. This scar cuts through her upper lip. The second one was obtained approximately between 4-6 class step (I still haven't decided) in a fight with Aisha. This scar is located across the bridge of the nose.

◊ Personality ◊

Aena is a person who values connections very much, and, first of all, values her own comfort. She can come across as rude due to her bluntness, although she usually tries to choose her words. For close people, Aena is the figure of an older sister, patronizing and ready to help with deed or advice. She is still clueless in conversation, but it has its own charm. If you come to her in a bad mood or in tears, she will definitely coo around you and if words do not help, then be sure that you will be taken to have fun in Hogsmeade, even if Professor Weasley did not give permission to visit the village. Due to her rather reserved nature, it is very difficult to catch her own resentment or bad mood. As a rule, she suppresses bad emotions if the pressure on her is very strong. Cowell is inclined to break loose on someone, but more often than something (Ferdinand Octavius Pratt will never forgive her for his torn portrait that once hung in the Trophy Hall). Otherwise, she learned to live such moments in herself, not wanting to impose her problems.

▹ Traits: Self-confident, imposing, diligent, cunning, communicable. ▹ Likes: Feeling of winning, gift gifts to friends and family (she is one of those people who will see a wild flower, remember you and pick it to give), To speak caustically. ▹ Dislikes: Gobstones, hates all kinds of sweets and candies (childhood trauma). ▹ Good at: Chess, persuasion, remember things quickly. ▹ Bad at: Flying on a broom (she gets motion sick), to be tact. ▹ Hobbies: Board games, Herbarium, calligraphy. ▹ Fears: Fire, fatal disease. ▹ Ambition: Become an influential person in the magical world.

◊ Family ◊

▹Father: Ambrose Thomas Cowell ▹Mother: Lavinia Marjorie Cowell (nee Brown) ▹Sibling: Aeva Francis Cowell (little sister) | Darcia Arthur Cowell (little brother) ▹ Paternal grandparents: Bertram Caspar Cowell and Marjorie Rose Cowell ▹Maternal grandparents: They do not communicate for one reason or another / Aena does not know them, as much.. ▹ Other noteworthy relatives: Angus Beresford Cowell (uncle), Anna Rayne Brown (aunt), Victor Brown (cousin), Cain Beresford Brown (cousin, illegitimate son of Anna and Angus).

▹ Pet: Couple Mooncalfs and Jobberknoll ▹ Family home: Cardiff ▹ Blood Status: Pure-Blood ▹ Social standing: Middle class family, i guess... Aristocracy? ▹ Family background: The relationship between the Browns and the Cowells became very tense after the announcement of the engagement between Lavinia and Ambrose. Both Aena's parents were strong-willed and strong-willed, and although the families did not want this union, in fear that the newlyweds would quickly fall out of love with each other when they were drawn into the routine, this did not happen. The birth of Aena, the first-born, was not accepted by applause, the parents were still very young, just about to graduate from Hogwarts. it was also that Anna, Lavinia's cousin, and Angus, Ambrose's brother, were not careful and their families found out about their union. And although the Cowells, as a fairly young purebred family, were not well known, everyone whispered about the Browns. This angered the Browns and almost all ties between the families were cut off. This did not prevent the girl from growing up in love and care, even in some kind of permissiveness. Aena was a mischievous child. In particular, she adopted the confidence of her father, and inherited from her mother an unshakable determination. Of course her uncle Angus, who frequents them (living for a while with his brother and his family), also contributed. He was cunning, playful, witty and an excellent gambler. During the early years of Ambrose and Lavinia's marriage, he often stayed to babysit his niece while his brother and his wife worked at Gringotts Wizarding Bank. It would be nonsense if, in the end, Aena did not learn to play almost as well as her uncle. Over time, her sister was born, and now not only Angus was the nanny, but Aena herself, because her sister turned out to be a completely restless child.

The Cowell family can be safely called an example of a healthy family, where everyone listens and hears each other. Where conflicts are not hushed up, but resolved. In their house there is always an atmosphere of warmth and comfort. Family members value each other, they will never refuse to help friends and relatives. Her parents still work in a bank. Grandfather was an Auror, and her grandmother worked as a curse breaker. Her uncle Angus does not work anywhere, but thanks to his skill as a card sharper, he squanders money in all directions.

◊ Relationships ◊

It is difficult to write down with whom Alena is friends to one degree or another, since she tends to call a friend a person with whom she communicated a couple of times both of them at school. Anyway, she was the most frequent communication with Amit Thakkar, Aisha Werdy(oc), Grace Pinch-Smedley and Imelda Reyes. With the advent of the New Fifth Year, Aena's friend list has become noticeably larger! Since the fifth year, a new student has appeared in Cowell's inner circle (I would like to use a specific character, but I love many MCs so much … this is a difficult choice for me, in general, your character could be here !!!). Through the new fifth year, Aena became closer to Sebastian Sallow and Ominis Gaunt. This was an interesting experience for Aena, who was very prejudiced against Gaunt due to rumors and stories from her parents. Although her parents did not want to appear biased, because they had also been the subject of all sorts of dirty rumors before, they were very afraid of ties with the Gaunts. Interestingly, thanks to MC, Cowell stopped communicating with Cressida Blume. One day, Aena managed to overhear a conversation between a newcomer and Ominis in the Hogwarts library, where the MC told in detail what he had read in a Gryffindor girl's diary. She also had a quarrel with Imelda for a while, Reyes was tirelessly talking dirty about the new one and Aena was so tired of it that she asked Imelda not to talk to her until it was all over.

Any more serious and romantic feelings were alien to Aena for a long time. Probably the culprit was gambling, through which she received joy and adrenaline. When she was strictly banned from playing within the walls of the school for as much as 2 years, for Cowell it was a global catastrophe. She was still holding small sessions of games in Hogsmeade, Aena could not find a place for herself and did not know what to do. She struggled with background anxiety for a long time, at some point losing any interest in games. Ominis became her distraction. They bumped into each other on the way to Hogsmeade, talking. Gaunt had another problem with his parents (and more problems with Sebastian), Aena had complete emptiness and disappointment in herself as a person (she was really ashamed of her actions). The Slytherins entered into a playful agreement, Aena helped the boy create the appearance of the life that the Gaunts wanted for him (minimal, but this, as it turned out, was enough), and in return Ominis was supposed to simply brighten up Aena's especially lonely days. And so, with slow steps, they became closer and closer to each other.

◊ little things ◊

Heather Mason - Silent Hill 3

Dana Scully - X-Files

Morrigan - Dragon age:Origins

Suki - ATLA

Princess Leia Organa - Star Wars

Rhaenys Targaryen - House of the Dragon

#hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy oc #aena cowell #hphl #hphl mc #hp oc #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis x mc

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thecameronchronicles · 1 year

Text

Consolation

TW: Smut. Language. Stepmother!Reader x Rafe Cameron. Angst. Mentions of verbal and physical abuse. Mentions of drugs (cocaine). Cheating.

SUMMARY: An inappropriate kindness leads Rafe to take advantage of what you're offering.

WORD COUNT: 2400

REQUESTED

Rafe and Ward get in a fight on Christmas morning so stepmom!reader tries to make him feel better 😏

Consolation

You bit nervously at the tips of your nails upon hearing their raised timbres from the other side of the wall you'd hidden behind to eavesdrop. The very hand wearing your vow to the instigator of the interaction, dropped from your lips and into a fist at your side to how he spoke against his son. Such cruel words for a man who could convince an entire city that he was father of the year. It was the same mischievous smile that convinced you to ignore the age difference between you and scoffs as you joined his brigade of age appropriate friends. But with each passing day, you began to realize that Ward Cameron was a facade much like the property he sold. Pretty to look at. But broken from the inside out.

Much like Rafe.

"Great..." He scoffed as you'd become too lost in your thoughts to notice his presence emerge from your husband's office. You were quick to trace the echo of steps as you stood before Ward, who had the bridge of his nose in a pinch to showcase a coming migraine.

"What is it this time?"

"You should be getting ready. Everyone will be here for dinner in less than an hour and the table still has to be set-"

"Ward-" His hand came down hard on the surface of his desk, rattling the decorations he kept in place since you could remember.

"Sometimes I forget you're just a few years older than him. Remind me again why I put up with it? He is my son...but you..." He scoffed.

"Don't push me. Could have another pretty little trophy wife by next Christmas. Maybe one who stopped questioning me-" He moved past you, leaving you concealing tears that brimmed behind natural looking makeup he critiqued even in the finest of lines.

You waited a moment to compare yourself, ignoring the urge to break a picture frame of a time you believed you could have been happy. Those naive smiles of a pair of newlyweds and your new stepchildren you now felt you had to protect from their own father. But you had noticed something in this moment that had existed as unimportant until now. The way Rafe didn't look in the camera as Sarah and Wheezie had. Instead, he was looking at you. Not as a stepson should. And you felt, in this moment, not as a stepmother should.

The sound of Ward acknowledging Sarah on the phone as she announced she would be a bit later than expected had left you thinking of Rafe. In truth, it was rare there was a time in which you weren't. He may have been a bit emotional, but he was passionate to protect what he cared about. He showed humanity within his endeavors, a trait clearly obtained more from his mother rather than his coldhearted father.

"Hey..." You heard him sniffle, quickly hiding something beneath the pillow of his bed as you knew from former instances what it had been. Ignoring berating him for his vice as you couldn't blame him for wanting to be numb, you lifted the reason you'd come to his room now into view.

"I think you could use this now..." You explained as he looked to the hallway.

"Feel bad for eavesdropping?" He shot, taking out his anger on you, as you just set the gift closer to him.

"Just open it…"

You paused for a second in anticipation of his reaction as you found his gift to be the most difficult. For Sarah, it was easy with dainty jewelry that matched the sparkle behind her eyes. And Wheezie's maturing fashion called for more appropriate clothes you had been eager to offer. And Ward was simple with a new watch. But Rafe was complex. You'd thought about alcohol. Maybe a tie, as your thighs pressed together to the more sinful ways this could be used. And you even considered a gift card to some place he frequented. But it wasn't exactly like drug dealers had vouchers. So for that, you decided on this.

"A key? Am I supposed to just guess what door it goes to?" He wasn't usually this short tempered and you pitied the reason why. It was why you dealt with it more than what you deserved.

"It's to a boat. Your boat." You confessed. "I thought about what to get you and I realized you don't have anything of your own..."

His brows furrowed.

"I have a boat."

"Your dad has a boat. But now you have your own to get out of here when things get...intense..." Something shifted in his gaze. The darkest behind his eyes had softened in realizing you were being genuine with him as he'd been waiting for the punchline.

"It's in your name and all the paperwork is on the counter of the kitchenette there..."

"Show me? I don't think I can sit through a Christmas dinner with Sarah and John B." He clenched his teeth at the mention of the pogue who had changed her materialistic lifestyle she'd known. A part of him, jealous for the life she's escaped.

Whether it was to spite Ward or distance yourself from him, you agreed before leading Rafe stealthily through the band of your husband's peers until making it to the dock. Climbing on board, you smirked to the heated living area contrasting the cold chill endured in the walk here.

"You can change the name of the boat if you want. The last owner just asked you didn't take her into open water before-" His hands on your hips made you turn and face him in overwhelming bewilderment.

"Rafe-"

"I sure until now..." He explained, soft eyes darkened once again. Only this time with shameless lust.

"I've caught you correcting your focus on me at dinner and I thought maybe you were just as bored as I was..." He scoffed.

"Then a few months ago when my dad and I got into another...argument..." He clenched his teeth as you remembered the moment in question. The same one that was more than a few criss words. Ward's knuckles still wore the bruising from the anger he took out on his son. Perhaps deserved in the form of a scolding word, but never physical correction as he often exhibited as tough love.

"You were quick to take my mind off of it. Dancing in that dress..." He scoffed, blowing back an exhale as she shook his head.

"And now today. The boat-"

"Was a gift..."

"Then why did you follow me out here? Because you wanted me to do this...to act on the electricity that's been there when you realized you married the wrong Cameron man..." He was now behind you, brushing your hair from your shoulder and neck, a smirk felt against your skin.

"If you didn't want this...why did you jump at the chance to be alone with me?"

"I wanted to see your reaction to...to the boat..." He used his body to push you into the counter, his erection angry at your back.

"And now you know...it's only fair I know yours..."

"Rafe-"

"If you didn't want this...you shouldn't have followed me. You're smarter than that..." Before you could retaliate against your own body, your head was at a rest against his chest as his fingers climbed up your naked thigh in further ascension.

"Does he make you come?"

"Rafe-"

"I'm not used to having to ask twice...Next time, it won't be so nicely..."

"No..." You confessed.

"But I bet you make him. Bet he just sees you naked and-"

"Stop..."

"The second you came aboard, you lost the chance to reject me. You've made it clear what you wanted. It's only fair I do the same." Two fingers ran circuits at your lower lips, prompting you to react against him.

"Shit, you need this even more than I do."

"Please."

"What kind of guy would I be to not satisfy a wish on Christmas?" He teased, guiding you into a bend over the counter of the boat's kitchen counter. His hand came from your neck and to your skirt, fisting it to reveal the specific emerald lace beneath.

"You wear these again and next time I'll use them to keep you quiet while I fuck you right outside his office. Maybe on his desk while he's taking an important call..."

"Rafe-" You gasped.

"Too late to claim you don't want this. You're already drenched." He explained while keeping you at this angle before unlatching his own belt. The dress shirt he was guilted to wear, was unbuttoned but left on as the pants gathered at his ankles.

"Rafe-"

"Merry Christmas, stepmother..." He smirked, his cock buried inside your sex as you gasped. What should have been guilt was silenced with necessity as you gripped the edges of the marble surface beneath you.

"You got me a boat for Christmas and I'm going to make you come...Maybe christen every room? Isn't that what they do for boats-"

"That's houses..." You shot quickly, turning to face him. He took this as a chance to remind you of his dominance as he used his secondary hand to your jaw.

"Oh, I plan on doing it in every room at home, too. Starting with yours. On the same bed you sleep next to him. That way maybe you can come when remembering how I made you...fisting those sheets...crying out for me...feeling me as deep as this..."

"Rafe!"

"Gotta teach you to be quiet...maybe you just need something in your mouth..." He set his thumb to your lips as you were quick to oblige.

"Good girl." Your eye rolled to the praise as he smirked in having been made knowledgeable of this kink.

"You feel better than any fucking gift." He pulled your skirt higher to take sight of the way your bare ass welcomed him.

"But THIS...fuck...this is what I've thought about every night since I first laid eyes on you." He suddenly withdrew.

"Get up on the counter. Palms flat. Look back at me."

"Rafe-"

"You wanted to be alone with me. You wanted to make me feel better. So listen or you don't get to come." He smacked your exposed left cheek made you squeal.

"Almost better than your moans." He took hold of the back of your neck.

"Almost."

You climbed over the marble, feeling his hands greedily set to your exposed skin.

"Since you're making me miss dinner." With a hand to your back, he kept you from bucking too high as his tongue made contact to your sex. Immediately, your body shivered with electrification from his unexpected yet necessary motions.

"Look at me." He growled into your folds from behind.

"Watch me make you come..." His eyes remained to you, drinking in the way you were coming undone so quickly, and loudly, for him.

"Let me hear you, nobody else can...but I want to. I've earned it." He struck your right cheek, making you shiver, before returning to his oral fixation of your clit.

"Rafe! I'm gonna come!"

"I know..." He smirked, the whites of your eyes made necessary as he now pulled his ringed finger to your sex.

"Oh, you want it...don't you? Shit, you're fucking close...Fuck my finger...show me how badly you want it to be me-"

"Please, Rafe!"

"Show me!" He growled as you accelerated against his finger before he granted the fulfillment of two.

"That's good...get real close for me..." You grunted and groaned as he took in every sensation of your body. The arching of your back. The unintelligible pleas. That final desperate pull of his hair made by your fingers. And just as that wave crest for you, he retreated.

"On your back. No more fucking teasing." The veiled promise behind his words made you acquiesce as you were taken painfully against him. Although you were drenched and stretched, he was brutal. It was a swift adjustment, however, as he strengthened this by his grip made to the back of your neck and hair.

"Look how fucking good it is...You're swallowing me whole...I'm so deep I could get you so pregnant-"

"Rafe..."

"Don't worry. Not this time." He brushed his thumb over your clit with only a few swipes and you were prepared to unleash yourself to him. His name almost sacrilegious to the vows shattered to his every thrust. Yet either of you cared for anything but how he felt.

Your hands were pinned above your head as your wedding ring chimed on the counter. It was just loud enough to break your focus from the passioned hips rooting into you as you felt him take your left hand to his mouth. With his teeth, he removed the silver band and diamond before throwing it to the floor.

"When you're with me. You're with me. You think of me. You feel me. Otherwise you don't get to come.".

"You."

"Me." He validated as he bowed into you, the perspiration making his hair stick to his forehead was the same responsible for the cotton suctioned to his damp chest as you pulled him closer.

"Please let me come, Rafe..."

"I'm done teasing. I'm making you mine. Right fucking now. Gonna be hard to claim otherwise when you're not gonna be able to sit or walk without feeling me..." He kissed you, a deeply passionate kiss that kept you from responding with anything but a moan.

Ribbons of his release filled you in sporadic spurts as your tremors pulled him into the fringes of overstimulation. Only a moment or so until he has stilled your hips that still called for more. Even as you felt him still, deep and true, you wanted it again. An addict in need of another fix.

You were lifted into a sitting position as he hovered over your legs for a moment. Your hands came to his cheeks as you brought him into you by the separation of his shirt.

"We have to make an appearance at that dinner-"

"Or..." You teased his neck and ear.

"You can tell me all the ways you've thought about me while you got yourself off...and I can make each one come true until New Year's..."

"And then after?"

"Then I tell you all the ways I have..."

"I fucking love Christmas..."

TAGLIST: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @camilynn @sweetestdesire @onmykneesforrafe @drews1love @phildunphyisadilf @mashdan0916 @belcalis9503

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#rafe cameron x reader #rafecameronfanfiction #rafecameron #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #cameron chronicles christmas 2022 #outerbanks smut #outer banks fanfiction #outerbanks #outer banks #outer banks smut

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tea-with-evan-and-me · 2 months

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man about town interview | spring/summer 2014

for the tweam! click through for my best attempt at deciphering this (maybe impossible to find?) throwback interview

‘’I don’t think I’m scary at all. It was kind of funny watching myself being scary. Because I’m not scary.’’ Says Evan Peters, the up-and-coming up-for-anything actor best known for his extreme roles on American Horror Story, the prestige television series that treats social taboos as map points. For three seasons, Peters has excelled at playing against his offbeat boyishness by amping up his young Malcolm McDowell intensity, with results that fall somewhere between ‘’teen dream in strangler’s gloves’’ and ‘’terrifying Michael Cera.’’ He most recently appeared in American Horror Story: Coven as Kyle Spencer, the good-natured university student who is decapitated and then reanimated with the body parts of his Kappa Lambda Gamma brothers as a temperamental Rocky Horror who beats his sexually abusive mother to death with a trophy.

Over a bold chai tea with stevia, at a restaurant in Venice, California, Peters is lighthearted and dryly humorous, like a young Michael Shannon, with whom he should costar in a successful disturbing family sitcom. He wears black jeans, a well-worn t-shirt under a plaid flannel, and a necklace with a toy dinosaur pendant. He drives a 2004 Pontiac Vibe that he correctly describes as ‘’vintage’’; says that he just feels like growing his longish blond hair into a ponytail, and has a red thumbs-up permanently inked onto the to pof his right hand, that was traced over a nightclub door stamp. At one point, he raises his forearm to show off a temporary tattoo that he received the night before at the castle park family entertainment center in Sherman oaks. ‘’This is a Belle tattoo. It’s not real,’’ he explains playfully of a small portrait of the beautiful young heroine from the animated Disney film Beauty and the Beast. I tell him it’s very pretty. ‘’Thank you. She’s gorgeous,’’ he responds. I ask if Belle is his favorite Disney princess. ‘’Well, I picked her out. There was also Jasmine, Ariel and Cinderella. My other buddies got those.” ‘’What about Belle appeals to you?’’ ‘’She likes the Beast.’’ Peters says.

This summer, Peters appears as the teenage Mutant speeder Quicksilver in X-Men: Days of Future Past, the sequel to 2011’s X-Men: First Class, which has proven to be an eventful ??? movie. In October 2012, director Matthew Vaughn – who relaunched the franchise with much needed style and a new cast of young, indie + credible actors – left the film to be replaced by original trilogy director Bryan Singer. As such, fans were already touched when Singer announced that he would retell ‘’Days of Future Past,’’ the seminal X-Men time-travel storyline from 1980, an ambitious plan turned wild when he revealed that both franchises would merge into one. Cut to the 2012 San diego Comic-Con whereby unthinkable feats of scheduling – the sprawling casts of the modern-day first series and the 60’s era prequel (that include expensive names like Jennifer Lawrence, Hugh Jackmon, Halle Berry, Patrick Stewart, Ian McKellan, Michael Fassbender, and so on). Convened with ??? new additions like Peters to unhinge popular culture. ‘’You think to yourself, ‘’wow, people really, really love this stuff.” And it makes you appreciate it more. It makes you work harder at it.’’ he says about the experience.

Peters’ role in the films is crucial but concise. ‘’It’s a huge, huge opportunity but I always make sure to tell people it’s just one scene. Easy, it's just one scene.’’ Peters says, as if talking down a rearing horse. Quicksilver has already been the subject of film industry chatter regarding lawful usage of the character, who is both the son of Magneto and a colleague of the Avengers, making him fair game for inclusion in both Days of Future Past and the 20n5 Avengers sequel (in which he will be played by Aaron Taylor-Johnson of Kick-Ass). An Empire magazine Preview of Quicksilver’s costume design was greeted with comparison to Kid Vid, a ‘90’s cartoon form of the Burger King ‘’Kid’s Club,’’ and the news that Peters had been saddled with the Halle Berry “rough wig’’ role. But his fan’s enthusiasm for the project—in which desperate X-Men from a dystopias future try to stave off mutant genocide by altering the present day—is undimmed. ‘’I think it’s the best film of the francise yet,’’ proclaims Peters. ‘’It’s pretty dire. It’s a pretty epic situation. But there’s definitely some humor in there. Its’s just badass, man.’’

Quicksilver is a departure for Peters in some ways if not others. Both X-Men and Horror Story are tight productions that take extensive precautions to protect story lines. Peters says that he did not receive the full script for X-Men until arriving at the Montreal location days before shooting. Horror Story pages are often delivered the night before a scene. The short lead time can demand a ??? almost improvisational acting process. ‘’The minute we get the script, plans are cancelled, dinner is cancelled,’’ he says about working on Horror Story. ‘’Some of it you’re like, ‘Oh shit, I have to do that?’ Screaming and crying, realizing that my whole body is pieced together and I’m not myself? I’ll probably have to work on that.’’

Peters owes his career to television. ‘’I was watching a lot of TV and I kind of wanted to be on the TV and in movies. I love movies and TV,’’ he says, and cites inspirations like Joaquin Phoenix, Heath Ledger, Christian Bale, George Clooney, JIM Carrey, Chris Farley, Tom Hanks in Forrest Gump, and the millennial teen comedies Even Stevens starring Shia Labeuof and So Little Time with Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen. ‘’That sort of stuff. I just really wanted to be a part of it and loved acting and performing.’’ He moved to Los Angeles with is mother when he was 15 years old, and steadily won work in television, on shows including Phil of the Future (2004) and One Tree Hill (2008), and in movies like the independent films Clipping Adam (2004), his first big break, and later Kick Ass (2010). Being cast as Tate Langdon in the first season of American Horror Story in 2011 was his tipping point, playing a Skull Boy-faced high school shooter in a latex catsuit who rapes his girlfriend’s mother to please a ghost. He has since become one of the five main players to appear in all three season of the series, sterling company that includes Jessica Lange, Sarah Paulson, Lily Rabe and Frances Conroy.

Now the world gets to enjoy a lighter side of Peters, like when he appeared on a 2011 episode of the G4 networks Attack of the Show and blithely volunteered that he was working a a rap song called ‘’I’ll Tap That Fucking Ass.’’ He laughs off a request to recite a verse. ‘’I can’t. That never materialized. I tried but it was too much pressure. It was just a concept. I was just trying new ideas,’’ he says, and then volunteers a different musical direction. ‘’It’s called ‘Natch Snatch.’ Like all natural snatch. Big bush. Snatch. Cause it’s nice. You know, ‘girl, you’ve got that natch snatch.’ It’s another nice concept. Probably on the same album.’’ Peters laughs in agreement at the suggestion that he is a kook in the best sense of the word. ‘’I get called a weirdo sometimes,’’ he admits ‘’But it’s like, I don’t feel that weird. I don’t feel that different. I look at everybody else and I’m like, ‘’you’re a fucking weirdo, too. You like all of your shit. I like my shit.’’ Why does one have to be weird and one have to be normal? It doesn’t make any sense to me.’’ Meanwhile, he seems to be successfully negotiating his public and private persona. ‘’I’ll try to be myself as much as I can but you obviously can’t be who you are at home in your skivvies eating donuts. You can’t be that.’’ He explains, before confirming that guy exists, with his tongue sort-of-in-cheek. ‘’You bet he does. Yeah, definitely watching New Girl. Crying.’’ But while Peters seems fairly comfortable in the public eye, fame no longer interests him. The development is not unrelated to his intense, closely-watched relationship with fiancée and two-time costar Emma Roberts (on coven and in the 2013 ?? Adult World) ‘’When I was younger I was like, ‘’That would be awesome!’’ now I don’t particularly love it,’’ he says ‘’Emma gets paparazzi a lot, and because I’m with her we get paparazzi, so it’s kind of a weird thing that I don’t love. But it’s so small in the big picture of all the positives that come with this job that I can’t really complain about it.’’ he may be surprised by the attention he and Roberts receive, but he is hardly self-ptying. ‘’Honestly, it’s not that bad. If you don’t set up a Google alert on yourself and go out searching for it then you’re not going to see it. So I don’t see it.’’ Roberts has already endured the Hollywood learning curve that Peters is now experiencing. ‘’She gives me advice, like cut your hair. She likes my hair to look nice,’’ he says, and laughs. ‘’She’s been around and knows the ropes and how to play the game very well. And she has incredible social skills. She can talk to anyone and everyone loves talking to her. I’m not that good at that stuff so she kind of helps me out with that.’’ I wonder what guidance she offers him. ‘’You’ve just got to be personable and talk to people, even if you don’t want to. Put on a happy face and buck up. Grow a pair of balls. Don’t be a little wuss.’’ Petersa says, and laughs. ‘’I mean, she doesn’t say that, but you know what I mean.’’

Next for Peters is Lazarus, opposite Olivia Wilde, Donald Glover and Mark Duplass a 2015 feature from director David Gelb, known for the documentary Giro: Dreams of Sushi. Peters describes the project, about a team of brainiacs working magnanimously to reanimate the dead, as a “contained Sci-Fi horror thriller” as it mostly takes place in one laboratory setting. He plays the party animal scientist. Peters encouraging sidesteps the questions of his involvement in the next season of American Horror Story, to be set in 1950 and the present day, for which Jessica Lange is practicing a German accent. ‘’I don’t know what I’m allowed to say so I’m going to say no comment,’’ he says.

‘’At the end of the day it is acting. You want to go with the biggest, weirdest, boldest shit and see if you can actually do it and go there,’’ Peters concludes, ‘’I’m very curious about everything. I feel like I don’t know that much. I’m trying to learn it all and figure it all out.’’

#i did my best #i strained my eyes #typos are mine and i put question marks where i couldn't make out the words #evan peters #evanpeters #tate langdon #american horror story #kai anderson #kyle spencer #ahs

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julieverne · 6 months

Text

The new Medical Examiner stayed in the basement. When she went out on a scene, she was covered head to foot in tyvek, a floppy hat on her head, an umbrella held over her.

"Cause of death?"

"Impossible to determine at this stage," Doctor Maura Isles said, despite the gaping wound in the torso. Jane sighed and shook her head, shifting the umbrella she held for the doctor, who fixed her in place with a stare.

"I burn very easily," Maura reminded her.

"Yeah, you said," Jane said, rolling her eyes. She held the umbrella still, though, looking down at the other woman. Pale, pale skin, the kind that would burn easily. Dark clothes - although Jane was also in dark clothes the didn't seem to contrast so starkly against her tanned skin. Red, red lips. Maura looked up again, and Jane looked away quickly, swallowing. She saw Maura's nostrils flare, a little smile on those taunting lips.

---

In the morgue, Maura seemed even smaller and paler, the bright lights flooding her out, making her blue veins visible. Jane paced nervously, but Maura didn't seem to mind. She seemed to welcome the company. The blinds were closed, and the evening was rolling in.

Jane paused as Maura drew some blood, watching the way Maura licked her lips as she did so. Maura looked up, startled, then put the vials on the lab tray.

"He's missing half his torso, what is his blood going to tell you?"

"You'd be surprised," Maura said, taking them into the lab. Jane stared down into the ragged hole where internal organs should be. Maura came back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand before sliding her glove back on.

The autopsy was short, mostly because there were no organs to retrieve or examine. Jane helped Maura slide the body into cold storage, as much forensic evidence as they could retrieve already stored in the lab. Jane followed Maura in, taking off her gown and leaving it in the receptacle. Maura followed suit, removing her gloves too. There was a smudge of blood where Maura had wiped her mouth, and there was a test tube missing.

That wouldn't be suspicious if there hadn't been a spate of drained bodies around the city.

Jane looked away quickly as Maura washed her hands.

"I'm done."

"Do you want to grab some dinner?"

"I had a snack earlier, I'm fine."

"A drink, then?"

Maura eyed Jane with curiousity. Then she nodded.

"Sure. Why not?"

---

Jane had thought of the new ME as a quiet, serious woman, but after a drink or two she relaxed. Her smile came more readily. She had two little teeth that were very cute, a little sharp, a little pointed.

"I live right around the corner," Jane said, when the bar closed down. Maura nodded and followed her. She paused in the doorway, peering in, her nose scrunched as she took in the hockey sticks and trophy case.

"Come in, come in," Jane said impatiently. She staggered over to the kitchen cabinet. "Anything to drink? I have, like, green tea. And coffee."

"Coffee?"

"Powdered." Jane's nose scrunched, and Maura chuckled, closing the door behind her. Her hazel eyes flashed with mischief as she closed in on Jane.

"I think we both know I'm not here for something to drink," Maura said, her voice low and husky. Her hands closed around Jane's hips, gripping them yight as she tilted her head back to look up into Jane's face. "But I am very, very thirsty. Seeing you swagger around with all your long limbs all day. The way you bite your lip when you look at me. The way I can see your abs though your shirt." Maura bit her own lip, her elongated eye teeth catching and pulling at the plush, plump flesh. "Tell me I'm wrong?"

"You're not wrong," Jane rasped, her voice caught in her chest. She couldn't quite close the gap between them, but Maura didn't hesitate, brushing her lips against Jane's with a satisfied exhale that slipped past Jane's open lips and lodged in her chest. She found her own hands grasping Maura, pulling her closer, those teeth retracting when they scraped her lips. Their height difference meant Maura had easy access to Jane's throat, which she pressed her lips to, scraping her teeth lightly against Jane's jugular, making Jane shudder and remember the little spot of red she'd seen on Maura's lips as she came back from the lap, the reddish brown stain Mara had washed from her hand where she'd wiped it. Jane led Maura into the bedroom, but Maura baulked at the door.

Jane had a cross over the bed. Maura hissed, eyeing it with distaste. Her teeth seemed longer now, somehow. Jane quirked an eyebrow at Maura's reaction.

"I'm really only lapsed Catholic," Jane told Maura. "My mother insisted. I think she thought it would keep me from premarital sex. If it bothers you I'll take it down." Jane plucked it from the wall and shoved it in a drawer. She went to touch Maura, but the other woman pulled away with another hiss.

"We should wash our hands, if we're going to continue. We've been out in a bar, and there are places I'd like to touch you without introducing foreign bacteria."

Jane rolled her eyes but complied easily, not even having second thoughts about her first time with a woman. Maura kissed the back of her neck as she washed up, and then washed her own hands, dragging Jane back to the bedroom.

---

Jane woke with Maura's head on her chest. The light was filtering in through Jane's net curtains, and she sighed contentedly. The light struck Maura's bare shoulder, and her skin started to simmer, as though it was a steak on a griddle. Jane covered the shoulder with a sheet, not worried at all.

Maura woke, flinching from the sunlight.

"So. You're a vampire, huh?"

"What gave it away?" Maura asked breezily, not worried about having her cover blown.

"I had to invite you in. The cross scared you. Your skin smokes in sunlight."

"You're remarkably calm."

"You know what Hoyt did to me. This doesn't come close. Besides, only someone like me could have survived him."

"I knew you smelled of something. What are you?"

"Succubus, obviously."

"That explains a lot. You didn't have to seduce me. You could have just asked if I was a vampire. I'd have told you. I trust you, against my better judgement."

"I didn't use any of my seduction on you, and I didn't feed off you. And you didn't bite me. I think that makes our working relationship promising."

"I work in the morgue because I can't feed off live people," Maura mumbled against Jane's collarbone, as though she was ashamed of her inability to harm humans.

"And I work with homicide, but I make sure I feed off the sex criminals that come through the station. Not - not like that. Ugh, no. Not like - not like how we were last night. That was just for - just because. I didn't use anything to make you want me, and I didn't feed off you either. But I'm sure, if you're ever unable to get fresh blood, you could probably use me. If you wanted to."

"That's a very generous offer, but I don't want to hurt you."

Jane closed her arms tighter around Maura, a happy smirk on her face.

"As a detective, I do have to ask if you know anything about these bodies showing up without any blood. Friends of yours?"

"Hardly. My - my biological family. I was adopted, and they raised me vegan, which I appreciate. But it looks like my biological family has found me and is hunting me down." Maura nuzzled in closer to Jane, her tongue flicking for a moment over the pulse in Jane's throat, her lips and teeth pressed against it as Jane pressed against her with a moan. Aware the mood had shifted drastically, Maura moved away reluctantly. "I'm scared, Jane. I don't want to be like them. I like solving murders. I like working alone. I don't like to be around people in case I hurt them. I don't want to hurt anyone."

"You wouldn't," Jane said tenderly, stroking Maura's hair. "We can find them first. I'm a detective. You're a doctor. We can find them, and make sure they leave town, if that's what you want." Jane looked uncertain about wanting to kill or banish Maura's relatives, and Maura kissed her again for her sweetness.

"We?" she asked shyly, aware that there was a bond between them. It wasn't often two supernatural species consummated, but when they did, the imprint was strong and usually bonded them for life. She'd made her choice last night, not quite sure what Jane was but knowing from her scent that she wasn't entirely human. She'd trusted Jane, and it felt like for once she'd made the right choice.

"We," Jane agreed, kissing Maura slowly and tenderly. "Right after I get some proper blackout curtains."

Maura snuggled back into the only true comfort offered her, Jane's body warm and alive against her own cool skin.

"Okay," Maura said shyly, accepting Jane as one of her pack.

---

I do not read or write supernatural stuff in this vein but this was fun.

#rizzoli and isles #rizzoli & isles #maura isles #rizzles #jane rizzoli #rizzles fanfic #vampire #halloween

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ro-written · 11 months

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Don't Wanna Fall In Love pt. 1 - C.Y

Tags/Warnings: gn!reader, player!Yeonjun, college!AU, bestie!Wooyoung, cursing, mentions of sex (no smut though!), partying, alcohol consumption

Word Count: 2.3k

Playlist:

“No Role Modelz” by J. Cole “Don’t Wanna Fall In Love” by Kyle

Part 2

Choi Yeonjun was known around campus for a variety of reasons. He was attractive, had decent grades, and was in a well-known friend group everyone wanted to join.

And he was a player.

Everyone knew this. And yet everyone seemed to think they could change him. Lock him down in a relationship and claim him as a trophy—an easy ride into popularity at school.

Yeonjun knew this every time he brought someone new into his apartment. But the thing was, that’s what made it so fun to him. Seeing what new tricks they would try to get him to ask them out on a proper date. The best attempt so far was cooking him a full breakfast in the morning rather than leaving altogether. That morning he sat there, ate breakfast in silence, and then gave them his signature “sympathetic” smile, followed by his usual spiel:

“I’m not really the best boyfriend type. Honestly, I’m kind of shitty at relationships. We can be friends though! I do hope you understand.”

It was well rehearsed after giving it to an assortment of people. Tweaked and polished to perfection. Started by giving a reason that explained his response, put the blame on him and his “shittiness” at relationships, gave them an alternative answer, and played at their sympathy. And they would eat it up every time. Admit their defeat as they walked out the door of his flat.

It was a cycle that repeated every time. And somehow, he never got tired of it.

—

You were never quite one for parties. At the risk of sounding like the “not like every other girl” trope, you just didn’t find too much enjoyment in them. Wasn’t your crowd, wasn’t your scene, but you never held it against others who did enjoy them. Your best friend, for example, was very into parties.

“Woo, I don’t know–”

“Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease,” he pleaded as he gave you his best puppy dog eyes.

Yes, Wooyoung was very into parties, and tonight would be one of the bigger ones that Yeonjun and his crew were throwing at Choi Beomgyu’s house. A celebration for the end of the first semester and surviving through finals. And your best friend was dead set on getting you to go to one party before you both left out for winter break.

“You know how I feel about those things…why can’t we just stay in and drink! I’ll even make your favorite ramen.” You tacked the last part of the sentence as a way to sweeten the deal, knowing he had a hard time saying no to your ramen. His eyebrows went up as he thought deeply about it.

“That’s a very tempting offer, I must admit,” he scratched his jaw. “But I really, really, really wanna go to this party. It’s being hosted by the Fabulous Five."

“Very stupid name.”

“Shut it.”

“I mean who calls themselves ‘the Fabulous Fi’–”

“Okay, I don’t think they call themselves that, everyone else just does,” he rolled his eyes and put his hands in the air. You laughed at his exasperated state, knowing that you could give just as much attitude as he could throw your way.

“But that’s not the point. The point is that this party means a lot to me,” he looked you in the eye, fully serious. “And I would really like it if my best friend was there beside me.” His words struck a deep cord in you. There was turmoil going on between your head and heart. Your heart was telling you to go with and be there for your best friend, just as he is there for you in everything. Your head told you to stay back, that you would absolutely hate it there. It would all be too much for you, and you knew that.

But goddammit, Wooyoung was looking at you like a hopeful little kid right now.

“You make it sound like you’re getting married, Jung.”

“If I find the right person tonight, maybe I will,” he laughed, grabbing your hand. “Pretty please? I will do the dishes all of next week.”

With a sigh, you looked down at your hand in his and gave it a squeeze. You really did hate doing the dishes.

“Fine.”

—

It was all…quite loud.

As soon as you stepped into the house the heat from all the bodies hit you. Smoke made the air so thick you could almost chew it. The volume of the music really did a number on your ears.

You had found a stair step that wasn’t being used to sit and scroll on your phone. Wooyoung had gone off somewhere with some dark-haired boy - saying something about “I’ll be back in a bit” - and left you to your own device.

For a while you people watched. There was a beer pong game going you found to be interesting, and afterward, a round of stack cup. You recognized a few of the players from your classes but weren’t super close to any of them. A few people went past you on the stairs up to god-knows-where, which you would shift out of the way a bit to avoid being stepped on. Some people you knew by name swung by to say hey, but that was the extent of your conversations in the midst of the chaos.

Eventually, nothing seemed all too interesting anymore, and you found yourself turning to your phone to do literally anything. You watched some videos, looked through the news a bit, texted back a friend or two, and before you knew, it only thirty minutes had gone by. You closed off your phone and hung your head, social battery depleting fast.

“You look like you could use a drink.”

A voice came from in front of you, and you looked up to find the source.

Choi Yeonjun stood right in front of you, holding out a cup of some transparent drink with an orange tint to it. Your eyes flickered from the drink up to his face, a gentle smile gracing it.

“No offense, but I don’t typically take drinks from strangers.” You gave him a light smile in order to politely decline him. He could have done anything to that drink, I don’t know him.

You knew of Yeonjun’s reputation around your school. You weren’t one to judge anyone for what they chose to do with their bodies. You’ve had a few one-night stands here and there but never made it a frequent thing. You did, however, try to go out of your way to steer clear of him and his friends out of not wanting to be caught up in any attention. Many of his escapades were pretty vocal about their time with him, and it brought them a bit of notice from your peers. You preferred to not be a similar case.

He smiled and nodded his head at your rejection, before putting the same cup to his mouth and downing the liquid. Your eyes widened a bit at how fast he took it down, before giving him another smile and looking awkwardly around at the other party-goers.

“Perhaps,” he started after a moment of silence. “I could accompany you to the kitchen. You could make your own drink, and I can properly introduce myself so we aren’t strangers anymore.” He offered a hand out to you, which you looked at for a second, wrestling your options.

Either A: Stay here and wait till Wooyoung comes back after who knows how long…

Or B: Go grab a little drink to help make it through this night.

Grabbing his hand, you stood up from the stairs. You immediately dropped it, which caused Yeonjun to furrow his eyebrows a bit before collecting himself.

“Follow me.”

—

Your curtains brought direct sunlight into your eyes, causing you to stir a bit to shift away from the assault. You groaned as your arm came up to cover your face.

And suddenly, an arm snaked around your waist, pulling you close to a warm body next to you.

Now I’m awake.

Your head whipped to the side to see Yeonjun still asleep next to you, his pouty lips were slightly open, cheek smushed against your pillow. His black hair was splayed across the pillow, giving him a bit of bedhead.

Eventually, your eyes trailed down his neck to his bare chest, and lower to where the blanket covered his waist down. You brought your eyes down and found you were wearing his shirt from last night, some band tee that had been oversized on him.

Your heart was racing as you tried to place all the spotty memories in order.

Kitchen for drinks.

We were talking on a couch at some point.

More drinks, I think.

Wooyoung left out, said he wasn’t going back to the apartment tonight.

You told Yeonjun you were headed out, he wanted to walk back with you.

“Gotta make sure you’re safe.”

You invited him into your apartment to sober up a bit before he left.

So how did he get into your bed?

“Um,” his voice drew you out of the mental puzzle. You turned your head to find him looking directly at you, eyes still a bit groggy. “Hey.”

“...Hi.” You looked at him with wide eyes, certain you looked crazy. This was not how anything was supposed to go, and he needed to leave before Wooyoung got back to the apartment. If he hasn’t been back already…

“Uh, so I’m really–”

“I’m sorry Yeonjun, last night was a mistake.” You offered him a sympathetic smile, cutting him off. His mouth stayed open, lost for words, eyes widened in confusion. He was taken aback, not knowing quite how to respond. You lifted the covers, ignoring his lower half, and stood up quickly, trying to find a pair of shorts, pants, anything to cover your legs.

“W-...It was?” He sat up and tilted his head to the side, looking vaguely like a lost puppy. You nodded your head with a tight-lipped smile.

“Yea, it’s just…I’m really not looking for anything right now. Mainly just focused on studies, you know?” You pulled out some sweatpants from a pile of clothes you had been meaning to fold. Gotta look for a shirt now.

“Right, right, me too.” His eyebrows creased as looked at you, shuffling around the room in search of something. You went to a drawer to pull out a plain black tee shirt and walked to your closet to change in.

“After I change I can go sit in the living room while you get dressed!” You said in a rushed manner from behind the door.

Yeonjun’s head was spinning.

No one has ever kicked him out.

Mainly cause they were almost always at his place and he would gently push them out. But this time they were in your apartment, and you were pushing him out. It completely took him by surprise, especially calling last night a “mistake.”

You stepped out of the closet and walked over to the bed to hand him his shirt back. Nodding, you left the room and gently closed the door behind you, not bothering to look back for a second.

A bit down the hallway you could see Wooyoung’s door open, and you tip-toed over to it just in case he had come back and fallen asleep. Peeking your head through, your entire body felt a wave of relief from seeing his bed empty, his keys and wallet that he would usually have on his bedside table gone.

You padded your way to the kitchen, grabbed a glass, and filled it with water, letting your thoughts fly through your head while you sipped at it.

How could you have let that happen? Everyone is going to be talking about you now, and you’ll only be known as one of Yeonjun’s conquests. All eyes on you for the next week now, you’ll have to go to class, keep your head down, and immediately come back home. Maybe he won’t talk about it? He never usually talks about his rendezvous’...Unless he mentions it to his friends! Beomgyu and Kai talk quite a bit, what if–

The sound of your door opening lifted your head up to stare at the hallway that led into your kitchen and living room. You watched as Yeonjun trudged out in the clothes he had worn last night. His hair was a bit more tamed than the bedhead he had earlier. You set the glass down and took a few steps toward him, not completely knowing what to say.

“So…I have somewhere I have to be…in a few minutes…” You trailed off, hoping he’d pick up what you were implying. You still hadn’t quite figured out how to politely tell one-night stands to leave.

“Right yeah, I have to get going too, I was meeting Soobin for lunch.” He smiled, finally having somewhat composed himself while getting dressed. You nodded as your heart hammered in your chest, wanting to force him out the door before Woo did arrive and started telling everyone who was in his apartment last night. With your luck, he may be walking up to the door now.

You moved to unlock and open the door for him, peering your head outside to check for your roommate. Still gone. You didn’t bother to offer Yeonjun anything else, needing him to get out of the building. He stepped around you and out the door, and just before you closed it, he turned back around to you.

“I’ll see you later?” Something glimmered in his eyes as he said it. A warm, hopeful feeling in his chest emerged, something he hadn’t experienced in a while. Your eyes met him, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Yeah, Yeonjun…I’ll definitely see you around.”

—

Do not repost or translate any of my work anywhere else.

All comments, reblogs, and likes are always welcome!

#txt #tomorrow by together #tubatu #txt x reader #tomorrow x together #choi yeonjun #choi yeonjun x reader #choi yeonjun fanfic #yeonjun #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun txt

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wri0thesley · 2 months

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Something I just realized about the handmaiden is that theyd get lonely. Handmaiden’s typically work in groups and especially if they serve a god. They may not have been super close with the others but there’s a comfort in knowing that one can cover for you if you’re sick or injured or there’s someone who understands your struggles and goes through them with you. Maybe even friends or familial bonds. But ore likely than not: handmaiden reader will have no contact with them once the victor is chosen. I can Imagine their harbinger fiancé may be jealous or annoyed if they express their homesickness. Wanting to write notes or letters to their friends to maintain some semblance of contact. It may not even be allowed. The harbinger believes that they should be enough but they’re not home 24/7 (except maybe Pantalone or dottore but they wouldn’t be available). The staff make the most painful small talk for fear of accidentally upsetting their boss. Its easy to become lonely as any songbird would become depressed when their duets become solos.

oh absolutely; handmaiden darling is used to going everywhere as a cloud of revered and special chosen ones. they’ve been bred to this; every single facet of their education (in books and in behaviour) was aimed at the fact they would serve the tsaritsa until she deemed them to be done with service, in which case they would be given all the allowances of a retired statesman. but that never came calling for darling; not with their infractions. they ought to feel lucky they were not thrown out into the cruel snezhnayan snow to freeze to death—

but perhaps that may still be preferable to them when they realise they are to become some harbinger’s trophy. oh, perhaps they’d pretend to feel bad for their little prize; express regrets that their humiliation means they can no longer have contact with those same other devotees that they have known their whole life . . . but secretly their harbinger is glad that there is nobody to be there for their darling but them. a kind harbinger might allow a pet - a pretty songbird, a spoilt little kitten—

but darling must understand now that they are still in service. where they once dressed the tsaritsa, now they undress themselves. where they once served in the throne room, now they serve in the bedroom.

it is merely service of a different kind, to a very different master.

#nat.txt #genshin impact posting #not sfw text #dub con for ts

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i0veless · 1 year

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➛ MARCUS RASHFORD ABC (FLUFF EDITON)

𖥻 WARNINGS ー [ none ] 𖥻 AUTHORS NOTE ー [ requested by @lcvertrl "can you do abc fluff for marcus rashford" okay I am not a united fan by any means but to celebrate them winning a trophy (finally) heres come rashford content ]

➛ previous | taglist | masterlist | next

a :: attractive ➛ what do they find attractive about the other?

you found his confidence and his sense of humour attractive, while he thought your eyes and your smile were adorable.

b :: baby ➛ do they want a family? why/why not?

later down the line absolutely. but not just yet, they wanna get the timing right as having a child is a big step in their relationship. I feel like marcus would want to be a girl dad but ultimately he couldn't mind as long as you were happy.

c :: camera ➛ how do they document their relationships? who likes to take pictures? or videos?

marcus has multiple folders on his phone dedicated to photos of you doing anything to everything. probably prefers taking photos but has his fair share of videos too. while you, on the other hand not so much sure there may be a few but not nearly as many as marcus.

d :: dates ➛ what are their dates like?

a mixed bag really, but leaning towards the more classic romantic date. dinner (more to going out than staying in), picnics, beach days, spa nights and going on short holidays abroad, being a few.

e :: early ➛ what was the first month of dating like?

easygoing and light-hearted. taking time to get to know each other and savouring the small moments. dates almost twice a week, self-care night while watching movies after a tough match.

f :: friends ➛ how is their relationship with each other’s group of friends?

his friends like you instantly. They could tell how happy their friend was with you. you also had a similar sense of humour and were easy to gel with. but your friends, on the other hand, were a bit more hesitant. they made him earn their approval, as they were still under the impression that he was just another fuck boy footballer.

g :: gifts ➛ do they like giving each other gifts? what kind?

expensive. yet still sentimental, designers are a must and anything you want you will get. but will still give you the occasional very thought-out gift that will leave you short of breath and teary eyes.

h :: hugs ➛ all things involving hugs

back hug. the best kind. marcus is taller than you, so naturally, your body just sinks into his chest and softens under his warm embrace, which will probably lead to cuddling on the sofa. but he also is an avid enjoyed of all things hugs as closeness is something he loves to share with you.

i :: impression ➛ what was their first impression?

neutral, you were introduced by a mutual friend at a party, and the two of you weren't exactly sober. so the alcohol may have been the one swaying you to say it was a good one. but the first sober encounter was a good one at one of his matches after winning an important match.

j :: jealousy ➛ who gets jealous easier? how do they show their jealousy?

I would say that neither of you is really jealous unless someone is overstepping the boundaries. marcus is protective of you, not in an overbearing way but in a way that he cares for your safety and never wants you to feel uncomfortable by the advances made on him or you.

k :: kiss ➛ how do they kiss? who usually initiates?

depends if their in a rush, short and sweet pecks on the lips or checks. but if they have time-long and sensual kisses filled with passion and as for who initiates them, I would say it's 50/50 you are both comfortable with sharing intimacy and aren't afraid of expressing your physical affection for them.

l :: love ➛ how do they first say those three words?

marcus didn't really plan it he just stated it out there after spending a night together. and he had you smiling like an idiot, and of course, you said it back, and the rest is history.

m :: memory ➛ what’s their favourite memory together?

after winning the carbo cup, marcus couldn't keep his hands off you the whole night was spent with his teammates and you as you celebrated the well-deserved win, and it was also the night that marcus proposed.

n :: nicknames ➛ things they call each other

marcus would definitely call you stuff like angel, darling, baby, my love. while I feel like marcus loves nicknames on you he would hate them on himself the only few exceptions being babe and rashy otherwise just call him by his name.

o :: one ➛ tell us about the moment they realized they were with the one

a cold winter night, and marcus and you were watching a movie, the nightmare before christamas and the two of you were arguing if it was a charismas or halloween movie. as the two of you plead your case, rashford couldn't help but watch how you matched his intensity and passion. and it was there, and then he knew you were the one.

p :: pda ➛ public displays of affection between the two

not super public but also not afraid to show people you are his; holding hands is common, and maybe a peck on the lips as well. as sometimes may make out with you in a dark ally way if drunk enough. hand on waist, 24/7.

q :: quite ➛ do they break up? almost break up? what happened?

Low points in marcus's career would definitely strain the two of you, and would it lead to a breakup? maybe if the two of you do not address the issues and continue to ignore them. also, the media constantly talks about marcus and other women. which would make anyone insecure in their own right.

r :: romance ➛ how romantic are they? what would they do to make their partner happy? cliché or rather creative?

very romantic. just like the movies. marcus is a gentleman first footballer later. and knows how to treat his partner. maybe very cliche and predictable but it still makes you happy.

s :: support ➛ are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? do they believe in them?

100% supportive of each other no matter what they choose to do, even if it's without each other, and support each other publicly and privately, being an honest opinion if they ever need it.

t :: texting ➛ do they text each other a lot? What do they usually talk about over the phone?

when marcus is abroad for a match, they text all the time, not so much as call (maybe once or twice), but they def do check-ins though out the day otherwise, not so much. I imagine the two of you moved in together when it started getting serious, so there was no need to text when you were face-to-face 24/7.

u :: unique ➛ tell us about a habits that they have

marcus wakes up super early and always makes breakfast even if he has training. while you on the other hand are obsessed with soft things and marcus may or may not feed into that when he buys you gifts.

v :: vanity ➛ something they’re proud of in themselves and their partner

shows off his partner every time he gets, talk about them like they have done it all. But when it comes to himself marcus is very humble even though you do brag a fair bit about his achievements.

w :: wedding ➛ tell us about your wedding head canon if they’ve gotten that far. or if not, have they talked about it?

definitely getting married, similar to their thoughts on having kids. they want it, but not just yet. they are both young and have a lot to live for, so they don't want to rush it and possibly fuck up the relationship. but eventually, they will tie the knot with a low wedding with a lot of high-profile guests.

x :: x ➛ something they hate about the other

you greatly value alone time, and sometimes marucs may not take the hint, which leads to a bit of agitation but nothing the two can't solve. and it's a no-brainer that marcus is very busy, so sometimes he hates when you sometimes give him a hard time for 'not putting in effort' but once again his scedual is clear he will spend all the time in the world making it up to you.

y :: youtube ➛ what are they like online? Do they post about their relationship constantly?

you and marcus are both very busy, yet you still find a way to post about each other constantly. whether it's an insta story, tiktok, or tweet, you keep some part of your relashiship private to avoid the public knowing everything about your two relationships.

z :: zoo ➛ are they into animals? Do they want pets? What kind?

marcus is definitely more of a dog person. He already has a dog (saint), and I think he would want a couple more, but I can't see the two of you going past three. As it is a lot of effort to maintain dogs, but overall very much enjoys keeping them as part of his family.

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catastrophe-cole · 2 years

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Ello mate! Was wondering if i could request a Docm77 x reader who came from the dsmp and was very close to Ranboo. They left the dsmp after Ranboos death and found hermitcraft. Doc tries to befriend them but he reminds them of Sam and theyre very hesitant, until they start getting along. Reader falls for him and tries avoiding him, but Doc knows better and tries to talk to them. U can make up what u want to happen in the end, but i was hoping for an angst/comfort fic

Healed Wound

Word count: 4633 words

Summary: Leaving the Dream SMP behind to pursue a normal life in Hermitcraft was the main intention of your escape from the living hell that you had lived through then. You thought you can move on, but it seems like wound doesn't heal that easily even by time. Though it seems like certain creeper hybrid, Docm, seems to be willing to help you recover.

Genre: Romantic // Angst with comfort //

TW: Blood mention, wound caused by burn, portrayal of panic attack. (It's kinda dark but with comfort)

Author's Note: We don't talk about the word count so please just enjoy this. I honestly love writing about Dream SMP X Hermitcraft stuff. Both SMP have a totally different vibe from each other and it's always interesting to see interactions between hermits and a Dream SMP member.

A permanent scar on someone's body usually is enough to tell you the kind of person they are in a survival world.

Hardcore players who only live on the edge have scars plastered all over their body from their lack of respawn. Battling against fate every night, they view scars as a trophy for surviving death.

And in some worlds where respawn is possible, scars usually stay when the incident that caused it traumatizes the victim enough that it's physically difficult for them to forget.

And you, as one of the former members and also fighter of the now forgotten Dream SMP and a new Hermit, harbour many scars on your body. Both in your memories and your body.

You had left the SMP just a few weeks after helping the Blood God break Dream, Ranboo (and somehow Connor), out of prison.

You couldn't quite bother with Dream as your main objective was to rescue Ranboo and find out why he was kept there in the first place. You were a figure he often looked up to as you were the first person to help him adjust to the server many many moons ago. You had let him do his own thing after taking him in once again during the final battle of L'manberg.

Honestly you didn't hear much of him after he moved to Snowchester. Which is why there's just too many questions lingering around your head as you wait for Techno to come back out of the Pandora's Box with the Enderman hybrid.

The plan was already carefully crafted, you and Philza waiting for them right by the flank of Pandora's Box while Niki distracted everyone else with a wither on the other side. It was supposed to be easy; Dream is absolutely on board with the plan and following each and every order you gave him down to the T. But with Ranboo, something seems off.

You had held Sam at gunpoint with your crossbow as you screamed at Ranboo to immediately take one of the horses and run away as fast as possible. You had hoped to hear the horse galloping away and were prepared to fight Sam with whatever necessary to let him escape; but neither of those scenarios ever happened.

Pulling your gaze away from Sam for a split second to check on Ranboo, you saw him take off his netherite armour that Techno had given him prior. Throwing the metal gear on the ground, while clutching on a piece of paper in his hand.

You were about to ask him what the hell he thinks he's doing, but Sam had acted faster and taken advantage of your confusion to snatch your crossbow off of your hand, and immediately fired the charged rocket right back to you.

The rest from that point was blurry. You had taken direct impact from a highly explosive rocket shot that even a netherite chestplate couldn't fully protect you from. You were awake, but barely.

Techno took over your place as you coughed on the ground, blood seeping from between the crack made on your chest plate as your skin burns underneath. Looking up through blurry eyes, the last thing you saw was Ranboo's guilty look, a silent plea of apology right to you, before Sam had taken his last life right in front of you and the Blood God.

The next thing you know as you're awoken with bandages all over your left shoulder is Phil and Niki, telling you that Ranboo had died that day with his last life to Sam, and Techno had went on a quest to avenge him with Tubbo while you were unconscious.

A few days after that you had gone through stages of grief. Losing Ranboo right in front of your eyes felt like the biggest failure you could've gotten. He was just a kid- He had been through so much, and his life was taken from him right under your nose.

Sam had done it. The name and the feature of the creeper hybrid as he stabs through Ranboo's chest have been recorded clearly in your mind. As much as you want to catch up to Techno and avenge him, you don't think your mind or body can handle it.

The shot of that one single firework burns underneath your skin. It doesn't necessarily cause you severe pain, but every now and then it spikes up and there are nights where you're forced awake because of the burn it left on you.

Phil was the first to suggest that you leave the SMP. He believes that whatever revenge and punishment you want to befall the creeper hybrid would definitely be fulfilled by Techno and his unstoppable bloodlust. Though as much as the idea feels nice to execute, you're not sure where you would go from the server hub once you left the Dream SMP. You've been there for a long time; you don't really have anywhere else to go.

That is, until an invitation came to you from a hermit outside of the SMP. An invitation to join the Hermitcraft server as they're going to start their ninth season. You were surprised by this sudden coincidence. The hermits are well known across the hall of the server hub, so you're quite surprised to get an invitation, knowing well that you don't really have that high of an achievement in building nor redstone to be able to gain their attention.

Before you can ask any questions or be hesitant about yourself, Philza had shut those thoughts away and encouraged you to join the SMP. He convinced you that even though it sounds a little suspicious, he knows that the hermits are good people, having known some of them prior.

You, just wanting to take a break and leave the Dream SMP behind, put a lot of trust in Phil's words and set off to the Hermitcraft server. Hoping to find a community with less war, less fighting, and perhaps finally living a normal, peaceful life and move on from this mess.

Finally entering the server, you were greeted by the sight of a larger group of people talking to each other excitedly, perhaps, about their plan for the season ahead. None of them seems to have noticed your appearance yet, as they seem to be still happily chatting with each other.

The anxiousness of feeling absolutely left out from the group gets to you. All you do as you wait for perhaps an announcement of some sort to happen, is to clutch on the clothing of the left side of your chest, feeling the everlasting burn somewhat comfort you in this awkward situation.

That was all you do until a voice with a thick accent and gruff tone calls out to you from behind with a simple, "Are you alright, friend?"

You flinched, only gripping your shirt tighter before sharply turning back to face the source, with a nervous smile, you took a sharp breath, "Oh! Uh, right. Yeah, I'm alright, uhm. Sir—"

But through your stammering, your eyes widened as you watched the taller figure who looked before you. The first thing you noticed from him was his green complexity, one which reminds you of a creeper- which, makes it clear that this man (?) Is a creeper hybrid.

Another, creeper hybrid.

Images of Sam flash for a split second then. You were reminded by the Warden's golden armour, gas mask, and his empty raven coloured gaze.

It took you a while, seconds felt like eternity as you snapped yourself back to reality, noticing the obvious differences that the man before you possessed from the Warden.

Instead of gold, he was dressed in white lab coat. The left side of his face seems to be mechanical alongside the right side of his body. And weirdly enough, while you're convinced that he's a creeper hybrid based on his height and skin colour, the goat horn that is growing on his head makes you doubt your guesses slightly.

He seems patient to your response, or rather, lack of, as he watches you try to take all of his appearance in. He knows his size and looks can be a bit overwhelming for a lot of people; but seeing that you haven't run nor scream seems to be a good sign to him to wait for you to process things.

You, on the other hand, were almost ready to pull your crossbow that you currently haven't obtained yet to put yourself on defense. But with enough time and enough self control, you finally brought yourself back to reality and managed to convince yourself that this man is not Sam. And that he won't hurt you the way Sam did Ranboo.

At least, that's what you want to hope for.

So you took a deep breath, clenched your first, before offering the hybrid the best, most polite smile you can mutter.

"I'm alright. I'm uh, just a little nervous. Thank you for the worry. Mister..?"

"Doc. Just Doc is fine." He seems relaxed, and somehow, contended that you've managed to calm yourself to reply to him even though it takes some time.

"I uh, is there anything I can help you with, Doc?" You nervously ask, the hand that was clutching on your shirt now rests firmly on your hip as you hold the ghost of your sword, your instinct never weakened.

"No, not really. But I feel like I should be the one asking you that," he hummed, his eyes seemed to soften slightly with worry, "You seemed to be slightly in pain earlier, clutching on your chest. Do you perhaps have any trouble breathing? Any.. Chronic illness?"

You squinted at his words, feeling slightly offended by the question. Sure you're grateful that he feels concern for you, and perhaps the thoughts that he'd like to help by asking whether you're sick is actually a good thing, you just.. Feel like that's a little bit quick.

He seems to notice your judgemental state before putting his hands up in defense and shaking his head, "Ah- Forgive me. I apologize.. Didn't realize how rude the question must be. I'm just.. Slightly worried about you and was just wondering if there's anything I can do to help."

Help. Right.

"It's.. It's quite alright. Thank you for the concern but I was just panicking a little, you know?" You let out a nervous laugh, shrugging.

Doc is quite an observant individual. He knows you're somewhat still skittish of him and are keeping up guards by the way your hand seemingly always on alert, ready to pull a weapon that you don't own yet. But he's also aware of your backstory and where you're from, so he's willing to be as patient as he can be with you, seeing how even being there seems difficult enough for you.

"I see, well that happens to the best of us. I know it can be a little scary coming to a new place with a bunch of new people you're not familiar with yet," and he smiled. Surprisingly enough, his smile looked really sincere, as opposed to his scary appearance. You suppose that is the first step to trust.

"Actually, if you're not sure on how to start, I can help you set up your base?" He offered, to which, you hesitantly raised an eyebrow. "I mean you don't have to, of course, absolutely no pressure. It's just that if you need any help, I'm willing to lend a hand whenever you need one."

He doesn't seem.. Like he has any further, hidden intention in his words. It feels like genuine honesty in wanting to help you. Something that you haven't seen in many people in your previous server.

So you just thanked him for his offer, saying that should you ever really need any help, he'll probably be the first person you'll come to. Probably. Planning for a far ahead future was not your specialty. Honestly you just want to start off somewhere with a good distance away from everyone and live normally out there.

He nodded. Your acceptance seems good enough. He's not sure whether you'll actually come to him or not; but it seems like at the very least, he's got his intention over to you.

And with that both of you parted ways rather slightly awkwardly after the annual meeting had ended. Everyone began to explore in pairs and groups to gather resources as the first night approached. You, on the other hand, opted to go off to look for stuff on your own, just like how you always do.

You venture up to the North side of the world. Exploring just far enough to not collide bases with anyone who's about to build their giant starter house, you settle in a random tundra biome, finding a slight nostalgic peace from the cold environment.

Weeks pass, and you've managed to build yourself a small cabin with a chimney that regularly breathes out smoke to a far distance. Greenhouse was made, the armory was filled with weaponry, and you're all settled for yet another peaceful, lonely life in the cold tundra.

That is, until someone finds your cabin and are standing right in front of your doorstep as you exit the greenhouse.

It's him, Doc. He seems to be fully geared up already with diamond armour and an elytra. He stood there by your doorstep, seemingly unaware of your approach from the greenhouse as you watch him lightly rubbing his arm.

Creeper can get cold?

"What're you doing here?" After putting down the basket of potatoes to the side and resting your hand at the hilt of your axe, Doc flinched at the surprise before turning to face you with wide eyes.

"Oh my God— you- you scared me a little there," he nervously chuckled, shoulder relaxing as he watched you keeping your distance, waiting for his answer.

"Oh! Right, I'm actually here to uh, check up on you. Xisuma told me that you haven't left your starter base yet and uh, yeah. I'm mostly here to check up on how you're doing."

"That's all?"

"Yes..?"

The two of you spent a good minute looking at each other. You in slight disbelief and him, slightly shivering due to being rather underdressed for the environment.

You were about to tell him that you're doing well, and that you don't quite need any help, but seeing him just.. Standing there in the cold with his armour on doesn't really seem comfortable. You know cold armour can be awful to put on. And considering the distance he might've gone through to get here- You assumed he's been suffering, shivering for a long time.

"Get inside, the fireplace is always lit." You pulled your hand away from the hilt of your axe, an action that he noticed, as you turned you back away from him to pick up the basket of potatoes.

He seems quite.. Surprised, by your invitation. He had expected you to brush him off with formality, but it seems like the sight of a giant creeper hybrid shivering in the cold, tundra biome makes you take slight pity on him.

But he's not complaining! Watching you approaching the door, he instinctively opened the door for you and moved to the side to let you and the basket of potato in, only to follow suit right after you had descended into the kitchen inside the cabin.

"Take off your armour and hang it by the door, don't get snow in my house." You gave him direction as you placed the basket of potatoes onto the small table in your kitchen.

"Oh- Right, thank you." He seems to be still slightly nervous. Is he crossing the line by being in here? You did invite him in, so it should be fine, right? But what if your invitation was out of politeness and he's actually bothering you with your schedule? Doc has never been so parasocial before this, as he just stood there by the doorstep, awkwardly now with his armour off.

"Well, it's a nice place you've got here," he took a deep breath, deciding to break the ice and lead the conversation, since you seem quite focused on cleaning the vegetables you had just picked. "I saw your greenhouse outside, it looks quite lovely with the blue glass. Is it automated?"

"No. I.. Like processing my vegetables by hand," you replied to him while focusing on cleaning the dirt off of a carrot. Hearing his footsteps, you suppose he's just currently walking around your cabin, checking things that are worth seeing. "Besides I don't really know how to build an automated farm. I'm not really.. An expert at redstone. And honestly I doubt I will be in the near future."

From that comment, Doc laughed. Surprisingly a hearty laugh that comes in contrast to his currently freezing body.

"Automated vegetable farms aren't that difficult to create. But I suppose I understand what you mean by it," he looked at the fireplace and the couch near it, turning to look at you for permission, in which you only nod your head at before he let himself sink into the soft surface with a sigh. "I've actually haven't experienced this in a long while."

"Hm?" His last sentence caught you off guard as he seems to have lowered his voice by a note. Looking back to the creeper hybrid who had made himself comfortable at your house, you only watch the fire reflection crackle in his eyes. "What do you mean by 'this'?"

"This, I mean just.. Living, I suppose." He shrugged, leaning back on the couch, "I've spent years in this server, building and creating things never seen before."

"Hunting.. Farming by hand, all of those have become quite a bothersome errand when all you want to do is just.. Break that limit and create something new." He clenched his fist, and opened it, looking down at it with looks that are difficult to decipher from your view. "That's why automatic farms were built. To be rid of those repetitive tasks. Towers that reach heaven to milk whatever the universe gave us and use it to its fullest potential."

He seems to be deep in thought. Has your greenhouse made that much impact on his view in life to the point that he seems to be having a minor midlife crisis?

"Are you calling my farm inefficient and boring?" You laughed lightly, turning your attention back to the vegetables at hand. "I'm no hermit like any of you are, so I suppose it's hard to share views. I quite enjoy the normalcy."

This time, Doc looks at you. Slightly baffled by your sudden chattiness and laughter. It was small; but you laugh. An honest one, it seems.

"I didn't get much of.. Well, this, before. Buildings often come and go in one night. Instead of progressing ahead we were forced to look at the present and always be aware of tomorrow, it's.." you shut your eyes, placing the clean vegetables down as you took a deep breath. ".. Quite tiring."

Silence but the sound of crackling fire sets between the two of you. This was one of the first times you've recalled the old SMP after so long. You're reminded by the constant explosion, the constant fire, and moving from one base to another, it was always filled with running away. Always.

Slowly opening your eyes with a deep exhale, you see that Doc has stood up from where he was seated as he slowly walked over to where you are. Standing right across from you, he offered you that smile again, as he picked up one of the clean carrots.

"Well, cooking all of this by yourself sure is tiring too, won't it?" You exhaled another breath you didn't think was holding, "Do you mind if I lend a hand on this one?"

That was the small start of your, well, friendship, with the creeper hybrid.

Ever since then Doc visited every week or so, coming with small gifts he found or have farmed in his collection of massive automated farms. Everytime you kindly rejected his offer because you don't think you can repay him, he only asked for you to let him help around your greenhouse, by not making it autonomous, but just farming it alongside you, and perhaps stay over for a warm meal served in your cabin that are peacefully hidden away in the tundra.

You don't mind, actually. The pair of helping hands he's given is sure to be welcomed by you. He's been working in your greenhouse for so long he remembered where things are and memorised the whole layout. Not only that, you found yourself growing more vegetables by his constant visit, seemingly wanting to have enough for him to eat when he arrives since you feel like your small portion would never actually fill a man as big as him.

With the overwhelming amount of building blocks you've received, you have plans on perhaps finally building your base. And since you don't feel like asking Doc for more than what he already gave, you find yourself turning to other hermits for help such as Scar, Pearl, and others for building tips. Even to the point that they'd come to visit your cabin and help you first hand.

After weeks of having Doc coming over to your cabin, you've decided that it's about time for you to visit his base instead and perhaps, look around the server some more and check the now existing shopping district.

It became a routine of some kind. One week it would be you visiting him with your very own hand picked vegetables, the next would be him visiting you with some building materials or other items he thinks may be of use to you.

That night was one where you had visited him.

A storm had befall the area in which Doc is working his new project. And you, not being that much of an expert in using an elytra yet after so long not using it, doesn't want to risk flying through the storm and ended up staying by his small camp that he had set up in a small cave near his project.

You thought you'd stay awake through the storm. After all, it's not like you'd let yourself fall asleep somewhere that isn't home. It's unsafe, dangerous, and you'll be exposed and vulnerable.

You're not sure what came over you, but amidst your attempt at staying up, it seems like you had slipped and passed out with your head leaning on your arms by one of the desks at Doc's camp. A view that Doc didn't quite expect to come back to when he finished with his project for the day.

He had never seen you so peaceful before. Asleep, calm, and are away from the world even for a couple minutes or hours.

He would let you be and give you the rest that you're very much deserved (mostly he doesn't want to scare you by waking you up), but looking at how uncomfortable your position looks, he can't seem to find another reason to not take your to a proper bed.

He was about to wake you up, but he noticed the weird, breathing pattern that you're having at times during your slumber.

Your breath seems to have grown heavy and shallow, he can see beads of sweat rolling on your skin as you still seemingly stay unconscious.

Turning your head to the side, he placed the back of his organic hand to your forehead, only to find your cheek flustered red and your temperature slightly burning up.

You were dreaming- or rather, remembering that scene yet again by some bad omen. The fireworks that had blasted your chest burns your shirt right onto your skin, the look that Ranboo had given you that day, the way Sam doesn't seem unbothered by his own actions, it all came back in a flood.

What snapped you awake was the tense feeling of a pair of hands gripping onto your shoulder, shaking you awake, and Doc calling out to your name.

You didn't even realize you were crying until you felt the warm tear sliding down your cheek. You didn't respond to his questions for a few seconds, your hand instinctively crawled up to your chest, right where the firework was exploded, as you clenched your shirt.

Doc called out to you again. This time, you finally look up to him, his words finally registering in your mind as you look at his worried expression,

"Where does it hurt, schatz?" His voice falls a few octaves, you noticed, yet it felt raspier as if he had cried himself. "Please, tell me."

"He shot me here," you finally whispered out. Hand clutching tighter as your knuckles turned white, "It hurts, Doc. It burns every time I remember that place. It burned like a memory every time. But I lived through it, I survived and kept my life despite it. But he didn't."

"He didn't live.. Because I took that hit, he didn't— I should've—"

And he took you in.

Doc was big enough to engulf almost all of you within his arms. Part of him may be metallic, but the humming of the redstone fluid that runs his prosthetic is always warm. Always.

And that warmth melted your heart, and flood came through.

You clutched the back of his coat as you finally let everything out. Through your sobbing you let him know about all the regrets kept inside of your heart. The burning sensation you felt every night on your chest from the wound you received that night. How you often tell yourself that you deserve it because of what happened. That you think you deserve this punishment.

And he listened to it. He holds you firm enough to let you know he'll be there and that he's listening and nothing escapes him. Your secret was heard and your pain was shared. He felt it, as one of his hands carefully rubbed your shoulder where the edge of the burn lay, giving it humming comfort.

"Schatz, listen to me. Please, look at me," he softly called to you. Pulling you away from his chest to cradle your face in his hands as he wiped the tears off of your reddening face. He held you there, pressing your forehead against each other as he helped you breathe by making you match his pattern.

"It was not your fault." He held you, "It never was. Never will be. Fate can often be cruel but you have been through each second of pain it has given you and now you are here."

"You are here, with me. And I will be here with you through it." You cling onto his coat, "I won't let anything harm you and I promise you that. Not even time in the past can do you any harm. I will be here, and I will protect you."

"I love you."

At his confessions, you can only let more tears roll down your cheek as you let him hold you. Perhaps you do deserve to be here. Perhaps you do deserve to live- After all that you have been through. After all the death you had seen. Maybe you do deserve to be here, with him.

And every moon that passes after that night, with him by your side, holding you, loving you and reminding you about how much you deserve to be in the present, you can feel the burn on your shoulder lightened everyday, as the red patch of skin slowly turned light, and the wound have grown into a scar made by the past, healed.

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