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#you should never be afraid that your dog will kill you
lazycranberrydoodles · 5 months
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everybody go home. this is my magnum opus
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jqnehr · 3 months
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𓂃₊ ⊹ 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 & 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 : 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭.
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⟡ ꒰ 𝐳𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞 ꒱ ⨾ he plays along. you want to be smart? two can play that game. he’s better at staying silent than you. although a bit confused at why he’s so content with remaining quiet and not whining about the attention you’re keeping from him, it doesn’t take you long to work out why. zayne’s probably glad to have a moment of reprieve from your seemingly unceasing chatter (that he enjoys, though he’ll never admit it) to read, work or eat in peace. so, it ends with you breaking the silence, and him giving you the silent treatment. he’s too slick for you.
⭒ ꒰ 𝐱𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫 ꒱ ⨾ is absolutely sure he’s done something wrong. did he say something that struck a nerve without him realising it? is it because he threw your favourite t-shirt into the hamper last night? or is it because of the last two pieces of bread he burned in the toaster this morning, since he can’t cook to save his life? xavier wants to ask you why and what’s wrong, but he’s a bit afraid to. you get this wild glint in your eye whenever you’re pissed, and it actually scares him (but he’ll never admit it because, come on—him, a seasoned soldier, essentially, who kills wanderers without a blink, is afraid of his girlfriend? yes. yes, he is). so he gives you space, looking like a kicked puppy, and you fold, feeling awful about it. all’s well that ends well.
⊹ ꒰ 𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐥 ꒱ ⨾ not only is he a yapper, but he’s a nagger. he’ll pester and pester and pester you, until you actually grow annoyed, and the silent treatment becomes real. then, he’ll leave post-it notes stuck around the place, with cute little illustrations of chibi-you with devil horns and fiery breath, and some of your favourite snacks next to it. rafayel’s like a little kid sometimes, with his pouting and whines and puppy-dog eyes, which never work on you. he spams you with texts of cooking videos, saying ‘we should make this tonight’, as if you guys have the ingredients to. ever clingy, he silently wraps his arms around your middle and buries his face into your neck, and you don’t have the heart to reject his touch. he’s an idiot, but when he sends you cat videos on an hourly basis even though he hates them, maybe he isn’t so bad.
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im back with yet another cringeass headcanons list. this is me while writing this and y'all while reading it 🔥
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holylulusworld · 4 months
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Jealousy a la Bucky
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Summary: He’s not jealous.
Pairing: (Soft)Mobster!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader
Warnings: jealous Bucky, Bucky is smitten for the reader, Steve being a tease, fluff, flirting
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He’s not jealous. Never. He’s not even looking your way when you talk to one of his business partners. Nope. He’s not squaring his jaw or balling his hands into fists. No, of course not.
What he does is sulk at the bar, a pout on his lips, and a grumpy expression on his face. He nips at his drink while following your every move.
“That her?” Steve finally asks. He watched his friend stare at you from afar for almost half an hour. Now he wants to tease him. “I guess she’s good at making new friends, huh? A pretty dame like her. All alone. Wearing a dress like that.”
“First and final warning,” Bucky points his index finger at his friend and brother-in-crime. “I saved your life more than once. But I will take it if you say one more thing about that woman.”
“Aw, it finally happened,” sipping at his drink Steve watches his friend frown deeply. You giggle at something Clint Barton, one of his confidants and notorious weapon dealers, said. “James Buchanan Barnes is in love.”
“Shut up, punk,” Bucky grunts. “If you say one more word, you’ll lose your tongue and more.” He angrily glares at Barton, swearing on his mother’s grave he’ll kill the man if he dares to touch you. “I’m not in love.” 
He’s not in love. Not at all. Of course, not. James Buchanan Barnes, a notorious mobster, and stone-cold weapon dealer doesn’t fall in love.
Then, why can’t he take his eyes off you, his sweet new assistant? The woman taking care of his life. “She brings me food and makes my appointments. Y/N is only my assistant. Stop acting like I lost my dead heart to that beautiful, caring, and sweet girl.”
“You are so in love with her,” Steve grins and raises his glass. “To James Buchanan Barnes, the most wanted bachelor who finally got tamed. I hope you know I want to be your best man at your wedding.”
Bucky glares at Steve. He wants to say something, or (and) punch his friend’s face when someone calls his name. Your sweet voice brings him out of his rage and back to reality. 
“Mr. Barnes, you should eat something,” you clear your throat to get your boss’s attention. “Sir, I got you a plate filled with all the things you like.”
“All the things I like?” He drops his eyes to the plate you hold. “You mean all the things you like, doll.”
You giggle at the pet name. Bucky Barnes is a dangerous man, and you should be afraid to be even close to him. Oddly, you feel the safest around your boss. He’s a big teddy bear when it comes to you.
“Fine, I got you the same things I like so we can share.”
“You want to share the food with Bucky?” Steve swallows thickly when his friend snaps his head toward him. “He’s a food thief. You should keep a close eye on that food.”
“I like sharing,” you softly say. “Mr. Barnes often forgets to eat. I made it my mission to take care of him and his well-being.”
Steve chokes on his drink at the look Bucky gives you. Puppy dog eyes. James Buchanan Barnes looks at you like you are a miracle to him. 
“Uh-cool,” the blonde says. “I’ll grab some food too. It was a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Y/L/N.”
“Same,” you are busy offering food to your boss and barely look at Steve. “Now, what do you want to taste first?”
‘Your lips’, Bucky thinks to himself but doesn’t say it out loud. “What do you recommend?”
“We could start with the salmon and then, you should try the green asparagus. It’s delicious and the best I ever ate. OH, and they have the best desserts, Bucky.” You gasp as you just called your boss by his name. “I’m sorry, Sir…I didn’t…I…”
“My name sounds like a melody on your tongue,” Bucky grabs the salmon to wolf it down. You just stare at him, and let his words sink in. 
“That was…” you snort. “Oh my god! So funny. I mean…sorry…but…that was the lamest pick-up line ever,” you step closer to whisper in his ear. “You know, if you like me, you can just ask me out.”
“It was poetic and—” He tries to argue until he realizes you kinda asked him out. “Do you want to go on a date with me, doll?”
“Phew, finally,” you smirk. “I wouldn’t have made it through the night if I talked to Mr. Barton for much longer. He wanted me to have a look at his bow. I still don’t know what he meant.”
“His bow?” Bucky hiccups. “That bastard wanted to show you his bow?”
“Hmm…I told him that you already offered to show me your gun.”
“Right now?” He nervously shifts on his feet, and hopefully looks at you.
“No,” you pat his chest and smile. “I don’t look at a man’s gun before the second date…or the third.”
“I bet you’ll make an exception for me,” he takes the plate out of your hands and throws it over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, doll. I’ll order room service for us.”
“I’m keeping you up on that promise, Sir…”
You will have room service, in Paris only a few hours later…
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Tags in reblog.
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1-800-kami · 5 months
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4:23 pm | the adventures of dad!gojo
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content: 0.9k words, fem!reader, dad gojo, megumi is your son, silly crack fic
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gojo satoru is a man with very little fears.
in actuality, people are afraid of him. a mere gaze from those cerulean blue eyes of his sends people running off to the opposite direction, so the adjective “intimidating” was quite the understatement to describe him. some might even say that he’s the strongest, so he possesses no fear at all.
despite that, gojo has one thing he’s deathly afraid of: you–his wife, when you’re angry.
“suguru, help me out here!” geto can physically feel his bestfriend’s panic through the phone. gojo explained the situation in a fast ramble–geto could barely understand what he was saying, but he thinks he got the gist of it: you went out to run some errands and entrusted gojo to take care of your two year old child, megumi, while you were out. gojo conjured up the genius idea of keeping megumi entertained by handing him a paper and markers–so that they could surprise you with megumi’s amazing artistic abilities once you came back home.
it had gone “so well”, gojo said earlier, picking up the paper and studying it. “i think this is a drawing of a cat? or a dog, i don’t really know.. still, it’s made by my son, and it’s the peak of art and i think everyone should see it!”
gojo was so busy trying to decipher what megumi had drawn that he didn’t realize that his son still had the markers in his hands. when he peers over to look at megumi again, he just about screamed.
“gumi- no- GUMI!” he shrieks, snatching the markers away from his son’s hold. megumi, not having a paper to draw on anymore, decided to use the wall as his canvas instead—sketching a poorly drawn house with a bright red marker. “you’re not supposed to draw on the wall! aw fuc-ahem, freak… your mom’s gonna kill me…”
“gosh suguru, some advice would help!” satoru’s never been so afraid in all his years of living. you’re coming home pretty soon, and he has no idea what to do. he’s already imagining the look on your face–and it’s pushing satoru to the brink of passing out. gojo satoru–the renowned sorcerer who’s fought the king of curses, been sealed away in a box and has had multiple near death experiences–all of these things have happened to him yet none can compare to the fear of facing his wife when she’s angry.
“hmm? what is it, nanako?” satoru can hear his bestfriend trying not to laugh over the phone. suguru knows an easy solution to his problem, but he thinks that leaving satoru in the dark is funnier. it’s rare to see the strongest sorcerer like this, so geto revels in it with pure amusement. “you’re hungry? okay… let’s see what i can make for you, yeah?”
“you heard her, satoru~ one of the twins are hungry. i’m afraid i have to go… good luck about the markers, yeah?” suguru hangs up before satoru could say a word. he curses under his breath, but feels his heart stop when he hears the door unlock.
you’re home.
“mama!” megumi yells, clapping his hands and slowly crawling over to the front door. you happily greet your son, placing the grocery bags on the table.
you walk over to your husband, kissing him on the cheek before noticing the piece of paper that he’s holding. “oh? what’s this?”
you grab the paper from his hands and satoru regains a little bit of his composure once he hears you coo at your son’s drawing. “thought it would be nice for me and megumi to surprise you while you were gone… it’s a drawing of a cat-”
“horsey!”
“...a horse. yup, that’s what i said!” he sheepishly ignores his son’s glare, mentally preparing himself to tell you about the wall.
“i love it! oh my gosh, megumi, aren’t you just a little artist?” you say, ruffling your son’s hair with a big smile. “this is definitely going on the fridge.”
“...there’s one small problem, though…” satoru refuses to meet your gaze.
“what did you do this time, satoru?”
“hey, it technically wasn’t me!” he says, this time being the one to shoot the glare at his son. “so hypothetically…what if i told you that gumi thought it would be a nicer idea to use the wall as a canvas instead of the paper?”
“...”
satoru perceives your silence as his death sentence. “look, i’m sorry! i was trying to figure out what he drew and i forgot that he still had the markers in his hands-”
“satoru-”
“and the next thing i know, he drew on the wall before i was able to take the markers from him-”
“toru-”
“and suguru wasn’t giving me advice either, but then-”
“satoru!” your final yell finally breaks him from his ramble. he’s surprised to see that no, you don’t have a look of murder on your face. in fact, you’re actually smiling—looking more amused than anything.
“satoru, they’re washable markers.” you take a baby wipe from your purse and walk over to the wall, wiping away the bright red marker strokes easily with a few swipes. you’re trying not to laugh at his dumbfounded expression. “did you not know that?”
now he’s the one stunned into silence. “...”
“no, no… i definitely knew that…!”
“yeah, sure you did.”
being a father is so difficult.
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reminiscingtonight · 10 days
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Creepy Crawlers
Lia Wälti x Reader
Word Count: 1.2k
[WOSO Masterlist]
It’s quiet on the drive over to practice. 
Despite your occasional attempts to engage Lia into conversation, the Swiss midfielder resolutely stares out the passenger side window, lips turned down and set into a frown. 
When you finally pull up to the training grounds, you’re hoping things have blown over a bit. You give her a goofy grin, but it quickly turns into a grimace when Lia ignores your presence and shoulders past you into the training facility. 
You’re like a lost dog when you trail behind her into the locker room. 
Everyone notices the rift between the two of you instantly. 
“Oi, what did the missus do today?” Katie laughs, though the laughter quickly dies on her tongue when she receives a frosty glare from the Swiss.
The Irish woman turns around to you, eyes wide as she mouths ‘what did you do?’ Everyone knows that Lia’s the sweetest person to ever walk the earth. So for her to outwardly express her displeasure?
You shake your head, turning towards your own locker. 
It’s stupid how something so small can spoil your own mood. You’re used to morning kisses, arms wrapped around your lover’s on the way in. You’re used to morning coffees basking in each other’s presence, the occasional joke at your expense sprinkled in here and there. Lia’s never not given you the attention you crave before practice, and it’s absolutely ruining your day.
Your eyes are downcast when you trudge onto the field. Teammates from all sides of the field are steering clear of both of you, not sure what’s gone on to cause such a distance between the Arsenal “it” couple.
Leah, on the other hand, has no qualms getting deep and personal. While everyone else tries to pretend nothing’s going on, your best friend throws an arm around your shoulder, ignoring your mumbled “get off.”
“What did you do?” Leah gives you a nudge, nearly sending you sprawling forward.
There’s a second where you think about not answering. 
But you’re so sad. And your heart really can’t take it anymore. 
You’re willing to take any advice given, even if it comes from a 27 year old child. 
“We have an uninvited guest living with us right now.” 
Leah tilts her head, eyebrow raising in question. 
You sigh, shaking your head. “Lia found a spider in the shower this morning,” you explain. 
“And?” Leah questions, not seeing the connection. 
“Well she wanted me to kill it.”
Your best friend frowns. “I thought you’re afraid of spiders.”
“I am! Lia still thinks I should take care of the uninvited creepy crawlers though.”
There’s a moment of silence as Leah looks you up and down. Clearly she can’t tell if you’re being serious or not, but one look at the longing glances you keep sending over your shoulder to Lia, Leah’s more than convinced that the two of you are ridiculous. 
And she tells you exactly that.
You roll your eyes when she does, but Leah instantly gets suspicious when you wipe the annoyed look off your face. Hand tightening around Leah’s arm, you lean in close to her, giving her your best smile. 
“Any chance you’re free tonight?”
“Depends.”
“Are you willing to get rid of it for me?” You bat your eyelashes at her, hoping to sway her into helping you. 
Leah snorts, shoving you away. “Nope. Have fun with that.”
Lia ignores you the entire day.
You try saving her a seat at lunch. She grabs her tray and drops into a spot beside Steph, not sparing you a glance. 
You approach her to ask if she’d like to be your spotter at weight training. She walks right past you and plucks Kyra away from Alessia.
No matter how many times you try catching her attention, Lia simply turns her back to you and walks away. 
By the end of the day you’ve had it.
When the girls are all changing, getting ready to head home, you make a quick pit stop. You thought long and hard about it, not really wanting to go to such extremes, but at the end of the day you’d rather have a bruised ego if it meant doing what’s best for your relationship.
Lia’s standing by the car when you finally emerge from the locker room. Her arms are crossed, foot tapping impatiently as she waits for you to arrive. 
It’s habitual, the way you instantly reach for the bag on her shoulder, holding it in your own hand as you open her car door for her. The way Lia doesn’t stop you has you breathing out a sigh of relief, thinking you’ve finally broken through to her. 
Oh how you’re wrong. 
When you purse your lips up, expecting the kiss she always gifts you before slipping into her seat, you instead receive a hard stare before the door slams shut in your face.
Sighing, you trudge to the back of the car, popping up the trunk to place both of your bags in. 
There’s an underlying tension when you start driving home. From the corner of your eyes you can see Lia’s jaw still clenched tight, her eyes steadily focused somewhere off in the distance. Even changing the radio station to the type of music she likes can’t break the frown on her lips. 
It’s so stifling and all you want is your girlfriend back. 
As the minutes tick down and you get closer and closer to home, you know you have to break the air. You have to give your girlfriend a word of warning in the slim chance you guys don’t make it home first. There’s really no good time to say it, but there’s an annoying smirk playing in the back of your mind, the conversation you just had still ringing in your ears. 
As casually as you can, you hum out: “So I invited Caitlin over later.”
It’s a bit worrying how quick Lia whips her head towards you. Her hand slams against the stereo, shutting off the music. Silence fills the car as Lia’s eyebrows draw together, mouth opening and closing a few times in confusion. “Caitlin Foord? Like my ex-girlfriend Caitlin Foord?”
You nod, nervously swallowing.
“Why?” She sounds bewildered and a little bit concerned all at the same time.
You groan. “Babe, I am not killing that spider and it’s obvious you aren’t going to either. We both know Cait is more than happy to help us deal with our uninvited guest.”
“Well won’t that be… weird?”
You raise an eyebrow at her. “Why would it be?”
Lia gives you a look like you’re stupid. “She’s my ex.”
“We’re all adults here, Lee,” you roll your eyes, internally laughing at the face Lia pulls at your response. 
“Okay, well it’s up to you.”
You shrug. “As long as you don’t break up with me over this, I think I’ll be fine.”
A beat passes as you cruise down the street. 
Another beat passes as you turn the corner.
Then, 
“Well now that I think about it--”
Lia has to hide her laughter when you slam on the breaks.
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incorrectbatfam · 1 month
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What are their go to conversation starters?
Alfred: Lesson #18 of behaving like a human being: initiating conversations.
Alfred: At a formal event, you are expected to engage with others in an appropriate manner. For this exercise, I want you to pretend I'm a guest and impress me.
Dick: Good evening, sir. I really appreciate you having here. If you need anything at all, don't hesitate to ask.
Dick: *smiles and gives Alfred a firm handshake*
Alfred: Excellent job, except one thing.
Alfred, holding up his arm: It was not necessary to take my watch. You're not a mission, Master Dick.
Dick: But what if I am?
Alfred: That's a lesson for another day. Next.
Jason: Now, hypothetically, if a very bad man killed your son, wouldn't YOU—
Alfred: That's enough. Next.
Tim: My name's Tim and I'm afraid of wasps because they have a photographic memory of all who wronged them.
Alfred: Dismissed. Next.
Damian: *walks away to play with the dog*
Alfred: We'll come back to him. Next.
Duke: Wanna beta-read my Luke Fox Final Fantasy MMA AU fanfic?
Cullen: Wanna beta-read my Destiel Superhell fix-it fanfic?
Alfred: Next.
Steph: Last night I dreamt I was a waffle, but I was also the plate and the fork and myself eating the me-waffle.
Alfred: That's disturbing, next.
Cass: *stares*
Alfred: You are supposed to say something.
Cass: Something.
Alfred, sighing: Next.
Barbara: Hi, I'm Barbara. You must be Alfred, right? How are you liking the party?
Alfred, acting: I'm enjoying it very much, thank you.
Barbara: Okay, so you didn't notice me remotely disabling an army of robot cockroaches. Phew!
Alfred: We were so close. Next.
Harper: Can you believe it? Some asshole disabled my robo-roaches.
Alfred: For the last time, Miss Harper, no robotic insects at galas. Next.
Carrie: Hello, sir. Can I get you anything?
Alfred, acting: A glass of water would be nice.
Carrie: Sure thing. One cup of locally sourced water, coming right up.
Alfred: Never mind. Next.
Kate: Your daughter is hot.
Alfred: Wrong answer. Next.
Helena: Tell me everything you know about the Maroni family or so help me—
Alfred: Different script, Miss Helena. Please turn to page 67 for gala conversations.
Luke: What does it mean when someone you know sends you their fanfiction about yourself?
Alfred, rubbing his temples: Next, please.
Bette: Head's up!
Bette: *spikes a volleyball*
Alfred, catching it: Next.
Selina: Wanna see pictures of my cats?
Bruce: Wanna see pictures of my kids?
Alfred:
Alfred: I think we should start again from the top.
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drvscarlett · 6 days
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The Tortured Drivers' Department
— combining another one of my favorites. I'll be taking notes and writing fics about which TTPD song do I associate with the drivers ( + I will be including the retired ones). This is the main list and I'll be linking them when I finished writing them. Let me know if you wanna be tagged
Also give TTPD a listen. Its so beautiful and a masterpiece
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Fortnight
— i love you, its ruining my life (Lewis Hamilton x Mercedes!reader)
The Tortured Poets Department 
— At dinner you take my ring off my middle finger and put it on the one people put wedding rings on. And that's the closest I've come to my heart exploding (Pierre Gasly x ex!reader)
My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys 
— 'Cause he took me out of my box, stole my tortured heart left all these broken parts (Lando Norris x reader)
Down Bad
— Fuck it if I can't have him (Charles Leclerc x kpop idol!reader)
So Long, London
— You swore that you loved me, but where were the clues? (George Russell x secret girlfriend! reader)
But Daddy I Love Him
— "I'm having his baby" No, I'm not, but you should see your faces (Alex Albon x Horner!reader)
Fresh Out the Slammer
— Now, pretty baby, I'm runnin' back home to you (Esteban Ocon x childhood bestfriend!reader)
Florida!!! (feat. Florence + the Machine) 
—I need to forget, so take me to Florida (Logan Sargeant x heiress!reader)
Guilty as Sin?
—What if he's written "mine" on my upper thigh only in my mind? (Oscar Piastri x bestfriend!reader)
Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?
— I was tame, I was gentle till the circus life made me mean (Nico Rosberg x Lewis Hamilton)
I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)
— they shake their heads, saying, "God help her" when I tell 'em he's my man (Daniel Ricciardo x longtime girlfriend!reader)
loml
— Oh, what a valiant roar. What a bland goodbye. The coward claimed he was a lion (Max Verstappen x childhood sweetheart!reader)
I Can Do It With a Broken Heart 
— Lights, camera, bitch, smile (Zhou Guanyu x model!reader)
The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived
— And I'll forget you, but I'll never forgive (Yuki Tsunoda x Actress!reader)
The Alchemy
—'Cause the sign on your heart said it's still reserved for me (Kimi Räikkönen x assistant!reader)
Clara Bow
— This town is fake, but you're the real thing (Sebastian Vettel x Ferrari heir!reader)
The Black Dog
— I am someone who, until recent events you shared your secrets with (Mick Schumacher x driver!reader
imgonnagetyouback
— I'm an Aston Martin that you steered straight into the ditch (Fernando Alonso x wife!reader)
The Albatross
— She's the albatross, she is here to destroy you (Jenson Button x revenger!reader)
Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus
—So if I sell my apartment and you have some kids with an internet starlet. Will that make your memory fade from this scarlet maroon? (Carlos Sainz x Vasseur!reader)
How Did It End?
— The deflation of our dreaming leaving me bereft and reeling (Logan Sargeant x Oscar Piastri)
So High School
—You knew what you wanted, and, boy, you got her (Charles Leclerc x reader ft Max Verstappen x childhood friend!reader)
I Hate It Here
—I hate it here so I will go to secret gardens in my mind (Kimi Räikkönen x interviewer! reader)
thanK you aIMee
— And then she wrote headlines in the local paper laughing at each baby step I'd take (Mark Webber x reader)
I Look in People’s Windows
—What if your eyes looked up and met mine one more time (Sebastian Vettel x reader)
The Prophecy
—Don't want money, just someone who wants my company (Pierre Gasly x politician's daughter!reader)
Cassandra
—So they killed Cassandra first cause she feared the worst (Lewis Hamilton x wife!reader)
Peter
— Forgive me, Peter, please know that I tried to hold onto the days when you were mine (Lando Norris x reader)
The Bolter
— "Oh, we must stop meeting like this" (Max Verstappen x hollywood starlet!reader)
Robin
— You have no room in your dreams for regrets (Oscar Piastri x girlfriend!reader)
The Manuscript
—One last souvenir from my trip to your shores. Now and then I re-read the manuscript. But the story isn't mine anymore (Carlos Sainz x McLaren employee!reader)
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calmcoldevening · 3 months
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Slashers x child!reader [PLATONIC]
Characters: Thomas Hewitt, brothers Sinclair, Mark Hoffman
Tw: mention of murdering, violence, drinking
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Thomas Hewitt
• You came to the Hewitts almost as a baby, you were the child of one of the victims. Surprisingly, you were left behind. Or rather, Luda stood up for it, she couldn't let them kill such a baby. Besides, she was always ready to take a new child under her wing again if he needed it.
• Thomas was a little confused, he couldn't figure out if he liked you or not. In general, he always wanted a family and children, but he knew that he would not have it because of his appearance and lifestyle. And so you came into his life.
• At first, he will be very hesitant about spending time with you in principle. He's just afraid of breaking you with your fragile baby bones. Besides, Thomas is not sure how to react to your frequent screams and tantrums, it pisses him off a little.
• Over time, he will really get used to you. A man will hold you in his arms most of the time if he is not busy working in the basement. Thomas will hold you tightly to his chest, clutching the diapers you were wrapped in, and looking down at you with warmth and love.
• Even if you screamed a lot when you saw Thomas's face, you always calmed down. It warmed his soul very much.
• The only problem was the food, because you were obviously very small and had to be breastfeed. Fortunately, there was enough dry mix in that victim's bag for the first time. Then Hoyt had to drive around the city.
• Thomas was very protective of you, always watching over you and taking care of you. You literally didn't get off his hands, constantly clinging to his clothes and long hair. He didn't mind. A man often kissed you on the forehead, gently stroking your tiny cheeks with his big hand. He loved hugging you so much and he was glad that you liked it too. Thomas's hands were carefully dressing you and washing your fragile little body. He never hurt you, not in any way.
• Thomas made a baby cot for you, which was in his room. Although you often liked to sleep with him. At such moments, you would unsteadily stand on your baby legs and stretch out your arms in his direction. The man's heart sank. He gently took you out of the cradle and put you next to him, hugging you protectively. You cooed and smiled as you fell asleep in comfort.
• Thomas was very happy about your first steps. It was difficult and slow, but he patiently sat on the floor two meters away from you and waited, arms outstretched in an embrace for you. When you finally found some kind of balance, you walked slowly towards him, giggling happily. You hugged him tightly. The man almost cried, watching the formation of his baby.
• He was looking forward to your first words, hoping that you would actually talk, unlike him. At first it was a strange babble of children. Thomas was almost sure that you would call Luda mom, even though the thought of it hurt him. When you said the awkward 'Dada', he started crying. Thomas hugged you tightly to him, kissing your baby face and body. God, you were so sweet, so precious. He felt such a pleasant warmth in his chest when you called him daddy, your daddy. Thomas thought he would die of happiness on the spot. Now you were his little ray of light, his child.
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Brothers Sinclair
• You were the victim's child. Lester found you in the backseat of the car. He awkwardly picked you up and pulled you out of the car. He was the youngest brother in the family, so he understood absolutely nothing about children, he understood at most that what needed to be taken care of, for example, like a dog.
• Lester brought you to the Sinclair house. Vincent was in the workshop, and Bo was sitting on the couch, with his feet on a small table in front of the sofa, and enjoying drinking beer. The appearance of Lester, and even with a child, greatly strained him. Really, what should he do with such a baby? You didn't look more than five months old. Considering his childhood, Bo hated children, although he could take some care, after all, he participated in Lester's upbringing, one way or another. And it was still quite a big shock for him. There wasn't a single woman in town who could tell them what to do with you, the men were confused. When you woke up, you started screaming and crying. You were scared that your mom wasn't there. Rude men terrified you even more. I wanted to hide somewhere, but you couldn't do anything.
• The situation only improved when Vincent arrived. He was the most gentle and understanding of all the brothers. Vincent grabbed you out of Bo's rough hands with a little alarm, hugging you to him and stroking your head. Bo just rolled his eyes and went into the kitchen. You snuggled up to Vincent, feeling safe at last. You weren't crying anymore, but you were whimpering softly against his chest. You were scared and hungry. You clutched a man's clothes in your little fists, wanting to be comforted and cared for.
• Vincent, like the others, didn't know much about children. But unlike his brothers, Vincent was naturally quite sensitive and kind, he could not leave the child to these jerks. The man pressed you against his warm sweater, giving you peace of mind. He gently stroked your little body, checking for wounds or damage. Your diaper was full. Not the most pleasant part. Maybe you were really too scared. Vincent asked Lester to go back to that car and bring everything there that could be useful for the child. There was a whole bag of toys and baby food, as well as enough diapers and some clothes.
• Vincent immediately bathed you and gently changed your diaper and clothes. Then he fed you from a bottle. It was a little awkward, but he liked to see that you finally felt calmer. You were lying in his arms, making baby noises and greedily swallowing milk. Your eyes were red and swollen from crying. The man hugged you protectively, stroking your little tummy.
• In total, Vincent took care of you. He fed you, dressed you, and bathed you. Lester used to play with you a lot. Bo didn't pay much attention to you, he just went to the city to buy children's things.
• As you grew up, you started spending more time in Vincent's basement. You saw him without a mask and so gently grabbed his scarred cheeks with your soft baby hands, it made him cry. He now had a small cot in his workshop with lots of pillows and blankets. This is where you played while he was working. A man made you wax toys that you really liked. He even taught you how to sculpt wax yourself. Now you had your own little collection of wax ducks. You called Vincent Dad. When you did it the first time, he cried, hugging you tightly to him. Although Bo is sometimes very jealous of your brother, because Bo is just an uncle to you.
• You've become very friendly with their dog, Jesse. Jesse always protects you from the next visitors to the city.
• They tried to pick you up a couple of times. Once it was a married couple. The woman held you tightly in her arms, saying that these people in the city are monsters, and that she will become your mother and take care of you. You threw a tantrum asking Dad to come over. The couple almost ran out of town until Bo shot them in the back of the head. Vincent pulled you out of the dead woman's tight grip and held you close, stroking your hair. You cried and squeezed his neck, asking Dad not to leave you anymore.
• In general, you are a child who grew up in cruelty, but the Sinclairs themselves never raised a hand against you. You were cared for and loved. Bo especially loved giving you a lot of gifts. So you've grown up to be a mentally healthy child with them.
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Mark Hoffman
• You turned out to be the child of his dead sister. At first, it even hurt a man to look at you because you looked so damn much like your mother. But he understood the responsibility. Mark realized that you are the only thing he has left of his sister. Besides, you didn't have any relatives anymore, and the man didn't want to take you to the orphanage. So he took custody of you.
• It was difficult. Mark was already tired with his job, so taking care of the child only added to his stress. But he tried. For you. For his sister's sake.
• When you were still young enough, a man often left you alone at home, even though he understood that it was unsafe. At that moment, his depression reached its peak, and he simply did not see any other way out. He started drinking. The man spent almost every evening at the bar, getting drunk to unconsciousness. It was after midnight when he returned home. Mark came into the apartment, heading to his bedroom, and your face greeted him. Your chubby baby cheeks were red and wet with tears, but as soon as you saw Mark, a slight smile blossomed on your face. You were already standing freely in your cradle, so when the man entered the room, you desperately stretched out your arms to him, muttering an inarticulate 'dada'. It broke a man's heart. In an instant, the intoxication was gone, and his whole being was filled with a vile sense of guilt. You were afraid to be alone, afraid of being abandoned again, and he was so brazenly leaving you alone in an empty dark apartment. But Mark couldn't help himself, he was in pain too. And so it is almost every day.
• When you went to kindergarten, he often picked you up later than everyone else. Fortunately, your teacher was a good woman and spent time with you personally, playing together. You were a smart and funny kid, but you still had trouble speaking, you didn't speak. Perhaps the fact that your 'dad' never responded to your attempts to talk to him because of your abilities influenced you.
• One day Mark got off work a little early, hoping to pick you up. He was standing in the hallway in front of your kindergarten room, his hand on the door handle. He saw you laughing while playing with the tutor in the playroom. You threw your arms around her neck and joyfully shouted "Mommy!". It broke Mark's heart. He was such a bad father, such a bad guardian. You drove home in silence this evening. Already at home, you didn't understand why Mark was so sad. You tried to hug him or ask for his hands, but the man just looked away. When he put you to bed, he knelt in front of your bed. The man took your little palms in his hands, kissing them gently. Tears were streaming down his cheeks.
"She's not your mommy... I know I made a mistake, but she's not your mom. Please.. don't do that anymore. I'll get better. I'm really going to get better. I treated you badly, I understand, but.. But I can't help myself. I miss her too, your mom.. the real mom..."
• You didn't quite understand what he was saying, but you leaned closer and put your arms around his neck. Mark hugged you convulsively, pulling you tightly to him and burying his nose in your hair.
• It got a lot better after that. Mark tried to drink less and spend more time with you. He took you to the park, amusement park, cinema and cafe. Now he knew the names of the characters in your favorite cartoons and bought you toys with them. The man bought you a lot of sweets and just treated you gently.
• "I want a balloon... Daddy!" Mark looked down at you and a pleased smile spread across his face when you first called him that. His chest was filled with warmth. He found a reason to keep living.
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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 8 months
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Still wanting requests? I have a couple…
Can I get a idiots in love with Carmy x reader where he suddenly get jealous and possessive when you are working out front and a customer keeps touching you leg or back when you’re taking their order. (I was a server & bartender for 11 years and the audacity of the men who thought that this was okay, but we couldn’t tell them to stop because we were afraid of getting in trouble!!!)
How would Carmy react when he sees it, and after when he is kind of heated talking to you in the office and you tell him that’s that is something all women have to deal with on a daily bases. Everywhere. How would he react to this info?
Not under my watch
It's pretty late. Dinner service is almost over. Everyone's already had more than a couple of glasses of wine. Your feet are killing you. You just want to sit down but still, you keep that plastered smile on your face because the last thing you need is for the customers to notice your tired face.
And there's this one table that you tried to visit as rarely as possible. A couple of duchy-looking bikers. From the moment they stepped in, you knew they were up to something. Just the way their gazes followed every female in the restaurant said it all. A cold shiver ran down your back as you reached for the menus, walking towards them. In a perfect scenario, you would have gotten Richie to cover this but he had slipped out to drive Eva to her ballet class so it was just you.
"Hello, welcome to the Bear. Is there something I could get you two straight away?", you say in a chirpy voice. The two of them look at you like hawks. As if they were checking what part to bite into first. "How about we start with your name, baby girl", you already want to gag but keep up that same smile, "I don't think that's necessary, sir", "Oh, but how will we get your sweet cheeks here when we're in need for you?", the other says, leaning back to check your ass. "I'll let you look through the menu and will be back shortly to take your order", you say, turning to walk away. Stopping to pick up empty plates from the other tables. Saying goodbye to some of the customers. Thanking them for coming and wishing them a lovely evening. Yet all that time you could feel eyes watching you. Following your every move. And suddenly you get hyper-aware of how your shirt feels a bit too low cut and your breasts feel too outlined by the tight material. How the skirt feels too low cut. And you suddenly wonder if you lean across the table, does it show too much? But it's all the things you've never thought about. Nothing that bothered you before those two came along. The uniform is professional and the whole staff wears it. You try to shake it off. Glancing towards the clock. Richie should be back any minute now. He'll take over. You'll be fine. A thought about telling something to Carmen crosses your mind but you quickly chase that thought away. He's busy. And those two aren't worth his time.
A whistle catches your attention and you see one of them waving you over. You grit your teeth. Feeling like a dog called by an owner. "Ready to order?", you get your pen ready. Trying not to meet any of their eyes. "I'd like some with these tender-looking thighs", You feel his fingers reaching for the back of your leg and you quickly step back. Panic rises in your stomach. "Sir, I would ask you to...", you start, "You'll be begging by the time I'm done, doll. Not asking", he states. "Bend over why don't you", You feel another pair of hands on your back and you want to move away but you're so scared. Your whole body freezes. You grip the pan in your arms as you stare ahead.
And may all the holy spurts be with them. Because Carmen decided to look through the little window that leads to the front. A habit of his now that you've been working here. It's his way of calming himself in a way. Watching you smiling and chatting with the people always makes him feel at ease. He loves nothing more than watching you in your element. But it's also his way of making sure that you are well. This is Chicago after all. Too many dodgy people sneaking around. And his blood stopped pumping when he catches those two men groping you.
And, holy hell, is Carmen ready to raise hell. I don't even think there would be a question as to what he would do. Carmen's dropping the spoon into the pot and storming through the kitchen door. Because this is not acceptable. He snatches a couple of utensils as he goes. Ripping the hands away from your body. Slamming the rough stranger's palms to the table before two sets of forks make contact with their skin. "You fuckers will be lucky to walk out of here in one piece", he barks out. The room fills with cries of pain and swearing.
You feel someone else's hand on you once more, jumping slightly, only to be met with Richie. It's all a blur after that. Richie says something to Carmen. You feel him touching your face but you're kind of looking past him. It's all just a series of events. And then you end up in Carmen's office with him kneeling in front of you. "My love", he breathes out, carefully pushing a strand of your loose hair away. It killed him seeing you like this. His little sunshine. Absolute ray of sunshine now nothing more but a grey sky. Oh, how much Carmen wanted to go there and just beat the daylight out of these creeps.
"I'm okay", you mutter, reaching to squeeze his hand that has been lying on your thigh. "You should have come to grab me, love", he growls lightly you know that he's not mad at you. He's mad at the whole situation. It's frustrating to him that this shit is happening right under his nose. "Carm, it's fine. It's not the first time and...", but his wild eyes cut you off, "What do you... What do you mean not the first time?". His breaths are shallow now. You lean forward to cup his face, "It happened all the time in my last job. Hand on the back. Hand on the leg". Carmen is shaking his head, "I'll fucking find them all and", "And nothing, love, no one cares". But Carmen huffs, "I care. I care and this will never happen again. You come and tell me any time someone is looking suspicious to you", he's pulling you closer to him. Wrapping you up in his arms, "No one will touch you like that again. Not under my fucking watch".
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boxofbonesfic · 9 months
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Title: Brave [2 of ?]
Pairing: Orc!Steve x Reader
Summary: As you begin to acclimate to life in the pack, your new leader seems to take a keen interest in your ability to survive. 
Warnings: 18+ Only, Genre typical violence, Warlord Nomad AU, Dark Fantasy AU, Enemies to lovers, Eventual smut, References to past abuse
A/N: i really hope you guys enjoy this next piece! mind the warnings ❤️
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You run your tongue across your chapped lips before reaching for the skin of water hanging from a long strap across your shoulder. The liquid inside is over-warm from the sun hanging mercilessly overhead, but you are grateful for it still. 
Where are we even going?
The river had been days ago—three, perhaps four at your best estimation—and the pack had been pushing on ever since, riding out into the grass sea further than you had ever thought possible. When you had asked, your father had told you simply that there was nothing out there, his breath stinking of ale as he reminded you to keep your mind to your housework, else he would ensure you found out for yourself. And now, for all the fates cruel humor, you had found out anyway. 
You had been spared death at the river, but the same luck that had kept you breathing now also bound you to the blue-eyed-orc and his pack. You had tried twice already to sneak away in the darkness, only to find yourself practically nose to nose with your captor, his eyes bright even in the dark.
Dangerous out there in the dark, Sweetmeat, he’d said, turning you around with one huge hand on your shoulder, tapping the flat of his blade against your backside as your cheeks flamed with hot anger and embarrassment. If you’re looking to raise an army for vengeance, you should ride in daylight. Even now, your face heats with anger. You had no intention of riding to the capital to raise the alarm—even if you knew how to get there, you doubt anyone would care for the fate of a tiny village in the borderlands. 
You slip dangerously in the saddle, yelping as you grab for the reins, righting yourself. You had never ridden a horse before now, much preferring to watch the huge beasts from afar rather than subject yourself to them up close. The stallion beneath you seems to know it, tossing his head irritatedly as you pull back haphazardly. 
“I’m afraid the saddle is too big for you.” The voice startles you, and you almost slip down out of the saddle again as you whirl to look at its source. Mirthful blue eyes meet your own. “We shall have to find you a smaller one.” 
You glare at him, your mouth stubbornly shut. 
“Oh come now. Are you still angry about last night?” He makes no effort to hide his amusement. You keep your jaw locked, refusing to answer—which only serves to amuse him further. Finally, your ire loosens your tongue.
“You would have killed me three days ago,” you bite out through gritted teeth. “And left my corpse in the dirt.” 
“Aye,” he answers, cocking his head. “Yet I did not.” Somehow, this enrages you even more. 
“You hunted the others for sport—” You half choke on the words. “You ran them down like dogs.”
“What use is a lame horse, Sweetmeat?” He asks. “Or a dog that won’t hunt?” There is no derision in his words, only indifference. “I cannot ask my riders to carry that burden.”
“So you kill them.” 
“Aye.” You see reflected in his eyes the same cool apathy a wild dog might give a rabbit. “Would you ask a wolf to apologize for feeding its strongest cubs, Little One?” You bristle, but he continues before you can speak. “Perhaps because it is removed from you, you do not see it. But I have seen it. I have seen your great cities of men, and the bodies that line the ditches of their streets. There is death for them everywhere.” You want to deny the truth of his words, but they settle on your skin like oil. “Better a quick death by my steel than a slow one beneath the heel of the man you call King.”
He stops his horse, and you mirror him, watching the orc warily. 
“If you wish to return to it, you’ve my blessing to do so, Sweetmeat. May you go and die in whichever way seems best to you.” 
You are overcome with the urge to dig your heels into the stallion’s sides and take off, to cut through the swaying sea of grass like a clean blade—but you hesitate. 
Your life in the village had been one of little note and much misery; tending to your father as he sickened himself with either too much ale or for the want of it as the days ground on and on. You’d felt little sorrow at his passing, considering he’d blacked your eye only three days prior. There were, no doubt, several villagers that had escaped on horses of their own, racing back toward the mountain to warn others of the orc-pack roaming the borderlands. You suppose you could rejoin them—the same people who had watched as your father’s druken rages consumed him and done nothing to help you. 
Your skin prickles with distaste. 
“No?” He asks after a lengthy silence. “Then let us ride on.” 
You watch sullenly as he takes his place at the front of the group, the other riders falling into a loose line behind him. 
No one offers to help you as you struggle down from your horse when they break to make camp, and you drop unceremoniously to the ground. For the most part, the rest of the pack ignores you completely, regarding you with the same indifference one might pay a rock as they go about setting up their bedrolls and hobbling the horses. They dwarf you as you all line up to fill your water skins, and the one with chestnut hair—-the blue-eyed-one had called him Buck—narrows his eyes at you. 
“What’d you do to earn water today?” He sneers. “Get to the back. We’ll see if we have any left for you.” You dig your heels in gritting your teeth despite your fear. The protestation is there on your tongue, but before you can voice it, someone else speaks instead. 
“Give her the water, Bucky.” The blue-eyed-orc rests a hand on his shoulder. 
“Steve, she will do nothing but slow us down and rob us of our food, our water—”
“Calm, Bucky.” He holds up a hand. “The human will hunt tomorrow, and tomorrow she will earn it. Tonight, give her the water.” For a moment there is tension between them, a charged current you can’t see, but it soon breaks. Reluctantly, Bucky fills your water skin, shoving it into your hands with a grimace. 
“It was fine to give her Roth’s horse—he fell, he’s got no need for it now,” Bucky spits irritatedly. “But Tarrath’s a fortnight’s ride from here. She’s going to need to earn her water.” He frowns at you. “Like the rest of us.” Steve nods his understanding. 
“Aye. She will. Consider it half my portion.”
Angrily, you shuffle back over to your horse and begin unstrapping your bed-roll from its back. Nothing has been said outright, but you sleep away from the others, setting your roll up at the edge of camp. You know you aren’t welcome. You know you shouldn’t care at all for your usefulness, but you aren’t sure you’d fare any better wandering the grass sea alone. Your horse—Roth’s horse—stares down at you judgmentally while you wind the length of rope around his front legs, and you frown deeper. 
“Even the blasted horse,” you mutter, kicking aside a few loose rocks as you lay down the roll beside him. You don’t know how to hunt—it wasn’t as if your father had taught you, and you doubt he had the knowledge to do so in the first place. There is large bow strapped to the saddle, thus far untouched by you, and gently you undo the bindings. It is heavier than it looks, and you hold it aloft clumsily, the string biting hard into your fingers as you struggle to draw it back. 
“You won’t catch anything like that.” 
You don’t turn to look at him. 
“You didn’t have to give me your water. Steve.” He chuckles at the sound of his name on your lips. 
“I won’t be doing it again, Sweetmeat. So you’d better learn how to use that thing.” This time you do turn. He is closer than you anticipated, and you squeak with surprise as he plucks the bow from your hands with ease. “Hold it up, like this.” He draws the string back, the muscles rippling across his bare chest. “This is the sight, here, this notch.” He runs his thumb over the place where the arrow head will sit. “Come.” 
When you don’t move, he grips your hands firmly, winding them around the bow. 
“Like this, put your hand here.” His hand curls over yours, covering it completely. You’re practically trembling when he pulls away, your palms sweaty against the lacquered wood. “One last piece of advice, Sweetmeat.” 
“What?”
“Don’t miss.” 
to be continued
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aspoetssay · 1 year
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They bring home an animal and surprise their SO with it - what are bringing home? Author’s choice for what characters you want to work with. I just think it sounds fun. You just König is bringing home something tiny and fluffy.
WHAT ANIMALS WOULD THEY BRING YOU? (könig, ghost, valeria, soap x gn!reader)
thank you so much for this adorable request—it was so fun to write it!
KÖNIG
And there he was, standing near the door frame, holding something so soft, fluffy and tiny in his muscular arms. Now you couldn’t really figure out if the animal was actually that small since he was held by that giant.
You rose from your bed instantly and König, with the widest smile on his face you have ever seen, came closer to you, revealing a small bunny cuddled up in his arms. It was light brown, small and horribly cute. Its huge ears were hanging around its small face, the cute nose slightly twitching.
Handing the bunny to you, holding it firmly by the tummy and supporting its back legs, he started to explain himself: “I know we didn’t agree on having one, but he was just outside our house and it’s cold—“
You two didn’t plan to adopt a pet because you two didn’t agree on what to take. If it was up to König, that little fool would adopt the whole shelter and now, that wasn’t a bad idea, but he was also the one the most away from home. You possibly couldn’t deal with that many pets.
You took the soft little creature in your hands and you felt tearing up—embarrassing, but the cuteness was killing you. The fur was so soft that you wanted to nuzzle your nose into it and just rest like this. The bunny didn’t seem to be afraid, but it was looking around at the surroundings.
“What do you think of naming it?” You asked instead, showing that you were fine with keeping the adorable little fluff in your hands.
König tried to conceal his happiness, so he sat down beside you and sightly shrugged:
“König Junior.”
Giving the look to your beloved, you were sometimes taken back by his choices. “Absolutely not.”
“I found him—“
“The name sucks. And it’s somehow narcissistic…”
“First of all, how dare you—“
“I think it should be called Bun or BunBun.”
The man slightly squinted his eyes, slightly shaking his head: “And that’s a good name for a bunny? Oh mein Gott…”
SIMON “GHOST” RILEY
You were running out of the bedroom as soon as you heard the front door opening—Simon was home. After months.
The sight of him made your heart warm up. You never really knew when he was getting back—the dates were getting pushed and pulled in weird ways and you learnt to just wait patiently and hope for the best.
But this time it wasn’t just Simon. A small German Shepherd dog was beside him—it wasn’t a puppy, still young, not the size of a grown dog, but still with a childish skinny face and long legs.
The dog was anxiously sniffing the corridor, staying close to Simon. He didn’t even have to tell you what happened as it was clear already - he found it on the battlefield and knowing how much Simon loves dogs, he couldn’t abandon it.
“Hi,” you smiled, welcoming your partner into a warm hug, and pulling him even closer. You always tended to do that—you were touch-deprived and it has been too long. But now, you had to pull back earlier and gently move down, extending your hand at the dog in a soft manner.
The back legs of the dog were bandaged and there was a nasty wound on the side of its tummy where the fur was shaved off, the wound already healing. The dog sniffed your arm and gently poked it with his moist nose, making you smile. You let yourself gently pet his head, scratching his ears and soon, the dog was cuddling into you.
“Found him in the field. Poor guy was left after an explosion. Took him to the vet—bit limping, but he’ll be fine in no time.” Simon explained, his heart warming up at the view in front of him—you gently scratching the dog’s tummy.
“How did you name him?”
Simon slightly gulped—he sucked at those things. Moving down, he gently rubbed the dog's head, the dog playfully running around him and nuzzling his nose into his palm. “M’bad at these things… So Riley.”
You hummed and slightly tilted your head: “It fits him.”
“Yeah?” Simon didn’t expect your approval.
Looking away from the dog at your beloved, you smiled, leaning in and kissing his cheek: “Yeah. And I hope Riley will give you a reason to come back home more often. I see I’m not fairly enough.”
Standing up, you gave him a playful hurt look as you went into the kitchen to get some bowl and pour some water for Riley and make some tea for the dad Riley. In the corridor, you overheard him chuckle, his footsteps growing closer to you, the dog following.
“Already jealous of the dog, aren’t we, love?”
VALERIA GARZA
There was a cat in your lover's arms and you couldn't help but raise your eyebrows in pure surprise. You haven't seen Valeria in quite some time, but that was common for her. One morning you would wake up with a note on your pillow that she'll be back and has some work to do.
You didn't know where to look actually—at your perfect-looking partner, who managed to look extraordinary no matter which time of the day it was. Or should you look at the cat she was holding in her hands—
"I know it's been too long," she already tried to explain so you wouldn't give her the much-deserved silent treatment. "And I know how much you like cuddles, so..." She extended the cat towards you and you took the fluffy cat in your arms.
It was just a simple cat - not a fancy breed or anything. It wasn't small - Valeria probably stopped at the animal shelter and the thought of Valeria there made you chuckle. The cat was completely black, green eyes shining with pure curiosity as it sniffed you. But as soon as you started to pet its little head, the lulling purring tugged the corner of your lips up.
"So what, am I supposed to accept this cat as an exchange?" You gave her a look, slightly squinting your eyes. "Are you leaving me?"
You tended to be a little bit over-dramatic and Valeria rolled her eyes at you but took your mood swings as a champ. Well, mostly because she deserved your anger and then a sudden need to devour a whole-ass pizza.
"Leave you?" The bossy tone was overheard in her words. She gently raised one eyebrow up, stepping closer to you, placing her hands on your arms, leaving shivers where she touched.
You were weak when she touched you. She had too much power over you.
"You were gone for two months, Valeria." You reminded.
"I got you a cat," she tried to reason.
"Yeah, keep up with that pace and this house will be stuffed with cats."
Valeria sighed, but a small smile appeared on her lips—God, how much she enjoyed your little bickering. "Por Dios... Give me a kiss already instead of grumbling..."
And you couldn't help but comply, happy to have Valeria back home and the small fluff you soon decided to call Alejandro just to piss off her more. But then with a common agreement, the cat was called Alex.
Even if you still call the cat Alejandro when Valeria is gone.
JOHN "SOAP" MACTAVISH
You wanted to smack that smug Scottish man across his handsome face because he just brought you an Eastern Box Turtle. Not that the turtle wasn't cute or that you didn’t want to have a pet. But that smug bastard just said why he bought a turtle.
"You remind me of it - I got it for ya."
"John..." You inhaled, looking at the unmoving turtle in his palms. "Did you just compare me with a turtle?"
"In good ways only," he defended his good cause.
Exhaling a bit too loud, you looked at the turtle that was still quite small, but it will grow a bit more in years. "Yeah? What good qualities? They are slow, look like lizards with a shield on..."
Soap quickly covered the turtle's head with his palm and slightly moved it away: "Hey! He can hear you!"
"It's his classification—where the fuck did you even get it?"
Soap placed the turtle on your lap and you just froze slightly - it wasn't as if you could pet him, but it was quite pretty.
"Said you wanted a pet - so I got ye a pet." The man was such a fool sometimes, but you couldn't be mad at him. There wasn't a reason to be mad. He always tried too hard to please you and his efforts were always so nice. That's why you gently hit his shoulder and shook your head:
"You're an idiot, MacTavish."
"Your idiot."
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pinievsev · 5 months
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FEAR
(as always requests are open and masterlist is pinned)
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Pyeon sang-wook x GN! reader
Warnings: mentions of blood and wounds, mentions of death, a tiny kiss at the end.
Notes: thanks to my pooks @il-i-sam for helping me edit this, I wrote this at school and it was really rushed and had grammatical mistakes! You're amazing MWAH MWAH MWAH!
© The-Lemon-Boy on Tumblr
Pyeon sang-wook was always a man of few words and actions. He always believed relationships to be unimportant. Especially now.
Sometimes, he didn't want friendships either. He liked being alone, at least most of the time.
There had been times when he'd thought of getting up and joining the others during "dinner" but he was afraid. Afraid of what they saw him as. A monster, a murderer.
So even if he actually wanted a friendship (or more), he didn't have anywhere to start. Well, that's not entirely true. But again, he was afraid. Of what? He wasn't sure either.
But he knew that you'd be his starting point. Though he didn't know how long he had, since he never showed any signs of accepting your silent invitation to a friendship. You'd been there for him since he joined the group, everyone was afraid of him, made remarks about his scars.
But you didn't. You never said anything bad about him, he even heard you defend him once. You'd defended him multiple times. He just happened to have heard you once.
..
"Oh my god... I can't stand seeing his face. It looks so scary... Who knows what it's from?" The lady with the dog had said.
He'd heard her, but just as he was about to get up and leave, he heard you too.
"With all due respect. You don't know what it's from. And you shouldn't judge. You're a full grown adult woman. And yet you still make assumptions based on someone's appearance." It was what you had said to her.
He left after hearing that. A small smile formed on his face, which he forced down after realising.
..
Right now it was dinner time, he had stopped eating with everyone a while ago. He didn't mind not eating, but you did. You'd always get him a plate and find him, wherever he was.
He was sitting in the grave room, staring at the ground, when you walked in. You walked over and kneeled down in front of him, handing him his food. You had learned not to try to start a conversation, he wasn't much of a talker. You noticed.
You sat by him, leaving enough space for him to be comfortable. And started to eat.
Imagine your surprise when you heard his voice. Directed towards you. "Why don't you hate me? Like everyone else. I don't need pity."
You shook your head and moved closer. "I don't pity you. I know you can handle yourself. I just cannot stand seeing people be treated in a way they don't deserve. And you don't deserve to be seen as a scary murderer. Even if you don't think that."
He raised a brow at your words, still not looking at you. "I murdered someone. With a hammer right in front of you." He pointed out the obvious.
You turned fully towards him, placing your food down and sitting crisscross. "Most people here are scared of you because they believe the man you killed was innocent."
Now interested in where this was going, he turned his upper body to face you. "And you don't?" He questioned.
"I've lived here since I was little. I remember when he moved in, when my mum sent me to bring him a cake as a welcome gift, and when I found his door open and walked inside that room..." You hoped he'd understand; you hoped he'd seen the room, and you didn't have to explain.
And based on his reaction, he did. His eyes widened—the most obvious showcase of emotions you've ever seen from him.
"I've never run out of a room faster in my life." You chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. But he just shook his head.
He was glad someone understood him. You stood up. Stretching. "You should eat." You pointed out before going towards the door, but before you exited, you turned back. "Oh, and if you ever need anyone to talk to, it shouldn't be too hard to find me."
..
About a week passed, and he did talk to you almost every day. Even though they were just general chats, it felt good for him to be able to talk freely to someone again.
Right now, you sat there, talking about what you did before this whole ordeal.
Well, more like him hearing you talk. But he didn't mind; he loved listening to your stories.
But your talking was cut short by a terrible screech coming from the hall, accompanied by Su Yeong's screaming.
Immediately, you stood up and rushed over, seeing Mr. Han shooting at the spider like monster that was chasing the young girl. You rushed and picked her up. "Come on!"
You shouted to Mr. Han, who followed you as fast as he could in his wheelchair.
You ran down a ramp, but Mr. Han's wheelchair got stuck, and he fell off of it. You placed Su-Yeong down and told her to go into the room where you previously were with Sang-Wook.
She wanted to help Mr. Han, but you assured her that you'd help him, and she rushed off into the room. You heard her crying to Sang-Wook. Asking for his help.
You spun around on your heel and bent down, helping Mr. Han back into his wheelchair. You ushered him inside the room as well. As soon as he entered the room, the monster quickly jumped on you, stabbing one of its legs into your torso.
You screamed out in pain, but you fought back as much as you could. But the pain was unbearable. You were about to pass out, and the last thing you saw was Cha Hyun-Soo coming to your rescue, and you heard Su-Yeong screaming, everyone else gasping, and Sang-Wook calling out to you. Then it all went black.
Once you regained consciousness, you saw Yu-ri sitting next to you, patching you up.
"Oh, you're up. How are you feeling?" She asked as she finished up her work on your wound.
"Could be better. What happened?" She patted your shoulder, told you about how Hyun-Soo had killed the monster, and assured you that everyone was safe.
You let out a sigh of relief, closing your eyes for a moment before opening them again. But you were met with a different face.
Sang-wook was sitting in Yu-ri's place, and you heard the door close. He looked genuinely worried, which made you smile and sit up. With his help, you managed to rest your back on the wall behind you.
"What were you thinking, huh? You could've died." He didn't sound angry at all. You simply placed a hand on his arm and answered.
"I could have, yes. But I would've been fine with it as long as Su-Yeong and Mr. Han didn't." He groaned at your response and sat next to you on the makeshift bed. Placing his hands on either side of you.
"You might have been okay with it. But I wouldn't." You went to speak, but he hushed you. "Listen to me. Never do something that stupid again."
You smirked and leaned closer. "And why do you care?" He scowled at you slightly. And without a verbal answer, he placed his lips on yours.
You were taken aback; you didn't expect it at all. But you weren't complaining. You've been spending a lot of time together. You would be lying if you said you hadn't developed some kind of feeling for the man.
"Is that a good enough reason for me to care?" He asked. He didn't have his usual cold and emotionless demeanour this time. He looked genuinely concerned, worried, and happy at the same time.
"It is." You said, and hugged the man.
This was an outcome you wouldn't have expected at all. Not the bad kind, though.
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justagalwhowrites · 3 months
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Halcyon - Ch. 5: I've Never Been a Bad Influence a Day in My Life
You and Joel get closer as you put together your lists. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through Ch. 4, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.
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Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader
Warnings: Masturbation, fantasy about P in V sex. Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI
Length: 5K
AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
October, 2022
“Why can’t I add to your list?” You pouted a little, can of hard seltzer in your hand as your float drifted to the middle of Joel’s pool. 
“Because you’re gonna just use that power for evil, not good,” Joel replied. 
“Would not!” You shoved off the side of the pool with your foot, floating back toward the middle of the water. 
“Am I allowed to put shit on your list?” He asked, sitting on the edge of the pool, his feet in the water and a beer in his hand. 
You scoffed. 
“Absolutely not.” 
“Well, there you go,” he shrugged. “Goes both ways.” 
“You’d be a dick about it!” You kicked the water in his direction but the spray of it fell short and you watched him try to not laugh. “You’d put things on there like ‘buy Joel beer for the rest of his life’ or ‘speak in a bad British accent for a week…’”
“Can you do a good British accent?” He asked, brows raised. 
“That is beside the point.” 
“What are you gonna add to my list, hm?” There was a teasing edge in his voice as he took a sip of beer. “Get a new wardrobe? Get Sarah a dog?” 
“OK, both of those are good additions,” you said, defensive. “But no, not what I was thinking.” 
“Then what, Goldie?” 
“Put in a hot tub,” you said, chin raised. 
He barked a laugh. 
“A hot tub?” 
“A hot tub,” you nodded. “How can I come over to your house and float in the water if it’s too cold to go in the pool? Which it will be in like… a few weeks. You need a hot tub.” 
“It’s already too cold,” he said. “That water’s below 70 degrees, couldn’t pay me to get in there now. Lucky I’m in this far as it is.” 
“See?” You said. “Hot tub.” 
“You’re ridiculous,” he shook his head. 
“If your list is shitty can I add to it?” 
“If you actually think my list is shitty we can discuss it,” he said. Your float drifted close to him and you were afraid, for a moment, that he was going to splash you. Instead, he just pushed the edge of it with his foot, sending you drifting back toward the middle of the water. “Still down to compare tomorrow night?” 
“Think so,” you said, taking a sip of your seltzer. “As long as you don’t mock me relentlessly for it.” 
“When do I not mock you relentlessly?” 
“Excellent point,” you said. “I should get better friends.” 
“Probably so.” 
“At least now you come with Sarah,” you sighed dramatically. “So I guess I’ll keep bugging you…” 
“God, you two are gonna kill me,” he said, trying to look serious but a hint of a smile on his lips. “Worst idea I ever had, lettin’ you two get to know each other…” 
You giggled a little at that. You and Sarah had become thick as thieves since you and Joel had reconnected now two weeks ago.
It was hard to believe that he’d only been back in your life less than a month. But then, it was hard to believe he’d ever been out of your life at all. You’d only gone a few days without seeing him since that night at the bar and, on those days, the two of you were almost constantly texting. It was the most natural thing in the world, having your life fall into step alongside Joel’s. It reminded you so much of high school even though you were in your 30s now, your lives moving in parallel until they collided at the end of the day and you came over for dinner or went and cheered on Sarah at her soccer game or Joel showed up at your door with beer. Even after all this time, he just knew you and you just knew him. You could read his posture as easily as a book, instantly knowing the kind of day he had by the way he opened the door or flopped on your couch. He seemed to be able to peer inside your mind on command, just a raised eyebrow or a sigh telling him everything he needed to know about how you were feeling and how to make it better. 
There was one day where you hadn’t intended to see him at all but it’d turned shitty and he just somehow picked up on it from the tone of your texts. New paperwork had come over from Gale’s attorney and you resigned yourself to spending the evening picking over the bones of your marriage with a bottle of wine and a wilted salad - because you definitely didn’t have the emotional energy to go by the grocery store - when Joel texted. It was a meme that you responded to with just an lol before going back to the paperwork. He FaceTimed just 30 seconds later and you frowned, answering it. 
“Hi?” You said brows raised. 
He nodded sagely. 
“What I thought,” he said. “You look like shit.” 
“Gee thanks.” 
He rolled his eyes. 
“For you you look like shit. What’s wrong.” 
You narrowed your eyes and he laughed. 
“What?” He asked
“How can you just tell?” You replied. “It’s weird.” 
“Come over,” he said instead of answering. He flipped his camera around and Sarah made a face, sticking her tongue out, her hair in two springy buns on the top of her head. 
You frowned. 
“Where are you?”
He turned the camera back around.
“Picking up pizza,” he said. “I’ll grab an extra cheese bread, come over.” 
“I’ve been drinking…” 
“We’ll pick you up,” he said. “Come over.” 
“Please?” Sarah jumped to try to get in the frame and Joel laughed, tilting the camera so she was visible. “It’ll be fun! OH! Spend the night! Come sleep over again, please?” 
Joel tilted the camera so he was back in the frame. 
“You really wanna disappoint my kid?” He asked. “C’mon.” 
“Yeah!” Sarah said, bouncing just out of frame again, just a bit of her bun appearing in the bottom corner as she jumped. “Don’t let down the kid, that’s just shitty.” 
“Hey,” Joel said but you could tell he was trying not to smile. She stopped bouncing. “Language.” 
“Sorry.” 
He turned his attention back to you. 
“Be there in 10,” he said. “Can’t let you just sit and wallow. Need pizza for that.” 
He and Sarah picked you up and Sarah insisted on cranking Taylor Swift in the car, signing Look What You Made Me Do into her water bottle in the back seat while you balanced warm pizza boxes on your lap, trying not to laugh when you and Joel exchanged glances at red lights. 
At dinner, you pulled a pepperoni off your slice of pizza and stuck it on the end of your nose and held very serious eye contact with Joel and Sarah as they spoke, nodding along carefully so as to not disturb the topping dangling from your face. Sarah tried very hard not to laugh and did a pretty good job of it until you made a face at her from across the table when Joel’s back was turned and she cackled, laughing so hard she almost knocked over her soda can.
“You bein’ a bad influence on my kid?” He asked when he handed you the paper towel you’d requested.
“Joel,” you said, deathly serious, pepperoni slice still on the tip of your nose. “I’ve never been a bad influence a day in my life.” 
 After dinner, as Joel did the dishes, you sat on the couch with Sarah and listened as she told you about one of her friends at school who hadn’t been as kind lately. You nodded along until Sarah seemed to run out of steam, slumping down against the cushion with a slightly tired look on her face. 
“Well,” you said. “Have you told her that you’ve been feeling hurt by how she’s been treating you lately?” 
She scrunched her face a little. 
“No,” she said. “But I thought that’d be pretty obvious…” 
You shrugged. 
“Sometimes it’s not. She may not even know she’s doing it. If I were you, I’d tell her that you’ve been feeling hurt and ask if she’s doing OK because it sounds like this is a change for her. If she’s hurting you that might be because her feelings are getting hurt somewhere else.” 
“I hadn’t thought of that,” she nodded a little. “That’s a good idea.”
“I do have those occasionally,” you said and she smiled a little at you. 
The three of you watched part of a movie before Sarah went to get ready for bed and you eavesdropped from the living room as Joel read to her in her room, the door opened just enough to hear when his voice changed with the characters. 
“Peeta sighs,” Joel said like Joel before his voice shifted to something that sounded more boyish but still strong and deep, almost what you remembered from when you first met him. You smiled. “'Well, there is this one girl. I’ve had a crush on her ever since I can remember. But I’m pretty sure she didn’t know I was alive until the reaping…’”
Joel flopped next to you on the couch when he was done and you held out your glass of wine. He took it, taking a big sip before handing it back. 
“You look tired,” you said, holding the glass. 
He shrugged. 
“No days off from this whole dad thing. Don’t really want a day off but still… get tired after a bit.” He looked over at you and smiled a little. “Thanks for talking with her. Think she needs someone like you around.” 
“Oh, someone who managed to tank her relationship and got stuck starting over in her 30s?” You asked. “That kind of someone?” 
He rolled his eyes. 
“A woman…” 
“Oh, is that all?”
He glared at you. 
“A woman,” he said again. “But one who’s lived some life, knows how to navigate the hard shit. One who’s willing to listen to her problems. She’s got me and Tommy for that but can’t help but feel like I’ve let her down by not giving her some kind of… I don’t fuckin’ know, feminine influence.” 
“Ahh yes, the mysterious feminine,” you nodded sagely. Joel picked up a pillow and smacked you in the stomach with it, making you laugh as you caught it and held it to yourself. “Joel, you’re doing great with her.” 
“Yeah?” He asked, serious now. 
“Yeah,” you said, serious, too. “You really are. She’s so lucky to have you, Joel. You have no idea.” 
“I’m lucky to have her,” he said, looking toward Sarah’s room for a moment before turning back to you. “So, you have the kind of bad day that you want to talk about it or the kind of bad day that you want to get fucked up about it?” 
“The latter.” 
“Then chug that wine,” he said, shoving himself off the couch. “And maybe change into your pajamas, I’m getting the tequila.” 
You swapped numbers with Sarah at breakfast the next day. You and Joel were both hung over and trying to pretend like you hadn’t been up until 2:30 on a work night getting hammered until you passed out in a heap on his couch only to be roused by a groggy Sarah at 7 in the morning. 
She’d taken to texting you then, sometimes just silly selfies, sometimes memes you didn’t really get, sometimes with questions about friends at school. You were pretty sure your heart melted the first time she called you Aunt Goldie, a sense of belonging wrapping around you that you’d never really known before. 
“We still on for tomorrow?” Joel asked, eyes following the slow, lazy path your float was making across his pool. “Make a night out of this whole project, kick things off right.” 
“Hell yeah,” you said, drifting back to Joel. He didn’t shove you back out to the water this time. “Did I tell you I’m seeing Anna for lunch? I cannot just go into that blind, I’ll need an out…” 
“She’s doin’ that well, huh?” Joel asked. 
“I don’t know,” you sighed. “She’s supposedly sticking with her program but… I feel like I should be a better sister and try to check in more but then it just feels like babysitting and that doesn’t seem right, either.” 
“At a certain point, she’s gotta do it on her own,” Joel said. “You’re her sister, not her mom.” 
“I know,” you nodded. “But I feel like I should have checked in on her more after our mom died. She was a teenager and I just left her alone…” 
“You were 20 years old,” Joel said gently. “Not like you were equipped for that shit.” 
You shrugged and took another drink. 
“Hey,” he said, nudging your float gently, just enough to make you look up at him. “Don’t be hard on yourself for that. You were handed a shit situation and you did what you could with it. Trust me, I know.” 
“Yeah?” 
“Yeah,” he nodded. “Ended up in a similar boat with Tommy. Spent years - literal years - bailing his ass out of jail and begging him to get his shit together. Eventually he did a stint in the army and got it figured out. At least a bit. She’ll get there. But it’s not your job to get her there.” 
“Yeah,” you sighed. “You’re probably right.” 
“Who, me?” He asked, mocking. “Right? Never thought I’d see the day…” 
“Shove it,” you splashed at him, the water dripping down his face and soaking his t-shirt. You snorted as you watched him fight the urge to laugh. 
“Gonna pay for that,” he said, setting his beer down on the side of the pool and grabbing your float as you tried to paddle away. 
“No!” You shrieked and laughed, shoving your seltzer into the cupholder as more of you ended up in the cold pool water than you really wanted in your rush to escape. 
“You started it!” Joel was leaning precariously over the water now, trying to splash you again while keeping you from retreating. “Shoulda just kept those little hands to yourself…” 
“They’re not little!” 
He yanked your float back toward the side of the pool and nodded down at one of your hands.
“Freakishly small…” 
“Yours are just freakishly big you mutant!” You grabbed a fistful of his shirt and watched as he realized a second too late what was about to happen. 
“Oh shit,” his eyes went wide and you laughed in victory before you pulled him all the way into the pool, jeans and all. He brought you down as he went, the float capsizing and sending you and your mostly empty drink can into the cold water with a sharp yelp. 
You went under, the chlorine stinging your eyes as you twisted and tried to right yourself below the water. You and Joel surfaced at the same time, not even a foot apart and gasping for breath, laughing as you tried to brush your soaked hair back from your face. 
“It’s so cold!” You shivered and splashed at him before crossing your arms tightly over yourself. 
“Why are you complainin’ to me?” He shivered back. “You’re the one who wanted to be in the damn pool…” 
“In the floatie!” You said. “I was mostly dry until you got involved!” 
“Got justice you mean,” he said, reaching for your can and pulling it out of the water, dumping it out before setting it on the side of the pool. “You’re the one who put us in here…” 
“You’re the one who was being mean,” you said, reaching out for him and pressing your cold fingers to his chest, the heat of him still apparent even in the water. You sighed contentedly. “That’s better…” 
“Jesus, what are you, ice?” He griped, tugging you against him with a little yelp. “Gonna fuckin’ freeze to death if you’re not careful… ridiculous…” 
You giggled once but pressed yourself closer to him, soaking up his heat and pressing your cold fingers to his exposed skin. 
“OK, you could be less mean about it,” he said, pulling back from you just enough to scowl down at you. “Frozen fuckin’ hands…” 
You laughed and realized, very suddenly, how close you were to him. You weren’t sure the last time you’d been quite this close to him, the last time you could feel every line of him through his clothes, the last time his mouth had been that close to your own. Your heart sped up. His eyes searched yours and you could feel his breath on your skin and suddenly, you weren’t close enough to him. Not close enough at all. 
“Dad?” Sarah’s groggy voice called from the sliding glass door, making you jump, both of your heads turning toward her. Her face was scrunched and a curl had broken free of its braid, sticking straight out from the side of her head. “Is everything OK?” 
“Course it is, baby girl,” Joel frowned. “Why wouldn’t it be? What are you doin’ out of bed?”  
“You’re being loud,” she groaned. “You’re never loud.”  
“M’sorry kiddo,” Joel said, separating from you and working his way to the edge of the pool, pulling himself out of the water and dripping on the stone edge. “Gimme just a second to get Goldie out of the water before she freezes to death and dry her off, I’ll come tuck you in again in just a minute…” 
“Can I get another chapter?” She said it fast, the words all strung together, her eyes big. “Please? They just got into the arena and…” 
“We’ll see,” he said. “But only because it’s Friday and you’re sleeping over at Emma’s tomorrow so you won’t get one then. Inside, go on.” 
He watched her go and then went to the lounge chair at the side of the pool, getting the only towel he’d brought outside and holding it away from his body, spread open wide. 
“Hurry up, before I change my mind,” he said. 
“Such a gentleman,” you said, trying not to let your teeth chatter and trying to shove the ache that was still growing all hollow and wanting inside you down deep. You got out of the water and he wrapped you tightly in the towel, his arms going tightly around you. 
“Not really,” he said, pulling you back against his broad chest and squeezing you so the water from him soaked into the towel before he shook his shaggy curls over you so drops of water got all over your face as you laughed. “There, cured you of THAT notion…” 
“Thanks so much,” you said wryly as he released you. You turned to face him as he ran his fingers through his soaked hair and his shirt pulled up just enough that you caught a glimpse of the smooth flesh around his hips and you found yourself drifting closer to him again before you stopped yourself. Joel put his arms down and seemed to notice exactly where you were, just looking at you for a moment before he cleared his throat awkwardly. 
“I should go tuck Sarah back in,” he said. “Get into something dry so I don’t get her all soaked…” 
“Right,” you said, stepping back from him. “Sorry we woke your kid up because you just couldn’t leave well enough alone…” 
“I will throw your ass back in that pool,” he said, going to open the door for you. “Don’t try me.” 
“Oh don’t worry Miller,” you teased. “I know just what you’re capable of.” 
He started toward the stairs, a little trail of water in his wake as he went, and you watched the pull of the wet fabric of his shirt over his shoulders. You swallowed, hard.
“I’m just going to head out,” you said and he stopped, turning to frown at you. 
“You sure?” 
“Yeah,” you said. “Really should go wash this chlorine out of my hair. But see you tomorrow?” 
“With the list?” Joel asked. 
“With the list,” you answered. 
“Lookin’ forward to it,” he said, turning to go up the stairs again before looking back over his shoulder. “Drive safe, Goldie.” 
He didn’t wait for a response, just heading for his room. 
Your heart was still racing. 
You left the towel draped over the banister and just pulled on the oversized t-shirt you’d put in your bag before going to your car. 
You tried not to think about Joel as you drove home. 
It didn’t do you any good to think about him that way. It was Joel. He didn’t see you that way, drifting in that direction was what had ruined things so many years before. You’d just gotten him back, things were so good again, you felt like you belonged again, you couldn’t fuck that up, not because you’d never been able to move past a school girl crush. 
But you wanted to kiss him. Fuck, you wanted to kiss him. 
You tried not to think about kissing him. You tried not to think about what happened after the last time you’d kissed him. How quickly everything had dissolved, how you’d gone from picturing a future with Joel - a different one than you’d held in your mind outside of fantasy before - to running as far and as fast as you could in a matter of hours. 
It’s Goldie, he’d said then. It’s the worst thing that could happen, I wish it was anybody else…
You flinched at the memory, shoving it away. No, you didn’t think about that, not when you could help it. Just like you didn’t think about the way Joel’s lips felt against your skin, how his fingers - warm and think - had traced over you, how he made you feel so clearly seen and adored in a way that no one else had before, in a way your husband had never really seemed to. How he still made you feel that way. 
“Fuck,” you muttered to yourself as you parked, dropping your head to your steering wheel with a groan before you went in your house, closing your car door with a little too much force. 
You showered and forced yourself to keep your hands away from your aching slit. You were not going to fuck yourself in your bathroom to the idea of sleeping with your best friend. You weren’t. You weren’t a teenager anymore and you weren’t going to act like one. You were better than this.
Your hair was still damp when you gave up on getting any writing or grading done and went to bed, an almost frustrating, throbbing ache between your thighs. You stared at the ceiling in the dark for a while before you all but threw the covers off and rifled through your nightstand for the discreet little pink vibrator you’d bought years ago when you’d first figured out that, while your husband had many talents, making you come wasn’t one of them. 
You went to your usual fallback for porn but didn’t find anything that was really working for you, the ache of longing just getting worse as you gently toyed with your clit under the covers in the dark. Your cunt was slick, your wetness seeping down to your nightie and coating your fingers. It felt like forever that you’d been touching yourself and getting nowhere when the batteries on your vibrator died and you whimpered, kicking your legs down into your mattress in frustration. 
“Goddammit,” you moaned into your pillow, tossing your phone and vibrator aside, the ache in you worse than you’d ever really remembered it being before. There was no way you were going to be able to sleep like this, your whole body drawn tight and needy. You fumbled in your drawer for the charging cable and plugged the vibrator in before sighing and staring up at the ceiling again. 
Your thoughts drifted to Joel again. You couldn’t help it, he’d felt so good against you in the pool. He knew you so well, even after all this time. He kept your favorite snacks at his house and draped a blanket over you when you started getting cold when watching a movie. He was so funny and so handsome it hurt to look at him and he’d felt so fucking good.
Your fingers slipped between your legs again without really thinking about it, brushing against your swollen, sensitive clit. You resisted it for a moment, the idea of falling into the fantasy of you with Joel, but the need drawing everything inside you all tight and molten won. 
It swallowed you quickly once you gave in. 
The memory of him was there at the fore so fast, the way his lips had felt on you so many years ago. How you thought they’d feel against you now. His hands ranged over you, around your waist, down to your hips, his fingers twisting and knotting in the fabric there as he bunched it up to hold you firmer, reach you better. You moaned and rocked into your hand, sliding lower, your palm pressed against your sensitive nub as you slipped a finger inside yourself with a moan. You worked yourself open slowly, your slick making easy work of it, as you imagined it was his hand between your legs, his fingers sinking into you. How he’d take your swimsuit off and line his cock up with your entrance and push inside of you as he moaned your name. How his fingers would grip your flesh, prying at you as though he was trying to take you apart to keep pieces of you for himself. How he’d work himself so deep into you that you were certain no one else had ever come quite so close to climbing into another person’s skin before.  
You rocked your hips against your hand to the thought of him, not sure where memory ended and fantasy began, the fingers not plunging needily into your hole finding their way to your breast, grasping at the soft swell there, your own hand so unsatisfyingly small compared to his. You remembered the way his voice trembled as he breathed your name - his mouth against the tender skin at the base of your ear - as his cock filled you, the whole of him buried inside like he belonged there as he came. 
“Joel!” You gasped as your own orgasm hit, tight channel throbbing around the three fingers you’d managed to fit inside yourself, slick pooling in your palm and your tit filling your other hand. 
You came harder than you had in years, let alone from only using your hand and not your toy. It took you a few minutes to come down from the high of it, indulging in the fantasy of him in a way you hadn’t done since your freshman year of college. He last time you gave into it was back when you’d first started dating Gale but you’d felt so desperately alone, like no one had ever bothered to learn you at all. So you’d let yourself pretend that your best friend was still your best friend, that he loved you the way you loved him and that fucking you hadn’t been some mistake he’d made on prom night. It had seemed the most supreme extravagance, pretending that Joel would have wanted you to come like that with him. It still did. 
You put a stop to all that when Gale proposed, solidifying your relationship in an entirely new way. You tucked the memory of Joel and his body on and within yours away then. You’d never intended to think about him that way again. But then, you’d never intended to get divorced, either. 
“Fuck,” you sighed, shoving yourself out of bed to pee and clean up the mess you’d made of yourself. Before you lay back down, you opened the golden notebook on your bedside table and found the page with the list. You went to the bottom and tried to add another line but the pen in the elastic loop wouldn’t write. You groaned before fishing out the red pen you’d left in your nightstand from a night you were editing in bed from the top drawer. You added two words to the bottom of your list - trying to ignore the way the diamond of your engagement ring caught the light from your lamp, casting little rainbows on the paper - and circled them, pressing the pen into the paper harder than you really needed to. 
“There,” you said, capping the pen and dropping it on the notebook you hadn’t bothered to close. The pen rolled until it came to a stop, the red cap almost pointing to the newly added words as though they needed any more attention. 
That, you thought, was the solution. If you could just figure out how to accomplish that, you could put Joel back in that little box and keep this stupid crush from blowing up your whole life a second time, as long as you weren’t an idiot about it. 
You switched off the lamp and pulled your blankets tightly around yourself, trying to ignore the feeling that the words were glaring at you from their perch on your night stand. They blinked at you like neon behind your eyelids and you tried not to see them in the same way you tried not to think about Joel’s body on yours in the pool as you drifted off to sleep.
Get laid.
Next Chapter
A/N: I just adore these two. Honestly, they keep getting away from me, their conversations are so fun to write and explore that I get lost in what I'm trying to accomplish with a chapter. But that's OK! The ride is the point of this whole fic thing, right?
Thank you for being patient with this chapter! I got a bit sidetracked with another project but I think I'm in a good place to get back to my once a week updates here for a while. I hope it was at least somewhat worth the wait!
Thank you for being here! Love you!!
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strawberryspence · 1 year
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happy birthday, @withacapitalp! i hope im not that late! i am so glad to be your friend and i am glad you were born. ily! long islands on me! 🥂🍾💗
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There’s this damn spring festival in Indianapolis. It’s pretty popular among young-ins and people from small towns come to visit it every year. There are local vendors, activities, mini concerts. It’s where Eddie thrives the most, he has gone every year since he can remember.
His first mistake was mentioning it to Dustin. The second was agreeing to his insistent pleading if he could come with Eddie to Indy.
Because after Eddie finally said yes. The news— unsurprisingly— reaches El, and wherever El goes, Will goes, and of course, wherever Will goes Mike goes. Then Max hears and also wants in and of course, Lucas also wants to go. So now, it’s the whole damn party. Of course, he can’t handle all the kids. So now, all the adult kids are coming too.
And listen, he thinks they’re all great. But he’s been wanting to get out of Hawkins and away from them to just— breathe. Also, that’s a lie. Eddie doesn’t want to get away from them. He specifically wants to get away from Steve fucking Harrington and all the confusing feelings he have for the very straight man.
Of course, that doesn’t work out.
Because now they're stuck in the middle of a crowd. Eddie has never really understood why people said they felt like a sardine in a can, but right now, he fully understands. He should have known it was going to be busy. It was a Saturday and it’s one of the biggest festivals in town.
He will never say it, but Eddie thanks Steve’s very strong maternal instinct. He can worry for himself right now, because he knows the kids are together due to the very strict buddy system Steve instituted. Now they just have to get to the damn corn dog stand, which Steve declared as their meet up place.
“Eddie.” Eddie whips his head to see Steve staring intently at him. Oh yeah, Steve’s his buddy. “We have to get out of here.”
Eddie nods faintly but doesn’t answer. He has to keep his breathing in check. They’re fine, and the kids are fine. There’s a crowd but they're not after the kids. They're not after Eddie. They’re not after him. It's not an angry mob. Not after him for killing Chrissy. Not—
“Eds.” Steve pushes against the people to get to him. His brown eyes track his face before he sighs in worry, “Hold my hand.”
“What?” Eddie croaks out in disbelief.
Steve looks around, before whispering, "Baby, I think you're one step away from a panic attack. It's too fucking crowded."
And before Eddie can say anything else, Steve captures his hand into his. He doesn't intertwine them together because they're still in public and though they're in the city, it's always good to be safe. But Steve still holds Eddie's hand so tightly, like he's afraid that Eddie's going to vanish from his sight.
"Don't let go, okay?" Steve asks, which is ridiculous, and crazy. Because now that Eddie's holding his hand, clasped together like two ends of the same parenthesis, he doesn't think he could ever let go.
Eddie nods, and Steve pulls him in front of him, shielding him with his arms so people won't bump into him. It weirdly feels like a hug. If he has to describe it, he will say it feels exactly like the moment Wayne hugged him after he came out to him. It's safety, warmth, and overwhelming love and protection.
Steve maneuvers around the crowd like a pro. He dodges people without hitting them and takes them out of the fucking crowd in the middle of the market.
Before he knows it, they're out of the crowd and sitting on a bench. His breathing is finally getting better, but Steve still hasn't let go of his hand. Not when he bought Eddie a drink, not when he instructed Eddie to breathe with him, not when the kids came and asked what was wrong, only to be shooed away.
Eddie's not sure why he's so shaken to the core by this certain touch. He's always been the touchy-feely one. He throws an arm on Steve's shoulders, pats his head when Steve does something ridiculously adorable, and nudges him by the ribs when he says something funny. Steve's never initiated touch, Robin says it's because of the "complete lack of love and care from his parents."
But Steve's right here. Squatting in front of him. Holding his hand as he waits for Eddie to calm down. Looking at him like he— loves him. How could Steve ever be the product of lack of love and care, when he seems to have an abundance of it?
"You doing better, Eds?" Steve asks, his eyes are bright against the lights. He's looking at Eddie like Eddie's something to be cared for, to be loved, like he's something precious.
Eddie wants Steve to look at him like this. Selfishly, he wants to have it for the rest of his fucking life.
Eddie blinks at him, and accidentally, intentionally, stupidly, spits out, "I think I am in love with you."
Steve freezes. He blinks at him.
The world behind them slows down. There's a kid winning a prize a few stalls down, and a man bargaining for a vase on the other end. Someone's order is ready at the food stand and someone just won the bingo. There's a band playing and they're fucking playing Whitesnake's Is This Love.
It's one of those simple, but beautiful moments. Those that make you feel like you're nothing but a small particle in this big, vast world. Eddie basks in those moments sometimes.
However, at that moment, Eddie doesn't. If Steve looks at him like that for the rest of his life, Eddie doesn't think he'll ever feel small again.
He lets the world fade into a quiet noise. Nothing else matters. Nothing, but Steve Harrington.
He just stares at Steve. He just stares as Steve's face breaks into the biggest smile he has ever seen and it quite literally feels like watching a sunflower grow right in front of him. It's a smile that overflows, from the way he beams at him, from the way his eyes wrinkle, the way his nose crinkles.
Eddie's never seen Steve smile this big before and its damn beautiful.
"You sure about that?" Steve asks. There's insecurity in it, but also hope.
Eddie's never been this sure about anything else in his life, so he says, "Yes."
Steve softens, "Alright. That's good."
"How is that good?" Eddie whispers.
"Because, I—" Steve turns over their hands on his lap, and finally— finally— intertwines them. And shit, maybe there is a God, because this feels sacred, a love made just for the two of them.
"Because, I think I am also in love with you."
"I wish I can kiss you here," Eddie says, making Steve laugh, and it spills out of his body so beautifully Eddie wants to keep doing it for the rest of his life.
"Slow down, cowboy," Steve giggles, but the way he tightens his hold on Eddie's hand tells the opposite of his statement.
"Steve! Eddie! Look at this!" Dustin screams from the nearby booth, where El just won him a teddy bear.
"Yeah, you have to come. El's not doing anything. It's just pure talent!" Lucas sarcastically shrieks back.
In the background, El's giggling like crazy. Which 100% means she's using her magic. Eddie can't help but smile at the kids. He's glad he bought them with him to have fun.
Steve immediately stands up at that, their hands breaking apart at the motion. "Oh God. I told her not to use her powers." Steve's about to rush to them— maternal instincts and whatnot— before he stops in his tracks and turns to Eddie.
Steve softens, holding out his hand to Eddie. Eddie takes it without hesitation.
"Don't let go?" Steve asks.
Eddie stares at him, before he whispers a vow just for the two of them, "I won't. I promise."
True to his word, he doesn't let go. Not ever.
Eddie has no intention of ever letting Steve go.
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ystrike1 · 1 month
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Corrupting the Heroine's First Love - By 모과 (7.5/10)
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Cheating? Killing? Masochistic tendencies that stem from giving up your religion to follow a hot demon lady? There's loads of potential here, but it's predictable. Everyone is madly in love with the protagonist. Sigh.
Karina is a gorgeous snake woman.
With a cute snake pet.
He killed her tyrant father.
She volunteers to help the sick.
She has an undead army.
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She needs to make it past the last obstacle. Her evil father, who created her as a demon/human hybrid experiment, is out of the picture. BUT the real final boss is the protagonist. Penelope, AKA The War Goddess, is a terrifying force. A sadistic saintess who kills every demon alive after her sweet boyfriend, Reneiger, dies tragically.
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Reneiger almost dies on her doorstep and she saves him purely because she's so afraid of Penelope. It's hilarious.
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The plot twists aren't awful. It turns out that Reneiger is very religious and very repressed. His Holy Sword has been controlling him. Encouraging him to be selfless, self-sacrificing. Robotic. A warrior with no fear. On the inside he really is afraid. He's not like Penelope, and on top of that he's much weaker than her. Heck, he's way weaker than Karina. He was living a lie.
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Reneiger is kind of a bad guy. He never loved Penelope the way she loved him. He was living a the worst kind of lie. He dating the strongest and most righteous War Goddess for honor. Not for love....and....even worse...
....he was in love with Karina all along. He saw her once and he never forgot her beauty.
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This boring dog guy is also in love with Karina. He's only important because he's also an experiment made by their "father".
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This character only exists to show that Karina is "kind" compared to the other demons.
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As a reader you really feel awful for Penelope. I mean it. I'm not kidding. She really loved Reneiger. I mean...the sacrificing hero he was pretending to be. Poor Penelope also has to deal with annoying possessive background guys.
I think Karina and her should be friends.
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So, long story short Reneiger decides to be selfish. He ignores his talking holy sword. He knows Karina doesn't love him, so he tricks her. She's stronger, so he has to be sneaky.
He succeeds.
He uses a blood oath to bind himself to Karina. Freeing him from his horrible life of sacrifice, travel, and hero work. The bind allows him to be with the woman he really admires as a bonus.
His feelings gush out, and he becomes awkwardly masochistic.
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Karina likes it. Originally she was keeping him breathing to avoid the wrath of Penelope, but now he's a good boy.
Karina decides to take a risk.
She will enjoy her little slave lover...and hopefully Penelope will spare their lives I guess...
They're both attracted to each other. So that's nice but um...Penelope is coming....
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frenchkisstheabyss · 4 months
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♰ ɄⱠ₮Ɽ₳ Ø₦Ɇ ♰
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♰ Pairing: vampire!hyunjin x vampire!chubby!reader
♰ Genre: horror/angst
♰ Summary: A new drug's turning vampire's feral and when Hyunjin uncovers a plot to pin it all on you, he's determined to make your enemies pay even if he puts himself in danger in the process.
♰ Word Count: 2.3kish
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♰ Warnings: mentioned drug use (it's synthetic blood), blood, burning alive, mentions of violence, strong language, stabbing, vampires obviously, low key psychotic love, pet names (baby, honey).
♰ A/N: I created this to have two parts. This one is more action-oriented and the second will be more romantic. I'm just trying to do my part to give us chubby badass vampire babes whose men love them enough to commit murder, ya know?
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The underground club scene can grow quite boring for a vampire. Your first few blood raves make you feel more alive than you ever did when you actually had a pulse. But the ones that follow? They become so mundane and predictable that not even the introduction of human drugs can save them from losing their luster.
Enter a new drug, Ultra, synthetic blood by vampires for vampires. Guaranteed to fuck you up. One dose opens your eyes to a world far beyond your own. It mutates your cells. Alters your brain chemistry. Turns you into a brand new beast. The power you gain is addictive and the things you’ll do to hold onto it, the sins you'll commit, you don’t even want to imagine.
But you must imagine them. You are the one who created Ultra, or so they say, and some incredibly powerful people are looking to give you a taste of your own poison. Tell me, are you prepared to die? Again?
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Distorted metal music ricochets off of the stone walls of the club with the force of a dozen automatic rifles firing all at once. The occasional rapid flashing of strobe lights illuminates the darkness, giving the few hundred bloodsuckers on the dance floor the closest thing to a sunrise that they can tolerate. Everyone dances except for one weasel of a man. A dealer slinking through the crowd in his worn leather jacket handing off vials of Ultra to this person and the next.
“I won’t have to do this for long,” he tells his friend at the bar when he stops to grab a drink. This friend, a fellow scumbag, grins as he knocks back a shot, completely unphased by the recent carnage caused by the shit his companion has been peddling. “The council says once I do this they can get rid of her and make room for me.” “Make room for you? Tell me you don’t really think those rich fucks would ever let us into their secret society”
The dealer nods to the bartender to give him his usual, “See, that’s your problem. You think too small. That’s why you’ll never get anywhere.” His friend only rolls his eyes, turning to check his surroundings before he leans in to offer some advice. “I’d be quieter about this if I were you. If she finds out you’re trying to set her up she’ll sick her dog on you then you won’t get anywhere either.” “Fuck her” the dealer spits, finishing off his drink, “She can sick her dog on me. I’ll just have to put him down.”
Agitated, he slams his glass down on the bar, nearly shattering it. “I’m supposed to be afraid of her?” he mutters, shoving the other man aside to turn down a winding hallway that leads to the back door. He stops in front of the door to dig for a cigarette, wincing at the brightness of the few working lights that dangle from the ceiling of the desolate hallway. The air shifts, growing colder around him, but he’s much too busy fidgeting with his lighter to notice the change. Too lost in the ecstasy of that first drag to notice the shadow along the wall closing in on him. “I don’t even know why they have to do all of this. Should just kill her. She’s just some stupid b—”  
An ice pick pierces his neck from behind, taking every twist and turn between his muscles before emerging on the other side. The cigarette falls from his lips, extinguished by the tiny pool of blood forming in vivid red on the concrete floor. “Just some what?” Hyunjin questions, rolling the ice pick between the man’s vertebrae. The sound of metal splitting bone is music to Hyunjin’s ears. “Speak! What were you going to call her?” The man opens his mouth but no answers tumble out. Only blood and desperate gasps for air. Tears begin to form in his eyes as the reality of his helplessness sets in.
Hyunjin leans over the man’s shoulder, his large hand reaching around to cover his mouth. “I should’ve known you’d have nothing interesting to say” he sighs, almost sounding disappointed, “You’re just some stupid bitch.” The ice pick slips out smooth as butter, finding a new home in the man’s left lung followed by his right. Hyunjin moves in a blur of darkness, leaving the man spinning in circles trying to predict where the next attack will come from.
Blood pours from a dozen different holes scattered across his body. He reaches out to grab the collar of Hyunjin’s expertly pressed suit only to pull back a fistful of nothing. The coldness, he feels it now as he drops to his knees, his vision darkening. One final stab, inches from his heart, is all he feels before the bulbs in the ceiling pop leaving him in the dark. 
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“Oh, Jinnie, look! Here you are!” you sing from the comfort of a rose infused bubble bath. You ease down further into the steamy water, the rose petals dancing at the surface cloaking your naked body. “Pisces,” you begin to read off from the astrology book you’ve been flipping through, “As Jupiter aligns with Neptune in your house of love, you mustn’t shy away from sharing your true feelings with your partner—” Hyunjin kneels beside you, tilting your book back to view the title. He cracks a smile, “A Girl’s Guide to Astrology 2023. After a hundred years, you still believe in that stuff?” “Mmm, maybe” you shrug, running your black manicured nails through his slicked back hair.
Resting his head on the edge of the tub, Hyunjin closes his eyes and lets you massage his scalp. He could stay like this for hours, having you read to him by candlelight as your fingers melt away all that plagues him. “What are your true feelings? You seem troubled.” “No trouble, my love.” Tossing the book to the floor, you raise his head to look at you. It never fails, even after a century together, that looking into his eyes makes you want to melt. Beyond the beauty of his features lies a softness reserved only for moments like this. For moments with you. A softness that most men of your kind lacked even before they turned.
“You’re lying to me, Jinnie. What’s wrong?” One brush of your thumb across his cheek is all it takes to break his defenses. “You know that Ultra stuff that has everyone turning feral?” You nod, not daring to ask if he’d taken it. He’d never touch something like that. Not your Jinnie. Not when he’s seen firsthand what it does. It’d be hypocritical to say that neither of you lusts for violence. But violence directed towards people who don’t deserve it? Tearing the limbs from innocent lovers in the park? Slaughtering whole families? There’s no pride in that. “I caught the guy who’s been dealing it. He’s upstairs. I think—” Hyunjin pauses, bracing for your reaction, “I think the council plans to say that you made it.”
Your iris pulses an electric red, your heart pumping a pure searing hatred through your veins. The council. Five decrepit bastards who rule their own sectors of the city under the guise of keeping the peace between vampires and humans when in reality it’s all about the money. That’s all it’s ever been about. They’re criminals, the same as any mafia you’ve ever known, and you worked your ass off for your seat among them. They could never quite accept that a woman infringed upon their little boys' club. They would’ve put a stake through your heart a long time ago if it weren’t against their own bullshit rules. 
Rule #1: We never kill our own. The Consequence: Death. 
Ultra doesn’t just make vampires kill humans. It makes them kill each other. And finally, when their bodies can’t mutate anymore, it kills the host too. If they can pin this on you then you’re dead. You, every vampire under your protection, and Hyunjin—
Not him. Never him. 
You rip through the halls of your sprawling mansion, hearing Hyunjin’s voice as if it were far away at the end of a long tunnel. “Cover up at least, honey” he insists, throwing a flowy silk robe around your wet body. You slip your arms in, not missing a beat as you grab a blade from the wall on your way to the third floor. You can hear shallow breathing as if it were your own. The stench of whisky and blood floods your senses the closer you get, nearly making you nauseous. Kicking the door into your spare bedroom, you come upon the man plotting your death.
He’s chained to the bed, his clothes tattered where wounds from the ice pick have slowly begun to heal. You descend upon him, your blade pressed to his throat, fangs bared. “Tell me everything” you demand, realizing at once that you’ve seen him before. Nowhere in particular. Here and there. In places you never thought much of. Had his appearances there really been a coincidence? No, there was a reason. He’s been watching you all this time. How didn’t you see it? “No” he refuses, licking the dried blood from his bottom lip, “Kill me and you’ll burn for it. You both know that!”
You gasp, sitting up on top of him, “Oh no, baby, did you hear that?” Hyunjin leans against the wooden bedpost, his reappearance startling the man. “I heard. Kill him and we’ll burn” Hyunjin dramatically cowers in fear, “I’m so scared. We better be careful, huh?” “Mmhmm” you agree, inching the blade away from the man’s neck and burying it in the mattress beside his head. “Jinnie, how long do you think until sunrise?” Hyunjin makes his way to the window, peeking out at the breathtaking landscape that surrounds your home.
It’s early enough in the morning for the sky to still cling to hues of dark blue as the sun creeps up along the horizon. “Half an hour maybe.” “Would you be a dear and open the curtains? It’s so dark in here.” The man’s eyes dart back and forth, watching your smile grow more devious with each curtain Hyunjin ties open. “Wait, you can’t—” the man panics, struggling against his chains. “I know. I know. We can’t kill you!” you groan, climbing off of him, “But we’re gonna. I mean, thanks to you they’ll probably try to kill me anyway, and since you won’t answer any questions you’re useless.”
Hyunjin takes you by the hand, escorting you to the door. “You go to bed. I’ve got it from here” he whispers, kissing you on the forehead. You cross your arms defiantly, refusing to move an inch. “No, we’ll finish this together like we do everything else.” Hyunjin’s arms come around your waist, pressing your plush body to his. “I always take care of you, don't I?” he asks, his hands tracing your figure. “Always.” “Then go and wait for me, okay? This won’t take long.” You glance over at the man on the bed, your mind racing with all the things you could do to him. All horrors he’d very much deserve.
“Fine but hurry. You've been gone all night. I’ve missed you.” Your lips meet, sparking something that sets your body ablaze in a different way. One that has you tugging at the buttons on his shirt as your tongue teases the sharp points of his fangs. You don’t want to break away and neither does he. Once Hyunjin has his hands on you everything around him loses its importance. The only thing his body longs for—needs as if his survival depends upon it—is you. But he manages to turn you loose for your own safety, locking the door when you leave to be extra safe.
Without another word, he circles the room slowly closing each curtain he opened only moments ago. “What happened? Change of heart?” the man taunts, trying and failing to get a rise out of him. Hyunjin grabs the vintage French parlor chair positioned by the window and drags it to the darkest corner of the room. He sits in silence, his face void of emotion, his eyes unblinking. Hyunjin’s focus is no longer on his prisoner but on the evolution of the light that breaks through the curtains.
Minute after agonizing minute passes until the fear of the unknown forces the man to ramble off everything he can think of. Insults, confessions, pleas for mercy. None of it gets the slightest reaction until the faintest sunbeam casts its light on the carpet. Hyunjin rises, locking eyes with the man for the first time as he approaches the sunbeam. “My wife always said we all have special abilities. Things that make us unique,” he says, rolling up his left sleeve. “I didn’t believe her at first but then one day I got caught in the sun.”
Hyunjin shoves his forearm into the sunlight, his bare skin exposed to what should be eating through him like acid. “Nothing, see? It takes a while for me to burn but you—I have a feeling you’ll strike up like a match.” “No, please! You don’t understand!” Hyunjin smirks, twirling over to the window, “You don’t understand. You told my baby she’d burn. You first!” Hyunjin tears open the curtain nearest to the bed, letting the sun shine in at full power. “What a beautiful morning” he hums, sliding the others open to the tune of screams that would wake the dead.
The man on the bed is burning, his skin bubbling like he’s being deep fried. In a sense he is. The heat from the sun is cooking him. He feels every pop. Every sizzle. Tiny fires ignite, charring his skin. Hyunjin watches on, the steam rising from his own skin barely a tickle. He won’t leave this room before he’s seen him burnt to a crisp, reduced to nothing more than a charred corpse for him to deliver to the council as a warning of sorts.
Threaten what he loves and this is only a taste of the fate that awaits them.
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