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starzshopoflove · 11 months

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But did he ever make you cry? (Johnny "Soap" Mactavish x Reader)

Notes: fem reader! sfw, literally just me projecting onto reader, best friend Soap! Pining!! Hurt/comfort! I'll make this a series if you guys like it (WC: 1.7)

(Pov first person in italics)

God when is this gonna be fucking over

I’ve been here for what? 4 hours? He just keeps going on and on and on about his ex and “How crazy she was”. When was the last time he asked me something, feels like I'm sitting here for decoration. If he wanted to talk about another girl he could have found a therapist or something, Jesus.

This might be up there in the top 10 worst dates, maybe after that freak who got up in my ear after coffee asking if I wanted to go back to his place. Am I cursed?? What is it about me and attracting these absolute losers?

Its been a while since you’ve gone out a bit rough around the edges since your last breakup. Sure the relationship wasn't that serious but it still bothered you that he left because “You weren't putting out enough” after he said it was fine that you wanted to take things slow. You got your hopes up a bit too high after this guy (absolute fuckin DWEEB) in your lecture asked if you could grab dinner together. You just wasted a solid 2 hours picking out a cute little skirt and doing your makeup checking twice to make sure you looked nothing less then too the 9’s.

And then he shows up in a baggy pair of khaki joggers and hoodie, y'know after he said “Get pretty I’ll take you somewhere nice”. Oh but of course he just “accidentally” forgot the reservations but that's fine he knows a great place nearby. The great place being a diner in the middle of a highway rest with fluorescent lights that flickered too often with a weird smell in the air.

His table manners were practically non-existent smacking his lips when he chewed, sucking on his fingers and getting ketchup on his face. That sight alone made you put down your fork that barely poked at your clearly reheat mush they insisted was a pasta dish. Oh and he wouldn’t stop fucking talking, honestly you were starting to question how it was possible he hadnt choked on his food when he spoke.

You need to get out now. Any Longer at this table and your dignity might start slipping away. He yapped on about whatever as you tuned it out, nodding your head like you cared slowly tucking your phone back into your purse and pulling it onto your shoulder. You were already drawing up a game plan in your head, bathroom, call your roommate, tell her to come get you and block his number. Perfectly full proof.

“You mind if I slip out for a moment? I gotta head to the bathroom, won't be long promise.”

You slapped on a fake smile as he shot you a nod with a sleezy grin, all your senses pulled you back into reality as you felt disgust pool in your gut at the sight of him noticing more off putting things about the longer you looked. You platforms clicked as you pattered off into the one stall bathroom, you stood up straight inside not wanting to lean on the wall when you noticed the dried piss stains and mysterious gunk smeared on it.

It was suffocating, every second of it. The smell, The lights, the noise and of course him. You felt insulted, was this really the kind of place you deserved to be taken out too? You don't get to be wined and dined every now and then do you? Even after you spend days in class or at work and heaving your bones to the campus library to study for the hundreds of tests your professors insist on giving you.

You let out a sigh of contempt digging through your purse shoving the ugly rearing head of disappointment back as you pulled out your phone. Scrolling through the contact list to find your roommates number chewing on your thumbnail as you brought your phone up to your ear letting it ring, feeling your heart pound further the longer the phone rang. You but down hard once you heard the automated message trill, a heavy sigh leaving your chest as you slumped against the wall of your stall running a hand through your hair.

What the fuck am I gonna do, I can’t stay here any longer or i’m not gonna be held responsible for whatever happens to him if he brings up how much he loves blondes again.

You swallowed your pride unlocking your phone again scrolling up your contact list hoping he wouldn’t be too mad at having to save you from this god awful excuse for a date as you eyes settled on his number

“Johnny 🧼”

You thumb pressed down on the number bringing your shakey hand back up to your ear, the pressure that was just annoying you got heavier on your chest the longer you thought about having to stay here with him. You might burst into tears if you had to stay another hour and listen to this loser describe how much he likes girls that are the exact opposite of you basically holding you hostage to listen on this “date”

The ringing stopped when a sigh on the other end of the line broke the silence

“Ello?”

You felt the pressure on your chest bubble and pop once you heard his voice, your own cracking a little as you spoke up. Yeah it was embarrassing to cry over the phone but it would be more embarrassing to sit there and finish the date with red eyes.

“Johnny,, please tell me your not busy right now”

“Can’t be busy when yer asleep”

Your voice was shaky which chilled his nerves with worry, you don’t call him at night unless it was an emergency and with the way you sounded all he could do was think the worst

“What’s wrong bonnie”

It was more of a hushed gentle voice than any annoyance you anticipated, he couldn’t see it but you were already bleary eyed and pouting over the line.

You sat down closing the toilet lid as another shakey sigh let you while the seat creaked under you. You felt you words choke up in your throat pressing heavy on your sternum. You wanted to explain yourself, tell him how horrible your date went, how you felt stupid for going out with him, and how sorry you are for bothering him at night knowing he just got back from a mission only a few days ago.

“Talk to me bonnie, can’t help if you dinnae tell me”

“Can you come get me, ‘m sorry”

Barely a whisper over the phone, Johnny was already imagining the worst when you asked him that. You could hear him shuffling around the room already pressing his phone between his shoulder and ear. In his head you were already kidnapped locked away in some cellar ready to be shipped away, when you were just sniffling and tearing up in a shitty diner bathroom.

“You ok? nbody hurtin you?”

You could hear him tugging his heavy boots on, finally letting out a breath you were suffocating to hold knowing you’d finally get out of here

“No ‘m just not having a good time please, i’ll tell you when your here.”

Johnny looked down hearing his phone ping with the location hushing your sniffling through the line as he opened up the map shutting his front door and quickly sliding into his pick up.

__________________________________

The wait felt like forever, it wasn’t of course you watched the clock religiously. 8 minutes, Johnny sped across town in 8 minutes for you, probably breaking a few laws he’d wave away once he got here.

He walked into the diner seeing it empty, your date no where to be seen while he took in the atmosphere. It was disgusting, and all he could think about was how you got here and why you would ever be here heavily sighing as he paced over knocking on the bathroom door leaning slightly against the door as he waited for your response or even just a sound.

“Steamin Jesus,, lovie you in here?”

He could hear shuffling on the other side as you opened the door up looking up at him with a pouted face and flushed face trying to hold back any noise or tears not wanting to cry in front of him. His hand slowly went to the small of your back gently rubbing and guiding you away from the loo.

“What you doin out ‘ere alone bunny?”

His voice was low as he mumbled down to you softly, face screwed and eyebrows furrowed while he peered down at you spinning your head around the small dinner seeing your abandoned table and spotting a napkin with writing on it.

You moved over to the table reading the napkins silently

“Tif called, had a good time with you, sorry this didn’t work out!”

He left. He asked you out and left you abandoned in the middle of a dinner after trying to feed you shitty food. He asked you out and thought it was fine to treat you like this. This was the straw that broke your back crumpling the napkin under your hand as you pressed your palms on the table hanging your head, you’ve already embarrassed yourself enough what’s the worst some crying can do.

Johnny watching you crumble felt like a punch to his gut knocking all the air out of his lungs, He moves your hand off the napkin reading it and turning his head to you. Your hands already found your face hiding your shame as you stifled your sobs and swallowed thickly at the fat tears pouring down your face. He could be angry later when he finally got his hands on who ever hurt you

He pulled your hands off your face, wrapping you in his arms one hand on the small of your back, another petting at your hair, hushing you softly as you slid your hands up to cling at his shirt burying your face into his chest shaking and heaving as you tried not to be loud. He petted at your hair, rocking you gently holding you close tucking your head under his chin as he slowly turned back to sit down in the booth tugging you down to his lap letting you curl up in on him again letting you cry to him as he coo’d to you

“Shh poor darling girl, talk to me bonnie, breath ts ok ‘m here for ye”

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theladyofbloodshed · 7 months

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SJM Romance Week - Day 6 - Romantic Gestures

@sjmromanceweek When a grouchy man starts haunting her coffee shop, Nesta's romantic gestures come in the form of insults on his coffee cups.

A drizzle had misted the glass and as the world darkened, the yellow streetlights were blurs on the other side.

At the opening of the door, a brisk wind blew in. The man it carried with it was sharp-faced in a finely made dark pea-coat with an umber and orange patterned scarf tucked into it. It contrasted starkly with his red hair and pale complexion.

Emerie nudged Nesta in the ribs: target acquired.

He’d turned up a couple of days ago, coming after the evening rush and poor Gwyn had the displeasure of serving him. His first coffee had apparently been too cool despite being close to scalding. Then he’d summoned Emerie to wipe his table despite the evidence of the previous wiping still evaporating as he sat down. Nesta would handle him today. The best part of her day was to offer up the same rudeness that was given to her friends.

‘Yes?’

The man’s odd, amber eyes snapped from the signage to her. ‘Black coffee.’

Of course, he had needed to scan the entire menu for that difficult choice. Nesta ensured he could see how hot the water pouring from the machine was lest he complain that the temperature wasn’t warm enough.

‘Anything else?’

‘A little bit of customer service wouldn’t go amiss.’

Nesta shrugged one shoulder in response. ‘When you rediscover your manners.’

He stalked away to pounce on one of the vacant, highly-popular armchairs tucked away amongst the tall shelves. It was slow that evening; they were staying open later, trying to offer an alternative to bars for the non-drinkers, but it hadn’t quite taken off the ground.

There was no need to do it, but when his coffee was ready, rather than deliver it – as she might do for anybody else – Nesta called out, ‘Black coffee for the man with no manners.’

Emerie was wide-eyed. He’d reduced Gwyn to a stuttering mess when he’d pressed her for the details of suppliers for their snacks and refrigerated drinks. Emerie had simply called him a dick at the end of her shift when she got home.

To Nesta’s surprise, he pulled himself away from his book to saunter to the counter.

‘Thanks.’ His eyes glanced at her cleavage then noticed there was no name tag pinned there. There was a slight flush to his cheeks when he realised that he’d simply looked at her breasts.

‘Want my name to complain to the manager?’

His brows raised. ‘Not interested in your name.’

‘Oh, just my breasts.’

The man didn’t dignify her with a response, merely took his coffee then strolled back to his table, plucking a different book off the shelf as he went.

‘His name is Eris,’ supplied Emerie.

‘His name is a pain in my ass.’

As the evening wore on, the shop became more subdued. With only four people left – a group of three plus a solitary Eris – Nesta ushered Emerie home for the evening.

‘I don’t like you walking home alone so late,’ she complained.

Nesta held out Emerie’s jacket to help her into it. ‘Well, I like my dinner cooking when I return home, wife.’

‘You wish.’

‘Sometimes I do,’ she replied.

Emerie leaned back against the counter, arms folded. ‘It’s Gwyn’s turn to cook tonight.’

‘Get home, immediately.’

She gave a laugh and tossed her dark braid over her shoulder. ‘If there’s anything left of the house. If a fire truck is there when I get home, I’ll call.’

‘Such a beautiful woman but she cannot cook for shit,’ said Nesta with a shake of her head.

Emerie placed a hand on her heart. ‘Thank goodness she’s got us. See you at home. Be safe. Call me if you need.’

When the group left, Eris called her over with a beckon of his fingers as if she was a hound.

‘Can I get a camomile tea?’

Nesta gestured to the counter on the other side of the store. ‘Have your legs stopped working?’

Eris gave a pinched smile in return. ‘You don’t seem particularly rushed off your feet.’

That was true, she’d give him that. Nesta swept an imaginary cap through the air, collected his cup then set to brewing a tea for him – and one for her. She dimmed the lights in the coffee shop although the candles were still illuminating the tables and soft lights were on in the bookshop area. It had been an idea that had come as a result of burnout in corporate life. She’d climbed the ladder almost ruthlessly, soaring to the top, giving hour after hour to her job then her sister almost died in childbirth and she’d not seen Feyre for nearly her entire pregnancy. Work always took precedent. After that, it felt pointless. Her life revolved around work and she didn’t enjoy a single moment. Nobody ever woke up with the dream of spending twelve hours a day in an office. With the money she had been hoarding, Nesta lived her dream. Maybe it was a little dream, but she made the place she wanted; a cosy bookshop with good coffee and better cakes. It wasn’t a fortune maker, but Nesta loved it. Emerie and Gwyn worked with her to help out in its first few months of existence, but it was going well. Nesta had made something that she was proud of.

When she carried the tea over, Eris had swapped books. She knew that merging a coffee shop with a book shop would result in patrons reading while they drank, but it wasn’t a library – so she told him as much.

‘What if I chose one book and only read that when I’m in here?’

‘Again, not a library.’

A shrug was offered, but that shrug gave her pause because she’d been there before, been that person without a spark. As Nesta went through the motions of cleaning out the coffee machine and washing up the last few mugs, her eyes continually flickered to Eris. He hardly read the book in his hands. His eyes kept drifting to the wall then he’d skip a page or two and try to focus like his heart wasn’t in it. Not once did Nesta see his attention stray to his phone. He was somewhere else – a bad break-up maybe plaguing his thoughts.

Taking pity, Nesta plated up the last few sugary items – the three of them wouldn’t shrivel up and die if they didn’t polish off the stock for once – and set them down on his table with a paper bag.

‘Yours, if you want.’

‘Oh.’

‘Thank you, Nesta. You are welcome. There, manners.’

There was an elfin quality to his face like the bones of his face was sharper, more pointed than others. ‘Your name is Nesta?’

‘No, the other person working right now.’

Her sarcasm usually cut the skin, but Eris snickered. ‘Thanks, Nesta.’

By the time he left, Emerie was blowing up her phone with calls asking why she wasn’t home yet along with a picture of the charred dinner Gwyn had made then a message asking her to pick something up on the way home for them to eat. She’d stayed open later than usual because she felt too guilty to kick Eris out when his mind seemed occupied elsewhere. He’d thanked her again before he left along with returning his plate and mug to the counter – and a hefty tip that she was not expecting.

***

Eris came in every single day that week. He’d stand, stormy-faced in the queue, awaiting his black coffee. Depending how snappy or short he was, depended what name she scrawled on his cup. Grumpy man in the coat. Man who looks like a drowned rat. Mr. Miserable. He never took much offence by it, just raised his brows, paid for his drink then stalked over to the books to sit alone. By Friday, Nesta began preparing his coffee the moment he came in from the rain. When his lips parted, she pressed the cup into his hands. Eris scanned the writing on the receipt.

Mr Can’t-even-crack-a-smile-on-a-Friday.

‘I’m going to touch your newest books with greasy fingers.’

‘You wouldn’t dare,’ she said.

His lips quirked. ‘Try me.’

When he retreated to his favourite corner, Emerie cleared her throat. ‘Excuse me.’

‘You may be excused,’ replied Nesta.

She rolled up a tea towel and whipped Nesta across the thigh. ‘What’s that? Were you flirting?’

Her jaw dropped. ‘That was not flirting. That was me warning a customer that if he ruins a book, I will beat him with it.’

Emerie gave a slow nod, not believing it for a moment. ‘I wish I had that shield. I go home feeling bad if a customer is rude. Gwyn cries. You grow more powerful.’

‘When they ask to speak to the manager, I hit them with the uno reverse card.’

Once the coffee shop had cleared out, Nesta was left alone again with Eris. Like the previous nights, he was unsettled. No book truly held his focus.

‘Camomile tea and a brownie. If you get crumbs on the books, I will bill you for the damage.’

‘This music is awful,’ he said, not tearing his attention from the novel – although she’d been watching and this was the most focused that he’d been all evening so it was likely a façade.

‘Take it up with the manager,’ she replied.

‘I wish I could,’ he muttered.

While he drank, Nesta changed the window display. New stock had arrived that morning so she was eager to have it on show ready for the morning. Through it all, Eris murmured that a book was wonky or the colour schemes clashed.

‘Would you like to do it?’

‘Not particularly,’ he replied, sipping at his tea – but for once there was some life behind his eyes, a slight brightness that hadn’t been there all week. ‘What time does this place close?’

Nesta mimed looking at an imaginary watch on her wrist. ‘Oh, about seventeen minutes ago.’

Eris screwed up his face. ‘I thought you’d be eager to kick me out.’

‘It’s a Friday night. You’re a young, presumably single, handsome man. If this is the only place you have to go on a Friday night then I feel bad to kick you out.’

‘Well, I sound pathetic.’ He drained his tea. ‘Sorry. Your boss won’t be mad?’

‘Yeah. She’s a bitch. Don’t mess with her.’

Surprising her entirely, Eris asked if there was anything he could help with to ease the lock up process. She’d already put the day’s takings in the safe, so she handed him a cloth and spray to wipe down the tables again. Dutifully, he set to the task.

‘You after a job?’

Eris gave one low chuckle. ‘I have a job.’

This was a man that she simply could not work out. From the exterior, he seemed sour and irritable, but he took her sniped words and parried them back.

Even when Nesta locked up the door, Eris remained nearby, watching over her shoulder as revellers began to emerge for the night and stumbled down the pavements.

‘Can I give you a ride?’ He gestured to the rain then pointed to a car worth more than any she’d ever sat in before. It was a massive, gas-guzzling beast that could plough down anything in its path. If the four horsemen of the apocalypse upgraded from horses to vehicles, it would be this one.

‘I don’t make a habit of getting in cars with strange men. Goodnight.’

It was a twenty-minute walk, fifteen if she moved her legs a little quicker to avoid the drunken idiots staggering around the streets. Nesta zipped her coat to her chin then steeled herself for the walk.

Eris turned his car around and she heard it roaring behind her.

It crawled along the road beside her, keeping pace with her walking.

‘If you won’t accept a ride then I can at least make sure you get home safely this way.’

‘You’d be so cut up if something happened to me,’ she scoffed. ‘We’re strangers.’

‘True,’ Eris admitted, an arm resting on the wound-down window. ‘But it's difficult to find a decent cup of coffee around here.’

Each night, Eris had given a generous tip to the pot which was at odds with his prickly demeanour. He could continue to come and be miserable if a fat tip was pushed into the jar at the end of it all.

Nesta made a tutting noise. ‘Will you stop this? You make me look like a woman of the night, driving along beside me and calling out the window.’

‘Ah, a jezebel,’ he said with a laugh. ‘It’s pouring. I’ll drop you off. Get in.’

She slipped her phone from her pocket and hastily flung a badly typed text into the group chat telling them she was in the car with Eris and shared her location. At the sensation of the heated seats, Nesta eased out a satisfied noise. The car was not what she expected on the inside. A blanket was strewn across the back seats and it was covered in muddy pawprints and dog hair. More of it was on the upholstery.

‘You have a dog?’

‘Uh. Yeah. I did,’ he replied, face tightening. ‘Tell me the way.’

‘I’ll give you five stars if you don’t talk to me,’ she quipped but the sadness had already leaked into his expression like those first couple of nights that he’d come to the shop. Maybe not a break up at all.

In a silence that was only interrupted by her directions, Eris drove her home. He was a good driver, never speeding, never taking risks despite the engine that thrummed with power. At the house, he pulled up.

‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

Nesta nodded. ‘Sure. Eight 'til eight tomorrow, but we have shorter hours on Sundays.’

‘Thanks for the heads up.’

Her fingers stilled on the door handle. ‘Are you alright? You’re spending every evening until close in a coffee shop. Don’t you have a home to go to?’

‘Yeah. I don’t want to be there,’ he said without expanding on it. ‘Goodnight Nesta.’

***

That weekend, they continued their strange dance. Nesta called out orders for the dude with the stick up his ass, the guy who needs to get a library card, and the neat freak who keeps re-arranging the books. Each time, Eris sauntered to the counter or waved his hand through the air expecting table service, not at all bothered by her insults.

‘You’re definitely flirting,’ murmured Emerie as she hung up her apron for the afternoon.

‘I’m harassing him,’ countered Nesta.

Gwyn shook her head. ‘He seems to like it.’

Eris was sprawled out in a chair, shoes off, socked-feet resting on the chair opposite as he read. A cookie had chunks bitten out of it sporadically as he remembered its existence. He looked well and truly at home in the alcove cut into the wall. It was Nesta’s favourite part of the shop – the main reason she’d purchased the building. They’d pinned a lattice to the wall and wound fake ivy and fairy lights through it to make it something special.

‘Are we kicking him out to close?’

Nesta chewed on her lip. ‘I feel guilty every time. He’s got nowhere else to go.’

‘It’s not a shelter for waifs and strays. It’s a business,’ said Emerie.

Sunday was meant to be a chill out day with the coffee shop closing just after lunch to at least give Nesta a little bit of free time away from it. Eris seemed far too cosy to turf him out. She convinced Em and Gwyn to go on ahead in the gloomy weather and she’d catch up. Then, Nesta plopped down on the stool beside Eris.

‘Closing time?’

‘I’m afraid so.’

Eris heaved a sigh as he closed the book.

‘You know you can buy the books,’ she said, raising a brow. ‘That’s how we make money.’

‘Sorry. Tell your boss I enjoy the ambience too much.’

She gave him a half-sigh. ‘I am the boss.’

He reached back to the shelf to slide the book – a fantasy one – back into its place. ‘I was wondering why the manager put the grumpiest member of staff on every single day.’

Nesta choked on a laugh. ‘Me, grumpy? You have an aura like a sad, wet cat around you. It sucks me in like a black hole. That’s why I stay away.’

Eris slipped his long feet back into his shoes and tied up the laces. He wasn’t particularly dressed down for a weekend. All of his clothes screamed money.

‘So, what’s the story? Why do you spend every minute here?’ Nesta scanned him from head to toe. ‘Bad break up? Don’t want to pay for heating at your own home?’

‘I just don’t want to be there.’

Under her piercing stare, Eris crumbled. He pulled his phone from his pocket and slid it across to her. She was expecting a gorgeous woman there or a cute couple’s photo. Instead, Nesta was met with a massive, black dog with masses of shiny fur.

‘My boy,’ said Eris, wincing as he spoke. ‘Fifteen years old. Put to sleep last week.’

‘Oh. I’m sorry.’

‘It’s so quiet at home. I can’t bear to get rid of his bed – or that blanket in the car.’ Eris shook his head. ‘I know, just a dog. Get over it.’

Nesta clenched her teeth together then, ‘That’s not true. Fifteen years is a long time to love something. It’s natural to grieve a pet. Sorry for insulting you for the last few days. If I knew there was a reason for this mood, I’d have left you be.’

‘It’s alright. It was fun. I just needed a place that was open late so I didn’t have to go home. Then I found you. Your insults stopped me feeling sorry for myself.’

His words, though not deep, still had her heart giving a flutter. ‘I’ve still got to kick you out, I’m afraid.’

Eris dipped his chin then buttoned up his coat. He carried his own tray to the sink and loaded the items onto the dishwasher because he was practised enough with the closing routine.

‘Black coffee tomorrow for the dog lover?’

‘Ask your manager when you can get the night off.’

‘Drop me home and you can talk to her.’

#neris #sjmromanceweek2024 #sjmromanceweek

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talshiargirlfriend · 9 months

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Remember when I said I’d been thinking about how (some) other Vulcans (mis)treat T’Pol? This…

— post Terra Prime ficlet

“Perhaps the kin-kur-savas would be more to your liking,” the Vulcan steward suggests.

T’Pol’s lips tighten fractionally before she quietly responds, “Thank you for the recommendation, but I am content with my choices.”

The man turns slightly to include Trip in his blandly disapproving stare.

There’s some Vulcan social subtext Trip can’t parse, so he just stands sternly at T’Pol’s side. She has hardly eaten a thing since Elizabeth died, and if this jackass puts her off her meager breakfast Trip’s gonna put him out an airlock. Mentally, of course, while outwardly observing appropriate decorum on the Vulcan transport delivering the grieving parents to Vulcan for an acknowledgment and internment rite with T’Pol’s clan.

Enterprise had been ordered to remain in-system around Sol tying up Terra Prime loose ends and doing coalition schmoozing. Blessedly Trip and T’Pol have been spared any more Earth media scrutiny for now.

Shran had actually offered to give the pair a lift to Vulcan on his way back to Andoria to continue rallying support for the fledgling Coalition of Planets, but T’Pol was insistent they travel via Vulcan ship. At Trip’s questioning she’d reluctantly admitted that her ties to Vulcan society were somewhat tenuous, and there were many who would view her arrival on an Andorian vessel as evidence she no longer belongs to her home planet at all.

Trip quietly wonders if it was worth the trouble given their reception aboard the T’Mara. For every “I grieve with thee” there’s been a haughty look or three. He’s doing his best to be a perfect guest and support T’Pol. Most of the time he wants to scream, cry, hit someone, or all three.

The steward has thankfully left to go be dour elsewhere, and he and T’Pol take their breakfast trays to a table near a window.

T’Pol glances at her food and drink and then stares out at the passing stars.

“You wanna tell me what that was about?” he asks her gently.

He can see by the tightness around her eyes and mouth that she very much does not “wanna.”

“Kin-kur-savas is a Vulcan stone fruit. It has variegated skin of yellow, green and red, pale yellow flesh, and a small deep red pit at the center. You once likened them to Vulcan peaches.”

“I remember.”

She hesitates, “It was an insult meant to imply that while I may still appear Vulcan I am human at my core.”

Trip inhales sharply and bites down on his anger.

“Additionally, his use of English gave him the plausible excuse of deference to your presence while effectively… alienating me further,” T’Pol finishes.

He doesn’t insult her by asking if she’s sure she’s not reading too much into it. It doesn’t surprise him that Vulcans can be just as bigoted and cruel as humans, but it’s still hard to see it directed at T’Pol, especially when he knows how hard she’s working to hold herself together right now.

Trip is absolutely not going to do anything that will bring shame to his daughter (may she rest in peace), or her mother (may she live long and prosper), so he breathes in a controlled manner and tries to keep all traces of what he’s feeling off his face.

He reaches for a utensil and casually touches T’Pol’s hand. When she makes eye contact he thinks as clearly and deliberately as he can: What an asshole. There’s a flicker of amusement in her eyes. Whether she understood his thought or was just entertained by his pathetic attempt at telepathy, he’ll take the win.

“I’m sorry if my presence is making this worse for you,” he tells her with sympathy.

She gives him a long look. “Trip, his actions reflect only on himself. Your attendance is appropriate and necessary as Elizabeth’s father,” she looks down briefly before continuing, “and I personally find your presence… beneficial. As I said, I am content with my choices.” Her voice is soft but firm.

It may not be a romance novel confession of love, but Trip is moved nonetheless.

“That’s good. I … I feel better when you’re around, too.”

T’Pol gives him a soft look and sips her tea. Trip flashes her a quick smile and takes a bite of the strange but not unpleasant plomeek porridge in front of him. Silently he rejoices when she follows suit, and they finish their meal together in companionable silence.

#trip x t'pol #star trek enterprise #fanfic #my fic #post ep: terra prime #ficlet #vulcan culture #trip tucker #t’pol #grief

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jae-bummer · 1 year

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Drink Well

Request: Hi, this is kind of a weird request but still. so i think that you know that changkyun (monsta x ofc) was on youngji's show, i wanted to request an imagine with him coming with his idol s/o bcz they're relationship was recently published (and this is optional but y/n is older and his sunbae) and they just have rlly cute moments and the staff and youngji are just fangirling and other stuff like that (u can just wing it, and also If ur comfy can changkyun call y/n noona If u do make her older and his sunbae?) Srry this is so long but i love ur writing so yeh ig byee<33

Pairing: Monsta X Changkyun x female reader

Genre: Fluff

You inhaled another too short breath as you balled your fists at your sides. Closing your eyes, you tried to count backwards, not entirely sure if that was one of the coping mechanisms your therapist had advised or not.

Gently unfolding your fingers, Changkyun interlaced his hand with yours. Remaining quietly by your side, you looked up at him with a sad smile. "I'm nervous."

"That's understandable," he hummed. "This is our first appearance as a couple."

You nodded slowly, chewing on your lip as you looked up at the small buzzer that would lead you up into Youngji's apartment.

"Do you regret going public?"

With the speed you turned toward Changkyun, you were surprised your neck didn't crack. "Absolutely not."

"Just wanted to double check," he smirked, squeezing your hand for emphasis. "But I promise you, this is likely one of the best places to go first."

"But you said..." you trailed. "You said Youngji...she's a lot."

"That doesn't mean she isn't kind," Changkyun cooed. "She's going to poke fun, but she understands."

You nodded again, having no choice but to put trust in your partner.

"Noona," he whispered softly in your ear, causing a shiver to make its way down your spine. "Do you need me to protect you?"

Your eyes grew wide as you swiveled toward him again.

"Are you two coming or are you going to make eyes at each other all evening?!" the small speaker box complained, making you jump.

Turning away from Changkyun's amused smirk and toward the small device on the wall, you smiled sheepishly. "Coming!"

Youngji buzzed the two of you in, and you fell behind Changkyun so he could lead the way.

"You're an absolute terror," you muttered, eye level with his butt as he traipsed up the stairs.

"Sorry," your boyfriend called over his shoulder. "I didn't catch that. It sounded an awful lot like an insult, but surely that couldn't be right."

"Oh, you must have misheard," you hummed. "I would never insult you, jagi."

Coming to a halt at the top step, he hit you with one of his mischievous grins. "I'm like a plant that needs to be watered. I need at least five compliments a day to sustain my existence. Insults only make me wilt."

"And who am I to keep you from hitting your daily quota?" you said casually, trying to bite back a giggle. "Your hairstyle today really makes your nose look smaller."

"Ah, yes," he nodded. "You really make me feel like I'm thriving."

Pushing him playfully in the arm, you both erupted into laughter.

"I WANT TO LAUGH!" a familiar voice cut through.

Looking up, you were surprised to find your host for the day with her door already open. She grinned widely at Changkyun before her eyes settled on you. "Y/N!"

"Youngji!" you laughed, only slightly taken back by her direct manner.

Launching forward, she clutched your hands in hers, eyes round as she spoke quickly. "I'm so excited to have you here. It's fine that you brought Changkyun, but I want you to know that you're who I really want to talk to."

"Thanks," you heard Changkyun deadpan. Sliding off his shoes, he waddled his way around the two of you, and set the brown paper bag full of drinks you had brought on the table.

"Ah, you know I'm kidding!" Youngji gasped. "Don't be so moody!"

"I wouldn't be moody if your jokes were better," Changkyun said, mocking Youngji's whiny tone.

"I can get Y/N to slap you now," Youngji said sternly, throwing a thumb in your direction. "I have no qualms with violence."

"Hey, hey," you laughed, stepping between the two. "I don't need my boyfriend fighting my newest friend."

"Oh my gosh," Youngji cooed, bringing her interlaced hands to her heart. "I don't know what part I'm more excited about, being your friend, or finding out all about your relationship!"

""All about" is not the intention here," Changkyun hummed, plopping onto the bench on the opposite side of the table. "Finding out a little will be more than enough."

Doing a happy dance, Youngji motioned for you to sit beside Changkyun. You took the cushion directly to his right and smiled. "We brought some things."

Youngji nodded as she began to shuffle through the bag. "I love it when guests bring hangover cures."

"It's necessary," you laughed. "I'm not getting any younger and hangovers stick with me all day. He can drink until the sun rises and feel nothing at all."

"Not that I do drink until the sun rises," Changkyun said, cutting his eyes at you.

"Oh, that will be the rumor we'll run with today then," Youngji giggled, pulling out a bottle of rum you had picked out. "What's this?"

"A rum I like to drink at home," you nodded. "I figured I would bring something I was used to."

"So, you can drink well and watch us fall apart?" Youngji gasped. "You villain!"

"No, no," you laughed, holding your hands in the air between the two of you. "I think everyone will drink it well."

After pouring drinks and laying out some food from the day's sponsors, Youngji settled into her chair. Setting her elbows on the table, and her chin in her palms, she looked at the two of you adoringly. "I have never seen a better suited couple."

"Thank you," you laughed, looking towards Changkyun who already had a mouthful of food. "That's nice to hear."

"I'm sure you've been getting all the positive and negative since you two have gone public," Youngji nodded.

"Mmm," Changkyun agreed. "There's been a lot of beautiful commentary from fans. Other things I've read, I'd rather forget about."

"It shouldn't matter as long as the two of you are happy," Youngji clucked, taking a swig of her drink. "Now, how did you meet?"

You looked to your lap, your face already heating. You knew that these types of questions would come up today, but no amount of preparation could have gotten you ready for your real time feelings.

"She's your sunbae," Youngji said mischievously. "Was it formal when you met for the first time?"

"I was her fan," Changkyun said with a small smile. "We first met at an awards show backstage. I asked one of my members who had met Y/N before to introduce us."

"He was so shy," you giggled, remembering the moment fondly. "And stiff. I tried to make a joke to lighten the mood and he laughed so loudly that one of the PD's called for him to quiet down."

"You were trying to impress her!" Youngji gasped, looking accusatorily at Changkyun.

"Of course, I was!" he groaned. "You would too!"

"I would," Youngji smiled, abashed.

"Stop," you laughed. "I've just been in the industry a little longer. It doesn't mean I'm intimidating."

"Speak for yourself!" Changkyun argued. "You see your face every day in the mirror, I don't know why you're surprised!"

This caused the small congregation that made up Youngji's crew to giggle.

"See!" Changkyun continued, motioning toward them. "You have a certain effect on people."

"I'm pretty sure they were laughing at how cute you were being," Youngji corrected.

"You're very cute," you agreed. "But you come off so serious at first."

"What happened after you were introduced?" Youngji poked.

"I blacked out and somehow asked her to exchange numbers with me," Changkyun smirked.

"You didn't black out," you said with a startled laugh. "You sent your manager back after you had already left."

"You couldn't do it yourself?" Youngji chided. "What kind of man are you?"

"A nervous one!" Changkyun whined, taking a long drink. "I couldn't handle potentially being told no."

"Who texted who first?" Youngji asked.

"Funny story about that," you grimaced.

"She pocked dialed me," Changkyun said, his expression immediately brightening. "I had a missed call when I checked my phone and saw it was Y/N. I was so excited when I called back and she said, "Oh, no. I didn't call.""

This caused the entire room to burst into noise. The ever-present heat on your skin seemed to grow even warmer. Burying your face in Changkyun's shoulder, you shuttered with silent laughter.

"I was too proud to just accept being blown off," Changkyun continued. "So I told her that she should call me purposefully next time."

Leaning away from your boyfriend, you hiccuped. "As soon as he hung up, I called him back."

"Oh my gosh," Youngji cooed. "And the rest was history?"

"Pretty much," you confessed. "From that night, we talked on the phone quite often. During our schedules, we'd text a lot. Then we finally decided to start meeting."

"What made you decide to go public with your relationship?" Youngji asked, growing a bit serious as she listened in earnest.

"Slinking around and hiding something that you feel so strongly is tiring," you sighed.

Changkyun nodded, taking your hand in his. "Not just tiring, but almost...dehumanizing?"

"Because everyone deserves romantic love," Youngji nodded along as well. "And to feel like you don't because of your profession...that makes total sense."

"Having to bundle up and pretend I wasn't myself when I wanted to go to his apartment," you said quietly. "Or having to get private rooms at exclusive restaurants. There was honestly no in between."

"Do you think it was worth it though?" Youngji asked, genuinely curious.

"I think so," Changkyun said quickly, looking toward you as he awaited confirmation.

"I do too," you agreed. "I love him. I want everyone to know that I love him. He deserves to have everyone know."

"Aigoo," Youngji chimed, hugging herself. "I suddenly feel very, very single."

You smiled, letting out your first deep breath since you had arrived at the building. Changkyun was right. Youngji got it and didn't poke fun at the idea of the two of you feeling the things you did. Whether the world would agree when they watched her show was another question, but that was a worry for another day.

Who cares what everyone else thinks? You were living your life for you.

Today was meant for getting drunk and being happy.

youtube

#changkyun #i.m #monsta x #i.m changkyun #monsta x i.m #monsta x changkyun #im changkyun #changkyun fluff #changkyun fanfic #changkyun x reader #i.m fluff #i.m fanfic #i.m x reader #monsta x fanfic #monsta x fluff #monsta x x reader #Youtube

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mephistopheleswasrobbed · 14 days

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Ghost Pepe Silvia is back with episode 2 of Peaceful Property/On Sale and it's still gay and here's why (this time a little less chronological):

Pangpang approves. She and Peach are obviously very close and Peach values her opinion a lot. Pangpnag, even though she's technically his younger sister, has taken on some stereotypical older sibling roles in relation to Peach. She takes care of him, protects him and now she's even kind of become his manager. She clearely takes this very seriously so her disapproval would be a hindrance to any potential relationship with Peach. But unlike with Best, she does approve of Home.

(Btw finger guns? That's kinda bi of you, Pangpang and Home!)

And while this approval might initially be rooted in Home's wealth, it can't be the only factor (Best has money. Not Home levels but definitely a lot more than the siblings. And it didn't help him.) and it ceartainly isn't by the end of the episode.

(Actually there might be a parallel here between Pangpang going from valuing Home for his money to valuing him for his character and Home who starts out trying to solve every problem with money but is strating to learn that there are more valuable things he can bring to tha table.)

Not only does Pangpang approve, she ships it. We already know that she plans to marry off her brother to attain financial security for them. Now that she's found a rich guy whom she also approves of, she's doing her best to make it happen.

From trying to mediate and damage control their fights,

to (not so) subtly planting ideas in Peach's head.

As I predicted last time, Home does flirt with Kan again this eppisode. But it happens only once, when he introduces her to the siblings, and it seems even less serious than last episode. If anything it feels more like posturing, trying to play himself up, infront of Peach.

(come on he even looks at Peach while he says this)

They keep fighting like little children because they actually care about each others opinion.

So Peach pouts when Home insults his sandwiches.

Home pretends that he doesn't need Peach only to complain about his absence two minutes later.

They go at it in a 'No-you!' manner of arguing at the slightest provocation.

Home keeps reaching out to touch Peach. He doesn't do that with anyone else (aside from one quickly stopped attempt with Kan)

We see Home abandoning every other character except for Peach. Not only does he not abandon Peach, he carries him on his shoulder after Peach faints in his arms, and when he gets attacked by posessed Pangpang, instead of running away he puts himself into danger trying to pull her off Peach.

Then there's the whole sequence they basically pulled out of the dislike-to-lovers trope box. First Home pretends that he totally doesn't care about Peach only to talk his uncle's ear off about him, showing that he obviously does care.

Then the wise friend (In this case uncle Kit) talks some sense into him, making him see that he's also at fault, leading to:

Home pacing in front of his crush's door, debating with himself on whether or not to knock, finally making up some external reason why he should actually knock. Only to chicken out at the last minute, hide, and then witness something he wasn't supposed to.

Classic!

Home calls Peach hot in his own ad.

(and gives him a phallic object as a prop)

And at the end of this episode we get the moment Peach starts to fall.

Namely after Home tells him he arranged for Rak's mother to receive her benefits. Thus proving to Peach that he is capable of looking past his prejudices and show kindness to a stranger without having to be forced into it.

Peach, who has been described as and shown to be a person who is very kind and empathetic towars strangers (including those that he's afraid of, read: ghosts, which is why he's able to get them to pass on), obviously values kindness and empathy in others. Previously he had found Home lacking in that department, but now that he's shown the capacity for it, we can clearly see Peach immediately softening towars Home. (At this point I have to give some praise to Tay for managing to convey this with barely any movement, in general all four of them have done really well so far)

Peach's blossoming feelings for Home are further shown when he definitely doesn't even care whether Home approves of him when Pangpang asks about Home's verdict after the trial exorcism,

and when he enters the 'I-totally-don't-even-like-him' stage that we've already seen from Home, as examplified by his "Nonsense" response when Pangpang calls him out for being posessive.

There's no use pretending Peach, your sister has you figured out.

Home continues to grow through his association with Peach (and Pangpang and Kan), being more polite when he visits the siblings, trying to get Rak's mother her money, paying the siblings even though he initially told them to do it for free. And he continues to simp for #hotnerdexorcist.

Just look at his fond little smile as he watches Peach and Pangpang freak out about the money.

And last but not least we're returning to my ass-pull segment of punching symbolism I'm titeling Peach punching his way to love:

This week we had one punch and one prevented punch, both coming from Peach. I would like to argue that both symbolise the character growth that Home needs to undergo so Peach can fully fall in love with him.

-> The manager stands for the part of Home that Peach sees most of this episode. The part that thinks money solves all problems, that looks down on poor people and has no desire to give a chance to anything he deems "lesser" (like Peach's sandwiches). This part gets punched by Peach because this is the behaviour that Peach can't stand, that Home has to grow from.

-> The mother stands for Home's less visible but still present side that does care about others and is willing to set things right when he realises he made a mistake/was unfair in his judgement over others. Peach tries to punch this part, too, because he can't/isn't willing to see the potential for kindness in Home but Pangpang holds him back, allowing him to see that this isn't someone to be punched. Just like she repeatedly tries to make her brother give Home a chance, to give Home the opportunity to show that he does have some redeeming qualities.

And that's it for episode 2. Now that Peach has also started to fall, let's see if I have more to say on his part in the next episode!

#peaceful property #peaceful property the series #homepeach #so many screenshots so little working memory. my poor laptop was struggeling there for a second

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sinisterexaggerator · 5 months

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Hello there!

I am here to ease ya'll into my favorite ship:

Banaka (Cad Bane x Hondo Ohnaka)

Best in the Bunch.

I have so much planned for these two in a fanfic I am only just beginning to write (that spans Cad Bane's entire life), but conversations with @allsystemsblue led me to write this fluff scenario and I could not stop myself.

Pretend that what you are reading is based on an already well-established relationship. Bane shows affection by acts of service and gift giving, as his feelings are something he has trouble with expressing. The rest is self-indulgent garbage.

I should mention this is not how the rest of said fic will go. This is a one-off just for fun. You can expect angst, drama, hurt, comfort, toxic relationships, violence and smut in the future.

Credit goes to Teeth for the idea that Hondo, while not believing in the God Quay, still finds comfort in performing magicks for his own peace of mind.

Word count: 1.4k+

Warnings: None. Fluff, a kiss, and a lot of negativity on Bane's part.

He didn’t know a thing about them, flowers, only that they might come in useful for a certain predicament he had found himself in, as it seemed most sentient beings thought the seed-bearing parts of plants—consisting of its reproductive organs, mind you—were somehow beautiful.

He supposed he could see it, what with their bright-colored corollas, petals coming in all shapes and sizes, typically paired with a calyx as green as his own blood. That was only on some planets. On others, they were red, or blue. Purple. Indigo.

On Florrum, they came in various shades of orange, or yellow, a rarity after an even rarer desert downpour.

Fragile is what they were, and a waste of money. The resources used to farm them could be utilized in more efficient ways. Perhaps he would like the wild ones better, though to pull weeds as a manner of apology didn’t seem good enough. Didn’t seem thoughtful enough. He was sure the Weequay would run him out.

Then again, apologizing wasn’t something he often did, as Bane rarely meant not to do something he had set his mind to. Only this time, he had hurt Ohnaka’s feelings.

Feelings. Hondo had too many, and maybe Bane had too few. Callous one might call him, insensitive another. Cynical was more like it; tired; disillusioned. Yet rare was the man who could crack him open to show him what lay beneath; like a geode, Ohnaka exposed his insides, revealing to Bane all the pretty bits he never would have known existed.

And Bane did care, if only when it suited him. If only on his terms. But this time, he cared because Hondo did. It was partially anathema, this caring, yet he did it anyway, unable to coax his mind to let their little squabble go.

To the pirate, it had been more than that, Bane insulting his very heritage. He didn’t understand the tiny dolls he kept, the archaic sources of illumination that were made of wax and smelled like things Bane could not identify, nor the bits and scraps of flimsi that had been burned to cinders.

These things decorated a small table, resting atop an ornate cloth; Bane had touched it much to the pirate’s chagrin, then disrespected his arcane practice, ridiculing his efforts to appease some nonexistent deity in order to bring about Bane’s good luck.

His job was dangerous, but the hunter was unaware he was being prayed for behind closed doors. Somehow, that had irritated him, more so as he didn’t understand it, thinking Hondo must be attempting to commit himself to witchcraft like those little ladies that lived on Dathomir.

“What’s with dhis nonsense. Ain’t no use in doin’ dhat,” he remembered saying; a poor choice of words to one who meant no ill will.

He understood that now, if nothing else. So what if Hondo lit a candle for him. Who was he to say he hadn’t lived to hunt another day because of it? It was possible the only thing keeping Bane alive besides his street smarts and good aim was the Weequay’s magicks; Bane shuddered to think that was the case.

Even so, here he was, holding a bouquet tightly in one hand and his hat’s brim in the other, deigning to do what he felt might be ignored. This was nothing more than a gesture to barter passage into the pirate king’s good graces—an act of service on his part, the buying of them—for in the here and now, there was nothing more he wished to accomplish in this life. Had you told him he would be doing this a year ago, he would have laughed himself hoarse, or worse yet, right into an early grave.

Yes, flowers. Expensive, frail, and pointless. He had chosen the prettiest of those assembled according to his tastes, selecting a color he assumed was the dummy’s favorite: red.

Ladalums were scarce and imported from Alderaan, a fact he’d learned upon their purchase. They would only bloom if pollinated on their homeworld; these were fresh off the cargo freight, able to last months if given the right treatment.

That was one good thing about them—once out of his hands, the rest was up to the pirate to take care of. He was good at that, Bane mused—caring for things.

Eyes and heads—not dissimilar from all the others that populated this chamber of sorts—turned to look at this bounty hunter who relunctantly proceeded with his walk of shame. Bane would bite back all his nasty words, even as members of Hondo's gang jeered and snickered at his expense.

What he wouldn’t give to kill them on the spot. Somehow, he imagined, that would not do him any favors.

Seated on a low dais, in a throne fit for a king no less, his disgruntled paramour still fumed, swoop-goggles purposefully removed to rest upon the front of his worn helmet. Those expressive gray eyes were the Duros’ weakness, finding that he could not meet his narrowed gaze. Already oblique, Hondo’s stormy depths had gathered further into slits, leaving Bane to swallow down his spit.

Still, he approached, feeling naked and vulnerable as he stood there like a scolded child without his hat to shield him. He did his best, fathomless red ellipses meeting Hondo’s glare head-on, Bane saying the only thing he could think to say.

“Brought some flowers.”

Nothin'. There was no reaction, not even a change in his demeanor or a brightening of mood. Bane overtly frowned, taking a step back for his boots to echo lightly against the duracrete floor of Hondo’s beloved fortress home.

Supposin’ this didn’t work, Bane planned for his retreat, hoping to retain some dignity among those present. He lowered his head, his hat rightfully returned to where it belonged by a flat palm, Bane ready to drop the bouquet like so much trash at his feet; it was difficult to care when you didn’t know how to fix the wrong you’d done. Trying wasn’t as good as doing. Doing was the hard part.

“Are dose for me?”

Four little words that set Bane’s heart to thumping, the hunter wisely keeping his eyes averted as he saw the pirate stand out of his periphery. He would only nod, an infinitesimal movement of his head, up and down, affirming what Hondo already knew—those flowers were for him.

His spark descended, that charming scoundrel who kept him going on a dark night of the soul; he strode down the short flight of stairs that would bring him nearly to his level, Bane taller than Ohnaka, though the man was bigger in some ways; his heart for one, Bane thought.

“Dey are beautiful, my Moon,” his bit of sunshine said, Bane’s sorrowful eyes rising out from the shade of his bolero.

“Picked de best in de bunch,” he humbly offered, words bordering a whisper, eerily heard as the hall was quiet, grim faces and furrowed brows sparing him none of his embarrassment. "Same could be said, fer ye,” he added.

It was then the Weequay smiled, a dazzling thing, brighter than dual suns. Bane relaxed openly as he expelled a breath from between his teeth; it was a slow, heavy sigh of relief.

“Flatterer,” Hondo teased, his smile spreading wider, gold amidst pearl and oh-so satisfying to witness should Bane be the sole cause of it. “Dey need water, hm?”

The shuffling of a crimson coat and an idle toss of a braid signaled to Bane that Hondo would exit, the hunter grateful his gift had been accepted. However, the Weequay would pause, turning about face, reflecting on the shrinking Duros as he had been tempted to follow in his footsteps.

“Just… one more ting,” he announced, his expression hardening back to a look previously sported as his voice lowered an octave, Bane’s heart sinking toward his belly as he did not wish to incur any more reprimands.

Hondo took him by his coat’s lapel, jerking him forward. Bane held onto his hat as dusky lips brushed across his, pinpricks of electricity teeming along his scales like minuscule lightning bolts. The Duros would slump his shoulders to sink to Ohnaka’s height, a warm, black tongue invading his mouth to skirt one that was cool and pink.

This must be what it felt like to be forgiven, he assumed, some invisible weight lifting from off his conscience.

“Take it ye like flowers,” Bane remarked once free of his kiss, wanting to fill the now awkward silence with something to lighten whatever tension might be left between them.

For Hondo, there was none. He could just as easily forget as he could forgive. A rough thumb smoothed down the bit of Bane’s flesh left assailable, brazenly descending to aid in the tweaking of one sharp fang.

“Yes,” Hondo harmoniously agreed, “you might say dat.”

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candywife333 · 10 months

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Better Have My Money

[TEASER]

-SLATED TO RELEASE IN DECEMBER

chubby caretaker reader x CEO jungkook

"You gold digger, how dare you seduce my grandfather with your feminine wiles? How did you do it with that fat ass? Must've blindfolded my poor grandpa".

I turned around, almost wheezing with laughter still stuck in my lungs, "Hey, don't call me a gold digger dude. That is insulting to me. They say diamonds are a girl's best friend. Why would I settle for something as cheap as gold? And why do you think I seduced your grandpa. I was just his caretaker bro, that's it."

Jungkook bit out, enraged with his eyes blazing, "Then why the hell did he write you in the fucking will you bitch? He left half of his net worth to you"?!!! The dude grabbed the collar of my starch white Ralph Lauren polo, "Do you even comprehend what you have done"?!!

I pushed the dude's hand off , "Dude stop trying to choke me. This is a premium polo, do you know that? I have to return it back to the store next week. You intend on accusing me of things I didn't do and now you want me to have the misfortune of not getting a refund". My eyes got misty as I whimpered out," What type of demon are you? Trying to make the poor poorer I see. You utter rascal".

He looked like steam was coming out of his eyes as he shouted, "How dare you call me a rascal!!! You whorish vixen"!! I thought I would get offended but I was really impressed by his vocabulary. I shook his sleeve, "Dude, do you read historical romance or something? Like the Bridgertons or Outlander. Because your vocabulary is hella impressive. You must've memorized the entire SAT vocabulary list". I waved my hands to silence him. "Forget it. Just listen to me for a second. If you want to get me off this mythical will you speak of, you will have to silence me with either the power of your pocket or the power of the P".

He stared at me quizzically, as though he were confused. I smiled placatingly, "Look, it is very simple. Either you pay me a direct cash deposit of 75 percent of whatever I was promised by your grandfather, or you pay me in sex".

His jaw dropped open, so open that a few cockroaches could fly in if he let them. He seemed to choke on his own spit, coughing till he solemnly sputtered out, "Number one is not on the table. What the hell do you mean by sex"?!!!

I assessed him, with a twitch of one of my eyebrows, "It's an age old profession bro. If I really must explain it", I sat down on a bench and explained , "you must voraciously plunder my depths so to speak". He gulped as he gawked at me with something similar to disgust, "Plunder your depths? You mean that I am supposed to fuck your lardy ass to get rid of you".

I smiled , nodding enthusiastically ," I wouldn't put it in such an uncouth, uncultured manner. To put it in a more sophisticated manner, you must ravage me passionately". He continued to look more confused, so I sighed and clarified with gravity, "To put it more precisely, I want to rattle your snake, la chupa your cabra, or even better, hanky your panky". He gasped in horror, eyes widening as though he had seen a ghost. " But essentially, yes, you must tup me with your very long member for approximately a month". With an astonished face he menacingly bit out, "And how would you know that it is very long you trollop"?

My eyes glinted in the sun as I chirped out sunnily, "Those pants fit you very well Sir, if you must know. And after having consumed enough erotica for years, I can tell you one thing". I winked obnoxiously as I eyed his pants, " My estimation skills never have failed me".

#bts x reader #jungkook x reader #chubby reader #comedy #eventual smut #bts x plus size reader #bts x chubby reader #bts x curvy reader #jungkook x chubby reader #jungkook x curvy reader #gold diggger #caretaker reader #jungkook x plus size reader #humor

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hxpel3s5-slxxt · 5 months

Text

𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐞 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧

TW: unauthorized/nonconsensual photography, sexual harassment, threatening, offensive insults, overprotective behavior, angst, usage of drugs (marijuana), peeping tom

A/n: Not all characters will be dated/developing relationships in the first book/season. You may have to wait until the second book/season if you are waiting for a specific character.

X Table Of Contents

Chapter 1: Heavenly

》Next

"Bro! BRO!" I curl over myself laughing as my best friend runs out of the yard, trying to get away.

Tears prick at my eyes and my best friend falls to the ground laughing.

"Bruh, I was NOT tryna get caught!"

He manages to say before joining me at my side.

"Okay, but you ain't have to run out the yard!"

His laughing finally dies down and we walk back inside, his left arm draped over my shoulder in a friendly manner. Seeing Chifuyu and Kazutora still chilling on the couch, I take a seat next to Kazutora, throwing my legs over his lap. Baji sits next to Chifuyu, his right arm resting on the back of the couch over the blond's shoulders.

"Kazu, Fuyu, tell me why Baji gon' run out the front yard when I tried to hit him for spraying me."

I lean back on the armrest of the couch, getting comfortable. Slight chuckles leave them and Baji's face grows a bit red.

"I was runnin' for my life, bruh." he smiles at the group.

My phone buzzes in my pocket and Kazutora looks at me with a raised eyebrow.

"One of your lil' side hoes?"

I take my phone out and give him a ' Are you serious right now?' look. He puts his hands up defensively.

"I'm just asking the questions that need to be asked!" I chuckle at him and Chifuyu defends me.

"Jealous much?" He raises his eyebrow, mirroring what Kazutora had done. Kazutora gets defensive and I roll my eyes at their bantering. I unlock my phone to see who texted me.

H: Are you coming or not?

H: Getting tired of waiting.

I roll my eyes at his impatience before texting back.

Me: Yea?

Me: And one thing you not gon do, lil boy, is rush me. 😒🖕🏾

He reacts to my message with a laughing face, and before I can tell him I'm not playing, my phone gets snatched out of my hands by Baji.

"' Are you coming or not?', ' Yea?'" He reads the message aloud and looks at me in disbelief.

Chufuyu springs up from his seat before taking the phone himself.

I stand up as well and punch Baji's arm.

"Don't touch my shit, nigga." I attempt to take my phone from Chifuyu, but he swiftly avoids me. His eyes never leave the screen as his face scrunches up in a mixture of surprise and disgust.

Kazutora chimes in.

"The same way some grown man tryna touch on you?" he snorts and I roll my eyes.

"Yall really think yall funny, huh?" I finally manage to take my phone from Chifuyu and quickly lock my phone.

Baji crosses his arms. "Who's 'H'?" he raises an eyebrow. The other two men nod along.

"That's none of your business, now is it?" I bend over, pouting mockingly. I knew I messed up by saying that, but could you blame me? I mean, I'm a grown-ass woman. Their faces darken, completely serious. Chifuyu scoffs at me before making his way upstairs. I roll my eyes at his childish behavior.

My eyes trail over to the other two men.

"So we're keeping secrets now?" Kazutora stands.

"Kazu, c'mon--"

"No, no, Kazutora, it's none of our business!" Baji cuts me off, putting his hands up in a surrendering manner. I feel my throat tighten a bit.

"Oh you right, I'm sorry, we didn't mean to look out for you, your highness!" Kazutora bows before scowling at me.

I scoff at them. "Okay, be like that! I don't give a fuck!" I shrug, storming out of the house.

My heart feels like it's in my throat as tears blur my vision. I let out an aggravated sigh as I walked down the block. Unfortunately, Baji was my ride to Kazutora's house, so getting a ride from him was now out of the question. I was by no means sad about our small argument, just pissed off. My phone chimes as I get sent an address. I put it into my GPS and make my way there.

Luckily, the walk felt short. I turn off my music and put my headphones back into my pocket as I walk up to a large hotel. I get to the entrance and notice that you need a keycard to get in. Just as I am about to pull out my phone, the door opens. I look up and a smile crosses my face.

"Hey, Hanma."

The ghost of a smirk crosses his features as the lanky man steps aside to let me into the lobby.

The building itself looked well-kept and not too fancy. We step into the elevator and Hanma presses the button for the 3rd floor. My eyes travel up to his hair and I let out a disgusted grumble.

"What did I tell you about putting your hair up like that? It looks better down." I upturn my lip and he side-eyes me, uninterested.

"And I told you that dressing like a bimbo ain't cute." he scrunches his nose at my outfit, eyeing me up and down. A sports bra and booty shorts don't fall into the bimbo category for me, but what do I know?

The doors open and we step out of the elevator, Hanma slapping my ass in the process. I whip around to face him, my eyes wide and my mouth agape. He walks right past me in a bored manner; down the hallway to his apartment. 3105.

He presses his key card up against the fancy machinery, the red light turning green. He pushes his door open and throws his key card onto the kitchen counter.

As soon as you walk in, you're hit with the smell of lemon-scented cleaning supplies and expensive candles. I honestly expected his place to be junky. Shit, I didn't even expect him to live in the Heavenly Hotel.

Having been known as the second most expensive hotel in the Bronx, the Heavenly Hotel certainly lives up to its name.

"Okay Hanma, I see you," I say, my eyebrows knitted together with a smile on my face. I couldn't help but run my fingers against every surface. "Nice place, nice place…" I peek up the stairs.

He takes off his jacket, draping it over the industrial white couch.

"Hm? Oh, I'm not living in this shithole. My place? The Heavenly Hotel wishes they could compare." He smirks at me, almost telling me I'm stupid without saying it.

I roll my eyes but deep down, I'm impressed. I mean, with the way Hanma dresses, acts, etc. I thought he was living on the streets. Which brings me to my current question.

"Where'd you get the mon--"

"You can take a shower upstairs. There's a closet with spare clothes." He takes out a cigarette, lights it and places it in his mouth. Hanma takes a long drag, letting the smoke out through his nose.

"Not only do you talk too fuckin' much, but you're damn nosey." He mumbles, flicking ashes onto the floor. I flinch. Not because of his less than kind words, but because of the bland grey dirtying the pristine white marble.

I go upstairs, opening every door and being met with beautiful rooms. It isn't until I'm about to give up that I finally find the bathroom. The floors are made out of beautiful linen wood, the walls a soothing grey. I strip down and place my clothes into a hamper. I turn on the water and play with the different settings. Jet, shower, rain. There are 15 different settings to choose from. I go with mist and scrub my body. The water pressure and temperature put me on cloud 9.

I must not have kept track of how long I was in there, because next thing I know, the door flings open. Heavy feet stomp over to the shower and that door swings open as well. I jump and cover my naked body.

"I don't know what you think this is; running up my water bill. Get your ass out 'fore I come in there, wash you myself, and dress you like you're a fucking child." Hanma spits, glaring down at me. His eyes look over me once before slamming the shower door shut.

"You got four minutes." He walks out and closes the door behind him.

I remain still from the shock. I take in a shaky breath and turn off the water. I step out and grab a towel from the shelf over the toilet. I quickly dry off and put on a white t-shirt, black leggings, and black socks from the closet. I put my box braids into a half up-half down hairstyle, leaving some out in the front.

I leave the bathroom and come downstairs to see Hanma smoking on the balcony, the stars of the night making his face glow.

I step out with him and close the sliding door behind me

"Don't pull that shit again." My voice comes out less strict than I would have hoped.

He laughs at me. He laughs his stupidly. sexy. irresistible laugh and puts his cigarette out on the railing. He walks past me, squeezing my chest. I couldn't help the small startled moan I let out.

Curse this quietness.

He abruptly stops at the doorway and I can't bring myself to turn around and face him.

"You're gonna wish I do," He steps closer, his left hand gripping my ponytail, yanking my head back. "You're gonna cry and beg for that shit," He continued.

I glare at him through teary eyes, the back of my neck starting to burn. He stares at me, not saying a word. A blank face plays on his features and my throat tightens as the tears spill over.

"Han--"

"You're no fun." He sighs, yanking my body back by my hair, causing me to run into the iron railing.

I wipe my tears. Am I seriously crying in front of this piece of shit? Where did my pride go? Was it lost when I lost the trust of my three closest friends? Or maybe it was when I lost my dignity, letting Hanma treat me the way he is just because he's bigger. Stronger.

I sniffle and push past him, grabbing my phone off the kitchen counter, Hanma had grabbed it when he entered the bathroom.

"Fuck you, Hanma. Don't text me, call me, don't even think about me, you perverted piece of shit." I say, unlocking the door while pulling my shoes on.

"That seems more like a you task, than a me task. Text me when you get home, doll." He smiles.

"Go fuck yourself," I mumble, leaving out the door.

"So then I told that negro to go fuck himself. Not only are you gonna diss my fashion sense, but you're gonna put your hands on me?" I shake my head in disbelief.

Nahoya brushes his knuckles against my cheek. "It's gon' be okay, ma."

He manspreads with his arms thrown over the back of the couch, black sweats hanging dangerously low. There is silence despite the R&B music playing from Nahoya's playlist. Souya, sitting between my legs, tilts his head back until it meets my lap. He looks up at me with red, lidded eyes.

"Want us to beat him up?" He asks, relaxing into the plush of my thighs. I run my fingers through his hair, making sure the oil is rubbed in. A smile makes its way to my face.

"Nah, ya'll are good."

Nahoya uses his index and middle fingers to turn my chin, making me face him.

"Y'know you can rely on us, right?" His finger taps on my chin to keep my attention. "You can still move in. We kept the guest room open just for you, sweetheart." He smiles at me, his blindingly white teeth making an appearance. Lord have mercy.

"I know, Hoya." I grab his hand lingering on my face. "But you know I've been thinking about moving in with Annaztazja and Raedyn." I flash a sorry smile.

Annaztazja and Raedyn are my two best friends. I met them when I first enrolled in college. They were looking for a third person to split the rent with, and I sure as hell was not paying for a dorm by myself. After receiving my Bachelors degree in information systems and going to business school, I'm 22 getting by with the position of Jr.Operations Analyst for Gynja Investments with a salary of $34,628.

Nahoya sucks his teeth and stands up, stretching. "They already got each other. They'on need a third person." He chuckles to himself.

Souya takes my phone off the charger, replacing it with his. "25 missed calls from 'Fuyu' and 46 unread messages from 'Tora'." He says, handing me my phone. I wipe my hands off on my leggings and take my phone from him.

I decide to call Chifuyu back later and read the messages from Kazutora.

Tora: Yo

Tora: Where are you?

Tora: Istg if you dont answer me

Tora: Im gonna get Baji to track your location

Tora: And he'll handle it

I quickly text back before he makes any rash decisions.

Me: I'm good.

Me: Spending the night somewhere else.

Tora: Wtf do you mean

Tora: You supposed to be spending the night here

Oh, that's right. I was supposed to be spending the night at Tora's place.

Tora: ?

Tora: Where you at? Address?

I turn my location off. A harsh slap to my thigh makes me turn my phone off as well. I look down at Souya, the assailant in question. I rub at my now swelling thigh and raise an eyebrow. "Hm?"

"You spending the night?" He asks, obviously eavesdropping.

"Well, not anymore you abusive fuck."

Souya turns around, his forearms on each side of me.

"'M sorry, mama." He mumbles against the crook of my neck, peppering kisses on my right shoulder. He intertwines his hands behind my back, trapping me. My heartbeat quickens in two places as his kisses trail to my collarbone. I run my fingers through his hair as he finishes his kisses on my left shoulder, resting his head on it.

"I guess I can forgive you." I joke, rolling my eyes.

Nahoya comes behind the couch, draping a blanket over my face.

"There are more blankets in the hallway closet." He says, playfully knocking my head to the side. I pull the blanket off my face.

"Attacking me while I'm at an obvious disadvantage is crazy," I say, leaning back to show Souya snuggling into my shoulder.

"I guess you sleeping on the couch then." he smiles, hitting the other side of my head.

"Souya, get up and defend my honor," I whine, trying my best to shake the man twice my size. Small snores erupt from him and I sigh in defeat.

"I want my ones when I wake up, cheater," I say draping the blankets over Souya and me.

"Now come over here and help me get him on this couch." Referring to Souya's bottom half still kneeling at the edge of the couch. Nahoya steps over and lays his brother on top of me.

"Goodnight, big head," Nahoya says, turning the lights off.

"Goodnight, ugly." I retort, closing my eyes. The sound of Nahoya going up the stairs gets smaller and smaller until inaudible.

I run my fingers through Souyas curly locs as today's events consume my thoughts. And no matter how hard I tried, even as I drifted to sleep, I couldn't tune out the sound of a camera clicking.

48 notes · View notes

pedropascallme · 6 months

Text

The Good, the Bad, and the Better II

Pairing: gunslinger!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: "You stood, walking into the main room to see the Millers sat at the kitchen table, conversing in hushed tones. They stopped speaking when you approached; Joel kept his gaze down, and Tommy shifted to look at you, offering a polite smile."

Content: Mentions of crimes? Is that a warning? If I missed anything please let me know!

AN: Hi this took forever to edit because I love overusing adjectives. Anyway this is part 2, part 1 is here! I likely won't be updating this series super often because I'm way too busy but nevertheless I persist.

You learned quickly that this was not a house of God.

The Miller boys were…brash, put lightly. It wasn’t shocking; of course, two grown men, unmarried and in a territory where anything could happen, and often did, were going to eat, drink, and be merry on their own accord. But you were startled by Ellie’s delight at being included in their fliting and fighting. You listened for hours on end as El and Tommy hurled insults and laughed while Joel looked on with a glint of humor in his eyes, never cracking a smile; the men drinking beer and Ellie sipping sarsaparilla, her hand dwarfed by Tommy’s as she tried her best to beat him in an arm wrestle.

You didn’t mind, in all honesty, but the culture shock was something you hadn’t expected. Maybe you should’ve known that your aunt’s friends wouldn’t be gentlemen to the highest degree, given her track record and the company she often kept, but it was better than sitting at home and waiting to join your parents in the Heavens—death by boredom and self-pity.

Despite the disorder, you found solace in the moments you were granted now, in Texas. The sun was radiant, adding natural blush to your cheeks and making you feel truly alive in the midst of all your losses. And the company was, though chaotic, far from bad. You continued to teach Ellie the hand games you used to play with the girls at church, Tommy watching idly, his foot hitting the floorboards in sync with the rhythm of your hands smacking together. You did, truly, have a soft spot for the younger girl. It was something that felt familial, the thought of two orphans living under the same roof and sharing the experience of adventure and the wild west—or maybe it was just because she made you laugh till your stomach hurt, tears creeping out of your eyes when she made you cackle with glee, the taste of the salt on your face finally associated with joy instead of sorrow.

Tommy, too, was increasingly easy to be around. He was polite, for someone who lived in such a frenzied manner, and seemed to genuinely mean it when he waved good morning, putting breakfast in front of you first when the sun rose.

“How come I never get fed first?” Ellie whined, still in sleep clothes, knees tucked into her chest as the sun crept in through the windows, heating the house.

“Ladies first.” Tommy winked, serving you before reaching over to drop down Ellie’s plate in front of her.

“I could be a lady!” Ellie spread herself out, arms and legs wide as she slumped in her chair.

“Do ya wanna be one?” Tommy arched a brow, feeding himself now.

“…Just want some damn eggs…” She grumbled.

But Joel still made you out of place, still gave you that uneasy heat in the bottom of your stomach that you had grown accustomed to pushing down. He stayed mostly quiet, even when it came to rough housing; his looming presence felt more adjacent to violence than Tommy and Ellie’s wrestling, and his blunt, grunted responses to their insults made your heartbeat pick up just a bit. He barely addressed you, opting to care for the horses while you ate, leaving for town shortly after and returning after dinner. You didn’t know where he went, where he found himself on the long days under the Texan sun, and all Ellie ever told you was not to worry about the work the Millers did.

You heard Joel say your name once or twice on occasion while you readied yourself for bed, Ellie snoring behind you on the mattress you shared, unable to pick up any other dialogue between Joel and Tommy from the other room.

You hated to admit it, so you didn’t, but hearing your name fall from Joel’s lips excited you more than anything else ever had.

~~~

Texas, November 1847

“I don’t understand—how will I know if the next card will be the right number to help me get to twenty-one?” The cabin was quiet, save for your conversation, and you heard birds circling nearby, calling down at the nothingness of the fields below. Joel and Tommy had left after breakfast, and Ellie used the silence to her advantage, finally teaching you the games Tommy said would create a poor influence.

“You don’t! That’s the point—give me your cards.” Ellie snatched the stack of cards in front of you, shuffling them together with her own and dealing them out again. “It’s all luck, that’s all betting is. Joel says it’s cheat or be cheated, but I think it’s fun.”

“He doesn’t seem to say much else…” You muttered, peaking at Ellie over your cards, “Oh—uh, hit me.” You tried to remember the correct terminology for the game, making El smile up at you.

She passed you another card, “He’s not so bad. Don’t know why you don’t like him.”

“Who said I didn’t like him?” You felt defensive, “I never said that. It’s rude to talk about people when they aren’t in your presence.”

“Ain’t it also a sin to gamble?” Ellie looked devious, and you bit back the urge to toss your cards at her.

“I don’t have money down. And I don’t think Joel likes me.” You countered. “Never even looks at me.”

“That’s just what he’s like,” Ellie echoed Tommy’s words from a month prior, and you still didn’t like how they sounded, “Quiet type.”

“I think it’s rude.”

“So you don’t like him.”

“I like him fine. Just wish he would address me. Wonder sometimes if he even knows my name.” You felt heat creep underneath your corset when you recalled that he did, in fact, know your name, and the memories of hearing him say it in hushed conversation with Tommy when they thought you were only made you feel warmer.

“Uh huh,” the same devious look returned to Ellie’s face, and she revealed her cards to you—a perfect 21, “I win.”

You heard the patter of hooves outside, a whinny, and then the sound of boots hitting the dusty ground. Joel and Tommy pushed through the door, respectively stoic and jovial. You noticed the guns strapped to their legs, feeling suddenly uncomfortable in your own skin; why did they need those?

And why did you want to watch Joel pull the trigger?

They weren’t anything like the hunting rifles your father had owned but never used. They looked like props, shiny and decorative, but all too heavy on the belts of the men in front of you to be anything but the real deal.

Maybe they just liked hunting in style; you pushed the thought from your mind, supposing that ignorance would be bliss.

You watched Tommy take a handful of coins from his pocket, placing them on the table in front of Ellie, who delighted in running her fingers over the metal. You stayed seated, curiously stealing glances at the money. You nearly jumped when you felt a tap on your shoulder, turning to see Joel standing over you before he reached out his hand to offer you a coin like the ones Ellie and Tommy were giggling like school children over. You placed your hand over it shyly, feeling the cold of the metal where it met the warmth of Joel’s hand.

“Keep it.” He turned before you could ask what for, let alone say thank you.

You looked at Ellie from across the table. She just smiled.

~~~

You spent the following morning at the small desk in the corner of your bedroom, writing notes to your aunt and describing in less than stellar detail the events of the past month, asking how New York was and ensuring that she knew how deeply you missed her. The paper was old, and the ink nearly dry, but it was all you could find in the house and felt it would be a waste not to use what you had so luckily stumbled upon. You pushed the letter out of the way, putting down the pen and watching it roll back on the wood of the desk. It hit the coin Joel had given you the day prior, and you sat staring at it for a moment; why on earth was this clouding your mind so much? It was just a coin, a dollar piece—Ellie hadn’t seemed disturbed by the wealth the Millers had brought home yesterday, why should one dollar cause your hands to tremble?

You knew why.

You knew it was because of the mystery, the sudden understanding that these men were likely insincere, despite your best efforts to see the best in everybody. You knew it was because of how the coin complemented the tanned skin of Joel’s hand when he had gifted it to you, and the way you could still see the imprint of his thumb against the stamp of lady liberty. The thought of Joel keeping one of the coins with the sole intent of giving it to you made you turn scarlet.

Your first crush had been an older boy at church; his hair was dusty blonde, and you liked the way he sang his hymns. And then there had been the boy who worked at the stables in town, who tried to steal a kiss from you when your father stopped to talk to the man who ran the place. There was the man who worked at the shop down the road, and the other boy from church. And of course, the boy on the ranch next door that your mother insisted you bring fresh bread to whenever she had made enough, pushing a basket into your arms and encouraging you to find yourself a lifelong connection.

But they had all been so…plain.

You felt dirty, knowing that deep down you harbored any sort of feeling for a man who wouldn’t even look you in the eyes, one so much older than you with a hint of gray in his beard and calloused hands, silver gun strapped to his hip and money you didn’t know the source of in his pockets—but maybe that’s what made it fun this time, instead of harboring a guilty conscious about whether or not you were good enough for him, you were left wondering whether or not he was good enough for you.

It was a complete role reversal, a situation that turned the tired trope of your incessant need to be a good, God-fearing young woman in order to appeal to someone on its head. You were already good enough—great, even. Better, at least, than he was.

And at the very least, it was more interesting than any other crush you had experienced.

You stood, walking into the main room to see the Millers sat at the kitchen table, conversing in hushed tones. They stopped speaking when you approached; Joel kept his gaze down, and Tommy shifted to look at you, offering a polite smile.

“Where’s El?” You asked when you realized they wouldn’t speak unless spoken to.

“Off somewhere.” Tommy was casual about Ellie’s outings. You felt almost jealous of how easy it was for her to go off exploring on her own, taking a horse—her horse—and spending her days wild and free; you wondered what life would have been like for you if you had been granted that type of liberation growing up.

You supposed you would be much more like your aunt.

“Oh,” you tried not to show your disappointment at the younger girl’s absence, or your anxiety at being left alone with the two men currently in your presence. You spoke directly to Tommy, facing him to speak rather than leaving your words ambiguous in the direction of both men. Joel didn’t seem to care, not that you’d be able to read his expression properly if he did. “I have a letter for my aunt. Will you mail it for me?”

“You can mail it yourself today!” Tommy’s grin grew wider, “You’re goin’ on an adventure, girly.”

“What?” You couldn’t begin to hide the surprise in your voice. You hadn’t left the house since you’d arrived, opting to familiarize yourself with the space and the patch of land surrounding it, and the thought of leaving made your stomach churn just a bit.

"You have land, ever think to check on it?" Tommy teased, though he clearly sensed your distress with the way he pulled another chair out from the table, beckoning you silently to sit. You did, crossing your ankles and clasping your hands in your lap.

“When? Now?” You prodded, trying to maintain a shred of dignity, but feeling antsy.

“Slow down, now—in a bit. Y’ever ride a horse before?” Tommy narrowed his eyes at you playfully.

“No.” Joel interrupted before you had a chance to open your mouth.

“I—yes, I have.” You tried to ignore Joel, side-eyeing him while you answered Tommy’s question.

“She’s not takin’ a horse.” Joel was gruff, and you liked the way his accent paired with his deep voice, but that didn’t quell your confusion.

“C’mon, Joel—” Tommy raised his shoulders, something you noticed he did when arguing with his brother.

“No. Too dangerous.” Joel leaned forward, “Not worth the risk.”

Tommy let his shoulders sag, looking between you and Joel. He let out a defeated huff. “What, then—she ridin’ with you?”

With you?

“S’what makes the most sense.” Joel shrugged, nonchalant, and reached for a bottle of something on the table before taking a swig. “Safer.”

You think this may be the most you’d ever heard the elder Miller speak in one sitting, and you didn’t know whether to be honored or threatened that he was talking about you.

“I don’t…I can’t ride that well,” you muttered, feeling as though it was only fair for you to get a say in the outcome of this argument, even if you were agreeing with Joel, “Joel’s right.”

Joel and Tommy locked eyes, and Tommy raised his hands in defeat, before silently leaving the table to prep the horses.

You sat quietly next to Joel, sneaking glances, and listening to him swallow the remaining liquid in the bottle he had in front of him. You felt hot again, unsure of why you had agreed to share a horse—unsure of why it was Joel taking you in the first place, why Tommy couldn’t be your guardian for the day, why you didn’t just take the cart they had picked you up from the train station in.

“Y’alright?” You jumped at the sudden intrusion from your thoughts, looking up at Joel, who stared back at you.

“N—yes, I’m fine…How are you?” You tried desperately to make an awkward situation less awkward, still almost frightened by Joel’s presence despite the way it thrilled you. Joel made a face that neared a smile but still managed to come off as more of a sneer.

“Doin’ fine, darlin’.” He stood, finding his way outside to help Tommy, leaving you to reflect on how stupid you must look trying to engage with him.

When you mustered up the courage to leave the shack and locate the two men, you found Joel mounted on his horse, Tommy winding the rope they had used to keep the animal close to the house around his fingers. Joel looked statuesque; high and mighty, wide shoulders sending a shadow behind him that you let your shoes toe at in the dirt. The suede of his hat barely hid the graying hair he had pushed back underneath it, and as you studied him atop the white, speckled horse, you found yourself thinking of the Bible verse that had scared you so much as a child, about death and his steed. You felt your thighs tremble and buried the thought.

Tommy snapped you to attention, whistling low.

“You ready?”

“I—yes.”

“Got that letter?” He smiled at you. You patted your apron pocket, reassuring both Tommy and yourself that the note to your aunt was tucked away safely. “Atta girl. Get on up there, then.” Tommy nodded towards the horse and an uninterested Joel, and you hesitated. There was no mount, no saddle for you, and the Millers seemed to forget that you were shorter than they were—and wearing a dress. You heard Joel huff before he dismounted, boots landing hard on the dirt, crunching rocks underneath him as he walked towards you and, wordlessly, picked you up.

“Joel!” You felt red rush to your face, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist until he stood parallel to the ever-patient horse, where he maneuvered you bridal-style and waited for you to get your legs around the horse’s midriff. You couldn’t look up, stunned and somewhat frozen in place, refusing to make eye contact with an amused Tommy as Joel himself got onto the horse with ease in front of you.

“El jumps. For the record.” Joel muttered at you, “Hold on.” You hesitated again, raising your arms before an impatient Joel delicately connected his hand to one of your own, pulling it against his stomach. “I don’t bite, darlin’.” You could see the white of his teeth when he spoke. You scooted closer, pressing your chest into him slightly as if to test the waters. He didn’t budge.

“Best get a move on,” Tommy reminded you of his presence, “Wanna be back before sundown.”

~~~

It had been years since you had ridden a horse. As a child, you knew girls whose parents were wealthy, and could afford the luxury of buying their daughters their own personal mare to parade around. You tried not to feel envious; you were happy for what you had—for everything God granted—but you couldn’t help the flare of envy that rose in your throat when you saw girls braiding the dusty manes of their horses, putting Queen Anne’s lace and dandelions in their tails.

Joel was silent. He hadn’t said a word since Tommy had seen you off on your excursion, and part of you was glad. You could focus on the slow sound of the horse’s hooves against the landscape and the way the breeze knocked the short plants over themselves. You could feel Joel’s stomach expand with every breath he took, your hands still planted cautiously around his waist. You found yourself leaning forward into him every few minutes, the comfort of his back, the friction of his jacket against your cheek keeping you grounded. You jumped where you sat when he turned slightly to spit the chewing tobacco he had in his cheeks.

“Sorry.” Joel grumbled a short apology, and you lowered yourself back onto him hesitantly.

“It’s alright.” Your breathing fell in sync with his. More silence followed, and you tried to think of ways you might break the tension that surrounded you. “Joel?”

“Mm.”

“Why did you give me that money?” Your words were quiet, nearly vanishing into the suede of his jacket. Joel didn’t respond for a long while.

“Wanted you to have it,” He shrugged, and you moved with him, his shoulders lifting your neck slightly, “ain’t like you got a job.” His head turned just enough for him to view you in his peripheral, and you looked up at him, not fully convinced by his answer.

You didn’t believe him. “Got land.”

“Not the same, darlin’.” Joel returned his attention to the path in front of him.

“Where’d you get it?”

“Pardon?”

“The money.”

Joel sighed, as if he had been anticipating your line of questioning. “Y’ask a lot of questions.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You’re difficult, too.” He spoke with an air of amusement.

“Yeah? Well, you’re rude.”

“Why’s‘at?”

“You don’t address me properly, you don’t look at me when you speak, you drink too much, and you manhandled me earlier.”

“That all?” Joel snorted, amused by your distaste.

“You aren’t a gentleman.” You removed your arms from his waist and placed them at your sides.

“I’m not?” Joel was taunting you now, entertained by your outburst.

“You’re not.”

Joel purposefully kicked at the horse’s side, encouraging it to speed up and cross haphazardly over a brush. You bounced, quickly returning your hands to Joel, wrapping them tighter around him this time, and feeling his stomach vibrate as he chuckled.

“Joel!”

“You’re no peach yourself.” Joel brought the horse to a trot once more.

“I’m—what?”

“You ain’t as proper as you act, darlin’. It ain’t hard to tell.”

You spluttered, taken aback by his attack on your virtue. “I hardly know what you mean.”

“I think you do,” Joel brought the horse to a stop, jumping off before reaching out a hand to help you down. “Pretty thing like you in that fancy dress, roughin’ it with three strangers out in th’middle of nowhere.” Joel didn’t wait for you to reach for his hand; instead, he placed his palm on your waist and maneuvered your leg over the side of the horse to let you jump off. “I know you like those card games El taught you. I think you like the idea of letting yourself get a li’l corrupted.” Joel’s eyes were like molasses under the sun, and you averted your gaze, watching his lips move when he spoke instead of trying to make eye contact. The choice only made it worse, pink lips forming his words so precisely that you could practically see his accent. “Where do you think the money came from, sweetheart?”

“I…I can tell you where I hope you got it from…” You felt relief when your feet hit the ground. Joel’s hand didn’t leave your waist, and you looked up at him, realizing that this was the first time you’d seen him smile—all it took was a few insults at his expense, and his own analysis of you.

“Where’s‘at?”

“A bank.”

“Then that’s where it came from.” He abruptly removed his hand from your waist, and you expected to see a bright red print when you looked down at the spot he had been holding; instead, all you saw was the same blue of your dress, a warm, damp feeling on your hip where you could still feel the excess heat from Joel’s skin. “C’mon. We’re walkin’ the rest of the way.”

You followed him, feeling a bit pathetic at the way you ran to match his stride before he could leave you in the dust.

“But that isn’t where it came from, is it?” You pushed, not done riling yourself up, kicking dirt up on the trail as you walked.

“Why’re you so worried ‘bout where it came from?” Joel stuffed more tobacco in his lip without breaking step.

“I’m—it isn’t worry.” And it wasn’t, to an extent: really, you were just curious to unravel the mystery that the Millers had so plainly laid out for you. That, and with the new knowledge that he had a gun strapped to his hip, something gnawed at you to know any shred of truth you could get out of him. “I’m just curious.”

“I couldn’t tell.” Joel didn’t look at you, but he slowed his pace, putting his hands on his hips. “All money comes from banks, darlin’.”

At that, you dropped the subject, understanding that at the present moment you’d get nothing else out of him. “Why do you call me that?”

“Mm?” Joel’s speed increased again.

“You call me darling. But you don’t call El that.”

“Mm.” Joel mumbled again, in assent this time.

“Do you call my aunt that?”

Joel guffawed, “No—Tess’d serve my head on a platter.”

“So why me?”

“Suits you.” Joel looked down at you, and you avoided his gaze, leaving you unable to see the sudden consternation in his face. “Why? Y’don’t like it?”

“I—no, I didn’t say that…”

You rounded a bend, and the house came into view in the distance; it was old. Worn down, but not nearly as much as the old shack the Millers and El called home. It looked sturdy, at least—like it could sustain life, if someone was there to give it a little love. The thought made you think of Joel, and you didn’t know why.

Maybe you did. Just a little.

You were about to ask more questions, try to get more information out of Joel, when he smacked a hand on your stomach, landing with a thud that made you grab at his wrist to steady yourself.

“Joel—!”

“Quiet.” He looked stern, a far cry from the grins and giggles he had shared with you, however hesitantly, on the journey. You followed his line of sight, narrowing your eyes against the glare of the sun, and you could make out three men and their horses.

“Joel…?” You whispered now, hand still grasping at his wrist.

“Get down.” You did as you were told, following Joel’s lead and flattening yourself against the sand and pebbles beneath you. The earth was cold, like it had just rained, and you could hear Joel breathing beside you, his arm coming to rest over your back, shielding you. From what? You were unsure. You tried to crane your neck to see what the men were doing—get a glimpse of the people who surrounded your would-be home, who were clearly making Joel antsy—but the weeds were too tall, and the men were too far away. You could hear small crashes every now and then, ground crunching under boots and hooves, unable to make out any conversation. Joel’s hand was heavy on your back, and you could feel his calloused fingers gently brushing against the fabric of your dress. Whether it was subconscious on his part or not, you couldn’t complain; it felt soothing in the midst of whatever you had stumbled into.

You don’t know how long you lay in the dirt before you heard a whistle, and the sound of horses running too close to you for comfort.

When you peaked your head up again, Joel quickly moved his hand up your back and clapped it on the back of your neck, bringing you down to his level, close enough to see the sweat dripping from his temples. “You stay right here.” He didn’t give you any time to respond with so much as a nod before he was lifting himself off of the ground and grabbing the pistol from his hip, walking slowly toward the house; gun drawn, head down, steps silent. You counted the seconds until you were given a sign that you, too, could remove yourself from the ground.

“S’alright,” Joel called over his shoulder to you, “c’mon down here.”

You caught up to him, wiping what you could of the dirt off of your dress and stretching your limbs after lying idly for so long.

“Can I please have an explanation,” you stomped as you approached him, “as to what that was about?”

“Later,” Joel muttered, “Get inside.”

You meandered towards the entrance to the house, the small wooden door looked as though it might fall off its hinges if you pushed too hard, so you tried to open it with grace despite your frustration. Leaning against the frame, your head fell, neck stiff from your attempts to follow the action from your spot in the weeds, and you spotted a piece of paper in the grass.

You bent down, grabbing the torn paper and dusting it off as best you could. Your heartbeat picked up, and the hot air made you feel suddenly thirsty and dazed. The muscles in your knees tightened.

“What’cha got, darlin’?” Joel made his way to the door, ready to get out of the sun.

You pushed the paper into him, and you’re sure you must have looked an ugly combination of hurt and outrage, glaring at him when you pressed it between his ribs. If he was worried, his face hardly gave it away; the cold look he always wore marred only by a bit of mud and furrowed brows as he delicately slipped the paper from your hands and brought it up to his face.

WANTED:

JOEL and THOMAS MILLER

DEAD or ALIVE

NOTORIOUS ROBBERS of BANKS and TRAINS

$5,000.00 REWARD

CONTACT SHERIFF and RAILWAY AGENCY

Joel smiled at the poster in his hands, tracing the sketches of himself and his brother with his eyes, then moving his gaze down to you. You continued to glare, now feeling unafraid to look him dead in the eye despite what you had just learned.

“Told you, it all comes from a bank.” Joel sounded almost sheepish, but you couldn’t tell if it was because he now knew someone was looking for him, or if it was because of how quickly the ad had turned you against him.

You turned on your heel, and slammed the door in his face, not caring if the hinges broke and the wood splintered out at him.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us smut #tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou smut

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beelsfridge · 1 year

Text

My Eldest Brother (But He’s My Father)

Trigger Warnings/Tags:

Mentions of Child Neglect/Jealously/Hurt/Comfort/Hate/Depression/Father&Son/Thoughts of Death/NoMC/Panic Attacks/Some Flasbacks/Kid!SatanHeadCannons/Mammon is a good big bro/self deprecation/ identity crisis

1/2

Synopsis:

Satan can’t help but feel the rage boil in him during a school festival at the sight of Lucifer

But there’s another feeling lingering as he stares at the kindness and gentle expressions he shares with the someone so small.

Ones he never saw growing up.

When Satan realizes that he yearns and longs for something he can never have

তততততততততততততততততততততততত

Why is it that he feels like he’s going to implode at any given moment.?

Thump Thump Thump

His heart beating so fast, his palms itching with pure wrath. this feeling .. one he’s not felt in quite a while. There’s other emotions there that he doesn’t comprehend…but the one emotion he does recognize—the feeling that makes him want to destroy everything around him.

Including himself.

____

“So let me get this straight,”Mammon says as he leans back into his chair in a such a mannerless way,”Ya want us to..organize a festival?…for what again?”

Scoffs and groans of annoyance echo the room as the brothers sit around the table.

“Really Mammon?” Asmo says with a huff.

“Were you seriously not listening to a single thing Lord Diavolo said?” Levi asks bewildered.

“Of course he wasn’t. He’s Mammon.” Belphie retorts as Beel hums in agreement.

Lucifer sighs and holds the temples of his head in annoyance,”I apologize Lord Diavolo, it seems my younger brother needs a reminder on his manners.”

“O-oi…”Mammon says with a hint of fear in his voice,”What ya mean by that Luci?”

Lucifer only shoots him a stern look making Mammon gulp in response.

Diavolo laughs in response shaking his head in a cheerful way,”No worries Lucifer, I’ll be able to review just to make sure you all understand your responsibilities. So to make things short, we’re going to be holding a school festival for both students and their families to enjoy.”

“If I may ask Lord Diavolo, is there a particular reason for wanting to hold this sort of festival?” Lucifer asks—unsure why Diavolo would suggest something so suddenly.

Diavolo smiles in response,”As you know, there are a lot of demons still hesitate on sending their kids to R.A.D as it is. I’m hoping if we open this event to the community we’ll see an increase in enrollments for all ages. But more towards the younger children especially.”

“I see.” Lucifer says looking down at the paper with the list of things needed for the festival.

“Which is why! I thought to ask none other than the Lords of the Underworld themselves!! Seeing that you all have such a familial bond!” Diavolo hums in excitement.

“Er…”Levi says,”I’m not sure if we’re the best people for the task.” He admits.

Lucifer doesn’t hesitate to agree much to everyone’s surprise ,”I agree, we’re as dysfunctional as one can get.”

“Which is precisely why I asked you all!” Diavolo says with another cheerful laugh.

“Er..is that a compliment or an insult?” Mammon asks unsure of what he really means.

Diavolo doesn’t answer the question,”I have full confidence that you will be able to create a memorable night for us all.”

“Well if you ask me, that sounds like a perfect opportunity to flaunt my looks to all of Devildom!” Asmo sighs with joy caressing his face delicately.

“I guess…. It sounds a little fun.” Belphie murmurs with Beel humming in agreement.

“There will be a lot of tasty food.” Beel says licking his lips.

Levi says shaking his head“I don’t know, sounds like a lot of people ..and socializing..” His face falls with horror before huffing out,”But maybe..someone there might like rui chan..like me.”

“Well I for one absolutely love the idea of a festival. A buncha people coming with tons of money- I mean tons of family. Sounds like an amazing thing if you ask me!” Mammon with a laugh.

Diavolo smiles with joy before turning to Satan,”You’ve been awfully quiet Satan. What are your thoughts?”

Satan stays quiet for a few moments longer before responding in a sigh,”I suppose I have nothing better to do.”

“Lord Diavolo-“ Lucifer says before getting cut off.

“Excellent! It’s decided then! I officially call this meeting adjourned!”

It’d been about a week since Diavolo announced the festival, everyone had been pretty busy working on it. They seemed pretty excited about it too.

Satan however was absolutely appalled by the idea when Diavolo first mentioned it.

But he only agreed because Lucifer seemed so against it.

There wasn’t anything wrong with the idea…but what exactly does someone get out of something like that?

The idea of parents coming with their children to a festival together and enjoying themselves isn’t exactly making any sense to Satan.

He feels like he’s missing something. Something he can’t put his finger on.

“ I mean- of course I can provide the reasonable entertainment for the festival. What kinda person does Lucifer think I am Yknow? Just wait til he sees who I got for that festival -“ Mammon says before noticing Satan’s continuous silence.

Usually he’d be calling Mammon irresponsible or something like that.

“Oi-“ Mammon whistles— stirring Satan out of his thoughts ,”You’re awfully quiet today Satan. Got sum on ya mind?”

Satan looks over at Mammon who so happens to be cutting some vegetables. After all, they were both on kitchen duty tonight.

Satan contemplates whether he should express his thoughts or not. Or well..whether he should express them to someone like Mammon.

“Not really..” Satan says as he furrows his eyebrows peeling some of devildoms finest potatoes.”

“Oi- don’t gimme any of that. I know you too well Satan,” Mammon crosses his arms, abandoning his duties,” If there’s something on yer mind tell me. That’s why yer big bro is here!” He smiles joyously.

“Mammon.” Satan says in a serious tone.

“Ya?”

”The Buffo Toad is on fire.”

Mammon squeals as he turns quickly to find the pan on fire. He attempts to save the dish from further damage.

Satan can’t help but chuckle at Mammons antics.

It’s so familiar to him.

“Ohhhhh Satan!” Mammon calls out from a distance,”Where’d ya go buddy?”

Satan wraps the blanket around him tighter, hiding himself away in a small closet space as he sniffles quietly to himself.

It’s not long before the darkness of the closet is overcome with light as the door opens behind him.

“There ya are…”Mammon says with a gentle tone,”What ya doing in here by yourself?..”

Satan attempts to wipe away his boogers and tears,”It’s none of your business. Leave me alone.”

“Nu uh. I know you too well to know when you’re upset.” Mammon tells him before stepping into the closet and closing the door behind him.

He crouched down and sits next to Satan, gently patting his head,” You can tell me anything. I’m your big bro for a reason!”

That’s when Mammon bumps the shelf behind him with his elbow on accident causing everything to fall on top of him.

He lets out a small yelp but instinctively shields Satan from getting hurt as he quickly hovers over him,”Man I told Levi not to put his stinkin junk in here!” He scowls.

Satan looks up at Mammon and let’s out a small laugh forgetting the reason why he was even crying to begin with

“Gah!” Mammon says with a sigh of relief,”I hope no one minds a bit of burned buffo toad.” He smiles before sulking immediately after at the thought of Lucifer scolding him.

Why did Satan remember that? Mammon is always getting into trouble.

Why was this time any different than before?

How weird. He doesn’t understand.

He decides to not think about it anymore for the time being. If he lets Mammon take control of preparing the food, chances are he’ll burn everything on accident.

——-

Dinner was manageable. But Satan still felt like something was troubling him. He just couldn’t put his finger on it.

Maybe he can look for a book that might have the answers he’s looking for.

“Where are you going Satan?” Asmo asks all his brothers (except for Lucifer) settle down in the living room for movie night.

“Back to my room.” Satan states.

“But it’s movie night!” Asmo exclaims.

“Well Mammons not here either-“ Satan points out.

“That’s because Lucifer got to him first.” Levi shivers in fear.

“What did he do this time?” Satan asks with a confused expression.

“Dunno. We all took off before he could process what was happening. Something about the festival I’m assuming” Asmo says.

Levi nods in agreement,”Anyways! If I get dragged out of my room every Thursday for this there’s no way you escaping that easily.”

“Well Belphie already sleeping-“Satan points out.

“Huh?” Levi looks to Belphie who’s snoring soundly ,”Oh that’s totally unfair!”

“Belphie! Wake up!” Asmo groans while shaking him to wake him up.

“I’m hungry…”Beel says.

“You’re always hungry!” Asmo huffs.

As they argue amongst each other Satan decides to sneak away while he still can. He can’t help but let out a small smile at their ridiculousness.

But that feeling… that feeling ..what is it?

“But how are you so sure he’s not gonna wreck everything again!” A voice rings from the living room. It’s Asmo.

“Yeah, last time he destroyed the TV. We couldn’t get a new one for weeks.” Levi states. There’s a hum of agreement from what is presumably Beel.

“Why don’t y’all go easier on him- he’s just a kid.” Mammom tells them,”I’ll watch him. I’ll take responsibility if anything happens. Just give him another chance-“

“That’s like letting a ticking time bomb in the room! No way! Besides last time you said the same thing but we all got scolded by Lucifer anyways!” Asmo tells him.

“I got nothing against the kid.” Belphie says,”But how can you control something like that?

“It’s not like he asked for his sin! You guys are total jerks Yknow that?!!” Mammon tells them off.

The door creaks slightly.

There’s a silence that falls between them all.

“Satan. We know you’re there.” Mammons voice calls out,”You can come out.”

Satan backs away from the door. When he sees it pushed open a bit more slightly he takes off running.

“I didn’t ask ..for this!” He heard his own voice echo through his head. His chest feels heavy. That itching feeling in his hands. That hot fire that spreads throughout his body.

“I can’t- I can’t control myself. I can’t help- I can’t help it-“ Satan says feeling overwhelmed.

He blacks out completely.

Satan stares into his room. It’s eerily quiet inside. How long was he just standing there?

He’s not particularly fond of that memory. So why did he remember it just now?

He feels his chest bubble in anger.

How annoying.

He picks up the flyer for the festival, one that Asmo made a few days ago that had already gotten approved by Diavolo…

Ever since they brought up the festival all that happens now is is these damn memories that keep resurfacing.

He knows his brothers do not behave that way toward him anymore. Nor is he a raging revenge driven like his younger self.

so why does he dwell on the feeling longer than he should?

And what feeling is he dwelling on exactly? It feels bitter. But in a different way as opposed to wrath.

He feels… he feels…

Satan places the now torn flyer on his desk and let’s out a sigh.

He doesn’t know.

___

With every passing day, Satan could feel his emotions spark into more dangerous thoughts which inevitably evolved into more a physical and verbal form.

And he wasn’t the only one who noticed this behavior. After all, it seemed as if the fourth born was intentionally avoiding his own family.

He’d go straight to his room after school, he’d go straight to his room after dinner. He wouldn’t stick around for events very long or at all.

And whenever someone asks him something— no matter what it was —he’d feel himself snap just like that.

Like the incident the other day at breakfast.

He was usually one of the firsts one to show up to breakfast. Always early.

But he was uncharacteristically late. And his appearance was no better, at least he thinks so. A bit disheveled and some baggy eyes.

But despite never being late like so. It still earned him a simple warning from Lucifer.

And that especially pissed him off.

While his brothers thought he was let off fairly easily, Satan could feel the fireworks attempting to go off inside.

Even so—breakfast continued. Each going on and on about their excitement for the festival. Each having contributed to its success as expected. Even Mammon who’s mainly known slacking off and putting half effort into something seemed pretty excited.

Everyone seemed. Excited. For this..family event.

He felt bitter again.

Satan had plenty of family nights before. This one should be no different.

…it shouldn’t feel so different..

So everyone continues breakfast, just as they normally would.

“Satan,” Lucifer says,”I’ve noticed you haven’t contributed as much as everyone else. Are you having trouble with coming up with an idea?”

He feels everyone’s eyes on him—awaiting his response.

It’s quiet for for a couple moments.

He feels their expressions change as he stares into his plate of food.

Worry glances between Lucifer and Satan flicker back and forth.

Was he quiet for too long?

He grits his teeth.

No witty remark.

No attempts at to hurt Lucifer’s pride.

Just pure rage.

“No.” He says bitterly as he glares in their direction.

Some worried expressions turn nervous, confused at their brothers sudden fowl mood.

Hell, even Lucifer seems confused by Satan’s state.

Satan doesn’t realize how tightly he’s holding the fork in his hand until it snaps in half causing Asmo and Belphie who are seated next to him to flinch.

Satan looks down. He opens his hand and sorrowfully stares at the broken fork laying in his palm.

After all, sorrow is not an expression you’ll see on the Avatar of Wrath so often. Especially in a room filled with people who’s eyes are on him.

He doesn’t say anything as he drops the fork pieces onto the table.

He doesn’t say anything when he gets up and walks out of the dining hall.

And no one says anything to him.

“I hate you all! I hate you - I hate you!” Satan claws at the walls as he flings the portraits off the walls and tears them to bits.

“Someone get Lucifer before he wrecks the whole place!” Asmo yells out doing nothing to stop Satan from releasing his wrath.

Beel nods and hurries off to get Lucifer

“He’s going crazy again-“ Levi sighing as he dodges the various things thrown his way.

“What’s with all the ruckus?!” Mammon rushes into the room before seeing the chaotic scene in front of him.

“He’s uncontrollable!” Asmo tells him.

“What happened?!” Mammon asks bewildered as a small Satan continues to ensue damage,”Satan buddy it’s time to calm down!”

Asmo gives Mammon a guilty look,”We may have…said a couple things …but how were we suppose to know he was listening in?!”

Mammon flashes them a dirty look as he stands behind Satan who’s currently smashing a bunch of things before standing before a statue of probably the Demon Lord.

“Satan.” Mammon tells him,”It’s time to stop. Lucifer is gonna get mad.”

Satan immediately tries to claw out Mammon,”Stop that! Stop pitying me!”

Mammon takes a step back and just barely misses Satan’s attack,”What are yer talking about I don’t pity ya! Your my little brother, and I care about you- But you need to calm down now before someone gets hurt.”

“Everyone here hates me!” Satan yells,”Everyone!”

“We don’t hate ya- they’re just scared of ya!” Mammon tells,”But I’m not- I promise ya-nothing is gonna happen to ya- so put the statue down bud.“

“I didn’t ask to be here!” Satan admits out loud as tears spill out his eyes. He chokes back sob,”I didn’t ask to be born- I didn’t ask- I don’t - I don’t want to be here- I don’t- I wish I could just die-“

Mammon’s face falls into despair as he stares at the boy with disbelief.

The other brothers sharing a look of guilt beyond measure.

Satan can’t help but sigh in his library. Yet another painful memory. But it can’t be helped. Satan struggled with identity problems for the longest.

It had to happen eventually. Despite it all, he was able to develop better relationships with his brothers afterwards.

However…

Why is it.. that Satan feels like he’s missing the true meaning behind the return of these memories?…

He’s missing something.

Something is missing.

Someone?

Its confusing. It’s been this way for a while now.

Whatever it is, it’s always missing.

And he wants it so badly

he yearns for whatever it is.

But what is that?

—

The day of the festival came sooner than he would’ve liked.

If he hadn’t been on edge, perhaps he could’ve taken in the breathtaking visual of the festival his brothers were shockingly able to conjure.

Everyone put in so much effort..

Satan..not so much..

He found himself uneasy the moment more and more families began to show up.

But he tried to push those feelings away.

He could feel his brothers keeping an eye on him.

Considering his actions lately, he couldn’t blame them since he couldn’t entirely explain them either.

He should at very least pretend to be enjoying himself.

“Satan.” Lucifer calls out from behind.

“What?” Satan asks.

“Are you…enjoying yourself at the festival?” Lucifer asks him.

Satan looks at him bewildered. What reason could he have for wanting to know Satan’s opinion?

It pisses him off.

“What do you think?” Satan replies in a bitter way. It seems this is the only way he’s been responding to anyone nowadays.

“Are you upset?” Lucifer asks genuinely curious.

“That doesn’t concern you.” He tells Lucifer.

“Well I’m your eldest brother. It does concern me to some extent.” Lucifer tells him,”Your behavior has been..quite abnormal these past few weeks.

“If you’re going to lecture me I’m not in the mood. ” Satan tells him,”So leave me alone.”

Why do his words strike him in such a negative way.

Lucifer let’s out a sigh,”Your brothers are worried about you-“

That’s when Lucifer’s D.D.D goes off. He excuses himself briefly but tells Satan to stay put before answering the call.

After a moment Lucifer hangs up the call.

“It seems that Mammon needs help with setting up the last tent.” Lucifer tells him.

Satan doesn’t know why he feels a burning tension. That same feeling. Itching away at him.

“Whatever.” Satan replies wanting to quickly escape from whatever the hell is happening to him.

“Satan-“Lucifer calls out to him but is ignored as Satan rushes through the crowd.

Why is he acting like this?

Why does his chest feel heavy?

Ugh, he needs to find something to do. Otherwise he might do something he regrets.

Soon enough Satan finds himself in a lonelier part of the festival. It’s much quieter, much to his delight.

He’s able to catch his breath as he leans against a the wall, just tucked between some booths.

He crosses his arms and let’s out another deep sigh as he watches families walk by with their children.

That feeling came back.

He watches as a kid is picked up in the air by his father and placed on his shoulders with a cheerful smile.

“This is like totally the best day ever!” The little boy says to his father.

His father smiles back at him,”I agree. It’s been a while since we’ve been able to hang out like this right bud? Well I promise from now on— we’ll hang out a lot more alright?”

“Alright!! Oh dad hey! that looks good! Can we try that??” The boy points to a nearby food stand.

“Of course we can. You can have whatever you’d like, I love you so much kiddo.”

“I love you too dad!”

And the voices fade away. Leaving Satan in a state of confusion and chaos.

The scene replays over and over in his head.

He could feel it, in the pit of stomach, along his chest, and around his heart. That feeling.

It’s not jealously ..it’s not.

He feels it with his brothers ..

And he feels it the most when he’s with Lucifer.

___

somehow he’s emptier than before.

He’s pretty sure his brothers are looking for him.

Considering that they were suppose to meet up an hour ago. It makes sense that they would be blowing up his phone nonstop.

The phone he’d put on silent to avoid seeing anyone.

Because if his brothers were to see the state he were in. He’s almost certain he’d explode.

And he’s trying really hard not to.

He runs his fingers through his hair anxiously tugging away to relieve tension.

His crazed state, making hyper aware of anyone who walks by or speaks near him.

The anxiety and sheer anger coursing through his veins.

Why is he overreacting to something he already knew?

Why was he feeling this way after so many years?

He knows the truth of his birth, he knows who he is.

He’s been through this before- he’s had this sort of meltdown before- but it’s different -why is it different?

Why does he keep asking the same damn questions -it’s pissing him.

It’s making him angry!

He doesn’t know- he doesn’t know!

Sooner or later his brothers are going to find him here, he should move from here.

He should probably leave the area entirely because if he doesn’t he’s afraid of what he might do.

So he gives himself a few moments to relax before he moves from his spot.

He walks by the crowd of people in a hurry, occasionally receiving a strange look or two. After all he looks like he just committed a crime.

He’s finding it really hard to keep his composure.

It’s getting harder to breathe

He feels himself claw slightly at his collar.

It’s suffocating.

“Satan! I found him guys!” He hears one of his brothers call out from a distance. He’s not sure which one it is. He can’t think properly.

He walks faster.

His breath quickens and his heart races. He needs to get ahold of himself.

He hears certain footsteps approach him in attempts to catch up to him but he refuses to turn their way.

Then he feels a hand on his grab ahold of his arm.

When he turns, he meets eyes with Asmo.

“H-Hey we’ve been looking for you ….” Asmo says as his own worry begins to grow more and more let’s out a small whisper,”What’s wrong?… you look like you’ve been-”

Satan pulls his arm away from Asmo in a harsh way.

“Leave me alone.” Satan let’s out in a threatening tone as he tries to walk again.

“No!” Asmo yells out as he grabs Satan’s arm again,”I’m not letting you go! I don’t know what’s going on with you but I won’t leave you! Not this time!” Asmo declares as more of his brothers begin to approach,”I don’t care if you hurt me you’re my brother - just watch the face -“

Satan stays silent for couple moments. Everything seems to move at a slower place rather than before.

All those feelings he had just now replaced by rage and disgust.

His brother is just trying to offer him some consultation.

So why does he hate it so much?

“Is that suppose to comfort me?” Satan asks him with a harsh expression causing the younger brother to flinch away.

“Hey what’s going on?” Belphie says with concern.

“Satan..you don’t look so good.” Levi tells him as Beel hums in agreement, looking at his brother with concern.

Satan grunts as he let out sound of annoyance,”I’m going back home.” He tells them as he crosses his arms ,”Not in the mood.”

Sure, as if he wasn’t just mere moments from destroying everything his brothers worked hard for.

“You can’t leave! Diavolo said we could have the rest of the night off- so we can have fun together as a family -“Belphie tells him.

For some reason, the word family lingered in Satan’s head.

He turns around and walks away from his brothers.

The last thing he hears is Levi let out a sigh

”Man..where’s Mammon or Lucifer when you need them.”

___

Satan is tired.

Exhausted?

To have so many feelings at once then feel nothing at all CONSTANTLY- is draining.

he just wants to go home.

Back to the library.

His room.

His comfort place.

Because believe it or not the Avatar of Wrath has a comfort place.

One where he was able to escape his daily life back in the day, even for a brief moment.

He finds himself walking through the crowds toward the exit.

He’s almost out of this god forsaken place.

He’d apologize later, after this damn festival ends.

Everything will be fine

It has to.

Everything will return to normal.

Because he doesn’t know what he’ll do if it doesn’t.

And then.. the most damning thing happens.

He hears it.

A familiar sound, from a distance.

His heart begins to pound dramatically.

His skin crawls with disgust.

He figures out the cause of all his problems.

And Satan can’t stop himself from moving in its direction.

He’s breathing is heavy once again.

And then he sees him, he sees the man responsible for his distress.

And he sees that man kneeling to a young boy, the boy from before.

“Are you lost?” Lucifer asks him in a gentle voice.

“I-i don’t know where my dad went.” The little boy cries out.

“My name is Lucifer, I’m in charge of the event here. If you’d like we can go find him together. I was looking for someone as well.”

“My dad…he said not to trust strangers.” The boy says hesitatingly.

Lucifer only chuckles,”Your dad taught you well then. Yes it’s true, never trust a stranger wholeheartedly. So how about this,” Lucifer offers his hand out to the boy,”How about we look for him together. There’s plenty of people around and if you feel uncomfortable at any point we can just wait together.”

The boy looks at Lucifer, unsure if it’s the best decision.

And that’s when Lucifer does the most damning thing.

He smiles.

He smiles so fondly at the young boy. Satans not sure he’s seen that expression before.

He pats his head gently,”So how about that?”

The boy nods and takes Lucifer’s hand gently,”O-okay!”

Satan stays still as he watches the events unfold in front of him.

The feeling finding it’s way around his heart once more.

He finds himself holding his chest tightly.

Why is it that he feels like he’s going to implode at any given moment??

Thump Thump Thump

Including himself.

Oh that feeling.. the one he wasn’t sure about.

He knows what it is now.

It’s resentment.

“Satan?” Lucifer asks from a distance, becoming aware of his younger brothers presence.

He’s aggrieved.

Lucifer is unsure of what to make of his younger brothers expression as he instinctively steps in front of the younger boy.

“Satan..”Lucifer warns.

Why are people starting to hurry away from the area?

When did Satan change into his demonic form?

He’s not sure.

But he doesn’t care.

Because all he feel now, is wrath.

He doesn’t remember anything after that.

তততততততততততততততততততততততত

Pt.2

Hi! It’s me! The author lolol. I didn’t expect this to be as long as it did but I have plans to write a PT.2 so don’t ya worry bout a thing! I just figured it’d be better to write a separate part as this became pretty lengthy.

Dunno if it’ll be as long as this one but I hope you enjoyed it either way< 3,

I’ll probably upload this on ao3 as well!

I haven’t written anything I’ve published in quite a long long time. Which includes other fandoms I’m in. So if I missed important tags feel free to let me know and I apologize for any mistakes I may have made!

I don’t plan to fix any errors until after I finish part 2. Should have it maybe by the end of the day or tomorrow! Who knows

OH AND IM OPENING REQUESTS IF YALL WANNA SLIDE THRU

Side note: do y’all think satan would listen to “What Was I Made For?” On blast ??? Or

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samiamdandles · 10 months

Text

The Reminders

Summary: Collei being reminded of Dottore and having a major mental freakout, reader tries their best to comfort her. Word Count: 1k Warnings: Angst(?) Hurt/Comfort, Mention of S H, Extremely Traumatized Collei, Female reader, Platonic, Reader isnt good at comforting.

Authors note: just a small one shot, was thinking about collei sm </3 hopefully this Angst is ok its my first one thats kinda angsty.

That distinct smell of copper and the sterile smell of hospitals insulted Collei’s nose. It hit her while she was alone, cleaning the statue of seven, she froze, looking around. Sometimes, for no reason, her mind liked to play cruel tricks on her, forcing her to remember the smell of him. Seeing the same shade of blue his hair was, his smell, his mannerisms she would see in other people, it made her shake. No, she couldn’t let this get to her, she had to prove that she was capable.she hadn’t thought about him at all for years, now suddenly this and the few times this month? No, she had to prove she was over it, over him, and was a capable forest ranger. It still didn't stop her from shaking uncontrollably, not realizing how her heart rate had increased significantly. Her mind starting to wander as she finished her task, rushing to head home when she was done. Tighnari caught her on the way, calling out to her, “Collei? Are you okay? C’mere, let me take care of you.” she usually would’ve appreciated it, but the way he said it just reminded her so much of him. “Just leave me alone. You don’t fucking help anyways.” she yelled out, breaking out into a jog. Tighnari was left there, mouth wide open from the interaction.

Day three. Three days of Collei not eating, and refusing to leave her house. You were sat outside her house, a tray of food and a cup of water next to you. “Collei, I am begging you to please please eat. I’m letting you know now that i will come in by force if you don't eat by tonight.” you waited to hear something, anything, but nothing. The pit in your stomach kept getting worse day by day. You never left your spot outside her house unless absolutely needed, only when Tighnari had begged you to do something. As the sun started to set, you made your way back to Collei’s after Tighnari had begged you to help with some work, a soft knock at her door and a fresh tray of food for her ready. “Collei, if you don't answer me I am coming in, love.” you tried to be gentle about it, waiting for a response. A few long moments before you hear her lock click and her door open ajar. “Come in.” she whispered, her voice sounded so meek. You entered slowly, taking in the state of her home, and her when you finally saw her. Her eyebags, the fidgeting, the tear stains and the way she seemed so skinny and frail. “Collei..” she couldn't look you in the eyes, sitting back down on her bed. “He just won't leave.” she croaked, she brought her knees up to her chest, rocking herself. Your heart shattered, realizing what was going on, you hated seeing her in this state. She was your best friend, someone you loved and you weren't even sure what to do. “I’m going to sit by you if that's okay.” you figured it would be best to announce your movements giving her current state, once you heard no protest, you set the tray on the bedside table and sat on her bed, keeping distance. You would try to get her to eat later tonight.

You figured she just needed someone there physically so you would gladly take that role. “I’m here for you.” is all you said, glancing over at her. Collei buried her face into her knees, she wasn’t sure why, but hearing those words, especially from you just made her feel a certain way. She started to sob uncontrollably, gripping herself tighter. “I miss him at the same time. Am I broken? Why? I know I shouldn't.” She babbled, you hushed her, you wanted to hug her and hold her, but you couldn’t. You both sat there for a few beats, listening to her choked sobs. As you opened your mouth to say something, Collei turned to you, her arms stretched out. “I just- i wanted to forget but i wanted to be close to him again- and i didnt- “ that’s when you realized why she was showing you her arms. You gasped lightly, quickly getting up to go get tighnari. “I’ll be back love, let me get Tighnari.” “No!” she yelled, she surprised even herself with how abrupt she was. “Please.. Just.. stay with me for a while?” you stared at her, debating and chewing on your lip. You examined her arms, after rummaging around and finding spare bandages you patched her up, deeming it okay to get tighnari after you sat with her. “Can you please eat something? Even just half a pita pocket would make me happy.” you pleaded, picking up a pita pocket, urging her. She begrudgingly complied, taking the pita pocket from you and taking small bites.

“Thank you.” you watched her as she ate, she just stared off into space as she ate, but she did end up eating an entire pita pocket. That entire night was just you two sitting in silence, once in a while interrupted with Collei telling you about her thought process, or stuff that worried her. It helped having you there, you helped calm her down, she felt safe. A few hours into the night, you both had made yourselves comfortable, you at her table reading your novel while Collei laid in her bed, toying with a plushie she owned. “Do.. do you want to sleep with me?” she stared at you expectantly, fidgeting and chewing on her lip as she awaited your answer. You were taken back, sure you two were best friends but you had never slept over with her before. “Sure.” She moved over, watching your every move as you got into her bed, still trying to be mindful of her and her space. The two of you laid there, staring at each other in silence. It was for sure awkward, but Collei had never felt more at peace, the thoughts of him disappeared completely, and her heart stilled. “Goodnight.” “Goodnight Collei, please remember to apologize to Tighnari in the morning.” is all you had sad before the two of you eventually succumbed to sleep. The next morning you awoke to Collei nestled against you, her face buried in the crook of your neck.

#genshin impact #collei #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #collei x reader #genshin angst #angst #genshin dottore #il dottore #dottore #female reader #genshin female reader

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aqricus · 2 years

Note

okay okay bsd is finally getting new episodes (which i didn’t find out until like yesterday bc i thought it was next month?? bro) but young fukuzawa’s making me think… ughh him being your bodyguard and you doing your absolute best to rile him up, wanting to see just how far that facade will last till it breaks. and it feels like it’s going nowhere! he doesn’t care for when you bend over to give him a peek of those panties you’re wearing just for him, or when you’re a little too close for comfort because it’s awfully chilly and you need to ask where he got that coat from. eventually, you just feel the need to give up till he finally pulls you into a room and grabs your shoulders. “is this what you want? cause i will give it to you till you’re much too tired to continue.” he says in that stern voice you know and love. and honestly? that doesn’t sound too bad of an offer. - 💋

omg omg i haven't started watching it yet, but we get yOUNG FUKUZAWA??? no bc he's fine as hell in his forties, so i'm willing to bet everything that he was fine as hell then too. i just looked up his age back when he was a bodyguard, and it says early thirties and a tear just ran down my leg.

i've been jumping around in the manga, but i know for a FACT he would still have that same no-nonsense, serious attitude. you're so right. he's employed to protect you--to serve as your shadow, even if he's out of sight and you aren't aware of his presence. he can tell exactly what you're doing, but he just can't understand why. at first, he thinks you're messing with him, taking advantage of the contract binding him to your side and teasing him just so you can turn around and hurl insults at him once he slips up. but, the longer this progresses and the more excuses you pull out of thin air to close the distance between you two, the more he mulls over the possibility of this not quite being the case.

even so, he does his best to not allow you to distract him. he has to remain professional and keep his guard up, or else such a mistake could end up costing either of you your life. as casually as possible, he tries to evade sticky or scandalous situations he can sense you threading together, not wanting to tip you off to save you both future conflict or wounded feelings that could potentially get in the way. even in the times he can't manage to escape or shut down your little plans, he remains irritatingly sober-minded, dismissing you with curt rejections or simply side-stepping you. he turns his gaze away as quickly as possible whenever the hem of your skirt or dress lifts to expose a flash of your panties, he catches you in the most respectful manner with his hands positioned neatly whenever you "accidentally" stumble into him, and he flat-out tells you "no" whenever you point out the plummeting temperature and try to cuddle up next to him. but, more often than not, when he spots your crestfallen expression, he'll wordlessly offer you his coat, but that's all.

he figures you'll soon tire of his lack of reaction and bounce to a new way to satiate your boredom within the hour. what he doesn't expect is for you to be locked in your room sprawled on your mattress, pillow squeezed to your chest as you stew about your failure. you grumble to yourself, wondering why he isn't reacting, wondering if he doesn't think you're attractive, wondering if you're going overboard by now. you're embarrassed, to say the least---not to mention, frustrated. so, you decide to give it one last shot, and whatever his next reaction is--although, you already have an idea of what it will be--will determine whether or not you'll give up.

but, oddly enough, right around the same time your tune starts to change, so does his. you just don't realize it until you're in the middle of your last attempt. in your mind, you timed it perfectly, stooping over the coffee table in the skirt you intentionally hiked up when his back was turned to flash him a generous glimpse of lace panties. you're only bent over for a split second before embarrassment starts to settle in and you move to swiftly straighten back up. what are you even doing at this point? a last-ditch effort? yeah, right.

you turn on your heel to smile weakly at him, an apology already tipping your tongue; but, fortunately, you aren't graced with such an opportunity. up until this point, fukuzawa has always been so polished, so stoic. so, you can imagine your surprise when you instead find yourself promptly bundled aside by a large hand hooked around your arm, sending you toppling backward onto the couch cushions.

you're frozen with shock, perplexity written all over your face as you stare, wide-eyed, up at him. but, he doesn't seem phased in the slightest as he stands before you. the you from a couple days ago would've been outright delighted at eliciting a reaction from him; but, now that you're actually here, cornered by his overwhelming presence as he towers over you and pinned to your place by a pair of steely eyes boring into yours, all you can do is sit in stiff silence.

"what's the matter?" his voice bears its usual nonchalance, but if you focus hard enough, you swear you can detect a hint of amusement. your eyelashes flutter when his hand extends toward your face, and his eyebrows quirk upward ever-so slightly when you don't retract from his touch. you let him press the pad of his forefinger beneath your chin, and electricity zings through your chest when he tilts your head up a fraction of an inch. "this is what you wanted, wasn't it? a reaction. unless, i am mistaken."

his eyes narrow a tiny bit, and you subconsciously shift your knees further apart. he's right; but, you just didn't expect having his undivided attention to make you so nervous. ever keen, his gaze flickers down to your legs before slowly, unhurriedly wandering back up the length of your torso to study your expression. "it appears i was correct, just as i presumed."

#bungo stray dogs smut #fukuzawa smut

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silviakundera · 8 months

Text

Lighter and Princess ep 36 - the finale!

What Gao Jianhong explains is honestly what I had assumed: Li Xun's sister's death and the ramifications ruined 2 lives, not 1. Geo Jianhong obviously never expected her to die at that hotel. (It was an accident, not even Fang's fault either as much as a POS he is.) But just like LX wasn't thinking clearly, neither was GJH- he was panicked and also consumed with guilt. Objectively, it was an unconnected accident. But she wouldn't have been at that location if not for Gao. So he just triples down on being the villian. Ok, I'm a monster. So be it. I'll play that role to the limit. Maybe this is how I finally win. After all these years, I think he's still been feeling guilt over Sister Li Lan's death. He can't stop being the villain because he doesn't believe in his own redemption. And this gets all mixed up with the resentment and hate that persists because of his inferiority complex.

This doesn't absolve him of anything, btw. He's a bastard who has stolen from & stepped on more amateur game designers; caused Li Xun mental anguish, betrayed his trust in a disgusting manner; abused his wife, blackmailed Zhu Yin with 'social death'... He tried to send Li Xun back to prision. Objectively a trash person.

But it's consistent, layered characterization. It's an explanation. I was glad to see the subtext I'd interpreted become explicit text.

gawwwwdd but I'M EVIL in that it's so satisfying for Gao Jianhong to hear that Li Xun has the inner strength & capacity to forgive him and let go. ("Impossible! It's me. It's me who wanted to step on him. It's me who stopped from from standing up.") BWAHAHAHAHA you fell short yet again, you pathetic man child. He bests u in everything. ❤ And now you're living for him, at his command.

They got the name back \o/

The biggest surprise in this drama is how I ended up loving class president Fang Shu Miao. Just a minor character but it's fun that she grew up into an awesome lady and good friend.

smh but up to the very end, this drama still trying so hard to convince me that ML is handsome lmao sorry I have eyes, no. Love u anyway rat boy 😍🐀😍

The Flying team scenes in the finale really were too perfect and made me so emotional. Mr Dong is still the boss! They're all shareholders! Eating ice pops again, the sacred tradition 😂😭

Mr Dong: "Your daughter is my boss now. She works for herself."

asdfghjk (whispers) it's true tho

99% of the time I dislike the "this company is my found family" storyline tbh. I've seen a lot of toxic situations in rl, especially young lgbt who were rejected by their families and had nowhere else to go, only to be taken advantge of. But this drama has been a big exception to that. A group of odd balls who aren't loyal friends at the start (originally out for themselves) but go thru adventures together. My favorite flavor. And now Mr Dong is defending Li Xun as an elder, when he has no one else to bring to the table. This drama earned it! (And it helps that the protagonists are clearly the leaders of this gang now, no power imbalance.)

"Mom, this is our home. You have no right to interfere. You have no right to make the decisions." 👏👏👏 i love herrrrrrrrrr

After Zhu Yun's mother makes an absolutely disgusting declaration (to an orphan whose parents & sister are dead) that she must marry her daughter to someone "with a happy family" of an equal social status, and invites him to bring his parents to meet them... It's now Li Xun's turn to be an absolute badass and instead of centering his own pain and insult, simply points out that he knows Zhu Yun has the ability to change the world, but her parents just want ZY to obey them. It's her parents that are wronging HER most of all and he sees that. Maturity!

I love how they roll. She suggests they have a baby because 30 is the right age, but then they'd need to get married. He's like ok, let's have a baby. And then a couple days later buys them a house. She's basically quasi proposed to him and then they just decide to get it done. Very them.

The marriage certificate guys' FACE. "You have many family members." !!!!!! 😭😭😭😭😭

The marriage was absolutely perfect. Loved the final group picture and that their friends gathered to support them in lieu of blood family.

I normally don't get attached or care too much for supporting characters. But Lighter & Princess and A Journey to Love broke that mold for me. Sorry Ren Di, though you are smoking hot I never could care about your angst. But the friend group really endeared themselves to me.

What a truly fantastic story from beginning to end. Never falters. I feel like modern cdramas have a bad rep compared to kdramas but there are some real gems. note to self: make a modern cdrama rec post this year

#lighter and princess #cdrama #lp spoilers

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sassypossumm · 5 months

Text

On The Streets of New York

Chaper 3: Jack is still suspicious, but after all, Howard doesn't have the best track record with women...

"I said Emilio's was the best in New York, didn't I Miss Turner?" Howard looked from Jack to you with a triumphant smile on his face. You chuckled and shook your head at the sour look Jack gave him.

"Yes, Mr. Gable, you did say that." Now Jack was aiming that sour look at you, and he threw in an eye roll for good measure.

"I'm going to go pay the bill." Jack looked pointedly at Howard and slid out of the booth. Howard put his own slice of pizza down and moved to stand. "No, no, Stark, it's on me this time." Jack's eyes slid to you briefly before locking back on the other man. "You just... sit there." He smirked and headed towards the front counter.

"You two don't seem to like each other very much." You commented, brushing your hands free of crumbs.

"Thompson? Nah, we go way back."

"Mhm, and I'm the actual Lana Turner in the flesh."

"About that," Howard sucked his thumb clean and tilted his hat back. "I've been giving that some thought."

"Whether I'm actually Lana Turner or not?" You chuckled softly and took a sip of your water. Howard shook his head and propped his elbows on the table, leaning forward to be heard over the crowd.

"You don't strike me as a Lana Turner type." Your brows raised and you framed your chin with two fingers.

"And what do I strike you as?" Howard's face lit up and he pushed his plate aside before folding his hands and leaning even further over the table. Dropping your arm, you leaned back a little and considered the man leaning halfway over the table at this point. His hat was leaning so far back on his head, that on any other man it would be comical, but he was suave enough to carry it off.

No, that's a lie, even on him it was comical, but in a dapper sort of way. Slowly you raised your arm and rested your chin in your hand again and cocked your head to the side. He spoke with a strong Mid-Atlanic accent to be sure, and if you hadn't known from Tony that he was in fact from Richford New York, you might have missed it.

"Hey, you still in there?" A hand waiving in front of your face snapped you out of your revelry.

"Huh, I'm sorry, I must have zoned out." You said with a sheepish grin.

"Daydreaming about me, sugarplum?" Bringing his hat back on top of his head, he paused to throw you a wink. Shaking your head, you waived a hand dismissively.

"I missed what you said, I'm sorry."

"You really were daydreaming about me, weren't you?" Leaning forward again, Howard grinned at you suggestively and waggled his brows. You pressed your lips into a firm line and raised a brow. "Alright, alright," he held up his hands in a placating fashion. "You're as strait laced as Peg." Your ears perked up at that name, but before you could open your mouth, Howard was off again. "No offence to Miss Turner, but there's something about your eyes," he paused to inspect your face, narrowing his eyes he leaned even closer until you were practically nose to nose. "a certain... intelligence," here he leaned back a little. "So, then I thought maybe Lamar, beauty and brains." You rolled your eyes at the dramatic manner in which he winked at you. "But then again, and this isn't meant as an insult to you, but... she's Hedy Lamar,"

"So, you're saying I'm a pudding face, charming Mr. Stark." Leaning back, you folded your arms and fought back a smile. Howard shifted in his seat and moved the pepper and saltshakers out of his way before leaning forward again and pinning you to your spot with an intense look.

"On the contrary, you're quite attractive," he paused and the words he'd said dangled in the air between you like a slowly descending fog that was making the air around you tangible. It was your turn to shift in your seat, and almost without you even realizing it, you'd begun leaning forward again until your hands were practically touching. "It's in the eyes, the way you carry yourself..." He muttered to himself, narrowing his own in inspection of yours. Blinking, he pulled back, breaking the spell. "And THAT'S why you're a Katharine Hepburn type!" He punctuated his words with a hand on the table. You jumped at his fervor. A triumphant smile covered his face, and he leaned back, thumbing his hat backwards again. "You strike me as a thoroughly modern woman, Miss Hepburn."

"That's putting it mildly," You paused and took a drink of your water. "If I'm Kate Hepburn, then you absolutely must be Mr. Tracey." You said almost as an afterthought. Before he could respond, Jack appeared and grabbed his overcoat.

"Ready to go, Ms. L/N?" Glancing at Howard his grin dropped, and he frowned. "Stark, you look ridiculous." Howard's hand flew to his hat, and feeling how far back he'd pushed it, he chuckled and pulled it back down over his head.

"Chief Thompson," Jack raised a brow and looked at you expectantly. You felt your face flush and you cleared your throat. "The thing is," looking down at your hands, you began to fidget.

"You don't have anywhere to go, do you sugarplum?" Howard's voice was laced with genuine concern. Looking up, you tugged on your collar and nodded. Howard looked like he was about to say something when Jack narrowed his eyes and grabbed the man's shoulder. "Hey!" Howard pushed at Jack's hand. He merely doubled down on his grip before looking at you with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Ms. L/N, would you excuse us for a minute?"

"Sure." You gave him a weak smile and stared at the crumpled napkin on your plate. Jack squeezed Howard's shoulder and all but dragged him out of the booth. Once they were out of ear shot, Jack released his arm.

"What's the matter with you, Thompson, this is genuine cashmere?" Howard grumbled, trying to brush the wrinkles out of his sports jacket.

"What's the matter with you, Stark?!" Jack hissed, moving to tower over the shorter man. He glanced back at the table, and seeing you occupied with a stain on the table turned back to the disgruntled man and lowered his voice. "Have you already forgotten what we went through with Dottie Underwood? For all we know, this lady could be from the same organization, and you were just about to invite her into your home!" Howard opened his mouth, but Jack raised a finger. "Don't even try to deny it, I saw it written all over your face." Turning he looked at you. "Have you even considered that she might be a spy?"

"I hardly think she's a spy, Thompson." Howard folded his arms. Jack spun to look down at him with narrowed eyes.

"We know next to nothing about her, Howard, look at the way she's dressed, have you ever seen another woman dressed like that?"

"No, but I'd like to." Howard chuckled. Jack groaned and ran a hand over his face.

"I swear, you're putty for any pretty skirt that crosses your path."

"Thompson, I resent that, but seeing as Miss Hepburn isn't wearing a skirt, I'll pretend you weren't trying to include her in your little double entendeur."

"Miss Hepburn?" Jack raised a brow, clearly waiting for an explanation.

"Not important at the moment." Howard waived his hand dismissively and looked up at Jack. "Are you through with your diatribe about our lovely new friend?" Jack sighed and nodded.

"Yeah."

"Great!" Howard slapped his hands and headed back to the table. "Ready to go, Miss Hepburn?"

"Huh?" Looking up, you dropped the napkin. Howard hovered over you with an animated look in his eyes. Your attention shifted to Jack who'd moved to stand next to Howard. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at the ceiling. "Where are we going?" You looked back at Howard, utterly confused. Howard reached for your arm and gently pulled you from the booth. Tucking your arm through his, he gave you a charming smile and headed outside, Jack trailing behind.

"Back to my home, of course." You stopped abruptly, sending Howard staggering to a halt.

"Mr. Stark, I," He raised a hand to stop your protest.

"You don't have anywhere to go, so for as long as you need it, my home is your home." You tried to speak again, but at his disapproving look you quickly closed your mouth. "At least give the place a once over before you turn me down." He steered you towards the waiting car. " I've been told my pool is one of the largest in New York." Your ears perked up at that.

"Probably the only one in New York too." You muttered, turning your head to see him looking at you seriously. Wait, you really have a pool?" You gave him a curious smile and he smirked as he held the door open for you.

"Heated too." Your eyes narrowed.

"Mr. Stark, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to tempt me." You narrowed your eyes and slid into the back seat. Howard chuckled and slid in after you slamming the door shut.

"Absolutely." He turned to you with a grin. "And no more of this 'Mr. Stark' nonsense. My friends call me Howard." He glanced into the front seat where Mr. Jarvis was currently sitting, playing with the dials on the radio before turning to you and whispering conspiratorially. "You of course can call me Mr. Tracey." You rolled your eyes and opened your mouth to respond.

"Do I get to call you Mr. Tracey too?" With a squeak you jumped, nearly hitting your head on the roof of the car.

"Oh!" Your hand flew to your throat, and you turned to see Jack Thompson sitting on your other side, leaning back nonchalantly.

"It's Mr. Stark to you, Thompson." Howard leaned forward and looked at Jack good naturedly.

"Mr. Tracey." Jack chuffed with a shake of his head. Folding his arms, Jack turned to you with an appraising look. "You never did tell me where you were from, Miss Hepburn." The name rolled off his tongue derisively. You bristled and shifted towards Howard unconsciously. Howard rolled his eyes and raised a hand to tap on the glass dividing the back seat from the front.

"Don't pay him any attention, Ms. L/N, he's got some warped notion that you're a covert spy or something." The man in the front looked into the rear-view mirror and gave Howard a nod. Eyebrow cocked, you looked at Jack and smirked.

"Let me guess, name, rank, serial number only, Agent Thompson?" He opened his mouth to respond, but the engine roared to life and the car jolted into motion.

"No interrogating my guests in my car, Thompson." Howard leaned back and pulled his hat over his eyes. "Jarvis, wake me when we get home!" He shouted before folding his arms. He tilted his head briefly to glance at you from under the lowered brim of his hat. "Kate, if this mug gives you any trouble, punch his lights out." With that he turned towards the window and soon the soft sounds of snoring filled the empty space.

"It's nothing personal, Ms. L/N." At the sound of Jack's voice, you leaned your head against the seat, grateful for the darkness that kept him from making out your features.

"I know, Chief Thompson."

"With everything that's been going on,"

"Jack," You turned to face him, cutting him off firmly. Jack stiffened, and even in the darkness you could tell he was sitting just a little straighter. "You're concerned for a friend, I respect that."

"Now, really," He sputtered. "I don't know about all that," You chuckled and folded your arms.

"Deny it all you like, Chief Thompson, you're a big softy."

"You're not on my pay roll, Ms. L/N, just call me Jack." You shifted slightly and squinted to make out his outline. He'd turned slightly and was facing you with folded arms.

"Getting familiar with the enemy, Jack?"

"Oh, I don't know, Kate," a smile peaked through his voice. "Could be fun."

"Would you two kindly stopped talking, I'm trying to sleep." Howard's voice broke through your little bubble, and you glanced at the slumbering lump before turning to Jack and sharing a soft chuckle.

Tag list: @letmeinplease22

#jack thompson x reader #jack thompson #jack thompson x you #jack thompson imagine #howard stark x reader #Howard stark imagine #Howard stark x you #agent carter fic

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