#how do you move to live for yourself when you were the soul person reliable for a whole human for 6 straight years

[misssophiespice]

.

[vasito-de-leche]

a little prompt, if you don’t mind

what about mercenary!reader and symbiote!Pavia? it’s just Pavia’s ult/wolves kinda remind me of Venom and i think it would be fun to imagine him being something like Venom

;R1999 PAVIA - "under your skin"

Symbiote!Pavia x Mercenary!Reader 2.5k words body horror What you and Pavia have is nothing more than transactional—you need him to make a living, and he needs you alive to ensure a comfortable life. It's taken some time to get used to these changes, to share everything you have with him for the sake of convenience: your home, your food, your job. And most importantly, your body. Perfect symbiosis, or dysfunctional parasitism? You've yet to figure out where you two stand. One thing is clear, though; he's the best at getting under your skin.

i just want you to know that this prompt speaks to MY SOUL bc i love venom and pavia so fucking much. you dont understand how hard i think about the concept of a symbiotic relationship between symbiote and host. so I went extremely self-indulgent with this one <3

as usual, this is written to be read as platonic or romantic, whatever floats your boat!

Bang!

A clean kill.

The only reason you watch as the body drops to the ground is out of respect for the work you do, nothing else. You've done this a dozen times, and you will do it a dozen more -- the gun in your hand has become a reliable friend rather than a tool for mindless murder, its familiar weight a fleeting comfort in the tedious routine. A shame it came from the most annoying person you know.

Screaming ensues as everyone surrounding your target runs around in panic. You remain, eyes locked on the target. When someone moves their body, attempting to cradle that lifeless corpse, you see it; a bullet right between their eyebrows, the perfect shot.

You feel a tug, but it comes from within your chest cavity. Something squirms inside you, pulling you back, and you understand this as your cue to slide back into the shadows. It begins with a single step backwards, then another, until you feel the texture under your shoes shift -- what was once solid ground is now a dark, velvety mass, floating upwards and fading away like smoke. It licks at your ankles, providing an initially cold sensation that permeates your clothes, and then it continues upwards to your calves, your knees, your thighs. The gun slowly dissolves into slime, taking the shape of what you assume to be a hand, horrible and sticky fingers intertwined with yours, pulling you downwards.

By then, you feel that burning sensation, and then you're dragged into the abyss.

"That was a lousy shot."

A voice echoes in your mind, it is not your own. It feels like a thousand ants marching alongside your cranium. Or rather, what you assume to be your cranium -- in this current state, you can't separate yourself from the embrace of the void. The voice might as well reverberate all around you.

You scoff and insist. No, it was a perfect shot.

"Perfect my ass. You were off by 2 centimeters," the biting remark makes you clench your jaw. You don't reply. The voice does the same, it remains still, only a semblance of white noise, but you understand its silence as a smug victory.

Suddenly, vertigo takes hold of you. It only happens for a split second, always unannounced, but you know better than to brace yourself. Doing so, as you've learned, would only make you nauseous, dizzy and weak -- instead, you let go and the shadows gently coax you back into the light before dissipating in the air.

You find yourself in front of your apartment door, an odd and anticlimactic way of ending a productive day. What, no snack run today?

"Not feeling it today. So you either open the door on your own, or I'll do it myself. Get a move on."

Some of these threats tend to hold more water than others, but more often than not, they're just empty words and loud, useless barking. And so you've learned to ignore them all -- however, you feel a faint prodding inside your back pocket, like a tentacle in search of something. Right, your keys. The roll of your eyes and the slowness in your movements are the only means of rebellion you have against this annoying entity in your head, it continues to breathe down your neck, impatient as ever, until the door opens and you step into your safe haven.

"Finally! Guess there's some activity in that brain dead head of yours."

You're forced to make a bee-line for the kitchen and the fridge, puppeteered by a force much more stronger, much more ancient than every insignificant emotion you've ever felt: the damn parasite inside of you is hungry.

As you both scan the leftovers -- your leech of a roommate seeing through your eyes, smelling through your nose -- the voice returns, this time in a more playful tone, less grating than before.

"Scusi, what's with the silent treatment today?" You bite the inside of your cheek and it laughs at you. "Don't tell me, wolf got your tongue? Are you mad that I saw right through your poor, shitty technique?"

A suffocating presence crawls inside you, starting from somewhere below your rib cage and making its way upwards through your esophagus and trachea, shifting until you feel the prodding of cold, slimy fingers in your mouth. They are tasteless and you can still breathe, your body not even bothering to perceive this as an obstruction or an intruding force that must be coughed and spat out. They are careless in their movements, pinching the tip of your tongue and pushing against your clenched teeth in an attempt to get you to open up.

And the worst part is that this is nothing but a mocking gesture, you've come to understand this over the years. To you, this is no different than someone poking at your sides, childishly asking for your attention. You obediently open, enough for a single digit to slip out, one you recognize as the middle finger. It presses down on your lower lip.

And then you bite down, hard.

It dissipates instantly, it is absorbed back into your body through every inch of skin it makes contact with. There is a new sound in the back of your mind, one you weren't quite expecting. Your parasite laughs, amused, no trace of that usual condescending tone.

"Good, you still know how to use that petty mouth of yours. I don't have to worry about teaching you how to chew down your food."

This makes you stand up straight, turning your head and glaring at an empty space, where you assume this presence would manifest if it chose to stop taking residence in your body, "I'm not eating while you're still in there. If you want dinner, then get out."

There is a beat, a momentary silence. You don't give the parasite any time to bargain, "I'm serious. Use your own damn mouth if you're so hungry. I already have to do everything on my own, I'm not going to start spoon feeding you, too!"

The reply comes out faster than you expected.

"Fine."

For a moment, your vision doubles and your body feels like it's being painlessly torn apart. For a moment, you have two sets of eyes, two sets of arms, two sets of legs and two minds. You are both yourself and him, simultaneously. It is like someone is cutting your soul in half, shoving each part into two different bodies.

It is over in the blink of an eye, and there is a presence looming behind you, made from the same material that took you here, the same material that often travels in your veins and every other crevice, nook and cranny available between your organs and bones. The lights of your apartment flicker, and you take notice of his shadow cast over you.

His predatory gaze burns holes in the back of your head, and in the stillness of it all, you hear his steps, the sound his leather pants and the shifting of his shirt fabric as he steps closer -- until you feel his chest against your back. An arm slides into view, closing the door to the fridge and resting there, preventing you from escaping. It is decorated with all the useless, silver jewelry he's taken from your targets, a hand covered with tattoos you've often traced with your very own fingers in the past.

Oddly enough, you do not feel like prey. Not anymore. Your instinct tells you that you should, but truth be told, you could not care less. Especially when you feel his chin dig into the top of your head, his weight pressing lazily on you.

"…But in exchange, I'm cooking tonight. You got 10 seconds to get outta here." He shifts, and his cheek nuzzles into you as he yawns, like he's ready to move on from this conversation.

"Huh?" You slide from under him, finally looking at the parasite concealing as a man -- one you recognize as the bane of your existence, Pavia. "Uh, like hell I'm trusting you with the food! I've seen the stuff you put on your pizza."

"Like you're one to talk! You add too much salt to everything you make. If you wanted to ruin your liver, you should've just let me eat it from day one. 5 seconds left before I throw you out. C'mon."

"Do you even know how to cook? Any actual recipes that don't require winging everything?"

"Does pasta with a side of 'mind your fucking business or I'll make us eat rat poison' sound good to you?"

"I swear if you put anything funny in the food--…"

"Time's up. Out!" Pavia picks you up, manhandles you even, and tosses you out into the living room. As soon as you land on the couch, the door to the kitchen closes and you're left all alone.

It's easy to forget that you have no fucking clue as to who or what Pavia even is.

No last name, no records, no personal information at all. You've touched him before—he looks and feels just like any other person. If you didn't know any better, you could've sworn he bleeds the same way you do. But there are times when that outer layer of normalcy is peeled back just enough to remind you what you're dealing with. Sometimes, the outline of his form darkens, as if the light around him couldn't affect him in any way, and his eyes go dark, so very dark.

You've seen him in this form, unhinging his jaw to uncomfortable degrees and revealing endless sets of saw-like fangs and teeth. His nails have grown longer, thicker and sharper than expected in many occasions. You would find those on the ground, like a wild dog who has never known, let alone needed, a trimmer.

And most importantly, you've allowed him entry to every pore of your body, every piece of cartilage, every muscle, every vein.

That's when you get a small glimpse into the eldritch monstrosity living under your roof—sometimes, he's a thick fog. Sometimes, he's an oozing pile of slime. Sometimes, he's the big, bad wolf. Sometimes, you can't even understand what you're looking at when he manifests in front of you. Regardless, you're certain of something.

Pavia is darkness, eternal and haunting as the night.

He is also a huge, ungrateful, bastard.

"Hey! Where'd you leave the gelato!? This freezer's a damn mess!" His voice is heard, muffled. It doesn't carry the same cadence and weight as it does when you hear it from within your mind. He sounds more annoying, in fact.

It's a strange experience, to have him coexist right beside you as if he weren't some sort of parasite, one hair away from eating your organs. But at least like this, he cannot read your mind nor attempt to puppet your body like a moron in broad daylight. You don't answer, fully aware that he's only trying to piss you off and lure you into another argument -- as if he'd ever lose sight of his precious dessert, anyway. Instead, you busy yourself with the usual routine; finishing what is left of your work, contact your employers and whatnot.

Soon enough, the kitchen door opens and Pavia slides into the room with a single plate of warm food. You look at him, eyes wide in indignation. Oh, he wouldn't …

"Huh? What, I thought you didn't trust me to cook, so I just made something for myself. There's some leftovers from your poor excuse of a lasagna, though." The smarmy expression plastered all over his face as he licks the sauce off his spoon is unbearable, and you rush to the kitchen either to find the biggest knife to drive into his chest or to resign yourself and eat those leftovers.

And then you see it, another plate resting by the counter. Full of delicious looking pasta.

Son of a bitch.

"Bring me some of that orange juice you bought yesterday while you're in there, yeah?" Pavia never gives you time to settle down, demanding your attention and your frustration time and time again, unable to form a single coherent thought nor opinion about him.

He's annoying, that's all you've been able to figure out so far.

He's annoying, and he's made a mess out of your kitchen to cook this meal for both of you. He's annoying, and stingy when it comes to sharing his favorite snacks and desserts, but he never attempts to steal your own. He's annoying, and he offers you a power beyond your wildest dreams, to get rid of inhibition and embrace the abilities of an eldritch beast. He's annoying, and he hogs all the fucking blankets at night, planting his cold feet against your legs or back to add insult to injury.

He's annoying, and he's calling out to you once more, telling you to hurry or else you'll miss "that one stupid show" you like, that he'll switch channels if you don't sit down with him to eat. You sigh. The nerve, the hypocrisy. You know the things he likes to watch -- he has no right to criticize your taste like this.

"I'm coming, calm down! Christ …"

You notice that he never lingers nor invades any of your usual places, always picking the same spots for himself, and this is ironic in every way possible given his fickle nature. There's no doubt that as soon as you two retire for the night, Pavia will make a show out of sliding back into your body, to rest with the warmth of your blood and the soothing rhythm of your heart. And you will tell him to fuck off and sleep on the couch, reminding him of that one time he got a little too comfortable, clutching your heart in his claws, causing you to believe you were having a heart attack. Then, morning will arrive, and you will find Pavia either sprawled out or gone, but never truly leaving you alone. You will feel him, that inky slime, both cold and warm in your veins. You will go to work, and you will return home to start all over again. This is the routine, one you stopped questioning a long time ago.

This parasite who gets under your skin, both figuratively and literally, is annoying. He's annoying when he teases you, forcing you to admit that he can cook a mean pasta. He's annoying when he laughs, loud and boisterous, at those stupid moments he often criticizes in all of your favorite shows. He's annoying when he gets clingy, using you as a pillow because he can't be bothered to reach out for one of the many other pillows scattered around.

He's so very annoying when he looks at you with a curious gleam in his eyes, obviously noticing the way you've chosen to rest your head in the crook of his neck. Time stands still as you simply look at each other, as you lose yourself in those bright, sharp eyes.

You stick out your tongue at him, and Pavia blows a raspberry at you. Sure, he might be plenty annoying on his own, but together you're both insufferable and unstoppable.

[unwelcome-ozian]

Hello. I was wondering if you could help me understand how to help a survivor of the Family international (formerly children of god) who recently left the cult. More specifically the groups in the uk.

My siblings and I grew up in the cult and my sister and I managed to get away as teenagers. Now I could get one of my younger brothers to leave our family and live with me. I just want to make sure I do things right with him.

I went through years of being hospitalised and therapy to deal with the trauma and bipolar disorder. My sister was always the person who understood and supported me the most, which definitely helped me manage. She respectfully told me she doesn’t want to interact with our brother because it would be too triggering for her, which I understand. But I’m afraid I’m not as strong as her and am too unstable to really help my him.

I don’t remember most of my upbringing and only get into contact with it through flashbacks, so I can’t relate to the beliefs they planted inside his head.

If it helps, our family used to live in Scotland but we moved to Liverpool when I was very young. My parents were still involved in the cult and we moved around from time to time to “recruit” others. My sister and I left in ca 2012, I was born in 1999. My brother who’s now living with me is 18. Sorry if this is all to vague or if this is beyond what you do here. Thank you. -L

Hello.  I have thought a lot about your question.  If I understand correctly, the brother in question is living with you, or was at the time of your writing this note? If I am mistaken, please feel free to correct me.

It is difficult to say what your brother’s needs may be initially other than safety.  You may have to assess his safety need and come up with a plan to help him if there are any concerns in that area.  While you are focusing on providing safety and stability for the time being, it may be helpful for you to talk with your support people or build support for yourself that will help in encouraging you and helping you for when times are difficult with your brother.  Until you know what his needs are, relating with him with kindness, consistency and good boundaries, in such a way that he experiences safety in his relationship with you, will build trust and equity in your relationship.

 As you relate with him in ways that do not employ control tactics, with acceptance and patience, and interest in him as a person, it may create cognitive dissonance regarding some of his beliefs or patterns of relating, that may cause him to begin to open his mind to different ways of thinking thinking and experiencing life.  There may be some trauma responses that have already come to awareness.  You may be able to discuss ways that could help him feel safe and more in control when he starts to feel anxious or dysregulated.  It's possible that you will have the opportunity to engage in conversations that can bring healing. Or it may be the reliability of your presence that will still have a positive impact, even if you don’t know what it is until much later.  This is because it sometimes takes a really long time to believe the care that you are receiving isn't going to go away. He may not think he needs mental health help, and it may take him a bit of time out of that environment for him to know what he needs.  If he is open to seeking therapy, helping him find that kind of support may be helpful.  One thing that is important is that you let him lead the way in his own healing.  There are ways to help increase a person’s positive energy, which may be helpful, without a focus on healing.  If he enjoys fun or creative things, providing opportunities to just live and be playful may be good for his soul.

Lastly I would encourage you to have a priority of your own continued healing and growth.   Make sure that you can both experience compassion for him and at the same time still experience your own joy for other parts of your life.  This will help you to continue to be there for him for the long haul.

I recently posted a link to a website that had some educational resources for people getting out of cults.  I’ll post that again here.  Please let us know if you have any other questions.   I wish you and your brother well.

~Josha

[idreamtofmanderleyagain]

Hot takes about Severus Snape are a wierdly decent glimpse into how a person with progressive values analyses things. Literally every time someone talks about Snape, it’s like this tiny window into how one-dimentionally people actually think.

Recently saw a twitter post that was a fantastic example. Here’s how it goes (paraphrasing):

Person A:“Snape is POC and Queer coded, that’s why you guy’s hate him uwu lol.”

Person B: “Actually I hate him because he was mean and abusive to children under his care uwu but go off I guess lol”

Both of these takes are designed to be dramatic and/or reactionary. They each use partial truths to paint very broad strokes. These are get-em-in-one-hit quips. This is virtue signalling, if you’ll excuse that loaded phrase. Nobody had a substantial conversation, but now everyone who sees their statement knows the high ground they took.

At least a hundred other people chimed in to add their own little quippy hot takes into play, none of which add anything significant, but clearly made everyone feel very highly of themselves.

So many layers of nuance and complex analysis is completely lost in this kind of discussion. On tumblr, you get more of this kind of bullshit, but you don’t have a word count limit, so you guys just spew endless mountains of weak overblown evidence backing up your bullshit arguments, none of which was really about engaging in a real conversation anyway.

Here’s the thing about Snape.

He is a childhood domestic abuse victim. His abuser is a muggle.

He becomes a student at a magical school that takes him away from his abuser and immediately instills in him the idea that being a part of this magical world is a badge of self-worth, empowerment, and provides safety and security - provided that he keeps in line.

There is a war is being waged in that world over his right to exist (he is a half blood).

He is a marginalized person within the context of the narrative, forced to constantly be in the same living space as the children of his own oppressors who are being groomed and recruited into a hate group militia (the pureblood slytherins). They are in turn trying to do the same to him.

He is marginalized person bullied by children who are also part of his oppressor group, but who have “more liberal” leanings and aren’t direct about why he’s being targeted (the mauraders are all purebloods, Sirius, who was the worst offender, was raised in a bigoted household, the same one that produced Bellatrix.).

He had a crush on a girl who is a muggleborn, and therefore she is considered even lesser than him and carries a stigma to those who associate with her. That girl was his only real friend. In his entire life.

For both Snape and Lily, allying themselves to a pureblood clique within their own houses would be a great way of shielding themselves from a measure of the bigotry they were probably facing. There would have been obvious pressure from those cliques to disconnect with one and other.

Every other person who associates with Snape in his adulthood carries some sort of sociopolitical or workplace (or hate cult) baggage with their association. Some of them will physically harm and/or kill him if he steps out of line. He hasn’t at any point had the right environment to heal and adjust from these childhood experiences. Even his relationship with Dumbledore is charged with constant baggage, including the purebloods who almost killed him during their bullying getting a slap on the wrist, the werewolf that almost killed him as a child being placed in an authority position over new children, etc. Dumbledore is canonically manipulative no matter his good qualities, and he has literally been manipulating Snape for years in order to cultivate a necessary asset in the war.

He is a person who is not in the stable mental state necessary to be teaching children, whom has been forced to teach children. While also playing the role of double agent against the hate group militia, the one that will literally torture you for mistakes or backtalk or just for fun. The one that will torture and kill him if he makes one wrong move.

Is the math clicking yet? From all of this, it’s not difficult to see how everything shitty about Snape was cultivated for him by his environment. Snape was not given great options. Snape made amazingly awful choices, and also some amazingly difficult, courageous ones. Snape was ultimately a human who had an extremely bad life, in which his options were incredibly grim and limited.

In fact, pretty much every point people make about how shitty Snape is as a person makes 100% logical sense as something that would emerge from how he was treated. Some if it he’s kind of right about, some of it is the inevitable reality of suffering, and some of it is part of the cycle of abuse and harm.

Even Snape’s emotional obsession with Lily makes logical sense when you have the perspective that he literally has no substantial positive experiences with other human beings that we know of, and he has an extreme, soul destroying guilt complex over her death. Calling him an Incel mysoginist nice guy projects a real-world political ideology and behavior that does not really apply to the context of what happened to him and her.

Even Snape’s specific little acts of cruelty to certain students is a reflection of his own life experiences. He identifies with Neville; more specifically, he identifies his own percieved emotional weaknesses in his childhood in Neville. There’s a very sad reason there why he feels the urge to be so harsh.

Snape very clearly hates himself, in a world where everyone else hates him, too. Imagine that, for a second. Imagine total internal and external hatred, an yearning for just a little bit of true connection. For years. Imagine then also trying to save that world, even if it’s motivated by guilt. Even if nobody ever knows you did it and you expect to die a miserable death alone.

There are more elements here to consider, including the way Rowling described his looks (there may be something in there re: ugliness and swarthy stereotyping). These are just the things that stand out the most prominently to me.

J.K. Rowling is clearly also not reliable as an imparter of moral or sociopolitical philosophies. I don’t feel that her grasp of minority experiences is a solid one, considering how she picks and chooses who is acceptable and who is a threat.

All of that said, this is a logically consistent character arc. Within the context of his narrative, Snape is a marginalized person with severe PTSD and emotional instability issues who has absolutely no room available to him for self-improvement or healing, and never really has. And yes, he’s also mean, and caustic, and verbally abusive to the students. He’s also a completey miserable, lonely person.

There are elements in his character arc that mirror real world experiences quite well. If nothing else, Rowling is enough of an emotional adult to recognise these kinds of things and portray something that feels authentic.

In my opinion, it’s not appropriate to whittle all this down by comparing him directly to the real world experiences of marginalized groups - at least if you are not a part of the group you are comparing him to. There have been many individuals who have compared his arc to their own personal experiences of marginalization, and that is valid. But generally speaking, comparing a white straight dude to people who are not that can often be pretty offensive. This is not a valuable way to discuss either subject.

Also, I believe that while it’s perfectly okay to not like Snape as a character, many of the people who act like Person B are carrying Harry’s childhood POV about Snape in their hearts well into their own adulthood. And if nothing else, Rowling was attempting to say something here about how our perspectives (should) grow and change as we emotionally mature.  She doesn’t have to be a good person herself to have expressed something true about the world in this instance, and since this story is a part of our popular culture, people have a right to feel whatever way they do about this story and it’s characters.

The complexity of this particular snapshot of fictionalized marginalization, and what it reveals about the human experience, cannot be reduced down to “he’s an abuser so he’s not worth anyone’s time/you are bad for liking him.”

And to be honest, I think that it reveals a lot about many of us in progressive spaces, particularly those of us who less marginalized but very loud about our values, that we refuse to engage with these complexities in leu of totally condemning him. Particularly because a lot of the elements I listed above are indeed reflected in real world examples of people who have experienced marginalization and thus had to deal with the resulting emotional damage, an mental illness, and behavior troubles, and bad decisions. Our inability to address the full scope of this may be a good reflection of how we are handling the complexity of real world examples.

Real people are not perfect angels in their victimhood. They are just humans who are victims, and we all have the capacity to be cruel and abusive in a world where we have been given cruelty and abuse. This is just a part of existing. If you cannot sympathise with that, or at least grasp it and aknowledge it and respect the people who are emotionally drawn to a character who refects that, then you may be telling on yourself to be honest.

To be honest, this is especially true if you hate Snape but just really, really love the Mauraduers. You have a right to those feelings, but if you are moralizing this and judging others for liking Snape, you’ve confessed to something about how you’ve mentally constructed your personal values in a way I don’t think you’ve fully grasped yet.

I have a hard time imagining a mindset where a story like Snape’s does not move one to empathy and vicarious grief, if I’m honest. I feel like some people really just cannot be bothered to imagine themselves in other people’s shoes, feeling what they feel and living like they live. I struggle to trust the social politics of people who show these kinds of colors, tbh.

But maybe that’s just me.

[tenthgrove]

Could you perhaps do hcs for La Squadra protecting their s/o from a stalker/abusive ex?? Or if you aren't comfortable with that, perhaps La Squadra hcs for comforting their s/o after such a relationship? Whatever's comfortable for you to do!!

Never Again

La Squadra x Reader (GN), Romantic, SFW, CW: past abuse

Formaggio- His first reaction to the news is profound sympathy. You’re his sunshine and he hates the thought of anything getting you down, let along threatening to harm a hair on your beautiful head. His main strategy will be to act as your moral support, making sure the awful bastard can’t put nearly as big a dent in your life as he wants to. Now, if shit gets serious, Formaggio isn’t afraid to step in. He wants the abuser to be hurt, but he also wants them humiliated. To get the best of both, he shrinks them down to the size of a beetle and forces them into a bottle, which he proudly displays on his kitchen counter. For an entire week, he is forced to watch as you and Formaggio live your best lives in the apartment around him. After that, he gets to go, provided he swears to never so much as look at you again. Even still, he’ll probably get a beatdown before he leaves. A parting gift to send him on his way.

Illuso- The revelation that your abusive ex is stalking you brings up a lot of soul searching within Illuso. He loves you, very much, and the feeling of rage that flares within him to know someone ever dared to mistreat you is by no means ambiguous to him. And yet, he can’t help but see every incident in which he belittles, teases, and genuinely holds his ego over you in a different light now. You were always so passive in how you responded. Could it be, you were afraid because of your past? For the first time in his life, Illuso reflects on his actions and feels disgust. No, he’s going to do better- he’s going to rid you of this vermin and make sure nobody ever makes you feel the way he made you. First of all, he makes it clear to the abuser at every opportunity that you’re in his care now, and there’s no chance of that ever changing. He pulls no stops in protecting you. Even when he has to leave for a mission, he shelters you in the mirror world of your bedroom, stocked with enough snacks and entertainment to comfort you until his return. If the abuser tries to break in while you’re there, well, it’s not like he could hurt you anyway, but that doesn’t mean Illuso won’t leave some booby traps for him to find instead.

Prosciutto- This man builds his life on concepts of allegiance, trust and chivalry. News of anyone being abused in an intimate relationship boils his blood, but when it happens to you… oh… your ex better say their prayers quickly. Prosciutto sees it as his mission, no, his duty, to eliminate the threat this stain on humanity poses to the world. With your permission, he’s more than happy to do that fatally. It wouldn’t be hard, you know. Passione might not treat the assassins well but they’re at least reliable enough to protect him from the legal consequences of murder at the drop of the hat. There’s no risk to either of you, and you’ll never have to see your ex’s face again. If you aren’t comfortable with taking things so far, Prosciutto insists you at least let him take some of the boys and give the bastard the beatdown of his lifetime. Make sure he knows whose protection you’re under.

Pesci- Acts without hesitation. Pesci has always been terrified by the thought of you getting hurt. Now, all he can think about at night is the possibility of getting a call in the morning from your sorrowful relatives, informing him that something terrible has happened. To prevent this, Pesci pleads with you to move in with him until this mess is over. He’ll even go as far as asking Risotto and Prosciutto to give him missions closer to home for the time being, so he can be there every night to protect you. Should the two of you ever encounter your abuser in public, Pesci will scowl at them immediately, and make crystal clear there’s no chance of him ever getting to hurt you while he’s around. We all know how dangerous Pesci can be when his heart is in it.

Melone- Well, if his love is being stalked, what better is there to do than stalk the stalker? Melone makes a hobby of following your ex around, holding no punches with the invasive, personal and downright creepy insults he languidly throws his way. His logic is simple- this man has caused you misery, therefore, Melone will make the act of causing you misery equally miserable for him. The abuser would have to have a very thick skin to keep the game up for more than a few weeks. Unfortunately however, Melone is hardly the physically strongest in the team and quickly earns himself a broken nose for his efforts. However, this turns out to be the worst mistake your ex could have made as Melone then calls in his teammates to take over some of the stalking shifts, and believe me, they don’t play as nice. You may be wondering where you are in all of this. Simply put, you’re at home, under the watchful protection of a powerful junior specially trained not to harm you. Melone wouldn’t be reckless after all.

Ghiaccio- You might think he’d fly off the handle immediately, and believe me, he wants to. But Ghiaccio knows that if he lets his temper control him then the collateral damage could put you in more danger than its worth. Instead, he gathers up all his savings and gets away with you for a few weeks, in the hope the stalker’s obsession will be gone by then. Even if it’s rushed, Ghiaccio will do what he can to make the excursion a time of healing for you, giving you all the love and reassurance he can. If, as is unfortunately quite likely with these sorts of people, the stalker is still after you when you return, Ghiaccio is going to throw all his inhibitions to the side. Whatever consequences may come, Ghiaccio will deal with them. All he knows is that he won’t let that bastard ever touch you again.

Risotto- The first time you ever see Risotto look truly distressed is the day you tell him your ex was abusive and is now after you. His eyes are averted, lip bitten. His body starts to shake. Composing himself, Risotto stoops down to your height and, brushing your tears away, swears by his honour as a man that you are going to be okay. He will not allow anything bad to happen to you. Risotto’s suggestion is that you deal with this problem immediately so that you do not have to live in fear. Provided you feel confident enough to go through with it, he proposes that you confront the abuser with him at your side, invisible through Metallica. If things become violent, he will intervene. Even if not, do not think risotto is leaving you to deal with this yourself. As soon as the moment presents itself Risotto will lunge at your ex and bind his limbs with Metallica, leaving him utterly at your mercies. After that, you decide where the abuser ends up. It could be a stitching clinic, it could be the bottom of a river.

Sorbet and Gelato- It’s my personal headcanon that Sorbet himself has been on the receiving end of an abusive relationship, and hence has a very intimate understanding of what you’re going through. Gelato, while never having been abused in a romantic context, is also familiar with the general concept of being treated by shit. Point is, they’re going to do everything in their power to give you a better support network than anyone ever gave them. Like Pesci, they’ll be adamant you move in with them if you haven’t already. While there, they’ll lavish you with affection to help with your emotional situation, as they know how bad abuse can be on your mental state even once you’re safe and free. As for your abuser, his fate will be slow, but certain. They will gradually move up from humiliation tactics to increasingly intense acts of violence and destruction. No matter what he does, he isn’t making it stop. Sorbet and Gelato have gotten away with far worse than this after all.

[thesunshinebunny]

When the world falls apart, the only thing we can hold onto is ourselves (Part II)

Series Master list

pairing: canon Eren Jaeger x reader

content: Angst, unstable relationship, breakup, smut/nswf+18, major character death, violence, blood (obviously), war (pretty obvious)

summary: War and hate. It’s what defined the world at this exact moment. You failed your comrades, and by failing them, you failed yourself. Your relationship is hanging by a thread and your enemies will not only be found on the other side of the sea, but also in the mind of the person you love the most. How will you take the reins in the face of so much destruction?

Chapter summary: Coming home is melancholy and cold, and your squadmates ask you to do what you couldn't do for a year: speak up and find out what's going on inside Eren's mind.

Words count: 5.3k

They say that when a loved one leaves this world, the days follow turns gray, colorless; How ironic to think that the day we buried Sasha was gray, there wasn’t a trace of the blue sky or some solar ray that could give us the warmth we were lacking. It was cold, a cold that got into your bones and no matter how many hugs and words of mutual support we gave each other, we couldn’t get the warmth we needed.

My soul had been fragmented the moment Sasha left this world, but seeing my friends cry at her grave and leave bouquets of flowers, it fragmented even more. I wasn’t able to meet Nicolo's eyes, my guilt prevented me. Inside, I wanted this Marleyan to yell at me, to tell me that he hated my presence, that Sasha's death had been my fault, and that I should have given my life if it meant saving her. I wanted with all my being that he would give me a reason to really feel guilty.

On the way back to the island, the others assured me that her death wasn’t my fault, that I did everything possible to keep her alive. But my ineptitude, my grief, my low self-esteem prevented me from seeing things clearly. I just needed… something to hold onto.

And I wasn't getting anything.

I felt how I was slowly sinking into the rabbit hole, without the possibility of clinging to a tree root. I was falling, falling, falling, unable to know when I would hit bottom. But that bottom came fast before I could have predicted, because minutes after Nicolo arrived, Sasha's father arrived too, bouquet of beautiful red flowers in hand.

I broke myself. The two people who longed for Sasha most in their lives were standing in front of me, mourning the loss of her young soul. The two people who would hate me the most in the world, standing over my friends's grave. I fell to my knees in front of them and in front of her grave, silently begging for forgiveness.

My tears fell incessantly on the freshly stirred earth as did my fingers, imploring this burden on my chest to dissipate, as if unconsciously I was wishing for Sasha herself to forgive me for letting her die. How could one cope with this heinous feeling? How could I go on, knowing that the world was falling around us, unable to know if the next day we were going to be alive or if Marley would initiate an attack from which we weren’t going to be able to defend ourselves?

My head was racing a thousand per second and the only thing I could let out were those sobs that had accompanied me so much on the way back, the same ones that cradled me to slept, and the tears that so much wanted to dissipate the pain in my soul.

It is said that when a person leaves this world, some people are unable to handle grief, just as they are unable to articulate a word. Apparently I was one of those people.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nights and days passed. Those of us who survived the attack on Marley stayed in commune trying to encourage ourselves to continue fighting. Hange had recommended us to rest, since the psychological damage could cause us several injuries in the future, and as for Eren ... we weren’t very aware of him. The last we heard from our commanders is that he was locked away from all human contact, stipulating that it would be better to keep him locked up for a while and let whatever shit that was going through his head dissipate.

But that was complete bullshit. I knew that, even locking him up, they weren't going to be able to change the thoughts that tormented Eren so much. I knew that, whatever was wandering through his mind, he wasn’t letting him alone and he would never let go. How did I know that? Because I spent a whole year trying to get him to let me enter in that shell he has been forming in recent years. I tried very hard to get him to tell me his plan before he went to Marley, but I got nothing, and I still get nothing.

My gaze was lost in the window. The nights grew colder and colder and I hugged my arms as I watched the sunset. The boys were arguing about something, something that Mikasa didn't seem to find funny at all, but my mind wasn’t connected to reality. I just stared out the window, remembering the old days when we'd sneak out to steal a piece of meat from the supply warehouse with Sasha and Connie.

I remembered the nights when the boys sneaked into the women's hut to keep each other warm in our days as recruits. I remembered how Armin let me practice my medicine methods on him when he got hurt, a practice that was lost when he inherited the power of the Colossal Titan.

I remembered how we would escape at dawn, grab a few horses and ride out to the ocean, taking nice cool baths on the warm moonlit summer nights. Now those moments only remained in that, in memories.

"(Y/N) are you listening?"

My gaze detached from the window, now it was fixed on a Connie who looked just as tired of the world as I did. This dwarf turned giant was just as devastated as I was by losing half of him, and yet he was still able to continue fighting alongside our friends.

"We think you might be the most suitable to go talk to Eren"

Armin's calm voice stripped me of any desire to go back to the old moments. I pulled myself away from the window tiredly and let my body unconsciously guide me to one of the couchs in the middle of the room, next to the blonde. Apparently while I was wandering in my thoughts, the tension in the room had reached a point where it could be cut with a simple wave of the hand.

As I sat down, I was able to take a better look at the room. From what I could analyze, the group had divided into two, those who still trusted Eren and those who did not, each with their reasons, and apparently, I was playing the role of mediator. The responsibility fell on me to move the pieces of the board: to talk to our supposed war partner and beg him to tell us about his plans and the demons in his head, or to dethrone him completely.

"What makes you think I can go talk to him?"

My words came out of my mouth colder and sharper than I would’ve liked, but it was the simple truth. If Eren was willing to push each other away to accomplish his task, what was I going to accomplish after a year without having answers to his thoughts?

"I haven't been able to speak to him openly in a year"

Armin and Mikasa gave me completely stunned looks. Not even their childhood friend had told them that his relationship was falling off a cliff.

"I didn't know, I thought you were fine"

"Well, we are not fine at all Armin"

I knew it wasn't fair for Armin to get all my frustration, he wasn't guilty at all. I looked him in the eye and I could find multiple feelings in those huge blue eyes: sadness, compassion, guilt, overwhelm. I knew he was one of the worst going through it, his childhood friend was no longer entirely reliable; he had carried out acts of sheer violence and had become the enemy he hated the most; Armin had become his worst enemy and his eyes clearly showed it.

And it was those same eyes that begged me to do something, to go and talk, to try to figure out the smallest thing we could use to get out of this mess Eren got us into. They implored me to save his soul brother from his mental prison.

I let out a long breath before getting up off the couch and heading to the door.

"I highly doubt that I will achieve anything, but I will try to talk to him"

I took one last look to the guys in front of me before leaving the room, each one wishing me luck and pleading for my well-being with their eyes, and sinking even further into the rabbit hole, or rather, going straight to ventured into the lion's den.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The road to the dungeons was long and heavy, but not because of the number of blocks and alleys I had to take, but because of what was waiting for me at the end of the road. Upon coming into contact with the stone walls and their semi-armored doors, the blood on my body ran cold, just as it ran cold when we buried Sasha.

The air below the ground was cold, the smell of mold and dirt entered my nostrils, preventing me from taking a couple of steps without feeling like vomiting. The place really needed a better cleaning, otherwise it would be the epicenter of a huge plague.

At the end of the corridor, where the light was dimmer and let the darkness eat much of the cell, was Eren. My heart skipped a beat when I saw him sitting on his supposed bed, staring directly at the wall, or so it seemed; knowing him he was surely lost in his world. I kept my composure, avoiding giving any trace of my emotional and psychological state.

"Hi"

I got no response, as always.

I had the opportunity to inspect his cell, it was quite untidy and dripping with water, coming from the sink which was covered to the top. Unconsciously I prayed that this water was drinkable or at least that it was not too polluted, since I didn’t have to look completely at the brunette in front of me to know he had put his head in that same water.

"I like your hair, looks very smooth"

"What do you want?"

His voice came out calm but imposing and terrifying at the same time, I would be lying if I said I didn’t startle a bit, but I kept my composure as best as possible to avoid showing the fear in my eyes. Eren may not have noticed, but if he did, he was unfazed.

"The guys think that I can talk to you, but I told them they were completely wrong, I mean...we haven't been able to speak like we used to for a year, maybe more"

My words came out of my mouth like the venom of a snake. I couldn't tell if my intention was to make him feel guilty, or at least feel something, to reflect on my words, but guess what… his eyes didn't even leave the wall behind me.

I crossed my arms and rested my body on one of the bars, hoping to have some intimidating way for the damn bastard to decide to speak. Even though bullying wasn't my thing, I, yes, had a tired face and wasn't there to waste my time, but I had to achieve something, get something, whatever, so I could get out of this damn place.

"You know very well that I'm not going to leave until you say something"

His eyes met mine for a few seconds and then returned to their original position. I knew this was going to be difficult, but I couldn't help my irritation growing from my chest. With every minute that passed, the pain in that area was increasing and a lump in the throat was appearing with each tear that I wanted to avoid shedding.

I'd been through shitty days and had to come alone to the exact place I least wanted to be to talk to the person I least wanted to see.

"I'm used to being on my feet for long hours, I can be here all day, and that's exactly what I'm going to do"

I remained planted in front of the cell, positioning myself with crossed arms right in front of his eyes, preventing them from continuing to look at the miserable wall.

But my bad luck wasn't giving me any sign that I was going to win this fight very soon. Although I was covering his peripheral field, his eyes never deigned to look at me, they simply stayed glued to the front, now seeing my body in front, although in reality, he was seeing without seeing.

My patience was running out and this goddamn silent game had only just begun. I had to find something to work with, something that could flicker him or make him angry… anger would not be the best if I wanted to leave with all the bones intact and my already psychological trauma without further damage; but knowing Eren, anger was his fuel, which made him move and in an action-reaction effect, made everyone move together behind him.

That's it. Everyone. But we weren't all here.

Sasha was dead; Reiner, Berthold and Annie traitors and enemies of Paradis; Ymir disappeared and confirmed dead, being inherited by the new jaw titan; the only one missing from our group was our beloved Queen. The Queen that Eren so decided to care for and protect.

"You know, Historia is about to give birth"

It was mild, but I could feel his body tense. His eyes moved just the same slightly, but in those little acts I knew I had struck a chord. And I was willing to use it, even if it meant destroying my sanity and causing one of Eren's greatest worldly anger.

"Wouldn't it be nice to have a little baby on the squad?" I took a deep breath before launching the second impact of the night, preparing to receive whatever blow came next. "After all, it's your child, right?"

His body moved faster than I could ever achieve and my reflexes weren't sharp enough to pull away in time. His hand grabbed my shirt, drawing me towards the bars and hitting my cheeks on each one, now my face was directly in front of him, my field of vision being just his face and finally, his eyes were focused on mine.

"Don't even think about talking about Historia like that"

If looks could kill, surely I would already be dead on the ground. His grip on my chest was strong, he was even capable of ripping the fabric, but with a push back showed me that it wasn’t strong enough, that everything was a facade. I staggered, almost fell to the ground, but either way, I kept my balance and my expression. I was terrified inside, but I forced myself to keep a stoic look at all time, he was trying to play with me and although I was not entirely sure how much there were just words and how much were an act of anger and violence, I couldn’t dedicate myself to having a hint of doubt.

"Easy, Romeo, I know you're not the daddy...or are you?"

I adjusted my clothes, avoiding his gaze because I knew if I stared into his eyes, I would get a much worse look than the one he gave me a few seconds ago.

"Whatever, you gave me something to work with, Historia knows something and didn't tell us...gee, I wonder why"

I leaned my body against the cold stone. My gaze went everywhere, trying to keep avoiding his eyes and incidentally have a stronger support for my figure.

"The Queen doesn’t have to say anything to anyone"

Ohhh, you little shit.

If that's the game you want to play, then you're going to lose.

Even if his words were absolutely right, we shouldn’t forget that, before she was queen, Historia had been our friend during training and the entire year of accumulated trauma between betrayals and deaths. If we could continue to have conversations with her and were invited to participate in political meetings, then we had every right to be informed of the supposed plan that Eren implanted in our queen's mind.

For a moment I was scared by the physical and emotional state of Historia. Was Eren capable of keeping her threatened? Did he say or do anything to keep her quiet? The questions seemed to have no head or tail, but if Eren was able to grab me the way he did, I can't imagine what he could do to keep someone quiet.

"Yes, you are right, in the same way, trust only the queen before your friends... that’s brave"

I searched the corridor and the cell for something I could use to attract his attention again, if it was necessary for me to use violence against him, I would be willing to do it. My eyes met a chain anchored to the wall, quite a long chain, to tell the truth. And on the other side, reaching almost the middle of the corridor, I could make out a rather dirty cloth.

I glanced at Eren who had sat back down on his bed, head down in his hands, and walked down the hall with one goal in mind. I grabbed the cloth and walked back to the cell, standing in front of the bars. I reached out my hand to the sink and started to clean up what was left of the spilled water.

"It's all soaked, incredible that they keep a cell like this"

Without taking my eyes off the sink, I could hear Eren settling on his bed, perhaps sitting upright. I kept running the dirty cloth over the water, honestly I wasn’t achieving much apart from spreading the now dirty water even more, but I had to continue with the facade of an understandable couple.

"It's a complete mess...were Historia's legs like this when you railed her?"

As before, Eren had quickly stood up, ready to grab my hand that was inside the cell, but I was already better prepared. When I felt his fingers touch my wrist, I turned my hand to anchor it on his arm and draw him towards the bars, having that same arm outside the cell. With half body on the cold metal, my other hand grabbed the missing arm and with all my strength I pulled his limbs towards me, causing his body and head to crash against the bars.

"Do you want to do it the hard way? fine, we'll do it the hard way"

Eren tried to shake off my grip, but the adrenaline rushing through my veins prevented him from loosening even a millimeter. I pushed him and pulled him back to me, stretching his arms even further and hitting his head on the metal.

"What's wrong with you?"

Again, a back and forth motion.

"What is going on in your head?"

Back and forth.

"How much shit can you have in your mind that you are not able to tell your friends?"

Back and forth.

"TELL ME FOR FUCK SAKE!!"

With one last impact, I hit Eren's head and heard the fibers and tendons in his shoulders rip, just as his skin began to stretch and break, revealing the flesh and muscle beneath it. Rivers of blood flowed over his arms, dropping to the floor and turning his skin red.

His head was also bleeding to the side, soaking his torso and rebel hair. A pool of blood formed under our feet. I let go of his arms and then grabbed the chain that was on the wall and chained him. Considering the number of times he hab been chained since his fifteen years, I suppose one more time wouldn't do any harm to his already traumatized mind.

When I saw his hands were secure I dropped to the floor, not caring about the blood that now adorned the cold stone floor. I could feel my ass starting to get soggy and sticky from the substance. I would have to burn this pants when I got out of there.

Both my mind and my breath hitched, enveloping the environment. I tried to calm down and clear my mind to continue this hell of interrogation. I knew I shouldn't have agreed, and now look at what situation I was in.

"You know I can transform and use the power of the warhammer titan to get out of here"

Eren seemed withdrawn from his situation, as if bleeding to death didn't matter in the least. Steam came out of his shoulders, a sign that he was in the process of regeneration and prayed that this process would take a long time to materialize.

“I know…” I tried to calm my voice and breath before speaking again “but if you transform now, you would end up killing me, and killing me means betraying the legion, and betraying them means betraying the people of Paradis… you don 't want that, do you? "

My words may sound sly, but inside I was wanting to run out of there, get under the covers of my bed and sleep until the day of doomsday; I was even wishing to die in that sleep.

"I'm going to stay here until I know once and for all what's going on in your head, because I know that whatever shit is in there… it's killing you."

Now we were both looking into each other's eyes, fighting a battle in silence, seeing who would give up first. We held eye contact for a few long minutes, unable to tell how many. Maybe it was a couple, maybe half an hour or even an hour; whatever the time, I was already getting bored.

"If I had known it would take so long, I would have brought something to read"

"What has you so worried that you can't even tell Hange or the heichou?"

My question came reluctantly out of my mouth, as if my ability to fight was fading. I was already very tired and it seemed like days since I entered the dungeons.

"Noone would be able to understand"

"Oh please! Don't take me for a fool. Do you think that none of them are battling their own inner demons? Do you think that only you can have intrusive thoughts to fight against?"

His comment irritated me to the core. I never found Eren such a selfish person, and to think that a year or so ago he was declaring his unconditional affection to all of his comrades.

What happened in the last year? What changed?

"Each one of them has to face their own internal wars every day"

Before my anger got the best of me, I took a few small breaths, calming myself. I wasn't going to put me on the same level of hatred and misunderstanding as him, even if it meant throwing away all the years we were together.

"Historia surely has to fight against the stress and the multiple responsibilities that being a queen entails, apart from fighting against the offensive comments of the military police"

Maybe the island has been rid of Titans for a long time, but that didn’t take away the fact that shitty people, like those who lived on the Wall Sina, decided to try and continue controlling the poor people who were split the loin so those ungrateful would have a feast every night.

"Connie is struggling every day against losing his other half, his twin"

Connie, Jean, everyone ... EVERYONE! We were fighting and suffering the mourning of Sasha, of our teammates.

"Shit, surely Jean is still struggling with the memory of Marco after so many years"

Yes. No one had forgotten Marco, especially Jean. But we had to learn to keep going on that very day, we couldn't afford to get sentimental and spoil the next missions. From that day on we learned to watch over our dead mates in silence.

"I fight every day against my incompetence"

And now was the time that I could begin to veil my demons once and for all.

Already my body was begging to rest. I had laid my head on the wall and fixed my gaze on the ceiling. I heard the chains move at my side, a sign that Eren was moving, but I didn't have the strength to look him in the face.

"I fight every day against the image of Sasha dying in my hands"

I know that memory is going to haunt me until the day I die.

"I fight every day against the memories of our comrades dying in battle"

I saw countless deaths throughout the year 850, so many that I decided to use my knowledge in medicine to help even to stop a bleeding. I still remember the first suture I made to a mate already lost in battle ... I was so excited, so happy to be of such help.

"I fight every day against the idea of ​​not being enough"

But that exaltation led to thousands of failures. People who had bled internally, who had lost an arm and couldn’t get to cauterize, hundreds who had lost half their stomach or head.

"I fight every day against our enemies on the other side of the sea"

I wasn't going to deny it, learning the pure and exclusive truth of the world, I couldn't help but feel a deep hatred for the Marleyans. I wanted them to pay for the countless deaths and suffering they had caused, I wanted to see them burn, but at the same time I wanted a reasonable explanation.

"I fight the memories of the titans devouring our friends"

Memories of the first day in battle, right at our graduation, when we thought that nothing could happen. How naive we were. And to think that that was just the beginning of a long list of events that would bring us to this moment.

"I fight every day along side with the memories of the team escaping from the base and messing it up to enjoy the summer nights"

Memories of when we would sneak into the palace and take Historia with us, enjoying the air in our faces and running in the valleys of the countryside. Memories of when we ran cows for some strange reason at the beginning of the day.

Memories of when we were racing with the 3D movement gear through the great forests outside the city. Memories of the occasional punch in the face against the bark of a tree for not knowing where we were going.

"I fight every day against the image of the big bright turquoise eyes that I fell in love with"

My gaze fell on those same eyes, but instead of finding the description that I wanted to see so much, I only found grayish green eyes, eyes that had lost all their brilliance.

I found eyes full of tiredness and anger for the world. The brilliance that so characterized Eren had been lost; now I would have to settle for a blank stare.

"I fight every day ... against the memory of our return to the rooms and Levi punishing us for weeks"

My voice was breaking as I remembered the nights when only Eren and I would sneak out to spend quality time alone. Those nights where we would lie down to see the stars or to lose ourselves in each other in some meadow.

I look at my hands, they were shaking. I couldn't help but remember the first night we spent together, back then I was shaking too, but Eren's hands on my cheeks dispelled any doubt or fear that I could ever have. I unconsciously smiled at the fond memory and I think Eren did too, as I heard a little laugh coming from him.

But no matter how much smiles and laughter the memories gave me, I had to go on and face the world that was now in front of me.

"I fight every day ... against the idea of ​​running towards you, towards your arms"

Those arms that one day gave me warmth. Those arms that one day hugged and covered me the moment I found out that a mate had died. Those strong arms that I knew were going to protect me from any harm.

"I fight against the hope that this is all a nightmare, that you are going to cradle me in your arms and tell me that everything is going to be fine, that it was just a bad dream"

My gaze returned to his, now filled with tears. It hurt, the cruel truth hurt a lot.

"I fight against the desire to stay by your side"

Eren's face was dark, he had returned to how he was at the beginning, without any trace of that soft laugh I heard a few seconds ago.

"I fight with my inner voice that tells me that everything will be fine, that in a few years it will not hurt as much as it does now"

Maybe ... maybe I can start over and when all this nefarious war is over I can find peace, once and for all, and enjoy my friends.

"I fight to move on"

...

"I fight every day...against you"

That was it.

I stood up heavily, wiping the tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand. The blood on the floor was already dry and had left the entire back of my pants stained. I hadn't noticed that the air had been permeated with the iron smell of blood, making my vomiting reflex worse, even though I had avoided it in a good way all this time.

"If you want to free yourself from this cell, go ahead, I'm not going to stop you"

His figure was already fully regenerated and I knew it was a matter of time before he transformed and left this filthy place. Eren might trust what he was doing was the right thing to do, but if he didn’t accept that in the eyes of the world, that in our eyes, his friends, the only family he had left, couldn’t understand his actions, then there wasn’t much to ask from him.

If he wanted to betray us, let him do it.

“Do what you have to do to fulfill your dream, I don't care anymore. But don't expect for me to sit around and wait for you"

"Are you planning to go to the other side of the sea?"

What a stupid and dubious question at the same time. Was I willing to leave my life in Paradis to start over even in the lands of the enemy?

No, not at all. Why I was no traitor.

"No Eren, I am not going to Marley, my family is here...but you are no longer part of it"

Those words hurt, but they needed to be said; that way I could already start to heal.

"Is that all you have to say?"

I couldn't tell if his words were mocking or a sincere question. But yes, it was all I had to say. I couldn't spend another minute in front of someone I didn't even know anymore.

"It's all I can bear"

I took one last look at the prisoner in the cell before turning and continuing down the long corridor of the dungeons.

"Are you leaving so soon? I thought I heard you would stay as long as it takes for me to speak"

As I reached the door, I took a deep breath of the foul smell of the environment. My hand lay on the doorknob and was half open when his words reached my ears. There was no need to shout from a distance, the echo of the stones made it easy for me to hear the smallest whisper of the perpetrator. I opened the door, but not before dedicating my last words.

"Goodbye Jaeger"

And behind me, I closed the door.

[kneamet]

Inspired by Wandavision. Reader is trapped in a perfect world of sitcom. However, she notices that her husband Loki is in control of everyone. I also ask for a scene that Loki goes to SWORD agents and threatens them like Wanda.

Trigger Warning: obsession, yandere, forced, kidnapping

Word Count: 2768

Character: Loki/reader

Summary: you knew that your husband was a magician, but you never thought that he would decide to create a perfect false world

POV Your

It was strange. Very strange. The world has seemed unreal to you lately. Everything was so unrealistic that I wanted to gouge out my eyes.

You looked down at your hands, feeling extremely worried. This acrid feeling burned and ate away at you from the inside out, making you feel anxious. It was very scary and unusual.

"Darling, what are you doing? Thinking about genesis?" the mocking velvety baritone whose owner was currently smiling softly at you from behind asked you. A light laugh followed his sentence. Laughter, like a crowd laughing at a joke.

You shook your head. It seemed particularly heavy now. Reflection and thoughts struck your bright, unfilled dark thoughts, head.

"Loki, what is that laugh?" you asked, turning your head to look at him. Loki only raised an eyebrow at your remark and smiled at you again, shaking his head and walking down the stairs towards you.

"I don't know what you're talking about, my sweet queen? What are you getting at?" coming up to you and touching your hair with the big hand that did the magic and gently running it through it. You blinked, leaning away from her husband's touch.

You loved his touch. So soft, so tender, so in need of the necessary love, which... What is it? Why can't you remember?

"Loki, honey, can I ask you something?" you could feel his nod as you stared at the dark screen on the off-screen TV. "What happened before we came to Westview? I can't remember, " you said in confusion, turning completely into Loki, who was looking at you with a serious look, frowning.

There was a lonely silence between you and your husband. On the top floor, the children could be heard frolicking and playing among themselves. The tension that weighed down the souls of those in the main room was overwhelming.

"Is this how pregnancy affected you? You know, I'm not an expert, but after this stage in life, girls are very suspicious of their husbands, " Loki smiled charmingly again, sitting down next to you on the blue sofa that sagged under his weight, and hugging you around the neck, kissing you on the cheek. It was a ridiculous kiss, more like a reassuring kiss.

The laughter came again. It was an unusual laugh when you see someone in front of you and they laugh. No, it was a laugh on the echoes of consciousness, which in an endless rhythm only intensified when a "funny" joke was heard. It was suspiciously strange. You felt your hands start to sweat a little.

With your lips pressed tightly together and your teeth biting the inside of your cheek, you stood up, emerging from Loki's pleasant captivity. His hands, which you so loved to touch, had to be left behind, freeing yourself from a pleasant manual captivity.

You loved Loki. He was a very interesting man... No, not a man, but a God, to put it mildly. Your beloved God, who was head over heels in love with you. He was very sarcastic and handsome: that black hair of his, which was now cut short in a perfect style; green eyes, so attentive that nothing escapes them. What can I say here, he's a God.

Grabbing your coat from the hanger and going straight up the stairs and heading straight for the door, wanting to get out and get some fresh air, as well as refresh your obsessive thoughts by going deeper into the thoughts that haunted you even at night.

"Honey, are you going somewhere?" getting up from the sofa, your husband asked obsessively, smiling at you and in an instant, teleporting, being near you, putting his hand on your shoulder.

You mastered your shoulder from his hand, shaking it slightly and not even paying attention to it, opened the door, saying:

"Get some fresh air. Keep an eye on the boys," you muttered as you closed the door behind you, not even bothering to look at your husband, who was standing there with a tense face, looking at you. It's a good thing you didn't notice.

You wanted to get out of this city. Find out what's next. Maybe we can find out from people if they know anything about you, or maybe it's just that you have a terrible memory.

But no, it can't be so terrible that you don't remember anything from the day you and Loki came to this city that seemed like an ideal city. Still, there was something wrong. Something was bothering you.

Deciding not to slow down and just walk towards the end of the city, you began to look around. You didn't walk very far, maybe fifty meters from your house, and everything was fine.

"Hi, Rob!" you shouted to your fool from work, to which he only smiled painfully at you, and your feeling only grew stronger when you saw a tear trickle down his cheek.

We need to get out of this city faster and find out from the people who live nearby if they know what's going on here in Westview.

You didn't remember when this craze to find out what was going on in this town started. Maybe when you haven't seen the kids on the playground for a couple of days in a row? Or when your friend Geraldine left so suddenly that you didn't notice? Or when the children began to grow very quickly? Or maybe when I saw the tears of the residents, when they portrayed happiness?

It was difficult. You couldn't put the details together, and your mind refused to remember your past, which you couldn't just forget. There must have been something, right? Your memories couldn't have started with you coming here with your husband, could they?

You shook your head, looking up and noticing that the main city was gone, leaving only small houses and a road that led off into the distance. Just where the STOP sign is placed. Is travel prohibited for everyone, or just for you and the people of this city?

Suddenly you stopped, clutching your head. No, no, no, what if you're imagining it? What if this is all just a game of your excited mind? Maybe you just made it all up and the people at Westview are really happy?

Squinting at the small house, your eyes only widened in fear, which was reflected in your trembling hands and your herd of goosebumps that ran down your back. The woman stood motionless, as did the man, apparently he was her husband, and she was his wife. They just stared at one point, apparently not even breathing. It was scary to see and you didn't dare approach them.

Looking around and not noticing anyone behind you, only frozen people, you stepped a little further, overcoming the road, noticing a strange, whatever it was, but it looks like a wall or some kind of dome that was blue mixed with green, similar to the colors of magic... Loki?

You knew about Loki's abilities. That he's quite a powerful mage, but could he create this dome? Was he so powerful that you didn't even know it? Your hands trembled, and so did your lower nooba. Your eyes stared at that dome-wall in amazement and tortured fear.

Your eyes widened and your mouth dropped open as you finally put together the details that had previously been a dead weight in your head.

When you touched it with your hand, you felt yourself being pulled in. It became uncomfortable. Now the question of real life was being decided, where you would learn everything about yourself and live in a world where there were no lies, or whether it would be better to stay in a world full of lies, but with your husband. Your hand has wavered in the direction of the false world. What if Loki gets angry? Did you know how evil he can be?

But no, as you said earlier, retreating now was too easy and incomprehensibly simple. To give up is to admit defeat, to remain in a world where you will always be written as a lie.

But Loki...

Shaking your head again, and finally stepping into that dome wall that seemed to shield you from the real world, you felt a pull with your foot and your whole body. So you didn't have to do anything. In any case, you will simply be thrown out of this world, soaked in lies.

As you tried to make your way through this wall with small steps, you felt how thick it was in its width and so high, although it did not bother you. Right now, all that filled my heart was a sense of freedom.

You felt like your mind was being released and memories were coming back to you from before you and Loki moved to New Jersey.

Suddenly, you felt something hit you in the back and you seemed to fly out of this wall right on the green grass with your stomach down. You groaned a little, sitting up and looking around.

There were people standing right next to you, surrounding you and looking at you in disbelief. Behind them were tents and huge body cars that flashed their headlights. Strange faces were looking at you, very worried. Your eyes went over the people very quickly before you said:

"Darcy?" you whispered, squinting against the light. She was the only person who supported you back then. Then? When?

"Y/N?"

"Help me, please save me!" you asked them, seeing how some of them began to approach you with a reliable expression on their faces, apparently wanting to help.

"I don't think you need any help, my dear queen," said a familiar soft and sweet baritone voice behind you, the sound of which your ears enjoyed. Your eyes widened and you felt fear. Inappropriate fear. Your legs are shaking. Your heart began to beat in a loud rhythm in your mind, drowning out everything except Loki's words, which were currently echoing in your head.

***

POV Loki

He did not think that his dear, dear queen would betray him. Didn't you realize that Loki did everything especially for you, wanting to dedicate every part of himself to you? Did he know that this world wasn't safe, and why did he have to create a fictional one based on your favorite TV shows, which he liked to watch with you, wrapped in a blanket on the comfortable sofa in your apartment, which he often visited earlier?

Loki loved you too much. He never wanted to hurt you, only to help you and make you feel needed and in love with someone.

He always thought you needed someone to take care of you. Yes, and take care so that you will feel like a queen. To protect, care for, and trust you, and the most important thing is to show love for you. What he missed so much.

Loki didn't like remembering the past. It was just a dark line that he crossed out when his mother died, whom he loved so much that he did not even notice the bright manipulations on her part. No, for him, she was a savior who protected him from his father's wrath.

Blinking and shifting his bleary gaze to you, his beloved queen, Loki tightened his grip on the missile that had been set upon him and his children. His favorite perfect twin boys that his beloved wife gave birth to.

They were so wonderful. Children are the flowers of life, isn't that what the Midgardians say? It seems to be. The ideal family, such as only happens in the movies, was embodied by Loki in the form of him, his beloved wife and two children.

Throwing a rocket in the direction of S.W.O.R.D., Loki lowered his head, feeling the magic that was green in color form in his hands and that was ready to kill everyone and get out of his personal life.

The contempt for people oozing out of his mouth was as ugly as it could possibly be. His gaze darted in your direction and softened slightly. The sight of you always calmed his raging mind and brought him to his senses. He took a step toward you, grabbing you in a sloppy hug, as if to show his protection.

It was nice for him to look at you. Your soft hair, in which he liked to bury his nose; your beautiful eyes, in which you could drown if you looked at them only once, and in which he was often lost. He saw you pursing your lips, frowning. Were you afraid?

Loki turned his gaze back to the agents, focusing his magic in his left hand. Magic that can cause pain.

"The rocket was a precaution. You can't blame us, Loki, " a loud male voice shouted. He didn't know him. But most likely it was the director. Loki's brow furrowed as he tightened his grip on you, doing nothing but protect you. He won't let the agents take you away. For too long, he had been alone, wandering the worlds.

"I don't think so. This is my last warning," as if a growl had escaped Loki's lips and the magic had only intensified, instilling the fear he so fiercely enjoyed. "Stay out of my house," the house he was so happy to have. A home where everyone loves him and waits for him. A house where he is respected. The house he missed. "You won't touch me, and I won't touch you," he warned, eager to get out of here and talk to his wife. They would have to have a long conversation.

"I'm afraid it's not that simple. You're holding the whole city hostage, " the unknown man shouted at Loki, to which Loki only curled his lip. Contemptuously. Didn't they understand that he just wanted to be happy? That he just wants to be alone with his beloved and his children?

"I'm not the one with the weapon," Loki warned him, feeling the arm he held around you tighten slightly, and the magic only increased its power. She seemed ready to destroy everything he could see. But right now, he had you, his beloved queen, at his side, who calmed him down with just an unobtrusive presence.

"But you're in control!" a commanding voice was heard. This time it was a woman. Out of the corner of his eye, Loki watched the expression on his beloved queen's face.

"Geraldine?" ah, what a gentle and quiet voice.

"Are you still here?" the man arched an eyebrow significantly, kissing you in the hair and looking with a withering look at the ex-girlfriend of his wife, who insinuated herself into the trust and into the affairs of his family.

"Loki... I didn't know the drones were armed. But you know that, don't you?" slowly approaching him and you, the woman said in a soothing voice, like a doctor talking to his sick patient. Loki always knew there was something wrong with her. She was too suspicious. "The city is full of civilians, but you, God, have brought an S.W.O.R.D. agent into your home," Loki frowned. The blood surged in his veins. He knew that at some point, he just wouldn't hold back. "I helped your wife give birth to your children," she looked at you, and you reflected her gaze with a look of hope. Do you want to leave him? "And on some level, you realize that I'm your ally. I want to help you, " she said in a trusting tone, and Loki slightly reduced the pressure of his magic that oozed from his thin fingers.

"How? What can you offer me?" he knew what she would say. There was no answer to that question. It was all reduced to one thing. The family Loki needed.

"What do you want?" the woman asked, standing in the background with the man who had spoken to him earlier, as if taking a manipulative pose.

"I already have everything. And no one will ever take that away again," Loki muttered, releasing a large stream of energy from his hands, forcing himself to control the minds of his subordinates and aim the scope at the director of S.W.O.R.D.

Turning around, Loki grabbed your hand, squeezing it in a painful grip and helping you turn around. He saw how you tried to resist and remove his intrusive hands and touch, to which the man himself only tightened his grip on you, pushing you into a false world.

[rumblelibrary]

The Diary of Doctor Laszlo Kreizler

Chapter 1  -  Chapter 2

Synopsis: Alienist’s notes are private, sometimes gruesome, secrets of others and of himself.Those pages belongs to secrecy and decadence, have a glimpse to this world made of drafts, notes, accidents and reflections. Or maybe it is you the only person that should ever reach for it.

While you read this imagine Laszlo mostly at the end of his day, scraping the ideas and the thoughts, adjusting previous notes with additions, closing the day behind himself with a couple of sentences while sitting in his evening robe, a good glass of whiskey and his glasses bridged almost at the tip of his nose. Or maybe imagine yourself, you sneaky thing, reach for it from a far shelf.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: listen, this is the set of ideas and confessions of a man living in the 1890’s. Most of them will be outdated, rough, even deprecating in some analysis of the roles of men, women and social status, religion, etc.So be prepared, my point is to make Laszlo reflect upon those topics, but to be as faithful as I can to his time. Mention of death, mutilation, self harm and sex. Psychologically troubled young children ahead! Author’s note: The story is placed between season 1 and season 2. Thank you for everyone that encouraged me to keep going. I have to wait for my local drop of serotonin to get fully Laszloed to go through this.

Lyra’s Contellation, Illustration taken from Uranographia by Johann Bode

Routine. Routine is comfort. Habit stabilises the character.

If you follow a routine, you won’t ever be victim of imprudence, of evil jokes of fate. The stability earned through calculated and repeated actions brings a sense of fulfilment that forbids other thoughts to come bashing in, breaking rules, breaking hopes that a solid scheduled routine forbids to have. I take my time to begin this week, I planned the things to do, the next steps for the case, the people to meet, the resources I am allowed to contemplate. I feel good, I feel back to myself and the events of the weekend seem far from me and my own perception. I probably got ahead of myself, carried by some instinctual though and random rush of emotion, to be always in contact with the same people and mostly kids probably doesn’t help my stance in the presence of other adults. I feel silly now reading back the last page, I felt tempted to tear it off, but to keep it there should be a small memento of not losing my temper so easily. I read it over and over and I know I am not as charmed as I thought I was. I am just lonely. I have always been and it is normal to face ups and downs even for a man of my age who is more accustomed to it.  To desire a partner is a natural instinct, to find somebody attractive is meant by nature, it is the body calling for the natural fulfilment of the reason we are put on this very Earth.  But even in a state of nature my own condition would be forbidding me to be part of the natural process of growing my own kind. I am the type of male that would be excluded because of his impossibility to give the protection to the pack, therefore it is just more reasonable to me to adapt to my condition. No matter what my Potentia generandi might be (the ability to procreate).

With all the smugness that characterises him, Niki showed off that he passed my challenge. But to be really of an help to his antics I didn’t show any kind of surprise. I treated him like he did the bare minimum, like he didn’t prove me any kind of superiority. He has a natural attitude toward challenging the figure of power, he is trying to overpower me, but I won’t satisfy his need. I have noticed he has a very technical brain, he finds ways to solve problems in ingenious way and not by throwing himself into the task. I proceeded giving him to work on a clock, an old broken one we had in the institute, one of the kids hit it with a ball years ago and nobody ever worked on repairing it. I gave him the clock, a couple of screwdrivers and a book. He called me a number of German names I won’t transcribe, but it gave me a certain amount of satisfaction. If my intuitions are right, I am sure the clock will be repaired by next week.

Analysis of the victim’s body through John’s eyes. The drawings and sketches are as detailed as I requested, all of this thanks to you joining him. I deal with art critic section, I am used to notice these things. You assure me, you play yourself low and I wonder why, nevertheless you did notice things neither John or I did, which pleased me. It fooled me, distracted me from my purpose to not give in to your witchery, as I leaned closer watching your pale hand move across the pages tracing this or that line, showing how this must be done with the killer on this side and not that side, with words so deliciously elaborate, your way of composing your speech is compelling, you could sell the drawing of a kid like it was a Botticelli. I noticed the shape of your hands, the way you move them, I wonder if you play an instrument, or played, some habits just stick with you through life. I focused on taking notes, your ideas and instructions giving me a new point of view, a new stimulus. What if that is the only way the killer can communicate? Or what if this is the communication that works for him? Could our killer be mute or deaf? Or that’s how society made him feel? This man, or woman, needs a listener and I am afraid that now, since he got our attention and the public’s, he won’t stop. Another killing could be just as close.

Scheduled: meeting with the parents of Alex Garel for new admission, Monday next week at 11 am. Love at first is a fetish and like all fetishes it is based onto an object that hides a deeper meaning, like gloves mean hands, to love at first sight means to see somebody that you think, and think only, to have the chance to share not only a sensual kind of bond, but an intellectual. Love at first sight is based onto not knowing someone well enough, but having the time to idealise most of that someone. I can see why I feel this attraction, using a particular phrase that Sara often mutters when investigating: you tick all the boxes. I know you do, your beauty is everything but conventional, you’re the kind of face that painters would paint and musicians would write hymns about, but any animal on the street would never be allowed to see. You have the grace of the body and the fire in the eyes, and then you speak. When you speak, I realise, you could bring the world to its knees. Also, you never speak out of context, and if you do it is to ease somebody’s position. You do it often with John or with Stevie, you say something really silly in order to put them back to a place of comfort. Some women would call it self deprecating, but I see that you only pick wisely your fights and your wins. You don’t need to earn your peace and quiet by neglecting, but by lifting up the others. I wonder if you do it with me too, if your silences are just you allowing me to be in a better place while instead your judgment is tearing me apart. I shouldn’t care, but I keep wondering, sometimes I take my time to answer you, I analyse every shade, every peculiarity of your question, I am looking for sarcasm, for a condescending voice, for something to hang on and bare you open. To prove myself you’re not perfect. But deep down I know that you do, you judge me and you do well.

Mother never said so. That’s what one of the girls in my care said today. Ursula. She is tough. Skin as thick as an alligator and the tendency to pull her own hair at night or when under a massive amount of stress, enuresis alongside erratic episodes of mutism. I tried the soft approach, it didn’t work. She is too accustomed to be indulged. Therefore today I pushed her a bit overboard, I teased her over opinions on the female body, the female role, she is only 12, but she is soon to bleed, she knows, I can tell from the way she clenches to her skirts, from the way she looks at me as a threatening figure. I am the incarnation of danger to her. Under her steady silence, I pushed a bit more, asking how her mother taught her to be nice and submissive. Does her mother tells her she is going to be a good wife? The phrase, which I reported at the top of the page, surprised me.  What is her mother teaching to her then? What closed her so much, locked her soul away, making a small bird like this choose the silence and the retirement of self inflicted pain over, what? Mankind? Or just Men? Is that even a curse? Should I cure her from a truth that her own mother whispered to her ear one night before bed and made a child decide that the world wasn’t a place to share her time with? Am I the man supposed to teach her that men are worth of trust? In the eyes of modern society, who measures its own value over the modesty of the women, she would be a champion, but at what price? I can’t in any way let her parents bring her back home after our recent meetings. Nevertheless, I have to make up my own mind on how to give her troubled soul ease without making her believe in fables. I, as a man, regard myself not worth of any of the trust they expect me to teach her.

In all of my years practicing with people’s feelings and traumas, I challenged myself to find those same traumas within my own mind. It is a tricky game, terrible, anguishing at times. But it straightens me, the pain of others, the pain of kids mostly, so unadulterated and pure, breaks the curtain between me and the lies that I often surround myself with. Pain is made of method, you can open it up, you can scrutinise it, part it piece by piece dividing it in sectors and, partitions, centre part, side part, heart of the problem. Pain is reliable. Happiness is not. It is random, cruelly sudden, unexpected, it washes over you in such deflecting way only to leave you alone a moment after ashamed and alone. I saw you again today. You were in a table full of what I could only guess as your former university colleagues, I saw pain in you, not heavy but constant. Annoyance, a bit of sadness. Your head titling on side and your eyes drifting on the left, you’re imagining something away from them.  A place? An object? Or maybe someone? Your hands play circles at the bottom of the flute of your drink like kids do, your smile only one sided. I don’t see you speak at all, only listen.  What could keep your voice down? I almost gulped down my own breath as you looked up and I realised how I must have looked. I was having lunch on my own, in a very private table and even entertaining myself with a newspaper on the side. I wish you didn’t, but you came over, your eyes shining.  Did I save you? Or maybe I was just a good excuse to leave that painful meeting behind. Don’t be so nice to me, it is not healthy. Don’t look at me like you expect anything more from me than me listening. I won’t smile back at you, I won’t give you care, attentions or thought. I won’t lean for your perfume, I won’t obsess over that dress you wore, that pin that adorned your neckline keeping your undershirt in place, a silver robin, I remember. I won’t remember the number of the buttons on the side of your glove, three. I won’t observe the little moles just under your ear. A small constellation, I later realised, hidden between your ear and the beginning of your neck. I don’t need to check in my books. It is a constellation. It is Lyra. Why? Why you must be like this? Are you the Lyra? Are you the instrument of Orpheus come to me to drag me out of Hell? The Tartarus holds my soul and you should know already, I am not worth the quarter part of Eurydice to be saved and she never came back anyway. I won’t be now recollecting the way your teeth sunk in the inner side of your cheek when you apologised for the annoyance.  You apologised twice, I ignored you both times with a raised hand to request peace and silence. I am not letting you in.

Reserved: Tickets for Wednesday’s evening Traviata by Giuseppe Verdi. The guest female lead promises a beautiful show.

Leonardo, as I am learning through Paul Valery essay, is who I would define as a figure of projective identification of the Subject or, to better explain it, of the knowledge of the Subject that formed and grew through the use of sketches in the experience of the Artist. I have always thought that the finest form of art was the representation of knowledge duly undressed by any personal identification. Leonardo, instead, proceeded to represent the figure through the essence of the artist, a representation technically unlimited on objects and symbols and that keep expressing the transformation and development of Leonardo’s own being.Some artists are testimony of the destruction of the world, of the loss of eternal beauty over decadence. And then you have Leonardo, who creates an art that is the gravity of the world’s system, of the nature, of thoughts and abstractions. I wonder if our killer does the same, if the way they presents the victim through their own personal view, if what we can read there it is their stories, their pains, their needs. Their happiness and troubles. What are they trying to tell me?  I need to know, I need to know to save a life, of course, but I also need to know to be able to sleep at night. Hair, hair are the epitome of femininity in any era. I keep studying Ursula and her habit to pull the. I took notes on it: she picks them by the bottom, slowly separates them until she gains an amount her mind defines satisfactory and then she rolls her finger and pulls, she does it until her finger is empty and there are no hair left. I find her process incredibly interesting. In men’s case the display of physical attributes is not as vital, a beard can be appreciated but does not modify the power of seduction of a grown man. On the contrary, for women hair are a vital part of their attractiveness toward the opposite sex, society sees the hair of a woman as part of their vital characteristics, also in ancient times for a woman to cut her hair or have her hair cut was a sign of deep separation from the society. Only heroines or whores wore that mark and the association of the two is so rooted into the way society always parted the role of a woman in two that it is nauseating to think of. I am still fearing to let Ursula go away, the repulsion that she is showing toward her own body makes it difficult even for me to crack her shell open as a man, but my deepest worry is when that hate will take a scarier and deeper tool on her. How a girl with such  a fear of what her body can do, like sex or pregnancy, can endure in the future to have an husband? Or even to be courted by anyone?

John is helpless and I admire him for that. He doesn’t hide it, he just is. He is vulnerable and exposed, he is an open well bursting with doubts and feelings and troubled waters. He is genuine in a way I could never be. Maybe that’s why I despise even more him talking about you, how he sees you every morning, how you greet everybody, how you behave even with interns, how you like your coffee.  Your talents, your wits, how you said this and acted like that and reasoned through him. How you forbid him to drink even when he felt tempted. How you stayed late over to help him collect all the informations I requested him to get. To him. Not to you. The evil demon of envy scratching in the back of my head screaming like a siren out in the sea, he demands to be heard, he demands to be allowed a part in this game. I won’t allow him that. I won’t allow myself any of that. This is a pure game of chess, if I give in a pawn now, I will lose my knight, and I know it. I advice him to not be so closed minded when he praises you, only to get surprised by the charms of a natural logical mind. I find a way to hurt him, he is an easy target, I look at him as his eyebrows twitch and he summons his patience on me. He lost the plot about you already, his bruised pride taking over. You won’t come into my life.

“Un dì, felice, eterea, mi balenaste innante, e da quel dì tremante vissi d'ignoto amor.”  (“On a day, happy and ethereal, you appeared in front of me and from that day, trembling, I lived on an unknown love”)

The words of Alfredo in the first act of the Traviata keep running through me, a chant that won’t let me go, almost painful. The Opera House, that was my hiding place, a place where in plain sight I could let out myself, unleash. The catharsis of the characters involved running through me, I didn’t need anything but their voices and those musical instruments to let out my fears, doubts and anger. When Alfredo came to the scene tonight, the lights were strong and slightly pinkish, the performer bursting out of the seams with passion. My eyes diverted only to see you there. Alone. Those blinding lights gave you the the radiance of a vision singing the notes of greek myths and heroes, that dark blue evening clothing rang through my eyes like it was a bright yellow, the little shiny details that adorned you so clear against the heavy lighting to look like transparent pieces of water collected to adorn your beauty. I wasn’t me, but Alfredo, and I was helpless against you sitting so far and yet too close from me. I was naked in front of thousands. I am aware of the effect you have on me and our last conversation was barely regarded as one. This is infatuation, this is the pure work of a lonely mind and not something worth of any of all the words that I am dissipating here. Yet. I saw you cry at the climax of the opera, Violetta, the protagonist, heartbroken falling on stage consumed by pain and regret for her lost love and ultimate sacrifice. Your eyes shone as you tried to hide the tears and collect yourself. Through my binoculars, I saw your throat tremble and gulp down something more than just a sigh of pain. Your jaw clenched, your gloved hand moves to hide your shaking lips. I reckon, I have never seen such sad lips look more inviting. You look at the wall on your side breathing through your nose and not even that can save you by the strength of the voice of the soprano. You’re defeated and so you brought a fine silk handkerchief to your eyes, your shoulders bent inward in self defence.  The Opera won. It won you like it always wins me. I wonder if you felt like this because of a past lover, somebody that broke your heart and made you feel wrong in any way.  And because of that little wonder it is even more clear to me why I am a man worth of no trust. Because for a moment, I know, I wished to be the one that broke your heart. That gave you just the pain you’re inflicting on me so mercilessly by offering intoxicating kindness and beauty.  To own your thoughts, tears and shame. To be the one man you have to look away from. I want to own all of that and, maybe, I will be freed of you the day you’ll be just another human being that hates Dr Laszlo Kreizler.

Tagged @cazzyimagines​ @lieutenantn​ @handmaiden-of-mischief​ @thesunflowersutra​ @zemomybeloved​​ @fictionlandslanddreams​ @charistory​ @greeneyedblondie44​ @apparrio​ @hb8301​ @whatawildone​

Let me know if you want to get tagged too <3

[secondhand-trash]

Friday I’m In Love

commissioned by @xaki

A/N: no, the fic has nothing to do with the song it just so happens that it fits in the most literal sense lmao much thanks to xaki who gave me my first commission and my friend for helping me out when my brain was going all sorts of illogical directions uwu

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x f!reader

Description: You saw Kuroo Tetsurou once every week, where you tried your best to not let the fact that he was your high school crush distract you too much.

Warning: unprotected sex, spanking, dirty talk, slight degradation

Word count: 5052

-

You saw Kuroo Tetsurou once every week, during the single Wednesday morning lecture you shared.

You had allowed yourself the luxury of stealing a few glances his way during that one occasion, but never do more than just looking from afar.

Actually, it was ironic that you had gotten to the point of limiting yourself from even looking at him when there was a time you would see him nearly every day.

Getting into the same high school was a pure coincidence, but you had also noticed early on that no matter where he was, your gaze was following his figure before you even realised it. Who could blame you, really. Who wouldn’t want to spare even just a few more seconds looking at the boy who was taller than the rest of his peers even in his first year, only growing more and more breathtaking as he ditched the boyishness and slowly gained the edge on his face and the hint of maturity in his eyes.

You were far from being the only one that harboured a bit of a schoolgirl crush on the eventual volleyball club captain. In the few years where you shared the same class, you had witnessed him being called out of the classroom by blushing pupils more times than you could count. It always brought a bitter taste to your mouth but what could you do about it? At least they had the guts to confess. 

You liked to believe that it was not a cowardly move for you to hide your affections all throughout your high school years. It was just that as early as you had noticed your budding feelings, you also realised that you two belong with two seperate groups of people with very different interests, and the chances that he would opt for you was slimmer than slim. So you never did much to try and win him over, maintaining a friendly distance where you only interact in class and nothing outside of it. 

At least it could be a nice memory to look back on when you were way past the age to be conflicted over things like this.

You were just as shocked as any other person when you learned that he did not go the pro-athlete route everyone thought he would go, nearly as shocked when you walked into your first lecture of the semester to see him sitting right at the very front.

He seemed to have noticed you too, giving you a slight nod after his eyes widened. You returned the polite gesture, before heading straight to the very back of the lecture hall without a hint of hesitation.

You could deal with one more semester of friendly distance. Couldn’t be that hard, right?

-

It was Wednesday morning again, and you sinked into the seat at the very back of the lecture hall you tactfully occupied with a yawn.

It was from pure bad luck that you managed to register the one 8:30 lecture available in the course. Everywhere around you, people were either half asleep or laid down on the table at the very least. From the corner of your eye, you even spotted someone catching up on the latest episodes of the new tv series that just aired with subtitles on.

You sighed, leaning your jaw on your palm. You wanted to say that this was a bit too much even for a lecture but who were you to judge when your soul was starting to escape your body to somewhere more interesting than the lecture hall anyway.

The amount of people who were actually paying attention to the lecture could probably be counted with one hand, let along the ones that seemed to be genuinely enjoying it. You thought to yourself, your glances floating to the boy who blocked even more of your view with his roaster head on top of his existing height.

He was probably the only one who still had the strength to chuckle when the lecturer tried to liven up the dying atmosphere with unfunny gags.

“...for the upcoming event, students who volunteered as committee members would receive bonus marks based on their performance,” you perked up at the distant call of ‘bonus score’ from far away, “the form will be placed by the door, Please fill in your name before you leave if you are interested.”

Your mind was occupied by numbers and calculations of your gpa for the rest of your class, even as you lined up mindlessly behind your other classmates after the lecture was dismissed. Another thing about morning lessons was that the amount of effort you were willing to put in was also diminished by the limits on your mind and soul, meaning that any chance at a higher grade was worth trying. You had decided that free labour in exchange for that good grade was a decent enough bargain.

“Hey.”

You snapped out of your trance when it was your turn at the form only to feel your heart skipping a beat when you looked up to see the familiar handsome face you stared at as your recharge every morning.

You blinked, trying hard to maintain a calm front even though your mind went haywired at the rare direct interaction you had with Kuroo.

“Do you need the pen?” he asked, holding out the thin ball pen he was gripping in his hand to you.

“Oh,” your eyes widened, putting on a polite smile as you took it from him, “oh yes. Um, thank you.”

It was only a while later when you put down your name right below his that it finally hit you that you two had signed up for the same event. It took even longer for you to realise that the strange tingle you felt at the back of your hand was from his fingertips brushing past yours as he let go of the pen, but by then he was gone and it would be a few days later when you saw him again.

-

You now see Kuroo Tetsurou two times every week. Once during the dreadful morning lecture on Wednesday and on Friday evening where you were stuck in the committee meeting together.

But unlike the stolen glances on Wednesday, you were forced to acknowledge Kuroo as more than just a distant being you were merely acquaintances with in those few hours.

It was very inconvenient for you, considering how each time you felt smaller and smaller under his concentrated gaze as he listened to your input on whatever topic of discussion it was. In fact, you felt rather resentful that you couldn’t quite stand as firm as you did on your stance that you wanted to keep what was clear to be a admiration from being known under your own free will instead of a lack of self-assurance.

You had no choice but to be reminded that he was smart and brilliant on top of just being good-looking. He always knew what to say when the rest of the room was stuck, moving the agenda forward with each valuable input. He was easy to work with, reliable and always efficient.You found that you genuinely liked working with him, crush or not. He listened intently to what other people had to say and never said anything less than constructive.

Worst of all, you were starting to have the illusion that he had started paying more attention to you too. When you looked around the room as you were about to speak up each time, you would always lock your eyes with him at some point, even before you started talking like he already anticipated that you would have something to say.

Maybe it was a mistake, you thought to yourself as you stared outside the pitch black windows of the bus that was rocking steadily, feeling your mind drifting away after using up all your energy in the meeting, maybe those few bonus marks were not worth all this inner conflict.

“Hi, um,” you looked to the side, your mind going blank like you just got caught doing something guilty when you saw the exact person you were thinking about standing by. You cursed the uncontrollable heat that raised on your face, “can I sit here?”

It wasn’t like you could say no. “Sure,” you said as you picked up your bag to clear out the seat for him, flashing a cordial smile of someone who did not have a reason to be nervous when you could already feel the beating in your chest speeding up, “of course.”

“Thanks,” he said with a relieved sigh, throwing himself on the empty chair with a soft thump. You tried to pretend that you did not secretly really care about how close he was to you now, looking back out of the window again. Kuroo looked at you, pondering if he should say something first.

“So…”

“Hm?” you turned around to face him at the dragged out note of his voice.

“Have you gone back to Nekoma after graduation?”

You sighed and gave a light shake of your head, "No. Just surviving college is hard enough, who has time to think about going back?”

You tried to dismiss the knot in your stomach when he replied with a light chuckle and the corner of your lips curling up against your will when he leaned back. “Makes sense," he said, running his hand through his unruly hair before swiftly carrying on to ask you about what you were up to now.

It would have been easier if it was awkward or uncomfortable but sadly, Kuroo was also very easy to talk to and by the time you regained your senses, you were already at the door of your apartment with him walking you there the whole way after getting off the bus at the same stop.

Next Friday, he came up to you with a grinning face when you packed up your stuff after the meeting. “We go the same direction, right?” he had said, walking next to you casually as you headed out the meeting room. He started the conversation before you could say anything, and like last time, he walked you back to your apartment, claiming that he lived nearby anyways.

You saw him twice every week. Once during the morning lecture that was starting to feel less painful to endure and the Friday committee meeting, where he naturally walked you home without fail each week. At some point, he started saving you the seat next to him before each meeting and there was less and less of a reason for you to not take it when he was already leaving with you anyways. All of the above had reminded you once again why you were so hellbent on staying away from him in the first place.

He was far too easy to like, even more so now that you were somewhat friends by the end of the series of meetings.

-

The voice of your instructor was distant as you stared at the clock, the sound of Kuroo’s pencil tapping against the table keeping you in touch with what was going on. It was the last meeting you had to attend and quite frankly there was nothing interesting going on at this point. You glanced to the side, before pulling out your phone that has been buzzing in your pocket since the meeting started.

You tried to conceal the irritation rising in your chest as you looked at the glowing screen underneath the table. Your old friends had been bombing you with questions ever since they learnt that after years of looking on, you somehow had a leaping development with your crush on accident after graduation. It was a mistake on your part, given how the topic of their heated discussion was sitting right next to you. 

“(y/l/n)?”

The sudden mention of your name startled you, and you threw your phone down almost a bit too hard. “Yes?”

“Can you help hand these out?”

You let out a relieved sigh that you were not being called out for not paying attention as you stood up, pushing the conversation that was no doubt still ongoing in your group chat to the back of your head. “Of course.”

Kuroo watched as you got out, taking the stack of minutes from the instructor. After today, he would go back to only seeing you when you walked into the morning lecture hall. He felt the nerves building in his stomach, wondering if he should bear his teeth and threw his shot in changing that.

‘So you’re just going to do nothing?’

The screen of your phone that was laying on the table lit up as the speech bubble appeared. His curiosity got the better of him when the next message popped in before he could look away.

‘You have liked Kuroo for years and you’re just going to let this chance slip?’

He froze in place when he read his own name. You liked him? His eyes flicked to you, his heart in his throat at the realisation that he had just learnt something he was not supposed to know. 

But despite the slight guilt of overstepping his boundaries, it took all the fiber in his body to stop himself from grinning ear to ear when you returned to your seat next to him.

“What?” you asked with an amused quirk of your eyebrows at how stiffly he was sitting.

“Nothing,” Kuroo replied, feeling the muscle around his mouth going sore as he bit the inside of his cheeks, “nothing.”

The ride home felt so much longer with him next to you, knowing that this was to be the last. He did not say anything even as you got off, only walking in silence like he was deep in thought. You wondered what it was that made him so quiet today, he was usually the more chatty one out of you two.

Kuroo felt the tension building up in his head as you got closer and closer to your door. 

“Can I tell you something?”

You snapped around, your hand on the handle of your doorknob when he suddenly spoke up for the first time since you left the meeting that day. “Yeah?”

“My place is at the opposite side of the neighbourhood.”

“What?” your voice came out as a whisper. Your breath hitch at the back of your throat when he took one step closer to you before leaning down. His face was right in front of yours, his defined features dangerously close to you.

“I said,” you could feel his breath fanning on your face as he spoke and the pounding in your ear was thundering as you held your breath, “I’m only here because I want to be around you.”

Kuroo watched intently as your eyes widened, your jaw clenching as you gulped. His gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips, almost like he was waiting for you to show him any hint of rejection before he made the irreversible move. 

When your hand slowly crept onto his shoulder and stayed there, he latched onto you. You were taken back by his force, his tongue evading your mouth at your moment of lowered alert. His kiss was demanding, stealing away the oxygen in your lungs bit by bit as he held you close. 

You were panting when he pulled away after his initial outburst, your pupils dilated as your lips swollen up. You paused, before gathering the courage that had surged in your chest.

“Do you want to come in?”

Kuroo did not waste another second when the door clicked, his hand getting rougher now that you were within the privacy of your home. Your arms hung around his neck as you desperately held yourself up, your toes barely touching the floor as he demandingly kissed down the side of your neck. He lost patience at your struggling, lifting you up with his arm under your hips before pulling you down onto him with a stumbling step to the cramped couch.

“Help me strip.” He whispered in your ear, adjusting your position on his lap as he brought your hand to the opened collar of his shirt. You gulped when he gave an encouraging knead on your upper thigh, far too consumed by the want of seeing more of him to feel bashful by his bold request.

His gaze burned on your skin as he stared at you, not moving away even for a second while you tear apart the row of buttons to reveal more and more of his toned body. You felt like your fingers were not listening to your commands, a clumsy stiffness in your joints as he unhooked each button. The subconscious way you darted your tongue out to wet your lips at the rise and fall of his chest did not go unnoticed under his attentive stare, his much larger hands guiding you to palm his tend over the firm material of his jeans as your finger grazed past the cold metal of the zipper.

Kuroo’s stomach tensed up when you pulled down the fly, pushing your hips against his legs as you pushed away the heavy jeans. He held you down as he sat up, drinking in your soft moan with an open mouthed kiss. Your hand ran down from his shoulder to the firm pecs adoring his abdomen, each mound rippling under the tip of your fingers. His circled one arm around your waist while the other fumbled to pull his aching cock out of its refines. You felt the vibration of his chest as he groaned into your mouth when you allowed your hand to wander down his body, cupping his balls as he fisted his own length.

You let out a shaky sigh when he slid his palm down the elastic band of your panties, groping the soft flesh of your ass as he peeled off the thin piece of cotton with a push down the small of your back to have you arching for him.  He chuckled when he felt the wetness that was seeping through the fabric, earning a glare from you that looked more like a kitten pretending to be defensive out of embarrassment than truly threatening to him with your heated face and slightly swollen lips from his earlier nibbling when you pulled away. A thin strand of silver connected your lips, looking all the more erotic now that you were both half bare and exposed to each other’s hungry eyes.

Your finger dug into the muscle of his arms when he lifted you up from his lap with ease, much thanks to the firm grasp of your thighs in his warm palms. Your lips fell agape but no sound came out when you felt the hardness prodding at your entrance. He looked shamelessly at where your bodies met, not bothering to hide the grin on his face when he felt the pain of your nails against his arm as he brushed his tip along your slit. You whined at the friction that was barely there, not able to sink down with him holding you back but your legs were starting to go weak with each push of his length against your clit. He took his time, spreading the leaking pre-cum across your folds and watching the mixture of your arousal slowly coated his cock.

“Kuroo…” you called out for him, hoping that it would be enough for him to give you what you wanted.

“Aw... What’s with this formality?” his arm flexed under your touch as he tilted his head to the side, lowering you down just a little, “What should you call me when I’m about to fuck your brains out, hm?”

You bite onto the inside of your cheeks when you felt him barely dipping in, his tip just positioned at your pussy.

“Tetsurou-” 

his own name felt foreign as it rolled off the tip of your tongue and he let out an approving hum. “Good girl,” he purred, placing a chaste kiss on your trembling lips. 

His grip on your legs tightened as he leaned closer to you, pushing his cock just a little deeper. Your brows locked together as he stretched out your entrance, clawing at his arm for more. You thought he was finally going to show some mercy on you, but the beating in your heart skipped a beat when you felt his hot breath fanning across your lips instead.

“You’re in love with me, aren’t you?”

Your eyes snapped open, his handsome face right in front of yours. “Wha- mph!”

You yelped at the sudden drop of your hips onto his lap, your nails scratching down his arm as he hilted inside of you with one motion. Your head threw back at the waves of shocking pleasure that sparked down your spine, your juicings running down the base of your thighs as your walls tried to accustomed to his thickness and length.

“What is it? Did you just say yes?” his laugh was wolfish as he took in your expression, a mixture of infuriated and primal desire.

“You-” he did not give you the time to bite back, thrusting up with a lift of your hips and turning whatever you wanted to say into nothing but incoherent moans.

Your body did not feel like it was under your control as he guided you to grind on his cock, the slaps of your soft flesh against his thighs taking over your senses. Your toes curled at how deep he could reach inside you each time he pulled you up and bottomed out of you. His hands were fondling your ass roughly as he bounced you on his cock, reducing you to nothing but a panting mess laying weakly on his chest.

“How does it feel to have the man of your dreams stretching out your tight cunt, hm?” he emphasised each word with a thrust, grinning ear to ear when you made a frugal attempt at slapping his arm you were holding onto. You buried your face into his chest, your muffled moans coming out as hot breath on his skin. He looked down from above you, watching as your ass jiggled under each thrust and your spine arching from the pleasure. 

A loud smack echoed in the room and he groaned at the feeling of your walls clenching around him at the slap of his palm against your ass cheek. He gave the flesh a firm knead, rubbing at the area that had heated up from the spank before pulling his hand away to give the other side the same treatment. You felt the numbness on your skin as your skin burned, the pain making every hair on your back stood up. 

“You like it when I get rough with you? You are squeezing down on my cock so hard,” his voice came as gravel from his chest. Your mind was in a frenzy, not even thinking straight as you nodded feverishly. “You’re such a slut for me, it’s really inflating my ego,” his filthy words made your stomach tighten as he continued, “bet this is what you have been thinking about whenever you check me out.”

You felt your face burning up. He knew all along?

Your surprise came out in the form of a squeal when he stood up, still holding you up. Your panting got more rapid as your only leverage from falling was the frantic clawing at his arm, having nothing but his strength to trust as he bounced you on his cock while marching down the hallway.

He hissed at the sharp pain on his back when your hands scratched down, kicking the door open with a hasty shove at the door with his heel before throwing you down the mattress. He did not waste another second as he perched on top of you, hooking your legs around his waist before rolling his hips to completely take over the pace of his cock pistoning at the spongy spot that made your mind foggy with nothing but his name and the overwhelming feeling of being towered over in your head.

The squelching got louder and louder as he ruthlessly snapped against you. You felt the knot in your stomach tightened up as he leaned down, sucking on the sweet spot at the side of your neck. His hand roamed all over your body, kneading your tits that bounced under his force. 

He could not get over the fact that you were actually here, folded beneath him right now, and that it was his name you were moaning out. 

“I’m-” your legs clasped around him as every muscle on your limbs tensed up, “I’m close-”

“Yeah? Tell me what you want,” he growled in your ear, his thrusts starting to get sloppy as your walls spasmed around his cock, “what does my girl want?”

You had imagined what it would be like if Kuroo Tetsurou ever set his eyes on you, if he had wanted you the same way you had absentmindedly started wanting him despite your best efforts to convince yourself that you knew that would not happen. But nothing could stop the heat that exploded in your chest and spread all through your body at how natural it came out of his mouth.

His girl. You were his girl now.

You let out a choked mewl when he switched from erratic plowing to slowly dragging his cock along your walls. The sudden drop from your near high seeped into your senses, tingling down from your core all the way to the tip of your toes. 

“Tetsu-” your back arched off the mattress when he pulled out all the way only to halt in you with a sudden thrust, “want you to make me cum- ah!”

The shocks that sparked through your body when he set his sight on making you fall apart underneath him with his vigorous thrusts had your toe pointing stiffly and curling under the pleasure. The fist in the pit of your stomach curled and unfolded as he gripped your chin roughly, turning your head to look right into his eyes.

“Fuck, you wanna cum?” he hissed, feeling the shivers on his own back as he got closer and closer to his own high, “Then look at me, look at me as you cum on my cock-”

You felt your body shuddering as waves of pleasure crashed over you. His eyes were all you could focus on as you succumbed to the weakening of your limbs, the pounding in your ear gradually returned to a regular pace with Kuroo’s languish strokes allowing you to ride out your high. 

You were sure you could never forget how the defined arch of his brows knitted together as he pulled out of you, his head throwing back just a little with his lips slightly parted. A sinful moan leaking out as spurts of white painted across your lower stomach. 

Your vision was hazed over with a veil of fog as you blinked, collecting your breaths before focusing on the roof of your room that suddenly felt so unfamiliar. The claminess on your skin and the smell of sweat slowly took over. You felt the weight on your chest, breathing out a heavy exhale.

You really did just have sex with your crush, huh?

As if noticing your train of thought, Kuroo leaned over and placed a quick kiss on your jaw, his grin reaching his eyes as he stared at you. Much unlike his earlier dominance, the lazy curl of each syllable on his lips sounded more so like he was trying to play cute.

"Wait here,” he said, adding another peck on your lips, “I’ll grab you a towel.”

“The bathroom is the one right outside…” you muttered, feeling the dent on the mattress sprung back as he climbed off of you.

Your tensed muscles slowly relaxed as he moved you to lean against his broad chest, his hand gently caressing your skin as he dabbed the wet towel on you. His lips ghosted along your ear as he cleaned up the marks and trails left from your earlier passions, trying hard to conceal his satisfaction when you whined as he brushed past the bruises on your thighs.

“You should start getting used to it from now on, plenty more chances for us to- ouch, ouch.. ok, I’m sorry…”

The corner of your lips lifted up, burying your face into his chest as you tried to get comfortable, “I was right, you are way more attractive without opening your mouth.”

“Awe, don’t say that,” he pouted but the wolfish grin on his face told you he was not apologetic at all.

Kuroo watched as you slowly leaned onto him more and more, until your eyelids closed up with a flutter. If you had stayed awake for just a little longer, you would know that he could not be any more careful when he tucked you under the blanket before slipping in next to you. On this rare occasion where he would not get caught, he allowed himself to stare at your serene expression as he dozed off to sleep with a content smile on his face.

You did not need to know that his grade for the one course you shared was high enough already and he signed up for the committee purely because you were signing up too. He certainly would not let you know that he had always noticed your lingering gaze on him or that he secretly enjoyed it, even back when he saw you more than twice a week. That and the fact that he was overjoyed when he saw you appearing from the door of the lecture hall that Wednesday morning, followed by the ever growing frustration that he couldn’t find an excuse to talk to you when you were literally in the same class.

Whatever. Kuroo thought to himself as he gently threw his arm over your waist, burying his face into the crook of your neck as he inhaled your sweet scent. At least he didn’t have to go all the way from your apartment complex back to his place every Friday anymore.

[wesimpforxiao]

Say My Name and I’ll Be There: 6.1

Twenty-four hours, thirty minutes, ten seconds and counting.  Xiao continued to pace outside of Dawn Winery in complete silence.  He still hadn't heard a single word from you, and he had stayed awake all night.  Not really a sacrifice since he pulled all-nighters frequently, but his hopes were crushed when his long night was filled with nothing but silence.

Inside, Aether approached Diluc rather quickly with Paimon in tow.  "How would you like to kill Fatui?"

"I beg your pardon?"  Diluc set his glass of grape juice on his desk.  He had been busy with mapping the next wine delivery route when they suddenly barged through his doors.  He kind of wished they had the kindness to knock, but the desperate glints in their eyes caught him off guard.

"We said, how would you like to kill the Fatui?" Paimon crossed her arms.

"We need to infiltrate Snezhnaya.  They took her."

"'Her?'"  Diluc raised a brow, already annoyed by the vagueness of their requests.

"Ugh, the same girl from yesterday! Who earned her cryo vision!  She was taken last night at your tavern! Didn't you see us all run out?"  Paimon's brows furrowed impatiently.

"We need to infiltrate Snezhnaya," Aether repeated and took a step forward.  "We can't do it without you on our team."

"Hold on," Diluc waved a hand to silence them.  "We can't just infiltrate a foreign country.  There are laws and regulations you have to--"

"That's why we came to you!" Paimon yelled.  "If anyone can get us in there, it's you and your underground connections!"

"You hate the Fatui more than anything," Aether continued.  "Will you help us?"

Diluc thought for a moment while he traced the rim of his glass with his index finger.  "We can't recklessly barge into enemy territory.  I'll see what intel I can gather.  Wait here."

Xiao burst through the doors almost as if he had seen a ghost--actually, that would be an inaccurate metaphor since he's quite experienced with the spirits of the dead.  No matter.  He burst through the doors as pale as a sheet.  "I hear her."

..................................................

You glared at the third plate of food that sat upon the stool Childe left in your cell.  You had refused to eat the prior two meals while he was in the cell with you.  He had your cuffs unlocked so you could eat, but you refused to move from your place against the wall.  Cooked fish, some sort of vegetable, and white rice.  They were treating you well.  You were needed alive and healthy, after all, but you weren't hungry.  And since Childe had finally left you alone, well, that gave you the chance to talk to the only person you could.

Xiao.  Xiao! The thought of startling him brought a thin smile to your lips.  I wonder if I scared you...I'm safe--well, as safe as I can be at the moment.  I miss you... Your smile faded.  But I  cannot call for you.  It's too dangerous; I'm sure they already have a way to capture you.  Now that I know you're always listening, it's nice to talk like this.  Less lonely.  

Something clinked against the outer cell door, and it opened.  Childe and one of the harbingers you saw yesterday entered.  The latter held a strange white-and-gray mask that obscured everything besides part of his right cheek and lips.  His bluish-white hair almost seemed to brighten the small room from how light it was.

"It's a sign of disrespect if you refuse to eat the food provided for you," Childe commented once he saw that your plate was yet again untouched.  "We're treating you with more hospitality than our prisoners, after all."

"This is still imprisonment.  Screw off," you brought your knees to your chest as if your legs served to protect you from their stares.

"Ah, yes," the other harbinger picked the plate up and placed it at your feet.  "My test subject needs to eat.  I suggest you do it by your own will before I see to it myself."  

"You might want to listen to him."  Childe was warning you, but not out of consideration for you.

"Go to hell!" You threw the plate at the new harbinger since he was closest, and covered his tidy suit in food.  The white rice mostly clung to the fabric.  Thank the archons that your shoulder was healed and your arm could be put to good use now.

"Listen here, you little--"  The man grabbed you by the collar and lifted you like you weighed nothing until your feet dangled above the ground.  "I don't have the patience of the Tsaritsa's war dog.  I do things quite differently, and you are under my jurisdiction now.  See to it that you follow my orders to the tee, or I can make things very unpleasant here on out."  He dropped you to the floor and exited the cell.

Childe gave you a look of 'I told you so' as he followed suite.

...............................................

What day is it? Your hazy mind stared at the opposite wall.  You lazily traced figure-eights over your tattered jeans.  Approximately twenty-one meals were served--and wasted-- so maybe it was day seven?  A full week of sitting in this barren room?

A few days of no nutrition were of no consequence to you; you were a light eater anyway.  But by day five you were beginning to get dizzy from your voluntary starvation.  You slept most of the day.  The slightest of movements made the world spin around you.  Thoughts of giving in and digging into the meals crossed your mind several times.

I will not falter.  They will not get what they need from me.  I'll starve before they can have me, you gave yourself the pep talk over and over again.  The hours that were filled with zero social interaction drove you mad; you'd either talk to yourself, or to Xiao, who you only hoped could still hear you and maybe even reply in his own mind.  It was a shame the conversation couldn't go both ways.

"I miss you," you murmured a breath.  "If I get out of this, would you like to go eat almond tofu with me?"

Childe entered quietly, and knelt in front of you after giving your full plate the side-eye.  "This little hunger strike of yours needs to stop.  You need to eat."  You didn't answer, and he let out a small sigh.  "Il Dottore finished his set-up this morning.  I'm sure he'll be ready to take you from under my watch by tomorrow at the latest."  He sat down now, and examined you carefully.  

I didn't think we'd break her this quickly,  he thought.  Such a stubborn personality reduced to this pathetic heap of a woman.  A slim smile spread across his lips when he realized how much he loved watching you break under the pressure.

"Leave," you breathed.

"You're smarter than I thought, you know."  Childe placed his chin on the hand that was propped up on his leg.  "If you really thought he had a chance at defeating us, you would have called for Xiao by now.  You've isolated yourself from the only person that caught your eye."

That's what you think, you scoffed.  I've been talking to him this whole damn time.

"Or have you been praying to him?"  Childe's eyes narrowed and the grin on his lips only widened.  The small glance you sent him validated his question.  "You're telling me that this great and mighty adeptus has heard your suffering, and has yet to do a single thing about it?  Are you really sure he's reliable? Oh, ojou-chan," he clicked his tongue and shook his head at you.  "He won't neglect his duties to protect Liyue to come save you."

"You don't know him like I do," a bit of fighting spirit entered your hoarse voice, and your eyes began to glow.

"Oh, but I do.  An ancient yaksha that's at least half the age of Morax himself, falling in love with a human girl?  Is that what you're expecting from him?"  The words cut deeper than his blade had cut through your shoulder.  "You really believe such a hardened soul could learn to love in as quickly as a single human lifetime?  Ojou-chan, open your eyes.  He does not care for you, and he couldn't even if he tried.  Look around you, ojou-chan.  You're still here, in this dark cell, and he's where?  In Mondstat? Liyue?  He doesn't seem to care all too much about you."

"That's because I told him to stay away," you growled, eyes shining brighter.  You curled your fists and prepared to strike him if he had the audacity to continue spewing nonsense.  "You know, you have your entire life to be a jerk.  Why don't you take today off?"

"Even if he did save you, there's no future with him.  You will continue to chase after the illusion of love with him for the rest of your life, only to die alone with your youth wasted.  Even if you escaped, you would be on the run for your entire life, hiding away from the preying eyes of the Fatui.  Is that worth an escape, if you can no longer truly live?

"You're better off working with us, following Dottore's orders, and gaining the trust of the Tsaritsa.  You can make a life for yourself here if you decide to survive.  But out there," he pointed toward the cell door.  "Out there, you will not live."

"You know, your ass must be pretty jealous of all the shit that comes out of your mouth!"  You yelled as he exited the cell.  Your plate collided with the door right as it closed.  Hot tears stained your cheeks once you were left alone.

He's only trying to break you into submission, you soothed yourself as you hugged your legs.  They felt thinner than usual.  He's just trying to break me.  But why do his words...make me feel so upset?  You buried your face into your knees.  Maybe he's right.

......................................................

"So the guard schedules all overlap? There's no way in?"  Paimon looked over the scattered notes on Diluc's table.  Most of them held ineligible scribbles on them, and she furrowed her brows because of it.

"This was all you were able to gather in a week?"  Aether pulled at his hair and sighed heavily.

"Not many are willing to oppose the Fatui," said Diluc.  "It took all my resources to get this much.  We don't know the interior layout of the castle other than the main exits and entrances.  But I did manage to find us a caravan that leaves at dawn tomorrow."

"Finally!"  Paimon huffed.  "Something useful!"

"I am sorry I haven't been of use to you all," Zhongli bowed his head in a sincere apology.  "It has been years since I've last seen Snezhnaya and the cryo archon."  You meant a great deal to the group, and Zhongli probably took your abduction the hardest since he could not intervene with the Tsaritsa and her plans.

"At least we finally have enough of a foundation to squeeze out a plan!"

"Have you heard from her at all today, Xia--?"  Aether interrupted himself.  "Are...you okay?"

All eyes turned to antisocial yaksha that stood at the back of the room.  It was a small thing the traveler had noticed, but it was significant enough that it totally contradicted everything Xiao was.

He was crying.

First,  you asked to eat with him when this was all over.  Then an overwhelming sense of dread and helplessness flooded his mind like a tsunami.  A single tear rolled down his cheek and he hastily wiped it away.  A tear?

"Stay out of my way," he disappeared from the room and manifested outside.  What was this unfamiliar clenching in his chest?  This clenching in his throat?  The way his hands tingled and his eyes stung?  The afternoon sun seemed to worsen it.

"Xiao," a deep voice spoke behind him, and he turned to face it.  Zhongli placed a large hand on the yaksha's head and closed his eyes for a moment.  When he released his grip, he too, felt the same pain in his chest.  

"She's in pain," the yaksha murmured.  "Every day she grows weaker.  Her strength, it...diminishes."  While it was a blessing to know you were alive, it was also a curse.  He could hear the uncertainty in your voice when you prayed, and the way you hesitate to speak to him each passing day.  The centuries of hardened walls blocking the yaksha from emotion grew weaker the more you did.

"Your bond has grown," the archon explained the physical and mental phenomena Xiao was being put through.  "You feel her emotions, just as she feels yours."

"Rid me of them," Xiao ordered.  "I have no need for the emotions of a human."

"She is no longer the only one that holds human emotions.  You care for her deeply, do you not?"  No answer. Blank stare. "I'm certain you've contemplated and understood my words in Qingce Village by now."  Zhongli's eyes followed the ascending path of two cranes flying overhead.  "You wish to rescue her, even though Liyue requires your protection?  You're worried I won't grant your request?"

"...Yes."

"Worry no longer; it is granted.  But be warned, Guardian Yaksha, emotions cannot be permanently ignored.  They will rise to the forefront sooner or later,"  his gaze returned to Xiao's.  "You best be sure to share them before they fall on the ears of an early grave."

[sanghyukstattoos]

Mafia!SF9's reaction: dying (?) when saving

A/N: Amazing huh, as always, thank you for this request

Read more here~~

Youngbin:

You and him trained at the same time as one another, displaying hardiness, endurance, team work, sacrifice and other traits judged to be essential for leadership

You spared on many occasions but never spoke apart from giving each other feedback and honest criticism

Such a good pairing that your superiors considered letting you two work together but the plan never made it through, they had already had other plans for you

Far into the future, the two of you have already settled into leading your groups when you stumble onto Youngbin in a civilian area

You have been living there for quite some time, having shifted only recently but Youngbin's apparently been here to for some weeks and to trail someone.

You meet him in an open store, lined with books, magazines for travel and snacks, in the dead heat of the summer and the owner moving around.

The next time you meet him, he accidentally bumps into your shoulder sending your stuff to the ground which when you pick up, he uses one to disarm the person who is following him

Moments later, you trace back your steps to find your missing item and out of pure curiosity do you find yourself witnessing the mysterious figure about to commit a violent action.

Youngbin has this look on his face, alerting you that he is not the same, scared and ready-to-plead person that he used to be at the academy

When you save him, the both of you fend off the attacker and send him packing to your superiors, in turn you receive benefits for his hard work and your last minute effort to save him

He takes you to this place he found out about earlier, it's completely nature, untouched by humans because of how it is sealed from the outside world, people are only allowed to marvel at it. He shows it to you as a sign of his gratitude.

Inseong:

Initially the person that none of your superiors thought would not make the cut but his display of determination, endurance to grow and willingness to change to be the best changed their mind which is why he eventually joins your team.

His readiness to ease tough situations and have fun with others makes him the perfect candidate to be a friend with, he's not the type to easily give comfort though.

This is because he's a kind soul but doesn't necessarily know how to properly express it which is why the members go with him to have fun because he knows how to lift a mood.

His advice is all hay-wire with random mumbles but his actions dictate what he's been trying to say all this time.

Secretly vibes to girl group songs during your breaks, what a guy~

When he's in danger, he reacts quickly because he's trained too but the individuals agility and strength throws him off, along with other people that have ganged up on him.

He keeps his cool, fighting with the agenda to get out of this place as quickly as possible and he almost succeeds, if he isn't brutally dragged back inside.

You and the rest of you team members help him and take what you need

He's injured, not life-threatening and you are impressed, he thanks you as he sits on the hospital bed but you reject his thanks by saying that it was all him, he managed to save himself all the way.

Jaeyoon:

Unsure of what he's supposed to do at first, you have to delegate tasks, responsibilities and he messes up but he is good at adapting to situations so he's quick on his feet and is able to think of solutions.

This makes him reliable and dependable since he is also great at comforting the others, his sweet nature allows people to easily warm up to him and share their troubles. A great listener and excellent contributor to the team, you appreciate him a lot because of it

A team player so his lack of ambition thwarts his concern for the members, he is completely fine with unsuccessfully completing a mission as long as the members are safe. Unlike the other SF9 members, he sees it as two options and will choose either one whereas the others will try and achieve both.

Supposed to meet the escape team on the other side, an external factor causes you to stay behind with him although he insists that he will be fine, you know that he fears the idea of being solitary.

He makes jokes to lighten the atmosphere and when it is time to move, he follows your orders as he has always trusted your instincts as team leader

He is immediately the best the person to be stuck with because of his variety of specialised skills that will contribute to any situation.

When you save him, he does the same for you too, not out of favour but as a responsibility that the two of you have to look out for one another as team members and also because of the situation you are in.

He'll show you physical affections as a way of saying sorry that he was not careful enough and that you could have almost died as you saved him, an example would be a short hug and when you are running, he'll hold your hand and tug your along

Dawon I Lee Sanghyuk:

He was the last person to join the group and although shy at first, he's grateful for the others since they managed to bring him out of his shell

Is playful and teasing when off duty and makes it a point to tease you, is the main reason why the trauma is less significant as a group, responsibility may be equally divided but his light-hearted spirit ensures that you can complete the mission with the same characteristic.

Is very serious during missions and his ability to lead the team through tough situations- with his instillation of hope and strategical tactics, is the reason why you would choose him to be the leader in your place.

One thing that unnerves you about him is how he falters when he's shocked, he stills when on a mission but the dangerous environment leaves him at great risk.

You realise it's full play when you're tipped off and send Sanghyuk alone to the hotel room but he freezes upon seeing the long-past wounded individual, despite your team's best efforts to bring him out of his trance-like state, nothing changes.

That's when you run up flights of stairs to save him, you get there moments before he's about to pass away from strangulation as the stranger behind him makes extreme effort to achieve his goal of secrecy.

After that, you make sure to train his response by sending to training lessons again but this time, his heart rate is going to be normal no matter who or what he encounters.

Rowoon:

Your personal assistant, can and will fight if and when required.

Very talented in the field but switched to assisting after a traumatic event with his previous group, they all survived but he could not compartmentalise what had happened so he left

Praised for his immense talent and often had the responsibilities of scouring targets and/or engaging with them in order to gather information

Is actually much more awkward than his first impression, mainly because everyone's first impression of him is based off his looks

His persuasiveness helped him encounter and secure targets making him ideal

Is the cook of the group when they were stuck somewhere, did it automatically and was not afraid to put anyone in their place if a fight broke out but never mixed the two

Spoke to his members and confided in their worries so that by soothing theirs, he would also soothe his.

Was ambitious to complete missions, looks out for himself a little more than he does for others which his superiors like and encourage but you have mixed feelings about it.

When you save him, he reconsiders his priorities during missions but you know that he had every right to look out for himself in a situation as dangerous as this so he has no obligation to change.

Is visibly shaken even after, you can see the fear in his eyes hidden with the idea that he is still alive and won't be encountering these situations as easily because of his current job as your assistant.

Is reprimanded and almost suspended by your superiors because had he almost failed his job, neither of you would be alive, strives to change after that

Zuho:

Reliable as a team member but insists that he should work alone and after convincing your superiors, they allow him to work in a remote, rural part of a country.

Your team is also stationed there but is working on a different mission, you knew that there would someone working alone towards one goal that your superiors need to achieve

You bought up the obvious considerable risks associated with a mission assigned in such a way, including whether the individual would pull through with their results

You choose not to doubt though, meeting him just before the dense forests that have been reconstructed to accommodate the growing population

He's immediately more interested in the suffering of the animals, telling you that they don't have sufficient water, food and space to live and you nod, preoccupied.

You ask him to take a look and he has to put this little animal that he's petting for the last twenty-five minutes down to start concentrating when he sees the absolute chaos

Fights with vengeance, he's angry that they have taken away the animal's nature and you sigh when you have to save him

He's overwhelmed with pain, the struggle of fighting multiple figures and not running into some big cat to become it's next meal

You help, are also wounded in the process so he helps you patch it up and carries your limping self to the medics. Comes back to check up on you and give his thanks.

You get just a little bit closer and from then on, it's just luck whether he's assigned to your team or not

Yoo Taeyang:

He's capable, tolerant of other people and does not easily lose his temper as compared to the initial reviews you received from his pervious superiors. However, he does easily misunderstand.

That is why he sometimes look as if he is forever annoyed with his furrowed eyebrows or pursed lips

Fun-loving guy, somewhat introverted so it takes time for him to get to properly know the team. Is also objective to your leadership even if everyone else seems to follow along exactly what you say and this is something you appreciate because you like the engagement.

When he trusts you enough, he won't question your orders but will ask for elaboration if any is needed, also the person you ask to sum up everything you have said, his memory is amazing like that

He's got exceptional fighting skills and the talent to predict the opponent's moves, was the same reason he earned a promotion despite his slight inability to work with others.

Very rarely comes to you with problems, often comes when he has the solution as well, similar to a report

Never lies so you can expect to hear the only and complete truth from him, says things as they are not as they should be so is reliable and dependant.

Usually the two of you spar, so if the opportunity arises in the field, you are able to fight together and once, you prevent his torso from being slashed.

He is surprised but quickly recovers and expresses his gratitude after it.

It's just work after all

Hwiyoung I Kim Youngkyun:

Puts in that little extra effort to make sure that the team's spirit is uplifted, like the the mood maker

Is easy to speak too and seek comfort from, when you were just a new group and you told him the truth about how you felt being the leader, he gave you some advice but feeling that it may have been too much, he ended it with, ''Just go for it.''.

A real sweet guy, for example, opens the door and lets people by, basically operates by the principle that you should people how you want to be treated, also goes for showing care or displaying kindness.

He's wounded in the leg, he's clutching it to try and stop the bleeding but he's down, the pain is so overwhelming that he's thinking how anyone could get up and run away and for a second, he even contemplates that this could be the end.

It's when you save him from the situation, let him lean on you till you find the medics, stay with him in the hospital and check up on him that he's going to put in all the effort he can to watch your back.

You tell to ease up and that's it is no big deal, because in line with his personality, you know that he would do the same

The two of you grow much, much closer after that

He no longer feels awkward to confide in his team leader and that's how you spend the end of your mission together after he almost dies, drinking beer and watching the stars in the night

Chani:

Chani panics, freezes as a result of the fear that had almost instigated his worst nightmares.

He's close to breaking down but rather than something simple like a single emotion or characteristics, he is conflicted. He knows that you are safe but his mind can not comprehend what you just did for him.

He's thinking that the your actions are multiple, behaviour complex, feeling safe amongst the unsafe environment because he knows that he can go home.

He's in shock, he's laying on the ground, kicked there, propping himself on his elbows after experiencing such massive fear that he would die.

You walk towards him, he wants to cry, for you to comfort him and tell him that you've got him but he doesn't say anything, he keeps this guard that when he stops along the way, he holds your hand and tells you thank you.

''There's nothing- I mean, I don't... What just happened was, thank you'' he says, fumbling for the correct words, wanting to attribute the success of his living to you.

But that was when he was a novice and you were teaching him the tricks of the trade.

Now he is much more confident, he knows how to compartmentalise and is frequently remarked as one of the best soldiers on and off duty.

He even saves you once, save is a stretch because he played a part and when you thanked him, he said that it was nothing compared to what you once did.

He was so cool about it that you teased him all the way till you dropped him to his house.

[realllllfangirllllll]

Beyond Lovers || Chp. 31

{More Than Friends Sequel}

Chairman!Jaehyun AU x CEO!Reader AU

Summary: You find yourself falling deeper and deeper in love with the former CEO after overcoming your fear of love. Although there were rough patches, both of you are now stronger than ever. However, you realize that maintaining a relationship and a company at the same time can be very difficult, especially if someone is out to destroy the both of you.

(Context: This scene takes place in the time frame of the last three chapters of MTF)

Masterlist

{Previous / Next }

4 months ago...

“Come meet me in Paris. I’ll send you the address.”

Jaehyun’s mind spun like lab rats on a hamster wheel as he contemplated the idea of meeting face to face with Xiaojun. He had set his mind on getting y/n back and he couldn’t act scared now. He needed her in his life and this was his only chance.

~~~

The bright sun was hanging low in the clear sky as Jaehyun let out a yawn. Although jet-lagged and stressed, the thought of being on the same grounds as y/n made him feel a bit better. After all, it seemed like he hasn’t seen her for years. He chuckled to himself upon the realization of how much y/n’s presence affected him.

He stepped into the luxurious hotel lobby and made his way to the glass elevators before he quickly pressed the button to floor six. When the room door opened, he found himself sitting on the lonely chair placed across from the lush couch with his heart beating nervously. Never had he been more nervous for a meeting, in fact, he usually wasn’t the type of person to get nervous at all. He guessed that y/n and Xiaojun were definitely of blood relation as they were the only two people to ever make him feel even slightly nervous.

His hands were clasped politely in front of his lap as he tried his best to sit as straight as possible. On the other hand, Xiaojun sat comfortably yet arrogantly on the couch with his legs crossed. His stern, sharp gaze examined Jaehyun from his neatly gelled hair, his casual yet sleek navy dress shirt, to his expensive leather shoes. Jaehyun didn’t move an inch and allowed Xiaojun to take in whatever he wanted to see. He dressed casually but neat with the intent of giving off a good, first in-person impression. He didn’t want Xiaojun to think of him as an egotistic rich boy but a hardworking and polite man that is sincere to y/n.

Xiaojun suddenly let out a chilling laugh that did nothing to clear the tension in the room. “You don’t have to act so stiff, treat me comfortably.” 

Jaehyun nervously chuckled as Xiaojun broke out an eerie smile and offered, “You must be exhausted from that flight. Want something to drink?”

Jaehyun looked at him and saw that his eyes held a stonecold stare that shouted ‘refuse if you dare.’ He quickly responded with a yes and Xiaojun’s eerie smile returned. As if he prepared for this scenario, his hands grabbed the bottle of liquor on the marble coffee table and filled the two empty glasses by its side. He set the bottle aside and asked as he quirked his eyebrow, “You do drink whiskey, do you?”

Jaehyun responded with a quick, “yes sir,” and Xiaojun chuckled, “No need to be so formal with me. You are about the same age as me after all.”

Jaehyun almost choked on his drink at his words and stuttered, “Y-yes if that’s what you want.” Hesitantly, he continued, “By the way...How do you know my age?”

Xiaojun chugged his drink and rather loudly before he bluntly told him that he had searched him up online, read articles about him, and even had some intel from someone on the inside. Jaehyun’s eyes widened at his last statement. He wasn’t new to this sort of investigation as he had done so himself around people he found suspicious, especially with Jaemin. But he was surprised, yet amused, that Xiaojun was that kind of person as well. 

He cleared his glass of whiskey and set it down on the table. “You seem to be a very reliable person.”

Xiaojun gave him a questioning stare as he waited for him to elaborate on his words. Jaehyun chuckled, suddenly feeling more comfortable around the man in front of him and slightly loosened his stiff body. “It’s only right to keep an eye out on suspicious people. I would.”

At his elaboration, Xiaojun’s expression seemed to change into one with slightly more approval. His cold stare shifted to a warmer gaze as he uncrossed his legs and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. His eyes first looked down at his interlocked fingers and then seriously up at Jaehyun. “What is your endgame with my baby sister?”

Jaehyun sat up straighter again and responded with slight confusion in his tone, “Endgame? I don’t have one. My love for your sister isn’t a game.”

Xiaojun smirked and asked, “Then what is it?”

Jaehyun never broke eye contact with the man in front of him and said sincerely, “To me, loving y/n is like living in a warm home. I only want to make her feel happy and comfortable like how she makes me feel. I want her to feel what being loved means.”

He hoped that wasn’t too blunt and stopped himself before he could say anything more, but Xiaojun chuckled. This time, he didn’t have an eerie smile but a genuine one. He poured the both of them more whiskey and said in a gentler yet firm tone, “You’re the first, you know.”

“The first what?” Jaehyun said a little softer, scared that that statement might hold a negative connotation.

Xiaojun peered down at his glass of whiskey, slightly moving the cup in a circular motion before setting it down without taking a sip. “Guess I don’t need this whiskey anymore.”

He looked up and saw Jaehyun’s puzzled look. “You are much more innocent than I thought,” he laughed. He sat straighter, breaking from his previous position and told Jaehyun nonchalantly, “You are actually the first to tell me something worth my time. You see...most guys that previously held y/n’s interest will walk into my door and say some bullshit. I’ve heard countless fuckers say they date my sister because she will make a great couple with them, she will light up their day, or some equivalent shit.” His eyes hardened and stared straight into Jaehyun’s. “I don’t want to hear that. Ever.” Jaehyun unconsciously gulped and Xiaojun chuckled, “But you on the other hand. You are different. While others think about themselves, you think about y/n.”

Jaehyun felt relieved but not a second later, Xiaojun gave him the same cold stare again. “But y/n means the world to me. She’s my only family and the only person I will sell my soul to protect. You got that?” Jaehyun quickly nodded in response and Xiaojun’s tone softened again. “I don’t know how far you are in this relationship, but you must know that y/n didn’t have parents growing up as they abandoned us quite harshly.” He glanced at Jaehyun’s expression and figured he knew what he was referring to. “So you do know. Well then your relationship must have been going on for quite a while…”

“Not really,” Jaehyun replied a bit hesitant. 

Xiaojun quirked his eyebrow, “How long then?”

“Technically...only a few months,” Jaehyun rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of whether he should give him all the details of their complicated relationship, “But we’ve kind of been circling around the first month…”

“Circling around?” Jaehyun gulped, afraid this would give him some negative points on his approval but Xiaojun stared intently at him and suddenly burst out laughing. He knew that his younger sister was never the one to wait for initiation. She wasn’t careful with things she didn’t care for. All her previous relationships started fairly quickly. But when y/n really liked something, she would wait, go through a ton of inner debation, and finally come up with a decision. Xiaojun knew that because she does the same with photography. She never rushes the process and would take her time finding the right angle, the right natural lighting, and the right model. She would often tell Xiaojun, “Precious moments are to be dealt with carefully because they are especially fragile.” 

Now that Jaehyun confessed the upbringing of their relationship, albeit vague, he realized just how much y/n valued this man that sat nervously in front of him. He muttered to himself both out of amusement and astonishment, “Wow y/n...So he’s the one huh?”

He stopped laughing and stared seriously at Jaehyun again, “Listen up lover boy. The reason I told you to come here was to either show you that you are not worthy of my precious sister or to beat you to a pulp if you didn’t listen like some arrogant douches I’ve encountered in her past relationships.” Unknowingly, Jaehyun chuckled at his last statement and Xiaojun’s ears perked, “Did you just laugh?”

Jaehyun’s eyes widened upon the realization of what he just did and immediately corrected himself, “No no, I didn’t mean it in that way.” He scratched the back of his neck again and continued, “I actually just,” he paused and let out a light chuckle, “I just relate to that as well.”

Xiaojun was caught off guard as he blinked in disbelief at the man’s reaction, “You what?”

A sense of respect coated Jaehyun’s tone as he clarified, “Some people call it reckless, some people call it crazy. But in the line of business I work in, those hypocritical people only fear those with the power of the fist and intimidation.” He let out a bitter chuckle and told Xiaojun, “With y/n around, especially, I just feel the need to make sure she doesn’t get hurt by ignorant people.”

Xiaojun smirked, “You’re not half as bad as I thought Jaehyun.” He smiled and continued, “Anyways, y/n may be my baby sister but ever since we were little all she has done was make sure I was happy. She took care of me more than I did with her. She supported and helped me with my Youtube career and tagged along without any complaints. And because of that, she never really had a stable place to call her home. I’m glad she was able to open up to you. She usually never tells someone about her parents until at least a year into the relationship. It shows she really is comfortable around you. And judging from the way you react to my words and actions, it seems I don’t need to play the role of a protector for her anymore. You seem to suit the role.”

Before Jaehyun could respond Xiaojun immediately cut him off, “But one more thing. As a Youtuber, I know the public forum can be harsh and the spotlight will never be easy. For that, I know the situation at the Starship Charity Ball was not entirely your fault,” His cold stare came back as he stared seriously at Jaehyun, “But don’t you ever dare forget this. When you walk out this door and go to y/n, you will do everything in your power to help and protect her. It might not be entirely your fault, but it was because of you that y/n is now in the spotlight.”

Jaehyun replied in agreement almost immediately and Xiaojun continued, “Take the consequences and make the best of it.” He narrowed his eyes and made sure Jaehyun understood his commands. “But don’t you ever let y/n get hurt by it.” He continued and emphasized his last point in a much deeper and darker tone, “You hurt my only family and I will show you no mercy. However hurt y/n becomes, I will give that back to you threefold, understood?”

“Of course! I will always be by her to protect her. No matter who or what gets in the way,” Jaehyun replied quickly and genuinely. 

Xiaojun shut his eyes for a moment and nodded, content with his response and overall behavior. 

“Effiel Tower,” he opened his eyes again and looked at Jaehyun with a soft and somewhat hopeful gaze, “She should be somewhere around the Effiel Tower right now.”

Jaehyun immediately popped up from his seat, ready to meet his love again. Before he twisted the doorknob of the hotel room, he turned around and told Xiaojun with the utmost respect, “I will treat her like my own family, I promise.”

Xiaojun chuckled and leaned against the soft pillows on the couch, “You better lover boy, my fists are ready to fight any time of the day.”

———

• Dropping a post early since I’ll be off to celebrate my bday!! •

[the-silentium]

Rock Bottom

Masterlist - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

Fors is an Original planet. I do not give permission to people to use it for their own fics, the planet, the animals, the Nightmares, the lore or anything related to Fors. Thank you.

Pairing: Bad Batch x Reader

Words: 4150 words

Warnings: Blood, gore, monsters, killing, ANGST, cruel world in action.

A/N: I just reached 500 followers?! This is crazy! I love you all people who somehow put up with my insanity  ♥️

Taglist:  @haloangel391​ / @lightning-wolffe​ / @cherrydemon5​ / @and-claudia​ / @clone-rambles​

______________________

The vice grips around your upper arms burned as the talons cut through the fabric and tore through the skin. The humanoid creature hissed in pain when your bodies switched position and he got the worst of the branches. Soon, you found yourself falling on top of the Algax, out of breath and in pain. 

It quickly rolled over, throwing you to the ground right under itself. You heard yells and saw lights illuminating your surroundings, but more importantly, you saw the eyeless, noseless face mere centimeters from your face, the hideous lining that you thought was its mouth looked burned and sewn shut as if to prevent it from feeding on its prey. 

You would have been relieved of the fact if the pain in your arms hadn't moved to your whole torso. He was crushing you to death! 

Out of your daze, you trashed around, feet kicking what would be its chest, attempting to push it away. Screeches erupted from tiny slits at the side of its hectically rotating head, the Algax abruptly jerked away from the ground, your body still in its grip. It started moving away from the clones, unbothered by the blaster bolts hitting its back successively or by your movements. 

Orders were barked in your ear but they didn't register. All you could acknowledge was the building pressure around your bones, how it was becoming almost impossible to breathe even the tiniest of breath. You were positive that your ribs would start to break at any second now. 

The primal part of your brain then took over, reaching for your knife and plunging it forward in the dark blue arm holding you above ground. 

The effect was instantaneous. You were thrown like a rag doll to the side, right into a trunk. The thud of your head hitting the wood resonated through your skull, stilling you. Your whole body seemed to completely stop functioning for a whole second before remembering that this wasn't the time to chill out. 

A moan nearly escaped your mouth as the first satisfying breath of the last minute filled your lungs. How could you never realize that breathing felt so right? Breathing felt so good. So much better than being squished like a miserable insect. Oh no. Was this how they felt every time you'd step on them? This was so crue-

"Are you okay?" Confused, you blinked at Tech's question. 

"Me?" You pointed to yourself as if the question wasn't clear enough. 

Then the pain in your arms registered and-

"Holy mother fucker that hurts!" You whined, experimentally poking the bleeding skin to see if this really was the source of the pain. 

"Don't touch it!" Tech chastised, slapping your hand away, to which you glared in return. 

"I'll die of a blood disease." You pouted, watching as your wound touched the disgusting bloody mix you spread on your clothes earlier. 

"Highly possible." You felt the color leaving your face. Maybe you said it, but you didn't want it! 

"But we won't let that happen." You jumped at the gauze tightening around your wound unexpectedly, your opposed hand almost shooting out to hit him instinctively. 

"That was an Algax, correct?" Hunter approached behind Tech, keeping an eye on the surroundings while the engineer fixed your other arm. 

"Spot on. He ran away, right?" The dark blue monster was nowhere to be seen, not that it bothered you. 

"Right after you stabbed him." He handed you your knife that you apparently dropped at some point. "Look like those things are blaster proof or something." 

"Maybe it has something to do with the fact that there's no blaster in the lore." You gladly took the life-saving weapon back, securing its handle in your grip where it belonged. 

"Does your head hurt?" Tech inquired, getting up when he was satisfied with the makeshift bandages. 

"Nope. All good." It was pounding in there, but whatever. 

Getting back on your feet with Tech's help, you took a second to stabilize yourself before giving a heart attack to the nerd. 

"Don't do that!" He yelped, catching everyone's attention on your stretching self. 

"I'm just stretching..." 

"You just hurt your back! Don't flex your spine like that!" He successfully got you back straight with a slap to your abdomen. 

"We have to leave." Crosshair cut you off, pushing between the both of you to get ahead. 

"I agree with Cross. No more fuss." You speed-walked to catch up to the abrasive clone, desperately trying to keep the laugh in at the rhyme. 

"Thanks for that." You whispered to him, eyes already moving from shadow to shadow. 

"Don't thank me. If you stretch again I'll make your life more miserable than it already is." Oh how this only made you want to stretch to push his buttons. 

"Can't make it miserable if that means you'll be around." You grinned, unabashed by the meaning of your words. It was time for him to warm up to you a little more.

Every second of silence made you cheer inside. Rending the snarky sniper speechless was an exploit after all. 

"I can figure something out." He countered weakly after a while. 

Chuckling, you rotated the handle of your knife between your skilled fingers, alternating it from pointing forward and backward to pass your sudden regain of energy. Why did he have such an effect on you? It still was a mystery that you'd have to elucidate later. 

"I hear a voice." Hunter informed the group. 

"Is it calling you?" This was never a good sign, the Venuste were really effective critters in their task of enchanting everyone around. Keeping him with you and away from them would necessitate Wrecker's muscles. 

"No, it's a kid's voice. Whining about flee- fleeing? Something like that. It's not clear." 

"A kid?" You stopped dead, deeply confused. Had the council gone mad?! What could possibly justify sending kids out to their death? Or did they get caught outside like you did? "Where?" 

"Sure it's not a trap?" He pointed over your shoulder to your right. 

"One way to be sure." It genuinely hurt to stay in position and not speed walk through the trees to verify if the council had gone from a bunch of imbeciles to a cohort of assholes running the whole village to their doom. 

You had to remind yourself that when you agreed to join the commandos, you'd made a promise to fight for them as well as with them and that you'd be a reliable asset at any time in any given situation. You weren't alone anymore. 

It didn't change the fact that it was hard. 

"It's personal?" Crosshair clearly saw the shift in your mood, from the tightness in your muscles that wasn't there before to the sudden lack of motion of your armed hand. 

"I just want to know if I'll break my hand again or not." 

"Break your hand?" 

The question passed over your head when you heard the young boy's voice. He wasn't from the village, you knew every kid there mainly because you liked to help them build traps for strangers to fall in and they liked your prank ideas. You didn't know how to tell Tech that you were the one to propose the phosphorescent bird poo mixed with loth wolf puke idea. Maybe it was better to take it to your grave.  

You halted at the edge of the clearing illuminated by the moon and its stars, eyes glued to the young boy walking in circle a couple of meters away, his bare feet bleeding profusely from the incessant walking he endured for who knew how long. Your heart squeezed at his fate. No one deserved this kind of torture, let alone an innocent child. 

Your eyes adjusted to the new light, a new serene pallet of color taking over the gradually fading shades of blue and black. 

The boy's clothes were torn up and dirty to a point where you couldn't say for sure what color it was initially or if there was a design on it like most children liked to wear nowadays. 

"What's wrong with him?" Wrecker's worry hit you in the gut. You shouldn't have to tell him this because this shouldn't exist. 

"He's a Wanderer, now. A Lumsin got his soul." You slumped, defeated. 

"His soul?" He tilted his head and although you couldn't see it, you were sure there was a frown hidden under the customized helmet. 

"Yes. Everyone has a soul and Lumsins feed on them. When they eat a soul, the body becomes lost and wander around, walking and walking until it dies." 

"His soul got eaten." He reiterated in a whisper, the hand lifting to his head not lost on you.

"Y-" Your heartbeat shot through the roof when your eyes found a crest necklace around the kid's neck. 

You knew that crest all too well. And those beautiful red hairs, they should have made you realize sooner. Way sooner. 

"I know him." It unconsciously escaped your lips before you leaped forward, not able to repress your urges anymore. 

Crosshair was hot on your tail, the others staying in the shadows to keep an eye out. 

You jumped before the boy, hands rising to his cold cheeks, wishing that the gesture would pull him out of his spell. He merely rammed into you with his small 6 years old emaciated body, barely making you budge. 

He continuously mumbled the same sentence, the last thought his body heard from his soul before the contact was lost. 

"I want Fleena."

"Nixon, buddy." You grazed the freckles on his cheeks with your thumbs. He was so familiar. 

You'd never met him when he was still a lively boy, their village wasn't one to be in close contact with the others, but you've seen extremely detailed drawings of him. Plus, he looked so much like his sister. 

"We have to go." Crosshair pressed, anxious to be so out in the open. You knew you were being delusional and were basically putting him in danger for someone who couldn't be saved, but you had something to do. 

"I'll be quick." You assured the sniper before taking the robin carved necklace off Nixon's small neck to store it in your pants pocket. 

"Your sis' loves you very much, Nixon." You tenderly kissed his forehead like any child should be kissed, with utter softness and care. "And she wants you to be free." 

You could easily remember the nights out between the local cantina and the general store, where Fleena would show you drawings of the beasts that attacked her village when their gates got breached. You were terrified. Her whole village was wiped out in a single night, leaving her behind with a mind plagued with nightmares and grief. 

She talked often about Nixon who had turned 6 the week before it happened. She would relive her best moments with him, where laughs and smiles were a common occurrence. Then she'd close on herself, praying to the merciless gods above to at least let her brother be in peace. 

It broke your heart to know that it wasn't the case. That he was still trapped, may his soul be somewhere else, hopefully, in a better world, his body was still living in a wicked world. 

"You deserve to rest Nixon." You ruffled his hair like Fleena used to do. 

With a quick movement of your hands, you freed him from his torment in this cruel world. 

The world numbed for a moment, mind blocking the events for your own sanity, but it wasn't enough. It didn't stop all the injustice of this world. A vast beautiful world that you couldn't explore because of monsters waiting for the right moment to bounce. You were forced to live in a cage when the world was so vast. Kids were forced to grow up too fast or couldn't grow up at all. This world was sick. 

It took 2 hours for your stomach to empty itself on the ground for the first time of the night. In all honesty, it was longer than you initially expected. 

Oh. You didn't expect either to find yourself back into the woods, without any memory of making the way back. Hands alternate from patting your back to stroking up and down between your scapulas. 

Someone's tears fell onto the bile, or maybe it was raining. Yes, it was raining. You felt the water stream down your cheeks like rivers, the two trails joining at your chin to fall on the ground. 

"You freed him." Crosshair crouched to your level so you'd not tune him out like you did the others. "You helped him." 

"I helped him." You repeated. It was true. 

"You did." A finger moved across your cheek to remove the remaining rain from your face. No. They were tears. Your tears of pain. 

"I hate to force this on you, but we have to get back to the rav-" 

A scream of distress pierced the night, cutting off the sergeant in the worst way possible. Everyone froze, listening to the yells asking for help that only you understood. Another hunter. He wasn't that far away. 

"He's asking for help." You mumbled slowly coming out of your daze. 

Your eyes moved away from the bile splattered before your knees to meet the black and white helmet of your sergeant. You were in no position to decide, the fog in your mind only beginning to dissipate gradually. 

"We can't help." The requests for assistance had already morphed into screams of pain and agony that they didn't need to be translated to understand. 

"We hurry back and get off this rock." He cut short, the yells fading quickly in intensity. 

Hands under your armpits helped you up. Shaky legs stilled after a couple of seconds and a few deep breaths. Slowly as if you'd double over at any second, Wrecker's huge hands let go of their grip on you. With a muttered thanks you harshly wiped your face with your hands to get yourself together. 

You needed to bottle up every event happening tonight for later. You'd have time to scream, thrash around and cry when you'd be safe within the Havoc Marauder. 

"Ready." You affirmed after swallowing the lump in your throat. 

The night was silent again, meaning that the beast could either be feasting or roaming around again. The group will have to be extra careful to return to the ravine and stay under the radar. Many species could have caused this kind of screams and they weren't to be messed with. 

Hunter took the front while you took his place in the middle, just behind him. Crosshair grazed your right arm, Tech your left and Wrecker got your back. 

You purposefully ignored the worried glances coming from Tech, it surely must have been a shock to see you do what you did in the clearing. It was so out of nowhere for them. But it wasn't for you. A big part of your brain simply wished they would not abandon you on the planet once you all make it back to the ship. 

This time, you were the first one to notice the change in the atmosphere. What was interpreted by Hunter as the wind humming through the trees was in fact a very angry Kribat protecting its territory. 

"Hide!" You whispered harshly in the comlink you hurriedly pulled out of your pocket. There was no way they'd see your hand sign at your current position. 

It was so sudden that they stopped for a millisecond, unsure of where to hide. You pushed through them to lead the way to a deeper line of trees on your left, feet moving faster to get more distance between the Kribat and your group. 

Your feet slipped under yourself when you ducked behind a particularly large tree. Despite your best efforts to stay upright, gravity pulled you down to your fall, as it clearly enjoyed to do, both physically and mentally. 

The ground wasn't as hard as you remembered, a bit soft if you were to define it, and warmer. 

It wasn't until Wrecker pulled you upright once again that you realized that your fall had been broken by a shredded body. Dread washed over you as you saw the two other hunters who'd suffered the same fate, laying close by in a pool of their blood, missing some limbs. 

You knew them. They never had a place in your heart, but you knew them nonetheless and would never have wished them to suffer like they did. You knew two of them had families waiting at home. Well. Maybe they weren't waiting, merely hoping that they would come back by some miracle. 

Two feet away from a Kribat's preys was the worst place to be right now, but you couldn't move to another spot. Not with the howling Kribat right behind yours and Wrecker's hiding spot. 

It was awfully close. Too close to your liking and way too angry to hope to survive its attacks if it were to find you. 

Wrecker had you pressed to his chest by a hand right over your breast, detail that flashed into your mind although it was totally irrelevant. He was just stressed like you were. His hands simply reached for you in his haste and happened to find the friends-are-not-supposed-to-touch spot so you dropped it. At least he wasn't groping. 

The ragged breathing of the feral beast passed as it reacted to a movement nearby, giving chase to the unfortunate creature. For a painful second, you thought that it might be one of your teammates, Tech and Hunter were out of view while Crosshair was peeking back to get a glimpse of the retreating beast. 

Just as you tried to push away to see if the missing clones were around, Wrecker's hand pushed you more into himself, crushing your boobs like they were never crushed before. 

"Everyone's okay." He informed you to keep you still, not releasing his grip. You hummed in acknowledgment. 

"Wrecker." He hummed back, waiting for you to continue. "Hands off my boobs." 

You've never seen a hand fly away as quickly as Wrecker's did. Yours didn't even move that fast when you accidentally put your hand on a lump of red coal and you remember having a good reflex then. 

"Hands off what?" A harsh whisper in your right ear caused the demolition expert to sputter. 

Apparently, the comlink in his helmet caught your voice. 

"I didn't know Sarge!" He explained without any more delay. "Sorry Y/N." 

He kept his free hand far from your body now that the danger has passed. It would have been hilarious if only you weren't at the lowest emotionally. 

" 's fine Wrecker." You shrugged, unbothered by all of it and way too exhausted emotionally to care. It was an accident in the midst of action, nothing more, no need to create a whole drama because of it. 

A piece of wood in the bloody mess caught your gaze. Your heart skipped a beat at the recognizable darker tint of the object, tonight was getting slightly better. 

Crouching, you reached for the thick wood stick, fingers moving along the carvings etched into its length. Both in relief and satisfaction, you found the energy in yourself to smile. 

"Found something?" Tech approached from your side, the remaining missing soldier in tow. 

"Yeah. Most useful stealth weapon on this planet." You showed him the bloody bow, your other hand sliding your knife into its rightful place in your boot. 

Rolling the body to the side respectfully, you checked for the quiver that you found still strapped to his back. Slowly, you pulled it over his head to pass it over yours.

"This is a fine piece of work." Despite his words, you could hear that he clearly would never use it to defend himself if he had the choice.

Taking back the weapon, you cleaned the grip and loaded an arrow, muscle memory doing a splendid job into positioning yourself perfectly in a flawless shooting stance. A sigh of relief almost escaped your lips at the feeling of finally being adequately armed. 

"Think it will hurt them more than our blasters?" Crosshair gave you some extra arrows he found laying around, still unconvinced that wood sticks with metal points could surpass their own advanced technology. 

"We'll know it now." 

You frowned, quickly grabbing an arrow to arm the bow, pulled on the string while aiming over the engineer's shoulder and suddenly released the tension on the string, scaring the shit out of Tech but hitting your target perfectly. 

The Algax screeched as the arrow hit it right where its left eye would be, retracting its dangerous talons reaching for the goggled clone to grab at its face. 

The troopers jumped at the unexpected screech, although they recovered in record time, turning around, blasters at the ready. They only had time to shoot at its already retreating form. 

"Don't lose that." Hunter turned around, pointing at the bow in your hands. "Now let's go." He urged everyone forward. 

Quickly, you grabbed the arrows in Crosshair's hand and stored them with the others. 

As you took your position back at the front, a hand softly grazed the small of your back, by possessiveness or just to ensure that you were alright, you weren't entirely sure. But Hunter's gesture was very much welcome. 

The bow was a game-changer. The weapon may not be able to kill them, but it could very easily gain you some time when needed. 

Now, if luck could still stick by your sides, the next useful thing you'd find was a shelter. 

In the following hour, you managed to scare away the next 3 Algax you encountered with a single arrow neatly shot between the hollows where their eyes should be and avoided another Kribat. 

Apparently, these two species were the main population of these parts of the jungle, it was a two-edged knife. The boys got used to hiding around the environment and knew how to react properly at an Algax jumping on them out of nowhere, but you knew those weren't the only danger around. Would they react adequately when a new monster presented itself?

Tech changed his opinion on your weapon, affirming that he'll have to build one himself, more technological of course, improved like he said. You kicked his shin at the 'less-primitive' insinuation behind his words.  

"It's a great weapon that deserves respect Tech." You reprimanded, arrow pointing to the ground and ready to engage if needed. 

"It does need improvements!" He countered on the defensive and he proceeded to explain what he would do to add more strength to the bow, allowing it to shoot further and at a greater impact. 

Just as Hunter shushed the engineer, you heard your name being whispered in the distance. Fear tensed your muscles in apprehension, expecting claws to tear at your skin any second now. Time went on without any foes jumping out of the shadows, prompting you to continue your route with the others, passing it for the wind or a trick of your mind.

That is until everything went downhill. 

"Do you guys hear that?" Wrecker suddenly asked, immediately catching everyone's attention. 

Silence followed, seconds after seconds passed in utter silence until, "That! Heard that?" 

"No." Hunter stopped the group to ensure that they weren't missing something important. 

"Wrecker, what is it? What do you hear?" A cold sweat ran down your spine, already knowing what he was going to say but praying otherwise. This couldn't be happening. 

"It's 99." Even without knowing who was 99, you knew that it would end badly, there was too much raw worry in his voice to calm him down in so little time. "He's in danger Sarge!" 

"No! Don't listen to it!" You jumped out to grab his armor, his hand, his blaster, anything really, not that your small muscles would have been able to stop the bear of a man anyway but your body thought it could. 

He was unexpectedly fast for someone his size, easily dodging your hand to push through his brothers like they were nothing. He ran like a desperate man chasing a dream and it hit you like a punch to the face. This was exactly it. His most desperate dream finally came true to haunt him. 

As you expected, the boys were on his tail in a heartbeat. 

But as you ran after them, you realized that for a team comm that should be flooding in orders for Wrecker to stop and pleas for him to understand that this was a trick, it was dreadfully quiet. 

Your blood froze in your veins as soon as realization dawned on you like a an ice cold bath. 

They all believed it.

[cherrywoes]

001 (Mature) (P1)

Contains mature themes. Read with caution. Subtle thigh riding, nothing blatantly sexual.

YOU MET USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI on a cold, bitter day in the middle of winter at a beach that was deserted besides the small skeleton crew. They had brought their cameras and plastic tarps to keep you from getting sand all over their sample fashion pieces and were excitedly chattering over warm coffee that you couldn't have.

Modeling wasn't the job you had in mind when you had accepted the personal request from your best friend, Akaashi Keiji—the man who had skyrocketed to fame with his effortless clothing designs and pretty face—over two years ago. Yet here you were, freezing, nearly naked in the middle of winter with snow threatening to fall down from the heavens and decorate you with delicate flakes of precious ice. Akaashi paid you very well for going through with his sometimes insane concept ideas, but you couldn't help but curse him in your mind as you covered your breasts to retain some semblance of warmth, as well as any modesty you had left to keep from the photographers.

"[Name], how are we doing?" Your manager, Ayano, sidled up to you with a warm mug in her hands and looking amazingly warm and cozy, a direct contrast to your shivering form. "It won't be much longer, we're just waiting on the male model Akaashi hired. The other one flaked last minute for a trip to Argentina. Can you believe that?"

"Are you serious?" You chattered incredulously, teeth clacking together uncomfortably. Ayano had the shame to pity you. "Oikawa went to Argentina?"

You had been banking on the man to be your partner for the shoot. He was the only one you felt comfortable with half nude as you were, since you both did these spreads with each other often and enough that it wasn't strange for you to change in the same dressing room. He was amazing at lightening the atmosphere so you were comfortable with him, even if his manager got angry with him whenever he flirted with you on what he thought was the sly. Dancing his fingers over your bare shoulders was not sly, you'd laughed at him when he pouted at the hair and makeup station.

But he was in Argentina? For what? You had half a mind to text him an infuriatingly long text, and reached for your phone in Ayano's pocket, but found yourself exposed to the cold and even chillier than before. With a sigh, you pulled your arms close to your chest again, peering down to make sure you didn't have a nip slip in the process. The crazed press hiding in the sand dunes would have a field day with that.

"He never said why," Ayano answered, taking a sip of her coffee and ignoring your glare of envy. "It'll be okay though, Ushijima's a nice man and he won't try anything. Akaashi knows him pretty well, otherwise he wouldn't have gone to him last minute."

You snorted, imagining Oikawa boarding a plane hurriedly. "How last minute are we talking?"

"Around an hour or so before we got here." Ayano nodded her head sagely when you turned to look at her with more disbelief than you had at the reveal that Oikawa had dipped and flew out to another country. "Mhm. He's very reliable, according to Akaashi."

"Who has free time like that?" You laughed. "Nevermind, don't answer that. Can I get a jacket or something? I'm freezing here. We haven't even shot any singles yet."

Ayano winced in sympathy and patted your shoulder. Her fingers were so warm that you lamented the loss immediately, shuffling closer to huddle into her scratchy linen jacket. She snickered and let you stay close, almost burying yourself into her side, and too soon, you heard a car door slam near the parking lot over the quiet sea.

Your eyes darted to the top of the dunes where you spotted a tall, muscular figure cresting the half buried staircase and heading down to your entourage of photographers and stylists. At his side, two dogs loped in similar fashion, each held on leather leashes and clipped to what looked like diamond encrusted chain collars. Dobermans, you realized, from the cropped ears and docked tails when they drew closer, lithe frames stark against the pale sand. One was black and tan, slightly larger than the other one, which was Isabella and tan, with a more svelte figure and kept more closely to its owner, who was far more impressive the closer he got.

You couldn't help but poke your head over Ayano's shoulder and gawk at the male specimen before you. He was all toned muscle, from his neck down to his feet, and you could see carefully sculpted abdominal muscles through his shirt, which clung to him like a second skin in some silky nylon fabric that had some expensive name over his left pectoral. He wore sweatpants that were torn at the knees into shorts, and you raised your eyebrows at the way his calf muscles flexed when he shifted his weight to his left leg. You only saw that kind of dedication on bodybuilders and showmen, not models; they all seemed to prefer skinny muscle to actual muscle.

He had that austere cast to his features and aura, you could tell, when he turned his head just enough to reveal his eyes, brilliant chips of green and brown framed by severe eyebrows that complimented the bones of his face and the angle of his jaw. Even his hair was complimentary, a close undercut with long strands on top that looked to have been combed through with fingers and half heartedly with a comb.

"Damn." Ayano whispered your thoughts and pulled away from you, leaving you cold and shivering once more. Like a shot, she was off to speak to his manager, who was a lanky man with a startling shock of red hair that had you staring for a moment.

You almost screeched when a cold nose touched your cold knee. Somewhere between Ayano leaving and you shifting your hands under your armpits, the man had unhooked his dogs from their leashes and allowed them to wander up to you without a care in the world, because he was still listening to something the lead director was telling him.

The one nudging at your knee was the Isabella and tan one, her ears up and pointed towards you. Her stub of a tail wagged excitedly and you hesitated to pet her, eyeing the black and tan one that had settled into a sitting position beside your feet and out of the harsh gusts of wind that rose every so often.

Moving to cover your breasts with one arm, you held out your hand for her to sniff, cringing when she leaned forward and huffed over your fingers. Then, tentatively, she gave a few licks to your knuckles and bounded off towards her owner. The black one, male by the looks of it, stayed beside you, stalwart and unwilling to go back out into the cold wind.

"Nox." Their owner's voice was so deep that you were startled by the thrum that had begun in your belly. You looked over and saw the man was staring at the dog behind you, waiting for him to obey his call. "Come."

The dog, Nox, huffed and hid his head behind your leg, ignoring him. You had to stifle a snicker. The man looked at you, then, and you noticed that he kept his eyes trained on your face, analyzing your features with a slight furrow to his brows. Then he looked away, back towards the director who was pointing to you and explaining something with wide gestures. You almost felt offended at his easy dismissal.

"[Name]!" The director waved you over and you scowled, wrapping your other arm over your chest again and walking over to where he stood with the mystery man. His dog, Nox, trailed behind you, keen on avoiding both his owner and the wind. When you stood beside the director, surprised at how tall the man was and how your neck started to hurt looking up at him, he gestured to the man. "This is Ushijima Wakatoshi, Akaashi's friend. He'll be modeling with you today. Ushijima, this is [Name], the face of the brand."

Your face flushed red and crept down your neck when he looked at you again, this time an intense look of concentration on his face. Even his eyes were intense, sharp and narrowed and soul searching. You hoped he blamed the blush on the cold.

"Nice to meet you," you said, embarrassed at how your teeth cracked together, and held out a shaking hand for him to shake. "I'm [Name] [Surname]."

Ushijima stared at your hand like it was a particularly offensive bug. Your smile turned brittle and before you could pull your hand back and tuck it under your armpit, he enveloped your tiny hand in his—tiny compared to his giant ones, anyway—and shook it slowly, almost like he was pained to shake it in the first place.

"Ushijima," he said and that was all he offered. He released your hand and looked to the director again, waiting for a further explanation, and you clenched your jaw in irritation. Even if he was pretty, you didn't like being dismissed like you were nothing.

This time, the red flush creeping up your neck had nothing to do with embarrassment.

His manager seemed to notice your growing anger and slapped Ushijima on the back. Hard. You had to swallow nervously when Ushijima's eyes went cold and turned to his manager, shoulders stiffening and bunching underneath the sting of the slap.

"Wakatoshi, you can't just do that," the redheaded male admonished, pointing to you. "Be nice. Remember our lessons?"

You raised an eyebrow. Lessons? To be nice? You appraised the man in a new light; he was stiff, too tense, and seemed high strung like a live wire, like he was waiting for a bomb to go off. You wondered if he had an issue or something with any emotion other than coldness.

Ushijima stared at his manager with narrowed eyes, then looked back over to you. They softened slightly, scanning over your face—your anger ebbing away into confusion—and he dipped his head slightly in a small bow. "Sorry."

"It's fine," you whispered in reply, your confusion overriding your anger and the warmth it had brought you. You watched his eyebrows drop and then go back to neutral, as if he was thinking, and the director cleared his throat to draw both of your attention back to him.

"As I was saying—Ushijima, the poses are fairly simple. Because [Name] isn't tall enough to reach your shoulders, she'll be standing on a stool. It'll be your job to keep her steady. How uncomfortable are you with intimate skin contact?"

"It doesn't bother me," Ushijima answered in a clipped tone. You squirmed uncomfortably, cold once more, and felt Nox brush against your legs. "Is there anything else?"

"No, anything else is covered in your contract. Just put on the clothes they give you and we'll start in five."

You made your way back to the tarp, spotting the stool in question, and turned around, mouth open to ask if you should move it to the middle, and abruptly closed it with an audible snap.

There, behind a tiny rack of  clothes facing the ocean, Ushijima was pulling his shirt over his head, the muscles in his back flexing fantastically with the smooth movement. A few moments later he stepped out from behind the rack, dressed in sleek and slim khaki pants that hugged at his legs a little too snuggly. The stylist rolled the hems up above his ankles and handed him a pair of loafers, which he put on once he reached the tarp and wiped his feet clean of sand.

Your mouth was as dry as the Sahara desert. His personality might be lacking, but he was gorgeous, you had to give him that. Oikawa was pretty in a different way, but he'd never appealed to you in the way this man, Ushijima, was. Even if it was solely physical appeal, you couldn't help but wonder if he had deeper issues than just being nice; he didn't seem rude, just blunt, the more you thought about it, one of those silent types that your mother adored.

You didn't like that your tastes skewed close to hers.

"[Name], up on the stool," the director yelled over rising winds. Your hair whipped into your face. "Ushijima, stand in front of her. Yes, just like that, now move a little to the left—right there. Now [Name], wrap one arm around his neck and the other under his arm and over his back."

You looked Ushijima in the eye from your slightly elevated height. He was eye level with you now and raised his eyebrows.

"Are you okay with me…?" You motioned to your breasts and then mimed wrapping your free arm around his neck.

"Oh. Yeah." He shuffled closer and when the stool trembled under shifting sand, his hands shot up to steady you at the waist, just under the ribs. His thumbs almost touched, his hands were so large. "Are you okay?"

At least he was trying to be considerate. You removed your other arm and steadied yourself on his shoulders, faintly hearing the click of cameras already going. "There, I should be okay now. You can let go if you want."

You heard his frown, more than saw it, as you hooked your right arm around his neck and the other under his bicep, draping your hand loosely over his left shoulder blade. His hand came up to your back to hold you steady, pressing between your shoulders and unintentionally pushing your breasts and upper body into his chest. "I don't want you to fall."

Ushijima was pleasantly warm, you noted, and shifted slightly so the director could get your face better. When your nipples, hard from the cold, dragged against his chest, you could have sworn you heard him take a deep inhale and exhale sharply, but over the wind it was hard to tell.

"Thanks," you said, as normally as you could make it. It was a whisper and almost directly in his ear. His hand tightened subtly against the skin of your side.

A few clicks of a shutter later and the director wasn't satisfied. "[Name], wrap both arms under his and rest your chin on his shoulder."

You did as commanded, even if your body was screaming at the pose you were in and your mind damning Oikawa to hell at the same time. You rested your hands on his shoulder blades, this time your chest and shoulders and torso flush with his. You passed off the goosebumps rising on his skin from the cold, and gave a sultry look to the camera.

"Gorgeous," the director clapped.

They took a few more photos, most of them with you or Ushijima turning your heads to look at the ocean or each other. Every time your gazes met, it was like someone had dropped a nest of bees in your stomach and set them off, and his eyes were dark and intense enough to make shivers go down your spine.

"I'm loving this tension," the director remarked to Ayano and Ushijima's manager. "This is better than anything Oikawa could have produced, I think."

Ayano snorted out a laugh. "Don't let him hear you say that. He'll be offended."

The director chuckled. "Alright, [Name], Ushijima! Ushijima, stand behind [Name] this time and [Name], face him please."

You pirouetted on the stool, Ushijima steadying you by your hips, and shifted behind you, allowing you to grip onto his shoulders and steady yourself when more sand sunk into his footprints.

"Alright, same pose as before except Ushijima, I want you to put your fist in her hair and look at the camera."

It was your turn to get goosebumps when his hand slid up the back of your neck to cradle the back of your scalp, and then close his fist into the hair at the nape of your neck. The steady pressure combined with the sound of his breathing in your ear had you mentally running laps, and in the back of your head, you wondered if he'd had experience in pulling hair—then you flushed when you realized exactly where your thoughts were going.

God, Oikawa was never going to forgive you.

Ayano whistled lowly at the display screen as the camera shutters went off. Ushijima's stare was deadly and the way his fingers were tight in your [color] hair added a flair that made her feel like she was looking in on an intimate moment.

"He's good," she complimented towards Tendou.

"Eh?" The redhead scratched his nose. It was numb from the cold. "His face always looks like that. It's terrifying."

When you and Ushijima parted for a break while the director examined the photos more closely, Ayano watched as Ushijima's fingers lingered on your spine for a moment longer than necessary. Then you locked eyes for a brief moment, caught in your own world, and then you stepped away, hurrying into the jacket that Ayano held out for you.

"What was that?" Ayano asked curiously, watching Ushijima tug on a jacket with his name embroidered on the breast pocket. "That tension was no joke."

"He's dangerous," You  said breathlessly, holding a hand over yout rapidly beating heart. "Jesus, what did his parents feed him? I might faint, Ayano."

"The souls of his enemies?" She joked, and you jabbed her in the ribs. "Seriously though, maybe you should explore that sometime. I haven't seen you like that since Kuroo."

You wrinkled your nose. "He'd be happy to hear you say that. I still need to call him and see how Kenma's doing."

Ever since your ex-boyfriend had come out as bisexual to you a few months ago, two years after you'd broke things off cleanly, you'd been his staunch supporter when his parents had shunned him and Kenma. While your relationship might not have been what you both wanted, you were still good friends, and had been there for each other through thick and thin. So when Kuroo introduced Kenma, a rising video game streamer, as his boyfriend, you'd cried alligator tears of joy and hugged the life out of him.

You and Kenma got along like a house on fire, to Kuroo's relief and slight worry. You made more than one guest appearance on his streams, and being a famous face, people started shipping you in a poly relationship with the both of them. Even though it was a joke, you'd caught Kenma and Kuroo eyeing you thoughtfully more than once and you were adamant that a poly relationship wasn't what you wanted or needed, even though you loved them both.

Kenma had shrugged dismissively and said,"We might convince you one day."

Coming from him, it was a vow and not a promise. You'd laughed it off and Ayano saved the day with a phone call, but you knew he was dead serious about it. Even Kuroo had been interested in the idea, saying he wouldn't mind it at all.

You weren't sure how you felt about that.

"What's wrong with Kenma?" Ayano inquired.

"He's caught some parasite from a bad batch of sushi. He's been in and out of the hospital for a while since he can't fully get rid of them, so I like to check in and see if they need anything." You shrugged. While Kenma made good income streaming, he couldn't do it while he was ill, so you had been subtly paying their bills. Kuroo's chemistry teaching job didn't pay as well as you'd like either. You'd thought about lending your Tokyo penthouse to them since you never used it, but Kuroo would be hesitant to accept the offer. "Last I heard he was able to keep fluids down and was working on soup."

"Hm. I hope he's okay," Ayano hummed. "I know Kuroo's been struggling lately."

You nodded sadly in agreement. Kuroo never ceased to amaze you with how thoughtful and unselfish he was; he'd drop anything for Kenma in a heartbeat, or you if it came to it, and you almost pitied him because all he had was Kenma and you.

Before you could say more, the director called for you and you shed your jacket morosely. Ushijima stood with his dogs and you stepped hesitantly beside him, looking to the director for directions.

"We're going to take one last shoot and then we'll be packing up for the day," he announced and you sighed in relief. You'd finally be out of the cold. "Ushijima, you'll be sitting on the stool this time. [Name], you'll be sitting in his lap and facing the camera. I'll direct you after that."

You avoided Ushijima's gaze as best you could as you both made your way to the tarp. The edges fluttered as the wind pushed it up, but you toed them down and waited for Ushijima to get comfortable on the stool. It was a bit small for him so he had to spread his legs wider than his pants would allow, planting his feet in the sand so he wouldn't fall off. It was almost hilarious.

"Nevermind! [Name], you'll have to straddle his left thigh. Ushijima, once she's settled, I want you to wrap an arm around her breasts and the other around the waist of her shorts. [Name], I want you to reach back and wrap an arm around his neck and use the other to hold on to the arm around your waist."

This just couldn't get any worse, could it? You pleaded to the gods that he wouldn't be able to read you like an open book and carefully lifted your leg over his thigh, using all of your weight to keep yourself steady. You couldn't avoid pressing the crotch of your shorts to his thigh, his leg was too long and your feet barely touched the ground. His thigh flexed between your legs and you had to swallow a tiny gasp that threatened to break free. You had to reassure yourself that he was probably as uncomfortable as you were. That was all that would get you through this.

He made sure not to let you have an accident in front of the cameras, shielding your breasts from view with his arm while you wrapped an arm around his neck and rested your fingers on the soft stubble at the nape.

When you were in position and had your best model face on, the director adjusted the camera lens to focus more on the way Ushijima was a hair's breadth away from touching his nose to the pulse in your throat and his lips to your shoulder. Then, he zoomed out and focused more on the image as a whole, chattering to the editor about how the red of the cold could be edited out.

You couldn't help but relax into Ushijima's warmth the more the cold got to you. He didn't seem to mind; if anything, his grip tightened, and you heard him sigh into your ear. The only thing driving you insane was the way he kept flexing his thigh between your legs; he kept stiffening up and forcing himself to relax, and you had to fight off the arousal that kept building within you every time you remembered that he was touching you as intimately as a man could.

While the director pointed at something you couldn't see on screen, Ushijima stiffened up again and shifted his weight just a little, but it was enough to drag the harsh seam of the shorts against your pulsing clit. You couldn't stop the shaky, small gasp that escaped you, so quiet it was drowned out by the ocean. Except Ushijima—he heard you. You could feel his eyes burning into the side of your face and a blush crept up your cheeks. He couldn't have known—

PART TWO.

MASTERLIST.

[iampikachuhearmeroar]

so this morning, while scrolling through my fb feed, i came across an nyt opinion/advice piece from a 27yo (ie basically me lmao) who is obviously lucky, in a sense, to finally land their “dream job using my (their) skills” etc. like obvs i can’t read it bc of the stupid “you get one free article a month if you either don’t have an account or subscription” (my one free article was used up reading an article about adult adhd like last week)….. thing that nyt does.

but anyway. back on topic lol. the crux of the article in both the headline and the quote snippet was that the advice asker was really dissatisfied with the 40 hour work week that came with her “dream job”. with how having this 40hr workweek gave her no time to do her busy chores like house cleaning or laundry or didn’t even give her time to let her have her hobbies/creative pursuits (whatever they were/are).

however, in the comments on the article (and apparently from those who read the article on the comments, the advice/opinion column writer) a good bunch of like gen Xer’s and baby boomers (im assuming) were ganging up on the asker like “suck it up princess, it’s what life is!!! i work 70+ hours a week and LOVE IT and have just resigned myself to the fact that i have NO time left over to do my “chores”! learn to O U T S O U R C E these life admin tasks to someone else!!! everyone MUST LEARN this in america!!! it makes life so much easier ☺️” and such.

of course, there were plenty of the same bs comments that you see on anything about careers or home ownership towards millennials/gen Z’ers about “learn to go WITHOUT and save save save and squander your time so that you NEVER live and HAVE FUN or TIME FOR HOBBIES! my bet is that your parents did that and they survived just fine while also raising your ungrateful spiteful ass (not including any type of health issues they might have picked up from such long hours/shitty working conditions) so why can’t you just L E A R N to do the same you precious spoilt brat!!! because the reality of Real Life™️ is that you can’t have it both ways!!! then you’ll have early retirement guaranteed, hopefully!!! and know that hobbies really are time wasters most of the time ☺️ or at least they were for me!!! and your precious so-called “creative pursuits” most definitely are time wasters. no one needs THOSE.” and so on so forth.

they also had jibes for her bc the asker wanted to start a family at some point apparently… and apparently it’s “much worse” once you have kids. like. thanks geraldine and henry. you’ve just told us how much you’ve resented having your kids/family in one fell swoop. your opinion which you’ve framed as unhelpful, condescending advice is now voided.

like. i don’t know how rhonda or paul or deandra or philip could miss the point so fucking entirely. why the fuck should anyone- nay everyone (bc that’s what they make it sound like)- learn to outsource their busy chores like laundry/house cleaning/grocery shopping or god knows what else- to someone else???? why is that apparently a standard expected to be learnt in the US???

like why the fuck are you so desperate for people not to have free time to do these things (unless of course they live in some of those shitty nyc or other big city apartment blocks that don’t come with individual private laundries in the self-contained flats or a communal laundry on like the bottom floor or w/e for example) frank????

deidre why the hell are you so bitterly hankering about “be grateful that you have it easier than most and learn that hobbies mean jackshit and just sell your soul and time to your boss!!! when will the generation stopping being “me me me!!!” and “work life balance!” and think about the company’s bottom line!! learn that “work life balance” is never important! work like a slave for 50 years and see if your valuable experience is needed then! that’s when you’ll learn that those hours where you were never being lazy, instead of just expecting life to be handed to you, will have paid off!” or whatever other ridiculously toxic capitalist bullshit they were spitting out.

obviously there were FAR MORE people actually supporting the question asker and echoing the idea that the 40hr workweek is now redundant. they were also putting down the opinion/advice piece writer’s advice to the asker….. that was apparently similar to the all the bitter people on the comments saying that the 27yo was just “asking for too much” and had to “learn to suck it up instead of being a petulant and overly selfish dick!!” etc etc etc. we all know the spiel as thoroughly as the macarena now.

because whats so fucking wrong with wanting time to yourself and wanting time to do your busy chores??? why the fuck should i be outsourcing these to other people (unless of course you’re still living at home and your parents are still like “hey what clothes do you need washed i’m doing a load rn” or you have a partner that works from home or has some type of parental leave etc)???? i want to do my own laundry. i want to do my own gardening (ok lawn mowing or tree lopping (if needed) i’d actually outsource bc i can’t lift or push lawn mowers bc they’re heavy af for me or and i obvs can’t use a chainsaw)… but i want to do my own grocery shopping. i want to do my own cooking (although i would consider the meal kit services once i had job that allowed me to afford like $50 a month for one of those meal kits sub services) i want to do my own cleaning.

why, if i lived in the US and not australia, am i just expected to learn to outsource all of these tasks even if i don’t have the money for it??? like why the actual fuck are so many of you so fucking weirdly proud of being absolutely worked into the fucking ground for your “great country” (although this is actually bleeding through to australia too and i hate it); working like literally close to 100 hours a week???

because i wasn’t aware you had to be whatever the fuck his name is from 127 hours and cut your fucking limbs off just to fucking survive a job in either corporate america or just let alone any goddamned job in america….. all so they can supposedly “learn to like working for free and devaluing your worth even more to your employer through overworking yourself and always being available!!! mental health is for those who aren’t built for the Real Adult World™️!!! this person is a prime example of the younger generations being weak and dissatisfied with life so often because of their “oh poor little me!!! care for me!!” act. NO ONE CARES FOR YOU today. stop being so over-expectant/demanding and juvenile!!! only YOU care yourself and you should NEVER expect someone else to pick you up from YOUR bootstraps!!! you’re fucking whiny and conceited babies. the lot of you!!!”

because i honestly don’t know who the fuck would enjoy working 70+ hours week with no time to themselves to do what they enjoy doing…. or enjoy having zilch time to catch up on errands and life admin duties or just general house chores; especially if you’ve moved cities or an entire fucking state/s away from your family and support network. let alone doing the same thing on 40 hours a week.

and on top of everything, let’s not even get started on the time spent commuting to and from work or even commuting for life errands/tasks etc etc- especially if you’re like me and you’re nowhere near the capital city’s centre (ie sydney australia for me) for there to be reliable enough public transport and longer commute times to certain places in those cities (that i’ve bitched about plenty before on other posts on here about work/jobs).

get your head out of your asses warren and viola et al and realise that work life balance is literally NOT ASKING FOR MUCH and is asking employers to just have basic respect for their employees time if they work fulltime. it’s literally detrimental to ones health if they have to sacrifice what feels like (or what is literally like) their entire fucking existence to their employer just for meagre pay and just to fucking survive.

because i read a heart-breaking article last night from huffpost (posted by buzzfeed on fb) about a woman in the US who literally hid her having a second baby from her employer for an entire fucking year (literally the entire pregnancy and birth of the baby and the first 6 months post pushing the baby out) during the pandemic all because she was scared she would get demoted or lose her leading of a project and lose her bs “temp” job which had really turned into full time work although the employer never said anything about it being actually full time hours or whatever…. and plus the lady herself was apparently to scared to ask to be put on the books fulltime too for some weird reason.

like honestly. fuck capitalism. fuck thinking that “work life balance is just too hard for employers to add and regulate. it’s an excuse and ploy for workers to be unprofessional, unproductive and lazy!” or whatever the fuck. everyone deserves time to themselves to pursue their interests/hobbies and busy chores/life admin. no one deserves to waste their entire life working 70+ work weeks for those employers who literally have no respect for their employees personal lives and time.

and particularly during the time that is the pandemic as we’ve seen so many companies having to learn to wholeheartedly embrace working from home and more flexible schedules for their workers. worklife balance is absolutely fucking beneficial for everyone involved.

america fix your bullshit work ethic right now lmao.

[kuroshitsuji-scenarios]

“It’s been centuries since I felt like this, I’m not letting you go that easily.”/ for undertaker/ good you are safe! Mwah!

OHOOO, THIS ONE IS SO GOOD! I hope you enjoy the result! <3

Pairing: Undertaker x Reader

Words: 1,833

Prompt: 23. “It’s been centuries since I felt like this, I’m not letting you go that easily.”

[ taglist ] [ commissions ]

He was not the only the person you did not recognize during your relative’s funeral. There was so many people, after all, close family and friends but also faces you have never seen before and he certainly was one of them. Despite the gloomy atmosphere, it was impossible to not notice how he simply could not fit in the crowd, no matter that he was also dressed all in black, slightly bent over the freshly digged grave, mourning and silent.

Completely alone.

Perhaps it was his long, snow white hair or the unnaturally pale skin or maybe the scar crossing his handsome face—all those elements creating a picture perfect to catch your attention and cause you to think about it hours after the ceremony ended, giving you sleepless night. The stranger, whoever he was, seemed to be a ghost, now haunting your memory and making you wonder, who could that be? The longer you thought about it, the more uncertain you grew, sometimes wondering whether you truly saw him there or if he was just a passing shadow of the past, caught in the corner of your eye.

The fate, however, decided to end your misery in a way you would last expect it to—by giving you exactly what you wanted. Meeting the same, mysterious man in the middle of the city was something you would rather witness only in the films, the ones people considered as unrealistic and having plots which had no right to happen in the real world. Still, there was no mistake, it was him with the same eccentric appearance and the only difference being that now, he smiled when he clearly recognized you.

“It’s not the most common way to meet new people, I have to admit,” he chuckled after placing the cup of cappuccino back on the small plate and looked back at you. “If I only knew that my friend had such an adorable relatives, perhaps I would actually attend those family gatherings.”

“I can’t guarantee you that you’d meet me at any of them, I’m a rather busy person.”

“And not the life of the party, I assume?”

“Pretty much.” You shrugged. “Is it so obvious?”

“No, I’m just quite clever, if I can say so.”

The final conclusion after spending an afternoon with him in a coffee shop was that he was not only clever but also surprisingly charming. Undertaker, as he introduced himself right after giving you his real name and mentioning that he has never been fond of it, was truly like a gift from another world—he was a gentleman, well-mannered, polite and respectful, not to mention that his sense of humour seemed to fit yours just perfectly. The first wave of anxiety quickly faded away as he showed you that there is nothing to be shy about around him and even gave you an example or two on how he was not a social butterfly in his anecdotes.

The second and third meeting was surprisingly pleasant and each evening you came back home with stomach hurting from the amount of laugh, the blissful smile of your lips and the lovely tingling sensation in your heart.

On the fourth, he kissed you on the cheek as a goodbye, after walking you home to make sure that you were safe and sound, which was a very reasonable decision, since you were so lost in conversation, that you forgot about the passing time.

During the sixth, he confessed that he truly enjoyed your company and no matter the circumstances, he was glad to meet you.

On the tenth, Undertaker was showering you with heated kisses, the hunger on his tongue and the trembling in the fingers. He told you then, that he fell in love with you and he really did—he loved you just as much, as he always promised you to and there was never a hint of lie in his words, not when he was confessing his undying affection, nor swearing to spend the afterlife with you. Naturally, it could be an exaggeration, for he was always a little bit unpredictable with his love language, but in the end, you found out that everything he has ever said to you, was plain truth.

You would be the one worth considering a liar if you said that it did not flatter you. His feelings for you, how devoted he grew, how much he cared was the greatest compliment you could receive and a very clear signal that you deserved such a chivalrous man. It was a significant boost to your confidence, especially when you were walking together, arms locked and the conversations going so swiftly, as if he was created to be with you—the perfect, second half of one soul.

Soon, you started to wonder what could possibly go wrong, for the image seemed to be too perfect to be real.

Perhaps he was hiding some dangerous past, had debts or wife and children. Or maybe was he some kind of stalker who knew who you are long before you met. The possibilities were endless and when you asked him about some of your doubts, Undertaker not only explained why were they wrong but also gave you reliable proofs.

It was like a dream, the twisted one, where you were constantly waiting for something bad to happen but everyone around you kept dancing, blind and deaf for your intuition. You loved him equally fiercely as he did love you and that was the main reason why the possibility of some incident or secret slipping was running your blood cold. When it eventually did, you were beyond shocked to find out that no such thing ever appeared on your list, nor occurred in your mind.

Undertaker had to support his weight on the nearby wall, the other hand pressed firmly to his temple where the dark blood was gushing through his fingers and staining the collar of the dress-shirt. The wound you gave to him was not too deep, the place on his head and the amount of blood caused it to look like that, and at first you held your breath wondering if you accidentally killed him. The brass lamp suddenly grew heavier in your hands, the fingers painfully stiff when you were holding onto your temporary weapon as if your life depended on it.

And maybe it truly did.

“Stay back,” you ordered, your tone not sounding even half as confidently as you wanted. “Don’t come any closer.”

Undertaker looked at you from under his long, white eyelashes, the sight of his vivid green eyes causing the shivers to run down your spine. Still, you stood your ground, afraid to even blink just in case he would decide to jump on you and snap your neck.

“What’s the matter, poppet?” he muttered, slowly straightening his back and wiping the blood off his hand on the fabric of his trousers. There was a curve of the smile playing on his lips. “Didn’t you say that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me barely few days ago?”

“I did and I’ve changed my mind. Now don’t move any closer.”

“Or what?” he hissed and the sudden step forward was enough to almost make you lose your balance.

Undertaker chuckled at the fear you were so desperately trying to hide beneath the mask of courage. It was slipping out from every corner, your eyes betraying the terror in your soul.

Oh, how long it has been since he has last seen it.

“Will you hit me again, my love?” He pointed at the lamp in your hands. “Don’t hesitate, just make sure to aim better next time, the single blow won’t be enough to knock me out… And actually, I doubt that you’d ever be able to do it.”

“Stay the fuck back!” you warned, growing more scared and desperate with every step he took. “If you thought that I won’t discover the truth you were dead wrong and now you expected me to pretend that nothing happened?”

“What a pitiful choice of words,” he giggled, genuinely amused. “No, I wasn’t hoping to hide it from you forever, I just wanted to wait for a while longer. You, humans, don’t handle it very well and you’re no exception.”

“What are you talking about?” Salty droplet of sweat rolled down your forehead and you fought the urge to wipe it off, knowing that the man in front of you could use it for his advantage. “Did you really thought that if you told me later about your little laboratory in the basement then I’d be more understanding?”

“You would.”

“Like hell I would!”

You were at the verge of crying, the frustration and panic growing inside of you with every passing second. Discovering the bloody passion of your fiancé was one thing, but facing him and fighting for your life when he tried to pull you down the stairs was something completely different. All you wanted right now, was to leave, to run as fast as you could and never see him again, just to be safe and away from him and his murderous tendencies.

Funny, suddenly you felt like in the film The Shining, except that your partner did not lose consciousness after you almost crushed his skull with the heavy lamp in an attempt to defend yourself. It was almost as if he did not feel any pain, as if the hits had no effect on him.

As if he was immortal.

Slowly, you stepped back, still eyeing him carefully, observing if he would try to stop you from leaving his house. Once again, he reminded you of a dark ghost, the freezing memory of the past, growing and expanding in the tiny living room like a plague. His beautiful, pure face was rotten inside, his mind twisted and the smile—the smile, you grew so fond of—has never been so terrifying.

Undertaker waited patiently until you could almost reach the doorknob behind your back, giving you just enough hope to see your features soften before he materialized right in front of you in a blink of an eye. Before you could react, he covered your mouth with his hand, nails digging in your cheeks, and with a swift movement threw the lamp across the room, too far for you to reach. Leaning down, he looked at you in the eyes with the same, loving gaze you remembered and your noses almost touched, the dried blood staining his cheek and neck appearing as almost black now.

“You don’t understand, my love,” he whispered and rested his forehead against yours, taking a deep breath and inhaling the scent of your fear before continuing. “I’ve never lied to you, not even for a second. My affection for you is real, it brought me closer to being alive than I’ve ever been. It’s been centuries since I felt like this, I’m not letting you go that easily.”