#never understood why people were clutching their pearls at this

[natsmagi]

o profound tsumugi aoba philosopher how do we feel about fuyume hanamura

an angel has graced this earth dear anon........... i have not fully delved into the little guys but from what i have heard i absolutely adore yume. i saw her and instantly knew she was the daughter of all time. And ur telling me she has an unrequited love for esu and is obsessed with fairytales.............? made for me i fear. i think switch should adopt her

[charliemwrites]

Part 2!

Finally finished moving house so hopefully I’ll be updating semi-regularly again.

Content: brief and non-descriptive explanation of Rasputin’s backstory (injury and illness)

Agatha is over again.

You don’t know why. She doesn’t like you, your cats, or anything as far as you can tell. It seems her primary motivation for talking to you at all is to exercise her role as neighborhood matriarch. She “keeps tabs” on everyone, but especially you - the unmarried woman living alone that keeps odd hours.

A rebellious part of you wants to roll your eyes and make snarky comments whenever she sniffs at your life choices. The same part of you that would make scenes at holiday dinners or slam doors when you were a teenager. That girl has long been smoothed and polished - or maybe just worn down. It’s so much effort to make rude, nosy, traditionalists clutch their pearls. Much easier to smile in their face and do what you want anyway.

Still, that part of you itches at the surface sometimes. Makes your eye twitch.

“I know your generation is different but that’s just not the type of neighborhood we live in,” she’s saying.

You’re a bit foggy from a late night patching plotholes and haven’t registered much of anything she’s said. You really just want to go inside and stare at the TV until words make sense again.

“What do you mean?” you ask, for once not feigning your confusion. But of course this is the one time she doesn’t buy it.

She looks down her frail little nose at you, cornflower blue eyes baleful. You don’t feel scolded, but you sense that you’re supposed to.

“Now you know just what I mean. People will talk.”

People always talk, it’s an unfortunate byproduct of the human condition. Like a deaf bird, you’ve never understood all the chatter.

“Talk about… the buttercups?” you wonder, pointing at the blossoms. You’re quite proud of them actually.

Agatha puffs up and hisses out a breath. “You ought to keep to this side of the street. Away from those men.”

You blink. Men…?

A bang comes from across the street, followed by rough German cursing. (At least you think it’s cursing.)

Ah. Those men.

“I was just welcoming them to the neighborhood.”

It comes out of your mouth automatically, innocent excuses for something you remind yourself you don’t need to justify.

“I’d rather they didn’t feel welcome,” she snips. “Better they sell that awful house and go somewhere else.”

You flick your eyes over her bony shoulder. Konig passes by a window, massive biceps on display as he lifts something outside of view.

“They’re nice,” you say. Nice to look at. Krueger’s face alone quite makes up for his conversational shortcomings.

“The only reason men like that act nice is because they want something,” Agatha snaps. “This is a respectable neighborhood.”

Yeah, soooo respectable when Bertram rifles through your mail or Lisa looks into your backyard.

“Well,” you muse, “better to be on good terms with them, I think. They're not the type you want to piss off.”

That defiant streak lights up at the way her face sours. If only she knew what sort of words you use when it’s just you and the cats.

“You’ve just proven my point. Those are not the type of men young ladies should associating themselves with.”

You have to try very hard not to scrunch up your face. One blessed day, people will stop referring to you as “young lady” in that insufferably condescending tone. You can’t wait for that day.

Some of your mounting irritation must show on your face because she takes on a sickly sweet “teaching” tone.

“Neighborhoods are like gardens. Everything grows best when the rows are kept separate. That’s why the farmers plant them that way.”

You glance pointedly at your own yard, where the flowers are blooming in haphazard sprigs wherever you tossed the seeds. Agatha’s lips get thin.

“Best that you stay on this side of the street, missy. That’s the last I’ll hear of it.”

She spins on her heel and stalks off like a particularly drab bird. You stand on your porch for a second longer, face contorted in annoyed confusion. You don’t even have strong feelings about the three men; the simple act of someone - Agatha of all people - labeling them as “Off Limits” makes them instantly more appealing.

Maybe you should see someone about that or something. Then the pathetic cries of Guy through the window lure you back inside.

It’s nearly sundown when there’s a knock at your door. Still agitated from your talk with Agatha, you puff up like Shithead when Rasputin sits on her favorite toy. March up to the door, fling it open - and come up short when you see the three men looming on your doorstep.

Before you can recover, a little gray blob scrambles past your ankles, crying like the sky is falling.

“Oh!” Konig gasps in pleasant surprise. “Hallo, Bubchen!”

And all 6-foot-plus of Austrian instantly folds to scoop Guy up. You’ve barely managed a now-useless shout of alarm when Shithead wedges her fat head between your calves. Behind you, Rasputin politely screeches his little chainsmoker call.

And somehow, in the chaos of fumbling for furballs, you end up with all three men in your foyer.

Guy is purring away in Konig’s thick arms. Shithead is attempting to scale Krueger’s tight cargo pants. And Rasputin is pawing the air at Nikto, visibly calculating the jump to his wide shoulders.

Which leaves you with the clean serving platter you dropped off just yesterday. You blink at it for a moment, then glance at them.

“So… the cookies were good then?”

“Very good!” Konig rushes to say. Krueger and Nikto each nod, almost comically solemn.

“We have no baking or cooking skills,” Krueger continues, “so tell us what needs fixing.”

It takes you a moment to understand what he means. The house. He wants to fix your house. It’s surprisingly sweet, and you laugh a bit, shaking your head. “You don’t need to do that, I was just-“

“Is custom,” Nikto interrupts.

Konig nods with all the enthusiasm of a bobblehead as Krueger crosses his arms. (Whatever effect he’s going for is ruined by Shithead clinging to his pocket and screaming.)

“In our country, we bring gifts as guests. Our gift is repairs,” he explains.

You arch your brows playfully. “I don’t remember inviting you to be guests.”

He arches his brows right back. “We did not invite you either.”

Well shit.

“Okay, okay. I guess there’s a couple things…”

Konig perks up. “We would be happy to help, Biene!”

It’s strange having men in the house. You think you should be more nervous about it, can’t remember the last non-family man allowed into your space. Especially alone.

There’s a sharp awareness, of course. Hard not to be aware of them. It’s not just that they’re big, dwarfing all of your you-sized furniture. There’s a presence to them, something felt but not seen by your untrained eye. Maybe it’s in the set of their shoulders, the way they stand with both boots firmly planted. Maybe it’s the precise way they speak and move, not just separately but as a unit. Acting more like a collective consciousness than as individuals.

Whatever it is, you couldn’t ignore them if you tried. And you’re definitely not trying.

You set Krueger to work on the kitchen cabinet you’ve been meaning to replace. He clicks his tongue at the tape-and-lean method you’ve been using to keep the old one in place. Shithead immediately sets to work helping by gnawing at his shoelaces.

Konig is stationed in the guest bathroom, where the sink doesn’t run right. Guy comes mewing into your arms when he’s set down, effectively tattling that his new friend is mean and awful for withholding affection for even a moment.

You try not to visibly hesitate when you corner yourself in your own laundry room. Nikto has followed you right in, seemingly unaware that he’s invading your personal space. He’s not even looking at you though, eyes zeroed in on the dryer you point to.

“It’s not heating up, so the clothes stay wet or take forever to dry,” you explain.

He grunts in acknowledgement, then nods to Rasputin, who has taken up residence on the washer. His one golden eye blinks slow and serene at the two of you.

“What happened?” he asks.

You hum, softening in pleasant surprise at the question.

“I’m not sure how he lost his eye. It was infected when I found him. But I know for sure the tail and leg are from getting hit by a car.”

You sigh, scratching at Rasputin’s chin. A rusty purr starts up as he tilts his head, revealing some nasty scars around his throat.

“The vet said that that’s probably from a fight with another cat,” you add.

Guy steps from your arms to cuddle up to Rasputin, shoving his face into his ragged ear. Grooming time, then. That’s as good an indication as any that Nikto’s probably safe enough.

“I ran down from an office building to save him.” You blink hard, eyes stinging just from the memory. “But anyway, he gets to rest and be pampered now.”

When you glance up from Rasputin’s happy little face, you almost startle at the sharp blue eyes pinning you in place. Your face feels warm, even though you’re not embarrassed.

“I’ll, um, get out of the way,” you say, clearing your throat. “Keep an eye on things, Ras.”

With the men occupied, you find yourself once again at loose ends. You drift towards the den, but it feels awkward to sit on your ass watching TV while your neighbors fix your house.

You check the time on your phone - ignoring the text from your mother - and figure it’s not too early to start dinner.

“Will I be in the way if I start cooking?” you ask Krueger.

He flicks you a dimissive glance. “A little thing like you?”

You scoff and cross to the fridge. “You could have just said no.”

“Nein,” he snorts.

Rude bastard, you think - though not without fondness, unfortunately. The surly attitude is already growing on you.

There’s meat and spare boxes of pasta and veggies - that’ll work. You start tugging out ingredients, mentally doubling portions for your guests. They look like they work out even beyond the construction labor, hopefully you’ll have enough to satisfy their appetites.

“So what’s the plan with the house?” you ask as you get to work. “Just fixing it up to sell or…?”

“We will live there, the three of us,” Krueger answers. He swipes a screwdriver from Shithead’s batting paws. “Somewhere to stay when we are not working.”

You hum, biting back the next obvious question, loathe to become as nosy as the rest of your neighbors. Still… getting to know people, right?

It sounds like they expect to travel a lot. You can’t imagine them as business types - not in the traditional sense anyway. Though the image of Konig sitting in a tiny cubicle does make you smile a bit. Between their statures, their clothes, their shoes, and the occasional nasty scar, you take a guess.

“Are you guys military?”

“Contractor,” Krueger corrects.

You perk up. “Wait, really?”

He scowls. “Does it sound like a joke?”

You huff and turn back to the veggies you’re cutting. “No, no. I just - you know about guns and knives and things, then?”

He pauses. You shoot him a curious glance, only to quickly look away at the intense scrutiny directed your way.

“Yes,” he answers slowly.

“Then… could you maybe answer some questions…?”

His eyes narrow. “Questions?”

You keep your gaze on the cutting board. “Okay, wait, it's not suspicious. I’m a writer and it’s hard to google very specific questions sometimes. It’s just easier to ask an expert in person.”

Never mind that majority of your readers would never know the difference. It bothers you when things aren’t accurate.

He makes a considering noise. “A writer?”

You flush. “That’s what I do. Why I’m always home? I publish fiction.”

He stands, brushing his hands off on his pants. You peek his way, shocked to see a task you’ve been putting off for weeks already done. Hell, it looks sturdier than the rest of the cabinet doors, too.

“And your fiction requires knowledge of guns and knives and ‘things’?” he asks.

Your face feels like it’s on fire. “Sometimes…”

“Fine. I will answer your questions,” he allows.

You beam. “Thank you!”

He grunts, snatches a slice of pepper and pops it into his mouth.

“What else needs doing?”

Dinner ends up much more pleasant than expected. Nikto abstains from eating, you assume because he doesn’t feel comfortable removing his ever-present mask, but he sits at the table with Rasputin in his lap. He speaks little, and has that intense gaze that prickles at your freeze instinct, but you grow used to it as the meal progresses.

Konig, however, becomes chattier with food in his belly. He’s much more forthcoming when he answers your polite and totally casual questions - though you notice Krueger kick him under the table once or twice.

You suppose he gets you back by effectively announcing to the others what your career is. Which just kicks off the usual line of questioning about how and why you got into writing. Still, there’s no judgment from these men that make their living in labors of blood and sacrifice, where you expected censure. You only find genuine curiosity and intrigue, good-natured questions. Not even Krueger makes backhanded comments about it not being a “real” job.

Before you know it, the moon is high and you’re sending the three of them off, bellies full and a little friendlier than before. Nikto nods to you (and Rasputin) as he leaves, a big Tupperware of his dinner portion in hand.

You tell yourself it’s not anticipation that goes through you, knowing they’ll be back with it soon.

Previous | Next

Masterlist

[dizzymoods]

During the Troubles, Civil Rights Leaders went to Ireland to learn about the plight of the Irish people and to support their fight against colonialism.

Standing on the success of their nonviolent principles which led to civil liberties here (to whatever degree the CRM was successful) and in their ignorance of the history of Ireland, they tried to get the IRA to adopt nonviolent, peaceful civil disobedience.

At the end of their tour of Belfast, where they learned the history and politics of Irish resistance, all of them come to the conclusion that here violence is necessary. The Irish have exhausted all other means including nonviolent ones. Even if some of the CRM leaders maintained nonviolence as paramount, they understood that certain exceptions must be made because — regardless of if they approve of violence or not — their job is to support colonized people and follow their lead.

There is a lesson here that we should apply to the Palestinian struggle.

I’ve seen people pearl clutch over seeing so many dead Palestinians as part of the colonial violence of the camera. This misses the point of why those images are being shared.

Last decade many Black americans, myself included, talked about the commodification of Black death. videos of state murder plastered on every news channel 24/7, going viral across social media platforms connected to the legacy of lynching postcards and gator bait. We demonstrated that those videos rarely got an indictment and only once a conviction. Many of the families of these victims of police murder made it clear they don’t want the image of their loved one to be of death. The reason why we share Michael Brown’s graduation photo instead of the photo of his corpse is because Lesley McSpadden demanded it. With all this in mind, we understand that in most cases the sharing of those images are antiblack.

The Palestinians do not have that history. The Nakba never happened, despite israelis calling this the second Nakba. genocide joe said 40 israeli babies were beheaded after it was found out that the story was some wingnut footsoldier’s lie, not even official israeli hasbara. It was like 2 weeks ago that genocide joe said the number of murdered Palestinians (at the time around 5,000 Palestinians were martyred — the number is now over 10,000) was a Hamas lie.

Linguistically there is no murdered Palestinian. All the headlines read “x amount of israelis killed and some palestinians died”. visually there is no dead Palestinian. official israeli hasbara is trying to flood social media with videos of patient-actors getting into place in Indonesian medical training programs to “debunk” the countless videos of martyred Palestinians.

The denial of the scale of israel’s genocide of the Palestinians is so bad that reporters in Gaza are holding dead children in front of press cameras because Palestinians do not die and are not murdered.

The profit motive of these images is actually in their absence. not their over saturation like with Black americans. The west needs israel as a destabilizing force in the middle east. The strategy of the western media then is to bury these images, to not give them a second of attention. So logically the Palestinian strategy is to proliferate these images to show just how horrifying israel’s crimes are.

Two things can be true at the same time; what works for you doesn’t necessarily work for me etc.

The other thing i’m seeing are liberal frameworks to understand genocide. Of particular ire is desirability politics. *jujubee voice* just say white supremacy.

Desirability is tertiary at best. israel is genociding Palestinians because they want control over Gaza and the West Bank (and Lebanon too). They are not genociding Palestinians because Palestinians are “undesirable.” They make Palestinians undesirable to justify taking their land. Talking about this psychoanalytic bullshit distracts from the primary reason for the displacement and mass murder of Palestinians: the taking of their land.

~*desirability*~ is just one way that israel tries to justify its crimes. Desirability is a circular logic that can only make sense once you manufacture its premise irl. It means nothing without the material conditions it claims are true. Its super easy to call someone an animal after you put them in a cage. It’s super easy to call a people dirty savages after you restrict their access to water. It’s super easy to call someone violent after you sequester them in small, barely livable spaces and stress them with bombings and check points.

It’s also — there’s a way in which opposition to something reifies the very thing that you oppose. Toni Morrison continues to beat everybody’s ass. What does it do when you see a baby with half a skull and say “this happened because she is undesirable”? Undesirable to whom? Not me.

Palestinians are not so passive as to oppose white supremacy and desirability. The Palestinian people are a proactive people. Palestine is the issue. Palestine has a people. Palestine has an ecology. Palestine has life. Palestine is life. Palestinians fight for life. life can neither exist nor blossom under white supremacy.

Any analysis that does not begin with this is a distraction. And distractions only benefit the colonizers.

[whim-prone-pirate]

The Moment Each Disruptor Realized Benoit Blanc Was Gay As Hell: A Masterpost

I wasn't kidding when I said I'd do it.

In chronological order...

HELEN

Though Helen isn't technically considered a Disruptor by the rest of the group, I personally believe she's the only real Disruptor among them. That's a different post. Obviously, Helen realized first, as she met Phillip before she met Benoit. I think she assumed at first she had been greeted by some sort of housemaid because Phillip was wearing an apron—Then she saw the sourdough starter. That sold it. She saw Benoit in his stupid little robe and was like Oh fucking of course.

LIONEL

Lionel was obviously studying Benoit on the dock before the Disruptors and Benoit boarded the boat. While Lionel doesn't have the greatest gaydar in the world, as in, he's not looking for it upon meeting most people, he was looking to pick up on anything upon meeting Benoit. Here's this strange dude that none of us know and didn't expect to be here, what's his deal? As Lionel is trying to pick up something from Benoit, Claire starts fangirling over Benoit's previous case about the ballet dancer and Benoit says, "I'm obviously familiar with you all as well—Governor, Dr. Toussaint... Miss Birdie Jay." The way he talks to Birdie and says her name... Lionel understood. Unfortunately, Birdie did not. At all.

PEG

Also not a Disruptor but she's so important to me. Peg is a lesbian. She clocked Benoit as soon as she saw his outfit and heard his accent, but she was absolutely sure of it when she saw how he reacted to the anti-covid throat spray.

MILES

Miles' moment was difficult for me to pin down, mostly because he's fucking stupid and there is certainly a chance that he never realized at all. But, for the sake of the post, let's say that Miles noticed something was different about Benoit when he pulled him aside into the Glass Onion to ask why Benoit was there. When Miles said, "Someone reset the box. They sent it to you as a gag," and Benoit was so shocked that he raised his hand to his chest like a southern woman clutching her pearls... Miles still didn't get it, he was so caught up in his upset. But, after the ordeal in the Glass Onion, off-screen and on his own time, Miles thought about the interaction again, specifically that exact moment that I mentioned, and had the realization. Miles is so full of himself that he thought he was a genius for realizing.

WHISKEY

Whiskey saw him wearing a matching top-and-bottom bathing suit and a little scarf thing in a pool and absolutely understood. She didn't care at all, but she understood. Benoit was also the only one to have an open glass while walking (WALKING) through the pool. While I can't say for certain, it looks like the drink itself is just iced water with a lime. I think Benoit is one of the only people there who isn't drinking alcohol at the pool. That's not very important but I think it just adds to his whole ensemble.

BIRDIE

Of course, Birdie was one of the last to realize, or at least get a little hint of it. She had been hitting on Benoit since the first time she spoke to him at the dock. But, the moment that he said, "I'm going to embarrass myself here; I adore Sweetie Pants. I live in mine," she never made a move on him again. I think, based on the name, Sweetie Pants is a feminine clothing line and Birdie likely intended for women to wear the pants. After Benoit admits to not only wearing them, but loving them, she finally backs off. Immediately after Benoit says that, Miles begins talking about Birdie's career, and Birdie kinda smirks and bumps her eyebrows while gesturing towards Benoit. This could be taken to be her reaction to Miles' praise of her, but given Birdie's character and the context in which Miles is talking about this, I think it makes more sense for this to be Birdie's reaction to Benoit being very obviously gay. She gestures to him, like, "Oh my God, he wears Sweetie Pants, that's so gay. Benoit is gay, guys, do you see what I'm seeing?" Yes, Birdie. They do see it. You were the last one to see it.

CLAIRE

Claire was hard for me to define as well. She was so caught up in Klear and the aftermath of Andi's trial leading up to Duke's murder that I really don't think she was paying enough attention to Benoit to actually get it. I honestly believe that the first time she ever thought about Benoit as a person instead of as a detective that she thinks is really cool is when she was drunk in the minutes leading up to Duke's death. She didn't talk much because Miles was making his speech and dancing with Birdie, so I think she was looking around the room, landed on Benoit, and was too buzzed to really think about it too hard, so she had the very fleeting, yet eloquent thought of, "He's... gay. Yeah." She always kinda knew in the back of her mind, ever since the dock, but never got the chance to think about it.

DUKE

Duke never realized. I think he was on the cusp of getting it every time he was in an area with Benoit since the pool scene, but he's so alt-right that he thought in his head, "Haha! Benoit's kinda weird. That's so gay," because we all know he uses gay as a playful insult, but he never actually considered it a possibility. Then he died. Womp womp.

This is the most important post I've ever made. I appreciate the three people who asked me to make it.

(inspired by @mylasttwobraincellsandi and their post about the sweetie pants scene)

[cto10121]

Seriously, Why Did Shakespeare Make Juliet 13?

One common trope among the annals of R&J clownery is the matter of Juliet’s age, which never fails to send clowns into a frothy spiral of pearl-clutching, hand-wringing agita (Romeo’s age, meanwhile, is never a cause of much paternalistic concern). But it’s worth asking the question, especially since:

His sources for the tale feature a much older Juliet and of course, Romeo. Why the change?

13 was considered too young to be married even by Shakespeare’s time; for the lower classes it was almost unheard of. Only children by nobility were betrothed that young, and chiefly for political alliance.

So there is a bit of a ~mystery. There have been many theories, some more likelier than others. Let’s count the ways.

1. Social Criticism: The Bad Old Days(tm)

This is most likely the case, tying into the fact that early modern Englishmen and women married in their late 20s as the norm. Even Shakespeare was at least 18 when he married his 27-year-old wife.

Nobility did betroth their young children for alliance, but it was understood by the late 1500s that 13-14 year-old girls were too young to bear children safely. A delay of a year or two before marital consummation was the norm. Shakespeare may have wanted to reflect that reality for his multi-class audience.

Also, Shakespeare was adapting a history set in the 1300s, during De La Scala’s rule in Verona. If Shakespeare had wanted to clue his audience in that this tragedy was set during the Bad Old Catholic Days, making Lady Capulet and the Nurse encourage their 13-year-old to consider marriage and explain that girls as young as she were already married would set those 🚩🚩🚩 🚩 a-waving for a 1590s audience. There is definitely an attempt to problematize the Capulets. Sure enough, we do have contemporary accounts mentioning a “tyrant” Capulet.

So Shakespeare’s audience (and we) would immediately understand the critique and also the dramatic stakes for Juliet—what kind of family she has been raised in, and the danger she would soon be in for merely resisting her father’s will.

2. Social Criticism: The Disempowerment of Youth

In de-aging his lovers, Shakespeare may have wanted to emphasize just how much Romeo and Juliet are at the mercy of their families. They have a degree of agency and autonomy, more so on Romeo’s part since he is undoubtedly older. But otherwise they are largely dependent on their families, and thus more vulnerable to the (deadly) consequences of their feud.

That’s why they don’t even consider fleeing Verona—not that it wouldn’t be just as stupid an idea even if they were older. But actual minors out in the world is a recipe for disaster.

3. The Power of (First) Love

Shakespeare may have wanted to make sure R&J had as little romantic experience as possible to drive home this point. While 13 was considered too young for marriage, love was a different matter. Even now the average age of first romantic experience for most people is 13-16. Romeo is hung up on Rosaline, but doesn’t seem to know her well at all or made much of an effort to woo her. And Juliet honestly is not thinking of marriage.

That said, there are some things in the play that go against R&J having no romantic experience prior to this. Romeo is impatient with Rosaline’s chastity vow and overall does not value chastity much. He also does not hesitate to pursue and woo Juliet. Juliet picks up on the flirtation right away without so much as a “whut” and tells Romeo that he kisses “by th’book.” She also warns Romeo that if he has no intention of marrying her, to leave her “to her grief.” Kids grow up so fast, I guess.

All of this may just be a sign of their instant chemistry rather than any prior romantic experience, though. As soon as they meet each other it’s as if they have grown by like 3-5 years older lol. And R&J are just as likely to experience first love at 16/18 as 13/17. But it does show that Shakespeare and his time were well aware erotic attachments began on the younger side.

4. Practical Theater Stuff

As Shakespeare’s troupe was all men, with young boys playing women, it would make sense for Shakespeare to write closer to the actor for Juliet. 13/14/15-year-old boy=13-year-old female character. Audience verisimilitude, and all that.

He may not have been necessarily 13, though, so again, weak sauce. And Elizabethans accepted such a whole host of artificial stage conventions that I doubt they would have really had their Suspension of Disbelief threatened by an older boy as Juliet.

Bonus: Adaptations

Due to vastly changing attitudes and norms, Juliet’s age has been changed for modern adaptations, for various different reasons, many valid. Those that have kept her age intact, though, have not always understood the social criticism and deliberate purpose behind Shakespeare’s decision to age his lovers down. Hence you get a lot of 13-going-on-3 Juliets and casting kid-looking actresses in the role general. If not, then she is portrayed as more immature and energetic than the text ever suggests, from tomboyish to typical girly-girl playing with her dollies (🤮).

Ditto for Romeo. Romeo’s age is not specified in the text, but casting directors have rarely aged him down to Juliet’s canonical age (the closest is probably the Polish and Cocciante musicals with really baby faced Romeos). More often, to compensate, Romeo’s actors have simply played him as more boyish and immature than even his part reads—a caricature of a teen boy as a more “fitting” partner for a more child-like Juliet.

All much ado about nothing, imo. Shakespeare would probably not give a groat if you raise Juliet’s age, so long the cruelty of the forced marriage is conveyed. With the expansion of childhood, the delay of marriage, and the rampant neo Puritanism, 16 is very much the new 13. Even so, with the age gap discourse, the clownery about Romeo being a Creepy Italian Groomer has only grown worse.

[emma-is-swaggy-and-epic]

Idk if people still talk about this but i never really understood the discourse in the FNAF fandom back in 2016 where people were saying shit like "YOU CAN'T SHIP THE ANIMATRONICS TOGETHER BECAUSE THEY HAVE DEAD CHILDREN IN THEM AND THEREFORE YOU'RE SHIPPING THE DEAD CHILDREN!!!!" 'Cause like.....idk about you but as a former FNAF kid, i didn't really look at characters like foxy or chica and think "holy fuck these guys have CHILDREN in them!!!!!" Like, YEAH i knew that was part of the lore but most of the time i just thought "hee hoo funy robot go brrrr :)))))"

Basically what i'm getting at is that most people didn't really like the animatronics for the dead children in them, they just liked the designs of the characters and their implied personalities so idk why so many people (ESPECIALLY those who partook in cringe culture) felt the need to pearl-clutch THAT badly

[amessageonthewind]

September Selfship Prompts Challenge

29. Free day!

Pairing: Adaman/Rachel during Legends: Arceus (spoiler alert for really far along in the timeline)

Author's note: Clue and Hint are OCs that belong to my buddy @kammyclues

Content Warning: Pregnancy and discussions surrounding it (abortion as an option is not stated outright, but is implied).

          “Are you feeling okay, Rachel?” She awoke to a constant queasiness. It made her unmotivated to eat anything out of fear of not being able to keep it down, and clearly Cedric was worried. She wasn’t sure where this came from or what was wrong. She didn’t feel sick otherwise, she was just a bit nauseous.

          Getting up and walking, she very quickly realized that she would not be able to do much or even any survey work, today. She was definitely too sick to work. Hopefully Captain Cyllene would be understanding. “Yeah, yeah…I’m just gonna…take it easy, today.”

          Putting on her everyday kimono, Rachel hobbled towards the door in her sandals, Cedric having hopped onto her shoulder. Not only could he feel the discomfort and uneasiness from his trainer, but there was a strange scent around her that he couldn’t identify. She seemed different, but he couldn’t place why.

          It was definitely strange.

          Hobbling out the door, she weakly greeted any of the villagers that passed by. Rachel hated that they could immediately tell that something was wrong with her. There was no doubt that they were concerned about her, but she just really didn’t want to deal with people, right now.

          Walking into the Galaxy Hall, Rachel walked forward into her captain’s office and before she could even say a word, Cyllene interjected her thoughts. “You don’t look well.” She commented idly.

          “Shit…is it that obvious?” Stupid question, of course it was. “I woke up feeling pretty nauseous, so I don’t think I can work, today. I’m sorry, captain.”

          “Understood. Take it easy and please take as much time as you need to recover.” Captain Cyllene replied, not even missing a beat as she went through papers on her desk. “If you need any medical supplies, please visit the Medical Corp for anything you may need.”

          Maybe she’d consult them for painkillers or anti-nausea agents if it got bad enough. “Thank you, Captain.” Rachel said, taking her leave and clutching her stomach. She didn’t want to stay in her lodge today. It wasn’t like she had a lot of things to entertain herself on her own time. And she couldn’t really go out and do her usual leisurely activities when she was out on her own.

          And as much as Rachel enjoyed her workshop, she really didn’t feel like going there, either.

          Maybe she should just do nothing and get some fresh air. Prelude Beach is pretty far from everyone…maybe I can go there and relax for a bit and hope this’ll go away. After all, she could even let her Pokémon out to roam and relax for a bit away from the village.

          As Rachel hobbled away, clutching her stomach with Cedric worrying on her shoulder, one of the Pearl Clan’s wardens was observing from afar. He had recently begun to station himself at the battle arena run by the Security Corp’s captain, Zisu, to challenge people with more challenging battles. Ones more reminiscent of his time and his world.

          Ingo was a faller, much like Rachel. In-fact, she seemed rather familiar to him, if incredibly vaguely. But he was still worried when he saw her. She looked like she was off. “Zone out for a bit, did you there, Ingo?” Zisu asked, the tall and rather muscular woman warmly asked, interrupting the man’s thoughts.

          “Just noting a few minor safety concerns with Miss Rachel, is all.” Ingo replied, tipping his hat politely to her. It was one of the things that still connected him to where he came from, to his memory. It was torn a bit, some of the stuffing sticking out, but he had never felt inclined to repair it, or his jacket. Somehow he felt that if he did, he would have a more difficult time remembering. “She looks like she’s ill and I’m worried she’ll neglect her health. Although she is very competent when working with Pokémon, she seems to have a habit of pushing her engine beyond its limits.”

          Following his line of sight, Zisu followed Rachel’s walking path until she saw the woman emerge close to the gate on the other side of the village. “Well, it looks like she’s just heading to Prelude Beach.” She commented, hoping to ease some of Ingo’s worries. “So, at least she isn’t far if something happens to her.”

          “Mm.” The man hummed. He kept a hold on his hat. It helped him centre his thoughts and think clearly. He didn’t want her to potentially collapse in the sun. She had woken up rather late and the sun had just passed its highest peak. It wouldn’t be good for her to be out in the sun if she were ill.

          Zisu could tell that Ingo was still worried. So, she gently place a hand on his shoulder. “Hey. If you need to go check on her, go ahead. I can hold down the fort on my own.”

          Glancing up at her, Ingo nodded gratefully. “Thank you, Miss Zisu.” As he looked towards where he saw Rachel go, he began to walk away. “It seems an engine check will be necessary.”

          As he followed her walking path, it was rather easy to find her. She didn’t go very far and her Pokémon were all out of their Pokéballs. The woman had found a shaded tree to sit beneath, her Zorua in her lap. Cedric, his name was. The rest of her Pokémon, while they were trying to enjoy the fresh air and the open space, they were all hovering a distance from their trainer. They seemed to be just as concerned about her as he was.

          Approaching, Ingo tipped his hat to his friend, noticing that she was on the verge of dozing off. “Don’t be lulled asleep by the afternoon sunshine.” He said, waking her from her groggy exhaustion. It was easy to see that she was not well and it only added to his concern. “I believe it’s time to start up your engines and get back on track.”

          Rachel groaned. She knew Ingo was right, but she just felt awful and the meditation outside wasn’t helping much. As much as she appreciated the concern of all of her Pokémon, it was getting to be a bit much. They were all acting a bit weird and she couldn’t figure out why. When she pressed them for an answer, none of them had one.

          All they could give her was that she ‘smelled odd,’ whatever that meant. “I don’t feel well, Ingo…” She admitted, hunched over her own stomach. It felt like she was getting worse and she wasn’t sure what to do about it.

          While Ingo was concerned, he didn’t want to push her, either. If she wasn’t feeling well, he needed to be gentle with her and take it slow. He needed to go at her pace. “Shall I delay departure?”

          Ingo’s strange phrases and parlance confused many people in Hisui, but they somehow made perfect sense to Rachel. It was very easy to understand what he was saying through context. Sometimes it seemed that they understood each other better than anyone else understood them, but outwardly, Rachel was the less odd one…somehow.

          She shook her head, standing up and still clutching her stomach tightly. “No, no. I’m not, like…sick. Just a bit nauseous, but it’s probably nothing.”

          As though the universe sought to prove her wrong, she suddenly felt a sickly gurgle in her tummy that rose up and immediately, her gag reflex activated. She couldn’t stop it, and she had no choice but to throw up the few contents in her stomach that were there. She swiftly turned away to throw up behind the tree.

          The sickly retching noises were further cause for concern for Ingo, but he knew well enough to know that sometimes throwing up could alleviate the sickly feeling, depending on what was causing the nausea. He had a vague memory of struggling with it when he was a child. Motion sickness, he was pretty sure. But from what, he couldn’t remember and he knew he no longer struggled with it, now. “I believe a track change will be necessary.”

          Once she was done throwing up, Rachel stood up, breathing heavily. She hated the feeling of throwing up and she couldn’t stand it when other people vomited. It was one of the few things that viscerally made her feel ill just by proxy. Her Pokémon were all worriedly crowding around her, but she waved them all off.

          Admittedly, she did feel better after throwing up, but maybe sitting outside wouldn’t be much help. Hint does have some good teas…I think she has one for stomachaches. Maybe she has something for nausea. “Could I ask you to escort me to Hint’s home?”

          Ingo nodded, tipping his hat. She was a dear friend to the both of them and he couldn’t think of a safer place close by for Rachel to go other than the village itself. “Of course. I’ll be happy to ensure your safe arrival to your destination.”

          “Thank you, Ingo.” Rachel replied, picking up Cedric and summoning her Pokémon back into their Pokéballs.

          Nodding, Ingo suddenly went rigid and performed his signature pose, his right hand pointing forward and his left hand stuck out to the side and his hand pointing down. “All aboard!”

          Rachel couldn’t help but chuckle. Of all the friends she had made in Hisui since her arrival, Ingo was the only one who truly understood her. They understood each other. Not only because they were both from a time and place not here, not only because they both lost their memories (Rachel having regained most of hers, with some gaps in-between), but because they both had their unique quirks. They understood each other. Ingo didn’t need anyone to translate for him or try to ‘act normal’ around her.

          And she didn’t need to do the reverse. She could trust him fully.

          Ingo and his Pokémon – namely his Alakazam and his Gliscor – kept a sort of bodyguard over both of them as they walked north towards Hint’s retreat. Not that Rachel was concerned, but her Pokémon insisted on protecting her just as fervently. So, Vendetta, her Zoroark, and Stormfast, her Samurott, both volunteered to be Rachel’s protection on the way there.

          Thankfully, the nausea was no longer overwhelming like before. It was still there, somewhat, but it was incredibly mild compared to what it was initially. She did have a stomachache, though. Hopefully Hint would have something for her. She somehow always expected Rachel and knew what to put on for her before she even asked.

          Psychic powers, she supposed. She reminded her so much of Clue…maybe she could bring him some tips on how to control his and manage them better. “Shall we get off, here?”

          Rachel nodded, smiling warmly at Ingo. “Yeah, I think I’ll be okay, now. Thank you for the escort, Ingo.”

          He tipped his hat. “It was my pleasure, Miss Rachel. If you need me again, come by my station.”

          Nodding again, Rachel waved him off, making her way past the flower fields towards the house. It was built in the same style as the ones in Jubilife Village, which she did ask about out of curiosity. Hint used to live in there along with everyone else, but because of her oddities and her struggles with boundaries, she was not so subtly asked to move away to ‘survey’ this area and was given the materials to live there permanently.

          A rather hurtful thing to do, but she pretended to play dumb and she seemed happier, now. There was a great deal of freedom to her lifestyle and she didn’t have to worry about accidentally putting anyone off in her own company. Besides, whoever came to visit her came because they wanted to, not because they felt obligated to.

          Walking along the aromatic field, Rachel smiled at the little honeycombs left out for the Bug Pokémon to attract to, rather than Hint’s home. She was afraid of them, and Rachel took what Clue taught her and passed it on.

          How strange that they were so alike, and yet so different. Even though Clue had his mask on most of the time, Rachel saw Hint’s smile in him. He creased his eyes the same way she did when he smiled. It was a warming feeling…to think that someone could echo through the ages in such a way.

          She needed to tell him when she saw him again.

          “I would say I wasn’t expecting company today.” Her airy voice called out from the deck of her home as she emerged, her Espeon, Darcy, by her side greeting her. “But you know that that would be a lie.”

          Rachel smiled as she greeted Hint, already seeing a cup of tea in her hand as the woman’s Psychic-type Pokémon came out to meet her own, whom all emerged from their Pokéballs to make conversation. “Is that cup for me?”

          Hint chuckled brightly as she walked over to hand it to her, putting a hand on her backside to guide her into her home. “You know me so well.” Rachel figured Hint knew what was wrong. She always did before she even showed up. “You weren’t out doing Survey Corp work in your condition, were you?”

          “No, no. I asked Captain Cyllene for the day off and she gave me it without any questions or resistance.” Rachel said, taking a seat by the table on the cushion provided to sip her tea. There was a slight ginger taste to it, which made sense. It was good for stomachaches and nausea. “I did throw up before I made the trip here, though…but I feel better now.”

          “And you’ll feel even better once you finish drinking that tea.” It was almost a scolding, but Hint knew it wasn’t entirely Rachel’s fault. Besides, she was taking care of herself and not going out to do work in her condition. Any effort Rachel took to properly look after herself was appreciated on Hint’s part, especially after the whole exile fiasco the poor thing was subjected to. “It was very kind of Ingo to escort you here.”

          “It was.” Rachel agreed, taking another sip of tea. Already, its contents were soothing her stomach pains and making her feel a lot better. Cedric was lying beside her comfortably, relieved that she was already feeling better. The Zorua had gotten used to the presence of Hint’s Psychic-type Pokémon, her Kirlias were particularly eccentric, but friendly. “I could’ve gone myself, but I could tell he was worried and I wanted to put his mind at ease, too.”

          “As you should. If you keep going about all recklessly the way you do, you’ll have Adaman worried into an early grave.” Hint scolded properly. She knew how much that man fussed over Rachel and with a third member of their little unit on the way, Rachel couldn’t afford to be reckless, anymore.

          Rachel scoffed, rolling her eyes. It was sweet of Hint to worry, and she knew that if Adaman were here, he would be dropping everything just to tend to her and make sure she was taken care of. He was a sweetheart that way. “Eh, I’m sure I would’ve been fine. He knows I’m a tough cookie.”

          “Yes, but it’s not just him that’ll worry about you. And not just you he’ll worry about.” Hint insisted, hoping to instill a sense of caution in Rachel’s head with the current circumstances.

          The shorter woman raised an eyebrow at Hint. “What? My Pokémon? They’ll be fine, they’re stronger than me. Why should anyone but me be worried about them?” Although she said that, she was worried about them. “Then again, they have been acting really weird, today…they said I had a weird smell, but I’m really not sure what that’s about. I’ve been keeping on top of my hygiene, so I have no clue.”

          As Rachel took another sip of the tea that Hint had brewed her, she realized that what she thought was mutually shared knowledge between them was not. Hint knew, but Rachel did not. “Oh…oh dear…you don’t know, do you?”

          That caught Rachel off-guard as she paused mid-sip. She knew that Hint had a tendency to know things before she did, but there was something concerning about how she hesitated, now. “Know what?”

          Oh dear. Now, this felt like an invasion of privacy. Drat, she really should’ve known better than to assume. “I’m sorry, I…should not have said that. Erm…please forgive me.”

          She knew that Hint was just trying to save face, believing she’d committed a social blunder, but now Rachel was really worried. What did Hint know that Rachel didn’t? “Hint…? Is there something I should know?”

          Hint wasn’t sure if she should say it outright. Rachel might not believe her if she did, and she might get upset with her. She really should’ve thought this through, but she supposed there was no avoiding it. Besides, it was better that she knew now rather than later. Then, she could properly prepare.

          But how to put it…? “Um, well…you see, erm…how to say his delicately…” Hint hemmed and hawed as she awkwardly laughed to try and shake off the nerves she suddenly felt before she finally came out with it. “When was your last…erm…bleed?”

          “My last…?”

          Suddenly, the realization struck her. She hadn’t been keeping track of her cycles since keeping track of time passing was difficult enough. She kept a journal of each day that had gone by, but she didn’t think to keep track of her cycles. But surely… “No no, you-you can’t mean…there’s no way that I’m…”

          She tried to think. No, she and Adaman had been careful. They had a way of dealing with it afterwards – as bitter and revolting as the ‘morning after’ drink was, but it was working. They were careful.

          But Rachel had to keep track of the timelines. When was the last time they’d…?

          Unfortunately, as she counted the days in her head, it made perfect sense. There was no other explanation. No wonder her Pokémon were acting weird and no wonder she felt so sick, today.

          She was sure that the realization was showing on her face because now Hint looked especially worried. “Shit.”

          Cedric could feel the mounting emotions that were beginning to peak in Rachel. The panic, the sinking feeling, and the confusion and distress. “Rachel…?” Hint was one of the few people in Hisui he felt comfortable speaking around.

          “I…” Rachel could barely think. She could barely even process anything happening right now. She was…she was really… “I need to find Adaman.”

          “Right now?” Hint asked, worried. “Are you sure you’re in any condition to travel right now? It could be dangerous.”

          “I can handle it, Hint.” Rachel insisted, getting up (and taking another sip before setting the cup on the table). “There’s no time to waste, I need to talk to him about this now.”

          Cedric got up as well, following her. “Alright, then let’s call Wyrdeer and get there as fast as we can.”

          “No!” Rachel didn’t mean to shout, but her emotions were so high right now that she had a difficult time controlling them and maintaining her composure. “No, this is something I need to talk to Adaman about alone. You stay here with Hint. And when I come back, we can talk about it then, okay?”

          Cedric didn’t like being separated from his trainer, especially after everything they’d been through. He didn’t like not knowing what was happening to her or if she was alright, but this was a conversation that just needed to be between them. At least right now. They needed to figure this situation out before anything else.

          But he still couldn’t help but worry. “You’re sure you’ll be okay?”

          “I’ll take the others with me.” Rachel assured him. “If I get in trouble, they’ll have my back. But we’ll talk about it when I get back. I promise.”

          He was still terribly worried, but he couldn’t argue with her. “Okay…please be careful, okay?”

          “I will. I promise, Cedric.” Rachel swore, bending down to kiss his forehead and spin on her heel, calling out to her Pokémon. “Guys! We’re going to the Crimson Mirelands!”

          She didn’t take Wyrdeer to the mirelands. For once, she beseeched almighty Sinnoh’s aid and used her Arc Phone to teleport to the mirelands and then straight to the Diamond Settlement. There really was no time to waste. She needed to talk to Adaman straight away. She didn’t even greet anyone else as she sprinted by. She knew she was causing some confusion, but she didn’t care.

          Rachel needed to find their leader.

          Sure enough, he was easy to find. These days, he was often contemplating by Lake Valour quietly on its shore. As soon as she saw him in the distance, she called out to him. Probably louder than she intended. “ADAMAN!”

          It wasn’t often that Rachel raised her voice like this. She was naturally loud, to be fair – she had a rather strong voice. But it was rare for her to properly raise it, especially that much. And with how fast she was running towards him, and the fact that Cedric – her constant companion – was nowhere to be found, he immediately began to worry about her. Even when she met him, she nearly barreled into him causing him to stagger on his feet. “Woah! Hey, slow down. What’s going on, Rachel?”

          “I need to talk to you.” She said immediately, not wasting any time. “In private.”

          The urgency in her voice could not be understated. Immediately, Adaman guided Rachel, a comforting hand on her back, back towards the settlement and corralled her into his tent away from prying eyes. He wouldn’t have any speculation about her, not when she was clearly distressed about something.

          Once they had complete privacy, Adaman let out a heavy sigh and sat her down on the nearest bed, a hand on her knee as he leaned against her. He held her against him, an arm around her to help her feel more comfortable. She was always inclined towards his physical touch and he knew he was a comfort for her.

          In the quiet of the tent, Adaman pried gently. “Is something wrong?”

          That…was difficult to answer. It wasn’t even that it was necessarily something wrong, it was just something urgent. “No? Yes…? Maybe…?”

          “Wow…if you can’t even give me a straight answer, it must be serious.” His attention was fully on her, only wanting to help the woman he loved work through whatever had her so thrown off that she couldn’t even think clearly. “How about you start from the beginning and we go from there?”

          Looking into his calm eyes, Rachel forced herself to take a few deep breaths, not realizing how fast her heart was going until she took a second to wind down for a moment to calmly explain what was happening. “Okay.” She breathed, managing to compose herself and organize her thoughts enough so that she could explain this to him. How was he going to react? She was scared, but she needed to talk to him about this first before anything else. “So, I woke up late and feeling sick, this morning. Nothing serious! Just nauseous, so Captain Cyllene gave me the day off to take care of myself. Ingo was worried about me, so he escorted me to Hint’s place.”

          Adaman nodded along. Aside from the sickness, nothing else seemed to be wrong. “This sounds pretty mundane for you. What happened when you were there?”

     ��    This was the difficult part for her to confess. The part she was most worried about. This could change their relationship and Rachel was terrified of how it would change. She didn’t want him to hate her and she didn’t want to be given any reason to hate him. There were so many emotions going through her and she had no idea what to do with any of them.

          But she needed to talk about it. “Well, uh…she made me tea, and we talked for a bit. And, uh…you see…the thing is – what I’m trying to say is…um…” Come on, out with it! Just say it! Adaman was patient as ever, knowing that this was incredibly unlike Rachel to tiptoe around a subject. He didn’t want to pressure her or make her worrying worse. “She, uh…she told me…we found out…that…”

          Rachel couldn’t even meet his gaze anymore, looking away and folding her hands together, covering her nose and mouth as she struggled to say what she needed to say. It needed to be said. Nothing could be done about it if she didn’t.

          Finally managing to work up the courage, she managed to finally speak it aloud. “I’m pregnant.” She croaked.

          Sound itself seemed to cease for a moment. Silence hung in the air between them. Time itself seemed to stretch for what felt like hours, but in reality were only a few minutes. Once the confession was spoken aloud, the reality began to sink in. This was very serious and this needed to be talked about, but gently. It was very clear to Adaman that Rachel was very distressed about this, and he…well, his opinions and emotions didn’t really matter, at least not yet.

          Was he excited at the prospect of potentially being a father? Admittedly, yes. There was a little spark in his chest that ignited at the thought of having a baby with Rachel, and he’d be lying if he didn’t imagine them as a family together. Was he also terrified for her sake and for the future? He was, of course. Fear and joy existed simultaneously.

          But he knew that all of them being together as a family for the rest of time was impossible. Rachel still had every intention of returning home to her timeline, to her family, to Zinnia. He loved her, he loved her so much, and he knew she returned that, even if she couldn’t say it for her own sake. But his priority was her happiness, and that meant he needed to get her home.

          What would a child do to that? How would a child affect that? She could have both, if that was what she wanted. Even if Rachel has the baby and goes back to her timeline anyways, Adaman would be alright with that. The clans both communally raised their children, so he wouldn’t be alone to raise the baby. Everyone would love them… He couldn’t help but think.

          But none of that mattered if it wasn’t something Rachel wanted. She needed to come first. “How are you feeling about it?”

          That took her by surprise. She expected him to have a reaction of some kind. Fear? Anger? No, he would never be angry at her for this. They both held the responsibility for this. Maybe joy? But none of that. Instead, he asked about her first. And she had no clue how to respond. “I don’t know…!” She was quite frankly baffled, meeting his gaze once more. All she could see was quiet concern. She wasn’t sure what she felt about that. It wasn’t anger, but it was something adjacent to it. “How are you so calm about this?!”

          Her bafflement he supposed made sense, but he was still rather taken off-guard by it. “I just want to know how I can best support you.” Adaman replied calmly, trying to help her not panic or freak out.

          Why did that make her more upset? He was saying the right things, so why did that make her feel upset? “Don’t you have any kind of opinion? What do you think about this?”

          “What I think is that what I think doesn’t matter unless I can know how best to support you.” Adaman insisted. He was confused by her emotional reaction. He was saying the right things, wasn’t he? He was in no position to tell her what to think or how to feel. All he wanted to do was support her, but he felt like he was already failing at that. “This affects you more directly than it affects me. You’re the one who will be on the receiving end of the worst of the consequences of this. So it doesn’t matter what I think or what my opinions are, here. You’re the one whose choice matters most.”

          Rachel was growing more upset and more confused. Why was this making her so upset? Adaman was doing everything right, but instead of comfort and reassurance, it was making her angry and it was making her scared and upset. It didn’t make any sense and it only served to confuse and overwhelm her further. “How…how can you possibly be okay with this?!” She blurted out, unable to control her emotions or keep calm any longer. Was this the hormones because of the pregnancy? Oh great almighty, it was already affecting her. “I-I have to go home! I have a family I need to get back to, and now I’m pregnant with your child! I still need to do that – I’m going to do that – and you’re somehow okay with this?! I don’t understand! Why?! Aren’t you hurt? Upset? Angry? Anything?! Why are you so calm about all of this?!”

          “About what? You being pregnant? You leaving?” Adaman asked, trying to understand the root of why she was suddenly so upset at him.

          “YES! ALL OF IT!” She raised her voice and realized that she actually yelled at him. The look on his face as he recoiled from the volume stuck a thorn in her fragile chest. She never did that before and she immediately felt guilty about it and got up, turning her back to him. She couldn’t even look at him as she paced around the room. “I don’t understand how you can just be okay with the decisions I’ve been making! I don’t understand why you would be in a relationship with me if you knew it wasn’t going to last. I know you accepted that at the start, and it made sense…before this.

          “But now you don’t have an opinion? You don’t have any feelings whatsoever about me being pregnant with your child? Knowing I have every intention of leaving?! Why aren’t you hurt? Why aren’t you upset or angry with me?! Why are you so…so…?!” It was completely unreasonable for her to be so angry with him for what, exactly? Being kind? Supportive? Why was she so fucking upset?!

          “Of course I’m hurt!” Adaman blurted out, unable to keep calm under this barrage of chaotic and intense emotions. “It’s painful! It’s painful to know that not just you, but everyone I know could be gone at any moment! It’s painful knowing that no matter what happens, you’ll be gone! Of course I have opinions on this!” He didn’t mean to lose his composure, but it was impossible to keep under these circumstances, the man clenching and unclenching his fists in an attempt to calm down. “But I knew that from the start. I knew you had somewhere to go back to, and I accepted that. Even though I knew…it was going to hurt. What am I supposed to reasonably do? Force you to stay? Keep you here? I could never ask you to do that! I would never want you to give your life up just to stay with me! You have a history and a life that existed before you met me. I knew that and I accepted it since the start.”

          She should’ve been comforted and reassured by that. Rachel should’ve found something soothing in that, but she couldn’t. But what was anger was replaced by sorrow. Why would he hurt himself like this? Why would he deliberately do this to himself? “Why…?” Rachel cried, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. She felt like her heart was being crushed in her chest. “Why would you do that? Why would you let this happen? No, that’s stupid to say. I’m just as responsible…”

         This wasn’t even Adaman’s fault. This was hers. She did this to him, knowing what her decisions were going to be. Who was she to blame the victim in all of this? It was her decision to pursue this relationship despite knowing that she had a home to go back to. Was she lonely? Desperate? In despair? Maybe.

         But Adaman didn’t deserve to suffer for it. How could she do this to him? “Why did I let this happen…?” She whimpered, less talking to him and more just…talking because she needed to talk. Emotions needed to come out, whether she wanted them to or not. “I never meant to hurt you – I never wanted to hurt you. But I did this…I let this happen.”

         She swallowed thickly, tears spilling from her tight and sore eyes and flowing like lava down her cheeks. She couldn’t stop herself from weeping quietly, back turned to Adaman. She didn’t dare look to see the hurt on his face. “Why did I let myself waste so much of your time and effort…?”

         There was no way Rachel understood how hurtful that was for him to hear. It felt like a knife going through his chest for the woman he loved and admired so much to think that she was a waste of his time. Time that was valuable that he enjoyed spending with her. He had never felt anything as painful as this. That Rachel thought she wasn’t worth his time so much that she felt guilty for wasting it.

         He wasn’t one to cry in front of others, or even at all. Not that he didn’t, just not very often, but he couldn’t stop himself from tearing up. The last thing he ever wanted was for Rachel to think that she wasn’t worth being in his life or that she was somehow a burden on his. And deep down, he knew she wasn’t saying any of this to hurt him. Some part of him was realizing that the decisions she was making and sticking to were incredibly difficult for her to make, and the more attached to him she got, the more difficult that was.

         That was why she wanted his opinion so badly. She needed some kind of reason to make her decisions easier to make for herself, even if that meant pushing him away. Because deep down…she was afraid. She was afraid she was going to make a decision she was going to regret, and she was desperately searching for some way to make that decision easier to make.

         Taking a deep breath to calm himself down, clenching and unclenching his fists, he stood up and walked towards her. “Rachel.” He said sternly, unable to keep the hurt out of his tone of voice. “I need you to listen to me right now.”

         Her heart stopped for a moment, hearing the sharpness behind his words. This was what she was afraid of. She pushed it too far, and now he hated her. This was it. The moment he denounced her and decided she wasn’t worth keeping around anymo- “I need you to never say that again.” He said, his hands on her shoulders. But very quickly, his arms snaked underneath hers and wrapped around her, pressing his chest against her backside and pressing his cheek into the back of her head. Wait…were his cheeks wet?

         Oh…she made him cry. Exactly what she didn’t want. All the more reason for her to leave him behind. All she would do now was hurt- “You are not, never have been, and never will be a waste of my time.” His voice shook with emotion as he held her, arms trembling slightly. Rachel had never seen him like this and she couldn’t even see him. She was still afraid to turn around and look at him. “It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been in my life, I will never regret the time I’ve spent with you. What we have will never be a waste of my time just because it was brief.”

         This wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair for Adaman to be so kind. So selfless. This wasn’t fair. He was supposed to make this easier for her to do, not harder. He was supposed to give her an easy out of this, but instead she had to face it. “Why would you do this…why would you want this if you knew you were going to be hurt? If you knew what we had was going to be…temporary?”

         Adaman sighed deeply, holding her close. He could no longer bear speaking to her without seeing her. Gently, he pulled away and held her by the shoulders, turning her around. Rachel looked down, afraid to see the expression on his face, afraid to face the hurt she knowingly caused. “Hey…” He said gently, softly taking her chin in his hand and tilting her head up slightly. “Look at me…please.”

         Damn it…she was still weak to him despite all of this.

         Doing as he asked, Rachel met his gaze and felt her heart break into a million pieces. He wasn’t angry with her. There was only hurt and patience on his face as he looked at her. She nearly felt her legs give out when he reached to cup her face, wiping away her tears with his thumb. She wasn’t immune to his soft touches and loving grasp. Rachel instinctively leaned into his touch, hating herself for feeling so safe and cared for in his grasp.

         He could never be angry with her. He could never hold anything against her, not when it was clear how painful it was for her to have to make this decision. “Listen to me…” He said softly, holding her face in his hands as he stared deeply into her dark eyes. Dark eyes wide and pleading and full of pain and uncertainty. “Even if you were to stay – even if you decided to stay to raise our child – there would still be a chance that something could happen to you tomorrow, and I would never see you again. Everything in life is temporary. I believe that mighty Dialga gave us all a set amount of time in this world to live. Even if you stayed, what we had would still be temporary. That wouldn’t make it any less worth it to me. Just because things are temporary doesn’t make those things worthless or a waste of time.

         “Whether you stay or not, I would never regret what we’ve had. It would never be a waste of my time.” Softly, Adaman’s hand slid down, resting on her belly as he sighed through his nose. “Whether you have this baby or not, I would never regret meeting you or having this with you. If you do, they would have an entire community that would raise them and support them. They wouldn’t grow up alone and you wouldn’t be leaving me alone with them. And if you don’t, we have a way we can handle that…the only thing that matters is that it’s your decision. As long as it’s what you want, I will support you.”

         She didn’t deserve Adaman. Rachel didn’t deserve a man like him with how selfish she felt. “But you’ll still hurt when I leave…”

         He nodded. “Yes, I know.”

         “I never wanted to hurt you.” She repeated, closing her eyes with a fresh set of tears running down her cheeks. “But you wanted this despite everything you knew about me.”

         “Yes, I know.” Adaman repeated.

         “But now, if I go through with this, you’ll be left with our baby…and it’ll hurt even more.”

         “Yes, I know.”

         “Then none of this has done you any good at all…!” Rachel cried, pain making it so difficult to stay standing, so difficult to face Adaman and face this decision she had to make.

         Adaman sighed, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. They were both incredibly selfless people. Pain like this was inevitable, he supposed. But he knew what he was getting into since the start. “But it has…you’ve changed my life in ways that’ll continue long after you’re gone. For the better.” He insisted, resting his forehead against hers. “Even the way I look at mud. There was never any meaning when I looked at the bogs before you. But now, whenever I look at them, it reminds me of what it feels like when I look into your eyes. How deep you pull me in and how easy it is to get lost in them. How much at home I feel…”

         Even though it was incredibly difficult for her to accept what he was telling her, she knew he was sticking by what he was saying. There was no convincing him, he’d made his decision. He was sticking by her no matter what, and she needed to push aside all of the confusing and frightening emotions she felt at the prospect of bearing his child to accept that.

         That no matter what decision she made, he wasn’t going anywhere. Not until it was time for her to leave and go home.

         For a long moment, they stayed like that. They held each other, raw emotions now laid bare. Adaman had seen some of the worst side of her, and yet he still stuck around. With conviction like that, she needed to believe him.

         But the burden was now still on her. She still had to make a choice. “So…what do you want? What do you feel?”

         Sighing, Rachel found her resolve. All of her emotions were filtered through, and she could finally answer without being clouded by them. “I…I don’t know.” She replied in earnest. “I’m…scared, panicked…excited…and overwhelmed. And I don’t know what I want out of this, yet…”

         “Then take the time to figure that out. You don’t have to decide this right now, you just found out.” Adaman assured her, holding her close by her waist. “This isn’t something you can decide on a whim. This needs a lot of time to decide, so please take it. I’ll be here for you no matter what you decide…I promise.”

         She knew he was right. She wasn’t sure how much time she would need to make such a monumentous decision, especially because she wasn’t even sure whether her answer was yes or no. The fact that there was doubt at all was what made this decision so difficult. If she knew for sure what she wanted, this conversation wouldn’t have been so difficult.

         But she didn’t, which made it so much harder.

         “Okay…” Rachel said quietly, accepting that this wasn’t a decision she could make now. He was right. She needed to take as much time as she needed for her decision to become clear.

         Cradling her in his arms, Adaman led her back and guided her into the bed, holding her close. Immediately, she instinctively wrapped her arms around him and clung to him, crying the last of her tears into his shirt. His arms and legs kept her close to him, letting her use him for emotional relief for a bit.

         Even at her worst, he found her beautiful. He didn’t judge her, nor could he ever hate her or begrudge her for anything. “I love you…you don’t have to say it back to me. I know how difficult this all is for you, right now…”

         He was right. She couldn’t say it back, but she said it in her mind all the time. She loved him. She loved him so very much and she wanted nothing more than for him to be happy.

         Which was why all of these decisions were so painful for her to make. The last thing she wanted was to hurt him. But at the same time…she couldn’t make his decisions for him, just as he couldn’t make her decisions for her.

         This was simply the reality. It was high time she accepted it.

[angelicyoongie]

the crimson shell (llll)

— pairing: jungkook x f!reader — genre: mermaid au, yandere au — w.c: 4.6k — warnings: explicit sexual content! heavy dub-con touching/intercourse, forced breeding, oviposition, mentions of death/violence, general yandere themes — notes: ah, here we finally are, the last part/finale to the story! please keep the warnings in mind, and don’t read this chapter if you’re uncomfortable with anything stated above!

Part I / II / III / IIII

You’re not sure how long you’ve been here. After the second week of just blankly staring at the never changing cave walls surrounding you, you figured there was no point in keeping track of it. What good does it do you anyway? It’s not like counting the days will miraculously get you out of here. While you might not know the number, you do know that it’s been far too many. Your skin has grown pale and gaunt from the lack of sunshine and warmth you’re so used to, and the diet of raw fish hasn’t exactly been very kind to you. The cave is tall enough for you to stand up in comfortably, so at least your circulation isn’t completely shot, but you honestly lack the energy to stay on your feet for too long. Escaping, even just back up to the island, is your only chance at survival. You don’t think you’re going to last very long down here. It’s already gotten to the point where you’ve begun looking forward to Jungkook’s short daily visits, even just the sight of something almost human enough to keep you sane.

You let out a heavy sigh, the noise echoing around the cave as you lean back against the stone wall. Over the last couple of days, the creature has begun to bring you little treasures alongside with your food. You’re not exactly sure why, but it’s nice to have something to do – even if it’s just tracing the patterns on the lockets and pendants over and over. You run your fingers over the small pile of golden jewelry by your side, trying your best to keep your thoughts away from the people it must have belonged to. Jimin might have managed to get away, but you doubt the rest of them did. Two of the pendants in your pile belonged to the crew Jimin brought with him, and you suspect that if you give Jungkook a few more days, he’ll bring you the remaining three. As if you summoned him with your straying thoughts, a small splash in the water alerts you of the creature’s arrival. You turn your head just in time to see Jungkook hoisting himself up on the ledge, another fish and a new pendant dropped at your feet. You silently scoot closer to the edge, offering up your hand to the creature’s expectant red eyes. Jungkook nuzzles into your hand with a happy thrill, rubbing his cheek along your palm. You suppress a shudder at the sound, ignoring the soft skin underneath your fingertips as you stare at the headless fish at your feet. Sometimes you wish you could share the same fate as your food.

You let Jungkook cuddle your hand for as long as he wants, knowing that denying him will only make things worse for yourself. If you look past the sharp claws and teeth, Jungkook is hardly anything more than an oversized puppy. He seems to crave constant affection and confirmation that he’s done good when he brings you food or treasures. You think you might would have found it sweet if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s keeping you trapped here – and that he’s a monster. There’s nothing sweet or innocent about the creature in front of you. You let out a small breath of relief as Jungkook drops your hand, but he doesn’t immediately sink back down in the water as he normally does. You watch in confusion as he pushes the fish closer, the gold chain around it rattling as it drags against the stone. You hesitantly pick it up, praying that Jungkook isn’t going to stay here and watch you eat it. The raw fish already makes you nauseous, and there’s no way you’ll be able to stomach eating it with an audience. Especially one that likes to punish you when you do something he doesn’t like. Call you crazy, but you don’t think gagging at the food he brings you will make him very happy.

You slowly unwrap the chain, putting the fish back down to turn over the locket in your hands. You suck in a harsh breath at the familiar design at the front, the intricate carved flowers making bile rise in your throat. You had this made for Jimin years ago, back when you were still best friends.  You two stayed friendly even after you started drifting apart, but you figured he would’ve gotten rid of the locket by now. You can’t believe he kept it all this time. That he still wore it. Your hands shake as you gently pull on the clasp on the side, a strained sound leaving your lips as you flip it open. A picture of you and Jimin smiles back at you, your faces bright and carefree. Jimin has an arm slung around your shoulders, his eyes closed into little crescent moons from how hard he’s grinning at the camera. The pure happiness in the photo makes your heart clench. Despite knowing Jimin was the one who lead you here, you find yourself desperately missing him for a split second before you can catch yourself. God, maybe if you accepted that marriage proposal from the baker’s sleazy son last year you would’ve at least been safe. Home.

You’re yanked out of your thoughts as Jungkook tugs you closer to the ledge, a clawed hand quickly snatching the locket out of your grasp. He lets out a series of chirping noises as his red eyes drag from the locket to you, and Jungkook taps your smiling face in the photo before he does the same to your leg. You stare in bewilderment as the creature drops the locket back in your hands, his lips stretched into a nightmarish version of a smile before he lowers himself down in the water. You swear your heart stops the moment you see the rows of teeth lining his mouth, and it refuses to work again until Jungkook is fully submerged and swimming away. You hastily scoot back from the edge, the locket clutched tightly in your hand. A bitter smile graces your lips as it dawns on you that you’ve figured out how Jimin traded your life for his. The picture. While you can’t be sure of exactly how he managed to communicate with Jungkook, you’re sure that being stranded here for six months must’ve been more than enough time to figure out a way to converse without using actual words. With Jimin as living proof in front of him, the creature must’ve understood that it meant that you were real too. And that if he had managed to get Jimin, then there would be a way to get to you. It was probably easier for Jimin to trade your life for his when he had something tangible to show Jungkook, when he had proof in his hands that you were out there too. A part of you hopes that maybe Jimin tried to convince Jungkook to change his mind, to take someone else instead, but you have a feeling that even if he did, the creature wouldn’t have budged. From the time you’ve spent on the island it has become very clear that Jungkook is stubborn and used to getting what he wants – but you suppose that’s only natural for a creature like him. How can something tell you no when it has already been eaten?

Of course, Jimin had no way to be sure that you would set sail for Jungkook’s island. But, while there was no guarantee you would risk travelling that far, your old friend knew how desperate you were for money, and the lengths you were willing to go to keep your family afloat. You suppose he knew how easy it would be to trick you as long as there was a bit of gold involved, and Jimin was dripping in it when he came back. You just hope he at least had the decency to spare your family a gold ring or two after you left, considering he sacrificed you to go free. You toss the locket aside, not really caring where it ends up as long as it’s far away from you. You force yourself to take a few deep breaths, trying your best to quell the anger burning through your veins. Being mad at Jimin won’t do you any good while you’re stuck down here, so you allow yourself to whisper out a string of curses at the man before you lock away the heavy feeling of betrayal deep into your chest. Seeing Jimin’s smiling face has reignited your dwindling spirit, and you decide that you will get out of here, even if it is just to hunt Jimin down.

The next time Jungkook comes back to visit you, there are no more treasures. Instead, your eyes widen in surprise as the creature gently places a familiar shell and pearl down by your feet, next to your twitching meal. You’re certain you left them near your bonfire higher up on the beach, but judging by the scratches and roughed up skin on Jungkook’s arms, it seems like the creature probably dragged himself all the way up there to get them. You feel your throat run dry at the thought, at the fact that you weren’t even as safe on land as you had first believed. If Jungkook was willing to bring himself up on land to get them, then you’re sure they must mean something important. It can’t be a coincidence that both the shell and the pearl have the same deep red colour as Jungkook’s tail and eyes, and come to think of it, didn’t your luck begin to turn after you picked up it that evening before you left?

Jungkook lets out a chirp as you pick up the shell, the creature leaning forward to rub his head against the back of your occupied hand. You eye him warily as your mind races through what has happened ever since you left home. You really, truly, hope that you’re wrong, but based on how everything started after you picked up the shell and how the creature acts – how he provides for you, how offended he acts when you push him away and how affectionate he is, you fear you might have accidentally accepted a courting offer. You’ve seen similar patterns in animals before, and while you’re not entirely sure what Jungkook really is, you think it’s safe to assume that the same thing might apply for him too. What you can’t really wrap your mind around is why he waited so long. It took weeks before you left after Jimin returned, and you were down by the beach every night. The unexplainable fear you felt was probably something deep inside of you that recognized that you were being watched by a predator – by him – but you didn’t know enough to connect the dots. Jungkook had many chances to grab you, but he didn’t. Not until you accepted his shell. Convenience maybe? That this whole trade was easier if he made you come to him? Or maybe some weird kind of custom his kind has? He is half human, after all. But you can’t be sure. If anything, Jimin could’ve at least had the decency to teach you how to converse with him if he was going to throw you to the sharks, or rather, Jungkook. Either way, you’re sure Jungkook would’ve eventually found a way to get to you even if you didn’t leave on that boat.

You’re shaken out of your thoughts when the feeling of soft skin leaves the back of your hand. The clicks falling from Jungkook’s lips are uncharacteristically soft as he pulls himself up on the ledge, those deep red eyes trained on yours as he tugs you closer. It only takes one hard yank before you find yourself caged in underneath Jungkook’s arms again, legs on either side of his waist. Your pulse quickens as you’re reminded of what happened the last time – you’re not exactly eager to pass out again from being smothered by his weight.  

You feel like you shouldn’t be surprised that Jungkook manages to carry his entire weight on one arm, while the other begins to roam across your body. After all, he did drag himself up on land and back, and the part you had on top of you last time was hardly anything. The weight of his entire tail must be extremely heavy out of water. You know the creature doesn’t like it when you don’t pay him attention, so you let your eyes rest on his collarbones, watching as a few drops of water run down his skin. Keeping eye contact is too intimidating, those deep red irises makes it feel like you’re staring right into the depths of hell.

You dig your fingers into your thighs as Jungkook’s hand dips under the torn fabric of your shirt, the unusual texture of the web between his fingers making you squirm uncomfortably as it drags over your skin. You’re very aware of the sharp claws hovering above your delicate stomach as he explores, but at least the creature knows to not let them touch. Jungkook’s hand trails over your sides, your stomach, all the way up to the underside of your breasts. You swallow thickly as a knuckle brushes against the soft flesh, Jungkook’s motion suddenly stilling at the contact. You’ve always managed to push him off before he’s gone any further, but you can feel the shift in the creature’s mood today. You know he’s not going to take no for an answer. But, that still didn’t prepare you for the sudden gush of wind brushing across your exposed chest, your shirt split clean in two with the help of Jungkook’s claws. Before you can scramble to cover up, Jungkook lets out an excited chirp, his hand quickly moving back to your chest. Your mind goes blank as he places his palm over one of your breasts, experimentally squeezing and massaging it as he watches you curiously. You grit your teeth as Jungkook plays with it, ignoring the little tingle of heat in your stomach whenever he does something your traitorous body likes.  

You try to convince yourself that Jungkook is probably just excited to see parts of a human body he hasn’t seen before, that he doesn’t really know what he’s doing. Your breath hitches as the webbed texture between Jungkook’s fingers glide over your nipples, a soft moan falling from your lips before you can stop yourself. The noise only seems to spur him on more, Jungkook repeating the motion to hear the sound again. A harsh squeeze on your breast forces out another moan, your hands flying to Jungkook’s chest. Your fingers twitch against his skin, your head telling you to push him away, while the building heat in your stomach and the growing wetness between your legs wants him close to finish what he’s started. You settle for digging your hands into his skin, grounding yourself in his body, knowing that pushing him away won’t do you any good. Jungkook lets out a happy thrill at your touch, lowering himself closer to your body as his hand moves from one breast to the other. You can feel his eyes burning into your skin, your body growing warmer and warmer under his intense gaze. There’s too many sensations at once – cold water dripping against your overheating skin, Jungkook’s long hair tickling your face, the soft and rough skin of his hand squeezing and moving across your flesh. Your eyes glide shut before you can stop yourself, forgetting your own rule of never letting Jungkook out of your sight. It’s just .. too much. Your body doesn’t know whether to hate the attention or love it, your chest tight with disgust while your stomach swirls with pleasure. At least with your eyes shut, and as long as your hands stay on his chest, he feels human. Human enough to make this whole thing a little less horrible.

Your legs tense as you feel more of Jungkook’s weight against your body, his hips pressing down more firmly against yours. You don’t pay it too much attention at first, too occupied by the hand on your chest. At least, that’s until you feel his hips begin to slowly move back and fourth, grinding against your clothed core. Your eyes fly open at the sudden friction, head spinning as your walls clench with need. You’re sure the flimsy material of your trousers must be soaked by now, and the realization that this creature is the reason behind it makes your cheeks flush red with mortification. You stifle a gasp as Jungkook pinches your sensitive nipple between two fingers, another happy thrill filling the cave as he rolls his hips harder against your mound. You can feel the heat in your lower stomach building rapidly, the coil almost ready to snap when Jungkook suddenly stills. You push down the needy whine in your throat as Jungkook removes his hand from your body, the creature pulling himself up further on the ledge.

Your confusion dies as your eyes travel down a little further past his hips, the arousal you felt quickly washed away by terror as you notice a slit in his tail, and something extending out of it. You nearly choke on your own spit as it finally clicks, trying your best to scramble out from beneath Jungkook’s hold as his cock becomes fully unsheathed. Jungkook lets out a series of low, warning clicks at your struggle, his clawed fingers digging into your shoulders as his arms keeps you caged you in. You look down in horror as you feel him resume his grinding against your clothed sex. It’s nothing like you’ve ever seen before. His cock is slightly tapered at the tip, growing thicker down against the base. What you thought was just some misplaced curiosity is obviously more than that, because now, there’s no doubt in your mind that Jungkook’s plan is to fuck you. You ignore the pain as sharp claws dig into your skin, trying your best to twist out of his hold. Logically you know there’s no place for you to run to down here, and that was probably what he wanted all along. Still, your heart hammers painfully against your chest, urging you to at least try.

You don’t succeed in doing much more than twisting yourself over on your stomach, fingers clawing at the stone in an attempt to pull yourself away. You barely have time to process the hiss leaving Jungkook’s throat before the remaining fabric of your trousers are sliced clean in two, leaving you completely bare. The next roll of his hips sends his cock rubbing over your ass, your body trembling at the wetness that seems to be coating it. The scales on his hips are rough and sharp as they drag over your soft skin, and you don’t doubt they'll feel like tiny little razors if you move against them wrong. You’re still trying to drag yourself away when Jungkook’s arms comes under your body, one wrapping underneath your arm to hold the opposite shoulder, and the other curling around your stomach. The creature lets out another hiss at your squirming, pulling your flush against his chest. You can feel his heartbeat against your back, the steady rhythm such a contrast to the wild beat of your own as he once again moves against your body. The new position sends his cock gliding between your legs, the shaft rubbing along your folds and coating it with the same slick fluid you felt on your skin. You dig your fingers into the stone floor, but your body is locked up tight against Jungkook. There’s nowhere for you to go.

Jungkook lets out another warning noise before he rolls his hips forward again, the tapered tip of his cock catching on your entrance. You let out a strangled moan as Jungkook’s cock sinks into your heat, your walls stretching around him as he pushes in deeper. Your arousal from earlier combined with the wetness around the creature’s cock makes the slide painless aside from the uncomfortable burn of being filled too much, too fast. Jungkook’s excited thrill at finally being buried inside your heat rings in your ear from the close proximity, his tongue dipping out to flick across the sheen of sweat at your nape. The creature begins pulling his hips back, not giving you any time to adjust before he snaps them forward. You let out a choked moan as he fills you up again, vision growing hazy as he sets a brutal pace from the get go. You can feel the harsh slap of his hips against your ass with every thrust, Jungkook letting out a pleased hiss as he continues to slam into you. You can feel the tapered length twitching and pulsing inside of you as he moves, more wetness seeping out of his cock to mix with your own. Every thrust leaves you gasping for breath, and the hold Jungkook has around your body feels like you’re wrapped up in steel. You have no choice but to lay there and take it, but as the creature’s cock nudges over your sweet spot repeatedly, you realize to your own horror that you like it.

Lost in a daze of arousal and fear, you don’t even realize the creature has been moving the both of you backwards until you’re suddenly plunged into the cold water. You let out a startled gasp as Jungkook’s length disappears from your heat, and you thread the water forcefully to keep your head above the ripples as you try to figure out where the creature went. You feel his hands before you see him, claws wrapping around your waist as Jungkook pushes you against the ledge. You let out a pained groan as your back collides with the stone, your hands scrambling up to grip the edge of it. You freeze as Jungkook’s head slowly emerges from the water, those deep red eyes looking hungrier and wilder than you’ve ever seen before. It only takes a moment before you feel the creature’s chest pressed against yours, his cock slipping in even easier with the new position. It doesn’t take many thrusts before you’re forced to wrap your legs around his waist to keep yourself afloat, your arms shaking with the effort of keeping your head over water. Your fingers slip a little against the wet stone, your eyes widening as you seem to sink even further down on Jungkook’s cock. You’ve never been so full before, almost delirious as he picks up his pace. Jungkook’s hands are relentless as they glide over your skin, pinching and rubbing every part of your body.

“F-fuck,” You moan as your clit rubs against his tail, the roughness of the scales making a bolt of arousal shoot through your body. You don’t even realize your hips are moving against his as the tightness in your gut grows, the pressure building more and more until it suddenly unravels, waves of pleasure ripping through your body and making you see stars as you come on Jungkook’s cock. The creature lets out something close to a growl as your walls clamp down around him, and he fucks you straight through your orgasm and into oversensitivity with an animalistic pace. You whine as Jungkook’s cock begin to swell, grow, his hands stilling on your hips to pull you flush against him as he comes. He lets out a pleased chirp as the burning hot come floods your insides, a broken moan escaping your lips as Jungkook slows down the harsh pace. It’s done, you think, relieved. He’ll probably leave you alone now. So it confuses you when Jungkook’s eyes slide shut, soft clicks leaving his lips as he pushes you even harder against the stone behind you. He’s still working his hips in and out of your heat, and you realize that even though he just came, his cock is still hard and growing, still stretching your walls.

Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head as you feel something moving up Jungkook’s cock, a firm but soft sphere spurting from the tip and into you. It takes a second for your hazy mind to connect the dots, and you realize a little too late that the creature is laying eggs. Inside of you. Jungkook is breeding you. You desperately try to push against his chest as you feel the second egg travel up his cock, but Jungkook only tugs you closer, tucking his face into the crook of your neck as his chest rumbles. You stifle back a moan as the second egg joins the first, the foreign texture brushing along your sensitive walls. The creature purrs as he released another spurt of eggs, slowly grinding his cock back and fourth as he breeds you. You cling on to the ledge behind you, disgust and pleasure wracking through your body as another egg joins the rest. A deeper click, something almost close to a groan, falls from Jungkook’s lips as he forces the last egg into your tight heat. Your eyes nearly roll back as you feel his cock nudge against your cervix; Jungkook’s slow pace fucking the eggs around inside of you. If you thought you felt full before, it’s nothing compared to being stuffed to the brim with Jungkook’s thick cock, eggs and come.

You can feel Jungkook’s breath ghost across your exposed wet skin, the harsh puffs of air sending chills down your back. Your hands finally slip from the ledge, too exhausted to keep you up anymore. Before you can wrap your shaking arms around Jungkook’s shoulders, the creature suddenly detangles you from his body, quickly hoisting you back up on the ledge. You let out shaky moan Jungkook’s cock once again slips from your heat, your body feeling surprisingly empty despite the eggs still resting inside of you.

“Shit,” You hiss as you strain to push yourself up on your elbows, gliding a hand down to your stomach. You can feel them inside of you when you press down, little bumps gliding around under your fingertips. Panic builds under your skin – you have to get them out. There has to be a reason you’ve never heard of creatures like Jungkook before. You doubt you're compatible to carry his eggs, and you don’t even know what will happen once they begin to grow. And even if you were, it’s not like you want them. Just as your hand is about to slip down to your slick folds, Jungkook hoists himself up from the water, once again covering your body. He snatches your hand away with a series of threatening clicks, barring his sharp teeth as he lies down on top of you. You twist your head with a fearful whimper as Jungkook pushes your hand into his hair instead, the weight of his body not totally crushing, but still enough to make you feel lightheaded.

You squeeze down around the eggs without meaning do, bile rising in your throat as they catch on your entrance, too big to push out without any help. Your eyes land on the crimson shell and pearl pushed over to the side of the cave. Your chest feels tight as it dawns on you that while the shell were likely a courting offer; the pearl must’ve been a mating offer. And you had accepted both. Your eyes begin to sting as you feel Jungkook’s chest rumble against yours, the pleased purrs making you feel sick. You hesitantly shift your gaze back to him, curling your fingers painfully tight into the wet locks underneath your palm as you find those deep red eyes already staring back at you. A twisted rendition of a smile blooms on his face, the rows of sharp teeth glistening as he looks down at you. The message in his gaze is clear – you’re keeping the eggs.

And there’s no way he’s letting you go.

a/n: oh boy. hopefully only those of you that were okay with the warnings made it this far. because i know i’ll get questions: jk fertilized his own eggs when he bred y/n, and y/n will basically serve as an incubator (poor girl lmao) for a while. she’ll push the eggs out eventually and then the eggs will hatch on their own. and no – i have no plans of doing jk’s pov any time soon, and it’s up to you to imagine y/n’s fate. anyway!! i hope you uhh, enjoyed this! and thank you for all the love and support for this mini series, it means a lot to me!  as always, see you all soon and stay safe! and in case you enjoy my stories and want to buy me a coffee, you can do so here! 💖

[storytellerofuntoldlegends]

an icarus and his sun: chapter 12

A/N: another shorter chapter here, a bit of an uneasy calm before the storm :)

Warnings: injury, fever, infection/corruption, unconsciousness, talk of possession, talk of death, crying

AO3 Link - Tumblr Masterpost

-

The last few days had been horrendous. Jimmy hardly got any sleep, staying at Scott’s side and comforting him through the horrible fever and corruption. The few times Scott was awake, he wasn’t super coherent- the fact that he kept clinging to Jimmy and borderline whining whenever Jimmy wasn’t right beside him proved that. Everyone was trying their best to come up with solutions for Scott. While Joel, Lizzie, and Pixl hadn’t seemed too keen on helping Scott at first, they quickly changed their tune when they heard about what Fwhip had said about Scott, how he had really cared about Jimmy, and left the Wither Rose Alliance because of it. Joel and Pixl tried offering golden apples and health potions, but Gem and Shelby sadly explained that they hadn’t been doing much good, only somewhat combating the fever and doing absolutely nothing to the corruption. Then they tried to remove the corruption- but Scott woke up screaming in pain, and that was a sound that would haunt Jimmy forever. They stopped trying to remove the corruption pretty much instantly, as it was clear that it was far too intertwined with Scott. They would just find another way, there had to be another way.

With Gem’s magic, they had managed to get the corruption to stop spreading across his skin- and it seemed like it had worked. Even Shelby seemed optimistic- her people were never able to stop the corruption from spreading. Scott’s fever went down, and he woke up, seeming far more coherent than he had been in the past few days. Well, maybe not super coherent, he looked extremely baffled and wondered if he was dead. But he wasn’t, he was awake and for once his icy blue eyes weren’t glazed over with fever or pain… but then just like that, everything went wrong again. Scott started shaking and hyperventilating, babbling out apologies- then he tensed, eyes turning red before they fluttered shut and he went limp.

“What happened?!” Gem asked as she burst in, followed by Pearl, Shelby, Katherine, Pixl, Joel, and Lizzie. Jimmy was still standing at Scott’s side, hand tightly gripping Scott’s.

“I don’t know, he seemed fine and then he wasn’t- and his eyes went red, the same red as the corruption,” Jimmy explained, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

“Oh no,” Shelby gasped, eyes going wide as she scrambled back from Scott’s bed. Jimmy looked at her in confusion.

“Shelby, what’s wrong?” Jimmy asked. Shelby swallowed nervously.

“There- there was something else that could happen to people because of the corruption- but it was rare, not many people lived long enough for it to happen.. but we got it to stop spreading, so why would his eyes…” Shelby’s rambling trailed off as she continued backing away from Scott’s bed, eyes wide with horror.

“Shelby, what aren’t you telling us?” Pixl asked, voice gentle yet firm.

“They would become like puppets, the corruption would control them so it could spread- but Scott shouldn’t just be lying there, if his eyes really went red then he should have killed us all by now,” Shelby explained shakily. Various gasps and shouts of alarm filled the room.

“You knew what the corruption did this whole time and didn’t tell us?!” Jimmy demanded.

“Jimmy, yelling isn’t going to solve anything,” Katherine reprimanded, but it was lost on Jimmy as he glared at Shelby instead.

“Becoming a puppet to the corruption was rare! And I didn’t think it was happening to Scott- most times, before someone got under the corruption’s control, they were in a much better state than Scott. But it was like that was what the corruption wanted sometimes. It would weed out the weak ones and keep the strong ones to spread it. And… well, with how Scott was doing, it seemed like the corruption saw him as weak. But then you said his eyes went red, and that was a surefire sign that the corruption took over someone- but he should have started killing people or trying to spread the corruption… it doesn’t make sense,” Shelby rambled, her terrified expression completely directed at Jimmy now. Jimmy’s shoulders sagged, and he dropped his glare to instead sheepishly grimace at Shelby.

“I… yeah, okay. That- that makes sense. Sort of. Sorry for yelling,” he said, giving her a weak smile. Shelby gave a trembling smile back.

“It’s okay. And who knows! Maybe Scott passing out means that he’s still fighting off the corruption,” Shelby said hopefully.

“I don’t think we can afford to be that optimistic,” Pearl said with a wary glance to Scott’s still form.

“Maybe we should lock him away somewhere, until we find a cure,” Joel pondered.

“I have a secret meeting room- Fwhip and Sausage know about it, but it’s probably the most fortified spot in my empire,” Gem offered.

“We could always set up a guard rotation, maybe have someone stay in the meeting room with Scott as a last resort,” Pixl pointed out.

“I’m staying with Scott,” Jimmy blurted. Everyone’s gazes snapped to Jimmy with varying expressions of fear and concern.

“Jimmy, that’s suicide,” Lizzie said softly, eyes slightly glassy. Jimmy felt his eyes watering as well.

“I don’t care, I’m not abandoning him. Not again. Besides, maybe Shelby’s right, maybe he’s still trying to fight it off. And if anyone can beat it, it’s Scott,” Jimmy said firmly.

“Jimmy, this isn’t your fault,” Lizzie said softly. Jimmy gave her a grim trembling smile.

“If I hadn’t pushed him away, then he wouldn’t have had to deal with Fwhip and Sausage on his own. Then maybe none of this would have happened,” he replied, guilt laced throughout his tone. Lizzie let out a frustrated scoff.

“Then you both would have ended up like this! Jimmy, we can’t lose you either!” she exclaimed, hands gesturing wildly as she began to cry. Jimmy let out a sound that was half laugh, half sob as he reached out to take Lizzie’s hands.

“Lizzie, what if it was Joel in this situation?” he asked softly. A look of understanding came over Lizzie’s face, but she shook her head, still looking like she wanted to protest.

“I- but-”

“So you know why I have to do this. I can’t just… give up on him again,” Jimmy continued. Lizzie let out a sigh of defeat, nodding at Jimmy.

“I told you these land boys were trouble,” she teased weakly.

“Didn’t think it would be this much trouble,” Jimmy said with a nervous laugh. Lizzie gave a watery laugh in response, and hesitated for only half a second before letting go of Jimmy’s hands to hug him tightly.

“You’re not allowed to die,” Lizzie murmured into his shoulder. Jimmy chuckled.

“Understood, Ocean Queen,” he said solemnly, swallowing the lump in his throat before letting go of her to look at the others.

“So you’re sure about this?” Gem asked. Jimmy nodded firmly.

“We should still keep a guard rotation outside too, that way Jimmy can call for help if he needs it,” Pearl added. The others nodded in agreement, and Gem fiddled with something around her neck before taking it off and holding it out to Jimmy. It was one of her amethyst shards on a chain, gently glowing with her magic.

“This should protect you from the corruption. The crystals are what helped me slow the spread of it in Scott, maybe it will help it from spreading to you. I’m sorry I don’t have a more definite solution,” Gem explained, pressing it into Jimmy’s hand. The crystal shimmered in his hand, glowing a bit before going back to its usual purple hue.

“Thank you- it’s better than nothing,” Jimmy replied with a smile as he put on the necklace.

“At the very least it looks nice on you!” Shelby chirped, relieving the tension in the room slightly as the group laughed. But the laughs dissipated quickly, and they began preparations to move Scott to the secret meeting room.

-

The wall closing in front of Jimmy felt like a finality. Realistically he could open it whenever he wanted, but that was only if the situation got dire enough, or if it turned out that Scott was okay. He had hugged each of his friends- even Gem, Pearl and Shelby, even though their friendships were relatively new- and it felt too much like a goodbye. But it wouldn’t be, surely Scott would be alright.

Jimmy looked over to the bed they had set up in the room, where Scott was still peacefully asleep. That was a good sign, right? Unless it wasn’t, and Scott would just… never wake up. Forever trapped in the clutches of the corruption, eternally fighting its control. Jimmy shook his head. He couldn’t think like that. Scott would wake up, eventually. But whether or not Scott would be himself when he woke up was another issue. Would Jimmy really be able to fight him off? Would he even have enough time to call for help? And even if he did, would he want to? If he asked his friends for help, they would have to kill Scott in order to keep the lands safe from corruption. He just had to hope that Gem could figure out a cure before it got to that point. And maybe this worrying was for nothing! Maybe Scott’s willpower was strong enough to fight it… but there was no way of knowing that. Instead, all Jimmy could do was sit at Scott’s side, holding his hand and praying to whoever was listening that Scott would be alright.

-

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[nyctophilin]

Fake Affection | III

Chapter I, Chapter II, Chapter III, Chapter IV, Epilogue

Description: Han Jisung has been rejected by the girl he likes one to many times. He decides that he has had enough and is set on making her want him back. What could possibly make her want him more than seeing him with her rival after she boldly assumed he can’t find anyone better. That way Jisung and Y/N are stuck in a fake relationship until Jisung’s crush falls for him. Or he falls for someone else.

All rights reserved © nyctophilin 2020. Re-posting, copying and translating any of my works is prohibited.

Pairing: Han x fem!Reader, Hyunjin x fem!Reader

Word count: 5.1k

Genre: College!AU, Fake dating!AU, Angst, Fluff, eventual Smut

Warnings: swearing, mild groping, mild violence

Pearl note -> This got long. Yeah, things got interesting in this part. :)) Also, I realized I forgot to add something so I had to come back last minute and edit it. Yeah, sorry for the delay. :/ I hope y’all enjoy it! Feedback is very much appreciated.

      The sun was shining brightly despite it being almost 6 PM. The temperature outside reached unusually high numbers for that time of the year, and Y/N decided to take advantage of that. Dressed in a forest green spring dress that reached her mid-thighs and offered a modest view of her cleavage, she was waiting for Jisung in front of her apartment complex. The dress she was wearing had short sleeves, but she decided not to take any jackets with her thanks to the weather forecast that predicted the temperatures to be high until later in the night.

      She was clutching the strap of her purse tightly and impatiently checking the time on her phone every few minutes. It has been such a long time since she went on a date. Just because she was going there to make Mina jealous didn’t mean she couldn’t have fun. What better way to convince the other girl that she missed on a lot of fun than have fun?

      Coming from the left side, she heard the sound of an engine approaching. Soon, a black Range Rover came to a gradual stop right in front of her, the front wheel almost climbing the sidewalk. From inside the car, Jisung gestured her to get in. She opened the door and climbed in, placing her purse over her knees before fastening her seatbelt.

      Without much of a word, Jisung turned the steering wheel and started driving to a destination unknown to Y/N.

      “I didn’t know you had a car.” She spoke, trying to get rid of the awkward atmosphere.

      Jisung threw her a look before concentrating on the road again.

      “It’s Chan’s. He let me borrow it for today.” A long sigh left his mouth. “After a long talk where he told me that if I hurt his baby, I’m dead.”

      Y/N let out a chuckle, and Jisung smiled as well, as the memory of the silly conversation he had with the older man flooded his mind. Another minute passed, and the silence in the car was being filled by the pop music coming from the radio.

      “You look pretty!” Jisung complimented, stealing another glance at her.

      A bright smile invaded her facial features at his words. 

      “Thank you! I didn’t know where we were going, but I figured a dress would be appropriate for many activities.” She chirped, the tiniest bit of excitement rolling off her tongue.

      “What if we are going hiking?” Jisung said, and a smirk appeared on his face when he noticed her rolling her eyes from the corner of his eye.

      “Then you can turn the car. I’m not coming!” Y/N crossed her hands under her chest and her mouth formed into a small pout.

      “I’m joking. We are going to an outdoor cinema.”

      She gave him a side look and raised an eyebrow.

      “No offence, but how do you know when outdoor cinemas are happening? They don’t seem…” She eyes him up and down on the driver’s seat. “...your style.”

      Jisung resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her comment. After a moment of silence, he sighed silently accepting her words.

      “Mina told me about it three weeks ago. She said it was a rom-com she really wanted to see. We planned to go together.” He explained taking a right turn.

      “Then how do you know if she’s going to come if you planned to go together. I don’t know if you realised, but you are supposed to be dating me, and she’s dating no one. Girls don’t usually go to this kind of thing without a boyfriend or a potential one.”

      “There’s this guy from Theatre and Film that she used to hook up with when I wasn’t around. I know from someone that they are coming together.” 

      Y/N let a pitiful smile involuntarily invade her features. It was kind of pathetic how he knew about her whereabouts and still didn’t say anything. She understood that they weren’t together, but they were heavily flirting and behaving like a couple, hence why she and a lot of other people thought they were actually in a relationship.

      She let her teeth sink in the flesh of her bottom lip holding back from telling him a piece of her mind. He was old enough. He knew what he was doing. Or at least she hoped he did.

      The rest of the way to the outdoor cinema was spent in silence. The only audible sounds being the radio and Jisung’s soft humming from time to time. When they reached, their destination Y/N got out of the car and let Jisung find a parking spot somewhere further away from the location of the cinema due to the parking there overflowing with vehicles.

      Checking her phone, she noticed the time indicating 7:17 PM, and only then she realised how much time they spent in the car. Walking lazily on the pathway to where space was designated for blankets and chairs she saw a sea of people. Maybe not really a sea but there were enough people to fill two of the auditorium in their university.

      For a second she thought she'd lay out the blanket, but then she remembered the only thing she had on her was her purse. On top of that, they needed to ‘accidentally’ bump into Mina and her date and hope they end up sitting next to each other.

      Just as she was thinking about that a squeal deafened her and a pair of delicate arms wrapped around her. When the girl let go of her, and she met Mina’s face, she grimaced, but she regained her composure fast. She smiled at her and her date, a guy she had seen occasionally in some of her classes.

      “What a coincidence you are here!” Mina’s fake excitement was pissing her off. Coincidence her ass. Y/N was sure she knew they were going to be there.

      “Yeah, what a small world.” She gave the two a visibly fake smile and prayed for Jisung to hurry.

      “Are you alone?” The girl asked, moving her head in different directions as if she was looking for the person she came with.

      “No. I actually came with Jisung.” As if on cue Jisung appeared from behind the two, a blanket in hand.

      “Are you looking for me, princess?” A jolt of surprise went through her at the new nickname he used, but she didn’t let it show.

      Observing the angry expression on Mina’s face at his words, she figured that was how he used to call her before they broke up whatever they had going on. She surpassed a smirk from painting her lips.

      “Mhhm.” She extended her hand, which he gladly held and went in for a short kiss. “Look who I found. Isn’t it lovely seeing your friends here?” She sarcastically said, smiling up at him.

      “You guys should come sit with us!” Mina’s date said, and a victorious smile spread across her face.

      “We’ll love to if that is okay with Mina, of course. We wouldn’t wanna disrupt you!” Y/N faked concern and gave Mina doe eyes.

      Mina’s jaw slightly clenched before immediately relaxing and letting out a forced giggle.

      “Of course you can. Why wouldn’t I be okay with that?”

      After that, the four of them went and found a place at the back of the crowd where they could sit. It wasn’t exactly the back of the crowd since there were some more people behind them, but they were reasonably behind. 

      Jisung spread the blanket on the fluffy grass, and Mina’s date, whose name she found out was Jay, did the same as Jisung. Their blankets were almost touching, the distance between them millimetric. 

      There were still 20 minutes before the movie was supposed to start. They sat down on the blankets, and Y/N stretched her legs, finally relaxing for not having to stand on the platform shoes she was wearing.

      “So, are you guys dating or…” Jay asked, fixing his body position so he could see them better.

      Y/N rolled her eyes at his question. The guy wasn’t the best at reading the room.

      “Of course we are. Why would we be here together if we weren’t?” Annoyance was dripping off her tongue. She only wanted to relax for a bit before having to spend two hours watching some boring rom-com.

      “Oh…” His voice sounded almost disappointed as his gaze lingered a second too long on her exposed legs. “Mina and I are not a couple. And since she and Jisung have had a thing before, I thought...” He bit his bottom lip while looking at her thighs that were pretty much bare thanks to her dress riding up when she sat down. “Never mind!” 

      Y/N shifted uncomfortably and placed her hands on her thighs in an attempt to cover them even a little. Mina wasn’t aware of her date’s actions as her eyes were concentrated on Jisung and on the way he looked under the golden rays of the sun that was preparing to set.

      Jisung, however, was burning holes with his eyes into the other man’s head. Upon seeing him biting his lip while looking at Y/N in a less than appropriate way, he felt an unexplainable feeling of rage penetrate his body. What he wanted to do at that moment was to get up and punch that pig into next week for daring to look at her like that. But he kept his composure and decided not to make a big deal out of it. 

      There was literally no reason for him to get that angry. Besides the apparent reason that it made her uncomfortable and he shouldn’t allow something like that, especially when he is playing her boyfriend. But the sudden feeling to rip his head off filled him with turmoil.

      Jisung decided to ignore it for now, and he took his jacket off and placed it over her legs. Her head shot in his direction, confusion and at the same time relief present in her eyes.

      “What is that?” She asked, trying to act unaffected by Jay’s actions.

      “I just thought you might sit more comfortably with this over your legs. It stops unwanted attention.” He subtly glared at Jay, but he didn’t seem to pay him any mind as his eyes were now fixed on Mina’s chest.

      “Thank you!” She said, bringing the jacket further up to cover her thighs better.

      Jisung inched just a little bit closer to her and cupped her face. Placing his lips on hers, he forcefully pushed his tongue in her mouth, taking her by surprise. He made sure their heads were positioned in such a way that the two on the blanket next to them will be able to see the exchange of their mouths. 

      Mina was watching Jisung drag his tongue inside Y/N’s mouth, his eyes closed in satisfaction. The exchange wasn’t rushed, and the way his thumb would caress her cheek so gently had her bursting with jealousy. Jisung had never kissed her like that. Their kisses were always rushed and sloppy, driven by sexual needs.

      When she first heard about their little relationship, she laughed. She thought it was some kind of stupid joke. But then she saw how they behaved. The kisses, the hugs, the hand holding, how he would always have a hand around her shoulders. In the three days, they dated he showed Y/N more love than he showed her in a year and a half.

      Her initial plan was to tease him a little bit, then finally accept to be his girlfriend. She didn’t think he'd go and find himself a girlfriend. And especially not her. From all the people he could choose it had to be her. Looking at them now, Mina regretted her decision.

      Jisung broke the kiss and looked into her fluttering eyes before placing a peck on her nose. Y/N was sitting there dizzy from everything that happened. His sudden boldness left her speechless and burning hot from the embarrassment of being seen doing something like that.

      She wanted to question him. Ask him why he suddenly did something like that. However, a loud sound erupted from the speakers surrounding them, signaling the start of the movie. So she focused her vision on the big cloth in front of her and decided to ignore it.

      She shivered discreetly as a wave of cold hit her body. The movie was only half done, and with the midnight approaching slowly, a chilly air adorned their surroundings. The weather forecast predicted high temperatures, but at that moment she was far away from her city, and so the weather was different.

      Y/N rubbed one of her arms with her hand, regretting not taking a jacket with her just in case something like that was to happen. From the corner of his eye, Jisung noticed her actions, and he leaned in close to her to whisper in her ear.

      “Hey, are you ok?” His hot breath on her ear made the hair at the back of her neck stand up.

      “Yeah, I’m just a little bit cold. I’ll be fine!” She whispered back giving him reassuring eyes.

      Jisung thought for a second of what he could do. He didn’t have another jacket, and he didn’t want her to uncover her legs. At least not when Jay was around. An idea finally struck him, and he softly called her name, catching her attention again.

      When she turned to look at him, he tapped the space between his spread legs. Y/N raised an eyebrow at his gesture.

      “What does that mean?” She sounded a little bit annoyed.

      “Come sit here. I’ll cuddle you so you won’t be cold anymore.” Y/N threw him a weirded out look. “We are ‘dating’. No one will find it weird. Or you could just stay there and freeze to death.” The man explained his voice a little bit louder than before.

      She pondered his offer for a bit before getting up and making her way between his legs. She let herself fall backwards until her back hit his chest softly. Jisung put his arms around her, and warmth started enveloping her almost instantly. Y/N let out a purr at the newfound comfort, and her eyes shot open at the realisation of what she just did.

      “Hey, don’t get too comfortable, you hear me? I’m doing this just because Mina might be watching.” She warned, her voice stern hoping he missed her last action.

      Jisung rolled his eyes but decided not to bring up the sound she just let out. For now, he just wanted to enjoy the newfound proximity. Only so they can make Mina jealous. Right?

      They sat like that, none of them daring to move. For some reason, Jisung found the position really comfortable. A few days prior at the start of their relationship he found skinship really awkward but now it wasn’t like that anymore. It felt almost natural. Like they have been doing it for a long time.

      Some more time passed, but Jisung wasn’t sure how much. The movie was approaching its climax, and the man felt bored out of his mind. Was it really worth going through that only to get his dick wet? But then he remembered who he was doing it for. He was doing it so he and Mina, the girl who he has been in love with for the longest time, could finally be together. And when it happens, he will be able to slide his hand through her silky hair, and feel her smooth skin and kiss her soft lips without having to call it a friendly gesture.

      His trail of thoughts was interrupted by a quiet mumbling coming from Y/N. Her voice was so small that Jisung couldn’t hear her.

      “What?” He leaned his head down in order to hear her when she talks.

      For a minute, there was silence. Thinking that she didn’t hear him, Jisung wanted to repeat the question when a puff of air left her mouth. Right after, she turned slightly to the side, pushing her head more against his chest, and that is when he realised that she fell asleep.

      An involuntary smile tugged at his lips, and his heart started beating faster. He couldn’t explain why he was so happy about it. It was going to be a pain in the ass. Having to wake her up and wait for her to recover from her dazed form. They were going to be the last ones to leave after the movie was over.

      A whistle-like noise left Y/N’s nose when she expired the cold air of the night, and his smile turned into a grin. Jisung moved a few strands of hair from her face before wrapping his hands better around her to keep her warm. He placed a kiss on top of her head and rested his chin on her head, swaying slightly while continuing to watch the movie.

      If you were to ask Mina what has happened so far in the movie, she couldn’t give you an answer. As much as she wanted to see the film, the girl’s eyes seemed to be more interested in whatever was happening on the blanket on her left. 

      She watched as they were cuddling and whispering to each other things she couldn’t hear. Then Y/N fell asleep, and Jisung seemed to be even more loving, hugging her even tighter and kissing her. She was wondering if he has ever done that to her on the many nights they shared a bed.

      Mina never thought she would be that affected by the fact that Jisung has found himself a girlfriend. After all, he was just one of the many boys she was hooking up with. She never thought she would have feelings for him, but here she was, being jealous of the last person she ever thought she would.

      She had to somehow get the boy back. She wanted to see it as a challenge, but she couldn’t. It had barely been two weeks since they ‘broke up’ and scarcely four days since he started dating that perfect little missy. Love doesn’t fade away that fast. She’ll have him back in no time.

      Y/N felt someone shaking her arm gently, and she mumbled some incoherent words, pushing the hand away. She was sleeping so well, she didn’t want to wake up. A hand pushed a hair strand that was ticking her nose out of the way before grabbing her shoulder and shaking it again. She groaned in annoyance.

      “Wake up, Y/N! You have to go home. Unless you want me to take you to my place.” Someone whispered close to her face, and her eyes fluttered open, trying to make up her surroundings.

      The first thing she saw when she finally managed to blink the sleep away was Jisung’s smirking face. God, he was so annoying. Ignoring him and looking around, she noticed she was in his parked car in front of her apartment complex. She vaguely remembered falling asleep, but she doesn’t remember waking up to get to the car.

      “How did I get here? Did you wake me up?” Y/N asked, straightening her body and inhaling the cold air of the night.

      Jisung held her hand and helped her out of the car before slamming the door closed. He let her lean against the front door and opened the back door to fish her purse from the back seat.

      “I didn’t. You were way too cute when you shut up. Like a little obedient kitty. I had to enjoy the moment a little bit longer.” He teased, putting a hand around her waist and making their way to the entrance in the complex.

      Y/N scoffed at his childish remark but decided to ignore it. She didn’t have the necessary energy to argue with him.

      “So you carried me to the car? What about the blanket and the other stuff you had there? Did you go back for them?”

      “No, I had Jay get them for me, so I don’t wake you up.” 

      Stopping in front of the elevator, Jisung pushed the button, and they waited a few seconds for the doors to open. Stepping inside, Y/N pushed the button for the third floor before leaning back against Jisung.

      “Talking about Jay. Thank you for today!” The man threw her a questioning look, acting as nonchalant as he could.

      “What do you mean?”

      “Don’t act dumb! I know you didn’t give me your jacket just because you are nice like that. You saw how he looked at me.” She wanted to sound more aggressive, but her voice came out soft and calm since she was still sleepy.

      Jisung found that adorable but surpassed a smile. Adopting a disinterested expression, he spoke.

      “He did? I didn’t notice. I just thought that, as your boyfriend, I shouldn’t let everyone see your underwear.” Y/N punched him in the stomach lightly, and Jisung dramatically bent down, letting out a fake grunt.

      “You are such an asshole!”

      A loud ding echoed in the restricted space, and the doors opened, revealing the dirty wall of the third floor. They stepped out of the elevator and slowly walked down the hallway to where Y/N’s apartment door was. Taking her purse from Jisung’s hand and finding her keys, she unlocked the door and opened it.

      She leaned against the door frame and looked up at Jisung, giving him a bright smile.

      “I'd like to say that I had fun, but I fell asleep halfway through the date.” She giggled, trying to mask her embarrassment. “But it was nice getting out of the house. Thank you for today!”

      The man put his hands in his jean’s pockets and scoffed.

      “You are lucky Mina got upset by you sleeping on me. Otherwise, I would have gotten angry. My shoulders are so stiff from having to support your weight. I might not recover for a few days.” A fake pained groan left his throat, and Y/N rolled her eyes.

      Lifting herself on her tiptoes, she placed one hand on his shoulder and brought his head lower. She connected her lips with his in a short kiss. Breaking the kiss, she stepped inside her apartment and kept the door open enough for her head to be visible.

      “See you on Monday!” With that, she closed the door all the way and made her way into her bedroom.

      She wasn’t sure what was the time, but it must have been well past 11 PM. Taking off the dress, she discarded it on the floor before grabbing the oversized t-shirt from the back of the desk chair. She put it on and threw herself on the bed, letting the sheets envelop her body before falling asleep.

      Y/N’s eyes shot open, and her mouth fell open as the realisation of what she did only moments prior sank in. Putting the back of her hand over her forehead and exhaling deeply, her eyes closed and her brows furrowed. Why did she kiss him? She’ll never interact with anyone while she’s still drunk on sleep.

      Meanwhile, Jisung that just exited the complex couldn’t contain his smile. He couldn’t understand why that was happening. They kissed before to make Mina jealous. But maybe that was precisely the reasons such an insignificant gesture brought him so much joy. Mina was nowhere near. A spark erupted in his stomach at the thought that the girl might have a crush on him.

      “Do it again! With more love this time. Come on. You want me! You desire me!” Y/N ordered to Jeongin.

      The man let out a frustrated groan, using the script to cover his eyes from the brightness of the sun.

      Both of them, Hyunjin and Jisung, were outside, in front of the university. They had a free period and decided to practice the script for the short movie they were playing in. Hyunjin, although not part of the film itself, was always with them thanks to Mrs. Bae’s affinity towards him. 

      Jisung, however, was new in the picture. Ever since they went on that date a week and a half ago, he seemed to be spending more time with her. She felt mildly suffocated by that but decided not to question it. As long as he wasn’t distracting her from her usual activities, she didn’t mind him tagging along.

      “You don’t make desiring you really easy. We’ve done it four times already. We will start filming in three months. I don't have to be perfect right now!” Jeongin exclaimed letting his body fall on the bench on which Jisung and Hyunjin were seated.

      “Hey! Be careful of what you say. My girlfriend is very, much desirable!” Jisung said in a jokingly offended tone earning disgusted groans from the other two men.

      “Really dude? I could have lived my life without knowing that information.” Jeongin started fanning himself with the script. It was a sweltering day.

      “I don’t understand why you are here. You are only four-wheeling us.” Hyunjin remarked, earning himself a dirty look from Jisung.

      “A car needs all four wheels to be functional.”

      “Yeah, babe, but we are a tricycle.”

      Hyunjin, Jeongin and Y/N erupted into laughter at Jisung’s dumbfounded expression. From behind Y/N, they heard even louder laughter and Hyunjin scoffed at the scene unfolding under his eyes. 

      “I swear to God! Mina has been so annoying lately. Much more than when she used to hang out with Jisung. It’s as if she’s following us around.” The man rolled his eyes as he remembered how many times Mina ‘coincidentally’ happened to be in the same place as them the past week.

      “Tell me about it. And how she is always with Jay from our major. If I wanted to watch live porn, I would have signed up on one of those porn sites.” Jeongin seemed as annoyed as the other man.

      “Don’t stress about that guys. I’m pretty sure these are just coincidences.” Y/N tried telling them, even though she knew everything they said was right.

      “No, I’m pretty sure they are not. There’s someone between us whose attention she’s trying to catch.” Hyunjin gave Jisung a side look.

      “You can’t be sure of that.” She played dumb, wanting more than anything to change the subject.

      “ Oh, please! She’s always watching him. In the cafeteria, when we are hanging around on our free periods, when she’s kissing that loser. It’s like he’s a good movie she can’t tear her eyes from.” Jeongin snapped, tired of the whole situation.

      “Then let’s give them something to look at!” Jisung smirked smugly.

      “What do..”

      In the next second, Y/N has been pulled on Jisungs lap, and he captured her lips in an urgent kiss. One hand was on the nape of her head forcefully holding her in the kiss, and the other one was on her ass cheek, squeezing it. 

      She heard someone awkwardly clearing their throat from her right, and all her senses heightened. Y/N placed her hands on Jisung’s shoulders and tried lightly pushing him away while uncomfortably shifting in his lap. As a response, the man groaned lowly and slid his hand from her neck to her chest, cupping it.

      Her eyes widened in shock at his action and mustering all the force she had in her, she pushed him away, finally breaking the kiss. A loud bang ringed around them as her hand made contact with his cheek. Jumping off his lap, she gathered her bag from the leg of the bench.

      “You are a fucking asshole!” She shouted in his face before storming off inside the university.

      The stomping of her boots was echoing in the empty halls, and the few students that were around decided to make her space to pass. Her thinking was clogged at the moment, and all she could feel was rage and shame. She was angrily making her way down the halls, but her destination was uncertain. She just wanted to be as far away from him as possible.

      Y/N heard quick steps from behind her, and a hand pulled at her shoulder. Without turning around, she shrugged it off and started walking faster. The person behind her also increased their walking speed, but this time around, they grabbed her wrist.

      Just as she was preparing to scream in their face, she was pulled into a hug, her face forced into a firm chest. Y/N felt herself calm down as the smell of a cologne she grew accustomed to in the last week invaded her lungs. His hand was gently rubbing her back, and she relaxed under her touch.

      “Are you okay?” Hyunjin whispered softly in her ear.

      She hid her face more in his chest, feeling shame overcome her.

      “I’m sorry you had to see that. I swear it’s not what you think! We’ve never…” Her voice was shaky, as if she was about to cry. Hyunjin cupped her face forcing her to look in his eyes. She could see concern and sadness hiding behind his brown orbs.

      “Why are you apologising to me? You are the one who’s been wronged here. I just wanna make sure you are okay.” His soft voice was acting as a calmative for her racing heartbeat.

      Y/N felt her insides flip at his caring words. His hands on her cheeks were hot, and she decided to blame them for the blush that acaparated her face.

      “Hey! Step away from my girlfriend, you motherfucker!” Jisung’s voice filled her ears, and she saw Hyunjin roll his eyes.

      The warmth of his body left her, and he crossed his arms as Jisung finally arrived in front of them. Hyunjin was looking down at the other man, and both their expressions were filled with anger.

      “I was just making sure she’s fine. It looks like you took your time deciding to do the same.” The taller man spat venom dripping off his tongue.

      “It’s none of your business how I handle my relationship!” Jisung adopted a louder tone bringing his face closer to Hyunjin’s.

      “But it is when you decide to act like a bitch in heat and make your girlfriend uncomfortable. This is why Mina never dated you and why you and Y/N won’t last long!”

      Jisung clenched his jaw upon hearing the other man’s words, and before anyone could register what was happening, he plunged his fist into Hyunjin’s face.

[coffeecakefanfics]

Rocky Mountain Skies

So I live in the 719 (CO) and I have been DYING to write about it so here’s this hot ass mess Also it’s my first multipart story on tumblr so bear with me (I’ll do a part two because omg) 

Christmas is a magical time of year where families get together and revisit the political opinions of the past month but turn around and gift each other things. For the (L/N) family it was no different. 

(Y/n) waltzed through the bullpen, coffee in one hand, phone in the other.  

“Yes mom I’ll be home for Christmas,” she set her things down and sat at her desk, “No mom I already requested the two weeks off, I’ll be fine,” her sigh caught a few peoples attentions.

“Mom seriously, I get into Denver Sunday at 11, papa already said he’d come pick me up. . .  yes mom I know how old he is but you don’t have time remember, besides it’ll be nice to see him. . . Mom I gotta go I have a meet- yes mom I’ll let you know when I get to the airport. . . Mom I have to go byeee” She clicked her phone and leaned back, letting out a long groan. 

“Mom troubles?” Derek smirked.

“You have NO idea, I love her but she needs to chill,” she smiled. 

“Well I think it’s sweet,” he toys.

“Of course you do, go to work,” she shook her head teasingly. 

“All right, all right,” he laughed and walked off. (Y/n) stayed seated at her desk for a majority of the day, skipping lunch to finish files.  People stopped by to make small talk while she worked, which she happily sat through.  As the day continued on people started packing up their things to head home.  It was quiet, the only people left were (Y/n), Spencer, JJ, and Hotch.  

(Y/n) Stretched, popping her back, before getting up and walking around the desks.  She set her hand on a chair and spun it so the messy haired man was facing her. She smiled at him brightly.

“Hey Spence”

“Hi, uh, is something wrong?”

“No I just wanted to talk to you is all,” she sat on his desk.

“About?” he looked at her curiously.  He watched the way her hair set on her shoulders and framed her face, the way her waist dipped and hips bulged slightly, the way her thighs squished when she sat. He forced his eyes beack up to her and felt his face go a little warm.

“You know in the past three years I’ve been here I don’t think I’ve seen you take a vacation, and it’s none of my business if you save it or whatever but I was curious, why?” her face twisted in thought.  He sat for a second and thought. 

“Well I mean I go “home” occasionally, but I guess I’ve just never had a desire to go anywhere,” he shrugged, “I mean all we do is travel for work so I guess it never really crossed my mind” he smiled at her. 

“Well, I uh, look I have an extra plane ticket back home. My ex was supposed to go with me but we broke things off a few months ago.  So I guess I’m trying to say if you want to, you could come with me.  I mean you totally dont have to and I mean-” 

“To Colorado?” he quirked his eyebrow.

“I mean, yes? but only if you want to, I mean you’re my best friend, and closest one so I figured I’d ask before getting a refund,” she twisted her foot into the ground.

“Do I get a cowboy hat?”

She looked up surprised and laughed, “Duh”

“Then I’ll go”

The two weaved through the airport traffic.  The building was loud and crowded and both were getting antsy.  (Y/n) clutched her bag tight as they maneuvered through the crowds of people.  Finally making it outside, the cold mountain air bit at their skin. A old man stood at the end of a row of cars holding a huge sign 

‘(Y/N) (L/N)’ written in huge letters decorated the sign. 

“Papa!” she cried and dropped her bags, getting swallowed into a hug that itself felt like home.  Spencer stood awkwardly by watching the two.  

“Where are my manners, My Name is Jim (L/N) but you can call me Papa.  You must be Spencer?” The man, Jim introduced himself.  He was only about 5′10″ and was clad in a red and white pearl snap with stained coveralls over top.  His face was covered mostly by a long Beard and Mustache and he had a pair of glasses perched on top of his head. 

“Oh, uh yes sir I’m Spencer,” He smiled at the man who held his hand out.  Spencer shook it gladly. 

“Well we need to get you kids home. Granny is making soup for dinner,” he bent down and picked up (Y/n)’s bag and rolled it to a old pick up truck, may be ten years old Spencer guessed. He stared at the backseat for a second, his stomach turned, maybe this wasn’t the best idea, maybe he shouldn’t have came, I mean I’m being so awkward an- 

“Spence what are you waiting for?, hop in,” (Y/n) called from the back seat.  He blinked a few times at her before jumping in and closing the door. She leaned over to him, “I didn’t want you to be alone back here,” she pulled back and smiled. 

“Thank you,” he breathed a sigh of relief.  As close as they were he had never met her family.  He had spent countless nights sitting on her couch easting Chinese food while they finished files or watched bad movies but he still felt nervous being around her like this. 

“So Spencer, where are you from?”

“I’m from Vegas,” he replied meekly.

“A gambler huh?” The old man grinned at him in the rear view, “you any good?” 

Spencer laughed and shook his head, “I guess we’ll have to see,” he teased back.  Jim laughed and smiled at his granddaughter. 

“i like this one”

“You like him just because you’re bad at Texas Hold em” she playfully rolled her eyes.

“Hey whatever gets the money,” he laughed again.  It was a laugh that filled you with joy.  Spencer finally understood where (Y/n) got hers from.  

“So Spencer, I know a feller like you can’t be single, so do you have a lady back in D.C.?”

“PAPA!” (Y/n) shrieked, “Don’t go running him off already, good god” she shook her head.

“What I’m curious, he’s a handsome man,” Jim grinned. Spencer was full on burning at this point. 

“No sir, I’m single,” He almost mumbled out.

“You know who else is single. (Y/n),” Jim wiggled his eyebrows. (Y/n) glowed the same red that the poor man next to her did.

“Papa oh good god.  Stick to breaking horses not my love life, and besides you’re gonna make him regret coming here before he even sees the ranch,” she rolled her eyes.  Spencer actually laughed.  The two of them were obviously close, it was . . . nice.  It was a nice break from what they deal with every day.  

The rest of the car ride went by semi fast, (Y/n) explained all of her plans for the two of them while they were here.  She was almost glowing with excitement. The wooden fence that stretched along the property line came into view as the truck began up the drive.  A gorgeous two story log cabin came into view behind a row of evergreens.  The wood was a beautiful light brown, and towered over the yard.   A old lady was standing on the porch dressed in a fleece nightgown and brown slippers.  She waved as the truck stopped.  The group jumped out and began grabbing bags. 

“There’s my baby girl,” the woman hugged (Y/n) tightly.  She had her same eyes.  The woman stood maybe 5′2′ and had a pink and white fleeced nightgown on.  Her grey hair fell in neat curls down her back.  Her face was wrinkled and warm, the kind that you know showed so much joy in her younger years. 

“And this must be Spencer, You’re even more handsome in person,” she cood at him. 

“grandma!” 

“It’s alright. Yes ma’am I’m Spencer,” he smiled at her, “It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” he grinned. 

“Oh where are my manners, lets get you babies inside and warm,” she ushered everyone in.  “(Y/n) baby your room is all set up, but um there’s been a change of plans,” The lady frowned. 

“What Dawn is trying to say is that your mom and your stepdad are staying in the last guest room, and your cousin Rita is in the other”

“WHAT!” (Y/n) yelled. “Mom said her the Stepdouch were staying home for Christmas! I was promised to get you two to myself. And Rita!” she was fuming. Spencer set his hand on her shoulder, trying to bring her back to earth.

“We know baby but she insisted that you wouldn’t go see her if she stayed,”

“Of course not, not after what she did!”

“And Rita is your cousin, at least try to play nice,” Jim begged. 

“No, Not after what they did!” (Y/n) was breathing ragged, anger radiating off of her body. 

“Hey, uh why don’t you help me to my room?” Spencer forced her to look at him.  She sighed and grabbed her bag.

“Okay” she grabbed his hand and began through the living room up the stairs.  Spencer admired the “family” room on the balcony overlooking the living room. (Y/n) led him around the bend and over to the room. She popped the door open and let him inside. She followed and closed the door after her. 

“So since my cousin Rita took the guest room we’ll have to share this one, I’m really sorry. I have an air mattress that I can sleep on and you can have the bed. This isn’t how I wanted this to go, I’m sorry,” she spoke almost in tears.

“Hey you didn’t know and I’m kicking you out of your bed, I’ll sleep on the air mattress, besides we can always still do everything you planned. We’ll be okay,” he smiled and held her face.  She let a tear fall. 

“I know but this was supposed to be a fun trip for you,”

“It will be, what’s more fun than two weeks without work,” he smiled and pushed her hair behind her ear. 

“It’s only like one, so would you show me the property?” he smiled.

“Sure, but we need to get you a new wardrobe,” she laughed. 

“Hey what’s wrong with my clothes?” he spun for her. 

“Well for starters you’re in loafers and there’s snow on the ground, and second I do owe you a cowboy hat,” she grinned. “Come on lets play dress up”

The two of them sat in the attic surrounded by boxes of old clothes.  She held up a nice quilt lined coat, identical to the light brown one she had on. 

“That should fit, he was about your size,” she smiled and handed him the coat. 

“Who?” he asked and examined the inside of the coat when it stared him right in the face. 

‘Merry christmas daddy, (Y/n)’ stitched on the tag.  his heart stopped.

“(Y/n) I can’t accept these, these meant the world to you I-”

“Spencer please, I’d rather you have daddy’s stuff than any of those other brats,” she sneered. “It’s the only other thing I got from him when he passed.  He would’ve liked you,” she smiled and pulled a bunch of pearl snaps out.  Spencer's heart leapt.  We slid the Carhart on, it sat nicely against his body.  She looked up from the boxes. 

“Whoa” she gasped. “Spencer you look, just wow” she grinned. 

“Wait I have one more thing,” she rushed off to the back of the attic.  She returned with a box wrapped in red wrapping paper she smiled and handed it to him.  He pulled the top of the box off.  Inside sat a nice dark brown felt hat with a brown leather strap around it.  It was adorned with a small gun charm on the leather strap. 

“(Y/n) this is, this is way too much,” he looked up at her.

“I bought it for you last year, I remember you saying you wanted to be a cowboy so I figured I’d buy it but I forgot it last time so there,” she beamed at him.

“Well, try it on,” she ushered  He set the hat on his head, a perfect fit.  

“Well?” he spun

“You look like a true cowboy Spence,” 

They walked the property talking for hours.  The air grew cold and bit at their cheeks. 

“Hey do you want to see my favorite spot?” she asked

“Of course,” he grinned.  They walked out into the woods behind the house before coming to a clearing.  The sun was beginning to set.  The mountains had a purple haze but the sky was bright blue.  Golden streaks danced across the clouds.  The clearing was full of dry grass and thistles that would become tumbleweeds when it got windy. 

“(Y/n) this is amazing,” he breathed the fresh mountain air.

“This is my favorite part of being home, the Rocky Mountain Skies.  They seem to dance with color.  I forget how pretty they are when I leave,” she smiled and watched the clouds float by. 

“Why did you leave?” Spencer asked.  He turned to look at the girl next to him.  She looked small in her coat and her hair was messy from the light wind. 

“After my dad died. My mom got with my Stepdouch a month later, the will had been “lost” the will that would have granted my this ranch.  The only reason I got it was Papa and grandma claimed they needed a place to live so I mean it’s theirs.  My mom got mad because she wanted to sell it.  and my cousin Rita wanted all of my dads horses, thousands of dollars worth of horses that she and my mom fought over and split the money on.  That wasn’t dads vision, they never cared about this place. Mom moved us into town, So when I turned 18 I left,” she shrugged. 

“I’m so sorry (Y/n)” he hugged her. 

“It’s okay. So why did you want to be a cowboy?” She teased.

“Well I mean every little boy wants to be a cowboy, I wanted to catch the outlaws, or maybe be them I’m not sure,” he laughed. 

“(Y/N), SPENCER, DINNER!” Dawn yelled to them.  

“Race you there” she smacked his chest and took off.

“No fair!” he called after her. 

[fratboykate]

I swear to god, I never expected that you, out of all people in this hellsite, would ever post smut, even in the briefest way, it's not even that they fucked, but that YOU wrote it, I was team both, untill Kate sprouted that insanity about a baby, if it were possible, I would have entered the story and punched her in the mouth, dude you got me fuming at this point, I was almost screaming leave her to Yelena, cause, this was batshit. I really thought they were gonna divorce, ngl, even if I would have understood, I actually relaxed when they said they would try therapy and everything, the moment in the bedroom, Yelena enjoying the small things, got me all warm I could breathe knowing the kids would be alright. And her post defense, it was so sweet, the flowers, the ring, just them being soft untill you heated it up and I clutched the pearls I don't even own

IT WAS NECESSARY FILTH LKJSDFHGJ

why was it insanity?! she wants a beeb and has been wanting it for a while but Yelena has been shutting her down. she didn't think they would be in this shitfest when she brought it up again but the ring was already there and meant what it meant...it's not like she could lie about it

[plus-size-reader]

Georgia

Daryl Dixon x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1250 words

Warnings: none

Summary: The reader comes in from Woodbury, but she isn’t as simple as Daryl would have believed. 

——————————————————————————————————

Daryl thought he knew what kind of person you were.

You came into the prison from Woodbury, like the rest of them and he knew what kind of people they were for sure. Plenty good, that was true, but not used to living out there like he was.

The whole lot of you had been living behind those walls, drinking cold soda and having hot showers.

It wasn’t the sort of thing he had grown accustomed to, even before the plague. It was clear to him though that you’d never known any different.

You had all the tells; clean fingernails, a plump frame, well kept hair. It was the sort of thing that you couldn’t have running for your life every hour of the day.

...But just because you looked a certain way didn’t mean anything really.

You had been living in Woodbury for the past few months, sure, but there were things about you that Daryl didn’t know. He hadn’t spent very much time getting to know you, after all.

If he had though, he would know that while it had been a while since you’d been out there, you had been out there for quite some time.

Just because he didn’t know it, didn’t mean that it was any less of the truth.

It wasn’t until one day that you really got the chance to see what kind of a man Daryl Dixon really was and you weren’t disappointed.

“You wanna help out, princess?” he called, looking over at you from where you were sitting, eating an apple.

He was getting ready to go on a run, gathering up as many volunteers as he could and apparently you weren’t doing enough for his liking.  

“Did you want some help? I didn’t think a big strong guy like you would need any help” you teased, bringing your left leg up to rest on your knee, crossing your legs.

It was the same way your mom had always acted toward your daddy when he was cross, and you guessed that something had just rubbed off.

Though, it could have had something to do with the fact that right now, Daryl almost sounded like your father did when he needed help around the house.

It was the same sort of tone, the tone he’d use when you and your brother were too busy playing tag outside to help him clean the buck he brought back from a hunt.

“You wanna live here, you do your part just like everybody else”

That was it. That was the exact line you’d heard so many times and you thought it was funny. So much so that you went ahead and said something that maybe you shouldn’t have.

“You’re from Georgia, aren’t you Daryl?” you wondered, eyeing him with steady eyes.

You knew the answer, of course, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that you wanted him to know that you could tell. He might not have known you all that well but you knew him.

Better than maybe even he did.

“You don’t know me, don’t act like you do” He had a warning tone in his voice, like he was going to get upset, but you knew better.

If only he knew just how wrong he was.

“Daryl Dixon, I know exactly what kind of man you are, because you talk just like my daddy” you announced, a teasing tone in your voice, your hip cocked to the side.

You had been around men like him all your life before things went wrong and you could probably tell him more about himself than even he knew.

He was the sort of guy that didn’t talk often but noticed the smallest details in everyone he was around. The kind of guy who pretended he didn’t care but would die for the ones he loved.

Like your brother and your daddy had been.

They were both rough and tough just like Daryl, all talk and attitude, even though they would never hurt a fly.

...But it wasn’t just that.

Your mama always teased them about their dirty feet and messy hair, not to mention your pops drinking problem.

You could only imagine what she would say about Daryl if she could see him.

In fact, there was a lot about Daryl that reminded you of a time before all this, when you were young and innocent. In those days, you wanted to be a veterinarian, or a doctor.

If only you could have seen how your life would really turn out. You could have never seen this coming.

“You’re sweet, you’re gentle, you’d never hurt a fly before all of this, unless you absolutely had to” you spoke with such a calm decidedness.

It was almost as if you had been studying him, all this time but he knew that you hadn’t. Everything that you knew really did come from your past.

You’d known plenty of people like him in your life and every man had always been the same, at least in some capacity. Daryl was no exception to that, even if maybe he wanted to be.

“So what? I’m just like every other son of a bitch you’ve ever known, is that it?” he signed, though there was a humor in his voice that told you he wasn’t upset.

In fact, if you had to guess, you would have thought that he was amused by you.

He thought this was funny.

“You know, I thought you were one of those prissy little broads that didn’t like to get her hands dirty, that you’d have everyone else do the work for you while you just sat back and watched”

It was by far the most you’d heard out of him in a long time but you weren’t complaining.

If anything, you understood how he was feeling. It was kind of funny to hear something so strange from the mouth of someone who seemed to know everything.

You, prissy? There was no way.

“Absolutely not, Daryl. How dare you say something like that to me” you laughed, feigning upset, clutching at your chest like an old maid with her pearls.

That was the last straw.

Before long, Daryl was laughing alongside you in that deep chuckle you had yet to have the privilege of hearing. It was funny, albeit strange but you felt like you’d known him all your life.

It didn’t seem like you were strangers, but more like friends.

“Fine, not prissy, just well put together” he tried again, this time flicking at the fabric of your blouse as if to prove his point. That wasn’t the sort of thing anyone else around here wore.

“Well excuse me for being clean, Mr” you scoffed, rolling your eyes at his actions. You couldn’t believe it, that grin on his face as you poked him in the chest.

It had been so long since either of you had dealt with something like this, feeling this way, but that didn’t mean it was a bad thing.

It was new, and old at the same time. If nothing else, you wondered if Daryl was just glad to have someone understand him. For once, he didn’t have to explain why he was the way he was.

You just got it without needing a word from him, and that felt nice. It was nice to know that there was someone in the world who understood him.

Even if you were a little prissy to begin with.

[yconic]

"Divorce is a special kind of pain. It's like death without a body, " is what they say when two halves of a whole heart separate.

Tony never understood when he was younger, never extended the notion of two people who gifted each other to eternity in union splitting up beyond 'Just not talking for a bit.'

He looked at it from a small perspective belonging to a small person, as if the people in question were just two good friends who couldn't decide on what game to play, hurt each other, and needed space.

His parents had done it more times than he cared to count. The frigid silences and artificial prompt politeness between the socialite power couple Howard and Maria Stark could last for two days, or two months, depending on how deep the issue picked out that time ran.

Tony sat straight as he watched the clock tick away, dutifully counting the hours that would bring Maria closer to home from whichever elicit travel affair she filled her time with while Howard closes himself into his workshop, stewing in anger and bitterness that leak out from the door he's not permitted to trespass.

He learns to measure the gravity of their squabbles, - If it's a small argument, Maria picks Germany, France, or Spain. She sends a letter stating the duration of her stay. She sends Tony well wishes, with a touch of formality for a mother, and her name is elegantly plastered on the bottom in cursive.

When Howard fucks up, she picked China, Britain, or Italy, and she disappeared from the earth until she emerged at her like. Howard is Howard, - the relationship between him and his son was too cold for Tony to tell how his father was like without the disdain gleaming in his eyes, but the liquor cabinet always needed at least a daily refill after a spectacular drama.

He looks back at those moments and realizes, with a shade of pity coated in something more sour, mellow but active, that divorce was never an option for them, the cycle of co-dependency and maintaining legacy had to be kept no matter how demanding that task was.

He can't bring himself to be angry when he feels so bad for them. All that money, and they couldn't buy a second of peace.

It doesn't take long for him to realize his parents don't love each other.

Tony was young, but he was never a child. He was naive, gullible, innocent, - but he was awake. While he didn't clearly understand what love was, he looked at the unhappy frowns on the miserable faces of the pair and thought: 'If that's how love looks like I want no part in it.'

He doesn't love people for more than one night, - A full week if their company was good enough to distract him from the rich golden color of his whiskey that gradually tastes bitter, and more bitter every time. It's not love, he knows, - He keeps that special for his family. But the kind of feeling he has with strangers, with nobody's with a name, resembles what he knows of love too much for him to change meaning.

He won't know how "love" feels like. He refuses to be the caged bird his mother was, to take form in the monster Howard let himself become.

Then, life gives him Steve.

He nests into Tony's life like a storm with skin, hair kissed by sunshine and eyes filled with an ocean that the brunette longs to sink into. He has a boyish charm to him, an old soul that swoops Tony off his feet. It makes him want to slow down, even if he belongs to the future, to activity, to progress. He wants to sit and listen to the stories Steve has, told in a Brooklyn swird that gives character to every word.

Steve looks at him like Rhodey told him all people should look at him. 'Like they can't see the status, or the money, or the power. Like they just see Tony, and nothing more. Because Tony will always be enough. ' Steve looks at him like he hangs the moon for him.

Tony never stood a chance. He looked at Steve, and thinks: "Oh, shit. He's It for me."

He just knows that this one, this Captain, decorated to the teeth, hiding in awkwardness at this petty mingling, social climbing Gala, lowering himself at the bar because he didn't know anybody, was made for him. And if Steve clings to Tony the whole night, he agrees with the parallel drawing out on his part.

He doesn't leave Tony's side, arm snug and comfortable around his middle like they've known each other for longer than time itself, and Tony loves it more than he has the courage to say.

Steve looks at him when the epilogue of the night strikes, too soon for either of their likings. He's tall, broad-shouldered, strong but has the softest eyes in the world. It hurts Tony to arch his neck to stare, but he doesn't want to miss a thing. "I've... I didn't laugh like that since I was in tour. You made my night, Tony."

"It's nothing, -" Because it really is. Considering the sins to his name, the least he can do to atone some mistakes is make as much people as happy as he can. And Happy is a great look on Steve.

He does learn one thing: When Steve says something, it stays how Steve says it. "No, its everything, Tony. I didn't smile once since coming home, " he croaks, like the confession pains him, and Tony aches alongside him. "Everyone is worried about me, saying that, that I seem upset, or sad, or just, never happy anymore, but how else am I supposed to feel?"

"You can't let others tell you how you feel, " Tony soothes, without thinking, a hand softly brushing against Steve's cheek. A frisson zaps through him at the feeling of the soldier's stubble spiking his skin. Steve leans into his touch like it's the most normal thing in the world. Tony's heart grows. "It's not even in your control, so why should it be in theirs? " He understands how Steve feels. More than the world would care to listen.

"Exactly. So, if it's not too much trouble, " his shyness compliments Tony's smitten. "Would you mind making me smile again?"

Tony is, utterly, indubitably, irrevocably, without a shade of doubt, fucked.

He smiles anyway. "You know, soldier, I think I could pull some strings."

---

Their love is like rain in June. It's mellow and distractingly peaceful, makes their worry and everything that ever went wrong scarce away. They can breathe around each other even when they feel like drowning. For once, Tony feels like it'll be okay.

But Life decides to do what it always does when Tony finds something good. It takes, and it takes, until there's nothing.

Steve tells him about Bucky. About the fallen brother that vanished in the mission that stole everything for Steve. "Only one soldier fell off that train, but two died that day, " God, Tony is so worried when Steve talks like that. "It should've been me. I wanted it to be me."

Tony listens and he pictures Rhodey falling. Steve loved Bucky in ways he couldn't even hope to understand.

It turns out, Death is not something so permanent after all.

It's a lovely night for them when Steve gets that call. He's wrapped around Tony and holds him in his arms as if he'd rather go to war again than let him go and Tony's heart never beat so loud for anyone. He would have never let Steve answer if he knew that phone call was the beginning of their end.

Bucky's alive again, is reborn from snow and war and ashes. Broken, but alive. Held captive by terrorists and is unmade, undid, but still alive. Everything around Steve is lost after that.

Tong gives him space and resources, help, support, he gives everything to Steve like on their wedding day. He gives him his care and gentle hands and soft words and love with a heartbeat. And Steve is just... Too preoccupied looking at Bucky to notice. Tony feels like a selfish bastard for wanting his soldier to look at HIM instead of coddling his friend at every moment notice.

He wants Steve to stop suffocating Bucky when he already looks like he's just inhaling instead of breathing.

He wants his husband back.

That's why he deserves what's coming to him. That's his punishment.

They drift apart slowly, as most terrible pains start.

Steve starts spending more and more time around the mental help facility Bucky asked to be enlisted into after his hasty return that had everyone clutching at their pearls. He wants to do it alone, Tony figures easily, starves for a journey he wants to walk himself, for the kind of autonomy only a man who lost it for too long craves.

His bitterness aside, Tony marvels at how similar they are. Maybe In another life, he and Barnes would've made a handsome pair of kindred souls.

Steve doesn't agree. He looks sickened, struck even, at Tony for having the Gall to suggest maybe Barnes would be more responsive if he talked with someone who had mirroring experiences. "God, Tony, you don't... You're not a soldier. You're just a man. You've been through pain, sure, but not like Bucky. No one went through what he did. I'm honestly speechless you ever thought you could compare."

Steve says that, it's why it hurts so bad. The man who swore he'd walk back into the hellfire of war just to find the people who hurt Tony and tear them apart.

The man who couldn't be moved by anything. No nightmare, no night terror, no panic attack, no argument. Nothing convinced Steve to leave. He stayed through it all.

The man who cried relentlessly when Rhodey walked Tony down the alter because 'He couldn't believe how lucky he was to marry someone so beautiful.'

The man who hasn't written Tony a love letter every morning like he used to do in over a year.

The man who spent more time sleeping in hospital rooms than in their bed.

The man who used to not go even one day without saying "I love you". Tony can't even remember the last time this sentence was spoken between them unless he said it first.

The man who agreed to couple therapy, then acted like it rained the next day.

Tony would will himself to shove this under the rug. To put a blind eye to it, to make it work, to ignore Rhodey's disapproval and Pepper's warm worry, to push away the pain blossoming in his chest, threatening to overspill.

But this man adopted a child with him.

---

"That one" Steve points to a small boy, thin but sturdy-looking even in the hand me downs from the orphanage, short limbs supporting a mess of brown hair that looks impossibly soft. His eyes are big and kind. Tony wants to take him home and feed him. "That one's ours."

His name is Peter, and he got into a fight with older kids when they wanted to stomp on ladybugs. He pushes back, but not unkindly. He's no bully. Instead, he takes the time to teach them why disrespecting and hurting nature is wrong, then takes their hands into his own, playing with the tiny creatures for hours.

Tony falls in love immediately. "Let's bring him home, Cap."

---

He can't do it. Tony can't look into Peter's adoring eyes, wide and brown that feel more like a mirror than anything, and see the fear he had for Howard, or the sadness for Maria. Tony can't handle looking at the love of his life and see another him.

Steve is Peter's role model. His knight in shining armor, his protector, everywhere he goes he sings praise to anyone who cares to listen. About his fearless father, his heroic antics that seem so tall for him. "My daddy's a superhero!" Tony doesn't have the heart to take that away.

And Tony loves Steve too much to see him become Howard.

So when Steve misses their son's 5th birthday party because he had more pressing business in D.C, Tony realizes bitterly, there's no saving this. People labeled him as a mechanic, a futurist, but he feels unworthy of both when he couldn't fix or foresee this.

There's no coming back from this.

Natasha doesn't voice it, but she doesn't need to. She tucks her phone away after a third failed attempt to coax, threaten, and guilt Steve into joining them, with muted movements, and Tony can tell she agrees.

Tony's grin is too wide when he looks down at Peter when he drags him off to paint his face, unaware of his father's turmoil. He laughs. He smiles. He celebrates. He has a nice day with his family.

He pulls Pepper aside and asks her to prepare his lawyers in the same breath.

This is why Tony knew love wasn't made for him.

---

Tony's always been good at hurting himself. The more pain he inflicts on himself, the less it'll hurt when someone else does it. So he unpacks the stash of letters he kept locked away in a seif, because they're prized to him, more than any sleek car or company, and reads them before he burns the bridge.

They feel like warm kisses and goodbyes.

'Left for a grocery jog, ran out of coffee. It's supposed to be cold, so don't you even think about leaving the house without a jacket! I'll know. Take care of yourself, even when I'm not there. '

' I love waking up next to you every morning. I love how you hide from the sun in my chest. I love how grumpy you are when Pepper calls for updates and all you do is cuddle me and whine. I love your messy bed hair and how you fall asleep in the shower.

'I never cared for jewelry before but seeing my ring around your finger never gets old. I still can't believe you said yes, but I'm glad you did. You deserve more, but you settled for someone like me. I can't believe it when you say no one would want you forever, I hate that someone made you think like that, that they let you go, but their biggest mistake is my biggest win. Jokes on them.'

'I can't imagine my life without you. Its all radio silence and broken static. Like an artist with a blank canvas and grey paint. You're the best damn thing that ever happened to me, and the fact that I have you means there really is someone up there looking our for me. I'm never letting you go. I love you, I love you, I love you, '

Tony stains the paper with tears as he listens to the song of heartbreak in his chest.

---

"Nat, " Tony pleads, choosing not to look at the tremor in his hands as he neats the papers he wants to see burn. "There's no need for that, come on. You know I love you, but I'm a big boy. I don't need you to hold my hand for this."

Natasha shrugs. "Indulge me."

"He wouldn't do anything to me."

"I thought there were lots of things he wouldn't do. Like stop loving you, for one, " she doesn't mean to be a jab, but Tony strokes his right arm and lets the hurt wash off. He sometimes forgets how blunt and terrifying Pepper's wife is capable of being. "Being paranoid is worth being safe."

They find Steve in the kitchen, sitting stiff and unfamiliar as if he didn't design the place himself. Tony swallows down the pressure in his throat and forces his eyes to stay dry. He wants to rest his hands on Steve's shoulders and pepper the lines of laughter on his flushed face with kisses.

But they're behind that now.

Steve raises his eyes to look at him. He's tired, run-down, missing the spark Tony marked as one of his favorite traits of the blonde. The life wasted from them, telling Tony that he's surviving, but not living.

Tony looks at him back and his eyes say, 'Me too.'

Steve's mouth twists into an imitation of a smile, tries his luck at mimicking something of the reassurance and ease variety, to hide his emotions with a mask of cracked peace Tony undressed a million times, just as Steve undressed his. He's always been good at reading the man. Or, was.

Steve's eyes fall on the documents Tony's holding with his naked hands, no ring in sight, and Tony watches something die in him.

The room drowns in silence for a while.

Natasha stands as a loyal shadow at his side, silent but sharp, hands folded in front of her crotch like a guard dog waiting to pounce. There's a forced calm into her breathing that puts him even more on edge.

Papers brush smoothly above the marble surface, ear piercing to him. Red hot blazing into white noise. It's the most terrible sound he's ever heard. He prefers his breathless, agonized screams in Afghanistan to this.

Steve recoils away, standing up suddenly and shakily, as if the documents are bombs about to kill him anytime now.

He turns his head, refusing to look at them. Refuses to accept they're real.

"Throw those away, Tony, " he says, voice edged with the kind of suffering that would bring Tony to his knees on other circumstances."Get them the hell away from me and never bring them up again, you hear me? I'm serious.''

Carefully, Natasha chimes in, tone mild and neutral. " Steve. Tony would like to speak with you about something, alright? Let's sit down, and talk like grown-ups, -"

"Where's your ring!?" Steve shouts, tiptoeing at the border of desperate and hysteric. Tony wants back into the cave, wants the water to take him away from all of this. It's hard to kill something that's already dead. "What did you do with it!? Why aren't you wearing it!? You PROMISED me, you promised you'd never take it off you JERK, you lying -"

"And you promised to love me until the day we die, but by the looks of it we both could use a lesson in honesty, " Tony cuts icily, colder than colder. His words are resigned, hollow, at the brim of mechanical. He thinks all the people who say Starks are more machine than men had a point. "I'm the fuck up in this relationship. What's your excuse?"

He thought he'd feel vindication watching Steve taste a fraction of his sorrow, that his destroyed look would make something in Tony retaliate. It does nothing. Tony loves him stronger, fiercer, and there's no win here for anyone.

His mouth tastes like ashes.

He just wants to stop, to sink in his bed and swim in ratty hoodies drenched in cheap but sweet cologne, smudged with paint of all shades, and feel Steve's arms shield him from the world.

He wonders if it'll keep Steve up at night, how it never occurred to him that the danger he wanted to defend Tony from might have his face.

"I'll do better. Tony please," Steve begs him, and Tony wonders if the situation is so low a man with his nature would resort to that. He's shaken by big hands engulfing his own for exactly a moment before Natasha intervenes, pushing the blonde away with a hint of regret. Steve recovers, looks right through her at Tony who wants to wipe his tears away. "I'll do better, I'll- I'll spend less time with Bucky if you want, -"

"Bucky isn't the problem. It's not about HIM, it was never about him, this is US, Steve. We, our marriage, our family, its been here longer than Bucky. I never wanted you to - to erase him from your life, I just wanted my husband. Peter wanted his daddy. Bucky could've been apart of that, but you just, you just pushed us aside,-"

"I won't do that anymore. I, - Do you want me to be at home more often? I can, sweetheart, I can do that no problem. I can be at home, I can make time for dates and-and for activities, I can take Peter to the park and play ball, - Do you remember that? How we used to play until he fell asleep? I don't mind, its no problem, -"

Something in Tony snaps.

"WE'RE NOT YOUR FUCKING CHORES," His voice is more roar than man, ragged, tight, pushed to the last limit. The garden of silent pain, fury, rage, and fear he's been harboring finally blossomed into something that seemed to shake the world. His body shudders. "We're not some,- some pestering tasks that you have to save your precious time to complete! Some fucking pets other people have to force you to care of, or some dirty laundry you decide to wear whenever you feel like washing! We're your damn FAMILY,- " A sob hitches his anger, and by the broken look on Steve's face, it's worse than any rage.

He narrows his eyes in disbelief, as if Steve was some stranger and not someone he gave years of his life to. A laugh is pushed out of his chest, choked, long, and terrible. "I would've ended this sooner if, - God, if I knew how much of a burden we became for you."

"Tony, Tony don't say that, " Steve's face is blotched red, painted in punishing torment. "I love you and Peter more than anything in this life. You're mine, both of you, how can you think I don't love you? I, -"

"Just love Bucky more, " Tony finishes, note flat, accepting, rehearsed. His voice feels as hollow as his chest when Steve flinches. "I'm just... I'm so tired. Steve,I'm tired, and- I can't do it anymore. My son, my baby is not going to be a burden on anybody. I can put up with a lot of shit, but Peter is my limit. I can't and I won't put anyone above him. Not even you."

Horror shines bright and clear on the blue eyes Tony loves so much. He spots Steve's finger tremble at his sides, notices the hesitant movement of his Addams apple.

Natasha was wrong. It's a rare occurrence, but it happened.

Steve never stopped loving him.

It makes signing the papers so much harder.

---

Steve lost Bucky to ice, snow, and time. Tony loses Steve to fire, anger, and distance.

---

Pepper is surprised when she hears Steve ended up signing willingly.

She doesn't want to ruin the calm air that finally settled over the emotion packed atmosphere surrounding the living room, currently stashed with carton boxes filled with Steve's stuff, ready to be delivered tomorrow as Tony wanted, but it's a needed talk.

"What did you say to convince him?" She asks, not demanding an answer but clearly expecting one. "I'd just assume Nat had him in an arm lock until he agreed, but, in all honesty, Steve would probably lose an arm than do what people tell him to. Seriously, I've seen anarchists with more respect for authority than this guy."

Tony laughs, too loving and too fond for this predicament. "I said you'd drag his ass through every courtroom in America and drain him of everything he's worth?"

"Mmm. Try again. I mean, that's a Sunday for me, but he's already heard that talk before." Giggles are shared between the pair on the couch, snuggled under fuzzy blankets with wine glasses that clink slightly. Pepper's face relaxes into something sympathetic, earnest. "Was it something Peter related?"

"No, " he shakes his head. It never crossed his mind once, no matter how hurt he was. It felt too much like what his father would do. " Peter is his son, too. No matter what happens between us. There's no changing that. "

"No one would blame you if it came down to that, you know that, right?"

He hums. Pepper waits.

"I asked him to let me say goodbye to my husband instead of forcing me to stay with Howard."

A sharp intake of breath settles something cold beneath Tony's skin. He closes his eyes, and accepts the wine Pepper pours in his cup, neither commenting on how it spills over the rim.

---

Talking to Peter is the hardest part.

He doesn't understand why suddenly there's only two people there instead of three, why he isn't woken up by two pairs of arms tickling him and kissing his sleepy eyelids every morning, why Tony's laughter isn't echoing through the house as Steve spins and twists him around in the living room dance session they had at least once a week.

Why, apparently, Steve now has a permanent residence in DC and can only see him twice a week as their legal agreement states.

Why he has to live in two different places and split his playtime.

Why Tony bought a new apartment and they had to move away, stretching the distance between them and Steve.

"Is Papa comin' home today?" A hand squeezes Tony's heart painfully tight at the small question. He looks down at his son, smaller than usual and playing with his fingers at his feet. His frail shoulder raise, housing an anxious breath as he awaits an answer.

Tony takes his tiny hand in his own, leaning down to press kisses on the back of his son's palm, apology on his lips. "Yeah, baby. He has to come and pick up his stuff. Maybe you can play a little when he arrives! I'm sure he'll be happy to see you. "

Steve sends Sam to pick up his things and Tony feels guilt bite at him for hissing 'coward' in his mind.

Peter is excited to see his uncle Sam but the disappointment when he hears a truck coming instead of the deep rumble of a motorcycle engine doesn't wash off. He soldiers on, smiles for Sam because as little as he is, he's careful with people and their emotions. His goodness is organic. He takes after Steve like that.

Sam's always been frustratingly talented at deciphering his thoughts, even when his face is emotionless. It's one of the many reasons why Tony thinks him and Rhodey match so well. "He said he's really sorry he couldn't come, but... Okay, his excuse is just sad, because I doubt you'd believe he'd rather attend a Zoomba class than see you and Peter. Truth is, he's scared."

"Of facing me?"

"Of hurting you."

"Yeah, well, he's already got that job done on the to do list, " Tony huffs, petty and aware. He tosses Peter his baseball that lands in the backyard, gently nudging him away from the conversation. They watch the ball of energy squeal in delight as he runs to fetch it, tension momentarily on hold. "Sorry. You don't need my shit. Let's just load this and be done with it."

Sam huffs. "Man, I've been involved with your shit for a while. Appreciate the feeling but it's a bit late for that. Trust me, me and Rhodey have in length discussions about it. I'm neck-deep in white boy drama, but well, sacrifices of the job. Not much you can do."

He's playful, Tony knows this, in the corner of his brain that isn't raided by anxiety, yet fear claws at him, sharp and cruel and unexpected. Coldness spreads inside him like wildfire, almost matching the thoughts racing in his mind. Sam and Rhodey were talking? Were they arguing? Had Tony harmed Rhodey's relationship as if he didn't wreck his own enough?

"Talk?" Tony rasps, pushes the words out of his constricted throat that seems to close more and more, synchronizing with his lungs. Sam's wide, concerned eyes tells him the surface looked as bad as the inside."You... You and Rhodey, you guys- Bad talk? You, you fought about it?"

His mind torments him by showcasing Rhodey yelling in Sam's face and Sam yelling back, both standing their ground like two soldiers on a mission and defending their friends like avenging angels. Rhodey is more brother than friend, he'd take his side, like the devoted friend he always proved himself to be, but he watches with a cut breath as Rhodey locks himself in his room and weeps.

Rhodey sharing his fate is Tony's own horror movie.

"...ony! Tony, deep breaths, come on, " gentle hands guide him away from the void his own psyche trapped him into, speaking in a low voice that plucks him back up little by little. "Come on, in and out. Focus on my voice, that's good. Listen to me, Rhodey and I did not and will not fight about this. We're fine, Tony, promise! We agreed, no side pickers. This isn't war, and we won't get into some life or death fight for your and/or Steve's honor, " he tries for a little grin. ''I mean, I'm not supposed to tell you, but we don't like you guys that much."

Tony laughs, at once, a pathetically small sound, but he's grounded enough to laugh. He basks in the lack of sound around them, like the silence of an after battle, suffocating, but free.

The quiet hangs in the air as they load the truck, too, not oppressing, but welcomed, with a touch of comfort that burns just right. When the last box is secured and road-ready, him and Sam stay just a bit on the porch to stare at the house. Because that's what it is, isn't?

'Is papa comin' home?'

There is no home. Not if Steve's missing.

"Steve said you can keep those, if you want," that sentence made Tony hunch his shoulders, releasing that bitter aftertaste in his mouth again, blending with something sweet, and igniting the warmth that pierced as deep as his very marrow. "Nothing he loves or wants back is in those boxes."

Yes, Tony wants to scream. I want to keep the sketchbooks he has for me. I want to keep the photo albums. I want to keep the paint, the charcoal, the brushes. I want to keep the stuffed animals he won me at the fairs. I want to keep his clothes. I want to keep the dances in the living room. I want to keep his love, attention, care, worry, sadness, anger, grief. I want to keep my husband.

Instead, Tony reaches for his back pocket, and squeezes his ring. It burns in his palm, almost begging him to put it back in it's place, or on his finger, where it fitted like it always belonged. His being feels it, as if connected, and he decides to even the odds in the cowardice department.

Sam holds his breath as Tony hands him the ring, with hesitance, with no indication he wants to. "You sure about this?" It's a careful question, painfully gentle, far softer than Tony deserves.

No. Not by a long shot. "Yeah, " he mutters, almost lost in the air. "It's not mine anymore."

Sam curls his hand around the ring, pockets it, and Tony wrestles with the urge to ask for it back. His eyes are trained to the floor, on his shoes, the fine leather ones Steve bought for him on their anniversary, he realizes.

He watches droplets of water splash and dissolve into the concrete. It's raining, he figures, he should take Peter inside or he'll catch a cold. He looks up to watch the dark clouds, and the senine blue above mocks him.

"It's okay, " Rhodey picked a good one, Tony thinks, as Sam covers his crying form away from Peter's eyes. "It's okay, Tony. Just... Let it out. You earned this."

"I tried, " he sobs in Sam's neck, sobs his demise his failure, his bottled cocktail of emotions that waited to implode. "I tried, Sam, I tried so hard, I swear I did."

"We know you did, Tony. We all know."

---

Peter wants to meet Bucky one day.

"Papa used to talk about him all the time, " He says, oblivious to how vexed Tony is hearing that. He apprehends himself, reproaching that he should be over it already. "He sounds pretty cool! I want to see his Terminator arm!"

"It's a Tin Man or Robocop arm, at best, " He smirks at the pout Peter throws his way, smoothing it out with his thumb. "And he's in a hospital. You and I hate hospitals, remember?"

Peter whines and makes his eyes larger, pitifully glassy and sad, just the way to wrap Tony around his little finger. "Daddyyyy, pleeeease!" He hooks his fingers around his arm, hugging it close to his chest and his lower lip trembles.

He imagines Steve behind him, smothering a laugh in his shoulder, egging Peter on like two conspirational buddies. He melts, pushing the rush of yearning back, and knows it's a battle lost. Peter is too lovable, too determined, too bright eyed.

He's morbidly curious, in a way, to see what was so special about Bucky that it made Steve want to trade that.

---

Bucky and Peter hit it off in a heartbeat.

The facility hosting Bucky is uncomfortably pristine, from door corner to ceiling. Everything is tailored and arranged with ridiculous precision, clinical, professional, boring, and detached, as most medical spaces are. His workshop dances circles around it in the personality field, and he tells Bucky as such.

He laughs at him. "That's an interesting way to say you're a chronic untidy mess."

'Chronic untidy hot mess, " Tony corrects, hating how easily he falls into conversation with him. He tells himself it's merely a distraction from the stomach twisting smell of medicine, stingy and sharp smothering the air. "How offensive. I demand a trial by combat. Peter, make him pay in blood!"

Peter turns to Bucky, unblinking. "Your hair's greasy."

A theatrical gasps spreads in the room from the blue eyed brunette. Tony beams, kissing Peter's cheek. "That's my boy. I'm sure Bucky's bleeding a lot on the inside."

"Yeah. You know, where blood usually is, " Bucky snarks, heatless, propping Peter off from the spot on his leg and putting him on the ground . "Why don't you go ask nurse Joy to give you some magnets for the arm? Your father and I gotta talk adult business."

"Uncle Clint says adult business is just gossip for grown ups. " Peter retorts, smirk on his lips, half raising on the edges of his mouth. He got the smugness from him, that much Tony will admit. Bucky huffs a laugh that mirror Tony's own and waits for Peter to be out of the hearing range to say his next words.

"I owe you an apology."

Tony blinks, hastily, and speaks before he can even register what he's saying. "No, you don't. Drop it." It comes off razor sharp, yet Bucky must be used to worse, because he doesn't falter.

"I ruined your marriage. There's no forgiving that, but I DO regret it and you'll damn well listen to what I have to say."

"Look, I appreciate it. I do. I'm not... Mad at you. You're just in the crossfire of this clusterfuck. There's no forgiving because there's nothing to forgive, " he murmurs under his breath, words quiet, but sincere, he realizes. "My failure is my own to carry. "

"Stark, relationships need more than one person. Stevie ain't exactly blameless in this whole thing, - Far from it, trust me, I let him know. He got the scolding of the damn lifetime, because he threw away a damn good thing. He made a home for himself and then demolished it. You didn't hand him the sledgehammer, he picked it up on his own dumb self."

"You know, your philosophy lesson would impact me better with wizard lingo. Throw in a riddle or a prophecy and I might bite. " Receiving a blank stare to his quip, Tony sighed, eyes downcast.

"Look. I called it off, alright? I lit up the matches, I burned down the bridge, and I watched it turn to ash. But it was meant to happen, one way or another. We were just too different. Guys like me break the world apart. Men like Steve put it back together. He'll move forward. Like he always does."

Bucky's reply is instant. "No, no he won't, " it's said with such conviction, with such a finality, that it has Tony freezing. "He'll never move on. Not from this. I've never seen him like that for anybody, hell, never seen ANYONE like that. You and him? That's a forever kind of deal. You don't need a ring and name change for that to last. You don't have a choice."

Tony swallows, slowly, unsure. "So what? We just keep path crossing like fate has us tied together, in each other 's range but standing on parallel lines, never meant to cross? This isn't a fairytale, Barnes. It's real life. And even if it wasn't, that's still far from fair."

"It is real life. Which means it ain't fair, Stark. "

Tony takes Peter home, cuddles him closely as if he might disappear, and eyes the empty area around the right side of the bed with a lonely glint that burns in the darkness.

---

The first time Tony meets Steve after the divorce, it's for Natasha's birthday party.

Time jumps from slow to fast, alters between stagnation and overwhelming in the first 6 months that pass after the finalization of their parting. Some days are agonizingly slow. As if the world wants him to stomach every second, consume every minute, where Steve is not with him, isn't his anymore, and choke on the pain that tastes just as sharply as the first time.

And in some, time goes by in blink record, not keen on giving Tony the courtesy of healing, of moving on, of according him the patience or kindness in adapting his feelings to his pace, to accommodate to the arrangement it dragged him in.

Concern crawls inside him regardless of how many times he buries it, makes a tangly nest right in his chest, and makes no effort to move. He doesn't blame Steve for not wanting to meet him, to look at him, to give him the chance of staring into the bright, baby blue eyes that hold everything beautiful in the world.

Tony's seen the wonders of the world, all 8 them, and they all pale put next to Steve.

He feels seething, scalding guilt showering him for thinking that. Because Steve is not his to worry over, not his to call wonderful, not his to care for. Not anymore. He repeats that like a mantra against his eardrum when Natasha asks him if it's fine if she invites him to her party, too.

It's the perfect excuse to see how he's doing, but Tony elects to ignore that and remind Natasha grown-ass people don't ask other grown-ass people for permission on what to do. "Do I look like Pepper to you? No? Then why would I order you around?"

A discreet smile reaches Natasha's features, exhibiting confidence but betraying relief. She loves them both, Tony knows, and wants her friends first, not the fallen lovers. "Just wanted to know if I should hide the sharp knives or prepare some spare sheets."

His face heats ferociously, climbing all the way to the tips of his ears, and all the embarrassment in the world is worth listening to Natasha laugh. Something sharp-edged inside of him brittles at the prospect of seeing Steve, thought, and he holds his tongue from saying something of that nature won't happen.

In the company of his solitude and shame, Tony wonders later, is he afraid of seeing Steve again because he fears the blonde is not doing okay, or because he is?

Later on, he sees Steve stand in flash before him, chatting with some faceless figures, hair longer than last time and flattened slightly at the nape, sporting a beard that framed his gorgeous face perfectly. The impeccable balance between scruffy and well-groomed. Tony itched to run his fingers against it.

"It's the divorce beard, " Clint muses, elbow jolting Tony in the side to show the humor. "Give him a few more weeks, and you'll see him shopping from the Hobo shop. All wrinkled shirts and ketchup stained clothes or something. Men are useless without their wives.'' He winks in Tony's way, but Tony is too entranced by Steve to acknowledge it.

His fists are bruised, Tony notes with a wince as he gets drunk on Steve's form with a studious gaze, creamy skin battered and laced in a cluster of dark purple, crimson, and small patches of yellow shaping his knucklebones.

A trail of question rests blistering on his tongue. 'What happened? Who did that? Who were you fighting? Why? Are you okay? Did you win?' But he closes his eyes and bites his tongue, knowing these questions don't belong to him anymore.

He gave up his rights to that.

But then, Tony spots them.

His breath is knocked out of his lungs in a silent punch, eardrums pushing out all the sound attempting to penetrate his ears. His fingers loosen so much they almost drop his water, feeling tingly numb. Tony's eyes, large and surprised, trace the circle of gold curled around Steve's fourth finger, gleaming softly against the artificial light around the dining room.

Steve is still wearing his ring.

But then, his chest burns and booms, heart roars fiercely behind his ribcage as he notices the thin string of black leather circling around Steve's neck, loose as a necklace, hanging low enough for Tony to eye the shape of metal halo looped right in the middle of the material.

Steve was wearing Tony's ring, too.

The realization left him petrified in place, more statue than man, in stunned shock as he bore into his former lover who only then noticed the brown eyes looking at him, transparent astonishment clear as crystal in his features.

It's like a spell breaks.

Tony's limbs move mechanically, on autopilot, running to the nearest room, getting himself away from what his body detects as danger. Urgency is packed on his step, taking him to the bathroom in record time, but Steve's always been the runner, more athletic between them, and his sprinting lands him a spot in the sleat Tony wass about to slam.

He's pinned to a wall effective immediately, feels cold tiles plant clammy kisses on the back of his head and neck. Tony almost hisses at the force of the slam, but before he can make a peep, his lips are stolen in a savage, fierce kiss.

It's pure desperation conveyed in the most unconventional way. Steve pounces on him, lips wild against Tony's own, pouring every emotion he went through in the past few months,- Longing, yearning, craving, hunger, desire, - his being, his love, his soul into that kiss, barely giving Tony the chance to breathe.

"St-Steve, " He gasps, head tilting slightly to the side to escape the ministrations, to gulp air, moving to avoid the chase at reconnection Steve is playing at by trying to capture his lips again. "Wait, wait a minute, -"

"Missed you, " Steve's voice is thick with want, hitching in the small puffs of air that came off raggedy and breathless, words melting over Tony's mouth. Steve's face glows with a blush he wants to kiss with inhuman greed. "I missed you, I missed you,Tony I missed you" Tony's fucked.

[dramionediscussion]

are the trolls completely unable to comprehend what people advocating sex positivity in fics have written?

listen I'm all happy that you guys were properly educated about sex, that you weren't embarrassed and humiliated to talk to your liberal parents about it, that you had actual adults who answered your burning questions, but some of us don't.

some of us had no idea about the details of sex, and we were not allowed to talk about it to our parents. some of us came from religious households where sex was taboo.

like another anon said, you guys are the reason why women are discouraged from exploration of their own bodies. you guys are the reason why the idea of women enjoying sex is so incomprehensible to society.

you know why? because you refuse to allow teenagers who grew up in conservative households to learn from whatever resources they can access.

let me tell you this: 95% of teenagers having sex is because they were pressured into it; either by all their peers having sex, or they're afraid their partner will leave them if they wait too long, or other reasons. do you know what the common factor is? they haven't learned the idea that their body is their body, and they don't have to do something they aren't ready for.

you guys preach "teach your boys". teach your girls too. teach your girls that when a boy complains about his "blue balls" in an effort to sleep with you, to dump him. teach your girls that virginity is a social construct and it can only mean something to the individual themselves, and only if they want it to mean something. teach your girls that just because their friends feel ready for it, doesn't mean they have to be. teach your girls that full, enthusiastic consent, from them and their partner, is crucial. teach your girls that their body is their body, and it belongs to no one else.

unfortunately, you guys threaten to take away the few resources that teach teenagers that, and you guys are one of the reasons why we will never get out of the patriarchy.

Yeah I grew up in an old school type of environment. We don't talk about sex, girls are still sheltered while boys get to do what they want etc. I learned about sex from tv shows, books etc. We didn't have sex Ed in school, but I knew the basics from biology class.

Really books/fanfiction were the best way for me to understand things. They ways some of those places laont relationships and sex are unrealistic, but as I got older I understood what was fantasy and want wasn't.

That Anon, I believe it is the same person all three times, is one of those "think of the children" types of people who will clutch their pearls at teens learning about sex, all the while not actually having proper conversations to them about it.

- Lisa

[thephantomofthe-internet]

Read Into Me-Chapter 1: Wuthering Heights

Steve Harrington x Shy! Reader

CONTINUE READING THE SERIES HERE

Word Count: 2,849

Date Posted: 04/27/2020

Warnings: Swearing

Author’s Note: We starting something newww friends! If you liked or commented on my post about this series, you’re on the tag list! If you want off lemme know, it’s seriously no big deal. I’ve been working on this one for awhile, so if you liked it, please flash me a reblog or a reply! Criticism is always appreciated!

Tag List: @divinity-deos @thecaptainsgingersnap @wolfish-willow @scoopsohboi @herre-gud-nej @aclockworkballerina @maddie1504 @i-am-trash-so-much-its-scary @banjino-the-hole @buckysarge @wildcvltre @stanleyyelnatsiii @t0rment0 @10blurredsmoke10 @unusuallchildd @n3wtscaseofniffler5 @alwaysstressedout @peterparxour @linksispink1995 @asharpknife @alex--awesome--22 @baebee35 @marvelismylifffe @lilmissperfectlyimperfect

Flowers poked up between the sidewalk cracks, little white and yellow daisies blooming skyward, their heads turning to bask in the sun. Spring was bursting all over Hawkins, making the town reborn in pastels and Easter bonnets. Babies crawled around in the parks in white outfits, their mothers not worried about grass stains and cooing over their precious bundles of joy.

You crushed the daisies under your boots on your walk to school. You made a point to. They were begging to be crushed, stamped out by your heavy black soles. You didn’t like spring, you hated babies in their grass stained diapers and drool covered cheeks. You couldn’t place why you hated the season, it wasn’t as if you hated the cold or the rain which plagued March and early April, you adored the sound of rain on the Plexiglas roof of your family’s sunroom, thunder in the distance and swirling grey clouds swarming the sky. Then again, that wasn’t what spring wanted to be. Spring wanted to be beautiful bursts of colour and birds singing from their nests, babies crying into life and everything turning green.

Your hatred might have sprung from all that green, your mother had insisted on you taking up an artistic skill, supposedly because it made young women more worldly and affable, and sat you in art classes where you painted bouquets of flowers and bowls of fruit for hours every week. You didn’t hate art; it had become a release for you, a place to vent your emotions and makes something from your mind’s spinning thoughts. You’d filled sketchbooks and canvases with images of aliens and stars and snails. You liked to doodle snails and hourglasses on the margins of your homework. But your favourite thing was to draw your classmates. You were a quiet person, a sensitive soul according to your grandmother, and so often time’s people would ignore you flat out or discount your presence. This didn’t bother you so much, it gave you the chance to look at them without anyone asking any questions, to sketch out their image in charcoal and graphite, covering your hands in black and grey smudges. Your hands were constantly stained black, up the side of your hand to the tip of your pinkie, which meant that your jeans and shirts and sweater cuffs were smudged and stained.

You were sat on the football field’s bleachers one cool April morning, your best friend Samantha Cameron sat next to you, thin headset around the back of her head. She was unable to pull the headset around her black spiked hair, purposefully ghastly pale with black lips. You could hear the muffled sound of Siouxsie Sioux and the Banshees playing at top volume as her head bounced to the beat, her black high tops kicking at the seat below you. You had your sketchpad out, trying to capture the stiff movement of her hair with the graphite piece clutched in your hand.

Samantha turned to look at you with a smile “You get it right yet?” she asked. She could see the annoyance in your face as you rubbed at the drawing, trying to smudge the stray hairs trying to escape the harsh gelling she’d done that morning. Just like your drawing, you suspecting that she’d been unable to get it to do exactly as she wanted.

“It’s getting there, it’s not moving right yet…” you muttered, pulling your lip into your teeth, chewing hard on the skin.

“You have like, four of me as is, I think you’ll survive if it isn’t perfect.” Samantha chuckled, pulling her headset down around her neck, twisting her long strand of pearls around her index finger.

“And I like this one best, your hair is moving so interestingly today…” you swiped at the page, pulling the eraser gum out of the coils and rubbing out the mistake you’d made, adding more shake to the tips of the centre point.

“Besides,” you chuckled “I’m not gonna have the time to get any good sketches of you with post-its in your hair this year.” Usually, you and Samantha would try to take one class together a year, but she had to switch her English class to first semester so she could snag a gym credit to train for potential college reps. She wanted to be a Wellesley girl and get a scholarship for soccer and she needed to be a top performance to get one.

You sighed, turning away from her. “I still hate that Mr. Lawrence insists on group work…” you muttered. You understood her decision, but you felt a bit nervous about being on your own. You’d gone to school with the same kids for your whole life, but being on your own with no one to depend on socially for a whole semester scared you.

Samantha wrapped an arm around your shoulders “You’ll be fine, you know that he usually assigns partners anyway.” She said, rubbing your bare skin gently.

“I know I just really don’t want to get stuck with some nitwit.” You replied. On cue, the bell blared from the outdoor speakers and you closed up your notebook, sliding your graphite and eraser gum into the coils and shoving it into your backpack, stringing it around your shoulders.

Mr. Lawrence’s hair had gone white long before he’d begun to show to process of aging on his face. His only wrinkles were from tension on his forehead and around his mouth.  His white hair was a sort of burst of smoke around his head, always puffed up around his head and never fully settled into a style. You smiled when you walked into his classroom, taking a seat in the far back corner. You’d already gotten a sketch of his puffy cloud hair, so you left your notebook closed.  The rest of the class trickled in, clumped in their little groups and chattering loudly, taking up the seats around you. Nobody paid much attention to you, which didn’t bother you as much as it used to. It still left a weird feeling in the pit of your stomach. You wished that you had your headset, so you could block out the sound from your peers.

You hoped that the seat next to you would stay empty, that people would avoid you and let you sit quietly. It hadn’t before the break, but the room had been set up in little table groups of four. Now, the room was set up in three rows, two desks pushed next to each other all the way down. Mr. Lawrence had already had to yell twice for people to not move the desks, a sign of little cliques forming. Vicki Clarke had tried to pull the desk next to you over to turn the end of the middle row into a fire hazard, causing Mr. Lawrence to yell out for a third time. Vicki rolled her eyes, but released the desk, taking the desk next to the free one, leaving a clear space between her and you. You didn’t mind; Vicki always smelt like artificial apples, from the cheap body spray she slathered herself in at her locker and the scent gave you a headache.

Tina Martins practically ran to Vicki as the bell rang out, immediately calling to Vicki “Move that desk over!”

Mr. Lawrence rolled his eyes “Miss Martins we are not moving any desks in this room. Take a seat.” He announced. Tina’s shoulders sunk, but she obeyed without an argument, taking the seat to Vicki’s right. Then, the reason for all the commotion walked in, late slip in hand.

Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington was still something to talk about, even after being horrifically dumped by Nancy Wheeler, he was still a hot object around the school, especially for girls burned by the newest small town hottie Billy Hargrove. Vicki and Tina were two primed recent burn victims, Tina having tried and tragically failed to get Billy’s attention at her own house party and Vicki being the first ‘hump and dump’ victim of the notorious man whore. Steve’s sad boy behaviour had attracted the attention of many bleeding hearts throughout the school, letting themselves get their hearts drained by his succubus heartache. And here he was, puffed up like a robin, his bright red member’s only jacket mimicking the red breast on the bird, his hair perfectly coiffed and glinting in the florescent lights. Heartbreak had done his ego good, teaching him that girls were a dime a dozen if you were hot and sad. The concept of preying on vulnerable girls made you sick to your stomach.

Steve handed his late slip off to Mr. Lawrence and he stamped it with the date punch he kept on his desk. “Welcome Mr. Harrington, please take a seat so we can begin.” He said, his rectangular glasses sliding off his nose as he spoke.

Suddenly, the energy in the room changed. It was then that you realized the class was mostly girls and every single girl in the room was staring at Steve. It was obvious to you in an instant: they wanted Steve to sit next to them and they were all out of luck, sat next to friends or other girls desperate for the same attention. The bargaining began, girls whispering to the person next to them to move, sliding cool erasers or lipsticks over onto the other desk, peace offerings they hoped someone would take. Mr. Lawrence’s classroom had fallen to jailhouse rules and you sat wondering when the first person would pull their shank. No one moved as Steve made his way to the back of the class. Then, another thing became clear-you were the only person with a free desk next to them. Vicki waved shyly to Steve as he took the seat and you tried to disappear. The whole room’s eyes were now on you and unlike Steve you absolutely hated it. You wanted to disappear. Now, you were enemy number one to every girl in the room.

“Alright, let’s begin then, yes?” Mr. Lawrence clapped once and commenced the lesson “Welcome to your last two months of English! I’m passing around the breakdown for your final assignment and copies of our last reading for the course, Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights.” The class groaned. You’d been hoping for a lighter, more modern read, something at least from that century. But you knew that Mr. Lawrence loved a classic and had to follow the suggested readings for your grade dictating by the state. You took your tattered copy and wordlessly handed the pile off to Steve, who didn’t notice that it had landed on his desk until Vicki pointed it out with a giggle.

“Now, everyone turn to their desk mate. He or she will be your editor and writing partner for the final essay of the year!” your heart dropped. You were stuck with Steve. And he was an idiot. Every stupid thing you’d heard uttered from a classmate’s mouth had always been from his. He once asked who the US was fighting in World War two. He spent one class arguing with a teacher that Beth didn’t die in Little Women, not believing it even when the teacher sourced the exact page when Alcott revealed it. He once failed a health assignment because he mixed up the names for the parts of the male and female. Literally mixed them up, your seventh grade health teacher had provided them for the worksheets and told the class to cut the out and glue them on and he mixed up all the words into a pile. He was an idiot!

Tina’s hand shot up fast and Mr. Lawrence called on her. “Mr. Lawrence, can we be a threesome with Steve?” She asked loudly, smirking over at you. Vicki giggled at the word ‘threesome’, hands clutched over her mouth.

“But then what will Y/N do? She won’t have a partner.” Mr. Lawrence flashed you a small smile and you just about threw up. This was all too much for you, too much attention, too many people looking at you.

You raised your hand timidly “I’ll be fine if that’s what they want to do. I don’t mind working on my own…” you said, your eyes locked on the course breakdown.

“See, Y/N can handle herself.” Tina said. If you knew Tina to be anything other than mean and condescending, you would’ve taken that as a compliment.

“I want every student to have work edited and reviewed by a classmate before I look at it. I’m sorry, but I’m not making exceptions to the rule. If your desk mate wants to switch with Steve, then that’s another thing entirely, but you cannot be a group of three.” Mr. Lawrence laid down the law on that and moved on with the lesson. While Tina and Vicki attempt to convince one another to switch seats and let the other have Steve, neither would budge and Steve seemed utterly uninterested in their spat. To be fair, he didn’t seem interested in the lesson either. He had taken to drawing on the surface of his desk, scratching his initials into the wood.

“Now, for your first assignment back, I’d like you to write me a piece on your spring break. Nothing fancy, just one page typed. We’ll write the first draft today and exchange it with our partners to be edited and rewritten for Friday.” He announced “When you’re done, read chapters one through three of Wuthering Heights.”

With that, the semester had begun again and everyone went to work. Voices took over the room, people chattering around you. You felt a pair of eyes on you, but you flipped open your binder to a clean sheet of paper and began writing out your simple description of your break. You knew that Mr. Lawrence didn’t actually care about what you had done or had to say, only that you’d done the work and had proof of editing for it. This was a practise for the main event. Still, you could make a page out of art classes and driving to Carmel with Samantha to see some random band in the basement of a dive bar. You could even make it interesting for him. But, something still made your stomach churn. You didn’t want Harrington looking at your writing. You didn’t consider yourself the next Hemingway, but you could write an essay. What worried you wasn’t being told that you were wrong. It was letting him into your mind at all. You didn’t know Steve and he didn’t know you, what if he didn’t understand you? He wouldn’t understand you.

You looked up from your work to see Steve looking blankly at you. You met his eye, raising your brow at him. He looked away fast. You didn’t know what it was about, your hands came up to your face, wiping at your cheeks and mouth. Maybe there was something on your face. Maybe your hair looked silly. Maybe he was making fun of you. That had to be it. He was making fun of you. Vicki and Tina were always bugging you and Samantha, maybe he was joining in. It wasn’t your fault that Mr. Lawrence had forced you two to be partners. You pulled your body away from his, curling into yourself.

When the bell rang, you pulled your work into your bag, making a break for the door. You had your free period next and were desperate to finish your drawing of Samantha. You didn’t need to have her in front of you to catch the right details; you’d drawn her a million times.

You had barely made it into the hallway when Steve grabbed your arm, pulling you back with a cocky grin “Whoa, slow your roll there kiddo,” he chuckled. Your skin prickled under his hand and you wanted nothing more than to disappear. You stopped dead in your tracks, pulling away from his hand carefully.

“So, how’re we doing this?” he asked, his attention moving from you to the yelp of Tommy Hanson. You didn’t need to look to know that Carol Perkins was beating him with her bag again. That was a weekly occurrence.

“Write your stuff and hand it off to me in class. I’ll edit anything up till forty-eight hours before it’s due. I’ll give you my stuff when you give me yours.” You said quickly, crossing your arms tightly over your chest.

“Sounds cool,” Another cry from Tommy, this one more directed at Steve, drew his attention fully “Alright, I’m coming Hanson! See ya around.” He directed the farewell to you, bounding off towards the source of the sound. Even when his presence was gone, you still felt his fingertips on your arm.

Samantha threw her arm around your shoulders, rebooting your systems again. “Hey, what was that about?” she asked, leading you away from Mr. Lawrence’s classroom and towards the gym, her next destination.

“That was because you fucked me over.” You sighed. It was going to be a long month.