#on a more serious note i love the way he makes an effort to speak to people in a language familiar to them even if its silly

[cubfan135-facts]

cubfan135 fact #204:

words of wisdom wif Cub <3

[thevirtualvalentine]

004. ONE PIECE, CAPTAIN KOBY.

content warnings: afab!fem!reader, virgin!koby but it’s not vital to the plot, riding, top!reader, unprotected sex (wrap it up), cheesy “trapped in a small room” smut troupe, penetrative sex, dry humping, sex with feelings, “good boy” is used twice.

plot: your regular patient, Captain Koby, visits your office but you’re both thrown in a small broom closet during an evacuation drill! He may or may not have a crush on you and your dubious positioning on top of him will send him over the edge.

Captain Koby wouldn’t call himself a hypochondriac, but he cannot keep himself from waltzing into the nurses station on some bullshit excuse to see his favorite nurse. He’s just one of many of your admirers, and he’s more than aware of the fierce competition for your attention. While he doesn’t believe rank means anything in the grand scheme of winning your affections, one quick use of his haki has basic cadets running so he can spend alone time with you.

“And what is it this time Captain?” You whip around in your seat when he sheepishly says hello, scratching the back of his neck. You greet him with a sweet smile as he shuffles in.

“Uhhh, heart burn, yeah terrible terrible heart burn. Think you have anything for me?” He knows he’s full of shit, but it’s worth the effort anyway if he gets to see you. His cheeks tinted just as pink as his hair, you’re pretty much the only good thing left on this base and that’s why he can never bring himself to leave until Garp makes him hull ass on another adventure. The way you smile at him so sweetly whenever he speaks makes his heart flutter almost uncomfortably fast in his chest, maybe he does have heart burn…

“At your age? You’re too fit to be bogged down by all these health problems Captain.” He likes the way it sounds when you say his title, it just rolls off your tongue better than anyone else’s.

He’s quick to think of another excuse, “but what if it’s something serious!” You laugh as he sits down on your medical table removing his captains jacket. You pull down your skimpy nurses uniform before walking over to him with his chart on your clipboard, “I just wanna make sure.”

He wins another smile from you as you stand in front of him to check his vitals. You of course note how hot his face is and how he nervously twiddles his thumbs back and forth. He’s cute, too cute. Coming to your office week after week with a bosh excuse.

Koby loves the feeling of your hands on him, how delicate your finger tips skim over his shoulders and face. Of course it’s all professional, but who is he to complain? The scent of your haircare products and vanilla hovering in the air as you walk circles around him. It’s almost like a familiar routine between you two, he comes into bother you and you almost enable his deep-seated crush by not kicking him out flat on his ass.

“Well, no signs of any lingering symptoms Captain Koby, just a fast heart rate.” You shift your weight to one hip, letting your clipboard rest against your waist, his eyes following the curve of your body. “You’re good to go, will I see you next week?” Letting your red pen rest against your bottom lip you ask just to mess around with him a bit. He gets so flustered trying to find the right thing to say and you enjoy watching him gesture nervously as word vomit spews forth.

The line outside your waiting room has gotten exceptionally long during his stay and you don’t mean to rush him out, but, you do have a job to do. One cute little captain isn’t enough to distract you from your goals of helping people. “Next!” You call out down the hallway as he pulls his jacket back on.

The emergency evacuation lights start flickering before the long winded siren accompanies it. There must be some sort of drill as the overhead PA comes on. “Attention! All hands report to the dock. This is an emergency evacuation drill.” It’s been a few months since the last one, but still the obnoxious flickering and blaring alarms make your head reel in agony.

“Come with me, I’ll take you to the dock.” It’s Koby, he’s gesturing his hand forward for you to take as soldiers pour out into the hallways, he wouldn’t want you to get trampled over as thousands of people make their way outside. He’s always been sweet like this, a real gentleman.

His grip is strong and protective, yet gentle and nervous as he takes your hand in his. You’re placed in front of him while he clears the way for you both to pass through, that is until you’re both shoved into an open door connected to the long hallway.

Koby swaddles you into his chest to protect you from falling and the door is slammed shut in the process. You doubt you’d be able to get it open with the amount of people still passing through for at least a good ten minutes.

“Well shit, oh Captain Koby are you ok?” You hear groans beneath you and remember why your fall wasn’t nearly as painful as it could have been. There’s no light in the room and it’s rather cramped, barely any space to extend your limbs as you’re trapped on top of him. You push your hands against what feels like his chest while you try to look for a light, however you only find an oil lamp on a crate. You assume this was an area where people would come to smoke during work hours.

“I’m fine, are you ok? Does anything hurt miss y/n?” The concern in his tone his evident, his hands come to cup your face as he examines for any scratches or bruises. He’d never forgive himself if you were hurt on his accord.

“Hey isn’t that my job, I’m fine Captain thank you.” It finally sets in for him how he’s touching you so intimately and the precarious position you’re left in, sitting on top of him with knees on either sides of his hips.

It’s a view he only imagines late at night when it’s just him and his hand, maybe some lotion if he’s lucky to not wake Helmeppo. The lamp illuminates his flustered face as he tries his best to slide out from under you, apologizing profusely and almost knocking you in the face while flailing around.

“Koby,” you say trying to calm him down but he’s visibly panicking and you feel him stiffening under you with each passing second. While he’s been moving like a lune, you’re still on top of him; dress rising above your thighs as your clothed pussy sits above his cock, he doesn’t mean to but it’s rubbing your clit so pleasantly. “Koby, it’s ok, I’m not mad.”

“W-what—” his glasses that are typically resting on his head now lay on his nose. It’s amusing watching a Captain of the marines so discombobulated.

“I said, it’s ok, I’m not mad.” You push his glasses up his face to get a better look at all of him, he’s rock hard and only getting stiffer. “In fact, I’m flattered.”

You lean forward letting your lips rest against his parted ones, looking in his eyes for any sort of hesitation— but that doesn’t last. A hand flies to your curls as he pulls you forward by the hip, you knew he liked you but you didn’t know just how much. His kisses are inexperienced and starved, like he’s been waiting his whole life to have this exact moment with you.

Kobys trying not to bust in his pants at this ‘unfortunate’ situation he’s been dropped into. Not only does he get to be alone with you, he’s quite literally living his fantasy and you want him just as bad. He’s praying his inexperience doesn’t show but he wants to taste you so bad he’ll risk it all.

“Shirt off,” you command, it’s too stuffy for all these layers. Unzipping the top half of your uniform lets your breasts spill out, soft skin illuminated by the glow of the small lamp. He obeys without any sort hesitation, “you listen well Captain.”

The tips of his ears turn pink when you comment on his lack of reluctance, kissing his cheeks and then down the column of his neck as his baited breaths fill the small space.

He’s so pale you’re worried hickies will get him in trouble with Garp but he’s squirming under you as your lips make contact with his neck. He’s tugging on your clothes so needily as if to say, ‘harder please, I can take it,’ and goodness do you want to give it to him. What the hell, that jacket should cover it up.

He sighs pleasurably as you work on him, hissing when you scratch at his unmarred skin. His palms grab the globes of your ass as he rocks your pussy against his dick. He’s panting with his head rolled back too lost in the pleasure. “You wanna fuck me captain? That why you come to my office every week.”

He merely moans, eyebrows pinching together in concentration. The fabric of his pants rub against your clit so deliciously, dry fucking one of the navy’s top officers during a drill wasn’t in your plans today but holy fuck did it ignite something in you.

You kiss him again, slower this time, letting your hips drag harshly against his bulge just to tease him. Tongue creeping against his in a fight to slow the pace before he cums in his pants.

“Want you to fuck me Captain, please, I’ll make you feel good,” you half moan, tugging the hair at the base of his neck. If the devil was whispering in his ear right now, he’d let you take him. He trembles feeling need surge through him like a wave, all at once he needs to bury his dick in you to the hilt.

One problem, he’s never had sex before. The way your body rolls on top of his makes his mind hazy, forgetting all about the drill going on outside. “Not enough space,” he huffs, “just fuck me, I’m yours.” Quick on his feet, not missing a beat.

Now it’s your turn to swoon. He looks so honest when he says it, hearts in his eyes as he holds your hips; squeezing against your skin reassuringly.

Sitting back on his knees you pull your dress over your head, slipping your panties off as the lantern illuminates your curves in a soft glow. Koby watches enamored, forgetting that this is the part where he’s supposed to whip his dick out.

“Am I gonna hurt you? I didn’t touch you or anything.” He’s trying to not just reach out and grab you, in his deepest fantasies he gets to drill you in missionary while you call out his name. However, he knows stretching you open is an important aspect of sex (according to his books).

“You’re sweet, but we’ve gotta be quick.” Hovering over his length you use your own slick to lube his dick up before you’re trying to slink down it. He’s pretty average in length with a slight allowance in girth, and yes the curtains match the drapes.

The burn stings before it fades out into pleasure. “Oh fuck fuck fuck, that feels so good,” he whines, gripping your thighs with uncanny strength that’ll surely leave bruises. You wrap your arms around his neck as your cunt tries to swallow him, softly sighing as he fits you like a puzzle piece. Down and down you go on his thick shaft.

He almost doesn’t know what to do with himself, you sucking him in threatens to make drool spill down his chin. Never in his life did he think something warm and yet simultaneously wet could make his toes curl like this. “S’tight, keep going please.” You’re leaned over his shoulder as you try to catch your breath, ignoring the sounds of footsteps outside as you start to slowly bounce on Captain Kobys cock.

“Makin’ me feel so full already,” you whisper into his ear, digging your nails into his shoulders as you clench around his girth. The tip of his cock’s bullying your cervix with each bounce of your hips. The sound of your ass meeting his lap melds with his whines as he tries to get ahold of himself. Your pussy’s just too good.

“Ah— oh, fuck! Faster faster,” his voice sounds so vulnerable as your gummy walls squeeze him in, he hasn’t moved his hands from strangling your waist. Pushing you down further and further each time you chase his base.

It’s all so good; your hot breath, your moans for him to fuck you deeper, the way you’re holding onto him like you need him. He’s utterly melting, succumbing for some tight cunt. Maybe those navy stories he heard weren’t full of shit.

Koby’s chasing his orgasm, using your body as a toy subconsciously. Your ass in his hands as he spreads your cheeks, forcing himself in your heat that scorches him in a way he can’t get enough of. “So good Captain, don’t stop. I could cum on you just like this,” you say pushing him back against the wall. It’s so desperate and raw, his mouth chases yours in a hot kiss as your hands tangle in his hair.

He moans like a little slut each time his tresses are wrapped around your fingers, saliva connecting his mouth to yours. The fucked out look on his face is priceless. “So handsome, what a good boy you are.” Wiping excess drool that threatens to spill past the corner of his lip as he looks like he’s about to cry. His hips jumping to meet yours as that phrase leaves your mouth.

“Oh you like that?” Such a useful piece of information, “then be a good boy and cum for me.”

The whimper that leaves his throat is guttural, high pitched as it rips through the air. His strong arms work double time to slam you down over and over again like a machine. He finishes inside you as he clutches you to his chest, keeping himself tucked inside your cunny while his cock twitches n coats your walls white.

“So good Koby, jus like that baby.” You’re rolling your hips on his, trying to milk out anything remaining as he gasps from the stimulation.

“Oh no wait, what about you? I’m so sorry—” he doesn’t even let himself pull out of you before he’s speaking a thousand miles a minute. No worries, you have an idea for that.

You both get dressed as you hear the crowds returning, helping him zip up his jacket to cover the already bruising areas of his neck. Koby pulls your dress down over your ass and then some, like he’s your protective boyfriend or something, you just roll your eyes.

Stepping out into the hallway in a sea of people you hold his hand as he walks behind you, slipping into the crowd unnoticed. You forgot to smooth his hair out so he looks like he’s just slept in some crazy position, oops. He’s got this love drunk look on his face as you lead him back to your office and shut the door. Hearts buzzing around him as he follows you, not even an arrow from Cupid could replicate that look. You get some stares here and there, but your cunts throbbing for more so you couldn’t care less.

You place your “Be back soon <3! “ sign on the handle before turning around to find him sitting on your patients table, looking a bit too eager for round two.

“Now Captain, finish what you started. Nurses orders.”

[chrolloluvr]

💰Things you do that make Mammons heart flutter 💰

Note: Female!Reader 🩷🩷, not proofread!!

Warnings: Cussing, mammons got a HUUGE ego but i love him🥺

Calling him cheezy nicknames. Things like Mamm, Mammy poo, big daddy (his favorite), MooMoo, sugar daddy etc. Its embarrassing for him, especially when you call him these in public. Because he wants to come off as powerful, but when you say these to him, it is guaranteed to give him a noticeable pink hue to his cheeks

Giving him an imnense number of compliments. Or in particular, purposely pandering to him. Lets say you compliment how good of a partner he is, or how he treats you so well. He will be taken aback by your overly suckle comments towards him. He knows he treats you well, but by you telling him just fuels his already large ego, and proves that you truly see how much effort he puts into you.

Wearing or using his merch. If this man ever catches you wearing any of his merch, he will be like a happy, doting 9ft tall puppy. He will say how absolutely irresistible you look. 'Jesus, y/n. Cmon, do a little spin for me, yeah? M'baby looks so fuckin' cute.' He most likely will make you wear Mammon themed panties around the house.

Wearing his clothes. Lets say he gets home from a long day of planning and saving, and he sees your adorable self, covered in his giant clothes, especially big on you, covering your body. He will go absolutely feral. He thinks you are already the most stunning woman in hell, but when he sees you in his jingley clown hat? He feels his heart beeting out of his chest. And my god, what a woman you are. He will grab your waist with both of his hands, and snuggle the shit outa you. And he wont let go.

The size difference. It. Is. So. Obvious. People point it out all the time in the media and on Sinstagram. He's probably at least 10ft tall, so your basically shorter than him. He absolutely lives for it. He will constantly tease you for it. And he loves that it makes him feel more dominant. He loves that you have to literally break your neck to look up at his face, or that he has to reach down to give you a smooch. He will put things on higher shelves, just to see you struggle and ask him for help

Speaking of so, he adores when you ask him to help you with things. Such as asking him for help opening a Nutella jar, all the way to asking for help unclipping your bra. It shows you need him. And that churns out a feral side to him. 'Babe whats with all the ruckus- ohhh your trying to reach the top shelf? You're so cute, always needin' my help' Sometimes, he purposely wont help you, just to see your precious reactions he is always so greedy and eager to see.

Carrying you. His favortite ways to carry you is over his shoulders, under his arm, and facing him, with his hands under your plush thighs. He loves holding you close to him, because I, ( along with other authors ) believe he is naturally cold. So holding you close to him lets him tear his walls down for a bit. You feel like a small flee while being carried by him. If hes carrying you over his shoulder, he will slap your ass, and listen for the sweet sound of your squeaks every time he does it.

Resting your head between the nook of his neck. He loves when you do this, and you know he does. Sometimes, you will whisper in his ear how much you love him, and how he is the best thing to come in your life, and watch as you swear you can see his eyes soften and look at you lovingly. You are probably the only person to ever see that from him. He also has a thing for sniffing you (which I get into in my future hcs), so he likes to smell your hair, as he grabs the back of your head. He would never usually be that vulnerable around you, so you must know his weaknesses extremely well.

Hearing you brag about him. He knows you show him off to your friends, as well as the rest of Hell. But let's say he walks into your shared master bedroom, and your on the phone. 'Sarah, I'm being serious. Mamm treats me well, stop worrying about me. Im fine, yes. Yeah he a bit of a control freak, but who isnt? I love him for him. Im not joking, no-' He is in utter shock. you are talking about him, and your defending him? Yeah, be prepared for a looooong night. He will never forget about you saying that. And he will never bring it up, since he doesn't want to come off as a wuss. You genuinely love him. The fact that you said that and you didn't know he was in your vicinity is wild to him.

If you look up at him with your big doe eyes. God, you better stop it if you don't want to be manhandled and praised. You just look so innocent and cute, and he just wants to come up and squish your puffy little cheeks like the gif below ⬇️ .His heart feels like it's running laps, but he wont let you see that. He keeps his cool demeanor, as he tells you 'Babe, you think that shits gonna work ok me? Really fuckin' smart arench'ya?

[hariboz]

PROMISE ME…!

“when you don’t tell your boyfriend you’re sick and still perform!”

pairing: idol!bf!ricky x gn!idol!reader

genre: fluff, tiny angst (?)

warning: mention of headaches, blurry vision, nausea and similar symptoms, softie bf!ricky, that’s it i think?

notes: ty to nonnie for requesting this!! i got a little carried away but i got into a pretty good flow writing it so i hope you enjoy 🥹🫶🏻 also!! this is my first time writing idol!reader so i hope it feels somewhat realistic…? as realistic as it can be i guess 😵‍💫

word count: 1.8k (😵‍💫 how and why…)

five, six, seven, eight.

five, six, seven, eight.

five, six, seven—

“y/n, are you okay?” the voice of your leader rips you out of your trance, your tired eyes meeting in the mirror. you nod and put on a bright, although fake smile in hopes of being reassuring, though you’re not sure you were being all too convincing — either way, none of your members pry, because they understand. they understand the need to push through, especially now with all these end of the year award shows happening; you simply can’t afford to be sick, to fall behind and to be absent from such huge events. so, you decide to push through the dizziness, nausea and pain. you’ll take some medication later, it’ll be fine. (at least that’s what you’re telling yourself when you catch yourself stumbling from the dizziness when you get ready to practice your solo entrance.) even though there is a silent understanding between you and your members, there still is one person you know you won’t be able to convince, no matter how hard you’ll try — your boyfriend and professional overthinker in regards to your well-being, ricky.

it’s quite cute, the juxtaposition of his public image and the way he tends to worry. did you eat? does your throat hurt from vocal practice? did you trip during dance practice again? (a question that’s especially annoying considering you told him about tripping once, roughly six months ago. he refuses to let it go.) he sends you teas and throat sprays to make sure your voice is taken care of, secretly checks the soles of your shoes to make sure they aren’t getting slippery, somehow manages to pack you little snacks you can munch on when you haven’t eaten anything before practice again. he’s very rarely stern, much too soft-spoken and gentle towards you to speak to you in a more serious manner when he’s worried, so he shows his care and love through these things — which makes you feel all the more guilty when you straight up have to lie to him when he asks if practice is going fine, if you’re feeling well, and letting you know how excited he (along with gyuvin, he mentions) is to see you perform in person up close.

you try your hardest to get better before the performance, you really do. well, as much as you can between hours and hours of practice and barely any sleep, at least. all your efforts seem to be in vain, though, because the day of the performance seems to be the worst day yet — if you had a choice, you would bury yourself under every blanket available and not leave your bed for at least a week, that’s how awful you feel when you and your members are picked up from your dorm during the wee hours of the morning.

unfortunately, the little perfectionistic gremlin that lives at the back of your mind refuses to let all these weeks of practice go to waste, so you muster up a brave smile through your shaking pupils and tell your worrying members that you have everything under control — you’ll smash this performance just like all the other ones, even if you have to do it while being a little dizzy. it’s no big deal, you’re a professional after all.

your stylists is making some last minute adjustments to your outfits when a gentle knock sounds through the room, a very familiar blonde head of hair popping in. you rush over to ricky, his arms snaking around you immediately. “hey, handsome,” you mutter as you observe his face, a small grin playing on his lips. “you’re not looking to bad yourself, hm?” his voice is smooth as he brushes some of your hair out of your face, careful to not interfere with your hairstylist’s hard work. you’re thrown off your balance a little when another dizziness spell hits you out of nowhere, the look on ricky’s face immediately morphing into one of concern, “are you okay?”

you muster up a smile and just nod, eyes blinking rapidly to dispel the black dots bouncing around in your vision, “yeah, i’m just a little nervous,” you reach up to adjust his collar to avoid meeting his worried eyes, “i’m fine. just freaking out a little, that’s all.” you can tell ricky doesn’t entirely believe you, but he trusts that you would come to him if there was something wrong — so he reluctantly lets the subject go. he steals a quick kiss to your lips, whispering a “good luck, i love you.” before he turns to leave to make any last preparations for his own performance.

your first wave of regret overcomes you when you stand ready beneath the stage, you and your members getting into position to perform the intro to your performance. your head feels like it’s about to split and your hands are shaky, but it’s too late to turn back now — as queen sunmi once said, the show must go on.

your second wave of regret comes when you’re actually on stage, all the lights, the music, the screams and your in-ear monitor feeling less like the dream you’ve worked so hard to achieve and more like your own personal hell. your group having your own amazing entrance with one of the stage elevators excited you at first; unfortunately, right now you’re preoccupied with managing your expressions to make sure you won’t let any irritation or discomfort slip.

your third and final wave of regret comes when you stand in the middle of the stage in this massive venue, tens of thousands of eyes on you as you start to perform your solo part of the song — your head is pounding and you can barely hear your own voice through your in-ears anymore, your steps are shaky and imprecise, your vision is blurry. you manage to push through, somehow, but it’s clear in the way your chest is heaving once the lights go out that you’re not well.

the atmosphere is very much tense in the part of the audience where your fellow idols sit, all of them having to cover their very obvious concern with faux excitement — you pulled it off well enough, but it’s clear to every single one of them that you’re sick and that you probably should not have performed. ricky especially has to keep his expressions in check, because the mix of worry and concern but also frustration and maybe a little anger is raging heavily inside him right now.

the worry and concern are obvious, the last thing he wants to see is you being sick, much less performing in that state. the frustration is bubbling inside him because he knows that you know better, that even the chance of you hurting yourself even worse by performing while sick is enough reason to sit out one performance. the anger is entirely directed at your staff and maybe some of your members, your leader at least — they must’ve seen that you were unwell, no? and they still let you on stage? is that not what managers and leaders are for, to take matters into their own hands and to know what’s best for their members? it all comes to a head when your members join the other idols in the audience while you’re nowhere in sight.

ricky is getting restless, his hands sprawling against his dress pants, occasionally pinching the fabric to keep his mind occupied. gyuvin and matthew both gave him little reassuring pats on his back but neither did much to comfort him, his mind entirely preoccupied with worrying about you and counting down the minutes to when he will finally be able to check up on you backstage.

it’s about an hour later when the award show is finally over, and for once ricky is the first one to rush backstage, a little ahead of all of his members. he swerves past staff and security and doesn’t even bother knocking on your group’s dressing room, ripping the door open to find your shocked but still very exhausted eyes staring up at him in surprise, “ricky?”

he’s in front of you in the blink of an eye, squatting down to meet you eye-to-eye, his hands gently cradling your face, “are you okay? for real, this time?” his brows are furrowed and you feel a little bad for thinking that he looks pretty handsome all serious like this. you nod sheepishly, apology ready to spill from your lips when he squishes your cheeks together to silence you, “shhh, you listen to me. never do that again, okay? do you know how scary that was, watching you perform like that? what if something had happened, you know you could’ve—,” he stumbles over his words a little, clearly worked up, “i don’t know, fallen off stage or something. you could’ve fainted! or you could’ve broken something or— i don’t know, just, promise me, don’t do that again.” ricky’s once so stern voice turns soft towards the end again, never really able to keep up his serious tone for long, especially towards you.

“‘m sorry, just didn’t want to let anyone down,” you mumble, leaning into his touch. his cold hands on your face feel incredibly nice, a stark contrast to your feverish face. he sighs and one of his hands comes up to brush your hair away from your face, his hand stroking your head softly, “i know, but still. don’t do stuff like that, okay? talk to someone when you’re not feeling well. your managers, your members, me — there’s so many people you can go to, okay? anyone, as long as you tell someone,” you nod along to him, and maybe it’s the guilt of making him worry so much or the fact that you’re overwhelmed from the amount of affection coming from him while you’re still a little delirious, but you feel like you need to lighten the atmosphere with a little joke.

“even gyuvin?” the gentle expression on his face falls almost immediately, replaced by a very unimpressed stare. you break out into quiet giggles, muttering a “sorry” before pressing a kiss to his cheek. ricky grumbles a little before getting back up, running his hand through your hair gently one last time. “i have to go back now but i’m ordering you some soup to your dorm later. you’re on bedrest for the next few days, you hear me?” he tries to sound stern again and puts on his best serious face, but his façade is broken when you smile up at him so tiredly, the exhaustion clear on your face.

“thank you, i love you,” you call after him when he turns to leave, ricky sending you a flying kiss before leaving the room, “love you too.”

(your fourth wave of regret came when you realised ricky formed an alliance with your members, all of them exchanging “y/n intel” to make sure all of them can keep an eye on you while you’re recovering.)

[thedexcat]

VotV Speculation Megapost

(For posterity's sake, the latest major release is 0.8) (Also, buckle in. This post is a long one.) (Edit 9/20/24: Added Addendum 1) As we all know, Voices of the Void has a "story breadcrumbs" approach to its plot. Combine that with its alpha status, and we're left with a lack of hard answers. However, some pieces did seem to click into place. This is far from anything definitive, but here are some of the conclusions I've drawn. Let's start with everybody's favorite:

Part 1: The Arirals

god i want one to hold me like that

You know em. You love em. Like 90% of the fanart is about them. But the question is... what the hell are they doing here? Judging by the fact that they construct a campsite in the facility, they clearly expect to be here for a while. A common interpretation I hear from people is that the ones out in the facility are either political refugees, or just some sort of benign "tourist group". I've personally come to a different conclusion. Let's consider what they brought with them.

Exhibit A: The weapon (left)

The weapon they drop around Day 24 is no mere Star Trek phaser. If you drop it in the main building, pretty much EVERYTHING in the building is going to be sent flying from the resulting blast. Not only that, but the "human-wieldable" version that can be unlocked for the sandbox mode has one hell of a fire rate. Something tells me that there's no way in hell this thing is a civilian-grade weapon. And, as established in a previous post of mine, they're kitted out in full-body armored stealth suits.

Exhibit B: The stealth suit (Kerf dutifully remains there for scale)

These aren't tourists or runaways. They're goddamn Black Ops. But you're probably asking, "If that's what they are, then why do they have nothing better to do than to steal shrimp and prank you?" Don't worry, I'll get to that later. Eventually. Maybe.

For now, let's move on to a third thing of theirs: The letter to Kel.

Exhibit C: Esraniki's Letter (D-, see me after english class)

This is the letter left at the Ariral camp if you have maxxed reputation with them. There's one line in particular that's always stood out to me. "GET WE HOME YOU GET DEATH AVOID" So... why can't they go home? Let's review: A: They have perfectly functional spacecraft parked right behind you. Even if they were broken, surely some random Pre-FTL primitive wouldn't be able to help with a mechanical failure in their technology. Hell, they buzz you at the radio tower with one. So there seems to be nothing physically stopping them from leaving. B: They've come kitted out with some serious weapons and armor C: Something in the facility is drawing the attention of all manner of extraterrestrials (and ghosts and demons. are 'metaterrestrials' a good word for them?) So my take? They're monitoring something, waiting for an opportunity to act upon it. (In keeping with the Patch Note naming convention, I will be calling this unknown something "The Threat") Not only that, this 'opportunity' may only open up with the assistance of a human. But what could Dr. Kel possibly do that an Ariral couldn't? Well, I can think of one thing he can do better... Interface with human technology.

Exhibit D: Ariral Communique (quality: shit) Computer technology isn't some universal constant. You can't make a program and expect it to magically run on alien technology with an unknown architecture. This ain't Independence Day. The fact that the Arirals barely managed to send a heavily-garbled message to Kel's computer, quite frankly, speaks of an extreme amount of effort on their part. And it was all just to say the word "OUTSIDE".

If The Threat has some ties to human technology, then perhaps Kel actually could be more qualified to deal with it than the Ariral Black Ops. Hmm... An unknown threat with ties to human technology. Could it possibly involve...

Part 2: The Incredibly Suspicious Bunker

"I left a 'Do not enter' note on the floor. That'll stop people from investigating!" This damn thing is quite obviously, as TVtropes would put it, The Very Definitely Final Dungeon. It is my firm belief that this is what the Arirals were sent to monitor, and where The Threat can be found. But we can't really get much further in than a few doors. So... what's in there? An easy assumption to make is that it's some sort of fallout/storm shelter. But something nearby might tell a different story...

Exhibit E: *squints* ...Liberty Prime? If you take a metal detector over to the bunker entrance, you'll quickly discover a buried drive nearby. The image you just saw is its contents. It's clear that something is being depicted here. What exactly it is, well, that's hard to say. but if you look at that teeny tiny thing at the top, you'll see something that looks like the Alpha base and its radio tower

oh god we're getting into crusty duende video territory now

What this says to me is that there is a colossal something underneath the base. Some sort of mega-facility? Unnatural cave formations? Something else entirely? Or I could be looking at it entirely wrong. But the point is, it's very likely that something extremely expansive is down there.

What if we could just take a peek a liiiittle bit further in? Well, there is ONE way...

Exhibit F: The Least Cursed Elevator in Horror Fiction

Roughly around 3:33 each night, there is a chance that a camera inside the bunker will become active. It's monitoring what appears to be a heavy-duty elevator coated in blood. An elevator like this would also indicate something buried deep underneath the base. Say, this elevator seems familiar...

Exhibit G: Monique Santificer's Extremely Ominous Foreshadowing

...Huh. I'm sure that only means good things. So we have a Hellivator and evidence that there's some place that you'd need a Hellivator to get to. Are there any other clues around? Well, there's that handy instruction book on robotics. You can make your own little friend!

POV: You're 5'11 and she's 6'0 And... Oh! looking back at that camera, it looks like someone else made their... their own... friend...

Exhibit H: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA- ...I don't think they followed the instructions to the letter. So it seems the people in the bunker were working on combining robots and, er, 'biomass'. I don't think our meaty friend here is The Threat itself, but I do believe that it is some aspect of it, or at least a result of it. And whatever The Threat is, it seems to be "leaking" out of the bunker. After all, this toothy bot here seems to have little siblings burrowing out from underground!

Exhibit I: should start running Kerfus. Kerfur. Whatever name they have, they love you! Such a shame that the flesh inhabiting their chassis does not.

they seriously recalled the ++ models over a little thing like this, smh Something deep underground, cursed flesh, and occult sigils. Hmm. Things would tie together neatly if there were, say, some sort of demon around associated with flesh and dark depths.

Part 3: Furfur (and conclusions)

"I WATCH YOU SHIT AT NIGHT" The Great Earl of Hell and raw flesh afficianato, it's Furfur! Demonology refers to him as a liar, but also a teacher of secrets. And he seems to really really like flesh. Not bones, though. He's always leaving those behind.

They say that if you burn an offering of flesh at his altar, he'll give you a marketable Furfur plushie!

The children who survived loved them! Interestingly, there's a certain location connected to Furfur: The bottom of the well. If you pass out at the bottom of the well, you will end up in a (dream of a?) mysterious structure.

Exhibit J: all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well

A few things of note in this place: -More demonic sigils -The only 'exit' is a tunnel leading upward with a broken ladder. And even if you could reach up there, Furfur's giant skull-face is blocking the way. -A unique knife, which when examined in the inventory, says that it was found "deep underground".

How very interesting that this flesh-loving demon has his own little place down in the depths of the earth. And you say the bunker reaching downwards has been spawning horrific robot-flesh amalgamations? Robots that are specifically of human design?

Well then. So here's what I think is going down:

no i'm not crazy it's invisible alien catgirls versus demon cyborgs you weren't listening were you?

-Some scientists from before did a Very Bad Thing in the bunker depths. If I had to venture a guess, it's that they bargained with Furfur for secrets of the flesh, perhaps in the pursuit of cybernetics, biocomputers, or somesuch. This resulted in the Very Bad Thing happening, thus creating The Threat. -The Threat was contained to some extent, but is starting to noticeably leak out. It is also severe enough to have drawn extraterrestrial attention. -The Arirals have sent a squad to monitor the situation and act if necessary. Seeing as there's been no urgent need to act as of yet, they are bored out of their skulls and taking it out on you. -The fact that the bunker hasn't been blown up by catgirl black ops already says to me that the situation down there is delicate, and a 'guns-blazing' approach would be inadvisable. Not only that, but The Threat seems to be tied to technology they have little knowledge of. They would most likely need outside assistance if they want a 'clean' resolution to the problem. -And wouldn't you know it? Right there in the facility is some nerdy, crusty, half-crazed twink that seems to be very proficient in handling human technology. How very convenient.

"average person eats 3 roaches a year" factoid actually just statistical error. Dr. Kel, who-

That's how I think this ties together, personally. Of course, there's always unaccounted for 'loose ends' that may or may not be tied to the Bunker Conspiracy (the rozital pit in particular has been bugging me with its vagueness). Plus there's always the chance that I misinterpreted things like a dumbass. There were a few other smaller things I wanted to cover, but my fingers hurt from typing, and my ability to hyperfixate has its limits. And sorry if the screengrabs are a bit mismatched, I've already spent hours on this post without having to get screenshots from the game myself. If anyone actually read through this monstrosity of a post, congratulations! If you're as deeply brainrotted as I am, feel free to point out the reasons I'm dumb and wrong :)

Addendum 1: Meta Aspects

no, not this. wrong place. wrong time.

Every now and then I hear talk of lore clarifications in Discord servers, Google Docs, etc. Will I be covering these?

(source) The reason? I want to give my impressions based purely on the work as published. Death of the Author and whatnot. The furthest I'll reach 'outside' the games are those ambiguous little teasers on YouTube, which you don't have to be in any 'specific server' or anything to see.

haha what if funni meme robot was irreversibly corrupted by the horrors?

Think of it as me giving a form of feedback on how the game is presented as an isolated work. Anyway, I'll be posting another Addendum later, connecting more demon stuff to the bunker. Fun! One thing I intend to investigate between then and now is a rumor of a very poorly documented... item interaction. As a little preview, consider this note.

It seems, in my pursuit of knowledge regarding a mysterious bunker in an incomplete videogame story, I find myself investigating a skeletal entity of ambiguous origin described as having a single glowing eye. God. Fucking. Dammit. Every time with this shit.

This always seems to happen whenever the protagonist is bullied by tall monstergirls

[btsqualityy]

BTS Dating Series #17: Pet Peeves

Members x Reader

Genre/Rate: 18+, fluff

Summary: Little things that just....annoy you or him about each other.

Warnings: None to note.

Kim Seokjin

You threw your body into a chair in the corner of your bedroom, folding your arms across your chest as Jin stared at you incredulously. The two of you had been in a somewhat heated disagreement and once you started to feel yourself becoming overwhelmed, you chose to just...stop talking in an effort to calm yourself.

"Are you really gonna not say anything else?" Jin wondered, huffing harshly when you only responded with further silence. "You know, that's another thing that you do that I hate."

"What?" You couldn't help but to ask.

"Any time we have an argument or even a hard conversation, you clam up and stop talking," he explained. "That makes it almost impossible to fix anything and it also makes me feel like some type of villain."

"Oh," you murmured, looking down at your feet. "I didn't realize that it made you feel that way. I just..."

"What?" Jin encouraged as he stepped over to you and bent down so that he was looking up at you.

"In past relationships, whenever I would get chastised or yelled at, I found that not saying anything helped to not escalate things," you admitted, finally looking up at your boyfriend. "I don't want things to escalate with you, Jin."

"Oh baby," he murmured, grabbing your hands and bringing them both up to his mouth, pressing soft kisses to them before he pulled them away to speak. "You never have to worry about that with me. Whenever we're disagreeing about something, it's never me against you. It's us against the problem, ok? It doesn't mean that I hate you or that I don't want to be with you because that would never be the case, ok?"

"Ok," you nodded. "I'm sorry for shutting down on you. I'll do my best to work on that."

"Ok," Jin agreed. "I love you."

"I love you too," you replied before leaning down and kissing him softly.

Min Yoongi

"Are you fucking serious right now?" Yoongi chuckled in disbelief and you barely spared him a glance from your spot on his living room couch. You and Yoongi had planned to spend the whole weekend together since it was one of his rare ones off. However, he got called into the studio at the last minute and had to go handle it before you two headed out on your planned date for the day.

Now, that wasn't a problem for you whatsoever because Yoongi said he'd text you when he was heading back home. One hour went by, then two hours and by the time the third hour rolled around, you were throughly pissed off. Once he did finally make it back to his apartment where he'd left you, you had become resolute in giving him the silent treatment.

"Do you know how childish you're acting right now?" Yoongi wondered. "I know that I told you it wouldn't take me long and I'm sorry that it did but you can't be this upset over that!"

"You cannot tell me what I can and cannot be upset over," you finally spoke up.

"Oh look, she speaks." You glared at him, throwing him the middle finger before you folded your arms across your chest. All Yoongi could do was groan loudly as he ran his hands over his face, becoming more irritated as time went on.

"Listen, I do not do well with the silent treatment and I hate it when you do this so if you want me to fix it, you're going to have to cooperate and talk to me or else I won't be able to," he shrugged. "Up to you." You sighed heavily then, knowing that you were being petty and that your boyfriend was right.

"I'm sorry," you murmured. "I just got upset when you took longer than you said you would. Made it feel like you forgot about me."

"I could never forget about you," he cooed, bending down so that he was squatting in front of you as he took your hands in his to hold. "I'm sorry that I didn't keep you in the loop. I'll make sure to be more mindful of that, ok?" You nodded with a smile, surging forward and throwing your arms around him in a hug.

Kim Namjoon

"If you would just listen to me, I'd be able to explain it to you!" You exclaimed angrily as you stared at Namjoon, who was standing on the other side of the island in your kitchen. The two of you had been cooking dinner together when you made what was intended to be a light hearted joke about his cooking skills. However, Namjoon didn't take it that way at all which led to a full blown argument.

"You can be so flippant when you say certain things to me, you know?" Namjoon pointed out.

"Me, flippant?" You scoffed, throwing your hands up in immediate surrender. "And on that note, I need some space." You turned around and began to walk out of the kitchen but you realized that you could hear footsteps behind you.

"And that's another thing," Namjoon snapped. "Anytime we get into an argument or fight, you insist on walking away."

"Because I need space!" You shouted as you turned around to look at him. "I literally just said that or were you not listening?"

"We're not gonna fix anything if you keep doing that."

"But we're also not going to fix anything if I can't take the space I need to calm down so that I'm not escalating the situation," you explained. "I know you wanna talk it out but just....give me a little while."

"Fine," Namjoon relented and he turned around and walked away before you even had the chance to say another word.

Jung Hoseok

"It was so good to see you!" Hobi smiled to Juhyun, who grinned widely as Hobi gave her a gentle hug.

"It was good to see you as well, Hobi," she replied before turning around and walking out of the store. Hobi walked back over to you then, where you had been pretending to browse the store's selection of shoes but you had really been eavesdropping on their conversation.

"See anything you might like?" Hobi asked you and you shrugged noncommittally, biting your lip before you decided to just take the risk and ask what was on your mind.

"Can I ask you something?" You wondered.

"Anything."

"Are you still friends with all of your exes?" You questioned and Hobi rose an eyebrow.

"Well, I don't know if friends is the word I'd really use to describe it," he began. "Even if we broke up, none of them were necessarily on bad terms or anything like that so it's not hard for me to speak to them whenever I might see them."

"Hmm," you murmured and Hobi couldn't help but to smile at you.

"Jealous?"

"Don't know if jealous is really the word I'd use," you replied, echoing his previous statement. "But it does make me feel weird that you're.....so friendly. I don't like it."

"So, should I keep it to a hi and bye?" He asked. "And no hugs?"

"That actually would be nice," you nodded.

"Done," Hobi grinned. "Now, come on. I wanted to check out another store while we're here." You smiled to yourself as Hobi grabbed your hand and led you out of the store.

Park Jimin

You were laid out in Jimin's bed, waiting for him to get home from rehearsal. You had had an extremely long day at work so needless to say, you were more than excited to see your boyfriend so that you could get all the cuddles that you could handle.

As you were browsing the internet on your laptop, you heard the front door open and close and not long after that, Jimin was pushing open the door to the bedroom.

"Hi Jimin-ssi," you greeted him happily, watching as he threw his bag down and instantly walked over to the closet.

"Hi baby," he muttered as he worked on changing out of his dance clothes and into more comfortable ones. As he did this, you closed the laptop and set it on the bedside table before you laid down on your side. Once Jimin was done changing, he walked over to the bed and laid down on his back, shutting his eyes and not saying a word.

"How was your day?" You spoke up and Jimin just shrugged, eyes still closed.

"Same old, same old."

"Did you guys finish learning the choreography to that new song you showed me?" You wondered and Jimin nodded. "Aw, I'm sure it's amazing. I can't wait to see it." Jimin still hadn't said a word and you sighed heavily. "Jimin, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he deadpanned. "I'm fine."

"Baby, you're obviously not fine," you replied gently. "I'm willing to listen if you want to talk."

"Well, I don't want to talk," he grunted. "Just leave me alone."

"You know, I was really looking forward to you getting here because I had a long day too and all I wanted was to cuddle with you but if you're going to be a jerk just because you're in a shitty mood, then I'll just go home," you snapped and just as you moved to rip the blanket off of your body, Jimin gently grabbed your arm.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "It was just a hard day and I didn't mean to take it out on you."

"And that's fair that you didn't feel like talking but don't clam up on me," you murmured as you turned around to face him. "I'm here to help, always."

"I know," he smiled gently. "Come here." He opened his arms and you moved closer to him, allowing him to wrap his arms around you as he held your body tightly to his. "I love you."

"I love you too," you whispered, smiling to yourself when you felt him kiss your forehead.

Kim Taehyung

"Oh my gosh, you know what we should do tonight?" Taehyung asked you and you looked up at him from your spot next to him on his couch. The two of you had planned on just having a date night in but apparently, Taehyung had other ideas.

"What?"

"We should get dressed and go to that new jazz club that just opened last month," he suggested and you instantly grimaced. "What is it?"

"I don't know about that," you replied. "I was kind of looking forward to staying in."

"But we've been doing that for so many weekends now," he pointed out. "It might be fun to get out, have a little change of scenery."

"Hmm, I don't think so," you shook your head and your eyes widened when you heard Taehyung sigh heavily.

"Why don't you ever want to go out?" He demanded to know. "I could probably count on one hand how often we've been out together, just to do something fun."

"I'm a homebody," you shrugged. "I've always preferred to be home to than go out to some club or something like that."

"And I fully respect that but couldn't we do it sometimes?" He suggested. "Just occasionally?"

"You know what, yeah," you agreed. "I promise, I'll try to make sure that we do more of the things you enjoy too, ok?"

"Thank you," Taehyung grinned widely before leaning over and kissing you firmly.

Jeon Jungkook

"What the hell?" You muttered as you picked pieces of clothes up off of the living room floor. "Has a man been staying with me or a fucking animal?" In an effort to spend more time together, Jungkook had been spending more time at your apartment and he had definitely made himself comfortable in your space. Maybe even a little...too comfortable.

"Baby, I have lamb skewers!" Jungkook exclaimed as he stepped through the front door of your apartment, one bag in each hand as he shut the door with his foot. He stopped right in his tracks though when he saw you standing in the middle of the living room with an unamused look on your face. "What's wrong?"

"No, the problem is what's wrong with you?" You demanded to know. "Have you never seen a hamper? Do you not know what it looks like so that you can put your clothes in it?"

"No, those are my clean clothes," he told you.

"Why are they on the floor then?"

"Because I didn't want them to get mixed up with my dirty ones," he shrugged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Why not just put the dirty in the- you know what, no," you cut yourself off. "I'm not even gonna attempt to understand male logic. Just give me my skewers, please."

"Here you go," Jungkook smiled, waiting until you had dropped the clothes in your hands before he handed one of the bags off to you. "I love you."

"Yeah yeah, love you too, messy animal," you grumbled, making Jungkook laugh out loud.

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

Tag List: @addictedtohobi @brittneymccray @cursedcursives @arata18nanami @leftieaquarius @devilsbooksworld @starmyy @werewolfbanshee-love @li-moonchild-il @kpop-servant @cheysjimin

[hwanchaesong]

━⁠☞🍽️First Course: It's always this, it's always that. The never ending demands you have failed to meet. How much more can you take of this bitter situation? 🥢

🎧: Olivia Rodrigo - Enough For You

wc: 1.4k

genre & warnings: angst angst angst (no happy ending here with hj), reader learns how love must work in a relationship, lovers to exes, marriage, other idols appearance, cursing, insecurity, just pure angst :D

a/n: this is a part of The Sour Restaurant series. if y'all want, you can read the other album inspired fics of other groups here.

You watch Seonghwa and Mina sway to the romantic music for their first dance as a newly wed couple, and your heart flutters with joy seeing them so happy.

No, jealousy was never an option for this one because you've seen their journey together. How their relationship blossomed and now, they are entering a new phase of their lives together. It was truly magnificent.

"Hey. Mind if I join you?" a voice brought you out of your reminiscing, turning your head to look at the source and you were dumbfounded to the core.

The man that you have been avoiding for the rest of the day is standing in front of you in his full glory, an awkward yet hopeful smile on his face as he awaits your answer.

"Yeah, Hongjoong. Go Ahead." you replied, returning the smile before sipping the now warm champagne in the goblet that you have been ignoring for the past few minutes in lieu of admiring the pair in the middle of the reception area.

A moment of silence, and he dared to break it.

"It's been a while since I last saw you. How's life?" he inquired, making small talk and you fight off the urge to leave him there alone, but no can do, you're not gonna be childish in the presence of your ex-boyfriend.

"It was good," then you paused, blinking and correcting yourself, "no actually, I have been living the best life."

He was taken aback at your slightly ironic tone, not used to the way you're speaking, like you're a completely different person after your separation, and only a month has passed since.

"Well, as for me.."

He trails and you roll your eyes, you did not ask how he's doing and certainly not interested. But you maintain your poise, not wanting him to see that he's having a negative effect on you.

"I've been miserable... without you, at least."

You whipped your head to look at him incredulously, an aghast scoff coming out of you unconsciously at his audacity to tell you that.

Wasn't he the one who decided to end your relationship? He was the one who destroyed a 5-year long bond, so what the fuck is he on about?

"Are you serious?" he looked offended when you asked him that, like he was pulling a stunt or something but who could blame you?

"Why would I even joke about that?" he mutters back, frowning when your confused expression turns into an appalled one.

He really isn't serious, right?

After all the shit that you have to go through because he's always wanting, needing, and looking for more in you.

You've never really seen the importance of going outside all glammed up, your friends and family have always complimented your bare face. A natural beauty, as they liked to call you. Then you saw the girls that he dated back when he was younger, and it made you insecure.

So you learned how to do hair and make-up. Buying expensive ass hair curlers, eyeshadows, foundations, lipstick, brushes and all that shit just for him to say to not notice what you have been doing.

You observed him to no end, taking notes of his likes and dislikes. His favorite dishes and drinks, colors and style of clothing, heck, you even memorized the song that he's been humming to for days.

The books beside his bed and on his shelves weren't left untouched by you. Every page was read dutifully so you could relate to him whenever he tells you a story about a recent book that he had bought.

But it seems that your efforts were all in vain, as there is always something that is lacking in you.

"The colors of your outfit are not matching."

"Oh, I'm actually trying a new kind of coffee today."

"No, wrong author, I can't believe you'll make a mistake about this."

It may be the emotional attachment or the undying commitment that you hold dear for him are the reasons why you continued to change yourself for him. In your eyes, he is absolutely perfect, and you're determined to fit in his aesthetic.

You were determined to make him accept you.

But as they all say, the more you burn, the more you turn yourself into ashes that will inevitably crumble.

And the snapping point was nigh when you're tired and he couldn't even bat an eye on your well-being.

"Is that what you're wearing tonight?" Hongjoong eyes your appearance, black dress and clean hair and make-up, and if you ask anyone, they'll say that it's simple yet elegant.

Truth to be told, you don't have the energy to go all out for the event that you're attending. Still, you did your best to look presentable, and you did a great job, you think.

It was a hellish week for you. Finals are coming up and you're dying from all the studying, you're also struggling in your part-time job because of the lack of sleep. The worst one was the nagging of your parents, constantly asking you about your plans for the future.

Everything was taking a toll on you and the last thing that you wanna hear came from the very same person that should have been a source of comfort.

Hongjoong sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Just.. stay put in one place. I can't have you embarrassing me further than this."

There you go, you lost it.

"Embarrass you?" a deriding tone rode along with your words, "What the fuck does that mean?"

"Y/N, do you see yourself? I told you to do your best, and this isn't what I envisioned." he mumbles, expression souring when you exuded such an attitude in his words.

"Ah." it was flat, the way you said it, as you were suddenly hit with the realization that even when you restart and destroy yourself, it will never be fucking enough for him.

Gosh, he could've at least acted better. Feigned care and faked affection, but he can't even give you that.

And you're so fucking done with his bullshit.

"I will not come with you anymore. Go alone." you muttered, turning in your heels and heading to the bedroom.

"What? Y/N, stop being a child."

"No, Hongjoong. I need you to stop being a know-it-all, go fuck yourself."

That was the first time you stood up for yourself, and damn did it feel good. Like you're finally free from his restraints, and it's addicting.

He rolls his eyes at you, muttering a 'Suit yourself.' and exiting the house, not even an ounce of concern at your sudden outburst, and that was all you needed to make a cathartic decision.

That was the day you left without a trace, and you can finally breathe without him cursing you into the darkness of being inadequate.

He blew your phone up, messaging and calling you, and you were disappointed when it ceased just after a day. It says a lot about him though, on how much of an asshole he is.

Especially after a mere three days and he's already posting a new bimbo in his social media accounts.

At the present time, you're tempted to spill the alcohol in his face and probably ruin his expensive suit.

How could you even believe him that he's serious, that he's not kidding when he made you feel like a clown.

You chuckle, staring straight ahead, "Did your new girl dump you or something?"

"No. I just realized that it's different, you know? If it's not with you then it doesn't feel right." he admits, looking down at his shoes because frankly, he is ashamed of gazing into your eyes.

You couldn't help but ridicule him, standing up from your seat and straightening your dress, shooting him a dangerous glare, "I told you this before, and I'd repeat it a thousand times."

You smile wickedly, flipping him off, "Go fuck yourself."

You walk away, not paying attention to his desperate calls, the polite facade is gone in the wind and the only thing that you could think of is that you're not gonna allow him to break your heart and soul anymore.

You have only started to regain your true self, not the image that he wanted you to have, and you'll be damned if you'll let him get inside your head again.

Kim Hongjoong was a lesson, one that you'll never forget and never forgive. Maybe you loved him too much, but at least you now know that if someone truly loves you, that person will accept you for who and what you are.

taglist:

@acciocriativity @iarayara @stolasisyourparent @shakalakaboomboo @xdannix @nsixns

[heathermason6060]

Daryl Dixon x f!Reader: Together Apart Ch. 6

(Hes sitting next to you in this pic :D)

Warnings/Mentions: History of abuse, neglect, strong language, mentions of character death, alcohol and drug abuse, ptsd, shared trauma, reader is cold, angst, fluff, eventual smut, slowburn, angst, SMUT Summary: You search for Daryl after Negan's lineup. You didn't understand the trauma he went through, and eventually you decide enough is enough, and you leave. Notes: The last chapter! Somewhat proofread. Filled with tensions overflowing and then some sex. I had a lot of fun writing this and want to thank @louifaith again for allowing me to write out her idea. It's also pretty long because I didn't want to break it into two chapters, it didn't really make sense that way. Longish read, but longish smut at the end if you're just here for sex and want to skip ahead.

When you found out he left on some halfcocked revenge mission, you were pissed. And then you learned nearly everyone else had gone too, you were pissed and confused. 

The rare presence of the others had become more common than the familiar presence of Daryl. He was gone more often than not now, either out with Aaron or off with Rick. Even when he was home, he was never really there. He didn't laugh at your crude insults about others anymore, he didn't want to spend all day with you out hunting in the woods. It looked like was also making an effort to smoke less, often declining your outstretched cigarette. He was the one who got you to smoke once. You used to hate it, but eventually associated the smell of tobacco with him, and you grew to love it.

You couldn't read him like a book like you once did. He'd become overly serious, distant, and uncharacteristically concerned with the well-being of others. 

You had half a mind to just leave. The only reason you hadn't left months ago was Daryl, but the way he was treating you felt like a slap in the face. It hurt. For the first time in so long you hurt. You felt utterly and completely alone, leading you to once again close yourself off from the others, spending all your time hunting or scavenging for substances in the city that could make you feel better. You scored an unopened bottle of painkillers, something you once hated, and drowned your sorrows with a stuffed nose and a foul post nasal drip. 

The savior issue never really seemed like a big deal to you when it first arose. Some asshole raiders trying to make a point, you didn't give a shit. Rick and Daryl would handle it like they always did. 

You took a deep drag from your cigarette as you watched the front gates being opened, two heavy duffle bags over each of your shoulders. You’d come to terms with it, you were leaving, and that was it. You weren't some obedient housewife that didn’t mind the absence of Daryl, you were his best friend and you couldn’t put up with the dramatic emotions anymore. You were fully prepared for the conversations that would ensue, a list of reasons you should stay, maybe some light pleading, so when you saw what came from those gates you froze. 

The muscles in your jaw throbbed as you listened to Rick's pitiful attempt at retelling you what happened, his eyes red and puffy, his hair wet and matted to his forehead. He couldn't, so he gave up, and drug his feet into the house, moving in a way that closely resembled the dead. Carl followed, and you realized Maggie was missing too. Your heart dropped. 

“What the fuck is wrong with him? What happened?” You gaped, looking from face to face, searching desperately for an answer, only to be met with the ghosts of their former selves. You spotted Aaron and realized he was almost never out without Daryl, and your confusion snapped violently to panic. Michonne was really the only one who wasn't too shocked to speak. She told you everything in great detail, her words cold and harsh as she made her anger towards your insensitive behavior well known. Each word she spoke felt like a curse, spitting at you with such venom you'd never had directed towards you before. You deserved it. 

You weren't a good person like them. The deaths of Glenn and Abraham didn't make you cry, go through all the stages of grief and have a mental crisis, in the moment she told you they just felt like problems you’d deal with later, you didn’t have the time. Not when you still had no idea where Daryl was. 

Despite not being a good person, you reacted to the news in a way that was very impressive by your standards. You didn't scream at anyone, or punch Gabriel in the face, you just threw your already packed bags in the car and set off. 

You chain-smoked an entire pack of cigarettes the first hour of searching. You never did find the saviors home, even though you didn't stop searching to sleep the first few days. You found the location of the massacre, a few shredded pieces of clothing and blood stained dirt. You were brought to furious tears at the thought of the scenario where you were in Daryl's position, and him yours. Your first assumption was that he would've already tracked you down by then, him and his one man army breaking you out and taking you far away from the entire state. Then the second, and more daunting assumption, would he even look? Would he be too busy taking care of Rick and the others, the task of rescuing you put on a back burner? 

You told yourself maybe you were just impulsive and stupid, maybe Daryl in that scenario was just being smart and careful, you were just a guns blazing idiot who didn't think far into the future. 

It felt like you'd been out there for weeks, living off a diet of cigarettes and various illegal substances. You nearly stuck a knife in the face of  a woman who was unlucky enough to walk into the same store you were in. 

“No, please, don't.” She sniveled pathetically, her hands raised to the sides of her head in surrender. “I don't have anything. Please. I can take you to my camp, we've got food and water and medicine-”

“Dude, shut up. Just thought you were a walker. Goddamn.” You sheathed your knife and stood back, the tip of your tongue held between your teeth in thought. “But I'm hungry as fuck!”

She took you back to her camp, which was extremely impressive. And just in time, too, your stomach growled noisily and you felt the small waves of hunger nausea begin. 

“Put your gun away, please.” She pleaded in a hush whisper as you stood in front of the wooden gates. 

You looked to her with furrowed eyebrows, your cheeks hollowed out as you pulled on your twentieth cigarette that day. You really needed to cut back. “No.” You muttered around the cigarette, eventually sighing and slinging your rifle over your shoulder with a dramatic eye roll. 

The sight of Rick and Maggie chatting outside with a small group of others felt like you'd been slapped in the face. They looked just as stunned as you were, pausing their conversation. You stood there for about ten solid seconds before the silence finally broke. 

Rick opened his mouth to speak but you raised your hand, stopping him. “Don't have time. Just gonna eat and leave.” 

“Daryl's here.” The sound of Maggie's harsh voice halted your route to the front of the mansion. You couldn't hide the look on your face, an intense ‘this better not be a lie’ mix of anger and disbelief. She pointed up to your previous destination with raised eyebrows and you took off. 

He almost punched you in the face when you jumped him. He was still wet from a shower, littered in various sized bandages and bruises, wearing a fresh set of clothes. He smelled like laundry detergent and cheap flowery shampoos. 

“Holy shit I thought they killed you. Holy shit. Mother fucker.” You babbled into his chest as he squeezed you so hard your back cracked. 

It felt indescribable being in his arms again. It also felt incredibly different. You'd hugged him hundreds of times but something about this particular hug stood out. It was desperate and deep, you didn’t worry about coming off as soft or being too much. Your fingers dug into the sleeves of his shirt around his biceps, your face buried into his chest, and his hands were all over you. He couldn't decide where to touch you, your arms, your face, your hair, your back, they would move from place to place as he cemented into his mind that you were really there, there in his arms, holding and petting him like you'd always done before. His mind flashed with images of him back in that cell and his throat tightened, the slightest whisper of a whimper sounding in the back of his mouth. He held you tighter and kissed the top of your head, rocking you in his arms for a few silent moments as you pulled yourself together. 

“Where the hell you been? Rick said ya left with all your shit.” His voice was tight, the way it would get when he would try not to cry, along with raising in pitch a little. 

You looked up and smiled softly, seeing him through a sheen of wet tears. “Doesn't matter.” You hummed as you stroked his cheek. “Really. It doesn’t. I've been looking for you, only reason I'm here is because some bitch thought I was robbing her and told me about this place. Couldn't keep looking if I was starving.” You buried your face back in the fabric of his shirt and sighed deeply. 

“Told ya, I ain't leavin'. I ain't dyin’ neither.” His warm words in that deep rumble resulted in your racing heart finally slowing its pace. 

“What happened? Are you okay?” You pulled back from his chest to look up at his face. He looked miserable, it broke your heart. He looked away from your gaze, unable to keep eye contact, which was something he never struggled with before when it came to you. “Daryl?”

His head immediately dropped and his forehead collided with your shoulder. Your heart banged against your ribcage and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, stroking the back of his neck and kissing the side of his head while he stifled his soft sobs.

“Let's leave. C'mon.” You parted from him, only to be pulled back by his grip on your wrist. 

“Y’jus’ got here.” Daryl furrowed his brows, his eyes wet with tears that he quickly blinked away.

“Yeah, to eat so I could keep looking for you. I've found you, so let's go.”

“Go where?” 

You gritted your teeth as his grip on you loosened. “Anywhere else, I don't care.” You said through clenched teeth, your gaze intensifying. “We're done with this shit. Not our problem anymore. Let's go. I'm not letting these people get you hurt again. Never, Daryl.”

Daryl had never been the reason you cried, at least, that's what he thought. So when you started cracking at his rejection, his heart shattered. Every bone in his body yearned for him to hold you, bring you back into his arms and make the pain stop. It hurt even more to see that you weren't just upset, you were pissed, disgusted at the fact that you were showing such weakness in front of the same person who made you cry. 

“I gotta. ‘Jus need to do this.” He attempted to comfort you after your rage at your perceived betrayal faded into tears of defeat. “M’doin’ it for us. Ya gotta trust me on this.” 

There was a small glimmer of hope then, and you allowed yourself to feel it. You were desperate to believe him, and desperate to believe everything would turn out alright. Rick and everyone else would deal with Negan, you'd scratch that burning itch for revenge, and everything would be okay. 

Rick did deal with it, that much came true. At the cost of his son's life, he defeated the saviors.

You were more than willing to fight. You’d been dying for a purpose, and being a soldier in the war against Negan was exactly what you needed. You looked like a cheesy action movie protagonist with two long arm guns on your back and two pistols in each hand. You used more ammo that day than you had in your entire life. God. You wished Merle had been there to see you and Daryl. 

You didn't get the revenge you so desperately craved. You absolutely lost it when Negan was defeated. After Daryl decided against killing Dwight, you lunged at the man like a rabid fox, fully prepared to end his life with just your teeth and hands, only to end up clawing and wriggling in Daryl's grasp. You could've gotten over that eventually, it would take a really long time, sure, Dwight was a brainwashed cult member and did what he did because he was told to. And he'd get his, even if you had to restrain yourself. Fine. It’s fine.

But Rick sparing Negan? 

No. Your reaction to that earned you the reputation of the group's feral animal. You shared the same reaction as Maggie, but unlike her giving up after a while of being held back, you ended up earning a matching set of rope bracelets and anklets.

“You'll have to kill me.” Your throat burned as Daryl tossed you in the back of a blue Toyota camry. He nearly had to force Dwight into the passenger seat at gunpoint, the terror in the backseat scaring him more than the thought of death. 

Your spit was red and thick as it smacked onto Dwight's battered face, blending with the blood that made him unrecognizable. He was barely able to get to his feet after Daryl's threat of death if he was to return, blindly picking up the car keys in the mess of blood spattered leaves. 

The relationship between you and Maggie quickly became a deep friendship as you plotted to kill Negan. Neither of you were allowed to see him in his cell without someone to stand guard, but Maggie even moreso. With enough time you were able to get down there alone, gun in hand, only to be stopped by Michonne, who had apparently come for the same reason. 

“I haven't seen you much before. What's your name.” Negan's eyes followed you as you paced back and forth in front of his cell, seething from the fact that Michonne wouldn't let you kill him yet. She had her own unknown motives, which didn't really matter to you, but all this talking was driving you insane. 

“You don't need to know my name.” You muttered, cutting your eyes at the man. “You look so much smaller than I remembered you looking in that field.”

He winced at your words, placing a hand over his heart in mock offense. “Oh, sweetheart. That hurts. Actually, I've been told I'm pretty impressive.”

He watched you as you continued pacing, your hands sweaty and your eyes wild with rage, confusion, and confliction. A smirk spread on his face. “Look at you. Like a lion in a cage. Well, I’m the one in the cage, but. Coulda used a psycho bitch like you. If you were on my side that day, phew!”

You pulled your gun from your waistband and pulled the trigger. Negan raised hands and jumped. Your heart dropped when you were met with an empty click. You inhaled sharply through your nose and pulled out the clip, which was completely empty. 

Daryl. He dragged you out of the basement, thankful he’d unloaded your guns the night before. He wasn’t stupid, he knew what you were planning. He didn't care that you were pissed, Rick wanted Negan alive, so that's what he was going to stay, even if he did want the prick dead.

It didn't take long for you to pick up on Daryl's trauma. He was good at hiding it from others, nothing much had changed aside from him being quieter. But once your selfish rage had settled you noticed small differences. He slept closer to you at night, no longer on the other side of the mattress, and his nightmares became more violent. He'd thrash in his sleep, tossing and turning and sweating, you found yourself waking him up more times than you could count. Each time he'd get real quiet, maybe from shame, and walk outside to smoke a cigarette. You'd follow him each time and sit quietly on the porch steps, not caring that he didn't offer you a hit. He looked like he needed all he could get. 

You saw him crying with Carol once. His head dipped down and his forehead pressed against her shoulder. If it had been long ago you would've felt hot at the sight, assuming he obviously must've felt closer to her since he hadn't cried like that with you since his capture, but you weren't as shallow and selfish as you once were. Your heart ached for him, wishing he would open up and tell you what happened, you could comfort him too, you wished you could tell him that. 

“Wanna go hunting?” You asked one day, picking up your new hunting rifle, a Savage model 99 that you'd replaced your broken bow with. Daryl shrugged from his spot on the chair beside your bedroom table, not looking up from his work. He was almost always making new bolts in his free time then. He had a pile of twenty-two sitting next to him. 

“Come on, I'm craving venison.” 

He inhaled deeply, his shoulders sagging. 

“Seriously, we haven't hung out in forever man.”

“Hang out?” He said it like you asked him for a ‘playdate’. “What're ya, twelve?”

“No, I'm an adult who misses you, jackass.” You muttered, kicking one of his boots across the floor closer to him. “You've made two hundred arrows in the past week man. I think you can take a break. Yeah, don't look at me like that. I've counted.”

It was when you were alone in the woods that he broke down. You hadn't even asked, he just told you after you took down a buck. He didn't cry at first, he gave a vague retelling, it was only when he felt your arms wrap around his shoulders from behind that he cried. His head hung low as his chest shook with quiet sobs, his hands laying idle and nervous in his lap, his eyes looking down at the stump he sat on. You rested your head in the crook of his neck and held him for a while, your fingers occasionally giving his biceps a reassuring squeeze if his breathing grew too ragged. 

“I'll kill him. I promise. I'll find a way.”

When you were fifteen you skipped school for the first time. Your freshman year, Daryl's too. It was one of the only times you hung out that wasn't just the right time, right place. He was the one who talked you into it, since the two of you shared a history class. He brought cigarettes and a wild assortment of drugs, no doubt nabbed from Merle. 

“We should do this more.” Daryl had said as you walked the power line trails in the woods behind the school. He shrugged when you looked at him, his gaze falling to the grass in front of him. “Hang out, I mean.” 

“Yeah, we should.” You flashed a rare smile, earning one from him as well, the purple skin around his eye wrinkling. 

You never did. You were too busy with school work and getting beat on by your withdrawing mother. Daryl wasn't really busy, in fact, he was alone most of his teenage years. Always alone out in the woods. Sometimes he'd miss school for a week, living in his father's tent deep in the forest, spending his time learning to live on his own. His father never noticed, not until the school called and he got one of the worst beatings he'd ever gotten. You saw him at school a few days after that, one of his last days before he dropped out. 

He looked awful. Busted lips, bruises all over his arms, light purple handprints on his neck, and deep purple blotches around his eyes and jaw. The school called the police, but nothing ever happened. Daryl told them it was from a fight with some kid, and they happily accepted that answer, eager to miss out on the paperwork. 

“We should just leave.” You said after he pulled the cigarette back away from your lips to take a drag of his own. 

“I would.” He muttered as he held the smoke in his lungs, watching the kids in the far off soccer field chasing the ball. His legs dangled off the edge of the school roof, occasionally swinging a bit. 

“I would too.” You wouldn't. Not until you got your brother back. You looked at him, feeling an unfamiliar twist in your heart when you saw the way he flinched under your sudden gaze. “I'd kill him if I could.” 

You truly meant it. Even though Daryl was barely an acquaintance at that point, you would have killed his father if you got the chance. Daryl didn't mean much to you to be brutally honest, you didn't care to form a deep friendship with anyone, but you shared the bond of trauma from parental abuse and that was deeper than any normal friendship. He could leave, never see you again, and you wouldn't be upset, but if you ever had to witness his father touch him it would shatter your soul. 

You promised yourself you'd kill anyone who ever hurt him after that. You almost murdered Andrea when you found out she shot him. You risked being eaten alive by walkers just to make sure the Governor was really dead. You beat Dwight until Daryl dragged you off, if he hadn't done that you would've killed him. 

Things got a lot worse after the day of your failed assassination attempt. Daryl was never home anymore, either at Hilltop or Ezekiel's kingdom. You had reached the point of considering leaving again. The emotional rollercoaster you were going through was taking a heavy toll on your already fucked mental health.

He could see the effect his absence had on you, and it made him feel like shit. There wasn’t much he could do, he had so many responsibilities and he would never ask you to come with him and Rick every time they packed up and went on long trips every five seconds. It felt selfish to him, he didn’t know that you’d be more than happy to accompany him. 

His hands on your tense shoulders as you sat on the edge of your bed did wonders to loosen you up. You set your gun down beside you and looked up to him, forcing a smile. 

“C'mon sweetheart. Wanna show you somethin’.”

He took you on a long walk in the woods to a secluded pond that once belonged to a fisherman, obvious by the raggedy dock and small wooden shack filled with all sorts of fishing tools. There was still homemade canned fish in his cupboards. 

“Gonna stay here for a few days. Jus’ you an’ me.” 

You watched him over your can of trout, chewing slowly. “Really?”

Daryl shrugged and stabbed his fork into his own can. “Yeah. Ya need it.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “We need it.”

Your heart swelled with warm joy, a smile spread on your face and you tried your best to contain the satisfaction his gift had given you. You missed your best friend more than anyone you’d ever missed before after your baby brother. You’d come to terms with the more than likely possibility that he was dead, and so were your parents. It took a long time and many different weeks spent searching when you were back in Georgia. 

You had a fantastic time with him. You fished all morning, talked all afternoon, and ate your fill of fresh and canned fish. It wasn't long before you set up your bedrolls in the middle of the shack and blew out your candles. It felt amazing to sleep next to him again, you couldn't properly put into words how much you missed him. The feeling of his large warm body next to yours as you fell asleep had you thinking that it was all worth it. He was making an effort to spend time with you again, and with that effort came the sparks of hope, hope that you were getting your best friend back.

You woke up the first night spent with him in the fishing shack to see moonlight seeping through the holes in the tin roof. You rubbed your blurry eyes and sat up, propping yourself up with an elbow on the floor. 

“Daryl?” You murmured sleepily as your eyes came to focus in the dim light. His bedroll was still beside yours, albeit empty. You waited a few minutes before walking outside, assuming he just had to go piss or something. 

Ten minutes passed before you walked back into the shack, now carrying a small candle to light the room, cursing when the wax dripped down your knuckles. The amber glow illuminated his bedroll, bringing attention to a small white square. You leaned down and picked up the piece of paper, squinting in effort to read his handwriting. 

The pain in your chest was deep and dark. Growing up you had grown used to being disappointed by your parents and people around you. It never surprised you. Even now you didn’t expect much from people, but Daryl was that exception. So when you read his little apology, claiming Rick called on him through his walkie to request his help in the Kingdom, you decided you’d had enough.

He had been in the Kingdom for about two weeks until you heard from Rick that they were back.

“We're leaving.” You seethed the moment you stepped into your new shared bedroom with Daryl. It was upstairs in one of the apartments in Alexandria, no longer the basement in Rick's house. You had a nice king sized bed, lots of dressers and shelves, a big ass tv, and even a gaming console that once belonged to Carl. Daryl had only slept in that bed three times since you moved in months ago.

He sighed your name and stood from his seat at the table, setting down the disassembled gun he'd been cleaning. “No we ain't. Cut that shit out.” 

“I can't be here anymore. I can't. I can't.” You began hyperventilating as you ripped the dresser drawer fully out, falling to your knees and quickly grabbing the clothes that spilled out. 

“Stop.” When you didn't comply he made you stop, grabbing your wrists and forcing you to look at him. He spoke in that serious tone that felt like a stab to the chest, his eyes burning holes into yours. “I'm not leavin'.” 

You froze at his words. Your mouth opened and your lips trembled, your breath catching in your throat. The words never came to you. You just stared at him with wide eyes and a horrified look of disbelief.

Daryl didn't speak either. He stood his ground, maintaining a firm gaze, his grip on your wrists slowly loosening. 

It hurt. And that made you angry. 

“Who even are you anymore?” You hissed, tearing your hands away from him and shooting up on your feet. “I never see you anymore, you're cold, distant.” He got to his feet, accepting each blow of your words with this calm face that turned your anger into lividness. 

“You promised me you'd never leave me. You promised you'd always be the one thing Daryl, the one thing that wouldn't change, wouldn't leave, wouldn't hurt me, I kept my promise!” Your finger hammered against your own chest in reference. “You say you're never leaving but you already left! I can see it in your eyes, don't look at me like you have no idea what I'm talking about.” Your face burned. “I can see it. The pity, the disdain. The only reason you haven't just kicked me out is cause you feel like you're obligated to me now, or maybe you're scared I'm some loose canon and I'll burn this fucking house down-”

Daryl had heard enough, he lurched forward until he was inches away from you, his nostrils flared due to his increasingly heavy breathing. “You're fuckin’ delusional!” He spat. “You don't think this is hard on me too? Don't think I'd rather be out there livin’ in some cabin with you? That shit ain't happenin’, these people are family. I ain't leavin' ‘em neither. Shit don't mean I don't care ‘bout ya anymore. We ain't in Atlanta, ‘ts not like that anymore. Ain't just me you ‘n Merle.”

“We should've just left. We should've just left.” You repeated in a breathy whisper, your glazed over eyes locked on his chest. 

“Yeah? Well, we didn't, now we can't. Now I won't.” The purposeful enunciation of the last word was the straw that broke the camel's back, and he immediately regretted it as soon as your eyes squeezed shut. “G’damnit.” 

“Fine.” Your breath was shaky, and you resumed packing. 

He found it impossible to stop you, impossible to move. In reality all it would take from him was a simple request for you to stay, but he couldn't even manage that. It felt like watching a fire you started get out of control, he knew he still had the power to stop it, but he was too stunned to move. 

You zipped up the same second duffle bag you'd packed with the same intention on leaving, just as you'd done before. This time though, it wasn't the same. It felt too final. You knew it would be the last time. Daryl did too, and he still didn’t stop you.

You’d set up camp deep in the woods down a dirt road that led to a pond. You slept in your car with your campfire a few feet away, a pot of wild carrots and rabbit simmering over the coals. It smelt amazing due to your stolen beef bouillon cubes, but you didn’t really have the motivation to eat. You flicked away the first cigarette of your last pack and stared into the red hot coals, watching them ebb and glow until the flash of something large and dark caught your eye. 

You stared in disbelief as you watched his figure move through the thick trees, making his way over to your little camp beside the car you'd stolen from Alexandria. He had a heavy bag with him. 

He plopped his bag down next to your fire and sat down, helping himself to a bowl of your stew. He said nothing, not even looking up at you as he finished your supper.

“The hell are you doing here?” 

He looked up at you and sucked the grease from his fingertips, the empty bowl now discarded at his side. You had no idea how he’d managed to get his fingers coated in rabbit fat, it was fucking soup and he used a spoon. “Ts’it look like?”

You couldn't move, your feet glued to the debris of the forest floor. Your mind spun with questions. If he was actually willing to leave with you, leave all those people behind, why had he shut you out? Why had he changed? What changed? 

“I don't want you here. It's an obvious act of charity.” You finally spoke, watching as he lit a wrinkled cigarette. “You told me yourself-”

“Will ya shut up?” He squinted up at you through the burn of smoke. “Jus’ walked six  damn days to find ya. M’not leavin'.” 

You sat on the opposite side of the fire in silence. He scooted around to sit next to you, and held his cigarette up to your lips. You took a weak pull and sighed. After a while of not speaking, you broke the silence. 

“You're so different. Changed so much”

He nodded at your words, his head tilted down to stare at the leaves between his legs. “Had to.”

“Why?” The question burst from your lips so quickly that it surprised you. 

“You.” He took a deep pull off his cigarette and blew it out the opposite side of his mouth to avoid blowing it directly in your face. “This ain't the kind of life you deserve. Tryin’ to get that for ya. That little house ya dreamed of living in, one with a screened in porch for plants ‘n shit. Life that ya ain't spendin’ hungry, cold, scared.”

He paused for a moment, taking another long drag. “Wanted me to be better too. The kinda man to pick ya flowers, take ya on dates, all that stupid shit.” He flicked the spent cigarette into the fire and leaned back against your car door. 

If it was possible, you were feeling every emotion all at once, in such a rapid and disorienting fashion that it looped back around and made you too shocked to feel. 

He delved deeper, explaining that he felt you deserved better than who he once was, Merle’s echo, a loud and angry asshole, then turned into a cold and traumatized shell, never allowing himself to feel vulnerable with you again. When he finally broke out of it and realized exactly what he wanted, he worked on himself in a determined attempt to be the man you dreamed of marrying as a kid.He worked on your surroundings as well, making sure to eliminate any possible threat in every colony that had even the slightest chance of risking your livelihood. But more importantly, he wanted to be yours. The type of husband you described when you were thirteen years old, cleaning the blood from his swollen ear one of the nights he slept on your back porch. 

“I'm not gonna be like my mom.” You had said firmly, tossing away the bloody tissue paper. “I'm gonna get a good husband and I'm not gonna mess it all up like she did.”

“A good husband?” He questioned curiously, wincing as you dabbed his ear with rubbing alcohol. 

“Yeah, like…. He'll take me on dates, open doors for me, buy me cool stuff, uh….” You trailed off in thought. “He's gonna build me a house too. With a screen porch that I can put a hundred plants in, and he won't be allowed to smoke in it. Oh, he won't smoke, actually. Or drink, or do drugs. He'll never hit me or yell at me like my mom did to my dad, and to me. He'll be handsome too. And smart.”

You were brought to the present with a jolt as Daryl’s hand touched your knee, making you jump. You didn't notice your eyes had started watering and you quickly went to discreetly dab them dry. 

“Guess I fucked up. M’sorry. Was a real piece of shit.”

“No,” your voice broke as you stopped him, grabbing his hand on your knee and giving it a squeeze. “Complete opposite of a piece of shit. I had the wrong idea, I should be the one apologizing.”

“Tsh. Nah.” Daryl waved you off and shook his head. “Should’a told ya. Wasn't thinkin' right.” 

The two of you sat in thoughtful silence until the embers began to grow dim. The forest was thick, so even though the sun was visible as it sank lower and lower, it soon became too dark to see properly. 

“My…” you broke the silence, searching for the right word. “Aspirations have changed since then.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Several seconds of silence.

“How'so?”

“Well, I don't care if he smokes, or does drugs, or curses or can't take me out on a date. He doesn't have to build me a house, but that's still an option.” Daryl snorted, and you went on. “But he does have to own a crossbow, ride a motorcycle without a helmet even though I tell him to, and he definitely needs this,” your finger tapped on the skull tattoo on the back of his hand before sliding up his arm to stroke a line down his back, “and these tattoos. And this.” You touched the mole over his upper lip. “And he definitely has to slur all his words together because of his accent.” 

“That's all, huh?” He joked softly, watching you draw your hand away from his face. “Y’got some low standards for a husband.”

“Oh, right, I forgot. He also has to go back to his family, because that's where he belongs.” There was a quick flash of hurt on his face, his lips parting and his eyes narrowing, so you continued. “And because that's where my dream house is going to be built.” 

In all your years knowing Daryl Dixon, you'd never been sexually intimate. You'd never had sex, flirtation only being reserved for playful teasing banter, you'd never really kissed, aside from that one night at the Greene farm. You'd laid with each other multiple times, more often than not sleeping curled up together in the woods or on the floor of some house. Despite never being sexually intimate there was an unspoken mutual understanding of your relationship, you were together, but not in the traditional standard sense. Neither of you ever had interest in a relationship with anyone, that was simply out of the question. Why have a partner when your best friend is everything you need? 

He became your partner at some point, maybe that's why it caused so much anguish to the both of you when you left. But it was only that night that you solidified it. And the next morning, and in the back of the car on your way back, and on the hood of the car, and after your shower back home, and after dinner, on your bed, on the floor, a second time after that, right before bed, and again the moment you woke up. 

It started with a kiss, which just so happened to be his second ever kiss, the first being you in the back of Dale’s RV. You wouldn't have ever guessed, the way he kissed with so much passion and vigor felt akin to a man kissing the same pair of lips he'd kissed his entire life. And you would have never guessed he was a virgin. 

Each touch was as if he was handling precious glassware. He never took off any of your clothes, he'd just gently tug at your shirt until you got the hint and undressed yourself. 

At some point you moved to the back of the car, he laid you down and closed the door behind him. Your soft pants and gasps quickly led to the windows fogging over, and by the end of it there were beads of precipitation dribbling down the glass. 

He led graciously. His fingers were gentle but firm against your clit through your panties, working hard and with determination to give you the orgasm you deserved. He obeyed your requests for ‘circles, ah, softer, to the left, more’, and before long he was a master in the art of making you come. 

Daryl wanted to give you oral, but you quickly pulled him back up, shaking your head as you gasped for air. “N-no, please. You. Need you.” 

It was shocking that he didn't feel embarrassed when he came early. You'd reached down to stroke his cock, only getting in a few strokes before he pulled away with a strangled gasp, spilling his hot cum on your bare stomach. He didn't have time to feel embarrassed because only seconds later you were taking him in your desperate mouth, giving it your all to make him hard again. 

He didn't take long. After stiffening in your mouth he eased your head away, maneuvering you on your back in such an effortless way that it made you look like you weighed nothing. Due to your wetness and unimaginable arousal it didn't hurt at all when he finally pushed in after rubbing his cock all over your desperate slick flesh. 

You cried out anyway. Your jaw dropped and your eyes rolled back, clutching at his bare shoulders when you felt his pelvis fully connect with you. 

“F-fuck.” You groaned as your eyes rolled back, digging your fingers deeper into his skin.

He let out a moan then, a light and vulnerable sound. You could feel him shaking on top of you as he fought not to finish again. It broke your heart, knowing he wanted to have sex with you so badly, to please you like you had him. 

You stayed as still as humanly possible while you waited for him to move. 

Daryl’s breath slowed and he moved, finally. He fucked you slow at first, slow and deep thrusts that managed to bury his dick further and further inside you each time. With each thrust he let out either a shaky whimper or a deep grunt, and soon he was picking up the pace, fucking a moan out of you each time he drove his throbbing cock back inside. 

When his hand connected with the warm skin of your torso you whimpered, tossing your head back against the car seat. His hands stroked your sides, rough and dirty fingers scraping against your nipples and breasts. He gave one a firm squeeze, eliciting a sharp moan from you, one that he eagerly swallowed down with his hungry mouth, kissing you deeply and feverishly. He was breathing heavy through his nose, hot puffs of air sending waves of heat across your upper lip and cheeks.

A rough slam of his pelvis against yours sent the tip of his cock so deep it was almost painful, your gasp choked in your tight throat, your thighs squeezing the life out of his torso. He groaned at how responsive you were, his hot wet lips sliding down your face to start kissing your neck. 

Daryl was quiet in the sense that he didn't say much. He groaned and whimpered, sure, but he hadn’t said a word since entering you. Which was totally fine by you, but you were a sucker for dirty talk. It was one of your favorite parts of sex.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” You whined, hoping to get a response. He just grunted, a possible returned compliment, his head not moving from the crook of your neck. 

A noticeable increase in his pacing had all thoughts vanishing from your mind in a puff of smoke. You could feel the side of his jaw clenching against your neck, the skin hot and prickly with stubble, the friction eventually becoming uncomfortable. As if he could read your mind he raised his head and looked down at you, the tip of his tongue peeking between his teeth, looking like a man in deep, oh, deep, concentration. 

“Fu-uh-uck-” You babbled, your heavy eyelids shutting against the brutal force of his thrusts. You grabbed onto his biceps again and held on for dear life, giving them a squeeze each time he gave a really deep thrust. 

“That’s it.” Your heart jumped in your chest at the sound of his voice, it was gravely and sounded from the base of his throat. You felt your lower stomach do that delicious flip sensation, your clit throbbing in response to his voice. 

“Mmm’god.”

“I know. I know.” He breathed, taking a second to readjust himself between your legs before going back to his artistic thrusting. He was grinding against you then, barely pulling out, using the full weight of his hips to force himself as deep as possible while he ground into you. You couldn’t speak, could barely breathe, it was a miracle that a virgin could fuck like that. He was a savant at something he’d never done before. You came hard around his throbbing dick, your walls clenching down so hard that it ripped his orgasm straight out of his body. 

You gasped, your fingers tightening around his flexed biceps as your orgasm shook through you in violent waves. You moved your hips on your own, grinding up and against his pelvis to draw your pleasure  out for  as long as possible. 

Daryl wasn't expecting it, he just came. His jaw dropped and he held onto the nearest body part, which just so happened to be your neck. He didn’t choke you, which came as a slight dismissible disappointment, he just held onto you with his large hands as he finished. It was so sudden and unexpected that he couldn’t control the sounds he made, better for you, he let out this beautiful high moan that sent flashes of Daryl in Atlanta behind your closed eyes. His body shuttered and jerked as every single rope of his cum flooded your insides, coating your vice like walls like spilled paint. 

You didn’t give him time to recuperate. You squirmed under him, swapping your positions, and took his softening cock in your mouth. He groaned under you, grabbing you by your hair to pull you away, only to shudder when he felt his cock growing hard again. You smirked against the tip as he gently pulled you back down.

Halfway through he tugged you off of him, the two of you switching spots once again. You whined when you felt his lips connect with your puffy clit, your mind swirling as he used the flexed tip of his tongue to drift between your slick folds. 

“Oh god, daryl.” You panted and ran your fingers through your sweaty hair to push it back over your head. You were either extremely sensitive due to the two orgasms, or he was an extremely skilled pussy eater. Either way you came fast, clenching your thighs around his head to clamp his mouth tight against you. He didn’t ease up as you came, his tongue and lips pulling tricks you didn’t think possible, drawing out your orgasm longer than any time previously. 

He slid up between your legs, planting kisses from your wet mess up your stomach to your chest. He suddenly bit down on one of your nipples, gentle at first, but the moan that came from your lips had him tightening his teeth.

You were under the impression that he would ease you down from your high with light kisses and soft touches, but apparently, he had other plans. His cock plunged back into you before you had any idea what was happening, and he quickly set a fast and intense pace. His hands slipped around both of your wrists and pulled, using the leverage to both fuck you deeper and keep you firmly in place.

If you could’ve seen the state you were in, you’d be a red hot embarrassed bitch. Your mouth was hanging open, your eyes fluttering between open and closed, sounds coming from your throat that envied any moan and whine to ever come out of a woman's mouth. Your hair kept falling back in your face each time his hips slammed into yours, no matter how many times you hastily pushed it away or tucked it behind your ears. You looked at him for as long as you could, but you were too stimulated, it was too hot, he was too beautiful, you had to let them fall shut as you came again.

As cliche as it sounds, your final orgasm, for that night at least, was world shattering. You didn’t care how loud you were or what types of faces you were making. Your body was completely out of your control, your brain on pause as it struggled to deal with the flood of dopamine and oxytocin. 

Daryl wasn’t looking any better, he’d ran miles before and came out looking more put together. He huffed as he came inside you yet again, his dick twitching with each spurt of cum. He braced himself on his elbows on either side of your body, his head drooping down as he managed a few sloppy thrusts. He muttered something then, something you were too fucked up to make out through his thick and slurred accent.

When he finally drew his red and tender dick out of you his heart seemed to skip a beat. The two loads spilled out the second he withdrew, trickling down your folds and over the swollen head of his dick. That was a sight he’d remember till the day he died.  

You fought to catch your breath after he all but collapsed on top of you. It was pure bliss for a few moments, and then it was too hot and too close. Before you could say anything he lifted himself off of you, still waging his own war against his lungs. 

“Getting old there, huh?” You teased, sliding up into a sitting position after grabbing your panties. Yeah, he's old, it's not the fact you just did the same amount of exercise as swimming across the atlantic ocean.

“Shut up.” He breathed as he wiped his damp hair from his face. 

After a few moments of silence, apart from the sounds of your breathing, you dressed yourselves and began loading all your shit into your car. 

“You really walked six days? No bike, no car?” You questioned as he plopped down into the driver's seat, the flame of his lighter illuminating his face. The smell of cigarette smoke had you leaning over and he pressed the filter against your lips. 

“No bike.”

“That’s kind of stupid.”

“Huh. Rich.” He smirked around the cigarette at you before glancing over his shoulder to watch the dirt road as he reversed.

“Yeah, true.”

Your life wasn’t magically fixed after that night, and neither was Daryls, but it did get a lot easier. You zipped up your coat but your shoes were still full of snow, that kind of better. A lot of shit happened, you had your arguments, but no fights. After RIck died you ran off together looking for his body, for Daryl’s closure, living off in the woods somewhere with a dog that liked to growl at you. He was over possessive of Daryl, and so were you, so the two of you were butting heads often.

He never did build you that house, but you moved into one of the newly built homes in Alexandria. He did build you a back porch, which looked great for someone who’d never built an entire screened in porch before, even if it did look a little raggedy in some spots. He even brought home pots for you to plant ‘shit’ in, as he said. 

Daryl wasn’t home often, which didn't bother you anymore, because you were out there with him. 

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @louifaith @my1fx @jinx-nanami

[kettle-flakes]

k so slay the princess is rotting my brain but currently one big thought is chilling in my brain, and like- hear me out (sorry if my wording doesn't convey my thoughts well skskfjdjg)

but I don't think the damsel is entirely as shallow as some may see her as. HEAR ME OUT- compared to the other princesses, yes, she definitely more shallow. and she is also (at least when looking at deconstructed) poking fun at those trying to have an easy and work free romance route where the princess does whatever you like and loves you so, so much. i'm not saying she's supremely deep and that no one understands her but me, but I also don't think she exists solely to mock players with absolutely nothing to say about the nature of human permanence either.

does that make sense? more thoughts below- they're a bit disjointed though so warning ^^;

I personally think the damsel can also represent a very real form love, so to speak.

gimme a min to explain. I think what initially led me to this is a line from the narrator equating the smitten and the damsel to acting like teenagers in love. and that line sorta shifted my perspective a bit on her a little? seeing that kinda made me go "ohhhhhhh makes sense" like it really did remind me of two kids who don't entirely get what dating entails but still want to be together, and given the endgame sequence the damsel's section just kinda cemented this mindset for me.

for clarification the damsel has two(?) bits of dialog depending on whether she's deconstructed or not. If she isn't she says something along the lines of (iirc) "you had a desire and you set that desire free/not caring about what it took or costed you in the process" annnd?? like that's kinda wholesome to me?

like the damsel's love with the player isn't nearly as in depth, complicated, or complete as say the thorn, but it's a passionate love. it's also a naive love. the sort of love you'd find with, well, teenagers having a crush. of course when people get older they see those old crushes as frivolous and flat, but to the people experiencing them in the moment, it's real! it's serious! they were still willing to risk a lot just to be together. and at least at the start, you're willing to be killed by the princess if it means she's safe after having a battle of control against the narrator. it just reads as very human to me. they truly felt that their love could conquer anything.

I feel the thorn is a more 'adult' version of the damsel. it's that passionate love taking on a more mature form. it has more hardships to go through and way more pitfalls and mistakes that one can make compared to the more childish love like the damsel's. there's less theatrics and fanfare, and to me it feels more somber and quiet. it's a contrast between the high stakes emotion filled damsel, and the more intimate, tense, and self-aware thorn. ultimately in the end for both of them, they come to a realization that love is a powerful tool almost in a way that mirror each other.

some of the same occurrences leading up to the route are also shared between the two. like having the princess stab you in the prior route. I also think it's worth noting that in the thorn, the thistles can be seen as/can be referred to a prison of her own making. something she can leave if she was willing to make the effort to do so. it's similar to the damsel's shackles being easily slipped off her wrist. she could free herself.

also by extension, say what you will about the smitten but he loves the princess no matter what form she takes. even when she kills him he still adores her. he is content with being cooked alive by the princess if that's what she wants. i think he's a lot like the damsel in that sense. whatever she wants, she will have. if the damsel is molded to love the player, the smitten is absolutely molded to love the princess in the same way.

[randomnfandom]

Simon "Ghost" Riley

So I'm still in recovery but its been 2 months and I said I'd give you more stories so here is a short one because I'm not in a state to do my normal long ones

Simon Riley from cod x Reader (You)

Unexpected Acts of Sweetness:

Ghost, with his tough exterior, surprises you with unexpectedly sweet gestures. Whether it's leaving a note with a heartfelt message or picking a flower during a mission, his thoughtfulness melts your heart.

Shy Affection:

Ghost, known for being reserved, becomes a bit shy when it comes to expressing affection. His way of showing love might be a gentle touch, a soft smile, or a subtle glance that speaks volumes.

Shared Snacks:

Ghost has a weakness for a particular type of candy or snack. You both develop a tradition of sharing these treats during quiet moments, turning simple snacks into cherished bonding moments.

Movie Nights:

Despite Ghost's tough image, he secretly enjoys cuddling up for movie nights. You both take turns picking movies, and it becomes a delightful mix of action-packed films and surprisingly heartwarming romances.

Matching Accessories:

Ghost, in his mysterious way, surprises you with matching accessories – maybe a set of dog tags with engraved initials or a pair of subtle matching bracelets. It's his way of symbolizing your connection without being too overt.

Playful Teasing:

Ghost may be serious in the field, but when you're together, he's not afraid to engage in playful banter and teasing. His dry sense of humor emerges, making you laugh and adding a lighthearted touch to your relationship.

Spontaneous Adventures:

Ghost loves surprising you with spontaneous adventures, whether it's a late-night drive to a scenic spot, a surprise picnic, or a sudden decision to explore a new place. These unplanned moments become some of your favorite memories.

DIY Gifts:

Ghost, being resourceful, often makes DIY gifts. It could be a handcrafted piece of jewelry, a small scrapbook of memories, or even a personalized item with a significant meaning. The effort he puts into these gifts makes them extra special.

Taking Photos Together:

Ghost may not be one to smile for the camera, but he indulges in taking photos with you. The candid shots capture genuine moments of happiness, and you both create a scrapbook of memories that grows over time.

Protective Gestures:

Ghost, true to his nature, is protective of you. Whether it's a subtle arm around your shoulder or a reassuring touch, you feel safe and loved. His protective instincts manifest in gentle yet meaningful ways.

In the midst of the chaos and danger, your relationship with Ghost is filled with these cute and endearing moments, making the tough operative reveal his softer, more adorable side.

Hope you enjoyed loves <3

[dionewrites]

𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐕𝐀��𝐀𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐃. ˚₊ HEADCANONS // ft. Mammon 1k words · GN!Reader · SFW · Feel-good & Fluff ♛ Masterlist | Request Guidelines

⚠ Content Warning: Mention of his demon form, debts and creditors, Mammon being jealous, and reader being insecure, insulted, stressed, and unhappy. ✎ Note: I finally finished it! It took me four days because my assignments these past few days wore me out. Leviathan’s next to my list~ ♡

Mammon never thought he’d have a special someone back then, more so to be swept off his feet by a human. However, after meeting and spending time with you, you constantly occupy his mind at every moment of the day, adamantly dwell in his heart, and eventually become a part of him.

He adores you just the way you are. He’s already impressed by you and who you are and undoubtedly captivated by your charms when you’re yourself; hence you don’t have to change anything about yourself to prove, please, or win his approval. You don’t always have to be the best version of yourself with him because he accepts and embraces all parts of you. It’s okay not to be strong all the time. It’s okay not to do well and stumble a little bit.

Even by just existing, you’re already enough and the best in his eyes—and whoever dares to speak otherwise and insult you will drive him to turn into his demon form and goes into a serious and protective mode. He has quite a long history of being criticized and belittled harshly; therefore, he certainly doesn’t want you to go through that as well, especially since you never deserve to be treated that way. This demon rarely transforms into his form and loses his temper, but trust me; he doesn’t and will never hold himself back when it comes to matters concerning you.

He wants to be always there for you through good and especially during bad times, just like you do whenever he feels he has no one to lean on. Although he thinks and feels he couldn’t accomplish anything that utterly helps you or your situation, he still wants to do his utmost and be there for and with you no matter what, despite his belief that he may not be necessary or you might be able to manage it on your own. He silently hopes for his presence or the ambiance he creates by being there to comfort, give you peace and assurance, and be your safe place.

On top of that, he knows he’s not good with words, so most of the time, he expresses his concern and affection for you through little actions, such as carrying out your assigned house chores or errands before you can even do them, cooking or buying your favorite foods to make sure you eat, leaving presents for you that reminds him of you or something he thinks you’d like, taking you to spontaneous trips or late night drives around the Devildom with only the two of you, and simply laying your head on his shoulders or chest while he plays with your hands and fingers.

To make you laugh or entertain, he once begged involved his crow familiars in creating a special and memorable performance for you. He got that idea after watching the moonfish scene in Finding Nemo and thought it’ll bring a smile to your face. 

Even though he’ll not verbally admit it, he works hard to be the best one for you. He’s cognizant of his shortcomings, especially with his financial troubles, and being with him as his partner means you’re also inevitably involved in his mess. All the “love letters” his older brother received and settled back then now fall and entrust to your hands and shoulders (though Lucifer still helps occasionally if necessary). All the witches or other species he has serious business with might come to you instead of him. Thus, he spares no effort to control his sin and avoids getting into grave trouble that might implicate and burden you.

Nothing goes unnoticed by him to anything about you. He’s extra-observant and secretly takes notes of what attracts your attention. Spectacles? He wears it the next day. Blue? He’ll wear blue and buys gifts for you only in that color. Flowers? Expect him to give you a bouquet; if he’s short of money, you’ll receive them as origami (which looks ugly clumsy, but give him an A+ for the thought and effort). Whenever he sees you, he always fixes himself to look more presentable and attractive before you notice him. Everything revolves around keeping you interested and impressed by him; hence, he wants to look good in your eyes.

Although he’s terrible at keeping his surprises for you a secret, he never forgets and misses your birthdays and anniversaries. This demon has those special days on his mind months before the actual date and is excited to celebrate it with you.

He calls you “babe” verbally but “baby” in his mind. Every time he slips the tongue, he’ll blush really hard because he feels awkward and embarrassed that you’ll think of it as a cringe. After all, you’re a grown person, but he really can’t stop himself from addressing you like that, especially when he’s over the moon.

Whenever he’s full of the joys of spring, he loves hugging and spinning you around or taking you in his arms, lifting you up, and twirling you around while giggling and pecking on your cheeks, nose, and forehead. Once he realizes what he just did, he flushes but still proceeds to shower you words of love and appreciation.

When he’s jealous, he becomes quiet and grumpy. He’ll instantly grab your attention back to him with a long face, and if you still don’t stop or pay no heed to him, he’ll put his arms around your shoulder while scowling at the one/s he’s jealous of, or he’ll just take you away and kiss you somewhere until you’re out of breath.

His love languages are gift-giving and quality time. He’s constantly reminded of everything about you, so he can’t resist buying something when you’re not with him to make you happy and satisfied. Seeing you smile makes him feel warm and giddy. He also loves being with you all the time and receiving your whole and undivided attention because, for him, as long as you’re with him or it involves you, it’s all worthwhile.

Dating Mammon means being someone’s everything. Despite being in the grip of greed toward money, he values and loves you more than anything and anyone in three worlds. After all, you’re the only one who sees the best in him when others only always see the worst. That being so, just say a word, and he’s more than willing to give you everything and more.

[changbinsboiledegg]

Hi!!! I really like stories you write and how you do it.

Could i request, if it's okay, skz reaction on their s/o trying to introduce them to her parents, who don't know English or Korean?

Ty♡

Of course any request is okay! Thank you so much for your request, I love it. :) 🫶🫶 I hope these are what you were hoping!

GN! Reader X SKZ

Warnings: None, just fluff. :)

Note: So, I didn't mention any specific language used (obviously something other than Korean and English!) So, that's up to y'all :) As always, ILY and I hope y'all enjoy. I also hope these aren't bad! I be insecure lol don't mind me.

Bold sentences/ words = Reader/Parents/SKZ speaking your chosen language.

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Chan

He knew your parents spoke a different language than what he was used to and looked up learning resources as soon as you mentioned the language they spoke.

Somewhere in his busy schedule, he fit in time to study before he would eventually meet your parents.

“Can we practice before I head out?” Chan asked, sitting across from you on your bed. You nodded with a smile, touched that he went through so much to learn your mother tongue.

“Right. Imagine I’m my parents. How would you greet me?” You quizzed, waiting for his response.

“Hello. My name is Bang Chan. It’s nice to meet you both.” Chan spoke in the language. You were impressed by how smoothly he said it.

You responded back, using that language. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

Chan felt relief, recognizing what you had said. You looked on with a sense of pride. “Do you only know those phrases?”

Chan shook his head, still speaking in your other language. “Not a lot, but the basics.”

“You’re doing really well.” You complimented, meaning every word.

The next day, Chan met your parents and was able to hold a conversation with them before he ultimately tapped out and said, “sorry. I’m not fluent yet.”

Your mom smiled at you in approval, feeling her heart warming at the effort he put in just to speak to them.

Lee Know

“Are they picky with who you date?” Minho asked, among all the other questions he’s asked similarly.

“You’ll be fine.” You reassured with a chuckle, not wanting him to fear meeting your parents.

They spoke a different language that Minho hadn’t been exposed to as much as Korean or English.

Minho stood behind you as you knocked on the door to your parents house. Your dad answered, causing Minho’s nerves to spike.

“Hello.” Minho said, swallowing back his nervousness and smiling politely. Your dad took a few moments, eyeing him.

“Hello.” Your dad imitated him. He looked at you, “is this your boyfriend?”

“Yes. Go easy on him. He’s nervous.” You pleaded, trying to hide the desperation in your tone. Minho just kept smiling, wanting to make a good impression.

Your dad laughed a little, “fine. Tell him it’s nice to meet him and there’s no reason to be nervous.”

You let out a breath of relief and turned to Minho, who patiently waited for your translation.

“He said it’s nice to meet you and there’s no reason to be nervous.”

Minho’s smile widened as he looked at your dad, who stepped out of the way to let you both in.

“It’s nice to meet you too, sir.” Minho bowed to him. You nodded towards your dad.

“He said it’s nice to meet you too, dad.”

Changbin

Changbin loved the fact that you wanted him to meet your parents. That’s how he knew you were serious about your relationship with him and he loved how fondly you spoke of your parents.

“Okay, remember, don’t be nervous. They’ll love you. I mean, how could they not?” You knew these situations could be nerve wracking, but you were confident.

Changbin was a good guy and anyone would be a fool to not see that. Changbin winked at you, just as confident. “I’m not nervous.”

During dinner with your parents, mainly conversing in a language he didn’t understand, everyone relied on you to translate each conversation word for word. Changbin felt himself falling for you even more, impressed at how well you kept up without getting mixed up.

“How did you two meet?” Your mom asked curiously, waiting for you to relay the question. When you did, Changbin’s face lit up.

He started to ramble on about how you two met, where, and when. Your parents followed along, but not understanding a single word. When he paused, you translated in a summary, knowing he said too much for you to try and repeat everything word for word.

“You both did a great job. I would have never met my soulmate if not for you both.” Changbin added, reaching for your hand. “I want to spend the rest of my life with y/n.”

Your heart skipped a beat when he said that.

“Are you going to tell us what he said?” Your mom whispered. Changbin looked at you, waiting for you to translate as well.

“He, um…” you started but your cheeks heated up.

“Come on, don’t mumble.” Your dad spoke up. You were nervous to repeat what Changbin said.

“He said you did a great job with me.” You started. Your parents waited, knowing there was more.

“And?”

“He wants to… spend the rest of his life with me.” You couldn’t control your smile, getting shy as your parents chuckled.

“Aw, nervous?” Changbin smirked, teasing you.

Hyunjin

Hyunjin helped your mom set the table for dinner, carefully listening to her instructions in a language he didn’t know.

“Bring me the plates, please.” Your mom asked, preoccupied with fixing the table cloth.

Hyunjin scanned the situation for any clues on what to get before seeing her finger pointing at the cupboard.

“Oh, plates!” He muttered to himself, quickly getting the plates and bring them to her. Your mom thanked him as he helped lay out the plates.

“Mom, dad wants to know if you need anything from the store.” You walked in. Hyunjin felt grateful you arrived when you did. He liked your mom and how kind she was to him, but he felt embarrassed despite not understanding the language she spoke.

“Nope. I have everything,” she shook her head. She looked over at Hyunjin and smiled, “your boyfriend seems to be catching on quick. He’s been a big help.”

“He’s very sweet.” You agreed, giving him a discreet thumbs up to let him know she was saying good things about him.

Your mom rolled her eyes playfully at the cheesiness of your reply.

“Help us cook if you’re not going with your father.”

You looked at Hyunjin and nodded towards the kitchen counter where all the ingredients lay.

“We get to help cook. Ready?” You asked. Your mom looked up from what she was doing when you switched languages but didn’t say anything.

“Yes! But please… help me.” Hyunjin sheepishly grinned.

Han

You knew when Jisung would meet your parents, it would be up to you to carry the conversation. He had been nervous and thinking about every possible outcome meeting them could bring ever since you mentioned wanting him to meet them.

“I promise you, you’ll do fine.” You offered him some reassurance. That didn’t help too much given the fact they spoke a different language.

“What if they don’t like me?”

“Unless you’re a criminal, they’ll like you. I like you, don’t I?” You offered a smile, putting your hand on his shoulder.

Jisung took a deep breath and tried to relax before he met your parents. When they arrived to your apartment, they both gave you a hug and greeted you in their language before their eyes fell on a nervous Jisung.

“Hello.” Jisung bowed, his shyness showing through. You took his hand in yours and rubbed your thumb along the back of his hand as your parents gave him a polite smile in return.

“Hello, Jisung.” Your mom smiled. Jisung was taken aback by the usage of his name.

“I’ve heard a lot about you.” She switched back to the language she knew.

“Mom…” You feigned a groan, trying to hide your smile. She ignored your groan and stepped closer to Jisung as your dad continued to eye him.

“He’s cute. Are you sure he can handle you?” Your mom joked. You raised your eyebrows, crossing your arms. “Please. I’m an angel.”

Jisung listened, unaware of what was being said and occasionally meeting your dads unrelenting gaze. He eventually let up, holding his hand out towards Jisung.

“Nice to meet you. You better take care of y/n. That’s not negotiable.” He firmly shook Jisung’s hand. Jisung was about to nod, but didn’t know if it were appropriate. He looked at you, “what did he say?”

You squeezed his hand gently, “he said it’s nice to meet you and to take care of me.”

Jisung allowed himself to nod, “I will!”

“He said he will.” You relayed the message to your dad, who stared Jisung down for a few seconds more before letting go of his hand.

Felix

The night before Felix met your parents, he had bought a phrasebook to study so he didn’t have to rely on you to translate everything. You saw him glued to the book, his eyes scanning every word and phrase.

“How do I pronounce this?” Felix asked, reading out the word, ‘Fish’. You laughed a little, joining him and taking the book from him.

“You said it correctly.” You smiled, then added, “you won’t need to use the word, ‘fish’. Trust me.”

“I know, but I want to speak to them without looking to you the entire time.” Felix rubbed his tired eyes. You smiled at his dedication to communicate with your parents.

“Let me help you then. What all do you know?” You asked, looking at the book. Felix thought for a moment.

“Hello.” He switched languages. “Goodbye. Nice to meet you, my name is Felix… Fish. Can I use the bathroom?”

He paused, glancing at the phrasebook in your hands, “I love you.”

You felt your stomach do flips hearing him saying that. It was one thing for him to say in Korean or English, but in your mother tongue? You couldn’t help but blush.

“Goodnight.” He looked at the time. You were still whipped over the way he sounded saying ‘I love you’.

Despite not knowing much, Felix seemed to hold small talk pretty well, even if you had to whisper to him occasionally what the correct way to answer your parents questions were.

“Can I use the bathroom?” Felix asked suddenly, his ulterior motive was to excuse himself to read more phrases from the small book he had hidden away in his back pocket.

After a few minutes, he came back and proudly said, “the food is delicious.”

You exhaled sharply as Felix sat back down at the dinner table, unaware of how weird his statement sounded after ‘using the bathroom’.

Your dad laughed, luckily. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Felix smiled, a bit confused at why he laughed.

Seungmin

He wanted to leave a good impression on your parents so they’d like him and accept him into your family, even if you told him many times before that he’d be apart of your family regardless.

You and Seungmin were meeting your parents in a restaurant that you reserved a table for.

Meeting in front of the entrance, Seungmin repeated the foreign phrases he’d practiced in his head before your parents got within speaking distance.

You greeted your parents with a hug while Seungmin bowed and smiled kindly.

“Hello. My favorite is Seungmin.” Seungmin attempted to introduce himself to your parents. They gave him a strange look, instantly letting him know he didn’t say the phrase right.

“What did I say?” He leaned over to whisper to you, heart thumping in his chest. You found his small mistake to be cute, “you said your favorite is Seungmin.”

Seungmin widened his eyes, “ah, no! I mean— What’s the word for name?”

“My name is…” You spoke slowly, allowing him to follow along.

“My name is Seungmin.” He corrected himself, feeling the embarrassment seeping in. Your parents both understood his first greeting was a mistake, laughing it off.

“Nice to meet you, Seungmin. We’ve heard a lot about you.” Your dad was still lightly chuckling from his mistake. Seungmin only understood the first part, being one of the phrases he learned.

“Nice to meet you too!” Seungmin hoped he said that correctly. Your parents walked into the restaurant together, leaving you and Seungmin to follow behind.

“Did I say that right?” Seungmin looked for reassurance that he hadn’t completely ruined his chance of leaving a good impression. You knew this, nodding.

“You did great. You’re trying. My parents like effort, so just be yourself and if you have any trouble, I will be by your side.” You reassured him.

Seungmin felt a weight lift off his shoulders, attempting to relax as you two met your parents at the table.

I.N

“I can’t wait to meet the people that brought you into this world!” Jeongin was looking forward to meeting your parents. Even if he did have underlying nervousness.

You watched as he picked out an outfit. He left to the bathroom to change and came back a minute later.

“Do I look good?” the foreign word rolled off his tongue. He did a few poses, smiling wider each time.

“You look very good.” You got up from his bed and walked over to him, smoothing out any wrinkles he had on his shirt with your hand. Jeongin let you, his heart racing more from your touch.

“Will your parents think I look good?” Jeongin grinned. You took a step back and tried to think in the perspective of your parents.

“As long as you don’t look like you dressed yourself in the dark, maybe.” You answered, “but I think you look very good. So don’t worry too much about appearances.”

Jeongin’s underlying nervousness came to surface the closer you got to your parents house. Your mom was waiting outside for you, waving at the two of you.

Jeongin grinned, waving back. “Hello!”

“Jeongin?” Your mom asked, tilting her head towards you to make sure she got the name right. You gave her a thumbs up as Jeongin bowed to her, “I am Jeongin.”

“Hello! You seem very happy.” Your mom smiled. You glanced over at your boyfriend, “he is.”

“Good. I can’t take another frown.” Your mom motioned for you two to join her inside.

“What did she say? Does she like my outfit?” Jeongin asked in a hushed voice. You laughed, “no. She pretty much said hello and that she’s glad that you seem happy.”

Jeongin thought about your answer before accepting it, feeling like it was a good thing. “Nice.”

Jeongin entered your parents house after you did and made sure to close the front door.

“Can you tell your parents they have a nice house?” Jeongin asked, marveling at the decoration and how everything was set up. You were used to seeing it that you never really saw how everything was set up. But Jeongin seemed excited to be here and you were happy that he wasn’t a nervous wreck— so far, so you complied and got your parents attention.

“Jeongin likes your house.” You nodded at Jeongin, who smiled on cue when your parents thanked him.

“I like his outfit.” Your mom returned the compliment, to which you raised your eyebrows in surprise that she noticed. Happily, you turned back to Jeongin.

“Now she said she likes your outfit.”

[wambsgansshoelaces]

Hi could I please request something about a love triangle with reader, Tom and Greg? I’m so attracted to both of them and can’t chose and I feel like if you’re in close proximity to one you’ll always be around the other so it would be easy to catch feelings for both. Thank u if u do 😘

In Between

Tom Wambsgans x Reader x Gregory Hirsch

be on the lookout for the two different endings! I hope I did this well, enjoy x

Word Count: 2.601k

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” you say breathily, hurrying into the conference room. Tom pulls out your chair for you, gentle smile on his face.

“There’s nobody else here. You’re the least of my concerns.” You throw back a grateful smile, and he pushes your chair in as you sit. He turns to the door, peering out into the hallway, checking his watch. You carefully organize your papers out in front of you, notepad and pen ready for you to take notes. “Corporate time zone bullshit.”

“Start telling them earlier times so they start coming on time,” you suggest, not really serious. He makes his way back from the window, taking his seat next to you.

You both sit together in silence, a smidgen awkwardly, waiting for the room to fill. It’s not like you hadn’t noticed the tension between you and Tom. You could practically saw through it. You always catch his appraising glances or his shy looks. He made an effort to speak with you whenever he could, he showered you in compliments until you were pink. You’re sure you find him just as attractive as he finds you- a lot.

Time spent with Tom always left you with butterflies in your stomach. When you go to work in his office because your office neighbor is way too loud, or just because you need a body double, he has a plate of food and a mug of coffee waiting for you. He’s always taking so much work off of your plate, insisting he do the incessant paperwork for the sake of your mental clarity. You’d gone out a few times before, but just as coworkers at galas and corporate dinners. You’d always find yourselves drawn to each other rather than the crowd, keeping to yourselves and laughing in the corners of every gloriously decadent venue.

After a few stretched out ages, everyone is present and Tom begins the meeting. He turns to you, and for a moment, he wasn’t the confident man you knew him to be. You give him an encouraging smile, and discreetly take his hand and give it a squeeze before he gets up. He takes a breath, stamping down a smile in response, and closes his blazer. He was a good person, you know, nothing but kind and thoughtful, but his presentations bored you to death. It wasn’t necessarily his fault, more of the company’s, but sometimes you wonder why you got into this line of work.

He slides back into his seat by your side, not paying attention when someone else goes up to speak. He leans close to you and drops his voice, so only you can hear. “Wanna ditch?”

“What are we, in high school?” you murmur back lightheartedly.

“Come on.” Tom smooths a hand over his dress shirt, quietly getting to his feet and beckoning you after him. “We have another commitment. Send the minutes when you’re done, and if anything comes up…” Tom’s gaze rakes over the room. Once you’re both out in the hall, he sighs, relieved. “Fucking Christ. And they expect respect from me. They’re probably diddling themselves as we speak.”

“That’s vile,” you say truthfully, but laughing anyway. You both walk slowly, and you realize you don’t exactly know where you’re going. You’re both just wasting time, finding a way to spend more time in each others’ presence. Being together more, when you weren’t working. Not really working, anyway. “I thought my brain was going to leak out of my ear.”

An associate comes power walking through the hall, not bothering to pick their head up from their phone. They end up shoulder checking you, and hard, knocking you into Tom. He sets his hand on the small of your back, throwing a scowl and an obscenity over his shoulder as the perpetrator disappears down the hall. His hand slides up your back and to where you’d been hit, giving the spot a rub. It’s not like it’d hurt, but maybe it was enough to leave a bruise. He readjusts your collar, smoothing out new wrinkles from your shirt.

Tom leads you to his office, beckoning you inside. “Take a nap, I’ll close the blinds. You’re so exhausted. When was the last time you’ve slept? A week ago?”

Even though he was right, you wave him off, settling on one of his sofas. You set your things on the glass coffee table in front of you, taking the moment just to relax. “I can’t. Shit to do.”

He takes a seat at his desk, leafing through a bunch of papers. He knows he can’t fight you, but maybe he can mitigate. “A break, then.”

You sink into the cushions, a you-shaped divot reforming under you. You were here a lot, the couch knew how you were shaped. You don’t know if it’s a bad sign or kind of cute. Maybe offensive?

Tom’s only seated for a few moments before he’s up again and taking a seat flush against you, arm draped over the back of the sofa. Subconsciously, you lean into him, and his hand finds its way to your back and tentatively brushes up to your shoulder.

All the stress seems to melt from his body. His shoulders loosen, his hand gives your shoulder a light squeeze. “You’re… surprising,” is all you can think to say.

“I just need… I just need a bit,” he responds, voice suddenly raspy, hoarse. Your heart splinters as he looks over at you, eyes a bit glassy.

“Are you okay? You can tell me if something’s bothering you.”

Quickly, as if remembering himself, he’s up again and at the door.

Snapping back to reality, you realize it’s time for you to be up again. “Fuckin’ quit scheduling so many meetings in one day,” you mutter, loud enough for him to hear, and get to your feet.

He chuckles lightly. Tom pivots, going back to his desk. “Before we go,” he says, “I’ve been meaning to ask you out to dinner.” You look up, and note his neck is flushing a light pink. He’s standing now, and takes a scrap of paper from his breast pocket as if he’d rehearsed this. He jots down something on it. He folds it in half and presses it into your palm. “Just call me later, okay? It’s my personal phone. I’m sorry I didn’t give it to you sooner.”

The next meeting is as much as a snooze fest as the first. You’re only there because Tom is there. You both work so closely together, and your job overlaps so much with his, that you do things mostly as a unit. But of course, when you work so closely with Tom, you work even closer with Gregory Hirsch. Tom begins on one of his monologues, and you eye the clock. You couldn’t just get up and leave this time, but you had another meeting to get to. You’re not exactly sure how Head of Press & Media will take your being late, but you hoped it wasn’t too bad. You acted as Tom’s voice in the other department. This part of your job is where you split away from Tom, and he relied on you to keep him up to speed and working efficiently.

Well, maybe not only you.

Once Tom had finished with his spiel, scolding certain associates for being ‘a little less than bright’, you’re dismissed, and you have to run off to your next meeting, this time for press. You wave goodbye before you go, earning you a soft smile from him. Since your first meeting had run late, you were now not on track to make it on time for the next one. You pick up the pace, holding your things close to your chest. Of course, the press meeting was in an entire separate building.

You’re not paying attention to your surroundings as you try to rush to the elevators. As you turn the corner, someone else does at the same time from across the hall, and you smack into each other.

“Oh, my god, I’m so sorry,” you manage, only a little ruffled. Poor Greg spilled everything in his arms. You crouch down to help him gather his folders and files.

“No, no, it’s my fault, really. Aw, damn it, where’s my phone?” You look behind you, spotting it, and hand it to him. Once everything’s all pulled back together, he takes the array of papers from you, your hands brushing. “This isn’t how I planned the next time I saw you,” he admits, embarrassed.

You both shuffle into the elevator. It’s going down painfully slowly. You make a mental note to bitch about it to reception to see if they were having the same problem. “Really?” you ask, unable to suppress a smile.

“I mean, I never plan when I see you. That doesn’t even make sense,” Greg says, fidgeting with his sleeves. “What I’m trying to say is I don’t know how to act around you.”

You and him have probably spent days upon days with each other, running errands for Tom. Sometimes, you know Tom sends Greg to tag along with you when he can’t himself, just so someone was always with you. Their relationship was a bit of a mystery to you. If you think you and Tom have sexual tension, he and Greg have sexual strain.

The two of them interacted strangely when you were around. Conversations were hushed, harried, terse. But even from afar, they were like that. Maybe they were both just… weird.

“Um, we’re both going to Press, right?” Greg asks, breaking the silence, the elevator still going down. Suddenly, it clunks. Then stops completely.

You blink, then stupidly press the ‘door open’ button. Nothing happens. “Not anytime soon, I guess.”

“Oh, oh my god. Tom’s going to kill me.” He leans past you, side now brushing against yours, and jams the button a few more times.

“Fucking phenomenal,” you mutter, reaching for your phone. No signal. “Greg, do you…?”

“No,” he all but cries, distressing himself. Quickly, he pushes the emergency phone button on the elevator’s motherboard. A crackly voice pushes itself through the itty bitty speaker, disinterestedly asking for the problem. “Uh, we’re stuck. In the Waystar building, um, between the thirtieth and twenty-ninth floors. It’s bad, this is bad, we have somewhere we need to be-”

“Help is on the way.”

And then you hear the person on the other end putting the phone back into the receiver, hanging up.

You sigh, pressing your back to the wall of the elevator and sliding down into a seat. “Fucking customer service reps,” you mutter.

Greg turns to face you, clearly panicked. “How are you so calm? Why are you so calm?”

“What can we do?”

He pauses. “Climb through the vents?”

“No, Greg, we’re not going to climb through the vents. We just have to wait.” You drop your head into your hands. “God, I can’t fucking take this.”

“What? What’s wrong? Can I help?”

“Just stressed.”

“Did Tom say anything to you? Are you going to get in trouble? Do you need me to talk to him?”

“What? No, of course not. Tom’s not going to do anything.” You pull your head from your hands, instead tucking your knees into your chest and resting your cheek on your knee. “He’ll just get mad at the maintenance guys. Greg, calm down. Take a breath. I promise, nothing’s going to happen.” You stare up at him, and he struggles to make eye contact.

After a few silent moments, Greg pacing the elevator floor, he stops and sits down next to you. He mirrors your position, but his legs are long and lanky, so they stick up towards his shoulders. It can’t be comfortable. His leg jitters nervously, bouncing up and down rapidly. “I feel all… icky.”

“Did Tom say something to you?” You turn your head to look at him, but he’s already staring at you.

“No, it’s just… an irrational fear of elevators. Which have been validated, to be fair,” he admits, not looking away from you. “Like, what if we never get out?”

You stifle a laugh. “You’re afraid of elevators?”

“For numerous reasons.” He shifts so that he’s facing you, then gestures around with his hand. “This being one of them. But it’s not even the worst, you know? Like what if the cables snap, and we plummet to the ground, and there’s nothing anyone can do to save u-”

“Maybe that’s enough.” You reach over and give his arm a squeeze. “We’ll be fine.”

He slumps against you, resting his head on your shoulder. “If I die, I want you to know I really wanted to ask you out the entire time I was alive and knew you but was way too scared to do so and you’re very pretty and I haven’t even come close to liking someone else while I’ve been near you-”

“Greg, we’re not going to die.” There’s a bang, and you lurch downwards. He startles, reaching for you, clinging to you, pulling you close, but the elevator’s movement is immediately regulated and the floors ding away just like they’re supposed to.

He’s immediately on his feet, pulling you up. “Should we still even go?” he asks quietly, glancing at his watch. The door finally open, and you both scurry out.

“Better late than never.”

“I’ll drive,” he suggests, before taking your arm and dragging you to the parking garage. Much later than you were supposed to, the two of you hurry up the stairs of the building Press decided to have the meeting in, Greg carrying all your things. Once on the right floor, he hands them back to you. You hold them with one arm, reaching out with the other to straighten his tie and dust off a bit of lint from his shoulder. He holds the conference room door open for you, and you step in, dazzling smile plastered on your face.

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

The workday finally ends, and you don’t think you have the capacity for anything else but sitting in bed, eating ice cream, and watching TV. So that’s exactly what you do.

Your work phone is sitting on your cabinet on silent. You never usually have it like that, but you’d texted Tom from your personal phone, and he’d promised to let you know if anything came up. Tom texts again, telling you to sleep well, tacking on a heart to the end of the message. A few moments later, he send another, saying he’d get your boss to give you a raise if you went to bed on time and got a good night’s sleep. You bid him goodnight, he does in return, a smattering of emojis attached, and realize that Greg had also texted you moments earlier.

He tells you to forget about what he said in the elevator- really, just forger about the entire fiasco. He apologizes if we made you uncomfortable, saying your comfort and happiness was important to him and he didn’t want to jeopardize your friendship because he was stupid and scared. It’s a long rambling of a paragraph, but you understand well enough. You tell him he hadn’t done anything wrong, and that you found him great just the way he was.

Swiping away from the messages, your phone’s message center is displayed. Their names sit on top of each other- Tom, Greg. Greg, Tom.

Maybe you were overthinking things. Maybe they were more into each other than either of them was into you.

You tell yourself it’s time to make a decision. You owe it to them.

And yourself.

[visorforavisor]

as an Irish (we don’t call it “Gaelic”, ever) speaker and a Sunny fan, I thought it would be fun to do a bit of a post about the Irish-language scene in The Gang’s Still in Ireland, because it’s not a scene I see widely discussed but I adore it.

some background. I am not a native Gaeilgeoir (Irish speaker) — my first language is English — but I started learning it age five and have always had very high grades in it and a huge love for it. I was hugely excited about Charlie Kelly being able to read Irish in the previous episode, and even more so when he turned out to be able to speak it.

Colm Meaney, the actor who plays Shelley Kelly, grew up in Ireland and as such would have learned Irish throughout his time in school. (this has been required by law more or less since Irish independence, and it was already quite common before that. nowadays, you can get exemptions for things like dyslexia but otherwise you have to do it.) this is clear in his ease with the language. (I will do a post about where in Ireland Shelley lives at some point, because there aren’t many areas where Irish is the principal language, but that is for another day!) both the actor and the character have easy and good Irish.

Charlie Day, as an Italian-American, obviously does not actually speak the language and presumably learned the lines as a bunch of gibberish sounds. (nonetheless, some of his pronunciations do suggest he had the words written down non-phonetically too.) his delivery of the lines is god damn amazing. Charlie Kelly’s Irish is not remotely American-accented. if I heard someone speaking Irish like that, I’d assume they sounded Irish when speaking English. he doesn’t even sound neutral in Irish; he does actively have an accent (the word choices are more non-regional, not pointing to any of the three distinct dialects, but this makes sense as the same is true of Shelley’s Irish). his pronunciation is so on point and his accent is seriously just a delight to listen to. that’s serious effort to have been put in by an American in a show that routinely makes fun of Irish-Americans! I cannot stress enough how cool it is to see my national language like this and how good a job he does.

as a side note, Charlie Kelly finding Irish much easier to read than English makes total sense! he clearly has dyslexia, as well as intellectual disabilities and autism, so literacy being tricky is totally fair, but is probably being made worse in English by how much of a god damn ridiculous illogical irregular mess the language is. English has around two hundred irregular verbs, and that’s before we even begin to consider the irregularity of its spelling. Irish has eleven irregular verbs, multiple of which are only irregular in one tense. its spelling is entirely consistent and, once the rules are known, any word (pretty much) can be flawlessly pronounced from reading it or flawlessly spelled from hearing it. (I promise Irish names make sense. just not if you try to use English rules on them. the languages are very different!) Irish is one of the most regular languages out there.

so, I thought I’d go through the actual scene. I’m going to put each line, the direct translation, the subtitle provided, and a comment. hopefully this will be interesting to someone other than me!

·—·

“is mise do pheannchara, a Charlie.” (Shelley)

direct translation: “I’m your pen pal, Charlie.”

subtitle provided: “I’m your pen pal, Charlie.”

okay, so they translate “pen pal” two different ways in this scene. the first, used here, is “peannchara”. this is a compound word, much like all those long words you get in German. it’s a perfectly good choice given there is no one standard choice for translating that concept.

“tá brón orm, ach ní thuigim cad atá ráite agat. is féidir liom gibberish a léamh, ach ní féidir liom í a labhairt.” (Charlie)

direct translation: “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand what you’ve said. I’m able to read gibberish, but I’m not able to speak it.”

subtitle provided: “I’m sorry. I don’t understand what you just said. I read gibberish, but I don’t speak it.”

I would slightly disagree with the subtitles here. the “just” bit isn’t expressed at all. in fact, there is no Irish equivalent to that word, and we often just use the English one in the middle of an Irish sentence because of this. however, I expect that RCG (Rob McElhenney, Charlie Day, Glenn Howerton) wrote the subtitles and then handed them to an Irish translator, in which case the translator did a perfectly good job. a couple of notes about the use of “gibberish” here. I love it. firstly, we totally do drop English words into sentences like that. secondly, I really like the choice to use the feminine form of “it” here (that is, to make “gibberish” a feminine noun). all languages except English are feminine nouns in Irish as a rule, so it’s just a lovely detail calling back to the fact that Charlie thinks of it as the gibberish language. also, Charlie Day really does absolutely nail that voiceless velar fricative (the consonant sound in “ach”, as in Scottish “loch” or any number of German words), a sound even many natively English-speaking Irish people are lazy about. good on him.

“níl aon ciall le sin. sé á labhairt anois!” (Shelley)

direct translation: “there’s no sense to that. it’s being spoken now!”

subtitle provided: “that doesn’t make any sense. you’re speaking it now!”

I adore the phrasing of the first sentence here. thoroughly authentic. there are much more obvious ways to phrase it, but this is absolutely what a native speaker might go with. same goes for the second, actually. Colm Meaney says the second line in a sort of shortened way (same idea as how we might turn “do not” into “don’t”) so I’ve struggled slightly with how to directly translate it. interestingly, Shelley categorises “gibberish” as a masculine noun here, but this isn’t really wrong since it doesn’t have an official grammatical gender due to not being an actual Irish word. just a little odd. also, to fit better to the subtitle of the second sentence, I personally would’ve gone with “tá sé á labhairt agat anois” rather than “tá sé á labhairt anois” (the full version of what Shelley says), as this includes the information of by whom it is being spoken.

“’s é mo dheartháir mo chara pinn.” (Charlie)

direct translation: “it’s my brother that’s my pen pal.”

subtitle provided: “but my pen pal is my brother.”

firstly, to be clear, the nuance of the sentence structure here is not captured in either of the above translations because there simply is not an English equivalent to it. secondly, Charlie uses a contraction here by shortening “is é mo dheartháir mo chara pinn”. super cool. also, there’s that other translation of “pen pal”! this one is “cara pinn”, which uses the Irish genitive case (the word mutates instead of using an equivalent of the English word “of”; this case also exists in other languages including Swedish, German, Latin, and Greek). I like this translation very much too. both work! Charlie Day again delivers this line really nicely, even stressing the word for “brother” (and pronouncing its initial consonant mutation absolutely gorgeously)! I am truly very impressed.

“níl aon fhírinne le sin, a mhic. ’s é do chara pinn… d’athair.” (Shelley)

direct translation: “there’s no truth to that, son. it’s your pen pal who is… your father.”

subtitle given: “no son. your pen pal is your… father.”

so, I really disagree with the first sentence of the subtitles here. it works, but also misses a lot of the beautiful nuance that could have been got. I would have gone with “that’s not true, son” or, more likely, “that’s not right, son”. I also disagree with the placement of the ellipsis in the second sentence, as you see (and my frustrations in translating this sentence structure to English continue, as well). however I like the use of “a mhic” (“son”) here, very much. this is a mutated form of “mac”, meaning “son” (yes, as in all of those Irish surnames; they all just basically say who the person is the son of). it carries both meanings that exist in English: an actual son, but also the use of the word as an affectionate way to refer to any man younger than the (usually male) speaker. this is a really nice choice.

·—·

so, yeah! those are my thoughts. feel free to ask any questions you like. I love this scene so much. as well as the reasons above about how good the translation and delivery is, I also love two other main things about this.

firstly, the level of dignity given to the language. Sunny makes fun of Irish-Americans all the time, but doesn’t really do the same to Irish people from Ireland, which I like (I do also wanna talk about Mac and Charlie as members of the Irish diaspora because it is so so interesting, but that is for another day). Irish as a language is not often given dignity, especially in American or English media, so I really love that it isn’t the butt of the joke here.

secondly, that such a significant scene is delivered through this language. just wonderful. after fourteen and a half series, we finally discover the biological father, and the scene cannot be separated from this beautiful language. it just is so perfect.

RCG, and of course Charlie Day in particular, we Gaeilgeoirí (Irish speakers) thank you! our little language made it to the screens of so many people around the world.

I hope this was interesting haha.

·—·

edits: fixed some things I mistyped.

[who1ssheesh]

NSFW Xanxus with s/o? 👀

Xanxus NSFW Headcanons

Warnings: seks and swearing; fem!reader; huge OOC; 100% wrong grammar, english still is not my native (it will be one day is this how it works idk); no beta we die like tyl tsuna

Note: tbh, this is really short since I'm still holding back my filthiest thoughts?? The add-on section with sub Xus can be NOT considered serious but those make me raaaaaaaaaawrrr aooga

• Fucking horndog end of the story leave lieks uwu

• No really, he riles up in a second and in the most inconvenient situations. And if you don’t give him what he wants, Xanxus will be very broody for the whole day. Good luck, you will need one ngl

• Xanxus obviously likes (LOOVES) seeing you in revealing tight clothes, this bitch will drop stuff on purpose just to see your bottom if you're wearing a short skirt that day. He will not hide it, man will just be sitting with the nastiest smile, and you know you have to get that thing up since he won’t

• More of a thighs and ass type tbh. Any breast is good if he can see a nice cleavage.

• I really imagine Xanxus as a big juicy man despite Amano’a art style. His thighs worth dying between, his tiddies look heavy I can hold them bb. And I think he also enjoyed someone not really slim? He loves something to GRAB

• Not even in a sexual way. He will always grab your ass even around people and he can't even give you a coherent answer why. He just stares zero brain head empty - he can't admit out loud he loves your body, what a loser

• HUGE size kink. The nastiest, craziest size kink, he is going to be feral with a small s/o like he really means to snap them in half

• Also has a big dick, so……..can’t complain

• Choke him. Never in your life you can even choke him a little bit, but Xanxus appreciates the effort. Your both fragile feminine hands cannot do anything against him and even grab his neck fully, and that feeling of power over you gets him going.

• Then you feel his hot touch around your throat. He is going to show you how it is done

• Enjoys the fight. Someone too obedient is not his type at all, he gets bored quickly, he loves his girlie to has temperament. Scratch him, grab him, bite him and never hold back. Xanxus enjoys smell of blood, seeing your marks all over him after

• Touch. His. Scars. I’m sorry for involving feelings, but he will like it

• You can never dumbfound him with love-bombing btw. Unlike SOMEONE ahemsqualoahem

“I-i love you”

“Yeah, who doesn’t”

But he still thinks that’s lame and kills the mood

• Yes to power play but GOD FUCK NO WHAT ARE YOU DOING GET THE FUCK OUT YOU FREAK to Daddy kink. He has too much going on with parents and has big issues, especially with fathers. But props to being the first person Xanxus calls a freak

• Get on your knees for him and he’s so WEAK

• Speaking of weak. Xanxus thinks too much with his dick, and you won’t have much problem convincing him about something through a good blowjob (or sex in general). He knows your trick but doesn’t mind, since he’s had a good time, nay? Though sometimes he’ll fuck around and just go away “well, bye now”

• Corruption kink and no one will convince me otherwise. Having a confident skilled woman is good. But how about the most stoic, morally right woman turned into the filthiest nastiest whore just for him? Bonus point if she's a virgin, something clicking in his head. Xanxus enjoys the fact he's one and only or at least, if you break up, he's still your first and no other man will satisfy you she same way (those are his words, not mine)

• Such a dirty talker. But usually Xanxus tries to get an answer from you and just laughs and your fucked-out pathetic state. He won't stop until your eyes are glossy and absolutely empty, his dick is the only thing on your mind.

• Xanxus is shameless but still gets really angry when you two get caught. HOT TAKE. It's not about him btw, he doesn't give a shit about being seen with some one-night-stand but YOU as his partner are different. He wants people hear you and know how good he's making you feel, he wants then to see how hot, awesome, smart, pretty, confident you are BUT! Xanxus is the only one who sees you in the nastiest, most vulnerable state.

• Hot take again - he's not against eating you out. First - being between juicy thick thighs worth dying for, second - he again turns it into a dominating moment, where HE decides if you're having an orgasm.

Secret-secret headcanons I myself BELIEVE

• Sit on his face. Xanxus will act like a bitch but in the end you will notice he likes it WAY too much and even has some shade of pink on his cheeks

• Just try to dominate him in general. Use the same dirty words he uses for you, don't be scared to insult him. You both are too fucked up and horny at this moment anyways, Xanxus' brain won't even comprehend what you are telling him and that actually he's supposed to get angry

• Xanxus didn't know this is his kink - a beast being tamed, huh?

• After the first time this idiot didn't even talk to you, trying to process what the hell happened. But seeing you the same as always, still treating him as a big smart boss, and that's what everyone believes, makes him hard instantly.

• Xanxus doesn't like sex toys at all (he can make you see stars without any help) but JUST MAYBE that's the first time you get whips? Question mark?

• Nah, he won't just become suddenly submissive, that's not the point. He will insult you, bite you, scratch, choke you, fight against you. If you can't handle him, you don't deserve him in this state, okay?

[seoul-bros]

The Future of Jikook

After watching the video and GMA soundcheck performance on Friday and then seeing all the contradictory reactions on line to the song and its reception, I have been quietly mulling things over here in my little corner of the internet.

There are so many fan feelings conflating here. Those who want JK to turn into the BTS Harry Styles, those who are still smarting over the way changes to BB affected the trajectory of FACE, those who feel that the breakout of one member is a threat to ever seeing BTS as a band again. It makes for a tense, emotional and chaotic time on-line especially on Twitter where people tend to have a knee jerk reaction to anything that is said and nuance is completely lost.

Look into yourself and I am sure you will find a whole load of contradictory emotions lapping at your consciousness right now. What I have found myself thinking however, is how does all this noise affect the members and in particular Jimin and Jungkook?

Making Choices

One question that came to mind was why did Jungkook pick this song for his solo debut. What is it that he likes about it and how does that differ from the way SB sees or is marketing the song. During Festa 2023 I commented on the transformation that JK has been through since last year. He has made a conscious effort to shake off the maknae part of the golden maknae starting with his deal with Calvin Klein and all the swooning I am seeing on Tumblr shows that he has succeeded. As Yoongi said, JK is all grown up.

Then I was thinking about JK's musical choices, who and what he listens to and I remembered earlier this year he sang the Sam Smith and Kim Petras hit Unholy on one of his lives. If you also recall he later scolded Jimin for being prudish about the song on his own live.

Twitter Link

JK was obviously ready to move into more explicit territory even then. So what about Seven made him think this is the song that launches me as the new and more mature JK.

I think for one thing, the lyrics are sensual and not gender specific. I am in the "loving you right" lyric camp because it gives a more mutual gratification feel to the song in keeping with the other lyrics as opposed to the macho stud, I'm a sex machine, version.

Jungkook wants to ease his lover's mind, he want to trace their lines, he loves how they wrap around him when they make love, he is devoted, his love runs deep and when they are together he wants to make sure his lover is satisfied and feeling that afterglow.

So yes JK is going to be talking about sex from now on along with almost everyone else in the Western music industry. Along with Jimin for example. As a side note, I still don't quite understand my overwhelmingly visceral reaction to the Like Crazy MV. It's f**king art and so is he.

Now SB and his cronies know the audience they are playing to and we will get symbolically het videos both for this and what is rumoured to be his completely English speaking solo album but even this video, which to be honest I have dumped in favour of the live performance and the choreo video, went for humour rather than full out fangirl wish fulfillment. I mean that may also come but I get the feeling that somewhere down the line they are going to need to pivot hard.

What do jikook want?

Secondly, I was thinking what do jikook want both severally and individually. All the members have an enviable work ethic and a deep love of music but the emphasis that these two and JHope put on performance is legendary. Look at Jimin here monitoring between shoots for his music shows in the behind the scenes video this week. He is serious about giving his best even when he himself is not in the best physical condition.

They are both ambitious and are looking for longevity in the industry and importantly, and prefacing this with an, in my opinion, this is something they want to do together. Neither wants the other to get left behind and I think that is what they are fighting for right now.

Whatever you think about their bond, it cannot be dismissed and the sequence of events of the last few weeks for me just reinforces that. Everyone noticed the way their relationship was highlighted in the Beyond the Story book (just started my copy yesterday but I couldn't resist the spoilers last week) to the extent that Variety went on a fishing expedition which JK expertly deflected.

Jimin is in New York right now and Jikook were seen dining together the night he arrived. We don't know what Jimin's schedule is but we can assume that he will take advantage of the visit to also support Jungkook as he has done with the other members when his schedule allowed. Jungkook is important to Jimin and vice versa.

Has everyone already forgotten the amount of promo that JK has done for Jimin over the last few months. Here he is listening to JKIVE's Golden Hour who we later found out was collaborating with Jimin on Angel Parts I and II.

So this is the perspective that I am going to adopt from here on in when I react to content. I am going to ask myself does my reaction help or hinder jikook in being able to continue working together towards their aim of further success in the music industry. I will veto anything designed to drive a wedge between them, be that from the company or the fans and I will continue to work hard for them in the way that a fan can buying, streaming and supporting their music and their content. There is even word on the grapevine that there maybe some jikook collaboration and/or content on the way. I'll be watching out for that.

Wow quick update something is definitely coming.

Post Date: 16/07/2023