#so it's also considered a bad idea to talk about secret things in front of them

[viralarcadian]

years ago i wrote down a bunch of speculative stuff about how the summons of golden sun fit into the setting, given that iris is like. actually recognized within the text of the game as being a thing (or at least is heavily implied as such). cannot remember most of it but i DO remember writing that in some places frogs are considered messengers of cybelle and will narc on you to her if you commit secret crimes in front of them, thus engendering her wrath

i think i also had something about tiamat/vesta being considered a creation figure for proxians, given how closely tied they are to dragons. something about her representing both fire's nourishing warmth and destructive capabilities i don't really remember

[gi4hao]

☆ dino x gn!reader — domestic fluff!

☆ from repairing a sink to love confessions on the kitchen floor

9pm is right around the corner, and you know for a fact that your boyfriend is far from being done with repairing the leak under your kitchen sink. but of course he won’t accept defeat, which is why you resorted to having dinner on the floor, sat next to him to keep him company.

“you really should go lie down on the couch” chan tells you from beneath the sink, his voice muffled and punctuated by the clinks of his tools. “this isn’t good for your back.”

he’s not wrong, this position is definitely not the comfiest even though you managed to rest against a piece of furniture. but the view isn’t so bad here, you think to yourself, contently watching his arms flex as he twists and tightens metal pieces here and there.

“but if i leave who’s going to feed you those baby tomatoes?” you ask, looking at the half-eaten bowl in front of you.

putting his tools down, he emerges from under the sink with a contented sigh, stretching his limbs as he sits upright. “you’re such a simp” he chuckles, yet still gladly opens his mouth for you to throw yet another tomato inside.

with an exaggerated scoff, you put a hand over your heart in mock offense: “excuse me? says the biggest simp ever?”

the thing is, you don’t even mind being called a simp; you’re lucid enough to know that it’s only the truth. similarly, chan doesn’t mind it either, but it’s just so much more entertaining to deny and act like it offends him.

“if there’s a simp in this room it’s definitely you. and allow me to tell you why…” you tell him as he returns to the small confined space below your countertop.

you don’t even have to make an effort to gather your thoughts, countless examples just flow naturally into your brain: “first of all, you always carry me on your back when we’re walking back home from a party. you kiss me goodbye every morning even when i’m still asleep. you have a picture of me in your wallet, i’m your phone and ipad wallpaper. also, you keep a secret box on your side of the closet where you put all the receipts from our dates…”

a few seconds of silence follow your words.

when you lean to your side to finally catch a glimpse of your quiet boyfriend, it turns out he’s looking right back at you, a surprised expression painted on his face: “i didn’t know you knew about the box.”

suddenly, he gets the funny sensation that you’re definitely going to win this round.

“i know many things” you affirm, a satisfied smile on your lips as you keep going: “i know that you always keep one of my doodles in your phone case. i know that you bought duplicates of my skincare products to keep in your car as an emergency kit. and i also may or may not have heard you talk to seungkwan about me…”

this time, it’s a loud bang that comes to punctuate your sentence. but before you can even start to worry, chan yells a reassuring “i’m okay!” before getting out of there once again, “just dropped my tool, that’s all. but now let’s circle back to what you just said…”

with a chuckle, you notice a slight embarrassment spreading on his face, his cheeks turning a familiar shade of pink.

your relationship has never been a secret, so it wasn’t a surprise to know that he likely spoke about you to the other members. however, you hadn’t truly considered the nature of those conversations until a few months ago, when you had sort of eavesdropped on a discussion.

“don’t be embarrassed” you reassure him, a playful spark in your eyes: “it was nice to hear you describe us as a “perfect match” and feeling like “a married couple already, but in the best possible way”.

at this point, his surrender is palpable. “okay, you win. maybe i am a simp,” he concedes, a mixture of defeat and self-consciousness coloring his voice. his shoulders sag slightly, but his gaze is still full of affection. “i can’t deny it anymore. just like i can’t deny that I’m not a handyman. i actually have no idea if I’m fixing this thing or just making it worse.”

“i think it’s time to leave the plumbing to the experts,” you tease, taking the screwdriver out of his hands, “let’s bail on this floor and go cuddle on the couch; i’ll order some proper food.”

with just those words, he flashes you a bright smile, one that you know so well you could sketch it from memory. as he rises to his feet, he looks at you earnestly: “i meant what i said to seungkwan, you know,” he confesses, his voice softer than usual.

you take a brief moment to let his words and his sincerity sink in: “i know, baby,” you reply, your own voice matching his softness as you grab his hand to get up. “and that’s exactly how i feel too.”

his smile grows even bigger, relieved to see that you not only understand the depth of his love for you, but reflect it back to him as well. it’s all he’s ever hoped for, really — to find someone he could trust implicitly, someone he could pour all his love into, knowing it would be returned with the same intensity.

“we really are made for each other,” he states, giving you a proud nod as he pulls you close, arms wrapped around your waist.

“yeah, look at us. in love, both clueless about fixing that sink. perfect match.”

with a heartfelt laugh, chan gently rests his hand on your neck, pulling you closer for a kiss; the kind that lingers for a few more seconds than what you expected. just enough time for the both of you to think about how lucky you are to have found each other in this lifetime.

requests are open!

[nahoney22]

Hey :) I Hope this isn’t too late but I have a fic proposal.

Clones should have a lot of scars and propbably some insecurities, considering that to most people they meet they are ‚just clones‘. I was thinking about a female reader worshipping either Hunter’s or Wolffes/Echoes (I love my grumpy men) body. I think it is a cute idea to make them feel appreciated and loved. It can be NSFW or SFW, whatever mood you’re in.

I also have seen the prompts „i'm not scared of anything except losing you“ and  „ I am truly and unconditionally in love with you“ . They don’t have to be included tho

Congrats on 4k followers! You deserve it so much Honey

Byee

4000 Prompt List Celebration

Wolffe X F!Reader

SFW

word count: 937 words

prompts:

“I’m not scared of anything except losing you.”

“I am truly and unconditionally in love with you.”

warnings: Angst and fluff, cuddling, talks of war and scars, light angst, female reader, established relationship, comfort, shirtless Wolffe, Spoilers for the latest episodes (6&7).

authors note: well seeing as we saw Wolffe so recently it’s only fair I pick this request. Sorry for the wait and hope you enjoy anon 🤍

You awaken to the subtle shift of your bed dipping, drawing you from the haze of dreams. A gentle breeze hints at an open balcony, likely your Commander's doing.

You shift, eyes flicking to the chrono on your bedside table that reads the early hours of the morning before rolling onto you right, facing him.

He’s silent, usual. Shirtless, also a common sight, yet his shoulders bear an unusual weight. "Darling," your voice rasps with sleep, "is everything alright?"

He remains silent, a restless energy vibrating through him as his knee bounces with an unspoken tension. As your hand finds its place on the center of his bare back, a calming touch, his movements still, tension melting away.

"I saw Rex today," he finally speaks, the words carrying a weight you hadn't anticipated.

Your eyes widen, and you sit up abruptly. "Rex? I thought he died in a crash!" The unexpected revelation catches you off guard.

When things took a turn for a worse, you were discarded by this new ‘Empire’ yet Wolffe remained. Your relationship was a secret of course and things had been hard for the both of you. You didn’t agree with these new terms and what Wolffe was doing yet he felt obliged to do his duty. To be a good soldier.

Yet, at nights like this where he would sneak into your home when he should be in his own barracks, you always felt the heavy burden of whatever it was weighing on him.

"So did I... but there he was," he sighs, moonlight casting an ethereal glow on his cybernetic eye and scar. "A deserter, harboring a target the Empire seeks."

Your heartbeat quickens, anxiety gripping your thoughts. "You didn't harm him, did you?"

"No," he responds, a low rumble. "I let him go."

In a hushed tone, you respond, "Oh, well that’s a relief,” as you shift onto your knees directly behind him, offering a supportive presence.

Anticipating a bitter retort, you're surprised when he merely sighs, his head bowing as he falls into a contemplative silence.

Observing his stillness, your eyes trace a new wound on his back, joining the collection of scars. "How did this happen?" you inquire softly, your finger gently tracing the red mark destined to become another scar over time.

"Who knows? Falling from a cliff, getting shot by a civilian, crushed by rocks," he grumbles dismissively.

Moving closer, you delicately wrap your arms around his front, resting your cheek against his back. "Are you in pain?" you inquire, concern lacing your words.

He shakes his head, his hands finding yours to convey appreciation for the comfort. Though not one to seek coddling, the weight of the day has left him in need of solace. "No."

In a moment of necessary silence, a sudden wave of insecurity overtakes him. "Does it uh... look bad?" he hesitates, seeking reassurance.

"The wound?" you clarify.

He nods.

"No."

"Are you lying to me?"

"Wolffe," you interject firmly, gently squeezing his hands, "you know I wouldn't lie to you. We've discussed this. I promise it doesn't look bad."

His jaw tightens, a brief struggle visible on his face, but then he relaxes, allowing your words to penetrate. The scar on his face, a constant reminder, had often made him feel exposed and unattractive. Yet, your consistent reassurances that you saw him differently provided a balm for his insecurities.

“Each scar tells a story, a battle won,” you whisper, kissing his new wound as well as the small scars that littered the rest of his back and what you could see, “a battle lost…” He closes his eyes, knowing what scar you were referring to but allows you to continue. “You’re handsome. Nothing will ever change that or how I love you.”

He bites on the inside of his cheek, his face warming up by the softness of your lips against his skin in the moonlight and your sweet words that had him hooked from the start.

"Are you scared?" you suddenly inquire, and he turns his head, prompting you to move back while still maintaining the embrace. "That they'll find out you let the target get away?"

"I'm not scared of anything," he asserts with stern resolve, but a softness overtakes his expression. "Except losing you."

You offer a soft smile, leaning in to press your lips to his cheek. "Sweet, but I'm serious. Are you not concerned?"

His brow furrows, a hint of reluctance coloring his response. "I won't lie and say I'm not apprehensive. Kark, it wouldn't surprise me if they're already looking for me to reprimand. Or worse."

A twist of unease settles in your stomach, his words weighing heavily on your mind. Tears glisten in your eyes, and he realises his misstep. Without hesitation, he shifts to fully face you, reclining on the bed with his back against the headboard, pulling you close to his chest. "Let's not dwell on that. I'm sorry for waking you."

You roll your eyes at his attempt to deflect the gravity of the situation, but decide to take comfort in his presence for now.

As the soft sound of your snores fills the room, he finds solace in your embrace. He strokes your hair tenderly, a soft smile gracing his lips as he watches you succumb to sleep. "Beautiful girl," he murmurs, a sentiment he wouldn't express while you're awake, not one for overt displays of affection.

Before slipping away into the night, he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, his voice barely above a whisper. "I am truly and unconditionally in love with you."

Masterlist

Prompt List Works

Tags: @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @seriowan @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @mssbridgerton @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @id-rather-be-a-druid @the-bad-batch-baroness @thiswitchloves9904

[lizardaggro]

on the flip side (twst bully!au) pt 3

here we are, the long-awaited (it was literally like 1 day) part 3!! i wanted to declare on one of the actual chapters since those get seen by the most people that I DID NOT MAKE THIS AU, credit i believe goes to @azulsluver. i swear i don't hate you guys, leaving everything on a cliffhanger, but the good news is i have a lot of time on my hands due to chronic illness so i can update super often. also i gave up on the purple theme on posts bc tumblr hates me and always leaves the end of the word count black.

part 1 part 2

genre: gn reader, angst trigger warnings: bullying, mild yandere (will be escalating throughout the series, but no non-con) word count: 1246

You couldn’t really afford to space out and think about it though, not when he was right in front of you. Riddle tapped his foot impatiently, clearly irate at your lack of response. “Well?” He asked. “Do you not even have anything to say in your defense?”

Oh dear. However were you supposed to get rid of him when he was so intent on getting some sort of answer out of you? You had no idea what he wanted! He was more difficult to threaten, too, since you’d made up your mind that you didn’t want to be like your tormentors and completely ruin others’ lives. No, your end goal was just to make them leave you alone. After everything you’d been through, you really didn’t want to see them again.

It might seem strange to some people, that you weren’t dead set on destroying any semblance of normalcy they once had. You had all the ammunition you needed, of course. The Overblot victims would be the easiest to topple, considering what they’d done in and leading up to that state. But you didn’t think you were a particularly vengeful person; at least, you didn’t want to be. Crowley had always said that you must’ve been sent here to get his precious students to work together, so clearly you weren’t like them.

“I never asked for this, Riddle. Any of this. So if you think somewhere in your fucked-up mentality that you’re doing me some sort of favor, you’re dead wrong,” you intoned. Indeed, even though you just wanted them gone, you missed the days when you were all friends. Back when you thought everyone had your back no matter what. Oh, if only you knew what they’d do for you. It wouldn’t be hard at all to push some of the more unstable students over the edge. Those who felt they didn’t have anyone else. Much like a certain dragon fae who never did seem to get invited to things.

Riddle looked like he was about to say something, but before he could, he was drenched by a great torrential rain. Where did that come from? Didn’t the forecast say it was supposed to be clear skies and sunny for the rest of the week? Your question was soon answered, as you had two more visitors.

“Silver? Sebek? What brings you here?” You inquired, not at all amused. When those two showed up at the same time, it could only mean one thing, and it wasn’t good. Riddle looked like he had caught on as well, since he stepped in front of you, as if that would do any good.

“LORD MALLEUS REQUESTS YOUR PRESENCE!!” Sebek boomed. You’d made progress on his volume in the past, so you were sure he did it just to annoy you. Silver just stared. He always stared, you felt like. Sometimes you swore you could feel his eyes on you even when he was nowhere to be found.

“Oh, gee, I wonder what that’s about,” you snarked. “Poor little princey-poo doesn’t want his embarrassing little secrets getting out? Well you can tell him to fuck off.” You must’ve been feeling especially brave, since normally you knew that defying Malleus Draconia was as good as a death sentence. He wasn’t even that bad, compared to some of the others. He just… locked you in his room and made you listen to him talk, with no room to get a word in edgewise. He’d go on and on about one thing or another for HOURS, with no regard for your schedule or your bodily needs. Clearly fae had a different sense of time than most.

It was the loss of control over your own life that you hated; that, and that if he really still considered you a friend, he never bothered to do anything about your bullies. You knew he was more than capable; you’d witnessed his strength firsthand on multiple occasions. You didn’t know what his endgame was, and frankly you were too scared to find out. He could trap you there forever and you wouldn’t be able to do a single thing about it.

Sebek was not amused. He raised an arm, likely to strike you, but Silver placed a hand on it, effectively stopping him. “Don’t. You wouldn’t want Lord Malleus to see a bruise on them,” he reasoned. You didn’t get it. Since when would he care? Sebek roughly shoved Riddle out of the way, despite all his objections, and nonchalantly slung you over his shoulder.

“What the hell?!” You screeched, pounding your fists on his back. “Put me down! I’m not going!” You weren’t sure why you were objecting so vehemently; this time wasn’t any different than the others. But something about the dark gray clouds pouring rain on what should’ve been a lovely day just told you that this was not going to be good.

But alas, your plight was ignored. The three of you made your way to Diasomnia in silence. No one bothered to stop and stare in the halls, as you being carried off by people was somewhat of a normal occurrence. You could swear Savannahclaw and Diasomnia even had some sort of twisted capture-the-flag game going, for whatever reason.

When you entered the gothic-style castle, you were greeted by none other than Lilia. Much like Malleus, he’d never bothered you too terribly, only engaging in less-than-welcome pranks. You knew he was far older than he let on, so you supposed he didn’t see the point in such childish endeavors. There was, however, one thing you feared about the man: his cooking, which he tried to shove down your throat at every opportunity. How Silver grew up healthy you’d never know.

And so, of course, you were greeted by a plate of… well, goop, to put it nicely. “Here, have a seat, dear, I made lasagna,” Lilia offered with what you assumed was supposed to be a warm smile. To you in that moment, with the fumes starting to reach your nose, it looked like a shit-eating grin.

“I’ll pass, thanks. That is to say, I’d rather die than eat that shit, because it looks and smells like it’ll send me straight to hell,” you deadpanned. Sebek let out an unholy screech and started ranting about how dare you refuse Lord Lilia, even though you knew he wouldn’t want to eat it either. You did your best to tune him out. Silver looked relieved, surprisingly enough. You supposed he was able to empathize since he grew up eating the stuff.

Luckily for you, Lilia just sighed and walked off, taking his culinary abomination with him. The three of you who remained shared a look. “How are you still alive after all these years?” You asked Silver. He shrugged. If even he didn’t know, you’d just call it a miracle.

“SILVER, QUIT FRATERNIZING WITH THE ENEMY! LORD MALLEUS IS WAITING!” Sebek practically screamed in your ear. You really wished he would stop doing that. But you had more important things to worry about, like your impending death by dragon fae. Once you arrived at Malleus’s room, Sebek set you down and pushed you inside. You heard the lock click behind you. You gulped, feeling the pressure of being alone in a room with a presumably angry and very powerful mage. You looked up to see a pair of emerald eyes staring you down. Oh boy, this was not going to be fun.

taglist: @twistedcece @slxt4h1m @teawhere @pleasehugmeaether @reivelmin @aoiyx

[blasphemecel]

Michael Kaiser — Mean

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 6.4k TYPE: Fake dating, This is not fluff or angst but a secret third thing (with a cheerful ending) WARNING(S): Depersonalization/identity issues

The first time you meet Michael Kaiser, you get a bad impression.

Yeah, sure, he doesn’t have the most stellar reputation, anyway. You’ve met all sorts of unpleasant people in your life and he manages to disappoint even when the bar is so low, the only way to go lower is through digging.

You don’t exchange a word with him, but rather you have the misfortune of having to listen to him talk throughout the entire meeting. He starts countless arguments, some valid to an extent. You can tell he’s just doing this because he’s addicted to the sound of his voice and speaking to people like they’re unimportant specks of dust all while commanding their attention. There’s no point to his fussing either because he ends up signing the same contract you do.

Waste of your goddamn time — he might as well have not signed it and saved you the trouble, since the ordeal ends up lasting three hours because of him.

Maybe you should’ve not signed it yourself, but your PR manager was salivating at the idea of fake dating as a publicity stunt, especially with Kaiser who’ll be posing with you for a photoshoot in a few months, so you said ‘whatever’ and here you are. In this predicament with an insufferable man you imagine you won’t get along with, which already predisposes you to never giving him a chance.

___

The first time you speak to Michael Kaiser, you unsettle him.

It’s unlike him to feel disturbed, let alone at the slightest thing. He’s met all sorts of sickos, so he considers himself unflinching in the face of anyone who has anything off about them.

But he’s fifteen minutes late to the ‘date’ you’re supposed to use as a tool to subtly launch your fake relationship and he’s expecting a scolding. Kaiser spots you and heads in your direction, taking the seat in front with a shitty smirk and an ingenuine, half-assed apology on his lips.

What he gets in response is a blank look — almost… unimpressed, which naturally someone like Kaiser takes as a challenge and already sets the tone for the rest of the conversation — and it’s as if you’re staring into his soul. Then in an instant your expression flips to convincing joy, your warm smile contrasting his snide one, and you say, “Let’s act like we’re really stoked.”

A chill runs down his spine. On a logical level Kaiser knows you’re faking it, but it looks real, and that’s what he finds freaky. Also, the speed.

“Let’s not,” he says. “You’re weird,” he adds after you don’t respond.

You don’t react to this information either and settle for maintaining your smile.

The barista decides to spare him from having to look at you while you don’t say anything. He’s pretty sure you’re doing this deliberately, to torture him. When you attempt to order something, he talks over you and asks, “Can you give us one of those shitty milkshakes with two straws in them?”

She stares at him in bewilderment. “We don’t sell those,” she says eventually.

“Can you make one?”

“No…”

“You’re scum,” you tell him, dropping the happy facade. Again, the quickness strikes Kaiser as disturbing. Then you give her a valid order, and he asks for water since they offer that everywhere and he can’t be bothered to read the menu. After the barista leaves, you say, “I could have lactose intolerance.”

“You could. I could be trying to kill you.”

“I don’t know if a milkshake would be enough to kill me.”

“Maybe I was trying to give you a stomach ache,” he concurs.

You don’t dignify that with a reply either.

Kaiser tries to speak with you again, “I really fucking hate milk.”

“Then why’d you do that?”

“To embarrass you, of course,” he says, like he’s revealed to you the natural order of things.

“Hm.” You consider this new information. “I’ll definitely think of a way to get back at you.”

The lukewarm threat seems to amuse him more than anything.

Then you proceed to have a hostile few hours together in public as instructed. You end up throwing napkins at his face.

Kaiser isn’t good at pretending to be in love. The only such image he seems capable of projecting is one of a middle schooler who’s failing to find a balance between playful and mean. Though it also doesn’t matter to you because you mostly teeter on the edge of mean, slightly left of apathetic. Nothing really matters to you.

___

For your second court-ordered date with Michael Kaiser, your manager tells you to get caught holding hands with him at a park after the cafe meeting doesn’t spark much controversy. The notion itself has you scrunching your face, but you don’t complain about it or voice your opinion.

Again, he’s late picking you up by a not negligent amount of time, leaving you to stand in front of your building, motionless and impatient.

Instead of announcing his presence in a more acceptable manner, Kaiser blares the car horn until you realize it’s him. After you crawl inside the passenger seat, you turn to look at him and see that he looks very pleased with himself. It’s obnoxious.

“I hope we die in a car crash,” you greet.

“We won’t.” You don’t know why, but his brain interprets this as an opportunity to brag. “I’m an excellent driver.”

He’s not. Somehow you make it to the park without getting into a catastrophe — which, as established, you wouldn’t have minded.

You exit at the same time and Kaiser frowns at you by the time he circles his way around to you. You don’t care enough about what’s bothering him to raise a questioning eyebrow let alone ask, but he tells you, “I was going to open the door for you and then offer to help you up. You ruined everything!”

You roll your eyes. “How gallant.”

“Get back in,” Kaiser says, pointing (as if the gesture will be enough to convince you to play along). “Let’s redo it.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing. I have a vision for these kinds of things, that’s all.”

“Your vision is trashy and uninspired,” you reject promptly.

Kaiser seems to be the first person in the world who finds your attitude funny rather than objectionable because he grins at your response. But he’s more so looking at you like you’re a bug he finds fascinating in comparison to the rest, without any real respect or acknowledgement. 

“I admit maybe it was a bit cliche,” he says. “Would’ve made me look good, though, if someone caught it on camera.”

You smile that ghoulish smile again and grab his hand like you were told. His fingers are cold and yours even more so, making the grasp clammy and uncomfortable while you begin your stroll. You don’t even know what you’re supposed to talk about with him. Soon enough, you scowl, both the silence and the sensation of getting touched proving too much for you to hide your displeasure, even though Kaiser seems content with letting the silence fester.

“Oh? Why’d you stop? I’ve started enjoying your creepy masquerading.”

“I’m disgusted,” you say.

“Disgusted,” he repeats. “By what? Me?”

“It’s making me sick. Who knows where your hand’s been or what you’ve done.”

Albeit visibly offended for the first time if the lack of an annoying smirk is anything to draw judgments from, Kaiser drops it first. Your arm hangs by your side again, limp.

“Let go, then. Or do I need to do everything myself?” That’s quite a dramatic sentiment coming from a man who has done nothing all day besides a short drive and taking a few steps.

“But my manager said-”

“Who cares? I think my manager’s lucky I agreed to this bullshit in the first place,” Kaiser says. “By the way, my hands haven’t been in any sewers or anything to warrant this reaction, thank you very much.” He must be the type of person who only ever says thank you as if being grateful is some big joke.

“I’m not being literal. I know who you are and what people say about you. My disgust is conceptual.”

“Flattering.” Kaiser’s pleased again with the mention of this tidbit, like the mental image he’s getting of you searching him up gives him immeasurable amounts of satisfaction. One thing you’ve come to notice about him since your last outing is that he’s shameless. “You’re not special, though. Lots of people know who I am.”

“See, this is exactly what I’m talking about. You’re scum.”

“Do you usually talk to people you barely know in this way or is it preferential treatment? I’d love preferential treatment, but the other option is amusing too.”

“Usually,” you say in a monotone. “That’s why I don’t speak much. More so supposed to be looked at rather than heard, and so on.” You finish off your explanation with a flippant gesture. That’s what it’s like for you — ‘shut your trap, it ruins your appeal.’

“Well, I-” there’s an emphasis on the word ‘I’ because Kaiser always thinks his opinion matters, “-think your worldview is pathetic and embarrassing. What’s the point of being looked at if no one will listen to you? How can you be fine with that?”

Fair point. You concede in your head, but don’t commit to agreeing with him out loud. “You’re not special either. Most people gross me out.”

“You hurt me this time.” He’s sneering, though.

After a while of walking, you find yourself sitting on a bench next to him. A few pigeons strut around near your feet, bobbing their heads back and forth, almost catching a groove. “If I had any bread, I’d feed them.”

“I’m not surprised you’d feel interested in such a commoner’s activity,” Kaiser says, as if he is somehow superior to you for not wanting to participate in this.

“Vile,” you say, voice still neutral. You’re not looking at him either, attention glued to the birds.

He doesn’t know which part of it you find dismaying — was it the class shaming or what? “So you like pigeons, but you hate humanity. You’re one of those.”

“I don’t hate humanity,” you say. “But nature is repulsive by default. It’s not amoral. When we’re cruel and ugly, that’s a conscious and opportunistic decision. Every day CEOs throw their employees and workers under the bus for more profits. Someone’s getting murdered as we speak. We’re faking a relationship to attract brand deals. I’m getting sick just thinking about it.”

“Get a hobby instead of thinking about stupid shit like that. Caring about how ugly and bleak everything is won’t get you anywhere,” Kaiser… advises.

“Look at the pigeons.” You’re watching the one with the missing claws, wobbling and struggling to get around. “Humans domesticated them and then abandoned them. I love flora and fauna. They’re interesting and exist much more differently than we do.”

“Does that mean you like my tattoo then?”

“Not everything needs to be about you. It’s not like people will forget you exist when you don’t force yourself to be at the center of conversation.”

This stings him the tiniest bit. Either you’re probing into an insecurity or he’s reading too deep into what you’re gathering from your conversations with him. “If I wanted to have a pseudointellectual conversation, I wouldn’t ask a vapid model to psychoanalyze me.”

“Your opinions are unoriginal and stereotyped just like your ideas about romance,” you say, finally turning around to face him again with those haunted eyes. He’s unamused now, clenching his jaw and all. “A stupid athlete wouldn’t be my first choice for a ‘pseudointellectual conversation’ either.”

“You look down on others and judge them, so what makes you so different from all those ‘scum’ you hate? How are you exempt from your own standards?”

Do you realize you’re displaying similar behaviors to those you’re scolding him over?

“Well, there’s a simple explanation for that,” you say. Kaiser is expecting an argument or something, but you kind of floor him with your follow-up. “It’s called hypocrisy. I’m probably just as disgusting as the average person.”

“Your life must be miserable if you look at everything through this lens. What was the phrase, rose colored glasses? Yours must have shit smeared over them.”

You shrug then make a 50/50 motion with your hand. “My life’s neither good nor bad. I’m indifferent on the subject.”

“Uh huh.” Kaiser considers this, then his lips twitch up, and then his smile broadens — it’s snide and smug again, and you come to the realization that he probably doesn’t know how to smile in any other way — before he inches a little closer to you. Not enough to brush against you, but enough to count as an attempted provocation. “I think people like you shouldn’t be considered alive. Legally speaking. And if we’re being figurative, you’re obviously already dead.”

You frown at him, since he’s kind of right. The fact that Michael Kaiser has the capability to discern truths you don’t want to hear rubs you the wrong way.

“Speaking of birds,” you start, deciding to change the topic, “you remind me of a peacock.”

“Wrong.” He’s pouty now. You find the expression cute, but when you catch the thought you throw up in your mouth a bit, so you ignore it. “I’m clearly a swan.”

“The fact that you have a preference when it comes to what animal you’re considered is sad.”

“And you’re entertaining. Let’s hang out again soon even if those sorry fucks don’t suggest it.”

You find it bewildering how he calls his PR manager’s input a ‘suggestion’ and seems to think he can do whatever he wants. Which, maybe he does, seeing the way he conducts himself. You’re also tempted to tell him to make up his mind on whether he enjoys your company or not, but there are more important matters right now. “We’re not supposed to do that, I don’t think.”

“C’mon, don’t be like that.”

“Why this desire all of a sudden?”

“It’s what I want.” What impeccable reasoning. “I think I can make you enjoy yourself,” he says. “Don’t get me wrong. Not for your merit or anything stupid.” Kaiser offers what you’d describe as a flamboyant hand wave in the air, demeanor laced with complacency. “I think it’d make me feel really charitable and generous if I can manage to add something to your depressing life. Give me a chance to try.”

“Word of advice,” you scoot away from him to the point the edge of the bench is digging into your ass and it honestly hurts, “you’re not gonna get anywhere with that attitude. How you phrased it disgusted me again.”

Kaiser finds your favored terms interesting. Everything is sickening and disgusting and vile and scummy from your perspective. Deep down for reasons he doesn’t want to ponder, he can relate.

“Great. You’ll come around soon,” he promises, with the confidence of someone who thinks this is a game he has a high chance of winning.

___

Kaiser makes it a point to inflict his presence onto you as much as he can afford to with your schedules, even though there’s no need for it. Not that you refuse him either. He’s kind of interesting to keep around, in his own Kaiser-ish way.

Earlier today he invited himself over to your house. He’d decided you need to come up with a story about your ‘relationship,’ but didn’t wanna discuss it through text messages. Apparently he has an interview coming up and wants to be prepared in case they ask him about you.

“How did we meet?” you ask, sitting on the other side of the couch and leaning against the armrest, away from him.

The answer is immediate: “I saved you from a burning church.”

You question what other fantasies this man could probably have because that’s the most absurd thing you’ve ever heard. Your voice somehow remains flat despite the bewilderment when you ask, “Why?”

“Because it’s flashy and dramatic.”

“But if anyone searches it up, they’ll see there haven’t been any… burned churches?”

“You’re such a killjoy.” Kaiser sighs. “It makes it sound mystical.”

“No it doesn’t,” you say, rather flippant about the entire thing. “It makes you sound like a pathological liar.”

“I like your sense of humor.”

“Thanks, but I’m not kidding about this.”

“Then what do you think it should be?” Kaiser asks. Obviously the purpose of this inquiry is to criticize your choice of scenario — even you can anticipate such a predictable move.

You roll your eyes and then look away from him in contemplation. You hadn’t really thought about it, since you don’t do interviews, and therefore you don’t need to concern yourself with hypotheticals on the matter. “Some kind of party, maybe. Post-match celebration?”

“Makes sense,” says Kaiser. “Doesn’t compel me, though. Boring.”

With a hum, you try to imagine what would both appeal to Kaiser and sound realistic. Though he doesn’t seem like the kind of person who’s swayed by practicality. “I went with someone else, but you swept me off my feet so hard, you stole me away from them.”

“I guess it sounds plausible enough while still having an element of fantasy.”

“Is the idea of me liking you the ‘element of fantasy’?”

“Yeah… That’s why I want it.”

You didn’t expect such a response. It has you looking at him weird. You do so often anyway, but now you do it for longer as if trying to glean something. In response Kaiser tells you to take a picture since it’ll last longer. The reply seems extraneous and distracting, and that only makes you feel more suspicious of him, which is weird since you’re not sure what you’re even inferring.

___

Officially it’s your fifth date with Kaiser, unofficially it’s the tenth. This time you’re holding up a frog in your open hands.

He doesn’t know what the point of all the nature-themed outings is — maybe to make him seem down to Earth in the public eye since he’s become notorious for how insufferable he is? Either way he doesn’t care, and he’s not the type to wander at landscapes, but your affinity for ugly animals is kind of cute.

The frog isn’t some special one either. No crazy colors or anything, just a regular green tree frog (according to your expertise). You let it jump onto your palms, since apparently touching their skin is bad for them or something. Kaiser scrutinizes it in distaste, staring down into its big eyes while it croaks. “So you can handle a disgusting amphibian, but you can’t hold hands with me.”

“I see you’re still thinking about that.”

“Well, it was insulting. And besides, it’s never happened to me before.”

“You’re not so bad. I don’t think I’d vomit if we brushed against each other anymore.”

Kaiser seems curious but nonetheless pleased with this development. “Why the change of heart?”

“Because you listen to what I say,” you tell him.

He somehow resists the urge to piss himself laughing at the sound of that. “Your standards are so low. It’s so sad that it’s funny,” he says. Maybe he would’ve dedicated some more time to teasing you over it, but he comes to a realization which immediately lifts his mood. This must mean he’s in your good graces somewhat, and not many people seem to fit there, so that makes Kaiser special to a degree. Right?

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up.”

“Who would’ve thought someone who looks the way you do would come out like this?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I think you were one of those kids who, like, shoved sticks and leaves in mud and called it a potion.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean now?”

Kaiser lets out an annoyed sound, tired of elaborating. “It means I think you’re strange.”

“Hmm, I bet you do,” you say. “There’s a quote I like: ‘It is no measure of health to be well-adjusted to a profoundly sick society.’”

“Yeah, and I bet that’s the kind of message you love. What’s it from?”

“Interesting story,” you say. “This is Jiddu Krishnamurti’s most famous quote, but it doesn’t appear in any of his books. Allegedly he said it to some other guy.”

Kaiser blinks and nods, maybe trying to keep a pretense of having the slightest concept of what you’re on about. “Whatever, got it. I can’t remember the last time I read a book. Maybe I’ll check him out.”

“You don’t seem like you’d be interested in that type of thing,” you say, staring at him as if you’re trying to figure him out.

“Actually, I am. Can you stop taking every chance to insult me?”

“I’m not. At least not on purpose… So, what are your hobbies, anyway? You never told me.”

“I practice. What do you take me for?”

You furrow your eyebrows at him. “That’s it?”

Kaiser opens his mouth to justify himself even though there’s no need to be defensive — maybe it’s that he feels like he’s lacking in some department after you bring your attention to it with your little response and generally Kaiser hates to be insufficient. But before he can argue and try and talk himself out of whatever perception you have of him now, an interruption happens.

The frog, which had been lazy and content with merely existing in your grasp, springs without any warning. It leaps out of your fingers and lands on top of Kaiser’s head.

Today you learn Michael Kaiser screams at an ear-shattering frequency when he’s startled. Soap opera level of shock and overreaction.

___

It is when you’re eating at a trashy place for lunch that Kaiser’s looking at his phone, which you find rude since you’re supposed to be spending time together and whatnot. He eats like a pig, too, not graceful at all — you wonder what his fans would think if they saw him with crumbs over his mouth and sauce on his chin. Good material for a public embarrassment campaign, you think.

But it’s in that moment that he finally wipes himself with a tissue and reaches out to all but shove his phone in your face. “Look, we’re so hot!”

You grace the picture with a dismissive glance before looking back down at your meal, disinterested. You already know enough about Kaiser to assume he’d get a kick out of power couple fantasies. And other power fantasies. Really, you find it pathetic.

It was something out of the photoshoot he was showing you, his favorite you presume. Even someone like Kaiser, who has conventional features, isn’t perfect when it comes to these unreasonable standards. He’d been way too stiff next to you while he posed and though his face is symmetrical, his expressions tend to stray to one side, and obviously it’d been corrected.

There’s a mismatch between you on the covers and your image in the mirror. Maybe your brain is exaggerating the disconnect, but every time you see them, it’s like staring into an airbrushed, distorted amalgamation. In other words, you prefer avoiding both the edited products and your reflection whenever you can.

“We don’t look like that,” you say, offhand about his enthusiasm as you are with most things.

Kaiser scoffs and then very blatantly tries to compare between whatever version of you he has on his phone and the you in front of him. There’s not a single good thing you can say about his decision — it’s making your skin crawl just knowing it’s what he’s doing.

“Close enough,” he deems after careful examination.

“I don’t think it’s me.”

“It’s quite literally you.”

“I don’t think anything is me. Like I’m just what I see. My perspective, my point of view. You get what I’m saying?”

“No?” Kaiser says, laughing at you and your apparently strange affliction.

“Well if not that, you have to admit things captured on camera aren’t real.”

“What are you talking about,” Kaiser asks in a flat tone, which leaves it as something less than a question. A few more snickers escape him and he’s grinning at you like a bastard — if at first he regarded you as a slightly more fascinating bug than the rest, by now you must be his favorite, the rarest… A tree lobster. “You make no sense.”

“It totally makes sense. Imagine we’re having sex-”

“What kind of stupid come-on is that?”

“It’s not a come-on, I’m explaining. So, imagine we’re having sex-”

“In what position?”

“Whatever you want as long as it works for the scenario. Anyway, imagine we’re having sex-”

Kaiser laughs harder and then attempts some seductive sort of expression which doesn’t land with you. “I’m imagining it,” he informs.

“Shut up and let me get to the point. Imagine we’re having sex and I’m recording it-”

“Wow, I didn’t take you for such a pervert? Not that I hate it.”

“-so I’m looking at you through the camera lens. The phone’s between us. I’m not, like, in the moment with you. My mind’s absent, it’s all digital. So if you think about it we’re not even really having sex.”

“... You’re losing me even more,” Kaiser says after some contemplation, finding the fantasy unpleasant all of a sudden with this new spin to it. A moment passes during which he takes another big, possibly exaggerated bite, but he at least has enough decency to chew and swallow before adding, “I think you just have a problem.”

You roll your eyes, wondering if he even entertained the thought, but shrug since it doesn’t matter in the end. “Why are we always talking about how I’m weird? If anything, you're eccentric, not me.”

Kaiser wrinkles his nose in offense at the notion and makes an incomprehensible hand gesture in the air. “No. I’ve turned out totally normal. Don’t put me at your level.”

A lot of curiosities spin around your head concerning Kaiser’s behavior whenever you meet and you’re yet to find an answer. What does he want? Clearly he’s comfortable with and used to wanting, but what is it? Attention? Money? Fame? Status? All, none? Will it ever be enough? Is it even the kind of hunger which can be satiated?

Who is he when he’s not playing this ridiculous character?

“I can’t get a read on you,” you tell him.

“Well, you’re socially inept. I doubt you can get a read on anyone.”

“So are you.”

Kaiser feigns hurt over this. He does that a lot. Maybe he finds it hilarious, maybe the performance is all for shits and giggles — who knows.

“I want to dissect your head,” you say after a while of silence.

“Really? That’s what you wanna do with me?”

“Mhm. With a scalpel. I’d make an incision around your temple maybe.”

“My beautiful and demented angel, is that your way of saying you wanna get closer to me?” The sentence comes out mocking with a paper thin smile, but there’s a sense of admiration in it. What for? You raise an eyebrow in visible confusion at the… nickname, but Kaiser doesn’t elaborate. To take away from the tension(?), he announces, “You’ve got something stuck between your teeth,” pointing at your mouth all amused.

___

Kaiser had an ulterior motive in accepting that deal. Though wording it this way makes it sound like some calculated, opportunistic, sinister scheme, when in reality it’s nothing beyond immature and a little humiliating.

Of course, in true Kaiser fashion, when looking to meet someone, he goes straight for the most convoluted option. So when the stupid idea came up, he agreed, even if he put on a bit of a show at first and acted irritating. Confessing to wanting friends is so embarrassing. He’d rather shoot himself at point blank or perhaps commit an act of auto-defenestration than admit the real reason for participating, much less in front of you.

Despite the jabs, you’re also not bad at all. Calm and uninvolved in anything that upsets him and without any expectations towards him.

At first he found your indifference derogatory, but as the months have passed by, there’s a sort of comfort in knowing that he could’ve been some random guy off the street and you would’ve probably treated him the same. In front of you he is neither on a pedestal nor someone to be knocked down on his knees. More Michael than he is Kaiser.

Things have been teetering on a dangerous edge lately. His mind is wandering off towards you again, more and more often each day. Like maybe he’s excited for the next time he sees you or something else repulsive in a similar vein, a giddy feeling bubbling in his stomach. Is this what it would’ve been like to be a little boy with a crush?

Generally he prefers not to socialize with background characters. So he doesn’t know why it’s while he’s having some benign daydream about you that some newbie he hadn’t bothered remembering the name of decides to interrupt him. Besides, it’s inconvenient, he was supposed to be leaving and this guy is blocking the changing room door.

“I heard you’re banging a model,” he says, as if they’re good pals or some shit. Kaiser is also mostly immune to annoying locker room talk since all the other psychotic men he knows are too busy being as fanatical as him to waste time on something as useless as objectifying someone to pass the time, yet here this lowlife is.

Kaiser regards him with a judgmental side eye — for a second too long, almost television-style — and tries to move and sidestep him. “Why do you care? Pathetic cuck.”

“Woah, don’t be like that. I just thought it was funny. I’ve heard about that person before, would’ve thought it would be more of a hit it and quit it type thing. Yet here you are, still together.”

The emotion that zaps him is almost disorienting. Kaiser bruises easily, but it’s all about him. There’s never been much room for anyone else in his mentality of suffocating self-absorption, a depressing way to try and compensate for anyone who’s ever wronged him. Right now, though, he’s feeling anger on someone else’s behalf. A borderline exotic situation.

“So I was curious if that thing about loonies being the best at fucking was true? I’m assuming it is ‘cause I don’t know why else you’d stay with a schizoid.”

In the heat of the moment, when he’s pissed off, Kaiser is not the most poetic wordsmith. Thankfully politeness and civility are sensibilities which elude him. Without a second thought or any regret, he makes use of his water bottle still in his hand and dumps the entire contents of it over his head before elbowing him out of the way while he’s still confused.

___

You really don’t want to be having this conversation.

For fuck’s sake, you’re on break. And isn’t that supposed to mean relaxation? Yet the other model for the shoot today has been bugging you with unpleasant questions, putting you on the spot.

“Isn’t he a narcissist, though?” she asks, refusing to let go of the topic no matter how unresponsive you’ve been.

“I guess? Maybe. In a way…”

“You’re sooo… I don’t know. Like, you don’t even sound sure about what you’re telling me.” She narrows her eyes at you, leaning in a bit closer. “Aren’t you scared of him? Or is it ‘cause you’re so sheltered, you don’t know not to mess around with guys like Kaiser?”

Scared of him? It sounds ludicrous. At worst he’s whiny.

“He’s harmless,” you say. “Just a little rude and preoccupied with himself, that’s all. Actually, he’s an interesting and attentive person.”

She covers her mouth and lets out a sound of amusement, apparently now finding you more convincing and therefore dropping her worries. “He was saying you guys are suuuuuuuper in love with an interview.”

Not too engaged with the topic — since it’s about whatever lies Kaiser told the interviewer to entertain himself — you ask, “Is that what he was saying?”

“Yep. Didn’t you watch?”

“No.”

“Fine. Maybe he’s ‘interesting and attentive.’ I mean, I don’t believe it, but whatever. What about you, though? Do you like him, let alone love him? Can you even like anyone? I mean, shit, you know how you are. So, like, can you? Are you suuuuuuuper in love?”

You avert your eyes. “Yes,” you say. It’s true. You do like Kaiser well enough, probably more than you should. “And stop making assumptions about him and me.”

“What if I don’t stop? What are you gonna do?”

That’s… A very good question because there’s nothing you can do at the moment. Seems like a good opportunity to weaponize your reputation of being a deranged serial killer. “I’ll lick your eyebrows.”

You don’t know if your delivery is persuasive or not, but the idea you’d do such a thing must come off as believable enough because she makes a strange face before backing off.

___

You despise being in situations. And making decisions.

There’s a stupid PR meeting again. Your manager, who you think should move onto writing trashy novellas instead of administering poison to your career just because his imagination is overactive, proposed a new stunt. With the fake relationship running its course, you were discussing ways to publicize the ‘break up’ and he suggested a cheating scandal. Not to mention his great idea had you as the cheater — you swear he’s praying on your downfall at this point.

Maybe because you’ve been treated as some kind of fucked up creature incapable of thought and trustworthy decisions, something insentient, you would’ve went along with it like always. Even though you know you’d look bad, the point is to make noise, and it would be a scandalous story if not anything else. Another indignity doesn’t matter much on an endless list.

Then Kaiser in true Kaiser fashion declared that he wants to keep the relationship going. To you, such an act of flippant defiance is unthinkable.

But obviously this forces you into a position where you need to pick between your options. They’re all staring at you, waiting. Kaiser is smiling at you from across his seat like you’re in on a joke with him. Anxious, you say, “I’ll think about it,” and stand up to leave.

You’re sweating because somewhere within you wanna announce ‘Yeah, I wanna keep seeing Michael Kaiser,’ but it’s so preposterous.

Kaiser doesn’t chase after you (though it’d be his style to do such a thing solely for the drama), but he catches up to you by the time you make it outside of the building, approaching the parking lot.

“Hey. Hey! Hey, stop ignoring me. Heeeeeeey.”

God he is such an annoying pest sometimes. You turn around to face him, snapping, “What?! What was that about anyway?”

“No, what’s with you? What is there to think about? You don’t want to look like a clown in front of the world, do you?”

You’re looking at Kaiser again like you’re trying to figure out a mystery. He always wants things, but what does he want from you? There has to be a reason for this. Otherwise, he should’ve been fine with the separation instead of trying to prolong it.

“Listen,” says Kaiser, a little apprehensive at your silence and expressionless gaze, “I can tell you barely tolerate your shitty job and that you probably don’t like the moronic idea your anthropomorphized cyst of a manager came up with, so why aren’t you protesting it?”

Those are objective enough observations. However, “Anthropomorphized cyst…?”

“You’re changing the subject,” Kaiser huffs, irked. “And by the way the fake meek act isn’t cute at all. They’re making money off of you. Tell them to fuck off and die and stop acting like a hostage.”

“This is very inspirational and all, Kaiser, but how about you tell me why you wanna keep the fake relationship going?”

“Doesn’t matter. If you don’t want that either, you can say we’ll settle for ending it instead of-”

You cross your arms. “Again, your attempts at a pep talk are adorable and appreciated, but you’re changing the subject now.”

“They’re not adorable. I’m right. Say I’m right.”

“Fine, fine, you’re right,” you relent with a roll of your eyes.

Kaiser smiles snidely and clasps his hands behind his back. “Thanks,” he says in a sarcastic tone. Then you expect him to entertain your question, but he doesn’t, leaving you in an uncomfortable staredown against him and his stupid ‘beautiful glowing blue orbs’ ass eyes.

“Answer me,” you demand.

“Your unpleasant personality and reclusive ways have bewitched me.”

…

…

“… What?”

“I won’t repeat myself,” Kaiser says with too much attitude considering the situation. Like, he just spoke out one of the most absurd sentences you’ve ever heard.

“Do you have a brain tumor?”

The outrageous suggestion makes him scoff. “Really? You think I need a brain tumor to like you?”

“Maybe,” you say. “Should’ve let me operate on you when I offered.”

“You’re mentally disturbed,” he replies like the fact turns him on or something.

“So were you asking me out or what?”

“Yes? No? Yes. Yeah, fine, I am.”

“Do you search up ‘personality’ on porn sites?”

“Come on, be serious. I mean what I’m saying and I want to give things between us a try. Do you?”

You cringe as if admitting your feelings or overall being in touch with them in the first place is a physically painful sensation, but in your defense you think you might throw up. “Yeah… Yeah, okay, I’ll tell him tomorrow. My manager, I mean.”

Kaiser swings an arm around your shoulders, visibly pleased with the way this is all going. He sings, “That’s the spirit.”

What had he wanted from you? Affection and care, apparently. You think back on when you’d called him ‘disgusting’ and a foreign guilt overcomes you since you don’t usually lament the remarks you make during your misanthropic hissy fits.

Is it fine for someone such as yourself to also indulge in wanting? Hesitant, with shaky arms, you embrace him around the middle, the gentlest of hugs. Kaiser freezes for a moment as if he’s unsure what to do when he’s not the one initiating things, but eventually returns the gesture. Melts into it, even. Two existences brushing against one another, at first glance contrary yet perhaps similar in many ways.

When you finally pull away from each other little by little, Kaiser says, “Let’s elope now.”

You sigh. “You sure have a way of making everything sound way more exciting than it is.”

(He drives you back to your place, but still sucks at driving. Chivalrously, he avoids crashing the car, though.)

___

Yall I was drinking light yellow tap water for a few daysdo you think somethings gonna happen to me ?

Btw I hate this but it's finally finished after like around a month so whatever lol I' M FREE

[umeoniii]

aot men as pervs

eren, jean, reiner

!: masturbation,

eren: he’s the type of pervy to literally stalk you and record your every move. he’ll write down stuff such as the lotion you use and will purchase it just so he can ‘smell you’. he probably does yucky things with the lotion while smelling it. also does stuff like slapping your ass while you’re caught off guard, will say it’s an accident even though it clearly wasn’t.

~

vanilla mocha martini eren thought to himself, quickly pulling out a pen and writing down the name of the lotion you pulled out of your bag. eren had been heavily infatuated with you for quiet a while. it was so much so to the point he had a whole secret journal dedicated to you and everything about you. it was honestly weird, anyone would file a restraining order against him if they knew just how far he went. he loved you even if he didn’t know you and just admired you from afar.

you turned around looking at the noise coming from behind you. a pen fell on the floor, eren’s pen. you watched as eren picked up the pen off the floor, his green eyes met yours, you dismissed him with a soft smile turning around.

you always found him peculiar, not necessarily in a rude way, but he was more reserved and kept to himself only speaking when spoken to. occasionally you’d see him walking and talking to his close friends but that was it. it always felt like he was watching you though. everytime you turned around his eyes were always in your direction before he’d avert them quickly.

she smiled at me.

when class was over he walked closely behind you, obviously invading your personal space. but it was worth being in your presence. when he walked passed you felt something like a hand rub against your butt, but when you turned around you saw no one too close to you. and when you turned back forward you saw eren walking slowly in front of you, phone in hand.

couldn’t have possibly been him, he’s not weird like that. you thought to yourself catching up with your friends.

he in fact was weird like that. because as soon as he got back to his dorm he grabbed his keys and drove to the closet mall, dashing straight to bath and body works to purchase the exact lotion he saw you use. even willing to stand in the long line, just to have the scent of you closer.

as soon as he got back to his dorm he immediately locked the door, his roomate should’ve been at a lecture during that time so he had nothing to worry about.

he sat on his bed and read through the contents of the lotion. opening the cap he squeezed a little bit onto his hand, rubbing it in and inhaling the intoxicating smell. it was too much for him.

he looked around before slowly undoing his belt and pulling out his dick. he rubbed his tip collecting the precum and rubbing it on his shaft.

he knew it was a bad idea to do what he was about to do. surely this lotion wasn’t good to be used as lube, especially considering it was scented and it could probably cause issues. but he just couldn’t find it in himself to care. he squeezed a generous amount of the lotion onto his hand and rubbed it onto his pulsing cock.

he thought about you while pumping, all his brain was focused on was the sweet smell, he wanted it to be your hand instead of his. your saliva instead of the lotion. he wished he could get even closer to you than he does in class.

his heavy pants and the wet sounds of him stroking himself were the only noises in the still, quiet room. he squeezed himself tighter, picking up his pace as he moaned your name.

“ y-y/n…. y/n what do i… have to do… to get closer to you” he groaned breathily

his long hair stuck to his forehead and neck, imagining what he would do to you if you were his. bending you over his desk, stuffing you with his twitching, sticky cock. there was so much he wanted to do to you, he was gonna do it. he would find a way to lure you in.

he felt himself getting closer to his high, tears brimmed his waterline from the pleasure he felt. hands starting to become shakier, as well as his rythym.

whines left his parted lips as strings of his white semen dispersed onto the wiry brown hairs on his lower abdomen. his abs were drenched in sweat, rising up and down as he sat trembling.

vanilla mocha martini still lingered in the air.

。

jean: it’s very hard to find him perverted bcs i feel he’s more respectful. BUT i didn’t say he wasn’t. he comments on your body often, even during the worst of times.

“your ass looks nice in those jeans, wear em’ more often.”

you and him would both laugh off the comment. and he created a mental image (maybe even a physical image) of your ass and painted it and hung it on his walls. it’s curves, dips, every detail of it. everytime he looks at it he… thinks and gets hornier, then relives himself. he probably pulled it off the wall once just to cum all over it. it probably would’ve been artsier if he left the cum on it, but that would lowkey be too much for any guests. an ass on the wall is already a lot.

~

you sat next to your brother’s best friend jean while your brother got up. your brother had invited you along with him to have dinner. he didn’t mention jean being there but it didn’t matter that much to you. jean was cool, you liked him. though you’ve only been aquatinted to him very few times he was very funny and charming in the stories you heard about him.

your brother had left off to the restroom leaving you and jean alone at the table. jean liked you, a lot for a good amount of time. he stalked all your social media, your brother and your parents’ socials. he always made sure to listen whenever your brother mentioned you and how annoying you could be.

“i don’t know man, she doesn’t sound that bad” he would say, imagining the scene in his head.

of course he never told your older brother about it for so many reasons including the fact you’d probably end up finding out about it. he wanted to let you know his feelings on his own.

brown eyes scanned the entirety of your outfit. the tight fitting gray long sleeve , your jewelry, and especially those jeans. blue jeans that were so very tight, revealing your curves in all the right ways. he couldn’t help but to sneak a glimpse at your ass any time you stood up.

you got up to go wash your hands and felt a hand grip your waist. his thirsty eyes met yours complimenting your dress choice.

“you’re body looks amazing, especially your ass.” he winked slyly at you.

your body grew hot and you gave him a weak smile. you laughed with a small thank you ignoring the last part of what he said. though it did make you feel good inside. even lower if you were honest with yourself.

the whole rest of the dinner felt heated, sweaty well at least it was to you. jean nonchalantly sat there talking to you and your brother as if he didn’t say anything to you at all. when it was over he gave you a hug, his large hands grabby at your fleshy hips. he gave you a kiss on both cheeks before waving you and your brother off.

as soon as he got home he took out his easel, paint and canvas. he was very artistic, he attended a very prestigious art school in which him and your older brother attended together.

he rough sketched your body, reflecting your form onto the canvas with a pencil. then he painted over the sketch. blue, red, brown so many colors. and a few hours when he was finally finished he fixated his eyes on his creation in amusement.

he loved it. looking at it he couldn’t help but touch himself as he stared at the canvas in admiration. he looked down whiled his hands went down to his underwear band, pulling it down slightly just enough for his hard dick to be freed. he bit his lip softly stroking himself looking back up and eyeing the portrait.

he groaned raspy, his pink tip peeking out of his fist after every stroke.

there’s no way she didn’t know what she was doing. she wore them on purpose, just for me.

so many thoughts flooding his muddled brain his eyes squinted and eyebrows cinched as he rubbed himself. heavy breaths, whines and moans filled his quiet apartment, the portrait sitting in between his legs not yet mounted.

“y/n honey i need you so bad, please you really don’t know just how bad i need you. i get so rilled up thinking of you. at this point i’m a creep with the things i do.” whines slipped from his pretty, pink lips.

“god what would eric even think of me doing something like this? painting an explicit portrait of his baby sister then jacking off to it? he would hate me wouldn’t he.” he laughed out of breath

his continued to get off, the cold rings on his fingers gliding against the veins on his shaft.

grunts left through gritted teeth as jean felt himself getting closer. he looked at the warm colors painted on the canvas in between his thighs and couldn’t help but to smirk to himself.

what’d he give to actually come all over your real ass is the last stable thought he had before he painted on the portrait even more.

with his own semen.

。

reiner: now he’s #1 perv on this list. he stares you up and down all the time, sometimes he doesn’t even bother hiding it. manages to find ways to see you naked. like he’d walk in on you while you’re changing bcs “he forgot his charger” he touches himself to your insta photos, your panties that he stole, literally anything that involves you bcs he’s that desperate, it’s lowkey pathetic. but i love me a pathetic man. he doesn’t even hide the fact that he wants to touch you, he’d find any kind of excuse and would touch you. he’s just really thirsty.

~

reiner sat on his couch staring at the frilly lace panties in his hands that he stole from your home. earlier you had invited him over in hopes he’d help you understand your work better. if he was being true to himself he didn’t care anything about calculus. he only came over so he could flirt with you.

when he sat down next to you at your desk he sat close. your legs and his were touching and you could hear his shaky breathing. and his hands, if they weren’t on the paper or on his phone they were on your thighs. rubbing and gripping your skin, and when you looked up at him he’d act completely oblivious and get back to teaching you.

he knew what he was doing. he told himself by the end of the day he would have you on that bed begging for his mercy. and that he did.

the whole time he endlessly flirted with you. his large hands rubbing your upper thigh and pinching your cheeks. he saw how he charmed you and finally gave in.

“you know you’re such a pretty girl. you’re the type of woman i’d want to fuck senselessly then marry.” his hand rubbed yours

you couldn’t believe that he just said that. your eyes trailed down to your thighs, his hands moving towards the inside.

“can we please just study.” you said staring forward trying not to pay attention to him.

“yeah sure ignore what i said i guess…” he sighed “ if you can get these ten correct i’ll give you a surprise.” he winked

you thought he’d buy you dinner, get you a small little gift, chips, candy, something. instead you lay on your bed griping his back as he thrusted his girthy cock into you.

“maybe this’ll help motivate you ” he grunted

“y-you’re so weird” you whined, your heart-shaped anklet charm hitting his neck.

“don’t act like you don’t like it” he growled in your ear sarcastically

long nails gripped onto the satin sheets for leverage as reiner pounded into you mercilessly. you didn’t understand why and how you even let him do this to you.

reiner was the word ‘pervert’ personified. always looking up peoples skirts, making smart comments, getting touchy. you detected something was probably going to happen with him in your home, but he was somewhat smart and you really needed help.

and you couldn’t deny the fact that it actually felt good and that he was very appealing to look at. it was just one of the last things you expected to be doing that friday night.

“keep going just like that” you hiccuped

“thought… i was weird?” he chuckled breathlessly into your ear.

you couldn’t even find it in you to give him a snarky reply as you were too occupied with how he was inside of you.

the way his sensitive tip rubbed against the ridges inside of you was enough to literally drive you both insane. he became more touchy as he went on.

“f-fuck, you’re so fucking cute. i’ve always wanted to fuck… you.” he groaned in your ear.

“i can… tell” you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“no seriously, i ain’t even smart. i had no clue …what i was talking about the whole…time.”

it was a scheme to get into your panties.

and it worked.

you couldn’t attempt to be upset at him either, because with the way your pussy gripped onto him and your ever so audible moans and whines left that mouth of yours, he knew you were enjoying it.

your labored breaths and his became louder as the tension in your room grew.

“you gonna let me cum inside of your precious cunt?”

you shook your head.

“awww… c’mon it’s not… gonna be… that bad” he taunted in between heavy breaths

he didn’t care because he was gonna do just as he pleased.

“oh god reiner” your nails scratched at his sweaty back feeling yourself reach your orgasm.

you tightened around him while your pretty eyelashes fluttered as he still pounded into you, heavy balls slapping your pretty cunt.

greedy lips kissed your neck, chin and cheeks, the scratchy stubbly feeling blending in with the overstimulation.

“ m’ gonna cum all inside of you y/n” he nipped at your neck

you felt as he his cock frantically twitched inside of you, his grip on you becoming tighter.

he moaned almost inaudibly into your ear as he filled your womb with his silky cum.

♡

tags!: @hangesgirlypop @negrospirit @yiugen

a/n: just started the taglist! u can always b apart of it w the form on my pinned post if u want! (^з^)♡ also if there’s someone else u wanna see feel free to request!! (￣∀￣)

[onlymingyus]

I Hate to Admit

• pairing; lee jihoon x f reader • genre; angst • warnings; alludes to cheating in the past, arguments, tension -- no happy ending • w/c; 770 and some change  • i hate to admit - bang chan • don't listen in secret masterlist • a/n; this song is one of my favorite songs. it hits me right in the feels every single time. i was in a sad place when i wrote this, so i am sorry for that. thank you to @onlyhuis for betaing. i also hope you all don't mind a bonus posting 💕

before continuing remember reblogs are incredibly important and please read how to support me here

He took the same path every day, rarely looking up, but your voice caused Jihoon’s heart to clench and his eyes to lift today. You were talking on your phone, a pretty smile on your face. Ending your phone call, you slide the phone back into your pocket only to stop when you find the man looking at you. 

He missed you so much. He wanted to tell you that. You instantly put a smile on his face that he couldn’t hide. You made his heart beat faster, and his palms sweat. He felt warm around you as if you were the sun. 

“Jihoon…hi.” 

Your voice was quiet and timid, but that was to be expected after the fight and his avoiding your calls and texts. He didn’t want to read another text about how sorry you were when he knew it wasn’t real. 

“Hey.” 

Jihoon clears his throat, lifting his hand to run his fingers through his long hair. He knew he needed to get a haircut, but with everything going on…it had become the least of his worries. His eyes move over your face as he takes a step forward, his hands sliding into his hoodie to hind how nervous he actually was about seeing you now. 

“You look…really good, Jihoon. I–did you get any of my calls?” 

You watch as the man in front of you nods to answer your question. It made his answer sting that much more. You knew you didn’t deserve him to answer the calls or to even call you back, but it would have made things feel better. Easier? 

“I see–” 

“You look pretty, Y/N. Uh…” 

Jihoon’s words cut you off causing you to furrow your brows. He felt confused and in pain looking at you. He loved you so much and yet just looking at you hurt. He wanted to give you a second chance more than anything, but he had spent his time trying to forget. You watch Jihoon’s mouth start to open only for it to close again. 

He wanted to say something more, but you could see him processing it in front of you. In his mind, Jihoon was considering if you’d go out to coffee with him, and talk through everything that had happened. If maybe that could get you and him back to where you had been before it had all gone to shit so quickly. But as soon as the words started to form on his lips, Jihoon pushed them away knowing it was a bad idea. He hated to admit to himself that there was no saving this. 

“I hope you have a good day. I should get going. I gotta get to work.” 

Jihoon doesn’t wait for you to argue. He can see the hurt in your eyes, the way you want to try to change the past and present. He wanted to change it too, but he had spent too many nights already trying to do that. Walking past you, Jihoon doesn’t look back and you blink the tears from your lashes knowing it was what you deserved. 

With his studio door shut behind him firmly, Jihoon lets out his uneven breaths as his own tears threaten his eyes. He hated knowing that he had probably made you cry. That was one thing he had promised you while you were dating that he’d try not to do and yet he had lied. He had lied because you had lied. 

Sliding down in his chair, Jihoon blows out a deep breath before closing his eyes trying to push you from his head but instead, he can only remember more. He pictures your hand in his, your body against his, your lips meshing with his own. Fingers clench at the arms of his chair and Jihoon remembers asking you “Why, him? Why, Seokmin?” 

He remembers your eyes full of tears as you tried to think of how to lie your way out of it only to break down into apologies because you had been the one to cheat. You had cheated on him with one of his best friends. You had said you loved him and it had been a lie. 

Lifting his hand, Jihoon groans in annoyance pushing tears from his cheeks as he mutters to himself that he has to stop this. He had cried over you too many times. Every time a text came to his phone with another apology. Every time you had called him trying to tell him how much you loved him, Jihoon had cried because he loved you. 

“I gotta forget her. She's changed, just gotta let go.” 

© onlymingyus - all rights reserved. Reposting/modifying of any fic, or pieces of original writings posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations not allowed.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for causing my friend to be married off without her consent?

I know that seems very bad, and I DO think it's very very bad, but my friend herself didn't blame me explicitly and thinks none of what happened is my fault, but i still feel guilty about it so I'm leaving the judgement to the Tumblr court. I apologize for the length of this post.

We (27F) have been best friends since we were 6. I'm from the middle east while she is African, this part is very important. She lived here since she was born, however she moved back to her country after graduation, but now lives in the UK with her husband so we've been online friends ever since her graduation.

Anyway, this is something that happened when we were in middle school. We were both 13, my friend confided in me that she has a crush on a certain boy who was also African. She clearly told me not to tell anyone about this, but I went ahead and told her African friends right in front of her. That in itself was very AH of me, I broke her trust and revealed her secret, and I didn't even apologize later.

In our culture a crush is just something to giggle and laugh about, which is why I didn't consider what I did was a big deal and I had a poor judgment not taking in consideration that her culture might perceive things differently.

Anyway, her friends spread the word, and it reached her family. They accused her of being in relationship with him (she wasn't) which is very scandalous in both of our cultures. She was proven innocent and I thought that was the end of it.

However, in high school when we were 17, she had a thing for a different boy, who had the same name as the boy she previously had a crush on, this was hardly a coincidence since Muhammad is a common name. She talked with him and exchanged gifts and that was about it. She set clear boundaries that they can't do anything until marriage, however that all happened behind her parents' back and when she got found, they assumed it was the same boy and that she had been meeting up with him since middle school, so it was hard to believe that they didn't do anything at all. They locked her up at home, took her phone and beat her. She somehow was able to contact a mutual friend, who in return contacted me to help because we were neighbors and could go to my friend's house anytime I wanted. The message I received from our mutual friend wasn't clear, I had no idea what was happening, I was just told to go and stay with her, they assumed her parents wouldn't dare to hit her in front of me and that's why I was needed. Anyway I went and sat with her, they called her to the kitchen so she could get snacks and tea for me, but when she went they closed the door and started beating her up again because they figured she asked for me to come. I was shaking the whole time having no idea what to do, I considered telling my mom but I decided against it because she was a good friend with my friend's mother so she wouldn't believe it, or she'd believe my friend is a bad girl and I wouldn't be allowed to hang out with her anymore.

Thanfully they stopped beating her up after a couple of days, and things went wack to normal.

Later when she was 20, a rich man proposed to her, who was a family friend. He was a total psycho, he stalked her to college, waiting for her outside and did many other creepy things. She told her family, but they didn't believe her. They thought she was making it up because she didn't want to marry him, but they told her she had no choice because she had a bad reputation and no man would want to be with her, and that she was lucky a rich man would want to be with her. They even turned away other suitors because they assumed they'd change their mind if they knew about her past. She has 5 sisters and none of them received the same treatment. She's the only one who was forced to get married because of her reputation.

She accepted her fate and married him. She asked me to attent the wedding, I had no idea if she wanted me for emotional support, or that she just her best friend to be with her in her wedding, but either way I couldn't attend because she was in a whole different continent and I wasn't independent yet to travel on my own, and my family members were busy and couldn't travel with me. My friend was adamant about having me there, she even tried to arrange for her wedding to be held in my country, but her request was denied since most of her relatives wouldn't be able to attend. The only thing I could do to make up for this was to draw myself attending her wedding and hugging her in her wedding dress after she sent her wedding pics.

I kept in contact with her asking how she's doing, how her husband treats her etc, but she told me he was fine, that he seemed like a completely different person and that he loves her for real, and she's happy. It's not as bad as she thought it would be. It was hard to believe considering his previous actions, but what mattered most that my friend was happy.

She moved to the UK with her husband and we lost contact for a while, but when we finally talked she was always busy and could barely talk a lot. Many things were happening in her life and I only knew the gist of it because she didn't always have time to sit down and facetime me. But currently her husband is not so good. I don't know enough details to know if he's abusive or just AH, but he also cheats on her. She is planning a divorce when the time is right, and is glad she's independent enough that her family can't have a say in the matter anymore, but it will be tough on her specially since she has two children so far, and will probably have more before she could arrange for a divorce. I support her with whatever decision she'd makes, but I can't help but think none of this would have happened if I just kept my mouth shut at 13. To this day, I still wonder why she didn't stop talking to me when I did that. I don't think I deserve her friendship, yet to this day, she's alway telling me I'm the most wonderful person she met and that she's very grateful to have me in her life. Throughout the events of this story, she has always vented to me as if wasn't my fault. And all I could do was nodding along. Couldn't even help her or fix the situation, or even say something supportive, but she's grateful to me regardless. Recently she opened up to me at how she can't make friends anymore because she had terrible experiences since her college days, that her so called friends end up hurting her in the worst possible way and she feels none of the friends she will ever make would treat her well like I do. I didn't ask about what she went through (but I plan to once she has time) because I was so stunned that she thinks the way I treat her is any good. I replied by saying that I'm not perfect either, and that I have hurt her so much in the past. She was confused, and asked me to give her an example. I brought up the fact I divulged her secret at 13 but I was surprised she said she didn't remember that but it was probaly a harmless joke and I should stop worrying over something dumb I said as a dumb teenager because for sure I wouldn't act the same way now.

I didn't discuss this further to avoid bringing back terrible memories for her, but I'm shocked how she doesn't remember it considering everything that happened to her because of it. In fact, I started wondering if she even remembers the things that happened to her because of what I did, because if she forgot those too, it could be her brain blocking traumatic memories.

So Tumblr, AITA or am I just over thinking?

What are these acronyms?

[therealcocoshady]

Recovery - Chapter 22

Eminem x FemReader Fanfiction

Summary : Y/N sneaks out to meet with Em.

Tags : Fluff

Y/N’s POV

The first two weeks you spent with Marshall were nothing short of heavenly. You could hardly believe it : you finally got to be with the man of your dreams. He also seemed to be as happy as you, being the amazing person he always was, but showing a romantic side on top of it. Whenever the two of you were alone together, he would be all over you. Well, to be fair, it was pretty mutual. Whether it was holding hands, hugging, cuddling or having sex, you were almost always having some form of physical contact. At least, that was the case when it was just the two of you. You had not told anyone yet. You didn’t mind most people not knowing that you were with Marshall, but you were dying to tell your roommates. However, he didn’t seem too keen on the idea. 

Can I at least tell Talia about us ? You had asked. She is my best friend and she knows everything about me...

I don’t know, babe, he had said. I mean, I get it, but you know her… If you tell her, she’ll tell Jamal and one of them might let it slip. I’d just like to enjoy the two of us for a little while, you know ? 

It sort of made sense. Talia and Jamal were your best friends but they could be too talkative for their own good, sometimes. Especially with something as big as this. You knew them enough to know that they would tease you every chance they would get and might let something slip in front of other people. Obviously, they meant no harm and to you, it wouldn’t be the end of the world, but you knew how Marshall was about his privacy. He had a lot of friends but was still secretive about so many things. You didn’t mind at all. Actually, aside from the disappointment of not being able to tell your bestie about the most exciting thing happening in your life, you were fine with the idea of not telling anyone you knew. If people on Marshall’s team knew about your relationship, you could already see going downhill. Paul would probably be an ogre about it, plus, he already seemed to hate you enough as it was. As for Porter, Royce and the other people at the studio, you got along with them and considered them to be good friends of yours, so you really hated the idea that they might see and treat you differently. You’d been in that situation before, dating someone from your friends group, and ended up being considered as the guy’s girlfriend, rather than a member of the group. 

There was also a hidden perk to it : no one knowing about your relationship meant it was even more exciting. You were obviously in the honeymoon phase, taking every opportunity to be close to each other, and you soon found out that sneaking around was rather exhilarating. For instance, every time you hung out at the studio, the two of you would exchange glances, brush against each other on purpose and kiss every time the others left the room. You loved it and it was extremely arousing. So much so that, when you snuck out at night to go and see Marshall, the sex was even more mind-blowing, due to the release of the tension of the day. When you went to bed, you usually waited a couple of hours to make sure that Talia and Jamal were sleeping and snuck out to see him. You’d spend the night together and he’d bring you back in the early morning, before they woke up. You weren’t sleeping too much and were starting to feel tired, but in your opinion, it was 100% worth it. 

One morning, though, you got home a bit later than usual and found Talia sitting in the kitchen, drinking coffee.

Hey, you said. 

Where were you ? She asked with her eyebrows furrowed. 

I went out for a little walk, you replied as you tried to stay as evasive as possible. 

So early ? 

Yeah… I had a bad night, you said as you tried to sound convincing. So I decided to go for an early morning walk. What are you doing up so early ? 

I’m a bit worried for you, she said. Are you sure that breaking up with Josh was a good idea ? I mean, it’s… so sudden. 

I know, you said. But with everything that happened, I think I might need time to recover a bit, maybe focus on myself, you know ? 

Is it because of your anxiety ? She asked. 

Kind of. I have a lot going on.

I can tell, she said. But are you sure that splitting up with Josh is actually a good idea ? I mean, he loves you, he is here for you… He’s your lobster, Y/N. 

He’s not, you said softly. 

Is it because of Em ? She asked. 

Maybe, you replied. 

You didn’t want to lie to her. She was your best friend in the world and you wouldn’t want to disappoint her by lying to her face. But it also killed you because you just wanted to tell her everything about you and Marshall, how happy he made you and how he rocked your world. Also, you were sort of hoping that she would shut up about Josh. Ever since you had broken up with him, she had questioned your decision and tried to convince you to get back with him. And why wouldn’t she ? You probably would have done the same for any friend who broke up with such a good boyfriend out of the blue. The two of you chatted for a couple of minutes and you got ready for the day. 

On another occasion, she accidentally walked in on you in your underwear in the bathroom and noticed some marks on your body. As your lovemaking sessions were quite… intense, you had gotten a few bruises and scratches. Thankfully, you didn’t have hickies on your neck, but the same could not be said for your stomach, your ass or the inside of your thighs. What could you say ? It was passionate to say the least. You didn’t think much of it, but as soon as she saw the marks, she let out a horrified shriek. 

Oh my God !!! What the hell happened to you ?! She asked, completely panicked. 

Nothing, you said awkwardly, quickly grabbing something to hide your body. 

Not nothing, she replied. You have so many bruises, oh my God ! Did you get in a fight ?! 

Of course not ! You know me, I’m clumsy, that’s all ! 

At first, she seemed not to believe you, but she had to admit that it was plausible : you were the clumsiest person she knew. Whenever someone had to accidentally get hit, fall down the stairs or accidentally get a cut because they were too distracted by staring at a certain person, it had to be you. It was some sort of rule that the universe had created, apparently. It was so usual that it had become a running joke in your circle. So, eventually, she dropped it and pestered you about paying some damn attention for once, or else you’d die a stupid death. Technically, she wasn’t wrong to remind you, but if only she knew… 

The next day, you were spending the day with everyone else at Marshall’s, and you and Talia watched as the guys were playing basketball. You were supposedly here to cheer on Jamal, but you were too distracted by Marshall, who definitely looked way too good in gym clothes. Seeing him all sweaty was driving you crazy and you couldn’t wait for the next time you’d get to be alone with him. 

Quit staring at him, Talia whispered with a giggle. 

I’m not staring, you lied. 

Yeah, right… I know being single again sucks, but don’t forget that it’s Em, she said. Just because you’re not with Josh doesn’t mean you have to get back into whatever it is that was between the two of you. You’ll only end up suffering, baby. 

You think ? 

I’m sure. Plus, he’s obviously out there, getting laid by God knows who, she pointed out. 

What makes you think that ? You asked with your brows furrowed. 

He’s got a hickie and some scratches ? She said. I mean, you can see them on the back of his arms and his neck. I can’t even imagine what his back looks like. 

Oh, you said sheepishly as you realized that the two of you definitely needed to be careful, especially with Talia being so attentive to details. 

I’m sorry baby, she said as she rubbed your back. But maybe it’s better that way ? 

Maybe, you said with a yawn. 

Still tired ? 

You have no idea, you said as you tried to hide a grin. 

Hiding this from her was definitely too hard. All you wanted to do was to have a sleepover with her and some girl talk about your sex life and finally be able to brag of being the one scratching that handsome man’s back. You wished you’d get caught, but you also couldn’t be the one to give her the hints, as you didn’t want to betray Marshall’s trust. 

LATER THAT DAY - MARSHALL’S POV 

He was laying in bed with Y/N, cuddling after yet an intense physical session. Both of them were panting from exhaustion, not only from tonight but from the past weeks. They were basically running on sex, very little sleep and more sex. He was tired, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Every morning when he woke up next to her, it put the biggest smile on his face. Normally, he wouldn’t move that fast with a woman. He wouldn’t have her come over all the time, let alone sleep in his bed at night. His last girlfriend had never even seen his bedroom : that’s how guarded he was when it came to relationships. But with Y/N, it seemed right. Not that he had much of a choice anyway : whenever he was away from her, he felt like an addict on withdrawal, thinking of the next time he’d get his dose. Everything about her was intoxicating, from the longing looks she threw at him when there were other people around to her kisses to the way she whispered “I love you” right before she fell asleep in his arms. With both of their workloads, him at the studio and her at uni, they didn’t get as much time together as they wanted - or at least as he did - but he was willing to take every second he could get. Even if it was just at night with crazy logistics involved, and plans not to get caught by anyone. However, between work on the album, his activities as a producer, trying to spend time with his family and sharing his nights with her before waking up early to drive her back, it was starting to be exhausting. He could tell it was the same for her as well. Both of them looked like raccoons, with dark circles under their eyes, and all he wished for was to be able to sleep in, with her in his arms.

I love you, she whispered in a sleepy voice. 

I love you too, he chuckled. Shower and then bed ? 

How about we just stay here ? She suggested. I’m so sore… 

All the more reason, he said. Let me take care of you, baby. 

That’s right. With her he even got into aftercare. In his previous relationships, even the most successful ones, as soon as the deed was done, he usually rolled onto his side of the bed and fell asleep immediately. Not that he didn’t care about his partners, he did, but he usually put himself first. Not with Y/N. He was giving her the princess treatment and the worst part was that he secretly loved it. He had been a lousy boyfriend and husband in the past, to a lot of women, but he wanted to do so much better. Partly because now, he knew better, but also because he knew that the universe, no matter how good it was, would never provide him with someone so great. 

After a long shower and a massage, his girl had fallen asleep and he was ready to do the same when he heard the doorbell ring several times. It was 3:30 AM. He groaned and looked at Y/N, who was still asleep, by some sort of miracle. He kissed her forehead and got up as the doorbell kept on ringing. When he opened the door, he found Talia, going absolutely crazy on the doorbell. 

Talia ?! He asked in surprise. What the fuck are you doing here ?

Em, I’m sorry to bother you, but it’s an emergency, she said in a worried voice. 

Come in, he said. 

He led her to the living room, not sure what to expect. It was probably something serious. Talia never barged in unannounced, especially not in the middle of the night. 

What’s up ? He asked. Everything alright ? 

I am pretty sure that Y/N is using again, she said on the verge of tears. 

Wait ? What ? He asked in disbelief. 

I am sorry to bother you but you’ve been there, you know about relapse, and I just don’t know what to do…, she sobbed. 

Why would you even think she relapsed in the first place ? 

She’s not herself, she explained. She broke up with Josh out of the blue, she doesn’t seem to sleep, she’s become super secretive and she disappears in the middle of the night. I don’t even know where she is right now… I don’t know what to do, Em. What do you think I can do ? 

He tried so hard not to laugh but failed miserably. Talia’s concern was the most adorable thing ever and what she was saying actually made sense. Only she was far from the truth. He also felt a little bad : it was his fault if she was sobbing on his couch, since he was the one who insisted on keeping the relationship a secret. She shot him a death glare as he let out a little laugh. It was probably time to tell her. 

Don’t worry, he said. She’s fine. 

How do you know it ?! You’re an addict, you know how serious it is ! She said as she started to get worked up. 

She’s here, Talia. She’s sleeping, he said with a smile. 

WHAT DID I TELL YOU LAST TIME, EM ?! I told you that if anything happened and she came to you, you had to call me !!! She yelled. GOD YOU’RE A STUPID ASSHOLE !!! 

He burst out in a fit of laughter. At that point, it was probably the nerves and fatigue. He tried to calm himself before explaining but Y/N came to the living room, probably alarmed by the yelling. 

Talia ? She asked confused. What are you doing here ? 

What are YOU doing here ?! Talia fired back. 

I… well, I…, Y/N hesitated as she looked at him. 

I WANT YOU OUT OF THE HOUSE AND INTO A REHAB CENTER BY TOMORROW, Talia yelled. I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’RE USING AGAIN !!!

But I’m not, Y/N said. 

Don’t lie to me. I’ve seen the bruises, I know you’ve been sneaking out, you don’t sleep and you’ve been acting impulsive. It all makes sense ! 

The bruises ? Marshall asked. 

On my thighs, Y/N explained. 

He tried really hard not to laugh. The tension was palpable. 

Oh… that’s on me, I guess, he chuckled.

What the fuck ? Talia asked him with a threatening tone. What are you doing to her ?! 

Nothing she doesn’t want, believe me, he said as he tried to hide a smirk. 

Marshall !!! His girl interjected. 

I don’t understand, Talia said as she looked pissed off. 

They’re hickies, he chuckled. Y/N has been sneaking around, yes, but she’s coming here. We’re together. 

You’re together ? She repeated. 

Yeah, she’s my girlfriend. Like… couple stuff, you know ? He clarified before taking Y/N’s hand in his. 

Talia looked at him in shock, her mouth open, while Y/N stared at him tenderly. 

Aaaaw… I’m your girlfriend ? She asked with a smile. 

What ? Want me to refer to you as « bro » or « homie » ? He chortled. 

Girlfriend is fine, she said with a shy smile. 

Why didn’t you tell me ?! Talia blurted out, visibly hurt. 

I asked her not to, Marshall clarified.  Believe me, she wanted to tell you. This one’s on me. 

He didn’t want Talia to be mad at his girlfriend and he was ready to take the blame for that one. In retrospect it hadn’t been the smartest thing to do. 

Shit, guys, do you know how worried I’ve been ?! She said. 

I’m so sorry, I wanted to tell you, I swear, Y/N said. 

How long has it been ? 

About two weeks, Y/N explained. Happened right before your birthday actually…

Before ?! Is that why you broke up with Josh ?! She asked. 

Yeah…, his girlfriend said sheepishly. 

Talia looked up and down at the two of them. He was holding his girlfriend’s hand and smiling. She shook her head and took Y/N in her arms, holding her tight for about a minute. 

So, you’re alright ? She asked. 

Yes, his girlfriend said. 

And you’re happy ? 

So happy, Y/N confirmed. 

And he’s treating you well ? Talia asked again. 

Of course I treat her well, Marshall scoffed, almost offended by the implication. 

Not talking to you, Em, Talia said as she gave him a side-eye. 

He treats me very well, Y/N said softly. Like a princess, actually. 

Talia hummed and kept staring at the two of them. At that point, it was almost freaking him out. All he wanted was some sleep ! Now that she knew that Y/N was alive, breathing and not under immediate danger, couldn’t she just go home and let them rest ? Of course, it was purely rhetorical… in the past three years or so, he had spent enough time with Talia around to know that this woman only did what she wanted. She was not the intrusive type but he had also come to understand that when it came to her best friend’s safety, happiness and well-being, she could be ruthless. He may have been twenty years older, she was the « scary » one in that situation. So, even though he was not ecstatic to have her disturb what could have been a peaceful and much-needed night of sleep, he didn’t say much. After a while, Talia sat back on the couch and told them to do the same. Once again, it wasn’t time to discuss the orders. Usually, he would not have anyone tell him what to do, especially not someone who could be his daughter and even less in his own house, but Talia was the exception. He also low-key appreciated that she treated him like a normal person, with a « no-nonsense, no bullshit » attitude. It was something that made him respect her. She had that sort of aura that usually prompted people to do what she told them to. She was a pretty damn persuasive person and there was no doubt as to how she had Jamal around her finger. 

Let’s be clear here, she said as she looked at him, Y/N might be satisfied with the princess treatment, but it certainly won’t impress me. She is exceptional and if you fail to treat her in a manner befitting the empress that she is, I will make sure you regret it. 

Of course, he said with a smile. 

And if you make her suffer, I will make sure you suffer twice as much, she added. Don’t get me wrong : Jamal is the big scary dude who will punch you, but I will be your worst nightmare. 

Believe me, I’m counting on it, he replied. 

Good. You, Y/N, do not think about lying to me ever again. Especially about something like this !!! She told her best friend. 

Promise, Y/N said. 

Now, I would love some tea and hear about how this happened, she said with a smile, gesturing at the two of them. 

Right now ? Marshall couldn’t help but groan. 

Would you rather tell me about your misjudged idea of asking my best friend to lie to me and causing me to have a stroke ? She asked with a raised eyebrow. 

So, green tea or black tea ? He replied with a sarcastic grin. 

Green, she chuckled. And Y/N usually drinks…

… hot cocoa, he continued with a smile. I know, I know. Are we really doing this, Talia ? You bullying me in my own house ? 

You bet we are, she chuckled. You owe me, for the emotional damage, Em. 

He chortled and went to the kitchen to prepare the hot beverages while he could hear Talia grilling Y/N with questions. He would have snapped at anyone, but Talia’s concern for Y/N was so genuine that he could only appreciate it. Plus, seeing the relief on his girlfriend’s face was priceless. From the other room, he could hear her giggle as she answered some of Talia’s questions. When he came back to the living room with the mugs, Talia was commenting on the hickies. « Y’all better chill. What are you ? Horny teenagers ?! ». He chuckled and sat next to Y/N, who curled up on his side. It felt a little weird to have someone know about their relationship, but he had to admit it also felt good. They talked for about an hour before he decided to go back to bed. 

Can I be dismissed now ? He asked with a smile. 

I’ll allow it, Talia said. Plus, I can’t get Y/N to tell me about the nitty-gritty stuff if you’re sitting here ! 

Don’t tell her anything, he said. 

She will tell me everything, she replied. 

He chortled and kissed the top of his girlfriend’s head before getting up and hugging Talia. 

By the way, you have my blessing, Em, she said with a smile. 

I don’t need your blessing, he chuckled. 

Yeah you do, she giggled. You just didn’t know it. 

I’ll take it then, he grinned. Thank you. 

Thank you for making my girl happy, she whispered with a smile. 

[lonelyisamyw-0love]

Another Place, Another Time (Final)

MarcXFem!Reader (Jake and Steven in headspace)

Summary: After a week of staging, planning and pestering, you finally get to meet Marc. How hard could this be?

CW: Marc being distant, arguing/ yelling, Accidental triggering, swearing, bad Chicagoan accents, almost definitely railroad sentences, mention of Wendy, allusions to trauma

A/N: Thank you for anyone who had read, liked and reblogged my first fic series. It has meant the world to me and I hope ya’ll enjoy! There is also two lil translated phrases at the bottom!

Steven is Orange

Marc is green

Jake is Red

~~~~~~~~~

You find yourself pacing anxiously from the living room to the kitchen and back. If you aren’t careful, you’ll wear a hole in the floor. “Why is this so hard? The hell am I so nervous for?” Mumbling nervously, you check the text messages between yourself and “the gang”. Rereading the messages between Jake, Steven and yourself does little to soothe the creeping anxiety. Your phone vibrates suddenly, startling you as a message comes thru.

“ETA 5 minutes

-J”

“fuck…fuck!. Okay calm down. This is fine. We planned for this. Just breathe.” You know Jake is being kind by giving you a heads up but it only makes it worse, damn him and his consideration. You spend the next five minutes sitting on the couch, bouncing your leg. Exactly 5 minutes later, there is a sharp knock. You take a deep breath and walk over to the door, take another deep breath and open it. In front of you is a familiar form but a vastly unfamiliar vibe. The squared shoulders, slick-back hair and a stony face. Tension radiates off him like Jake, but it feels more intense, almost stifling. This man is like a mausoleum: imposing, guarded and full of secrets.

Smiling, you open the door wider to let him in, “Hi Marc! I’m happy I finally get to meet you. Shoes off at the door please and make yourself comfy.”

He walks in, toes his shoes off, and lines them neatly at the baseboard by the door. “Pleasure to meet you Y/N, thank you.”

“Of course, have a seat. Would you like anything to drink?”

“Just water”

“Comin’ right up.” You return with two glasses of water, handing him one before sitting on the other couch. What are you supposed to say? You aren’t supposed to ask about his past, you know that but you don’t know where to start. Asking about the weather seems so dumb. Jake told you he likes the Cubs but you don’t know anything about sportball?! Why is talking to Marc so much harder than talking to the strangers at the diner??

Marc clears his throat, “Thank you for the water.”

“I have an idea!”, you exclaim suddenly, causing Marc to raise an eyebrow.

“Ok I was thinking we do something together. Let’s go. C’mon!” You stand up and head to the kitchen, turning around to see Marc standing awkwardly.

“Marc? You okay?”

Marc shakes his head a bit before turning towards you, “I’m comin Y/N”

“Marc you sure you’re –

“I’m fine. What plan do you have for us?” he asks. It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking, is he already annoyed with you?

“I thought we could bake a cake together.” You reply smiling.

“Bake a cake…with you?”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing. It’ll be fun and we’ll have something good to eat afterwards.”

“I don’t bake.” Marc replies flatly.

​Really hermano? That’s your response.

​Marc, at least give it a chance.

You look at Marc blankly for a moment. Alright, you hadn’t considered that answer. “Ooookay well, why don’t we try then? It can be a learning experience.” You reply, looking around for an apron.

Say yes marc, Y/N’s trying her best.

​Steven’s right, you should at least try.

I don’t need either of you chiming in. I’m here aren’t I?

​Don’t make it sound like such a chore, Marc.

“So I have all the ingredients and a recipe so it shouldn’t be too bad” You explain, while handing him an apron. Sighing, he ties it behind himself.

“You don’t need a recipe. You just throw stuff in a bowl, bake it and then done. How hard can it be Y/N.”

You chuckle softly gathering the dry ingredients, bowls, and utensils. “You would think but you have much to learn my friend! Baking is more of a science and then you can play around with the flavors and such.”

Marc opens his mouth to offer a rebuttal but closes it before looking over your shoulder at the recipe.

​“Why are there so many steps? The first 3 steps could just be 1 step.”​

​“They just aren’t. Breaking it down is easier to make sure we don’t get confused or make mistakes. Could you put the dry ingredients in a bowl by the recipe? Please and thank you.” You reply, trying to keep any frustration out of your voice. You begin cleaning and chopping strawberries as you hear soft grumbling and swears.

​“Steven, I know how to-. Jake shut the hell up.” You turn around to see Marc hunched over the bowl, jaw clenched. Okay, so, calm fun baking time was not going as planned.

​“Marc, do you want to swap and do the strawberries and I’ll do that?”

​“No! no, It’s just throwing powders and stuff in a bowl and stirring. I can handle that.”

​You take a deep breath to try not to snap back, “I know you are capable of doing it. I was just offering to help. If you want it to come out right, you have to follow the recipe. If not, we can swap.”

​Mate, just listen to her. Y/N knows what she is talking about.

​If she bakes half as she cooks, I would listen to her hermano.

“Marc? Im not trying to be a dick but would you please just listen-”

“I said I got it” he grits out.

You feel your chest tighten in irritation, the simmering frustration turning into genuine anger. “Fine, but if the cake is messed up. It’s your fault”, You retort flatly before you resume chopping strawberries.

Mierda…

You don’t see Marc’s body stiffen. Don’t see his chest start to heave or his fists curl so tight the knuckles have gone bone white.

Marc…Marc she didn’t mean it like that. She didn’t know..

“Fuck it! Forget this whole thing!” Marc shouts, cutting the tension in the kitchen like a razor. Whipping your head around, you see him, red faced fists clenched at his side. You frown. “What is your problem Spector?”

He snatches the apron off and takes a step towards you, “Forget. This. I told them I didn’t need to meet ya, but I agreed to anyways. Ya want to bake a fuckin’ cake like with Steven but I’m. Not. Him! You and I aren’t friends Y/N!”

The anger churning inside you reaches a rolling boil. You slam the knife down on the cutting board and round on him. “No. You’re absolutely right. We aren’t friends. But that’s only because you make it so fuckin’ difficult to get to know you, to try and care about you. You’re buttoned up so goddamn tight you make it impossible!”

“Why does it matter to ya! You have ya friends. Y’have Steven and Jake. Why are ya trying so hard to-

“Because I want to be your friend too!” You shout back, cutting him off. “If your life was as bad as the boys have told me and half as bad I remember hearing it through the walls. You deserve to have someone care about you! I want to care about you too goddamnit!” Marc stares at you blankly. It is a silent standoff between you and Marc, save for the sound of you two breathing.

​“What?” Marc asks softly.

​“What part didn’t you hear?” You fire back, the adrenaline coursing through you leaving you poised to lash out again.

​“What did you just say? Why did you say that?”

​“I said you’re a fuckin grump”, You retort, crossing your arms over your chest.

​Marc shakes his head, “Not that part, the other part.”

​You blink a few times, what the hell is he playing at? “I’m trying to get to know you but you make it impossible?” you repeat, uncertainty dousing the fire in your chest.

​Marc shakes his head again, “No the...the friend…part.”

​You open your mouth to spit back a response, but you notice the genuine confusion on Marc’s face. His hands are still in fists but he’s trembling. His eyes are searching your face for an answer to a question he’s never ventured to ask. You realize Marc really doesn’t understand why you’re putting in the effort. To him, you are Steven’s friends. You’re Jake’s friend. Not his, never his friend. You remember conversations with Steven and Jake about some of Wendy’s “bad days”, about the self-loathing, the guilt, the shame. You realize that despite knowing Steven since you were children, and knowing Jake for over a year, this is your first time meeting Marc.

“Fuck…Marc…” You sigh, arms dropping to your sides. “I…lemme start over. First, I want to apologize. You were being an ass, but I had no right to yell just now. Especially when I’m trying to get to know you. That was unfair of me and I’m sorry. Second, I’m trying to be your friend because I care about you. I care about all of you. I want to learn about you the way I did with Jake and the way I did with Steven. You are your own person and you deserve to be treated with the same care as all my friends.” Marc continues to stare at you with an unreadable expression.

​¿Estás bien?

​​Mate, you…you’re awfully quiet

“I-I’ll cut the strawberries. We can swap.” Marc replies in a voice much softer than you expect, his shoulder relaxing slightly. You smile at him, hoping to turn this day around. “Why don’t we do that together after the cakes are in the oven, alright?”

Marc nods, looking between you and the bowl nervously, “I don’t remember what I put in the bowl earlier.” You go to wave your hand dismissively but decide that sudden movements would be a bad idea. You slowly grab the apron and hand it back to him. “We’ll figure it out together”. You walk over to the counter leaving some space for Marc as you two go over how far he has gotten in the recipe. Occasionally you ask if he can remember how much and try to adjust accordingly.

​“Alright Spector, next we have to-“

​“Marc. I used to be in the military.” He pauses, “My CO only used last names and I just…I can’t. Just call me Marc. Please?” Marc explains, hoping that you don’t ask any further questions.

​You nod and continue, “Alright Marc, how are you with crackin’ eggs? I need you to put on in the mix.” Marc takes an egg and cracks it into the bowl one handed. Your sudden applause catches him off guard. “Why are you doing that?”

“Cause that’s cool as hell! I still crack eggs with two hands, even after baking all this time. Don’t tell the others, I think they’d make fun of me.” You laugh before mixing the batter and pouring it into two pans. March snorts softly, “Sure, yea your secret is safe with me Y/N.”

You begin to clean some of the counter space while the cakes are in the oven. “Okay Marc, you’re on choppin’ duty for the berries. Have at it.” Marc nods and makes his way to the abandoned strawberry station. Wiping his hands on the apron, he begins to chop them similar to the ones you previously done.

​Soooo…how’s it going mate?

​It’s fine…I guess. Better now than earlier.

​You just had to giv’er a chance.

​Both of them needed time Steven

​Sorry ‘bout us prattlin’ on earlier Marc. We didn’t mean to overwhelm you

​Stevens right, we should’ve just let you two talk without butting it. Lo siento

​We can talk about it more later. I just…Thank you though, for “Shit!”

“Marc what happened?” You turn to see him holding his bleeding finger.

“it’s nothing Y/N. I’m fine” He tries to reassure you but you’re already by his side, gently tugging him to the sink and running the finger under cool water.

“I leave you alone for 10 seconds and you’ve nicked your finger. How am I s’possed to let you loose in the kitchen?” You fuss over his superficial injury as you clean it and bandage it. Marc stares at you baffled. No one fusses over him, no one tends to his injuries except for himself. It’s just a scratch why are you making such a…Oh, right.

“Okay, scratch that, you’re off knife duty. Can you work a mixer Marc?”

“Y/N it wasn’t that big a deal, I can cut the strawberries-“

“aht aht! No bleedin’ in this kitchen. You’re on whipped cream duty.” You smile widely at him.

“But-“

“If ifs and buts were candy and nuts, we’d all have a Merry Christmas, now go. The mixer calls you” Marc stands there baffled.

Good to know we’ve all had at least one weird interaction with Y/N, ey lads? Marc, might as well head to the mixer, she’s made up her mind.

You explain the ingredients to make whipped cream and how to work the mixer to Marc, who dutifully nods along with your explanation. You head to finish chopping strawberries and hear the steady hum of the mixer behind you. Smiling to yourself, you add a little lemon and sugar to the bowl of berries.

After the cakes have been pulled from the oven and cooled you and Marc layer the cake, whipped cream and strawberries.

​“Marc…Marc lean in”

​“Y/N what are you doin’?”

​You whip out your phone and snap a few selfies. “For the new album! It’s your first cake so we need to document it!”

He smiles, turning to look at the cake. But his eyes catch the recipe. The cake you two have made looks nothing like the picture. The cakes themselves are uneven, the whipped cream doesn’t look as smooth, the berries haphazardly placed. Marc’s heart seizes in his chest. All he can hear is Wendy’s voice berating him. Screaming that it’s his fault the cake came out wrong. You don’t notice at first, happily looking at the photos when you hear Marc’s breathing get heavier. Looking up, you glance between him and the cake a few times before standing next to him.

“Not bad for your first cake Marc. I can’t wait to eat it.” You hold a knife in your hand, “Would you do me the honors and cut me a slice?” Marc looks at you surprised; aren’t you mad at him? Don’t you hate him for ruining the cake? Studying your face, he sees nothing but warmth and compassion as you wait patiently for a response. “I uh, sure yea” He takes a few steadying breaths before cutting a slice for you and himself. You smile as you take your plate and two forks to the living room. Marc stands stock still before he feels his legs move beneath him.

Marc! Cake time!

​Right, yea sorry.

Marc follows behind you and sits next to you on the couch. You hand him a fork before gathering some cake of your own. You hold it up to him. “Cheers!” He gathers some cake on his fork and gently taps his fork against yours, “Cheers Y/N”. You take a few bits of the cake, before looking at him. “So…Let’s hear your thoughts, Marc. How is it?” He chews thoughtfully, “the strawberries are nice.” You laugh loudly, “Marc! C’mon. How’s your first cake?”

“I don’t think it’s s’possed to be this salty or thick.” He says softly, poking it with his fork. “Yea well, we went off script a bit. S’alright though, next cake will be better!” You reassure him, continuing to eat your slice, “besides, you did an incredible job with the whipped cream.”

“I’m sorry Y/N. For ruining the first day of the day”

“Marc, it’s alright I-“

“No, it’s not alright. You…You were trying to get to know me. You put in a lot of effort to include me, but Jake and Steven were in my ear carryin’ on and I’ve never baked before let alone with someone else.That’s not an excuse though. I didn’t give you a chance, I yelled at you. I backed you into the corner of the kitchen. You didn’t deserve that and I apologize.” Marc looks at you, shoulders slumped, “Im sorry Y/N.”

You set down your plate and extend your hand, smiling, “We can always try again Marc. Shake on it?” Marc smiles and you pretend to not notice when he wipes his eyes before shaking your hand. “You’ve got ya’self a deal.” You chuckle, “I don’t know if you noticed but when you get upset your accent is thicker. All youse guys do it.”

“It does not.”

“Does too!”

“Says the person who just said ‘youse guys’”

You squint your eyes, “You’ve won this round Marc. Oh! Before I forget. Stay here, I have something for you.”

“Y/N…No you don’t have to-“

“Too late” you call from your bedroom. Marc sits suddenly nervous, until you come back into the living room, arms behind your back.

​“Okay so I worked with Steven to do this. He told me how upset you were about Sir Rosser and I didn’t get it at first but then Jake explained it a bit more to me and so-” You pull a small patchwork bunny in his favorite color from behind your back, holding it out to Marc. “I got you your own. Now you don’t have to share. If you even still have the old one. Would you even want a stuffed animal? Fuck, I didn’t think about it til just now. Maybe I should’ve asked first” you ramble nervously before you realize Marc hasn’t said anything, he hasn’t even moved.

“Marc? could you at least say something? Anything? The silence is killing me”

Marc looks up at you with misty eyes before reaching for the stuffed animal with shaking hands “you…got me my own rabbit?”

You smile, relief flooding your system, “Course I did!”. You pull a ruler from behind your back with the other hand, “And when you name it, I’m going to knight him like I did Sir Rosser. I am still the lady of the land.” Marc looks between you and the rabbit before laughing, brightly for the first time in longer than any of the boys can remember.

​You were right Steven, Y/N’s a good friend to have.

​Marc is right, I guess we have you to thank for this.

​I’m glad you lads get it. Now since we’re talking about my good ideas, I have a few others suggestions

​no echarse flores Steven

​

Epilogue

You and Marc are sitting on the couch, the plates of cake long forgotten on the table. You’re chatting about random facts you’ve been itchin’ to share when his head snaps to one side, as though listening for something.

“Y/N, did you hear that?”

“Yea, it’s my voice...we’re talking.”

“No not…the snapping noise. Like a crack”, He looks back at you. “You didn’t hear it?” you shrug, unsure of what he’s talking about.

Sorry mate, that was us. Didn’t mean to startle ya.

What do you mean “that was us”

Steven and I high-fived no te preocupes. Keep talking with Y/N.

“Hellooo Marc. I said did you figure out what it was?” You call from beside him. Marc sighs, turning back to you. “Yea it’s fine. Keep going. you were telling me something about eggs?” You smile and continue your impassioned rant about how a chef’s hat has 100 pleats and that each pleat represents 1 way to cook an egg. Marc smiles, holding his rabbit in his lap.

I could get used to this.

~~Translation~~

no echarse flores- Don’t flatter yourself

no te preocupes- Don’t worry

[sluttywonwoo]

I hope you're having a good day! I'm currently thinking about going on a blind date with Wonwoo (set up by Mingyu because he's so nosy about his friend's love life). Maybe you had low expectations or something but it's fucking Jeon Wonwoo so you were smitten as soon as you met him and the night ended up with you two making out in his car because there was just so much chemistry - 🌗

“don’t, don’t tell mingyu about this,” you pant, eyes still closed as you pull away from wonwoo. you can still taste his chapstick on your lips, still feel the tingling sensation from the peppermint. you want to go back for more but you need to establish this one little thing first.

“about which part? you inviting me back to your place, or you dragging me into the backseat of my car because you were so horny you couldn’t even wait to get inside?”

you glare at the man you’ve only just met… roughly four (?) hours ago, unimpressed. his smirk is unwavering, which is annoying but. hot. you’re practically in the man’s lap, you can feel just how turned on he is at the present moment, so he has no room to talk and yet he still does. 

“first of all, there was no dragging. you’re the one who suggested we move to the backseat of your car-”

“that’s because you were already all over me in the front seat and it’s more comfortable back here,” he points out.

“second of all,” you continue without acknowledging his interruption, “all of it, any of it. mingyu can’t know.”

wonwoo frowns, and it’s only then that you realize how what you said might be taken poorly.

“i just don’t want him to know he was right!” you explain quickly. “if he knows how well the date went he’ll never shut up about it and he’ll never let us live it down.”

wonwoo nods in agreement. you can tell that he’s thinking hard about… something from the way he chews on his bottom lip. you wait for him to enlighten you with just what exactly he’s pondering when he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and meets your eyes again.

“you’re right,” he says, “but what if we took it one step further?”

“what do you mean?”

“what if we pretend it went horribly? what if we pretend it was so bad that we hate each other and never want to see each other again?”

his suggestion makes you pause.

“it would be just pretend, though, right? you’re not actually trying to get out of going on another date by coming up with this elaborate scheme just so you don’t have to say it to my face?”

“baby, no, it’s just pretend. i promise,” he assures you. “can’t you feel how hard i am right now?” he guides your hand down to the bulge in his jeans to prove his point, groaning when you squeeze it.

“well yeah, but sexual attraction isn’t the same as romantic attraction. you could be thinking with your dick for all i know.”

“i am thinking with my dick. and my brain.”

“wow, a multitasker.”

it’s wonwoo’s turn to glare, eyes narrowing behind the frames of his specs. it’s cute.

“do you like my idea or not?”

“i like it! but don’t you think it’s a little mean?”

“it is mean,” wonwoo says with a nod. “it’s also funny.”

“i mean… yeah, but how would we even see each other if he thinks we hate each other? he’s literally your roommate.”

“we sneak around.”

“like high schoolers?”

“like adults who are tricking their best friend so they don’t have to admit he’s right.” wonwoo must know you’re considering it because he continues. “come on, doesn’t it sound a little exhilarating? going on dates in secret, hooking up in my room in the middle of the night, both trying to keep quiet so he doesn’t hear us? sleepovers at your place where we can be as loud as we want but having to make some shit up about where i was all night?”

“it can’t go on forever,” you stipulate. wonwoo grins, taking your response as you saying you’re in. you are in, you just don’t want to torment your poor friend forever.

“of course not. we’re not that cruel.”

he intertwines his hand with yours, the one that was on his dick, and squeezes it. your stomach fills with butterflies and you find yourself smiling like an idiot back at him.

“i think we might make a pretty good pair,” he muses confidently.

fuck, you’re giddy and you haven’t even fucked him yet.

“only time will tell. do you want to come inside now?”

[alreadyjackbestfriend]

unfair

synopsis: It's not your fault that your boyfriend's best friend fell in love with you.

GENRE: angst

A/N: this will have part two, andddd I have another love triangle idea with jack and urban, let me know if you are interested in that concept.

also, I accidentally wrote 700 more words than originally intended, hope you enjoy!

You were petrified, you really didn't know what to say, or what to do.

“y/n, I’m so sorry, you don't really have to tell me anything. Jack is my best friend and I wouldn't do anything to break up the two of you and ruin his happiness. It's just... I've been hiding this feeling for months and even though it sounds a bit silly, you're the person I was least afraid to tell, because I felt like you were the one who could best understand me and not judge me or take it the wrong way.” Urban said almost in one breath.

His blue eyes didn't meet yours, his long hair fell in his face, trying to hide his embarrassment. Your boyfriend's best friend had just confessed that he was in love with you.

"Urban, don't worry, I don't judge you or take it badly, you even flatter me" you said trying to lighten his mood, and you got a small laugh from him, "no one can control who they fall in love with, but we both know that nothing will happen between us... I... well, I love jack a lot" you said, choosing your words carefully, Urban looked so vulnerable in front of you that you were afraid to say what he already knew: you were lost and madly in love with Jack, but you weren't going to put it that way, “so, what shall we do?”

Urban looked at you surprised, looking back at you for the first time, "you don't have to do anything"

"but I want to help. I want to help you, make things easier… and prevent you from suffering”

"I think that's kind of impossible, y/n" he replied, laughing humorlessly. and you made a grimace of discomfort at the thought of someone suffering because of you, not knowing what to answer.

"but yes, you can help me. I think... we should keep some distance"

"Okay," you said, swallowing hard. This would also be difficult for you, you loved urban very much, just not as he expected. Also, you shared space 24/7 so the task would be twice as difficult.

"and no word of this to jack, please" he added, his expression pleading.

"It's going to be hard to hide if we keep our distance" you warned him.

"I just... I'll try to keep myself busy so it doesn't show."

"Okay..." you said, "can I... can I give you one last hug before we go our separate ways?" You said half jokingly, half seriously. he smiled at you tenderly, nodding and opening his arms. you shortened the distance that separated you and surrounded him with your arms.

All this conversation was happening in the middle of the night, a few steps from the tour bus. Jack wasn't around, probably worrying about some technical stuff about his gigs, since he liked to be involved in all aspects of the tour, and Urban had asked you to join him for a smoke, but he never lit the blunt, he just started talking as if he needed to vomit the words that came out of his mouth, since his big secret was making him feel sick.

Therefore, you didn’t notice that Jack had been watching you from afar for a while. He hadn't wanted to interrupt you, because he had noticed the expression of pity on your face and how Urban only looked down. There weren't the usual laughs between you two, even away from you, Jack could feel the strange atmosphere that surrounded you both.

And even if he didn't want it, when the hug began to last longer than he considered appropriate, he felt his stomach tighten into a knot. He didn't want to distrust you, you weren't really doing anything wrong, but the act still left a bad taste in his mouth. When he saw you separate from the embrace, and you started to walk towards the bus, he quickly walked in, trying not to let you know that he had seen much of the interaction.

Without realizing it, the next few days Jack acted more distant towards you, and seemed to always have something on his mind. You tried to ask him a few times, but he always denied it. He seemed to be living inside his head, with no intention of wanting to get out. He stayed out of almost all social interactions, watching from the outside, especially you and Urban. The estrangement between you two did not go unnoticed by him.

One day you couldn't take it anymore and you faced him, you needed to know why he was acting so strange and distant.

"Why don't you and Urban talk anymore?" was the first thing he responded when you decided to face him.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"oh, so you don't deny it"

"Jack, what the fuck. Urban is your best friend, not mine...we've never been very close anyway."

"You're lying to me, and you know it."

"What are you insinuating?"

"I really don't know, y/n" he sighed, "I'd love it if you could tell me." you were silent for a few seconds. You wished you could be honest with Jack, fix this awkward situation you both had inadvertently created, but you had promised Urban not to tell him anything.

"So, you're not going to tell me," Jack talked again, and you looked down, "great." he added, getting up from the couch in the hotel room and walking to the door.

"Jack!" you said, standing up too. your eyes filling with tears without being able to avoid it, the anguish in your chest becoming unbearable.

"What, y/n? Just be honest, please."

"I promise you it's nothing. You're making a mess for nothing"

"If you don't want to give me an answer, then Urban will" was the last thing he said, before leaving the room.

***

You didn't know what to do, so you just waited, even though time didn't seem to advance. You tried to distract yourself on your phone, reading, or watching TV, but nothing helped, you could only think about what could be happening with Jack and Urban, but you didn't dare going out.

Jack came back an hour later, there was a tiredness on his face that you couldn't read, it didn't look like the normal tiredness he was always a victim of, but more like an emotional exhaustion.

You looked at him with expectant eyes, full of fear of what he might say. He didn't say anything for a few seconds.

"So, he's in love with you" he said with an expression you couldn't read either, which was killing you.

"umm, yeah..."

"and he asked you not to tell me anything" he added, and you just nodded, "and you did, you were true to your word"

"please jack, you're killing me. i need to know what you think"

"Honestly, I don't know, y/n, I never expected to be in this situation, but... Urban is going to take a break from touring, he decided it himself, but to be honest I think it's the best thing for me too. I know it's not his fault, but I'm angry, I think because he didn’t have the courage to tell me the truth in all these months” he went silent for a couple of seconds, “and also he never had the intention of doing it!” he said a little louder, trying to get his frustration out, “he asked you not to tell me anything for fuck’s sake”

you agreed, for a few seconds no one said anything but the uncertainty was too strong.

"and what about me?" he looked at you.

"what about you?" he asked you, like he was really confused.

"Are you mad at me too? Do you want me to go away?" you asked with a lump in your throat, a lump that deepened with each second of silence.

"I…I don't know…this is so weird, I have all these mixed feelings and I don't know what to do with them"

"It's not my fault, jack" you gasped, two silent tears escaping down your cheeks.

"I know"

"So? Why don't you tell me it's not my fault and you don't want me to go?" you said hurt.

"I don't know y/n, put yourself in my position a bit. My best friend is in love with my girlfriend, he confesses it to her and asks her not to tell me anything, I see them giving each other a very long hug, as if they were both full of feelings for each other..."

"wait, what?"

"yes, I saw you that night"

"It’s not what you are thinking, we weren't doing anything wrong”

"I know, but you kept the secret, y/n, you preferred to be loyal to him over me"

"he’s my friend" you said weakly, as weak as your justification.

"and i'm your fucking boyfriend!" Jack raised his voice, making you jump, "I'm sorry" he said a few seconds later, "I'm very confused, this has never happened to me with urban before, first of all... because he's never been in love, you're the first in his life, y/n" he looked at you with sad eyes, "and I don't know if I can live with that"

"jack, please, please don't break up with me. none of the three of us are to blame, we can get over it" you said desperate.

"You've been the only girl to ever unfreeze the heart of a man I've known almost all my life, y/n, how do I know his feelings for you won't come back as soon as he sees you again?"

"this is so damn unfair, jack" You said angrily, "I never meant for this to happen. I've never behaved inappropriately with him, I've never flirted with him, I've always had eyes only for you, my heart has always been with you, and you're going to leave me for something in which I am not to blame?”

“I’m not leaving you”

“but you’re thinking about it!”

“y/n, please, let's just let things cool down for a few weeks, take some distance and then talk with a cool head. I just... feel a lot of negative things right now."

"okay, let's let things cool down" you replied sarcastically, "although I don't know if things will go back to the way they were after that" were your last words before taking your phone and leaving the room.

taglist:

@hoodharlow

@awhore4moree

@jackmans-poison

[my-own-walker]

OMG I got an idea. How about Kit Walker x Reader during the asylum and like maybe Kit learned origami to probs keep himself sane. But also like he made little presents for the reader like paper hearts, sweet secrets messages, PAPER RINGS.

Paper Rings

note: a person after my lil taylor swift heart 🥺

warnings: just like fluff, kinda mentions of sadness/abuse bc asylum ofc

+++

Kit's POV

My neck ached. After hours of being hunched over on my bed, my shoulders cramped and my head felt heavy.

It was for a noble cause, though. I sat, cross-legged, folding a piece of paper desperately. An attempt at a present that was all too important. It was quite possibly the only thing keeping me sane anymore.

See, when I was thrown into this place, I never thought I'd find a purpose in life again. My determination to escape dwindled by the day and I feared it would never come back. They were making me weak. Complacent. Altogether incapacitated.

In my spare time before the asylum, I wrote. I liked to keep a journal. I wrote down my thoughts. Sometimes I'd draw funny pictures for Alma. It was calming to me. At Briarcliff, though, writing was banned. Fountain pens and pencils were considered weapons. In a place like that, it could turn bad. So I had to find something different to occupy my time.

After receiving my pills one morning, I kept the small paper cup they were handed to me in. I folded it into a little triangle while sitting idly in the common room. I folded the corners down, and it kinda looked like a penguin. I chuckled softly to myself before an orderly came and stripped the paper out of my hands.

It became a daily routine after that. I would take my cup and stash it for later. Hide it in the waistband of my pants. I started shoving them in my pillowcase, or in cracks in the walls. When I'd lay in bed at night, unable to sleep, I would grab out one of the cups and begin to manipulate it into different shapes.

When Y/N got admitted, I was amazed to find that my mind felt clearer, and more and more reasons to try to get out made themselves apparent to me. She was light. Her soft skin, the way her hair bounced as she walked, and the glint in her eyes, all made me fall for her. She was a total doll. A marvel.

I watched her from across the common room. She tied her hair up messily as she looked down at the chess board before her, engrossed in thought. Strands of hair fell into her face and her brow furrowed. Her perfect soft lips pursed in concentration. I wanted to attack her and take her right there on that table.

Always the gentleman, though, I formally began a friendship with her. Over the weeks following, we found that we had more in common than I expected. She gave me a reason to want to live.

I fell in love with her quickly and wholly. I kissed her for the first time in a tucked-away supply closet in the women's wing. I was alive.

My nightly routine gained a new meaning. Every scrap of paper I collected went toward daily gifts for Y/N. She loved birds. She would always talk about she wished she could hear the birds sing outside again. So I figured out how to make all kinds of birds.

This present was different, though. Very different. I was very focused on the daintiest little project. One that was more important to me than anything I'd ever done up to that point. Finally satisfied with my handiwork, I tucked it into my pillow and curled up for a restless night's sleep.

+

The next morning, I rose with a start at the wake-up call. I couldn't bear to wait until common room time to see Y/N. Nevertheless, I persevered. The passing hours moved so slowly. But at long last, it was time to see Y/N.

She moved with such grace and beauty into the room. Her head was held high, eyes searching for me. I couldn't help but crack a smile when we finally met eyes. She made such a bleak place fill with air.

'Hiya doll,' I smiled, standing to greet her.

'Hi Kit,' she replied brightly. We both flopped down onto the small sofa in front of the window. I took her hand in mine and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. 'Today has been such a drag.'

'I couldn't agree more,' I sighed. 'But, I have somethin' for ya.' Her eyes brightened at my words. I let go of her hand and reached for my left pocket. I stopped before taking out my newest craft.

'Another bird?' she laughed, looking expectantly at my hands.

'No, beautiful. This is somethin' a little different. I gotta tell ya something first, though,' I explained. I removed my fingers from my pocket and placed them in my lap.

'Oh? What's that?' she asked, smile fading slightly.

'I know we haven't known each other for long, but Y/N, you mean the world to me,' I began. 'I'm not very good with my words, so. you'll have to bear with me.' I chuckled softly, putting my head down suddenly embarrassed by my feelings. 'I'll just come right out and say it. I think I love you, Y/N. I hadn't known the type of peace you give me until I met you, a-and I wanna show ya how much I mean this.'

My hand fumbled into my pocket and fished out a paper ring, perfectly smooth and thick enough to last.

'Oh, Kit,' she breathed.

'I wanna give ya this because I can't give ya anything more right now. But know it's a promise from me. When we get outta this place, I'm gonna buy you a real one a'these. A beautiful gold one. I love you,' I gushed.

'I love you too, Kit,' she smiled, tears forming in her eyes.

'I know it-it's kinda stupid but,'

'No Kit, it's the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you,' she assured me. I slipped the paper ring onto her ring finger and it fit perfectly. I sighed inwardly in relief.

'Paper or gold, whatever it's made of, just know that it's a promise to you that I am for you. I love you. And we will get out of this place,' I continued.

And I meant every word.

+++

GOD I think this sucks I'm so sorry haha. Love y'all hope you're doing well and are safe and happy.

[curator-on-ao3]

for the director's cut thing, i would LOVE to hear you talk about the light before dawn! (sorry if you've already done it lol) it's one of my absolute all time favourite pikeuna fics <3

Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! Thank you so much, @belannaswlonkderfulworm!! ❤️ That’s so kind of you and deeply meaningful for me. 🥹

To explain: The Light Before Dawn lives in my heart. I started writing that multi-chap during Strange New Worlds’ first season and I think about it often with so much affection. I know fandom wisdom is people don’t like modern AUs, but I wanted to write it anyway. Something about that story just needed to be told.

I began by trying to figure out Una’s secret. I would have liked to have made her in the United States illegally, but then marriage could fix her problem and I didn’t want that pressure on her and Chris’ relationship. I also considered making Una trans, but I don’t feel qualified to write that experience. There was the option of making her a religious or ethnic minority, but then she would hopefully have a community and not be so alone. The idea of genetic engineering correlating to medical device implantation and ableism finally hit me and really resonated.

For Chris, my first idea was that he could be an equine therapist. But that didn’t work out geographically and, once I figured out Una’s secret, I also decided I didn’t want Chris in any kind of medical profession. (That’s why Joseph and Christine are barely in the story.) Making Chris a modern-day peacemaker seemed right.

Once I had the facts straight, the story had one rule — nothing bad could happen during the course of the narrative. This would be a story about emotional recovery from trauma. Even misunderstandings (like the one Una and La’an had) would be in the service of recovery. I feel like that came through, in part because one of the story bookmarks has the note “comfort in words.” I’ll tell you right now that there are times when I’ve had a shitty day, I look at or think about that bookmark and it helps me feel better that my words were able to comfort someone.

All that being said, there was so much I wanted to fit into that story and couldn’t:

I had this idea in my head that when Chris and Vina got divorced, Chris wore brown loafers with tassels to Family Court because he knew Vina hated those shoes … and he felt guilty at doing something so petty, but also free from trying to please her. As Chris made his way down the front steps of the court after the divorce was finalized, he nearly danced on the concrete with the shoes his wife — ex-wife — hated.

Speaking of Vina … there are songs on my fic playlist for Vina, a character who doesn’t even appear except for Chris mentioning her. But I have so many thoughts about Vina’s frustration with Chris, her pain at him pulling away from a life she thought was good. Vina, a financial planner, helps money make more money. She shops at chic stores and pays too much for haircuts. She moved to SoHo after the divorce and doesn’t really enjoy sex with her dates but does it to reassure herself that she’s “normal” and “fun” and “cool” because all of that is so desperately important to her. I hope she snaps out of her need to impress others, I really do, because Vina’s life could be better if she just lived it for herself.

I considered including that in the mornings when Chris’ light didn’t go on that he was at Judge Batel’s place feeling like absolute garbage. But then who discriminated against Una and cost Una her dream? It got too messy so I just left Batel out and I’m glad I did.

I was going to have the kitchen renovation company belong to Hemmer but when the show killed him, I nixed that.

At the last minute, I edited out a part where Una told Chris that when she was little and her parents would drive past the garbage dump, she would get scared they would drop her off there and leave her. But that was just too sad, even in the past.

In the universe of the story, Rukiya 100% lives to be an adult. There is no cygnokemia in New York City. After they read and run around at the park, Joseph and Rukiya go home to Debra and the family plays board games until it’s time for dinner.

In terms of good stuff, I’m really pleased with some of the details in that story — Una’s nail polish bottles, Chris’ Eagle Scout award (the highest award in Boy Scouts), those two discussing leaky scaffolding (a relatable New York City experience), the reveal of what happened to Gabriel Lorca. Also, I know I’m biased, but when Una set the stars at the planetarium to Mojave, California, so she could see what the sky looked like for Chris when he was a child at night, I think that’s so goddamn romantic of her.

I’m less pleased with my decision to have Una’s quick conversation in the mail room be with a nameless neighbor. My original thought was the neighbor could be any one of the Discovery women — Kat Cornwell, Michael Burnham, Phillipa Georgiou, etc. Meh. Then I wrote and deleted a whole section that made clear the neighbor was Christine Chapel. Maybe I should have kept that and removed the fleeting Chapel reference later. I’m not sure.

I stand by the Spirk joke at the end, though.

I also stand by Una not being a model patient. She’s mostly good about things, but she doesn’t always carry her card with her … just like a real person. And I am gleeful that Eagle Scout Mr. Moral Compass Christopher Pike uses the work printer for personal documents because, come on, we all do it.

Oof, I could keep talking about this story but I should stop. Thank you for this absolutely lovely opportunity, @belannaswlonkderfulworm, I’ve enjoyed every second of babbling about my beloved The Light Before Dawn. ❤️

Want more information about a fic I wrote? Send me an ask.

[solomons-finest-rum]

Can i have a blurb about a wife!reader x Alfie Solomons where she absolutely loves it when he speaks russian? She just finde it really attractive even though she can't speak it herself and has no idea what he's saying. I'd love it to be fluffy.

"Best Kept Secret" — (Alfie Solomons x fem!Reader)

SUMMARY — Before your dear husband went full-on stupid and you two settled in Margate, Alfie kept telling you that one day you would leave him, as you should have long ago. Truth be told, if you had to live one day without him, you’d rather ask Tommy Shelby to off you, too.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — Hi Nonnie, thank you so much for this request! I hope you like it and if you do, I would really appreciate feedback or a reblog, that would just make my day! ❤️❤️❤️

WORD COUNT — 960

Masterlist

There was a certain duality to your husband. This much was obvious since the day you met.

On the one hand, he was the big bad wolf of Camden Town; the madman among the gangsters, who always stayed two steps ahead of the game and never let on what exactly he was planning next.

On the other, Alfie was a charmer. He talked and people listened; even if, more often than not, his speech was truly intended to charm snakes, rather than people.

But that particular front of a snake charmer was actually how you met, and the reason why Alfie fell for you so fast and so hard was that you never believed in the bullshit. He could have told you the most mundane story, in his most solemn voice, but one twitch in the corner of his lips; one tiny glint in his eye, and you would have known he was lying. Somehow you saw right through him.

When Alfie finally “retired”, or rather used Tommy Shelby as his proxy to retire, you came to realise there was yet another side to your husband that you previously only ever saw a glimpse of. Now that he was “dead”, Alfie let himself be different around you. Not a bad sort of different, though not the expected kind either.

All of a sudden, Alfie started to really share things with you, and how it really felt was that he was finally willing to share himself. Even if you thought he was spreading himself pretty thin between you and his demons.

Those still lurked in there somewhere; creeping up on him whenever you weren’t close enough to keep his mind off of things. That was your specialty, Alfie always said so. To him, your presence was pure magic.

“Yeah, you keep them at bay ‘cause they’re scare of ya, luv. Nah, don’t give me those looks, alright, you’re lookin’ at me like I’m one of them.”

Him and his jokes would honestly be the death of you… Sometimes he asked you whatever ungodly force pushed you to marry him, to which you always said:

“Obviously your stunning looks.”

Which, of course, left him much grumpier than before, and wasn’t that what wives were really for?

He didn’t have to know that you really considered him the most handsome man you have ever met; you really didn’t need him any prouder than he already was.

Before your dear husband went full-on stupid and you two settled in Margate, Alfie kept telling you that one day you would leave him, as you should have long ago, and finally live the calm and happy life he thought you deserved. Truth be told, if you had to live one day without him, you’d rather ask Tommy Shelby to off you, too.

(Alfie did not like that particular repartee one little bit and so you got your way. He stopped suggesting you leave him and somehow that still worked out in his favour—you showered him with affection; even if he said he didn’t really deserve it.)

(Personally, he really didn’t deserve you either.)

Among the things Alfie was now willing to share with you were the tiniest possible glimpses of his childhood. Which was still better than nothing, as before he barely even spoke about it at all. He also revealed how many sisters he had (two) and how many languages he really spoke (six; though the original answer when you first asked him was forty-one).

One thing you never expected was just how different your husband sounded when he spoke to you in his many languages. Yiddish, he often used; usually it meant he was trying to hide something from you. Italian—when he tried to show off and convince you it was really Latin. English, of course, was Alfie’s weapon of choice; stealthy and flexible, really a putty for his oh so capable tongue.

Russian, on the other hand, used to be a rare occurrence in your house, but something that would happen more and more after you two retired to Margate.

“And how’s my favourite witch doing today?” was a thing Alfie often asked you in Russian; though you learned that witches had many more meanings in Russian than the one you came to associate with them in English.

That was the thing Alfie liked to say anyway—that you bewitched him. You put a spell on him when your eyes met for the very first time, of that he was certain. You wouldn’t mind if that was true, of course, but you never thought of yourself as much of a seductress. Alfie did, though. It was something you loved about him the most; he had a way of looking at things from an entirely mad perspective.

In fact, you also realised that was one of the reasons that Alfie liked Russian so much—the duality of it left more to the imagination. It suited his character, though when you asked him before why he never really used Russian much, he always dismissed you.

Until he hadn’t, and you learned the painful story behind it. You stopped asking him then. Even with your husband’s affinity for spinning outrageous tales, some things about his past he still preferred to be left unsaid. So you kept your own endearment a secret. Personally, you found the language beautiful, soft even, and the way Alfie sometimes spoke to you in Russian really sounded like affection to your ears. You decided then that, all in all, every marriage had its secrets. Yours at least was entirely harmless…

Aside from your husband being the most dangerous gangster in London. But that would be the story for another time; another day. For now, you had each other and you would always have Margate.

[ofallthingsnasty]

This is highly unlikely to happen BUT imagine the show Wife Swap (old american reality show from the early 2000s). I never saw a single episode and don’t intend to but the premise is simple (and really weird lmao): two wives from vastly different families swap households for a while. Shenanigans ensue.

Anyways, there is not a chance in hell Crocodile would let his basement wife anywhere near Doflamingo, but imagine some devil fruit fuckery swaps basement wife and the family pet temporarily. Everyone, except for Doflamingo maybe, will be having a really hard time until wife and pet can be located and brought back to their proper places

Oh, anon if only you knew - the German version was a huge part of my tween years, mainly because of one specific meme that came out of it (Frauentausch-Andreas)💀 The thought is so fucking funny, though. Idk what it is about dark content with a crack-treated-seriously twist, but it makes me laugh.

tw. crack treated seriously, noncon (only for Doffy), basement wife is fat + fem, family pet is gn as always

Oh my god, call that basement wife's terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. You thought your cartoonishly evil pseudo-husband was bad? Hah, you know absolutely nothing, you stupid little thing. When Doflamingo scrapes you out of the crate instead of his little bipedal dog, he's confused - but he can put two and two together, and quickly at that. Obviously, you're not some assassin (really, what kind of strategy is that? Killing one of his family, making the body disapear and then wait for him to appear? Hilariously bad, honestly), not some spy and you really, really aren't the one who's supposed to sit in that cage. And when you start crying the moment he asks you what the hell you're doing here, he knows this isn't intentional. At all. Another once-over, a look at your weird little outfit, at the clunky stone on your hand and it clicks - he only knows one man with a similar taste in clothing and jewelry. Would you look at that, it's Crocodile's well-kept (and apparently not-so-little) secret. Reality can be stranger than fiction, huh? He's real nice after that epiphany. Too nice. Sits you down with a cup of tea like you're old friends, seats himself across from you, legs perched on the table while he smiles. Chats. Laughs. Acts overly familiar. It's bizarre to witness - but he's trying to glean what exactly you, the little teary-eyed butterball you are, offer Crocodile over him. Really, he's a little hurt: you're drab and soggy and soft in more ways than one, you cower and snivel in front of him like some beaten dog. The only fact that saves you from being mind-numbingly boring is that you're immensely valuable to Crocodile - and it makes ideas pop up in his head. He really likes the way you're stunned into silence when he suddenly uses his powers to immobilize you, right as you're in the middle of talking. And he gets why Crocodile keeps you around when you're bent over the table and he fucks you until you're just a sobbing mess. It's at least a little different from his usual endeavours and he takes his sweet time with you, leaves some evidence for the other man to discover later on. Once the mix-up is solved, Doflamingo hands you back dressed entirely in pink and with a thousand yard stare in your eyes. Will ask Crocodile about you every time he sees him from then on, a shit-eating grin on his face while the other almost loses it.

On the other hand, family pet does pretty well, considering the circumstances. I'd even argue it's the best you've been in years - because someone is treating you like an actual person, for once. Even if they aren't being kind. Crocodile is wary, of course - every single member of Doflamingo's posse is not to be taken lightly - but he also knows you. The fucking bird dragged you into official meetings enough for you to be a familiar face to him. He's furious, seething, beyond angry - but it's not necessarily directed at you. Doflamingo has to be behind all of this, he's sure of it, and you're just the collateral. (Admittedly, weird collateral, as you're the apple of Doflamingo's eye, always kept on his arm, cooed at, just treated like some ghoulish human pet, but who knows how the bird works? He sure as hell doesn't.) He'll probaby try to squeeze some information out of you (and when that doesn't help, he'll just plop you into a seastone cage and try to solve the mystery on his own. Yeah, he almost killed you minutes before - but then again, maybe you're worth something? He can always get rid of you later, maybe you do still have some value... He's feeling a lot of emotions, give him a minute.) Really, it's not that bad. You've been through worse. When everything is cleared up, I think he'd even let you take a bath and feed you a proper meal (on a plate!! A plate! Not a bowl!) before he'll trade you back in for his weirdly apathetic looking wife...