#still fighting for my life out here in the motivation mines

[hisunshiine]

—college nights, diner fights | jjk

pairing: waiter!jungkook x waitress!reader au/genre: diner au, e2l, angst, smut, fluff rating: M wc: 9,664 warnings: POV switches (obvious, tho) mentions of domestic abuse and alluded infidelity (parents not pairing), JK's mom has terrible boyfriends and his dad is a petty "Disney" dad, Reader's parents are better but not around often, mentions of Jungkook having to protect his mom from the bad boyfriends, mean teachers, enemiesssssss, triggering middle school memories can be brought up upon reading the banter of middle school JK and reader LOL but also not LOL, swearing, vulgar statements, forced proximity, secret mutual pining, a drunken physical altercation/assault at work (mild), mentions of blood, minor cuts/scrapes, kissing, tattoo tracing SMUT warnings: oral (f receiving), praise an: shoutout to my beta readers @colormepurplex2 @downbad4yoongi @mrsparkjimin18 @peachiilovesot7 for helping me get this thing done in time despite me being on vacation and dragging my feet! thank you all so much for the motivation, for brainstorming, and just all around positive feedback! summary: If you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen! You and Jungkook have been enemies for as long as you can remember—elementary school even—and when Seokjin hires him despite knowing this, you have to call a truce during working hours. When an incident at work leads Jungkook, and you, to put things into a different perspective, will the heated diner fights become a passionate college night? Or will it fizzle before it can start?

Bangtanstrology Writing Event hosted by ME of @bangtanwritershq

My Big 3 are: Sun (Member): Gemini- Jungkook, Moon (How They Met): Scorpio- Late Night Diner, Rising (Trope): Libra- Enemies to Lovers

Part 1: Elementary School

Elementary school is supposed to be fun. For you, 11 years old and in the fifth grade, elementary school is perhaps the best time of your life so far. Your dad signed up for career day, and you are excited beyond measure for him to come in and meet with your class to talk about his job.

It’s rare that you get to spend time with your dad, as his job keeps him pretty busy. The fact that he was able to show up today was a miracle in and of itself, but he negotiated presenting first so that he could leave first to get to work. 

“Everyone, please welcome our first parent speaker, Mr. Cha.”

Your classmates applaud as your dad steps forward to the podium in the front center of the classroom and you beam from ear to ear. He looks all spiffy—hair styled well, suit pressed, and shoes shined. 

“Good morning, boys and girls, I am Mr. Cha, and I am here to speak to you about my career. To be honest, I have two jobs,” he pauses as the kids, including you, look at him in both awe and confusion, “I am the father to that little girl right there,” he points to you and you giggle. “That is a full time job all on its own, but for the other time spent working, I am a plastic surgeon.”

You can’t help the pride you feel from your classmates clapping as your dad shares. He talks about the schooling needed to get to his position, shares study tips for the transition to middle and high school, which—while still some time away—will be good to begin practicing even now. 

“You’re so handsome, Mr. Cha! Have you ever had any work done yourself?” one of the students asks during the question time.

“Ah, great question! I have tried some of the treatments that we offer at my clinic, because if I don’t believe in it, why should others have faith in me and the services I offer?” he explains. “I had a colleague of mine fix my deviated nose bridge, which I injured playing basketball in college, and I maintain my skin with various anti-aging treatments as well. It’s important to start taking care of your skin even at this age! Princess, come help me please.” Your dad gestures to you, and you rise from the chair, only a little embarrassed at him using your nickname. “Help me pass these out to your classmates.”

You begin walking around the room, placing the small cardstock printouts on each of your classmates’ desks as your dad continues speaking.

“These are coupons for my office. You can give these to a family member, or if your parents will allow you to come in, we offer a free consultation to check your skin, and a reduced rate for any skin care products or procedures for any of my princess’s classmates and their family.” He wraps up his presentation there, pulling you into him for a side hug as he smiles at your classmates and the other parents waiting in the wings to present. “Thank you for letting me present, I’ve got to run because I have a rhinoplasty scheduled today, and I need to prepare, but I had a lot of fun talking with you all today!” As your dad kisses your forehead, he whispers a quick goodbye as he leaves your classroom. You’ve never felt so proud.

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“Okay, everyone, let’s line up for P.E.,” Ms. Kim directs, and you jump in line with your peers to walk down to the field. Your classroom teacher disappears for his break as Ms. Kim takes over, and thus ensues a battle between your class as you play ‘Capture the Flag’. 

“The rules are simple,” Ms. Kim explains, “a ball is placed on each side of the field in that box.” She points at the four cones creating a safe zone with a kickball inside of it. “Once the game begins, players have to cross the midline into ‘enemy’ territory to try and capture the ball and bring it back to their side. The other team has to stop you from stealing the ball by pulling the flags to remove your waistband—no tackling! Understand?”

“Yes, Ms. Kim!” 

“Good. If your belt is pulled off, you stand off to the side at the cone here, okay? That’s the jail. To rescue your teammates from jail, you have to high five them. You must return to your side before attempting to go after the ball again. Once a player enters the box, they are safe, but they cannot stay in there forever…” 

You tune out Ms. Kim because you already know how to play, and instead busy yourself with wrapping the tan belt around your waist, adjusting the position of the three blue flags hanging from it. The red team moves to their side of the midline, and you stretch your legs idly as you wait for the teacher to blow her whistle. 

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Huffing, you pout as you walk to the jail cone, re-attaching the waistband that your classmate pulled off. He’s put you in jail several times now, almost as if he’s targeting only you during the game. It’s getting a little irritating, since Jeon Jungkook is the fastest boy in the fifth grade, but he’s spending all of his time chasing you instead of helping his team win. Even now, he’s guarding the jail so your best friend can’t come to save you again.

“Dang, JK, you pulled her flag again?” Kim Taehyung snickers loudly as he jogs over to where you’re held captive.

“Can’t let the princess get everything, now can we?” he taunts, a sarcastic tone to his words.

Kim Taehyung, unable to whisper to save his life, leans into Jungkook and asks, “Do you think her dad worked on her face? No way she’s that pretty on her own.”

Your feelings are split between irritated and pleased at the backhanded compliment. 

“She’s not that pretty, it looks more like her dad messed up her face, ‘cause she’s so ugly,” Jungkook counters, and it’s hard to decipher if his cheeks are red from playing or from talking about your looks.

“But, you said last week that she was—”

Ms. Kim’s whistle blows to end the game, and you miss the end of Taehyung’s statement. Walking away from the two fools, you barely get a foot outside of the jail zone when a sharp tug at your waist stops you in your tracks. You look down and see your belt missing, and hear a soft thud a few moments later as it hits the grass in the opposite direction several yards away.

Taehyung is laughing, his large boxy grin behind his hand as Jungkook smirks at you. 

“You lost.”

The two then take off towards where your teacher is collecting the game belts, leaving you to backtrack to get yours.

“What took you so long? Everyone else has already returned to the building. Taking your time  to head back to class is not good sportsmanship.”

“But, Jungkook—”

“No excuses. Hurry up and get inside.”

Jogging back to the building, you get another scolding when you reach the classroom, with your teacher telling you that just because your dad is a surgeon and came for Career Day does not mean you get to behave this way. From the corner of your eye, you watch as Jungkook eats up every second of the scolding, seeming to enjoy the way you wilt as it continues. As you walk back to your seat, you don’t see Jungkook stick out his foot, and you trip loudly as the desks and chairs nearest you clatter and clang as you try to regain your footing.

As the boys snicker at your forced clumsiness, you vow to yourself that Jeon Jungkook is the worst person to exist, and you will hate him for as long as you live. 

Part 2: Middle School

Jungkook’s had a hard week. Chuseok just ended, and he had to spend it with his dad’s family instead of with his mom this year, per their divorce agreement. He’s partially thankful because it allowed him a moment to rest. His hypervigilance with his mom’s new boyfriend is tiring, and his grades are suffering for it. But Jungkook is tired of these men sniffing around for a piece of the ‘supposed’ alimony his mom receives from his dad, because everyone was aware when the CEO of Jeon Industries divorced his wife and married his secretary. Jungkook begged to switch schools, but his parents refused, despite it being reported on several news outlets for a month in sixth grade. 

Eighth grade hasn’t been so bad for him though, no one talks about the divorce anymore, and Jungkook is able to be just Jungkook, known for his athletic abilities and gaming. He was able to guilt his dad into a new gaming computer, since he forgot to take him back to school shopping, and Jungkook is able to help his mom pay the bills each month with the earnings he makes betting on Overwatch. 

So when he returns back home, tired of hearing tales and seeing pictures of the trip to Cancun with the new baby that conveniently interrupted the planned shopping trip, to see his bed holding a Nike box with the shoes Jungkook begged his mom to get at the start of the year, he’s elated. He erupts into shouts and whoops of excitement, running to the kitchen to hug his mom.

“Ouch!” she can’t hide the wince as Jungkook pulls back from the embrace.

“I didn’t even squeeze you that tightly, Mom. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s nothing, you know how clumsy I am, I ran into the dining room table the other night—”

Jungkook doesn’t even think as he reaches for the hem of her shirt, barely lifting it to see an ugly burgundy bruise spreading across her abdomen.

“Mom! Did he do this to you?” Jungkook demands, fury building in his body. 

“N-no, honey, you know how I c-can be,” she stutters through the lie, but they both know the truth. 

“Mom, if he did this because of money, just return the shoes, it’s fine.”

“No. I bought those for you. You deserve them.” His mom is resolute, turning away and adjusting her shirt as she goes back to cooking dinner. “Plus, we broke up. He won’t be back.”

Up in his room, Jungkook readies the shoes for school tomorrow. He has a few nice things, his dad is a CEO after all, but after the divorce, Jungkook chose his mom, and his dad took it personally. His dad didn’t understand, but the choice was clear to Jungkook. His dad had a new wife, but his mom had no one. Jungkook couldn't leave her too. But his dad became spiteful after that, and so Jungkook can’t take most things his dad buys him to his mom’s house, including certain clothes and shoes. 

It’s why he’s so upset about his dad missing back-to-school shopping, because those were usually the only things he was allowed to take to his mom’s, but this year he has nothing new. Not until his mom bought him the Nike Dunks he’s been coveting. Jungkook is happy, proud of his mom for choosing him over the newest boyfriend, and lying in bed, he finally feels like maybe his life isn’t so bad. He hears a knock at the door, and his mom’s tired feet shuffling to answer it.

“Please, Jongyeon-ah, I promise, it won’t happen again.” 

Jungkook rolls over, grabbing his headphones to drown out the sounds of the pleading, good for nothing, weaseling himself back into his mom’s life.

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 “Yo, Jungkook, those dunks are fly!”

Jungkook props his shoes up on the desk next to his in class, showing off the brand-new kicks to Taehyung.

“Yeah, they're limited edition.” Jungkook knows his response is a little douchebag-esque, but he doesn’t care. He’s wanted these shoes for the longest time, and after all of the bullshit he dealt with during Chuseok and now waking up to see that greasy slimeball his mom said she was done with shirtless at the table for breakfast, he just wants to pretend for once that his life is perfect. 

“Take your crusty shoes off my desk,” you scoff. Jungkook ignores you for a few seconds, leaving his feet where he has them propped on your desk. He hates that you called his shoes crusty, knowing that they’re not. They don’t even have a speck of dirt on them! He made sure of that upon his arrival, being overly cautious with each step and wiping away any blemish he perceived to be there.

“Awe, is the princess jealous she doesn’t have the limited edition dunks?” Jungkook can’t pinpoint when this rivalry started, he just knows that for as long as he can remember, the two of you have been enemies. 

“There’s a reason the supply is limited. It’s because they’re ugly and they stopped making them once they realized someone would have to be an idiot to wear them. You sitting here with them just proves this point.” You push his crossed feet off your desk and he lets you, but Jungkook holds you in his glare.

“One day you’ll stop being a hater, drowning in all that Haterade you’ve been drinking,” Jungkook makes a play on words, and his friends ‘ooooh’ and high five at his middle school burn.

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At lunch, Jungkook precariously steps between the seats to avoid damaging his shoes. His shins are starting to hurt from how he’s walking to avoid creasing his sneakers, but it’s worth the pain to him. He’s successfully avoided getting any food on his shoes from the sloppy eaters, and as he makes the last stretch to the door, a loud yell catches him off guard.

“Watch it!”

Nayeon, one of your lackeys, warns everyone as she’s bumped by you and her red sports drink goes flying. Jungkook is stuck between tables, backpacks cluttering the aisle and Nayeon’s body flailing taking up all of the space. It all happens in seconds—a hip check, a flying drink, and the contents now strewn across the floor and Jungkook’s new sneakers and laces now stained a bright red, dripping across the leather and fabric of his brand new, limited edition Nike Dunks. 

“Oh my god, Nayeon, you are so clumsy!”

Jungkook gawps at you, unbelieving, as your annoying voice fills the silence that took over the room only moments before.

“So sorry, Jungkook. Nayeon bumped into me and then she spilled her haterade—I mean Gatorade—all over your new shoes! I hope those weren’t hard to get or anything! I’m sure your CEO daddy can get you a new pair.”

Jungkook storms from the room, seething at your audacity. If you had any idea about his life, would you treat him this way? He wishes you could walk a day in his shoes, maybe you would realize that life outside your perfect, princess bubble is not always sweet, and would think twice before being a bitch to him, but it’s too late for him to change his view of you. You are the devil’s spawn and Jungkook has never hated someone as much as he hates you.

Part 3: High School

Getting into BTS-U should be easy for you, what with your dad being an alumnus, but you don’t want to rely on nepotism. You’ve been working your ass off for good grades all four years of high school, and the final determination of your competency is about to start. Only one student can represent your high school as the Youth of the Year, winning prestige and honor by being granted early admission into any four-year university in the country of their choice without needing CSAT scores. 

The last of the trials, the oral interview, is scheduled for today and as you sit outside the room in the creaky, overly hard chair, your heart pounds. Of course, the final two students competing for this merit would be the two students who despise each other the most in the school, making the competition that much more important to you. 

You cannot lose to fucking Jeon Jungkook.

“We’re ready for you!”

The chipper voice startles you from your thoughts as you steel yourself to go into the final challenge. 

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“Thank you all for your participation in the Youth of the Year program. As you know, the contenders were all very high achieving and will have plenty of options available to you for your future. Do not let not being named deter you from the future awaiting you all. Now, today, we interviewed the two finalists from this wonderful school, and while both were outstanding, one student really opened up and shared a vulnerable side to him that inspired us. He has already begun an incredible journey in his young life, showcasing a will to succeed. Jeon Jungkook, please stand.”

The crowd in the auditorium bursts into applause as you burst into tears. The one good thing about this ceremony is that the finalists do not sit on stage, so in the chaos and celebration, you are able to sneak away to the bathroom. Jeon Jungkook looked so shocked to have been chosen, but you knew that he couldn’t actually be shocked. His mom stood up with him, hugging him with pride, and your parents couldn’t even be bothered to show up for such an important moment. 

You tell yourself it’s not a big deal, that you have done well and will most likely have the same options for college as Jungkook does, but being a Youth of the Year finalist is not the same as being the Youth of the Year. What really hurts you the most is that if the roles were switched, Jungkook’s mom would be there to hug him and tell him he did great and fought hard. If you had been chosen, you still would’ve been alone, but at least the loneliness wouldn’t have hurt as much. 

The judges who interviewed you must think you don’t need the help, that you have everything you could ever want, so why would they choose the spoiled little rich girl? Why would they choose the girl who eats dinner with the maids, who read bedtime stories to herself growing up, the girl who has everything—everything except a family that loves her more than their careers and supports her unfailingly?

Facing the mirror, you reach for your purse and pull out the small makeup pouch so that you can erase any evidence of the sadness you feel today, brimming with the unshed tears of yesterday, and prepare your battle face to go back out there and be cordial as the runner up. Another battle you’ll face alone. 

Part 4: College at BTS-U

“Welcome to Jin’s Diner, have a seat wherever you’d—what the fuck are you doing here?”

The chiming of the door opening caught your ear, so you’d turned to greet the newest customer, except instead of an overly tired trucker or a group of post-clubbing college students, you’re faced with one Jeon Jungkook.

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” he asks, eyebrow pitched and smirk full of snark.

“No, I kiss your father with this mouth. Now get out.” You go back to wiping down the counters, ignoring the stare of your arch-nemesis as you finish cleaning.

“Now, now, Baby Cakes, let your new coworker into the diner so you can finally get the help you've been asking for.”

You turn to the owner’s son, Kim Seokjin, mouth gaping open in confusion. “Coworker? I thought you read through the notes I made on all of the applicants?”

“Yes, I did, and they were very helpful. He’ll be working nights with you, so show him to the back while I grab a lock for his locker and a uniform.”

“Sir—”

“Now, Cakes.”

Seokjin disappears into the hallway towards his office, and you turn back to Jungkook, who’s standing smugly with his arms crossed watching you.

“Ugh, keep up, small fry.” 

Jungkook’s black boots squeak along the freshly mopped floor as he hustles to catch up with you. The doorway behind the counter opens into the kitchen, where the two line cooks, Hoseok and Yoongi, work diligently. Hoseok is sitting next to the recently delivered products with a clipboard in hand as he counts the items, while Yoongi is wiping down his area before the rush begins. You clear your throat loudly to gather their attention.

“We have a new waiter, his name is Jeon Jungkook, but he shall go by Small Fry, I think.” The smile on your face is devilish, and the two men snicker as they take in the newbie rushing in behind you.

“Wait, why am I ‘Small Fry’?” he asks, only a little out of breath from having to round the counter and catch up to you.

“Because everyone who works here gets called a food nickname, helps with the creeps, especially on nights.”

“I’m Suga,” Yoongi greets, “and this here is Hobi-Honey, but we just call him Hobi for short.”

“And I’m Baby Cakes, as you heard bossman say.”

“What’s your real name again, Small Fry?” Yoongi asks, his platinum hair shining in the fluorescent kitchen lights.

“It’s Jungkook,” he answers, emphasizing his name as he glares at you.

“Hmm, Baby Cakes, I think he might be better suited to Cooky…”

“Isn’t that too close to his name?” you argue, hoping to keep Small Fry, but when you see Hobi shake his head, you know you’ve lost.

“Fine, Cooky it is then! Next new hire will be called Small Fry no matter what!” you concede, waving Jungkook to follow you towards the back of the kitchen.

He trails you quietly as you push a swinging wooden door with a circular window in it and lead him into the employee lounge. Seokjin is whistling to himself as you enter, twirling a metal lock around his finger. You look around the room, surprised at how quickly he had everything ready.

“Great, you met Suga and Hobi then?” he asks, nodding at the door you just entered.

“Yes, I figured it would be best to do that first on the way here.”

“So, Jungkook—”

“He’s Cooky,” you interrupt, but Seokjin just shakes your rudeness off.

“—Cooky, this here’s the lounge. The door you just entered is used while you’re on shift for breaks and such. When you arrive for your shift and leave for the night, it should always be through the door behind me.” He gestures to a purple-handled door. “To the left are the employee cubbies, and to the right, we have the laundry station, small kitchenette, and door to the staff bathroom.” 

You nod at the TV mounted on the wall next to the swinging door. “The remote always stays on this table,” you tap the main table in the room that seats six, “and we typically keep the TV on ESPN, MTV, or my personal favorite, HGTV.”

“Thank you, Cakes. Now, your Jin’s Diner gear stays here, we’ll wash it for you after each shift you work.” Seokjin points to a stacked washer and dryer in the corner. “Just throw it in the wash after your shift each night. We’ll put it back in your cubby for you once dry.”

Jungkook nods, but he looks a bit overwhelmed from all of the information. You take the lead and sit down first hoping he’ll follow you. You know Seokjin talks fast and moves through the employee information even faster, and despite not liking Jeon Jungkook, you need the help on your shift since Mochi quit to focus on his last semester.

You grab a permanent marker and white label from the center of the table, tossing it across to Jungkook with a little more force than necessary.

“We each have a cubby, with a small locker inside. Use this to write your name and then claim an empty spot, and you can also write your name on the tags of your uniform.”

Seokjin grabs plastic-wrapped clothing articles from the cabinet next to the laundry station and approaches the table, too, tossing down the new clothing. 

“Your gear. Shirt, apron, and a ballcap. If you want a visor instead, let me know. Black, khaki, or blue jeans, black non-slip shoes, keep the blingy jewelry at home.”

“Dammit, I was planning to choke him with his chain after the first shift.”

Seokjin levels his gaze at you, and you know you’re pushing your limits with him. 

“I’ll have you follow Baby Cakes around to learn the drill for taking orders, but mostly you’ll be bussing tables tonight. I’ll work on the final processing of your paperwork in the meantime. Cakes, come with me while he changes.”

You follow Seokjin out of the lounge and back towards the office. He opens the door and steps back to allow you to enter first, shutting the door behind him as he follows you into the room.

“You need to tone it down. I know you said that you and he have some bad blood, but we need the help and he’s the best applicant we have.”

“It’s deeper than that, Jinnie, he’s literally been tormenting me since elementary school. We work with heavy-duty machinery and cutlery. You might come in one morning to find that one of us has stabbed the other to death.” You push out your bottom lip and give him your best, roundest, watery puppy eyes. “Is that what you really want?”

“What I want is to have a fully staffed evening shift so that my best girl can stop having bags under her eyes and complaining about her feet hurting every shift.” Seokjin smiles teasingly at you. “Plus, you need a good annual review to get a raise, and training new employees looks good to the owner.”

“Your dad is the owner! You can just tell him to give me a raise!”

“I could…but this is so much more fun. Who knows, he’s kinda hot…maybe you find out that the reason he’s picked on you your whole life is because he has a crush on you.”

“That fallacy is just a way for the patriarchy to continue to push abuse acceptance and the ‘boys will be boys’ agenda.” You cross your arms, but overall you know Seokjin is right. You’ve always prided yourself on being able to adapt well to situations, put a fake smile on when you need to deal with rude customers or your parents missing another monumental event in your life. “But fine. At work, it’ll be a ceasefire. That’s about all I can promise you.”

“I thought you said there would be a ceasefire!” Seokjin yells at you from where you sit in his office. Jungkook is seated next to you, slouching in the chair with his head turned away towards the wall. You can see his jaw clenching every few seconds as Seokjin continues berating you. “Instead, I got a call from a family friend that you two were so busy yelling at each other for not doing your jobs that you effectively stopped doing your job!” 

You huff as you roll your eyes, turning away from Jungkook’s severely hot—no—aggravating jawline, (where did that thought even come from?) to respond to Seokjin.

“That’s not even what happened last night! This idiot decided to fuck with the seating and of course, since the big game is tomorrow, we had a lot of people stop in and it was noisy. I was trying to seat the guests who were being louder and rowdier on one side so that our regulars,” you glare at Jungkook, who’s still refusing to look at either you or Seokjin, “could dine in peace, but when I ran to the back to restock the napkins for the bar top, he seated people himself. He’s not the host. He’s still a newbie! It’s been, what? Three, four months?”

“...Four,” Jungkook mumbles, but you ignore it.

“And so then poor Mrs. Hana ended up dealing with the hooligans who disrupted her meal, and yes, it was when I was trying to explain to him how seating works—”

“I know how seating works, it’s not rocket science!”

“So then why would you mess with the flow of the diner and seat them there?!”

“Because you,” Jungkook finally breaks the stoic act and turns to face you abruptly, so much so you almost visibly jump, “kept seating the large groups in your sections, which meant that you were giving yourself the better tips and leaving me with the geriatrics who barely leave anything!”

“Are you serious? You think I was trying to take tips from you? I hate dealing with the sports crowd! I would have gladly traded with you if you had said something to me, but you were too busy ignoring me when I was trying to talk to you about dividing up the floor—”

“—you talk to me like I’m a child, so of course I was ignoring you, you dolt—”

“—really piss me off, you think I would stoop so low, probably because it’s what you would do—”

“Shut up, both of you!” Seokjin’s eyes have a hardness to them you are not used to seeing. He’s usually laid back, but the stress lines on his face speak to an underlying tension you aren’t aware of. “Look,” he takes a deep breath, rubbing his hand over his eyes briefly, “this can’t happen again. Mrs. Hana could’ve broken her hip slipping on the spilled soda, and her son is debating suing us. My dad is obviously handling this situation, but that means your jobs are on the table. If her son demands it in exchange to avoid a lawsuit, I can’t stop it.”

It settles on you at that moment, how severe this is. You know that the little, old lady regular slipped and fell, but both you and Jungkook rushed over to help her up, comping her meal and walking her outside to sit quietly and assess how she was feeling while waiting for her son to arrive. Not only that, but he didn’t seem mad when he picked her up—just worried about if she was in pain and if she needed to go see a doctor. Apparently, after the shock wore off, his anger set in.

“I’m sorry, Seokjin. It won’t happen again.”

“Get to your shift, I’m sure Nam—I mean Porkchop—is ready to go. Remember, Suga will be late today, the championship game is tonight. So no more ignoring the hooligans and Cooky,” Seokjin gives his leveled glare to Jungkook this time, “Baby Cakes is in charge. I know you’re eager to prove yourself, and you’ve done well so far, but she’s worked the aftermath of championship games before.”

Jungkook stares back at Seokjin, a low humming tension filling the room before he answers with a “Yes, sir.” 

The diner is louder than Jungkook’s ever heard before as he goes around clearing tables now that the game is over. His coworker, Yoongi, did amazing from what he saw on the screen. BTS-U wore their white home jerseys with purple and black lettering, so it was easy to see when number 3 hit the game-winning three-pointer. 

Now, as the same white jersey is stepping into the diner, all of the fans cheer and bang their cups and silverware to congratulate the MBC Cup National University Basketball Championship’s MVP for the win tonight. 

Jungkook looks across the dining area, where he sees you kneeling on the countertop clapping your hands above your head. The uniform dress that you chose for tonight has risen higher up your thigh than normal—probably from the way you climbed up onto the counter—giving Jungkook a pretty good view of the skin leading up to what he’s sure are lace panties. He’s walked in on you changing one too many times to not know your preference. 

He can’t look away from you; something about the sheer energy radiating off of you is magnetic, as if you’re lit from within, and before he knows it, he’s moving closer to you. Jungkook knows he can’t stand you personally, but physically? He’ll never admit this aloud—not since Taehyung almost told you the truth back in elementary school— but you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. 

He doesn’t have much time to ponder your looks as you bring two fingers to your lips and let out a loud wolf whistle, setting you off balance with the action. Luckily he’s already been pulled into your orbit, because he catches you with two strong hands on your waist before you can fall off the counter.

“Thanks, Cooky!” you say, eyes alight and voice pleasant, as if you’ve forgotten who Jungkook is to you, and who you are to him. 

“No problem, Baby Cakes.” Jungkook helps you climb down, and when you bend forward to place your palms on the counter to dismount, he sees his hypothesis on your panties is right. His eyes remain on your ass as you extend a leg to the floor, and despite the trouble the two of you got into before your shift, Jungkook can’t seem to care to remember why he shouldn’t be enjoying the view.

“Congrats, Suga!” Jungkook watches as you launch yourself into Yoongi’s arms, giving him a loud smooch on the cheek.

“Thanks, Cakes, that last shot was for you.” He winks, and Jungkook doesn’t understand why he’s feeling so affected, but he wants to blame it on those panties you unknowingly flashed for the irritation he feels toward his friend for flirting with you. She’s your enemy, Kook, get it the fuck together.

Jungkook stalks away, grabbing his bussing bin and rag so he can clean up the table of the group in line to pay.

🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️

“Fuck you and your sorry-ass school!” 

Jungkook turns his head to see you standing feet shoulder-width apart with your arms crossed, looking so much like the evil bitch he’s come to know. Only this time, it’s directed towards an EXO-U fan, by the looks of the silver and black shirt he’s sporting.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

You command the space well, and had the man been sober, he probably would have listened to you when you gave him the polite option to leave on his own two feet. As luck would have it, the man grew more belligerent with each passing moment, causing Jungkook to run and grab Yoongi from the back to help handle the situation. Jungkook doesn’t like what he’s hearing when he returns to the front.

“You dumb cunt, we don’t have to leave! Come over here, baby, suck my cock like you suck their players, bet that’s why they won, huh? Saw you all over their star player earlier, let me get a piece, bitch.”

Jungkook wants to lunge at the man, but Yoongi beats him to the table, effortlessly grabbing the man by his arm and neck to yank him from his booth seat.

Jungkook gets to his other side, helping the man walk towards the double glass doors as Yoongi mutters menacingly at the patron.

“Best not show your face around here again, if you know what’s good for you. Find another place to eat, and we won’t beat your ass.”

Yoongi lets go of the man once they clear the sidewalk into the parking lot, the man’s friends stumble out behind, but Jungkook shoves the man hard, and he falls to the ground. He feels no remorse for the man; he reminds him too much of the creeps his mom dealt with: stench of alcohol on their breath that grew with each vulgar word that rolled out of their mouths, animosity leeching from their greasy skin—Jungkook needs to wash his hands and splash his face. 

Fleeing inside, he bypasses you cleaning up the mess the rowdy table left behind, unable to hear the words you say clearly enough to decipher them. He knows that it’s almost time to close up and he has a few tasks to do to help speed up the process, but he’ll get to them in a minute. He just needs a minute to shake off this feeling, and then he’ll be okay to do the final cleaning for the evening, and find out what you said.

You’ve always hated dealing with the championship game guests, but always loved being with the crowd because of the thrill and your love for the game. The shift wasn’t terrible work-wise, as Jungkook really pulled his weight throughout the shift, allowing you to be in charge as the hostess and main waitress, filling in where you needed and bussing tables as the guests rotated through the double doors.

And you can’t lie, when you almost lost your balance on the counter, it was kind of hot that he was there to catch you, and help you down safely. With his jawline that can cut glass and his warm hands sitting large on your hips, you were a little sad to have them drop away, but you hid your disappointment in congratulating Suga and then moved on with the shift.

Of course, such a perfectly good shift had to end with a douchebag. To your surprise, when you turn to look to Jungkook for help, he’s already approaching with Suga in tow. And damn your worst enemy if he doesn’t do the second hottest thing of the night, vanquishing the drunkard with the sailor’s mouth from your sight, his foul friends trailing behind. 

You clear off the table, the half-eaten food discarded in the trash and you realize that it needs to be taken out now before the last of the tables are done. Jungkook speed walks past you, so you call out to him, “Cooky, take the trash out, please!”

You finish sweeping under the table, then wipe down the booth’s table as Suga also returns inside, pausing to check on you.

“Everything good, Cakes?”

You nod, placing a hand on your hip as you reflect on the incident. “Yeah, he was a real fuck boy, but you and Cooky saved me just in time.”

“Always…I’m surprised Cooky was so worked up when he called me from the kitchen. Usually you two are at each other’s throats, I would’ve thought he’d enjoy seeing you deal with a rude customer.”

“Well, we did get yelled at earlier by Jin for last night, so we promised to work together and drop whatever rivalry we have during working hours. So maybe that’s it.”

“Mmm…maybe. Well, let me go help Hobi, this last wave will keep us later if I don’t.” Yoongi takes a few steps to round the counter, then calls back out to you, “The trash is about to overflow, Cakes!”

Frowning, you notice that Jungkook has yet to return to take out the trash. Glancing around the room, you see most of the tables are in stages of eating or waiting for their food. They all seem well and distracted with clips from the post-game coverage, so you decide to take out the trash yourself. Maybe the truce between you and Jungkook isn’t as intact as you think. 

Grumbling to yourself, you tie off the bag and lift it from the bin, foot angled to keep the wheels from sliding across the floor from the tug. You eye the replacement black bag, but decide to put it in once you return from the dumpster. 

You hate taking out the trash; you love feminism but some tasks are just made for men. You refuse to use the loud trolley with the janky wheel, so you carry the bag gingerly, resting it down every few steps as you make your way across the sparsely lit back parking lot.

“Well, if it isn’t the bitch who didn’t let me finish my meal.”

You snap your head around, eyes roving for the source of the raspy words, finally landing on the douchebag discharged from the diner only 10 minutes ago.

“We didn’t charge you for it, so I suggest you leave before this turns into a real problem.” You keep your eyes on him, watching as he shifts around on his feet, inching closer to you. You hold your stance, refusing to look weak in case he decides you’d make a good target.

“Maybe if you come suck me off like a good girl, I won’t leave a bad review online about how much of a cunt you’re being. Matter of fact, throw in some pussy, let me fuck you properly and I bet all that attitude will drop. You just need someone to tame you.”

The man lunges for your left arm, his meaty fist closing around your wrist and you pull back to break the contact but he’s strong. You yell out, stumbling back away from the trash bag and he follows, heavy footfalls adding to the sounds of the evening. 

“Let go, you freak!”

You jolt your arm, wrenching it in as many directions as you can to try and relax his grip but he pulls you closer to him until you can smell the ethanol on his breath as he places his other hand forcefully on your shoulder. 

“I said I wanted you on your knees, stupid bitch,” he utters, and reflexively you punch him in his dick. He groans and releases you, hunching over in pain. You make out a figure stepping through the service door, and you call out for help. Attempting to step around the man, you only make it a few steps before you feel the weight of the man bearing down on you again.

“You stupid bitch!”

You try to run, but the man has the back of your dress in his grip so instead, your shoes scrape the asphalt in the same place repeatedly. A loud thwack of flesh on flesh sounds right before you’re released, dropping the short distance to the concrete. Your palms and knees feel the sting of the gravel but the relief of being out of the man’s hold overpowers any lingering pain as you scramble to your feet. 

Behind you, Jungkook is pummeling the man in the face, and you pause for a moment in shock before you rush back to him, grabbing his bicep to stop him from swinging again.

“Cooky, stop, I’m okay! Jungkook!”

He freezes, turning to look at you as if to see if your statement is true, and seeing that you’re serious, he appears to deflate a bit, no longer an attacking watchdog but a protective knight, making sure his charge is unscathed.

“Let’s go.” He gestures for your hand and you place yours in his, letting him guide you away from the groaning sack of trash and the garbage bag on the ground.

The fluorescent lights of the break room are blinding after the darkness of outside. Vaguely you hear Jungkook yelling at the others working, followed by the clattering of kitchen items, but you’re so out of sorts you don’t even realize that Jungkook has maneuvered you into a chair and is gently checking your knees, palms, and arms. He brushes off the remaining dirt from your skin.

“Are you hurt anywhere?”

His voice sounds pained, and this pulls you from your thoughts and back to the present with him. 

“Um, I don’t think so.”

“Where all did he touch you? It might not hurt now, but once the adrenaline dies off, you might feel it.”

“Um, my arm, my shoulder, I can’t…I don’t know.”

“It’s okay, let me check your neck…he grabbed your dress and pulled you, so I wanna make sure it won’t bruise.”

He takes your face in his hands delicately, tilting your head to expose your neck to his view. The proximity has your head spinning, his cologne enveloping you as he leans closer, a hand leaving your cheek to allow a finger to trail across your neckline. You know he’s just checking to make sure that there’s no lingering marks, but you don’t think that the after effects of tonight will be anything anyone can see. He grabs a glass of water for you, and you sit quietly while he tends to the minor cuts on your palms from the jagged gravel in the parking lot. 

Time seems to pass as you’re deep in thought, but you’re not sure how much until Seokjin appears, his purple and white painted face replacing the doe eyes and clenched jaw. He looks frazzled, as if he just left an after-party for the championship and was pulled into work. You realize after a moment that that’s actually what happened, and chuckle at yourself. He says your real name, pulling you out of your laughter.

“I’m so sorry this happened, luckily Jungkook was there. I don’t know what I would've done if something happened to you.” Seokjin pulls you into a hug, and you reciprocate, squeezing him tighter as the feeling of being held feels good. He pulls away sooner than you like, but he continues talking to you about what’s been going on since you’ve been sitting in the employee lounge.

“Look, don’t worry about staying and cleaning up tonight, okay? We’ve got everything under control. Hobi called the cops and Yoongi made sure the guy didn’t flee before they came. He’s in their custody now.”

“What about Jungkook?” you ask, uncharacteristically using his given name.

“He’s giving his statement to the police now. They’ll want to talk to you too, but I can put it off for tonight if you need,” Seokjin offers kindly, but you want to get it over with.

“It’s okay, I’ll speak to them now.”

“If you’re sure. I’ll grab one of the detectives now and they can take your statement, and then I’m sending you home. Jungkook will drive you, okay? You’re still a bit shaky.”

You look down at your hands, seeing the tremble Seokjin is referencing and nod. There’s no use in putting up a fight. All of the men you work with have now proven that you’re safe with them. Seokjin walks over to the door, popping his head out to call for an officer, and he paces quietly as you recount what happened, starting with the attacker growing belligerent in the dining area. Once finished, Seokjin grabs Jungkook from where he’s talking with Yoongi outside the door, ushering him to take your belongings and get you home.

You follow along, compliant, waving goodbye to the others as Jungkook pulls off into the main road back towards campus.

“You live by BTS-U, right?”

“Yeah, at Omelas, next to the train tracks.”

Neither of you speak again until he parks, turning off the engine to his jeep.

“Here, let me help you.” Jungkook grabs your backpack and climbs out of the SUV, coming around to the passenger side door to open it for you. You jump out and lead the way to your first -floor apartment. Unlocking the door, you flip on the lights as you toe off your non-slip work shoes.

“My roommate is out of town visiting her parents this weekend.”

Dumping your purse onto the kitchen counter, you walk further into your home, Jungkook trailing you slowly. He kicks off his shoes, socks shuffling quietly along the carpet as he enters your living room after closing and securing the front door lock. He places your backpack on the couch, and the two of you stand there awkwardly.

“Um, do you want some water or something? I have juice, milk, beer…” you trail off, uncertain.

“Water is fine, thanks.”

You grab a glass from the cupboard, filling it with ice water to return the favor from earlier as you bolster your courage to thank him. You hand him the glass and before you can think too hard, you just start speaking.

“Jungkook, I just wanted to thank you, for coming out there and, you know, saving me. I know we don’t get along much, but you really came through and I appreciate it.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen, blinking up at you from where he’s sitting on your couch. He takes a long sip from the glass, and he seems uncertain if he wants to speak but does so anyway.

“It was nothing, really.”

“Why, um, why did you help me, I mean—I’m just saying, oh this is coming out wrong—”

“Look, I’ve had a lot of practice dealing with creeps like him. I’ve had to do it plenty for my mom, and I just don’t like to see anyone getting hurt, not even my arch nemesis.” Jungkook tries to joke it off at the end, but his tone reveals so much more to you about what he’s not saying.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was like that for you back in high school.” You sit down next to him, closer than you normally would with your backpack taking up part of the seat, but you don’t mind it. You feel safer being closer to him.

“I mean, why would you know?” he asks, leaning back into the couch and taking another sip. “You have a perfect family, I’m sure nothing like this happened on the weekly at your place.”

“No, but like, my perfect family isn’t what everyone thinks it is, either. My parents didn’t pay attention to me, always busy working and what not. Honestly career day, back in like fifth grade was the only time one of my parents made it to something, and even then, it was so my dad could advertise his business. I felt so sheltered growing up, like I had no life skills. It’s why I work at the diner.”

Jungkook digests your words, understanding blooming through his chest. 

“I get that. It’s funny, I remember that day so well, I was so jealous of you, because your dad showed up for you. I guess our dads are the same though…I think if I had grown up with my parents still together, I would’ve felt like you do. My dad kind of left me behind when he remarried, you know? In a way, that made me less sheltered, because when I was with my mom, I had to grow up fast. I couldn’t always have the nicest things because she couldn’t always afford them.”

“I didn’t realize that you had to split time between them. One of my friends, Jimin? He told me about how your dad wouldn’t let you take things back and forth between houses.”

“Why did he do that?” Jungkook looks a little scandalized, and you’re sure it’s because Jimin is one of his best friends. He’s the one who recommended that he apply to Jin’s Diner in the first place, and how you knew to warn Jin to not hire Jungkook, not that it worked. “I didn’t know you were close with Jimin!”

“We used to work together…you actually replaced him. It’s why we were hiring in the first place. But, he told me that because he was trying to get me to ease up on you one day. I was complaining about something and he was trying to make you more human, I guess.”

Jungkook just nods. You know he probably realizes there’s no reason to be mad, it was all in the past and Jimin was coming from a good place when he revealed that.

“Well, it’s true. My dad is kind of the worst. My mom saved up to get me some Dunks back in middle school because my dad couldn’t be bothered to take me back to school shopping. As if I didn’t grow a foot and 3 shoe sizes.”

“Oh fuck, you know, I’m sorry for making Nayeon spill her drink on your shoes. That was really evil of me.”

“We were like 13? 14? All middle school girls are evil.” Jungkook chuckles. You’re relieved at how gracious he’s being, but a little annoyed. You turn to him to say as much, but he continues to speak. “Honestly, I don’t even know why we went toe to toe like that. We probably would’ve been best friends if we had combined our smarts. You were really great during the Youth of the Year competition. I’m sorry that you didn’t win, I think you deserved to.”

Jungkook is looking back at you now, with his pretty doe eyes, sitting so close to you. You don’t know what to say so you don’t say anything, instead focusing on his star-filled eyes and the way they’re staring into your own. His arm moves slowly, lifting to bring his hand to your face, curling a tendril of hair behind your ear.

“It’s getting pretty late now, I should get home,” he starts, but his eyes speak volumes and it doesn’t seem like he wants to leave just yet. “But there’s still one more thing I need to apologize for.”

Your eyebrows furrow, confused as to what incident it could be when his lips meet yours in a tender kiss, not too forceful but not shy either—just the right amount to let you know this isn’t a mistake. It takes you a few seconds to respond, but when you sense Jungkook about to move away you pull him in closer, keeping his lips where you can access them. It’s not enough though, so throwing caution to the wind, you straddle him as your tongue swipes for entry, pushing him further into the couch as you lean into his fit body. He groans at your boldness, large hands planted firmly on your ass as the kiss deepens. You feel dangerously high, lacking oxygen, but you can’t stop—you don’t want to stop. He’s intoxicating.

His fingers tighten imperceptibly, and you know he, too, is at the end of his air, so you break apart, chest heaving as you stare at his lips, red and plump from the kiss. 

“That was your…apology for? Or you were…apologizing for…kissing me?” you pant, trying to catch your breath.

“Both?” he says with a cute, bunny-like smile, “one, for hating you all these years, and two, for kissing you out of the blue.”

“And if I want you to apologize to me more?” you half-question, half-goad, and Jungkook gives the right answer, leaning into you once more so he can kiss you hard, teeth nipping at your bottom lip before pulling away.

“That’s something I can do.” Jungkook uses his strength to flip you onto your back on the couch, knocking your backpack out of the way and onto the floor. “Is this okay?” He searches your eyes for your consent to his hands on your thighs, fingertips skimming the hem of your dress. 

You nod, and he trails them higher until he’s grasping the band of your panties and sliding them down without haste. You enjoy the commanding presence he takes on, unlike the people you deal with on a daily at work, indecisive with what to order, he knows exactly what he wants, and when Jungkook pushes up your dress and buries his face between your thighs, it takes everything in you not to climax right then. His tongue flits around your clit, teasing you as his hands massage your thighs while keeping them wide for him. 

“Jungkook,” his name is a breathy whisper in the air as your fingers curl around his locks, tightening your grip when he flicks closer to where you need him. “Please.”

You wiggle your hips, searching for more friction from his tongue but he just pulls away, tutting his tongue at you for being bad. You sit up slightly to glare at him.

“Patience, baby.”

Whining, you lay back on the couch with a huff. “This is why we hated each other bac—oh, fuck me,” you finish with a moan as he flattens his tongue across your pussy and stimulates every nerve he can cover. Wrapping his lips around your clit, he begins to suck, gently flicking his tongue every few seconds as he positions two fingers at your dripping center. Delving inside of you, the plunge of his fingers reaches the ache inside of you, causing your legs to tremble as he fine-tunes your body like an instrument. 

“Feels so good, mmph, fuck,” is all you can manage to say as he continues to pump his fingers, the squelching of your walls suctioning them back in with every tug out only making you wetter. Jungkook hums, and the thrumming sensation curls your toes. Arching your back, you tug his hair hard as you mewl loudly from the impending orgasm.

“You can do it, baby, cum for me,” Jungkook praises, “you’re doing so well, squeezing my fingers so tight, watch me.”

When his mouth once again finds its rhythm on your core, it takes just a few seconds of making eye contact with Jungkook, doe-eyes wide as he watches you enjoy his tongue, before you shiver and melt into the euphoria he’s bringing to your body. 

“That’s it, fuck—you look so pretty, baby.”Body spent, you stare up at the ceiling blinking as you come back to earth. Jungkook tucks himself behind you, holding you in his arms. You look down at the arm over your waist, your fingers lightly tracing the tattoos on his exposed full sleeve. You can feel his bulge, know that there’s so much more…apologizing you both need to do after years of being enemies, but you have all night for that. And in the morning, you don’t know what will happen, if there will be more to come after tonight, but what you do know is that at this moment you don’t hate Jungkook; not even a little bit, not even at all.

🍽️🍽️🍽️

© hisunshiine 2023. All rights reserved. 

thank you for reading!!!

[majimasleftasscheek]

Hihi! Do you have any minedai headcanons? (Idk how to write aAAAAA)

hmmm I had to give this a good think cuz I normally don't obsess about them too much (compared to a certain other pair lmao) but here's what I got 👀

*note! gonna be a mix of silly and more realistic ideas. my interpretation of minedai is pretty unserious

Daigo

genuinely enjoys mine's company, as uptight and neurotic it may be. because daigo was given the chairman position, a lot of people don't respect him other than mine so it's nice to hang out with someone who, despite being overly respectful, is kind to him. he feels a lot at ease with mine, able to be more himself n all that. it's not much but it means a lot to daigo

that said, he totally goes out in his casual clothes when able and is still very goth coded. Mine makes intense but silent notes about every little thing in those outfits and thinks it's very cute when there's little details like tiny skulls n things

likes to do go out spontaneously when he can and takes mine along. mine thinks something like that is way too dangerous for a chairman to be doing but daigo confides that he's not worried if mine is with him (with an ulterior motive to loosen the giant stick up mine's ass to get him to live a little). cue mine choking on his heart

I like the idea of daigo being oblivious to mine's obsessive behavior to an extent. he becomes so used to mine's quirks that he writes it off as oh he's just like that lol. but he's not wholly dumb to it. he'll be lowkey flirty and that's when mine's questions daigo's actions like "why is daigo smiling at me? is he sick? I should call an ambulance..."

genuinely has zero idea what type of things mine likes. tho daigo grew up in a bougie type of life and mine currently lives it, he can assume things like fine arts and fancy shit tho personally he removed himself from that sort of thing as he got older (to avoid being anything even close to his dad lol). comparatively, daigo lives more modestly so gift giving is up to guessing but mine accepts literally anything from him and frankly refuses to give him hints as not to place expectations accidentally

likes to spar with mine and was surprised to see that daigo was decently capable of protecting himself and finds his informal style of fighting very charming. he's seen daigo fight before, but it's a bit of a different intensity when it's just to two of them trying their hardest to impress

has a network of friends/allies like kiryu, kashiwagi, etc that mine keeps a closer than needed eye on. daigo does get frustrated that he has to explain he trusts these people wholly and it's often a point of contention between them

very much likes slow days when they can just chill with each other, however that may be. cuddling is prime even if mine gets mad hot and sweaty so daigo keeps a full body towel handy. it's not unusual for daigo to go out of his way to prod mine for reactions as it's the highlight of his day

Mine

definitely has a shrine dedicated to daigo. for funnies: has weird shit like used napkins, articles of hair, etc just funky stuff someone wildin' would keep. realistically I think he'd be a lil more modest - having photos and baubles, typical normie shrine shit

absolutely has a folder on his phone/computer of "selfies" with him and daigo. most of them are just regular photos you'd find in like newspapers, half of them are blurry as hell, and there's a few he's taken himself but poorly done because he did it under a table or something. and of course there's many photos of just daigo, doing all assortment of things from working hard to hardly working

he's caught by daigo occasionally but mine attributes his behavior to "trying to find better phone signal" as he aims it coincidentally at daigo's spikey heeled boots. even when they're together together, he still does this on the sly

insists on paying for everything whenever they're out but with enough convincing, he'll back down and internally melts when daigo tells him he's just happy to have his company. has a habit tho of "making up" for what he didn't pay for such as ordering lunches n things before daigo can refuse

obvs very violently protective of daigo tho avoids being so in front of him as much as possible. it's very common for someone who's spoken ill of daigo to get their ass beat or thrown into the Tokyo Bay some days later. has a network of people dedicated solely to routing out daigo haters

is often confided to by daigo about the stresses of running the clan and it takes a lot out of mine for him to not be cold and calculating with an answer. has had to learn sometimes people just want someone to listen

at first, mine thought such confiding was some limp dick shit but over time realized that daigo never wanted anything out of such confessions which is unexpected. to have someone be so trusting and vulnerable with him is incredibly valuable

would have "sounds of daigo talking about stuff" recorded and sleeps to it every night. be assured clips of daigo sneezing are in there too

if he was in dead souls, he would be going turbo murder throughout the city just to dent the population of zombies that could even potentially get a whiff of daigo's darkness allure™ cologne. if infected, I imagine he'd have the will to remain loyal cuz the power of simp compels him

[luimnigh]

Okay, I wanna pitch a Marvel movie.

Now, this is a Marvel movie that will absolutely never get made. They would not allow this. So here's my pitch:

We open on a heist. A group of absolutely Z-list, one-paragraph-on-the-marvel-wiki, single-digit-appearance-count supervillains robbing a secure facility. The villain that hired them narrates the plan as we watch, and while it doesn't go off without a hitch, some of the more bloodthirsty villains cause some unecessary bloodshed, it succeeds.

Our villain protagonists leave the scene in a van, loot inside, and drive off into the countryside to a rural, isolated house in the forest to lay low for a couple days. Everyone's celebrating their success, they're drinking, there's some drugs, a few people sneak off for sex. This is the point where we get to know the personalities of our villains, some are assholes, some are complete monsters, and there's a few people who are pretty decent and are really only in supervillainy because life dealt them a shit hand. We can see factions dividing our group of villains.

Their boss finally arrives separately, sporting some more villains as muscle, and the conversation turns back to business: the division of the loot.

And then someone finds a body outside.

One of the villains has been murdered. Everyone is immediately suspicious of everyone else, accusations are thrown, motives speculated, tensions get higher and higher, weapons get drawn-

A shot rings out. Everyone either opens fire or runs. One or two villains die in the crossfire, others are injured, this goes on until one of the more sympathetic villains calls for a ceasefire.

They're in the middle of trying to talk everyone down when they hear a car engine start, and one of the villains who ran from the fight bursts out of the garage in the getaway van-

With the loot still inside.

A few of the villains fire shots at it, but are soon stopped- they could destroy the loot. The boss explains as the van drives down the road that with his resources, tracking the villain that's double-crossed them would be easy as-

And then the van explodes in the background.

As our main party of villains makes their way to the burning wreckage, flaming dollar bills falling around them, they speculate on who the hell boobytrapped the getaway van-

But are interrupted by a click.

One of our villains looks down to see that nobody boobytrapped the van. Someone landmined the road.

Thankfully, one of our villains is a techie, and after a few tension-filled minutes, they disarm the mine. The villain who stepped on the mine is thankful, and the techie explains that they should be able to clear the road soon enough, right before their head explodes in a shower of gore.

If the landmines hadn't made it clear enough, that certainly sealed the deal: this wasn't a double cross, this wasn't an ordinary murder.

They're being hunted.

This is a slasher movie.

The film continues on, the villains getting picked off one at a time in creative and gruesome ways, some even having their tech stolen and used to kill other villains. But throughout, we never catch a glimpse of the killer.

Right up to the end of start of the final act. By this stage, you've started to root for our supervillains to overcome this. There's a few assholes left you wouldn't mind seeing die before the final curtain, but the killer's will have lost sympathy by this stage, having killed some of the more likable villains. We wanna see them pay for that.

And just as the killer is stabbing one of those likable villains to death, our surving villains, and the audience, finally catch sight of the predator that's been stalking them through the night.

A man dressed all in black... except for big white skull painted on his chest.

And suddenly there's no guarantee that any of the villains you've come to like are walking away alive.

[sleepiexx]

Pillow Talk

Carlos Oliveira x fem!Reader

Note: so sorry I haven’t been posting, I’ve been working a shit ton and I have like no motivation to write

Summary: (Y/N) and Carlos reminisce about the first time they met, in Raccoon City.

Warnings: reader is super insecure, thinks she isn’t worthy of Carlos, but that’s abt it

Word count: 868

(Y/N) woke up and stretched, moving to go into the kitchen and grab breakfast but she was ultimately stopped as Carlos unconsciously tightened his arms around her so tight it felt like the grip of a dead man. Her hopes of leaving or trying to fight his tense grasp were crushed instantly, she’d been here many times before, none of which could she escape Carlos’s impossibly strong hold. At least this time she didn’t have to pee.

She sighed in defeat, turning over and burying her face into Carlos’s chest. She quickly realized that the position was completely impractical and turned her head so one cheek rested on his left pec. His steady heartbeat thrummed in her ears, a calming noise. So calming, it almost lulled her straight back into dreamland if not for Carlos’s groggy morning voice cutting through the atmosphere.

“Good morning, beautiful.” He groaned, holding her even tighter if at all possible. He kissed the top of her head with adoration, making her melt.

“Good morning.” She whispered.

They made eye contact, both of their faces breaking into a wide grin.

“You have bed head.” Carlos teased, messing with her hair which was going every which direction.

She scoffed, reaching out a hand to further mess up his already messy hair. “So do you, dipshit.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and smiled, leaning into the palm of her hand still placed at the top of his head.

“I love you.” He muttered.

She pushed his head down into the pillow and straddled him, pressing a firm kiss to his lips.

“I love you too.” She whispered against them.

Carlos’s arms snaked their way back around her waist, pressing her body against his. He buried his head in the dip between her neck and her shoulder.

“I’m never getting out of this bed, am I?” She joked.

He shook his head, beard scratching her neck. “Nope, never.”

She settled down on top of him, resigning herself to her fate.

She sat, tracing shapes into Carlos’s chest, “Y’know, if you would’ve told me this would be my life back when everything in RC was happening, I would’ve laughed in your face.”

Carlos smiled and laughed, (Y/N) laughing along.

“Oh yeah?” He muttered.

She nodded, looking up at his face. “Yeah, of course, I bet you’d have done the same.”

“Not me.”

“Not you?”

“Nah, I knew from the moment I saw you that I’d make you mine.” He smiled like he’d figured out everything. Like some omnipotent knowledge had been bestowed upon him and he’d never had any doubt whatsoever.

(Y/N) buried her face into his chest in embarrassment at how much his sentiment had flustered her, “You’re so sweet I’m gonna die,” she remarked.

“I’m serious!” He said, “I had the biggest crush on you since the second I met you. Would’ve made it more obvious, but we were kind of fighting for our lives.”

She smiled, staring at him in awe. “That’s crazy,” she mumbled.

“Well now I’m curious,” Carlos began, “when did you start to crush on me?”

She laughed a little bit, thinking back.

“Y’know, now that I think about it, I had a little crush on you back then too. Just didn’t want to admit it because of the circumstances.” The room was quiet for a second before she added on, “I also definitely thought you were out of my league. Still do.”

The last part was said quietly but Carlos heard. He furrowed his eyebrows like what she said was truly unbelievable, sitting up against the headboard so he could get a better look at (Y/N)’s expressions, “Me? Out of your league? (Y/N), come on, there’s no way.”

She sat up too, trying to pull herself off of him, but his hands maintained a steady grip on her hips. “I mean, you’re very handsome, Carlos. And funny, and sweet, an overall catch. I just never felt like I deserved you, honestly I’m still debating it.” She tried to laugh it off, but Carlos’s lips were pressed into a pout.

He shook his head profusely, pulling her closer, “But you’re my everything.” He frowned deeply, “Baby, you mean so much to me. You make me so insanely happy, you make me laugh so hard my stomach starts to hurt, and as an added bonus, you’re absolutely gorgeous.”

“Fuck,” (Y/N) groaned, “you’re so nice to me.”

His deep brown eyes continued staring holes into her own, “I’m not being nice, baby, I’m being truthful. I love you so much and I really hope that one day you can see yourself the way I see you.”

“Yeah,” she whispered, nodding along solemnly, “yeah, I really hope so too.”

Carlos kissed the top of her head, content with that answer— for now.

“Why don’t I take you out today? We could have a nice day out on the town.” He suggested, trying to lighten the mood.

(Y/N) tilted her head, “But I thought you wanted to stay in?”

“Changed my mind, wanna show you off.” He flirted.

Her face felt all tingly and she was buzzing at the thought. She agreed with a small, giddy smile, “Okay.”

[gffa]

I DID NOT SEE THAT COMING but it makes perfect sense and GODDAMN WHAT A DELIVERY ON THE BUILDING TENSION OF IT ALL, because the entire issue was about Tommy pitting himself against Nightwing as a narrative foil, screaming in rage about how Bruce will do anything for him, how he wants to kill Nightwing because Bruce cares about him and how he doesn't really get why Dick understands Bruce in a way he never did. And it's so interesting that I wonder how much Dick is right about Tommy's motivations, because everything Tommy has said up to this point in the issue doesn't really feel like he wants Bruce's life:

"You keep trying to disavow our friendship and eliminate our shared history.  You keep trying to erase my face from your memory so that I have to wear yours!  I'm going to make sure you never forget... by cutting my name into Nightwing's back! You'd do anything for him, wouldn't you, Bruce? But what have you done for me... your first true friend? Besides take everything that should have been mine!" I can see how it seems like that last line might come across as Tommy wanting Bruce's life, that he felt that life should have been his, and wearing Bruce's face is a pretty obvious extension of that. But being enraged by Nightwing's presence, by Bruce's willingness to do anything for that kid, it made it so that I saw it as what Tommy wants here isn't Bruce's life, it's Bruce's friendship. That distinction makes him such a more complicated, interesting presence in this issue, because here he wants what Dick has--the partnership with Bruce, the willingness to throw himself between Dick and any harm that would come his way, the way they can speak volumes with just a shared look. He wants to be the one that changed Bruce's world the way Bruce and the Waynes changed his world. But he didn't, so he has to take what he believes should have been his--and that's why he changed his face again, because what he wants in this issue is Dick Grayson's life. Underneath all of it, what Tommy desperately wanted was to be loved and Thomas and Martha Wayne are dead, they can't love him. But Bruce Wayne lives and he can and does love. Tommy won't find the love he's been hungry for since childhood by taking over Bruce's life, because then the elements of his childhood won't be there to love him.  So he has to become someone that Bruce loves, someone that Bruce will do anything for. And Dick's absolutely right that Tommy wasn't there for any of the hard times or the little moments, he doesn't understand that being loved by Bruce Wayne isn't some idyllic, easy thing. It's hard fucking work because Bruce Wayne is still swimming against the tide of his own trauma and he is never easy about how it affects his relationships. From the outside, it might seem easy--and I think sometimes not even the other Batfam members understand that it's not easy for Dick, either, despite how they too see how desperately Bruce loves him. Yeah, Dick makes it look easy, he drags Bruce to Batburger and teams up with Clark for a god-awful bachelor party and gets Bruce to say he misses him unprompted and thank him for the night. But you don't see all the history that comes with it.  The knock-down-drag-out fights Dick and Bruce have.  The years of hurt and anger after he was fired as Robin.  The hurt of having to fake his death and go undercover as a spy.  The constant push-and-pull of Bruce trying to respect his independence, but also resenting Dick for how much he misses his kid.  Honestly, the entire Ric Grayson arc illustrates so much of how angry Dick still is about all the shit that Bruce pulls. Tommy skips right over that, because Dick makes it look so easy from the outside to be loved by Bruce, but it's not. You can't just cheat-code your way into that role by getting surgery to look like the guy who knocked down Bruce's emotional walls, because every single goddamned day Dick still has to get up and demand that Bruce love him and be the person that drags light into the darkness of Bruce's life. It makes the narrative foils aspect of this issue so engaging because both of them don't really fully get the other, that Dick doesn't understand what Tommy really wants, that Tommy doesn't really understand why Dick has what he has, all of it wrapped up in wanting Bruce Wayne's attention. And it's so interesting because that's kind of the whole point of Bruce as a character, that all these people love him and want his approval, but only a handful ever really get it because you can't love him as this mythic figure that's there to loom over you. You have to love him as the asshole that makes your life miserable but you also admire for the sheer determination he has for justice and that, when he trusts you, he trusts you with everything he has, and because you like his dry sense of humor, you like that he's kind of stupid sometimes.  You have to love him as a man, not an idea.

[onestopfanficshop]

dating carmy berzatto pt. 2

warnings: language, here's a few nsfw things in here so watch out for that 👀 mdni

author's note: after forever i'm back lol 😭 i started school again and lowkey lost motivation to write so this has been in the works for weeks lol! enjoy <3

gif not mine!

you can count on one hand how many times carmy has called you by your real name. his go-to pet names are honey (he would say hon most often), baby (when he's trying to persuade you, when he’s whining about something, or when he feels guilty), and sweetheart (when he's feeling extra romantic and lovey-dovey). even when you two are fighting or on the very rare occasion that his anger's directed at you, he rarely uses your name

one time when you had stayed over, you left your shampoo at carm's place and he made mistake of using it just to try it out because the next day richie noticed

"did you rob a fuckin' hair salon, cousin?"

"what the fuck do you mean, richie?"

"the fuck do you mean? what is this shit, herbal essences?" richie says, sniffing carmy's hair.

poor boy would turn red from head to toe and never touch your anything of yours ever again

this one's sad but like- it's kinda important i think

obviously mike's death really fucked carmy up. you see him pushing away, detaching himself from the people who love him (just like mikey did). but you coming into his life really forces him to wake the fuck up. family is forever but you're something in carmy's life that isn't guaranteed and that he genuinely has to work for if he wants you around long-term

and he's so terrified to fuck it up but after you assure him over and over again that you don't intend to go anywhere he starts to loosen up a tiny bit and let you in

his family and everyone else at the restaurant can see the effect you're having on him, and even though they were a little apprehensive at first, they're so glad that carmy has you in his life

okay enough emotional stuff :,)

i know we don't see him read in the show but something in me tells me that he'd love a good library date. he raids the cookbook section, you clear out half of the romance section, and then you'd have a picnic in a park after and read each other's books and swap ideas

carmy dog-ears the pages of the borrowed cookbooks to make note of later. even though you've scolded him a thousand times not to fold the pages, he just can't help but forget, okay? old habits die hard

"look, baby, it's not my intention to hurt the book, okay? i swear. this is just easier than using a bookmark"

his favorite fruits are plums (with the skin on) or granny smith apples (also with the skin on)

would 1000% name a dish after you

keeps his hand in yours or on your thigh while he drives with the other hand

he has to set his alarm at least half an hour before he actually needs to get up so he can hit snooze 3 times

speaking of sleep we all know this poor man barely gets any so on the rare occasion that he does he can be out for hours at a time no joke

when you first started sleeping over at his place more, sometimes it would scare when he woke up and saw you sound asleep next to him because you seemed too good to be real :,)

one time he was teaching you proper knife technique before you were officially together; he put his hand over yours on the knife and even though he looked calm on the outside, he was freaking the FUCK out on the inside but for the life of him he couldn't tell why (it's called a crush carmy look it up)

i know it's hard to imagine carmy having a least favorite food because he is a chef, but idk; i feel like it would be cornbread 😭 something abt it just makes no sense to him. he thought maybe it was because he's had bad cornbread, so he made it for himself once and still didn't like it. who would put corn in bread? what was the reason?!

he always keeps you on the innermost part of the sidewalk whenever you're walking together

this isn't even a headcanon bc we all saw it on the show but 😭 this man's EYE CONTACT. good lord. the best (and worst) part is he isn't even aware of the power it holds on you; he would literally stare at you whenever you would talk and you'd get all flustered and he would just be completely clueless as to why

he LOVES it when you grip onto his arms while you’re fucking and he constantly teases you for being so obsessed with them 👀 any time he feels like skipping a workout he just thinks about that and boom he’s motivated

“you sure you wanna go out to eat? i can just make us somethin’ real quick”

would definitely get a tattoo for you once you guys got serious! something cute and simple (idk much abt tattoos lol); would love it if you had a matching one on you in a place that only he could see 👀

neck kisses are his absolute favorite. especially from behind when he gets to completely bury his face in your neck and kiss it into oblivion

literally ever since i saw carm take those jeans out of the oven my brain has been stuck on the idea that has an odd but endearing obsession with vintage levis lol 😭 one time, after the bear had opened up and completely taken off, he stayed up all night on ebay and scored a vintage type ii trucker jacket after furiously bidding on it for over an hour like a mad man

this man's always using his hands so i can totally picture his fingers doing all sorts of weird things to fidget. absentmindedly drumming his fingers on your thighs, rubbing strands of hair between his thumb and pointer finger-- literally anything to keep his hands occupied

“is this too spicy or no?”

always insists that you don't have to come to the restaurant to help but is secretly over-the-moon when you do. seeing you help with the dishes, or scold richie, or laugh with tina just makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside (and makes him wanna start a family with you oops)

if he sees you he has to give you a full hug. he’s not a side hug kind of guy when it comes you. even if he has to drop what he’s doing in the kitchen and wipe his hands! he always gives you an all-encompassing bear hug and kisses you on the forehead and the lips- it’s his signature greeting :,)

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | October 30th-November 5th 2023

I really need to get back into the habit of making these every Sunday! But at least this time I didn't skip a week! :P

Complete

stickwitu. by brewrosemilk/ @gayhoediaz (Canon Divergent, PWP | 38K | Explicit): “Did you just call me daddy?" Or: Three times Buck fights his daddy kink + the one time it slips out anyway. (sequel to 🔥 stupid people.)

mona lisa by roseapothecarys/ @gaylicense (PWP | 5K | Explicit): or: eddie makes buck's dreams come true

hits like ecstasy by roseapothecarys / @gaylicense (PWP, Getting Together | 4K | Explicit): or: eddie starts complimenting buck...a lot. surely he has no ulterior motive.

this time between by roseapothecarys / @gaylicense (Getting Together | 3K | Explicit): or: buck and eddie get trapped in an elevator

tender we fall by roseapothecarys/ @gaylicense (Post-Shooting | 4K | Teen): Or: Buck starts telling Eddie he loves him. Like, all the time.

one hundred ninety seven seconds by roseapothecarys/ @gaylicense (Post-Coma | 2K | Teen): Eddie is finding increasingly convoluted excuses to be in the kitchen late at night. or: in the aftermath of the lightning strike, eddie copes.

what if one of these days i go and change your name by Iover_of_mine (I_almost_do) / @lover-of-mine (Post-S6, Established Buddie | 2K | General): Buck runs into a fire while off-duty, Eddie gives him his turnout once the 118 responds, then proceeded to spiral about how he wants to marry Buck.

kiss and make up by 42hrb/ @exhuastedpigeon (Getting Together | 3K | Explicit): Instead of being soft and sweet or adrenaline fueled and filled with love and thanks that they're both alive, their first kiss comes in the middle of a fight in Eddie’s living room.

blackout by rainbow_nerds/ @rainbow-nerdss (Getting Together | 3K | Explicit): Buck wakes up hungover on Eddie's couch, with no memory of the night before. Eddie's at just as much of a loss as he is, but their friends seem to know something they don't.

🔥 like a dog with a bird at your door by fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (Post-S6, Getting Together | 51K | Explicit): or, evan “i love you like a dog” buckley has only ever known how to love like, well, a dog, but maybe eddie diaz is the kinda guy to give a flea-bitten mongrel a forever home

i want to scream "I love you" from the top of my lungs, but I'm afraid that someone else will hear me by scarcrossedbuck (cryptidNick) (Getting Together | 11K | Explicit): or: Buck drunk calls Eddie to confess his love anonymously. Eddie doesn't hear it. Buck struggles with his feelings.

there's always been a rainbow hangin' over your head by Underhung_Aura (Getting Together, Post-Lightning | 8K | General): Eddie comes out to Buck, receives a quirky mug, and gets together with the love of his life. In that order.

i'll come tackle the monsters by Iover_of_mine (I_almost_do)/ @lover-of-mine (Getting Together | 4K | Teen): Buck has a nightmare and they talk about the shooting.

Homefield Disadvantage by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Established Buddie | 2K | Teen): Buck is recovering from appendicitis. Christopher has an important school project. Eddie faces danger on the job. They are a family, your honor. That is all.

come close, let me be home by Daffi_990_ao3 / @daffi-990(Post-Season 6, Getting Together | 4K | Not Rated): Buck and Eddie slow dance at Maddie and Chim’s wedding

baby, say you'll always keep me by hattalove (Getting Together, Post-Season 4 | 8K | Teen): or the one in which joking about being married to your best friend is all fun and games, right up until you realize that you're not laughing.

WIP

🔥 and here, too, am i by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Future fic, Married Buddie | 1/3 | 11K | Teen): Six months into their marriage, Eddie is still struggling to decide whether or not he wants more kids, when he knows Buck does. The universe may not scream, but it certainly talks.

Innocence died screaming, honey, ask me I should know by JJK/ @trenchcoatsandtimetravel (Demon Buck, Canon Divergent | 6/? | 11K | Teen): Buck is a demon with the power to help with pregnancy, childbirth, and infant health. When the Buckleys make a deal asking for someone to help 'save their baby', Buck leaps at the chance as it will give him what he's always wanted: a life on earth. But demon deals are tricky and neither of them gets quite what they're after. This is Buck's journey as he navigates growing up on earth and remembering how to help those in need.

🔥 Things We're All Too Young to Know by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon, S1 through S6 | 97/? | 250K | Mature): This is a love story. Even if it doesn’t always look like it. Even if it doesn’t always feel like it. A look back on Eddie and Buck's lives up to now, and what led them to each other, interpreted from the current 9-1-1 canon.

Re-Read

growing sideways by roseapothecarys/ @gaylicense (Getting Together | 3K | General): or: chris gets buck a father's day present.

🔥 i don't swim and you're not in love by hattalove/ @hattalove (S4, Post-Buck Begins | 32K | Teen): or, eddie cooks, chris domesticates a slug, and buck tries to figure out why he hates his best friend's girlfriend. to everyone's immense shock and surprise, it goes badly.

[satubby]

Hello! How are you? if you still place orders I hope you can attend to mine. I confess that your male Makima writings drive me crazy, so if you don't mind, here I have another request for you and I hope it's not wierd. Could you make a scenario that the reader moved away from everyone for a while and stayed out of everyone's sight, and after a few months she returns and they find out that he had a daughter? (Makime is the father) and he finds out that the girl is his daughter? I hope my request doesn't bother you and I really wish you could attend to it. I hope you have a good day and stay healthy!

[Hello sweetie! Thanks for entrusting me with these requests, sorry to keep you waiting but I took my months off and started working, that's why I didn't answer my inbox. Here you go, it's like a little One shot/scenario].

You find yourself in the bathroom, bent over the toilet as waves of nausea seem to drag your consciousness down. The bitter taste in your mouth and the rapid beating of your heart take you back to the murky memory of your encounter with Makime at the bar. Although days have passed since then, the images are still tattooed in your mind, like fresh scars that refuse to fade.

"Why, no, this can't be happening to me? Fuck," you mutter between sobs, feeling a lump in your throat as tears begin to mix with the sensation of vomiting. A sarcastic joke about the irony of life crosses your mind, a kind of bitter self-reflection that only you can understand.

The muffled voices of your friends reach you from the other side of the door, but you barely manage to pay attention to them. Aki, Denji and Powa try to be supportive, but the sense of isolation is stronger than ever. Makime's cold presence, clinging to your thoughts like a shadow, plunges you into a spiral of self-loathing and despair. So much effort you put into getting away from him, but it only seems to motivate him to stalk.

"Hey, is everything okay? You've been in the bathroom for half an hour and Powa keeps nagging me about coming in….. (Y/N), you know I'm worried about you," Aki asks with genuine concern in his voice. You can feel her palpable anxiety, as if she shares your torments in the distance. His words offer you a glimmer of clarity amidst the darkness, but they also make you feel even more vulnerable and pathetic. You don't think you're brave enough to face them, not after your betrayal, or at least you feel that way.

"No, I'm… fine, ugh," you say in a halting voice, fighting the lump in your throat as your tears mix with the cold sweat on your face. You clutch the toilet tightly, reality becoming a blur as another access of vomit shakes you. In the midst of this painful moment, memories of Makime reclaiming what shouldn't have been hers, assault you cruelly, causing your tears to fall silently as you once again feel stripped of your self-control and power over your actions, you feel dirty and disgusted… Sleeping with the demon, giving in to his dirty, sin-filled words. That you cannot forgive yourself.

Carefully and shaky-legged, you pull yourself away from the toilet, the cold of the bathroom clinging to your damp skin from the sweat of overexertion. You stand up, but your body feels weak, as if nausea has stolen all your energy. You look in the mirror, your reflection seems strange, almost unrecognizable, or was it the tears from so much crying? Your face is pale, with the traces of tears and effort marked on it. You stare at yourself, lost in thought as doubts and fears gather like stormy clouds.

What will your friends say when they realize what is happening? You know deep down, how disappointed they would be or maybe you always jump to conclusions without asking first. You haven't had your period for weeks, so you know the only reason for it could be… pregnancy. But you didn't want this child, as guilty as you feel, you also didn't want to be a murderer of your own unwanted child. Maybe… Should you hide this unexpected pregnancy or make a more radical decision? The thought of hiding it or even aborting it haunts you, but you know you can't help but think about it.

Your mind wanders down the dark alleys of your fears-how will Makime react if he finds out? The very thought of his cold stare and cutting words makes you shudder or worse, to see his look filled with mocking satisfaction at your defeat carrying his child inside. And then there is the damage you could cause yourself if you decide to abort, both physically and emotionally, you don't think you are capable of enduring those horrors, but you know well that in this universe full of maniacs, blood is the daily bread… That's why you hated Makime, that bastard who would destroy the dreams of others and especially Denji.

But apparently now it's more fun to annoy you, to threaten to kill them… You don't even understand what's so attractive about you that the greatest enemy in this world would notice you.

But your thoughts are interrupted when, in a nervous gesture, you bite into your own flesh. The momentary pain jolts you out of your mental spiral, and that's when you really look at your reflection. Your face is blotchy, a mixture of tears and sweat, and your expression is a chaos of despair and confusion.

The truth hits you hard: you feel caught in a whirlwind of emotions, with no clear path to follow. You realize that every decision you make will carry with it dark and heartbreaking consequences. And as you keep looking at your own reflection, you feel the crushing sensation that you are trapped in a game you didn't ask to be a part of, even though you are aware of your actions that also led you to this… You thought you could handle it by taking this job, but you are not sure at this point.

You sigh with exhaustion, a mixture of physical and mental exhaustion. You ruffle your messy hair with your hands, as if trying to push the shadows out of your mind, even though you know that's impossible. The decision to take a bath seems like a respite in the midst of the emotional storm that engulfs you. Stripping off your clothes is a mechanical act, as if you want to free yourself from the worries that oppress you, free yourself from this feeling of lustful filth even though it has been weeks since… Your first time in this body, stolen and swallowed by the devil of control.

The warm water from the shower falls on you, enveloping you in a comforting embrace. You close your eyes and let your thoughts be swept away by the stream. Slowly, you feel the mist of steam and the sound of water fill your senses, muffling the tumultuous voices in your mind.

Unnoticed, time passes in the blink of an eye, and you find peace in the simple action of feeling the water run over your skin, as if those drops of water are washing you clean of your sins. But when you finally turn off the water and step out of the shower, the thoughts return with renewed force, like angry waves lapping against the shore.

Maybe it's the monotony in your gaze or the fact that you're in such a mess between thoughts that you finally realize you're in your room, sitting up in bed. You stare into the void, your eyes swollen and your fingers hurt by the anxiety you have failed to control by biting your nails hard. Moments of relief dissolve into the raw and painful reality you face. Your mind turns again to Makime, her twisted personality or her unpredictable actions that make you so uncomfortable, you don't want to accept it, but a part of you enjoys it.

You try to map out a plan in your head, but every possibility seems to carry with it an abyss of consequences. would Makime ignore your situation? Fuck that's such a stupid thought, knowing him you know he wouldn't, always looking at you like he's the hunter and maybe he is. Could he force you to go through with this pregnancy you don't want? Your throat tightens with fear and uncertainty, a feeling you can't choke down.

You bite the end of the towel wrapped around your head, as if it might somehow take away the stress of the dark thoughts that crowd in. You keep looking for a way out, a spark of hope in the midst of this overwhelming anxiety that invades you, you have always been like this, insecure though trying.

The sound of the door being slammed abruptly breaks the silence of the room, snapping you out of your jumbled thoughts. Powa, with his thunderous energy and imperative attitude, bursts into the room like a flurry of chaos. He informs you, in his characteristic shouting tone, that Aki has already served dinner and everyone is waiting for you at the table. Though with your fog of thoughts carried away from the questions, you barely give a nod with your eyes lost in nothingness.

His words ring in your ears as you look up, meeting Powa's rambunctious figure. The blood possessed one seems more playful and noisy than ever, ready to drag you away from the pensive trance you were in. It moves into your field of vision crouching down to you, doing its best to get your attention and pull you out of that darkness.

"Looks like someone got lost in your world again," Powa comments, a hint of mockery in his voice as he smiles, showing those shark teeth that seem to be his trademark. His words sound like an invitation to leave your worries behind and join the present.

His defiant smile and mischievous child's attitude wrench a response from you. You come out of your trance, your face lights up with a nervous smile, aware that Powa might notice your worries, which you don't want him to, so you smile at him trying to draw his attention away from you. You hope that this momentary distraction will keep the rambunctious demon away and offer you a respite from the emotional storm in which you find yourself mired.

You leave the guest room that Aki had lent you, you didn't want to think about Rintarou either, what would you say to him? You don't think you're capable of anything. Your eyes fall on the trio of men occupying the kitchen. Aki is concentrating on cooking with his usual grace, while Denji and Powa argue animatedly over the vegetables that none of them seem willing to eat.

As you watch the scene, a momentary relief washes over you. The comfort of being with them, even in the midst of your anxieties, makes you feel that perhaps you can find temporary refuge… But you know the fate that awaits the three of them, it only makes you feel worse about your apparent betrayal. However, the fear of breaking that tranquility persists, holding you back in your intentions to share your worries.

Denji stops fighting with Powa and fixed his eyes at you, greeting you with an enthusiastic "Good morning, (Y/N)!" Your smile forms automatically, as if his greeting manages to momentarily dispel your gloomy thoughts.

You gather at the table, sharing your meal and chatting naturally. Aki, always attentive, asks you if everything is all right. You nod silently, not wanting to delve into your own internal struggles, not whether you wanted to bring back those horrible memories of Makime violating your privacy or this pregnancy of yours. Denji, with his characteristic intuition, comments that you seem quieter than usual, which he finds strange since you are usually the more playful one in these situations.

You stop eating for a moment, laughing nervously at his observation. "Really? S-sorry, I didn't notice," you reply trying to deflect, knowing that you don't want your world of worries to overshadow the moment you share with them.

Again, like a blur, everyone is already dressed in their uniforms, including you. You leave the apartment ready to face the day. You walk with the trio to work, your finger finds its way into your mouth, biting it anxiously once again. You wonder if the bulge in your belly will be noticeable after several months, if the stares of those around you will discover your secret. Makime is a constant weight in your thoughts, wondering what he will say once he sets eyes on you.

Every time you meet, you always feel vulnerable and nervous no matter how much you want to cover up that feeling.

As you move forward with your friends, you feel a mixture of nervousness, disgust and fear. But again, you swallow all your feelings.

The quartet advances towards the public security offices, each step you take carrying with it a load of nervousness that is reflected in your finger, which keeps getting bitten until it bleeds. The thought of facing Makime in the office torments you, and your mind races to what might happen if the devil control detects your nerves which you don't try very hard to conceal either.

The offices lie before you, and you feel as if each step brings you a little closer to the abyss of your worries. You know that when they work, they need to request the file of the next mission from Makime, and the mere idea of crossing words with him fills you with those thoughts. What will he say if he finds out about your pregnancy? You always come back to that question and fear his dirty words as possessive attached to the weight of his penetrating gaze.

Finally, you find yourself alongside the trio as they enter the offices. Aki leads the way, and you stay behind him, almost as if afraid to cross the threshold of the door. You can feel Makime's eyes on you, like needles piercing your skin. But for now, the red-haired man says nothing, he just listens and dictates the orders for the day.

Your mind clouds with a mixture of fear and resignation, as you try to keep your composure by not letting your worries overpower you. As Aki and the others dive into the discussion, your thoughts turn to Makime, how to deal with this dangerous game of appearances and secrets.

As Aki withdraws, you feel the urge to follow him, as if his presence might offer you a refuge in the midst of this awkward situation. But your plans vanish when Makime intervenes, requesting that everyone leave the office except you. His request causes your nerves to intensify, and you feel a strange sense of vulnerability pressing down on you.

Aki casts you a look of concern and comfort before closing the door behind him. The dull click of the lock adds extra weight to the already tense atmosphere in the room. You find yourself alone with Makime, and discomfort seems to fill every corner.

Makime slowly approaches you, his sly gaze and soft words forming a trap that you feel yourself sinking into. The redhead's closeness only intensifies the tightness in your chest, as if you're trapped in his magnetic orbit until you feel it… your back against his chest. You don't want to look into his predatory eyes.

"It saddens me that you are ignoring me, and I thought you had already accepted me. You know I would never hurt you or do anything you don't want, for example… Your moans that night, so soft and innocent."

His words, though laden with false comfort, only leave you more anxious. Your mind whirls as you try to decipher words with which to attack. You feel the tension in the air, a mixture of fear and obedience that keeps you on edge.

Makime's amused smile triggers a shiver down your spine. You know he can smell your fear, and that only adds to your unease. Suddenly, he takes your nibbled hand in a gesture that seems too intimate, too invasive. He scolds you for your behavior, treating it as a childish prank, as if this whole game is simply that: a game for his own twisted amusement.

"Tch! But what a mess you made… You know I'm not stupid, but we won't ask questions, okay? Let me help you with that."

The feel of his fingers around yours makes you feel trapped, and you realize that you are in a dangerous position when he runs his tongue over your badly moderated wounded fingers.

As his presence dominates the room, your thoughts become increasingly suffocating, as if you are caught in a net from which you do not know how to escape.

Makime advances with sly complacency, his falsely friendly smile is like a hook in the murky water of the situation, as he continues to play with his mouth… Oh! That beautiful, stupid, voracious mouth.

"You don't need to get so uptight, (Y/N)," he murmurs with a softness that contrasts with the storm you feel in his gaze clouded with dark thoughts. "You know I'm always here to listen if you have any problems."

Your eyes roll quickly avoiding looking at him again, desperately trying to divert the conversation away from the dangerous waters. "Oh, it's nothing, Makime. I'm just… a little tired lately," you reply in a shaky voice, aware that every word out of your mouth can be a double-edged sword in this game of yours.

Makime moves even closer, his proximity suffocating. "Tired, huh?" he muses, his tone laden with irony. "It can be overwhelming work being a demon hunter, I won't deny you that. However, you should take it easy, sometimes those emotions can lead you down…deadly…routes."

Your mind races through the possibilities behind the meaning in his words, but before you can articulate a response, he takes the initiative once again. "Haven't you noticed how your fingers are hurt?" he asks with a tone that oscillates between concern and mockery, it is obvious that the question is unnecessary in this situation.

His eyes are riveted on the hand he's still holding, as if he's analyzing every little detail of you, how his saliva is still on your wounds. Fuck how he wants to lick your sweet skin again, that addictive blood.

You stumble over your own words, diverting his attention back to you. "Oh, it's no big deal, I'm just a little nervous from the stress of work. I nibble my fingers without realizing it, sorry," you say, trying to sketch a smile that hides your true feelings. "I wouldn't want to bother you with nonsense like this."

Makime laughs softly, a laugh that makes you feel as if you're caught in a net of his design. "Nonsense, you say. But you know, (Y/N), sometimes things we consider small reveal a lot about us." His eyes sparkle with a mischievous spark as he continues, "We must learn to control ourselves, don't you think?"

You feel caught up in his devious game, a conversation that seems harmless on the surface but carries with it a subtle venom. His every word seems like a carefully crafted trap, and as you struggle to maintain your composure, you realize that you are dancing on the edge of manipulation and deception.

Makime continues his game, like a cat toying with its prey before finally attacking. His piercing eyes search yours, as if he is trying to read every thought that passes through your mind. "Sometimes, it's important to talk about our worries," he comments, his voice soft as the scrape of a sharp knife. "If you have something on your mind, (Y/N), don't hesitate to tell me. I don't want you to feel alone in this."

You feel the weight of his words like an anvil on your chest. You want to speak, desperately want to free yourself from the anguish that surrounds you, but the thought of confiding in Makime, of revealing your intimate thoughts to him, fills you with an almost paralyzing fear. His true intentions are hidden behind that mask of kindness, and you can't help but wonder if this is simply another game on his part. You don't want to be controlled by him, though at this point your lustful side wonders if you could withstand the temptation.

"Thank you, Makime," you reply, trying to remain calm, though your words tremble slightly. "I'll keep that in mind. For now, I'm just… trying to manage my own insecurities."

Makime's sly smile widens slightly, as if he's enjoying your discomfort. "Insecurities, huh? We all have our internal struggles, (Y/N), but you shouldn't be carrying all that weight alone." He takes a step closer, his presence feeling more intimidating than ever, his hand squeezing yours. "Remember, we're on the same team."

Your mind twists with conflicting thoughts, the desire to trust fighting against the fear of falling into his trap. His every word seems like a rope squeezing your throat, a rope that threatens to choke any truth you may be about to reveal. You realize you are in a dangerous game, one where every move can be fatal.

"Ahh! Anyway, I don't want to delay your work. I hope you have a desirable performance this week, don't get distracted yes?" Makime's eyes keep searching for some chink in your armor, looking you in the eye as you struggle to stand your ground, you realize that every word you choose could be the final nail in your own coffin.

"Y-yeah, well I'm out" You could hardly think straight and more so when he ended up kissing the back of your hand.

[thecreaturecodex]

Dread Domicile

"The Dread Gazebo Updated" 3-D model by Michael Zavala under the Creative Commons license. Accessed at My Mini Factory here

[Sponsored by @balmz. "Eric and the Dread Gazebo" is a classic bit of tabletop gaming lore, which is older than I am. I haven't had this exact experience, of course, but as someone who uses a large vocabulary at the table, I have been on the receiving end of similar confusion. Rather than just make mine a gazebo, I took inspiration from the AD&D house hunter mimic.]

Dread Domicile CR 16 NE Aberration What appeared to be a gazebo reveals itself as a monster, its entrance growing a fanged maw and lashing tentacles growing around its perimeter. It has leering, dreadful eyes.

A dread domicile is a giant variant of mimic, capable of disguising itself as a whole building. Cottages, barns, sheds and gazebos are common choices for camouflage, and the dread domicile can enhance the appearance with lights, props, and even the sounds of conversation, farm animals or music. Unlike ordinary mimics, dread domiciles are typically evil—they actively hunt and eat sapient prey above all others. A number of them live in shantytowns or other rundown urban neighborhoods, where their victims won’t go missed.

Dread domiciles are slow, so they use ambush to hunt. They can feel vibrations in the ground, and so usually close their eyes until a creature has actually touched it. Their gaze causes creatures to cower in fear, so any creature that is not glued in place is usually unable to assist its allies. Glued prey is then transferred to the domicile’s mouth and swallowed whole, sequestered in a little pocket that acts as a stomach. A dread domicile will swallow multiple creatures if it can, and rapidly reshapes itself to accommodate new victims if a creature cuts its way out. Because of their low speed, a dread domicile is more likely to surrender and try to negotiate for its life than it is to flee. They collect plenty of treasure, which they use as both bait and bribes.

Variant Dread Domicile A dread vessel is an aquatic version of a dread domicile. It masquerades as a small ship, or occasionally as a raft, floating driftwood or even a whale carcass. A dread vessel is a dread domicile with the aquatic subtype, amphibious special quality, a land speed of 10 feet and a swim speed of 40 feet. A dread vessel is still a CR 16 creature.

Dread Domicile    CR 16 XP 76,800 NE Gargantuan aberration Init +3; Senses darkvision 60 ft., Perception +20, tremorsense 120 ft. Defense AC 30, touch 5, flat-footed 30 (-4 size, -1 Dex, +25 natural) hp 270 (20d8+180) Fort +17, Ref +5, Will +16 DR 15/magic and slashing; Resist acid 10, cold 10, electricity 10 Offense Speed 20 ft. Melee bite +21 (2d8+10 plus grab), 6 tentacles +19 (1d8+5 plus adhesive) Space 20 ft.; Reach 20 ft. (10 ft. with bite) Special Attacks gaze, swallow whole (AC 22, 27 hp, 2d6+10 bludgeoning and 2d6 acid) Statistics Str 31, Dex 8, Con 29, Int 12, Wis15, Cha 18 Base Atk +15; CMB +29 (+33 grapple); CMD 39 (cannot be tripped) Feats Blind-fight,Critical Focus, Deceitful, Great Fortitude, Improved Critical (bite), Improved Initiative, Iron Will, Multiattack, Power Attack, Tiring Critical Skills Bluff +23, Climb +18, Disguise +26 (+46 as a building), Knowledge (dungeoneering) +16, Knowledge (engineering) +19, Perception +20, Sense Motive +17, Swim +18; Racial Modifiers +20 Disguise to appear as a building Languages Aboleth, Common SQ mimic building, sound mimicry (any) Ecology Environment any land or urban Organization solitary or development (2-6) Treasure standard Special Abilities Adhesive (Ex) A dread domicile exudes a thick slime that acts as a powerful adhesive, holding fast any creatures or items that touch it. An adhesive-covered dread domicile automatically grapples any creature it hits with its tentacle attack. Opponents so grappled cannot get free while the dreadful domicile is alive without removing the adhesive first, or if the dread domicile chooses. A weapon that strikes an adhesive-coated dreadful domicile is stuck fast unless the wielder succeeds on a DC 30 Reflex save. A successful DC 26 Strength check is needed to pry off a stuck weapon. A dread domicile can transfer a creature glued to itself in this way into its mouth with an action to maintain the grapple. Strong alcohol or universal solvent dissolves the adhesive, but the dread domicile can still grapple normally. A dreadful domicile can dissolve its adhesive at will, and the substance breaks down 5 rounds after the creature dies. The save DC is Strength-based, and the Strength check DC suffers a -4 racial penalty. Gaze (Su) Range 30 ft.; save Will DC 24; effect cower in fear 1d4 rounds. This is a fear effect, and the save DC is Charisma based. Mimic Building (Ex) A dread domicile gains a +20 racial bonus on any Disguise checks to disguise itself as a building of Gargantuan size. It can change its color and texture, and even create open spaces or lights (which radiate light up to that of a torch). Disguise is always a class skill for dread domiciles. Swallow Whole (Ex) A dread domicile reshapes itself to have a separate stomach chamber for each creature it swallows.A creature that cuts itself out of a dread domicile has a 25% chance to cut into another chamber and thus remain swallowed. A dread domicile can use its swallow whole ability even if a creature cuts its way out.

[swifty-fox]

yo you post your fics on AO3? if so please share your user babe

omg yes I do! you can check my swiftywrites tag but

Masters of the Air:

Kingdom for a Kiss - WIP (34k written, 19k Posted) Long-form Postwar exploration of Clegan's relationship and their trauma. Updates weeky. Mature rating will be bumped to Explicit later

“I wasn’t the one all but begging to be shot by the guards for months on end there Bucky.” Buck shakes his head, laughing sharply. His anger was a living thing now and he aches with it “Nah, nah, not me. No, I was the one dragging your crazy ass back from the brink time and time again. Trying to convince those fucking Germans your sorry carcass was of more use alive than dead, trying to keep the men busy and motivated while you fucked about. You're welcome by the way.” He jabs a finger in John's direction, who stares at him taken aback. “So’s I don’t see much of a reason why I should let you come up into my home and cast your judgments around.”

Bucks chest heaves, great gulps of air like he’s once again racing through snow-covered German trees. He can tell he’s shocked John into silence, the other man's eyes darting back and forth. Buck averts his gaze, brushing his hair back from his face. That’s twice now he’s lost himself at the people he cares about. Twice now he’s bitten a hand reached out in kindness.

Gale takes a deep breath to compose himself, tucks the jagged angry edges of himself back to face inwards. “You said you would write.”

Little Beast: Ongoing. Porn with a bit of Plot modern au of Burnout John and Priest Gale. 9k of them fucking and arguing. p2 is in the drafts and will be part of a series of stories. NSFW to the max

“It’s such a shame you’re cooped up in here like Rapunzel there Buck.” John drawls lazily. He makes a show of looking around “Is Mother Gothel nearby?” 

Buck has to fight back against another smile, wouldn't give him the satisfaction or the encouragement “Father Huglin is away at a conference today.”

“All alone without a chaperone.” 

press your tired hands against my lips darling: Finished. 3K word re-write of the Bucks final conversation in the cockpit. Loose prequel to KfaK but with some minor inaccuracies Mostly SFW

Gale takes John's hand, brings the scarred knuckles to his mouth and holds it there, turns their hands over til he can place his lips to the pulse point at John’s wrist. It’s not a kiss, there’s no press or pursing of lips, but tender nevertheless, intimate in a way that makes Gale shudder. Cautious of whether John will even allow this.  

“I ain’t prayed in a long time,” Gale says whisper-soft. He feels John’s pulse skip a beat, “but I prayed every day you were safe and alive and coming back to me. Every morning, and every night.”  He lets himself cry again, tears hidden against the scarred skin of John's hand. 

The Old Guard:

in another life maybe you and i would be walking down an aisle in white: Finished Joe/Nicky (18K) Art Professor Joe & Art Conservator Nicky reconnect after ten years. This one is uh. Sad. Mind the tags. It's an incredibly personal piece to me and probably one of my favorites .NSFW

Dear Joe, you have always been the brave one and I wished every moment for even a drop of that. Perhaps that is why I claimed you as mine, out of a desperate need to have even an ounce of what made you, you. I desired you but I would not, could not ever let you in. I loved you and kept you and hurt you, keelhauled you against the impenetrable ship that was my heart and when the ragged pieces were left behind I still asked of you your silence.  

It is no wonder our love was left in bloody tatters on that lawn. 

Make me a Saint: Finished (8k) Nicky and Nile mete out some justice to a corrupt priest. NSFW for violence. Mind the tags. As of right now, my most popular fic

“ I was a priest before your bible was even written old man ” Nickys voice thunders in the tiny room, crackling over the walls like fire. Even Nile flinches at the sudden volume. He takes another step forwards, bracketing Father Marcus’ arthritic twisted feet with his own.

His voice does not shake.

“I preached the word of God before your language was even invented . I have known the church for longer than you can comprehend. I have seen great men and evil men take up the word of the Lord and I have seen them all rendered dust. I have seen you and I have judged you, Father Marcus. The Church may practice restraint but I do not. The diocese may have turned a blind eye I but I do not. The courts may have found you innocent but I do not . 

Calcification of a God: Finished (4K) Nicky has a lil Menty B and then Joe gives him a bath. Mostly SFW if I recall correctly

“I think,” Nicky says “If I were God, it was you I modeled humanity after. I think if I were God I would have left my throne in heaven to walk beside you and I would have been richer for it”

Yusuf chuckles “Death makes you sentimental my darling.”

Wolfstar:

Oh Captain, My Captain!: Finished, 1.6k Drabble of Wolfstar cuddling and reciting poetry. SFW

He cups the back of Remus’s head, presses him further into the safety of his body with a hand on his mismatched, misaligned rib cage and rocks them slightly. Remus grunts slightly. Sirius hides the teeth of his smile against the follow of his own neck and allows the curtain of his hair to cover them both for a moment. He listens to the two of them breath, always slightly out of sync, out of rhythm. Remus quick and labored, Sirius racing to catch up only to find himself charging ahead only to drop back behind when he tries to slow down. 

“ If I vibrate with vibrations other than yours, must you conclude that my flesh is insensitive ” That doesn’t fit quite right, so he tries another, brow furrowed and fingers tracing the knobs of Remus’ spine like the knots on a tree, with reverence and a little hint of greed. 

[honeyfizzly]

I'm constantly flipping back and forth wether I should trust tabitha or not because Its really suspicious how protective she is of us, even if we're an complete asshole to her.

Also there's the whole ritual thing going on with the goat, it could be possible that tabitha has ulterior motives and wants us alive because ... well idk a sacrifice seems the most obvious option but whatever she needs done, it seems to hinge on the mc's health.

There's also her connection to Wayne and the death of her mother.

Wayne apparently disappeared at the estate around the same time pearlanne did and pearlanne died of sleep apnea but apparently had no autopsy. I've seen some people propose the idea that tabitha mightve smothered her mother with a pillow, and I think that could check out.

Apparently it's very hard to tell if someone was suffocated with a pillow or not, and often times investigators have to rely on checking fibers near the victims mouth and eyes to idenity what suffocated them, and handprints + finger marks.

You also have to be relatively strong to suffocate someone- which powerful build can say tabitha is surprising strong despite her size (it's if tabitha threatens you and then you push her off)- and most of the time the victims for suffocation are people who would be unable to fight back like children or elderly (I'm not sure how old pearlanne is, but her corpse looks pretty damn old. Since tabitha is in for early to mid twenties iirc, I think I would place pearlanne somewhere in her 50s-early 60s?).

Also it's very clear tabitha did not like her mother, and calls her a monster. So like I feel like it adds up that tabitha is perfectly capable of murder and able to do it again (rip reese) but also at the same time, I have a hard time thinking she's preparing to do something terrible to mc especially if you go down routes where you have a good (or good-ish) relationships with her.

Like, for example with my main mc Mckenna (yes I chose her name cause it had mc in it) I stayed the night at Stella's, hung out with her in the mines and on day 3 but didn't invite her ghost hunting, then when I got threatened in her office on day 4 and had mckenna cry I got a couple very interesting reactions.

(Sorry for not actually having a screenshot and just a picture, my computer is weird. Also one more note, this was when a strike was strong, I'll have to check what happens when the strike is weak but I have a similar relationship with Tabitha still)

This was the interaction I got when I said "im sorry, I know I haven't been the best cousin" iirc and she falt out admits she's jealous of us.

But we can also get this dialogue instead if we ask why she invited us at all if she hated us so much

(Once again sorry for bad pic 💔)

And idk maybe I'm the fool for trusting but that line about being family, and how that still means something to her feels so geninue it makes me doubt she actually intends to harm the mc.

Plus there's other interactions you can get with Tabitha, like if you have a very good relationship with her and question if she's happy in scarlet hollow or not she'll say no, but that she's happy you're here.

And idk, I just feel like somebody who had already planned to stab us in the back from the very start wouldnt be able to open up that much and be that vulnerable with their potential victim.

Also tabitha herself states she didn't want to like us (you get this by hanging out with tabby and calling her hypocritical for giving us such a hard time for living in the city), which of course could be spinned towards the idea that tabitha is planning to backstab us but also at the same time, it's not an uncommon defense mechanism for traumatized people to push away loved ones.

Tabitha has had a very hard life- from the pressure of being one of two scarlets left, having to run a dying coal mine, and the abuse from her mother to then her sudden death (and also her mother maybe possibly killing her ex).

It's very possible alot of her standoff-ness towards the player isn't because she has some malicious scheme, but rather it's her way of coping with the shitty cards she's been dealt in life (like the idea of pushing people away so you won't be hurt if they betray or leave you. It's a toxic mentality to have as it creates a self fulfilling prophecy, but it's a mentality some people have nonetheless).

I rambled alot but those are just some of my thoughts about tabitha. It's obvious she's gonna do something weird with that goat (my first idea is a sacrifice), but I'm not entirely sure wether she intended to betray the mc or not from the beginning (I lean towards not but I can still see a situation where she didn't intend to betray the mc from the start, but does so later depending on your relationship with her).

[bringmemyrocks]

'Through Fayez [Sayegh], as he moved up the ladder of prominence, I met other Arabs, both in the official, diplomatic corps and among Arab intellectuals. The list still reads well — and not only as names. More importantly, on a personal basis, these contacts fundamentally changed my life — George Tomeh, Walid Khalidi, Fadil Jamali, Muhammad Farrah, Tahseen Basheer, Abdel Khalek Hassouna, the Arab students groups to which I began speaking on invitations which were, at first, recommended by Fayez. 

My anti-Zionism was now being fleshed out. From some of the best minds and most responsible statesmen in the Arab world I gained my first, clear and long-lasting impressions and specific details about what Zionism was doing to human beings other than Jews.

But we [the anti-Zionist American Council for Judaism] were not a pro-Arab organization nor were our primary concerns, in the first instance, with “Arab rights.” All of my new Arab friends understood this. In fact, I have been told by more than one of them and more than once that it was precisely my point-of-departure from American interests and my concern for the integrity of Judaism against the pollutions of Zionism’s politics which gave me credibility in the Arab world.

This Arab perception of my motivations never prevented the Zionist propagandists from charging me with “pro-Arabism,” even of being paid by the Arab League. But the bedrock foundation of my anti-Zionism has, so far as I know, remained my most enduring asset with all the Arabs I know, or care to know.'

-Rabbi Elmer Berger, Memoirs of an Anti-Zionist Jew, 1978 p. 29-30, emphasis mine.

Here Rabbi Berger explains that the Palestinians he worked with regularly emphasized the importance of anti-Zionist Jews in the fight for Palestinian liberation. He references "Arabs" since he worked alongside leaders from Jordan, Egypt, and Lebanon as well as those from Palestine. He was never asked to stop his anti-Zionist Jewish movement and "fall in line" with Palestinian activist leadership although he took his cues from them on human rights and advocacy like JVP does today--from the beginning, Jewish anti-Zionists were urged to create their own solidarity orgs.

Anti-Zionist Jews in the west: we are not new. We have been written out of history, but there is a place for us in this fight.

May Palestine be free from the river to the sea.

Elmer Berger z’'l (1908-1996) was a Reform Rabbi and lifelong anti-zionist. His 1978 work Memoirs of an Anti-Zionist Jew is an incredible story of his lifelong fight against Zionism in Palestine and America. Rabbi Berger has been unjustly written out of history and I hope everyone can be inspired by his life's work.

[surplus-of-sarcasm]

31st Story, Part 2

TW: Blood, implied past captivity and torture, stitches, wound description, angst, corrupt system, issues regarding figure (brief), bruises, angst, knife, touch starvation

Part 1

Guess who's back with a hella long piece. vacay from college for some time with semester 1 over, woo! enjoyyy 💙

“So how did you sleep?” the vigilante asked as she walked downstairs to find the villain sitting cross-legged on her couch. 

“Well,” he answered evenly, emotionlessness overtaking his tone as usual. It wasn't a complete lie; he'd slept better than he had in a long time, but his eyes had wrenched open a little after sunrise, even though he wasn't a morning person. He couldn't relax too much into this life, the knife he took shoved into the pocket of his sweatpants, but she didn't need to know that. 

“I'll make us breakfast,” she announced.

“I'll help you out,” he offered, even though he knew she could probably infer what his motives were. He still wasn't taking any chances anyway. 

She nodded curtly in response, leading him to the kitchen. And he'd almost wished someone had warned him about the whiplash of doing something so outlandishly casual with your enemy, as he watched her make a sandwich and soon enough followed suit, still hyper aware of the knives and the boiling water in the kettle. 

And of course, nothing was lost on Vigilante, even if she probably wasn’t half as nervous as he was, the half-frantic, wild animal wrapped in the poorly fitting garment of someone calm and collected. “Are you always this tense?” she questioned as she sat down at the table and he sat opposite from her.

“Just hungry,” he shot back smoothly, a seasoned liar. Sure, he technically was half-starved, trying to eat slowly just so he wouldn’t retch, but if that was the case, he would’ve relaxed when he ate.  

The vigilante said nothing as she took a bite of her sandwich, but her disbelieving eyebrow raise needed no further additions. 

The villain’s grip tightened on his mug as he worried his frayed bottom lip between his teeth,”What do you want? If you’re going to question every micro-gesture of mine, then why’d you bring me here?” His voice was hoarse with exhaustion, probably from all the screaming he couldn’t muffle, not that he cared.

“I get it,” the vigilante said placatingly, even though it was clear she was somewhat irritated. She wasn’t a goddamn bleeding heart just oozing compassion and patience, not that he expected any different. “You’re afraid of getting hurt.” 

“I am not afraid of crap, Vigilante.” It came out softer than he’d intended, almost as though he was the one trying to calm the situation, a new trait of people-pleasing a new and heavily despised survival skill he’d recently acquired. 

The vigilante wanted to argue, but she also knew that from the day she’d walked into his cell and pulled him out, that she’d been walking on thin ice. That the man in front of her wasn’t his normal, unflappable self that could dish out a lot worse than whatever she dared to throw at him, so for the rest of this tense, awkward breakfast, they both remained quiet. 

It had taken them about two hours of trepidation spent in the opposite ends of the living room for Vigilante to break the silence. “So, about the plan,” she started.

“Yeah?” he asked, now turning to face her. 

“We can’t fight her by traditional means. We don’t have the time to amass an army big enough to rival my sister’s own. The main thing we need to do is find some way to desecrate that shining image of hers,” she explained. 

The villain let out a low hum as though he was contemplating something, but the slight shift in the nature of his gaze indicated he’s noticed something. “Knocking your sister off of her pedestal is surely going to gain you some traction,” he noted. 

“I don’t care much for the spotlight,” she countered. 

“I know. But you seem to care about making sure your sister doesn’t have everything. Still, that isn’t the issue anyway.”

And again, he was right. There is something so utterly sickening of being born in someone’s shadow, of having all your power from someone else’s name. Vigilante was only formidable in people’s eyes because it was required of Superhero’s sister. Again, she’d never claimed to be dramatically selfless.

Still, she took note of how the villain made no effort at eye contact, his eyes trained on the pattern of her wooden coffee table, but she refrained from commenting. “Right. The general idea is, if the adoring public find out what she does to the people in her custo-”

The villain, in his most daring act of the day, had let out a sardonic snort. “Oh, save it. I don’t think you realise that how people like me are treated doesn’t really irk anyone. Because that’s how the world works, it’s easier like that. I’m not the most notorious, but it’s safe to say I’m ‘famous’ enough,” he made air quotations with his fingers, “People usually want to know about the trial, when it comes to people they’ve heard of, but no one gave a damn. No one cared to know I never really got a trial in the first place. Because they were just relieved that the Big Bad Guy was off the streets. Locked up somewhere. It doesn’t matter that my record says I’m guilty of crap I’ve never done. Because technically, I’ve committed my fair share of my crimes, what’s more to the pile? Hell, if it keeps me locked away for all eternity, then why not?” 

This time, the villain’s gaze was steely, his teeth gnashed together and his tone harsh, and yet before she’d even commented, the villain was quick to force the muscles of his face to work on pulling it into a blank expression, his hand going to his pocket. 

Where, unbeknownst to Vigilante, the knife from yesterday was. .  .

It took her a moment to register his words and realise he was right. The likes of Villain wouldn’t garner the sympathy of the same people that cheered when they were locked up, at every suffocating press conference where her sister’s airy voice seemed to ring in her ears. 

But how else was she supposed to rouse some sort of public outcry against her sister? She needed the key, the concept, the idea, and from that she could form a plan. It was why she thought of asking the villain in the first place. 

“Then what should we do to get people to notice?” 

The villain’s pale hand made its way out of his pocket, his expression still nearly unreadable. “Your sister’s clever. She’s almost untraceable, and uncovering her shady past would be difficult. Or actually, more difficult than having her do something terrible now.” 

“So you’re saying we somehow force her to commit some sort of terrible crime?” 

“Force is the wrong word. It wouldn’t be a choice she wouldn’t make on her own accord. And that’s our selling point. No one needs to make her pull underhanded crap because she’ll take that choice anyway. And from then, whatever it is you want to reveal is actually going to have a basis.” 

The villain straightened his posture, pulling his now slightly loose fitting hoodie down so straighten a wrinkle only for it to come down with a strange difficulty, like it was stuck to his skin, the man letting out a soft hiss. 

“You alright?” she asked. 

“Fine,” he answered curtly, getting up. He knew exactly why his jacket had stuck to his form in the first place, and he really didn’t need Vigilante’s supposed concern. There’s a lot worse he’d seen in his life, in those three months alone than some old scratch reopening. Walking into his room, he shrugged his hoodie off in front of the mirror only to notice that the stupid scratch was in an area he could barely reach, deeper and uglier than he thought, blood running down it in crimson rivulets, exposed tissue that was barely healing showing too. He didn’t know where the gauze was, or how he’d even manage treating the wound. And somehow, his past vanity, or rather basic awareness of his appearance that he now called vanity hadn’t completely faded away considering he noticed bone and skin where muscle used to be and the ridiculous amount of bruises adorning his figure in various shades of dusty purples and browns; every sign of how his captors had turned him into a punching bag for all their sadistic cravings. 

“Villain?” 

Hell no. He didn’t want anyone in this room with him while he looked like this, frantic again and wishing he could rip his hair from its roots. He almost didn’t care that he was still bleeding and it hurt to shift even slightly, or that his wound felt warm to the touch and was probably infected. He sat there on the bed, gripping onto the sheets like they were the only thing tethering him to the world around him. “Just,” he faltered. As much as the villain hated it, he couldn’t do crap right now without her help. He bit his lip again and exhaled slowly. “Come in.” 

She cursed softly when she looked at the wound, the scarlet already snaking down his lower back now. It didn’t take her long to come back with a whole lot of first aid equipment. “This’ll hurt,” she said slowly. 

All she got was a low grunt in response as she pressed antiseptic-soaked gauze to his back, and even though he barely let out a noise, didn’t move out of the way, his shoulders still tensed up under the pain. 

Involuntarily, she stroked a hand through his hair, a reflexive action even though the vigilante wasn’t particularly touchy, especially with her enemy turned ally of convenience. He turned to stare at her, looking nothing short of surprised, but not irritated or afraid. He turned around again as she stitched up his wound and tended to his other scratches, surprised how well he was holding out. The villain barely flinched through the process, but again the man had always been surprisingly enduring.

The villain seriously didn’t remember the last time anyone had tended to his injuries, even before getting captured. He’s sure someone did, during the times he couldn’t do it himself, but no one had ever run a hand through his hair when he’d tensed up or anything of the sort. He despised the fact that it hadn’t irritated him, instead he was left there dumbfounded, half-wishing she would do it again and half-grateful she refrained from it, from making him feel so bloody exposed like that. This entire ordeal, how strangely gentle the vigilante had been with him, how he slowly relaxed even though the idea of being this vulnerable, this close to one of his enemies terrified him.

The villain didn’t like to feel things that weren’t dry, controlled anger or smugness or absolutely nothing. So he didn’t, pretended he couldn’t until he believed it. 

Every lie dies in the end, no?

The vigilante had got up to hand him a new t-shirt that he slowly pulled on, minding his wounds but still refusing any help with it. “Thanks,” he mumbled awkwardly. 

“Y-you thank people?” she asked, half out of genuine surprise and half to lighten the mood. 

The villain didn’t smile, but his lip twitched up ever so slightly with a half-smirk, “I’m a villain, but I’m not a complete tactless bastard.” 

“I guess you could say that, and you’re welcome. I’ll just go clean up. Put your jacket in the basket over there.” The vigilante looked down at her bloodstained hands, and the villain gave her a curt nod. 

He was lucky she hadn’t taken the jacket herself, or noticed the knife somehow, and he could still keep it. It felt even scummier after right now, when she could’ve just let him bleed out, or made it worse since she was this close to him. He didn’t even know what she would try the second he was no longer useful. 

Carefully, he lowered his form onto the bed, letting out a soft groan. This was the strangest stage of his life yet, he presumed. 

So many times, life is about choosing the worst option, the choice you’d swore to never make, about condemning yourself to being at the mercy of the unknown. People will scream at you to avoid the lion’s den, but sometimes it is the only shelter from a raging storm ready to destroy you into nothing. And yet, maybe there is wisdom in the most foolish decisions, and safety in the most dangerous risks. Because even if you’re riddled with deep wounds and scars, even those can heal under care, even in the most unexpected places.

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[anne-bsd-bibliophile]

Murder in the Age of Enlightenment: Essential Stories

By Akutagawa Ryūnosuke, translated by Brian Karetnyk

"... having fallen as far as this, they had already been so wearied by the many tortures of Hell that they no longer had the strength to cry out." (The Spider's Thread)

"At any rate, if you want to rob a man of his woman, it's only natural that you're going to have to kill him. Only, when I do it, I do it with a sword. People like you don't use swords. You gentlemen kill with power, with money, sometimes with words alone - all on the pretence of doing a man a favour. True enough, no blood is shed. He might even live well. But you've killed him all the same. It's hard to say whose sin is greater - yours or mine. [An ironic smile]" (In a Grove)

"When it once pleased His Lordship to joke, 'You appear to take pleasure in all manner of unsightly things,' Yoshihide's unnaturally red lips creased into an unnerving smile and he replied haughtily, 'Yes, My Lord, it's true. Other more frivolous painters lack the insight required to perceive beauty in what offends the eye.'" (Hell Screen)

"'As a rule, I'm unable to paint anything I haven't seen. ... I have seen a man bound by iron chains,' Yoshihide said. 'I have made a detailed sketch of another being tormented by a monstrous bird. Thus, it cannot be said that I do not know the tortures that sinners endure. As for the wardens of Hell . . .' here the corners of Yoshihide's lips rose sinisterly, 'as for the wardens of Hell, I have seen them any number of times in my dreams and hallucinations. Devils with bulls' heads, with horses heads, with three faces and six arms. Almost every night they come to torment me with their noiseless clapping hands and their voiceless gaping mouths. No . . . They are not what I am unable to pain.'" (Hell Screen)

"The fleeting moments I have left impel me to set down my story, to describe the motives that brought me to commit the murder, the act itself, as well as the strange state that gripped me after the deed was done. And yet - O! and yet - even now, how keenly I am aware of my breath warming the frozen ink, of having placed this sheet of paper before me, and, with fear and trepidation, trying vainly to master myself. After all, to examine my past and set it down in writing means nothing less than to relive a past life. Once more I hatch my plan, once more I commit the deed, once more I am made to suffer the torments of this last year. Can I really have the strength to endure all this?" (Murder in the Age of Enlightenment)

"My state of mind then was such that a Japan without [her] had become utterly foreign to me. Rather than eke out the existence of a broken man in a country that was no longer my own, I thought it might be better to take a volume of Childe Harold, travel to some remote, distant place and, having roamed the world in lonely solitude, bury my bones in the soil of some foreign land." (Murder in the Age of Enlightenment)

"It seems that deep within my soul there lurks a monster incomprehensible even to myself." (Murder in the Age of Enlightenment)

"As the time passed, however, little by little I inched closer to the most despicable temptation of my life, and to a destiny with which I would ultimately have to reckon. By no means do I have the courage to recount how fierce was the battle I had to fight, how step by step, it pursued me to the brink of death. No, even now, as I inscribe these lines, I must enter into mortal combat with this hydra of temptation." (Murder in the Age of Enlightenment)

"... he contemplated death and war. But not even the faintest glimmer of wisdom came of it. After all, dying was still a wretched business, even if it was for the Emperor. As for war . . . Well, he didn't even hold war to be a crime. Next to war, crime, rooted as it was in private passion, was almost understandable. But war mean one's duty to the Emperor, and nothing else. And yet, he - but no, it was not just he, for more than two thousand men, from every division, had been selected for the White Sash Unit, and they too, whether they liked it or not, would now have to die, carrying out the greatest of duties . . ." (The General)

"I have no artistic conscience; indeed, I have no conscience whatsoever. I have only nerves." (Cogwheels)

"Soon enough, I began to feel that anything and everything was a lie. Politics, industry, arts, science - all this seemed to me little more than a gaily coloured enamel concealing the true horror of human life." (Cogwheels)

"I looked up to the lofty heavens to remind myself how small the world was - and, consequently, how small I myself was - amid the twinkling of countless stars." (Cogwheels)

"I haven't the strength to go on writing this. To live in this state of mind is an agony beyond all words. Isn't there someone kind enough to strangle me softly in my sleep?" (Cogwheels)

[itjazzbicch]

Keeps Me Breathing

Pairing: Magna Swing x Reader 

Summary: FIRSTS THINGS FIRST! THERE ARE MANGA SPOILERS! SO HERE'S YOUR WARNING BEFORE YOU CONTINUE!

Also a continuation of New Motivations:

Magna's and the reader's plans are jammed up due to their current enemy arising, the reader sacrifices themselves for everyone, unable to hang on, thinking it's the end, but Magna keeps them breathing...

Warnings:  Mentions of blood, near-death experience

Word Count: 1.3k 

Well, it looked like this was it for me.

Taking on Damnatio while already roughed up was a challenge, but I had to. So, Asta could get to who was behind all of this, Lucius.

Forming my mana zone, I pushed past my limits. Creating the heaviest form of gravity to keep down and that came with a great cost.

His body was next to mine, probably knocked out, maybe even dead, as he was as stiff as a tree.

I wasn’t in great shape either. Using what little magic I had left to keep the rocks above us hovering, so I wouldn’t get crushed.

The gravity that I used to take him down was so heavy that I practically buried us alive. Gravely injured, blood all over me, and horrible couldn’t even describe the pain I was feeling.

Every second that passed, it got harder to breathe. I wouldn’t be surprised if all of my bones were broken and my organs were crushed.

“OVER HERE!!”

Looking up, I could hear voices, the rocks making it hard to tell who it was.

Pebbles started falling, some light peeking out through the top.

Captain Yami? Magna?

“Y/N?!”

I tried to speak and blood came out, coughing and it made the pain so much worse.

“Oh my god,” Magna came sliding down the rocks with Captain Yami, limp when Captain Yami picked me up.

“Just hang on tight, kid,” Captain Yami hauled me out, sitting me against a big rock, looking to see the rest of our squad running over, even if they were beaten up, Magna panicking but trying to help:

“Yeah, Mimosa is on her way, so she can-“

“That’s okay,” I whispered ghostly, she was too far away, and so, I accepted my fate, “Not ‘ough t-time.”

“Don’t you talk like that!” Magna instantly started crying at my words, “It won’t be much longer, I promise!”

I wanted to tell him that I was sorry, but I could feel what little oxygen I had being clogged, the tiniest amount keeping me conscious.

Everyone stopped around us, seeing Vanessa fall to her knees, tears in all their eyes, even Captain Yami’s.

They were the best part of my life, and I loved them. From barbecues, training, and all the crazy things we’ve done and accomplished. I wouldn’t want to live a life without them.

“Y/N-“ Vanessa was crying as they all came closer, seeing how my eyes were starting to drift off.

I managed to lock them on Magna as he took my hand, barely able to hold back his sobs as he kept trying to encourage me:

“You can’t die here! We still have our date! There’s so much we still have to do together.”

Everyone else kept trying too, mentioning our goals of becoming captains together, any little detail that came to their minds.

Starting to lose feeling, I did feel the tears streaming down my face, but smiling as much as I could, eyes still locked into Magna’s.

“L-Love you,” The last bit of air I had, I used to let them know how happy they made me, trying to squeeze Magna’s hand, “S-So ‘uch.”

Not fighting the sobs anymore, all their hearts were breaking together, Magna being the one to cry back to me:

“I love you too.”

Hearing that made me smile more, heartbroken that this was my last moment, but grateful that I had them and that I wasn’t alone.

My eyes started drifting off again, looking to the sky, cold and able to hear the last faint beats my heart had left.

Suddenly, I felt something warm. Realizing that Magna was hugging me, everything started going black, the last thing I heard was his cries, his sobbing plea echoing off into my mind:

“You can’t die on me! Please! Y/NNN!”

—————

Was I dead?

Everything was still dark but I could hear some birds chirping.

Gradually, some figures were visible but it was still dark. Trying to look around, my vision was blurry, but I saw a window?

The moon. A full moon that was glowing.

The realization smacked me hard that I must’ve been awake, trying to sit up and I slammed back down, crying out in pain.

That pain was enough to know that I was alive, sobbing at how everything hurt, screaming when I suddenly heard:

“Y/N!!!”

Looking to my side, it was Magna, who scared me. Falling out of his chair to his knees next to me.

His eyes were so red, dark circles under them like he hadn’t slept in days, crying more:

“You’re awake. Thank goodness, you’re awake.”

Reliving the end of judgment day, all I could think about was him hugging me. Sobbing and fighting the pain, I took his arm, crying with him, but cooing:

“Come here.”

I could only hug him with one arm, but I hugged him as much as I could, finally getting to say:

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I scared you like I did. I just-; I had to defeat Damnatio somehow.”

“It’s okay,” He swallowed down, picking his head up to look into my eyes, smiling through tears, “I’m just so happy you’re still here.”

I was too. Smiling back and asking:

“Were you here with me all this time? How long have I been out for?”

“A week,” He mumbled, explaining to me, “You broke some bones and some of your organs got crushed and because of your gravity, it made it hard to heal. I’ve been here, ever since they’ve been trying to heal you.”

Just as I expected, my magic was unique and since I change gravity in ways only I know how, it can make it difficult for others to adapt to the changes it makes.

Either way, I was just happy that I was alive. I was touched by how he’s stayed with me.

“But don’t worry,” Trying to stay optimistic, he also informed me, “You only have two big injuries right now and they’re working to get it healed as quickly as they can.”

“That’s good,” I breathed out, closing my eyes and admitting, “Because I feel like shit.”

“I bet,” He sighed, fighting some tears again, “I’m just so relieved.”

Pushing some of his hair behind his ear, wiping his tears away, and promising:

“I am too. And the second I’m out of here, we’re going on our date.”

“I can’t wait,” He smiled, kissing my forehead and making quickly, “You try to relax. I’m gonna go tell Owen that you’re awake.”

When he came back with Owen, we learned that they were close to getting me patched up. It was just a challenging task with the kingdom still recovering.

I wasn’t in any rush really, but not even a week later, they had me fixed like new. The squad came to visit in between and kept me occupied. Unfortunately, Magna and the squad weren’t there the day I was released, but that gave me a good chance to surprise them.

Celebrating with everyone, and getting some of Charmy’s food to fuel up, I rushed because Magna still wasn’t back yet, so I got changed into one of my cutest outfits.

The look on his face was priceless when he came into his room, seeing me sitting on the bed, kicking my feet:

“Bout time you showed up!”

“Holy crap, you’re back?!” He rushed over, tackling me on the bed with a hug, making me squeal and giggle, but playfully scolding:

“Hey! I got all dolled up for our date! Don’t mess up my outfit!”

His head shot up so quickly, blinking for the reconfirmation that I gave him:

“I told you as soon as I was back we’d go on our date! Let’s go!”

Giggling at him stuck in place, I was shut up with a kiss, the both of us getting lost, but tapping him before it turned into a full-blown make-out session:

“Ah, ah. You’ll get kisses later. I wanna go have some fun.”

“I just needed that,” He pulled back smiling, running off to get ready, “Be back in a flash!”

“You better!” I giggled, making sure he knew, “You and I are gonna have a lot of fun today!” 

2023 © itjazzbicch — do not repost or translate my work. Likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome 

[katnissmellarkkk]

Hiiii! I meant to have this out days ago but …. Well, if I’m being honest my mental health has been really terrible lately so editing this chapter was actually really really really difficult for me to motivate myself to do? Anyways! More positive note! It’s done now so I hope y’all like it! I hope any the grammar mistakes aren’t too noticeable and I hope y’all have the best day after reading this! I love you all and I’m so grateful for how this story has been received! God bless every one of you! The comments especially are my favorite things in the world. If you comment just know you make me so so so happy!

Oh and also I should have the next chapter out sooner than this one!

Anyways God bless you all, again, and I hope you have an excellent day! Thank you 🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

-

summary : when a strange man comes to Twelve and begins to pop up unexpectedly wherever Katniss is, her and Peeta find themselves quickly in over their head with a stalker.

-

I screamed. I screamed so loud, at first I didn’t even think it was me. The sound came out fraught and high-pitched and feral, and it didn’t feel like it came from my body. I didn’t even feel it leave my mouth.

But Peeta knew the sound. Boy, did he know it. He knew it all too well, for reasons that haunt us both night and day.

My scream was the sound Peeta understood above all else. There was no other noise he knew so viscerally, so instinctively, so intrinsically, like he knew my cry for help.

In an instant, he sprung up in bed right beside me, his body still somewhat curved around mine. He frantically cupped my face, forcing me to turn and meet his eyes, his arms folding around me at the same time. “Katniss, what’s wrong? What happened? Katniss? What’s wrong?” He said over and over and over again.

But I could not speak. My tongue had gone numb and my lips were frozen and I could not make a sound.

I stared straight ahead, waiting for Vulcan, waiting desperately for him to magically appear, just as he did before. Just as he did so many times before.

But not this time. This time he had all but evaporated, like the mutts the Gamemakers used to simultaneously place in and out of the arena, in order to spice up the show.

Vulcan had disappeared. He had disappeared into thin air.

And I had nothing to prove he’d ever been here in the first place.

But I couldn’t let him go. Not without a fight. I could not stand another moment of living in fear — like I had far too often in my life already — and I could not take one more occurrence that forced me to question my sanity. That made Peeta or Haymitch wonder if this was all really happening inside my head.

I had to find him. Just to prove that he had been here. That I hadn’t hallucinated him.

And also, perhaps to finally confront him. If he were on the run, then I had the upper hand. If I caught him then I was the predator and he was the prey and the odds were finally stacked in my favor this time.

Of course, I should have known then that the odds would never, ever be in my favor.

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