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guacamoleroll · 9 months

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𝖓𝖎𝖈𝖐𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖊𝖘 「𝔪𝔲𝔩𝔱𝔦」 ༉‧₊˚

characters. bungou stray dogs. osamu dazai, chuuya nakahara, fyodor dostoevsky, nikolai gogol, sigma.

content. f!reader. mentions of violence, mentions of suicide attempts (dazai), alcohol (chuuya), harassment (chuuya), cussing, general sappiness. not proofread.

author's note. this started as a writing exercise to get my writing inspo flowing again, and then i began working on it on and off for a week. so enjoy! this is also an attempt to nail some of their character's down, so hopefully it isn't too OOC.

would you like to see more? join the taglist or comment under this post!

synopsis. what nicknames do the bungo stray dogs boys call their girlfriend?

𝗢𝗦𝗔𝗠𝗨 𝗗𝗔𝗭𝗔𝗜 ⋆⁺₊ ⸺⸺⸺

𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗥 ⋆ 𝗕𝗘𝗟𝗟𝗔𝗗𝗢𝗡𝗡𝗔 ⋆ (𝗡𝗔𝗠𝗘)-𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗡

The darkened alleyway had become thick with the stench of gunpowder and smoke, streetlights barely illuminating your path in the hush of night. You patrolled the area with quick, swift feet, hovering your gun near your hip in case of an ambush. Each step made your heart pound, sweat mixing with humidity to drench your skin as you inched toward the corner.

However, to both your dismay and prediction, Dazai wasn't taking this mission seriously—though he rarely did. It both aggravated and appeased you, knowing that if the situation became dangerous, he'd straighten up in a heartbeat. That didn't mean that his blissed smile and the skip in his step as he went on about the euphoria of death and the many methods he could die from didn't unnerve you.

Knowing him, he wouldn't mind getting shot.

"You know, my dear," he smirked, leaning close to your shoulder to whisper into your ear. "You're very sexy when you're serious." "Dazai," you chided, face stilled into an unamused expression. He fell back dramatically, flailing his hands into the air in surrender. "Oh, belladonna! That stern stare — I hope that beautiful expression is the last sight I see in this cruel world!" he cried, but much to his disdain, you had already rounded the corner, completely done with his antics. "(Name)-channnn!~ Don't leave me hereeee!"

𝗦𝗪𝗘𝗘𝗧𝗜𝗘 ⋆ 𝗛𝗢𝗡𝗘𝗬 ⋆ 𝗪𝗜𝗙𝗘𝗬

It had been a strenuous day at the office for everyone, including you—a plethora of insane missions always followed by mountains of paperwork that never seemed to end. It was almost too much to bear. You huffed, leaning against your hand as you desperately tried to not fall asleep due to your exhaustion.

A pair of large, warm hands rested on your shoulders, massaging just the right spots in your taut muscles. You sighed, allowing yourself to lean back in your chair and enjoy the temporary reprieve. However, the owner of those hands had different plans, hot breath blowing against your ear as he bent down to rest his chin on your shoulder. Dazai chuckled to himself, enjoying your immediate reaction to straighten up, eyes pointed to the screen in an effort to avoid reacting.

You were just too cute.

He cooed out a plethora of sweet nothings in a low, hushed timbre as he tempted a flustered expression out of your face. And one thing that everyone should know about Osamu Dazai—he always gets what he wants when he puts his mind to it.

"Heyyy, sweetie. How's the paperwork going?" You continued to type. "Why won't you pay attention to me!" he wailed, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as he slumped against you. "Come onnn, honey. Don't you love me anymore?" You typed harder. He sniffled. "My little wifey doesn't love me anymore." You paused. "Whaat? Too forward?"

𝗕𝗘𝗔𝗨𝗧𝗜𝗙𝗨𝗟

Only strays wandered the streets at this time of night, but Dazai found himself itching to join them with each passing second. Sleep never easily came to the former demon prodigy. He found that each time he closed his eyes, he was only met with flashes of the past and disillusions of the future. His sharp mind would continue to turn like a machine, processing every granule of information as if he were inspecting an hourglass—a process that had become routine for him.

"Osamu..."

However, your intrusion into his nightfall rituals had soothed his instinctual aches. His eyes glazed over your drowsy figure, admiring the displacement of your hair and the heaviness of your eyes with an emotion he could only describe as awe.

Because in these moments, you didn't even have to be awake and looking at him to make him feel invigorated—feel alive. And with you, he didn't hate being alive anymore, didn't hate acknowledging his human flaws and issues. He just embraced it, even for only a second.

The rational part of his brain dissipated when he felt your warm, bare skin brush against his bandages, snuggling up to him. He knew his brain became useless in your presence, overcome with pure adulation for your mind, your body, and your very soul. So instead, he pulled you close, nuzzling his face in your neck and listening to the rhythmic pulse of your heart as it worked to soothe him to sleep.

"Good night, beautiful."

𝗖𝗛𝗨𝗨𝗬𝗔 𝗡𝗔𝗞𝗔𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗔 ⋆⁺₊ ⸺⸺⸺

𝗕𝗔𝗕𝗘

The murmurs of the restaurant had been dampened by a luxurious and vast velvet curtain, enclosing the entire booth to separate you from the other patrons. Lights sparkled from a dazzling chandelier, creating ribbons of gold and white on the tablecloth. This was a special occasion since you rarely had dates outside of your apartment. Chuuya always wanted to take you out more often, to show you off and treat you to the finest, but there never was time. So even when you insisted you could stay inside for a date this evening, he had already planned on spoiling you rotten.

He watched your expression between folded hands, hiding his smirk as the waiter set down an extremely expensive bottle of red wine. You had insisted on getting the more recent and cheaper version, not wanting to splurge too much—which, of course, insulted him. How could he not provide the best for his partner whenever he got the chance?

"Stop gaping, babe," he tutted at your widened eyes, tone lighter than the biting edge it usually held. "Whaddya say we snap over the 1959 Chateau Latour, hm?"

𝗗𝗢𝗟𝗟 ⋆ 𝗕𝗔𝗕𝗬

You had been working the late shift at your office building, slaving the day away only to come out on the other side with an aching back and a small paycheck. Despite Chuuya's suggestion that you could quit your job and let him take care of you, you wanted to maintain your independence and some additional money, which he understood. So here you were, trudging home from the train station with heavy feet and tired eyes. Seeing the apartment complex in the distance made your heart soar, a pep in your step as you started to practically glide down the sidewalk.

"Heyyyy, baby. Lookin' good tonight. That outfit for me, huh?"

Grimacing, you ignored the disgusting cat-calls from the random stranger in favor of increasing your speed to reach the building. You could practically smell the woody cologne coming from Chuuya's jacket, but your blissful thoughts were interrupted by a set of hefty footsteps behind you. This would've been normal during the day, but no one else is out this late at night—except one person.

With tremoring fingers, you lifted your cell phone ever-so-slightly, finding that strange man walking at a brisk pace behind you in the reflection. It set off too many alarm bells in your head, and your walking turned into sprinting.

It just so happened that Chuuya was leaning on one of the pillars outside of your apartment complex. He never liked when you worked the late-shift, and he definitely didn't like when you walked home by yourself—however, you had insisted that you would be fine. He relented, enjoying the independent aspect of your personality, but he still had his precautions.

He straightened up with a passive expression when he saw your shadowed silhouette in the distance, but his eyes narrowed, and his shoulders tensed once he spotted the man who was running after you. Using his gravity manipulation, he pulled you closer to him and had the pervert sink into the ground, sizing him up with burning eyes.

His gloved hand went to your back, easing your trembling body. "Go inside, baby. You don't need'ta be involved in this shit." He watched carefully as you rushed inside the lobby, before slamming the man onto the hard concrete, a foot digging into his spine. "Listen, shithead. You ever look at my doll again, I fucking swear to God—" He never let you walk home alone after this, not like you were complaining much. And that man would never bother you again, if he was even still capable of walking.

𝗣𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗖𝗘𝗦𝗦

It had been an absolutely draining day for Chuuya. With his position as an executive, you would assume that he wouldn't have to deal with the low-life freeloaders that the Port Mafia was bound to have, but it was exactly the opposite. He had been stuck for hours finishing a bunch of incident reports due to the destruction of properties on the southwestern side of Yokohama—incidents he was somehow not involved in.

He groaned as he entered the apartment, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it with his hat before a hearty aroma hit him. He followed his nose to the stove, finding an intricately wrapped dish with a note taped on top.

Make sure you eat before you go to bed. You need to grow big and strong. Love you! ♥

If it were from anyone else, he would've ripped the note apart when he hit the jab at his height—and he definitely scowled a bit—but there was a hint of endearance in his expression. He lifted the tin foil covering the food, feasting on the sight of penne alla vodka.

A raspy sound took him out of his ogling, his eyes scanning the darkened living room to find the one person he had been dying to see—you. And what a sight you were, drool trailed down your chin, a half-empty dish of pasta lying limply in your arms, and hair tousled as your neck bent at an awkward angle to rest against the cushions.

He couldn't help a small laugh at the sight, placing your plate on the coffee table and wiping the baby hairs out of your face, leaving a fleeting kiss on your forehead. In moments like this, with the disarray and train wreck his life had been, he found himself grateful for such simple, domestic sights. It enveloped him in a sense of peace, feeling at home for the first time.

"Hey, princess," he whispered with another peck to your temple. "I'm home."

𝗙𝗬𝗢𝗗𝗢𝗥 𝗗𝗢𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗘𝗩𝗦𝗞𝗬 ⋆⁺₊ ⸺⸺⸺

The pet names featured below are in Russian.

𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗥

Fyodor rarely, if ever, used nicknames of any kind in public. With his specific occupation, it would be detrimental to reveal any kind of attachment to anyone, regardless of whether you were capable of defending yourself. However, rarely does not mean never.

It was an unusual occasion; a completely public date at a local café—you knew that he loved his tea and suggested it in the off-chance that it would possibly sway him to join you. You assumed that he'd say no, but he always found himself having a hard time denying you when you proposed it so sweetly.

However, you knew that you needed to be efficient with your time. You enjoy each other's company in a secluded corner of the café while also multitasking on your own work. The room emitted a wonderful ambiance that made you feel productive and inspired, though it was simultaneously cozy enough to relax in—for you, that was. Most of Fyodor's work required him to be in seclusion, so instead he enjoyed the view—both of the skies outside and a couple of stray glimpses at you.

"Drink for (Name)," a barista called.

Fyodor looked toward you expectantly, but you were far too in your own little world to notice. He would've normally broken your workflow, but he found himself oddly compelled to let you continue—he was awfully fond of the way your brows narrowed as you concentrated. So instead, he retrieved your drink, settling it on the table with a small clink.

"Here you are, dear."

𝗠𝗜𝗟𝗔𝗬𝗔 (милая) ⋆ 𝗥𝗔𝗗𝗡𝗔𝗬𝗔 (радная) ⋆ 𝗟𝗨𝗕𝗜𝗠𝗔𝗬𝗔 (любимая)

It was in the privacy of your shared home that his native tongue came out, engrossing you with his rich Russian accent—he knew the effect it had on you, so sometimes he toyed around with you by slipping it into everyday interactions.

You walked into his computer room, careful to not trip on wires as you carried in a steaming thermal mug of fresh black tea. He was often far too engrossed in his work to eat or drink, so you found the least you could do was to make him some tea whenever you weren't busy.

You placed it next to him, leaning over to take a curious glance at the screen—not understanding a word of it—and you were about to silently exit when he placed a cold hand on top of yours. Your brow raised, watching the smile that appeared on his lips.

"Thank you, милая." You sputtered over your words at the praise, watching in anticipation as he took a sip. He hummed at the nectarous flavor, slouching as the tea worked to soothe his throat. The tea circled in the mug as he swirled it, watching carefully as he could feel your composure melt away. "Delicious as always, радная." You mumbled a quick thank you, turning like a gazelle on your heel to escape his predatory gaze, but his hand pulled you back. Completely captive in his hold, you looked back, a knowing smirk on his face. "Stay for a moment, любимая. I'd like to hear your thoughts on something."

𝗠𝗬𝗦𝗛𝗞𝗔 (мышка)

You honestly had no clue how you had gotten into this position.

One moment, you were cleaning around various rooms, making sure everything was dusted and organized. The next, you were sitting in Fyodor's lap—though you couldn't say you minded. An occasional hum vibrated against the top of your head as Fyodor concentrated on a book in one hand, the other fastened securely around your waist, rubbing circles into the clothed skin.

It took every ounce of self-control you had to limit your face to a neutral glance, staring at the words in his Russian novel as if you were trying to decipher them—you were; you didn't know a lick of the language. You leaned against his shoulder, listening to the faint thump of his heartbeat as it lured you into relaxation. His eyes began to drift from the page, finding your internal struggle incredibly amusing. He titled his face, holding back a smirk when you made a startled noise from a kiss to the temple.

Cute.

In these moments, he felt human again. Everywhere else in the world, he was either treated as a god or a demon—and that was the way he had orchestrated it. But here, in the home you both created, he felt that he had finally received his sanctuary. A place where he sat, welcomed and unjudged for his sins.

"You're quite warm, мышка," he teased. "Perhaps you are developing fever. Hm?"

𝗡𝗜𝗞𝗢𝗟𝗔𝗜 𝗚𝗢𝗚𝗢𝗟 ⋆⁺₊ ⸺⸺⸺

The pet names featured below are in Ukrainian.

𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗜𝗩𝗞𝗔 (ластівка)

The fluorescent lights above burned your eyes as you scoured the aisles of the store aimlessly. You were on your weekly grocery run but had decided to make something different for dinner this week. There was only one problem—you didn't know where the ingredients were. You normally would've just asked one of the staff members, but you had unfortunately come into the store at a very late hour. Every time you looked at an employee, their eyes were glazed over as if wishing for the sweet release of death. So you decided to search on your own.

You scanned the shelves for a particular dressing, not finding it in its usual spot. It was only with a quick glance to the top shelf that you found it, teetering on the edge as if tempting you. Gritting your teeth, you outstretched your arm as you braced your other one on a lower shelf, only to shriek at the feeling of two hands supporting your hips. You whipped around to find the pervert who had touched you but found nothing. And then you looked down.

Damn him.

Two familiar gloves emerged from golden portals, and a mischievous chuckle accompanied their exit from down the aisle. You looked the white-haired jester up and down, crossing your arms with a pout.

"Did you have to startle me like that?" "Ohhh, sorry, ластівка," he cooed. "I only want to say hello!~"

𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗘𝗡𝗞𝗔 𝗠𝗢𝗬𝗔 (маленька моя) ⋆ 𝗠𝗢𝗬𝗔 𝗞𝗢𝗞𝗛𝗔𝗡𝗔 (моя кохана)

How did you manage to get into this mess?

Oh yeah, Nikolai suggested it.

The classic jester, in his hobby of wreaking havoc everywhere he goes, suggested a fun date-night idea—to light bin fires around the alleys of Yokohama until the police caught on. At first, you had been chasing after him in an attempt to stop him, but it had all been in vain. He would let you grab him, only to chuckle as he teleported away with his cape. So instead, you opted to stick by his side and make sure he didn't cause too much harm.

You stood a couple of feet away from the blazing fire, your body resting in the tranquil glow of the chaotic light. Despite the oddities that came with the situation—and every situation that involved Nikolai—there was something so welcoming about the discord. Perhaps you had finally become used to Nikolai's antics. The aforementioned jester had been gaping at you for some time, an unreadable expression on his face as he watched your features through the fire.

"You look breathtaking in the glow of a flame, маленька моя."You stilled at his serious tone, fumbling over a response, but a crescendoing wail of sirens broke the silence. Nikolai smirked, grabbing your arm with one hand as the other went into his overcoat. "Oops!~ Looks like the police caught on. Come on, моя кохана! This way!"

𝗗𝗨𝗦𝗛𝗔 𝗠𝗢𝗬𝗔 (душа моя)

A refreshing breeze rushed past your face as you settled, watching the sun make its descent below the horizon of the city's harbor. Your legs dangled dangerously over the edge of a steep cliffside, yet you found no fear remaining in your heart. Perhaps you have become accustomed to a life of chaos; find beauty in the entropy and contradictions of life.

Nikolai couldn't help but stare at your face as it was outlined by the shadows of the dying sunbeams, awe-struck by your beauty. You were ethereal to him, everything he ever wanted to be and wished to have—so grounded and yet freer than ever. He knew that the relationship between you two, something neither of you had dared to label, should've made him feel constricted. It tied him down to the ground, and he should've been fighting for the skies.

But he didn't.

He felt free. And he knew that it was most likely his heart tricking him, stringing him to a relationship that would disappear with the wind—that he had truly become the fool everyone thought of him as. But he didn't care. Not anymore. Not with you by his side.

He snapped out of his philosophical contemplation as a soft hand cupped his cheek, thumbing at the performative mask that he wore. And he folded it like a deck of cards, removing it before placing a chaste kiss on your palm.

"Somehow, I feel freer than ever before. And it's all thanks to you, душа моя."

𝗦𝗜𝗚𝗠𝗔 ⋆⁺₊ ⸺⸺⸺

𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗥 ⋆ 𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗧

It was a known fact that the Casino's manager had a rigid schedule, packed with meetings and event dates that he had to prepare for. Everything had to run perfectly inside his casino, and he would be damned if it didn't. However, Sigma always made it a mission to purposefully bump into you throughout the day. He had memorized your schedule easily, finding that there was only so much you could do in a finite building in the sky.

He would often find you either in the library or viewing deck, either in your own world reading a book or watching the real world from the skies. Even he had to admit that he could never get tired of the sight of the Earth from down below, contemplating the lives of those who lived on the ground.

"Good morning, dear," he greeted you at the entrance of the viewing deck, noticing a stack of books in your arms. "I see your trip to the library went well." "It was. I'm going to thumb through the newest shipment of fiction novels this afternoon," you replied, your hand already tapping on one of the hardcovers in anticipation. Sigma always made sure to buy the best books for the casino, and you knew he was often swayed by your own favorites. "I'm glad you're so interested in them." He knowingly smiled before a memory came to mind. "Could you hold off your reading for one moment, dearest? I've received a new layout for our casino's fliers and was hoping you'd take a look."

𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 ⋆ 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗟𝗬 ⋆ 𝗦𝗪𝗘𝗘𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗧

The anxious casino manager often forgot to eat because of his destructive work habits, often going hours without consuming anything in order to constantly maintain peace in his casino. It was a terrible habit that caused more stress for both of you, so you decided to enact a plan. Whenever you noticed his workload was becoming too much or he seemed too frazzled, you'd step in to make sure he was getting everything he needed.

A small (underlying word: large) part of him secretly reveled in this, both having the opportunity to be doted on—and be simultaneously scolded—while also relishing in a couple stress-free moments with you. And he also gets to enjoy your cooking, which he personally found better than the casino chefs'—but that's because he was biased.

On his worst days, you'd prance into his office after the casino lunch rush, carrying in tow a small bento packed with his favorite comfort foods and a cookie for dessert. He would look up from whatever paperwork he was slaving away on, a small smile on his tired face.

"Thank you, my love." "You really need to eat more, Sigma," you lectured, placing the bento on his desk to take his face into your hands, analyzing his eye-bags with a concerned expression. "You're gonna get sick." "I'm fine, lovely," he replied, cupping your hands with his own. "You don't need to worry about me." You struck him with a pointed glare, crossing your arms and tapping your foot as he began to work on paperwork again. The clock ticked by a couple of seconds, your maternal scowl deepening with each moment that passed where he didn't reach for the food. "Sweetheart," he sighed before relenting and reaching for the bento. "Fine. For you, I'll eat some. But only until C4276 finishes his blackjack game."

𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 𝗢𝗙 𝗠𝗬 𝗟𝗜𝗙𝗘

The casino had been blasting with the sounds of the band in full swing long into the night, people dancing and chatting amongst themselves as the casino reached the peak of its ability. This new gala had been an exhilarating success, drawing in new patrons as cash flowed out from dealers' hands. It had been perfect, but it was obviously a lot on Sigma.

That was the reason you insisted on co-hosting it with him. He watched in amazement as you worked the crowd tonight, acting in concert to keep the patrons happy and to maintain order. You had been his perfect match, which showed just how much you watched over the casino.

He found you later that night standing on your private balcony, pausing at the entry to fully take in how beautiful you looked in your formal ensemble. The stars seemed to drift to your body like a satellite, casting you in a distant heavenly glow. But everything was silent as if you two were the only ones left to watch over the world as the clouds wandered by.

The anxiety and fear he always felt had been pushed to the side, melting away with the utter sense of belonging that you had engrained into him. You had shown him that he wasn't a mediocre man but a capable and strong individual capable of loving and being loved. You turned as the balcony door shifted open, welcoming him into both your arms and heart.

And he fell for you even more.

"Ohh, love of my life," he mumbled, nuzzled into your shoulder. "What would I be without you?"

милая = dear/darling радная = dear любимая = beloved мышка = mouse ластівка = swallow (bird) маленька моя = my little one моя кохана = my love душа моя = my soul

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @imhandicapableofmath @seisitive @solandiss @ruru-kiss @sillyspookycat @kotysluny

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marksmelodies · 5 months

Note

Haiiiii

I luv ur blog sm! 💕💕🙈🙈

Can you do dreamies reactions to accidentally getting you pregnant?

PLZ IM BEGGING YOU

hiii thank you so much 😽 i had so many requests for this so i hope you all enjoy 💓

mark

he would be shocked.. in total disbelief but still supportive

“IM HOME BABE” mark yells through your apartment, your loud sobs lead him to the bathroom that you are in, mark walks through the door seeing you sitting on the toilet seat with your head in your hands “ what’s wrong sweetheart” mark kneels down to see your face “ im pregnant” you say muffled “you’re what?” mark says moving your hands away from your face “im pregnant” you say hesitantly repeating yourself looking to the ground, mark stays silent for a moment, processing everything that he just heard before speaking again “i love you” he blurts out, you look down at him a little confused at his random confession “ i love you so much, at the end of the day its your decision on what you want to do, i’ll support you no matter what you decide” he moves closer engulfing you into a big hug

renjun

he would be so down to earth & serious about it, he wouldn’t hold back asking the hard questions

“we’re going to be parents?” he asks, his voice low and stern “yes jun” you say coming to terms with it yourself “and you’re sure want to keep it?” you answer again “yes i do” he smiles at you placing a kiss to your temple “are you ready to be a mom, im not saying that you aren’t i just want you to know that is isn’t just something temporary, from this point forward our lives are going to change forever, are you ready for that?” he asks “yes renjun im ready, are you?” you ask he takes a second to reply “i’ve always wanted a life with you, i always wanted a family and you to be the mother of my children” he says kissing you “im still in shock but im ready to become a dad, ill try and be the best person i can be for you and our child, i love you so much” you giggle at him “i love you more junnie”

jeno

he wouldn’t have much to say in the moment, he would immediately make sure you understand how much he loves you and supports you

coming home from a long practice, jeno walks through the front door and straight to your shared bedroom, he finds you folding laundry on the bed “hey babe” he says putting his belongings down and walking over to you placing a kiss to your forehead, he walks into the attached bathroom as he takes off his belt and begins to discard his clothes, you finally get the courage to speak “jeno i need to talk to you when you’re done showering” you say “alright” he replies as he closes the door separating you from him as he gets in the shower, your stomach drops as you hear the water turn off and your boyfriend exiting the bathroom in nothing but a towel around his waist “what did you need to talk about” he asks standing in the bathroom doorway, you stare at him on the bed “get dressed first” you say as he begins to put shorts and a shirt on before walking over to you on the bed, he sits down on the edge “ jeno” you whisper before tears stream down your face “im pregnant” you say as tears being to spring from your eyes, jeno doesn’t say anything he just puts you on his lap and rubs your back until you calm down “look at me” jeno says “we will figure this out together, you’re not alone in this” he says placing a kiss to yours lips

haechan

his immediate instinct is to check on you, completely disregarding the information you just laid on him

“i’m pregnant donghyuck” as the words leave your tongue haechans heart drops, he rushes over to you “are you okay? are you in pain? do you feel sick? can i do anything to help?” you found this gesture cute, “yes babe i’m fine but did you hear me? i’m pregnant” you say questioning him “yes i heard you love, do you want to keep it?” he asks fiddling with the hem of his shirt “yeah i do, this is our baby hyuck” you say looking at your belly. hyuck smiles bending down to your tummy “hi baby it’s your daddy, i know you’re so small but soon you’ll grow so big, i’ll make sure mommy is super healthy so that you can be too!” he says rubbing your belly “i can’t wait to see you as a dad, it’s already so hot, it’s making me want to get pregnant again and i just found out about this one” haechan lets out a laugh “wow slow it down baby you’re not even a month in, let’s see if you say the same thing after giving birth” your eyes shoot open as a gasp leaves your mouth “oh my god, i’m going to have to give birth, i forgot about that part, wait now im scared” you say panicking “don’t worry baby, ill be there with you every step of the way” haechan pulls you into another hug kissing the top of your head

jaemin

he would hold back tears

“i’m gonna be a dad” jaemin says looking at you, you expected him to be scared shitless but to your surprise his face is plastered with a smile from ear to ear “oh baby, we’re gonna be a mommy and daddy” he pulls you into a hug before looking at you again “wait, you want this right, you want the baby?” jaemin questions, “yes jaemin, i’ve always wanted to be a mom, even though this wasn’t planned i’m happy, reallly happy, especially since you’re the dad, i wouldn’t want to have anyone else’s baby” you smile at him “well i would hope not, oh y/n you’re gonna look so pretty all pregnant. i can’t wait to see them grow inside you, i can’t wait to meet them” you kiss his lips “you’re gonna be a great dad jaemin” “not as good as you mama”

chenle

surprisingly good at not freaking out given the situation at least on the outside

it all started with morning sickness

“jesus babe” chenle jumps out of bed rushing to the bathroom after hearing you begin to throw up, quickly he kneels down next to you holding your hair up and rubbing your back “this is the third time this week you’ve thrown up” chenle says worried “i think i have a stomach bug or something” you say wiping your mouth with a wet washcloth

you began to notice how every little thing made you nauseous, especially the smell of certain foods

“babe come here and try this” your boyfriend yells as you approached him, walking to the pot of food on the stove you take a deep breath before being completely disgusted, not that the food smelled bad, not at all, it was one of your favorite dishes but for some reason, all of the sudden you felt like you could puke at any moment “chenle i can’t i feel sick” you say making gagging sounds “wow okay you could’ve just told me the food looks awful” chenle rolls his eyes “what has gotten into you all of a sudden the smell of food makes you nauseous?” chenle asks laying with you on the couch as he rakes his hands through your hair “im telling you lele i think im sick or something” you brush him off

the eye opener was when you missed your period

“chenle i don’t want to go im supposed to get my period” you say as your boyfriend tries to convince you to go out with his friends, “please baby just go have a good time with your friends” you say laying in bed “no y/n i’m not going without you, if you don’t want to go then neither do i”

that was almost a week ago and yet your period was no where to be found

sitting on the bed you begin to put all the pieces together 1. morning sickness 2. weak stomach 3. missing your period and not to mention the excessive peeing

your stomach dropped at the realization “CHENLE” you scream as your boyfriend runs into the room “yes babe” he says frantically, you stare at him for a second before speaking “i think im pregnant” you say as your face drains, chenles eyes go wide “ you think you’re what?…pregnant?” he asks shocked “okay hold on i’ll be right back” he says grabbing his jacket and walking to the door “where are you going” you grab his arm causing him to turn to you “i’m getting a test, just wait here and drink a lot of water” he said before walking out the door

the minutes went by rather slowly, looking at the clock ticking on the wall, finally the front door opened and chenle appeared with a box in his hand “go pee on this” he hands you the pregnancy test and you make your way to the bathroom, chenle follows you into the tiny room as you sit on the toilet “could you look away” you scoff to your boyfriend as he stares at you “when it comes to you i’ve seen all there is, just piss already” he rolls his eyes

silence fills the air as you finish you place the stick onto the counter upside down waiting for it to process, you sit next to chenle on the edge of the bathroom, looking to your boyfriend as he grabs your hand lacing his fingers with yours rubbing his thumb on the top of your hand

the five minutes are up as chenle looks to you “do you want to look first or me?” he asks, you take a deep breath walking over to the counter, hand shaking you pick up the stick turning it over as your eyes meet the word “pregnant” plastered across it, immediately chenle can tell the result by the look on your face “it’s not right, we need to buy another one, this is false” you begin to sob as you leave the bathroom in attempt to go buy more tests but before you could walk out the front door chenle grabs your arm and pulls you into a big hug “the test isn’t wrong y/n, you’re pregnant baby” he says looking down at you “all the signs were there we just looked right past them” he squeezes you a little bit as he rubs your back, your sobs begin to calm, chenle leads you over to the couch “look at me” he says lifting your chin to face him “don’t worry about anything other than this baby, i promise i will handle it all, i love you, i won’t let anything happen to you” he says looking into your eyes as he leans into a kiss

jisung

he would freak out at first

“no wait this isn’t happening” jisung says pacing the room back and forth, “im gonna die, my mother will kill me” he continues walking around the room slightly pulling on his hair as he whispers to himself about how stupid he is for getting into this situation, jisung got so caught up with himself he completely forgot about you, his heart dropped thinking about how scared you must be and his reaction isn’t helping, jisung walks over to the bed where you are sat against the headboard staring into space as a single tear rolls down your cheek“im sorry” jisung sighs “i want you to know this isn’t your fault, im not upset with you” you look to him with a blank expression “i don’t know where to go from here jisung” you say as your voice trembles “im scared” you whisper almost ashamed to admit, jisung pulls you into a hug “i’ll be right by your side with whatever you decide. i’ll support you no matter what baby”

akauahahhsja the chenle stans (me) are lucky today because i could not stop on his part, the words just kept coming it may also be because im absolutely obsessed with dad chenle

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moony-2001 · 6 months

Text

The real-world impact of Lore Olympus

i.e. do your research Rachel

Trigger warning: racism, fetishization, appropriation, mentions of SA

Long post ahead

A while ago, someone told me that Lore Olympus was just a silly little comic written out of boredom. That it was made to be "funny". They told me that "[I] can't hope [for] an extremely [well-written] story when it was just made with the intention to make something goofy" and that if Rachel actually wanted to make something serious like I had, she would write a book and not a comic.

At the time of this exchange, it was past 1 a.m. and I was exhausted. I did not want to argue with this person and it simply wasn't worth my time or energy in the moment.

But looking back at that (mostly one-sided) interaction, I can't help but think that there is so much wrong with that point of view. Of course, everyone is entitled to their opinion about Lore Olympus, whether good or bad. But Lore Olympus isn't just some silly little nothing comic about nothing important. It is a comic that actively appropriates and erases Greek Culture. It is a comic that has no respect for the actual stories that have been passed down over thousands of years whether by word of mouth or written text. It is a comic that perpetuates a false narrative and harmful stereotypes about characters or certain groups of people. So, no, it's not just a silly little comic.

Incorrect information

Here’s an example of what I mean:

When I was doing research for my post about the 10 year time skip, I looked up Leuce to reconfirm the little information I knew about her. Wanna guess the first thing that popped up about her?

A Lore Olympus Wiki article.

Okay. How about Minthe? Hundreds of pictures of her from Lore Olympus and a LO Wiki article as one of the top 3 results. Both character are horribly represented in LO and unfortunately there isn’t really any documented stories or records that can refute how LO paints them. Because of this, other characters in Greek Mythology like Leuce and Minthe, whose stories have little to no documentation, stand to suffer the most harm from deliberate misrepresentation on Rachel’s part.

Of course well-known and better documented figures in Greek mythology face slander as well. What about Thetis or Leto? How about Apollo? All of their portrayals in LO are HORRIBLE. I have seen people online absolutely drag them to filth not because they're upset about how the character is portrayed compared to their mythological counterpart, but because they have no knowledge of how they are actually portrayed outside of LO. They just assume that's how the characters are. Similarly, people who have either very little or no prior knowledge of Greek Mythology and Culture would look at the comic and go "Yep, sounds legit. It must be true." and go about thinking that what is portrayed in LO is accurate to what was transcribed thousands of years ago.

Creative interpretations and racism/fetishization within LO

Don’t get me wrong. Creative interpretations and artistic liberties can be great. When they’re done tastefully. I personally think if done correctly, a Greek myth spun in a modern way has the potential be very good. But that's not what we were given.

Characters like Minthe, Leuce, and Thetis (all nymphs btw) are portrayed as trashy tramps who put out and are used as a foil sabotage Persephone and/or her relationship with Hades. Compare that to Greek Mythology where in the Iliad, Thetis is very well-respected by the gods, particularly Hera. Unfortunately, other similar characters like satrys (and basically any character that isn’t a god) are usually portrayed as a low-class POC that can be easily exploited, manipulated, or used as a temporary villain/lover/pawn to “get back” at Persephone, our white-coded protagonist who can do no wrong.

Additionally, there is a clear race/class bias against characters like nymphs in LO. We see many cases scattered throughout the comic of gods like Hera or Aphrodite referring to nymphs as "trash" or "low class" or the idea that nymphs do not belong with gods being heavily implied if not outright said. I cannot tell you how often I've seen Minthe be called some variant of "cheap" by the readers of LO. Even Persephone (who created the flower nymphs) treats them with such disrespect. She frequently calls them some variant of "stupid" or "simple" like saying how they're not the sharpest crayons in the box even though she's the one WHO MADE THEM. However, it's so odd not really to note that nymphs like Echo, Amphitrite, or Psyche (who was previously disguised as a nymph) are not discriminated against. This is because they are liked or trusted by the gods they are around and ergo are often portrayed as the "good ones", which is a disgusting mindset to have.

We also see the fetishization of nymphs in the comic that is disturbingly similar to the fetishization of women who are Black, Asian, or Latina. It is a known fact that Hades has a flower nymph fetish. Not only is this implied in the comic, but Rachel stated it outright in an old Patreon post. Nymphs are also generally treated as sex-symbols, disposable, and as a lesser-than. Zeus frequently displays this behavior by abandoning nymphs he knocked up in the mortal realm.

For example, when Persephone finds out Apollo is dating Daphne, she isn't upset he's dating her friend. She's upset he's dating a flower nymph, beings that are generally considered to be "rare", "dumb", and objects of sexual desire. Ew.

Even on the Lore Olympus website (loreolympians.com) nymphs are regarded as "beautiful", "desirable", and "very exotic". And when they're not described in a sexual manner they're say it with me now regarded as "low class" or "workers" for some kind of god/goddess.

Final thoughts

So not only is the characterization of characters like Minthe or Thetis harmful to Greek culture and the stories that are so ingrained in their society, but it is also perpetuating harmful stereotypes about people of color and women who are confident in their sexuality.

Of course, the characters within Greek Mythology had their own issues. Zeus was a serial rapist, many of the goddesses deemed to be "feminist" by today's standards were actually horribly misogynistic looking at you Athena. But 1. that's just how things were back then (but that does not make it right) and 2. all of the good, the bad, and the ugly is still there in Greek Mythology. They're not denying how fucked up it is, but they're also not changing their history to better fit their own narrative or the narrative of the modern world. It exists, it happened, but now it is studied and called out by historians.

Rachel, on the other hand, is doing exactly that. She is actively changing the Greek's cultural history to better fit her fic's narrative. She is constantly sweeping things under the rug or going "No this is how it ACTUALLY happened". Lore Olympus is marketed as a "feminist retelling" yet somehow, it takes allllll the ugly parts from Greek Mythology (rape, incest, problematic age gaps, dubious consent, etc.), mixes it with a majority of the issues we have in the modern world (white feminism, rape-apologists/rape culture, grooming, fetishization of certain minority groups, etc.) and then amplifies the concoction to 20. Lore Olympus cannot be a "progressive, feminist, retelling" and also have characters that are morally apprehensive/come straight from the ancient myths. It does not work. In fact, IMO it makes all the problems from both eras worse.

News flash: actual cultures that are still thriving today are not your toys. They are not "made up". They matter. Do better.

#anti lore olympus #lore olympus #anti lo persephone #anti lo #lore olympus criticism #lore olympus critical #lo critic #lo critical #unpopular lo #unpopular lore olympus #appropriation #greek mythology #if anyone who is actually Greek wants to comment on this or share their thoughts please feel free #I'm not Greek but I have a deep love for mythology/Greek culture so this is just my take on things

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inkedells · 1 year

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plushie au joel based off peppers by lana del rey? him braiding reader's hair while they fuck around... pls pls pls

oh jesus this is so hot i truly hope i did this scenario justice

A/N: part 4 of my plushie series!!!! this request happened to be a combination of two other requests i already had, so i figured i might as well do this one and kill two birds with one stone! enjoy loviessss (also i started a taglist! link is at the end)

words: ~800

masterlist

SMUT!! mdni! | requests open.

Straddling Joel’s lap with your back to him, clutching your favorite plushie as Joel sat settled between the rest.

“What’d you need, baby?” Joel muttered just above a breath as he set aside the book he was reading, “Sat here for a reason, didn’t you?”

You felt him play with the hem of your miniskirt, fingers inching the fabric higher up your ass. The action made your hips jerk forward in an effort to avoid his fleeting touch, and admittedly, to alleviate some of the pressure building deep within you.

“Joel…” You whispered, hands intensely gripping his knees, “I need help.”

“Oh, honey,” Joel continued, voice still as low as possible, “If you need me to play with your pussy just say so.”

“No—Well, yes, but no… I needed help braiding my hair.”

Joel hummed, then breathed a short laugh. “Well I hope you don’t mind messing around while I do it. Braiding my sweet girl’s hair while she rubs up on me, hm? How does that sound?”

“I like that,” You nodded eagerly, settling further back against him as you clutched your plushie harder, moaning when you felt his hardness press against you through the thin fabric of your panties.

Your back arched as a tremble overtook you at the intensity of it all—the sweetness of Joel’s fingers in your hair, each subtle pull on your scalp as he braided it, and the warning tugs he would give your hair when the roll of your hips slowed too much.

“Hey, hey. Don’t be shy.” Joel whispered, his left arm momentarily wrapping around your waist to pull you even further back against him, “Grind on it a little harder, sweetheart. It’s just me.”

You nodded in compliance, little whines combining with your labored breathing as you let Joel’s clothed cock repeatedly slide against you with great pressure.

“Mhm, just like that. Keep rubbin’ back and forth, that’s all. Then when I’m done with your little braid and you’re done making me feel good, we’ll go downstairs and make sure everyone sees how fuckin’ pretty you look.”

You sighed shakily, imagining what it would be like parading around wearing your braid, knowing that you and Joel were the only two people who knew its dirty origin.

“Please,” You whined, eyes squeezed shut as you rubbed against his crotch.

“You gonna cum?”

You mewled as you nodded. Joel took that as his cue to begin rambling the most depraved things he could think of. It was safe to say he knew exactly what effect his words had on you.

“Gonna get me all wet? Get my jeans all wet? See, when one of my friends asks me what that dark spot on my crotch is, y’know what I’ll tell him? I’ll say, my best friend’s little girl did that. Came all over these jeans while she held her stuffie, and yet she still thinks she has the right to act all shy around me.”

He breathed a humorless laugh then, before finally releasing your hair as he finished the braid. He then turned you around, smirking when your hooded eyes and slack jaw finally came into view. Taking advantage of your slow, malleable state, he moved one of his hands to grip your jaw and hold you still as he subtly rocked you up and down with each press of his hips against yours. You were fully aware that your panties were soaked, so you assumed Joel’s pants were, too. You liked it that way—You liked leaving your mark on him, however temporary it may have been.

You were close. Your pace had become animalistic at that point, your top hiked up above your breasts as you squeezed them together and played with your nipples. One thrust forward, then two, then three, and you were doubling over as your orgasm hit you in waves.

“Joel…” You begged, voice hoarse from arousal. “Want… Want your cum in me—Please. Please, please, plea—”

“Throat or pussy?” He asked, pride evident on his face from how badly you wanted him.

You had to think for a moment. “Throat, my throat, wanna taste it.”

He maneuvered you onto your back, then moved to straddle your chest with his weight hovering above you as he pulled his cock out of the tight confines of his jeans. He rapidly began jerking himself, torso convulsing as his mouth fell open in a silent moan.

“Mouth open, baby girl,” He ordered quickly, a satisfied noise leaving him when you instinctively stuck your tongue out, too.

Hot white cum spurted onto your tongue and face in bursts, pulling the most unabashed whines out of you. When the ropes stopped coming, you closed your mouth and swished Joel’s cum around before opening your mouth again and showing him.

“Jesus… go ahead, honey, swallow.”

masterlist

tags: @devilmademewriteit @basicoccult @msmagix4 @myhusband2cool @fleuraimer @chunguk @pintsizedsunshine @s1eepy-bear @daddysuperduperlonglegs @worhols @evyiione @criesside @saph-cyare @xkyxkyxxlylcylulucufifluclu @gessmiller05 @gswizzsstuff @yazsos @marchai @pompii @alyssa121611-blog @daddy-din @msmagix4 @blooming-bubs @huffle-punk @baloobalee @trynasurvivelol @whorrorain @iliketoeatstrawberrypocky @onlineplant @totallynotastanacc @hiddenbabynyc @thedoctorofpoop @kamcrazy123 @afterglowsb-tch13 @redplaidedandcladed @simping-soldat @martyluvsu @mingiast @teddybonkers1960 @brittmb15

[if your name isn't underlined, that's because tumblr won't let me tag you. to resolve this, please check your account discoverability settings]

join the taglist here

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goatpaste · 1 year

Text

Alrighty, this has been something I'v been putting off for awhile because I really just wanted to save all the money myself but I just dont think its gonna be able to happen anytime soon and I'm tired of putting it off for Daisy's sake

but this is officially the Donation Post for us to start pooling together money to move daisy up from Texas to Pennsylvania. I'll bore you with the details under the cut but in the mean time here is links and info on the ways you can support the move!

[My commissions are Open] [My Etsy is Open]

[My Kofi were i offer PWYW commissions as low at 3$]

[My Toyhouse has designs for sale on it]

[You can Donate here and all the saving made toward this will be going directly into savings]

These are all the ways you can directly support us and help us work toward the goal of getting Daisy into a safe and better environment! I know not everyone is going to be able to chip in but anything helps even reblogs and sharing around! We've been talking about this move for over a year and I want to try and move her by the end of this year at the latest.

For more info on our specific situation and bit more details, please read under the cut

Daisy has been my friend since we were 6 years old, she is like a sister to me! We've been at each others side through thick and thin and I care about her so much.

Daisy's home life has never been the best and her parents are nightmare people who are a blight on the general public but as well as Daisy's home life.

Daisy doesnt have the ability to drive, work or save her own money even when she did work as her mother would take the money she earned constantly, and was ultimately the reason Daisy was unable to keep her job.

So for Daisy's end she has no ability to save and moving funds, it will primarily be on me to round up the money.

We are not 100% sure how much we are going to need at this moment in time but have a rough estiment.

Were hoping to get Daisy's mother on a good mood and have her pay for Daisy's plane ticket. We are going to be unable to move all her stuff and will just have to pack as much as she can into a large suitcase and fly up. So we will not have to pay for the plane, but will have to pay for bedding, and everything else she will need once up here. we have some temporary arrangements Via my bed and couch and potentially picking up a blow up mattress. But my current apartment is extremely small and not much room for two people let alone just me. Not sure how long I will be in this space while Daisy is up here if at all.

I may potentially reach out to my step father and ask him to dip into the savings he has kept for me to get Daisy furniture and necessities. But im avoiding that for as much as i can as im not on the best terms with my dad.

I will start looking for a bigger place for us to live together once we start getting in a comfortable area on savings. As the only money maker currently i will be needing savings to afford a place for us to share that will of course be much more expensive than where i am right now. Daisy will start looking for a job once she is/has moved up here and hopefully we will be able to support ourselves at that point, it will just be the first little bit of time we will need a cushion.

this is one of the areas im not 100% sure how much were going to need but certain in the thousands area knowing rent for a place big enough for two individuals.

after that its just gonna be us figuring it out.

but this is the situation as it stands right now, we are trying to help a trans woman out of her shitty living situation and across the country where her friends who love and care and want to support her are. We dont know exactly how much its going to be, but its going to be a lot and were really just looking for a bit of support!

thank yall so much!

#donation post #moving funds #commissions #furry #anthro #etsy #kofi

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ravengards-rogue · 3 months

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im sure everyone is familar but i just noticed this and Man...when you're romancing astarion and you've already slept w him before the tiefling party (and u have high approval i think) - you can get this line where you can basically goad him into shooting pickup lines at you. and through the different dialogue options, at one point - he'll say i love you insincerely.

you have like several ways of going about this dialogue, and my tav (this time) chose the option to say "having fun are you?" it was really... interesting... astarion in general has a really tonal way of speaking. and he has a line after you ask this of him, where he says he is and its hard not to with you. and he sounds... genuine.

when astarion is trying to get something out of you, he's always really theatrical but when he's being sincere that quality really Mellows. the pitch in his voice is higher and he speaks less smoothly. ike its hard to get the words out almost. he still has the same like delicate quality in his voice, the same airiness but its noticeably sounds more touched.

but its. interesting. that by that point (in act one before anything happens) that astarion knows really little about you other than you tend to look out for him and that you're capable. but when i consider it from astarions perspective, being with you even in (im)mortal peril and the connection you share is probably the first genuine, tangible connection with another being that he's had in his life or at least for 200 years. completely and entirely his outside of being a spawn.

its by a truthfully fucked up metric, but. he really does have fun with you. like he means that part. something about that is So devastating. because at that point, im sure astarion considers it temporary. he's manipulating you and he's trying to take advantage of you and its not real (so he tells himself over and over.)

except. sometimes it is. and sometimes you tell astarion you'll have each others backs. and sometimes you come back to camp covered in blood and you'll laugh with karlach trying to get it out of your hair and the fireplace is nice and crackling and it smells like smoke.

sometimes you'll trek through the forest and mountains and gale will say something and maybe you'll tease him. and you'll laugh. and so briefly he forgets what he's running from.

astarion will offer you his body because he's hoping you don't realize that's all he has to offer, but you're not expecting anything. there's no price to pay for laying under you except maybe his own guilt.

and even still. even with all the caveats. well its fun. maybe his standards are low, but its fun to be with you in some way. and its masked with so much of his usual poetry but maybe that is more meaningful than an i love you. you make him remember so basic, fun. genuine, silly fun.

he doesn't love you there. not yet. but maybe it is more meaningful for astarion at that stage, to simply admit that he doesn't want to be surrounded by unpleasantness forever. that there is more to getting his freedom than survival being easier. maybe he wants to have fun in ways that aren't drinking himself sick even when he can't taste the alcohol.

you're fun for him to be with..that means more than anything for him there. how do you teach someone who's suffered so much anything other than teeth-gritted, matted fur survival is unfamiliar? except trying to show them that it is fun, and good to be alive?

even if its all a sham. a mirage. well it was fun for astarion. he couldn't even forget that. you have so many of his firsts.

#zero.thoughts #bg3 x reader #d.rogues love letters #astarion x reader #SORRY I GOT THAT LINE AND FELT SO????? LIKE THATS INSANE WORK ACTUALLY #he sounds genuine ... like when i really rhink about that im sick #IT IS 8AM I HAVENT SLEPT FDKNJSKJD #sorry....GOODNIHGHT

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i-am-hungry-24-7 · 5 days

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Hiii, i love your work so much. Thank you for writing those beautifull stories.

Could I ask you to write the story about ghost x reader based on this?

https://www.instagram.com/reel/C6mnJpELBf_/?igsh=Y2ExOXVmYWNrNmlh

And could you make happy ending bout them, please?

Thank you❤

~~🐬~~

Hello 🐬 anon! OMG I have a new sea creature anon yay (collecting pokemons??) tyvm for the request and praises I'm in tears🥹💖 and this is such a nice trope to write!! I kinda based on a little drabble I wrote weeks ago (the husband!Simon and car crash wife!Reader), and I hope you will enjoy this since I think this is full of warmth 💖

Husband!Simon*F!Reader.

Summary: You wake up from a car crash and suffer temporary amnesia, your husband Simon helps you with it, and your room is always decorated with your favorite flower by him.

Till It Blooms Again

It’s raining outside.

Rainy days usually bring you tranquility, or that’s what your instincts tell you, but you doubt the preciseness of it after you’ve been told that you temporarily lost your memory due to the severe head smash you got from the car crash a week ago.

You don’t even know why you woke up on the bed in a silent ward, the dull headache and the pain from your broken ankle set in first, then followed by the man – bulky, wearing a face mask to cover his features, but as his surprisingly soft eyes landed on you, and reassured you in a gentle tone that doesn’t match him, you were utterly confused.

Because who was he?

The masked man cooed in a low voice, trying his best not to frighten you, but the shock in his eyes was truly more overwhelming than yours when you spoke the first sentence since you recovered from your coma.

“Who are you?”

Now fidgeting the ring he gave you before he left to grab you some food, you trace your thumb along the names imprinted inside the ring. Simon and your name engraved the promise of your love towards each other on the ring, yet you stare at the words that just sting you every time you read it slowly in your mind.

“So– Sorry, are you okay?”

Apologies spilled profusely out of your mouth as the man in front of you stiffed immediately, your words were like lightning to him, as he got struck and left in a trance, until the reality settled in. An audibly shaky breath escaped him, with him blinking furiously, as if it could dispel the grief that started clouding in his brown eyes.

“Yeah, don’t worry.” it isn’t difficult to sense the fake calmness covering his voice, but of course, you didn’t mention it “The doctors said you might have lost your memories from the hit. I’m just not expecting it to truly happen.”

“hmmm… May I ask your name, Sir?”

“Name’s Simon.”

“Simon, why are you here?”

“...I’m your husband. We’ve married five years ago.” and that’s the information you managed to process and believe even if you can’t recognize him from that day.

The vow on the ring stings you. You feel sorry. sorry for the man who stares at you with endless affection swirling in his brown eyes, but you’re unable to return the feelings as all you can barely come up with is your name.

An imperceptible creak barely catches your attention, as Simon steps in with lunch in his left hand, and an elegant flower bouquet you're unable to recognize hugging closely to his toned body carefully.

“Wow, what are they?” You point at the flowers as you dig a hint of pink out of your sparsity

memories.

“Rain Lilies.” He puts them into the bottle on the bed table while responding. “Sure you will like them, love”

He’s not wrong, the peaceful purple provides a serene calmness to your hollow heart.

The bitterness aching and burning in your chest from the day you woke up, devouring you from inside, magically when Simon’s by your side, it subsides.

“Thank you…” staring at the petals, you grin and meet Simon’s eyes, and he reaches out his hand, but halts suddenly in the air.

“It’s okay.”

So his palm shakes with hesitation and touches your hair. and ruffles a few times.

You search your mind again, just like what you did every minute from the day you were awake. It’s still occupied by an eerie blank, obscuring you to seek if the man now treats you with such fondness is in there.

Yet you lean into his touch no matter, the warmth that can console you like no others.

You must be a lucky woman to have him wish you with his whole life.

One month later, you’re back to the house where you used to live with Simon – confirmed by friends and family that you regained your knowledge to.

The gray staining your mind is fading day by day, and you start to remember some people and things, such as your name, friends you met in high school, your cousin…

Simon isn’t one of them. You still can’t find him in your past.

The guiltiness sprouts every time you see him. The man never left your side from the first day in the hospital room, helps you shower, chants you goodnight, and teaches you how the world operates.

“It’s okay, there’s no need to feel sorry for.” He hugs you, trying not to squeeze too tightly and scare you off with overloaded intimacy.

This is a habit you two own when you startle awake one night, panting as blood haunts you in hallucinations. You were floating away from reality, arms wiggling in order to anchor yourself from wandering away, and your chest heaves more intensely every second until a pair of heating hands wrap yours.

“I’m here, it’s okay, you’re safe, love.” The owner of the voice recited it repeatedly until you focused on him.

There’s Simon, with tired and languid eyes, rubbing circles to soothe your panic. You almost teared up the moment you realized he jumped into comfort you the second he was woken by your noises.

“May I hug you…?" After he shushed you from apologizing, you asked him with irresolution. The coffee-like eyes never darted from your figure widened when he took in your words, but softened with him opening his arms.

“Of course, love.”

He slowly closured them and caged you within his embrace. It’s too conciliatory, his temperature broke the clothes and radiated on you, tempting you to lean closer against him.

You understood that was what you were missing and craving, so you always requested one attentively when you felt insecure, so as he always answered with equal adoration and wide arms.

and now he offers you again when he reads you like an open book and senses your unhappiness.

“Take it slow, you don’t need to force yourself to remember.” He caresses your back as he reassures you.

“What if I never got those memories back?”

“Then let’s create new memories together.”

You know he clearly isn’t as composure to your situation as his exterior when you pull back and notice him blinking frequently, struggling to turf out the tears gathering and sneaking out.

“Yeah, let’s create new memories together.” The smile finally reappears on your face.

Simon decorates the house with rain lilies, which you love the most, and you assume that’s your favorite flower in the past either, since Simon never questioned your obsession with it but put them all over each spot of the house.

So when you suggest buying seeds and planting them at the idle little garden in the backyard, Simon heads out to the tools straight away and comes back with a bag full of seeds for different colors of rain lilies.

“There! Plant the pink one!” The golden velvet of sunshine covers you both when Simon kneels on the ground with you sitting in your wheelchair beside him and instructing him.

“There’s like ten pink already but only one yellow.”

“Any questions, Mr. Riley?”

“Negative, ma’am” He chuckles as he turns back to fiddle with the soil.

When the sky is smeared with orange, the little garden is finally settled.

“Thank you, Simon!” You flash him a smile when he gets to his feet once again, and you just can't help but smother the dirt on his face, till his cheeks are a bit dirty.

"You look so cute like this." You whistle as he bears your cheekiness and unmoved as you poke him.

"I suggest you to check your eyes, ma'am"

Your journal is filled with the things you experienced, and the memories revealed from the barrier of blurriness. Sometimes you still stare at the whole room of rain lilies, wondering why you still don’t remember the memories between you and Simon, and you want to know if Simon’s thinking the same when he puts on the fresh flowers every week.

It’s definitely a lie if you say you don’t care about the past with him anymore, you’re still curious about how you met, and where you went before.

“We went to a park on our first date?" You quirk your eyebrow with confusion when Simon shows you the photos taken before.

“You chose it, You said there was a sea of rain lilies there and you wanted to check it out.

“I don’t know I’m such an unromantic person to choose a park as the place for a first date…”

“Surely are, because you threw me surrounded by a bunch of bloody couples and dived into the flowers yourself.

“Damn…”

The journal records how the rain lilies grow in your backyard too. When it’s nearly sunset, Simon will support you to the garden and observe them.

“We really need more rain huh. They’re only little sprouts now”

“That’s why they’re called rain lilies.”

“Thank you, Simon, I’m not an idiot.”

“You know water’s wet?”

“You think you married a dork?”

These banters will be written into your journal with an unconscious grin spreading along your lips.

One morning you’re woken up by the obnoxious burnt smell, and you swear that’s the fastest you drag your feet to the living room after you injure your ankle.

“What happened?! Simon?! You okay?!”

You swing open the door to the kitchen when you don’t spot him and the concern swirling in your body.

“...”

You both stand in silence as you look between the plate in Simon’s hand and his embarrassed face.

“This is… uh…”

You watch him blabber as you pick a piece of half-burnt cookie from the plate and take a bite.

“Wow… ehh… this is good, Simon. I mean I guess.”

“The bloody frown on your face said the opposite.”

Eventually, you both burst into laughter when you shove the rest of the piece into his mouth and his face turns into disgust instantly.

He tells you the recipe and process – which you doubt at first but still write them in your journal because he claims it’s the cookie you always made him – and you can’t wait to bake him when you’re able to move around at your own will freely.

You know he can’t stay at home and accompany you every day, but when he packs his stuff in a bag before he leaves, you still can’t help the sadness fuming in you.

“I’ll be back soon, just a month or two.” He pulls you into a hug when you stand at the front door and watch him put on his shoes with a tiny pout.

“I just want you safe, I can wait.” you sigh in his arms, and eventually push him back to fish out a thing stuffed carefully in your pocket, and show it to him.

An amulet lies in the center of your palm. The edge of it is slightly crooked, and a dried rain lily is pasting on it.

"I understand if you think this is stupid, it's just... ummm."

"It's not stupid." he snatches it from your hand "I love it."

"Stay safe, okay?"

He nods to you before stepping out the threshold.

Unknown to you, he presses a kiss on the one you just handed him, and the one you gifted him years ago and always kept in his pocket wherever he went.

The rainy season arrives after a month since Simon was deployed.

You watch the garden through the window as the raindrops splatter on the glass.

Rain lilies bloom abundantly after rain, and counting the days, you're sure when Simon gets back home, the flowers will blossom to their full extent.

You take over his work of replacing the rain lilies in the house with fresh ones, to make the house just like it was before he left.

It doesn’t feel the same.

You stare at the pink rain lily in your grasp.

The house just doesn’t feel the same without Simon, even though they’re still arranged with your favorite flowers.

But isn’t it why you like them? They blossom the most after the rain, after the clouds and dark which make people depressed. It’s most beautiful when they confront the gloominess.

Just like every time you wait at home for months, pray for him to come back in one piece, and cuddle on the bed after reunion.

You hold your breath when you remember the reason you like rain lilies so much.

That’s why you love the rain lily. You remind yourself again as you rush to grab your journal.

You saunter to the front door when you hear the noise of fidgeting keys behind.

“Hey, love.”

Simon greets you with an exhausted voice, pats you on your shoulder, and bends down to untie his shoes, but he stops and straightens up when he hears your greetings.

“Hey, Si.”

His eyes are round like a full moon and mixed with disbelief and excitement.

“You– You call me what?”

“I said…” He tumbles over and lands on the ground with you as you drag him into a tight embrace “Welcome back, Si.”

You caress his hair when he buries his face in your chest and hugs back adamantly, trembles are restrained to its minimum, yet it’s unignorable when you two squish your bodies as if trying to merge together so it’s impossible to be separate again.

“I made your favorite cookies, perfect ones, unlike yours." You hear him huff out a laugh against your chest.

“How about the rain lilies?”

“They’re beautiful, let’s see them together now?”

“Sounds good.”

The flowers flutter like a pink stream combined with a few yellows in the breeze, and you both set eyes on them, basking in the sun.

“I remember why I love rain lilies.” You shift to meet his gaze, and that’s the moment you discover he’s already been staring at you. “They flourish after heavy rains, just like each time I wait for you to come back, that’s when I become complete.”

“Feeling poetic today?”

“Already told you I’m a smart woman.”

Simon’s tummy growls with agreement when you finish your sentence.

“You hungry, big boy?" You snicker, and start walking him back into the house.

"I want to eat the biscuits.”

“No snacks before the meal, babe.”

“Then I want lasagne.”

“Okay… hey I just said no snacks before the meal! you idiot!”

You scoff when Simon ignores you and starts stuffing his mouth with your freshly baked cookies like a hamster, and the rain lilies beside him come into your sight again.

Yeah, just like rain lily. After an unnerving storm, everything will bloom again.

a/n: tyvm for reading! have a nice day/night! :D

#cod imagine #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #simon riley imagine #cod x you #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x reader #queued post

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snowberrydream · 1 year

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Stoma gave Käärijä a new life - english translation of an interview for Finnilco ry 8.5.2023

Translator’s note:

If you’ve been wondering about that scar on Finland’s favorite green boi’s belly …this is about that. (Because why be cha cha cha when you can be sad sad sad and read about how he was like a week away from death at one point in his life. Though I guess it kinda fits the post-ESC depression, really)

Okay, now some actual notes about the text. So, Finnilco is a Finnish organisation for patients with stomas and the like, so the interview talks a lot about medical stuff and is clearly geared towards people with similar health issues. It might not be as ”entertaining” as all the other stuff you might’ve seen about him recently, but I recommend reading it anyways, as I feel it gives a lot of insight to who Käärijä is as a person. It hasn’t always been just crazy and party for him.

There is a lot of medical vocabulary in this, and I’ve done some intense googling and wikipedia-ing to figure out what the correct terms are, but I can only hope they are right. Trying to understand whether things are synonymous with each other or completely different things is kinda hard when you have zero knowledge about the subject. I deeply apologize for any mistakes that might occur.

I’ve also done some minor tweaks to the text (like cut down on repeating his last name in nearly every sentence) for the sake of easier reading, as the style of it is quite academic and ”dry”, but overall I’ve kept as close to the original as I could.

link to the original finnish interview:https://www.finnilco.fi/post/avanne-antoi-k%C3%A4%C3%A4rij%C3%A4lle-uuden-el%C3%A4m%C3%A4n

***

Jere Pöyhönen, known by his artist name Käärijä, is the finnish representative in the Eurovision 2023 Song Contest. The artist, known for his style and energetic live-performances, had his youth shadowed by serious health issues, to which he even almost lost his life.

By his own words Pöyhönen is still just a normal guy. Vantaa-born Pöyhönen was diagnosed with colitis ulcerosa, a type of imflammatory bowel disease, when he was young. As the disease got worse, he had to eventually have an emergency surgery, where he got a temporary stoma. Later the stoma was removed and replaced with a J-pouch (ileo-anal pouch), a reservoir pouch formed from the end of his small intestine. Currently in good health, he wants to be open about his disease so that he could offer peer support to others battling with the same issues.

- I am truly fine with this, I am not ashamed about it, on the contrary, I want to tell about this to everyone. I hope that by sharing my experience I could help someone else, Pöyhönen says with a smile.

Symptoms lead to an emergency operation

When Pöyhönen was at ninth grade, he was diagnosed with rectal inflammation. The inflammation was treated with suppository and oral medication, and it got better. When he was 18, the symptoms returned. For a year he was on an elimination diet that kept the inflammation under control, but eventually his condition got worse again, and in the end his entire colon got inflamed. Several treatments were attempted, but none worked. At the worst point Pöyhönen weighed only 49 kg, and his hemoglobin was swaying between 54-56.

- I was still somewhat right in the head, though I was feeling dizzy and kept bumping into bathroom doors. It was quite a rough time in every way, he reminisces. He defecated blood multiple times a day and was practically bedridden, his parents had to feed him. But nothing seemed to help. Pöyhönen remembers how his mother was crying by his bedside. Back then he had blood tests done regularly to control his condition, and after one time he got a call and was told that his hemoglobin was so low that he needed to be treated urgently. After the call his dad went to start the car and drove him straight to the hospital.

At the hospital, an emergency surgery awaited. While waiting for his turn he wondered about what would happen to him in the surgery, afraid that he’d need a stoma. At the same time he thought that the most important thing was to stay alive.

- Do whatever you have to, as long as I’ll get better, he remembers thinking before going in. A stoma had been suggested to him already before, but until then he hadn’t been able to accept it and had tried to manage by other means. Afterwards he has been thinking that the fear was due to the issue being so unknown. He didn’t know much about stomas and had never seen anyone with one.

- It was a tough spot. I wondered how the stoma would affect my life and me as a person. How would I look like, what would happen to my sexuality. Those kind of things scared me the most about it, he recalls.

Life as a young person with a stoma

The first thing he did after waking from the surgery was feeling his stomach and the collection bag.

- It was a weird feeling, confusing. But at the same time I felt just immense calmness. The root of the problem, the inflamed colon had been removed entirely. Confusion soon turned into acceptance.

- I wasn’t sad about it for that long, on the contrary. When it sank in that I was still alive, the stoma felt like a pretty small thing, considering everything. It was a happy thing that I had it.

Despite feeling thankful about the stoma, it was still a shock at the beginning.

- When I was taken to get a shower for the first time and I saw it, I nearly fainted, he laughs.

The emergency surgery was lifesaving for Pöyhönen. if it hadn’t been done, the inflammation could’ve spread from his bowel to the rest of the body within weeks, or even days. So Pöyhönen came really close to death, but thanks to the stoma he got to continue living.

– Getting the stoma gave me a second chance. A chance that not everyone gets to have. But if they get it, they should take the offer with a smile.

Pöyhönen tells that he got used to living with the stoma quite quickly. But it required him to adjust his own attitude – he had to accept the situation as it was. Luckily he was able to enjoy life even with the stoma

- When I had it, I did all the same stuff as other people. I did sports, went to restaurants, I truly lived a really ordinary life.

Of course he faced also some difficult times. At the time 18 years old Pöyhönen was in a relationship, and he tells that at first things relating to sexuality felt difficult.

- It was indeed nerve-racking. Overall, you are only starting to try out stuff at that age, and then there is the stoma on top of it all.

But one thing was clear for him already at the time:

- If the other party in the relationship doesn’t accept your situation or the stoma, then that person isn’t worthy of you.

From stoma to J-pouch

Pöyhönen lived with the stoma for five months until it was replaced with a j-pouch. In the beginning the pouch got clogged, but he didn’t tell about it right away. He was fed up with spending his time in a hospital and wanted to live a normal life. When he finally told about the clogging, the issue was fixed and the difficulties eased.

- I’ve done all the normal stuff. I’ve travelled around the world, done and eaten the same things as everyone else.

Pöyhönen has had the j-pouch for almost eight years now. He hasn’t had any serious complications, but occasionally there’s been some milder issues.

- Sometimes there’s been minor inflammation or bleeding. Once I went to have an endoscopy after there was more blood and I got frightened. Old fears about how things were in the past rose to the surface, Pöyhönen tells.

Overall he is feeling positive about everything.

– At the moment I’m really contented with my situation, and I wouldn’t change anything. I wouldn’t even want that colon back, as this all has become a part of my identity, he says.

Music as a part of life

Music has always meant a lot for Jere Pöyhönen. Yet it wasn’t always obvious that it would turn into a career.

While spending his time in hospitals, listening to music comforted him and gave him hope. Laying in a hospital bed with an IV drip next to him, Pöyhönen also wrote his own songs. If other patients wondered about his doings, he simply answered that he was making music.

During his time in hospital he realized that life might be short. He decided that if he’d be alive and healthy again after the emergency surgery, he’d go and try doing music for real and with everything he had. Of course, at the time he had no idea how far that decision would eventually bring him.

- My values became clearer there in the hospital. I realized what are the things I love and what is truly important for me. One of those things is music, and doing that was what I set my mind on to.

Pöyhönen tells that he especially enjoys doing live shows, because then he gets to entertain people. He feels he is at his best while performing.

Daily life of an artist

Nowadays health issues don’t cause much trouble in Pöyhönen’s everyday life as an artist, but he still needs to take good care of his body. At gigs he must pay extra attention to what he drinks and eats, when and how much. He is sweating a lot while performing on stage, and to balance that he drinks salt/mineral water. The excitement also affects his bodily functions, and during stressful moments he’ll need to use the bathroom more often. But he tells that he doesn’t really get nervous about doing gigs anymore.

However, the approaching Eurovision song contest is a kind of gig he has never experienced before. The event is big and the place as well as the proceedings are all new to him. Despite all that, Pöyhönen seems trustful.

- I don’t know how it is going to be like in there, but I don’t think I’ll have any problems. His confidence relies both on his general attitude and that over the years he has learned to know the way his body functions quite precisely. He knows when his energy levels are getting low and when he needs to drink or eat.

Family’s support has been important

When Pöyhönen was sick, the support from his family was what helped him to keep going. Thanks to his family he has always felt valued and loved.

– The contribution from my parents has been enormous. I will never be able to repay their efforts, other than by being alive.

Pöyhönen tells how his parents gave him their full support while he was sick.

- When I first got diagnosed with the rectal inflammation, they wanted to figure out what could cause it right away. They delved deep into the matter, made phone calls and searched for information from the internet.

His parents drove him to his tests and put their time and money into finding out what was going on. The financial support made it possible that he could have all the different tests done despite them costing a lot.

Stories from peers bring hope

Though his family and friends have been there for him, they haven’t been able to offer him peer support. When he was sick, Pöyhönen did sometimes feel very alone with his issue.

- I didn’t know anyone else in a similar situation as myself. I didn’t get to talk face to face with peers, he says. He did search for peer stories from internet, but people online were usually anonymous, and though he gained information through it, he was longing for human connection and faces to relate to. Lucky for him, an acquaintance of his was in the hospital at the same time as him due to a similar issue. They became friends and messaged daily through Facebook, asking each other about the number of times they went to bathroom and the like.

Pöyhönen says that those kind of discussions with a peer were a big help. It was important to hear that someone else was experiencing similar things as him. An ice hockey player Teemu Ramstedt gave him another face to relate to.

– It gave me lot of faith to see someone else with the same stuff going on as me. That an athlete, a hockey player, had been dealing with the same issues, he tells.

Attitude and dreams helping to go forward

While being sick Pöyhönen gained strength from daydreaming and steering his thoughts towards future.

- I kept thinking that at some point I’ll have good moments with my family and friends again. That one day I’ll be healthy and able to feel happy about everything. In the end it was quite simple things that helped, and also humor helped to get through it all.

Pöyhönen tells that he has been a joker since he was young, and when he was unwell, he also used humor to deal with the difficult things. But there was also something else hidden underneath the jokes.

- Maybe all the joking was also a survival tactic. A way to escape from it all. In the beginning I didn’t want to accept the reality, even though I tried to convince myself that I had done so.

Pöyhönen tells that the songs he used to listen to while in hospital were difficult to listen to after he got out of there. Also some familiar places would bring up old memories in an unpleasant way.

But in the end, time heals, and years later those same songs are back on his regular playlist. Now they just uplift his mood and push him forward.

It’s worth it to open up

When Pöyhönen was sick, he didn’t always tell about his symptoms to his parents or the hospital staff right away. One reason that he mentions was shame. At first he himself didn’t want to believe it to be real when he first saw blood down in the toilet.

- But when it happened again, I realized that this might not be something that would just go away. That it might be something more serious that should be taken care of, he recalls.

And to his younger self, or someone else in a similar situation he would give the advice that you should be open about your problems. He also encourages to try and find some peer support, as he himself was left without it for the most part. Though the bit he did get was a big relieving factor..

– When a person suffers from an illness, the most important thing really is that you are mentally in a good condition. If you are feeling down, the healing process will be really hard, he points out.

At the moment he dreams about that he and the people closest to him would stay as healthy as possible. He wishes that he would get to do things he enjoys in his life and to spend time with the people that are important to him.

To the readers of Finnilco he sends the following message:

– Go forward with humility, but don’t be too meek either. Love yourself, your body and mind. Be well, and if problems arise, react to them right away. Enjoy life and do things that make you happy.

***

#käärijä #eurovision #eurovision 2023 #cha cha cha #interview #translation #ulcerative colitis #inflammatory bowel disease #stoma #it's a bit sad read but also comforting #he sounds so nice and so does his famiily

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ystrike1 · 8 months

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He's Just My Brother, Your Grace! - By Yeoroeun (8/10)

Soap opera style drama. The yandere often isn't even present, even though he is the main love interest. Revenge and intrigue are the main focal points of this story. Our protagonist is the daughter of a fallen mage family, who lives for her revenge. She has the kill the mastermind behind her parents deaths, before she dies. Again.

Astel and Cassian are two tragic main characters. A brother and a sister. They die at the end of their story, unable to unmask the mastermind that framed their parents. They were framed for treason, so the twins can't use their family name to get support.

Cassian becomes a famous commoner knight after years of brutal training, but he still dies. Astel experiences an even more pathetic death, but she wakes up again.

She wakes up motivated. Her brother is a good person. She wants to save him. She decides to put her talent to use, while hiding her identity. Using magic would be a terrible idea, because it's rare. She'd get exposed.

She uses what she knows about the "story" to unmask the mastermind.

Their parents casted a very powerful, ancient spell before they were executed for teason. The spell "erased" Astel and Anais. Nobody can remember their faces. It's an absurdly powerful spell. Astel decides to hide in plain sight this time. She trains as a medic, and she becomes a potions expert.

She must infiltrate the shapeshifter castle. The mastermind is hiding in the north, causing trouble with his pawns. Shapeshifters are powerful, and they used to be slaves. They hate humans and most humans don't like them much. The mastermind is currently causing discord in the shapeshifter lands.

Astel waits for YEARS. She knows Duke Anais, the shapeshifter in charge, will be grievously injured on a certain day. She arrives before his medics do, and she saves him without calling for extra help on purpose.

The Duke is cold, but in her past life he gave the medic who helped him one wish.

Things get weird.

Astel feels chest pain around the Duke. He kind of acts like he knows her, but when she says she doesn't recognize him...he hides. He's shady. He doesn't explain why he was being so overly familiar.

Astel and the Duke are "Temporary" Mates. A spell is binding them together. It's not a "real" mating bond. Someone put it on her. It's a serious thing. The Duke will die if she dies. The Duke brings her to his castle, and they start living together because mated couples must stay close.

I'm pretty sure the Duke placed the spell on her when she was a child. Duke Anais used to be an orphan. The shapeshifters have alot of power now, but they were second class citizens for ages. A blond girl once reached out to Anais, with kindness. He probably attempted to forcefully bond with her, with his magic, even though humans and shapeshifters...don't do that? It's not a natural thing that happens.

Also the death thing and the pain.

Astel gets horrible chest pain if she doesn't touch the Duke at least once every couple of days.

It's hard to deny the yandere. Anais is very quiet and jealous. That doesn't mean he's LESS crazy. He's just quiet about it.

He's a really tough guy. He got the Duke title by fighting for it. He did not inherit it. He is the first of his line. Daddy didn't give him a silver spoon etc. It makes him a little more interesting.

He's waiting for Astel to remember him, but she's a little too worried about dying to care. The mastermind is looking for her and her beloved brother.

She finds the first rat. Sam, a healer who works for the shapeshifter community. The shapeshifters are hostile to him, but the territory is very low on medical staff. That's how he got in.

Sam has been slowly poisoning the head of the Jaguar family. An old man, who is quickly losing hope. Sam told him he was cursed, but he never was. That was a trap to isolate the poor old man.

Astel saves him. I won't spoil her plan, because it's actually good.

Anais starts to get crazy jealous. He assumes Astel is romantically interested in Sam. He sort of stalks Astel, but he tells his staff to do it for him because he's busy...which is pretty funny.

Cassian heads to shapeshifter country to help fight an onslaught of demons. He wants to check on his sister too so bonus. Nobody knows the siblings are siblings because of the curse. Astel and Cassian have been pretending to be "friends" for years now. Cassian is trying to get to the mastermind the old fashioned way, with his sword. He doesn’t know Astel is trying to sniff out the killer with clues. It's very complicated.

Anais assumes Cassian is the man she loves, and it makes perfect sense.

WE know he's her brother, but the misunderstanding is understandable.

By the way Cassian is a "known womanizer", so Anais wants to save his beloved from the scoundrel.

Cassian is playing the part of womanizer to gain respect. He's handsome, but he's a broke commoner right now. He pretends to only have shallow relationships, to keep his real friends and sister safe from the mastermind. The mastermind is intent on killing them and everybody they love too by the way.

It gets funnier. The Jaguar Family LOOOVVEES Astel now. They think she's a total angel and a genius, because she swiftly revealed the killer in their midst. She saved a very beloved Jaguar grandpa too. They send her lavish gifts all the time...and that also makes Anais jealous.

He goes completely over the edge and he tells the other animal families to back off.

Astel is his.

She just hasn't accepted that yet.

It's good but slow. The Duke is kind of...lurking in the background??? Some of the misunderstandings are funny but the painful mating bond is not. Even if it does actually wear off after a year he's not letting her go.

He,most likely, slapped the mating bond on her so he would be able to find her.

Which is just nuts. Can you imagine? You wake up with horrible chest pain and some guy is standing over you like...hi I did this to you on purpose, please marry me...

.....

...no wonder the Duke is hiding the truth.

#He's Just My Brother #Your Grace!#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #webtoon #otome #otome isekai

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galene-gothic · 9 months

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𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖨 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 ?

୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ I hope this reading found you in good health, every reblog is appreciated and thank you for everything :) ˖♡ ˎˊ˗ ꒰ 🐇 ꒱

˗ˏˋ༻ʚ♡︎ɞ༺ˎˊ˗ PAID SERVICES

Today we'll take a look at:

- how has the patriarchy affected you?

- what makes you such a worthy and respectable person?

- what were you made for?

⸼ ۫ ︎︎⊹ ! 🪡︎ Pile 1 ꒱

꒰ How has the patriarchy affected you ? ꒱

I think we're all aware of this but women and men function differently due to their hormonal cycles that are different. Yes, women are really capable of being hard workers and go getters, however, women burn out much easier at some point in the month. The patriarchal system has completely ignored that fact and even if women are dying from period pain, we're still supposed to work because otherwise we're deemed as 'weak' or 'lazy'. However, this has caused many women, including you to become very restless. You're constantly on the go and tend to burn yourself out. The patriarchy controls your mind a bit more than that of an average person's. You find yourself changing your mind and words regarding things very often, when engaging in conversations with men because you really value their validation (whether you're aware of it or not). Some of you have only guy friends because 'girls are too much drama'. While, it's not possible to be a 100% self aware.

You lack self awareness in general. You haven't improved yourself enough in terms of morals and character. Spiritually and emotionally, you're lacking. Due to how hard you seem to work, you might have accomplished a lot or have a lot of money but you're still very poor in terms of personal character. You've also become quite a thrill chaser, some of you do not understand how hook-up culture, friends with benefits, uncommitted relationships, situationships, etc. only benefit men. You also have a sense of hyper independence. You might end up providing for or spoiling men who you are not in committed relationship with you just because they make you feel excited but do not take any money from them because of that sense of hyper independence, just for them to disappoint you later and you feeling completely drained out. Some of you have fallen victim to trying to be a certain way (wife material) just to attract men, just to lose yourself in the end. Could be a temporary energy but is definitely driven by patriarchy.

꒰ What makes you a worthy and respectable person ? ꒱

You're at the end of a cycle. I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't have any friends because you seem to have gone through major and multiple disappointments, betrayals, heartbreaks and endings in the past one and a half year. Even though, you've lost your dignity and reputation, people tried to throw dirt on your name (probably because you made a few mistakes), you're building yourself back up. One thing about you is that even though you tend to completely burn yourself out, you know how to give yourself time to heal and recover. It's your time to start again, a fresh slate, a whole different book but you're making the most out of it. You know that you've hit the absolute low and now the only way is up. You have had really traumatising experiences at school, college or university. I'm getting that you have a lot of potential to grow. This reading is supposed to remind you that the end was not just the end, it was also a new beginning. Some of you might've considered throwing everything away, if you know what I'm suggesting but you chose to continue living, I'm really proud of you.

You're able to keep going even though there are times when you feel really alone, probably because you actually are. You lack the presence of supportive people in your life or did at some point of time and have gone through really hard times. Even though, you have the tendency to drown in your sadness, one thing you do know how to do is to look within yourself for answers, you tend to have epiphanies, you look into the past in order to move forward with a proper slate, you try to make sure you have learnt all the lessons in order to move forward. You've had a lot of selfish people around you who you gave a lot to. Those people seem to have pushed you under busses and trains though (metaphorically). However, you're able to take good care of yourself and know how to do well by yourself. You're learning how to put yourself first. You cannot be put into a box, you have different aspects of yourself that you tap into when necessary. You're also able to accept people for who they truly are, literally all aspects and sides of them. You have a thirst for knowledge but because of how you're constantly on the go, you might not have time to educate yourself which is causing you to feel untrue to yourself.

꒰ What were you made for ? ꒱

You were made for being original. One of the reasons why you are not in the best place is because of how you try to deny your true spirit and fit in instead or atleast tried. No one has ever understood you and you might have been considered to be an outcast for being different, so, it might be difficult but that's where you'll find true happiness. You're meant to change your views to be a bit taboo but still human and preach it to others, not through words but through actions. You're here to be understanding towards those who are similar to you. You're different from the majority and that's who you're supposed to be. The energy that I'm getting is that you have people around you who are misogynistic, racist, religious to the point of hatred towards others, etc. so unintentionally, you end up denying your own morals in order to fit in with them.

You were meant to be open minded and listen to different opinions. You were meant to be rebellious, and break the toxic cycle of oppression masked as 'traditions'. You were made to question things and try to cause necessary changes instead of being like "it is what it is" or "atleast, women don't have it as bad as in the '80s." There's a chance that you're an activist, freedom fighter or have a similar energy. You're supposed to challenge power and authority in order to help the weaker ones. You were here to create a better earth. If you're one of the people who forces your religious beliefs onto others and hates on people with a different religion, this pile is not for you or atleast you're supposed to outgrow that energy. I'd be surprised if you guys even had a religion, to be honest. You were here to fight for freedom and break past restrictions, it likely started with your childhood home or family, maybe you had to fight in order to be a person of your own.

⸼ ۫ ︎︎⊹ ! 🪡︎ Pile 2 ꒱

꒰ How has the patriarchy affected you ? ꒱

You tend to have ingenuine platonic relationships with girls. It's like, both of you dislike each other and you both know you dislike each other but act like you do not dislike each other to each other's faces, even though you both know that the other knows that you kind of dislike them. People who hate you tend to comment "so gorgeous" to your posts and you've been guilty of doing the same thing in the past too. If you still do it, please grow out of it. You have a hard time trusting girls, tend to keep secrets and are really private which causes girls to be cautious of you. You take responsibility for men's shit and believe you need to earn worthiness in other people's lives. You might have a belief that you'll only be worthy if you earn a certain amount of money or look a certain way. You care about other people's emotions, including the men surrounding you but even when they do not give a shit about your feelings, you still feel guilty.

I'm getting you being like "but I don't want to hurt him" even though he made you sleep on the couch in your own house, you paid for every date, he did/said things to break you down and continued entertaining other people. You tend to neglect one aspect of your life for another and even though I'm not being able to pinpoint how, it is a product of patriarchy. Either, you already have or need to decenter men because it seems to be ruining your life. You've learnt how to stay quiet and hold back especially when it comes to men because they could do potentially dangerous things to you or because you center them and are too scared to speak out. You might come from an area where the difference in treatment between men and women is really evident, due to which you might've not gotten the same opportunities as men or have seen older women not getting the same opportunities as men. You tend to question yourself a lot, hesitate, doubt your skills and worthiness, etc. My advice is to decenter men and build yourself instead.

꒰ What makes you a worthy and respectable person ? ꒱

You're going through an internal transformation and are kind of having an existential crisis. You question your beliefs and values. You might have a tendency to cling onto the past though. However, you're releasing and starting fresh. I think you're starting to understand the importance of a stable foundation at this point of time. Mentally, you tend to be scared of changes but are starting to learn how to let go. You're also able to put your ego aside in order to be true with and to yourself. You might've recently gotten out of a toxic and abusive relationship or friendship, it doesn't have to be physically abusive but they did use you for their own personal reasons while neglecting you as a person. You're finally able to realise what doesn't serve you and release those things and people. You are also learning how to accept yourself and not believe that you're a bad person just because of a few mistakes that you made. You're learning how to be independent and gain control over your life.

You have a really selfless side that was misused, however, you're learning how to not shame yourself over it. You're also able to avoid distractions, differentiate between what's good and what's not, and move forward with your life. You're self controlled and in touch with the darker aspects of yourself, so many of you are doing shadow work or should start doing it, very beneficial for you. You respect other people's differences. You're realising that love is supposed to be mutual and you deserve to receive the love that you give out to others. You're also very loyal once you trust or love people enough. You value deep connections and understand that being deeply loved is always better than being widely liked. You don't treat uglier or foreign people in a bad way, you respect everyone as long as they respect you and you're able to show respect. You're good at bonding with people and expressing love to others, this might've caused you to be victimised and used in the past but you're learning how to turn it into a strength.

꒰ What were you made for ? ꒱

You likely need a lot of alone time. You were made for a peaceful life and also to provide that space for others. You were made to teach others that they are allowed to take care of themself in order to heal. Some of you could like or study psychology. You were made to contemplate life and grow as a person. Meditating could make you feel closer to yourself. You'll likely have periods in your life where you'll be popular and well liked until you fall and are looked down on, you're supposed to make the most out of those moments. You might be power and fame hungry actually, your true sense of happiness will come only when you understand that developing your character is better than chasing fame. You'll have to learn how to feel successful on the inside.

You might achieve success later in life or atleast when you've learnt how to not function on ego, when you let go of arrogance. You're supposed to build confidence, character and self esteem first, otherwise, no matter how successful you'll get, it'll fall apart. You'll have a lot of realisations and private victories. Also, you'll have to learn how to not go broke while trying to look rich. You'll have a lot of unrequited love experiences, I wouldn't be shocked if you've already undergone a few of them. You're supposed to learn how to not pass blame and be a little less reasonable with toxic people. You'll learn so much through love, heartbreaks and experiences. Most of your heartbreaks will be through situationships. You'll have to go through extremes of personality and situations in order to learn and help people younger than you.

⸼ ۫ ︎︎⊹ ! 🪡︎ Pile 3 ꒱

꒰ How has the patriarchy affected you ? ꒱

This pile at some point has been guilty of being proud about dating someone popular or something along those lines, if not, you pretend to be happy and content in order to make other women jealous, you might not be aware of it but if you deeply reflect, you'll find this to be true. You understand how being in touch with the correct or well reputed men will increase your value in other women's eyes. If not, other women try to do that to you. Regardless of whether you know it or not, you tend to see other women as competition and vice versa. You know how to make the most out of patriarchy. You're a hardworker and run after success. I feel like patriarchy has caused you to hate men because you have learnt a lot and understood how it works and how most men are incapable of empathising with stuff.

You might show an attitude to men or not give them the time of the day, atleast most men. The way you seem to be living life is with a "when men do it, it's alright but when I do it, it's not? fuck it!" mindset. You love seeing women putting men to their place, it gives you an odd satisfaction. There have been times when misogyny and men have made you feel really powerless and incapable. You were also mentally and emotionally all over the place. You might come from a place where men are babied but really young girl children are expected to be all responsible. I feel like men around you act like they know more, they're smarter when in reality, you've always had to dumb yourself in order to make them feel better about themself. I'm sorry but that's all that I'm getting here. I hope this energy is temporary because while patriarchy sucks, there are good men around !!

꒰ What makes you a worthy and respectable person ? ꒱

You're able to accept that people have different beliefs (as long as they have good morals) and will have different life journeys. You naturally seem to attract a lot of envy if I'm honest. You know how to work in a team despite fights and arguments. At this point, you also tend to avoid unnecessary fights and competitions. You don't enjoy conflict. You're able to make decisions for yourself and know how to come to a middle ground with people. You tend to go through an internal conflict whenever you do something wrong. You're sensitive to small details but that's because of your detail oriented eyes. You try your best to organise your thoughts, and know how and when to use intellect against people. You're quite demanding. You should be careful with words and more expressive, there are people who tend to be worried about you because they care about you. You guys have pretty straight forward yet refined speech.

You could be seen as someone unkind but that doesn't stop you from trying to make wise decisions. You've gotten rid of a victim mindset and have developed a winner mindset instead. You have realisations and breakthroughs that you use in order to become a better person. You're really resilient and try to develop yourself as a person. You're honest and very clear when communicating. You should learn how to plan things and write them down though. You're very intelligent and witty. You have a vision for the future and have great imagination. Emotionally, you try to express your positive feelings truthfully. Success finds you everywhere because of your mindset, you know how to take lessons and move forward. I think you have the tendency to come off cold though, almost as if you're speaking without emotions but only because you're really honest instead of feeding into delusions. You're able to overcome any obstacle thrown your way, especially if it affects you emotionally. Truly, proud of you guys, continue going !!

꒰ What were you made for ? ꒱

You were made for happiness. You are supposed to learn how to build things for yourself and appreciate what you have. You're supposed to be wise and self disciplined, and teach the same things to younger girls. You're supposed to help others navigate life through your actions and also your words when they come to you asking for advice. You were born to live a comfortable life so naturally I don't think you tolerate bullshit as much as the last two piles. You are meant to have more than enough of everything and help others with it. You're supposed to be successful while doing exactly what it is that you wish to do. At some point, you're supposed to lack confidence and build it gradually. You were too naive in the past which caused you a lot of trouble. You're supposed to build a comfort zone for yourself after stepping out of your previous one.

You're supposed to learn how to not be reckless but also how to not lose opportunities while playing safe. You're supposed to teach how to have fun to young girls who had to grow up too fast. You're supposed to learn how to not cry over spilt milk. One emotion that you seem to have felt throughout your life is guilt, you are here to learn how to help people through tough experiences. You're supposed to experience negative feelings and learn how to deal with them and find happiness. You're also supposed to give hope to others is what I'm getting. You're supposed to teach others how to think about the worst in order to stay realistic while still not expect it or let it worry you too much. You'll see a lot of betrayals in this lifetime, even if it's not you experiencing them first hand. You're supposed to learn how to trust in love again.

#pac #pac reading #intuitive readings #pick a deck #pick a card #pick a picture #astro observations #pick a gif #pick a photo #astrovations #astro notes #pick a pile reading

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 months

Note

I don’t know if you’ve been asked this but I wanted to ask your opinion on something regarding Fellow Honest and Gidel.

So, we know that at the end of the “Stage in Playful Land” event, Kalim pretty much offers Fellow a spot as a student in NRC, but Fellow declines citing that he doesn’t want to go to a school with a bunch of brats AND he wants to make his own school that admits low magic users and non magic users.

I think this fits him perfectly and I won’t say that it’s dissatisfying for Fellow and Gidel’s story to end this way, but do you think that - had the events been more intertwined with the main story - Fellow could’ve potentially started going to NRC at some point? Like do you think it would make sense for him to both want to create this school AND prepare himself via getting a proper education?

The ending was so fitting for the type of person Fellow is and what he dreams of accomplishing. He’s trying to carve out his own path in the world with Gidel at his side! There’s both a bittersweetness and hope in that kind of a finale.

Now, to the question. This may sound a little cynical (please stick with me for a moment!!) 💦 but I don’t think studying at Night Raven College would help Fellow in opening his own school. Of course, getting an education is important—however, I firmly believe that NRC is not the right place for Fellow to get that education. (This won’t stop TWST from probably making a playable Fellow card for Halloween 2024 though, I suspect that it’ll be a temporary or non-main story canon situation like Rollo.)

The first hurdle to overcome is actually convincing Fellow to enroll. I don’t believe him turning down Kalim’s invite was just for convenience or to keep event characters separate from the main story; it genuinely makes more sense for his character to not want to go right back into the system he despises, the system that tossed him out to begin with. He has not only distrust in the elite (and literally just came out of a hard situation where the elite controlled him), but too much pride in himself to allow for that. Another issue is that even if it is Kalim extending the offer, he actually has little say in whether or not Crowley will let Fellow in. (I’m not counting monetary bribes here yet because that’s an unfair advantage for Kalim to get literally anyone in.) If we’re being pragmatic, Kalim is oversimplifying the solution to Fellow’s issues, just the same as Kalim offering an overly simple solution for Jamil’s woes in book 4. We have no idea how realistic this enrollment would be for Fellow.

Assuming Fellow is convinced to give it a shot and does get into NRC courtesy of a large donation from the Asims… then what? Sure, Fellow does stand to gain from an affiliation with NRC but that's pretty much ONLY if he manages to earn that coveted diploma and formally graduates. Many of the classes beyond year 1 demand a substantial amount of magic in order to complete the coursework. Fellow canonically does not have a ton of magic to spare, so it's doubtful whether or not he would be able to pass those classes or make it to fourth year internships (which is when you can really take advantage of NRC's connections in various industries). It's a similar situation as Yuu, who has no magic at all and wouldn't be able to even participate in the higher level courses without Grim doing all the magical tasks for them. We know it's very possible to drop out of these magic schools (as Riddle references that no student has dropped out since he took on the role of dorm leader + a NPC in book 5 is stated to be a magic school dropout). Who's to say this wouldn't be Fellow's fate if he can't handle the magic curriculum? Yes, he can certainly give it a try if he wants to and his efforts shouldn't be insulted. However, the fact of the matter is that he most likely would not be able to physically keep up with his peers (through admittedly no fault of his own, it's not like he can control his genetic makeup).

Another thing is, what exactly does NRC have to offer Fellow that would actually help him with getting the knowledge to set up his own school? NRC is meant to specifically train mages (and mainly for jobs which demand magical capabilities). Fellow wants to establish his own school, which in of itself does not require a magic degree or any sort of magic education. Furthermore, he details that his school would admit non and low magic users, and will focus on teaching "true life lessons". None of this inherently requires any knowledge or training in magic, which, again, is NRC's specialty. The only practical skills classes that NRC offers seem to be electives like Culinary Crucibles/Master Chef (which, conveniently, do not require magic), and those can be learned anywhere, not exclusively at NRC. I guess my question would be... What is the point of Fellow studying at NRC if he 1) would have a hard time with the magic demands of several classes, 2) most of what NRC teaches is not applicable to his long-term goals, and 3) he could easily learn the practical skills he values so much elsewhere? It's a time sink that doesn't benefit him as much as he needs it to.

If Fellow wants to attend school or to get the knowledge he needs to set up his own learning institution, I think he should ideally pick a mixed public school that does not have a focus on magic. Plenty of those must exist to accommodate the 90% human population without magic. NRC is a restrictive environment mainly composed of the upper echelon and the gifted, and is thus the antithesis of what Fellow seeks to create. Public schools are overall more accessible and offer a more diverse population which Fellow can for sure learn from. It would also be useful as there may be low magic users (that aren't strong enough to qualify for magic schools) mixed in with non-magic users. Fellow could hit up his exact target demographic and mingle with them, get to familiarize himself with their wants and needs, etc. At the same time, he would be theoretically pursuing a specialized degree in education or whatever it is he would need to establish his own school and become an educator himself. That route makes a lot more sense to me than just lumping Fellow in at NRC because that happens to be where all the other major characters go.

Again, it's definitely possible for Fellow to get an education while having his dream. (That's also the case for lots of us fans that go to school while also having our own hobbies and personal goals on the side!) The issue is that I don't see Fellow "fitting in" or learning well at any magic school, especially not one as privatized as NRC is.

#twst #twisted wonderland #Fellow Honest #Riddle Rosehearts #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #spoilers #question #notes from the writing raven #Gidel #Kalim Al-Asim #Dire Crowley #Yuu #Grim #Jamil Viper #Scarabia

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l0verb0t · 8 months

Text

jason todd × reader. | home sweet home.

SUMMARY: A familiar figure stared at you from the other side of a window, helmet covered in ash. He waved back at you. WARNINGs: implications of near panic attacks & descriptions of blood. WORD COUNT: 2000+ NOTEs: second person. this has some minor plot mentions, but this is mostly just a hurt/comfort oneshot. [no pronouns, and "babe" is used to refer to the insert/reader.]

It was a busy summer night. Off your own sweat, you lifted your head from a pillow. A ringing woke you up, irritating the headache that was swirling around in your mind and thudding against it like a hammer.

Your hand fell to your phone, grabbing it from a nightstand just for you to flash your own eyes with its bright light. With a swipe to answer its call, a certain voice spoke out from the other end. A welcomed change from the bellowing sirens outside your cracked walls.

It hadn't been too long since you last saw each other, but that didn't make it any better. Time seemed to come at a snail's pace when he was gone.

The worry never seemed to settle. You're well aware Jason is good at his job, taking pride in ridding Gotham of parasites, in his own words. You trusted him enough to get back on his own, yet it never helped.

He was late by a few more hours than he said he was going to be back, but you still had to reassure yourself that it was probably fine. Your hope was the only thing calming the scattered thoughts.

Don't worry about it. Just rest your pretty head.

For weeks at a time, he would be gone. Every now and then it happened, and sometimes he'd be late. Just to make sure whatever was on his to-do list was dealt with or, alternatively, to make sure no one followed him back. He couldn't risk it.

Yeah, I missed you too, baby.

A small apartment sitting on the edge of his home city. One of the places he never spoke a word about. One of the few places he still felt safe, even if it was only temporary.

You flicked through the channels that flashed across your television's cracked screen, careful not to trigger anything with the bright colors. Nothing caught your attention.

Listen, I can't talk for long. I don't think I brought enough quarters.

You missed his laughter.

Nausea was building up deep inside. Your head swayed from it, keeping you grounded against the couch. With your free hand resting atop your chest, the beats underneath kept an unsteady pace as your head lied against stiff cushions.

You would've slept to bide the time, calm the soreness in your eyes, and try to get a good night's rest for once, but it didn't work no matter how hard you tried. At the very least, you were able to welcome him back rather than have him shake you awake again.

A horror movie came onto the screen.

In the darkness, a masked man stood on the other side of a glass door, staring down a girl who seemed to be on the verge of a panic attack herself. Slowly, he took one of his gloved hands and knocked, leaving behind more blood with each knock.

I just need to do one last thing.

You switched the channel just as someone started laughing.

The light from the television only further irritated your eyes, yet without it, it was too quiet to be comfortable. You simply turned away.

The knocking returned. No matter how low you turned the volume, it kept its loud echo. It became clear that it just wasn't coming from it at all.

You sat up to turn your attention to the apartment's front door. When you arrived at its step and looked through the peep hole, you saw no one there.

The knocking continued, though, further away the second time.

Following the sound, you came to the windows in the living room. Apart from the blaring, bright billboards outside, only the TV gave light to who was there. Maybe you forgot to shut the curtains as you stared back at a familiar red helmet.

There, crouched down by the window, Jason gave you a quick wave before pointing down at the window's lock.

Why he insisted on only using the windows despite barely fitting through them was beyond you sometimes. They just counted as the back door to him at a certain point.

You were forced to notice it first, the smell of smoke and oil overwhelming you as soon as he stepped in.

The shine of his helmet was covered by ash. His gloves were as red as it usually was. Freshly sticking behind everything he touched, blood stuck to the wall inside.

Without a word, he raised his arms. Instead of going in for a hug, he stuck to where he was standing, looking over himself with a shake of the head.

"Sorry, honey. For the… mess." A scrambled gag rumbled through the space.

Jason's head rolled to the side, and he placed a hand on his neck as he stretched it back, groaning as his bones cracked.

"I feel like ass."

With a hum, you responded, "You smell like ass."

"You're so mean sometimes." He cooed, looking down at you as his hands wildly gestured around. "I'll remember to come back smelling like flowers next time."

Without another word, he pulled his helmet off, his hair sticking out from the sweat. His brows were stuck in a frown.

"At least you're back in one piece."

You ran your fingers down the side of his face, twirling the ends of his hair before sliding it back out of it. A quick kiss was placed on one of his scars. The expression from before continued to tug at his face, but he finally let out a breath you didn't know he was holding in.

He threw his helmet back at the couch.

Hands reached up to yours, maybe to push you away, but they stopped before then. The blood was still there, mixed with oil, on top of the leather gloves.

"Can't say the same about the other guys."

The words came out as low and raspy as they would with his modulator.

He hopped in place while tugging incessantly at one of his boots. After both were pulled off, the jacket was the next thing to go, nearly ripping the fabric before he threw it over into a hamper. The boots left prints where he stood.

"No offense, but you're making a mess."

The boots were thrown on top of the clothes without a care.

"I'll clean it tomorrow."

With the jacket gone, you finally got to see what he was wearing under it. It was a plain t-shirt, apart from Hello Kitty standing on the front of it. Why he was wearing the joke gift you gave him ages ago was something you saved to tease him with later.

He just didn't seem too in the mood for jokes.

As he looked down at you, you saw that his eyes carried bags similar to yours.

"What are you doing awake?"

Since the gunk-covered layers had been thrown aside, you placed a hand on his arm. Where he would usually stay for a moment or two to savor the touch, he immediately pulled away.

"I wanted to see you again."

"You didn't have to stay awake for me." Muffled chuckling came as he pulled off his shirt. "You should head back to bed; I'll be in when I'm finished."

"Nah."

"You're going to be tired by tomorrow."

"And you aren't?"

"I've been trained to go days without sleep," After he threw his shirt over with the rest of his clothes, he pointed at you and said, "You just have insomnia."

It came back at him in a copied, mock voice: "Well, it's worth it to see your pretty face."

A smile bloomed across his face, and a snort followed before he pushed away your face.

"Yeah, okay."

You took it as a chance to stand away from him, the odor still overwhelming.

"Mind telling me what happened?"

"With the mess I made, we'll probably be hearing about it in the news later." He gestured to himself, smiling at you. "Are you proud of me, babe? I'm gonna be on TV."

"It wouldn't be the first time."

"That's funny. Again, what happened?"

Hand in his hair, he began to tug at it, looking away from you. "It's fine. The lead led me to a warehouse around the Gotham River. It was just another rundown drug lab."

There wasn't a response for a bit after that, letting the room be filled with nothing but the sound of his heavy breathing and whoever was on the television's rambling. He crashed back into a chair to steady himself.

"Someone just pissed me off. I went a little overboard."

You gave him a chance to explain further, speaking softly.

"Is that it?"

"Yeah. That's it."

So he couldn't sulk in silence, you walked up behind him to pat him on the back. Standing there, he didn't bat an eye at you as you kept the quiet tone, saying, "You should go get cleaned. I'll be here when you get back."

The chair bent back with a creak as he leaned over to look up at you. It pressed against your front, almost on you, for support. His hand grabbed the back of your head, pressing you into a short kiss before he hopped off the chair with a groan.

"Alright."

You tried to help him into the bathroom. In typical Jason fashion, though, he made that harder, leaning his weight against your hands as you pushed him in.

He continued to mess with you, making loud kissing sounds as he tried to reach behind him. The door was shut in front of his face, and there was a groan from the other side as it did. The sound of running water followed soon after.

It didn't last long, but he didn't leave the bathroom. You sat outside the door with the assumption he actually took your advice for once, still washing up despite the silence.

To settle the nerves, you took a deep breath and got to work on taking care of everything else. Everything in the hamper was thrown into a washer. Numerous holes and rips ran across the clothing, the ends of his collar covered in so many that it could hardly count as one anymore.

You nearly threw the boots in as well. The only way they were going to get cleaned was if they were put under a hose.

You had to get off from your knees before you fell asleep.

Later into the night, you kicked at the door, your hands occupied by a pile of picked-out, clean clothes.

It took awhile before any reply came. He called out to you through the sound of splashing water.

His voice came through strained: "Yeah?"

"I got you some clothes."

"Alright. Get in here."

You opened the door to find him sitting in the bath. His arms were laid across the rims, tattoos covered in bubbles. The tub was still too small for him, and so his knees were folded inside, sticking out of the water.

Resting back against the wall, he turned his head back towards you. It was a little silly to see a guy who prided himself on looking scary looking up at you from a bubble bath.

The clothes were placed on the sink's counter.

"Are you having fun in there?"

"You know me," He hummed before splashing water in your direction. "It distracts from the pain, at least."

You crouched down beside him to lean against the tub. His hand ran over your arm, trailing soap up your skin.

"You're supposed to be getting clean, not getting me dirty."

Through a coughing fit, he laughed. His mouth opened for a second before he shut it just as quickly. Pushing deeper into the water, he crossed one leg over the other as he spoke, "I can multitask."

You matched his position, resting your own head against the wall as you looked back into his tired eyes.

"Can you tell me what happened tomorrow?"

A heavy sigh left him: "Yeah, sure. I just don't like bringing work back home."

"I know, but I still want you to talk about this stuff with me."

Jason sat up, pressing against the tub to rest his head against yours.

"I'll try to remember that."

The two of you were in there for awhile. It was the most you had talked to each other in weeks, making up for the quick calls that otherwise filled the radio silence. You tried not to fall asleep to his voice and were lucky enough not to. The floor was filthy.

#dc #jason todd x reader #jason todd x gn reader #written #jason todd #hurt/comfort

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melis-writes · 6 months

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Eyes like Stars [Bobby Axel x Reader Multi-chapter, 18+ Smut] Chapter 19 - The Secrets We Keep.

Read on AO3 / Read Chapter 18 [AO3] / [Tumblr] / Chapter Masterlist. / Fic Playlist.

18+ explicit smut, multi-chapter read.

"What did he want?! Did you fuck him? Did you?!” / “I WAS GONNA MARRY YOU! I WAS GONNA MARRY A WHORE! A whore!”

Everything you've done up to this point was for Bobby and Bobby alone. What else would your intentions be for if it wasn't to hold onto and save everything the two of you have for one another? Bobby's set in his ways but the idea of losing you to the same fate Helen chose for herself is too much to bear. To see it is one thing, experience it--another, but just how much love can you claim if the one you adore is now the one hurting you?

[WARNINGS]: Mentions & themes of drug addiction and selling / Domestic abuse / Physical abuse / Verbal abuse / Depictions & themes of injury and blood.

[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: The Eyes Like Stars girlies can EAT!! 🥺🙏🏻 And especially so since I will be putting this fic on a temporary hiatus as I focus more on finishing up/writing my Godfather fics first. I'm definitely not abandoning this fic and I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea that I am! With so my fics in my rotation and life changes, I'm struggling between balancing all of them and burning out/hitting writer's block. I will definitely return to this fic once I've completed my others and then we will go on with Emily and Bobby's story! For now, enjoy this (temporary) last chapter before the hiatus kicks in. I would also like to clarify for the sensitive nature of this chapter that I do not condone or romanticize abuse in any sort of way. This chapter also doesn't glorify it or anything like that.

Bobby’s release from prison marks the end of his and Helen’s relationship and you find yourself spending more time with Bobby and taking care of him after everything he’s been through. Working and living in Manhattan as a college drop-out, you distance yourself from Helen who Bobby and you take solace with one another in hopes to get out of the toxic lifestyle of drug use—promising each other to start a new life with one another and get clean. Falling in love with Bobby, you experience a mutual, passionate and loving relationship with its own highs and lows that promises to bloom into something more serious but also can threaten to collapse. As Bobby’s new girlfriend, your relationship hangs on a thread with old skeletons coming back into Bobby’s life, relapses, and a new panic on the horizon that threatens to undo it all.

Bobby knows Upper West Side Manhattan like the back of his hand; better than the majority of Manhattan-born residents through every street, turn, and block.

Give him a street and Bobby could tell you every corner store, the names of apartment buildings, if he knows anyone who lives there, who is shooting up, who is selling, and where the narcs are like it’s common sense.

“Bobby Axel” is a name every dealer, junkie, and narco alike knows on the street; word going around and connections made just like everybody else.

Bobby knows every detail of his home like it’s his duty, and it’s given him the advantage of sneaking away from the unwary or police at the perfect time with the layout of the city engrained in the back of his mind.

Bobby can never see himself doing anything else, anywhere else. Upper West Side Manhattan is his home. Needle Park is his home; it always has been, it always will be.

Being from New York City yourself but having memorized the same streets you, Bobby, and your friends are in day after day, everything you know and think you know of Upper West Side Manhattan pales in comparison to what Bobby knows.

Just as you think you’re taking the regular route back home from work, Bobby keeps his distance far behind you—blending into the crowd and particularly remaining next to the other outcasts and junkies dressed in navy jeans and a baggy hoodie like him.

You walk straight towards your apartment as you always have; not a single convenience store or grocery surrounds you upon the path you’re taking and Bobby can’t help but analyze your environment carefully; thinking if you took a different turn, you may bump into him in the next few minutes.

You don’t, and on purpose, Bobby lets you get home far before he does. So as long as you don’t know he’s coming and that Bobby wants to talk to you, he can approach you with time and circumstance on Bobby’s side.

Bobby takes the “scenic” route home, letting himself linger around the streets with his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and the hood up, covering his head.

Trash litters the sidewalks with torn newspaper pages flying about, wrapping over flickering lampposts; the scents of cigarettes, garbage, and body odor lingering around the corners of each street Bobby passes by accompany him with the cool fall air and dimly lit, grimy blocks twisting and leading to your apartment.

It’s been years since Bobby’s memorized the crumbling streets before him, every old building and every hot spot that normally distracts and cools Bobby down when he’s pissed or stressed to shit but nothing gets through to him now.

Bobby can’t walk off his anger this time and he knows it. Bobby’s only able to remind himself why he’s going home—with the belief you’ve been lying to him this entire time.

Lying to him about the true nature of your work relationship with Sykes; every complaint you made, every time you called in sick just to avoid seeing him, and all that you explained to Bobby—what else would it all be for?

‘It makes sense.’ Bobby grits his teeth, keeping his eyes on the street as he continues briskly walking down the block.

Bobby’s judgment is immediately clouded with his irritation and anger; the idea of your encounter that he saw firsthand can’t be thought of as anything else but some sort of affair.

Why else would that smug son of a bitch have that look on his face watching you leave, let alone stand there adjusting his jeans after another secret get-together the two of you had?

Unbeknownst of Bobby’s eyes on both you and Sykes, you know the truth of what happened and how you still feel against your supervisor; bitter, mostly indifferent, and annoyed, but when it comes to shooting and selling, everyone’s needs are all the same. Everyone’s the same.

Thinking nothing of it and unsurprised by Bobby’s absence back at your apartment, you step in and set your purse and keys down before locking the front door.

Letting out a sigh of relief, you rub your temple gingerly before slipping off your shoes and shrugging off your jacket.

The only thing on your mind at the moment is relaxation—time to yourself and nothing more; that is all shared with Bobby once he gets back home from what you subconsciously assume is selling or out with Chico, Irene, and the others.

You open your purse and carefully take out the wad of cash from Sykes you quickly stuffed inside before setting it on the coffee table in the living room.

Pulling your hair up into a loose ponytail, you head towards your bedroom and undress; opting for a comfy pair of sweatpants and a black spaghetti-strap tank top.

Feeling at ease in the comfort of your own home with no need to pretend to be inconspicuous or watch for a narco on the side of the street, you step into the bathroom momentarily to freshen up.

Glancing up in the mirror, you blink at your reflection and realize how you’ve been wearing nothing but exhaustion over your expression—and all too well at that.

Sighing softly, you turn on the tap to lukewarm water before adjusting it to get hotter—grabbing a bar of soap and beginning to scrub at your hands to wash them off and give them a good rinse.

You pause for a moment, staring at the running water as you swallow hard. You can’t help but feel you’re expecting something—anticipating something you’ve forgotten.

Attempting to shake off the queasy feeling brewing in your stomach, you purposefully avoid looking towards your arms and adjust the water to an almost ice-cold temperature.

Splashing your face off to awaken yourself a bit, you then close the tap and dry off your hands and face with a towel before walking back into the living room.

Your eyes land on the wad of cash placed upon the center of the coffee table once more as you begin to approach it; plopping down on the couch and reaching over for the money.

‘Eighty dollars.’ You can still practically hear Sykes’ voice in your head; seeping with the same desperation as someone whose used it more than once, but hasn’t fallen into an addiction just yet.

Your fingers flip through the twenty dollar bills in your hands again and again as you find yourself zoning in and out, barely focused on what you’re doing, to begin with.

You frown, staring at the fading number twenty imprinted on one of the dollar bills before you graze your thumb over it.

You know more than anything you don’t need this money, but Bobby does.

‘All of this is for Bobby,’ you think to yourself, sitting up to set down the cash neatly on the coffee table. ‘It’s not for me. I don’t need this… I don’t need any of this. This is all for him.’

Just as you set down the neatly stacked wad of cash down upon the coffee table in front of you again, you almost knock it over and send it flying from the impact of how hard you flinch at the sound of the front door abruptly unlocking and flying open.

Blinking in surprise, you look up to see Bobby entering your apartment and letting the door slam behind him.

Without so much as a smile, a “hello” or even that soft look in Bobby’s eyes you’ve gotten used to seeing when he comes home to you, all you can pick up is the anger, irritation, and bitterness scowling over Bobby’s expression.

‘Bobby?’ The unforgiving look in Bobby’s eyes replaces any look of love he once ever gave you; his body language demanding and expectant as if you demanded Bobby to approach you as such.

In a split second, Bobby’s eyes dart down to the money in front of you before cruelty mixes with the anger in his eyes and he sends his apartment keys flying onto the dining table across the room.

“Bobby—” You flinch again pressing your back against the couch.

“Yeah,” Bobby raises his voice over you sharply, cutting you off. “Counting that good money Sykes gave you? Made sure every dollar was accounted for?”

Stunned and at a loss for words, your reaction merely gives Bobby a green light to continue as he grits his teeth, approaching you in the living room.

“Did that son of a bitch pay you before or after you sucked his cock?”

“What?!” You flinch again as Bobby kicks the stack of money off of the coffee table, sending it flying to various spots in the living room.

“Answer my fucking questions!” Bobby shouts at you, facing you directly. “What did you do to him, huh? What did he want?! Did you fuck him? Did you?!”

“Bobby, I—”

“You stupid fucking whore!” Bobby seethes, grabbing a fistful of your hair and tilting your head back instantaneously to slap you across the face.

“Ah!” Yelping out loudly in pain, the force of Bobby’s slap with him letting go of your hair was harsh enough to cause you to flail off the couch face down—hitting the side of your body against the armrest.

“Bobby! What are you—" You hiccup, bursting out sobbing from fear, pain, and confusion hitting you all at once.

Without even realizing it, you’re holding up your arms—still quivering—up to your face to shield you from impact, shakily looking up at your boyfriend.

Bobby breathes heavily, taking a step back from you; his eyes bloodshot and glistening with tears of frustration and anger as both of you take in what just occurred.

‘Bobby…’ Your heart sinks into the pit of your stomach as shock and guilt rack over you in a wave of nausea and numbness throughout your body.

‘Baby…’ Bobby hit you.

Your boyfriend—the one who cried in your arms night after night, the one you couldn’t bear to see in pain, suffering from his withdrawals or illness from being unable to feed and take care of himself properly; Bobby who you washed away all the pain and sadness off of his body, kissed the scratches over his stomach and would do anything for, hit you over something that never even happened.

Bobby doesn’t wait for another response from you nor is his intention to give you an explanation for his sudden outburst; he’s hellbent on releasing his anger first.

“Don’t act surprised with me,” Bobby hisses, beginning to raise his tone. “You whore! You—”

Seeing as you flinch again by being called a “whore”, Bobby lunges towards you again in response and grabs both of your arms as you scream out and attempt to thrash away.

“YOU FUCKING WHORE!” Bobby hauls you up by your arms and throws you back down on the couch. “WHORE! You were heading straight back home my ass!”

“Bobby—” You cry out in pain, “BOBBY!’

Blow after blow only worsens and grows harsher with each hit over your arms and wrists before Bobby begins to aim his fists toward your head; grabbing a fistful of your hair.

Screeching out, you struggle against Bobby’s overpowering grip but manage to clutch his wrists—digging your nails into Bobby’s wrists and prying them off of you with every ounce of strength you have left in you.

“BOBBY, STOP!” You hiccup again throughout your sobs, pushing him away from you. “Stop it, STOP! Please, stop!”

“Stop what?!” Bobby scowls, “you didn’t stop fucking lying to me so tell me why I should stop now!”

“Bobby—” Your lip trembles as you notice his gaze fall to the dollar bills scattered over the living room floor.

Bobby nods to himself slowly, eyeing every dollar bill he can see before staring back up at you; ready to lunge at you once more. “He paid you eighty dollars?”

“Bobby—” You sniffle, your bottom lip trembling as you grip the fabric of the couch tightly.

“My girlfriend’s pussy is only worth eighty dollars?” Bobby narrows his eyes, “you cheap, used fucking whore!”

“STOP IT! STOP!” Screaming out at him, you scramble up and off the couch to rush towards the bathroom. “I didn’t! I didn’t do anything, I—”

“Come here, you fucking slut!” Bobby immediately begins to follow after you, reaching out to grab you again.

“I didn’t—no! NO! STOP IT, BOBBY!” Wailing, you barely make it to the bathroom before Bobby sends you flying to the floor with a rough shove like a ragdoll.

“I SAID COME HERE!” His sudden amount of strength against you who can barely breathe through your tears would take you by surprise if you weren’t the one Bobby was releasing his frustrations out on.

“I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING!” You shriek, landing on your side with a thud—almost knocking over the coffee table. “Stop it!” You shakily brace yourself for impact, holding your arms up to your face, pleading, “Please stop! PLEASE! L-let me talk to you—”

“Oh, don’t give me that bullshit!” Bobby screams back down at you, pointing, “I saw you walking out of the fucking side exit of your corporate shit hole, used and bought like the fucking whore you are! Can’t even face the front street so other people don’t pick up on it, huh?!”

“Bobby—” You flinch, wounded by his words.

“And for what?!” Bobby throws his hands up in the air, “for eighty dollars? You and that fucking asshole you kept telling me about? You think I’m fucking stupid, Emily? Huh—” Bobby hovers over top of you, leaning down to squeeze your face harshly as you continue crying out. “Huh? HUH!? You think I’m fucking stupid?!”

“B-Bobby!” You sputter, hiccupping. “How—”

“How do I know?!” Bobby scoffs, abruptly letting go of your face. “I followed you, you stupid bitch! I followed you because I knew you were fucking lying!”

“NO! I wasn’t—”

“You had someplace to be and I knew it from how you were checking that stupid fucking watch constantly—“ Bobby points to the shattered watch barely holding together over your wrist from the impact of his blows. “You fucking lied to me! You said you were gonna grab some shit from the store before coming back home, huh?! YOU WERE WITH ANOTHER MAN!”

“NO, I WASN’T! I wasn’t, Bobby! I wasn’t!” Your throat burns from screaming back at him in desperation. “I sold him shit, that’s all he wanted! I sold him what he fucking needed so he would get off my ass about it! I didn’t touch him and he didn’t touch me, I swear to you! I swear!”

Bobby ignores you, rolling his eyes; only a clear indication of the lack of a foundation of trust between the two of you.

“Listen to me,” Bobby hisses, pointing at his eyes with his hands trembling from mounting anger. “I would rather gouge my own eyes out than ever see you with someone else. Is that what I have to do? Hmm?” His eyes sting with tears. “Is that what you want me to do? Scratch my own fucking eyes out? I’ll do—”

“NO, STOP IT!” You let out a shriek at the top of your lungs before immediately trying to scramble up to your feet.

“Then my girlfriend’s a fucking whore!” Bobby lunges back at you but trips over the lamp cord, causing it to fall over and shatter to pieces on the floor—buying you a few seconds of precious time to race to the bedroom.

“And I was gonna marry you!” Bobby gives up the chase as you slam the door behind you, pressing your back against it with all of your might to keep it shut.

“YOU KNOW THAT?!” Bobby follows to the bedroom, screaming at the closed door in front of him. “I WAS GONNA MARRY YOU! I WAS GONNA MARRY A WHORE! A whore!”

Barely able to stand on your own feet and shivering out of control, you sob loudly as you rest your head against the door.

Sneering, Bobby turns back and grabs your keys off the counter before taking off from the suite entirely—purposefully letting the door slam behind him.

‘Oh my God…’ You crumble to your knees; your eyes tender and aching from sobbing but unable to stop yourself from letting your emotions consume you entirely.

With too much to process and take in, all you can do is helplessly look at the scratches and light gashes over your body from everything Bobby’s done to you.

Promised bruises and fresh blood dripping from your nose; everything stings yet feels hazy and warm to the touch.

Tilting your head back slowly, you attempt to take in a deep breath but every sense of calmness has departed you upon the first blow Bobby delivered.

All you can do is cry in pain that both your heart and mind feel. All you can do is let it eat you alive now. All you do is lay on the floor by the door and drown in your own tears.

Bobby walked out on you after all and as he did, he thought about nothing but what his relationship with you has come to now.

Bobby’s true possessive nature got the better of him, and he knows he can’t handle it at its fullest either—not after everything he went through with Helen prostituting herself.

If anything, Bobby’s made it clear to you that he desires and craves you and only you to the extent that just the thought of having to share you or seeing you with someone else makes him want to kill himself.

Still, even though he’s out on the streets with nothing but a bruised ego, his hatred, his anger, and his broken pride, the only thing he can think of is that you may just have been telling nothing but the truth.

#al pacino #al pacino x reader #melis-writes #bobby axel x reader #bobby axel x oc #bobby axel fanfic #the panic in needle park #the panic in needle park fanfic #the panic in needle park smut #bobby axel x reader smut #bobby axel #eyes like stars fanfic #the panic in needle park x reader

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gojo-inabox · 1 year

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screws loose (kishibe x gn!reader)

You’ve lasted 4 years in the Devil Hunting business, and that time was long enough for Kishibe and yourself to come to terms with your nonchalant feelings towards eachother.

Word Count: 3957

Warnings: Kishibe (lmfao 💀), smoking, alcohol, describing violence and fighting, slight gore (??), dead body, language slightly, kind of OOC but that’s also kind of the point idk man, kissing, weird but comfortable tension

Admittedly, you didn’t hate your job. You couldn’t.

For the most part, working as a Devil Hunter wasn’t terrible: Sure, yeah, the whole death at every corner thing was a major blow, but you didn’t mind the pay, or the people you met along the way. Sure they were short lived, but it was fine.

You could deal with it, if they died they died. If you died you died, at that point it didn't matter if you got paid - and hey, if you lived, a hefty penny was sent your way.

You could deal with the idea of death, with the idea of devils lurking every corner, your coworkers being so bittersweet and temporary.

Though, for some particular reason, for every person that died in your vicinity, it only solidified the one constant thing in your life: Kishibe, your partner.

Only Makima knows why you would get partnered with the grizzled alcoholic, but it didn't matter - he was solidified in your life the moment you were paired together at the beginning of your career as a devil hunter.

Kishibe was the one thing that never changed - alcoholic, unashamed, calm, and blunt. Even if every person around you dropped dead, even if you watched every rookie get brutally murdered by some low life devil, even if you yourself played your cards a little too wildly and didn't know if you'd come home that day - it seemed you'd always end the day parting ways with him.

The roughed up blonde wasn’t a bad person per say, he’s generally relaxed and polite, when speaking it’s obvious he has years of experience under his belt. His lack of emotion in his day to day work mildly pissed you off, but you two meant a lot to each other - you just didn’t know it.

Though most days you’d claim he went out of his way to piss you off, and that you swore you hated the man - you were mostly lying to yourself.

"This is a matter that needs to be resolved quite quickly, but also carefully. We cannot risk hitting heads with any private civilians at this time." Despite the pressure at hand, and the severity of the situation, Makimas voice was soft, and careful.

Her hands were clasped tightly on her desk, eyes barely blinked, scanning yourself for any signs of emotion. Even after working for Public Safety for 4 years now, Makima made you incredibly uneasy. The longer you found yourself alive and working here, the more often you'd be in Makimas office, you found yourself memorising her office - the lack of decorations and very subtle touches of herself.

Makima took your silence as understanding, and continued, "(Y/N), I hope you would know where your partner is? He was supposed to join us."

Of course she'd ask that. Technically - no, you didn't know where Kishibe was, but you'd take a guess. It was common for him to leave you to all the office and paperwork stuff, so he could fuck off somewhere with a bottle of booze in hand and show up later. He did it because he knew that you would handle yourself, and that he wouldn't really be reprimanded.

Simply nodding, you stood up and quickly fixed your blazer and wiped your wrinkled pants down, "I could probably guess. Don't worry about it, Makima, I can relay the information."

All she did was smile, nodding and following suit. Walking around her desk and at your side as you both walked towards the door. As she saw you out, she handed you the file, “I expect this to be taken care of before Friday, and next time, make sure Kishibe joins us.”

Nodding, you smiled and walked out, her office door closing behind you. The second you heard the click, your smile dropped, body moving down the hallway, and to the stairs. Slugging down the stairs, flipped through the file, internally cringing at the prospect of explaining the mission to Kishibe.

Once out of the building, you slouched against one of the concrete walls. The sun was almost completely gone, the night sky being illuminated by the light pollution from the city, you breathed in the crisp air. Even at night, the city was still so busy - cars driving by, people in and out of store fronts and restaurants, the noise of traffic filled the air.

It all seemed so simple, yet here you are.

The next day was rough. Getting up later than you would typically wish, it wasn’t really your style to be late, you had 20 minutes until Kishibe would pick you up so you two could deal with the problem Makima was up in arms over. Scrambling around your apartment, you tried your best to get ready in record time.

The front door knob jiggled and eventually opened, Kishibe just letting himself in - normally any other person doing this would warrant you probably killing them, and well this certainly added to the list of things Kishibe did that pissed you off, you let it be, walking right past him into your bedroom to grab your blazer.

“Ready yet?” Kishibe calmly asked, watching you scramble to slide the blazer on, all while scanning the living room for your watch.

“Yeah one sec.” Trailing off to find it, Kishibe shifted into your kitchen, rummaging through your liquor cabinet to fill up his flask . Again, another thing to add to the list, but you certainly couldn’t be bothered.

Finishing up, the pair of you headed out the door and down to his car. Kishibe had the grace to drive you basically everywhere, after 4 years it was basically his love language to say, ‘Hey I don’t hate you’, just as you let him raid your liquor cabinet as he pleases.

As both of you hopped into his car, he leaned over to pop open the glove box, pulling out two brand new cigarette boxes.

Handing you one, you smiled, “Thanks, you didn’t have to.” Kishibe didn’t say anything back. He didn’t mind. Though both of you knew you’d end up sharing a cigarette anyways.

The drive wasn’t too long; you gave Kishibe a brief overview of the situation, explaining the devil and the precautions you’d have to take to not interfere with the private sector's work.

Honestly you doubted he listened, but it was your job, so you explained anyway, “The devil has just recently appeared, he seems rather weak, it’s just he’s awfully clever. Private hunters attempted to kill it two days ago, and they’re going to try again tomorrow, so we better deal with it today.”

“Or else Makima gets pissed.” Kishibe scoffed, flicking his cigarette out of the window. The drive continued in silence.

The two of you stood on the sidewalk of a, almost, dead city street, everything was grey it seemed. Modern architecture sucked. Gazing up at the building the Public Safety Devil Hunters got a report about, it was an older office building.

The pair of you walked in, silence basking yourself and the lobby of the building. Nothing felt wrong - not yet at least - there was no signs of any disturbance in recent years. Dust was everywhere, on every surface and in the air. The wooden floors creaked with every step, you found yourself turning to the back of the receptionist desk, looking at the reminders of the past.

“When I was a kid, my dream job was actually being a receptionist.” You stated, smiling at the loose notepads and office supplies. Kishibe’s brows knitted together in confusion, you continued, “Sitting on your ass all day and writing paperwork for a decent paycheck? It sounded appealing. Then I did it while in college.”

“Didn’t work out?” Kishibe humoured you. He always did, he loved your rambling. Rounding back around the desk, the two of you turned the corner to wander down a main hallway.

The hallway was long, and dark, dust particles visible as they floated in the rays of sunlight peering through the few windows - most of which were boarded up. Despite the status as being abandoned, the halls were decently clean.

You scoffed, scanning the hallway and peering into each door you passed. “It was okay work. Money wasn't bad. I just didn’t find any thrill in doing paperwork.”

“From paperwork to devil hunting. Huh.” Kishibe chuckled, rolling your eyes as you shoved him a little.

Laughing, you continued, “You can’t act like my job now isn’t still 75% paperwork, because someone doesn’t wanna do their job.”

Kishibe let a smirk pull through, he couldn’t help that your laugh was rather contagious. It was a rather mundane and meaningless conversation, but he didn’t mind. It wasn’t often devil hunters got to have a normal conversation.

As Kishibe pondered his comeback to your comment, you both stopped dead in your tracks, feeling a presence weight on both of you. Your hand met your waist, grabbing at your weapon and holding it firmly, Kishibe doing the same.

Peering into the room you had stopped in front of, you were quick to spot a body laying in the centre of the room. It was a woman, from what you knew most likely a private devil hunter, though she was dressed in the same attire as both yourself and Kishibe.

Looking around the room for an enemy, you stepped closer to the woman. Her body was almost completely devoid of all moisture; face was ashy, lips chapped and cracking painfully, eyeballs shrivelled and almost nonexistent. Her hair was crisp, thin, and looked like it was missing in chunks.

Littered with bruises, cuts and scratches, she didn’t go down without a fight. Furrowing your brows in confusion, ‘Where is the devil, then?’ Kishibe shared your mental sentiment with his body language, staying almost completely still whilst peering around the room.

After a few moments, you felt that feeling go away. This was definitely the work of a devil, but it seemed unlikely that the devil was still here with you right now. A hand placed itself upon your shoulder, you sighed, turning to face Kishibe and hopelessly continue the survey of the building.

That wasn’t Kishibe.

Almost immediately upon turning around and coming face-to-face with some grotesque devil, you were slammed across the room, back hitting hard against the wall. The devil let out a rather annoyed giggle, trying it’s best to contain its laughter.

That shit hurt, you probably knocked through at least 5 desks, and you scrambled up out of the dent that your body had made into the wall. Kishibe hadn’t even attempted to check on you, immediately making work of fighting the devil - he knew you were fine.

It wasn’t hard for Kishibe and yourself to get into a flow while in battle, once you picked yourself up, you joined in. Kishibe and yourself taking turns at attacking the enemy, confusing it, as it didn’t know who to hit at. You both dodged its attacks, as they were rather repetitive.

You took your own turns at chopping some of the limbs of the devil off. The devil shrieked, frustrated that it was loosing this battle so quickly. It hastily picked up office furniture and flung it around, hoping it hit one of you.

Before you knew it, Kishibe grunted rather loudly, snapping your head you watch him fall down.

Shit. He got hit.

Kishibe dragged himself backwards, trying to get out of line of the devil momentarily. Panicking, you grabbed ahold of the devil and flung yourself on top of it, the devil twisted and turned, trying to throw you off as it’s now stubby limbs attempted to regenerate.

Kishibe grunted out your name, probably trying to get you to get off of the thing, but you didn’t listen, shamelessly taking hits and hitting the devil back. The devil shrieked again, very loudly, as you stabbed it in the eye with a piece of metal.

It fell to the ground as you pierced it, pushing and digging the piece deeper and deeper into the devil. It went limp, and you tumbled off of it. It was dead.

Scrambling to get up, you slugged your body towards Kishibe. He was fine, a deep cut on his arm was the worst of his injuries, the rest were a few cuts, though he would definitely be waking up with a hefty bruise on his back tomorrow, as would you.

“That was stupid of you.” He commented, accepting your hand as you pulled him off the floor. Shrugging, you lead him out of the now destroyed room. A comfortable silence is present among you two as you make your way backwards, back down the hall and eventually out of the building.

God, even after you basically saved his ass, he still irritates you sometimes.

Though sure, Kishibe never failed to piss you off with his attitude and lack of communication, in all honesty, you didn’t hate him. A rather low bar certainly, but it was remarkable. Even after 4 years, and him getting on your nerves like no one before, you didn’t mind his presence. Not just as a partner, but as a person.

Maybe it was you being content with your situation, you found yourself not minding his company. Sure he did a lot that made your head spin, but you thrived off of the little things; When you two would finish a job and get dinner after, or when you’d take turns taking swigs from his flask after a particularly irritating meeting with Makima, or when he’d listen to your ramblings about something that pissed you off at work giving rather blunt comments, taking drags from a cigarette you shared.

The past 4 years together, it wasn’t bad, honestly.

Maybe you could admit you liked Kishibe as a person. For one thing, he was definitely attractive; an older, grizzled man who had some years under his belt. And for another, his personality, albeit somewhat difficult, was rather endearing, especially when you stayed around longer than he expected, and especially when he realised you weren’t going anywhere.

Kishibe liked you too, in his own ass-backwards way - well you assumed.

"Don't make me think I wasted my time training you." The grizzled man said, taking a chug of his silver flask.

The sky was dim, oranges and pinks painting the west sky, a cascading light shifted the darkness and shadows of the buildings and street lights - the sun was setting.

The two of you had made your way to Kishibes car, calling Makima and alerting her to the elimination of the devil. Rummaging through his glove box, you pulled out a bandage to apply to Kishibes mild wound. It would do for now, you knew he wouldn’t go to the doctor until tomorrow morning.

You shrugged, rolling up his sleeve, beginning to wrap his wound, "I think at this point l've proved myself. If anything I’m starting to wonder if whoever trained you failed.”

The blonde chuckled, letting you finish the quick dressing of the cut, pulling away as you finished, screwing the lid of his flask shut tight, shoving it in his coat pocket, “How so?”

“Maybe how you never showed up to our summons to Makima? You didn’t even know why we came here.” You argued, pulling out a cigarette from your coat pocket and lighting it. Kishibe smirked slightly - he was the one who got you to start smoking, you even smoked the same brand as him.

Kishibe sighed, looking around carelessly, he honestly was surprised that you were still so serious about the job. Maybe he had worked here too long, “No, but you did, I can always count on you.”

For a split moment, you caught each other's eyes, you’d maybe even be tricked into believing he meant that. Breaking the contact, you scoffed, wiping blood off of your weapon. Kishibe leaned against his car, plucking the cigarette from your mouth and into his, taking a long drag.

You could feel him staring, wondering what could be going on in that head of his. The cigarette met your mouth again, looking up, the man was merely inches from your face, intently staring at you. “I figured it out.”

Scrunching your face and furrowing your brows, you scoffed again at the blonde, “Oh? Another drunk prophecy?”

Kishibe sighed, pulling back away from you and assuming his position leaning against his car, his eyes stared up at the sky, “You didn’t have any screws loose when I met you. I thought you’d make it a few months tops.”

“That’s awful. Thank you, I guess.” Kishibe chuckled at your response. Shuffling over to him, you assumed a position leaning against the car next to him, your bodies touched as you both stared off into the sky. His warmth was comforting, you didn’t get a lot of that in this business.

“Yeah. But you’ve stuck around. It’s been 4 years and 5 months.” Kishibe kept count, in fact, to the month. You didn’t take him too much as the sentimental type, you figured he was rather nonchalant about whether or not you stayed around - at least that’s how he typically acted. Sure he had his moments of kindness, they weren’t stereotypical, but you figured it just meant he was being civil as a co-worker.

Your silence enabled him to continue, “The devil hunters with a few screws loose stick around the longest, because devils are scared of them. But you? I didn’t really get it, to be honest.”

The sun was completely gone now, pinks and oranges had faded into the night sky. Though for the night sky, it wasn’t very dark, and you couldn’t see many stars - despite it being clear. That was the downside of being in Tokyo.

The air was crisp, and cold, you almost wanted Kishibe to take you in his arms, his warmth was tempting. The temperature always dropped this time of year, you hated it.

Kishibes point still wasn’t being made, it’s not like he had a near death experience, so you were perplexed by the sudden admission of empathy he was expressing. Maybe he just finally let the bowl overfill.

“I’m not crazy enough for you?” His eyes rolled at your comment, but he stayed silent for a moment. The air between the two of you was slightly thick, his every word was out of character and unpredictable.

Kishibe turned to you, grabbed the cigarette from your lips once again, putting them to his and taking a drag, the smoke flowing from his nostrils. “I figured it out though. You have a screw loose.”

Again, he was right up at your face, inches away. His every feature on display for you to see, his eyes were blank despite his words, the scent of alcohol filled your nose.

“Yeah? What is it?” Shakily you breathed out, heart racing at the sudden lack of space between you two. He could see it written on your face, how much this made you nervous, how you wanted this to last - you basked in the feeling and in the moment.

Flicking the cigarette aside, he continued to look down at you - it seemed he was doing the same, taking in your features. “You like me.”

It wouldn’t be far off to say your heart made a terrible halt, you honestly probably had a slight heart attack. “I mean you’re my co-worker, I kind of have to-“

“No. You like me. You find me endearing, like being around me. That’s your screw that’s loose.” Kishibe stated rather bored, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of a reaction, your silence bothered him, “Am I wrong?”

“No.”

Within a moment of uttering that, he leaned in, grabbing your jaw and pulling you further into him, finding warmth as your lips touched. Your soft lips moved effortlessly against his rather rough ones, his hand wandered from your jaw to the back of your head, the other hand at your waist, pulling your body as close to his as he could.

The warmth of your bodies combined, his rough, large hands kneaded at your waist. Soft moans were pulled from your throat as he pushed into you, your back was harshly pushed against the cold metal of his car.

The kiss was rough, it was hasty, it was sloppy. Despite this, you enjoyed every second of it. It was like you both waited your entire lives for this moment, but now that you had it, you were both utterly unsure if you’d ever have the chance again.

Placing your hands on either wait of his face, you pulled away, gasping slightly for air. His hands are still positioned at your side and the nape of your neck, caging you against the car. Once again, you two found yourselves taking in each other's features.

A part of you was still shaken from the sudden admission from Kishibe, while he didn’t admit he also felt the same, his actions spoke volumes - the other part of you was heavy, you wondered if he did this just cause he’s drunk or still riding off the adrenaline of the fight.

Kishibe could see the look in your eyes, he could practically read your mind. His grip on you loosened slightly as he sighed, nodding to himself. Letting go, he rounded to the driver's side of the car and opened the door, “Let’s get you home.”

You sighed at his statement. Nodding and rounding around to the passengers side, slipping into the seat and shutting the door. The ride was silent, there wasn’t really much tension, the both of you just seemed to be in thought.

Kishibe kissed you. And yes, you kissed him back.

Over 4 years ago you were paired with the veteran devil hunter by seemingly luck. Makima claimed she believed you two would benefit from being around each other. Whatever that meant to her, it was true.

The first year or two was tough. Kishibe was thoroughly under the impression that you would kick rocks eventually, whether you’d quit or die a meaningless death. Too stuck up, too complacent with the rules, he believed your lack of purpose and drive would surely lead you to your death.

For a while, maybe he was right.

But four years later, he stood corrected. Recently, you had reflected a lot on the past four years; You remembered the first time he realised you were sticking around, the first time you made him laugh, your first cigarette, the first time you and him got drunk, you remembered it all.

Fuck. You really did like the guy.

Pulling into the parking lot of your apartment complex, Kishibe didn’t say a word. Honestly, you didn’t know what could be going on in that head of his, maybe he regretted kissing you entirely.

But fuck, you didn’t regret kissing him back.

As a devil hunter, any day could be your last. It was one of the many cons of the job. Sometimes you ended a day surprised you even were able to make it back to your bed. So fuck it, “Hey it’s not too late, so you wanna get dinner?”

Kishibe looked at you with a rather unreadable expression, his hands still gripping the steering wheel, “You sure?”

Asking him to continue the night, it meant you were okay with what happened. You could just go inside now and forget today even happened, only speaking of today when telling Makima that the mission went successfully. The two of you would see each other tomorrow and nonchalantly discuss meaningless work things throughout the day - acting, pretending like something didn’t happen between you two.

That sounded miserable.

“Yeah,” You said, smiling at Kishibe, “Maybe you can pull another screw loose for me.”

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