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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

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Wounded Love Pt. 2 (Lady Dimitrescu/F!Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T? Maybe? Almost the exact opposite of the first one. Language, minor violence Genre: Fluff, mainly, with admittedly a little bit of humor? I blame my lack of sleep. And my adhd. Warnings: Implied cannibalism adjacent activities because guess what honey, this is a fucked up family, what do you expect of me??? Sure, they have breakfast in this, there's cute stuff, but c'mon, they don't eat flowers and oatmeal! Notes: Doubt it needs to be said, but this is a sequel to the good ending of part one. Also Cass has one line in this that might be OOC, or seem oddly placed, but admittedly this chapter is also loosely based on a dream I had, and I couldn't not include the few direct quotations I remembered, and she seemed the most likely to say the line. And yes, there will be a part 3, because I am weak and also kind of maybe made this one less plot-moving than intended.

{Wounded Love: The re-woundening}

Every step ached more than the last, even with Alcina supporting you. She had wanted to carry you down the stairs, of course, but you had insisted that you would be fine. Now you were just determined not to complain out loud. One yelp or cry and you’d be scooped up in her arms, surely to be carried for the rest of the day. As much as you appreciated your girlfriend’s assistance, you hated feeling useless, and hated putting a burden on others. So here you were, one arm wrapped around Alcina’s waist, limping ever-so-slowly towards the dining room.

Further ahead (unburdened by your injury) the three Dimitrescu daughters talk among themselves, voices hushed as they too headed for breakfast. It was odd to see them all awake, and socializing, as there was usually at least one who came to meals late. You couldn’t help but wonder if it had something to do with your condition… or the circumstances that had caused it.

Less than eighteen hours had passed since your fight with a stray lycan, and tension had been high since. While you hadn’t yet spoken to the sisters, you had spoken to Alcina, who had briefly mentioned their concern for you. Whether they actually cared about you as a person or just cared because you are dating their mother is unclear. Based on how they had acted while treating your wounds, though, you were inclined to think that they were fond of you. And seeing as Alcina had already vowed to get revenge on your behalf… well, you wouldn’t be surprised to learn that her daughters intended to assist.

“Careful on the last step, dear,” Alcina says, positioned as to catch you if you fell. It takes a little willpower to resist the urge to hop down the rest of the way. As long as you landed on your uninjured leg, it wouldn’t even be that bad. Still, irritating your girlfriend first thing in the morning felt like a pretty stupid thing to do. Instead you just nodded, slowing down even more, and took visible care not to trip. “Good girl.”

Well, you certainly couldn’t say that being careful didn’t have its rewards.

“I have my moments,” you replied, blush rising to your cheeks. Suddenly your pain didn’t feel so bad (at least until you took another step and winced). “Damn, who woulda thought that cutting a chunk out of my leg would make it hurt more?” The leg in question throbbed in pain, as if to prove your point, protesting the weight you put on it. Changing the angle at which you stood helped some, allowing the lower half of the limb to bear more of the burden.

“Dearest…” Alcina starts to say, looking like she was going to readdress her desire to carry you. For a moment you try to avoid her gaze, but she moves in front of you, making sure that you could still hold onto her for support. “I know how you feel, how you want, desperately, to be independent. When I was first… granted this gift, it took a long time to adjust. There was so much I had to relearn how to do, so much that I suddenly needed done for me.” A pause, a deep breath. At last you look up at your girlfriend, warmth in your heart, reaching out to hold her hand. “You have time, my dear, and plenty of it. More than that… this will not last forever. The more you push yourself, the longer your recovery will take. Now, please, allow me to assist. You have already proven how strong you are.”

“Oh, you drive a hard bargain… but if you insist, who am I to decline? Or, well, who am I to decline twice in a row?” You answer, somewhat begrudgingly. It wasn’t much farther to the dining room, you figured, so it wouldn’t be much of a loss to accept help. Or at least that was what you told yourself. Even with Alcina’s encouragement it was so hard for you to accept her help. After all, you were the one that worked for her. Never mind the fact that she was somewhat responsible for your injury- really, you were actively avoiding thinking about that.

It’s much easier to forget once Alcina carefully picks you up. One arm goes under your legs, the other under your chest, lifting you without any effort. You might as well have been a kitten or a child’s toy. The movement does, however, shift your injured leg in such a way that it aches. At this point you can hardly move the limb at all without it hurting, and even the slightest friction against the bandage makes your eyes water.

Apparently someone would be delivering some painkillers later in the day. You assumed it would be The Duke (whose name is apparently not Doug, as you had thought), seeing as he knew some special way to get to and fro without risking the same fate that had befallen you. Which, of course, made you feel a lot better. Getting someone else hurt would weigh on your mind forever.

Regardless, you were safe now, as was your strange, bloody little family. Before long you would even be enjoying a pleasant meal together. Certainly that would help get your mind off of your wound? For now, though, you were met with an unexpected impasse. The sort of impasse that really, really should have been expected.

“Why… is the doorway… so small?” You asked, jokingly, as you stare into the mildly embarrassed face of your girlfriend. It’s already hard enough for her to crouch through the gap normally. When she’s carrying you? Impossible. “Can we ask Mother Miranda for bigger doors? She gave you eternal life and also three kids, she’s gotta be capable of making bigger doors. Put me down, I’ll go call her and-”

“That won’t be necessary, dear,” Alcina cuts you off, not fully appreciating this part of your humor. Or maybe she had already asked for bigger doors, only to be told no?... Okay, yeah, it was probably the first option. With a sigh she sets you down, as gently as she can manage. Ready and raring to go, you start to hobble forward, only to find all three of the daughters waiting for you, just beyond the door. They’re grinning as they watch you, and Bela extended her arm to offer her help. “What appears to be the matter?” Alcina asks from behind you. Accepting your fate and Bela’s arm, you let the sisters guide you to the table, Cassandra holding your other side, and Daniela pulls your chair out for you. Honestly it’s pretty adorable. Evidently your girlfriend agrees, from the way she smiles as she follows.

“Thank you,” you say, more out of reflex than genuine gratitude. Again, you weren’t thrilled about needing this assistance. If the girls notice they’re at least polite enough not to mention it. They simply move to their own seats at the large table, eager to dig in. It feels… strange, to be here, on this side of things. Stranger still to realize you’re the only one intending to eat actual food. There’s wine in your glass, but it’s a much fainter red than those you’ve previously served to your girlfriend. Thank goodness, you think, after how raw my throat was yesterday, I really don’t need to taste any more blood.

Once Lady Dimitrescu sits down, the meal formally begins, with several maidens appearing from the kitchen. Several seem relieved to see you, although surprised, and one even gave you a brief smile. The smile did not last, however. It wasn’t unexpected, considering the nature of her job, the pressures that it put upon her. No one smiled at mealtimes. Well, no maidens, that is. They simply moved around, wordlessly, faces blank, doing exactly as instructed. Only a few days ago you had been among them, fear keeping you in line. Was it wrong of you to care for Alcina, knowing what she was capable of doing to others? Knowing what she might have, in another life, done to you?

A maiden places a plate of warm food, as well as a bowl of fresh fruit, in front of you. For a moment your eyes meet, but she looks away instinctively. Your heart threatens to break.

“This looks wonderful, thank you for your hard work, all of you,” you speak up, glancing at each of the women working so hard. There’s more you want to say that dries in your throat; you are valued, you are deserving, someday I will join your ranks again.

“You don’t need to thank them, they’re just doing their jobs,” Cassandra chimes from the other side of the table. Hearing her say that damn near makes you drop your fork. It’s not an uncommon settlement, particularly among older generations and the rich, but one that irks you nonetheless.

“They’re doing my job. They are taking on extra work, for no pay, because I am injured. Why would I be so cruel as to ignore them? Have I not toiled alongside them enough to call them my kin?” You ask, struggling to keep your voice even. Next to you Alcina is slowly cutting into her meat, watching the scene unfold out of the corner of her eyes, perhaps considering when to step in. On the other end of the table, Bela looks increasingly uncomfortable, as if silently willing her sister into silence. None of the maidens have reacted to what you said, likely too afraid of Cassandra to even consider speaking.

“Ooooh, this is much more fun than our usual breakfasts,” Daniela says, stifling a giggle. “Do you have any other thoughts you’d like to share? Preferably ones that aren’t about me.” At this, Alcina sets her utensils down, clearly intending to put an end to the discussion. Unfortunately for her, you were a bit… impulsive, especially considering the previous night’s activities had left your mind struggling to cope.

“Dead lycans smell terrible. Literally the worst thing I’ve ever smelled, easily, no question about it,” you answer, shrugging a little as you do. It’s such a simple thought that you almost don’t realize how the others at the table react. Until the clatter of silverware on the table catches your attention, that is. All three sisters are eying you with different expressions (Bela is confused, Cass is impressed, and Daniela looks shocked). But it’s Alcina’s wide-eyed stare that gets you to elaborate. “Should I have said ‘a dead lycan’? I only got one, so I guess I shouldn’t say they all smell bad. C’mon, though, they have to all smell bad, right?”

Suddenly Daniela shifts from shock to pure amusement, a fit of giggles overtaking her. You’re still confused, not sure what the matter was, so you just sip your wine and hope someone asks the right questions.

“You… killed the lycan that attacked you?” Bela finally says, after a few moments of her sister laughing, expression still incredulous. When you nod she sort of shakes her head, trying to clear her thoughts. “May I ask how you managed that?”

“Oh, you know, I just meh meh-” you mime a stabbing motion with your fork- “until the stupid thing stopped moving. I had to use a tree branch as a weapon, but then it broke after a few whacks, which actually helped because then I had two stabbing implements to, you know, stab with. That’s right around when it got my leg, and it tried to bite me. Thankfully it wasn’t very smart, so when it leapt at me I just hyah-” this time an upwards strike- “right into its neck. That didn’t kill it, but it was enough to slow it down, which allowed me to stab the other half of the branch into its skull. Made this horrible, horrible sound as it died. Seeing as we are eating, I will not imitate the sound. Not that I could, now that I think about it…”

Once again there’s silence. Even Daniela has quieted now, and is watching you with rapt interest, likely hoping that you’re hiding another story up your sleeves.

“So… did you guys actually think that I managed to run away from the lycan? Or were you under the impression that it simply got bored of me and left?” You ask, casually returning to your breakfast afterwards. No one says anything, at first, taking in your words as best as they can. A few moments later both Daniela and Bela resume their meal, as nonchalant as one could be in the current situation. Alcina, however, rests a gentle hand on your shoulder, meeting your gaze with a loving look.

“You will never cease to amaze me, my dear. But let us ensure you never have to… smell, or see, one of those wretched things again, yes?” She says, softly squeezing you as she does. You can’t help but agree, and nod eagerly, mouth too full of hashbrowns to speak. Still, there’s been a shift in the atmosphere of the room. It’s not that the family didn’t respect you before, as far as you can tell, but they evidently hadn’t expected you to prove as capable as you had. It brings a sense of pride to the forefront of your mind, making you completely forget about your injury for the remainder of the meal.

Unable to stop yourself, you insist on helping the other maidens clean up, and Alcina eventually agrees to let you wash a few dishes- as long as you stay sitting the entire time. The last thing you hear before you shuffle off to the kitchen is the start of a conversation between Cassandra and her mother.

“You picked quite a feisty one, didn’t you?”

“That I did, that I did…”

#lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina x reader #ya boy is a simp and also technically not a boy #i am ill defined and like it #please appreciate this #if you put nice things in the tags I WILL read it #and I WILL love you for it

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thran-duils · 3 years

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Doll Me Up (P.11, Final)

Title: Doll Me Up (Part Eleven, Final) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark Mob!Tony Stark. On good days, you and Tony were a power couple. You, a perfect trophy wife with your hands in local charities to promote a wholesome image. Tony, business man but sullied with organized crime. He indulged in his illegal gambling, extortion, and political corruption. And he indulged in his escort business. Hell, that is where he had found you. You were a brat, and he loved a challenge. Words: 1,892 Warnings: Unhealthy relationships, smut, daddy kink, dom/sub, manipulation, death, violence, possessive behavior, drug use

Part Ten || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

~2 weeks later…

“Come now, drink up,” Tony said, gesturing impatiently since he was needing to leave to go to a meeting bright and early, and you picked up the glass warily.

He had made you a smoothie out of hemp, cucumber, avocado, kale, ginger, grapes, and coconut milk. You had watched him adding each ingredient feeling more and more anxious. You just wanted an egg and bacon sandwich.

You grimaced as you swallowed it. You whined, “I don’t like it.”

“Yeah, I don’t either but it’s good for us, kitten,” Tony said, grabbing his own glass and taking a swig. He barely held back a face. “I’ve gotta be tip top shape for you and the baby. And you gotta be tip top shape for baby Stark.”

Scowling, you stared down at your glass, muttering, “I don’t like you calling it that.”

“I don’t like you calling it… it.”

“Well, we don’t know the sex yet, so what do you want me to say?”

“Baby Stark,” Tony quipped, taking another drink. He eyed your glass, nodding, telling you to do the same.

You took another long drink and swallowed it with difficulty. “It sounds too close to that annoying ass song.” Tony cocked his head in confusion, and you said, “I won’t subject you to it. Or myself to it. Again. Once was enough. I’m glad we are past the age – hopefully – that abomination is in vogue.”

“Well, now you’ve got me curious,” Tony said, pulling out his phone.

“Please, don’t,” you begged and then thought quick to threaten, “I won’t finish this if you do.”

Tony pointed at you and said, “That’s not fair. That’s for baby… the baby. This is for me and you can handle it.” Your jaw set and put the glass down, staring defiantly back at him. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, not breaking eye contact. “You hate it that much?”

“Yes.”

Rolling his eyes, he placed his phone back down and picked his glass back up, taking another drink. At his relent, you did the same. Tony finished his and sucked his teeth before rinsing his glass in the sink. You forced yourself to finish as well and placed the glass back down on the counter. Tony grabbed it from you and rinsed yours as well.

He leaned in and gave you a quick kiss, “I’ll listen to it at work.”

“I am telling you, you shouldn’t subject yourself to it,” you replied.

“Digging my own grave then,” Tony joked before giving you another kiss, longer this time. He tapped your nose and said, “Do your laps in the pool, princess. Don’t forget. Doctor said that would help aches and loosening your muscles.” You nodded in response and he smiled, his hand coming to rest on your abdomen for a second before he moved past you to go to the garage and leave.

<><><>

~2.5 months later… (5.5 months along)

Tony had you on your knees on the bed, your fingers spread, digging into the bed, bracing yourself. He ran his hands up your sides as he kept a steady pace. He was being gentler than usual, and you were thankful, loving the intimate contact. His touch was sensual and loving. The further you got along, the more he was relaxing on the rough sex.

The two of you ended up on your sides, Tony holding you close this chest as you came down.

He laid a kiss on your cheek, still panting softly from the exertion considering he had done most of the work.

His hand slid down to your abdomen, caressing your ever growing bump gently.

“Look at how perfect and strong you are, kitten,” he murmured. He turned your head towards him and kissed you slow and deep. “A superhero in your own right, growing life.” You smiled gently at that.

<><><>

~1.5 months later… (7 months)

“She’s been good,” Happy commented, watching Y/N inside from the back patio. She was showing now completely, round, and no hiding her pregnancy. “I can admit, I am surprised.” He looked at Mikhail and said, “Looks like you aren’t a complete idiot.”

“Took you long enough to figure out,” Mikhail responded, taking a long drink, looking at the women gathered inside the room. He smacked his lips and said under his breath to Happy, “Not stoked about being at a baby shower but at least there’s a lot of nice ass to look at.”

Inside the mansion, you took the salad from your friend, who commented, “You should eat something else.”

“We are going to have cake later,” you said waving her off.

“I meant something more nutritious than a green salad, Y/N.”

“Spinach is very healthy,” you retorted.

“There are a lot of finger foods. Tea sandwiches. Meatballs on sticks with veggies. Deviled eggs. Pinwheels?”

You sighed, chewing the bite of salad you had just taken. “A couple deviled eggs wouldn’t be bad. And some veggie sticks with ranch.”

She walked off and you scowled to yourself. Everyone was trying to constantly get you to eat ‘healthy’ for the baby and it was getting worse, the hounding about everything you needed to do. You were tired of it. The constant asking about what you had eaten and when, the reminders to drink water as if you had not been drinking water your entire life, did you exercise…

Cassandra waltzed over, sitting down next to you. You were very thankful she had decided to come and had forgiven you for the scene at her house less than a year ago. She picked a crouton off your salad, drawing a smirk out of you as she winked, before she said, “I’ve been meaning to ask you. Where did you get this dress? It is gorgeous.”

“Tiffany Rose.”

“The blush color looks beautiful on you. And I love you went dramatic with the floor length.”

“Thanks. Would you expect anything less from me?” you asked, jokingly. She shook her head, smiling. You took another bite and swallowed. “Are you looking for a dress for your shower?”

She nodded in return. She was taking a break from porn – hinting she might not go back at all – having gotten pregnant herself. And then asked, her eyebrows wiggling, “Is the blush supposed to be an indicator about the sex?”

“No. I just liked the color.”

“You really don’t know the sex yet? It’s a surprise for everyone?”

“Well, for us. I’m sure Happy and Mikhail know. God knows Tony couldn’t have kept it all to himself. Good luck breaking them though. I’ve been trying to get Happy to slip up about it for a couple weeks.”

Cassandra leaned back and said, “So, he set it all up and then the cake cutting reveal is his secret?” You nodded. “Hmm, he put a lot of work into this.”

“He did,” you confirmed, taking another bite as your other friend returned with a plate of deviled eggs and the vegetables you had agreed to. You held out the half-finished salad bowl and they took it, albeit reluctantly seeing you had not finished. You took the plate and obliged them by eating one of the eggs. “He’s excited.”

You paused and then added, “Excited but he’s ready for rough sex again.”

“I’m sure you are too,” Cassandra joked, nudging you playfully.

“Yeah. I’m tired of just… growing.” You took a bite off one of the carrot sticks. “It’s never ending. And I know I’ve got probably another month and a half of it at least.”

“It’ll all be worth it,” Cassandra reassured you, stealing a celery stick off your plate now and biting into it.

You finished off your carrot, swallowed, and muttered, “I fucking hope so.”

Your hand came to your stomach, rubbing. You were anxious to know what the sex was. When the sex had been able to be detected, Tony insisted you should stay in the dark so he could make it an actual reveal at the baby shower for you. You hated not knowing when he did, but he had been persistent about the idea of it and you had gone with it because he seemed thrilled with the idea. You just wanted to know. You were hoping the party would progress faster so you could end that anxiousness.

When it finally happened, the blue inside the cake settled something in you. At least you knew what that part of your future was going to look like.

<><><>

~2.5 months later…

“What’s this?” Tony asked, seeing another travel bag next to yours.

“It’s for Miles,” you said as if that was obvious. You went back into your closet, grabbing another scarf from your collection. It was going to be cold at Lake Tahoe for the trip.

Tony took the scarf from you and put it in your travel bag. “He doesn’t need a bag. He’s staying here.”

“Wait, what?” you asked, stricken. He was only a month old. Barely.

“Doctors said one month is enough, but a lot recommend three months for trips. So, we are going to play it safe. He’ll stay here and we will go.”

“Tony, I—we can’t leave him!” you tried to argue, your hand falling protectively on his travel bag.

Tony’s eyes flicked to your hands and he gripped them, prying them away to grasp them in his. He stared into your eyes and said, “Sure we can. It’s only three days, Y/N. We will be back before you know it. He is an infant; he’s not going to notice.”

You were going to notice leaving your infant behind.

“I have to breastfeed him,” you tried another argument.

“Pump before we leave. You have back up in the fridge, no? And it keeps for up to four days. And then he can have formula otherwise.”

“I didn’t want to give him formula,” you protested.

“Don’t listen to that shit that says it’s not good. I had formula and I’m a genius by earthly standards,” Tony said, trying to make a joke. “I already got the formula, Wendy knows how to whip it up.”

“But—” you started to protest but Tony interjected.

“Just us, princess. Just us,” Tony said, his thumbs caressing your cheeks as he cradled your face. “He’ll be fine. He’s in very capable hands with Wendy. You trust her right?” He waited for you to respond and you nodded; you did trust her, wholeheartedly. But that did not mean you did not want to bring your infant on a trip with the two of you. Before you could actually say anything, Tony’s hands fell from your face and gripped at your hips, sliding back to your ass to hold you close. “Let’s enjoy ourselves.” He leaned in, nipping at your ear, “Let me enjoy you. He’s been stealing all your attention as of late.”

You hated that last comment. Throughout your pregnancy and even from the beginning, you had had a nagging feeling Tony was going to get jealous about sharing your affection and attention. And that was just proving it.

“I deserve some attention, don’t I, baby?”

Shoving down argument, you forced a quick smile. “Of course, daddy. All of my attention.”

He smiled sensually, his hands kneading at your ass as he pulled you closer. His eyes were alight with adoration for you. “That’s my perfect princess.”

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21, @undecidedsworld

Fic tags: @kvzctam @farihafangirls, @teenageregression @mrsnegan25 @lilacs-lavender @agustdowney @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay @emmariexx

#tony stark x reader #dark tony stark #dark!tony stark #dark marvel fic #my shit

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milkygcf · 3 years

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UNDER THE MISTLETOE

Pairing | knj x gender-neutral reader

Genre | tooth-rotting fluff i think, established relationship

Warnings | just a tiny bit of cursing, the boys are a chaotic mess

Summary | ❝ Nothing can beat a holiday spent with Namjoon.❞

Word Count | 4.1k

Author’s Note | THIS IS AN ABSOLUTE MESS I’M SORRY 😭🙏 i rush wrote this so i could put up something for christmas. nonetheless, i hope whoever reads this enjoys it! also, big thanks to @youarejesting for the banner! i love it, it’s so cute :( another little side note is, this is also part of @btscreatorscorner‘s Crystal Snow Event! make sure to take a look at all the other works :] happy holidays!

Christmas with Namjoon is always a wild ride. From hectic decoration shopping to disastrous baking, to actual decorating and singing Christmas songs together. However, it's not like you're complaining, because as rowdy as Christmas time can be with your significant other, nothing can beat a holiday spent with Namjoon.

Every year is an open door to new shenanigans, handmade gifts and memories that embed themselves warmly into your heart. This year isn't any different, except for the fact that the rest of the group were joining for dinner - along with the chaos they always brought along with them. As close as you are with your boyfriend, not even your connection could beat theirs. It's heart-warming - as much as they argue, nothing could possibly tear them apart. Nothing could bring you any more serotonin than the jovial smile that attacks Namjoon's handsome features whenever they're around.

Now, you’re all nearing your thirties - except for Jungkook, he was still bearing life without early back problems - and you suppose you all look the part as well. Unless it's Christmas season and the young man himself proposes they all compete in a Best Decorated House competition between themselves. The winner earns himself an extra present from every participant - which you find rather amusing because you're pretty sure they were willing to buy each other the world in a blink of an eye. The loser, however, gets to wash every dish used during dinner. Ouch.

"Deal!" Namjoon hollers, finger pointed up in agreement, his chest puffed out in pride. You know he's going to stress about it later on because as much as you love the man, he's absolute shit when it comes to decorating. If it weren't for you, his house would be a shit-show. Sorry, Namjoon.

"Can't wait to beat all of your sorry asses!" Seokjin yells even louder, an arm hooked around Yoongi's waist. The energy he radiates astonishes you because even if he's the eldest from the lot, he's always the energetic one. Seokjin might as well be your icon.

And that's how it all began - the calm before the storm. But then again, them proposing this very idea wasn't exactly calm.

You feel a shy tap on your shoulder while you're busy scanning through your fifth isle. Namjoon holds out a tiny Christmas tree to you, his eyes round and shiny. You already know you won't be able to refuse. "Can we get it? Please - my bonsai needs a new friend."

"I think your bonsai would be sad to know their friend is made out of plastic, Joon."

"Well, they wouldn't be sad if they didn't know, right?"

His grin is brimming with mirth. He knows what you're going to say - there was no need to even ask you in the first place because he knew you could never resist his puppy eyes. "Fine," you sigh softly, offering him your sweetest smile. "Make sure Mon doesn't swallow it whole. That dog is a menace."

"He has a restless soul. We'll buy him reindeer ears on our way home."

"Yes!" It elicits giggles from both of you - Namjoon had introduced you to Rapmon just two months into the relationship, claiming you must meet your competition because it's only fair. Frankly, you think the dog himself is competing with your boyfriend - the second you set sight on his silky fur you’ve vowed to never leave his side. Rapmon was an absolute gem. From then on, he was a big part of the events you celebrated together - the main character in your little shenanigans.

Once you've both paid whatever you needed for the day, heaving a ton of shopping bags, you step out of the shop in a fit of giggles. As sophisticated and stern as Namjoon may look, he's quite possibly the clumsiest giant you've ever met. Unfortunately for him, he had accidentally ripped one of the bags you had brought along and as he readied to lift it, all contents came tumbling out as he gawked in terror. Red instantly rushed to his cheeks and you found it hard not to burst out laughing in his face. He wouldn't want to become more flustered than he already felt.

"Every day I wake up to the face of embarrassment," he mumbles ashamedly, shaking his head in dismay. You could only continue to chortle before leaning in to place a tender kiss on his cheek. "It's okay dummy," his cheeks redden even more, "Would some hot chocolate fix your mood?" The second the words slip out of your lips, his face no longer holds a grim expression.

Getting hot chocolate from Pixie’s Magic! is like a tradition between you and Namjoon. Not only was it where you both had met, but it served the most delicious brews you’ve ever tasted. Nothing could possibly beat this little shop in the corner of the mall you were currently in.

Although it was usually calm and quiet, it seemed to be bustling the day you both go out to buy Christmas decorations. There’s a myriad of people piling up in plan of buying themselves the warmest cup of cocoa - a cup of happiness that would complete their own Christmas. Within that queue of people were families, couples and even people who spend their time alone during the festive season. Pixie’s hot cocoa never failed to brighten days.

You scout through your newly bought items for anything that might pass time. Namjoon stands beside you with his phone in hand, thumb clumsily scrolling through whatever he’d missed from the boys’ usual spam session. “Hoseok’s already got most of his decorations up. Something tells me we’re not winning this so easily.”

“We’re literally up against Seokjin and Jungkook.”

He pulls his lips in a taut line - going up against those two was a one way stop to instant loss. Nothing, absolutely nothing could beat either one of them. The competition was and will always be between Seokjin and Jungkook because both were as dense as a brick and would stop at nothing to earn themselves a victory. Frankly, you found it entertaining, even if they were constantly at each other’s throats and threatening to burn each other down - jokingly, of course, you’d never condone violence. Brotherly love if you’ve ever seen it.

“They’re out of the question. We’re up against the rest, those two idiots can eat an egg.” His bluntness makes you burst into fits of giggles, earning the clear attention of those either ahead of you or waiting (im)patiently behind. Namjoon always had a rather poetic way of saying things. “An egg? You’d be doing them a favour.”

He doesn’t quite realise what you mean until a few seconds later when he breathes out a dejected sigh and massages his temple soothingly. “They’re a whole mess.”

And he’s right, because when you’re back in the comfort of your humble abode with a warm cup of cocoa waiting for you in the living room, Namjoon’s phone keeps endlessly buzzing.

“You can’t keep ignoring them forever, you know.”

Namjoon sometimes thinks about how difficult his life would be without you. Go figure that there was no way of avoiding them, right? If you hadn’t told him, he would’ve never guessed so.

The couch sinks underneath his weight as he plants himself beside you, placing a mushy kiss onto your cheek. He’s quick to hand you his beverage once Mon literally hops onto him, wagging his tail like the euphoric little rascal that he is. And there’s peace and quiet, the sound of the crackle of the fireplace, until Namjoon’s thumb slides over the tiny green button making his phone constantly vibrate.

“Namjoon! What took you so long?!”

Seokjin’s voice comes booming out of the device nestled in your boyfriend’s palm. You must admit - it startled you just a bit, but it’s not like you weren’t used to their rambunctious behaviour. “We thought you died. Almost worried us for a while there.”

“Actually,” Jimin so pridefully interrupts, “He was just about ready to forget about you. Don’t act like you didn’t see cloud nine when Tae suggested Joon backed out.” It was all fun and games, affectionate brotherly love between the lot until suddenly, it was a trademarked apocalypse. Truly mind-blowing.

“You tattletale-!”

“Don’t worry Seokjin,” you snort, “He’s still up and running.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing!” Offence washes over Namjoon’s face - perhaps it really is him against the world. Kim Namjoon could trust no one. You could only poke your tongue out at him, earning yourself a blissful smile. “Not at all.”

“Ew. Stop flirting - this isn’t about you, this is about the progress you’re doing.” Seokjin scoffs, making the latter silently giggle to themselves. He has absolutely no filter - nothing could get in the way of the man’s priorities. “Tell that to Yoongi.” His boyfriend was sitting right beside him - and poor him, because Yoongi has to be the strongest man to ever set foot on earth. He’s been dealing with Seokjin’s shit for over a good year or so now.

“Believe me, I might just knock him out.”

“No way - who’s going to peel your tangerines for work then? Ungrateful imp.”

Their bickering continues to produce light laughter from the lot of you until you decide it's about time you update each other on your progress. Surprisingly enough, Hoseok was much farther ahead than you all anticipated, and it earned you another fifteen minutes worth of competitive yelling between the youngest and the eldest.

But that was nothing out of the ordinary.

"Move it a little bit to the left," you instructed stringently, hands planted firmly on your hips as your boyfriend does whatever he's told. The tree jiggles with every waking movement, making Namjoon groan at the heavyweight it settles upon him. "Is this alright?" He mumbles tiredly, eyeing you from the depths of its branches.

You could only nibble on your lip, your eyebrows furrowed in thought. "Maybe a bit to the right."

Even when he's exhausted, even when he's sick and tired of turning a piece of mere decoration to countless directions, he doesn't complain. Namjoon wasn't exactly fond of religious festivities, but spending Christmas with you is always something he looks forward to. Setting the deal aside, it was always enjoyable bringing a little life to the house with someone he adores and his heart beats for. "Perfect! Could you grab the baubles? I'll get the ornaments."

Teamwork makes the dream work. An idiom he liked to say on the daily - it always worked between the two of you. Six hours worth of work put into four and the mess that bested every nook and cranny of your house now lessened. You hang the last bauble and sigh in content. "Doesn't it look pretty? I think this is our best one yet."

"Well, technically speaking, I couldn't expect any less from you, bun." His tone of voice resembles that of a young boy in love, his eyes sparkling under the colourful Christmas lights nestled comfortably in the tree's branches as he looks at you with a bashful smile. It's moments like these when you're so caught up in the things you do together, these blissful moments that you realise just how grateful you are for Namjoon. You love him, you love him so much. Nothing could be a better present than spending time with him. He's your bundle of pure euphoria.

"The tree's feeling a little bland, don't you think?"

It takes you a moment to take notice of what he actually meant before you feel extra weight added on top of your head. He teasingly hangs the finishing piece away from you, puckering his lips in hopes he'd earn himself something sweet in return for the star. You could only roll your eyes, but nonetheless, nothing stops you from latching your lips onto his and giving him your love.

Without hesitation, Namjoon scoops you up onto his shoulders, he guides you towards the crest of the tree and watches with bright eyes as you ecstatically plant the finale to the first phase of your decorating. Monnie scratches at the latter's legs in pure joy, barking at you both to signal his presence as well. It elicits laughter, and as Namjoon gently sets you back down, you let your fingers ruffle his fur as he licks at your face.

However, your hours upon hours of decorating doesn't end there, the tinsel messily spread underneath you is a clear indication of this.

With an exhausted huff, you look at Namjoon with hopeful eyes. There's still much to be done.

---

Looks tend to be deceiving when it comes to Kim Namjoon. People tended to deem him as a friendly giant, however, when it came to snowball fights, he was far from that. Like a devil crawling out the pits of hell.

The day you decide to pamper the outdoors of your house, snow starts dribbling from the skies above you. A miracle, because it’s never really snowed so early in December.

You’re busy setting up mistletoe in front of your front door until you’re barreling forward from the force of something wet on your back. It couldn’t have been Mon - he was sleeping soundlessly inside. But your boyfriend wasn’t - instead, he was childishly running around the front lawn bearing snowballs.

“Namjoon!” You shriek in utter disbelief, turning around only to face a devious grin. Pure evil dripped from him - Namjoon was no longer the soft bear who insisted you play with his hair. He was now a foe. “You’re going to pay for that!” As quickly as you could, you bear your own weaponry to pay back his foolish actions.

His giggles echoed across the small space you’re in and before you could even comprehend what was happening, he was already aiming another shot at you. Unfortunately, you were too slow against him.

Splat!

Three points for Kim Namjoon!

At your absolute suffering, his laughter only gets louder over Mariah Carey’s gorgeous singing coming from inside. “You’ll pay for this, you evil man!” However, your threats are only drowned out by his boisterous laughter. “I’d like to see you try!”

And you do. Because while he’s busy laughing his ass off at your misery, you earn yourself the rightful chance to aim a snowball right into his face. Three points? You just scored a whole seven.

He’s baffled - completely, utterly speechless at what’s happened. Well, you definitely weren’t going to stand there and let him conquer victory, he knew that for a fact. He just didn’t think you’d be so blunt. Now you’ve earned him a pink nose. But was he going to let you get away with it? No, Namjoon’s a Virgo.

He charges towards you like a clumsy child. You almost screech in surprise, instead, busting out in fits of laughter as you tumble and trip away from him. “Hey-! Get back here!” He cries out, almost face-planting into a hefty pile of snow. That would’ve been outright hilarious.

“Just try and catch me, big man!”

It’s light-hearted, it’s all lively and pleasant. You were both adults, but nothing stopped you from feeding into the fruits of life and feeling youthful sometimes. You both did it for the hell of it because you knew that with each other, you could be anything.

You’re too busy laughing to actually take notice of where your feet were taking you, feigning into the mess beneath you and tripping in your own feet. A loud thud leaves your descent, and with that, your boyfriend tumbling down on top of you because he was too clumsy for his own good. It was cute, really. Namjoon lets out a terrified shriek, his arms landing just beside your head - luckily because you’re pretty sure you would’ve earned yourself a long-surviving black-eye.

“Got you,” he says rather flusteredly. There’s a hint of panic in his eyes that almost seems as if he’s seen God himself. Had the fall really taken the piss out of him?

“No,” you state, shaking your head as best as you can. “Technically speaking, I got you.” You place a quick kiss on his pretty pink nose just for good measure, because in truth, you really did get him. He was on three points while you were on a steady seven. Namjoon pulls his lips in a taut line ever so shyly, hiding the growing smile planting itself on his face. No longer was he your arch-nemesis - your boyfriend was back to being your friendly neighbourhood giant. “Shouldn’t we get back to decorating? I thought you wanted to beat the others.” Perhaps it slipped through his mind because the second those words slip through yours, he’s already hoisting himself up and pulling you along with him. Kim Namjoon does not give up in the face of competition, that much is clear, even when he’d previously been working off a snowball fight.

“I couldn’t help myself!” He defends nonetheless, his palm scratching shyly at his mess of a mane. “But now that I think about it, we can have as many snowball fights as we want when we kick ass. A win-win situation, if I do say so myself.”

A win-win situation indeed.

When the boys call later on in the evening, it becomes clear that Namjoon was second in lead - Jimin taking first place. While the rest were busy taking things easily, he’d effortlessly managed to get things done in only a short matter of time. He definitely wasn’t there to play.

“No way. You’re cheating!” Taehyung accuses, astonishment evident from the little you could see of his face. His lighting was absolute crap. Despite his belief, Jimin easily shakes off his accusation with a mischievous grin. “I don’t know Taehyung, maybe if you hadn’t been slacking off at Taco Bell you would’ve been catching up.”

“Wha-! What a heathen - I’d choose Taco Bell over this any day!”

“How dare you! This is Christmas decorating you red-headed scoundrel!”

“This isn’t about you Seokjin!”

“Might as well be,” Yoongi mumbles from beside him, lazily scrolling through his phone as a yawn escapes his lips. You might just think he’s aged by a couple of years because of this ordeal. “You’re all complete losers,” Jungkook comments, face completely mushed against his phone as he nibbles on whatever was in front of him. The kid feared absolutely nothing - the wrath of a butthurt Kim Seokjin wasn’t any different.

Namjoon squints at his phone. He clearly wasn’t wearing his glasses, nor his contact lenses, and you knew he’d face the consequences later on. You’ve spent countless days by his side tending to his colossal headache. “Are you… Are you eating raw pop tarts?”

“Yes.”

“Raw. Aren’t you supposed to toast them?” There’s confusion laced in his tone, and in between, intense fear. “That’s like, a felony.”

Jungkook lets out a scandalised gasp. “No way! I’m not letting this piece of divine heaven be tainted by modern technology! I don’t even have a toaster, and there’s no way in hell I’m touching the microwave.”

Hoseok snickers. “He thinks it’s going to explode.”

“Don’t test me! I know the evil that sits within that thing.”

As complex at it was, you’ve come to the conclusion that there’s no explaining what these men are made out of. They’re simply built differently. In fact, you’ve grown out of trying to comprehend them, because you could be on your death-bed and they’d still be saying and doing things that would make you sigh and shake your head.

---

Alas, the day has come, and so have the boys, who just wouldn’t stop rambunctiously banging on your door. You’re busy setting up the table, Mon at your feet wagging his tail excitedly. “Namjoon!” You call out, balancing a few plates on the palms of your hands. “Namjoon! Could you get the door?”

However, as much as you yell, Namjoon doesn’t respond. You suppose it’s because he hasn’t come back from wherever he had gone earlier during the day. Odd.

Nonetheless, you set a few plates down on the dining table, hurriedly skipping over to your front door only to be trampled by none other than your special guests for the night. “Finally!” A rather over-dramatic Seokjin sighs, patting away the invisible sweat dripping down his forehead. “Waiting for you to open was like running a marathon. I swear!”

You could only laugh as Jimin pulls you in for an embrace - it was in his habits to do so whenever he saw you. It’s not as if you mind, his hugs were by far the best you’ve felt. They were full of love and warmth, something that perfectly describes the man himself. “Don’t mind him,” he tells you, rolling his eyes at the dramatics his friend was making. “He really needed to piss.”

“Sorry for taking so long - Namjoon hasn’t gotten back home from this morning.”

“He hasn’t?” Yoongi neatly sets his shoes by the door, unwrapping a thick scarf from his neck, dangling it on your coat hanger. “That’s pretty unusual, he doesn’t like being out in cold weather.”

“He probably got into some traffic,” you assume, “Hopefully he’ll be back soon. Until then, make yourselves at home. We’ll order take-out soon!”

All of you were like a proper family when it came to celebrating Christmas. Each year, sleepovers are taken in turns going from eldest to youngest. This year just so happens to be Namjoon’s turn - it’s not as if you mind, the house seems more lively when they’re around. They had that thing about them, that wherever they went they tended to make things brighter. Not once have you felt gloomy or perhaps left out. The seven of them all had qualities in contrast to one another, all showing you different ways of happiness. You’re lucky to say you have them in your life.

The wait for Namjoon continues. You all settle with playing board games, for the time being, the living room turning into a whole battleground because Yoongi can’t go by without cheating once in a while. He was really cunning, you could see Taehyung trying to pick up on his tricks.

“Uno!” Jimin yells, shoving a proud middle finger in Seokjin’s face. The man could faint from the amount of disrespect he was receiving. “Try beating that, old man.”

“I’ll tell you I’m more than an old man! I want a rematch. You’re all cheats, all of you.”

“You’re just a sore loser.” Jungkook was on thin ice. His nitpicking on Seokjin was getting him nowhere but pure, utter hell while he was sleeping. You admire his courage - he was fucking insane. “Sore losers don’t win, old man.”

Seokjin almost gets up to throttle him for his constant bullying when the door swings open and you’re all met by layers upon layers of clothing stomping inside. He’s carrying a bunch of bags you can’t seem to decipher, and you could see his nose poking out from his scarf.

Finally, Namjoon’s back home.

“Hey __, I’m back. I’m sorry I took so-”

“Joon, you idiot!” Before you could even bat an eye, Taehyung and Hoseok were on the man like hungry beasts. He was already eaten up by whatever garments he was wearing, the only pieces missing were the duo for him to finally disappear. “What took you so long? We were worried sick! Jimin can’t DJ for the life of him.”

“Hey-!”

You hoist yourself up and dust off whatever remnants of gingerbread cookies were left on you. All the concern that had been building up over time of Namjoon not being home had now diminished. Sudden relief washes over you because you hadn’t really noticed how worried sick you’ve been until he’d stepped into the house. Namjoon can be really impulsive sometimes.

“Joon,” He wraps his arms around your smaller figure and places a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Where have you been? Had me really worried for a second there.”

There’s this cheeky look in his face that makes you swoon. He’s so lovely, in all his ways, you just can’t help but be filled with so much love. You love him.

“I kind of… I kind of forgot to pick your present up. Sorry - Didn’t want to worry you, just a clumsy move.”

He’s all you’ve ever imagined.

“Get over here you two - we’re ordering take-out!” Your little moment is easily interrupted by the guys hollering you over, to which you oblige because you wouldn’t want to waste another second. You could hear Namjoon’s stomach grumbling a bit. “Have I been out for that long?” He queries, looking at you with a raised eyebrow. “Dummy, it’s six in the afternoon. It’s already dark.”

“Well, I’m finally back home now, right where I need to be.”

You don’t notice it, but there’s a little mistletoe just above your heads. And Namjoon knows this because he points up towards it with mirth laced in his pretty eyes and a pretty smile. “Merry Christmas,” he tells you before he leans in and gives you what you rightfully deserve.

#btscreatorscorner #bcccse #bts fanfic #bts oneshot #bts au #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #jeon jungkook #park jimin #kim taehyung #kim namjoon #kim namjoon x reader #namjoon reader #namjoon fluff #kim namjoon fluff #namjoon fic #kim namjoon fic

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halfwaythereroyalwrites · 4 years

Text

Mahal Kita (Javier Peña x Filipina!Reader) - Kilig

GIF Credit: I don’t know, but it’s not mine. Let me know if you know who made it.

Pairing: Javier Peña x Filipina!Reader

Warnings: This can be read alone or as part of Javier Peña’s Kilig series. Slight gun violence. Cursing.

Word count: 2.4k+

Summary: A close encounter makes you and Javier think about your relationship.

A/N: I loved writing the first part so much that I wrote a sequel. You don’t have to read the first one to get this, but I’d appreciate it if you did.

Part 1 + Masterlist

Kilig is a Tagalog word to describe the feeling of excitement and exhilaration and possibly embarrassment from anything remotely romantic.

_______________________________________________

An unusual sight met you when you walked to your desk this morning. Scraps of paper were taped to the objects sitting on your desk. All of them bearing familiar scribbled writing.

El escritorio.

La máquina de escribir.

Las plumas.

El periódico.

Los papeles.

El teléfono.

“Good morning!” Steve refreshed voice greeted. He and Javier strode their way to your conjoined desks, holding breakfast from the morning meeting you opted out of. Steve was holding an extra donut wrapper in a thin white paper. Javi was holding two steaming cups of coffee. “For you,” Steve offered the donut which you gladly accepted with a thank you.

Javi handed the second cup of coffee to you, “Tu café.”

“Gracias, Javi,” you lifted the cup in thanks. The three of you took a seat at your respective desks. You took a sip of the coffee Javi made. Two sugars and creamer, you thought. He remembered. You glanced up to meet his knowing eyes, and he gave you a sly grin before scanning the document in front of him.

“What’s with all this?” Steve asked, snatching the taped note on your telephone.

“Spanish lessons. Courtesy of Peña,” you answered through a mouthful of donut.

“How come you never offer to teach me Spanish, Javi?” Steve turned to his male partner accusingly.

“You’re not nearly as pretty as her, Murphy,” Javier answered, looking up from his paperwork. His words made you slightly choke on your donut. You took a sip of your coffee to wash down the clump that threaten to lodge itself into your throat.

“Oh I’m not enough for you?” Steve jokingly retorted, making you nearly spit out your coffee. You set down your coffee and opened your top drawer to look for the napkins you kept there. To your surprise, you found another note, this time folded, on top of your napkins. The note read, “Buenos días, querida.” You stuffed the note to the back of your drawer before pulling out a napkin and wiping your mouth of the sticky sugar leftover from the donut. Javier and Steve had stopped joking with each other, each occupied with their respective tasks. You locked eyes with Javi and raised an eyebrow, a small smirk on your face. Javi responded by winking at you, making you press your lips together, suppressing a grin from forming. The shrill ring from your phone broke your focus on Javi who returned his attention to his work.

“Meeting with the boss, boys,” you sighed as you hung up the phone. “Let’s go.” The simultaneous scrape of their chairs at your words started to burst the bubble of mirth from moments before, tugging you back to reality. Steve walked ahead of you and Javi, but Javi stayed behind, waiting for you to walk ahead of him. You thanked him with a nod of your head. His hand subtly rested on the small of your back as you passed him, burning an imprint on your skin and heightening your awareness of his presence. Did he buy a new shirt? You could’ve sworn he didn’t have this shirt before, but ever since you mentioned blue being one of your favorite colors, he seemed to add more blue in his rotation. Javi waited for you to enter the conference room first to which you replied, “Salamat.”

“De nada,’ Javi replied. This became a habit between the two of you as your relationship progressed. Javi would speak in Spanish, and you would respond in Tagalog. The two of you would then translate your sentences together, taking note of words you didn’t understand. You didn’t take notice of how often the two of you did this, until Steve once commented that he, out of all people, should definitely be the one learning Spanish. You had laughed at his comment that day, and Javi agreed to interpret for the two of you when out in the field. Still, this back-and-forth was special between the two of you. Something so endearing which stemmed from Javi seeking to comfort you from the pitfalls of an assignment abroad. Spanish and Tagalog lessons frequently happened over dinner.

Well, dinner was a loose term for it. In reality, it was one of you coming in to the other’s respective apartments across the hall. From there, the two of you would, eat, laugh, talk, drink…amongst other things. More often than not, the visitor would end up sleeping over, and they would have to sneak out of the apartment to return home, trying to avoid Steve or Connie. Like you said, this, whatever this is, was between the two of you. No one else. You’d never tell Javi this, but you did find a paper list in his apartment once. On it were Tagalog words you had taught him earlier, some spelled phonetically rather than correctly, although admittedly the spelling was close.

Halik - Beso

Maganda - Bonita, Hermosa

Sinta - Querida

Pag-ibig - Amor

And then the four words that made your eyes widen. The four words that were emboldened by his repeated tracing over the letters as if carefully carving it into his memory for fear of forgetting. The four words that made a strong heat grow in your chest, creep up your neck, and settle in your cheeks. The four words rushed blood to your ears, amplifying the elevated beating of your heart.

Mahal kita - Te amo

I love you.

He had asked how to say “I love you” after dinner some nights ago. The question was casual, and he had worked it into the conversation so skillfully that you hadn’t given it a second thought until you found his list. You mouthed the words carefully and repeatedly. Te amo. Te amo. Te amo. Te amo. Javi’s voice had called for you from the living room, and you quickly hid the list before going out to join him on the couch.

That was a week ago, and since finding that list, you had practiced the words over and over again in the mirror. Anticipation had settled into your bones. A weight had lifted itself off your shoulders, bringing a new spring to your step and a new outlook on life, even one as bleak and as challenging as the one you chose to lead. Plainly speaking, it didn’t take long for you to know. You loved him too.

The meeting droned on and on. The voices of the men around you soon warped into a garbled mess, undistinguished and tiresome. The tediousness of the meeting was made apparent by everyone springing out of the room, and your mind was still foggy until Javi’s voice broke your daze. “Dinner at my place?” Javi mumbled low enough for only you to hear.

“Sure, same time?” you whispered.

“Yep,” he answered. The two of you walked back to your desks where Steve was talking to someone on the phone, scribbling something on a scrap of paper. He hung up and turned to you and Javi, scrunches his brows at how close the two of you were walking. Both of you took notice of his watchful eye and promptly parted, with you picking at random objects at your desk.

“Uh,” Steve cleared his throat before announcing, “That was Carrillo. He wants to meet with us for a debrief.”

“Okay,” you and Javi said simultaneously. This made the two of you glance at each other before looking at Steve, whose gaze flickered between the two of you. He sighed and shook his head before saying,

“I’ll drive.” You swatted Javi’s arm on the way out to Steve’s car to which he chuckled, clutching his arm in feigned pain. Carrillo was all business, as usual. He went down his methodical list of questions about any information the DEA had on Escobar to which the three of you provided. Carrillo had brought out a map marked with the latest rumored drop-off sites in nearby neighborhoods, all circled in bold, red ink. He handed Steve a marker to mark confirmed sites. Javi, ever the gentleman, offered you a glass of water when he noticed you fanning yourself with a manila folder.

“Agua?” Javi offered.

“Salamat. This is tubig,” you explained.

“What’s too big?” he asked confusedly.

You laughed at his misunderstanding. “No, water is called tubig.”

“Ohhh, I got it,” Javi nodded in understanding. You continued giggling, and Javi smiled at your amusement. It wasn’t until you turned to meet Steve and Carrillo’s ever-observant stares that the two of you immediately dropped your amused expressions and put on your game faces, pointedly avoiding each other’s gaze as if scolded by your schoolteacher for being caught.

“I think we should go to this one here today,” Carrillo pointed out on the map. “See what people know.”

“I agree,” Steve said. “Let’s head out.” Carrillo gestured with his arm for you to go first, and you obliged, walking in pace with Steve. Then, you heard the loud, unmistakable sound of a smack, and you turned around to be met with the sight of Javi rubbing the back of his head and Carrillo’s smug smirk. The trip to the discussed barrio was a short one, and it was quite the spectacle with five squad cars and Steve’s car wedged into the middle of the squadron. The humid heat coupled with the fact people were being secretive and protecting Escobar fanned the flames of your frustration. You understood why, but this made your job a whole lot harder. You were talking to an older woman sitting outside her home when you heard a thud on the roof behind you. A lower-ranking sicario made eye contact with you before darting the opposite direction.

“Suspect headed eastbound. In pursuit. Need backup. Over.” You sprinted toward the sicario’s direction, staying on the ground while a couple uniformed police officers chased him on the roofs. You cut through an alley to hopefully cut the sicario off. Turns out, Javi had the same idea because he turned the corner at the same time. Both of you nodded at each other, and Javi took the lead. Up ahead, you saw a man gesturing wildly to someone on the roof to come to the running car. You looked up in time to the sicario jump across roofs and shimmy down to the ground. Javi and you ran to the end of the alley, and Javi turned the corner to pursue the car. You’re not sure what came over you. Call it instinct. Or maybe sheer luck. You grasped Javi’s elbow and tugged him back with all your might to the cover of the alley and flush against your body. Gunshots rang out and whizzed past the two of you, pinging at nearby cars and windows. Javi hugged you close to him and acted as a human shield. Screeching of tires flooded your ears as the sicario’s car revved away from the barrio.

Javi pulled away and held your face in his hands, looking you over for any injuries. “Are you ok, querida? Did you get hurt?!”

“I’m ok. I’m ok,” You swallowed down the tight knot forming in the back of your throat and croaked out, “Are you?” Javi nodded before planting a kiss on your forehead and crushing you against him. You squeezed your arms around his torso reveling in the feeling of his body against yours. The two of you didn’t let go until you heard Carrillo’s voice through your walkie-talkie, asking for one of you to confirm your location. Javi reached for his talkie and confirmed both of you were safe and would be headed back. The two of you locked eyes with each other, chests heaving, and before you could move, Javi crushed you against his chest again, clutching a tuft of your hair and muttering Spanish under his breath. He was speaking too fast for you to even pick up a word, but you were happy to just hear the beat of his pounding heart.

“We should go,” you begrudgingly muttered. “Steve is gonna come looking for us.” Javi planted one last kiss on your forehead, and your eyes fluttered close at the feel of his soft lips against your skin. He’s here, you thought. He’s here, and he’s safe. The rest of the day passed by without much fanfare. Steve and Carrillo were met with nods when they asked if you and Javi were ok. You were the only one who was able to provide verbal details. Javi remained silent. After debriefing with Carrillo, the car ride back to work passed in silence. The end of the day came quickly enough, and it wasn’t until you shut your apartment door shut that the events of the day came rushing back to you.

You had almost lost Javier today. He was almost shot, and you almost lost him. There were no tears as you expected. No sobs wracking your body. Just a deep and heavy realization. You tossed your keys and purse on to the table and wrenched open the door only to be met with Javier — fist raised about to knock on your door.

“Fuck, Javi!” You clutched your heaving chest in surprise. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“Mahal kita!” Javi proclaimed.

“…what?!”

“Mahal kita. I was waiting until tonight to say it, but after today, I can’t wait. I could’ve died. I could’ve died and never told you and…

“Te amo,” you cut in. “Te amo mucho.” Tears were now falling down your cheeks. Javier broke out in a big smile which you mirrored. He let out a breath he had been holding before taking your face in his hands and kissing you. The kiss easily deepened. Your mouths locked in a desperate dance to prove over and over again that this was real. You were here. He was here, and the two of you loved each other. Javi broke the kiss to pepper small kisses on your forehead, cheeks, chin, jaw, and neck — eliciting small giggles out of you.

“Hey guys…” Steve’s voice chimed in, making Javi and you jump away from each other. Steve and Connie were holding a case of beer and a tray of brownies, their wide-eyed stares focused on you and Javi.

“I knew it!” Connie exclaimed. She bumped her elbow against Steve’s arm. “I told you they were dating.” You broke out in a relieved laugh at Connie’s words, letting your shoulders drop.

Steve came and placed his arms around Javi and you and led all of you inside your open apartment. “You two have a lot of explaining to do.”

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Translations that weren’t explained:

El escritorio - the desk

La máquina de escribir - the typewriter

Las plumas - the pens

El periódico - the newspaper

Los papeles - the papers

El teléfono - the telephone

Buenos días, querida - Good morning, dear/desired one

Part 1 + Masterlist

A/N: Let me know what you think and/or if you would like to be added to my taglists!

General: @peppermintvanillaa @fantasticcopeaglepasta @panda-angela

Kilig series: @multifandomlife22 @princeabomination @thottiewinemom @svetlana-beilschmidt

This fic: @mxndoscyarika

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña imagine #javier peña fanfiction #narcos fanfiction #narcos imagine #javier peña x filipina!reader #javier peña x filipino!reader #javier peña x filipinx!reader #kilig series #halfwaythereroyalwrites

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you-a-southpaw-doll · 4 years

Text

Leader or Not... ~ A Negan One-Shot

Summary:

You’d think that after 22 years of being around each other, Negan would know when not to mess with Leigh. You’d think that after 22 years of being best friends and married for the last 20, Negan would know when not to touch Leigh’s food. You’d think that after 22 years of watching Leigh threaten and even punch people for touching her food, that Negan would know better.

You’d think this...and you’d be just as wrong as Negan. Despite the fact that the only person allowed to “steal” Leigh’s food is Negan himself, even there comes a time, and a dish, that Leigh just won’t share. Not even with her own husband. You’d think Negan would know this...both before, but especially after, the end of the world and the dead started walking the Earth.

You’d think that Negan would know not to touch Leigh’s bacon.

Warning(s): Language. Angst, maybe? Threats - spoken, unspoken, well known, good, and bad. Rules - both Negan and Leigh’s. Violence - Seriously, Don’t fuck with Leigh. Negan being an ass ‘cause, well, he’s Negan. Leigh takes Lucille’s place in the comics but doesn’t die. Secret relationship - well, secret to every-fuckin’-one that’s not Negan or Leigh. Leigh’s a badass. Not beta’d, so...there’s that. I only have Grammarly used on this.

Author’s Note(s): Here’s that new Negan fic I mentioned! :)

Word Count: 2,631 words

Relationship(s): Negan x Leigh Sullivan (OFC) [romantic].

Characters: Negan. Leigh Sullivan (OFC). Sanctuary Workers. Simon. Carson, mentioned.

Taglist: @negans-network @prettyboynegan @mychemicalimagines @spnnnxangelsx @rockinkel21 @misskittycat02 @band--psycho@ofxallxwexlost @iron-halt @thamberlinawrites @ravenwings73 @lettherebepink @stoneyggirl @sebs-padawan

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Story Time:

Third Person’s P.O.V. ~

You’d think that Negan would know not to touch Leigh’s bacon.

***

Leigh’s P.O.V. ~

Sitting across the table from Negan as we eat breakfast in the cafeteria, I listen to my husband talk ‘bout the plans for the day’s scavenging runs with Simon as I glance down at my tray. Since we had a pretty good haul yesterday, the kitchen was able to whip up some scrambled eggs, french toast, and bacon. The bacon’s a treat for those of us that can afford it by havin’ ‘nough points.

Thankfully for me, though, between being Negan’s right hand, top savior, and secret wife, I can have whatever the fuck I want. My husband doesn’t care as long as I’m happy. Besides, I risk my ass to bring in the goods that we find out there. I say I’m his secret wife ‘cause...well...no one else knows he and I together.

At least not officially. Everyone knows to keep their hands to themselves. My husband doesn’t tolerate rape, and I don’t either. Plus, I may have once cut a man’s dick off and shoved it down his throat when he tried to get fresh with me. That was at the beginning when I was helping Negan get this place set up and there hasn’t been another incident like it since.

He and I decided that it would be in my best interest, and his too since he’s the Bossman, if there wasn’t a giant target on my back, painting me as his weakness. Not that I’m weak. I’m not. I’ve made that abundantly clear in the last few years since the dead started walking, and even before, way back when civilized society was still a thing.

Yet, neither of us could handle the thought of someone trying to use me to get my husband. He can’t stand the thought of someone trying to hurt me. I’m his wife, after all, the love of his life, the one woman who’s always been there, or at least been there for the last 22 years, ever since senior year of college.

And, I can’t stand the thought of anyone hurting Negan in any way whatsoever. He’s my husband, the love of my life, my best friend, and my whole world. And hurting me, well, it hurts him, and I ain’t ‘bout to let that happen. So, we decided that we’d keep our relationship a secret. It hasn’t been easy, that’s for fuckin’ sure.

Not when I see women, and hell even some men, flirt with him, thinking they have a chance. Before the world ended, I used to slide up next to him, my hands all over him, and make it clear that he wasn’t single. Now...I just grit my teeth and give the other person the deadliest glare I can, while watching Negan brush it off, only sometimes flirting back, not that part bothers me.

My husband has always been a flirt. Hell, that’s how he and I ended up becoming best friends, then dating, and even getting married two decades ago. It’s just who he is. Even so, he wouldn’t cheat on me, that I know for a fact. And, I know it abso-fuckin’-lutely kills him to see men and women flirt with me, thinking that I’d be up for a one-night stand.

I never am. Not when I have the man of my dreams still by my side. Even if he is a jealous ass at times who doesn’t like to share what’s his. That always turns into some of the best sex of our lives after he catches some fuck flirting with me. Not that I ever flirt back. That’s just not who I am; I’ve never been much of a flirter…’cept with Negan.

Other than watching people flirt with the other, Negan and I have managed to keep our relationship secret. I mean, yes. We still sneak touches, glances, and whispered words when we think no-one’s ‘round, and we always come home to each other every night, and we still wear our wedding rings, but we don’t flaunt our marital status.

And nobody questions the close-knit bond he and I have. They figure it’s just one of those “gotta survive, so I teamed up with this person” type of bonds that are common since the dead started walking. And...no one would dare question the barbed-wire covered bat-wielding, leather jacket wearing, swear with every other word, leader of the Sanctuary.

Hearing my husband’s deep chuckle, I glance up and hide a smile as I see him pat Simon’s shoulder. I raise a brow, drawing the conclusion that they’re finally finished discussing plans for the day. Maybe Simon’ll fuck off now and I can get back to enjoying breakfast with my husband. Negan glances at me and shoots me a wink as he takes a sip of the orange juice we picked up from the Hilltop a few days ago.

I blush a little, glancing back at my plate and pick up a strip of bacon, bringing it to my mouth, taking a bite, and glancing back at him. A smirk plays on my lips as I watch his eyes dart from mine to the piece of cooked meat between my lips.

“Leigh.” He growls softly.

I smirk. “Yes, Sir?”

His eyes darken and I try not to giggle at the lust and love that swims in his muddy water brown eyes. He discreetly shifts in his seat, stretching out his fuckin’ long-ass legs until his boots brush my shins. To anyone else, it’d look like he’s getting comfortable. But, I know better. He’s itching to touch me, and I know he’s hard from me calling him “Sir”.

“You’re going out on the run today, right?” He asks, playing it off like he’s not rubbing his boot up and down my lower leg.

“As far as I know, Sir. Unless you need me here for something?” I question, taking another bite of bacon.

“Nope. I need you out there with me. You’re the only fuckin’ person I trust to have my fuckin’ back and protect my sexy ass.”

I snort with a laugh. “Of course, Boss. Whatever you need.”

Simon shakes his head. “She can’t fuckin’ protect you, boss. She’s too tiny.”

Both Negan and I jerk our heads to glare at Simon. Negan’s foot pauses, pressing against my knee, I reach a hand down to slide my fingers under his jeans, and softly stroke the little bit of skin above the top of his boot in an attempt to calm him. My actions remain hidden by the table, thankfully, and I watch him relax just a little at my touch.

“Simon…” He and I both growl out at the exact same time.

“I have protected his ass since long before yours ever showed up. I’m the one who’s been there for him, stitched him up, and killed any fucker, dead or alive, who tried to take him out.” I hiss at the slightly balding man. “Yes, I am short, but you know what they say ‘bout short folks. We’re closer to Hell, so we’re meaner. And, I will fuck you up, along with any other fuckin’ dumbass that tries to mess with him.”

Negan nods. “She’s right. She will. And she’ll do it over something as simple as someone trying to steal a bite of her food. ‘Cept for me of course. ‘Cause I’m the Leader, and I can do what I fuckin’ want. Ain’t that right, doll?”

He glances at me as he reaches for a bite of my eggs. I rub my thumb across his leg as I nod. He’s right. I have fucked people up for trying to steal my food. Even if it’s just meant playfully. I don’t fuckin’ share it. Never have. Unless it was with my brothers, my best friend, and eventually Negan. It even became our thing while we were dating.

That was actually how he figured out that I liked him back.

“That’s fuckin’ right. So, Simon, if I can fuck someone up over trying to steal my food, just imagine what I can do to someone who tries to hurt Negan.” I say, finishing my strip of bacon.

Simon’s eyes widen, and I know he’s heard the stories ‘bout what I’ve done when some of the other Saviors once tried to, jokingly, take a bite of my food off my plate. Let’s just say that they ended up with jobs that didn’t require the use of both hands after that. He shakes his head, sighing.

“Whatever. I can still protect him better than you can, Leigh. I’ve easily got a foot and 150 pounds on you.” He gripes.

I raise a brow. “And we both know I’ve kicked your ass before. Or do you need a reminder?”

He shakes his head. “No.”

Negan laughs and shakes his head as he reaches for another piece of food off my tray. I don’t pay it any attention until I see what he’s reaching for. In one quick movement, my hand is off his leg, above the table, and holding a fork between his fingers, leaving it embedded in the tabletop.

“Don’t. Fuckin’. Touch. My. Motherfuckin’. Bacon.” I hiss, glaring at my husband.

Every fuckin’ thing and every single person in the Sanctuary goes silent at my actions. I’m not surprised. They don’t know he and I are married. To them, I’m just a Savior who just threatened the Boss. Granted, I intentionally missed and Negan knows that. He knows I’d never hurt him. A moment later, Simon has his hands on me, jerking my arms behind my back.

I growl and slam my head back, busting his nose and knocking him to the ground, effectively loosening his grip on me. I glare at my husband for a brief moment, taking in his wide eyes and slightly opened mouth, before I quickly stand and pin Simon to the ground.

“Do. Not. Under. ANY. FUCKIN’. Circumstance. Lay. A. Fuckin’. Hand. On. Me.” I growl at him. “I’m not some bitch you can just touch, Simon. And you’d best fuckin’ remember that. What happens between Negan and I is our business. And he fuckin’ knows better than to steal my goddamn bacon. The punishment for stealing my food is NOTHING compared to someone thinkin’ they can touch me. And, if you ever fuckin’ touch me again, I will string you up by your goddamn tiny ass dick and stick you on that fence my-fuckin’-self. Am I fuckin’ understood?”

He swallows deeply, or well, as best as he can since his face is bruising, and blood pouring outta his nose. But, he nods in understanding, fear flashing through his eyes as he glares at me. I stand, kicking him in the side once, just below the ribs.

“Get the fuck outta here and go fuckin’ see Carson, you pornstache creep.” I hiss before turning back to the table, taking my seat once more, and drinking my orange juice.

I hear him shuffle to his feet before he walks away. I smirk to myself and turn my attention back to my husband. He’s clearly still in shock. Not once have I ever physically threatened him for taking my food, and it’s because I generally don’t mind. Except when it comes to my bacon. No one fuckin’ touches my bacon and he’s known that.

He was just trying to prove a point to Simon earlier, but it backfired on him. There’s only been two people in my life who I have shared my bacon with: my baby brother, Eli, and mine and Negan’s daughter, Lucille. Up until we lost her to childhood leukemia at the age of 5. I take another sip of my orange juice as I stare at my husband.

Negan holds his hands up in surrender as he lets out a shaky laugh. His foot isn’t close to my leg anymore, and if I wasn’t slightly pissed off at him for trying to steal my bacon, I’d whine softly at the loss. He leans in closer to me and just barely manages to whisper, but it’s still loud ‘nough for those ‘round to hear.

“You’re fuckin’ lucky I fuckin’ love you, sweetheart.”

My eyes widen at his words. It’s not the first time I’ve heard him tell me he loves me, but it is the first time since the dead started walking that I’ve heard him say those words where other people can clearly hear. I know my left eyebrow is now raised high, surely resting halfway between my hairline and my eye.

He just smirks that dimpled little smirk at me, thinking he’s got the upper hand again.

Oh, but he doesn’t know just how wrong he is.

I smirk over the top of my glass of orange juice, before lowering it to the table and leaning in close to him. Our lips are just a breath’s touch away from touching each other’s. Instead of kissing him right away like I really want to, I whisper something back to him.

“I love you too, and I don’t give a flying Fuck if you’re the leader or not. You. Do. Not. Fuckin’. Touch. My. Motherfuckin’. Bacon. I won’t miss next time.”

Only once the words have left my lips do I allow myself to kiss him. I don’t really give a flying fuck ‘bout everyone watching at this point. The cat’s basically outta the bag. I smile and relax, calming down a little bit, giving in to the feeling of the kiss. Just before he can turn the kiss into a more passionate one, I pull back, smirking at him.

“No runs, mister. Not today. You’ve got a punishment waiting for you in the room.” I say, my voice low and full of unspoken promises.

As I stand once more, grabbing my tray, I watch as he flashes me that devilish, dimpled grin I fell in love with over 20 years ago. That “I’m a bad boy and you shouldn’t introduce me to Grandma” dimpled grin. I wink at him before walking away, putting my tray in the bin to be cleaned later by one of the kitchen workers.

Without looking back at him, I know he’s still got that grin on his face and that he ain’t moving till his hard-on has gone down just a little so he can comfortably walk. Just before I walk out the cafeteria’s door, I raise my hand above my shoulder and flip him off. His laugh follows me out into the hallway as I make my way back to our room.

Leader or not, I don’t give a fuck. He’s still my husband and our relationship’s no longer a secret. Leader or not, I don’t give a fuck. No one fuckin’ touches my bacon. Leader or not, I don’t give a fuck. He’s getting punished. Leader or not, I don’t give a fuck.

#Leader or Not #Negan One-Shot #Negan Fanfic #Negan #Negan x OFC Character #Jeffrey Dean Morgan as Negan #Jeffrey Dean Morgan One-Shot #Jeffrey Dean Morgan Fanfic #Jeffrey Dean Morgan #JDM One-Shot #jdm fanfiction #JDM #The Walking Dead One-Shot #The Walking Dead Fanfic #The Walking Dead #TWD One-Shot #TWD Fanfic #TWD

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hecohansen31 · 5 years

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Hey, babe! I'd like to submit a request for a Roman Godfrey x female reader work. He and the reader are still in high school, and food friends (with benefits) but nothing more. He normally drives her back to his house after school once a week to 'study' and then maybe spends the weekends at her house when her parents/family aren't home (maybe some car sex as well?) but when he sees another guy (anyone, either character or hypothetical) start to talk to her more and more often he gets possessive.

(A/N): Hello lovely!

Thank you for this ask, it low key got me quite good and exploring some darker side of writing...

Also since I know that I low key might have gone a bit outside of this ask (you said “car sex” and I was like... fainting at the ground), so please if it sucks or anything, just let me know and I’ll write something better!

Thank you for the ask, I honestly loved it!

And keep them coming!

WARNINGS: Rough Jealous Unprotected (You know the drill boys: no condom, no sex) Sex, Creampie, Fingering, Dirty Talk, Light Choking, Restraints (hands restraining) and just generallly car sex and Roman being an asshole, but we love him for this!

Whenever you would wear that skirt, Roman wasn’t able to contain himself.

And you knew it.

So, he knew that whenever he would see you with that black pleated skirt, you were teasing him to his death.

But that day, after he had graciously put his hand under your skirt, you had immediately screeched and backed up, in the little space of his vintage car, which you loved almost more than Roman, himself.

You had sent him a glare that usually would have frozen anyone on the spot, except Roman, who had grown some kind of immunity to your glares, since he received many, each day.

He tried another attempt, but this time you slapped his hand away, before humming annoyedly something about an appointment.

“… what is that, sweetheart?” he asked jokingly, raising your chin to meet his eyes, staring deep into you, seeing your annoyance, although he could totally also see some kind of interest on your part.

“I can’t fool around today, I have a project to create” you repeated, spelling anything slowly, as if you were explaining to a child, which got Roman to roll his eyes, but what gave him an heart attack were the following words you spoke “… Jim should come by in a few minutes”.

He wasn’t sure her had heard you right and sent you a dumbfounded look.

“What is it?” you asked, adjusting yourself, since before he tried to sneak his hand in your panties, you had been making out passionately, since he was sure you would be continuing this in her home, since your parents had left for the weekend, and you had an empty house.

It was tradition for him to spend every night when your parents were out, at your house, at first just as friends sharing a pop-corn bowl and watching a movie, but as soon as he had noticed you growing up and blossoming into a woman, your plans together where certainly less chaste.

You had always known each other since you were just children, since Roman had been pulling on her braids and he kept on doing that, but in a much more pleasurable way…

“You are having a boy over?” he asked, clearly hoping he hadn’t heard right.

Their relationship wasn’t exclusive, but half of the school knew better than to bother who was universally recognized as “Roman Godfrey’s girl”, and the other half didn’t seem interested in you or had been threatened by Roman, himself.

Also, since your “agreement” had started, Roman, himself had stopped hanging out with any girl that wasn’t you, although flirting wasn’t off the limits, and he still felt your annoyance, whenever he would be doing it, straight up next to you.

But it was all worth it, whenever you would push him, almost jumping on him, in the first secluded area, you could find.

“I am not having a boy over” he breathed down a big huff of relief, but before he could bring himself to breath properly again, you spoke again “… he is just coming over this afternoon so that we can work on a project”.

“What kind of project?” he mumbled, harshly, although he knew which project Jim, or whatever his name was, wanted to work on: nobody dared to make a move on you, because Roman was there but he knew that you were one of the prettiest girl he had ever seen.

“… the English Literature project” you huffed out, a bit annoyed, as if you didn’t sense Roman’s jealousy “… you were paired with Peter, so I had to choose another, and Jim seemed to need help, so…”.

He could detect, still, a bit of jealousy on your side, mostly because he had been working a lot with Peter, lately, not because he actually liked spending time with the werewolf (well he did, but he didn’t want to admit it) but because he was actually busy trying desperately to solve the mysteries around the murders happening in Hemlock Grove.

That was also why, he didn’t want another male near you, knowing it might end up being the murder who was targeting girls mostly.

“Are you jealous of Peter?” he tried to tease you, to alleviate the annoying heavy mood which had set through his mind, after the news about Jim.

You simply rolled your eyes and shot him an annoyed look, mumbling:

“No, I am not” and then you, as the little minx you were, moved your hand towards his crotch, in a teasing attempt, meanwhile Roman was too taken aback “… why should I be jealous, when you always come back to me?”.

And then you leaned in for a soft kiss, just a chaste push of your lips against his, and as soon as it had started, it was over, and you opened the door to Roman’s car.

He thanked his strange reflexes, for his ability of reaction.

He grabbed roughly your wrist, making you whine at the rough grip, and pushed you back into the car seat, locking with his other hand the door of the car, meanwhile he crowded you against the door.

It took you a moment to react, screaming at Roman about what the hell he was doing.

“I have an appointment in five minutes with Jim” you reminded him, trying to push him away, kicking and twisting your arms, now in his strong grip “… you better release me before I kick you in the balls, Godfrey”.

“You aren’t going nowhere, (Y/N)” his voice had gripped a dark point, but as he moved a knee against your legs, to prop them open, he found a pleasant discovery: wetness coated your thighs, meaning that even more coated your core “… you are soaked, and certainly not for Jim”.

“It is very bold of you to assume that it is for you” your blush showed your true emotions, and as Roman brushed his knee closer to your molten core, you tried to straddle it, in a useless attempt to relieve the pression inside yourself, just to hear a dark laugh leave Roman’s mouth.

“And you still manage to rut on my thigh as a bitch in heat…” the blush on your pretty cheeks became even darker, and he felt the warmth on them as he leaned down for a kiss, much less chaste than the one you had shared before, pushing his tongue in your mouth and biting roughly on your upper lip, drawing blood.

It hurt, and it showed on your eyes, but you didn’t seem to care, spitting on his face, which got him to react roughly, switching the grip of both your arms to one hand, so the other could push itself between your legs, finding your panties full of wetness, and your core definitely warm and aroused.

You pushed yourself against his hand, moaning softly, rutting indeed like “a bitch in heat” into him and his hand.

“… you say have an appointment, but I don’t see you dying to meet your beloved Jimmy” he made fun of you, finishing his discourse, delivering a sound slap to your clothed core.

You whined lowly, trying to keep your tone down, due to being in an extremely public space.

You were thankful your little black skirt covered Roman’s big hand; the road wasn’t trafficked mostly at that hour, since everyone was either at their work or already at home, but you didn’t want to show yourself to a noisy neighbor.

But you weren’t able to contain the following moan, high-pitched and free, when Roman moved two fingers into your womanhood, slipping them easily due to all the slickness he had collected, setting a rough pace, but that kept you unable to breath, only able to groan gently into Roman’s ear, meanwhile he teased her both with his fingers and words.

“Are Jimmy’s fingers making you feel good, right now, sweetheart?” he stated, puncturing each word with a sharp thrust of his fingers, which hit you deep and teased that spot inside of you that got you mewling of pleasure, biting your bloody lip.

The taste of iron in your mouth made you ecstatic, but it was Roman who was looking at you as if he hadn’t seen anything more delicious.

“I am going to make sure that it is only me you are going to yearn for, from now on”.

And before you knew it, his fingers were out of you, and you pouted, just to be pushed onto Roman’s laps.

His hand went around your throat, loosely, and his other took himself out from his pants and boxers, after he had barely pushed aside your panties.

You welcomed him warmly and certainly, if the hiss he let out was any indication, he appreciated it, almost as the startled but pleasured moan that escaped your lips, before your hips started bouncing on their own on him.

As he got back from the initial shock, he pushed into her with much more violence, his grip around her throat becoming tighter and he smirked at you, eyeing the way your body was reacting to his thrust, the only thing that could be better was your naked body against his.

But running against time, you didn’t have the luxury of undressing, completely.

“You should be studying with dear Jimmy Boy, and you are here, bouncing on my cock, like the little pretty whore, I know you are” he taunted you, pushing himself deep inside you, in a slow thrust that made you feel each inch of his adored length “You better hurry up, or he might catch us”.

The thrill of it had you almost coming in that moment, but you were stopped by Roman’s dark glare, and an intimidation of his words, ushering you to come back before you went too far.

“… don’t you dare finishing without me” and he pushed you closer to him “… you are here just for my pleasure don’t you forget it”.

And you couldn’t help but nod, into his grip, pushing yourself to slow her rhythm, completely feeling him against her, in a slow dance, till he indeed let out an hazy whimper, falling and pushing himself over the edge, but worst of all coming in you.

You screeched and immediately pushed him out of her, taking advantage of the loosened grip on her throat, and saw half of his cum leave her center, staining his expensive pants, meanwhile he looked at her sheepishly.

“Did you just cum in me, asshole?!” you replied, angrily, seeing half of his seed, falling down her legs.

“Thank God, you are on birth control!” he mumbled jokingly, meanwhile he reached out for his lighter and his pack of cigarettes, just getting a roll of eyes from you, before you grabbed him by his shirt, regaining the upper hand and forcing him to face you.

“You are nothing but a jealous spoiled boy” and you bit his lip, before pushing yourself off of him, trying some kind of damage control on your body and clothes with your paper tissues, before you readjusted your aspect, checking yourself in the mirror of the car.

Roman stared at you for the entire time, amazed by that daily ritual, but he was snapped back by the deaf sound of the mirror of the car being put back in its place and the car door being opened, meanwhile she put her backpack on one shoulder.

“At what hour, tonight?” he joked, just to receive the infamous “bird” and for her to move away, meanwhile he laughed, trying to clean himself up, although the stain would have stuck till it got washed, but it got him an infinite amount of satisfaction to know that you had some of him inside yourself.

He spied in the mirror on your side, you meeting with a disgruntled boy, who immediately lighted up as you smiled at him, but what got him to smirk and leave happy and satiated, was the little trick of cum he saw on her inner thighs, as she moved to go up the stairs.

His work there was done.

#roman godfrey #roman godfrey reader #roman godfrey x reader #roman godfrey imagine #roman godfrey drabble #roman godfrey blurb #roman godfrey smut #roman godfrey oneshot #roman godfrey fem reader #roman godfrey x fem! reader #roman godfrey one shot #roman godfrey fanfic #roman godfrey fan fic #hemlock grove #hemlock grove imagine #hg #hg imagine

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lovelyparkers · 4 years

Text

hard as nails (1)

hi hi 50k special!! this is gonna be either two or three parts and it's a lot different from what i've written before but i think y'all are gonna like this anyways so... i hope y'all do enjoy this

summary: being a teenage vigilante can be fun, especially when you're on the bad side and spider-man is your nemesis. 2k words

warnings: swearing, reader is a saucy and spicy little villain, peter is a blushing mess sometimes, angst, fight scenes!! violence!

you never expected to get in the way of queens well renowned hero—spider-man. that is until you had to relocate to queens from the bronx. it was...definitely a change from all aspects. your dad moved out with you, wanting a better place to go to school for you, since you had been leaving home very often for...you know, villainous duties. yet you were an extraordinary student, which led to you being enrolled in midtown school of science and technology. as well as having to scope out queens at night and having several run ins with the spider-man.

the worst part, you know you went to school with the masked hero because you frequently saw him entering the roof of the school in his suit. now you, you were way more careful and you worked alone, besides for a woman in her 30's who had taken you under her wing, trained you, and demanded you commit crimes for her and for yourself. she was the base operation and you did everything she asked, even when you moved, she moved. you were like her little goon. you excelled in combat and had unusually incredible strength due to being caught up between some dangerous radioactive weaponry in your sophomore year back in the bronx. you began junior year at midtown in queens, you made some friends, but knew to keep your distance. spider-man had become your main and pretty much only focus since you arrived. you know what they say, keep your friends close but your enemies closer.

you didn't want to hurt or kill spider-man, you just wanted to make his life absolutely miserable. that's how you worked, manipulate and mess with, not murder. you stole pretty much anything you could get your hands on because well, you were broke. you beat people up, robbed stores, manipulated civilians, and threatened people. yeah. your dad could barely afford meals for you both and lived in a very rusty apartment. but hey that's life and you were making it through. well, illegally. you told your dad you got a job at night in queens when you began showing up with money and clothes and food and god knows what else. it was a perfect alibi for a father who really didn't even give a shit.

and this spider-man, oh this lovely beautiful boy, was getting in your way. you were just trying to survive right? that and doing things for this mystery woman. and gosh did you want to find out who was behind the mask. it was obviously a boy your age. every night you tried to find him, meet up with him, talk and find out about him and of course, fight each other. he never hurt you though and you knew he had a soft spot for you. maybe it was your flirty nature.

and now you were on a rooftop at midnight, sitting with your nemesis.

"violet," spider-man called out, "nice to see you again."

your 'villain' name was violet because of the violet mask you bought from party city awhile ago. it was...fitting. and a pretty name that sounded so good coming from his mouth. you may have had a little tiny teeny crush on him. he looked fantastic in that suit and imagined what was underneath. little did you know he did the same about you. black leather pants and a black and violet zip up top matching your mask.

"hey spidey! catch any criminals tonight?" you asked.

"mmm none yet because you're out here."

"awe baby am i distracting you?" you walked over to him, close enough for him to rip off your mask.

"kinda," he replied, masked eyes slanting down.

"well tell me about yourself before you get in my pants. who is spider-man."

"wouldn't you like to know. is violet your real name?"

you scoffed, "do you think i'm dumb?"

"no i just- no."

you took your hand bringing it up to lay on his shoulder and slowly and teasingly dragged it over his abs.

"you're really ripped babe."

"don't babe me, you know i can take you."

"oh so you think you can take me? what about that one time i had you pinned down outside your school."

"how do you know i go to midtown," he asked in a panic.

"i knew it! so you do go there! i've seen you entering through the roof. watch yourself."

he grabbed your hand, locking it with his own. he stared at your signature red nail polish which made his head run wild.

"i've got you now. you watch yourself."

you twisted your wrist and swept a leg under his causing him to fall, but he caught you and brought you down with him. you fell on top of him with a groan.

"damn spidey. getting right into it are we?"

"shut up," he said and rolled over so he now had you pinned down on the roof.

he twisted his head at you, eyes focused on your face and you neatly done hair in two dutch braids. you noticed his distracted state and smirked pushing him over so now you straddled his waist and pinned his arms to the roof. just like before.

"still distracted i see?"

"well i cant help it sometimes. even though i'm supposed to hate you."

"awe spidey. you're so sweet. but you know i'm not gonna let you go."

you leaned down into him to whisper in his ear, "you're too pretty underneath me."

he strained his neck back, melting because of you, "stop," he demanded.

"no," you said jokingly then pressed a kiss on the cheek of his mask. you didn't know it but the boy was blushing underneath. you got up and let him get up to follow you. you walked to the other side of the roof, showing off your hips.

"don't get into any trouble tonight, whatever your name really is."

"sure thing babe."

he jumped off the roof backwards, watching you then swinging away.

—————————

you arrived to school the next day with a little more intuition about the masked hero. his voice was distinct. it was higher than most boys, and you doubted he used a voice changer because it would have that staticky feedback. and you swore you had heard that voice somewhere, but you couldn't put your finger on it.

"hey y/n," peter parker, you chem lab partner said smiling and sitting down next to you.

you hesitated, "hi...peter."

you gave you a confused smile and opened his books.

you think you have your guy. huh. easy as that. you tapped your red nails on the desk.

you scribbled up a note to spider-man and well, peter. after lab and working closer with peter, you realized his demeanour and actions were very similar to spidey, further proving your hypothesis. you followed him to his locker, close behind him, and waited by a water fountain till he left his locker, then slipped the note in.

at the end of the day peter headed to his locker, opening it when a note fell out. he picked it up and looked around the hall. the note read:

hi spidey. i know it's you. and gosh it's about time. meet me on top of the tall apartment complex on grand central parkway tonight at 9. thanks petey xoxo, violet

it was written in purple ink and adorned with a red heart next to your name. oh shit. he was fucked.

when peter got home he was panicking. this villain went to school with him. a literal manipulative villain. and you were his age! he wondered if he knew you. you obviously knew him.

————————

peter showed up to the spot at exactly 9 pm to find you in your suit. upon his impact, you jumped up, running to greet him.

"oh peter! you made it. i'm so glad because i—"

he grabbed both of your wrists tightly and put his face in yours, "how? how did you find out."

you gulped, "you're not a very careful person peter."

he ripped off his mask, there was no point.

"look at me," he demanded and you gladly did. you bit your lip at the sight of his messy brown locks and stern brown eyes. was he always this hot when he was angry?

"you can't tell anyone. and i know that won't stop you, but guess what? every time we hang out and fight and you flirt or whatever, i could easily rip off that mask, what, is it from the dollar store? or—"

"party city," you cut him off.

"stop! listen to me! i could've easily ripped off your mask at any time. but i don't. i never do. you know why? because you're different. your funny and you don't actually hurt me but i have to stop you because you hurt others. and-and you're so cool but you're a villain. and you're really pretty even though i can barely see your face and...yeah. now that i know you go to my school, i know you're someone like me. you're just a troubled kid who got caught up in the wrong crowd. but you're the bad one. and i'm sorry and i like spending time with you but you can't do this to me."

you gulped again, looking down at your feet. you could tell he meant what he said. and like you had always promised, you never wanted to deliberately hurt spider-man. or peter.

"i-i'm so sorry. i shouldn't have—i'm sorry."

"it's okay, just promise me you won't tell."

you reached your hand up to touch his cheek, red nails stroking his skin, "i promise."

"thank you."

"i should go. i'm sorry peter."

you hopped off the roof and he watched you leave. you had to go meet up with your head lady who was named daria. she told you to expose spider-man and get him off your radar, but you made a promise and now you were kinda scared.

"so, did you find him?" daria asked.

you hesitated, "no, not exactly."

she walked over to you and slapped you across the face.

"i'm disappointed in you. you find him or else i cant deal with you anymore."

you just stood there.

"say something!"

"i cant find him," you lied, "it's impossible."

"you're lying. i know you are boyfriend girlfriend with him. it's all over the news. you get him tomorrow night. nothing more."

"yes daria."

you left her shady apartment and headed straight home, done for the night. she genuinely scared you and you were worried she was going to kill you if you didn't turn peter in. but you couldn't do that to him? could you?

the next morning during chem lab you were late. you joined peter at your table. you had a wicked purple and yellow bruise on your face, which peter took notice of. it was from daria.

"y/n oh my god, are you okay?" he asked pointing to your face.

"'m fine," you replied covering the bruise with your hand. peter watched your fingers cover the bruise. your painted, red, fingernails.

#peter parker imagine

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arlingtonpark · 6 years

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SNK 105 Review

Alright, this is it: Isayama is finally starting to pull back the curtain to reveal what’s been going on behind the scenes of this whole story arc.

The dealer is about to show their hand; let’s see how much I won:

F----K!!1! G--damn it! What the f----k!?

Life hates me. I know it does. I know it does because I saw the fan-made typeset, saw something that made me concluded I had been vindicated, and was starting to feel like a competent person for once in my lifethen blind-sided by that reveal of Zeke.

So, yeah, I suck. What else is new?

Let’s do a rundown of my scorecard:

Everything else aside, I’ll at least take solace in the fact that I was right about the letter. The idea of Eren communicating with Zeke through the postal system never sat right with me, it just seemed like such an inherently insecure and unsafe method. If, hypothetically, instead of mailing the letter to Zeke, Eren sent it to an ally holed up in a safe house somewhere and then they delivered it across the ocean to Paradis…yeah, that’s much more secure than just sending it and leaving it up to the fates to decide what happens.

Nope, it turns out the actual method of communication that they used is even more out of left field than snail mail. So Zeke has devotees now? I mentioned a Cult of Eren in the past, but apparently it was the Cult of Zeke I should’ve been watching out for. There’s nothing more to say about this other than the obligatory plea for an explanation sometime down the road.

Speaking of predictions, do I win points for foreseeing that the way things were going the only thing left to do was for the Survey Corps to just board ship and haul ass? I said that was what would happen unless Isayama threw in some curveball like Double Agent Zeke, and…what’s that? Oh, so I get nothing? Alright, fine. I framed it as an either/or and it ended up being both, so that makes sense.

This series has this way of being both predictable and unpredictable at the same time. That nothing else could happen but for the Survey Corps to retreat to their ship and leave with maybe someone dying was completely foreseeable. And, I am now forced to admit, the fact that Zeke was working with Paradis was also completely foreseeable. But both of these things playing out was, in my mind, unexpected and unpredictable.

That’s one of this series’ strengths: it still can manage to have a surprise in store even when you think you have it figured out.

Even more talk of predictions! I speculated earlier about what I jokingly called “the cult of Eren,” a hypothetical faction of right-wing zealots who take Eren’s creed of fighting too far. This was more of a wish than a prediction. I wanted this to happen because it would make the story sooo much more interesting. (Not that it wasn’t already interesting!) Eren’s part in all this is tba, but I’m already jumping for joy because (drum roll please) ladies and gentlemen, we got right-wing nationalists!

Not only that, but I speculated on just how pervasive this nationalist sentiment was, saying (IIRC) that it was probably a large part of the general population and especially of the military. Welp, turns out I was righter even beyond my wildest dreams because it turns out everyone in the SC except our heroes is drinking that nationalist kool-aid.

Floch is apparently a leading figure amongst at least the right-wing SC members; you can tell because of his Trumpian hairstyle because he’s the only member of this faction whose name we know. This faction is clearly not going anywhere. In fact, I think it’ll play a prominent role in the final story arc and that means Floch will probably be important, too.

We’re already seeing the roots of conflict between him and Jean. Earlier, Jean was the one who butt heads with Floch over military tactics, and here, while Floch is reveling in victory, Jean is the person the story offers up as the one to present the opposing perspective. And not long after, when Floch proposes throwing Gabi and Falco overboard, Jean is the one to object.

The only way this could potentially be more interesting is if this conflict were centered on the future of the soul of the SC. It makes sense that Floch’s group would want to increase their power within the SC by moving their allies into positions of leadership. It also makes sense that the more reasonable members would be against this, and that Jean would be a leading figure among these moderates given the stature he already has within the Corps. Two people who’re on the same side but with opposing viewpoints is always an interesting setup. They can’t fight each other physically, which means this’ll be more a clash of worldviews and wits.

And that means politics! Hooray for politics! This is never going to happen.

Let’s delve deeper into this nationalist rabbit hole.

Nationalism is an ideology that centers around the concept of “nations,” distinct groups of people that share an affinity. Such an affinity can be historical, cultural, or racial in nature. Nationalism holds that individual needs both are and should be seen as subordinate to the needs of the nation, and that all nations have a right to self-determination, ideally in the form of a sovereign government through which they can tend to their own affairs without outside interference.

Eren Yeager is a nationalist.

I’m serious. Eren is fighting specifically for the freedom of the Eldian nation, and in the name of this holy crusade he is willing to manipulate his friends and kill innocent men, women, and even children; his actions betray a very nationalistic way of thinking. He may not be writing love letters to Ymir like Floch is, (you know he’s doing it) but he is possessed of a nationalist mindset nonetheless.

Before continuing on, a brief word of caution: please be careful not to confuse patriotism (love for one’s country) with nationalism. (love for one’s nation) What Eren is doing is not comparable to a soldier who will valiantly give up their lives to protect the citizens of his home country. Eren is fighting for his nation, not his country. It is the freedom of Eldia, as Zeke put it, that they are fighting for, not the freedom of Paradis. It’s an easy mistake to make, so I just wanted to nip this in the bud before moving on.

Let’s talk about Eren’s beneficent audacity.

First, let’s review the known facts: Eren Yeager contrived a confrontation with Reiner and Falco in the basement of an apartment building. At the outset of this meeting, he emphasized that the building was occupied by men, women, and children, and implicitly threatened to transform into his titan form, an act that would’ve killed most everyone in the building. He did this to gain Reiner’s compliance. At the end of the meeting, without provocation, Eren transformed anyway and killed most everyone in the building. He then turned his sights on his actual target: the civilian and military leadership of Marley, a country that Paradis is arguably at war with. He killed them along with an unknown number of civilians. He did it for his race.

For me, the source of apprehension here is Eren destroying the apartment. Civilians were killed by falling debris and may have even been killed by Eren directly depending on who exactly was in the section of the stands he belly flopped onto, but the thing that earned Eren a place in hell (right next to Armin) is his treatment of the apartment dwellers.

In my last post, I talked about the need to distinguish between an excuse and a justification.

With a justification, it is argued that a seemingly bad act was actually a good act. The circumstance that makes it a good act is the justification.

With an excuse, it is not denied that what happened was bad, but a reason is put forth that at least partially absolves the perpetrator of blame. That reason is the excuse.

Killing innocent people (I hope we can all agree) is never justified. It can only ever be excused, and, unless there’s something to this that hasn’t been revealed to us yet, the excuse that Eren and Zeke put forth here just isn’t going to cut it.

The Eldians have legitimate grievances here. The world wants them dead, recourse to violence is justified here. What isn’t justified here is the callous disregard for the inherent dignity of others.

Eren took hostages. That is dehumanizing and demeaning to the inherent dignity of the hostages.

Reiner and Falco posed no immediate threat to him, but he transformed anyway. He either didn’t care if they died, or he wanted them to die. Again, dehumanizing, demeaning.

And those people Eren took hostage? His demands were met, but he killed them anyway. Not because they were actively impeding him in any way, but because they just happened to physically be in his way. But they weren’t in his way because of bad luck, they were in his way because Eren chose to place them in his way. He wanted them to be in a position to die if he transformed so they could serve as bargaining chips to force Reiner’s submission. Then he transformed knowing full well that because of the way events had been manipulated (with him as the manipulator) people would die. They were marked for death. Eren branded them himself. Once again, dehumanizing, demeaning.

But you wanna know what’s especially sickening about this? Those people Eren dehumanized and demeaned?

They were Eldians.

Those were Eldians that he dehumanized, demeaned, and ultimately threw in the garbage bin.

It was an Eldian apartment building in an Eldian internment zone. It was Eldian property he destroyed, and it was Eldian lives that he extinguished, and it is justified in his mind by the prospect of a free Eldian race. In other words:

He killed Eldians in the name of freeing the Eldian people.

The Eldian people have been demeaned by just about everyone. The Marleyans use them as weapons. Throughout the world, they are held in internment zones. Gabi talks of being figuratively (and maybe even literally) spat upon by others. The list of people who disregard the inherent dignity of Eldians is a long one.

You can add Eren Yeager to that list now too.

Dehumanizing Eldians is wrong because dehumanizing people in general is wrong. It’s wrong when the Marleyans do it, it’s wrong when Eren does it, it’s wrong.

It’s just…wow. Just wow. Eren is fighting for a free Eldia, and yet here he is, dehumanizing Eldians, not giving a shit about them as people, using them as a means to an end. Imagine if the abolitionist movement used slave labor in the name of abolishing slavery, or if eco-terrorists bombed a zoo to protest animal cruelty. That would be despicable.

The Eldian people have been oppressed and mistreated for so long now, and Eren’s thinking here is that further dehumanization and mistreatment on an individual level is justified if it means the freedom of the group? Recall that Grisha had a similar way of thinking.

Grisha saw his son as a tool in the fight for the freedom of the Eldian nation. He put the well-being of the nation before the well-being of his son. In principle, Eren is doing the exact same thing. In his mind, the Eldian nation comes first, people (even fellow Eldians!) second.

Eren is no hypocrite, I’m not saying that. I’m saying he’s a nationalist. That’s how he’s able to rationalize what he’s doing. He can disregard Eldians to fight the disregarding of Eldians without cognitive dissonance because in the end his heart is with the nation, not the individuals that make up that nation.

For added clarity, let’s outline a distinction between two ways of caring about the plight of the Eldians.

The first way is the individualist way. This approach emphasizes the autonomy of each individual Eldian. It is wrong for any single Eldian to be treated as they are because it is wrong for any single person to be treated in such a way. When the individualist says, “The Eldian people are being mistreated,” they’re simply aggregating the mistreatment of all Eldians for ease of conversation.

The second way is the Nationalist way, Eren’s way. The wrong way. This approach is informed by the nationalist creed that the group is more important than the individual. Because of this, the nationalist viewpoint is that the way the world acts towards Eldians is an affront to the dignity of the Eldian nation, not any single Eldian. “The Eldian people are being mistreated,” is to be read literally when it said by them.

I’m not saying the cause of Eldian freedom is a bad one. I’m not even saying violence isn’t the answer. The Eldians do have a right to resort to violence, but that violent action must be carried out in a civilized manner, if that makes sense. Eren’s tactics are barbaric.

If even the lives of individual Eldians are expendable in this nationalistic crusade then what isn’t? Seriously, is there nothing sacred in this world to him?

Even his “friends” don’t seem to be safe. (The fact I can arguably put that word in quotes is awful) He used them. He threw himself in harm’s way knowing the concern they have for him would force them into following his plan. A plan, by the way, that entails sparking a war with humanity, a war that Eren’s compatriots, being soldiers, will now have to fight in. That doesn’t sound like friendship to me. (Hence why I use the term “compatriots” rather than “friends”)

Hange said they’ve lost all trust in him. That may just be the raw emotions of seeing him face to face for the first time since embarking on his crusade, but I would not be surprised if Eren’s relationship with the Survey Corps was more transactional than affectionate for a good while.

The only question that remains is whether Eren is eligible for clemancy; that is to say, if he can be absolved of blame.

Is it possible that circumstances were such that Eren had to proceed as he did? Well, Isayama was sitting on the cult of Zeke for so long, so I can’t really say no. Who knows what he’s got up his sleeve. At the end of the day, what this all hinges on is whether or not it was necessary for Eren to have his talk with Reiner since it was having that talk at all that necessitated Eren taking hostages in order to force Reiner’s surrender.

Regardless of the circumstances, the fact remains that Eren is a nationalist, and because of that, HE. MUST. LOSE.

The nationalist ideology must not be vindicated. In Eren’s mind the lives of even children are expendable if it means the freedom of the Eldian nation. Not the Eldians themselves, mind you, but the Eldian nation. That way of thinking is contemptible; it has no merit. And unless Isayama plans on springing some BS message on us, this will be reflected in the story. Somehow, someway, Eren is going to get his comeuppance. Basic Human Decency requires it.

Moving on.

We at least now know why this mission was undertaken: primarily it was to abscond with Zeke and get him to Paradis.

Throughout the past few chapters it has been pointed out not just by the actual characters in the story but by me and others that Eren’s plan seemingly made no sense. But now things are clearer: they apparently did realize they were prodding a sleeping giant, but that’s okay because now they have someone with royal blood and someone else with the Founding Titan together, and that’s apparently the equivalent of having all five Exodia cards in your hand: you win instantly, so nothing else matters.

They must have known that following through with this plan would draw the world’s ire, but they apparently calculated that the benefits of having someone with royal blood and someone with the Founding Titan’s power together would offset this. There’s only one way this calculation makes sense: their plan involves the wall titans.

That has to be their end game. The ability to mobilize the Wall Titans is the only prize here that makes inciting the world’s anger acceptable to them. To say nothing of the fact that having a royal and the Founding Titan together is necessary for it to happen at all.

Previously, I compared Paradis’ attack to the attack on Pearl Harbor, the point being that, like the Japanese, they were picking a fight they would lose in the long term. Now we know this comparison no longer holds: to put it bluntly, Japan didn’t go to war with the US with the knowledge they were about to obtain nuclear weapons.

That changes everything. Yeah, you launched a sneak attack on the US, but who cares? You have nukes now and everyone else doesn’t! No one can touch you.

So, you’re Zeke/Eren. You have the closest thing to nuclear weapons in the SNK world and you have a monopoly it.

What do you do next?

I can think of two possibilities as to what they’re planning:

I’ll call possibility #1 Operation Madman Nixon. In this scenario, Zeke and Eren’s plan is to threaten to unleash the Wall Titans unless the world accedes to their demands. In such a scenario those demands could be an international commitment to not interfering in Paradis’ affairs. They could even demand that all the world’s Eldians be brought to live on Paradis where they wouldn’t have to suffer further persecution. Depending on how exactly things shake out, this could be the happy ending. An overall Hobbesian message that humans are so inherently violent the only way to have peace is to put a gun to everyone’s head. That sounds like a message this series would go for. Peace through strength.

Possibility #2 is Operation Everlasting Peace. In this scenario, Zeke and Eren’s plan is to release the Wall Titans and wipe out all of human civilization except for the Paradis Eldians, thus ushering in an era of unprecedented peace and prosperity (for the Paradis Eldians).

Madman Nixon is the more likely scenario in my book. As disreputable as Eren has been recently, I doubt he’s so cruel that he’d actually destroy all of humanity. Because, really, why would he? Why would he resort to outright genocide if he has every reason to believe his goals can be accomplished through simple coercion?

If Eren or Zeke were to ever go with Operation Everlasting Peace, I think the most likely justification would be that they’d realize it would basically be a retread of what King Fritz had to do to keep the peace among the other titan shifters: use the wall titans to force everyone to stop fighting. This realization would lead them to conclude that humanity is beyond saving so they just wipe the slate clean of all factions except for one, their own. Natch.

Whatever happens, it would not be surprising if a large amount of the rest of the story was dedicated to an internal debate among the cast about whether or not they should just straight up use the Wall Titans to destroy humanity. You know Floch and his ilk will push for it now that it’s a legit option open to them.

Isayama chose to introduce this far right faction for a reason. The fact that such a reason exists, coupled with Floch’s insistence that everyone outside the walls is an enemy, plus the convenient turn of events that Paradis now has the power to destroy the world if they wanted to…and, yeah, it seems pretty obvious where Isayama is going with all this. Jean vs. Floch, moderate vs. extremist, Paul Ryan vs. Mark Meadows. This will probably be a theme going forward.

Eren is already partial in his thinking to Floch, so he’ll probably also be partial towards them in such a scenario. This would also allow for some good character drama between Armin, Mikasa, and Eren.

I can’t wait.

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk 105 #spoilers #I truly am sorry about being late with this #And I have asks to answer too #My work ethic sucks >.<

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sparklyjojos · 6 years

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the promised summary of Smoke, Soil or Sacrifices. [tw: a lot of child abuse in a dysfunctional family, mentioned suicide]

The narrator is Natsukawa Shirou [ 奈津川四郎], an ER surgeon working in San Diego. You know the type: workaholic with a god complex, wearing Armani coats and having casual sex left and right, but also constantly sleep-deprived and popping anxiety pills like its candy. He has deep-seated aggression issues that even he himself is afraid of getting out of control, and to manage it he trained boxing for a while before a gang drove him out of the gym (long story). As his name implies, he's the youngest of four brothers - in order of birth: Ichirou [一郎], Jirou [二郎], Saburou [三郎] and him, Shirou [四郎] - but since he's working in the USA, he hasn't seen his family for a while.

One winter day Shirou learns that back in Japan, his mother got seriously hurt and is currently in a coma. He flies back to his Japan hometown, Nishi Akatsuki, meets with an old classmate Takaya Yoshio (who everybody calls “Rupan”, like Lupin the Third, after he once wrote that word instead of ‘renessaince’ on a test), and learns that there’s more to the attack: someone has been attacking the women of Nishi Akatsuki, hitting them in the back of the head and then partially burying them in the ground. None of the five victims died, but most were still unconscious, and no one saw the attacker. Even if his mother is alive, Shirou gets so furious about the attack that he nearly destroys Rupan’s car before he can calm himself down; he really does have violence issues. (Also Rupan is dating a high schooler Yamaguchi Usagi behind his wife’s back and Shirou has a really bad feeling about it).

We learn a little about the Natsukawa family. They’re descended from a German immigrant Hans who left them two things: first, ridiculous for Japanese standards height (the brothers are all >185cm tall); second, a mysterious warehouse with triangle-shaped floor and ceiling that he built next to the family house. Its history is grim: Hans’s son Daimaru (大丸) hanged himself inside the warehouse, and then Daimaru’s son, Maruo (丸雄, the narrator’s father) tended to close one of his kids inside a lot for misbehaving. Shirou remembers Maruo, and thinks about how as a kid he saw that his father’s body was scarred all over, which Maruo claimed was a remainder of injuries from one or another war.

Shirou has a reunion with two of his brothers, Ichirou and Saburou. Jirou, the second oldest, has mysteriously disappeared at 17 and nobody has seen him since, it seems. Ichirou is a politician, just like their father Maruo, while Saburou writes mystery novels starring detective Runbaba 12. (Shirou thinks they’re ridiculous, and remembers one that had the hero looking for his daughter and somehow ending up living with an amnesiac woman and a gay guy, or some nonsense like that.)

---

The serial attacker case is overseen by a Tokyo police officer Marikku Takahiro (真陸隆宏) and a Nagoya prosecutor Shirai Masami (白碑将美), both Shirou’s old schoolmates. Upon learning the facts about the case from them, Shirou figures out something nobody else realized: if on a map of Nishi Akatsuki you draw lines between some houses of the victims, and draw a spiral based on it, it’ll go perfectly through all the victims’ houses. [I’m not sure how to explain it in text, so here’s the map in question -- the numbers are houses:]

Shirou goes to where the origin of the spiral points to, at the shore of the river Shounokawa (not pictured on the map), and finds an empty coffin buried in the ground. He alarms the police and Saburou, who arrives at the scene with his detective friend, Banba Junjirou (番場潤二郎). [Interestingly enough, he shares the last two kanji of his first name with Jirou, but it isn’t brought up ever -- I don’t know if this coincidence is done just for the sake of having a red herring, or will it be important in a later book]. Saburou often affectionately calls Banba ‘Runbaba’ and it seems he based the character in his books off of him. He originally hired Banba to help find Jirou, the missing brother, but they’ve been unsuccesful so far. Banba doesn’t really do anything useful at the scene, only claiming nonsense like the coffin being actually a time machine.

Shirou learns that the serial attacker always makes a photo of the crime scene and writes some nonsensical letters on it, and always puts an animal plushie in the ground next to the victim (so far: sheep, elephant, lion, sheep, koala). Through some truly inspired reasoning Shirou notices that since the victims were only partially buried, their body parts were always kinda sticking out in a grid pattern, and you can ‘read’ them like syllabary Braiile code. The resulting message is ‘MAMATASUKE’, seemingly a part of ‘mama tasukete’ = ‘help me mom’. And if you treat the letters on the photos as a Caesar cipher key, and pair it in a very complicated way with the names of the victims, you’ll get DRMN / NOBT / SZK / SNEO / GIAN... which looks like nothing, but these are abbreviations of famous kids cartoon characters, eg. the first one is Doraemon. Soon after this discovery, they learn that another victim was attacked (incidentally it’s Marikku’s mother), and the discovered pattern of plushies/words/etc. seems to continue.

Shirou goes to the hospital to visit his mother, meets Ichirou there and they start physically fighting kinda out of nowhere. Not because they hate each other for any reason; just because, it seems, there is something inside them that drives them to violence-as-bonding. After they flee the security, they talk about the case, and wonder if it wasn’t their missing brother Jirou who’s at fault. This conversation sends Shirou on a long trip down memory lane.

---

When Shirou was 9, he took three abandoned puppies home. The brothers were told they couldn’t keep them, and so the puppies eventually got entrusted to Jirou (then 12) so he’d find them a good owner somewhere else, but as he later admitted he’d just drowned them in the river instead. Jirou didn’t seem to care about the horrible thing he did. In fact, he always did horrible things, like breaking windows in other houses or killing and eating the neighbours’ chickens, and their father Maruo always locked him in the triangle warehouse for that. In primary school Jirou enacted long painful revenge on his bullies, and even called the terror he instilled his ‘Days of Creation’, as if the things he did were ‘a seal given to other by God’. But Jirou’s acts were (as present Shirou now thinks) a natural result of the violence that had been bestowed upon him finally exploding.

Jirou had been abused by Maruo ever since he'd been a tiny child; his every mistake was viciously criticized, and he was ‘jokingly’ threatened with getting abandoned in the mountains. After some time Maruo started beating him, and while Jirou pretended like he didn’t care, it was clear he was terrified and in pain. Ichirou as the oldest brother tried to stop Maruo or get outside help, for years and years, but nothing ever worked.

Eventually one day Maruo seemed to see his mistakes, crying promised to do better and embraced the kids (except Ichirou, who was skeptical and didn’t want to take a part in any display like that). Maruo really seemed to behave a little better after that, though mostly he was completely ignoring Jirou now. This caused Jirou to act out in order to get attention, which each time made Maruo close him in the triangle warehouse. Again, Jirou acted like it was nothing, and called the warehouse his ‘summer residence’, even if all of them were terrified of the dark place that was allegedly haunted by their grandfather’s ghost. Eventually Jirou’s actions escalated into committing petty crimes, and then all-out violence, though he drew a line at murder.

It was only after Maruo’s mother’s intervention that Maruo finally moved to Tokyo for some time, leaving the kids in her charge. Ichirou started tutoring Jirou and was surprised to find out that Jirou was actually incredibly smart; the boy could recite entire passages from books after flipping through them once, and draw complicated maps from memory. He still walked the path of violence, though, and once Maruo came back from Tokyo, the boy got hit and locked inside the warehouse a lot again. Because of his deeds Jirou at times seemed positively demonic to our young narrator; he even once recited Shirou a poem he wrote, which basically said ‘hey, remember those puppies? I killed them with a knife’ (actually it was deeper and more interesting than that, with a hidden promise from the poem’s narrator towards the dead puppies that ‘if I became god, you’d be the first ones I revive’, but obviously talking about that event hurt Shirou a lot all on its own). But even then, Shirou recalls he still held love for Jirou; they were brothers, after all.

Time passed. Ichirou moved toward a political career like his father. Saburou got attacked on the street and had his hand broken, which made him paranoid that somebody from the neighborhood / some organized crime group was out to kill him, but he still laughed at Shirou’s suggestion to run away from home (’and where would we run?”). He ended up ditching the piano that he had always loved playing, and instead got into fights a lot. Jirou by the time of high school was very popular among his peers, infamous among the Fukui policemen, had ‘fans’, and often smuggled girls into his bedroom, which again earned him a trip to the warehouse if Maruo caught him.

In 1986, when Jirou was 17, their grandmother (Maruo’s mother, the same who made him leave that one time) was diagnosed with terminal cancer, and stayed in the hospital in constant horrible pain. While Maruo tended to run away from the situation excusing himself with work trips, Jirou unexpectedly stayed by his grandmother’s side every night. On her death bed, she told her grandsons that “no matter how great or rich a person is, death will turn them into smoke, soil or sacrifices; the burned ones turn into smoke, the buried ones into soil, the others into sacrifices for wild beasts.” She apologized that she couldn’t protect the kids better, and that’s it’s her fault for raising Maruo badly. Then, in pain, she suddenly yelled ‘Daimaru, who killed you?!”, and then just before death demanded to see Maruo once more, to tell him that he’s still the one she loved the most in the world -- that last dying line was shocking to everyone, but hurt Jirou the most.

From then on, Jirou and Maruo’s conflict escalated even more, with Jirou for some reason starting to blame Maruo for Daimaru’s sucide. On 19 December the two started a horrible furniture-breaking physical fight while Saburou and Shirou could only helplessly watch. Suddenly their mother entered the scene with a knife in her hand, but she didn’t use it to stop the fight or otherwise help Jirou, who was looking at her with hope. Instead she screamed that it was Jirou she felt like stabbing, that it was all his fault and he should apologize to his father. Jirou didn’t intend to apologize (instead yelling that maybe it’d be better if he’d never been born), and the situation ended in Maruo brutalizing him and still bleeding throwing into the warehouse.

The next morning, Jirou couldn’t be found anywhere, as if he just vanished from the locked warehouse, and if the other brothers were honest, they were actually pretty glad about that.

Back in the present day, Shirou notices that the way a victim’s head is positioned always points like an arrow to the next crime scene, and tells Shirai to guard the houses the last victim points to.

Shirou then goes to the hospital once more to check on his mother, and surprises himself by crying a lot. Later he meets a nurse called Hatakida Atena that catches his eye with her red coat, but nothing comes out of it (he’s bad at / afraid of / unable to have anything more intimate than purely sexual relationships going on, it seems). Then his mother is visited by another victim of the case, Satou Ryouko, who tearfully recalls her joyful near-death experience she had after being attacked. She saw bright light, felt a warm god-like presence, then wandered through a giant forest and met the dead poet Raymond Carver that she had no prior knowledge about (she even recites his poem ‘My Death’). An unassuming student called Nozaki Hiroshi approaches them and seems to be very interested in Satou’s experience, asking for an interview, which she agrees to, as she feels the need to share her wonderful experience with the world.

And then there’s this... out-of-nowhere fragment in which Shirou and Ichirou’s wife Rihoko in the spur of the moment have sex in a random hospital closet (they apparently had an affair two years earlier), and some thugs hired by Ichirou’s political opponents snap pics and try to blackmail Shirou, but he fights them like it’s a damn martial arts movie except with more violence (like ‘biting into someone’s jugular’ kind of violence), and Shirou comes out of it alive but in pretty horrible shape, with the photos destroyed, and what the hell was that?

Hitching a ride back to town with Marikku, Shirou realizes that it’s possible it’s actually Marikku who’s behind the murders, as the sixth victim was his abusive mother, who it seems has still been inflicting physical abuse on him even after all these years. Maybe Marikku figured out the pattern of the attacks early on, and used it to arrange a copycat crime that’d get blamed on the original culprit? But just as Shirou confronts Marikku, they get into a car accident. Shirou gets some bones broken, while Marikku dies. Shirou isn’t sure whether it was suicide or not, but suspects the original culprit may have wanted to get rid of them -- later an investigation of the wreck proves that somebody tampered with the car.

Saburou and Rupan help Shirou make a daring escape from the hospital, and the brothers are having quite a lot of fun working together during that entire scene, even if Shirou’s injuries are so severe he has to fight his body not to faint from pain at times. Later, as they return to Nishi Akatsuki, Saburou admits that he and detective Banba believe the criminal may be Jirou, back to take revenge on the town (Banba didn’t disclose more information, as apparently he doesn’t like to tell Saburou anything until he has everything figured out). As proof, they found an old paper -- with the exact spiral pattern used in the crime drawn on it -- in the triangle warehouse, so it’s likely Jirou drew that before his disappearance. During the ride the brothers learn from Yamaguchi Usagi that the plushies found with the victims are their corresponding Doubutsu uranai animals (a sort of new hip horoscope that gives you a different animal depending on your date of birth).

Saburou tells Shirou that there’s another link between the victims: the two women that regained consciousness so far both had a Near-Death Experience (Saburou says it’s super interesting and mentions he’d like to use it in another book of his). Shirou thinks that it may not be a coincidence; maybe the attacker intends on giving the victims NDE like it’s some weird modern ritual, and the plushies serve the same purpose as ritual dolls, as empty vessels to which illness or other bad stuff would be passed? Suddenly Shirou remembers that random Nozaki Hiroshi guy who seemed very happy hearing about NDE from one of the victims, and something clicks. Shirou phones Nozaki’s mother and through some seemingly innocent questions (’Was he in Nishi Akatsuki lately? Does he act like this and this? ...Does he like Doraemon?’) realizes that the serial attacker really is Nozaki. They alert Shirai Masami and local media and rush to Nozaki’s house.

But they’re too late. In the house instead of Nozaki they find the body of detective Banba stabbed to death twenty one times, and Nozaki’s parents strangled by their own son. It seems Banba had figured out the solution before everyone else, and came to this house yesterday without telling Saburou. (”Rest in peace, Runbaba 12,” Shirou thinks reflexively.)

In the house they find a note from the criminal, who claims to be fulfilling orders of ‘the Great God Jawakutora-sin’ (or Jawakutora-shin), who governs over all human souls, but as those souls are ‘dirty, unaware, unseeing and ignorant’, the god wants to make them clean. The cleansing proccess has to start with mothers, so the next generation of humans would hopefully already be ‘clean’. Apparently Nozaki in his childhood had a NDE himself, saw ‘Jawakutora’s light’ and understood his guidance. The method involves hitting a precise spot at the back of a person’s head. This causes a ‘perfect opening’ in the skull to form, through which the soul can briefly fly out and have a NDE, that is, ‘be shown reality’, and also be shown Jawakutora’s great spiral structure (a spiral being its symbol) -- that’s the spiral on the map of Nishi Akatsuki. Jawakutora also told Nozaki to do all the other things: bury the victims, write the letters on the photos, and use the plushies (’animals who have never been given souls’. Or something).

While this note shows clearly that the culprit is just some religious fanatic, something bugs Shirou, and he still thinks Jirou may be involved, especially since the two dogs of the family were also killed without any reason.

After Banba’s death, Saburou mourns him and closes himself alone in the triangle warehouse for long periods of time. This unexpectedly allows him to discover something, and he calls Ichirou and Shirou to the warehouse. (Maruo and his wife at that time have a job-related meeting with a few other people in the house). This something is the mystery of their grandfather Daimaru’s death.

As Saburou points out, the old stains left from the corpse’s bodily fluids are spread over a significant area, in an arc, which would mean that the hanging corpse had to somehow move around in a circle. Saburou found out that the ceiling of the warehouse can be moved, independently of the walls, by pressing a hidden button. The ceiling rotates in such a way that the building seen from above eventually looks like a 6-pointed star, which was the warehouse’s purpose in the first place: apparently, their great-grandfather Hans was secretly Jewish, and while he was afraid of persecution if he showed his identity outright, he constructed this mechanism as a great big fuck you to the bigoted society who had no clue a giant Star of David was right under their noses.

When the ceiling is moved, there are large enough gaps in some places that a person can fit through; that’s how both Jirou and Daimaru’s murderer could get out. Yes, Daimaru was actually murdered -- by his own son Maruo, the son that he had abused for years and years. That abuse was what gave Maruo his scars. The violence instilled on him, which he then passed to his own sons...

While the brothers talk in the warehouse unaware of anything else, Nozaki sneaks into the main house and stabs everyone he runs into, eventually wounding every single person there. Maruo manages to dodge him and runs towards the warehouse, and in the heated moment yells, ‘Ichirou, Jirou, Saburou, Shirou! Run!”. The names of all his sons.

The brothers run out and see Nozaki stab Maruo, and as Ichirou moves to help his father he also gets injured. This makes the other two brothers’ blood boil and they fight Nozaki, with Shirou eventually using the attacker’s own knife to stab him. But Shirou’s job isn’t done yet: with help of Saburou he gets everyone moved to one spot, grabs his doctor bag, and through his sheer skills of an ER surgeon, lightning fast decisions and improvising on the spot, he manages to keep everyone including Maruo and Ichirou alive until the ambulance arrives. [And it’s fucking amazing to read.]

After Shirou heals physically (he did run away from the hospital earlier, after all), he goes to Rupan’s wife Takaya Mari, who’s a psychologist, and makes the first step on his way to heal emotionally. He cries like a baby throughout the entire session, finally lets so many emotions pour out chaotically out of him, and leaves with a lot of things in his head finally sorted out.

Later through his own investigation he learns that Jirou is alive and well, now working in the Ministry of Finances under the name ‘Kawaji Natsurou’, which is so obviously an anagram of ‘Natsukawa Jirou’ it’s surprising nobody noticed.

...but another romaji spelling of Jirou’s name (’Natsukawa Jiro’) is also an anagram for ‘Jawakutora-sin”, and Shirou now understands who was the mastermind behind Nozaki’s actions; who wanted to enact revenge on the mother who in a critical moment turned against him, and most likely on the entire family sooner or later. ...Although Shirou has a feeling he won’t try anything like that anymore.

During the therapy session, Shirou expresses forgiveness towards his father, and wonders whether or not this quick forgiveness isn’t just a foolish decision made in spur of the moment, under strong emotions... but after he heard Maruo yell all their names trying to save them in a similar moment of emotions, he has a feeling things will get better. Shirou’s mother hasn’t woken up yet, but he’s sure she’ll come out of that wonderful giant forest eventually. The force putting their family together is powerful like gravity -- whether this power won’t just bring another disaster, nobody can tell. Certainly, it’s best if Jirou still keeps as far away from them as it’s possible. Maybe it’d be for the best if every single one of them stayed apart, never had children, and let this cursed family be finally destroyed; maybe it’d be for the best if all that remained was smoke, soil or sacrifices. But it’s not the time to think about death. For now, what matters is that they’re all alive and have to try and keep on living.

In the end, Shirou calls Atena (the nurse from earlier) and asks her to sleep with him -- literally sleep with him, mostly -- and with the warm and safety, and another person’s heartbeat so close by, he can finally sleep calmly.

#maijo and jdc stuff #this book was actually pretty wholesome?#it had some rough patches but I liked it overall #long post

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choisgirls · 7 years

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ok so there's ton of HCs of the RFA protecting MC but what if the tables were turned? How about some HCs of MC protecting the RFA + Saeran from harassment/being hit on by other people? (in all honesty if someone hit on my S/O they would experience hell)

A/N: honestly i’d liketo say i’d be the same but like i’m too shy and just yeah with my personalityi’d just let it happen unless my s/o is uncomfortable ^^;;; (also loOK I TRIEDTO MAKE IT NON VIOLENT FOR THE MOST PART BECAUSE SOME PEOPLE DON’T LIKE VIOLENCEBUT I MEAN I’M THE TYPE TO THROW PUNCHES SOOOO) ~Admin 404

*YOOSUNG:

-I’ve discussed before that he isvery oblivious

-So he wouldn’t even really noticewhen people hit on him?

-But you sure did, and you didn’tenjoy it one bit

-Don’T HIT ON MY OBLIVIOUS LIL BABY

-He never really acknowledges ituntil he sees the disapproving face you’re giving the other person

-Then he starts getting a littleuncomfortable because wow he finally started to think about what the person wassaying, and that’s where you step in

-You’re a nice person, you neverreally get physical with the person, you just…. use your facial expressionsto communicate.

-So when you gave the person hittingon your boyfriend a death glare that could almost rival Saeran’s…. thenimmediately replace it with a smile…. needless to say, they froze.

-In a sweet, innocent voice, yougreet them, introducing yourself as his s/o, and watch as they (usually)nervously take their leave

-He actually really appreciates itthough? Like, you love and appreciate him enough to get jealous like that? Notto mention you’ve gotten him out of a few awkward situations where he was toonice to just walk away. WOW MC LOVES ME, THAT’S AMAZING please take chargemore often mc, wink wonk

*ZEN:

-ABSOLUTELY ADORABLE

-But at the same time he’s concernedbecause some of his fans….. tend to be a little…. adherent

-You never get physical or hurtanyone, mind you

-But you’re very open with youremotions

-So if someone is hitting on him,you immediately voice your opinion

-You place yourself in betweenwhoever is flirting with your Zenny and himself, and look them in the eye

-“Hi there, I’m MC, Zen’s s/o.It’s nice to meet you. You think he’s handsome? That’s so funny, I think thattoo!”

-Sounds nice, right? WRONG- yourvoice has a hint of disapproval in it, not to mention dripping with sarcasm andover-exaggerating your words

-You’re never MEAN though becauseyou couldn’t do that. But you make it obvious enough that, hey, this is my man,please stop hitting on him. And he’s actually just so surprised that this sweetlittle person can lowkey scARE HIM WITH JUST A CERTAIN TONE OF VOICE, WHAT THE

-He can’t really… judge though?Because he gets the same way no you get way worse, zenny, so as long asthe two of you show each other there’s nothing to worry about, you’re all okay!

*JAEHEE:

-Baehee takes care of her damn self,okay

-But she appreciates when you stepin like her hero and save the day

-Like if someone’s too close for hercomfort, you’re there in a flash to gently drag her in the other direction

-You’re more of a quiet pouter- ifsomeone’s flirting with her and she doesn’t seem uncomfortable, you stand withyour arms crossed and a pout across your face

-stOP TRYING TO GIVE HER YOURNUMBER, PEOPLE, SHE DOESN’T WANT IT

-She tries to be polite but, hey, atthis point, you aren’t because??? Why don’t they get the hint??? No means no??

-So you’re constantly taking theslip of paper and promptly throwing it away or you wait until she hands you herphone and delete their number. Right in front of them. Show no mercy.

-Do you feel bad? Yeah sometimes. Doesshe appreciate what you do though? Oh yes, very much

-You always get a kiss on the cheekwhen you help her out of situations like that SCORE

- threatened to punch one guythough when he tried touching her hair. doNT DO THAT. THATS MY JAEHEE, YOU STOPTHAT

*JUMIN:

-He doesn’t even pay attention topeople flirting with him

-Why should he? He has who he wants,and that’s you. No one else matters???

-Why do you get so upset over it??? idkjumin why do YOU get so upset over it

-Takes it as the highest form ofcompliment and profession of love, because that means you want him all toyourself- just like he does with you

-But MC please don’t get physicalwith these people that’s not professional

-HE ALMOST HAD TO PRY YOU OFF OFTHIS WOMAN ONCE BECAUSE YOU LITERALLY CLUNG TO HER AS YOU THREATENED BODILYINJURY

-MC DONT DO THAT YOU CAN GET INSERIOUS TROUBLE

-Loves when you cling, though. Hangoff his arm, lay your head against his chest, like yES MC DO THAT SHIT, SHOWPEOPLE I’M YOURS

-He was talking to a guest once, andin mid-sentence, he watched you cover the guest’s eyes with your hand.“You stop that, don’t give him those eyes, you can’t have him” mCPLS

-Overall, your demeanor stops peoplein their tracks before they even attempt to flirt with him. You radiate thissort of aura that says “back off this is my boyfriend”. Only thestrong-willed attempt, but they always fail. Though, Jumin has to kiss the sideof your head to remind you he isn’t going anywhere, there’s no need to get soworked up

*SAEYOUNG:

- “why are people flirtingwith me im terrible” (same saeyoung, same)

-He’s just confused all the time byit

-And since he’s confused, he doesn’tknow how to really…react. So he just accepts it

-But??? You don’t like that?? Don’ttouch my nerd boy

-You like to take the “Jokinglyinsult them but lowkey mean the insult” route to get your point across

-When I say “insult” idon’t mean you belittle them or anything, mind you. Kind of more along thelines of saying “leave him the fuck alone” without saying itoutright- you say it more in ways like “yeah he does like pizza- hisfavourite is when he’s getting it with me” ya know, that kind of thing

-And he can’t help but laugh?? Likeit’s kind of mean and the both of you know it is but?? They don’t get the hintto leave him alone??

-Until you get tired of the personand just grab Saeyoung’s glasses off his face, and plant a kiss straight to hislips

-Which hey he isn’t gonna complain.He actually takes advantage of the situation and puts his hand on your lowerback, dips you slightly, and just hardcore kisses you because maybe then theperson will get the hint???

-YOU’RE SUCH AN ASSHOLE THOUGH youwink at the person before you take Saeyoung in the other direction

*V:

-Don’t even breathe in the directionof my cinnamon roll

-HE’S SO NICE HE CAN’T BE MEAN TOPEOPLE EVEN WHEN HE’S UNCOMFORTABLE

-But you can. So when someone’sflirting and asks for his number, you casually walk up and just straight denythem

-“I was wondering if you’d liketo go grab some dinner some ti-” “No” “Who are you?”“No”

-YOU DON’T EVEN SAY ANYTHING ELSE.JUST NO.

-And he just smiles the whole timebecause!!! He’s glad you showed up!!! He loves you so much!!! And you’re ableto say no, unlike him

-And for the ones who are more…persistent,despite the “no”, your persona flips like a light switch

-You can walk up, happy andcarefree, and the moment they touch your boyfriend in a more than friendly way,you’re as cold as ice

-That’s usually his cue that heneeds to excuse the two of you. You’d never say anything harsh, mind you, butyou would sort of keep that personality for the rest of the day. He’d have tofind a way to cheer you up so you don’t feel bad!

-He always jokes that your face isgonna get stuck in a pout, pinches your cheeks, and waits for you to smile.INTENSE CUDDLING FOR THE REST OF THE DAY because hey MC, he’s yours and no oneis gonna threaten that

*SAERAN:

-vioLENT

-i can see why the two of you area couple

-you perfected the death glarefrom him as well

-He’s uncomfortable in almost anysituation so someone hitting on him, and that someone NOT being you, makes himVERY UNCOMFORTABLE

-And he’s not quiet about it, either.He voices that he isn’t interested, and that they should just back off but forsome reason people take that as a challenge?

-So you warn them with a deathglare, then by reminding them that he said he isn’t interested, then your angergets the better of you

-There are times that you get apunch or two in, but most of the time, the furthest you get to go is grabbingthem by the front of their shirt, and pulling them real close to your face

-There’s always threats, and neverclean language

-But Saeran doesn’t want you to getviolent like he can be so he usually has to physically carry you away from theother person

-BUT YOU’RE GETTING BETTER! Now youtend to just push the person away, grab Saeran’s hand while giving the otherperson a look of disinterest, and walking away wow mc look at you, you’recalming down!

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