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aerynwrites · 7 months

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Scars

Halsin x afab!Reader

A/N: some friends and I were talking in discord and one of them gave me permission to use this wonderful idea! I hope y’all enjoy ❤️

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: major insecurity in reader regarding scars, talks of self hatred, self depreciation, all is comforted tho, hurt/comfort, canon typical violence, partial nudity, fluff, kisses, love confessions.

The battles are done, the enemies defeated, and yet it feels like the work doesn’t quite end there.

This battle was harder than the rest, bending and breaking all of you more than expected. So much so that blood still oozes and bones still need mending despite the healing spells Shadowheart was able to bestow upon your group. Even her magic was depleted leaving her with the the rare wounds to show for it.

Return to camp has become a habitual affair, those that are able, help the companions wounded before everyone returns to their tents for the night.

You, however, slink off on your own from the get go, avoiding the healing hands in favor of your own mediocre care.

It’s better for you this way. Safer. At least mentally. The small river a short distance from camp has become your solace. Far enough away to seclude you but close enough that if danger were to arise, help would be close by.

You’ve come here after most battles, rinsing off in the clear water before tending to your own wounds as best you can, too ashamed to ask anyone for help - too scared to bare yourself before them.

Especially since a certain druid joined your team.

Before Halsin had come along you’d been able to slip away with no questions asked. Every now and then Shadowheart would tease you about how she could get the job done quicker but it would end there. Now…now it’s like you can feel Halsins stare each time you leave camp, his offers of help being brushed off with a flippant wave of your hand.

You enjoy his company. More than enjoy it really - so much so that a small crush has started to develop for the larger man. A part of you has longed to accept his offers of help, longed to open up to him in a way you have to no one else.

Yet, each time, the acceptance dies on your tongue and you tuck your tail and run. Just like you always have.

You sigh as you approach the waters edge, stripping down to nothing but your under things in order to sit on a rock submerged below the water enough that you can rinse away the muck of battle in order to assess the damage.

It’s the same process as always. Rinse off, tend to any wounds then dress and head back to camp. But tonight proves more difficult.

You have more injuries than normal, which means more stitching - a task proving difficult due to what you assume is a larger wound on your back. You’d taken a nasty blow to the shoulder towards the end of the skirmish and now it aches terribly and refuses to move the way you need in order to tend to yourself properly.

With a wince, you reach behind you with your good arm and try to feel for the wound, hissing and snatching your hand back when it brushes over the edge of what seems to be a nasty gash.

You’ll never be able to reach that on your own.

Muttered curses slip past your lips, as you turn to focus on the things you can fix instead. However, just as you move to tend to the shallow claw marks on your arm the all too close snap of a twig startles you.

Your head whirls to look behind you, and your eyes widen in mortification to see Halsin standing several yards away.

“Halsin! What are you doing-“ you cut yourself off as you reach for your shirt on the bank behind you, desperate to cover up before he can see anymore.

Before he can think you’re hideous.

The thought is fleeting, but drives your actions all the same.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to startle you,” Halsin finally speaks, holding out placating hands, as if dealing with a scared animal.

His words stall your movement just long enough for you to notice that the large elf isn’t looking at you. Instead his head is turned off to the side as if he doesn’t want to intrude on your privacy if it’s not wanted.

Your shirt hangs limply in your hands before you gather it to your chest. “What are you doing here?”

With his head still turned away, Halsin clears his throat. “I know you prefer to tend to your injuries yourself, but I saw the wound on your back when you all returned from camp. I only came to offer my help - and if you refuse I will turn now and leave you in peace.”

The air is silent as his words settle between you, and you open your mouth to give your typical refusal before stopping short.

You do need help. There’s no way you’ll be able to take care of the injury on your own. Not properly anyways. And infection is dangerous - even with healers around to help.

You let out a soft sigh, turning back to face the water, your shirt still clutched tightly to your front like some sort of lifeline.

“That’s - yes. I can’t…I can’t reach it on my own,” you admit softly, trying not to quake in shame as you hear his soft footfalls approach.

The thud of his boots in the grass and quiet splash of water is the only thing that lets you know how close he is, your eyes still trained on the river in front of you.

Soon you feel a presence at your back, and Halsins voice meets your ears once more.

“May I touch you?”

The question is simple, yet it ignites a bitterness you hadn’t realized was there. “You have to in order to treat me, don’t you?”

If Halsin reacts to your snappy reply, he doesn’t say anything, instead you feel him settle onto the rock behind you, water rippling between your bodies as a gentle hand rest on your shoulder

“It is ideal, yes, but I will not force my help upon you if you do not wish it.”

His breath is warm against your neck, and you can’t suppress the shudder that runs through you. Shame wells in you again, but this time at yourself. He’s just trying to help and you’re letting your own insecurities - your own self hatred spew at the wrong person.

“I’m sorry, yes - it’s fine. I’m not…used to this is all. I don’t like people seeing me like…like this,” your admission is a soft, broken thing, almost lost amongst the babbling water if it weren’t for Halsin’s close proximity.

He lets out a low hum just as you feel the unfamiliar warmth of healing magic along your back, seeing the golden glow from the corner of your eye.

“A good healer would never shame those needing his help,” he tells you, the hand on your shoulder giving you a reassuring squeeze. “My aid is available whenever you require.”

You shake your head, a scoff slipping past your lips. “That’s not…thank you.”

Your initial words die on your lips, the true reason for your hesitance unwilling to reveal itself so soon. And if Halsin notices your deflection he doesn’t say anything, instead he lets silence fill the air between you until finally that comforting warmth disappears from your skin, the glow dissipating.

“Is there anything else I can help with?”

The automatic refusal sits on your tounge once more but you stop yourself, instead moving to hold up your other arm, showing him the claw marks that have already started to scab.

“Of course,” he says and you can hear him shift behind you. “Would you be comfortable facing me?”

You nod, and for the first time you find yourself telling the truth. For the first time in as long as you can remember you feel some semblance of safety with someone seeing you like this.

Slowly you turn to face the druid, finally letting the shirt you were holding drop from your grip, tossing it back to shore. You still have your underwear on, and you’re sure the man before you had seen worse.

Once you’re settled, you find yourself fave to face with Halsin for the first time tonight, and the first thing you notice is his smile.

It’s a tiny thing, small and reassuring and kind. An emotion you’re not used to seeing in this state of undress.

He gently takes your arm in his hand and applies the same treatment as before. Magic emits from his palm, wrapping your arm in small tendrils of golden light as the healing warmth envelops you once more.

“Will there be scars?”

The question falls from your lips before you can stop it, and you watch as Halsin’s brow furrows.

“This one should leave minimal scarring, if any at all. The creatures claws did not dig deep. But the wound on your shoulder was…” he pauses. “Even magic cannot overpower nature at times. It will most likely leave a mark,” he smiles again, “but you do not seem a stranger to those.”

His words cut deep, hitting you where you know he doesn’t mean too. But your shame, your insecurity rears it’s ugly head again, and you yank your arm from his grip - the magic dispelling as his touch does.

“You don’t have to be an ass about it,” you hiss, moving to stand uncaring of your half healed wound, or the way you teeter on unsteady feet.

“Wait,” a strong hand reaches to capture your own before you can leave. “I meant no offense, truly.”

His words cause you to pause, and you reluctantly turn to look down at where he still sits in the water. His smile is gone, lips downturned and eyes pleading.

“Then what did you mean if not to make fun of my disfigurement - of the very things I hate most.”

Halsin stands to join you, eyes searching your own until he has his feet beneath him and then your hands clasped in his own.

“I did not think it was something you felt ashamed of or I would not have made the jest. I apologize for not treading more carefully but…” he pauses again, weighing his words. “Your scars…they are nothing to be ashamed of.”

You want to laugh, can feel it bubbling up in your chest. A bitter, nasty little sound that wants to make itself known. But you choke it down, the weight of his words helping you to do so.

“But they’re…ugly. Hideous. I’ve heard it enough throughout my life that…it must be true.” Your words are broken, reflecting exactly how you feel inside. How you’ve felt for so long.

Quickly a hand comes up to cradle your cheek, thumb wiping away tears you hadn’t even realized started to fall.

Halsins mouth is set in a thin line, eyes serious as he guides you to look at him.

“Whoever whispered those lies into your ears deserves a fate worse than the Oak Father can give,” he tells you, eyes falling down to take you in entirely. “Nature may be beautiful, but it is far from perfect - and sometimes it is far from merciful.”

Slowly, he takes drops his hand from your cheek, instead taking your hand in his and guiding your arm upwards. He uses his other hand to begin tracing the scars that cascade across your skin, some small and some large - all with different stories.

His fingers are gentle, barley a whisper on your skin as they travel upwards towards your shoulder and eventually he turns you to face away from him again, his fingers continuing their journey down your back.

“Scars are a part of one’s life, just as nature intended. They tell the story of where life has taken you, of where you’ve been.”

His breath ghosts against your shoulder and a shiver runs through you as his lips ghost over the scar of the wound he just healed.

“Some may have more than others, but that just means their stories are easier to read,” he comes around to your front again, looking down at you with a reverence you’ve never seen before.

“Would you look upon my face and call me hideous for the scars I bear?”

Your heart leaps into your throat, eyes widening. “No! Of course not, you’re…I think you’re…beautiful.”

Halsin smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Then why can you not show yourself the same kindness?”

“I-I don’t know. I’ve never…thought about it like that.” You say honestly, eyes casting downwards.

Halsin quickly redirects your attention, bringing up his arm and removing one of his bracers, showing yet another scar. It’s white and faded with time but you can tell it was from a terrible wound that was never treated properly.

“I received this one early in my youth. I thought myself a proper druid, ready to take on even the toughest foes. However, a displacer beast was quick to show me otherwise. I was left with a scar and a lesson learned, encouraging me to not only work hard to attune with nature and its magic but to step back and think before charging head first into a situation.”

His words are wise, and you find yourself studying the scar with curiosity rather than disgust as you have with your own.

The next while continues on like this, Halsin slowly showing you his scars and telling the stories behind them. Eventually you both end up sitting on the bank to dry as the stories continue. And eventually, he gets you to open up too - staring with small mundane scars and stories before eventually revealing the scars you hated most and what led to them. Except…as the night goes on, you find the hatred giving way to nostalgia. Some of them came from memories that make laughter bubble in your chest. Like the time an old childhood friend wanted to try to knock an apple from your head with an arrow but instead left you with a scar on your temple and a fear of inexperienced archers. Or the time you had slipped in the river trying to catch frogs with that same friend and gained a scar on your knee.

Another pleasant story had just finished and Halsin smiled at you, eyes crinkling at the corners in the way you’ve come to admire.

“See, your scars, no matter how much you may detest them, tell your story - each one a different page.” Slowly he takes your hand in his own, placing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “And I would be happy to know each and every one if you’ll let me.”

His words make butterflies erupt in your stomach and heat rush to your cheeks as you nod.

“It might take a while,” you gesture to yourself, “there’s…lots of pages.”

If it’s even possible, his grin widens. “All the better - it just means more time spent with you.”

You move before you can think, acting on what little bit of courage has gathered in your chest as you lean towards him and press a quick kiss to his lips. You move to retreat, just in case you have read the signs wrong. But a warm hand comes up to rest at the back of your neck, keeping you in place as he kisses you back.

His lips are warm and gentle against yours and you feel like you might melt into a puddle right here. But your elation is cut just short as Halsin pulls away, gazing at you happily.

“You are beautiful,” he says softly, “enough to rival nature itself. Please come to me if you ever need to be reminded of that.”

Suddenly bashful, you give him a small nod before leaning into him again, but this time just to rest your head on his shoulder as your arms slip around his middle. Halsin returns the embrace, strong arms slipping around you and cocooning you in a comforting warmth.

You still have a long way to go, but with Halsin at your side…the journey might be a little more bearable.

#halsin x reader #bg3 x reader #bg3 halsin #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #halsin

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lilmoonbunny · 5 months

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Co-Workers to Lovers; Albert Wesker

Warnings: Cheating boyfriend (reader's bf, not Wesker), alcohol consumption, implied nsfw.

Working alongside Albert Wesker was… interesting.

He was cold, rude, blunt, and so on with all his workers, except for you.

He wasn’t a lot nicer, but there wasn’t the same amount of judgement, hatred, and annoyance in his tone when he spoke to you.

If it wasn’t for the fact that he would kill them, your co-workers would joke that he has a sweet spot for you.

It wasn’t like you didn’t have one for him also. Most of your co-workers hated you for the special treatment you got from Wesker, so he was basically all you had at Umbrella.

Your boyfriend wasn’t fond of your work-relationship with Albert, something about how he “didn’t trust the creep” and how “he’s trying to steal you from me”.

You never believed any of that, but then again, you never believed that your boyfriend would cheat on you either.

Well, until the night you came home from work earlier than usual to the sound of moans from your bedroom.

At first, you thought maybe he was masturbating. After all, it had been a while since you two had last had sex. Work Albert had been keeping you busy.

The moment you heard the female moans, you knew what was happening, but you couldn’t stop yourself from entering the room.

“Really?” You asked him, watching his face morph from pleasure, to shock, to anger.

“You’re home early!”

“Clearly.”

Without another word, you left the room as your boyfriend of three years rushed to put his pants on and chase after you, but before he could reach you, you had already left, beginning to walk in the pouring rain.

You didn’t know what to do or where to go, so you ended up back at work. They had beds for those doing 24-hour shifts, so you could just take one of those.

“I thought you finished for today. Why are you here, and why are you wet? You’re dripping on the floor.” Whilst his words would seem annoyed, there was an underlying tone of concern in Albert’s tone.

“My boyfriend cheated on me; I walked here in the rain. Sorry, Sir.” You whispered, avoiding eye contact.

Had you been paying attention, you would have noticed the way his jaw clenched in anger, but all you heard was an annoyed sigh followed by you being told to follow him.

He took you to his office, bluntly telling you to sit before leaving the room.

You waited, eyes still staring at the floor rather than the room around you.

You were embarrassed more than anything. First your boyfriend cheats on you for God only knows how long, and now you’re crying to your boss.

“It’s not your fault.” Wesker’s deep voice sounds from behind you, the weight of a towel being placed on your shoulder pulls you from your self-deprecating thoughts.

You shrug and he sighs again, taking a seat in his chair.

“Look at me.” You do.

It isn’t easy for him, not at all, but he does do his best to put on a somewhat kinder face and try to comfort you.

“He’s a moron. Don’t worry about that idiot. You deserve better.” He says. “You deserve me” sounds his internal voice, but he ignores it.

With a quiet sigh, you nod and agree. “Thank you, Sir.”

“Albert is quite fine, Dear.” The name causes you to blush and you silently pray that he doesn’t notice or will just pass it off as you being cold, but he isn’t stupid.

“Thank you, Albert.”

Wesker can’t deny the way his body reacts when his name rolls from your tongue, but he can sure as hell ignore it. He doesn’t need feelings. He isn’t capable of them, he tells himself.

“You can stay in my office for the time being. I finish in an hour or two, I’ll drive you back to my place.” It wasn’t an invitation, it was a demand, but one that you didn’t want to turn down.

“Thank you.” You repeat, and he simply nods, passing you some dry clothes, and leaving to return to work.

Once he finished work, Albert gathered his things and lead you to his car.

Being the gentleman he is, although it was only for you, he held the door open for you, enjoying the way you blushed and muttered a thank you.

The drive was quiet. It was late, dark, and you were both deep in your thoughts.

He was wondering if he had made a mistake inviting you to stay at his home until you were back on your feet. He didn’t know how long he could go without kissing or touching you, but it also didn’t sit right with him making you stay at Umbrella offices where it wasn’t safe, or with your cheating boyfriend.

However, all you could think about was how good he looked driving, his hands tightened around the wheel and the gearstick. There was something oddly attractive about it.

Despite him being deep in his own thoughts, he didn’t fail to notice and couldn’t help the smirk on his lips which made you blush once again.

“We’re here,” he said, quickly moving to open your door for you and lead you into his mansion house, enjoying the shock on your face.

“Thank you, Albert,” you smiled at him as soon as you two were sat with drinks in your hands. “It means a lot to me. More than you can imagine.”

“It’s no problem, Dear.”

Over the weeks that you had stayed at his place, it was safe to say that you and Albert had grown closer, the same as your feelings had grown more for one another.

Albert was working more to keep himself busy, as were you, but the drives home were becoming more and more painful each time.

It was obvious to him that you had feelings for him, but he was him. Albert Wesker isn’t exactly the king of relationships, or even friendships; he had betrayed everyone in his life, after all.

He couldn’t resist, however, placing his large hand on your thigh as he drove, enjoying the way you tensed up beneath his touch and a blush ran to your cheeks, but you remained silent.

Having enjoyed your reaction, this was something he began doing every journey. He loved seeing you flustered, even more so when you stuttered when he spoke to you during the drive.

“No need to stutter, Dear. It’s only us.” He would say with a smirk.

You didn’t know how much longer you could last without touching him either, but you were afraid of rejection. Sure, he touched you, but what if he didn’t want you to touch him.

He could sense your hesitation and didn’t expect you to ever do anything, at least, until you laid your hand on top of his that rested on your thigh, your head lying on the glass of the window. It was clear you were tired, and perhaps that was why you were doing it.

You fell asleep that drive, the sound of rain and feeling of Albert’s hand touching your own lulling you into a deep sleep, one that he didn’t want to wake you from., so he didn’t. Instead, he carefully lifted you and carried you to the room you had been staying in. Your room.

Your relationship grew closer from there. You trusted him and, scarily enough for him, he trusted you also.

You went out one night with your friends, Wesker telling you to call him when you were ready to come home, and he would pick you up; he didn’t trust anyone but himself to get you home safely.

You had talked about him all night, leaving your friends wondering what was happening between you both. That was when you finally admitted it to yourself: you loved him.

Whilst the thought had always been there, completely admitting it to yourself was terrifying, but it had to be done.

However, the only way you felt you could properly think on this was by drinking more.

When it reached 3am, you texted him telling him you’ll get a cab since he was likely asleep.

Don’t be stupid, I’ll come get you. I can’t sleep. Where are you? Came his immediate reply. He would never admit it, but he stayed up worrying about you.

He was there moments later, helping you into the car so you didn’t fall with a sigh.

“Are you mad at me?” You asked upon realising that he wasn’t touching you for the first time in weeks.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Then why aren’t you touching me?”

“You’re drunk. I’m not touching you whilst you’re drunk, Y/N.”

A blush ran up your cheeks at the realisation and your drunk self couldn’t stop the words leaving your lips.

“But what if I want you to? What if I want you to do more than hold my thigh?” You’d regret that in the morning, but you were too drunk to care.

Albert’s hand tightened on the wheel at your words, doing his best to calm his breathing before responding.

“You’re still drunk. I’m not taking advantage of you whilst you’re under the influence. If you still want it tomorrow, then I will.” Were the final words for the night before you fell asleep and he, yet again, carried you inside, the smallest smile on his lips.

The following morning you were terrified of facing him, remembering what you had said, so you stayed inside your room until noon when a knock came on your door.

“I know you’re awake, Y/N. We need to talk.” Came his stern voice that had both your heart and thoughts racing, assuming the worst.

“Okay.” Came your meek response as you opened the door, allowing him into the room.

It was silent for a few moments, before you offered him a seat beside you.

“Did you mean what you said last night?” He asked, staring at you. “Be honest, I won’t be offended if you say no.”

His words confused you, but as you stared at him, you couldn’t help but notice the way his pupils dilated whilst he stared back, lips slightly parted. You weren’t dumb, you knew what that meant. He wanted you the same way you wanted him.

Rather than responding, you closed the gap between both of you, his hands instantly moving to push the straps of your dress that you had failed to change out of down your shoulders.

Once you pulled away, breathless and half undressed, he chuckled quietly.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He teased, but you ignored it and pressed your lips to his again in desperation.

Maybe it had always been him since you met him. Maybe your cheating ex-boyfriend was just what made you realise that.

One-shot (Cheating Heart) coming soon!

#resident evil #resident evil x reader #resident evil imagine #resident evil imagines #resident evil fanfic #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil smut #resident evil wesker #resident evil albert wesker #albert wesker #albert wesker x reader #albert wesker imagine #albert wesker imagines #albert wesker fanfic #albert wesker fanfiction #albert wesker smut #wesker #wesker x reader #wesker imagine

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stop-talking · 2 months

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You're his ex, but he's desperate for a babysitter. (pt. 1)

Mike Schmidt x fem reader

2.5k words

Tags: 18+, mike x reader, no use of y/n, exes, enemies, enemies to lovers, slowburn? sassy mike, sassy reader, pet names, banter, angst, so much angst, flashing mike, fluff, spending time with Abby (because everyone always forgets her??)

Part 2

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────

Mike holds his breath as the phone rings. He's already gone down the mental checklist of people who he could possibly call for help right now, and is currently scraping the bottom of the goddamn barrel.

*click* "Hello?"

He speaks hurriedly into the dingy landline phone, praying you won't immediately dismiss him.

"Hey, it's Mike. Please don't hang up."

You're tempted to hang up on him then and there, just to prove a point. You guys broke up nearly a year ago, and hadn't spoken in... what, six months now? But the tone in his voice... he sounded desperate.

"What, drunk and lonely again?" You scoff, unable to resist taking a jab at him. You two hadn't exactly ended things on good terms, his lack-of-sleep induced grumpiness and general unpleasant disposition making it hard for him to take criticism without it turning into an argument. It wasn't your fault he never made time for you. It wasn't your fault he was so emotionally unavailable.

"No." He grits his teeth, already regretting calling you. "I need a favor. Please." He chokes the word out, his stomach in knots from having to resort to this.

You pause for a few moments, chewing on his words. It must really be serious if he'd called you, after all the things you'd said to him last time you spoke.

"Well... lets hear it, then."

"I need you to watch Abby tonight. My usual babysitter isn't answering the damn phone, and I have to leave for work in an hour. I can't leave Abby home alone. I just can't."

In an hour? You glance at the clock, it's already 8:30. What ungodly hours is he working?

"I thought you didn't work nights? I swear to god, Schmidt, if you're making me watch her so you can go get laid-"

"No. Nothing like that. I swear." He sighs, sounding genuinely exhausted. "I'm working as a security guard these days. Night gig. Long story. It sucks ass, but I need this job. Can you watch Abby? I'll owe you one."

You bite back the urge to scoff at him. He's not even going to pay you? Figures. Oh well. Holding a favor over his head might be fun.

"Ugh. Fine. I'll see. What time will you get back? I have work in the morning."

"6:15. Maybe 6:10, if I drive like a maniac."

"Shit. I'll have to get ready for work at your place. If I go home first I'll be late."

"Yeah, sure. Anything. Just please stay with Abby. She goes to sleep at 10, you can crash on the couch. I just want someone in the house with her."

You let out an audible sigh. Are you seriously going to go crash on your shitty ex-boyfriend's shitty couch on a work night?

...Yeah, yeah you are.

"Damn it, Mike. You'd better kiss my fucking feet when I get there."

Mike almost laughs at that. Almost.

"Sure thing, Princess." He cant help but taunt you a bit, using an old pet name he used to call you way back when you were dating. It probably wasn't the best decision to irritate the last person he could rely on, but he wasn't in the right headspace to make good decisions right now. These days, he mostly runs off of coffee and self-hatred.

"I'll be there in 30. You'd better be on your knees and groveling when you open the door." You slam the phone down before he can answer. Michael fucking Schmidt. Still the same jackass you broke up with all those months ago.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

When Mike opens the door to greet you almost exactly 30 minutes later, he reluctantly drops to his knees. He'd hoped you'd forgotten the silly request, but the unamused look you gave him said otherwise.

"Fucking witch." He grumbles, hanging his head as you brush past him into the house. Were you wearing... pajama pants? He stares at you as you set down your things, a purse and what looks like an overnight bag of some sort.

"Stop gaping. And stand up. You look pathetic." You shrug off your coat, revealing an old t-shirt underneath. Yeah, you were in pajamas, so what? Its late. And you couldn't be bothered to put in extra effort for Mike, of all people.

"Excuse me for doing as her majesty commands." He groans and stands up, brushing himself off. As if that'll make him look any more presentable.

Abby tentatively pokes her head out of her room, watching you and Mike argue. Shit. Did she hear all that?

"Hey Abbs." You wave to her, deciding to ignore Mike's comment. "It's gonna be just me and you tonight, sound good?"

She looks to Mike for approval, who nods and gives her a tired smile. The only kind of smile he's been able to muster lately.

"...Will you play with me?"

"Yeah, 'course I will. Let me have a chat with your brother real quick." She seems to accept that answer, closing herself back off in her room. You sigh and follow Mike into the kitchen.

"There's leftovers in the fridge, and a lasagna in the freezer. Probably have something edible in the pantry. I think there's popcorn." He explains, pointing out a few different measly options for a quick meal. "Look, she probably won't, but just try and get her to eat dinner."

You watch him lean back against the counter and rub at his temples. God damn, he looks... exhausted. His hair has grown out a bit since you last saw him, dark brown curls hanging low over his forehead. His eye bags seem to hang even lower.

"Yeah... I'll try and get her to eat."

An uncomfortable silence lingers in the air as you both run out of things to talk about, so he fills the void with an insult.

"You really had to come over in that?" Mike scoffs and gestures at your frumpy t-shirt and pajama pants.

"What? Were you hoping for something slutty?" You cross your arms and give him a smug look.

He turns his head, unsure what to say to that. Maybe part of him did hope to see you dressed in something a little more revealing. Or maybe just undressed. God damn it, was he blushing?

"Fuck you." He mutters, making his way to the entryway and slipping his shoes on.

"No thanks. Been there, done that." You respond dismissively, watching him leave with a smirk.

Mike slams the door on his way out. Not hard enough to startle Abby, hopefully, but hard enough to make a point he's not in the mood to play your little games. Still, the whole drive to work, he can't help but wonder what if...? What if you had never broken up with him? What if he had been a better boyfriend? A better provider for you and Abby? A better man?

"I fucking hate her." He grumbles, but the words are hollow.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

"Mike told me you stopped coming over because he found out you're a witch and you curse children. Is that true?" Abby finally musters up the courage to ask the question that's been on her mind ever since you walked through the door.

"Did he say that?" You chuckle, a little shocked that this is what she chose to ask after ten minutes or so of silently coloring together.

"Yeah. He said you cursed him, too. And that's why he can't color anymore. He'll explode, or something." She babbles, not looking up from her paper.

"Hmm... well, if you're really worried about your brother, I'll cut you a deal." You do your best to keep the anger from your tone as you continue to color beside her at the table. That asshole doesn't color with Abby anymore?

"...What kind of deal?"

"I'll lift the curse on your brother so he can color and draw again... but you have to eat dinner. Ten whole bites."

Abby seems to consider this for a moment, turning and eyeing you suspiciously. Mike likes to mess with her like this. Were you messing with her too? Probably. But, well, if it would make Mike spend time with her again...

"Fine. What do we have?"

You smile at her. This babysitting stuff is a breeze.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

When Mike stumbles in the door the next morning, he spots you fast asleep on the couch. He flops down in the recliner and just watches you sleep for a minute or two. You look so pretty when you're asleep. Serene. Peaceful. Not at all like when you're awake, giving him that attitude he's so familiar with. He sighs and makes his way over to the couch, knowing he should probably wake you for work.

"Uhh... wakey wakey?" He mumbles lamely, unsure what to really say. Definitely not good morning, beautiful. He scoffs to himself at the thought.

"Mmm... Mike?" You blink up at the man gently shaking your shoulder, your eyes adjusting to the morning light.

"Yeah. Who else would it be?" He shakes his head in amusement and goes back to sit in the recliner.

"I dunno. A hookup?" You sit up and rub the sleep from your eyes, then stretch out.

"A hookup? Still being passed around, then?" He responds with a scoff, trying to hide just how much that answer bothers him. Even after nearly a year of being broken up, he doesn't like to imagine you with other men. It leaves a bad taste in his mouth, even if he's not into you anymore. Actually, you don't look half-bad right now, stretching your arms over your head like that...

"Can you blame a girl? Had to make up for all the unsatisfying nights with you."

Mike reeled at that little quip. The smug look on your face, god... He wasn't quite sure if he wanted to shut you up with a kiss or a punch.

"Just fucking go home." Nice one, Mike. That'll show her.

"Hey, you agreed I could get ready here. I'm gonna go use your shower, and then I have something to talk to you about."

Something to talk to him about? He scowls as you walk off towards his bedroom. Why couldn't you just leave him alone? Why did everything have to be so complicated? He groans and goes to lie down in bed. Maybe he could get in a quick nap while you shower. Maybe.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

You emerge from the dingy bathroom connected to Mike's bedroom fifteen minutes or so later, steam trailing in behind you.

"Three-in-one shampoo, conditioner, and body wash? Seriously, Schmidt?" You scold him, crossing your arms as you stand before his bed wearing nothing but a towel. At first, he seems annoyed when you pull him out of his brooding, but when he takes in your current state of undress, he sputters.

"S-so? Its economical." He scoffs, irritated, but unable to look away as you make your way around his bed and out the door.

You return a minute later carrying your overnight bag. "Forgot my clothes." Mike just nods, still unable to tear his eyes from you.

"Stop staring."

"Stop waltzing through my room naked."

"This isn't naked." You gesture to the towel wrapped around your body, drawing his attention back to you.

"This is naked."

Mike watches in complete shock as you let the towel fall to the floor, completely baring yourself to him for a few moments before finally locking yourself in his bathroom. You hear him mutter a few curses on the other side of the door, and smile as you get changed.

"Was that really necessary?" Mike scowls at you when you emerge from his bathroom a few minutes later, now fully dressed.

"Calm down, Mikey. Not like you haven't seen it all before." The old nickname you used to call him by doesn't sound endearing anymore. It sounds taunting. Mike looks like he cant decide between kicking you out of the house or pulling you into his bed. Good to know you can still get under his skin. And maybe his bedsheets, if you wanted.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" He finally asks, sighing in defeat.

"C'mon. I'll tell you."

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

Mike sits in the recliner, watching you set up a bunch of unnecessary crap on his coffee table. Did you really have to do your makeup right in front of him?

"A witch, Mike? Seriously? You told her I'm a witch, and then left her alone with me for the night?"

Mike swallows. Shit. He honestly forgot about that, it was just some lame excuse he came up with right after the breakup back when he was still distraught.

"Am I wrong?" He tries to brush it off with a sassy comment, but folds when he sees your intense glare.

"I mean... uh... I'll tell her you're... not a witch..." Real smooth, Schmidt. Mumble and stare at the floor.

"It's not even about that, really. Feed her all the lies you want. What I'm upset about is that she told me you don't color with her anymore."

Mike finally meets your eyes as you apply yet another random powder he doesn't understand the purpose of to your cheeks with the swipe of a brush.

"I'm busy. And it's none of your business. I asked you to come be her babysitter, not her mom." He snarls, hands clenched into fists.

"I'm not trying to be. It just breaks my heart to hear that stuff from her, Mike. I told her I'd lift the 'curse' off of you if she ate her dinner, and she did. So consider yourself un-cursed."

Mike grits his teeth as you put air quotes around the word "curse". He knew you were right, and that bothered him more than the fact he was being a shitty brother. The worst part was, you weren't even being snarky, you just sounded genuinely concerned for Abby. God damn it.

"...Yeah. Fine. Un-cursed. Got it." He grumbles in agreement as you finish up your makeup and swipe the assortment of products into your purse.

"How do I look?"

He wanted to tell you that you looked gorgeous, that he missed having you around, attitude or not. But in this moment, he couldn't do it. He was too tired. Too angry.

"Like a whore."

"Someone's jealous he doesn't get any."

"Like I'd want you."

"Oh yeah, the raging boner you had earlier when you saw me in a towel was because you don't want me. Totally."

Oh, now you're just taunting him.

"I'll have you know that didn't happen till after you lost the towel." Mike scoffs as he follows you to the entryway, unlocking the door for you while you slip on your shoes.

"Don't lie to me, Mikey."

"I'd never dream of it, Princess."

Mike has to resist the urge to pull you into his arms as you leave for work. Maybe if you didn't look so goddamn smug, he would. Instead he just shuts the door and locks it, hating himself for how much he enjoyed this whole interaction.

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────

will probably write a part 2 (with smut??)

edit: here is part 2

(no smut. part 3 tho...??)

idk this was my first fanfic ever so enjoy

#josh hutcherson #mikeschmidt #mike schmidt #fnaf movie #fnafmovie #mike schmidt fluff #josh hutcherson x reader #jhutch #mike x reader #no use of y/n #fnaf fic

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malleusfucker · 1 year

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hate sex: leona, malleus

warnings: nsfw/smut, hate sex, semi-public sex, degrading, hair-pulling/choking, gender-neutral reader

prompt: pretty self-explanatory

word count: 1.3k

i’m writing about these two again? groundbreaking

*also - now i’m on break, i am thinking of doing a part two of this with other twst characters so request/message what characters i could possibly write about!*

leona

truly the blueprint for hate sex because this man is just a straight-up asshole, but at least he makes it entertaining. unlike that pompous lizard, leona is extremely straightforward and wants you to know EXACTLY how he feels. and if that means conveying those feelings by shoving your face into the mattress with a firm hand wrapped around your neck, then he’s definitely not afraid of doing so. he is certainly not polite when it comes to sex ever but sprinkle some pent-up hatred and disgust, and you’ve got yourself a very interesting situation. it becomes apparent how lethal the combination of having a short fuse and a lack of shame is when you realise that having hate sex with this man may happen anywhere, at any time. you never know whether the look he's giving you across the classroom is one of affection or complete disdain since leona's mood can be rather unpredictable.

seeing him eye you up with knitted brows as you pass each other in the hallway feels like the calm before the storm. you can't help but wonder, "what the hell have i done this time?" feeling the heat practically radiate off of him every time you lock eyes from across the campus just further angers you with each glance. this man really did invent sexual tension, not even knowing what you did to make him so mad, and yet the writing is already on the wall with how obviously agitated you both are becoming with each other. unlike malleus, who wants a reason to fuck you so roughly, leona doesn’t need one. you simply standing there is enough to piss him off. it’s almost impressive the way leona somehow conjures up a reason to display such aggressive hatred towards you, to the point when you begin to resent him for the same reason, even though this "reason" is completely fruitless and is really simply a pretext for both of you to behave a bit more "animalistic" toward one another.

that sexual tension that was slowly bubbling throughout each class finally bursts as leona’s patience has long since vanished. one moment, you're going about your day normally. the next, you're being dragged into an empty classroom after hours, your stomach slamming against a desk before you can even identify the hand that's feverishly tugging at your clothes. leona’s so harsh. merely speaking vitriol and shame into your ear to make you feel like shit, and yet, you don’t feel an ounce of humiliation. your blood boils at leona's arrogance and his assumption that he can treat you this way out of the blue. minutes pass, and you suddenly feel him abruptly thrust into you, not even exchanging a word beforehand as he starts to shove and bite. insults, along with angered grunts and moans fill the room as leona starts to pick up his pace, ruthlessly fucking you from behind.

while your body continues shaking as a result of his selfishness, he doesn't even offer to help clean you up before retreating to his room. this asshole walks away with a look that borders on utter apathy, ignoring that he just spent the previous hour driving into you with the force you'd expect from someone with his level of athleticism. while it may be fun in the moment, the aftermath is anything but. at least when you’d usually have sex with leona, you’d be in the comfort of his bed, and though he probably won’t pamper you afterwards, he’d at least be gentle. now you’re alone in a classroom, sore and limp, flushed and unable to walk properly as your legs tremble. you can't stop thinking about how he sounded, how much of an asshole he was, and how, despite all he's done to you, there's a part of the experience that you secretly loved a little too much.

“god, you’re so fuckin’ annoying. stop being so fuckin’ loud and shut your mouth.”

malleus

malleus is not one for hate sex. he would never stoop so low as to let such irrational and fleeting feelings of brief frustration out on the one he loves, the one he feels the urge to protect and cherish. such actions would be appropriate for the more stubborn, selfish type - a certain lion, maybe. but not malleus. he knows better than to lash out at you because, dear god, the consequences would be more than just a scratch. he knows his capabilities and knows that even when he’s being gentle with you, you’re still crying - much to your embarrassment. so why? why does it feel so good seeing you under him, brows furrowed and teeth gritted - pulling at his hair as if you never liked him once in your life before. all the sweet moments and memories you cherished together going down the drain one by one, with each thrust wracking through you. it felt disgusting that both of you were enjoying this, though you weren’t exactly showing it.

leading up to such a scenario would be rare in malleus’ case. he’s extremely good at controlling his temper, even when he knows he’s being toyed with. he lets you entertain the idea for a while, knowing that in a couple of hours, you’re going to be begging for him to stop relentlessly fucking you. he rarely, if ever, gets really upset with you. that's why the thought of hate sex with him is both thrilling and terrifying all at once. hate sex with malleus would always be caused by a petty reason. an actual serious argument between you two would never lead to this because malleus would actually want to fix things properly rather fixing it with his dick. because it’s always over something so minor that just makes it more fun - there’s zero consequence, no repercussions that could change your relationship except waking up with a sore and bruised body.

on occasion, he appreciates allowing the relationship to have some sway. to always be treated like royalty by a perfect prince can get boring. he never thought he'd enjoy this so much, but he finds it strangely exhilarating to see you thrash around crazily while he fucks you hard against a wall as you cry obscenities at him. a prince should be cordial, never behaving in such a disgusting manner, but the way you display such visceral hatred towards him as you spit in his face simply makes his ego grow bigger (and something else too). such venomous loathing over something so minor - it sometimes feels like you both truly do hate each other.

malleus really is a tease. even when you’re ripping at his horns with your legs wrapped around his waist - he’ll always have the upper hand. he wants you to have your moment, behaving as if you were a child having a tantrum before he finally has his turn. malleus, no matter the situation, will always have you believing your words affect him when really he’s just giggling to himself like the smug bastard he is. hate sex with this man is definitely not equal. those red scratches on his back don't phase him but merely make him laugh them off as though a kitten had clawed him. he’ll fuck into you so hard to the point of that fabricated hatred manifesting in reality. both your vision and body weakening as he pumps his seed into you, treating you like a disposable toy that he can use for whatever purpose he pleases.

because of that power imbalance, it just helps to aggravate you more. nobody has the right to take advantage of you in this way, tearing into your flesh with monstrous fangs and claws like it's nothing, drowning out your protests with each harsh thrust. he actually is an asshole when the situation fits him, boasting an air of superiority so pompous that he might as well be on the same footing with leona. instead of taunts and names, malleus expresses everything with his body. slamming his hips against yours with such violent power as he looks down at you with disgust and resentment on his face.

"you look so pitiful right now. it's nearly adorable."

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sepublic · 3 months

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I wanna analyze part of the exchange between Luz and the Titan, because I’m seeing some people misunderstand it by claiming the show is saying that Luz doesn’t need to self-reflect because she always means well, unlike THOSE guys (Nevermind everything she and others have gone through up until this point). Maybe I’m repeating the obvious, but;

“I’m not so kind. When I saw the Collector fly up to Belos, I hoped with all my heart I would see them blast him away, and-”

Here we have Luz insinuating that she’s not kind, simply on account of wanting Belos dead; Nevermind the fact that she has plenty of justified reason to want gone someone who has maliciously caused her and her loved ones so much pain, trauma, and agony across so much time.

“Hey, I can relate. I was willing to do anything to keep my kid safe. But I attacked the wrong person, dragged the Collector down here for nothing.”

The Titan does relate to feeling shame over ugly emotions like hatred and anger, which can make people lash out; Bringing up how those feelings brought him to make a terrible mistake that would have a lasting ripple effect on the Boiling Isles up until now.

“Does that make us as bad as Belos?”

At which point, Luz drops the question, the false equivalency that it’s fair for her to nevertheless entertain for the sake of self-reflection; Does her and the Titan feeling anger and even hurting people over it, or planning to, make them as bad as Belos?

“What? Have you been drinking Eda’s homemade apple blood?”

The Titan’s skepticism over this false comparison is self-explanatory.

“Well, Belos says he’s trying to save humanity, and we’re saying we want to save our families, so isn’t that the same thing? Don’t- Don’t these feelings come from the same place?”

When Luz says ‘feelings’, she’s very much talking about anger, even hatred; The kind that drives people to fight and even hurt others. Belos is angry, but Luz notes that so is she, as was the Titan, and all of them claim to do this over loved ones they’re worried about, right? That’s the ‘same place’ she’s referring to.

“Well, you assume Belos’ goal comes from a genuine place. But, that man doesn’t care about anything but his need to be the hero in his own delusion. And because of that, he fears what he can’t control.”

That’s when the Titan clarifies the difference; The anger of the victim is not the same as the anger of the abuser. The anger of the oppressed is not comparable to the anger of the oppressor. Anger doesn’t necessarily make you the bad guy, especially when it moves people to do the right thing. Both Luz and the Titan are angry, yes; But they’re angry because they legitimately have loved ones, and themselves, who have been hurt, and are genuinely at stake here. They're still allowed to feel this way. They only want Belos dead because they can’t get him to stop hurting people, so this is the only option left to make him stop endangering others.

Whereas Belos’ hatred is that of the colonizer; He never really had anyone at stake here. Humanity was never in any real danger, especially not Caleb, whom Philip consciously disrespects by going against everything Caleb stood for, despite Caleb having made it clear with an open-armed welcome that this would never have to exclude his love for his brother. Philip made the decision to choose a world over his brother, NOT Caleb who understood he should theoretically have both, as a parallel/foil to Luz who wants both, but is still struggling to accept she can have that.

Dana confirmed at Pixelatl –and it’s fairly obvious even without said confirmation- that she based Belos off of televangelists, cult leaders, the conservative relative, etc. The first two especially are hardcore bigots, the kind who really double down on their prejudice, and actively make it happen on a larger scale; These are the kind of people who go past that reasonable point of being well-intentioned but misinformed about their biases.

Yes, Luz and Belos are both angry, but Belos’ anger is that of the reactionary conservative, hence “fearing what he can’t control.” He claims to feel threatened, but unlike people like Luz who really are endangered and fighting for their lives, the only thing being threatened is Belos’ worldview of supremacy and self-righteousness, so like a lot of right-wing “morality police” and the like.

In the end, TOH is calling out how bigotry did not start from a place of good intentions, which is fitting given Belos represents the type of OG bigot, the Puritans who were among many who made contact with the Native Americans and vice-versa; Prejudice was born as a way to justify narratives of power and control, by dehumanizing others and thus justifying their suffering and exploitation for the sake of those who ‘really’ matter. These narratives, when perpetuated, create self-fulfilling prophecies and issues that the misguided but well-meaning are concerned about, which leads them down flawed attempts to address these problems.

This is to say people who genuinely mean well, who have been hurt and do have others at stake, can make mistakes; This very exchange reminds us that the Titan hurt the Collector, something she does nothing to justify, and something the viewers know was objectively wrong, and has deep consequences as we’re currently seeing. Luz and the Titan both contributed to the Collector falling into Belos’ hands, but while Luz was genuinely manipulated and didn’t realize what was going on, the Titan chose to lash out at a bystander because she couldn’t channel her anger successfully towards the Archivists.

But the Titan has learned, and she’s recognized what she’s done as wrong, and she’s made efforts to undo and make up for that. And it’s important to remember how all of this was prompted by the genocide of the Archivists, who claim to be preserving life, yet destroy it when it does not heed their plans. People are still responsible on an individual level, but it’s also worth noting how the system can influence them, just as it did for Amity and Lilith. And the system was started by people who didn’t really have a system over their heads, or were rebelling against a different kind.

It’s not as if TOH is saying you can’t mean well and make mistakes; So much of the show is about people meaning well and making mistakes, especially parents towards their children. And this is fitting since a well-meaning parent nevertheless hurting her child is the inciting incident of the series, and it’s something that is brought up and resolved in the previous episode between Luz and Camila. Hell, Luz herself understands that meaning well can hurt others, like when she kept secrets from Amity, under the guise of not wanting to burden her girlfriend.

TOH still has plenty of examples of genuine intent leading to bad things; So it’s entirely reasonable, in this case, to bring up the original people who codified bigotry and prejudice, because being a freak and a weirdo does not happen in a vacuum, it is in relation to a society. At some point you have to discuss WHY someone is considered strange; Who designated the guidelines for the deviant, and by extension, what are the guidelines for what is ‘normal’, who decided this would be normal, and why? And that’s why the story brings these back to the settlers who made contact with the Native Americans and vice-versa, and established a precedent for prejudice towards these people.

The point is that the show is refuting the centrist idea of Both Sides, that if you’re violent and/or angry then you’re just as bad as the oppressor, if not worse; Victims are allowed to be angry, they have a right to be upset, as Eda herself says. You can’t expect them to appeal solely by peace when that’s clearly not working out, hence Raine and Darius’ rebellions, which do necessitate violence at times, even if they’d love to minimize it and try; Which is why the finale shows the initially-cautious CATTs accepting covenscouts who are willing to change, why Kikimora is shown doing community service (and that's assuming it's not just a job given her lack of uniform; She may have been allowed to reintegrate into society as a regular citizen).

Between the juxtaposition of the Collector hearing about how Amity and Lilith were successfully appealed to, and applying that to Belos, only for that to fail as Luz explains this individual situation is a bit more complicated… Basically, what the show is saying is that you should choose to be kind and give chances and grace, anyone can change; But people also have a right to prioritize themselves in self-defense, and just in general health, when people continue to refuse to reciprocate, and leave no other choice. Because there’s still responsibility on the other party to respond to these offers of kindness, and make the same choice to improve the world; They have free will, everyone does, and you can’t force people to be better, anymore than the Collector can force people to be their friends.

Not to mention how victims have a right to be upset and don’t owe forgiveness, but at the same time, the concept of Restorative VS Retributive Justice argues that it’s better for the world if everyone improved; That doesn’t mean victims have to forgive or even necessarily help, because improving oneself does not rely on your victims doing you favors. It’s ultimately about harm reduction; Ideally, harm is reduced by helping people open their minds and change, but if that isn’t working and the person keeps hurting and even killing others, then yes, harm must be reduced by imprisoning, or even killing them in self-defense.

Hence the difference in that Luz’s anger comes from ultimately wanting to reduce harm and being frustrated by those who continue to perpetuate it; Versus Belos whose anger isn’t really meant to prevent harm, but pointlessly cause more of it, because of his immature disgust towards those different, as well as the supremacy and selfishness that actively puts down others for Belos’ own sake (because Caleb isn’t allowed to have more than one person in his life, apparently).

And note that Belos is already at the end of his life (because people only have so much time to change before it's cut short by death), because extending it requires sacrificing palismen, which goes against harm-reduction; So they can’t just imprison Belos without killing him. And in the end, the protagonists don’t prolong Belos’ misery by letting the boiling rain finish him off, they get it over with by stomping on him; Not only does this allow them to vent much-deserved anger towards an oppressor, but it cuts away any chance of Belos coming up with something last-second by just ending him right there. That reduces harm from Belos, and harm TO Belos, because his death isn’t any longer than it needs to be.

And on Luz’s side, her not doing anything to Belos is justified because it’s about her refusing to help him, thus standing for herself and what she believes, and not letting this traumatic, gaslighting presence have any more power over her. Luz still allows her loved ones to finish off Belos; Her not responding to Belos is about reducing harm to herself.

It’s a lot of stuff. It’s about balancing a lot of seemingly conflicting, opposite ideas, like Luz balancing two worlds; As she herself explains to the Collector, it can be “complicated.” It’s about nuance, and a case-by-case basis; Because note that the Titan doesn’t tell Luz that she will always be right because SHE always means well. Just that in this specific case, in regards to this specific guy, things are not equivalent. Hence why the Titan focuses on deconstructing Belos and not Luz.

This moment specifically is breaking down colonial rhetoric by calling it out for what it actually is, because Belos is 100% a colonizer and this is one of the most important aspects of his character, and his contributions, to the narrative. And whatever mistakes Luz and the Titan made, at least they care enough to make up for it, because they really are trying to do this for others, instead of prioritizing an ego trip; That kind of mentality is doomed to being static. I'd argue the Titan isn't necessarily saying that Belos never cared about anyone (AKA Caleb) period, just that in the context of his 'protecting humanity' claim, he wasn't doing it for anyone because there was nobody in any actual danger, and he knows it. Philip wasn't actually concerned for Caleb's sake when he killed him.

#the owl house #luz noceda #boiling isles titan #analysis #meta #emperor belos #philip wittebane

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luxthestrange · 11 months

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TWST Incorrect quotes#533 HE IS MINE

When You Found Out...Some Great Value Corpse Bride took Idia, Ortho didn't have to finish his sentence for your help when you asked him where is the blastcycle Ignyhide was working on

Ortho*Seeing that the school and area are locked down*Everything is locked down! How are we gonna get in?

Yuu*On the Front turning on the blastcycle and telling ortho to put a song...and another that fits the mood*

"F*ck you up! Harveston Hits"-

Yuu*Has hands on the handles looking at the last rescue gang*Buckle up my ortho~WE'RE DOING A SHREK!~

-At the wedding-

Idia*Was putting on his suit and being held to be in place along with Eliza and sobbing that no one is coming to save him, leaning away from Eliza whose puckered lips are going closer to his*

CRAAAAAAASH

Ace*Peeks into the now broken wall hole at the wedding*WE OBJEEECT!?

Yuu*Getting out of the vehicle and jumping on the ground to look at the Ghosts with glaring seething hatred at Eliza*YOU WANT MY HUSBAND...YOUR GONNA HAVE TO KILL ME!?!

Eliza*Rolls eyes and snaps her fingers and points to you signaling her Nanny and Gramps to take care of you all*

You soon enough launch yourself toward one the biggest ghost and...MASSACRETING THEM IN YOUR PATH OF WRATH...

GuardGhost*Frowning*WHAT THE -THEY'RE JUST A HUMAN!*Moves out of the way from a soldier ghost that falls near being chocked by their own ghost tail thingy, grabs him, and pushes him towards the angry human*THEY'RE JUST ONE HUMAN! TAKE CARE OF-*Stops talking when the one SAME ghost was killed in an instant he pushed him their way*

Idia*Taken aback by You easily making your way thru the ghosts*...

Rook*Backs you up but is soon grabbed by you and is used like a bat to hit another ghost*

Yuu*As you get on the dented blastcycle again and drive around the vehicle destroying the cake, tables, and seats on your path you speed up to the altar with an enraged glare at Eliza but stop at the last min, get off punch the last ghost standing on your path, Glaring up at the Ghost Bride*...

Eliza* Looks down at you as you grab Idia and throw him over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and rolls her eyes and huffs*...

Yuu*Looking at her, pointing at Idia's ass and then at self*THIS ASS IS MINE!?!*Slaps Idia's ass to emphasize that*

Idia*Eyes widen and blush as he looks extremely happy thru his eyes*!?!?

Ortho*With the biggest sparkly eyes seeing you carry his big brother and grabbing his hand to take the both of them home*...Can you please really marry my brother...

youtube

I HAVE BEEN HOLDING THIS ONE TILL THE EVENT WENT OUT AGAIN-

You went full ghostbuster on their white tails...

The Guys + Crowley*After witnessing what you did*

The Men were rendered speechless-

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the-sage-libriomancer · 6 months

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Shigure's relationship with Kyo drives me crazy. he doesn't hate Kyo in the slightest - in fact, he pities Kyo, and not in the condescending "oh you poor little boy, cursed to be a horrible, disgusting monster" sort of way that everyone else does. Shigure pities Kyo for the reason he should be pitied: he's just a kid caught up in a system so inhumane it can't possibly be survived without some seriously unhealthy coping mechanisms.

and it drives me crazy because - listen, Shigure is the only zodiac member who's emotionally aware enough to see the other zodiac members as exactly what they are. he knows Yuki is a severely traumatized kid who projects all of his self-hatred on a single convenient target. he knows Akito is really a scared little girl with a raging god complex (literally) and no concept of a healthy relationship. and he knows Kyo is a regular-ass human being who doesn't deserve to be locked up for the rest of his life just because some arbitrary system says so. he KNOWS it's stupid. he KNOWS it's ridiculous and unfair. and he has to share a house with Kyo knowing that Kyo is living with a sword over his head, hating himself and hating others in perfect tandem because he has no other way of coping with the insane amounts of negativity he's had to deal with his entire life.

but the thing about Shigure is that he KNOWS all of this, and the same time he doesn't really CARE. he feels sorry for Kyo, but an apathetic sort of pity, a disinterested "this is how it is. such a shame." sort of pity. in some ways he's worse than the other zodiacs because he DOES see Kyo as a person, someone he likes being around even, but he still considers Kyo below his attention because all his focus is on Akito and breaking the curse. and sure, once the curse is broken Kyo will theoretically be set free with the rest of them, but that's more of a coincidental side effect than anything. despite being in a much more dangerous and precarious mental space AND comfortably in Shigure's reach, Kyo is about as much a priority for Shigure as Ritsu or Momiji.

and it drives me CRAZY because i think Shigure does start actively caring about Kyo as the series goes on, but it's hard to tell when that happens and to what extent. when Kazuma told Shigure he planned to reveal Kyo's true form and Shigure said he was going too far - whose sake was it for? was Shigure trying to protect Kyo, who would be hideously traumatized/emotionally scarred by such a cruel betrayal? was he trying to protect Kyo and Tohru's relationship, which was still formulating and might, under such severe testing, ultimately end up damaged beyond repair? was he only trying to protect Tohru, who wasn't ready to be burdened by such a horrible aspect of the curse so soon, or perhaps simply didn't deserve it? or was it all for the sake of himself, trying to protect his still-forming plans of using Tohru's positive effect on the Sohmas to break the curse?

Shigure cares about Kyo, but they're not close and Kyo clearly isn't a priority. he treats Kyo like a person - offering him genuine advice, teasing him like he teases anyone else, even speaking up on his behalf once or twice - and yet he's too entrenched in the long game to spare much active interest in Kyo. for a very long time, he doesn't care about Kyo the way he cares about Yuki or Tohru, and it's never made clear when exactly that changed. and the thing that gets me about this whole situation is that right from the start, Shigure is in a position where he can meet Kyo at his level - as equals, just one human being to another - but he doesn't, because Shigure is a chessmaster, Shigure is someone who observes and calculates, Shigure never steps in unless one of his chess pieces makes a wrong move and he absolutely has to.

it drives me crazy. Shigure drives me crazy. this series drives me so so crazy.

#i think my point here was “shigure sees kyo as an actual human being but still treats him badly”#which is kind of the point of shigure - it's why he's such a gray character #he plays with people's lives like they're toys #but this post actually originated from the realization that shigure doesn't hate kyo in the slightest #(honestly i don't think the majority of the zodiac actually *dislikes* kyo. i think they're just too used to dehumanizing him)#and i was like “okay. so how *does* shigure view kyo?”#and then i thought about it more and went progressively more insane #tbf i think shigure knew he was being immoral in the way he treated kyo #he's incredibly self-aware and knows exactly what he's doing #he just chooses to do it anyway. that's why he calls himself “despicable”#i think the fact that kyo clearly suspects shigure has something more going on under the surface probably didn't help either #it's a very interesting sort of complex #anyway. them #fruits basket #shigure sohma #kyo sohma #analysis #edited for your convenience #(<-capitalized all the names bc it was driving me up the wall)

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sweetavenuesong · 2 months

Text

know it's for the better

pairing: Loki x fem!reader.

notes: ok, I don't even know if anyone will read this, but if anyone is interested, here are the warnings; first of all, I wrote this just because i don't know, so please don't expect too much from it. it's a really short thing because again I didn't even intend to post it. also english is not my first language. contains angst. hope it's not too out of character. I think that's all thank yooou

"I don't want to feel this," Loki growled softly. "I don't want this feeling that I'm feeling in my heart right now. Yet, I can't seem to run from it like I have everything else."

You had never seen the god of mischief so vulnerable.

Never in his life had he ever admitted these things so openly, so candidly to anyone.

It was the most vulnerable you had seen him, and so you felt strangely honored that he trusted you enough to be this openly vulnerable and honest, despite everything.

"I hate how you make me feel this way. I hate how much you make me feel in general. It's... it's infuriating to me."

"I'm... sorry for infuriating you." You murmured against his shoulder after some moments of silence, not sure what you should say. "These feelings. They're new to me too, you know. We can figure it out together. I'll be on your side, yes?"

He groaned in response. You could practically hear every battle being waged in his subconscious, between his feelings and his heart. He wanted things to be that simple, like in your sweet and innocent mortal mind, but was he even allowed to feel like this for a human? Did he even deserve such affection from you, when he had spent so long manipulating and playing with those around him?

No.

You could practically feel his internal guilt and self-hatred.

You don't deserve this. You never did.

He didn't bring these feelings out in words, however.

"It's overwhelming." he said instead. "Feeling like my heart is going to explode at any moment from so much affection for you... it's humiliating." He rolled his eyes in a ghost of laughter, nuzzling his nose against your neck to tease you. "You're like a damn plague, midgardian."

"And this plague is slowly taking over you." you murmured, trying to play along the little joke to lighten the mood; you chuckled softly, looking up to him at that point. "Your heart will explode soon..."

He had to admit, he would not mind that happening. In fact, he would prefer it. You made him feel so many emotions, so many that he hadn't felt before. Emotions that he wasn't sure if he ever belonged him.

"By the gods, you're an infuriating woman," he muttered, grinning down at you. "I'm a god. Why do I have to fall for a stubborn mortal like a pathetic weakling?" his expression was playfull now, but his thoughts were still clouded.

He just wished he could escape these feelings, but he was too far gone; these feelings had already taken root into his heart, making his feel something he had never felt before.

Fear. Fear as his heart fluttered in his chest and his blood raced.

A fear he couldn't even describe to himself. An uncertainty that this was all going to end when you finally realized who he really was, and what would come would hurt him in a way that he wasn’t sure if he could bear.

Or - much, much - worse, a fear that he would hurt you, just like he did to everyone else who dared to love or trust him in the past. No, this he could never allow to happen; he would never forgive himself. He couldn't.

"Because," you heard him murmur before you could say anything, the edge on his tone suddenly softening. “You're special. Your smile alone can drive a man mad. I just want to kiss your mouth again, pull your hair again, feel you against me. Feel you in my bed once more..."

And then you kissed him. Your lips met his softly, and the way that they parted made you feel so wanted in this moment. His lips parted more and more to allow more space between them. He pulled you closer to him, one hand caressing your cheek and holding your face as the other held your body against his.

At that moment, your heart filled with so much joy that you thought it would burst out of your chest, because you knew he had finally made his decision; It was only when during the kiss he touched your temples with his fingertips and you felt the magic flow through your body that you knew for one last moment before falling into a deep sleep that his insecurities had won. When you woke up the next morning, there would be no trace of the most intense love you had ever felt in your life; With a sad smile, the prince of lies looked at your sleeping body on the bed one last time before leaving your life, never to return.

"Know it's for the better."

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki marvel #loki odinson #loki x you #loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki angst #loki fiction #loki laufeyson x you #loki laufeyson angst #marvel #marvel angst #marvel x reader #marvel x you #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson x y/n #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson fiction

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heliads · 10 months

Text

like a heartbeat, drives you mad

From the moment you first dream of Neverland, you know that it's a home unlike any other. Waking up is terrible every time, but what if you were able to find a way to stay there forever?

masterlist

You are always alone when the thoughts catch up to you. When you’re with other people, it’s different, easier to convince your mind to race to better, safer topics. You don’t have to think about the fears or the worries, you just have to keep up with the conversation or do your best to not seem like the person you’re terrified you truly are. Everything hinges on the one other person there, distracting you from the relentless parade of thoughts, keeping you firmly in reality.

When you’re alone, though, you can’t hide anymore. You wave goodbye to your friends to head inside, and with your hand on the knob, you think, did they really want to see me? And, was that laughter genuine, or were they faking it the whole time? Worse, was it at me?

Things get worse once it gets dark. You lie awake at night thinking that you’ll fail at everything, that no one will want to associate with you after that, that everyone on this earth is going to live and die and no one will ever remember you again. You don’t like thinking along such dark lines, but the self-hatred is strong and won’t let you go. You’ve tried before, shaking it off, but it always comes creeping back when you want it the least.

Life is not the best, but at least the fall of dusk upon the streets and surroundings of your hometown brings you the blessing of finally being able to go to bed. You can push off schoolwork until the next day, chores until forever, just so long as you can shut off your mind and crawl under your covers and everything will go away.

Tonight is one of those nights when you want it most of all. It’s been a long day, followed by a long week, chased by an even longer month. You can only tell yourself that it’ll get better soon for so long before even that familiar lie loses its charm. It’ll be good to rest tonight, though. Maybe tomorrow will make you happier. You close your eyes and try to sleep, all but begging unconsciousness to fall over you and carry you away. Your waking life is horrid enough. In sleep, at least, you will be alone, but–

In your dream, there is a boy. He was not there before. He is, in fact, nobody you have ever seen before. This should not be a problem. Dreams are rarely perfectly photographic, but this boy is, indeed, perfect. He’s absolutely in focus, blurred by none of that dreamlike haze that most figures cling to in your subconscious. It’s like a memory, but it’s never happened. It’s like reality, but you are still definitely asleep.

You stare at him for longer than is perhaps polite, but he does not go away. You can feel this dream in a way that should not be possible– the carpet under your feet, the cool of the air conditioning. You’re in your room, standing by the door. He’s perched on a chair, eyeing you with interest, and as bizarre as this dream is, you cannot shake the absolute certainty that this is his fault.

The only thing to be left, then, is to get some answers. You work up the confidence to speak, and your voice sounds exactly as it should, not distorted by dreams or anything. “Who are you?”

The boy chuckles. “A friend of yours. Hopefully, that is. I’d like to get to know you.”

Having gone a record number of years of your life without any hyperrealistic boys disrupting your dreaming schedule, especially ones who specifically wanted to meet you of all people, this only adds to your confusion. “Why?”

The boy shrugs liberally. “I’ve been encountering fewer and fewer dreamers around. Yours are the most vibrant. I was curious.”

You fight the odd urge to laugh. “A lot of people dream. Maybe you’re just bad at looking.”

This is, of course, the most rational thing you can do, immediately pick a fight with some guy currently terrorizing your brainwaves. Luckily, he doesn’t seem offended by your need to argue, and he just grins. “See, you’re right, but most dreams are nothing more than surface level. Yours are deeper, richer, stronger. In all honesty, that’s the sort of thing that makes me more powerful, so I wanted to see what it was about.”

You scoff. “Sure thing, magic boy, you, like, eat dreams or something. Weird of you, but okay.”

He smiles again. He shouldn’t, but he does. “You don’t believe me? I can show you.”

He stands, holds out a hand to you. You’re certain this guy’s nothing more than a figment of your imagination, but still. You hesitate. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Peter,” he says, “but magic boy works too.”

It makes you laugh. Shouldn’t, but it does. Just enough to shake loose your hesitations– what could happen here, after all, in the confines of your own dreams? You take his hand and something sparks behind his eyes. Pride, maybe. Or justification of some sort. Either way, you get the feeling that he’s just proven himself right.

Peter walks over to your window, throwing it open abruptly and climbing out onto the ledge. “You have to trust me,” he tells you, “or this isn’t going to work very well.”

You want to argue with him that you have absolutely no reason to trust him at all, but for some reason you’re already crawling out the window before you can get the words out. Your body trusts him, even as your mind doubts it. Strange, but nothing about this makes sense, anyway.

Peter straightens up slowly, bringing you with him. “Are you ready?”

“For what?” You ask, concerned.

His eyes dance with mischief. “For this,” he calls out, and he pulls you from the ledge.

There is a terrible moment of falling, when the only sure thing is his hand still wrapped around yours. You are plummeting towards the ground with dreadful speed, but then you’re not, and you’re leveling out again, the two of you pulled through the air as if by some invisible string.

The wind whips through Peter’s hair as the two of you soar through the air. “How is it?” He shouts over to you.

You laugh delightedly. “Fantastic.” It’s almost a pity it isn’t real. The fact that it feels so true but isn’t is almost more heartbreaking as if nothing had felt like reality in the slightest.

Before you know it, you and Peter are well beyond the reaches of your town, or even your country. Dark waters skim by underneath you, the waves of some foreign sea. Thousands of stars twinkle above you, Peter points out a few, shouts, second star to the right and straight on ‘til morning, that’ll get us there. You frown at him, call back, where? And he laughs, delighted in the thought of all that you have soon to experience, and screams, Neverland! at the top of his lungs.

It sounds like a joyous place. It is, from the moment you step foot on its pearlescent beaches, and later still, when you’re striding through the lush forests towards a campsite. It’s all a blur from that moment onwards, a swirl of new faces running towards you and laughing at your jokes, the clash of swords without a trace of fear, promises that you’ll love this even better, or that, or everything.

It is paradise. You do a hundred things and never tire. The Lost Boys who meet you, take you by storm, and obviously enjoy the company of a newcomer. Throughout all of it, Peter watches, tucked into the shadow of a tree trunk, arms folded across his chest with that satisfied smile on his face again. He does not approach until earlier into the morning, once dawn starts bleeding out beneath the blushing fingers of the rising sun.

“We have to go back,” he tells you at last, slipping out from his hideaway to step carefully to your side, “Or, you do, at least.”

The memory that none of this is real comes crashing down upon you, and you can feel the ecstasy of this whole night leaving you in a flash. “Right,” you say, “This is just a dream. Forgot about that.”

The thought that you’ll have to wake up and go to school and exist again as a normal person without any of this wonder that you’d just experienced makes you feel sick and saddened. Peter shakes his head, eyes soft. “You don’t necessarily have to wake up, but you should. You can come back soon, though.”

You laugh bitterly. “Of course I can, dream boy. I’m going to forget all of this by morning.”

He frowns. “Do you want to?”

“No,” you insist, “but I don’t think I have a choice.”

“You do,” Peter tells you, “You always have a choice. Always.”

With that, he takes your hand, and pulls just so. You stumble forward, caught off balance, and when you look up again, you’re in your room. Same four walls, same ceiling, same everything. You know somehow that this is the dream no longer, even without mysterious boys or wonderful islands in front of you.

A dreadful sigh leaves your lungs, carrying only heartbreak and misery. What a pity, to have such a magnificent dream and then have to leave it. Knowing that none of it was real is perhaps one of the worst agonies you have ever encountered in your life.

Or– was it not real after all? There’s something clenched in your hand, and you raise it slowly, uncurling the fingers one by one. What falls neatly onto your lap is a stone, polished to perfection by centuries of tides. It’s like no stone you’ve ever seen around here, shiny in a way that nothing natural is. It’s dark and lovely and– and it’s exactly like the ones on the shores of Neverland when you first touched down. There was no way you could have gotten it anywhere but there. That means that you were there after all, and that it’s real, it’s all real.

You go throughout the day in a haze, barely able to focus long enough to remember where you’re supposed to be going. None of it matters, though, not even the snide comments of your teachers or the questioning looks from your peers. Nothing matters, because the second the day ends and night creeps back around you, you know it’s time.

You have a brief moment of terror just before you fall asleep when you wonder if you can get back after all, that perhaps that was just a one time thing. No, you decide firmly, I want it. I’m going.

And, when you open your eyes to that same slightly uncanny feeling of the dream before, you know it, you can get back. Peter isn’t here this time, but that doesn’t stop you from racing to your window and throwing open the sash. You leap out into the air again blindly, reaching for the stars even before your feet leave the threshold. You won’t get hurt, none of this is real. All of this is real, that’s why you can fly into the air again, caught by an unseen hand. Second star to the right. Straight on until morning. You know the way. You couldn’t forget it if you tried.

The beaches of Neverland are empty, but you charge forward anyway, nearly tripping over tree roots and loose plants as you hurry through the forest. You can just see the lights of the camp, and then, yes, you’re into the clearing, and you’re greeted by shouts of glee and joy. Peter’s waiting for you at last, slowly clapping with the rest of the boys.

“You made it,” he says, evidently proud, “We wanted to see if you could.”

“Of course I can,” you tell him, laughing, “I made that choice.”

“That you did,” Peter says, and the celebrations begin.

It is quite possibly the best time of your entire life. You repeat this process day after day, slogging through your daylight hours with the end goal of being able to fall asleep and go back to Neverland, back to your Lost Boys, back to Peter. Nothing matters but the island. They all get along with you better than any friend you’ve ever made on the mainland.

The journey takes a shorter and shorter time, gone in the blink of an eye, and half the time you just wake up on the shores anyway, so familiar is the destination to you. You learn archery, throw knives, spar with the boys, shriek and shout and spin around the campfire. It’s fantastic, all of it, but that only makes the morning even worse in your opinion.

For, no matter how excellent of a night you had on Neverland, you always have to go back. Always. Peter takes your hand and he gives you that same look, that expression of regret and acceptance, and promises to see you later, to see you soon. Then you’re back in your house, and every time, the storm of homesickness and grief at no longer being on your island pulls you under.

It makes you think, though. On your first night on Neverland, Peter had said something strange about how you didn’t necessarily have to wake up. Perhaps it fits in with what he’s been telling you about how everything is just a choice. Maybe he’s been waiting for you to want that choice, the one to live here forever. It’s one you’d make in a heartbeat if you could only do it.

Curious, though, you start looking around at the other Lost Boys. They had to have gotten here somehow, right? One night you see one of them arrive, ferried over by a strange shadowy thing that looks far more terrifying than the whirlwind flight you’d had with Peter.

You ask one of the Lost Boys about it that night, interested to know why you were brought by Peter and this newcomer wasn’t. Apparently, though, you were the anomaly, not this boy.

“Usually Pan makes his shadow bring newcomers over,” the boy tells you matter-of-factly, “but I guess he wanted to impress you or something.”

You frown. “Why?”

The boy lifts a shoulder, evidently unbothered by the whole affair. “You’re the last of the dreamers, I guess he wants to keep you around or something.”

It’s an unhelpful answer, all things considered, and basically just what Peter had told you in your dream bedroom that first night. Still, the story is consistent, at least, and it makes you even more certain that Peter wants you to stay. You’re one of the dreamers, right? Why wouldn’t he want you to stay here forever, at least to keep his magic strong if not for the obvious friendship the two of you have had since the very first time you met?

You resolve to bring it up to Peter the next night. You’ve barely been on Neverland for an hour or two before you pull Peter aside and tell him what’s been on your mind for the longest time.

The breath out of your lungs is shaky, but you’re determined to get this right. “I want to stay in Neverland,” you tell him. “Forever, I mean. Not waking up. I want you to bring me here in real life. You always say that we have to make choices, and this is mine. I choose Neverland.”

Peter nods slowly, and you’re almost getting up your hopes that he’ll be accepting when he starts to speak. “That certainly would be an important choice. I would have to choose to bring you, though.”

You incline your head once. “Yeah, that’s why I’m asking you now. I mean, we’re friends, right? You and me, and the rest of the Lost Boys get along with me, too. I belong here, you know that. You brought me here in the first place, at least let me stay.”

He’s not saying anything. Why isn’t he saying anything? After too many minutes, Peter sighs, raking a hand through his hair. “Dreaming is one thing. Actually living here is something else entirely.”

“I know,” you say, starting to get impatient, “I’ve thought about this a lot, trust me, but I feel more alive on your island than I have in the real world. This is my home, Peter. You made it my home.”

Peter stares at you, the ground, his hands, and back to you. “No,” he says at last.

It feels as if you have fallen off of a tall cliff, condemned to tumble down forever in endless emptiness. “What? Why wouldn’t you– you’ve let me come here every night for months, but actually being on this island for good is too much for you? Peter, was any of this actually real to you? Was I just here as a temporary thing while you tried to harness the power of a dreamer or something?”

Peter shakes his head quickly. “No, no. It wasn’t about that. You’re as good as one of my Lost Boys–”

You cut him off, feeling the horror build in your chest with every passing second. “But never actually one of them, right? I can hang around during my nights but I will never be one of them, because you don’t really want me here. If you did, you would have brought me like all the others.”

You want to scream and cry, perhaps both. You’ve trusted him and, hell, even loved him, more than anyone else. Peter was the one thing in between you and complete melancholy. He’s turned your whole life around, given you reason after reason to keep going, but he does not want you around for good. Maybe he doesn’t even want you around at all.

He’s trying to say something, come up with some excuse that’ll somehow exempt him from your heartbreak, but anger is quickly outweighing sadness in your mind and you won’t let him. “No,” you say shakily, “If you never intended to keep me, I won’t waste our time. Why have me here at all?”

Peter’s eyes widen. “Wait, please–”

You never hear the end of his sentence. You’ve woken yourself up from this glorious dream enough to be able to do it all by yourself, and you do it now. When you open your eyes, it’s still dark outside, several hours from morning, but it’s over now, it’s all over.

You know that with certainty. You’ll never be going back. If Peter does not want you, and it is suddenly crystal clear that he does not, or he would have already taken you to Neverland and never fought it, then you will not trouble him with your presence any longer. This is what he wants, even if it destroys you.

It’s funny, realizing how much being on Neverland transformed your life. Your waking hours suddenly seem longer, the days filled with more dread and dullness than they ever had before. You had been miserable before you dreamed of Peter and the Lost Boys, and now that misery is back in full force. You compel yourself to forget him, to forget everything that had happened on that island, but picking up the pieces is a far harder task than you had ever anticipated.

Days pass. Weeks. Months. At first, you have to force yourself to wake up from that dream again and again, catching yourself with the image of second stars to the right even as you promised yourself that you would never think of it again, but it gets easier as time goes by. That hurts more than it should, but you have no other choice. Peter does not put himself in your dreams again. You do not show up to Neverland. Everything is exactly as it was before, but worse, because now you have those memories of a time that was far better than this one.

You’re walking home from school one day when you’re reminded of Neverland again. It’s a strong memory, forcing itself to the front of your mind. Green trees, the leaves waving overhead. The breeze whipping at your face. You can’t imagine why you’d be thinking of it again, and then you turn a corner and he’s there in front of you.

Peter.

It’s impossible. You’re not dreaming, so he shouldn’t be here unless– unless he actually came here. You stand stock-still, hardly daring to breathe, and Peter looks back at you, just as shaken even though he’s the one who came all this way.

“I miss you,” he says slowly, unsteadily. You’ve never seen Peter hesitant, or ever show any sign of a lapse in his typical cocky confidence. Not until now, that is. Truly, he has no idea how you will treat him now that you’ve already left once before and gotten away with it.

“I know,” you tell him, “I know.”

Peter tilts his head to the side, trying to get a read on you. “Did you miss me?”

You take a step to the side, looking at the nearby scenery, anything but him. “Yes. Parts of it. I missed running with the Lost Boys under the trees. I missed the bonfires and the dancing. And yes, I think I missed you. But I hated feeling like you didn’t want me there, and for a while, that was enough to make me think I didn’t miss you.”

Peter’s eyes are wide, twin emeralds twinkling in the quiet air. “And what about now that I’m here? Can you miss me now?”

“I can,” you decide at last. You do. You have, and seeing him again has ripped open a fresh wound you swore had already healed. Blood is oozing around your fingers, but for some reason being with him still takes away the pain of such a grievous blow.

Peter holds out a hand to you. He’s trembling slightly, far less sure of himself than he’d been in a dream of your bedroom many months ago. Still. He wants you even now.

“Come back with me,” he says, “Back to Neverland. We all need you. I need you. You don’t have to leave if you don’t want to. It was always your home, I didn’t realize it before. It could be your home again.”

You look at him. It’s been a long time. You’ve grown up in the time since you last stepped foot on the island, but strangely enough, you think he has too. That’s why you’re able to take his hand at last, and trust that he will not let you down again. He needs you, just like he said. As it turns out, you need him too.

Peter’s smile is radiant. “Shall we go back, then?”

You allow yourself to smile back at last. “I think we will.”

ouat tag list: @lovesanimals0000, @eclliipsed, @w1shes43, @lost-ender

#peter pan #peter pan imagines #peter pan x reader #peter pan oneshot #ouat #ouat imagines #ouat x reader #ouat oneshot #once upon a time #once upon a time imagines #once upon a time x reader #once upon a time oneshot #ouat peter pan #ouat peter pan imagines #ouat peter pan x reader #ouat peter pan oneshot

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non-stop-imagines · 3 months

Note

MEE RELEASE THE ARCHIVES BABE

Thank you for this. It kick started my creativity. I have soooo many WIPs that I'm excited to show you guys and my ideas need somewhere to land, so why not here.

I'm also gonna link this to my Masterlist so I can link the finished products to both and people are able to choose how they decide which fic to read.

(A bunch of barely coherent brainstorming under the cut 😚 And this apparently will be changing and updated whenever I think of it so keep checking back 💖)

Works in progress/ideas by driver:

Lewis Hamilton

- Something with the vibe of Angel of Mine by Monica because that song reminds me of him every time it comes on and I desperately want to try writing for Lewis again

Another song one. Ours by Taylor Swift. You both are very busy but very in love and will always make time for each other. No matter what.

Max Verstappen

Raincheck sneak peek here (Intense hatred between Max and the reader can only last so long.)

Big brother Max trying to help his sister out but is block by his father at EVERY TURN. (Tyla faceclaim and the request alone has me obsessed with her now. I absolutely love her.

Different things to add to Repeat That Au; Big sister, best friend and a lot of pregnancy talk (including something that links in the On Display Au courtesy of my ♥️ anon)

Lando Norris

Lando flirting with his PR manager who is a few years older.

Two words: Uncle. Lando.

Something to the song Making Whoopee by Frank Sinatra bc Lando seems like the type of guy to do anything for the girl he wants to fu k really badly. Wedding. Home. Baby. Whole nine yards. Big simp energy. The best type of energy

More from the Valentine Au because it's cute and I love it

Lance Stroll

Fake dating. We love when besties fake date and fall in love 😙

Oscar Piastri

Oscar loves his wife. Talks about her all the time. But no one knows they're married??? A little sneaky peek (that is barely put together):

"Your girlfriend is into astrology. I made the mistake of telling her my birthday." Lando spoke, twirling his flags, not seeing the extremely confused look Oscar was giving him.

"Girlfriend?" Lando looked up at his teammate and given him an equally confused face, believing his comment was quite clear.

"Uh, yeah? Yn?" Lando was so matter of fact, and yet had no idea how wrong he was.

"Yn's my wife. We're married."

"BUT YOU'RE BABIES!?"

"YOU'RE TWO YEARS OLDER THAN US!

More for Girl Almighty bc we have to see how the reader and Oscar do driving against each other

Charles Leclerc

Cocoa Butter Kisses-Charles is mesmerizing by your everything shower routine and how good you smell when you're done

Rockstar-undercover soft girl-reader; another smutty one; just gotta figure out the direction I was to take it

Wedding Night-Self explanatory;smut and aftercare (almost done with the smut, just gotta do the aftercare)

More stuff from My Biggest Fan Au bc who doesn't love Charles and Gianna 🥹

Something to I Wish by 1D with Pierre. You and Charles are literally the perfect couple. The entire way through. (See the ideas for Pierre for his part in the plot)

Logan Sargeant

Thanksgiving with the Fam and our very own Mr. America gets to experience a black Thanksgiving (yes I did get that suggestion right after Thanksgiving. Let's not talk about that 😔)

Something with the vibe of Wouldn't it be Nice by The Beach Boys bc apparently I think Logan is the purest little boy on the grid and just wants to live a happy life with his girlfriend

Carlos Sainz

More for Mírame Au (stay tuned bc there will come a time where I open request for suggestions for this 😚)

Esteban Ocon

Man's will be pining for Lewis' personal assistant and it will become a viral F1 moment.

Daniel Ricciardo

Reader can't stand sisters new boyfriend, and Daniel can't stand the fact that his girlfriends identical twin sister hates him, but feelings change, just not for the better

Handled: The Backstory (How reader and Daniel meet and fall for each other 😚) yes it will be smutty

Something based off the song "Would You Go with Me" because it is very Daniel and I don't know how to explain it

What do you think the opposite of On Display would be? (Hint: jealous Danny 😚)

More for On Display, but I might make her an OC to make another fic suggestion (look under Max ideas) a bit easier to write.

Fernando Alonso

Fernando and reader are literally each other's muse, he talk about her all the time and he inspires and entire album (and makes his music video debut)

Fernando gets some plants to impress reader; now he the plant dad to her plant mom and it's an inside jokes between family and friends

Fernandos favorite pass time is picking the readers hair color

Sebastian Vettel

Sebastian only wants one thing: For everyone to know how much he loves his ballerina girlfriend. Another little sneak peek (that, again, is just barely put together):

"Yes. You are in the presence...of the first...black Sugar Plum Fairy for the New York City Ballet." Your cheeks were sore from smiling, but nothing could dull your shine right now. Your friends that were hovering around you finally crowd around and give you tight loving squeezes, greeting Sebastian on your phone and bragging on your accomplishment.

"Sebastian! How does it feel to be dating the best principal dancer in the history of the New York City Ballet?" Your friend, Julia, hooks her arms over your shoulders and presses her mouth to your temple.

"I'm just glad I get to be her boyfriend. That's my title now. Sebastian Vettel, boyfriend Yn, New York City Ballett Principal Dancer and first black NYCB Sugar Plum Fairy.

Pierre Gasly

Introducing new OC!Eve (Chloe Bailey faceclaim);my way of introducing the readers sister into the Repeat That Au; we get to start off with a small backstory

I Wish-1D; Pierre's got it BAD. Go listen to the song. His POV is the song. It's heartbreaking and I love it so much. Probably one of the first fics that doesn't have a happy ending.

Maxiel

Trying get someone to buy you and Daniel a drink goes wrong

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autisticandroids · 3 months

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broad strokes of my interpretation of 5x04 the end/the overall guidelines i pay attention to when writing endverse fic

it's about sam. in both a positive and a negative sense, all of endverse is built on sam's absence. on the one hand, there is a freedom and joy for dean that comes from being rid of sam. sam and dean don't really... like each other anymore from s4 onwards, and their unbreakable bond becomes more like a curse to both of them. in a way breaking it is a mercy, see: free to be you and me dean sections. sam's absence allows dean to form meaningful relationships in a way he's basically incapable of with sam around. and to dean sam is a ball and chain, he is first and foremost a duty, not a brother or friend. watch out for sammy. without that millstone around his neck dean is free to be his own person in a way he has literally never been in his whole life. on the other hand, there's the horror of it. sam says yes, and that breaks dean. while dean was running around having a grand old time exercising newfound freedom, he was shirking his duty. his personal world was ending, and he didn't even know it. in the end, dean will never escape sam or have an identity outside of him, and with sam gone - not just separate but gone - he is fully and irrevocably broken.

endverse dean and endverse cas are so divorced, but in order to be that divorced you have to have been married first. to circle back to free to be you and me, do you see how happy dean is in that episode? do you see how sweet dean and cas are on each other? that's the starting point for endverse. that's the point of timeline divergence. whether their relationship experienced a gradual souring or a sharp decline when sam dies is unclear, but we know that it wasn't always this way. this is something that changed.

endverse cas probably isn't as pathetic as you think he is. this is a three-pronged point. 3a. when i say pathetic i don't mean miserable i mean pathetic. endverse cas is extremely miserable every day all the time bc of having to live through an apocalypse and being cutoff from heaven. however. compared to canon cas at the same time he is way less pathetic. he's a lot more self-possessed, and feels entitled enough to a good life that the fact that he's miserable makes him bitter. he may be unhappy but he does not have the kind of self-hatred/low self-esteem that canon cas has because that stuff develops later for particular reasons. 3b. dean is not like. the only thing in his life/the only reason he's miserable and he's probably not even the most important. he's literally living through the apocalypse for chrissakes. and also he's cut off from heaven, which he in the text cites as a major source of his misery. i tend to choose to interpret that as like. missing the hivemind of heaven (or even missing his angelic siblings who he cares deeply about) in order to get it to gel more with my interpretations of canon cas. but even just taking at face value that cas feels powerless and debased because of his fall that's still crunchy and like. not about dean really. like yeah the guy he fell for is no longer capable of loving him but also there's bigger problems here. 3c. drug use. obviously endverse cas uses various substances but if we look at the actual text there are three references to drug use across two exchanges. number one is "are you stoned?" "generally, yeah" ok like we are all grownups here and can admit smoking weed is fine right? right? obviously being stoned all the time is a sign that things aren't going super great in your life but that's generally a symptom of something worse. and then "[takes pill bottle] amphetamines?" "it's the perfect antidote to that absinthe" there are two references to drug use here. one is the fact that cas is taking adhd medication. that's addictive and he could be addicted to it, but also it's not exactly unusual for soldiers to take amphetamines before a battle, nor is it unusual for people who have to drive all night to take them to help them stay awake. also, the way cas talks about it, the vibe seems to be that this is one of many substances that cas occasionally partakes in. the other reference here is to the absinthe and that actually is a cut and dried reference to drug abuse. drinking heavily before driving all night and then going into battle is super irresponsible and likely indicative of a problem. and then the other body of evidence we have is that dean seems to consider cas to be absolutely competent and reliable, so if cas is addicted to something, it's definitely what you'd call a functional addiction, something that doesn't interfere with his life too much. so, broad strokes: if endverse cas is gonna be an addict he is actually probably most likely a functional alcoholic. which is also pretty fun because then you can really play in the space of He Learned It From Dean. 3d. endverse cas is textually kind of a sleazebag.

endverse dean is a shithead but not the way most people think. the notable thing about endverse dean is that he doesn't care enough about other people - endverse cas included but not unique. he's a bastard but his bastardry is lack of care, not intentional cruelty. this is, imo, if i may circle back to the first point, a result of sam's death - after that, dean became singleminded, only really interested in killing lucifer. willing to send cas and others he cares about into a meat grinder to chase his white-suited whale. but he's not mean. just cold. there is the festering corpse of a love relation between dean and cas, but it's not a situation where dean is mean to cas in the way like, season fifteen dean is mean to cas. he's not controlling, not using cas as a punching bag or chewtoy. maybe there's some mutual sniping but mostly dean just doesn't care. as a point of interest, one way in which endverse dean is cruel is he appears to be a habitual cheater. just watch cas' reaction when risa accuses dean of cheating on her. that's the face of a man who has been in her position and knows she is a fool to expect better. but again that's kind of more about not caring about the impact of his actions.

#spn

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htmliu · 11 months

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◜𖤐 ִֶָ 𓂃 tropes that i associate haechan with !

genre. fluff (?) wc. <700

frenemies to lovers

everything about hyuck is so very “oh i don’t understand or know how to deal with my feelings, so i’m just going to annoy the crap out of you.”

a LOT of bantering. stolen glances. it’s the pushing and pulling he gets the thrill out of. he can make fun of you, but if anybody else does it, they better know how to fight bc !?!?!? OH HE’S AB TO SQUARE UP.

stupid stupid oblivious mutual feelings (idiots to lovers)

this one is like a follow up of the previous one. almost joint, actually. it’s like when you both are with other people, everything is fine. you guys are left alone for ONE SECOND. and Boom. TENSION.

BROTHER’S BEST FRIEND

NEED I SAY MORE ???? honestly speaking, this trope is RIGHT behind enemies to lovers when it comes to the most hyuck-coded fanfic tropes to ever exist. it’s THERE.

you basically grew up with him. he’d been friends with your brother for as long as you’ve known. every summer vacation, your house was his paradise. but his presence — to you — was HELL.

now from here, we either go with you have had a crush on him for the longest time, he drives you crazy, and everything along those lines.

you think you hate him to the bone (and he relishes in your so called hatred bc, again, PUSH AND PULL). but in reality, you really just don’t know how to deal with your feelings. there is a pattern with me as you can tell.

SECRET RELATIONSHIP

this is me pulling out the big guns now.

“if only the others could see you right now, literally melting in my touch.” followed by MESSY making out. disheveled hair. Hands Everywhere but where they should be. just him trying to make up for all the times his lips could’ve been on yours but he could’t just kiss you anywhere and everywhere bc of the whole “secret dating” part.

but then again. the adrenaline rush that he gets bc of this entire ordeal? he’s ABSOLUTELY there for it.

friends with benefits to ?? to lovers

this trope is always a MESS — to say the least. but ukw, that’s why i like it. why i associate hyuck with this trope is very self explanatory.

one drunken night accidentally led to a hook up session. it’s definitely not something you both hadn’t fantasized about before either. although, you always shook it off bc you knew you couldn’t be jeopardising your friendship.

but would it be wrong. if you guys were do it do it again. and again. and again. until none of those times were an “accident” anymore. and before either of you knew it, you were caught up in a web of your own mistakes. feelings were everywhere. along with the fear of losing whatever was left of your friendship. fear of messing everything up.

but for some reason, haechan still wanted more. bc everything just felt right when your lips were on his, his hands on your hips.

oh, you had him at your fingertips.

fake dating

see. the thing with me is. i love the push and pull as much as haechan does. perhaps even more than him. EVERYTHING ab this is just so HIM uk?

with the silly little contract that goes like — no kissing when not in front of people, no skinship, stay 5ft away when not in front of people, and ofc DO NOT FALL IN LOVE. and then just that happens. it’s so cliché. but that’s what i’m here for.

the way haechan will test your patience to the fullest. break every rule on that contract until you break the last rule yourself. after all, rules are made to be broken.

BUT THE BUILD UP TOO LIKE. when haechan doesn’t realise that he isn’t just doing stuff for you bc he’s your pretend boyfriend, but bc he actually cares for you. and there you both were, obliviously falling into an abyss of love.

“i think i could get arrested for breach of contract. bc i might or might not have broken the last rule.”

“well looks like we’re both getting arrested then.”

SUMMER AU

personally, it’s either a summer + road trip + e2l. there is this one specific scenario stuck in my head.

while everybody is out and about with their significant others, exploring the beaches and what not. you’re stuck with haechan, the last person you’d want to spend your summer with. but alas, god had it his way, and two single pringles had to mingle (#userhtmliufunnyera)

so somehow he convinced you to go out (re: lured you with a free ice cream treat). you are ab to hop onto a bike. you say something about him making you fall off the bike bc of his incompetence. and haechan, without missing a beat, “falling off the bike is the least of your concerns. although, falling for this guy — points to himself — is something i should warn you about in advance.”

summer + childhood friends to acquaintances to lovers. i have a very cruel summer by taylor swift x summer!au x hyuck vision and it’s driving me INSANE. it’s angsty, but it’s fluffy, it’s mutual pining, and it’s everything i want and more.

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popcaki · 1 year

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Simon ‘’Ghost’’ Riley Headcanons

SUMMARY - Some of my headcanons for Ghost, MW2 was good I liked it.

He 100% has a thing for knives like the edgelord he is. Probably owns a massive knife collection, different kinds.

Like I said he’s an edgelord.

Bad driver, I mean did you see how he hit the car that was easily avoidable? He avoids driving at all costs, too afraid to admit about his terrible driving skills.

100% has big self hatred but also a big ego at the same time.

Wears pink socks.

Good luck seeing him eat or sleep, he will disappear until it’s time for a mission. He probably travels to space for all we know to eat his packed lunch.

Owns Hello Kitty lunch boxes.

Has tried a lot of different kind of drugs at least once, probably smokes a blunt before missions. His red eyes are both due to sleep deprivation and him being high.

Owns so many different masks and even changes it mid mission, they all have different proportions, meaning it’s not the same (totally not just a normal ingame inconsistency)

He both loves and hates attention, but if he 100% hated attention he wouldn’t be wearing a damn skull mask in the first place. He’s very extra, he likes the attention, drama queen.

He has a lot of dark jokes, but those can be just that jokes, he does them just for shock value. That doesn’t mean there isn’t any truth to them, he at least has a little bit of a twisted mind... start running NOW

He hates kids, not only because he doesn’t know how to handle them but he just genuinely doesn’t like them. Devious creatures.

Listens to ‘‘Wake me up inside’‘ type of music

Most likely likes to read stuff, requires no talking and no engaging with humans.

When he pulled off his mask, he in reality wore another mask execpt it’s shaped like a normal face.

Ok enough with the goofy ones that are kinda shitposts. Here are some genuine ones, specifcally since a lot of people seem to have the hots for him, and like him in such way. These are about any form of relationship and things like that, and how he works from my POV.

Simon when it comes to relationships and such.

I personally see him on the asexual spectrum, could be demisexual. He has no interest in sex really. Gender does not matter to him!

It would take years of building up a friendship with him, I mean that, to even be considered to be in a relationship with him.

Even then I doubt he’d wanna get into a relationship at all, considering his work, trauma, trust issues, and general fear of loosing people.

If it were to happen, his love language is more in the form of a mutual respect. He’s not very touchy. Words of affirmation is something he would do.

Don’t touch him, even his shoulder, even if it’s with good intent. It would 100% activate a form of fight or flight response. Considering any form of ‘touch’ he has had has been from abuse or in combat.

Even if it’s someone he trusts and cares for to some extent, any form of touch would make him extremely uncomfortable, he would go stiff. I can see him having sensory issues.

I can see him never wanting to speak about his past, even to trusted people.

A relationship with him would be more friends based honestly. A queerplatonic one.

You would need to give him time with things, anything really when it comes to these things.

He would never in a million years commit the s3xy s3x during a mission or out in combat. You’re in enemy territory, being off guard is a death sentence, and he has a purely tactical mind during these times. It’s his job after all. (This isn’t against any smut fics btw! Just how I personally see him)

He can be very avoidant, distant, act all serious and edgy. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about people, he also jokes with them for example even if dark humor. Ghost joking and having conversations with Soap during the Alone mission has a real practical reason, but it’s clear as day it’s some friendship bonding time during war crimes being unfolded.

Ok if you made it here, so these are half jokes and some what I genuinely believe, again this is just how I see his character, and any other interpretation is 100% okay and valid! we all have different views and ideas. That’s what makes headcanons really fun! I really like the character and have some drawings planned.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #soap mactavish #call of duty #modern warefare 2 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley headcanons #simon riley headcanons #call of duty headcanons #MW2

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kookieminsuga · 4 months

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The Wolf and his Coyote - Part 4

Part 4! Things are starting to look up!

Summary; Jungkook is the leader of the biggest biker gang in Korea. He is never interested in people unless they can benefit him in some way. That is until he runs into a girl who is the only person who appears to not be afraid of him. New to Korea, Amalia is an artist who spends most of her days working on her comics at her friend Minhyuks diner who also happens to be Jungkooks favourite hang out spot. What will happen when Jungkooks, a man who's heart seems to be frozen in ice, interest is peeked for the first time since he can remember?

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

Pairing: Gang leader jk x Tsundere, artist Amalia

Rating: 18+ do not interact if you are a minor!

Word count: 2.3k

Genre: Biker gang bts, action, romance, there will be smut down the line, angst, violence, humour.

Warnings: potential triggers, signs of trauma, Jungkook is SMITTEN, mentions of past, motorcycle ride, voice raising, arguing.

Amalias pov:

The roaring sound of engines cut through my thoughts, effectively snapping me out of my hyper fixated state. I look out the window to my right and notice 6 guys on motorcycles pull up. As they take off their helmets one by one, I notice it’s the guys from yesterday. Jungkooks gang. I guess this is the end of my peaceful day.

Well, it had been very peaceful apart from the moment he decided to come talk to me. I still don’t know what he wants with me. I wish he would just stay away. At least he’s not too pushy. Like him.

I shake my head, not letting those thoughts creep up on me. You’re safe Amalia. It’s all in the past now.

The doors to the diner fly open as one by one those guys start piling in. Starting with one handsome man, black, long hair, cat like eyes, resting bitch face. He looks around the restaurant for his “owner” I assume. His eyes land on me as I look at him and he snickers before walking towards the other side of the restaurant as he spots Jungkook.

What was that? Anyways, it’s time for me to go. I start packing my tablet and research materials back into my bag. I finish my cup of tea that Min had brought me earlier and get up to let him know I’m leaving.

The restaurant is pretty busy for dinner time so I just manage a wave as I step out and head towards my bus stop. The bus arrives not too long after that and I start my commute home.

The route is pretty long. I start with one bus, then a train and another bus. It’s better than sitting at home by myself all day tho, so it’s worth it. I read a book with my headphones on as per usual. About 20 minutes later, I arrive at the train station. As I wait for my train, I hear an announcement being made so I move my headphones to the side to listen.

“Train towards blue lines are all cancelled for the day due to technical issues, sorry for the inconvenience.”

Oh, well hell. I start to think of other ways to get home. A taxi would cost way too much from here for my broke butt. It’s too far to walk as well. I wonder if there’s other buses that lead close enough.

I start to walk towards the street, where all the buses are and scan the signs to see where they went. Ah, there is a bus that leads close to the other bus I have to take, however it only comes every hour. I look at the time and, of course, the last one left 6 minutes ago. I guess I’ll be waiting here for a while.

I sit at the stop by the street and take my book out again, getting ready for this long hour.

Jungkooks pov:

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” I wave at my group before heading off on my bike.

The breeze hits my body as I zigzag through the streets of Seoul. As I drive, there only one thing going through my mind. “She hates your type”. My type. What is my type? According to Minhyuk I have become self absorbed. It shows that he doesn’t know me like he used to. Although the boy he knew is now dead and gone, I still don’t really know the man I have become. All I know is the hatred I feel towards him.

I shake my head, attempting to shake off these negative thoughts and feelings, heading towards my usual patrol.

As I pass by the train station, I notice something that makes me instantly turn my bike around. Is that..?

I make my way back to the bus stop where a girl is resting her head on the side of the bus stop, sat on the bench with a book in her lap. As I approach her, I notice that it is indeed her. The girl from the diner. Minhyuks friend.

I park my bike in front of the stop, there being barely any cars that pass at this time, and walk up to her sleeping form. I look at her for a minute and she doesn’t even flinch. I kneel down in front of her and look over her features. Long lashes, small but plump lips and a beauty mark right below her left eye.

She really is nothing special.

Then, her eyes suddenly shoot open, dropping the book in her hand and letting out a scream.

“Hey hey, it’s just me.” I say, still on one knee before her.

I take my helmet off so she can see me more clearly.

She looks down at me and then at her surroundings as if analyzing the situation.

“Wha- what time is it? Why is it dark? Why are you here?” She says as she pulls out her phone and checks the time.

“Oh no! I missed the last bus!” She gets up frantically looking around.

I take my time standing and take a guess as to what had happened.

“Well considering you left the diner quite a while ago, I’m guessing you fell asleep here waiting for your bus until now, did you not? As for why I’m here, I was just driving by when I noticed you and just had to come say hello.” I say with a smile.

“Way to state the obvious.” She says as she rolls her eyes and sits back down.

She appears to be thinking, and as she said she missed her last bus, I guess she doesn’t have a way home.

I roll my eyes right back at her before heading to my bike. I feel her eyes on the back of my head. I lift the seat, pull out my spare helmet and turn back to give it to her.

“Here, I’ll take you home.” I say.

“Why would I trust a stranger with my address?” She says crossing her arms and legs and looking down.

“Oh so you don’t trust me with your address but you trust everyone else enough to fall asleep at a public bus stop?” I say, raising my voice.

I could see her visibly flinch as I did.

“Who are you to tell me what I can and can’t do? You don’t even know me!” She says, visibly upset.

I sigh and take a deep breath. Arguing with her will get us nowhere.

“Look, I’m sorry I raised my voice. I know you’re new to town, but this area is very unsafe. Especially for woman. So when I saw you sleeping here without a care in the world for your safety I..” I cut myself off.

“You what?” She asks, turning to look at me in the eyes for the first time.

“I know you probably won’t believe me considering what Minhyuk has probably said about me, but I’m not a bad guy. I care about him a lot and you’re his friend. So no harm will come to you around me, ok?” I say truthfully, avoiding what I was going to say before.

She continues to sit there and stares at me. I see the gears shifting behind her scared eyes that she tried to pass off as anger.

“Fine then, you can stay here.” I say as I turn to place the helmet back in my bike.

Then I feel a tug at my back. It takes me a moment, but I turn to see her looking at the floor with her hand grasping the hem of my leather jacket.

“I’m sorry. I just.. I..” She stuttered. I could tell she was trying to say something very difficult for her.

“Its ok, you don’t have to tell me.” I said gently.

She nods and I turn to hand her the helmet. She takes it and puts it on like she already knows how.

“Have you ever been on a bike before?” I ask.

“I have. I can drive one too.” She says matter of factly.

My eyes grow wide as I stare at her in shock.

“What? Is it that shocking? Is it because I’m a woman?” She says crossing her arms and staring me down.

“No, I just… I didn’t expect it.” I say while sheepishly rubbing the back of my neck. I quickly put on my helmet. Why does my face feel warm?

I get on my bike and look towards her. She still seems unsure, looking down and fidgeting with her hands.

“Common, I don’t bite.” I say, reaching my hand out towards her.

She looks at my hand for a few seconds before reaching out and taking it in hers.

My heart skips when our skin touches. What was that? Get a hold of yourself Jungkook.

She then comes closer and throws her leg over, taking a seat behind me. I feel her trying to push back and turn my head to see her grab a hold of the bars on the back.

I sigh in frustration.

“Just hold onto me please? It’s much safer that way.” I say revving my engine.

“Are you sure?” She says shyly.

This girl goes from shy to attitude to shy in an instant huh?

I smile, “Yes I’m sure.” I reach back and wrap her hands around my waist.

With her front pressed against my back, I head off in the direction of her home.

As we drive through the streets, I feel her looking around as if my hometown is all new to her. I hear her little gasps as we come into view of beautiful sceneries. I could feel her loosen and tighten her grip on me as we turn and speed up and slow down. It’s funny, I usually don’t like people riding behind me but I don’t mind it with her. She’s not purposely trying to grab a feel as she holds onto me, like the other girls I’ve taken for rides passing it off as just holding on for safety, no she’s different. She keeps her hands tied together across my stomach and doesn’t move them an inch.

We approach her street and I come to a full stop. Strangely, I feel slightly upset at having arrived already. She gets off first and then I do the same, kicking the stand up to park. I turn to see she has already taken off her helmet and has the widest smile on her face.

Woah. What a beautiful smile..

What was I just thinking? Snap out of it! Luckily, my helmet was still on.

Her hair blows in the breeze as she looks at me.

“Thank you for the ride home. It’s been a while since I’ve been on a motorcycle, I forgot how great it feels. Oh and I’m sorry I was so rude.” She says while fiddling with her fingers.

I take my helmet off and give her a smile.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s good that you don’t easily trust people. That intuition will keep you safe around these parts.” I say genuinely.

All of a sudden her eyebrows furrow as if she just thought of something.

“Wait.. I never gave you my address. How did you know where I live?” She says while taking a step back.

Oh right. She still doesn’t know I was there that night.

“Yeah about that, I mean, I didn’t want to just say I know where you live. Probably would have sounded creepy at the time.”

“Well it’s sure creepy now, so can you answer my question?” She says with her hands on her hips.

I guess the attitude is back.

I laugh at her ever changing personality, which for some reason, I find adorable.

“The truth is, these are the streets I usually patrol at this time a night. I don’t know what Minhyuk has told you, but my gang is not like the usual gang. We like to watch over our city and keep the innocents safe.” She just stands there looking at me as if urging me to continue. So I do.

“One night, I was patrolling as I usually do, when I crossed by this alley and saw a man following a girl. I was about to step in when suddenly, this girl turned and smacked the guy in the balls with her bag.” I laugh at that last part, still finding it funny.

I see her eyes light up in recognition.

“Oh! You were there that night? I did find it odd that he didn’t try to follow me.” She pondered with her hand on her chin.

“Yeah, don’t worry, he won’t be following you again.” I smirk.

She stares me down.

“What?” I ask.

“You didn’t kill him, did you?” She says.

I look at her, my eyes then turning serious.

“I don’t kill people. Not unless I have to. It’s not my place to take lives.” I say stuffing my hands in my pockets.

Although the question stings, I do understand why she would ask. I am the head of a gang after all. It’s true that I don’t like to kill people, but it would be a lie to say I never have.

“Ok well, thanks again for the ride.’ She pauses,’ and for protecting me that night I guess.” She says, looking up at me.

She hands over the helmet.

“You’re welcome.” I look down at her smiling softly.

“Have a good night.” She simply says as she starts walking down the alley towards her home.

“Hey!” I say before she reaches her door.

She turns and looks at me with a questioning raised eyebrow.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

She looks at me for a moment before answering.

“It’s Amalia, but you can call me Lia. Consider that an honour.” With that, she turns and heads inside.

I can't help but laugh at her last comment.

Amalia.. that’s a different name. I like the sound of it.

I start walking down the street, beginning my patrol. Unable to wipe this stupid smile off my face.

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