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fumifooms · 5 months

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Chilchuck’s wife and family - Facts, theories and headcanons

I want to keep this as a sort of masterpost on Chil’s family situation if I can, but if we get a lot of information on it (in the additional content that Kui is gonna make) that renders this more or less useless I probably won’t update this anymore. If you find other crumbs of information or I've said anything factually incorrect please do tell me! I'm planning to edit this as we go since I want to compile most if not all of the information and pages we get about this topic on here, and if I just wait to post it perfection paralysis will nip this in the bud. It focuses a lot on Chilchuck and Chilchuck's wife relationships, but the daughters and Chilchuck's own parents and siblings are talked about as well.

CW/disclaimer: This post talks about messy family dynamics and such, there’s no outright abuse I’m implying anywhere, but alcoholism and neglect are mentioned and discussed. I’m not here to demonize anyone! I love every character involved and I just want to theorize about the topic as a layered issue that involves complex characters. Also, I try to use very transparent language as to when I’m citing or analyzing canon information and when I’m giving a personal interpretation or headcanoning.

Abbreviated table of content:

Timeline and circumstances

Possible strains on the marriage

The hair question. Confirmation on what his wife looks like?

Other family dynamic & post-canon theories & headcanons

Parenting style + misc in a reblog addition (new)

Let’s start with the facts, shall we?

Timeline and circumstances

So, we see that Chilchuck and his wife are childhood friends, and they married at 13 years old and had two children in that same year. Since half-foots reach the age of maturity at 14, they seem to be what we'd call teen parents. It's a bit debatable though, since Laios says the age of maturity for tallmen (humans) is 16 instead of 18 or even 21, so what's considered to be the age of maturity is a cultural thing and isn't fully reliable when we want to compare to our irl understanding and what developmental stage it perfectly aligns with. Also, during the succubus chapter Chichuck says that his daughters were all now of age to be independent, and Chilchuck's wife leaves to live with Flertom, which would mean that Puckpatti was independent at age 10 and lived away from home as well (since she's the third/last daughter). Ah yes another interesting thing to note is that we don’t know the pregnancy periods for the races, since Meijack and Flertom were born the same year. It could be tight timing or it could be something else, but I don’t think they’re twins, they keep talking about them being the oldest and the middle child, them being twins is definitely the sort of thing that would get mentioned.

Him starting working on the island notably happens just one year before his wife leaves him. I don't remember the other instances of him mentioning it though I feel like it happened, but since he started working at the Island's dungeon, working as a dungeon diver and then forming the half-foot guild, that probably means he started being away for longer periods of time and having a less reliable schedule on when he'd be coming back home. It is said that he went back home somewhat regularly iirc, though he usually ends up sleeping at the half-foot guild quarters. I'm not sure if Kahka Brud is also where he lived with his family, or just since he rented someplace new after she left him. He and his timeline state that he was born in a small village "northeast of the island", which he left at 14 one year after being married, but it isn’t stated where they go after so it’s unsure how far his home was from the island if it wasn’t in Kahka Brud. We don’t know when his father died so if that factors in to him leaving his village we have no clue.

Chil also says that he hasn’t seen or spoken with his wife nor daughters since the incident, which would mean he's gone 4 years without contact with his family during the events of canon. I don't remember if Chilchuck is said to exchange letters with his daughters, beyond the initial one from Flertom saying her mother was with her, so I've been assuming he hasn't.

He also says "For about ten years I’ve been travelling to dungeons in various areas and doing work" which considering he’s turning 29 that year would mean he started around 19 years old? The panel also gives details what sort of work he’s been doing. Either way it’s confirmed that Chilchuck travels for his work a lot.

In addition, since Chilchuck has the seal of approval of the bicorn + says so himself, he has always stayed faithful to his wife. So that means that unless he's had previous adventures before he was 14 and got married, he's never dated anyone else in his life, nor had romantic or sexual encounters/experiences with others in his 16 years of marriage right up to canon (year 514). I feel it’s safe to say that it’s implied that during all these years starting from when they were married, Chilchuck's wife was a housewife whose main job was taking care of the kids and the house.

Marcille's take on what happened is unreliable, as Kui even takes the time to directly say so in the Adventurer's Bible, so I don't want to use it as a baseline even if it offers some insight on what could have happened (her feeling out of place, leaving to test his love, etc etc).

What Chilchuck says seems to be accurate though since it pertains to his perspective of the events! Unlike how Marcille's theory flows, Chilchuck was aware that something was off before she left since she "suddenly fell into a bad mood".

Piecing everything together, my theory: Chilchuck and his wife were childhood friends and have always always sort of danced around of each other, the classic movie love story with childhood sweethearts, until they ultimately confessed and got together. While dating, Chilchuck's wife becomes pregnant and they're both unequiped to deal with the situation but decide to marry, either a bit forced in order to cover it up or hopeful to make the best of it. They make it work as they can and Chilchuck works to provide for the family while she takes care of the home and the kids, which means that even though he's not a deadbeat father (he cares, he was at least a bit involved in their lives and raising them since for example he knows how to braid hair after all) he ends up being rather absent from home. It only gets worse over the years, especially when Chilchuck starts working further and further away from home and coming home less often, and since Puckpatti left home Chilchuck's wife is alone at home most of the time, never knowing when Chilchuck would be coming and if to prepare the table for two instead of one, or even if he'd be coming back at all since his work is dangerous. The humdrum and lifestyle would get to her, they've grown into different people in these 10 years of marriage and she doesn't feel the spark or feels valued & seen anymore, so she leaves. He feels confused and betrayed which turns into anger so he doesn’t try to reach out and mend things, and with the way he says they’re estranged and he moves away I think he’s avoiding his family somewhat.

Possible strains on the marriage

Tfw all your daughters are independent and your husband is gone to work almost all the time and he barely even tells you that he loves you, is there even a reason to stay together anymore? Every day it’s just you and an empty house and chores to do, wondering if you have to cook for one or for two today.

Alright it’s analysis and theorizing time! Although there are more facts down in this post if you care about Chilchuck's wife's appearajce, Chilchuck's parents & siblings or the kids, the essential facts so to speak were all in the first part.

We don't see Chilchuck showing any discontent with his wife through the manga so I'm assuming that he was content in his marriage, happy with his wife, and with how he stayed faithful to her even in the 4 years after she left (and never stopped calling her his wife. Which also shows a weird stubborn attitude since he wasn’t planning on reaching out to her and mend things but I’ll put aside the possible entitlement/coping mechanism for another time) I think he truly loved her and still does. Since she left him and not the reverse, I'm putting a lot of emphasis on his wife's side of things. Especially since we do see how Chilchuck is at work quite a bit but never see how he is at home. I’ll be sounding harsh towards Chil on this but he’s pretty much the only party we can criticize since we don’t know her, I still side with Chil on the leaving issue though, he’s justifiably pissed if she left without a word what the hell even.

Alcoholism and health

Chilchuck’s favorite food as listed in the Adventurer’s Bible is beer, and it’s shown that he’s prone to drinking until drunk whenever he gets the opportunity to. A cheerful drunk is still a drunk. (Extra reading: if interested here's a oneshot FMA fanfic by a friend that goes in depth about this very topic that really illustrates what sort of family dynamic that can bring about. It’s not dunmeshi but it’s a good read.) Chilchuck is also canonically underweight, starving himself for a strict weight management diet (Extra reading: you can look at a short compilation post about that here). Did you know under eating makes one irritable? And this is on top of Chilchuck sometimes/regularly coming back home with "horrible injuries", since Marcille guesses it and he acts like she’s dead right on everything that far.

It’s rough seeing someone you love mistreat themselves, not being able to shake them out of that and having to stay to see them wasting away. It’s rough seeing them put their work above their own health. Putting their work even above their family. Putting alcohol over family time. It's not that simple, but there's always that element when asking someone you love to tone it down with things like alcohol or such, that if they refuse, then it feels like they value that thing more than they value your feelings or opinions. That they love alcohol more than they love you.

You know how there’s often this thing of "Well I’m providing everything for this family, so whatever else that I do you don’t get to complain." I do think that it’s something they’d have argued over a little bit, not that he’d say it that way, but the essence of it. "Chilchuck, you’re drinking a lot of alcohol often, I’m worried maybe you should ease up on it." "This is what I want to do in my free time, give me a break.", "Dear, your mood gets worse when you’re hungry, I really think you should stop dieting-" "Would you rather I die in a trap because I was too heavy?", "Honey I don’t like when you work so far away from home for so long" "Well what else can I do, do you have any better idea?". That sort of thing. Even if not being passive agressive or snappy, or even spoken upon, these situations can cause tension, or a feeling of powerlessness or imbalance in the relationship. Although I personally feel like they were both rather passive in their relationship (thus having little arguments), which itself can be a problem since yes they let each other live but they grew more distant and less communicative as a result, more on that later. Content and tolerating, rather than happy and fulfilled.

Workaholism and long distance

Spending a lot (or even a majority?) of time away from home for years and years obviously can strain relationships in many ways. Besides becoming more distant, both with his wife and his daughters, there's just that side that maybe you grow apart or you end up not knowing them all that well. Like the fictional dialogue excerpts I wrote just above, the way Chilchuck puts work above most things can by itself be the source of a lot of unhealthy habits and strains that could not only hurt himself but his relationships too. Devoted doesn’t mean attentive, even if Chilchuck 100% devotes himself to only her romantically and works in the goal to support her that doesn’t transfer into being there for her, even when he physically is.

An absent father isn't necessarily a deadbeat father, but an absent father is absent. And alright, we don’t know what his schedule was like exactly, but he was busy and traveled around, I think it’s fair to assume that if we were to make comparisons it’d be like parents irl who are often on work trips. We don't know what Chilchuck's wife's social circle is like, but regardless of how big or small or supportive it is it would be easy to get lonely I think. Besides raising the kids undoubtedly falling more onto her shoulders as well. Managing a household can be very hard and tiring even when not alone, I can imagine she felt like she missed the support of Chilchuck either as help or comfort oftentimes. We know very little about her, but I don't get the impression that she'd build up resentment over it except maybe her ‘falling into a bad mood’, but exhaustion? Absolutely.

It’s also implied imo, even beyond Chil not often being at home, that they rarely go out together. And that could very well be part of why she was mad after the outing. In Marcille’s theory she says that her wife felt out of place amongst all the cool adventurer coworkers, and if it’s a rare time that they go out together and it was supposed to be about her meeting his coworkers… I feel like what could have happened was that she felt out of place yes, and even moreso if she ended up not participating in conversations much because of it and no one really seemed to care, and the evening was all Chilchuck and his coworkers chatting it up as always and she was an outsider, if she sort of just faded into the background, if it felt like nothing would have changed wether she was there or not... If she felt like her presence didn’t matter on this special outing that rarely happened, it could have been the straw that broke the camel’s back for her to want to leave, definitely. He finally comes back after a long work travel and they finally go out and this is what their quality time is like? The outing that was supposed to be about her & them both ended up being all about him, and once more she was supposed to just orbit around him and his life without complaint or her own selfish wants like a devoted wife. With how Chil said that she got mad "all of a sudden" on the way home and he didn’t know why, plus that he was probably drunk (which may very well have made the whole thing worse), I feel like it supports that he didn’t pay her much attention during the evening, not that I’m assigning him ill intent at all, I’m sure that for him, it was a casual and fun night out and he didn’t think it'd been unpleasant or alienating for her.

That night

And all of this speculation in order to try and figure… What happened? Why did she leave? I've already gone into it a fair bit, but this is where I discuss it fully in depth.

We can’t rely on Marcille’s theory. Neither in the why she felt so out of place enough to want to leave, nor if her intention when leaving was to "test" him. I definitely agree that the reason why she left is layered and that the night/outing was the straw that broke the camel’s back more than the cause perse, but besides that it’s hard to say how much of it was impulsive and how much was because nothing else had worked to fix their relationship, or how long she'd been thinking of maybe leaving him.

Personally my favorite interpretation isn't that she found herself to be boring surrounded with Chilchuck's adventurer coworkers, or her reason for leaving is super centered around insecurity and if Chilchuck even loves her anymore, but that she sees how rich and eventful Chilchuck's life is and at the same time realizes how stagnant her own life has been. Chilchuck has adventurers for coworkers and they go out to bars and spend evenings together chatting it up, while she always does the same house chores every day and waits, and wonders, uncertain about when her huband would come back, and waits some more. She has a sort of passive role in her own life that gets pulled in one way or another by the people around her at their whims and needs, which is also a recurring theme in the manga: having a passive role in your own life, or a role that's devoted to others. Like with Falin who's always following her parents' directives or following Laios around, being the party's healer and eventually sacrificing herself for Laios and Marcille (she also doesn't seem to think much of marriage, as seen with Shuro proposing to her and her not having answered yet, which fits with how she was supposed to have an arranged marriage in her hometown too; a loveless marriage isn't something alarming to her). Izutsumi too, whose whole arc is about her gaining freedom and figuring out how to use this empowerment for herself and what she wants.

So she'd sit there, not knowing anyone except Chilchuck and not being able to follow their conversations about dungeons, and think about how this is a world she's totally apart from. How she knows so little of the world compared to him. She'd realize that while she's always waiting for Chilchuck to come home, dedicated to him and their family, Chilchuck's world doesn't stop and end at where and when he sees her, that while she's waiting he's living and experiencing things and being self-fulfilled. She's so passive and devoted and her tasks seem almost senseless now that the house is empty except for her, and in that time he's formed half-foot unions and she understands so little of what his life has become outside of her sight. This isn't a diss on Chilchuck or his attitude, I just think that it'd make her ponder about happiness and lifestyles, what's worth it and if she's content with her life. I think she'd find that her and Chilchuck aren't on the same page anymore, and probably they don't communicate much or even that they don't know how to communicate with each other anymore.

Other factors

They really do seem to be on different pages and not know how to communicate with each other well, since for example Chilchuck thinks that on the way back home she "suddenly" fell into a bad mood and seemingly left it alone, or otherwise they didn't talk until he knew what was wrong. Or like how she left and Chilchuck never reached out to her to talk or mend things, just like she never reached out either. According to Marcille it could be that she wanted to "test his love" and see if he'd even care if she was gone, but Chilchuck just got angry that she left like that and never reached out to her, so if that's true they definitely have incompatible expectations or ways to deal with things like that. Maybe she thought of leaving as something he should react to by trying to win her back, but Chilchuck did nothing and let her do her thing, and tbh if that were me I'd also have waited on her to reach out because I figure out that if someone leaves me they want space from me idk. He seems to be rather passive when it comes to interpersonal relationships and how they can mess up, made an analysis post here that talks about it, so the way he reacted by not reacting doesn't feel surprising, maybe she didn't know/remember that part of him, or wanted to shake him out of that tendency. He has no clue why she left, and there are just so many misunderstandings here that it's impossible to know what happened and how she felt and what she wanted for the future.

Also, we’re shown that younger Chilchuck, when he started dungeon crawling, is much more "innocent" and optimistic, less closed off on himself and bitter, and maybe he hasn't even developed his famous "sarcastic retorts" and "abusive remarks" yet as is plastered on all his character introductions and stats. Chilchuck has definitely changed a lot over the years, and some would argue not for the better. Staying with someone for so long has implications that they'll change and be different of course, but signing up for marriage with someone can still leave you questioning that choice decades down the line when they're so different

We get to see his freckles fade in sync with his corruption arc /j

Tfw when you can’t recognize the man you fell in love with.

The hair question

Edit 1/13/2024 leak!!!! Things aren’t officially confirmed but this is a safe bet. You can still read this section to see my reasoning to thinking she had black hair prior to this tho haha

It's not all that important rationally, but the community's been split on the topic: is Chilchuck's wife blonde or not?

Kui highlights Chilchuck being attracted to blondes a grand total of three times, and many assume that his wife is blonde due to this. However, the only vision we see of Chilchuck's wife is Marcille imagining herself as a halfling, so it's up for debate! Flertom has black hair, and that's mostly been the key clue that has people arguing.

I'm not an expert in genetics but black hair is a dominant gene, but it also doesn't mean a black haired parent can't have a brown haired kid, or that two brown haired parents can't have a kid with black hair. As long as one of the parents have it in their genetic code from somewhere in their family tree, it's possible, if not maybe unlikely.

People have been taking Flertom having black hair as evidence that Chilchuck's wife has black hair, but it could be Chilchuck that has the gene and could pass it on. Although...

That seems unlikely. We don't know what Chilchuck's elder brother's hair color was, and his elder sister does have a darker brown hair color, but in the case their parents had black hair or the gene for it, it seems highly unlikely if not impossible for the dominant black hair gene to miss this many amount of time in the gene russian roulette game.

And so I shall now call a witness to the stand, and you reader shall be the judge… Dandan.

You know, this guy? He makes appearances throughout the whole manga, but only has one spoken line in an easy to brush over flashback iirc. He's most often seen hanging out around Chilchuck and other half-foots, but it's unsure how far back he and Chilchuck go.

Now. Remember how Chilchuck and his wife are childhood friends? What if, and hear me out, what if Dandan is related to her. A cousin, or a sibling. Or maybe he's Chilchuck's cousin, even, if we go the reverse route.

The chapter cover

Look at the chapter cover below! We see each member of the main party at a table that's meaningful to them and their history, mostly showing themes of family, community and routine. Laios and Falin sharing a meal by themselves, Marcille at a meal in the cafeteria at the magic academy, Senshi by himself cooking in the dungeon, Izutsumi with Inutade at the Nakamoto household, and... Chilchuck, surrounded by much more mysterious and unknown characters and surroundings.

The only face we see besides the infant is a young one on the left which strikes me as looking a ton like Chilchuck! I doubt it's Meijack or Puckpatti, or someone else, especially since Chilchuck left his hometown pretty early which must make family gatherings harder (and routine is implied with the others’ panels). If it were Meijack I think Kui would have drawn it to more closely match her too, and have her usual freckles. I also don't think it's just Chilchuck and his own family, since if that's Chilchuck the only sibling with black hair he could have is his elder brother and the infant in the middle is clearly, well an infant.

My thoughts are that the table is shared with family friends, or at least members of the community. The elderly person implies that either there's extended family or it’s a gathering, especially if Chilchuck's grandparents don't live with them. Community is implied to be very important with half-foots imo, and if Chilchuck is from a small hometown like he says that would surprise me even less. Childhood friends are often brought together as friends because of circumstances, such as proximity or their families being friends! Doesn't that kid almost off-panel on the right, with a Flertom-like hairstyle and black hair, look to be the same age as the Chilchuck on the left? 👀

Also… Notice the dragon plush she’s holding?

Passed down from mom to daughter? The "most likely belonged to his daughters" is interesting too

If he is related, Dandan could be the infant. I suppose he doesn't end up mattering all that much in the end if you theorize that the Flertom-like kid is his wife on its own though haha. But wether or not you think that this is convincing enough, it's all we have on the topic for now.

Ah yes! Lastly, I've seen the sentiment around that his wife should be blonde, that Chilchuck's taste for blondes, if not the thing that brought them together, should be an acquired taste from loving his wife. That if that's not the case, then Chilchuck's type being blondes is either out of place or insuting or unromantic, etc etc. I can't help but disagree! I think, especially with how Chilchuck and his wife are domestic and all about knowing each from a young age, familiarity etc etc, that it would be so sweet if she wasn't his type! Loving someone so deeply, even if they aren't an idealized type... Which is a common theme/story & character beat in Dungeon Meshi.

Family dynamic theories

Meijack is the most capable, takes after her father the most, seems to have her own business as a locksmith but has a stable steady life. Flertom is the most social, she works at a tavern which seems stable and is ambitious with marriage plans, she has a caring side to her since she sent her dad a handmade gift. Puckpatti is the most upbeat, though she has the most unstable lifestyle, seemingly doing odd jobs.

His daughters do seem well adjusted, which encourages me in that their family seems amicable on the whole and (at the very least) decently functional. We don’t hear what they think of Chilchuck but presumably none of them are on bad terms with him or each other. Flertom does say that "half-foot men are stingy" which, gee, I wonder what half-foot man would have made taught her that- though it does also seem to be a racial stereotype in general, with how for example Namari also says to "steer clear from stores with half-foot clerks".

Flertom seems to be the only one who reached out after their mother left (the only one who's mentioned to have done so at least), and it's because she was the one who took in her mother. It’s not implied that they exchange letters regularly too iirc, it possibly was the only letter they've exchanged since then. I wonder if the daughters even know the full story, if their mother told them all about it or very little. Maybe some are pretty out of the loop, or more distant.

It strikes me that they don't seem to be very close. We're not shown anything that leads us to believe they don't like their father, but I think they're so used to him being absent for work that such distance is normal for them and they don't really long for a deeper relationship or to see him often. They were already out of the house and it seems like they didn't see each other much at that time either so for them it would be just a bit less than the regular amount of Dad time. It's been 4 years Chilchuck what are you doing... But yeah! From what we see they seem mostly unaffected, almost indifferent, not that we can truly tell. I imagine Flertom is the one most attached to Chilchuck with how she sent him a handmade cowl, and I think he rubbed off the most on Meijack teachings wise (besides her attitude, she’s also the one who still wears braids, and we see that Chilchuck braids hair). It makes sense, since they're oldest, and on the contrary I think Puckpatti is the one that knows her father the least. It'd fit the timeline with him working away more while she grew up imo.

Wouldn't it be interesting then that she's the one that Chilchuck says is carefree, in the official translation "doesn't treat life real seriously"? That she's the most optimistic, the most go-with-the-flow, out of the bunch? To me that sounds like a result from her being the youngest and Chil being the most often at work, thus her getting raised by her mother without as much involvement from Chil. Far be it from me to say Chilchuck would raise his daughters to be unhappy btw, not at all, we just all know what down-to-earth values he wants others to have so he doesn't have to worry about them.

Although… Puckpatti spotted?? Seems like he wants to stop her from buying something? His heart meter for her is full <3 (Note: I’ve seen it be argued that this could be his wife. I disagree, since the "stop them" and way that the long haired one is off-center compared to everyone else gives the sense that it’s many of his daughters, and the fact that it’s styled after a dating sim doesn’t mean it’s romantic love as we see with the others. Otherwise imagine being her wife and he tells you not to buy stuff when you go shopping together rip)

Headcanons time:

When naming the daughters, together they choose a pool of names they’d like but only one has the final say, and they alternate between who that is. Chilchuck sticks around more near the end of her pregnancies, and he hasn’t missed any of their births. I don’t have any opinions on who named who right now, but there could be some interesting stuff to theorize with Puckpatti, like them taking extra care picking the name together because they settled on her being their last daughter for fluff, or it was supposed to be Chilchuck but he was so busy that he ended up not picking in time and she was the one to name her for angst.

Actually scratch that I have a new theory : What if it’s actually customary for each parent to pick one half of their half-foot kid’s name? So then each would have chosen half of each girl’s name… And this could be why Chil calls Puckpatti Patti instead of Puck which is her first name, because he’s stubborn since Patti was his pick lmaoooo. Pattipuck doesn’t have the same ring to it alas, his wife was so right

Chilchuck liked to do activities with the girls when they were young. He's not opposed to relaxing at home with them perse, but he likes to do workshops with stuff like arts & crafts to develop their agility some. I don't think they'd do much outings to places like restaurants or theatres for money reason, and I don't think Chilchuck is much of an outdoors type, but he could accompany them to nice fields to play in, or in winter places to play in snow and sled, and organize some activities at home. He's not home very often so when he is he likes to take it easy as a break from work and values the time he gets with his family.

Chilchuck would sometimes work from home as a locksmith, say, unlocking a chest for a customer. In those times, Meijack would take interest and watch him work, even handing him the tools he needs as he goes. In this way, Chilchuck taught her a lot about the work of a locksmith over time. He's also the one that would oil door hinges or do renovation around the house- when he's available.

Like the plushies under his table in his home that we see in illustrations, Chilchuck has a lot of mementos from his daughter (and his wife) he keeps around. Sometimes they take a bothersome amount of place, but throwing anything out isn't something he's seriously willing to consider. Flertom's the most artistic and she used to help with sewing clothes back together, so he has a cheap ceramic mug painted by her when she was really young and small embroideries around.

Imo Meijack would be the most distant in the present. Flertom makes efforts for her parents and is pretty involved, and Puckpatti's distance is more out of being a bit airheaded and being busy + not having a great grasp on time or what's a normal amount of family contact, but Meijack's the one who knowingly and intentionally keeps some distance. I think she’d be the least optimistic about their family situation, and although she’d be hopeful when Chilchuck reached out to them again she’d be a but hesitant. I think Meijack would hold some grudges, being the one most critical of their parenting, both grateful to her dad for working so hard for them and saddened that he wasn't in their life more. Since Flertom was born in the same year I think it’s possible that Meijack was pushed aside a bit to take care of the younger baby more, out of necessity rather than lack of love. Her mom probably needed a lot of help around the house too. Flertom wasn’t blind either, and she cared about & noticed her mom’s emotional states, but she’s on the whole more hopeful and forgiving.

This is my most far fetched one but it is a hc after all, but I think it'd be interesting if one of them had food hoarding tendencies/stress. I like to think it's Flertom, because she's the middle child and would get told that her older sister and younger sister are "growing and need the food" so she wouldn't be allowed to take as much refill or such, add that to them not having much money to frivolously spend on food and that makes a kid who's worried about not eating to her hunger and tends to be possessive over food (I'm projecting). Differential treatment is inevitable in families with many siblings, and it can manifest in small or big ways, maybe they realize it maybe they don't. Working in a tavern has helped eased that tendency of her though, and while she does diet a bit she always leaves a meal feeling satisfied.

When they were younger, Flertom was a real firecracker, loud and spirited with some troublemaking tendencies! She was the daughter that got in trouble & got scolded the most. You can still see slivers of it now that she’s an adult, but she’s much more poised and diligent. She has much more acquaintances than friends, but she has a couple of best friends and usually gets along well with most people. Puckpatti was always a bit head in the cloud, very kind if not gullible, and tended to make friends somewhat easily but didn’t keep them for long, preferring to keep meeting new people and not keeping in touch well. She isn’t super talkative but tends to ramble when she does. Meijack is very introverted, she has more trouble making friends, she has a good handful though they don’t meet up often, her friendships tend to last and she’s close to them. She’s grown more confident over the years, less repressed and more quiet. Meijack as the big sister tended to be the listener for her younger sisters who had more social mishaps. Flertom has dated once before and it only cemented to her that she was going to have very high standards from then on.

Meijack wears thigh-high boots because she hates when sand, dirt or snow gets in her shoes. She wears practical clothing but avoids anything frilly or flashy. Puckpatti also dresses practically, but she does enjoy pretty clothes, it’s more out of necessity and due to not having enough money to indulge. Flertom has a social stable job and she loves prettying herself up (especially as she’s in search of a husband) so she’s the one who gets the most and nicest fashionable clothes and accessories.

Chilchuck is hinted to have had a rather dysfunctional family himself (alcoholic father, distant siblings, etc). So he doesn’t really have the best model on how to raise someone and such. I imagine it was a sort of neglectful home situation, where the kids are encouraged to be independent. If they didn’t have to work or help around much, then free range parenting sort of thing. We do see how the family has full and warm feasts, where someone cleans his mouth with a rag, so it’s not like he didn’t have a caring circle or a tragic childhood though! I don’t remember if it’s explicitely stated, but he’s heavily implied to having grown up poor, as most half-foots, and I just think it's the hardened hardworking family type of childhood where just like he does with others they instill somewhat harsh life lessons in him, which in turn encourages him to indulge in the simple pleasures of life like alcohol and sex, or at least women’s beauty and crass jokes. We do see he seems more optimistic when he's younger in flashbacks, so a bunch of his harsh view on the world is still likely learned and earned rather than taught. I still think he inherited many flawed views from how his father acted, like his attitude about excessive drinking not being a big deal and worth it. That work hard play hard, enjoy life die young mentality he has, shown mostly in the "alcohol" section of his Adventurer's Bible profile, could very well be partly a result of the general poverty half-foot communities are that he grew in as well, like how he doesn't hope for things to be as best as they could be and contends with good enough. As far as I remember, his mother is never mentioned, but I doubt it implies she was out of the picture. She was probably a regular sort of mother that took care of the home as well and was still around when his father died. It looks like there’s a good age gap between one sibling to the next, that could be interesting to dig into too.

A part of Chilchuck’s character is that he takes responsibility for safety and actions of people around him and is very often looking out for them to not do faux-pas wether socially or literally with stepping onto traps. The way he says "I’ve got three people to think of here" makes me think that’s also how he’d think about having to provide for his family, and that could be a source of stress and insecurity for him. Caring for others is a pretty integral part of his character and we see time and time again that his family is very important to him, in any case.

Post-canon

This pic has so much to say!! It’s the ‘thank you for reading’ double page spread where they’re going to a big dining table at the castle with Laios and the main gang. First family gathering in 4 years perhaps?! I’ll say, not feeling very hopeful that his wife isn’t in this, not even implied to be just off-panel with a hand or anything… I imagine before this he still talked to them at least a bit and figured their family situation out, but I think this is still in the early stages of reconnecting. Haha imagine being one of them and receiving a letter saying "Hi it’s been a while… I want to introduce you to my ex-coworker the king and his friends, you up for that?" I don’t want to reconsider all my hcs for this yet, but this pic does seemingly show an eagerness from all the daughters to reunite and reconnect! Meijack’s could be seen as more hesitant, but I think it’s just awkwardness from meeting so many new people, of high status no less. Chilchuck does seem awkward and somewhat self-conscious though, and while that could be just from say Marcille and the others meeting his daughters and him not knowing how to act, I think that also shows that Chilchuck is unsure how to act around his daughters too. Can’t blame him, I’d be stressed too. Anyways, the daughters are all dressed up! Puckpatti even brought flowers! And I doubt it’s just for Senshi, or just to be in with the king. Oh also also, Puckpatti chides Meijack here, seemingly on manners?, so that implies new/different family dynamics there~

We know with the succubus chapter that he does plan on reaching out to his wife again and shooting his shot, and when Marcille was dungeon lord he told her she could help think of a plan to make up with her together at which point Marcille showered him in gifts and flowers intended for her and his daughters. So we do know that whatever happens and however it happens, Chilchuck definitely will at least reach out to her to win her back or worse case scenario get closure on the situation.

These are his plans before it’s revealed that the Island is… Well, not an island but the golden kingdom, so the news that Laios is king and that might have changed them a bit, but I think he’s still gonna stick around to help with the half-foot guild for a while.

My personal ideal post-canon Chilchuck life is that after around a year or two of helping around in the golden kingdom, especially regarding half-foot working rights, he gets his shop and finally settles down. He prioritized the whole half-foot guild because there are changes to attend to and people to help, but also used that to procrastinate a bit on getting in touch with his wife again. He does send a letter though, and when she replies they then meet face to face. They explain how it was like on their end, their grievances and their feelings, and they do reconcile. But… It’s been 4 years and his wife has frankly moved on. She’d rather they stay as friends, and Chilchuck has mixed feelings on it but is ultimately fine with it. He was halfway resigned to not reconciling with his wife in canon after all. But no longer do they have cut contact! They get together with the girls for the holidays and the ambiance is nice! He starts exchanging letters more regularly. He also gets a second family of clingy asses with Izutsumi and the main gang and so though he lives alone in his shop he’s well surrounded and well loved, and his daughters visit to check up on him every so often.

I really like the… Maturity of Chilchuck’s plotline, if that makes sense? To me the ending that fits the most is him and his wife reconciling, but not getting back together. I like that they could still be adults about it and at least amicable even after divorce, and that that wouldn’t be treated as a tragic ending. In the end, they were childhood friends and teenage parents, they rushed things a bit and I genuinely think they’re just not that compatible. If not then, at least having it be a gradual process, getting back together and making it work until they’re truly comforatble with each other. Destroy the relationship to better build it again stronger!

Although, his arc in the manga is to allow himself to form connections and be optimistic, which would fit well with him and his wife getting back together. I def think Chil would get healthier post-canon which could fix the issues they had in their relationship though. Like for one he starts eating more, which improves mood & irritability & health, and also after the whole half-foot guild he plans to settle down with a shop so it wouldn’t be long distance or unstable anymore which would definitely give his wife some peace of mind. If they still do some long distance at first while he gets the half-foot guild stable, it’d be really cute if he sent pressed flowers with his letters to her… That could make a nice fic concept, like over time all the pressed flowers and exchanged letters hehe (oh shit that’s a nice title)

My post-canon timeline is Chilchuck lives a nice life living alone in his house except his friends all visit him and care and even tho he likes living alone it’s also bittersweet and every corner of his life is haunted by mementos of the ones he loves and the moments he had with them. But then it’s also like the shared duty of everyone to pass by his shop when they can and keep the old man company and sometimes that means many people come at the same time like if both Meijack and Marcille came the same day~ Cozy life, no regrets except a lil regrets still. That’s it that’s all I want.

Misc

I didn’t know where to put this, so new category time! Family truly is a central theme of Chilchuck’s character. His reaction to learning more about how life gets made is so awed by the wonder of the world. Life indeed…

The implication of this page is that Chil didn’t know about the science side of how procreation works, though of course he did know about the practical side of it. This is speculation, and we have no clue how widespread the information of how reproduction scientifically works lol, but I think it’s fair to think that half-foots’ education especially in smaller communities is handled by the parent, school of life style, or if there are schools then the education is very general and it probably ends early. I think this is supported by how for example half-foots’ jobs we’ve seen are based on experience rather than knowledge, like being a locksmith. Of course any job has its fair share of specialized knowledge to learn, but jobs you learn on the fly pretty well. This sort of dynamic contrasts a lot against elves many tallmen communities, like with the magic academy, where education and knowledge are valued almost above experience, this is what the mandrake chapter was all about after all. Poorer communities tend to have poorer education systems as well irl, it’s a whole issue.

So I already said my piece about his wife not being blonde and it being nice and romantic because literally you don’t need someone to be a beauty ideal to love them and that’s fine and normal and even more romantic imo. But!! I do have an headcanon, now that his wife’s appearance is all but explicitly confirmed. While their hair is blonde, yes their hair is wavy and the ‘main’ one has deep-set eyes, not unlike his wife! Now this is a ‘which came first the egg or the chicken’ question, but while most people seem to be assuming that he got with his wife because she was his type, since they’re childhood friends I feel like it’s his love for his wife that shaped his preferences in that deparment. Like ok he loves golden hair and hers is black, but isn’t it so much more romantic that he has so much love and devotion for his wife and has stared lovingly at it so much over the years, that it’d become his ideal? He loves her eyes <3

Conclusion

Reminder that I’ve got more stuff in a reblog addition now. What I've got left to add at some point:

Compile more info on Chilchuck's father and his other family. Edit: there’s like none but I did make a speculation post if anyone’s interested

Reread the manga and catch details like exchanged letters & his work schedule. Reword some things to repeat myself less maybe

A buddy is planning to make a name analysis post for everyone, and I might have more to say especially about the daughters once I know what possible meaning their names have

On the chapter cover and extra where he’s in his basement room we can see one letter and a few papers across his desk. Maybee family letters? Seems too few to me, could just as well be jo descriptions

Other stuff I may be forgetting about

And thus I leave you with a lil web weaving I made about Chil & his wife’s relationship~ And this is where I’d put panels of Chilchuck’s wife… IF THERE WERE ANY

Should we call Chilchuck's wife Mrs. Tims... We don't know dunmeshi marrital traditions though, and half-foot already have somewhat complex naming conventions... I hate that we don't really know if the daughters' last names are Chils or Chilz. Oh yeah the last names change each generation, that’s odd right? But in english it sounds like saying Chil’s, like, [father]’s, so I think this also supports how half-foots communities tend to be tightly knit and live in the present, for them to be like "Ooh so you’re [father]’s little one eh? I know who that is and this is insightful as to who your family is to me!". Iceland’s a place where last names are like this, though I don’t know about pros and cons of it in that context

Ah and I have a bittersweet spotify playlist about her and Chil too, here if ya want. That’s it the post is over

#dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi manga spoilers #spoilers #chilchuck tims #delicious in dungeon #chilchuck's wife #chilchuck’s family #Tims family #puckpatti #meijack #flertom #Analysis #Meta #Despite my best tries I am not omnipresent it's always fun when piecing together these topics is a community effort!!#please do build upon this if you have anything to add #but yeah editing is up in the air. I'll probably be adding stuff maybe even cutting stuff out #this is a giant post i am slightly overwhelmed #Kui puts so much importance in details it's incredible. It truly feels worthwhile to get into the weeds #We support chilchuck’s wife on this blog #I covered how stressful her life could have been a bit in my Grind Me Down Sweetly fic funnily enough if ya want to give it a read. It has #Daughters mentions too hehe. And my post-canon marchil take #Oh also if there’s already theory and compilation posts out there about this i’m down to link them in or smth. I haven’t seen it done but #If it’s been then i’m very interested in reading & seeing #Apparently chilchuck being an absent dad is a heated debated topic. Oops #Pls do not murder me… Peace and love in the dungeon meshi fandom? He’s my second fave have mercy on this humble stan #This is 7k words btw. Pls do pick and choose what you’re interested in or skim or take breaks or anything

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jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue · 7 months

Text

Our Little Love part six - OT7 Mafia/Yandere au

Warnings - 3.6k words of : Toxic yandere men, sub drop, crime, violence, injury, emotionally abusive behaviour, possessive behaviour, lying and manipulation, monopolising, unhealthy relationships, aftercare ish, love bombing?, Namjoon's dark side is coming out but internally (because we can read his mind but MC can't)

It’s a sting or an ache that rouses you awake, coming from your bruised wrist. You let out a soft gasp of pain, lifting your head to see Yoongi carefully applying cream to the dents the ropes had burned into your perfect skin.

“Hoseok and his stupid games,” he mutters, full focus on making sure he’s soothing the marks of their punishment, like if the evidence of them went away so would the sadness they inflicted on you as well. It was a stupid naive thought, Yoongi knew it, but your presence in his life filled him with that silly feeling of hope.

He gently rests your wrist on the bed, searching for the next limb before he notices your eyes on him. They’re blank he notices, void of anything, fuck, they really did a number on you. He couldn’t swallow down the lump of regret lodged in his throat, no he would suffocate on it until you recovered.

You feel the bed dip beside your head, but it doesn’t pull your gaze away from Yoongi as he pulls your other wrist cautiously away from where you held it against your chest. You feel fingers in your hair, the urge to nuzzle against them almost overwhelming but the memories of their harsh words keeps you still.

“Heaven,” Taehyung's deep voice murmurs loud enough for you to hear as he plays with the strands. “Does it hurt?”

At his words you feel something pierce your middle, a pain that lay dormant until it was called out. A part of him means the sting of Yoongi’s ministriations, another part of him means the hole they carved out of your chest. At first it might seem sadistic, but he needed you to feel it, if you felt empty it would be harder to coax you back, the hurt meant you were still alive, still with them, and not an empty shell they were terrified they pushed you to be.

He would take your anger, your betrayal, your sadness over the void you presented to them now. Yoongi moves you carefully from your fetal position on the bed, so you’re lying on your back, your eyes meet Taehyung’s as he peers down at you. The position has an itch of anxiety building under your skin, it's too familiar to your punishment even if you aren’t as physically as exposed, but the burn in your extremities from those ropes lulled your brain into believing it was about to happen again.

You see the frown in his brows as he watches your chest lift and fall too deeply, the look in your eyes like a caged animal looking for a chance to run. It’s when Yoongi takes hold of your ankle you pull away with a small whimper. Both men look at each other for a moment as you swallow down the rising panic.

“Little love,” Yoongi says, being as reassuring as he can, “I’m not trying to hurt you.”

You inhale like your soul slammed its way back to your body, the corners of your eyes watering.

“Liar,” you barely manage to whisper, but it's loud enough that it cuts him. He deserved that. The anxiety in your limbs creeps into your chest, seizing your lungs until you’re unable to take a breath.

The hand in your hair moves to cup your face, his body lying beside you, your hand is on his chest, your insides fighting with the urge to push him away or clutch his shirt and pull him closer.

“Y/n you need to breathe,” Tae instructs against your hair soothingly, taking your hand on his chest in his. The other palm turns your head so you face him, his thumb stroking circles on your cheek. “Breathe with me.”

You want to tell him you can’t, but you try to follow his example, earning yourself a small smile on his face, the hum of danger dampening. You lose yourself to Tae as you both lie together, feeling yourself calm before sleep takes you again. The last thing you feel is soft lips on your temple, but you’re too exhausted to register it.

—

“How is she doing?” Jin asks Yoongi as he washes his hands, breaking his despondent stare at nothing.

He just nods in reply, avoiding eye contact. There were only a few times that Yoongi ever felt himself be moved to tears, but the state you were in now shoved him on the brink of a breakdown. And the worst part of it all was that they were responsible. Aftercare, especially after one of Hoseok’s sessions, was vital and they all knew it and yet because they were caught up in their own emotions they let you drop.

“That bad huh,” Jin laughs humorlessly under his breath, leaning against the door frame as he contemplates his own shortcomings. “Namjoon wasn’t lying when he told her we were the scum of the earth.”

He hangs his head back, looking up at the ceiling as if it would hold all the answers or at least grant him the ability to rewind time back to when you first woke up.

“We weren’t supposed to be scum to her,” Yoongi muttered, turning off the water that scalded his hands red, the pain was good, it felt like he was paying for his mistakes, although it was a small compensation to what he would have to pay. “The rest of the world doesn’t matter, to Y/n we were supposed to be worthy of her.”

“But we’re not,” Jin replies quietly.

“We didn’t have to prove it,” he bites back, feeling resentment towards Namjoon for bringing it up at all. He understood the need to be accepted, raging red flags and all, but to you they were supposed to be better, you were supposed to be the exception.

“What if she never forgives us,” he whispers his fears to the oldest of them, that tight invisible grip around his throat still present.

Jin can’t even bring himself to placate him, he can’t, he has the same fears.

—

Jimin’s tears crumbled their already broken hearts, but when Jungkook joined in it made them feel a despair they hadn’t felt since the day you left them.

“It’s going to be fine,” Namjoon says through gritted teeth, unsure of who he was trying to convince when a small voice in the back of his head was calling him a liar. If he could he would shoot the voice dead. “Our relationship isn’t that weak.”

Hoseok watches their leader massage his eyes as though a headache was starting.

“You need to go see her,” Yoongi says to Namjoon, arms folded, voice empty of emotion. Their fearless head of the crime syndicate had yet to visit you since the fight in the bathroom, Yoongi knew he would eat his words once he did.

“How are we going to fix this?” Hosek groans, patting Jimin’s head as he cried. The maknae was attached to Jimin’s back, both of them on the floor as they sobbed.

Taehyung had refused to leave your side, the others went in and out but Tae was afraid if he left you you would find a way to escape again, and he couldn’t live through that a second time.

“We broke her by exposing her,” Namjoon mumbles mostly to himself, thinking out loud, biting the skin of his thumb uncharacteristically nervous. “Made her feel like it was something bad…” made her pull away from us because we didn’t make her feel safe and let her drop. “Need to rebuild trust in the same way,” need to make her feel loved, “reassure her,” hold her but keep her vulnerable so she doesn’t build back up with walls against us.

His brain works fast, now that the Suho problem was dealt with, he could focus on you until the repercussions of the Captain came. He wasn’t stupid, he knew there would be some sort of retaliation, the Captain didn’t seem the sort to let things go.

“No more games,” Yoongi breaks his train of thoughts, eyes boring into him before looking at Hoseok too. “No more punishments, she never deserved any of them we were just sadistic fucks looking for an outlet for our own insecurity.”

Namjoon’s fist clenches, unhappy with the tone his usually stoic friend takes, even if his words held some truth.

“A whole world at our disposal to kick down and we take it out on our little love,” Yoongi scoffs, chuckling in disgust with himself and the others. “We really are scum of the Earth.”

—

The Captain doesn’t find the ceiling all that interesting, but it’s all he can stare at alone in the hospital wing. He’s not alone in the sense of physically, the hospital staff mill around working on the ward, he’s merely separated by curtains from the other patients, but the noise around him felt like a hum, a buzz in the background. The only visitor he had was the Chief of police telling him to stand down about the syndicate task force and then offering (ordering) him half a years paid leave.

“Take the time off,” he had said. “Recover,” he patted Suho’s shoulder before muttering, “it’ll do you some good.”

But the captain could see the truth in the Chief’s eyes, a hidden variable that was making him speak through the shadows. Kim Namjoon got to the police, he had his strings attached to every officer like they were his puppets. He only needed the top brass, they would create order and command for him. He wondered what he had on them all, how deep the corruption ran.

It seemed he was cut at the knees in more ways than one, the leader of the crime syndicate really drove that message home. He laughs at himself humourlessly despite the lack of anything funny in sight. One of the nurses giving him a judgmental side eye, wondering to herself whether they gave him too much morphine.

Suho could still feel the pain tearing through his knee and his hand, albeit dulled by the drugs in his system. The bullet had been lodged into his bone, it required surgery to be pulled out, surgery that was paid for by an anonymous benefactor. The thought of who he suspected as that person made him want to beg to put the bullet back.

Powerless wasn’t a feeling he was all that common with, even in his darkest days on the force he always felt hope, knew he would see the Sun rise another day. But Kim Namjoon had a way of drowning the Sun, and all her rays of hope. He could only pray that by some miracle, he could pull you out of the waters before your light washed out.

—

The scene when you open your eyes is eerily similar to the one before your world flipped upside down, a part of you wanted to believe the hands of time had turned back or at least you woke up in an alternative universe where the fight never happened, but the memories burned through your mind too clearly for anything else to be true. All seven of your walking talking red flags were posted around you in the room, eyes on you albeit much softer than that day, yet for some reason it puts you on edge.

“Heaven,” Jimin sits on his knees on the bed peering down at you, you notice the telling red rims around his eyes and his nose, was he crying? Why? He tries to cover it with a smile, his eyes disappearing into crescent moons but he couldn’t hide the evidence from you, you knew him too well.

He takes your hand in his, bringing it to his lips before he mumbles desperately against your skin, his voice breaking, “forgive us.”

Tentatively, as if afraid you were going to break or run away, two arms wrap around your middle, the maknae lying beside you burying his head into you but you can hear the tell tale sniffles. It was rare any of them ever cried, you really must look like a state.

Your head throbs from the continuous cycles of sleep you were putting yourself through, sleep was safe and you were too exhausted to live, let alone deal with the repercussions of your relationship.

“Jungkook, you’re smothering our dove,” Hoseok sighs, arms folded as he keeps his distance. He wouldn’t say it aloud but since he and Namjoon were the directors of your punishment and subsequently the push into subdrop he was afraid of approaching you.

It wasn’t just your rejection that would break his heart, but if his presence caused a reaction of trauma, more than what you were presenting now, it would crumble him. It took everything in his will power not to fall to his knees and beg you to forgive them, and the man had never begged anyone for anything before.

Even Namjon kept himself an arm length away, sitting on the ottoman at the end of your bed, watching you as the others interacted. Soekjin had stood beside you, his fingers massaging your forehead as if he could sense the pain, but your eyes find Namjoon.

“Did you hurt him?” It was the first time you had seen him and the first words out of your mouth were about that cockroach. He can feel his anger begin to simmer dangerously, his jaw clenches before he releases a self deprecating laugh under his breath. This was cruel even for you, was it a test? Why didn’t you ask him whether he killed him, that he could answer truthfully, the details were a little more complicated.

“We didn’t kill him,” Hoseok says, his mind flashing back to standing on the roof of the opposite building holding the sniper as it took out the Captain’s leg.

“That’s not what I asked,” you whisper, eyes starting to water again.

Namjoon glances at Yoongi’s warning stare, the thoughts written clearly on his stone face, enough of proving to you how evil they truly were, the truth didn’t matter, only you did. But yet there was something inside of him urging him to tell you, a sadistic part of him that wanted to break the already cracked dusty rose tinted glasses. Was it so bad of him to want you to love the darkest parts of him? Couldn’t you hear his soul cry out for you to love him despite how bloodstained it was?

“No we didn’t hurt him Love,” he sighs, hanging his head so he wouldn’t have to meet your gaze, his fist clenching the material of his trousers. The lie tasted like coal in his mouth, but he would swallow it down even if it upset his stomach.

You let out a sound of relief, the weight on your shoulders suddenly disappeared and you could breathe freely again. They actually saw you smile, and the guilt only cemented.

“Thank you,” you exhale, the feeling of love you were holding back against them now allowed to roam back into your body. There was hope, there was a chance to heal your relationship; they listened to you despite their murderous intent, you were relieved. You were so worried they would kill him anyway despite your plea not to, but this was proof they were willing to work on themselves with you, that you meant something to them more than being their toy.

You close your eyes, feeling overwhelmed. Jimin wipes away your tears, you hadn’t even realised had slipped from the corner of your eyes.

“Our baby’s so caring,” Jin comments, trying to keep the bite out of his voice and eyes. Your gaze falls on him and he smiles, it’s the most fake thing he’s ever done in front of you but you’d believe it. Seokjin was a mastermind at manipulation, to the point he could paint whatever he wanted on his face regardless of his emotions. Namjoon had debriefed them before you woke up, the objective was to do what they did best, monopolise you back under their spell.

It throws you, the gentle expression on his face, maybe you did wake up in an alternate reality. Jungkook distracts you, pulling you closer against him, his lips on your shoulder, making his way up your neck and cheek slowly. You turn to face him, eyes in a daze, that sweet bunny smile greeting you shyly but your attention is pulled away by another.

The back of Taehyung’s fingers trace your cheek gently, another smile greeting you when you turn to him on the other side of you, finding him kneeling on the floor beside the bed. He takes notice of your glazed stare, the slow confusion on your face.

“Aren’t you the cutest little love to ever exist,” he coos quietly.

“Our only little love,” Yoongi corrects him.

“Our slice of heaven,” Jimin pipes in.

“The only heaven we’ll ever see,” Namjoon’s deep voice gruffs.

That overwhelming feeling only grew, but it didn’t feel unwanted, you felt cushioned, like you were being lifted or floating on a cloud. Gentle touches, soft words, soothing your soul quiet, letting it rest. But you were unaware a part of you was being buried.

“Our perfect Angel,” Namjoon whispered and for some reason it felt like the final nail in the coffin making you snap back to your senses.

“No,” you sit up to face him, breaking away all the physical touch they had on you. The safe space they had lulled you into with all your defences bare had shattered. “You can’t expect me to accept you for all your flaws if you won’t do the same for me.”

There’s a fight in your eyes that comes alive as you stare him down, but he keeps quiet letting you fill the silence.

“I am not perfect, YOU need to stop pretending I am,” you throw his words back at him, he fucked you with those words and made you accept their cruelty, he would have to offer you the same respite. “I am done with trying to live up to this impossible image you have of me, because every time I break the illusion I can see the disappointment in your faces and it kills me every time.”

“Little love, you are perfect,” Jin sighs, moving to sit in front of you to break the staring match between you and Joon. “All those things you think are flaws are perfect Love, they’re a part of you, of course they’re perfect.”

His thumb strokes your cheek soothingly, trying to will away the fire when it threatened to burn everything they had spent rebuilding in this room with your recovery.

“If we made you feel anything other than perfect dove that’s our fault,” Hoseok admits, “but you already know how bad we are, it’s always our fault, don’t let us fool you otherwise.”

“You don’t get it,” you frown, looking down at your lap. “When you love me like that, it's a burden.”

“Love,” Yoongi calls for you, desperation in his voice, hating that you felt that way at all. “That’s not our intention.”

“Baby,” Jungkook sits up beside you, and you start to feel confined, their bodies like iron bars of a jail, keeping you with them for a life sentence you were beginning to think you deserved. “We love you, we made a mistake, we know that, but our love for you isn’t bad.”

“It’s the one redeemable thing about us Heaven,” Taehyung adds, looking up at you even with your head hanging low, trying to meet your eyes.

You feel your eyes water, you just ached, wanting to be drowned in their love but protected from their consequences. Last time you took the coward's way out, you ran away, this time you needed to create distance, but still work on the problem without bias, without their love infecting you until you could heal them and yourself.

“I don’t know where to go from here,” you confess, holding back a sob. Your mind starting to win the war it raged against your heart and all it wanted.

Their solemn expressions snap to you, the panic in their eyes piercing you.

“What do you mean, little love?” Jimin says warningly, you sounded like you were wanting to end your relationship but you surely knew better than anyone that it was impossible. They wouldn’t let you go if you tried.

“I think we need to go on a break,” you state, your voice strained from the heavy feeling of wanting to cry in your throat.

“Absolutely not,” Hoseok shakes his head, nostrils flaring at the suggestion.

“I’m not asking,” you say firmly.

“You don’t get to make that decision little love,” Namjoon’s lips twitch as he stops himself from growling, how dare you even think it. “You’re ours.”

You both stare each other down, neither willing to compromise.

“I’m mine,” you felt in control again, you hadn’t felt this way for so long, like your soul belonged to you, you weren’t just floating in their desires, you were your own person.

“We won’t let you leave,” Namjoon retorted, not denying your statement.

“I didn’t say I wanted to leave,” you shake your head, looking at each of them before your gaze returns to the leader of the syndicate, a challenge present in both your stares. “But you don’t get to touch me, or fuck me, or play your games.”

Every one of your new rules hit them like a punch to the gut, a cruel mocking thought passing through the air between them, this was the consequences of their fuck up, and they knew if they wanted to keep you, they would have to listen.

“One last thing,” you say after a lot of deliberating, a squeeze in your throat trying to stop you getting the words out, a deep frown set between your eyes. “I don’t want you to call me little love anymore.”

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ubbesbabymama · 1 year

Text

Their friend is pregnant, pt. 2.

↳ Pairing. Hvitserk The Berserker, Sigurd Snake in The Eye, Ivar The Boneless.

↳ Summary. How would they react to their dear friend being pregnant. [I imagine this with them having the same kind of friendship that Ragnar had with Athelstan but with the reader].

↳ Warnings. Violence, death, abusive relationships, smut/mention of sex.

↳ Note. A second part so I could write the ones that are left because is just so much fun to write this plot.

Part one.

Hvitserk The Berserker.

He adores you, he genuinely thinks you’re the only perfect person on earth and he would do anything to protect you from anybody, even himself.

He is busy between a thrall’s legs, making everything in his power to make her scream his name, thrusting like a madman when he hears his name being called and he stops right away. That’s not the thrall’s voice.

“Hvitserk,” You sob and he can’t help but to pull out and push the woman, running to you while fixing his pants.

“Come here, come here,” He mumbles, taking you in his arms and walking to another room that doesn’t smell like sex.

He sits on the floor in front of a bonfire with you on his lap, and you move around till your legs are around him just like he is around you. You move again and he grunts.

“D-Don’t move too much,” He whispers.

“O-Oh! I’m sorry, forgive—,” You try to move but he grips your thighs. “Hvitserk.”

“Forget everything else and tell me why are you crying,” He says. “Talk to me.”

“Why do I have to talk to you while your cock is poking into my backside?” You ask him and he grunts again, this time because of your stubbornness.

“That is because I got interrupted while I was getting it down, now, talk to me or I am going to take my axe and go look for the information myself.” He threatens.

You sigh and clean your face a little before looking at him.

“I am with child.”

“That’s not true,” He chuckles and panics when your eyes start to fill with tears, and he takes your face in his hands. “Wait— no, no, no sweat heart.”

“Y-You don’t believe me either,” You sob in his hands and he shakes his head.

“I thought it was another one of your pranks, I apologize little one,” You nod, sobbing. He frowns. “Either?”

“He kicked me out of the house… literally,” You whisper, rolling your dress to show him your scratched knees, you show him your hands and they’re scratched too. “He said I cheated on him, that a whore like me could find a man to breed me really fast just so I could trap—,”

You stop talking when Hvitserk moves you around, standing up and taking you with him. He puts his hand on the small of your back to guide you out of the room and back to his room. In silence he takes off your dirty dress and tosses it to the side, he looks around for a moment and comes back with a shirt of him, he helps you put it on.

“I’m going to be right back, get under the covers,” He quietly says, you shake your head, and he sighs. “Under the covers, please.”

“You’re going to kill him.” You whisper.

“Of course, I’m going to kill him, for starters, I gave you that house, he has no right to kick you out, and second, while you’re with child?” He snorts with malice.

“Hvitserk,” He looks at you and holds your stare to let you know that he is not backing down. You nod to yourself and kiss his cheek. “I’ll wait for you awake.”

You know he is back when some thralls enter the room with the tub, he enters right behind them and you gasp, he is bathed in blood, from the hair to his boots.

“What in Odin’s green earth did you do to him?!” You ask alarmed, he shrugs and starts to take his clothes off in front of you and the thralls. “Hvitserk!”

“I tied him to a tree and started beating him,” He looks up slowly, his eyes cold. “I beat him till his last breath.”

“You’re insane,” You whisper, getting out of bed when he gets inside the tub. You start to undo his braids.

“For you, I can be worse than Ivar, you know this already.” He chants, not a single trace of regret on his face.

“Yeah well, you killed the abusive father of my child,” You roll your eyes. “So it’s safe to say that you’re now a father.”

He smirks.

“Great.”

Sigurd Snake In The Eye.

Everybody could see how much you mean to him, it was as obvious as the fact that the sun would shine every day. When it comes to you he knows no reason or shame, going as far as to beg if he needs to.

“I-I can’t find her,” He murmurs when all his brothers are gathered to hunt.

“Who?” Ubbe asks.

“What do you mean you can’t find her? It’s almost as if you live together,” Hvitserk jokes.

“I think her husband has something to do with her suddenly disappearing.” He swallows and just now everybody feels the tension in the air. “I-I need help, please.”

Suddenly Ivar starts crawling away and everybody looks at him, he stops and looks back directly at Sigurd.

“What are you doing there? We have to find her.” He grunts and in no time Sigurd is by his side.

That’s how much you mean to Sigurd, so much that even his younger brother whom he always argues about anything not dare to joke around.

And he finds you, in a small cabin deep in the woods, thanks to Hvitserk’s insight in the town he founds that your husband owns this cabin for when he goes hunting alone.

He enters the cabin and sucks a breath when he sees you in a corner hugging your legs. He takes one step and your husband comes out and pulls you by the hair, you yelp.

“If you get close I will kill them both!” He screams and Sigurd frown.

“Who’s them?” He whispers to himself, and you sob.

“You didn’t tell him? You’re carrying his child and you didn’t—,”

“Because it’s not his!” You cry, looking at Sigurd and his stare makes you stop trembling a little. You’re safe, Sigurd is here.

Suddenly an arrow enters from behind Sigurd, right on top of his head, and embedded right onto your husband’s head, him being so tall makes it easy for the archer to shoot without fearing it would hit you.

Sigurd looks behind him and nods to Ubbe, who just nods back and starts walking back with his brother, leaving him with you.

He opens his arms and watches how you run and jump on him, his arms sliding around you, one on your thigh and the other on your waist.

“I’m here now, shh…” He comforts you while walking till he leans on a wall. “Nobody can’t hurt you anymore.”

You sob on his neck and he hums.

“I’m tired,” You murmur and he nods.

He takes you back to the town and directly into his room and orders the thralls to prepare a bath for you. When everything’s ready he undresses you and lets you get inside the tub, he’s about to start looking for clothes for you but your grip on his hand stops him.

“I’m not going anywhere, I’m getting in with you,” He says to calm you down and when he sees you expectant he undresses and gets inside too, behind you.

He starts to caress your belly, he supposed you haven’t seen your monthly blood and that’s why you know you’re with child since it’s not clear in your belly.

“You’re going to start living here,” He whispers in your ear. “So I can take care of you better.”

“You have obligations,” You whisper.

“And you’re the main one,” He hums. “Yes?”

“Yes.”

Ivar The Boneless.

Nobody understands how you can stand Ivar, with the man being borderline obsessed with you. The only reason why you can lay with men is that he is certain that he can’t satisfy a woman and he would rather be burned alive than disappoint you from all people, but other than that, he lets no man get close to you unless you directly tell him that you chose that man to warm your chambers, he has bodyguards for you, thralls for you, he gives you a quarter of everything he owns or gets. Even when he goes raiding everybody knows that a lot of the goods are yours and yours only. That’s how obsessed Ivar The Boneless is with you.

Of course, it’s almost impossible to hide things from him, more so with the people in town being so eager to bring him information about you just to be favored, so as soon as you’re being yelled at and tossed around by the Viking Ivar is notified.

“You think after three times you can already be with child?! Do you think I’m stupid?!” The man was yelling at you, but you weren’t backing down. No sir.

“After ONE time of laying together, I can already be with child, or do you think your seed is so weak you need more than once? even more than three? Poor you.” You mock and gasp when he pushes you, making you fall onto your backside, you whimper at the burn in your hands for breaking the fall.

“I should just kill you and that bastard right now!” He yells, and you spit on your side in response.

“Who?” You freeze, feeling chills run down your spine. That voice only means problems, and a lot of them. “Who are you going to kill? My woman?”

You feel him right beside you, leaning on his crutch. He looks down at you and nods and you nod back, slowly standing up.

“L-Lord I-Ivar,” The man stuttered.

“So? You’re going to kill my woman, you say?” Ivar says, his tone friendly but his eyes, oh those eyes.

“N-no, no my lord,” The man keeps stuttering. “It’s this woman who says she’s carrying my child.”

Ivar face snaps to the side, looking at you while anger starts to bubble in his system, a burning feeling in his chest, he squints his eyes at you and silently you start to pray to the gods for the life of the man.

“When I was hunting and you were keeping me company, that was your last month bleeding, right?” Ivar says and he’s not actually asking, he knows that information, for he’s the one you always go to when you’re in pain, but you nod anyways. “And he pushed you while you’re carrying a child?”

You nod again.

“Yes, Ivar.” The man grimaces when he hears you call Ivar by his name and without honorifics, why nobody told him he was laying with someone so important? “He did.”

Ivar’s face slowly turns to the man, and he grins.

“Now I have to decide whether you die—,”

“Ivar can I—,” You start but are interrupted.

“NO!” He snaps, pointing at you with his finger. “You do not get to save him from this, you do not get a saying this time!”

“Ivar,” Your own anger makes you grind your teeth. “Can I go home? My feet are hurting and I need to get a healer for my hands.”

He blinks and looks down at your bloody hands from the fall before, he sighs, feeling bad at the way he talked to you when you weren’t even trying to help the man.

“I’ll finish this quickly,” Ivar says and in the blink of an eye, the man is being dragged by Ivar’s men while crying and babbling apologies.

You don’t let Ivar say anything more and start walking home and when you get there you ask for a healer and after being done with your hands and a quick checkup on your overall health you ask for a hot bath.

“It’s ready, my lady,” The thrall says just in time for Ivar’s entrance, she gasps and starts to tremble.

“You can go now, don’t come back again, you may take the tub out tomorrow,” You whisper tiredly.

Ivar is covered in blood and even you get a chill run down your spine. It looks grotesque, never has he had so much blood on him from just one person, he looks demonic even.

“I’m—,” He starts but you lift your hand.

“I honestly don’t want to hear it,” You murmur, starting to get undressed.

He looks at you with attention, watching you moan when the hot water gets in contact with your skin.

“I’m sorry.” He finishes what he was saying earlier and you roll your eyes.

“I’m with child, I got pushed by the father of the child and then he got killed by you and I imagine it was in the most animalistic way you could think of,” You tell him coldly. “I’m tired, I didn’t need you snapping at me when I was the one being mistreated, you may go now if that’s going to happen again.”

“I’m sorry.” It’s all he says, he looks emotionless, his voice too. But you know that those words coming out of Ivar’s mouth is already a blessing.

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“I’m not leaving.” He says, crawling more closer.

“You look scary.”

“I’ll get clean after you tell me how are you,” He whispers and you sigh.

“What am I going to do now?” You whisper to him, getting close to him.

“Nothing, you don’t need to do anything,” He whispers. “Just let me take care of you. Both of you.”

“You already do that,” You smile.

He smiles and leans, giving you a soft kiss although you could tell it doesn’t mean anything more.

“Yes I do, until the gods call me to Valhalla.”

#vikings #vikings imagine #vikings smut #hvitserk ragnarsson #ubbe ragnarsson #ivar ragnarsson #ragnar lothbrok #sigurd #sigurd snake in the eye #hvitserk x you #hvitserk x reader #vikings ivar #ivar the boneless #ivar the boneless x reader

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heavencanbeaprisontoo · 2 months

Text

Partner Age-Difference Preferences (Peaky Blinders HCs)

Gn!Reader x Various (Tommy, Arthur, John, Michael)

A/N: suggestive language, toxic masculinity, toxic relationships, discussion of age-gap relationships, the reader is 18+ in all scenarios.

Tommy:

Prefers same age, won’t refuse a younger partner. Tommy has tried being with older partners but found they wanted too much control. And by “control,” we mean an equal part in the relationship. Tommy wants to have two worlds to live in, his world in business and his world at home. Partners his own age/younger tend to tolerate that more. Either they understand what he needs, or they are too naive to see it.

There is a power dynamic that he’s attracted to as well. A same aged partner will debate with him, but not shove him the way an older partner might. Wordplay is a turn-on for him, it’s really foreplay. Even the exchange of barbed comments can get him going. You could be certain that you’re in an argument with him and slowly it melts into an intense bout of eye-fucking that ends up with you naked. A younger partner is perfect for him to put on a pedestal and protect. If you can stand up to him and keep up with his mind, that’s even better. But don’t expect him not to use your age against you if you actually try to have an argument with him.

With a younger partner, Tommy will accept at maximum a ten year age difference. Occasional lovers can be a bit younger, but not by much. By Series 5 or 6, however, Tommy could go to twenty years age difference.

Arthur:

Doesn’t want to admit it, but most women his age feel inaccessible to him. Really has no preference, but most of his partners are younger due to them not immediately identifying that he can’t be changed. And that’s the cruel thing about it all. An older partner has seen people like Arthur and know that they have to accept him as he is or leave. Other partners might not. Which leads Arthur to greater heartbreak.

Unlike Tommy, he will put his partner on a pedestal regardless of age. Whoever you are, he will deify you based only on your choice to love him. Nobody’s ever chosen him before. You must be special. Saintly. An angel. He’ll feel that way even after you leave him. This would likely be most distressing for a younger partner. Arthur is emotionally volatile and immature. He won’t fully understand that the way he clings to you is abusive. He won’t. Not unless you commit to educating him on that, or really, making an ultimatum with him. Threatening to leave him is the best way for him to change even slightly.

Arthur doesn’t have a true preference for age, but he would not be with someone more than fifteen years younger than him. There’s something about feeling like he could be their father that just immediately turns him off. Fifteen feels safer, somehow.

John:

He’ll say he likes them younger because that’s the thing all men say, right? Really, he wants either a partner his own age or older. A partner that knows what they want and know what To Do when they’re alone in bed with him. Also, an older partner might just make him feel… safe. Ideal age difference with an older partner can go as high as ten years.

John does fairly well picking up younger partners for a night of fun, but he’s self-aware enough to know he can’t make a life with them. He has children, he has a drinking problem, he’s a boy in a suit with a gun. John knows this about himself and he wants to grow up. He wants to be stable. John can’t see that happening with a bouncy young thing he met at a pub.

John never wants to look like he’s not the boss in his relationship. Even if everyone can see that you’re the leader, he won’t admit it. The truth is, John is rather immature. Even a partner that’s his exact age is likely to feel older based on that. Unless you are also immature, you’ll find yourself having to be The Adult a lot of the time. Which embarrasses him, but he won’t change quickly. He’ll just put on his angry face and stomp his feet until you make it up to him.

Michael:

Has tried to be with partners younger than himself and found it just wasn’t what he wanted. Hates to say it out loud, but he actually prefers an older partner. Call it Mommy/Daddy issues, but he wants a partner that he can impress. He wants to prove his worth to you constantly while also having you on his arm as a sort of trophy.

In the case where his partner is older, his ideal age difference would be between 3-8 years give or take. Nothing extreme on paper. That’s not to say Michael wouldn’t be attracted to someone older than that, the 3-8 mark is just his go-to answer.

Like John, part of his attraction to an older partner comes from a want for stability. Michael is less interested in the traditional sense of stability, however. He lived a life in the countryside with two well-adjusted parents and a little brother. Michael knows what that life is like. His want for stability comes from wanting a partner with similar wants and goals who won’t easily change their mind. A younger partner or same-aged partner might change their values over time. An older partner knows precisely what they want, and will support Michael. Support him, be in awe of him, have all their attention on him. That’s what Michael wants.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #thomas shelby #peaky blinders headcanon #thomas shelby x reader #arthur shelby x reader #john shelby x reader #michael gray x reader #michael gray #arthur shelby #John Shelby

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comradekatara · 2 months

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hey, so. people on twt (ugh, I need to delete that account) started to compare Zuko and Azula’s relationship to Sokka and Katara. So, I jump in like “they are not comparable in any way” then people are like “Sokka and Katara do have issues even though it’s not the same as Zuko and Azula” (even though the original tweet did imply that but, whatever). and I’m all like “sure, they both have trauma from their upbringing and they fight like siblings and that trauma probably has effected their relationship but it’s still no way like it’s being compared… they love and care for one another” and then they’re coming back like “it’s not the same but they still have issues” and citing the southern raiders (which I have my own opinions about and I feel like people totally miss read that scene) but all in all to say; I’m annoyed because I feel like people are being disingenuous and I feel like your thoughts would be interesting

okay yeah obviously I don’t know what the full arguments were (and I never will because I loathe twitter. I mean X sorry) but i can definitely talk about this more generally. I mean they are the central sibling pairs configured in a similar way for obvious reasons. they are definitely comparable.

sokka and zuko have superficial similarities as older brothers who feel undervalued, struggle to live up to a harmful patriarchal standard of gender (specifically masculinity/manhood) as shaped by imperialism/colonialism/war and the expectations their fathers placed on them to “be a real man” within a very limited framework, and ultimately find their worth via other avenues beyond the limited scope of patriarchal imperialist logic. azula and katara have superficial similarities as younger sisters who are placed on a pedestal by their culture community, are the best benders of their respective elements and outclass all the older more established (male) masters who dismiss and look down on them for being teenage girls, and who feel a deep sense of grief due to the loss of their mothers that informs everything they do and fundamentally who they are as people. and then obviously the REAL foils who are foiling are katara and zuko, and sokka and azula. these pairs are each very obvious mirrors, both in terms of their personalities (as developed differently by their respective environments) and their arcs. zuko is fire nation katara. azula is fire nation sokka. so obviously their relationships are similar in this way. they are narratively constructed as parallels.

that said, I think the key primary difference between these sets of siblings is that zuko and azula are directly opposed due to being pitted against each other by ozai’s abuse, whereas sokka and katara are extremely codependent, to the point that sokka’s entire identity is shaped by his role as katara’s brother and protector. so if you read zuko as a foil to sokka (which he certainly somewhat is, but is not the primary foil to sokka) you’ll get confused because he doesn’t live for others and he doesn’t look out for azula at all. but azula, like sokka, does define her identity through her loyalty and her ability to best serve others, so she does try to help zuko as best she can, which is obviously hindered by the incredibly limited of scope of what she considers “helpful” (much in the same way that sokka’s protection of katara is often limited by his own narrow worldview and unhealthy sense of duty as it corresponds to his identity). azula wants zuko to be a “perfect prince” in the way that she is a “perfect princess” because she refuses to acknowledge how specifically harmful that paradigm is to both of them until it is too late. so her intentions are actually good (don’t @ me), but she’s just deeply misguided and her level of cognitive dissonance is off the charts generally (again, much like sokka).

meanwhile katara and zuko, despite loving their families a lot and feeling defined by their families in many ways, are still very self-focused. which isn’t to say that’s a bad thing or that they’re selfish (they are both defined by an incredibly passionate and outspoken sense of justice for others, of course), but rather that they understand that what they want is to further their own interests for their own benefit even as they are seeking justice for the entire world. (in katara’s worlds: “me. me, personally!”) but like. if anything, the fact that azula and sokka never think in terms of the ego but only in terms of servitude to the point that they are actually detached from their own humanity is deeply unhealthy and awful, which is why so much of sokka’s arc is about getting him to understand his intrinsic worth as a human being and the value of accepting help, and azula’s tragedy and downfall is precipitated by her acknowledgement that she has been deliberately isolated her entire life and now she is alone and utterly helpless.

I do see katara and zuko as quite heroic, inspiring characters, to azula and sokka’s quite tragic, heartbreaking characters (especially azula of course, but like. I don’t think sokka’s deep-seated, copious issues have somehow been magically resolved just because “the boiling rock” is his apotheosis. you get it). but katara was always the “valued” sibling whereas azula began as the valued sibling and zuko rose above her by disrupting/transcending the paradigm that valued her only to end up in the position that she felt teleologically entitled to (not to say that she thought she would become fire lord, but that he does become the most powerful player in the fire nation, at least in name). and a large part of that is the fact that katara and sokka grew up in extremely different conditions than azula and zuko did, even if both their worldviews are informed by imperialism and patriarchy in some way. so katara was valued as a sort of cultural artefact who represents the last hope of a dying people, whereas azula was valued as the obedient daughter of a powerful abusive patriarch. it’s still a way of ascribing “value,” but the criteria are completely different in both cases. which is why I still think that azula and sokka are functionally more similar, because even if azula is valued, it is with the expectation that she function in the same way that sokka is expected to function, as a depersonalized vessel for the good of their people.

so there are similarities for sure, but also those similarities are constantly being complicated through locating their respective cultural contexts as they informed their upbringing, psychologies, and sibling relationships. I will say that it’s true that both of these relationships are unhealthy (to an extent), and both sets of siblings parallel each other in very significant ways, but the ways in which their relationships are in fact “unhealthy” are nonetheless almost diametrically opposed.

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jocelynscrazyideas · 23 days

Note

I NEED MORE QUINN CONTENT

Hurts | Quinn Hughes x Reader🫶

NOT PROOD READ

🚨‼️none of my blurbs are ever proof read‼️🚨

Summary: Quinn gets defensive in his take of having kids, in order to be happy in a successful relationship, you feel that you need to have a partner that values having their own family. Quinn disagrees and decides to focus on his career, which you agreee and support, but you bring up having to split. Quinn makes a decision…

Warnings: physical contact, no abuse, argument if kids?

A:N- Ik you prob meant some smut, but I’m in a mood and I decided to write something else🫶 Quinn smut coming next after a Jack smut!

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

I told myself that I would stand up for myself, I would never let a man tell me what to do. I’m an independent woman, who occasionally lets herself have fun with her boyfriend. It’s difficult trying to fulfill your childhood dreams, but this isn’t a dream. This is a full on goal, I know I can keep up to it, it’s just Quinn makes me want to disrespect myself.

He literally screams out my name, he listens, he helps me understand things that I don’t get, he supports me, and most importantly, he gives me respect, and true loyalty and honesty, he fully trusts me. He would give me anything I want.

“Lovie?” Quinn breaks the silence from our previous argument. He places his hand on my inner thigh. I feel a pulse in my pelvis.

“Hm.” I responded, just letting him know I’m listening, but still upset about our disagreement. Early on in the morning, Wuinn and I disagreed about the love for our jobs and our future together. I wnat kids, he doesn’t. I know, I said he would give me anything that makes me happy. This is one thing he doesn’t agree upon.

Quinn had previously mentioned that kids isn’t in his future, just because he’s so focused on his career. Do I agree with his story? Yes. I understand where he’s coming from, but I’m truly curious when we can have babies.

“I know some people break up from not agreeing in a future family. But that’s not us.” Quinn stated.

I’m disappointed. I really am, I thought he would understand where I’m coming at.

“Well, just saying… when you get the handle of being Captain, maybe we could fit in having a child, or more.” I insist. I know it’s hard, you know being Captain, but after a few years of Captain.

I mean we’re at the perfect age to start considering kids. Mid-20s, that way when our kids are about 10, we’ll be 30, and when they’re 18… well we would be about early late 40s. I think it’s perfectly reasonable to wait a few years to have kids, especially Quinn story.

I’m staring out the window, I know it’s hard for Quinn to feel so left out of my thinking, but I’m truly horrified. I’m scared that this will split us apart. Maybe this is a sign from God. Maybe I’m getting signals by the universe, “this is what’s best for us.” Quinn says as he looks over at me.

Suddenly the trees look so beautiful. Maybe I should just jump out of this car, the ride home is taking to long.

We’re driving home from a party at Peteys house to kick off the season. Our first game is next week and the roster is finalized, the letters are printed on the jerseys. Everything is ready.

“We have to finish this.” Quinn says, not letting this go.

“fine.” I say making it clear I don’t want to finish this “debate” and this so called “problem” of mine. I pull out my phone and call Ellen.

“Hey Mama Bear!” I say, Ellen can’t know that Quinn and I are going through something. This “debate” isn’t just happening, it’s been brought up about four times.

“What’s up Y/n? Something wrong?” Ellen askes, she gets up from her kitchen table and walks into her bedroom, where Jim lays on his computer finishing some work.

She points the camera at them both and Quinn speaks up, “no mom. Nothings wrong, I’m not sure why Y/n keeps calling.” Quinn motions to put the phone down. I obviously don’t do as he says.

“Yes, actually. I’m just wondering-“ I imply, but Quinn cuts me off.

“No. Nothing is wrong.” And he takes my phone and turns off the video call. He chucks the phone in the back. He pulls into the driveway of our home.

“We can fix this ourselves.” Quin eyes my belly. He climbs over the panel that separates my seat and Quinn’s.

“no, I don’t think we can.” I say as I pull away from Quinn’s request to kiss me. I see the look in Quinn’s eyes as he sees my pain.

My voice cracks, I sure I can’t be with someone that doesn’t wnat the life Ive fancied since I was a girl.

“Lovie. Come back.” Quinn slams his car door, and he locks the vehicle. He storms behind me as I run into our bathroom.

“Unlock the door.” Quinn pounds not once but twice and his feet trail off to our garage.

“Unlock it before I wreck it.” Quinn says as he grunts as if he picked something heavy off the ground.

“I don’t want to have makeup sex, or talk about it. Just let me live, or let me think this through. Because Quinn, right now it sounds like you want me to give up my dreams of being a mom.” I know hate is a sin. I just- I’m not sure if I can even think about leaving my childhood goal behind.

“Okay. If that’s what you need, I’ll leave.” And I hear a crack and a boom from above me.

I look up from the ground and I see Quinn has stabbed the door with a hatchet. I didn’t even know we had that in our home.

I stand up from the ground and back up towards our shower. I hit our wall that’s parallel to our wood door.

“I love you.” Quinn says as I see the door bang. The door is about to give up. Quinn runs into the door once more and I see him fall to the ground with our door. I’m stuck inside our shower. Quinn is on the door that had fallen. The wind was knocked iut if him.

“Baby?” I say as I step carefully out of the bathroom and into our room. I grab a first aid kit.

Quinn is bleeding from his head.

“Why did you do it?” I say in a frantic tone. I pick Quinn’s head up and I clean his wound.

“I’m fine. And I want kids.” Quinn says as he smiles.

Quinn gets up and sticks a bandaid on his cut. He takes his pants off and followed by his boxers. He throws his shirt off. He’s bare skinned and he jumps into bed.

I do the same. I throw my shirt off, leaving my bra on, and I slide my jeans off. Taking my thong off and sliding it onto if Quinn’s pile of clothing, I snap my bralette off and I throw it elsewhere. I jump into bed as Quinn hold me. The lights are off, doors are locked. We’re exhausted.

Quinn holds me in his arms, legs wrapped over me. Dick pricked up looking at me. My boobs hang to the side as I’m laying on my side as well. Quinn pulls me in, kisses my shoulder, and he whispers a name.

“Vada.” Quinn kissed my forehead and sets his head in my breasts. He falls asleep, not a care in the world about our broken door that he had slammed down.

This argument is settled, we’re having kids.

#jocelynscrazyideas #hockey #nhl #umich hockey #quinn hughes #captain huggy #captain quinn #🍇🍇🍇#nhl fic #hockey blurb #quinn hughes x reader #emotional angst

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pagannatural · 3 months

Text

1.20

Dead Man’s Blood

-Dean offers to drive to ny so that Sam can see Sarah (the art dealer) again and Sam shuts that shit down right away. Dean only encourages Sam to have Dean-sanctioned relationships and sex. Dean’s Freudian nonsense is that he likes to pressure Sam into being involved with women, be certain that he’s the reason Sam is doing it, and then convince himself it’s good for Sam. I don’t think there’s anything malicious in this pattern, I think Dean is just operating at a high level of cognitive dissonance and avoids question his own motivations and feelings.

-Dean manhandles Sam away from John, de-escalating, then things escalate again and Sam and John grab at each other and it looks like they’re going to fight so Dean changes tactics. He forces them apart and puts himself physically in front of Sam, telling John to back off. First he tries to get Sam away, then he stands in front of him to protect him and waits until John walks away.

And now seems like a good time to talk about the fact that John was probably violent when they were kids. They don’t seem particularly scared of him, and they seem all to genuinely love each other and be able to find moments of ease and humor, so it was probably more a violence born of dysfunction than systematic abuse. There’s enough evidence for this that it’s safe to assume. For example, John says “I stopped being your father and I became your drill sergeant,” and he’s a vet, so he probably means that pretty literally and that in itself is a brutal way to treat children. In season 6, when Dean is explicitly trying not be become his father but falling more and more into re-enacting John’s behaviors, he slaps Ben across the face to try getting him out of shock. In s7 teenage Sam says that his dad has a temper and you wouldn’t want to see him after he’s been drinking. And then of course there’s this scene.

Neither Sam nor John see Dean’s diffusion of the situation as unusual. He’s done it before. Dean’s primary order is to look after Sammy. So I can’t really see him letting John get escalated with Sam, especially with how comfortable Sam is with Dean protecting him.

As codependent as Dean is with John, it seems like Sam is the subject on which he challenges him. He doesn’t have to break from his role as John’s surrogate co-parent and partner or as Sam’s (everything, but first and foremost) protector to do this, so it’s not really even him breaking rank. Dean follows John’s orders because he wants to keep Sam safe in the first place, so it makes perfect sense that this is normal for him. His motivations revolve around Sam.

-Sam, pacing, waiting for Dean to return from the morgue: “it shouldn’t be taking this long, I should go help.” Sam worrying about Dean part 497.

-John uses the vampire’s mate as a hostage because they mate for life. Immediately after this, a vampire uses Sam as a hostage to make Dean back off. It takes one to know one.

-When John kills the vampire Sam stumbles into Dean, who catches him. Dean holds onto Sam until the vampire dies, which takes a moment. Maybe even after that.

-John tells the boys they disobeyed a direct order and Sam says yes sir and Dean says “but we saved your ass.”

Sam can’t believe Dean said that. He looks afraid of what John will do.

Dean showed Sam that he can stand up to their dad too, and not just when it comes to de-escalating situations where Sam is involved- he stands up for himself.

This is important because it’s Dean breaking away from John and coming into his own. Sam has come to understand and even appreciate Dean’s obedience to John, but he still couldn’t choose to be with Dean rather than living a normal life when Dean was following John without question. Now Sam can believe in Dean’s ability to break the pattern Sam couldn’t live with. They’re a team.

#samdean #supernatural #spn meta #wincest #spn 1x20

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smok3r7 · 5 months

Text

Is Leaving Even An Option?

Joel x F!reader

Explicit, 18+

Five: Running Away

Main Masterlist & Series Masterlist - My Ao3

Summary: Your days have become one in the same, even with the terrifying reality of death right outside the walls of Jackson. You never thought you’d be in the situation you’ve been stuck in for seven years now, the daily abuse you endure has become an expectation. You take whatever your husband throws at you, literally and figuratively, because you’ve been trained to believe this is normal. But a new man, Joel, moves next door and happens to be friendly towards you, this causes your husband’s anger to worsen. Your mind starts a gruesome war with itself - can you leave him or do you stay until the inevitable happens?

Chapter Summary: Nate is officially out of the picture for good, at least for the last year. A fun night of card games and alcohol causes you and Joel finally to have a chance to maybe spark something new. But you get scared, and what do you do when you get scared? You run away.

Word count: 5.8k

⚠️Warnings: cards against humanity, sexual tension, grinding, fingering, relationship ptsd, feeling confused

I just wanna give a big shout to @chloeangelic she has been an absolute blessing to me, thank you so much for helping me through this process, love you🫂🫶🏼

—

The warm summer breeze flows through your hair as you sit on a rocking chair on the wrap-around porch you’ve come to relax on, the sounds of children playing surrounds you, the sun beaming down onto the green yards filled with dandelions in the neighborhood, and you couldn’t be any happier.

Another year has passed by without any problems, you practically live with Joel and Ellie, and you can’t remember the last time you set foot in your old place, too many horrific memories associated with that home. Nate has been gone for months now - he and Daniel got an assignment to go out West a bit more to find different supplies Jackson needs.

All you know is that they’re still alive, based off of radio communications, but in reality, you don’t care anymore, to the point where you have asked Henry, who’s in control of the radio, to stop giving you updates.

You’ve mentally and emotionally moved on from Nate, and he’s more a figment of your imagination by now. You don’t have any more romantic ties to him, which means, you’re back to your normal fun self. Your witty personality takes over the weak one that grew over you like weeds, and it’s pretty funny; you and Ellie are very similar, she’s what you would imagine your daughter to be like. It’s bittersweet.

“Hey darlin’,” Joel greets as he comes out of the house you now share with them, with a glass of lemonade in each hand, “Extra sugar, just how you like it.” He winks at you when you reach out to grab the tall glass, a smile grows on your warm face, “You, Miller, are the best.”

He laughs as he sits down next to you in the other chair with a groan, “I try my best.” You shake your head and take a drink of the freshly squeezed lemonade and your mouth is filled with the perfect mix of sugary sweetness and fresh lemons. You hum from the pure satisfaction that flows through your tastebuds, “Gotta hand it to you, Miller,” you turn your head to look him in the eyes, “This is perfect.”

His eyes gaze from your eyes down to your lips and back again, a soft smile grows on his worn face as he smoothly says, “Anything for you, sugar.” The two of you continue to stare at each other as you both silently drink the delicious yellow drink, just enjoying the beautiful summer weather.

The rest of the afternoon is spent with you both enjoying each other's company, along with the surrounding noise of people outside. However, there’s something different about the way you and Joel are communicating, but you can’t quite put your finger on it.

—

“Okay, okay, here we go. What killed the dinosaurs?” Ellie finally gets out after a burst of laughter. Joel and you have started a game night type of thing every Friday with Ellie, Tommy, and Maria, and tonight is Cards Against Humanity.

“AIDS, oh my god,” Ellie chokes, as does the rest of the group playing, but you hear Tommy snicker under his breath. Welp, that’s Tommy’s.

“Bees?” She laughs as she sets the white card down, “I mean, what?” She shakes her head and leans back in her chair, “John Travolta’s right hand… Okayyyy.” A confused look grows on her face as she looks at Joel, but he doesn’t give any hint of whether it's his or not as he takes a sip of his whiskey.

“And finally,” she flips the last white card and immediately looks at you across from her at the dining room table, you try to give her a what are you looking at sort of look, but the wine you’ve been drinking catches up to you as you try to hide your smile that’s just waiting to crack with your hand. You know it’s your card and it’s a doozy, “Old lady, you’re something else,” she shakes her head and reads, “Having no legs, just toes.”

You and Ellie are the only ones who are cracking up, both of you hitting the wooden table and starting to see tears rolling down each other's faces. The rest of the table, however, doesn’t seem to find it as funny as you both do. “That’s the winner!” Ellie hollers as she slides the black card on the table to you, and your hand stops it from flying off the table.

“I win!” You yell with excitement as you put your arms in the air and start to wave them side to side, the red wine Maria brought over giving you a boost of adrenaline and confidence to be who you truly are, and you don’t care if they don’t like it - because this is the girl you’ve wanted to be for decades, the girl who could be what she wanted and didn’t care about what others thought.

“Really? AIDS was so much better!” Tommy playfully argues with Ellie, but Ellie is quick with the rebuttal. “I know but just imagine a T-Rex with its baby arms, and with just toes and no legs!” She breaks out into a fit of laughter before she can even finish her sentence, and it causes the whole table to erupt in laughs.

God, you can’t remember the last time you felt like this - just pure happiness and comfort. It’s so heartwarming to be able to live through this moment during the time of what seems to be the end of the world, along with surviving your shit marriage. You never thought you’d be able to see or even feel this again, it’s beautiful.

After the roaring laughter dies down to a lower volume conversation about whatever Town Hall is planning for this weekend, the sudden touch of Joel’s large warm hand on your skin catches your attention. You take a second to subtly look down and you notice how his hand fits perfectly on your squishy thigh as he softly squeezes your flesh. A shudder crawls up your spine, pure ecstasy surges through your body and, god, yes, you haven’t had this feeling in years, so long you honestly don’t even know how to take care of it.

Your cheeks start to heat up and your breathing gets a bit heavy, the wine definitely not helping to keep this hidden. Without giving it a second thought, you bring your hand on top of his and give a gentle squeeze back to tell him, this is okay. Over the last couple months, the subtle flirting between you and Joel has slowly turned into something that could potentially become serious, but the conversation has never been had between you two, so it’s been a gray area for awhile now.

You’re trying to keep your full attention on Maria who is discussing to the whole table how she’s so sick of having to plan all of the events that go on in Jackson, but let’s be real, you can’t pay her any mind. All your attention is focused on Joel and his gentle touch as he slowly swipes his thumb close to your now arousal covered panties, your stomach doing flips from the anticipation, and even though you continue to nod your head with her complaints, your patience with Maria is running thin.

All you want to do right now is drag Joel upstairs and fuck him like it’s the last and only time you’ll be able to, but that’s not possible at the moment.

Joel must be thinking and feeling the same thing because he then leans into your ear and whispers for only you to hear, “Want me to send them home?” You slightly turn your head, mainly your eyes, and all you do is bite your bottom lip in a smile that’s covered by your hand, as you barely nod your dazed head.

You’re so lost in the fantasy of you and Joel finally being able to end the long-awaited game of flirting, that you’re really not even mentally here as Maria and Tommy do their farewells and Ellie tells you two that she’s gonna head over to Dina’s for the evening. It feels almost like a dream kind of state, you haven’t drank like this in god knows how many years, and you really only had three glasses of wine - but you feel like you drank a whole bottle to yourself, so you’re drunk, basically, but not in a sloppy way, just with newfound confidence.

—

Now it’s only you and Joel, just the two of you alone in this huge house, and anything could happen. As you stand in the living room a few feet away from his muscular build, you slowly make your way to the staircase, and Joel then shuts the big door behind Ellie, then locks it, twice.

Joel turns around to face you, your hand now wrapping around the brown railing that leads to the second floor. He has this smirk on his lips that shows you he’s as riled up as you are.

Feeling a bit of confidence rise in your belly, you sing to him, “Catch me if you can, Miller,” and as you start to run up the hardwood steps, only a second later, you hear him chuckle, ooh just wait, and the sound of his quick feet behind you. Normally this would terrify you, but this is different, you’re not even close to feeling scared, you actually feel excited.

You’re feeling kind of frisky too, so you decide to be a little extra; you reach the door that leads to Joel’s room at the end of the hallway and you quickly spin around to face him as he reaches the top of the steps. You strip off your flannel and undershirt, then slip the flannel back on with only your black lace bra showing. Might as well make this more fun, right?

As he sees you showing off for him, he whistles and slowly struts towards you, “My, my, darlin’,” then gently wraps his fingers around your waist and presses into your plush skin, his bearded face close to your lips, “You sure know how to put on a show.”

You gaze at his eyes, his nose and his jaw, and when you see the way he adores you, a feeling stirs in your core that you can’t place, almost like a sense of hope. But you really don’t have a clue, you can’t place it, and it scares you, but for right now you push it out of sight and out of mind because you really want this. And, well, let’s be honest - you need this.

“I thought you might deserve it,” you purr back to him as you stare into his eyes, the ones that hooked you the first time you met him, and your hand rests on his chest. The next thing you know, you feel his soft lips on yours, the scratch from his beard riling you up even more, making you kiss him back with lust.

His tongue peeks out in search for permission and you eagerly open your mouth for him to lick every inch of you, his hands still on your hips but with a tighter grip, pulling you closer to grind on his hardening cock. Your hands are now grabbing his green flannel on his chest, your fingertips beginning to dig into his broad chest, both of you groaning into each other.

Somehow Joel gets his door open and you almost fall backwards into the warmth of his room, but he’s quick to catch you. “Good catch, Miller,” you chuckle as he brings you back into his chest and you begin to unbutton his shirt as he softly shuts the door behind him. He smiles as he says, “Would never let you fall, darlin’.”

Then, like a light switch flipping on, this overwhelming feeling of needing to be in control takes over, one you’ve never been able to have before in the bedroom, and you’ll be damned if that’s going to continue - this is happening on your terms only.

You swiftly spin your two bodies around, meshed together, your fingers reaching his bottom button, and when you undo it, you slide the flannel off of his shoulders and he lets it drop to the floor. Both of you pause for a moment to take in each other, and you watch his brooding chest rise and fall with his breaths, the drops of sweat that roll down his neck, and you eye his happy trail on his belly. God damn.

“You are absolutely gorgeous, sugar,” he murmurs softly as he lowers his lips to your neck and leaves a trail of kisses up to your pleading lips.

Your hands naturally move back to his chest, applying pressure for him to walk backwards to the queen size bed, his hands moving from your waist down to your jeans as he unbuttons them and rolls the zipper down. The feeling of Joel stopping his moving feet makes you realize that you’ve reached the mattress. “Sit on the bed,” you demand between moans and kisses.

“Yes, ma’am.” You can feel his smile on your plump lips as he leaves one last meaningful kiss, then sits down at the edge of the white comforter covering the bed, his legs spread open for you to stand between.

Even though you haven’t had satisfying sex, or gotten off at all in over ten years, not even by your own devices, the routine of it all has come back, almost like it never left you. You slowly strip yourself of your light washed jeans and discard them somewhere on his carpeted floor. Shit, you hear Joel whistle at the sight of you.

You bring your head back up to meet his gaze and you growl, “Back up to the pillows, take your jeans off first.”

“Gotta say, darlin’-” he starts sliding his jeans off and starts to move to the head of the bed, “I like you in control.”

You smile at his words and think, I do too. The image of him in front of you with his legs spread and his arms folded behind his head, just waiting for you to make your first move, makes you crave him ever more. You start to crawl on the bed towards him, your face is now above his black boxers that show an imprint of his cock.

God damn. You knew he was big, but not that big.

You continue to move up his body, along his belly and his chest, moving in rhythm with each other, and his face, his breathtaking features that you love so much. Your hands come up to wrap around the back of his neck as you sit on your knees on either side of his thighs, and your panty covered folds sit on his throbbing member, his large hands holding your ass as you start to slowly rock back and forth.

You’re so pent up that you could likely orgasm just from this, but you want to feel him fill you up and claim you as his own. No, you want to claim him - make him crumble apart for you, and only you.

The mixture of moans and groans from the both of you echo off of the bedroom walls, neither one of you trying to be quiet, not even the slightest.

“Fuck, sugar, keep doing that,” he groans as he watches the way your hips grind on his cock with such ease.

Your fingers wrap around his soft curls and firmly pull to make him look you in the eyes as you bring your lips to his in a fiery kiss. Your tongues battle for dominance for a moment before he finally gives in to you, the pressure from his fingers digging into the skin of your ass, causing goosebumps to rise all over.

With your right hand, you release the hold of his curls and you bring it down where your two bodies connect as you start to rub slow circles on your aching clit, causing your body to shudder from the motion. Your lips quiver against his and you see that cocky smile appear on his face again, “I gotchu sugar, not going anywhere.” His voice is low as he brings one of his hands down to replace yours, as he moves your panties to the side and starts to swipe through your soaked folds.

Your hips buck from the sensation of Joel’s thick fingers teasing your leaking hole and your throbbing clit, begging for attention. You feel his middle and ring finger slightly push into you, then release and go back to rub a few circles, and back in again. Each time he goes back to your hole, his fingers reach deeper inside you, creating this new feeling inside you.

A string of yes, don’t stop, and right there, roll off of your tongue from his fingers now fully inserted in your pulsating cunt as he continues to pump up and down.

Your head is in his shoulder as your hands have found their place back around his neck, your hips following the flow of Joel’s thick fingers.

“Look at you, pretty girl, sitting so pretty for me,” Joel coos into your ear, his other hand now on your hip as he continues to help your movements.

You start to feel the tightness grow in your lower belly, and you raise your head to look at him, at his beautiful brown eyes, as the overwhelming orgasm rips out of you. Your body stops moving as your mouth hangs open and a strung out moan leaves it, your forehead now resting on his, your eyes still meeting his gaze.

“There you go, let it all go, sugar,” he praises as he slowly pulls his fingers out of you and moves both his hands back to rest on your ass with a gentle squeeze.

Your ears are ringing, head feels dizzy, and your breathing is heavy from the intensity of the orgasm Joel has ripped out of you, almost like you’re a virgin again from how quick he pulled it out of you.

“Thank you,” you finally utter out between heavy breaths.

His face curls, “For what?”, and you chuckle as you pull your face away from his and lay your dazed head back onto his shoulder, burying your face in his neck. You softly say with a gentle tug of his silver and brown hair now damp from sweat, “For all this.”

You listen to the pattern of his rapid heartbeat as your head lifts and lowers with his hairy chest as he chuckles, “Oh darlin’, don’t gotta thank me for that.”

You hum in response with a stupid smile, pure pleasure flowing through you from head to toe, becoming so focused on his heartbeat that you don’t even notice how your eyes slowly start to close and your breathing calms down.

“You still there, pretty girl?” Joel asks, his voice causing your ears to vibrate.

Mhmm, you hum quieter than the one before, the scent of sweat, arousal, and the mix of you and Joel fills your nose as you slowly slip into a calming deep sleep.

—

Pancakes - the familiar smell wakes you up. You yawn as your hands come to rub your eyes and your legs stretch out underneath the thin gray sheet that’s covering you. You slowly push your heavy feeling body up so you can sit, and when you do, you realize you’re alone - just you half naked, in Joel’s bedroom.

What time is it? You mumble to yourself as you turn your head to look at his nightstand, eleven-thirty am, not too bad. You’ve got to be at the stables in about an hour, and you wish you had a bit more time to get ready, but oh well.

A sudden soreness shoots from between your legs as you stand up from the bed. That’s right - you and Joel slept together. Or, actually, he just fingered you, but still-

Oh god, you start to genuinely panic, he never got anything in return, he’s gonna be pissed. Even after growing out of your battered self, you are right back in it, that horrified feeling growing in your stomach and mind all over again. Your mind starts to become overwhelmed by the questions you’re asking yourself, questions that shouldn’t even be on your mind.

Why did you do that? How do you end up in these situations all the time? Why couldn’t you just give him a blowjob or something? God, why do you always have to mess it up?

The soft knocking on the door to the hallway startles you, so you quickly grab your jeans on the carpet and spring into the bathroom and quietly shut the door.

“Darlin’?” You hear Joel’s southern voice question into the now empty bedroom. “I’m in the bathroom,” you chirp out as you pull your jeans up and button them.

“Everything okay?” He must’ve heard the tension in your voice, though you tried your best to hide it, unsure of how he feels about last night.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” You respond a bit more defensive than you wanted.

“Was just askin, but I wanted to let you know that breakfast is ready for you downstairs.”

“Thank you, baby, I’ll be down in a minute.”

You hope that you’re convincing enough for him because you just want to be left alone to think for a second. You hear him sigh, alright, sugar, followed by the click of the door shutting, and now it’s your turn to sigh as you stare at your reflection in the long mirror in front of you.

Your PTSD brain has kicked into full gear, realizing that this is exactly how it started with Nate. Your first time with him was all focused on you, and he said it was okay at the time, and even made breakfast, pancakes, just for you the next morning. But then, the next time you wanted to have sex, he had no regard for you at all - you became his personal rag doll, for him to please himself whenever, however he wanted.

It’s starting to become a sick, repetitive cycle that for some reason just keeps happening to you. Your hands grip the granite counter and you start to rock back and forth, how could you be so stupid? You bend your knees and put your forehead on the edge of the counter next to your hands and you start to cry and cry.

—

You eat breakfast in silence, and even though Joel and Ellie keep trying to engage you in their conversation, you just stare at your plate and try to eat whatever your stomach allows.

After about ten minutes of mindlessly playing with your pancakes and not paying any mind to the conversation the other two were having, you abruptly stand up and gently put your dishes on the counter next to the sink.

“I’m heading next door to grab a couple things, then I’m going to the stables,” you say flatly, and before either one of them can say anything back to you, you’re out the kitchen, through the living room, snagging your bow and arrows that are hanging up, and heading out the front door.

I gotta get out of here.

You enter your old home and you're on autopilot again, your feelings turned off, thinking you’d be hyperventilating if you set foot in here again, but now, you’re not you anymore.

After making sure you locked the door behind you, so no one can barge in asking any questions, especially Joel, you run upstairs to your bedroom you once dreaded walking into. As you push the still broken door open, and you’re not shocked to see it’s in the exact same disaster the night you escaped. He’s such a pig, hasn’t cleaned up in over a year.

You take a deep breath in and out through your nose as you walk in and go immediately to your closet, then grab your dark blue travel backpack you had while you were on your own, and you start to fill the bottom with random clothes that are on your closet floor.

After you feel like you’ve packed enough, you head back downstairs to the kitchen and you start to raid whatever is left in the cupboards, finding cans of random foods that you stuff into the bag.

Lastly, you speed walk over to the front hallway closet and as you swing it open to grab the warm blanket on the top self when you hear rapid knocking and you freeze.

“Please, let me in darlin’.”

Knew it, you mumble as you shove the blanket in the top of the bag and zip it up, you then softly close the closet door and tiptoe to the kitchen, still out of sight of the front door, but another round of knocks happen and they’re louder, followed by the sound of Joel pleading your name, “I just wanna talk.”

You stop at the sound of your name flowing out his mouth with such concern and perfect ease, almost like your name was meant to roll off of his tongue, but you shake those feelings away. You continue to sneakily go out the backdoor, so you don’t have to confront Joel. You just can’t handle it, you know it would be your last straw.

After you shut the backdoor, with your backpack on along with your bow and arrow holder, you sprint between yards to the shortcut path to reach the stables, gotta grab Dougie, your horse you named after your father who passed three years before your mom got with Roy.

—

You sneak past the grocery store, not wanting to be seen by anyone who might ask questions about you having your backpack. You’re still on autopilot at this point, you just want to escape from the suffocating feeling of Jackson and its residents, needing time to really think about what’s going on with yourself.

It’s a little bit past twelve-thirty so Main Street isn’t too busy, most people out doing their jobs or going to the Tipsy Bison or Kenny’s Burgers for their lunch break. Now is the perfect time for you to jump the fence on the other side of the stables and grab Dougie, which you achieve with no problems, thank god.

However, your next difficult task is to come up with an excuse to let Vince, who’s in charge of letting people come in and go out of Jackson, to let you out of here with limited questions.

You’re on a time limit because at any given moment, Joel or Ellie will be here knocking on the barn doors, or they’ll do what you did and hop the fence to get in, and you wouldn’t be shocked if they did, because you know they care about you. So you quickly run over to your beautiful dark brown horse, who huffs as you pet his long face. Hi dad, you sigh, we’re gonna go on a little trip okay?

You unhook his reins and walk him over to the fenced in area, then open up the wooden gate and lead him out as you shut the gate to make it seem like nothing has changed. You finally mount Dougie and do a slight pull on the brown leather rein to tell him it’s time you go, just say Tommy’s okay with this and that Joel is coming after you later.

Thankfully the stables aren’t too far from the massive gate separating the infected from the living so you’re there in seconds, and just like you expected, Vince starts asking questions, but with genuine concern on why you’re going out.

“I’m just going out for a bit, want to take Dougie out for a ride,” you yell up to him as you put your hand above your eyes to shield the gleaming sun.

“By yourself?”

“Tommy is cool with it, and Joel will be coming after me later. I’ll be okay, Vince, I promise.” You nod and smile trying to convince him that this is okay.

He hesitates for a second, your anxiety starting to affect your limbs, your legs slightly shaking in the stirrups. You’re biting your bottom lip and your hands are starting to become clammy and sweaty. Vince, c’monnn.

“I’ll be back with Joel in a couple hours.” You yell at one last attempt to make him open the gates.

“Um, okay. Just … Please be safe by yourself.” He forces a smile, “Open Her Up!” He yells to the guy across from him.

“Thank you, Vince!” You yell up to him as you blow up a kiss to him, and just like that, you and Dougie are off on your own, running into the beautiful wooded land, with no real plan on what you’re doing out here.

—

You’ve been gone for just under a month, after you left Jackson, Dougie took off with you into the woods for a couple miles without stopping until you inevitably had to because the sun went down. You stopped and stayed one night at the same Motel 6 that Nate and Tommy found you in decades ago, and the next day you and Dougie went another couple miles until you found this beautiful little cabin surrounded by dandelions flooding the massive yard in front.

It was perfect for what you needed, a quiet and secluded spot for you to really explore and understand your mind and your emotions.

The two days you had been out, you only ran into just around a dozen runners and clickers, which was a piece of cake for you, and in all honesty, it was therapeutic to be able to really be you for a change.

You haven’t been outside in the real world in years and a part of you deeply misses the independence you once had, along with the constant feeling of accomplishment you received from taking down infected, or people if necessary.

The sun is just beginning to set, the sky a beautiful dark orange with a hint of bright pink hue that meshes perfectly together, and you’re sitting on the front porch on the singular brown rocking chair, ironically all very similar to yours in Jackson. You have a glass of lemonade in your hand as you gaze at the sky, and somehow, the drink is not as good as when Joel makes it for you. What is his secret?

This getaway was supposed to be healing for you, and it really has been overall, however, there’s a piece of your heart that deeply misses Ellie and Joel. This was supposed to be a way for you to make a decision as to whether Joel is exactly like Nate, with the manipulation tactics, or if he’s actually nothing like him.

Your brain knows that Joel is nothing like Nate, the complete opposite actually, however even after a year of excluding Nate as a person, you’re still in fight or flight mode. You are simply not as healed as you thought you were, and that’s okay, but you gotta find something to help you cope through it, you can’t just push it to the back burner.

You glance over to your right and you see Dougie grazing on some tall grass just a about a yard away from you, a soft smile warming your face as you stare at his beautiful brown hair and watch how he peacefully eats without a worry in the world - you wish that could be you, just a horse grazing without a care in the world, what a life.

You sigh as you bring your attention back to the summer sunset, the sound of crickets and birds chirping rings through your ears. You inhale and the smell of fresh flowers and the warm summer air overtake your senses, you lean back in the chair and bring your feet up on the seat as it slowly rocks your body back and forth.

The glass of tasteless lemonade sits on the small round wooden table in front of you and you stare at it, the condensation on the outside of the tall glass pools down around the bottom and creates a dark ring on the table. Why couldn’t you just stay with Joel?

As you continue to stare at the glass, a shadow starts to appear on the other side, you quickly stand up and grab your bow and arrow that’s on the floor next to you. Without any hesitation you grab an arrow and draw your bow back, the string taught against your cheek as you aim the slim arrow at the person riding a lighter brown horse, no way, you think.

The person riding this beautiful horse is about twenty-five feet away from you now, and as you try to make out the face of this mystery man, it finally registers, Joel.

This sense of relief overtakes your body, you drop your bow right at your feet and you stand there in absolute shock, how the hell did he find you all the way out here?

“Joel,” you gasp as hot tears roll down your face.

Before you know it, you watch as Joel jumps off his horse and runs to you, when he finally reaches your shaking body he wraps his large hands around your torso and picks you up like a feather, and he spins you around.

Oh my pretty girl, babygirl, I thought I lost you forever, and what are you doing all the way out here? Spews out of Joel’s mouth, you latch your arms and legs around his thick body as you continue to sob into his neck.

“I’m so sorry.” You repeat over and over.

Shhh, it’s okay, baby girl, he softly repeats back to you, I gotchu now.

The two of you hold onto each other like that for a long time. You don’t know why you ever left Jackson, you don’t know why you left Ellie, and finally, you have no idea why you left Joel. All you do know is that you’ll never leave Joel ever again. Not by your own choice, anyway.

Tags: @evyiione @oscarissac2099 @southernbe @pedrosfanny

#joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #Is Leaving Even An Option #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #joel miller series #dark story

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proudfreakmetarusonniku · 4 months

Text

like i see people say stuff like “rei is a deconstruction of the idea of like the perfect girl in a male gaze-y way” and and i'm ready to agree until they go “it’s because she’s creepy and weird and bad!” like no. rei's a deconstruction of misogynistic ideas of womanhood because they’re ideals forced upon her that damage her, not because she’s in any way “creepy”. like, the fact she’s a fourteen year old girl who was basically used as a substitute wife by her father bc she looked like his own dead wife is not something that is meant to make rei look bad like holy shit.

like both rei and asuka are very obviously like. showing fantasised and misogynistic ideas of an idealised woman don’t work irl yeah. shinji's misogynistic view of them is wrong. but that’s not because rei and asuka are bad people it’s because like. “fourteen year old who's flirty and seductive” and “fourteen year old who's a quiet obedient object” are major signs of abuse and trauma and anyone actually acting in those ways at that age clearly isn’t normal. asuka is desperate for attention in any way she can get it, even unhealthy and dangerous ways. rei is at the very least I has a weird pseudo-incestous enmeshment filled abusive relationship with her father, even if she's not actively being sexually abused. asuka is seeking support, rei is a grooming victim. these are not things that are flaws in their character the entire point of subverting the expectations is to show how those expectations are unhealthy to rei and asuka like. god.

#like. negative fucking media literacy.#like. rei and asuka show signs of abuse in ways very normal for teenagers #every one of the Children in Evangelion is a victim and they react in messy ways #the point of that isn’t to show that they themselves are bad. it’s to show how trauma fucks you up #like none of them are bad people! they do fucked up shit bc it’s normalised to them!#people will just centre rei and asuka’s trauma around shinji and then call the show misogynistic for that like.#woah pal. there’s issues in the show yeah but i think that’s more an issue on your end buckaroo.#like their trauma interacts with him. and his trauma interacts with them. bc the show is literally about human's influences on each other #like the human instrumentality project isn’t there to just be funny it’s a thematic conclusion???#and also like. it’s comparing and contrasting all threes trauma to understand exactly how they got shaped the way they are.#just. think about the show you’re watching. please.#rei isn’t creepy she’s a schizophrenic abuse victim who's probably done the least screwed up shit out of the main cast #shinji isn’t a loser he's a heavily mentally ill young boy cracking under the pressure of toxic masculinity and having his boundaries erode #until he's unable to even respect the boundaries of others and recreates his trauma for a desperate attempt at control #asuka isn’t like. okay i mean she IS a bitch but literally so is every thirteen year old ok.#and it’s bc she fucking despises the vulnerability being kind shows. she despises herself and is overcompensating bc she’s scared and 13 #like. god.

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seijorhi · 2 years

Text

Means to an End

Miya Atsumu x female reader x Miya Osamu

w.c 7.3k

tw: dub/non-con elements, yandere, drugged reader, cheating, toxic relationships, implied abuse

“Ame, I really don’t think this is a good idea.”

The blonde pouts, lovely, long eyelashes fluttering, “It’s one weekend, for my birthday. Please? Don’t make me beg.”

Biting back a heavy sigh, you take her proffered phone, glancing down at the images of the picturesque onsen retreat flashing on the screen. And it does look amazing; traditional Japanese architecture, steam rolling across the natural springs and lush mountain views. Of course, Ame’s birthday is early-October, and by then the mountains and surrounding valleys will be awash in vibrant hues of red, orange and gold.

The whole thing oozes a calm, relaxing tranquillity and you can only imagine how lovely it’ll be if you do decide to go. The where has never been the issue. “It’s not that I don’t want to go, you know that,” you begin. “I’m… I don’t know if I’m all that comfortable spending a whole weekend with either one of them.” Especially not trapped in such close, cosy quarters for days on end. “I don’t want to ruin your birthday by making things all weird and tense.”

“You won’t ruin it at all, not if you come,” she hurries to reassure you. “Look, I’m not saying they’re angels or that how they treated you back then was in any way okay, but high school was years ago, and they’ve both grown up a lot since. They’re not the same assholes who used to pick on you, I promise. They’ll be on their best behaviour.”

“Ame–”

“Please,” she says as you set her phone back on the coffee table that separates the two of you. “Atsumu’s changed, Osamu too. I’m not saying let bygones be bygones, but… can’t you give them a chance? For me?”

She makes it sound like they went around pulling on your pigtails and calling you names, tripping you up in the hallways between classes. Not her fault, you suppose; Ame didn’t know the twins back then, nor you for that matter.

You, she met during your first year together at university, Atsumu (and by extension his brother) eight months ago when her company transferred her from Tokyo to Osaka.

No, it’s not her fault. She knew the vague bits and pieces you’d shared over the years, but you’re the one who swallowed the truth down the day she called to gush over her new stupidly hot, talented, Olympic volleyball playing boyfriend.

“I’ll… I’ll think about it,” you concede quietly.

Ame beams at you, “You won’t regret it!”

—

“You know you didn’t have to drive, right? Osamu’s jeep would’ve fit all of us perfectly fine,” Ame calls out in lieu of a greeting, walking down the ryokan’s steps.

You shrug, “I like driving.” That, and it makes you feel the teeniest bit better knowing you have an escape route if this whole thing goes sideways.

There’s a knowing twinkle in her eyes as she comes in for a hug that tells you she doesn’t quite buy it. She embraces you tightly in spite of it, “I’m really glad you’re here.”

If she were anyone else, you think, you wouldn’t be. For Ame, you’ll suffer through this weekend with a smile – or as close to one as you can manage. “This place is beautiful,” you comment, changing the subject as she helps you with your bags.

“You should see inside, the pictures really didn’t do it justice,” she gushes. “Oh, and the onsen – we have two, it’s amazing! I’ve been waiting forever for this trip and now that we’re here it’s literally so perfect! Did I tell you that Atsumu hired a private chef for us?” Happily chattering away, she takes no notice, perhaps deliberately so, of the deep, steadying breath you draw in before you reach the door.

The last time you’d laid eyes on either one of them was the night of (morning after?) graduation, and considering how that ended… is it any wonder your heart’s lodged firmly in your throat? That you feel that same pit in your stomach that you used to have every morning walking through the school gates?

Yet Ame… Ame’s positive that they’ve changed. And maybe you don’t have any faith in the Miya’s twins and the possibility of leopards changing their spots, but you have faith in her, don’t you?

She’s a good person. She wouldn’t be with someone who, who–

Without so much as looking over her shoulder, Ame reaches back, fingers entwining with yours. Another breath in, and you follow when she steps inside. “Tsumu and I’ve got the room on the left, and Osamu’s in the one down the other end” she tells you, pointing towards the respective bedrooms. “Which leaves you in the one next to ours.”

You’re barely nodding along however, because with one leaning over the kitchen bench and the other seated on the sofa near the crackling fireplace, the realisation that you’re once again face to face with the Miya twins is kind of taking all of your focus.

And they’re staring; matching unreadable expressions boring into you like a bug under a magnifying glass. It’s an effort for you not to fidget as the silence seems to stretch.

You’ve seen Atsumu plastered throughout Ame’s social media feeds, and the odd glimpse of his twin, yet now that they’re both right here in front of you, you’re struck by how little they’ve changed in the years since you saw them last.

They’re bigger than they were back then, both in height and their sheer physical size, though that shouldn’t come as a surprise. Especially not in Atsumu’s case, what with him being some big shot professional athlete now. Osamu’s hair’s a bit darker, Atsumu’s a little blonder. They both have it cropped shorter, too, you notice. All superficial things, probably no different to the small changes in your own appearance.

And it isn't that you expected some big, dramatic change, only that seeing them here, now… it’s whiplash. As if you could blink, and you’d be right back there again; shoved back against their lockers, the two of them looming over you.

Ame, ever your saviour, is the one to break the silence, gently dropping off your bag before flitting to her boyfriend’s side. “Tsumu, baby, you remember–”

“Nah, not really,” The blond tilts his chin, appraising you even as he lifts his arm for Ame to slip under, “Ame says you went to Inarizaki High, in the same year as us or somethin’?”

Osamu snorts, “She was in our class for three years, dumbass.”

His brother shrugs, “So? Am I s’posed to remember every scrub we went to school with?”

While the bickering between the pair is nothing new, Atsumu’s sudden lapse in memory strikes a chord of surprise – and you don’t buy it for a second.

He’s certainly arrogant enough, self absorbed enough, talented enough to purge all but the few people deemed important from his past – friends and rivals mostly. If all you’d been was another girl in the crowd, it wouldn’t have mattered how smart you were, how close you sat, or how loudly you clamoured for attention, leaving a lasting impression on the great Miya Atsumu would’ve been an uphill battle.

You’d seen it in action; the revolving door of girlfriends shoved out of mind the moment he grew tired of fucking them.

And through it all, you were a constant. A puppy to torment when the mood struck. They hounded you through the hallways of Inarizaki, isolated you, hurt you.

Took and took and took ‘til they were satisfied.

So no, you don’t believe that either one of the twins has forgotten you. For Ame’s benefit, though, you force yourself to smile pleasantly, “It’s fine,” you say, addressing none of them in particular. “We weren’t exactly friends.”

From his position behind her, Atsumu smirks.

—

Dinner swings around quicker than you’d like.

While the chef they hired moves throughout the kitchen with a single minded focus, Ame ushers the three of you to the beautifully crafted, oak table in the centre of the living space. Osamu, for his part, swipes a bottle of expensive looking sake from the counter on his way through, and wastes no time at all in dropping down into the seat to your left and cracking it open.

“You want one?” he asks, grey eyes shifting towards you. He’s already pouring it though, sliding the glass your way before you can answer.

‘We’re celebratin’, aren’t we? One drink won’t kill ya.’

Clearing your throat, you push it back, “I’m good, thanks.”

“Aw, c’mon,” Atsumu chimes in. “I brought this ‘specially for tonight, ain’t a proper party without good booze.”

‘Y’know it’s rude to refuse the hosts.’

Slowly – deliberately – he pushes the sake back towards you. “Try some, you’ll like it.”

A little belatedly, you realise something in his earlier comment doesn’t sit right. “… What do you mean you bought it for tonight? Ame’s birthday isn’t ‘til tomorrow,” you remind him, frowning a touch.

You’re well aware that Atsumu’s of the belief that the world revolves around him, but surely even he can’t have mixed that one up. At least, you hope not for Ame’s sake.

Atsumu gives you an odd look, like you’re a complete moron. “Yeah, I know that, I’m not…” he trails off, his gaze shifting from you to the blonde in question, who’s suddenly extremely interested in the edge of her place setting. Beside you, Osamu snickers, Atsumu opting for a wide grin as the pieces fall together in his head. “Ah, she didn’t tell ya, did she?”

You frown, “Tell me what?”

Steadfastly refusing to meet your eye, Ame’s cheeks turn a dusky pink as she fiddles with her chopsticks. “I um, I told you today’s the twins’ birthday, didn’t I?”

No, and she knows that full well. Just as she knows that you never would’ve let her talk you into this trip at all if you’d had so much as an inkling that it wasn’t solely about celebrating her birthday, but theirs too.

At least it makes sense now why Osamu’s here, why Atsumu bothered shelling out for this fancy villa and the expensive alcohol, the private chef diligently working away in the kitchen, pretending not to overhear a word of this.

A sick feeling settles in your gut.

Back then, you used to dread it. The twins were insufferable enough on an average day, their sense of entitlement over you only ever skyrocketing whenever their birthday rolled around. It never mattered what else was going on; exams, qualifiers, girlfriends, Osamu and Atsumu always found time to collect – whether you were willing to give or not.

And now you’re faced with a deeply uncomfortable thought; were you invited here this weekend for your best friend’s sake, or the twins’?

Ame was adamant that they’d changed, and despite your own reservations about that, you’d nevertheless assumed that they’d grown out of whatever… interest they’d had in you. The idea that you’re both wrong isn’t one that you want to entertain. Not when Ame’s happy, not when you’ve worked so, so hard to put all of those awful memories behind you.

It’s only one weekend, you remind yourself. One weekend, for her sake.

“Nope,” you murmur, feigning a light laugh. “Must have slipped your mind.”

She knew and lied to you anyway, and while there’s some small sense of vindication at the guilty look she sends you, it does little to ease the bitter sting in your heart.

You push back the sake one last time. “Anyway, I don’t drink.”

Another lie. This time, mercifully, Ame keeps her mouth shut, reaching across the table to take the drink herself. “More for me,” she says with a weak grin, and proceeds to knock it back in only a few mouthfuls, much to her boyfriend’s amusement.

Nothing more’s said on the topic, because at that moment the chef appears at the table, the entrée course in hand.

You could honestly kiss him.

—

Sleep is evasive.

Not for lack of trying. Despite the unfamiliarity of your room, the bed and the pillows are perfect; soft and warm, you could close your eyes and sink into blissful oblivion–

If not for the moans, the gasps and unmistakable sounds of loud, drunken sex seeping in through the thin walls.

And you have to give them credit, they’ve been going at it for a while, and judging from the sounds of things, enjoying themselves plenty. An hour ago, it was uncomfortable, now you’re simply tired and frustrated, and honestly a little thirsty.

And the longer you lie there, listening to your best friend moan her way through yet another orgasm and regretting your decision to leave your headphones at home – your decision to come at all – the more that it eats away at you.

Surely they know you can hear them? You’re beginning to suspect that Osamu opted for the room on the opposite side of the villa for this very reason, and you wonder what it’d take to get him to swap you for it tomorrow.

Knowing Osamu, likely more than you’d be willing to give.

Another grunt, deep and guttural echoes through the room, and you squeeze your eyes shut, silently counting backwards from ten. Impressive pro-athlete stamina or not, eventually they’re going to wear themselves out, right? They have to, for the sake of your sanity if nothing else.

Instead of blissful quiet, you’re met with the muffled sounds of Ame’s giggling, the rustle of sheets and after a beat or two, the slapping of skin against skin begins anew. Your stomach churns, and with a huff, you kick back your covers and reach blindly for the thick, fluffy robe to ward off the cold, cocooning yourself in it.

The soft pad of your slippers is muted against the wooden floorboards as you slip from your room, easing the door closed and tip-toeing back into the living area. If you’re lucky, the fire will still be burning away. You can make yourself a cup of tea, curl up on the couch and read a book on your phone, or scroll aimlessly – anything to distract yourself until Ame and Atsumu tire themselves out.

You get half your wish. The logs in the fireplace are smouldering away, casting the room in a warm, golden glow – enough to keep the temperature toasty without bordering on stuffy. In spite of that, any hope you had of temporary peace and quiet goes up in smoke at the sight of the other Miya twin in the kitchen, watching you with that same inscrutable expression.

It shifts into a small smirk, however, when you falter, drawing up short on the opposite side of the island counter.

“Fuckin’ animals, aren’t they?” Osamu comments drily, jerking his chin towards the direction you'd emerged from, where the faint sounds of Atsumu and Ame going at it are still drifting out.

You swallow, saying nothing.

He’s dressed in sweatpants and an old tee-shirt that clings to his well built frame – which admittedly is less than you’re wearing, yet your fingers itch to tug at your robe and pull it tighter around yourself, despite knowing you’re covered. Osamu’s always had that effect on you though, those dark, grey eyes never failing to make you feel like you’re stripped bare before him. A butterfly pinned back beneath his heavy stare.

A shiver rolls down your spine.

With Ame around, you don’t have any choice but to keep your mouth shut and pretend that everything’s okay. Which is doable, only because you know that they also have to be on their best behaviour whilst she’s in earshot. One on one, without that safety net, facing Osamu fills you with a new kind of apprehension.

Ever since you arrived, he’s been treating you with this bizarre kind of … cursory friendliness. As if you really are nothing more than a friend of his brother’s girlfriend. An old classmate he vaguely recalls.

There’s no need for either one of you to keep up that charade, now that he has you alone.

If he’s bothered by your silence and wary stance, Osamu gives no indication. “Ya want some tea?” he asks you instead. “Freshly brewed.”

You eye the steaming pot in front of him, the cup innocuously set to the side. And despite the tiny voice in the back of your mind that tells you it’s only tea, you shake your head. “I’m fine.”

The corner of his lips twitch, amusement glittering in his eyes, but Osamu only shrugs, “Your loss,” and pours a cup for himself.

With Atsumu and Ame showing no signs of slowing down for the night, going back to your room to listen to them screwing each others’ brains out for another hour or two is hardly an appealing thought. On the other hand, staying out here with Osamu, walking on eggshells as he pushes and prods you under the guise of small talk fills you with a distinctly unpleasant sense of trepidation.

And the longer you hesitate, caught halfway between your bedroom and the kitchen, Osamu watching every microexpression flit across your face with near predatory focus while he sips at his tea, the more awkward the atmosphere becomes.

Not for the first time, you find yourself wishing you’d had the guts to tell Ame no in the first place.

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, “I came out for some water.” Which isn’t a lie, per se. You are thirsty, and once you have your glass of water, you can go and take it somewhere else to drink. Anywhere else. The open courtyard that lies between the living room and the indoor onsen, or the terrace that skirts around the western side of the villa. There’s a thick, knitted blanket thrown over the couch, you can grab that on your way through to keep yourself warm if worse comes to worst.

You’d rather brave the mid-autumn iciness than stay in here with him.

Whether or not he believes the hastily concocted excuse, Osamu doesn’t give an indication, merely stepping back to allow you enough room to awkwardly slip past him.

“Y’know,” he begins in a conversational tone as you start opening up various cupboards in search of a fresh glass, “I‘m glad you’re here. S’good seeing you again.”

Pointedly, you ignore him.

Back when you were teenagers, Atsumu was always the more temperamental of the pair. He’d lash out over the tiniest things – a practice that hadn’t gone well, Osamu getting a better grade on a test, you, for making him trek all the way across campus in order to track you down.

At the end of the day, it usually didn’t matter what trivial thing had set him off, he’d inevitably find a way to make his frustrations your problem. And yet for all Atsumu’s irritability, you can’t forget that Osamu was no saint either – or that neither one of them appreciated it when you didn’t pay them the attention they felt they were owed.

Caught between him and the countertop, there’s no room for you to escape when he decides to close that gap once more, calloused hands finding their home on your hips, his broad chest at your back.

Slowly, he inhales, fingers digging harshly into the soft flesh – paying no mind to your pitiful struggles.

“I missed ya.”

The scent of his body wash, that fresh, woodsy musk, tickles at your nose, you can feel the heat permeating from his skin as he presses himself closer. Grinds himself against you, simply because he can. You squeeze your eyes shut, heart pounding so loudly against your ribs that you’re sure he has to be able to hear it too. This can’t be happening again, it can’t, it can’t, it can’t–

“I hate you.” The words slip out before you can stop them; a trembling whisper, almost lost to the crackling fire, the sound of wind rustling through the trees outside.

Almost, but not quite.

Osamu hums, “Yeah? S’that why ya ran off on us after graduation?”

Your stomach flips. “I-I don’t–”

His mouth now at your ear, Osamu continues, his voice a deep rumble, “We took care of ya, didn’t we? Made ya feel good? You were beggin’ for it by the end.” You tremble in his gasp, teeth sinking into your bottom lip to keep yourself from crying out, from begging as he turns his attention to the knot at the front of your robe, “At least, I sure thought we had a good time, ‘til we woke up to find you’d up and disappeared on us.”

He sounds angry now, all of that faux affability bleeding away into something decidedly colder.

And with every word that leaves his lips, the nausea churning away inside of you only grows. You’ve worked hard to forget that morning, the pure panic you’d felt waking up naked between them, your head fuzzy and throbbing, your body a wreck of foreign aches and finger shaped bruises.

Nimble fingers succeed in untying the knot, Osamu impatiently tugging the fabric aside. You should be putting up a fight, clawing at his arms, kicking out, screaming like a wild thing. Ame’s only in the next room, there’s no chance she wouldn’t hear, wouldn’t come running to investigate, wouldn’t stop this, but–

A silent tear spills down your cheek.

You’ve never told a soul what happened at that party – the little you remember of it anyway – just shoved it down, buried it deep in some untouchable recess of your mind.

Easier to pretend it never happened than agonise over the doubt that festers whenever you prod too close.

You don’t remember, you don’t remember, you don’t remember, you don’t remember how much you had to drink that night–

Ignoring the small, distressed whine that escapes you, Osamu slides a hand beneath your top, a muscular arm curling around your middle. His thumb strokes along your bare skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake, a pool of shame that deepens with every possessive touch.

There’s no mistaking the thick, hard outline of his cock pressing up against your ass as he idly toys with the waistband of your pajama shorts.

“Y’know, Ame told us your news.” Teeth graze at your earlobe, hot breath sweeping along your neck, “You’re finally comin’ home, huh?”

The admission has you flinching, buckling in on yourself as much as Osamu’ll allow – which admittedly isn’t much. The thought that your best friend would even consider telling the twins hadn’t occurred to you, too excited when you’d rang her with the good news to stop and think about things like consequences.

A new job as an editor; better paying, closer to your family, to her. At the time, it’d seemed too good to be true. Only now it feels like some kind of cosmic joke, and all you want to do is curl up into a ball and disappear entirely.

Osamu isn’t like his brother, who’d take pleasure in your obvious dismay, even mock you for it, but there’s still something unmistakably cruel about the way he kisses your hair, and tells you, “Guess the three of us are gonna have to have a little welcome back party for ya.”

And you’re sure in that moment that he’s going to yank down the shorts he’s been toying with, bend you over the counter and fuck you right there and then. Or maybe push you down to your knees like they used to back behind the locker rooms at school, so it takes you by surprise when out of nowhere, he simply squeezes your waist once more and withdraws, trudging back to his room without another word.

Leaving you shaken and alone, a hand clamped over your mouth to stifle the sound of ragged, terrified sobs.

—

You can’t stay here.

Stacked neatly by the door to your room are your bags, packed in the early hours of the morning after you finally gave up on fitful sleep. But despite the strong urge to slip away at dawn, you still haven’t left yet.

You can’t bring yourself to, at least, not until you’ve talked to Ame. Had the chance to explain why you’re all but running out on her.

Not the full truth, of course – you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to give her that – but some variation of it, maybe. And you’ll simply have to pray that she’ll take it at face value, that she won’t pry too deep or hold it against you.

That you won’t lose your best friend over this when all’s said and done, because you can’t lie to her either.

By the time you finally venture out from your bedroom, you find the chef already working on breakfast in the kitchen, Ame and Atsumu settled at the table, the latter’s arm casually slung over the back of her chair as she sips her morning coffee.

She brightens at the sight of you, a wide, beaming grin that somehow makes her look even lovelier than usual.

One smile, and you falter, that steely determination of yours withers away, crumbling like ash in your mouth.

“Morning!” she greets cheerfully. “Are you hungry? I don’t think breakfast’s too far off, but there’s tea and coffee if you want it.”

One smile, and you’re reminded of the girl you met back at university, bright eyed and bubbly, who’d sat down next to you on the first day of semester and told you point blank that you and her were gonna be friends, because there was no way in hell she was gonna make it through this class alone.

She looks happy, glowing almost, nestled into her boyfriend’s side. Yet there’s something different about it, an easy contentment you’ve never seen before – at least, not in any of her previous relationships.

And it hits you; Ame isn’t merely happy, she’s in love with him.

Before her, before high school, before the Miya’s, you’d had other friends. Ones you thought would stick by your side through thick and thin. Inevitably, though, as you entered high school together, caught the twins’ attention, those friends were forced to make a choice.

You, or staying in the twins’ good graces.

In the end, whether it took days or weeks, a whole semester in one case, they all came to the same conclusion. Between being your friend and standing up to the wonder twins, there never seemed to be much competition.

As your eyes flicker between the couple, Atsumu’s fingertips grazing along her arm, the lazy, watchful eyes that bore into you, Ame, perfectly at peace around him, still smiling at you in spite of your very obvious hesitation, your heart sinks once more.

‘I’m not complaining, but... I just don’t understand why you want me there, wouldn’t it be better if it was only the two of you; a big, romantic couples getaway or whatever?”’

‘Because I wanna celebrate with both of my favourite people. You’re my best friend, and I’ve missed you… Is it so awful that I want you guys to have a second chance?’

History has a funny way of repeating itself, you suppose.

Swallowing down the bitter lump in your throat, you plaster what you hope is a genuine looking smile across your face and lean over the table to hug her – awkwardly trying to avoid Atsumu in the process, “Happy Birthday.”

Coward.

“Thanks,” she replies. “Tsumu gave me the prettiest earrings this morning, look,” sweeping back her thick, blonde locks, she shows off the new, sparkling diamond drops as you sit. “Aren’t they stunning?”

“They’re gorgeous,” you agree. Expensive looking, too – exactly the sort of showy, ostentatious gift you’d expect from Atsumu.

Lips parted, she looks on the verge of continuing when Atsumu – unusually quiet up until this point – decides to drawl, “You’re lookin’ rough this morning, didja sleep alright?”

If anyone else had asked, you could be forgiven for mistaking the query for a well meaning – albeit poorly worded – expression of genuine concern. Atsumu’s incapable of such sentiments, though, and even if he weren’t, the half lidded smirk he sends your way puts any lingering doubts of sincerity to bed.

“How could she?” another voice answers; Osamu, emerging from his room, hair still damp from his morning shower.

Sparing you only a cursory glance, he slots himself into the chair beside yours and reaches for the pot of tea. “You two were fuckin’ loud enough to wake half the damn mountain,” he continues, narrowing his eyes at his brother who scowls in return.

In a way, you almost feel sorry for the chef. Amidst the bickering and sniping of the twins, Ame’s flustered, blushing apologies, no one seems to really pay attention to the breakfast spread he lays upon the table, plates laden with everything from fruit to freshly baked pastries and omelettes to miso and rice. More food than the four of you could ever hope to eat in a single sitting.

You’re sure that he’s talented, that the plates of food he’s painstakingly plated this morning are as delicious as they are lovely to look at – last night’s certainly were.

The few mouthfuls you manage to swallow down taste like ash.

—

Your day does not improve from there.

Whilst the twins are left to their own devices, Ame drags you along with her to the ryokan’s day spa for a morning of pampering, which isn’t terrible in and of itself. The masseuse works wonders with deft hands, and your skin feels impossibly soft and smooth after she’s finished.

You should feel relaxed. You should be enjoying yourself – especially now that it’s back to being just the two of you. After breakfast, though, you can’t escape the feeling that something’s shifted, perhaps irrevocably.

In all the time you’ve been friends with Ame, you’ve never felt distance like this before. She’s only a few feet away, the two of you left alone to relax as the treatments work their magic, yet there may as well be a mountain between you.

You can’t reach her.

Lighthearted small talk lapses into nothing, and you catch yourself wondering whether Ame senses it too. If she has any inkling that the silence that settles between you isn’t the comfortable sort, but the fraying of a tether. A loss of something that once came as naturally as breathing.

A secret that stretches between you like a wide, yawning chasm, leaving you miles apart on either side.

You nearly tell her a few times. You want to tell her; about Osamu cornering you yesterday, all the awful things they put you through back at Inarizaki, the night of graduation. All of it.

But the words don’t come.

—

“Why are you wearing that?”

“It’s… a swimsuit?” you reply, somewhat self consciously. The one-piece you’d slipped on for the hot springs was modest, sure, but you hadn’t thought it was awful or anything. “What’s wrong with it?”

Ame, herself clad in a soft, pink robe, just giggles, “It’s an onsen, silly. We’re not wearing swimsuits.”

What else would you–

Realisation hits you like a freight train. “Naked?!” you splutter.

She laughs again, “Yes, naked. Why are you so surprised, it’s not like we haven’t done this before.”

“Yeah, when we were alone!”

“Oh, don’t be like that, it’s totally normal – they’re just bodies.” And yours is nothing they haven’t seen before, that cruel voice in your head whispers.

The sick feeling from this morning returns with a vengeance.

Ame’s not wrong, but it’s not that simple.

You know that being naked isn’t inherently a sexual thing, that people have for hundreds of years, thousands even, bathed in springs like this one all over the country bare as they day they were born and no one makes a fuss over it. You know that the twins’ have seen you in far more compromising positions, and that with Ame right there beside you, the chances of either one of them acting up in any way is practically non-existent.

You know all of that, and it doesn’t change a thing.

The thought of stepping into those steaming baths without so much as a stitch to protect your dignity, of trying to relax with the twins – equally undressed – less than a foot away–

A weight slung heavy over your waist, prying open sluggish eyes to find your pillow isn’t a pillow at all, but a chest.

– it’s too much. Dredges up memories of things better left alone.

“Actually, um,” you tell her, “my head’s been killing me all morning… I don’t think stewing in hot water’s such a great idea right now. Might go and lie down for a bit instead, see if that helps.”

Ame studies you for a long moment. “They’re not gonna say or do anything to make you feel uncomfortable, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Reaching over, she takes your hand in hers and squeezes it, offering you a small, reassuring smile, “They’re not those guys anymore.”

Your heart tugs painfully.

“No, I know. It’s not that, I promise.”

From the doubtful, almost wounded expression on her face, it’s clear she doesn’t believe you. “Okay, well… If you change your mind you’re more than welcome to join us. It won’t be as much fun without you.”

You nod, letting your hand fall limply back to your side as she turns to leave.

At the door, though, she hesitates, and when she glances back to you there’s a furrow in her brow. “Hey, we’re… we’re good right?” she asks, and for the first time all weekend, you think you hear a note of worry in her voice.

None of this is her fault, you know that. You force yourself to smile, to nod again.

“Yeah, we’re good.”

—

When a knock sounds at your door a few hours later, you’re expecting it to be Ame, coming to check in on you.

Instead, the door slides open to reveal her boyfriend.

Atsumu leans against the doorframe, arms folded, and gives you – lying back against the pillows, flicking through an old book you’d found in one of the drawers – a slow once over.

The soft sound of music filters in behind him.

“We missed ya earlier,” is all he says.

As it’s not technically a question, you don’t offer him a response.

“Ame said you had to go lie down, but you’re lookin’ fine to me,” he continues, and from the tone of his voice you can tell he doesn’t buy the excuse for a second. That, or he simply doesn’t give a shit. “Anyway, we’re having some drinks. You coming, or are ya planning on hidin’ away in here for the rest of the night?”

Your eyes narrow, but you bite back any retort in favour of a short nod.

Sure enough, when the two of you emerge from your room, Ame and Osamu are chatting over a bowl of snacks, the blonde sporting a pink-ish cocktail, a beer for Osamu.

There’s another glass lying on the island countertop, which Atsumu grabs on his way through. “Don’t worry, it’s a virgin,” he smirks, pressing it into your hand before you can refuse him. “Sleepin’ beauty here finally decided to join us,” he announces a little louder, dropping a kiss to Ame’s cheek as he slots into place beside her. “Can we drink now?”

Sighing with a fond sort of exasperation, Ame ignores the comment. “How’re you feeling?”

“Yeah, much better.”

She smiles at you, warm and lovely, and raises her glass, “Yes, Tsumu, now we can drink.”

You follow suit as the twins do the same; one sip for a toast won’t do any harm. You don’t have the energy – or a good enough excuse – to make a big deal out of it.

Especially not when things with Ame still feel so precarious.

Atsumu shifts, turning slightly to better face her. “Ame, I love ya more ‘n more every day. Bein’ with you…” he smiles. Not a smirk, but a genuine, honest to god smile. “You’ve given me more than you’ll ever know. Happy Birthday, baby.”

Coaxing her chin up, you’re subjected to a tongue-heavy but mercifully brief kiss between the pair.

“Cheers,” Osamu finishes in his stead, the three of you echoing the toast with a knock of your drinks.

The first sip of the pink concoction hits with a wave of saccharine sweetness; strawberry, peach, mint, a weird sort of aftertaste that lingers even after you swallow the mouthful down – syrup, maybe? – but when all’s said and done, it’s not… awful. You’ve had worse.

Ame, for her part, has already downed most of her cocktail, her cheeks and nose flushing a delicate pink in the wake of the alcohol.

“So tell us about this fancy new job of yours. When‘re ya moving back?” Atsumu asks, eyeing you over the neck of his beer as his girlfriend snuggles happily into his side.

“Um, not for another three weeks or so.” You shrug, “And there’s really not much to tell… It’s a job.” And you don’t want them anywhere near it.

“She’s being modest,” Ame chimes in, voice carrying a little louder than necessary. “They’re making her editor, it’s a huge deal! She’s worked her ass off for this.”

You’d said as much to her the day they made you the offer, called her before you’d even thought to call your parents.

From her place by Atsumu’s side, she gives you a tiny, encouraging nod.

Any other time, with anybody else, you’d beam, taking the opportunity presented to gush over the new title and your excitement over finally making it after years of hard work. But with the twins, every little piece you offer up, however small, however unwittingly, feels like handing them the knife and showing where to slice.

This job is everything you’ve worked for, dreamed of.

Fingers tightening around your glass, you remind yourself that Ame means well, that she’s just excited on your behalf. Proud of you, even. “It’s really nothing.”

And simply because you can’t stand the way that they’re all staring at you, you take another sip – barely holding back a grimace at the punch of artificial sweetness.

The older twin mirrors you, throat bobbing as he slowly downs the rest of his beer, but it’s Osamu, cold, grey eyes drinking down your discomfort, who clicks his tongue dismissively and shakes his head. “Nah, don’t sell yourself short. It’s impressive, ‘n ya should be proud.”

“Oh, uh… Thanks, I guess.”

You risk a glance at the empty kitchen, a tug of disappointment filling you when you notice Atsumu’s chef has yet to make an appearance. Not because you’re hungry – no, with the knots your stomach has twisted itself into, food is the furthest thing from your mind – only that with dinner comes the chance of a much needed reprieve, and at this point, you’re beginning to grow desperate.

“Yeah,” his brother agrees, setting the now empty bottle down. “Samu’s right, look at’cha.” He whistles lowly, “Who’da thought our cocksuckin’ little whore’d be out here making editor.”

Reeling back like you’ve been physically slapped, your breath leaves you in a sharp gust. “W-what?”

Ame mumbles something – his name, maybe – your attention is wholly fixed on her boyfriend, though, and if either of the twins pick up on it, they elect to ignore it.

He shrugs, the casual nonchalance of the gesture spoiled by the sheer delight that gleams in his expression. “I’m just surprised s’all. I never knew ya had it in ya, but I guess anythin’s possible when ya get on your knees quick enough.”

“Tsu…Tsumu–”

The sound of glass shattering rips through the tense atmosphere, pulling your focus from the twins. Ame, brow furrowed, eyes glassy and unfocused, stares at her boyfriend, mouth softly agape.

At her feet lies her cocktail, or what’s left of it – dregs of alcohol clinging to broken shards of crystal.

Something’s wrong, though, because she isn’t cuddling up to Atsumu as you’d originally assumed. No, Ame’s clinging to him now, fingers clawing at his clothes for purchase, her legs shaky and weak, struggling to keep her upright.

“I- I don’ feel s’good,” she slurs.

Your heart stutters.

“Ame–”

Without thinking you leap towards her, but Osamu’s there quicker, grabbing you and hauling you back against his chest, thick arms curling around your waist before you can shove him away.

His chin comes to a rest atop your head. “Nah, let her be,” he tells you,“ Tsumu’s got her.”

And his brother might be the olympic athlete, but broad and strong, Osamu’s equally as immovable as you wrench yourself against him. “Let me go! Ame– Ame!”

Her legs give out entirely a moment later, leaving Atsumu to catch her in the split seconds before she hits the glass studded floor.

“Y’all right, baby?” he asks mockingly, reaching down to heft her up into his arms. Tiny as she is, he manages it without so much as a grunt. “Gettin’ a little sloppy there.”

You shout for her again, voice hoarse and desperate.

She tries – fails – to lift her head, and the icy terror that grips at your heart sinks its claws in deep as you watch your best friend’s eyes roll back into her skull, her body slumping like dead weight into Atsumu’s hold.

This– this has to be a nightmare.

Your gaze darts from Ame, now hanging limply in his grip, to Atsumu, who meets your stare with a slowly widening smirk, and from a leaden tongue in a dry mouth, you manage to choke out a single syllable; “Don’t–”

Don’t touch her. Don’t hurt her.

Please.

It falls to Osamu, hand now rubbing slow, soothing circles against your hip, to reassure you. “Not her ya need to be worried ‘bout, babe.”

The comment sends a fresh wave of panic surging through you. You whine, weakly renewing your effort to tug yourself free of his grasp, making him chuckle.

He relents his grip enough to turn you around, and you’re spared the sight of Atsumu dumping Ame onto the couch as he grasps your jaw. The brunet studies you, a thumb tracing along quivering lips.

A lone tear slips from your lashes, and with a tenderness that breaks something inside of you, he brushes that away, too.

“Gonna be good for us, yeah?” he murmurs, dark eyes searching your face. You’re vaguely aware of Atsumu closing in on your other side.

And it doesn’t matter that the words get stuck in your throat, that tears start falling quicker, because his twins scoffs, “Course she is.”

Your car’s parked out front, the keys in your purse – which is lying somewhere on the floor of your bedroom. As Osamu’s lips curl in satisfaction and descend upon yours, there’s a tiny voice in the back of your head that tells you in no uncertain terms to run.

You can almost picture it; shoving him off and ducking under Atsumu’s outstretched arms. You’ve never held any delusions about being strong enough to physically fight them, but you can be quick on your feet when you need to be.

Forget Ame, it whispers – you’d race for your room, snatching up your purse on your way through and slipping out onto the terrace balcony through the sliding door. The railing with its thick wooden beams would be easy enough to clamber over, and the drop to the grass below only a few feet. You could make it, if you were fast enough.

You doubt they’d follow you out into the grounds – too much of a risk, too many prying eyes – and once you were safe inside your car, you’d drive and drive and drive, until the twins and this awful place were nothing but a lone speck in the distance…

Hands impatiently yank at the hem of your sweater, Osamu parting from your lips just long enough to allow the fabric to be yanked over your head.

A belt buckle clinks behind you, and that tiny voice falls silent.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere atsumu x reader #yandere miya atsumu x reader #yandere osamu x reader #yandere miya osamu x reader #yandere osamu #yandere atsumu #tw: noncon #tw:dubcon #you ever just wanna throw a fic across the room??#:))

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nonpracticinghumanbeing · 7 months

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On Izzy's grave

The final shot of the season is actually Izzy’s grave, outside of Ed and Stede’s cottage. “I think him being buried near them is a lovely image,” he said. “And there’s a reason that that happened. I think they both were sad to see their friend go. And I think they’re both thinking, ‘let’s make this work not just for us, but in memory of Izzy’.” [source]

Okay. Great. This shit. Just perfect.

I mean, does Jenkins even hear himself when he says this? Is this supposed to be a sufficient explanation for Ed and Stede burying Izzy in their fucking garden instead of giving him a funeral at sea that would be proper for a lifelong career pirate? Are we supposed to feel better after reading this?

Because it's not fucking working on me, David. Because what you did is that you took a beautifully complex man who in the end turned out to care about his crew and his community way more than he cared about ANY single person and you literally reduced him to a motivation for Ed and Stede to try and be better. (It bodes so fucking well for their relationship if they need to look at Izzy's grave every day to be reminded that they love each other, by the way!)

Izzy's last scene is fucking ALL about Edward. He apologizes to his abuser (yes, they were mutually abusive but Izzy NEVER went as far as Ed did and he never took pleasure in it). He tells Ed the crew are his family (the crew who took Izzy's side when Edward was abusing him, the crew who are IZZY's family, not Ed's, and the crew whom Ed abandons literally two scenes later). And then he says he wants to go so that Ed's conscience can be clean (Izzy "I'm not dying, not for that ponce and not for you" and "indestructible little fucker" Hands says he wants to die!!!).

And if that wasn't bad enough, they make his final resting place all about themselves as well. We KNOW a burial on land is not what Izzy would have wanted. Not to mention the mockery they make of the grave itself in hanging Izzy's cravat with his ring on the marker rather than burying him wearing it. But sure, Ed and Stede need a reminder to be decent people, so let them take all of Izzy's agency away and disrespect him even in death.

The way Jenkins talks about this, we should see all of it as sad but sweet and touching. For me, it's none of those. It's disrespectful in the worst possible way. And I seriously don't think I will ever recover from that.

#our flag means death #ofmd #izzy hands #ofmd season 2 #david jenkins #ofmd meta

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potato-cerealkiller · 6 months

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feeling physically ill over batman reborn dick grayson and his obligation to damian. like their early relationship is built on circumstance and responsibility, not any inherent love or affection. they’re ultimately close bond is honestly more of a byproduct than a specific concerted effort.

(was looking through stuff from this era and what do u know he explicitly says it). the roles of Batman and Robin chafe against them both, the costumes literally and metaphorically do not fit. dick is trying his hardest to prevent gotham from ripping itself apart at the seams right now and the added pressure of custody over a murderous ten year old is not fucking helping. so the evolution of their relationship just gets me, going from this

to this

dick (and damian but in a different direction, bleeds the need to be accepted etc etc) are so desperately trying to maintain a fire through damp kindling. they have no idea what they’re doing as a duo and it shows. but I think that’s what makes the evolution of their relationship so interesting here. dick still extends a degree of patience towards damian despite everything, he affirms him when he can and damian begrudgingly develops a respect for him. damian’s robin was developed in loss and uncertainty, not only did he have to navigate unlearning the toxic values instilled in him from his childhood abuse, he also had to navigate losing a father he was just barely getting to know. even if he wasn’t perfect, dick earnestly tried with him, he didn’t just write him off as unredeemable demon spawn or a nuisance.

damian is initially just another obligation from bruce, a consequence of inheriting his legacy. but eventually he brute forces his way into his heart, just a little. the small glimpses of damian’s innate humanity and kindness that weren’t stamped out of him during his insane childhood become more apparent and the sheer amount of effort he exerts in being ‘normal’ and just himself beyond the bloodshed is painfully obvious. (he straight up comes out and says it).

damian is far from a diamond in the rough, more like bort, but dick is willing to work with that. even if it makes him want to tear his hair out initially, he can’t just throw the kid to the curb or ignore him. he doesn’t give up on him, not because he even necessarily believes in the kid but because he can’t give up. and eventually he warms up to him. he develops that sort of brotherly, almost paternal relationship with him. they never had to do more than tolerate each other really, and yet they did.

#damian wayne #dick grayson #they don’t want anything to do with each other at first not really #their bond is like trying to create super heavy elements #just shooting particles and betting on probability to strike something eventually #and it fucking works #dick is just a fundamentally irrevocably good person it’s insane #100% a better man than me because I simply would’ve given up and TRULY lost my shit at damian

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showtoonzfan · 8 months

Note

Would you say HB is portraying gays like they can do wrong and are perfect? Because every happy/good character/relationship is gay and every character that isn’t implied to be lgbt is pure evil and any m/f pairings imply that one or both of the people involved is at least bi.

Viv definitely prides herself in creating characters who are LGBTQ+ and unapologetically problematic, but if you know her work that’s the exact OPPOSITE of what she’s accomplished. She sees any of her gay characters as uwu babies who did nothing wrong, so yeah I would say that HB is portraying gays as innocent. This is why so many people make posts begging creators to craft gay characters who are nasty little shits because we’re so used to queer media portraying them as soft or pure. And I’m 100% on that boat, gimme some LGBTQ+ evil villains or bad eggs!!

Viv TRIES to get this done by making Angel a mobster who kills people, Blitz an assassin, Stolas a problematic weirdo ect, but despite their character flaws it’s pretty obvious that she wants you to think they’re good and gentle people deep down, that’s why she crafts Saturday morning cartoon villains against them so they look worse in comparison and you’ll have no choice but to side with the one who “isn’t that bad”. Val is a r@pist and Stella is an abuser so I guess that means the characters that murder people are better than them. Angel and Blitz are the worst case since they’re both murders and yet Viv portrays them as helpless and lord knows what she’ll do to Alastor. It’s been obvious from the beginning but Viv just wants her audience to see these characters the same way she does, soft and gentle uwu boys who are traumatized and just need love. I’d say that Val is the only exception since I doubt he’s straight but he doesn’t count since he’s boringly flat and his mere existence is just to make Angel look better in comparison. Vox seems to be the legit only gay character that’s evil and unapologetic but that’s not saying much since we don’t know the guy yet.

I’ve said it a million times but for the love of god she needs to stop being afraid of what her audience will think of these characters and just LET them be bad people and make mistakes WITHOUT it being excused or justified. I’d say that part of her is worried people will think she’s portraying gay people badly which……people already think that lol but in a sense that she’s painting them in a negative light. It’s an issue that some writers go through, they don’t want to give their audiences the wrong intention when it comes to their characters, remember when people disliked Angel because they thought he was in hell for being gay? It’s like that. I’d say you can accomplish this well if you play your cards right as a writer, but Viv unfortunately doesn’t have that skill. She’s under the impression that she needs to make all her gay mlm characters uwu babies while also slapping the same “snarky crude” juvenile personality onto them over and OVER again and it’s just…sickening to watch lol.

#reply #ask #vivziepop critical #spindlehorse critical #helluva boss critical #helluva boss critique #hazbin hotel critical #helluva boss criticism #helluva critical #anti vivziepop

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cleoluvrr · 1 year

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The Last Days of Summer I (Rafe Cameron x Heyward!OC)

Warnings: violence, underage drinking, drug use, verbal abuse, jealousy, forbidden relationship, enemies to lovers, gaslighting + manipulation

Synopsis: Stuck in a situation she never dreamed of, Neriah Heyward blurs the line between Kook and Pogue; Rafe Cameron a witness.

masterlist

word count: 3k+

↠━ღ◆ღ━↞

I stand next to the shop, watching as my brother hops into a small, rinky-dink boat, profusely apologizing to our father as he drifts off with his friends up the canal. My father yells after him from the dock, assigning him with the unfavorable chore of cleaning the week’s catch. I shake my head and chuckle humorlessly, unamused by their antics once again.

“What’s up, Riah?” I hear a voice call out from the boat. The disheveled looking blonde waves at me, smiling brightly as he looks in my direction.

I tilt my head, pushing off the wall I was leaning against to step closer to the three boys attempting to avoid the wrath of my father.

“Hi, JJ.” I say sweetly, laughing as my sibling swats at the back of his friend’s head and my father curses at him.

“Don’t flirt with my sister-” “Don’t talk to my daughter you little bastard!” The two of them say simultaneously.

The group speeds off into the distance, John B. cackling at JJ getting chewed out by Pope and narrowly missing his barrage of hits. I turn back towards the shop, shaking my head as my father grumbles out his disdain for his son’s friends. I freeze in my place as my dad yells out my name from the dock.

“I don’t want you hanging around them kids. Ever.” He says, wagging his finger at me. “You understand me, Neriah Heyward?”

“I understand.” I reply, nodding my head as I continue the journey to my bedroom. “Wasn’t planning on it.” I add under my breath.

“Londyn, let’s be so forreal right now.” I deadpanned, staring across the table at my friend. “Kelce is an asshole.”

I’m seated on the balcony of the country club, deep inside the Figure 8. I wore a white tennis skirt, the bottoms paired with a cropped, pink sweater I ordered from an inexpensive store online. My friends are dressed similarly, our attire reminding me somewhat of the Powerpuff Girls. The club is a common hangout spot for my friends and I, people watching and gossiping to fill our free time over the summer.

While my brother runs around with the Pogues, likely doing something illegal, I spend my time on the high side of the island with the Kooks. Although we are siblings, the only thing we have in common is that. Our blood.

This didn’t happen out of nowhere, nor did it happen easily.

Pope and I are both very hardworking and intelligent, that I will admit we also have in common. We were always the smartest in our classes, envied for our perfect grades and work ethic. Not that we had much of a choice if we wanted a shot of getting off this island one day.

Where we differ once again is our ability to make friends. Pope had his Pogue friends. JJ, Kie, and John B. They’re practically inseparable and have been for as long as I can remember. I, however, didn’t have that same luck.

I had a hard time making friends as a kid. I was shy, a bit abrasive, and a know-it-all. I made it a point to show everyone that I was better than them, and I’m sure that didn’t help my likeability amongst my classmates. I was a loner for 8 years of my schooling, many of my pre-teen years spent eating lunch alone and helping my parents at the shop while my brother was out enjoying life.

You can imagine why I jumped at the chance to go to the Kook academy in ninth grade.

My brother was smarter than me by miles, I will also admit. However, his attendance was not so great, nor the reputation of his friends. Which is why when the scholarship offer came, it was my name on the letter instead of his. I’m sure he would have flat out rejected the offer, anyway, refusing to be separated from his best friends.

I started at the Kook academy my freshman year of high school, wide-eyed and innocent. Not so surprisingly, I was often picked on in the first semester of my time there. My scholarship student status, being a Pogue, being larger than the rest of the girls my age, both in height and weight. I was never bullied at my old school, despite being widely disliked, so this was something I had not been prepared for.

Once again, I spent my days in the back of the class and eating my lunches alone for months. The emotional torture was worth it if it meant I would get the hell off Kildare Island. Sometime in my second semester there, I met one of my closest friends. Practically my savior.

Londyn Woods. Youngest daughter of a Neurosurgeon and former runway model, sister to a lawyer brother living on the mainland, and my lifeline.

She was loved by many and envied by many; her beauty could not be rivaled by anyone but her own mother. Despite her looks, status, and popularity, she was the farthest thing from shallow. Even knowing that, I wondered what drew her to me, why she would want to be friends with me.

The only things we have in common look wise are our heights, though she still stood three inches taller than me at five-eleven. The dark brown of my skin contrasted against her toffee-colored complexion. Her slim frame looked even smaller when next to me, dwarfed by my broad shoulders and thick thighs. Her face was chiseled, mine was round. She is so very headstrong, and I am so very not. I can’t help but wonder what the appeal was. However, we have everything else in common. Music taste, style, hobbies, future careers. If you know everything about me, you know everything about her.

She is my person, my protector in a way, and I suppose I am hers as well.

Eventually the Kooks began accepting me, not only because I was harmless but because Londyn began airing the dirty laundry of everyone that tried to pick on me. Everywhere I went, she went. Except the Cut. Not that she hasn’t tried, because she has, many times. But because it’s not safe for a girl like her to be there. Since she can’t come there, she drags me around Figure 8 with her like a puppy in a handbag.

Which is exactly why I’m at the country club now, begging my friend to listen to my boy advice for once.

“Okay, but he’s so cute!” Londyn whines, stomping her feet like a young child. “And whenever he sees me, he smiles at me so sweetly, and he holds the door open for me, and I need you to please hear me out.” she pouts at me.

“I am hearing you out, and I’m not liking what I’m hearing.” I rub my temples, the effort of talking my hard-headed best friend out of making bad decisions draining my energy. “When has Kelce ever been nice to anyone?”

“He’s nice to me! And you!” She exclaims. I raise an eyebrow at that, looking at her skeptically. “Okay…well he’s never been mean to you. Please, Neriah. I beg of you!” She stands out of her seat, walking to my side of the table.

“Girl, don’t beg me for anything.” I say, rolling my eyes and taking a sip of the iced tea in front of me.

“Do you promise to be nice to him? For me?”

“No.” I snort, shaking my head.

I watch as my friend gets down, her bare knees on the wooden floor of the balcony. She begins repeating the word ‘please’ numerous times, ignoring my pleas for her to get off the ground. Her antics draw the attention of the older people around us; their faces wearing looks of disapproval as they watch the two of us on the deck. I stood up, grabbing her hands away from my knees and tugging her upwards as heat took over my face.

“Okay, fine! I’ll be nice.” I speak. “Get your ass off the floor.” I whispered harshly.

“Yay! I love you so much.” She jumps up, wrapping her arms around me in a tight embrace. I grumble, pushing her off me gently and sitting back down. She plops down in my lap, stealing my drink for herself despite my protests.

We sat like that for a while, me scrolling through my phone and Londyn toying with my braids in between her fingers while she watched me scroll through the device mindlessly. We hear multiple footsteps walking onto the balcony, neither of us looking up at the sound.

“Aw, how cute.” A familiar voice comments dryly. I lift my head slowly, something nasty itching to leave my tongue when I see the tall, blonde standing by our table, Kelce and Topper not too far away.

“Rafe.” I say, just as dryly. “How are you? Laying off the coke?” I ask disinterestedly. Londyn tries to keep a straight face, turning her head away to hide her smile. Rafe chuckles humorlessly, tongue poking against his cheek.

“You should try it, Neriah. Maybe you’d lose a few.” He retorts, Thing #1 and Thing #2 laughing at his jab towards my weight.

“Nice one, Rafe! You should apply for a job at the laugh factory, I know you need one.” I say. “Do you think they employ deadbeat drug addicts?” I ask Londyn who is now standing behind me, hands resting on the back of my chair. She shrugs, failing to stop the laugh crawling up her throat. She coughs and clears her throat, covering up the sound.

Rafe relents, scoffing as he walks to the other end of the deck, sitting at a table with his minions close behind. A small victory for me.

Rafe and I met at the Kook academy a few years ago, when I was a mere freshman and he was a junior. At first I was entranced by him, blinded by his charming smile and powerful aura. Everyone loved him or wanted to be him. I always kept my distance, knowing better than to ever let myself get anywhere near him to save myself the embarrassment of saying something stupid.

That didn’t last very long.

The summer of my freshman year, Londyn dragged me along with her to Midsummers despite my refusal. She actually sat outside my house with her driver and wouldn’t leave until I came out, all dolled up in the pink Selkie dress gifted to me by Londyn for Valentine’s Day.

“You look so beautiful!” My friend says when I entered the vehicle, clunky, platform sandals banging against the side of the car as I climbed in. I felt strange, wearing clothes someone else bought for me and on the way to a place where only one person wants me.

We arrive at the venue, Londyn trying to hype me up the entire ride there with no results. The taller girl is handed two flower crowns as we walk through the country club, placing one of them on my head gently with the biggest grin on her face. She grabs my hand, pulling me through the crowd of people to the outdoor space where everyone else is mingling. She takes me to her parents, the two figures towering over the rest of the Kooks.

“Neriah! You look absolutely stunning.” Her mother greets, embracing me in a tight hug. “How have you been?”

“Thank you, Mrs. Woods! You look gorgeous, as always.” I say sweetly, the model pulls away, patting my head endearingly. “I’ve been well, thank you for asking.”

“We haven’t seen you around lately. I’m sure we miss you just as much as our daughter has.” Mr. Woods says, giving me a welcoming side hug.

“It’s really busy at the shop this time of year, my parents have been working me to the bone.” I tell them dramatically, the three of them laughing at my demeanor. “Speaking of parents…if my father asks, you never saw me.” And with that, Londyn drags me off again to hang with other teenagers.

For a moment, I let myself forget about the ongoing class war. I let my guard down and had just as much fun as everyone else. I was just a normal teenager doing normal teen things. I got to dress up nice and be a Kook for a day. I stopped worrying about being careful.

That is where I went wrong. That is when the Devil struck.

I snuck off to the restroom, leaving my friend alone to mingle with the Kook kids. The halls were practically empty, most people outside on the patio. I walk around mindlessly, the music of the gathering outside leaking into the otherwise quiet building. I hear a door open, but ignore it, thinking it was a staff member or something. I continue, the restroom sign in my sight at the end of the hallway.

I was very mistaken.

A hand reached out and grabbed my forearm, dragging me into the door that had just opened. The door shut loudly behind us; my writhing frame roughly shoved against the wall. I try to scream, but a large, warm hand covers my mouth and nose. A body presses up against mine in the dark room, chuckling over my muffled screams. As my eyes adjust to the dark, I notice who it is that has caught me off guard.

Rafe Cameron. The Kook prince himself.

I stop fighting, my own hands grabbing at the one covering my only source of air. Rafe watches me struggle, pressing his hand harder against my face with a look of morbid curiosity. As if he wanted to see how long I could go without properly breathing. He turns on the light with his free hand, wanting a clearer look at my pleading frame and watering eyes. He tilts his head, finally releasing my mouth and nose.

He doesn’t move, still standing close as my chest heaves and I take in more air than I’ve breathed in my entire life. He looks at me strangely, a mixture of wonder, disgust, and curiosity.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!” I exclaim, shoving against his chest harshly. He doesn’t really move, my assault barely affecting him.

“I think I should be the one asking you that.” He says, squinting at me. “What do you think you’re doing here?”

“That’s literally none of your business.” I look up at him in disgust and confusion. “Are you insane?” All positive feelings I had for him were gone.

“You see,” He starts, running a hand through his blonde hair. “Everything that happens is my business, because I make it my business. Especially when it comes to rats running around on Figure 8 like they own it.”

“Wow, you are a fucking psycho.” I comment. “Why am I surprised?” He laughs dryly at my words, shaking his head.

He grabs my face again, fingers tightly gripping my chin. My cheeks squish under his hold, lips forced into a pout. I swipe at his hand again, and he only grips me tighter. I wince, dropping my hands and looking up at him in frustration. He tuts at me, moving my head side to side with disappointment adorning his face.

“Poor little Pogue girl can’t remember her place and needs someone to remind her…” He brings his face closer to mine and I flinch back, my movements halted by the grip Rafe has on my jaw. “That’s okay, I can show you.”

“Rafe, you are fucking insane.” I say, words slurred together out of my forcefully parted lips. He jerks my head roughly, releasing a sound of disapproval. He shushes me, bringing a slender finger to his mouth.

“It’s my turn to talk, Okay?” I don’t respond, eying him warily. “Good girl. You see, life is just so much easier when you follow the rules. When you follow the status quo. But you? You simply refuse to do that. And I don’t like that. I don’t know what your little friend has told you, but you aren’t one of us. You never will be. It doesn’t matter if you go to the Kook school, if you have Kook friends, if you put on a pretty little dress and party with Kooks. You are always gonna be a disgusting gutter rat. Getting all dolled up won’t make me forget that. Make anyone forget that. Do you understand that?” He spits at me.

I nodded, just wanting to get out of that room as quickly as possible.

“I’m glad. Now, I don’t want to have to have this conversation with you again. I won’t be as nice.” He smiles at me, the look making my skin crawl. “Now run along.” He releases me and I shove him away, yanking at the door handle next to me furiously.

“You’re a piece of shit, Rafe. I won’t forget that either.” I say, turning around to face him as I exit the room.

“You look beautiful tonight.” He says, the compliment throwing me for a loop. “I wouldn’t want to have to change that.” At that, I storm out of the room and back to the party. The threat sat heavy on my mind for the rest of the night, spending my time watching over my shoulder to keep an eye out for the older guy.

It was that moment I no longer felt admiration for Rafe Cameron.

I didn’t fear him either, though I did that night. The most emotion I feel for him nowadays is disdain and annoyance. Occasionally anger, but I never show it because that’s exactly what he wants. I never told Londyn about our little confrontation, so it’s been a secret between the boy and I since then.

“God, Rafe is such a creep.” Londyn says annoyedly. I give no reaction other than raising my eyebrows slightly. “He’s been staring over here for, like, five minutes.”

“Let him. He won’t do anything.”

I glance over in his direction, the two of us locking eyes. He mimics my raised eyebrows, waiting for me to give him a reaction. I keep a disinterested look on my face and look back at my friend, once again ignoring his presence. Everything he does is to get a reaction out of me so he can somehow use it as evidence to prove that I’m some kind of menace to Figure 8.

Londyn and I leave a short time later, the club becoming far too stuffy for the both of us.

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