#they just took a white family and changed the skin color they actually made an effort to show the differences in culture and mannerisms

[ms-demeanor]

Why reblog machine-generated art?

When I was ten years old I took a photography class where we developed black and white photos by projecting light on papers bathed in chemicals. If we wanted to change something in the image, we had to go through a gradual, arduous process called dodging and burning.

When I was fifteen years old I used photoshop for the first time, and I remember clicking on the clone tool or the blur tool and feeling like I was cheating.

When I was twenty eight I got my first smartphone. The phone could edit photos. A few taps with my thumb were enough to apply filters and change contrast and even spot correct. I was holding in my hand something more powerful than the huge light machines I'd first used to edit images.

When I was thirty six, just a few weeks ago, I took a photo class that used Lightroom Classic and again, it felt like cheating. It made me really understand how much the color profiles of popular web images I'd been seeing for years had been pumped and tweaked and layered with local edits to make something that, to my eyes, didn't much resemble photography. To me, photography is light on paper. It's what you capture in the lens. It's not automatic skin smoothing and a local filter to boost the sky. This reminded me a lot more of the photomanipulations my friend used to make on deviantart; layered things with unnatural colors that put wings on buildings or turned an eye into a swimming pool. It didn't remake the images to that extent, obviously, but it tipped into the uncanny valley. More real than real, more saturated more sharp and more present than the actual world my lens saw. And that was before I found the AI assisted filters and the tool that would identify the whole sky for you, picking pieces of it out from between leaves.

You know, it's funny, when people talk about artists who might lose their jobs to AI they don't talk about the people who have already had to move on from their photo editing work because of technology. You used to be able to get paid for basic photo manipulation, you know? If you were quick with a lasso or skilled with masks you could get a pretty decent chunk of change by pulling subjects out of backgrounds for family holiday cards or isolating the pies on the menu for a mom and pop. Not a lot, but enough to help. But, of course, you can just do that on your phone now. There's no need to pay a human for it, even if they might do a better job or be more considerate toward the aesthetic of an image.

And they certainly don't talk about all the development labs that went away, or the way that you could have trained to be a studio photographer if you wanted to take good photos of your family to hang on the walls and that digital photography allowed in a parade of amateurs who can make dozens of iterations of the same bad photo until they hit on a good one by sheer volume and luck; if you want to be a good photographer everyone can do that why didn't you train for it and spend a long time taking photos on film and being okay with bad photography don't you know that digital photography drove thousands of people out of their jobs.

My dad told me that he plays with AI the other day. He hosts a movie podcast and he puts up thumbnails for the downloads. In the past, he'd just take a screengrab from the film. Now he tells the Bing AI to make him little vignettes. A cowboy running away from a rhino, a dragon arm-wrestling a teddy bear. That kind of thing. Usually based on a joke that was made on the show, or about the subject of the film and an interest of the guest.

People talk about "well AI art doesn't allow people to create things, people were already able to create things, if they wanted to create things they should learn to create things." Not everyone wants to make good art that's creative. Even fewer people want to put the effort into making bad art for something that they aren't passionate about. Some people want filler to go on the cover of their youtube video. My dad isn't going to learn to draw, and as the person who he used to ask to photoshop him as Ant-Man because he certainly couldn't pay anyone for that kind of thing, I think this is a great use case for AI art. This senior citizen isn't going to start cartooning and at two recordings a week with a one-day editing turnaround he doesn't even really have the time for something like a Fiverr commission. This is a great use of AI art, actually.

I also know an artist who is going Hog Fucking Wild creating AI art of their blorbos. They're genuinely an incredibly talented artist who happens to want to see their niche interest represented visually without having to draw it all themself. They're posting the funny and good results to a small circle of mutuals on socials with clear information about the source of the images; they aren't trying to sell any of the images, they're basically using them as inserts for custom memes. Who is harmed by this person saying "i would like to see my blorbo lasciviously eating an ice cream cone in the is this a pigeon meme"?

The way I use machine-generated art, as an artist, is to proof things. Can I get an explosion to look like this. What would a wall of dead computer monitors look like. Would a ballerina leaping over the grand canyon look cool? Sometimes I use AI art to generate copyright free objects that I can snip for a collage. A lot of the time I use it to generate ideas. I start naming random things and seeing what it shows me and I start getting inspired. I can ask CrAIon for pose reference, I can ask it to show me the interior of spaces from a specific angle.

I profoundly dislike the antipathy that tumblr has for AI art. I understand if people don't want their art used in training pools. I understand if people don't want AI trained on their art to mimic their style. You should absolutely use those tools that poison datasets if you don't want your art included in AI training. I think that's an incredibly appropriate action to take as an artist who doesn't want AI learning from your work.

However I'm pretty fucking aggressively opposed to copyright and most of the "solid" arguments against AI art come down to "the AIs viewed and learned from people's copyrighted artwork and therefore AI is theft rather than fair use" and that's a losing argument for me. In. Like. A lot of ways. Primarily because it is saying that not only is copying someone's art theft, it is saying that looking at and learning from someone's art can be defined as theft rather than fair use.

Also because it's just patently untrue.

But that doesn't really answer your question. Why reblog machine-generated art? Because I liked that piece of art.

It was made by a machine that had looked at billions of images - some copyrighted, some not, some new, some old, some interesting, many boring - and guided by a human and I liked it. It was pretty. It communicated something to me. I looked at an image a machine made - an artificial picture, a total construct, something with no intrinsic meaning - and I felt a sense of quiet and loss and nostalgia. I looked at a collection of automatically arranged pixels and tasted salt and smelled the humidity in the air.

I liked it.

I don't think that all AI art is ugly. I don't think that AI art is all soulless (i actually think that 'having soul' is a bizarre descriptor for art and that lacking soul is an equally bizarre criticism). I don't think that AI art is bad for artists. I think the problem that people have with AI art is capitalism and I don't think that's a problem that can really be laid at the feet of people curating an aesthetic AI art blog on tumblr.

Machine learning isn't the fucking problem the problem is massive corporations have been trying hard not to pay artists for as long as massive corporations have existed (isn't that a b-plot in the shape of water? the neighbor who draws ads gets pushed out of his job by product photography? did you know that as recently as ten years ago NewEgg had in-house photographers who would take pictures of the products so users wouldn't have to rely on the manufacturer photos? I want you to guess what killed that job and I'll give you a hint: it wasn't AI)

Am I putting a human out of a job because I reblogged an AI-generated "photo" of curtains waving in the pale green waters of an imaginary beach? Who would have taken this photo of a place that doesn't exist? Who would have painted this hypersurrealistic image? What meaning would it have had if they had painted it or would it have just been for the aesthetic? Would someone have paid for it or would it be like so many of the things that artists on this site have spent dozens of hours on only to get no attention or value for their work?

My worst ratio of hours to notes is an 8-page hand-drawn detailed ink comic about getting assaulted at a concert and the complicated feelings that evoked that took me weeks of daily drawing after work with something like 54 notes after 8 years; should I be offended if something generated from a prompt has more notes than me? What does that actually get the blogger? Clout? I believe someone said that popularity on tumblr gets you one thing and that is yelled at.

What do you get out of this? Are you helping artists right now? You're helping me, and I'm an artist. I've wanted to unload this opinion for a while because I'm sick of the argument that all Real Artists think AI is bullshit. I'm a Real Artist. I've been paid for Real Art. I've been commissioned as an artist.

And I find a hell of a lot of AI art a lot more interesting than I find human-generated corporate art or Thomas Kincaid (but then, I repeat myself).

There are plenty of people who don't like AI art and don't want to interact with it. I am not one of those people. I thought the gay sex cats were funny and looked good and that shitposting is the ideal use of a machine image generation: to make uncopyrightable images to laugh at.

I think that tumblr has decided to take a principled stand against something that most people making the argument don't understand. I think tumblr's loathing for AI has, generally speaking, thrown weight behind a bunch of ideas that I think are going to be incredibly harmful *to artists specifically* in the long run.

Anyway. If you hate AI art and you don't want to interact with people who interact with it, block me.

[supercorpkid]

Powergirl Should Die

Supergirl. Powergirl. B!D. Kara Danvers x BabyDanvers!Reader, Alex Danvers x BabyDanvers!Reader, Lena Luthor, Winn Schott.

Word Count: 2550.

Porwergirl should die. Someone should kill her.

The suit is skin tight, it clings so forcefully onto you as if it's trying to become part of you. But this other skin, just simply doesn’t fit right over your bones. 

There is a huge House of El crest over your chest, in its golden glory. It weighs down on your skin, heavy and sacred. It should help you feel at ease. It doesn’t. It feels like it’s burning your skin like a branding iron. 

Kryptonian? 

Yes. 

Super powers? 

Yes. 

You’re a superhero. Next, please!

Kara stands tall next to you, hand on your shoulder. “Would you look at that,” your sister smiles brightly at you. “Mother and father would be so proud of you, mini me.”

Kara has called you that your whole life, but you never felt so little as you do right now. You've also never felt so much like Kara. Crumpled up inside this supersuit to fit someone else’s dream. You don’t think your parents would be very proud of you now.

“Kara, this feels odd.” You try to lift the suit from your skin, that is so snuggled up it barely leaves you room to breathe. “I-I look like you.”

“I know!” She proudly squeaks. “I asked Winn to only change the colors. How do you feel about the white, red and blue?”

“Like a walking American flag.” You wince at the thought. You like the white, it’s a little more sober than the blue in Kara's suit, it also reminds you of the vest you used to wear back in Krypton. The red cape feels like they've ripped a piece of Kara’s and placed it on your back. The high blue boots are uncomfortable and the matching gloves are just plain stupid.

“You certainly don’t look like one.” Alex chimes in from behind you, and you turn around, sick of the sight of you in the mirror. “Honestly sis, I like this suit. I think it might be even better than Kara’s.”

“I wouldn’t go that far, mine has history.”

“Yours is a copy of Superman’s.”

“That’s what I mean, history.”

You watch your sister’s bickering with faint attention because they both would never say how ridiculous you look with this dull, hideous, comical outfit.

But it didn’t matter how foolish you looked, or how stupid you felt. There was no way out of this. Kara said you looked perfect and Alex agreed. J’onn, who’s been the closest thing to a father to you on this planet, gave you a stiff smile when asked what he thought. He could read your mind, remember? That’s what he thought about it. And Winn was just over the moon with his creation. No way out. From that day on, you’re Powergirl.

It hasn’t been long since you started being Powergirl. You’re still not the most prominent face of the Supers, thank God for that. You do the easy jobs while Kara takes on the real bad guys. You follow her lead. Obey to what Alex tells you to do over the comm that is permanently stuck in your ear. As if you couldn’t hear her from miles and miles away.

But with every passing day, it becomes even more obvious to you that you were really not cut out for this superhero life. Not good at it. Not happy with it. Not fit for it.

The very opposite of Kara, actually. Because Kara fits everywhere and with everyone. She fits perfectly in her suit, with her alias. Perfectly at her job at CatCo, as a news reporter. And ever since she landed on Earth she created her perfect family, story, life on this planet. 

You, on the other hand, wish everyday you were still at Krypton. You are well aware that if you stayed behind, that if your parents hadn't made Kara snuggle your smaller form against her own body on that pod, you would have exploded. You wouldn't be alive today. And you wish people knew you don't want to be dead, you just wish your planet hadn't exploded in the first place.

Sure Kara feels the same. Yet she makes a name for herself and gives back to this planet that took you both in so willingly, that gave you both powers because of its sun. Kara is just different.

"Mother would want us to use our powers for good." She would whisper to you in the dark, whenever the Danvers would tell you to not use your powers. Whenever they asked you to fit in completely. "Father spent so much time trying to stop our planet from deteriorating, don't you think that if he had powers he would use them to make that happen?"

She would ask you questions that didn't feel like questions. That required no answers at all. Kara would tell you what she knew about them, use them as arguments to explain to you (convince even) why you had to become a superhero too. 

And you would lay there in the dark, after your sister was asleep, looking at the long dead stars, and wondering whether she was right. Whether that was your parents' plans all along or just a sad coincidence.

"Powergirl." You hear Kara's voice early in the morning while you're still trying to brew yourself a cup of coffee. "I need you for a second."

"It's too early in the morning and I have to get ready for work." You press on your comm to answer. "Can't you deal with it alone?"

"Hm, no. I need you to come here now." 

You let out a huge sigh, trying to ease your own mind. Coffee will wait, you guess. You're out of your pj's, into your suit, and out of the house in a blur. You stop next to Kara while she stares at a billboard.

"What?" You can't help the harshness of your tone as you see no emergency around her.

Kara says nothing. Only points at the billboard and you finally take note of it. Written in large red colors, the sentence: Powergirl should die.

Huh.

"It seems that you have an enemy." Kara says when time enough has passed for you to read the sentence over a few times. "Don't worry, we'll catch them."

Cute. It's your first thought. It's almost like someone wrote you a love letter, au contraire. 

Kara makes an effort to tear it all down, destroy the billboard before anyone sees it. You don't help her, stuck inside your own mind, replaying the words in your head. 

"No need to worry." She assures you, hand on your shoulder to get you out of your trance. "No one will do you any harm, mini me. I'd never let anyone hurt you."

"Thanks, Kar." You look at your watch on your wrist. "Work calls." And so you fly home.

You try to lodge that sentence in the back of your mind. You don't wanna seem stressed out, even though you are. But showing how actually worried you are about it, and with the fact that someone is coming for you, it's inconceivable. 

Kara would worry. Alex would stress. Ooof, you can see it all playing out. Sleepovers and excuses for you to miss work and hang at the DEO headquarters so they can keep an eye on you, until you're feeling suffocated.

No, no. You can't go through that. It's been a while since you and your sisters shared a bedroom. You don't think you three can do that again now that you're grown ups. 

It happens again. You don't see it, but you hear the agents commenting about it, a couple days later. They get muted the second you fly in the DEO, which is not only annoying but foolish. You do have super hearing after all.

"So, where was it this time?" You ask Alex, while she tries to avoid looking at you. 

"Where's what?" She tries, and you furrow your brows.

"Winn, put it on the monitor." You ask coming closer. Winn looks at Alex as if asking for permission, but you don't give her time to deny him. "Come on, I heard the agents. I'm still Kryptonian even if I'm not a Super."

Winn huffs. "On the tallest building of National City." The photo goes up on the large TV in front of you, and you swallow deep.

Powergirl should die. 

"Y/N," Alex talks in a low tone so the agents around can't hear her. "it's not personal."

"Looks personal." You cross your arms, turning your back at the TV. "Someone wanting me dead sounds like it's as personal as it can get."

"Supergirl is looking into it, I promise we'll catch whoever did this."

"Alex, please." You pass her on your way to the training room. "You know damn well my favorite thing about you is that you don't lie."

"You've lost too many punching bags." You hear a voice behind your back, and you breathe deep before turning around.

"Just training a little." You look at the number of destroyed bags by your feet and decide that it's true, there's too many, even though that's what they're here for. 

"Alex told me about the message." Kara approaches you slowly, trying to test the territory. She can see your distress, but doesn't know the extent of it. And she won't, because you're definitely going to fake it.

"Yeah, tall building. They got the writing off quickly, though. So no major problems."

"Honey," Kara's voice is even sweeter now, if that's possible. "I'll catch them. I'll be patrolling tonight. No one's coming for you."

"I'm not worried." You smile at your lie, or half of lie for what it's worth. Knowing that Kara will be patrolling the city helps. You know your sister would never let anything bad happen to you. And it's very unlikely that anyone on this planet could easily defeat two Kryptonians.

Kara also smiles, and brings you into her arms for a hug. And you breathe out, calmer. Kara's arms have kept you safe from many perils. Spaceship lost in space, new planet, new school, new job. Surely she can keep you safe again.

You don't feel safe, though, when you wake up to a familiar voice far away. You rub the sleep from your eyes, well awake, paying close attention to a conversation you weren't invited to be a part of.

"Alex, I went around the city, there's no new wri-"

"Kara? What was that?"

There it was, in big red letters the sentence that has been haunting you for days. Powergirl should die. And under it new words' been added, someone should kill her.

"I found new writing." Kara's voice comes a second later. "It's worse this time."

"Take a picture so we can compare the handwriting and get back here."

"I have to clean this up." But before Kara even has the chance to, you're flying next to her in front of the L Corp building. "Y/N! What are you doing here?"

You move closer to the building to investigate. The ink is still wet, it wasn't done too long ago. You look around trying to find cameras. It's Lena's building, you're sure there are cameras everywhere. You spot one with a direct view.

"Mini me-" Kara tries.

"Go to work Supergirl, I'll deal with this. Someone wanting me dead is my problem." It's always been your problem, you are aware. But Kara promised you, you had nothing to worry about. Promised she would patrol the city. Promised she would protect you. And yet, here it is, in big block red letters.

"But-"

"I got it, Kara. Can you just believe in me?"

"Y/N, you know I do. I just wanna help."

"I don't need help." You clench your jaw, tired of being treated like a little girl. Like a mini Kara instead of your own person. "I'm Kryptonian too."

Cheap shot? Maybe. Definitely. You throw it, anyway. 

You clean the writing then fly home to suit up. You can't face Lena without it. Another secret that only makes you hate your secret identity as hard. Lying to your friends, sneaking out, it's all stressing and there's literally no reward high enough worth of all this.

"Lena."

"Oh shit." Lena's hand goes to her chest after her obvious scare. You can hear her heart almost beating out of her chest. "It's too early for bad news, Powergirl."

"Trust me, I agree with that." You breathe out, trying to give her a smile. It comes out flat. "I was wondering if I could look into one of your surveillance cameras. There was some writing on this building this morning, I would very much like to know who's responsible."

"Writing? I - I didn't see anything when I came in."

"Good. I cleaned it as fast as possible." You point at her computer and she breathes deep as if she is agreeing with you. 

It doesn't take long for the images to be up, and you two to be carefully reversing the filming until Lena sees you and Kara flying in front of it, and read the words herself. She looks up to you and quirks up an eyebrow, in question.

"Currently unsure if someone is threatening me or if this is just general knowledge being passed on." 

"People don't want you dead, you're a superhero!" Lena argues. "Maybe Lex, but he's currently serving his time."

"Clearly not everyone agrees with you." You point back at the words on her computer.

"It's awful." She admits, even though she doesn't fully trust you or Kara yet. "Wait, wait. There."

You can't see a thing. One minute is there, the other isn't. You slow down the images, trying to see any detail. Lena soon takes over and slows down as much as she can. That's when you see it, just a tiny flash of red. You hold your breath. Thankfully, Lena hasn't noticed it.

"How's this possible? There's no one." 

"Seems that I'll have to patrol the city myself tonight." You're almost leaving Lena's office when you turn around one more time. "Thank you for your help, Ms. Luthor."

"I was barely of any help at all." Lena points at the computer as proof and you give her a smile.

"Au contraire, darling. You showed me everything I needed to see." You wink at her, then fly out.

You march inside the DEO, positive on your plan. No one is talking you out of it, that's for sure.

Winn tries to argue that it is illogical for you to just give yourself to your enemy. He gets ignored. Alex argues that as a DEO agent she can't let you do this, and as your older sister she would be insane to leave you alone in this situation. You don't budge. Kara pulls out the big guns, her promise to mother and father, her duty as your protector, how you're the only connection she still has with Krypton, her love for you and so on. Her cries fall on deaf ears.

So at night, you fly around National City watching and studying everyone in it, even though you know you should only be looking for one person. One person with superspeed, a red cape and a big motive.

#supergirl #kara danvers #lena luthor #kara x reader #reader insert #baby danvers #alex danvers #alex x reader #powergirl #supergirl imagine

[hypnos333]

£{Strawberry shortcake}£

Claudia x mix reader

Synopsis: Claudia been admiring you for days until you finally turns you in new orleans

You always like sweets maybe this Admirer knew that as they been setting strawberry shortcakes on your door for a couple weeks now. Of course you ate them seeing nothing wrong with the gesture but it can’t help but made you think of that gesture.

Until today the person finally wrote to you with the cake. It was a weird way to write the way they write.

Ya know I thought I was always gon be alone till I met you. You’re my Lestat but better, Darlin. Oh I can’t wait for you to be with me already so we can just cuddle and just enjoy each other for eternity. Just us against the world.

There was no name but You knew you falling slowly in love with the cake and them letters. You knew they didn’t see you as just a girl whose white dad fucked a black woman.

You didn’t get no criticism from them about your own skin. They saw you as an equal.

Sure she got attention from other boys in new orleans but they’re just boys. Little boys who can’t keep it in their pants.

Her parents don’t give her enough attention either making her off and about doing whatever she wants that won’t cause her trouble.

The thought of it made you sick. You wore your beige coat over the same color dress. Beige was always a color you adored.

You exited your room roaming the streets of new orleans, an old black baker approached her with a bag of free beignets offering a gentle smile. You thanked the baker smiling back before going on your day.

It was peaceful til A beautiful girl was walking beside her with a red cloak. You secretly admired the girl, her red eyes, brown curls and her light skin. She was beautiful.

You didn’t think you liked girls but she seemed like exception. So you stopped walking and so did she.

“Hello lil red” You greeted first holding your hand up first. She smiled with heart eyes before taking your hand holding a little tight.

“Hello i’m Claudia” She greeted still holding your hand making you blush.

“Wanna get ice cream, we can get sundae’s if you like?” You asked making her smile brightly. “Sure Doll” She chipered

As they entered the dinner, you ordered a strawberry shortcake sundae as Claudia ordered a Vanilla sundae. Claudia took small bites of her ice cream as you eat a full spoons of ice cream.

“You must love strawberries” Claudia stated looking at the girl glow in the moonlight.

You gasp in excitement at the mention of strawberries “oh my God I just love strawberry’s its one of my favorite fruits its actually my favorite food” You rambled as Claudia just stare at you with admiration.

by the end of the night, Claudia walked you home, and you gave her a little kiss on the cheek.

after that, you saw her more often more after the usual you didn’t know she existed till now, but now she just talk to you and every waking moment well every waking night usually you go out all night and shes usually there but at daylight she’s never there. 

she does worry about your well-being about staying up too late, but she realized that you have nightmares so you can’t go back to sleep.

Days went by and Claudia started to think about changing you into a vampire. She thought long and hard. The more y’all talk the more shes falling in love more and more with you. It was getting overwhelming she can’t last the day without you. 

so one night she decides to be selfish when you were asleep, she turned you in your bed right there you couldn’t stop screaming it burned your whole skin burnt you felt like you were changing. Sure you will love Claudia but you love being human.

falling in love with a female wasn’t ideal for you and it was an abomination to your family so you kept on denying the love you have for her until now.

Claudia picked you up and rushed you to Louis and Lestat for help. surprisingly, Claudia was successful of turning you maybe because it was in your blood or something no one knew why She could turn you but not Charlie. It was a mystery that they did not have time for but Lestat did.

when you woke, you had long nails, your eyes look red as flames. Skin was a little pale but you still looked Light Skin and your hair was just a mess there was blood on your neck until you saw this human smelling so delicious like candy or more like strawberries, Strawberry shortcake that’s what you craved, so you brush the guy and bit his neck drinking all his blood leaving him pale.

“Claudia” You whined for her feeling clingy and overwhelmed with unfamiliarity.

“Hello Angel” A strange white man said making you jump in surprise. “Oh don’t worry sweetheart I won’t hurt you” He said again

“My name is Lestat” he greeted making you look at him in curiosity and weirdly

“And i’m Louis” A black man said coming in the room. You stared at the room in such curiosity like a bunny haunting a new area.

“Where am I? And what am I?” You asked looking in a mirror of an unknown you reflection.

“Well you’re a Vampire and Claudia is your creator” Louis explained. “My creator?” you questioned back making him hum in agreement.

Lestat held a creepy smile watching your expression and your movement. You legs shake as you fidget with your baby blue sweater. “I’m so hungry” You mumble. Just in time as Claudia to come in the room with a A positive and B negative blood bags with a joyful smile.

“Here you are my love” Claudia said handing her the blood bag.

“Now we can be together for eternity” She said joyfully watching you drink the blood bag.

After a while y’all decided to travel to paris, New Zealand, and other countries. Life with new was peaceful and enjoyable. And life with her was exciting and fun. You weren’t mad about your new life because nothing can beat this life right now.

And you still didn’t know she was the strawberry shortcake giver

#interview with the vampire #Claudiaxreader #interview with the vampire x reader #vampire x reader

[artist-issues]

Once More For the People in the Back:

- Lilo & Stitch is NOT about the evils of colonization.

It’s about a literal alien monster with no home coming to a planet and town where he doesn’t belong and being adopted as one of their own. Even after he destroys everything they love and build. Spin that into a metaphor for how terrible colonization is, if you can.

- Lilo & Stitch is NOT about the hardships people with dark skin inherently face.

It is about the hardships of people who lose family members and have to adjust to loving someone new. Nani is struggling to keep Lilo because she’s an 18 year-old orphan trying to play mom to a little sister who just needs someone to be her friend. She’s losing job opportunities because Lilo is trying to accept a destructive monster into their family with destructive results, not because she has dark skin.

- Lilo & Stitch is NOT about the evils of racism.

Lilo & Stitch is about an alien learning the meaning of family. Lilo explicitly demonstrates a hatred of tourists (not white people, just tourists, because Cobra Bubbles is implied to be a tourist in the same scene.) in one scene and that scene was deleted because it took the focus away from other scenes which made the point of the film more clearly. If a bad light is put on tourism, it’s to emphasize that Lilo has a problem with people leaving—”I remember everyone that leaves; I need someone who won’t run away; You came back; nobody gets left behind.”

And finally, drumroll please: 

-Lilo and Stitch is NOT about celebrating diversity.

Celebrating diversity is a fine message. It’s just not the one Lilo & Stitch is delivering. You’re thinking of Ice Age 4, where all kinds of animals make up a family; or Zootopia, where all all kinds of people can perform different jobs in society.

No. Lilo & Stitch is about what family means, and that is: unconditional love. Loving you at your worst and helping you to be better.

 The fact that the social worker is black, or male, has nothing to do with that main point. The fact that the Grand Councilwoman is female has nothing to do with the main point. The fact that one alien is skinny and one is fat has nothing to do with the main point. The fact that Nani and Lilo have dark skin has nothing to do with the main point—just like the fact that Stitch is blue has nothing to do with the main point.

Those factors might help in a peripheral way—(blue is the color the human brain associates with supernatural creatures; dark skin = Hawaiian = believably being brought up on the philosophy of ‘Ohana) —but you could still change any one of those things and it would remain Lilo & Stitch. 

By contrast, with a film that is actually about celebrating diversity like Ice Age 4, if you change the hedgehog into another mammoth you lose the point of the story. Or in Zootopia, if you make Judy and Nick both bunnies you lose the point of the story. Diversity is a fine point. Whatever. But it’s not the point of Lilo & Stitch. 

FORGET what you are hearing on Twitter in relation to the Live Action Movie. You can say what you want about how much you wish a certain shade of skin were representing the characters you love.

But if, to make your point, you try to argue that the original had ANYTHING to do with specific shades of color, demonstrating colonization and racism evils, or representing the hardships of POCs trying to get a job, you are being disingenuous. Or worse, you’re just tossing the real point of the movie carelessly over one shoulder so you can wedge a cause that it was never championing in where it doesn’t fit.

Try and make your point about how skin color and representation matters all you want, but you can’t honestly do it using the example the original movie set. The point of the original movie is just bigger and better than “skin colors should be given more attention.”

#people criticizing the live action for all the wrong reasons #it deserves criticism just for existing #but not because of the colors of the actor’s skins #because that was never a crucial point in the first movie #lilo and stitch #live action #disney live action #disney live action remake #stitch #lilo #david #nani #pleakley #jumba #live action Lilo and stitch #lilo and stitch remake #colorism #racism #diversity #representation #Lilo and stitch fandom #L&S #Disney discourse #film analysis #writing #Lilo and stitch analysis

[moonchildreads]

small town

Chapter 14 - Missing You

IN THIS CHAPTER: The meaning of flowers, homemade cake, and Maureen and Margaret become friends [6.0k]

WARNINGS: angst, discussions about dead parents (car accident/unspecified terminal illness), survivor's guilt, unprocessed grief - please heed my warnings. i'm currently grieving someone and this is very raw, proceed only if it won't hurt you

A/N: shout out to @duquesademiel and @justahappycloud for teaching me that it is okay to write as a form of therapy, and i'm sorry i keep sending you the sad bits of this fic only. i love you and i can't believe i get to call you my friends. also, big thank you to @boomhauer for letting me use her chosen name for eddie's dad - i admire you greatly and everyone should go and read disjointed as a thank you. we're so very lucky we have you in this fandom <3

masterlist - prev - next | playlist

You had so much hope for a brighter day Why were you my flower plucked away?

Sunday, May 11th - 1986

“What on Earth are you doing?”

Mother’s Day had always been a weird day for Dottie. When she was a toddler, it was just another calm and quiet Sunday, albeit one where her Dad wanted more cuddles than usual, which, quite frankly, already were a lot. Still, she enjoyed the extra attention and he loved holding his little girl in his arms while she took a nap on his chest so there were no complaints to be heard from either side. When she was in kindergarten, her class spent an entire Friday making gifts for their Moms. Dottie came back home with a hopeful smile and gave her paper mache and macaroni flower to her Dad, asking if he could send it all the way up to Heaven for her. James had neer been happier about the fact that they now had separate bedrooms so she wouldn’t hear him sob clutching her handcraft to his chest while she slept. When she was around 8, she asked her Dad why couldn’t they simply celebrate Mother’s Day like everyone else in her class.

Margaret’s physical absence in her daughter’s life wasn’t an unusual topic in their home; in fact, a lot of teachers commented on it as Dottie grew up, praising James for keeping her memory alive and normalizing a sad situation so his kid wouldn’t suffer. James wasn’t sure why telling his daughter that she had been so very much loved by her dead parent was worthy of being praised, but as a single dad in the ‘70s, he took whatever kind words he could get. He made sure that Dottie understood she had a Mom, that she didn’t suddenly appear from thin air one day to change James’ life forever, that she’d been wanted and dreamed of by both parents. Margaret’s face was in countless pictures around their home, they stayed in her old bedroom whenever they visited her side of the family in Pennsylvania, they talked about what she’d say or what she’d do at all times. Margaret Burke was a constant presence in their lives despite her untimely death, and the fact that they celebrated that every day except during Mother’s Day didn’t feel right to her daughter.

That’s how Dottie found herself establishing little traditions that were still in place that Sunday afternoon when she opened her front door to find one of her best friends holding a small bouquet tied together with a big silver ribbon. Dressed in an all-black ensemble as he usually did, the lilac and white flowers sprinkled with greenery were the only pop of color in the foggy drizzly afternoon. Eddie was smiling wide despite the ugly weather, his dimples perfectly on display for the world to appreciate.

“Hey! This is for you,” Eddie thrust the flowers forward. “Actually, they are for your Mom but… yeah.”

“You bought my Mom flowers?” Dottie said, disbelief present in her tone as her fingers brushed against his chunky rings when she accepted the bouquet, skin bristling at the contact.

“Yeah, you like ‘em? The purple ones are rosemary and the white ones are, uh, bellflowers? The lady at the shop said there are, like, a million white flowers that look like bells so I picked the prettiest ones,” he dropped his backpack on the armchair in the living room and followed her to the kitchen.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you pick these?”

“Well, I kinda… borrowed your flower book?” he admitted, leaning on the kitchen island to watch her fill a glass vase and start arranging the flowers. “The one you and Jeff were talking about at lunch? It’s in my bag.”

“Wait, what? When did you grab it? I didn’t even notice it was gone.”

“Yesterday, when you left me alone in your room to go get snacks. D’you have any more of those strawberries? They were so good.”

“Yes, but you can’t eat them. We need them for the cake,” Dottie cut a few long stems until she was happy with how her vase looked and tied the silver ribbon that the bouquet had been bound with around the glass. “So if you stole my book, what do these mean?”

“I didn’t steal it, I was gonna give it back!” he said, faking being offended at her accusation before he dropped the act and stared down at his hands. “The, um- the rosemary is remembrance. The bell flowers are gratitude.”

“Gratitude? For my Mom?” she searched for his eyes with her own but he kept looking at his rings.

“Just wanted to thank her, y’know,” he looked up at her after a pause. “For giving me you.”

“Shit, Ed, you can’t say things like that without a warning, you’re gonna make me cry!” she fanned her face with her hand, voice playful but eyes full of very real tears. “Thank you, you’re… thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he smiled shyly, reaching across the island to grab a flower out of the vase and bump her nose with it.

She giggled, taking the long stem from his fingers and setting it behind her right ear before turning around towards the counter where baking supplies were neatly laid out. She picked up two envelopes: one was the now familiar soft pink rectangle she had been carrying in her backpack all week but the other one was unassuming plain white. She slid the white one across the ceramic countertop; Eddie opened it to find a Garfield themed Mother’s Day card, the orange cat grinning on the front of the glossy paper. A pen entered his line of vision and he looked up to see Dottie nervously staring at him.

“I got you your own card,” she explained, clicking the pen and offering it to him. “Thought maybe you’d like to join my little ritual later.”

“Ritual?”

“I write down the things I want to say to my Mom and then I burn the card. It’s dumb, you know I don’t really believe in, like, the afterlife or whatever but… Dunno. Feels like the words reach her if I burn it.”

“No, I get it,” he reassured her. “So I can write whatever I want?”

“Yeah! I mostly just update mine on how everything’s going. About my Dad, and school, stuff like that. Like leaving a message on her answering machine.”

“Okay, I can do that,” he smiled. “I’ll join your ritual.”

“Yeah? Okay, cool! I’ll… I’ll get started on the cake while you do that then.”

Happy to have a task to focus on instead of staring at him for an hour, Dottie opened a bottom drawer and took out a dark green apron with a tiny lemon pattern, quickly tying it behind her back with a thin bow. Eddie watched her move around her kitchen with ease, measuring ingredients and lining up a cake pan with parchment paper like she’d done it a thousand times. He supposed she’d had; kids with hard childhoods always knew their way around ovens and knives. It was simply a matter of survival: sometimes you were hungry and there weren’t any adults around even if the grownups in your life weren’t neglectful, like Wayne or James. Eddie looked down at Garfield’s large face printed on the paper and began spilling everything that was rattling inside his brain through his pen. He wrote, and wrote, and wrote until the left side of the opened card was full and had no more space to write on, so he continued writing on the backside.

He told his Mom about Wayne while Dottie mixed flour, cornstarch, baking powder, and salt. He promised her he’d graduate this year while hearing the sounds of two eggs being cracked, the overwhelming sweetness of vanilla extract filling the air. He confided that he didn’t feel as lonely as before anymore, that he thought he finally had great friends, a club that looked up to him, a band that made him proud. He asked her not to worry about him anymore when Dottie poured the batter into a round pan and offered him the spoon to lick. And thus, Eddie wrote to her Mom about the girl he had a growing crush on, how he felt like he didn’t have to hide anything from her because she understood him in ways that other people had never understood, and how desperately he hoped she would look at him in the same way he saw her. If he had lifted his head up when he was putting the card back into the envelope, he would have seen Dottie sneaking glances at him while she cut strawberries and realized that he didn’t have to hope for anything anymore; Dottie already looked at him with stars in her eyes even if he didn’t think he was worthy of it yet.

With the cake baking in the oven for the next 30 minutes, all the strawberries cut in half, and the homemade jam finishing its 48 hour setting period in the fridge, both teens sat down on cushy stools at the kitchen island to finish the half-done homework they had abandoned on Saturday after it got dark. They could hear James pottering about upstairs, cleaning the bathroom while listening to the radio. He was singing along to West End Girls by the Pet Shop Boys - “the latest #1 on the Billboard Hot 100” the announcer had said. James didn’t really like the Pet Shop Boys, but he had heard it so much on the radio during the last couple of months that he couldn’t be blamed for knowing the lyrics by heart at that point.

“You done?” Eddie asked, gathering his stuff and shoving everything into his backpack.

“Yeah- yeah, I’m done,” Dottie said, moving to clear her stuff too. “Cake should be done in five, I think.”

“What’s next?”

“Wanna whip the cream while I do the glaze?”

“Sure. You’re gonna have to guide me though,” his face lit up in a mischievous smile. “And I’m gonna need one of those cute little aprons you’ve been hiding from me too.”

“You get plain dark blue,” she said, going through the drawer. “Or… I can offer you a “Kiss the Cook” apron with a big red heart on it?”

“Princess, you already know which one I want,” he batted his eyelashes at her. “Besides, it matches my scrunchie!”

Dottie tried to contain her giggles with no success when he tied his hair up into a bun with the red scrunchie that had found permanent residence in the depths of her empty fruit bowl, twirling around to show off his new hairdo. He bowed his head so she could slip the apron around his neck, leaving the tying up to him and fetching the ingredients for their next tasks. She separated them into two small piles, his ingredients to the right, hers to the left.

“To make whipped cream you put heavy cream in this,” she slid a bowl in front of him. “And you use the mixer to whisk it until it gets a bit bubbly. Then, you add the sugar and the vanilla extract, and you mix until it’s not runny anymore.”

“How much of everything?” he asked, pushing his sleeves to his elbows.

“One tablespoon of sugar and one teaspoon of vanilla extract.”

“The tablespoon is the big one, right?”

“Yes, chef,” she said, juicing a lemon for her glaze.

They worked together in relative silence, the loud sounds of the mixer drowning any words they could say. Eddie found out that he could draw on the cream when it got a bit more stiff, and quickly proceeded to spend the next few minutes drawing penis shape after penis shape into the mixture. He thought it was hilarious until Dottie unplugged the electric appliance, shaking her head at his antics. He got the cake out of the oven while she finished up her glaze, concentrating on not burning her concoction heating up on the stovetop.

“Do you always bake a cake for Mother’s Day?”

“Pretty much, yeah. It was my Mom’s favorite cake, it’s her recipe, so... Dunno, it feels nice. And I get to eat cake in the end so everything works out.”

“Y’know, I don’t think I’ve seen anyone make lemon glaze since I lived with my Grandma for three months,” he said, fanning the cake with a takeaway menu to cool it down.

“That sounds fun. How old were you?”

“Eight. Stayed with her the whole summer. She made awful lemon bars, I mean that shit tasted like fuckin’ cardboard,” Dottie snorted at his horrified expression. “But she made the best apple pie I’ve ever had. I think I gained like 10 pounds that summer.”

“Just from apple pie?” she asked, adding the last bit of the lemon juice to the pot.

“And ice cream,” he smiled. “Best summer of my life.”

“Eddie?” she said softly. “Can I ask you something kind of personal?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“How old were you when you moved in with Wayne?”

“After that summer. Actually,” he snorted bitterly. “The only reason I got to stay with my Grandma all those months was because my Dad got himself locked up and didn’t think it was important to mention he had a kid.”

“What?”

“They found out I existed when the school year started. A teacher asked me about my summer and called Social Services. When they came to see me, they said my Grandma was too old to raise me, so Wayne asked for custody. Been living with him since then.”

“What happened to your Dad?” she turned off the heat and turned to look at him.

“He’s still in prison. Won’t get out until I’m in my thirties as far as I know. He’s an asshole so… I don’t really care about him, and Wayne doesn’t either. Never went to visit him. Shit, I don’t think he even knows where they’ve got him, and that’s his little brother.”

“I mean, you just said he was an asshole so…”

“Yeah, I did,” he let out a wry chuckle.

“What’s his name? It isn’t Edward, right?”

“No, my Mom chose Edward. His name’s Wyatt.”

“Ah, that sucks,” she shook her head, moving past him to cut the cake in half to start assembling. He looked at her questioningly. “Wayne and Wyatt? ‘Cause you like alliteration?”

“Doesn’t ruin it for me. Actually, you might like this - you know what other two names start with the same letter?” he leaned onto the counter next to her. She was still wearing a sprig of rosemary in her hair.

“Bilbo and Baggins?” she joked.

“Maureen and Margaret.”

Dottie stopped cutting, knife halfway into the soft vanilla sponge, and stared at him. Eddie was looking at the two envelopes laying side by side next to the flower vase, right hand twirling the rings on his left hand. She remembered a conversation she’d had with Ms. Kelly early on in February after the excitement of being the new kid had died down and everyone had forgotten about her, going back to their cliques and usual groups of friends without sparing a single glance at her. If you want others to open up to you, you have to be open with them too, Ms. Kelly had said, in that gentle voice she always talked to troubled students with.

As much as Eddie wore his heart on his sleeve, he wasn’t keen on talking about his past. He rarely offered up pieces of important information about his childhood, choosing to only share the inconsequential parts instead. Everything else was locked up tight in his chest, just like Dottie did with her deepest memories. She wondered if the reason he was being candid with her now was because she’d let him peek behind her curtains first on Friday night at Lover’s Lake. A key exchanged for a key.

“Your mom’s name was Maureen?” Dottie asked, resuming her cutting.

“Yeah. Wayne says everyone called her Mo.”

“That’s a pretty name,” she smiled. “Mo and Maggie. Maybe they would’ve been friends.”

“Yeah. That would’ve been nice. We could have introduced them.”

“I don’t know if I’d be in Hawkins if my Mom was still here, though,” she said, sliding a big spatula under the first layer of cake to move it to a different plate. “Don’t think we would have moved out of New York.”

“Dunno if I’d be here either,” Eddie admitted, watching her spread the whipped cream he had made on the cake. “My Mom wasn’t from Hawkins. I don’t really know where she was from, I asked but Wayne doesn’t know either so… Said she didn’t like talking about it ‘cause her parents kicked her out when they found out she was pregnant.”

“That’s actually so wretched.”

“I know, right? Like, I know my Dad was always a fucking asshole but it wasn’t her fault, she was barely 17.”

“How did she meet your Dad then? If she wasn’t from Hawkins.”

“As far as I know, she worked at a diner my Dad stopped at on his route. Wayne got him a job as a trucker when he turned 18. So he met my Mom there, dated her for like, three months at the most, and then I showed up to ruin everything,” Dottie scoffed at him but he continued. “She dropped out of high school, he brought her to Hawkins and I was born here. They got married when she turned 18 a few months later. Actually, my Grandma kinda forced them to get married. She really liked my Mom and didn’t want people to treat her like shit ‘cause she had a bastard child.”

“God, people sucked back then.”

“It was the ‘60s, The Beatles were the biggest band in the world, everything sucked back then.”

“Say that again and I’ll kill you in your sleep,” she deadpanned and he let out a huge snort, enjoying how easy it was to rile her up. “You were saying, though.”

“Nah, it’s just… If they were married, it didn’t look like I was an unhappy accident, y’know?” Eddie got a bit more serious. “Anyway, Wyatt didn’t really want to be a dad. He would get in his truck and leave for days, and then when he came back he treated my Mom like shit. I don’t remember much but my Grandma told me once that he used to hit her a lot. I mean, I was his own personal punching bag so that shouldn’t surprise me as much as it does but still.”

“Jesus Christ,” she breathed out.

“It’s been ages since I’ve seen him and my Mom died when I was three, that’s why I don’t really remember anything,” he said, but he did. He remembered everything about Wyatt Munson; every hit, every insult, every scream. He cleared his throat. “After that, my Dad quit his job and started working at Brimborn before it closed down.”

“Brimborn… That’s the abandoned warehouse on Cherry Lane, right?”

“Cherry Oak Drive.”

“There’s like three different roads with “cherry” in their names in Hawkins, it’s so dumb.”

“Nobody said we were very original around here,” he chuckled.

Dottie moved around the kitchen to go find the strawberry jam she’d made a few days prior and found him still staring at the cards when she turned. He wasn’t crying at the memories, he didn’t even look sad. Just… resigned. Like he’d gotten used to things being shit all the time so it was a waste of time to get upset about them anymore. She left the jar on the counter and wrapped her arms around Eddie’s waist, her chest colliding with his back, her face buried between his shoulder blades.

“I’m so happy Wayne was there for you. He’s a great man.”

“Yeah,” he said, voice uncharacteristically soft, hands curling around hers. “Sometimes… sometimes I used to wish he was my real Dad, y’know?”

“He is.”

They stayed like that in the middle of Dottie’s kitchen, a million different things running through their heads: the dead mothers that shared the first letter of their names, the men that had raised them, and the people who had cared for them along the way. There was love to be found here in this kitchen, they both knew it. Only time would tell what it could turn into - what it would turn into - but for now, this friendship that only seemed to grow stronger every day was more than they had dreamed of when they first met in that dark props room thanks to the one and only Dustin Henderson. Maybe a Thank You note was in order.

Eddie thought it was very fitting that there wasn’t a bit of sunshine to be found as they stepped out into the backyard to begin what Dottie kept calling her “little ritual”. He held their envelopes carefully, one on each hand, while he watched her shove bits of craft paper and small branches into an empty bucket of paint, a box of matches resting on the floor next to her sneakers. She grabbed one and lit it on fire, throwing it into the can that had been scrubbed clean of any traces of paint ages ago and was now used as a regular bucket of water to douse the embers whenever James felt like using the grill. Wordlessly, she took her envelope from him and knelt in front of the can with her eyes closed, pressing the paper to her chest for a few seconds before lifting it up to her lips for a quick kiss, letting it fall onto the flames. She watched how the fire consumed her written words for a moment and went back to stand next to her friend.

She didn’t give him any indications as to what to do, simply choosing to let her hands fall in front of her, right hand twirling the ring on her left middle finger, eyes never leaving the flames. Eddie took her solemn silence as permission to approach the metallic can, kneeling on one knee and dropping his card inside. It was a strange feeling, he reckoned, to be sharing such an intimate and private moment with Dottie, and yet knowing that his words would never be read by her or any other person. Whatever he’d said in his letter was between him and the wind that he hoped would reach his Mom’s ears. I guess that’s the point of the ritual, he thought, moving back to his spot next to the pensive girl.

“It’s my fault,” she mumbled, gaze still stuck to the orange dancing in front of them and yet so far away from what she was actually seeing. “It’s my fault she’s dead.”

He turned to look at her, eyebrows meeting in the middle. Eddie had never seen her look so defeated. He wondered how he’d never noticed it before: the weight of the guilt she was carrying on her shoulders, the deep seated shame in the pit of her stomach that felt all too familiar to him, the vacant space within her eyes. It was like looking into a mirror that he’d been trying to ignore for so long. He reached out to her, his right hand wrapping around her left, rings brushing against each other’s, and squeezed tightly.

“She knew she was sick while she was pregnant and delayed her treatment for me. I killed her.”

“Dot, you know that’s not right.”

“Isn’t it? She knew it was me or her, and she chose me,” she held on tighter to his hand. “Sometimes… god, sometimes I wish she’d chosen herself instead. And it’s not that I want to be dead, I swear it’s not about that, but… it wasn’t fair. Not to her, not to my Dad. And it wasn’t fair to me either.”

“It’s my fault my Mom’s dead,” Eddie said, moving his fingers to intertwine with hers. She turned to him, both sets of wet brown eyes finding each others’ in the backyard. “It was the last day of preschool before the Winter holidays and I wanted pizza, so she went out to go get it. A drunk guy ran her over. She never saw it coming. My Dad wasn’t even in town. She died alone on the side of the road and with a fucking 2x1 pizza coupon in her coat pocket.”

“Eddie, you couldn’t have known. That wasn’t your fault-”

“It wasn’t yours either but you’re still gonna blame yourself for the rest of your life, aren’t you?” his lower lip trembled and they both squeezed tighter. The skin stretching over their knuckles was as white as the bellflowers in the kitchen. “They were adults, they made their own choices but you’re always gonna think about what you could have done differently, even if you didn’t know how to wipe your own ass yet.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” she insisted. “That drunk asshole should be to blame, not you.”

“It wasn’t your fault either,” he said, matching her intensity. “You didn’t make her sick, that just happens sometimes and it’s no one’s fault.”

“It is! It’s my fault she didn’t get the treatment she should have gotten!”

“And it’s my fault my Mom was out there that night because I wanted pizza,” he lifted the hand that wasn’t holding onto hers and cupped the side of her face, thumb brushing away an angry tear. “If you’re not gonna stop blaming yourself, then I won’t stop either. You can’t have it both ways, Dot. Either we both move on, or we stay here together because fuck if I know who else to talk about this shit with.”

“It’s not fair,” she pouted, head falling forward until it hit his chest, his hand sliding into her hair.

“No, it’s not,” he agreed, taking a deep breath.

There was nothing else to be said, nothing left to clarify or explain. There were no words to soothe the pain, because it was so embedded into who they were as people that no amount of comfort would ever patch up the wounds that had healed badly and left deep scars that would never completely disappear. Margaret and Maureen were no longer there, and Eddie and Dottie had to move on. They weren’t sure how, and by God if they hadn’t tried  to do so all these years, but it felt a lot easier to forgive yourself when someone else was walking down that road with you.

Dottie sobbed quietly against Eddie’s chest, head bowed with his right hand tangling into her curls, cupping the back of her head. Eddie let his own tears fall, his cheek pressed onto her crown, thumb brushing the exposed skin behind her ear. In the silence filled with paper and wood crackling inside the paint bucket, they thought about how much they longed for something they couldn’t even remember having, and how their rusty padlocks were starting to fall limp at their feet. How even when their brains were miles away from their bodies, they still anchored each other down, hearts beating in sync and hands holding hands, Eddie’s thick mood ring on his right hand clashing against Dottie’s only dainty band; her Mom’s engagement ring glinting on her left middle finger.

Suddenly, she startled him by laughing softly through her tears, bringing their joined hands between their chests. He peered at her face curiously, waiting for her to speak.

“She would have fucking loved you,” she said, looking up at him with a big smile and shining eyes.

“Yeah?” he smiled back.

“I told my Auntie Rachel about you, and she said that she wants to meet you. That you remind her of my Mom.”

“I do?”

“It’s because she was the glue. She was the one that introduced everyone in the group, they are all friends because of her. And that’s what you do for us with Hellfire. You’re our glue.”

“You know,” he stopped his sentence to chuckle. “Wayne said something like that about you too.”

“Yeah?”

“He said that you boss me around like my Mom did with him,” he laughed. “And that you always tidy up his coffee table like she did.”

“That’s so embarrassing,” she laughed with him.

“I think Wayne likes you more than he likes me,” he whispered conspiratorially. “But I know my Mom would have loved you too.”

“Eddie? If I wanted to get a tattoo to honor my Mom-”

“I’m taking you to get it when you turn 21. It’ll be your birthday present, I promise. Just… wait until you’re 21 so I can take you to a nice shop, because mine look really awesome but it’s honestly a miracle I’m not dead,” she snorted loudly. “I’m serious! I don’t think the guy washed his hands since he came back from Vietnam.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll wait. But you gotta promise we’ll still be friends in three years.”

“Oh, princess, I’m a ride or die. No getting rid of me now, sorry.”

“Good. Didn’t want to get rid of you anyways.”

While Dottie was inside setting up the TV to watch The Wizard of Oz, Eddie excused himself to the backyard for a smoke. He ran through everything that had happened between them that week, starting with their argument about his moldy ceiling all the way until the last ten minutes when she was still buried in his arms. Being vulnerable wasn’t something that came easy to Eddie; he was way too used to covering everything up in leather and sarcasm, but now that he’d started shedding the layers, it was surprisingly liberating to keep going, especially when he kept being rewarded by Dottie letting down her barriers too. He was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t realize James had slipped out into the backyard too and was walking towards him, glancing at the pile of ashes at the bottom of the metallic can.

“She got you to join her ritual?” James asked, coming to a stop next to the younger man who was smoking under the patio roof.

“It was interesting. I enjoyed it,” he said, the right corner of his lips twitching upwards into a soft smile. He offered his pack of cigs to James, who shook his head, hands in his pockets.

“No, thank you. Haven’t smoked in years.”

“I should probably stop smoking but it’s hard when my Uncle does it too.”

“I know what you mean, my parents are smokers,” James said, nodding. “I only stopped because Maggie got pregnant and she hated the smell on my clothes. Said it made her want to throw up.”

“Dot hates it too,” Eddie chuckled. “She’s always wrinkling her nose when we smoke near her.”

“She does it to my mother too, don’t take it personal.”

Eddie didn’t really know what else to say so he stayed quiet, busying himself with his cigarette. He knew Dottie hated the fact that he and Donny smoked, but despite that, she’d never told them to not do it. Instead, she moved around them to stand next to Gareth or Jeff, away from the wind that blew the smoke into her space until they were done indulging in their vices. She had never complained about the smell either; the only time they’d heard her say anything negative about it was when she said that her Grandma liked smoking inside her kitchen while sitting next to an opened window and that the smoke made her cough, so Eddie tried not to smoke in the van when he was driving her around. He tapped the butt to the sole of his boot and saved it in the little cardboard box, fully intending on throwing it in the trash when he came back inside when James cleared his throat.

“Eddie, do you mind if we have a talk? Man to man,” he said, his tone friendly but firm.

“Y-yeah, of course. Is there a problem, sir?” Eddie’s palms were sweating. He had seen this coming but didn’t think it would happen so soon.

“No, actually I wanted to thank you,” James began. “Dottie told me what you did for her on Friday, that was… very thoughtful of you.”

“Oh,” he was surprised. “I… You don’t have to thank me. I don’t know if she told you but… I haven’t been a very good friend lately and I wanted to apologize to her. That’s all.”

“Well, either way, thank you. Proms and school dances are… a touchy subject for her, you know? Not a lot of good memories. Just- thank you for making her senior prom special.”

“Of course,” Eddie said, scratching the skin under his watch. “We’ll make sure she has a good prom. And if- if you want us to bring her back at, like, a certain hour, we- we can totally do that too. We’ll look out for her.”

“I know,” the older man smiled at him, noticing how nervous he looked. Eddie might be almost 20 but he was still a little boy trying to impress the father of the girl he liked; James supposed he’d looked the same when he’d started dating Maggie. “You’re good kids, all of you. And Dottie’s never really had good friends before so… if she’s happy, I’m happy.”

“I’m glad. That’s she’s happy, I mean,” he hurried to say. “Not that she had bad friends before. That part sucks, she’s… she’s great and I’m glad I- glad we got to meet her and… stuff.”

“You all mean a lot to her, but you… You’re very important to her. You know that, don’t you, Eddie?” James said, and Eddie felt very much like he was being tested.

“She’s important to me too, sir.”

James smiled, satisfied with the boy’s answer. He understood now the glee his father-in-law felt whenever he made him squirm, it was very enjoyable. It was in good faith though, Roger had never outright disrespected him, and James didn’t intend on doing it to Eddie either, but he supposed it was his God given right to mess with the kid a little bit as the father of a teenage daughter. Maybe one day Eddie would understand it too.

“Everything alright?” Dottie said, popping her head out of the kitchen backdoor and looking at the two men standing on the grass with curiosity.

“Yeah, just two guys having a manly talk. You know, about sports and stuff,” James said.

“You only watch sports when the Olympics are on.”

“I also watch the Super Bowl,” he argued.

“You never watch the rest of the season, what’s the point?”

“It’s fun,” he said, turning to Eddie. “Right, Ed?”

“Only reason I watch is because Wayne makes the best spicy wings in Hawkins,” he grinned. “Sorry, sir.”

“You two are missing out,” James shook his head, jesting. “Gonna watch The Wizard of Oz?”

“Yeah, wanna join?”

“Nah, I’m gonna go lay down for a bit. I’ll take a piece of cake though.”

Later that day, when they were hanging out on the couch stuffing their faces full with vanilla sponge and strawberry jam while watching Judy Garland and her merry gang of new friends walk down the yellow brick road, Dottie eyed Eddie suspiciously until he turned to her, whipped cream staining his upper lip.

“Okay, spill.”

“Wha’?” he asked, cheeks full of cake.

“What were you and my Dad talking about outside?”

“Manly stuff,” he swallowed quickly. “Can’t tell you. If you knew, I’d have to kill you, it’s the law.”

“You’re such an idiot,” she giggled, stealing a strawberry from his plate.

He gasped in horror but still let her do it, because she was important to him and he’d do anything to keep that smile on her face, including tearing down the walls he’d carefully built around himself all throughout his life. And hopefully, by shedding that weight, she’d be able to get rid of hers too, and Mo and Maggie could be proud of them for finally moving on.

taglist (comment below or shoot me a dm if you want to be added!): @munsonology @kurdtbean

#bunny writes #small town fic #eddie munson x female character #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson #eddie munson x ofc #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #stranger things 4 #joseph quinn #baby's first fic

[mexicancat-girl]

Just finished watching The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes in theaters earlier today. I've got a lot of thoughts.

Overall the movie felt like a mixed bag, but I enjoyed it.

Spoilers below

The main characters were all worse versions of themselves in the film, minus Coriolanus (and arguably the Dean). In fact, some of the cleverness and actions that other characters had were taken and given to him instead-- like Sejanus' plan to give Marcus food.

Kind of disappointed how they rewrote Sejanus in general... They took a lot of scenes away from him and watered down his character a lot. His Ma literally got zero lines and only one cameo, despite her being a huge reason as to why Coriolanus and Sejanus are seen as such good friends in the first place.

I was still devastated by that scene with Sejanus, but the pacing and the lack of Ma (and her food) bridging the gap between Snow and him made their friendship seem even more shallow.

The pacing overall didn't do the story favors. Everything felt rushed. Lucy Gray and Snow's romance felt like it was going through a speed-run and felt even less realistic than the book. Not the biggest romance person, but they could've added a little more there. They barely kissed except for once on screen.

Pacing was rushed at the start and things felt like they dragged at the end. But I liked how the Games themselves were restructured, it all felt like it made more sense and the quickness actually helped. Plus it added to the cinematic feeling to have the games end with Lucy Gray taming the snakes with her song than dragging things out with Reaper, and Reaper got a heroic death keeping the flag over the dead tributes he laid to rest.

Uh, what else... The added scene with Gaul after Lucy Gray wins, and having the entire school chant to let her get out Lucy Gray from the Arena, was... bad. Like, awful to sit through, and not just because of how cheesy it was.

Yes, Lucy moves the people in the Capitol and entertains them with her songs. But she isn't a revolutionary figurehead. That's not the point of her character. She sings to survive, not to make people stand up and demand change, not like Katniss would in the future. (Plus, these games get wiped out from record afterwards regardless, showing how little impact Lucy Gray truly has in the world of Panem.)

I get that it's because it'll make things dramatic and cinematic, but that scene was unnecessary. Gaul is already portrayed as being cruel and disliked because of this, we don't need a school full of chanting students questioning her authority and morality to add to that.

Plus it just looks bad that we have a dark-skinned black woman be seen as the cruelest and evilest character Ever, who is someone the main character (a white man) must stand up against so she stops being So Evil and Cruel to a lighter-skinned woman of color. Viola Davis is amazing in the role, but that added scene screams misogynoir by pitting her as the ultimate evil versus white boy Coriolanus, making him a white savior in the process.

Stripping the nuance of the characters played by actors of color seems to be a running theme in this film, actually. Or hell, some of them like Clemensia disappear entirely from the film. Would've loved to see her all fucked up from the snake bite and still trying to Mentor, her dynamic with Coriolanus was great.

Overall disappointed they watered down Lucy Gray and made her less spunky, plus took away a lot of her agency during the Games, too. Lucy Gray's dialogue/way of speech is so fucking awkward for a human to say aloud, so props to Rachel Zegler doing what she could with what she's given. Love her and love Lucy Gray.

Of all the characters that survived their massacre in the movie writing, Tigress was good. I liked her, even if we didn't see the full extent of her worry and what she does to help keep her family afloat. Plus her last line in the film, telling Coriolanus he looks like his father is chilling, A++

Uhhh, another positive? I liked the music. Bluegrass is a good choice for all the songs Lucy Gray sings, and Rachel Zegler has a fantastic voice. I'll definitely keep my eye out for the soundtrack later.

Cinematography was great. The fact they went to film in Poland to get a lot of the nature scenes and the Arena was worth it, it looks gorgeous on screen. Costuming was fantastic. And all the actors playing the tributes each gave them such wonderful character and personality no matter how little screentime we got of them, they're all so talented!

I overall liked the movie and found it enjoyable to watch. But the pacing and twisting of character motivations, a lot of which was used to prop up Coriolanus further and paint him as a more charitable protagonist, soured things for me.

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #film review #sejanus plinth #lucy gray baird #dr gaul #tigress snow #misogynoir #racism discussion #me being dumb

[royalnugget42]

Stark White Rage

A Resident Evil VIII fic rewrite, in honor of the Rose DLC.

Set after the finale of RE8. Ethan’s regenerative abilities allow him to survive, but only barely. He gets found by the BSAA, who conveniently forget to report this to his family.

TW: Graphic depictions of violence, Clinical trauma, Nightmares, Dismemberment

____________________________________________

Why the color white? Surely it took time to maintain such a stark and blinding color, and for what? Just so he could see in perfect detail how his blood looked as it dried into the cracks they couldn’t clean? It just looked red, in darker and darker shades as it flaked and peeled and faded.

He could still picture his little girl. His Rose, curled up in that pale pink blankie and clutching…what was it? A stuffed animal? His hand? Something that brought her comfort, to keep her calm and happy and safe. In his daydreams she was safe, clutching his hands and babbling at him. In his nightmares she cried.

“Subject 1, series F,” the robotic voice said, signaling the arrival of one of the handlers. They wouldn’t tell him if he had a name. They didn’t really talk to him at all unless they were running a test.

Still, he called out a hello. It was only polite. Maybe if he tried enough times they would return the favor.

He didn’t get an answer this time, but one of the handlers actually came up to the glass wall today.

“Good morning, series F,” he said.

“Is it morning? Couldn’t tell.”

His question wasn’t graced with an answer as usual. A robotic voice listed off the contents of his breakfast. Usually there was a serving each of fruit, bread, and protein. Today there was a dish of peaches, some toast, and a few thin slices of turkey. Pretty standard fare, aside from the patches of fluorescent blue mold.

At his confused look the man reluctantly explained, if only to get him to eat it. “We’re running a new series of tests. You’ve been consistent to a statistically significant level with the other molds, so we’re advancing our studies.”

The man who was just called series F just sighed. Foods with white and green mold were what he was used to, and he wasn’t thrilled about a change in his diet. Change meant they had to examine him, and that usually meant dismembering him and timing the recovery. It hurt every time, but it hurt more when he realized he was getting bored of it.

“Did you know humans will choose pain over boredom?” one of the surgeons had asked as he dug around for yet another vital organ. “You aren’t human, of course, but I have to wonder what you’d pick given the chance.”

Series F hadn’t responded. His vocal chords were still regenerating, which kept him from screaming. It wasn’t like he needed to breathe, but he let a gust of air in just for a distraction. As he felt gloved hands close around his liver, he stretched the broken skin of his lips in a soundless yawn. Partly because it felt good and partly because he wanted to make a point.

The surgeon had just laughed. “Right, don’t suppose it would produce any meaningful results. You’re already too bored of pain for the procedure to work.”

He poked idly at the blue mold now gracing his plate. They had tried to give him normal, fresh food in the early days, before they realized he literally couldn’t stomach it. The walls would always display some stain from the latest meal. Apparently food only tasted good to him if it was rotten.

Now they were giving him new mold. Did he do something wrong, or was this just another in a long line of attempts to replicate his state? They talked about it sometimes when they thought he was sleeping, how apparently he was the first nonviolent strain, but whatever made him nonviolent was impossible to reproduce with the other subjects.

“His regenerative abilities are off the charts, more powerful than we’ve ever seen.” The voices were muffled and distant, like he was dreaming. Funny how he could hear them even on the other side of the facility. Maybe that was just another ability he had.

“Even so, he’s hardly an asset if he can’t replicate.”

“There’s no proof yet—“

“There’s a lack of evidence, that’s all the proof we’re going to get. Whether he’s incapable, or doesn’t know how, or just chooses not to none of that makes a difference. The result is the same.”

The next few sentences were drowned out by the sudden shuffle of papers. “—take this project in a new direction, we need to make some progress here.”

“With all due respect, isn’t he more effective as an asset if he’s nonviolent? Introducing this mold could—“

“He’s only effective if we can reproduce his results. If we can even get a fraction of his regenerative power into one of our earlier subjects he could give the whole project exactly the boost it needs.”

He ate the blue mold. What else was he going to do? Starving was even more boring than the surgeries. It hurt worse than knives in his chest.

Rose was in his dreams again. Somehow she seemed closer, less hazy. In this dream she was in a crib, and he rocked it back and forth. She burbled a bit. He knew she had thrown up earlier, and they were worried of course but no more than is normal for two new parents.

His wife called to him from the kitchen, and he actually heard her voice. It was distorted but it was a real memory he was sure of it. Something about dinner being ready…she called his name but it was hard to make out. His name…his…his name…

The robotic lady greeted him the next time they decided was morning. “Subject 1, Series F,” she intoned. That wasn’t his name though.

——

It took nearly a week of the new mold for the little girl to appear. The surgeons and researchers didn’t acknowledge her. He asked who she was, but they didn’t answer, just added hallucinations to his list of symptoms.

“—just visual hallucinations so far. It’s unclear whether this an effect of the E strain in his diet, or the stress of change. We are increasing the sample size to further examine any correlative properties,” one said in an audio log. “So far his abilities such as regeneration and replication have remained unchanged.”

Another muttered darkly, “If he remains unchanged for much longer they’re probably going to scrap the whole series. Provided they can figure out how to get rid of the thing.”

The little girl didn’t do very much. She always ran away when he made eye contact, but he could feel her watching him all the time. During one of the surgeries she leaned over the bed and touched him. Her hands were cold and clammy, and slightly damp like she’d just climbed out of the water. They were testing his hands, one of their favorite places to examine.

He didn’t look at her, but he felt it as she moved down the table to grip what was left of his palm. He flexed, trying to comfort her. From what he’d seen she couldn’t be more than ten, and he doubted this was a pleasant sight. The doctors kept writing down that she was just a hallucination, but she felt real enough as he desperately tried to hold her little hand, torn ligaments screaming in pain.

She seemed to understand, and guided his fingers into a fist around hers. Whatever or whoever she was, it felt nice to not be so alone.

“Series F has recently developed more alertness during the surgeries, reminiscent of his chaotic behavior in the early trials.”

The next time he looked at the little girl she giggled as she darted away, and he caught a better look at her. Her hair was long and black. It left wet spots on the white floors.

——

His next dream was not of Rose. The sheets in his hands were soft and warm, bathed in the sunlight filtering through the curtains. It smelled like cinnamon.

“We have to get up soon,” he heard himself say.

The woman next to him groaned and blinked. She was beautiful, even more so because she loved him.

“We have a few more moments left.” She pulled him down and kissed him. They were on their honeymoon, after all.

You have to remember this, Ethan.

——

The researchers were shocked of course, but handled it with their usual measured logic. A change as abrupt as this was bound to entail many drastic changes, and the increased aggression was hardly unheard of in previous cases.

He screamed at them, begged them to tell him where his family was. He knew his name now, and if he had a name that meant he was a person, at least somewhat. You couldn’t treat people like this, couldn’t cut a person up against their will and starve them and drown them. How long had it been? In what fucked up world did he now live where this was okay?

“Where’s Rose?” he shouted as they brought his meal. “Where’s my wife? I know they’re real, please let me see them! Please I need my family!”

He wished they would cut out his vocal chords again, at least so he could regrow them to be less sore.

“They don’t like it when you yell,” the little girl whispered.

Ever since the last dream she’d started talking. Only for a short amount of time before she disappeared again.

“Good,” he replied. “I hope they get annoyed enough to actually do something about it.”

She just hummed to herself. It was one of the songs he’d been trying to slowly teach her.

The scientists were wrong. They had to be, she was much too real to be a hallucination. She remembered all their conversations, and she was even teaching him new things, stories and songs.

“Who are you?” he’d finally managed to ask.

“I’m your daughter,” she had said proudly,” which makes you my daddy!”

This girl wasn’t Rose of course. The real Rose was probably more grown up now, but she had blond hair, and bright blue eyes like his.

Her name was Evelyn. The visits came faster after mealtimes, like she was imprinted in the blue mold that came with his food. He could imagine her sailing on it like a little raft, all through his bloodstream until she got to his brain.

She was his daughter but not…she was older than him. How could his daughter be older than him?

“It’s weird,” she said. “It’s like you formed from nothing.”

“You didn’t make me?”

“Not really. I tried to, but you can’t make your own parents, that’s not how it works. I tried to make you into my dad, but then you and mom killed me.”

He didn’t remember doing that, but he apologized anyway.

“It’s ok, I think you were right to. I wasn’t being a very good girl. I hurt a lot of people, so it only makes sense that my daddy would have to come and put me on time out.”

“So I was born so you could have a dad?”

“I think you were born so you could have yourself. You eat yourself every day and you’re sustained by it. You don’t need family to keep you alive, you’re strong enough on your own. That’s why you’re the dad.”

He didn’t feel very strong, but that was hardly new. Maybe if he were stronger he could get out of here. He imagined it; going home to his wife and daughter, bringing Evelyn to meet them. He’d punch straight through solid stone, grind the awful white walls to dust with his bare, solid hands.

But he was still so human. He had the strength to punch a stone, sure, but it would break all the bones in his hand, and send incapacitating pain through his limbs. His hands might be able to regrow, but it was so slow and painful as to render him completely helpless.

Evelyn told him to wait. He was getting stronger, she told him, and one day he’d be strong enough to carry them home.

“Do you still want to hurt people?” he asked her after a late night story. It was one about an evil house in a swamp, full of monsters and madness. They had told it together, echoing each other as if reading off imaginary pages.

“I don’t know, I don’t think so.” She studied her own hands. Every night he brushed her hair and tried to dry her off, and little by little she was sniffling less, and speaking clearer. “Something about you makes me nicer I think. I didn’t really want to hurt anyone before, it was just what happened sometimes when I wanted to make more family. I was so lonely…”

“But we’re not alone anymore, are we Evelyn?”

“No.” She smiled up at him.

——

He dreamt of a kitchen table, where he ate the most delicious food.

“Go on, eat some more, you’re practically skin and bones!” a woman chided. She offered him more, and he only managed to refuse her once.

“Gotta keep up those nice strong muscles huh?” Presumably it was her husband speaking, while inclining his head meaningfully at the younger man across the table, playing some game on his phone.

It was peaceful, and nostalgic in a way he couldn’t put a name to. Morning light on the table highlighted a little spot of grease, and crumbs littered the floor around their chairs. It was messy, but not unusually so, just enough that you knew there were people living and breathing there. There were stains from accidental spills and scuff marks from chair on the hardwood floor.

“You have to go back soon, son,” the older man said gravely. “Give ‘em hell when you do, and we’ll be right with you.”

He nodded to the family before him, a treasure to be remembered by no one.

“No one else will fight for us anymore. If nothing else, remember us. Keep this with you, something those bastards can never take away,” Zoe said. Ethan swore he would remember her. He would remember everyone.

The man’s name was Jack, and his wife was Marguerite, and their two kids were Lucas and Zoe.

——

“I’m sorry,” Evelyn cried, sobbing helplessly into his arms.

She told him terrible things, and in return he gave her hope, he relayed memories, and he told stories of how they were when they were alive.

Evelyn told him how she filled a woman’s mind with crawling things. In return, Ethan told her how that woman used to make her famous stews, and how she had always wanted a bed and breakfast. A man was stretched and warped into a facsimile of himself. That man was a kind soul, who took in a little girl one rainy night in Louisiana.

“I didn’t know what I was doing,” she cried. “I didn’t know what it meant.”

Ethan didn’t blame her though. Her creators understood her nature, they were the ones who should’ve been more careful. Is a hurricane evil? Or is it just acting according to its nature?

“Storms break away at a shoreline. And children break things without knowing why,” he said. He felt a rush of joy as her crying eased. “You were a child and you were hurting. It’s their fault for giving those gifts to a newborn.”

The scientists still didn’t know why he didn’t fight back, didn’t even try to give his gift to someone else. He’d never wanted to make more of his family the way she did.

“The mold makes all subjects violent, and all mold wants to replicate. It’s the same way it occurs in nature, taking control of the host and finding optimal conditions for reproduction.”

But Ethan knew better now. The mold didn’t take over his mind, or Evelyn’s. Maybe her strain took over the others, made them do things they wouldn't ordinarily do, but that was just because his daughter was very strong. It didn’t replace Evelyn though, she replaced it.

He just didn’t need to replicate. He wasn’t alone. He had all the family he could ask for, somewhere beyond these walls.

When sleep took him again, he started to dream of monsters. They looked down on him and hurt him, but it wasn’t some biological need making them do it. It was just regular human cruelty, fostered and fed by the belief that they were better. That they had earned the right to do these things, or that they had no other choice.

He dreamt of a castle, and a village where wolves ran free. The lady of the house had hands like knives, and she laughed as her many-legged daughters crawled all over him.

There was a dollhouse in a forest of mist. The small hands of ceramic babies scraped against his face, and there stood a woman in mourning, conducting this orchestra of paint and metal and sharp laughter.

A creature of acid and filth approached, and even in the dream the smell was enough to send shivers of writhing disgust down his back. The monster heaved and groaned, and begged Ethan to remember, to remember anything he could even if it hurt. Even if it made him want to puke his guts out. Whatever guys he had left at this point.

The last was just a man in pain, a reflection of Ethan through a funhouse mirror, or maybe through a piece of sheet metal. He smelled like gunpowder and rust when he leaned close, and his eyes gleamed like pools of oil behind his glasses.

“You’ll get those bastards yet. C’mon papa, you’re supposed to be the stubborn one. Fight back!” He screamed it even as blades tore through his spine, even as fire enveloped him. A thousand voices merged into one, and all of them called out the same refrain. “Fight back! Don’t let this be your end. Fight back!”

It had been so long since he’d fought. He couldn’t remember what the weight of a gun felt like in his hands, couldn’t envision the recoil of it. He had forgotten his anger, replaced with mold and blood and stark empty white walls.

——

“I wish you could stay longer,” he complained to the empty air. The length of Evelyn’s visits had stopped increasing since they stopped putting the E strain mold in his food. There were concerns, cold and scientific ones mostly. Worries that they had done nothing except make Series F more unstable, even more unusable than before.

“At least we’ve seen some change. Might be enough to keep the wolf from the door,” one of them said in their faraway office.

“Yeah and how long is that gonna last?” An uncomfortable shuffle, the movements you make when you’re not sure how much remorse you should be showing. “Christ at least when he was stable we could’ve made the case for his usability as a control group. Now we might not be able to operate on him safely ever again.”

The last time he had woken up from his dream, he’d been on the operating table again, with scientists examining his stomach for any changes. Naturally, they didn’t expect it to grow limbs and slam someone’s head onto the table.

He could plead innocence. Say that his body had acted without his knowledge, that the mold was truly infecting him and changing who he was.

It wasn’t true though. Evelyn, the Bakers, the horsemen…so many memories were in him now. His was the only repository of their lingering desires, and they screamed for action, for justice, for change. But it wasn’t them making him angry, making him mess with the technology in the facility, or making him attack the scientists whenever he got the chance, the way he used to in the first days. A fire started in his chest every time Evelyn curled up beside him as he repeated bedtime stories from memory.

He wanted to be out. He wanted to go home.

#re8 fanfiction #ethan winters #evelyn resident evil #post re8 #to be continued maybe #I wanted to try rewriting this one #but I might expand on it later #stark white rage

[xxacidicgoddessxx]

Redesigning creepypasta characters

Jeff the Killer

Backstory version based on Banningk1979

BASIC INFORMATION

Name: Jeffery Woods

Nickname(s): Jeff

Age: 19

Alignment: Chaotic Evil

Height: 5’7 (170 cm)

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Painfully straight

Species: Human

Status: Alive

Race: Caucasian

APPEARANCE

Skin color: Pale, white

Eye color: Blind left eye, green right eye

Hair color: Black

Hair style: Short, greasy

Facial hair: -

Facial markings: Burn marks on the left side of his face (of which will gradually heal)

Piercings: -

Outfit(s): Black jacket, blue jeans, white shoes

Accessories: -

BACKGROUND

Jeffery Woods grew up in a family that only cared about appearances. He and his brother Liu were brands that gave name to their family

Their parents only cared about getting on other people's good sides, but when it came down to it - they were snakes. If a coworker's son was taking boxing lessons, Jeff had to take boxing lessons to prove their family was superior

In the grand scheme of things, that's all Jeff and Liu were — show-dogs. They were strangers in their own home when they weren't "contributing" to something

Liu was down right attention starved and quickly became a people pleaser, but at the core of it all he was just as frustrated as Jeff

Both of them knew when to be civil when necessary out of convenience, neither of them liked fighting

At least at the time, that is

Jeff's frustration coiled around him, tainting him, twisting at his insides. At times, fighting seemed like the only way he could communicate in a world where everyone lies to get what they want

Eventually, fighting became a source of pleasure. He found it cathartic and loved the rush it gave him to be in control. When it's only you left to protect yourself, fighting is all you can do

Some people say that when someone goes insane they snap - but that's not the case

From day one society ingrains the value of fighting into people, and when people listen, they love to look the other way

Jeff's not a monster, he's a fighter

That's what society made him to be, and if they can't take the heat, well, who's to say anyone's surprised

It was when Jeff realized nothing was going to give that he took it into his own hands. He got rid of the threat his parents posed, got rid of that damn corrupted cop and that smarmy group of kids

He can't believe he actually felt sorry for them at first. There's no use in sympathizing with the weak if you want to survive

He abandoned his old life, abandoned Liu, and left

PERSONALITY

Jeff has a big mouth on him

Don't get me wrong, as I said: he was raised to be civil when it counted, and he knows how to recognize when the odds are stacked against him, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have a short fuse

Back when he had Liu, he had a reason to hold back. Now that he's got no one to reprimand him for his actions, there's really no reason why he can't say or do whatever the fuck he wants

He doesn't like change and hates relying on other people. People can be unpredictable, and when it comes down to it, the only person you can trust is yourself

He quickly learned to be observant, learned to read other people's body language. In a house full of egg shells, one has to learn

He might say he's not a sadistic person, but he 100% is

He was quick to generalize pleasure with frustration, which is in part why he came to love fighting

Frustration was a promise tied to the anticipation of a fight, and fighting meant that he could convey what he felt

He finds a twisted sense of pleasure when people beg. His favorite part of killing is when people beg, it shows that they know where their place is – which just so happens to be beneath him

He hates this part of himself mainly because it reminds him of his parents, but it's the one thing he'd agree with them on

All in all, proving that people are beneath him is another one of his defense mechanisms in proving he is still in control

He just doesn't see the point in trying to persuade someone into seeing him as who he really is

People love to look down on anyone as if they're greater

With that said: it's best to avoid showing fear towards him – it will give him incentive to hurt you

Oh, and never let him see you act weak

Jeff is a manipulator through and through

What he does isn't because he wants to, it's always going to be someone else's fault for making him do the things he does

… Which means he’s also highly hypocritical

BEHAVIOR

Normal mood: Calm, “civil”, has an undeniable edge, perceptive

Temper: Quick to become frustrated, the poster child of “Gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss”

Discipline: Will try to be diplomatic, but having grown up where fighting was the only means of communicating, he becomes tense and ready for a fight whenever his views are put into question

Strengths: Hand-to-hand combat, enhanced durability

Weaknesses: Blind in one eye

Drives: Seeks to “save the weak” from a cruel society

Fears: Commitment

Likes: Killing, looking at the stars

Dislikes: Not being in control of a situation, cops

Triggers: Anyone who looks like Liu

Inspirations: His own convictions

Habits: Scratching the scarred side of his face

OTHER

Family: Shelia and Matt Woods (parents - deceased), Liu (brother - alive)

Friends: -

Enemies: -

Love interests: -

Hobbies: -

Talents: Whittling

Occupation: Killing

Weapon: Knives

Powers: -

Kill style: Stabbing, strangulation

#creepypasta #creepypasta jtk #jeff the killer #jeffery woods #creepypasta redesign #creepypasta rewrite #revamp #roleplay #rp #slenderverse #creepypasta rp

[larkawolfgirl]

Being Honest (Gohan, Piccolo)

Rating: General Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: M/M Fandom: Dragon Ball Relationships: Piccolo & Son Gohan, Piccolo/Son Gohan Characters: Son Gohan, Piccolo (Dragon Ball), Dende (Dragon Ball) Additional Tags: Queerplatonic Relationships, Heart-to-Heart, Confessions

Summary: Sequel to Honest Feelings. Gohan tells Piccolo what he realized. 

(I have a third installment planned but we’ll see if I ever actually write it)

Read on ao3

Gohan felt a lot lighter after discussing Piccolo with Videl. He wanted to get the rest of his feelings off his chest by telling Piccolo himself, but he was still nervous to do so. He didn’t want this to change things. At least, not change things for the worse.

He tried to push his concerns aside by telling himself that Piccolo’s worst reaction would probably be confusion. It isn’t like Gohan had ever asked him or Dende about Namekian romance and sexuality, but he wouldn’t be surprised if neither existed on Namek. Piccolo probably didn’t see him as anything other than a godson.

As long as Piccolo wasn’t repulsed for some reason, Gohan would be happy with the outcome. It wasn’t like he was telling him to gain anything in the first place.

He landed at the lookout to find Dende watering the flowers. He could sense Piccolo’s energy but couldn’t see him, so he was probably inside.

“Hey, Dende,” he greeted with a wave.

Dende looked up from the flowerbed. “Oh, hi, Gohan. It’s nice to see you.”

“It’s nice to see you. I know I should catch up, but I actually wanted to talk to Piccolo about something serious first.”

“Oh. He’s inside meditating.”

“Thanks.”

It didn’t take him long to spot Piccolo inside the entrance hall. The Namekian was deep in concentration. Gohan took a moment to really look at him. He was wearing his normal white turban, cape, and purple pants. Together with his green skin It gave him an exotic look. His facial muscles were defined, and often he looked intimidating, right now his face was smoothed out. It was the closet the man would ever be to the sleeping state which meant this was also his most vulnerable. Gohan was sure Piccolo had already sensed his energy. Gohan already knew that he trusted him, but this reminder brought a smile to his face.

“Hi, Piccolo, can we talk?”

Piccolo opened one eye. “Speak.”

Gohan fidgeted, then decided to sit down cross-legged across from him. "Video made me think about a few things that I want to talk to you about."

Realizing this wasn't a trivial visit, Piccolo opened his other eye. The rest of his stance was unmoving. "What is this about?"

"Well, you know that you are like family to me.”

Piccolo lifted his forehead muscles. “Yes, I do. Did you come all this way just to tell me that?”

“No,” Gohan said, floundering with how best to express himself in a Not-Weird-Way. “Videl is also my family.”

Piccolo looked a bit impatient. “I assumed so when you decided to marry her.”

“What I’m trying to say is that my familiar feelings for you are closer to the ones I have for her than they are the ones I have for my dad.”

Piccolo nodded, clearly processing his words. “We are both your found families, so that makes sense.”

Gohan shook his head. “That’s true, but it’s more than that. I love you, Piccolo.”

Piccolo’s reaction was full-body. His arms rose up and his face took on a slight pink color. “What?”

Gohan put his hands out placatingly. “Sorry, no, that sounded wrong in this context. Well, not wrong exactly, but…” Piccolo didn’t look any less agitated. “What I’m trying to say is that I love you more than a friend or even an uncle. But I’m not saying that I love you like that . At least I don’t think I do.”

Piccolo relaxed, hands falling into his lap. “I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s okay,” Gohan said quickly. “I didn’t tell you because I wanted anything. Videl just thought it would be good for me to be honest. Besides, I had no idea if you maybe had something you wanted to get off your chest as well.”

Piccolo thought for a moment. “We do not have very complex relationships on Namek.”

Gohan smiled. “I wondered if that was the case. That’s perfectly fine. If you aren’t sure what you feel, I totally get it. I just wanted you to know and that it’s okay if you do. With me and with Videl.”

Piccolo’s face tensed. “How did Videl take this?”

Gohan scratched his cheek. “Believe it or not, but she’s the one that made me realize. She trusts me and seems to not really care if this does change something.” It took less than a second for him to realize how that sounded. “I don’t mean that in a weird way! Just in case we get a bit closer, if that makes sense.”

Piccolo was silent for a long time. Gohan was just about to ramble more when he finally spoke up. “You were such a weak kid when I first met you. Kind-hearted and a crybaby. I tried to beat that out of you since I thought it would get you killed one day. But now I see that your gentler qualities are what really gives you life.”

“Piccolo…”

Piccolo clamped his hand down on his shoulder. It was a simple touch, one that he had done many times over the years, but right now it felt more meaningful, and Gohan could feel emotions swirling in his chest.

“Back then I did think of you as a son. I was so proud of your fighting progress and accomplishments. I still want to protect you and watch over how you grow and succeed, but I suppose you are right that there is more to the feelings I have. I am not sure what they are, though.”

Gohan laughed. “I don’t either. I, uh, don’t dislike you touching me, though.” He could feel his face heating at that confession. He knew that anyone else would probably take that the wrong way.

Piccolo squeezed his shoulder. “I don’t either.”

Gohan nodded, taking in a breath. “Okay! We’ll be family that occasionally touches, then.”

Piccolo gave a short, huffed laugh. “I suppose that works. For now at least.”

Gohan rubbed the back of his head. “To be honest, I was a bit nervous to tell you.”

Piccolo dropped his hand. “Why’s that?”

“I thought you might find it too weird or find me gross or something.”

The Namekian snorted. “Humans may have concerns with it, but we only have one gender on Namek.”

“I guess you’re right. Still, though, you don’t exactly have these sorts of relationships at all.”

“Usually, no. You don’t normally spit up eggs to reproduce. Do you think that is gross?”

A bit yes, since it involved spit, but Gohan understood his point. “Nope, it’s how nature intended it. And life is always beautiful.”

Piccolo gave another short laugh. “Perhaps you should try your hand at writing poetry.”

“You think? I think biology is more up my alley.”

“It doesn’t hurt to have a hobby.”

“What about you, then?” he pressed. “Do you do anything besides meditate all day?”

“Of course, I do,” Piccolo said but it was obviously mostly a lie.

Gohan stood up. “That’s it. I’m going to buy you some books.”

“Are you calling me uneducated?”

“Maybe.”

They both laughed. Gohan’s hand moved without him thinking and landed on the edge of Piccolo’s leg. They both stared at it for a moment, then continued laughing.

#piccolo x gohan #dbz #dragon ball #dragon ball super #dragon ball z #gohan son #piccolo #my writing #fanfic #fanfiction

[ruthdreamdiary]

I was at some art class when some random dude took my seat, he was kinda tall, blonde with short hair, thick eyebrows, kinda muscular and wore a white sleeve-less top. I tried to fight him and he told me he only would on a double animation/boxing ring.

I accepted bc im dumb

In the dream i myself but also taller, more muscular and post Top surgery. I thought T was finally working (im not on T), the fight was 68 rounds, either boxing or animation; the loser would choose what the next round would be. We started with boxing and i lose so i choose animation. The boxing was on a normal ring and the animations would be seen in a small park with a big TV were audience could choose the winner.

I won 4 rounds and he won 64; 2 were boxing and 66 animation. His family owned an animation studio who did all the work for him, i tried to argue he just reused assets of CN but didnt mattered. One of the ppl who was in the art class told me my dentist wanted to see me at the beach. I had nowhere else to go so i just went.

The streets were a beautiful mix lf gothic, roccoco and art noveau architecture, all the building had stained glass windows and they were made of yellowish white marble concrete with floral ornaments. There were 2 beaches, one of sand and one of pebbles, i went to the nearest one (pebbles) but it was full of ppl since there was an imoortant political figure down there. Instead of going to the other beach i went to an historical building that was infront of the beach.

Even when the outside was like all other marble buildings the inside was made all of wood, the first floor had 3 rooms yet all were empty, upstairs there was a small office with a table, a chair, and a beautifull stained glass were you could see the streeth and the stairs thst led to the beach. The basement was being rebuilt so the workers told me to come next week.

Instead of going to the next beach i went to the streeth ti the right were the exit of the building was at. It led to a beautiful square with a small fountain, there i met a woman who told me the end was near. I dont remember much of that part except that were she walked everything would turn a more vibrant color with gold shine, she walked over water and ran straight from the beach to the port, even the walk turned gold under her shoes. In the port there were 8 people, white as paper, all wearing short black clothes and colorful hair. When she got near them they “exploded”.

First they would levitate in a T position with the chest up, then all the face holes (eyes ears nose and mouth) would vomit a goldish shiny liquid of the same color that their hair, then they would slowly break apart as if they were made of stone and the small pieces would float around them, thus happened one by one when she got near. I was with her the whole time only watching. My body changed too but i dont remember that part, i wasnt muscular nor tall anymore. I was smaller, thinner and had red hair that shined like the other ppl. She got us all inside a small house at the port were i met one of the 8 ppl.

She was a bit tallet than me, had long black hair and was confused, i had a “i actually know this person from al my life” dream moment and we walked thorught the house, the walls were made of wood and there were murals of how us, each one of the was showing how oue appearence changed with the time, as the time in the house was slower than outside, we walked on a spiral hallway holding hands while each step changed us as if it were 100 years, looking less and less human (still humanoid), skin lost uts pores and became rigid and soft like mameol, clothes turning less normal and morecomplex, pieces changing bit by bit until we looked barely like we did before.

At the end of the spiral there was a mural of how we looked at the end, she was still taller than me, her long hair was red and instead of hair it was more like a jellyfish-like glass with gold details at the bottom, her skin was white and made of marble, her face was carved in wñbut not painted, she wore a black bodysuit were long sleeves were painted over her skind and short sleeves made of transparent silk with gold star details.

I had black hair that was like stained glass to the touch and made sound when touching each other, my skin was also marble but i had make up painted, black lipstick and eyeshadow with res eyeliner, under my eyes i had an ophiuchus spirals carved and painted. I wore a grey dress with floral spines pattern, it was really pompous, with laces on my sleeves. On my head i was wearing a coronet shaped like a spades with the same spines oattern. My legs didnt had feet and supported themselves with sharp tips. I was still small, curvy and thin.

After that the same lady came and told us to go outside and say what we were, male or female, and separate us in groups of such. All of the 8 people went to female, the male group had only 2 persons, the same dude from the boxing ring and a friend of his. I went to the male group anyway, were the man told me i didnt looked like one and pushed me, i fell.

And i broke.

#27 july 2022 #dream

[jcwriting]

Written in the Stars

summary ↬ being soulmates with a werewolf? pretty easy. being jungkook’s soulmate? the easiest thing in the world. there’s only one teensy tiny problem. he doesn’t want to fuck you.

pairing ↬ werewolf!jungkook x reader

genre ↬ soulmate!au, abo verse, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort (this is so fucking dramatic and for what)

word count ↬ 10.4k my hand slipped

warnings ↬ swearing, angst (but with a happy ending bc im a sappy bitch), jk is stupid in love (emphasis on stupid), mentions of violence (very brief and i don’t go into too much detail but just to warn yall), slight nsfw (sex is a big topic for like half of this but not sex is had...i know im shocked too), half of this is background info/setting up the story the other half is finally addressing the summary lolol, jk is kind of an asshole but he has reasons!!!!!

authors note ↬ hello lovelies! here’s a small little thing for you all (laughs in 10k word count). this has been sitting in my drafts for fucking ever and i just needed to get it out there and out of my hands. im thinking about writing a part two where the actual ~*/sex/*~ is had but im still on the fence about that. please let me know what you think! i literally crave your interactions so pls dont be shy,,,,,okay love you bye :)

(ps i was so close to naming this Rewrite the Stars but since this has absolutely nothing to do with The Greatest Showman i didn’t. but i was close,,,,so fucking close)

You always knew Jeon Jungkook was destined for great things.

It was written in the stars, your mother had told you after he had first stepped foot into your family-owned grocery store. Your mother didn’t have any special powers, she just had a thing for astrology. While you normally shrugged off her random proclamations about divine intervention and planetary alignments, you found that Jungkook was something you couldn’t ignore or chalk up as your mother’s latest tea leaf reading.

From the moment you set eyes on him you knew he was different. While your family held zero claim to any sort of mystical or magical inclinations, you were well aware of those who did. It was no secret that non-humans roamed the Earth in plain sight, even though it had taken humans eons to realize this. After years of savage wars and civil unrest, agreements had come into place and governing bodies were adjusted to accept the changes that had finally been made. But, this was all before your time. You were the generation that was born into the period of peace, the first children to not experience bloodshed before they could walk. The world you knew now was almost a complete one-eighty of what it had been.

Where before those who were not of human blood had to do everything they could to blend in, now could be free of the shadows. Your classrooms had both humans and non-humans in their rosters. Some of your teachers were hybrids. Curriculum expanded to teach humans about a world that had once been entirely unknown to them. One of your favorite teachers was a witch who regaled your tenth grade class with stories of goblin wars, wizard duels, and vampire covens. All tales that you had once thought were nothing but fiction were now anything but.

Which is why, the second Jeon Jungkook entered the grocery store that your parents owned and that you had worked at since you were old enough to speak in full sentences, you knew who he was. You didn’t even question it.

He was a werewolf. A powerful one. You could see it in the way he carried himself. The purposeful strides he took down the narrow aisles, the confidence in his broad shoulders. Humans weren’t nearly as sensitive as their hybrid counterparts but you also paid attention in your classes. Or, perhaps you were more aware than other humans. Never in your life did you have the issues other faced when meeting a non-human for the first time. You always knew who they were without them having to tell you. You just knew.

So, when Jeon Jungkook stepped up to your register with a bottle of water and some raw beef, you didn’t flinch. Didn’t bend under his dark gaze or shuffle your feet in an awkward attempt to break the silence. Instead, you flashed him your customer service smile and rang up his items. He didn’t say a word as he paid, barely sparing you a second glance as he strode out of the store.

“He’s going to be a great and powerful man,” your mother said in that feathery light voice of hers. “It was written in the stars.”

You couldn’t help but agree.

Jeon Jungkook came into your store everyday for the next month. He bought the same thing every time. A bottle of water and a package of raw beef. The only time he spared you any words was to say thank you or the occasional hello if the sun was shining. Usually, he was alone. Sometimes, he came with a few members of his pack. You liked those days. He smiled a little brighter and talked a little louder when they were around. Especially around Taehyung.

Then, after a month, he didn’t come in. Not for an entire week. From Monday to Sunday, you hadn’t seen a hide nor hair of him. A part of you was worried, so worried that you almost stopped Taehyung in the middle of the street to ask of Jungkook’s whereabouts before realizing how insane that made you look, the other part was chastising yourself for caring. Jeon Jungkook was a customer. Nothing more, nothing less.

The following Monday had come and you had finally stopped glancing at the sliding doors every five minutes. You no longer expected his commanding presence to rock your little world. Instead, you continued your day as if it had been any other. That was, until, Jeon Jungkook stepped through the entrance looking as if he was walking on air. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why.

“Did you have a good heat?” You asked when he stepped up to your register. Jungkook fumbled the water bottle he had been setting onto the conveyer belt before turning to stare at you.

“What did you just say?”

You didn’t shrink under his intense glare. “I was asking if you enjoyed your heat. Seems like you did.”

“How do you know I was in my rut?”

“Oh, is rut the correct terminology? Sorry, they always interchanged them in class, I was never sure what was appropriate.” You shrugged and rang up his items. “It was kind of obvious, though. You seemed pretty agitated about a week-and-a-half ago, then you disappear for a week, and now you’re back looking happier than ever. If it wasn’t your rut then I want to know where you went on vacation because that’s where I’m heading to next.”

Jungkook laughed. That almost made you jump out of your skin. You had never heard him laugh before. It was throaty, it was deep, and it was wonderful. “I’ll be sure to send you the link to the Airbnb.”

“And how do you plan on doing that?”

He smirked. “I’m here every day, aren’t I?”

You tilted your head as you accepted the cash he handed to you. “Clearly, you’re not that reliable.”

Jungkook laughed again. It was becoming your new favorite sound. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to appear flaky.”

“You’re forgiven,” you decided as you handed him the plastic bag of his purchases. Teasingly, you added, “just make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

He flashed you a smile that showed off his sharpened canines. “Don’t worry, darling. I never make the same mistake twice.”

Jeon Jungkook kept his promise. He showed up everyday, like clockwork. Bought the same thing. Arrived at the same time. The only thing that changed was how he treated you. It wasn’t that he treated you badly before, he had always been polite. But now, he talked to you. He asked you questions and answered yours. More often than not, he laughed.

(It had become your favorite sound.)

For three months, this continued. The two of you had settled into a comfortable routine, something you relied on and expected. Until, he changed that.

Until, Jeon Jungkook asked you out on a date.

“What did you just say?”

“Are you free? Tonight?” You glanced around, almost expecting to see some sort of supermodel posing behind you to explain the absolute absurdity of the situation. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for the hidden cameras. I think I’m getting Punk’d.”

Jungkook sighed and placed both hands on the counter that separated the two of you. “Look at me.” You did. Slowly and warily, but you did. “Does it look like I’m lying to you?”

Narrowing your eyes, you regarded him carefully. He seemed serious. But, then again, do you ever really know someone? “I don’t know. I’ve never actually seen you lie before so I wouldn’t know the difference.”

“Fine. Ask me what color my shirt is.”

“What color is your shirt?”

“White,” he deadpanned. You glanced down at his chest. His shirt was black.

“Jungkook!”

He threw his head back and released a full bellied laugh. Even in your exasperation you couldn’t help but soften a little. “I’m sorry, darling. I couldn’t help myself.” Annoyed, you huffed and spun to face the cash register. Stabbing your finger onto the touchscreen, you ignored Jungkook’s obvious presence on the opposite side of the counter. Until his hand reached around the card reader and grasped a hold of your chin. The warmth of his fingers forced your head to turn to meet his.

“Come to dinner with me.” His voice was nothing but a rumble in his chest, his eyes so black and all-consuming you couldn’t do anything but agree with him. He seemed pleased by your response as his fingers tightened against your skin and a grateful smile flicked past his lips. His gaze darted down to your mouth and your breath froze in your chest.

“Are you going to kiss me?”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow. “Do you want me to?”

“No.” You tried to shake your head but his grip didn’t allow you much movement. He was taken aback by your answer, a small frown tugging at his mouth. You quickly backtracked to fix the situation. “I don’t want our first kiss to be in a grocery store. That’s a new low that I refuse to reach.”

Jungkook chuckled and tapped your chin gently. “Alright, darling. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

Again, he kept his promise to you. He showed up at your parents house exactly at seven, wearing a button-down shirt and slacks. The tulips he had gotten for you was thrust into your hands the moment you opened the door. Flashing him a genuine smile, you hurried into the kitchen to set them in water while your mother grilled him on his birth time. You were quick to drag him away, practically throwing him towards the car as you waved goodbye.

“Sorry,” you sighed as Jungkook opened the passenger door for you. “She has a…thing for astrology. She’s probably creating your star map or whatever right now.”

“It’s okay,” he responded once he got into the drivers seat. “It’s sweet of her to care.”

You snorted. “She’s delusional is what she is.”

“So, you’re saying you don’t believe in astrology?”

“Do you?”

Jungkook shrugged as he pulled out of your dirt driveway. He looked so damn attractive behind the wheel it was honestly unfair. “Not really saying I do or don’t. All I know is that there are a lot of things out there that are out of our control. If believing in the stars and planets helps you gain some of that control back, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.”

“God, don’t talk like that in front of my mother. She’ll want to start dating you.”

He grinned and placed a hand on your knee. “Tell her I’m already taken.”

You didn’t get a chance to respond to that. Not that he didn’t give you one, it was just that you literally had nothing to say. With just one sentence he opened the floodgates of your brain and the amount of thoughts that were flying through your conscious was painful. Anxiety fluttered in your stomach and you pressed your lips together to keep you from word vomiting onto him. No, it was better to keep your mouth shut and let the moment pass.

By the time you reached the restaurant you were a trembling mess of nerves. Were you guys dating? You thought this was just a ‘testing the waters’ date, not a ‘you’re my girlfriend now’ date. Did you have to make it Facebook official? You hated that shit.

Jungkook didn’t comment on your obvious distress, though. He merely placed a hand on the small of your back, ignoring how you jerked in surprise, and led you into the quiet bistro. Nodding politely to the hostess who was practically panting at the sight of him (you honestly couldn’t blame her) and pulled out your chair for you. When he sat down, he started talking. Idle chat at first. Commenting on one of the dishes, asking about the college classes you were taking at your local university. Before you realized it, wine was in your glass and your shoulders were loose. Previous nerves forgotten, you lost yourself in Jungkook. You drank, you ate, you laughed, and genuinely enjoyed his company. Honestly, it was the best date you’d ever been on.

“I have to be honest with you,” Jungkook spoke after he finished his raw steak. “I have an ulterior motive for asking you here tonight.”

“Oh,” you mumbled around the shrimp you had just tossed in your mouth. “So…this isn’t a date?”

“No, it is,” Jungkook clarified quickly around a dry chuckle. He seemed…nervous. It put you on edge immediately. “This is definitely a date. And, also, more.”

“More? What, is this a proposal too?” You were joking. A 100% joking. But Jungkook was staring at you so seriously it made you panic. “Jungkook, if you get down on one knee here I swear-”

“I’m not proposing,” he assured you. “This is something more than that.”

“More?” You parroted. Jungkook sighed.

“Do you know what a true mate is?”

Right there, in that quaint little bistro, on a date with quite possibly the most untouchable man you’d ever met, he explained how you were irrevocably his. His true mate, his soulmate.

Jungkook explained everything in great detail, which you appreciated, because honestly, you had no words. He explained how when he was born, the witch who cared for him told his father that his future glared brightly ahead of him, but only when he met his other half. True mates were rare. Mating was common, the wolves in his pack could have multiple mates or a lifelong one, but true mates were destiny. Someone or something out there had forged the two of you together. You were essentially each others other half. He was made for you and you were made for him.

“But…aren’t true mates only for wolves? I thought it’s impossible for a human to be a true mate,” you asked in a shaky voice once Jungkook took a breath.

“It was supposed to be impossible. Until, I met you.” Jungkook stared at you with a sort of reverence that made your entire body blush. “I have no idea how you are. I’ve spent hours researching. I’ve consulted with members of my pack and others. No one knows why.”

“Are you sure, though? I mean…what if you’re wrong?”

“I’m not.” Jungkook shook his head. “I visited the witch right after I met you. She took one look at me and told me that I had finally found my true mate. She said she’d never seen a future so bright before.”

You had no words for that. For the first time in your life, you were speechless. Jungkook seemed to understand. He let you sit in silence as he paid for the bill and walked you out to the car. The drive back to your parents house was the same. You couldn’t speak. The shock rendered you stupid.

By the time Jungkook pulled into the driveway you still hadn’t spoken a word to each other. You stepped out of the car before he could open the door for you. Walking up to the porch steps in a trance, you didn’t hear him follow you until he clasped your wrist in his hand. Turning to face him, you were surprised to see his brown eyes so big. They practically sparkled in the moonlight and he looked so soft and sweet you nearly melted into the wood beneath your feet.

“Please,” he whispered. “Can you…just - are you okay? You’ve been so quiet. I’m worried I’ve scared you off or something.”

With that voice, it was impossible to deny him. So, you said the first thing that popped in your head. “Do we have to make it Facebook official?”

Jungkook stared at you before bursting into laughter. “Really? That’s all you have to say?”

You blushed and glanced down. “I’m just worried, that’s all. I can’t remember my Facebook password so even if you wanted to change it I don’t think it’ll work.”

“So that’s why you never accepted my friend request,” Jungkook teased. Before you could squeak out a response, he wrapped his arms around your waist and tugged you forward. You kept your arms crossed across your chest but let yourself fall against him.

“Don’t make fun of me,” you whined as you buried your face into his shoulder. He smelled so good, a mixture of pine and spice. “My brain hasn’t worked since you told me I’m yours, so bear with me.”

Jungkook chuckled and gently swayed you from side to side. “Does that mean you’re okay with this? All of this?”

Sighing, you lifted your head up and stepped away from him. Jungkook was not impressed and pulled you back to him. Your heart swelled in your chest and you wrapped your arms around his neck in consolation. “Honestly? I haven’t really processed anything. You’ve had your whole life to come to terms with this. I just found out thirty minutes ago that I’m someone’s soulmate. It’s a lot to take in.”

Jungkook nodded as he tapped his fingers against your hips. “I know. It’s a lot…I’m a lot. I just want you to know that you don’t have to do this. You don’t have to be with me. I won’t-”

Now it was your turn to burst into laughter. You couldn’t believe those words had left his mouth. It was easily the most absurd thing you’d ever heard. “Jungkook, I want to make something very clear. I have no problem being your true mate. That’s not the issue here. Well, there really isn’t an issue. It’s just…hard to believe, I guess. I have to process that this is my new reality.”

“Really?” Jungkook perked up and looked so fucking cute you couldn’t help but cup his cheeks. His skin was so warm despite the cold autumn air that surrounded you both. “You want to do this? Be with me? Be mine?” All you could do was nod. You were so overwhelmed with emotions. The shock was evident, but a piece of you was so happy. You felt whole.

Jungkook’s face split into a wide smile that caused his nose to scrunch up. He wrapped his arms around your waist and spun you around. Squealing, you slung your legs around his hips and held on. Normally, you’d rather die than show this much affection to someone. But, this was Jungkook. Your soulmate.

“So…what do we do now?” You asked once Jungkook set you down. “Is there, like, a ceremony or something?”

“I have no idea,” he admitted as he stared down at you. He had a hand against your jaw and was rubbing your cheek tenderly. “I really didn’t think I’d get this far.”

You scoffed at his ridiculousness. While recognizing you were Jungkook’s true mate was going to take some time, believing that he thought you’d deny him was utter nonsense. “What if…what if we date, first?” You suggested timidly. “I know that sounds kind of weird considering we’re supposed to be the loves of each others lives. But, I don’t really know you all that well. And, I think this is going to take sometime for me to get used to. Maybe we should date, get to know each other, and just learn how to be with one another.”

“Whatever you want,” Jungkook agreed. “We can do whatever you want. Just as long as I have you, I’m happy.”

Two years passed.

Two blissful, wonderful years. Two years of dating, two years of loving, two years of being Jeon Jungkook’s. It was everything you could’ve asked for and more. You had never felt so loved and cherished in your entire life. He respected you, he took care of you, and most importantly, he was there for you in every sense. Since the moment you met him, you hadn’t been alone. He hadn’t let you. Jungkook knew you better than you knew yourself.

And, it was the same for him. You were there for him when he transitioned into the leader of his pack. You were there when he took over the CEO position from his father and encouraged and supported him every step of the way. You let yourself be loved and in return he let you love him. It was wonderful.

Except, for one tiny thing.

While the emotional aspect of your relationship flourished and bloomed into something beautiful, the physical side remained stagnant. Make out sessions and heavy petting were a norm in your relationship. At first, it didn’t bother you. In fact, you loved that Jungkook was taking things so slow and so seriously. But, eventually, your needs began to grow. You found yourself wanting him in more ways than one, wants that only he could satisfy. Jungkook refused. Every time.

It wasn’t like he refused your every need. No, Jungkook was extremely attentive. When it came to himself, that’s when things got dicy. He had no problem spending hours between your legs, worshipping you until you were crying from the overstimulation. Yet, he wouldn’t let you anywhere near him. Not without lack of trying on your part. The minute your hands went down to his waistband, he pushed you away. Every time you tried to dip your mouth to the obvious bulge in his pants, he lifted you up and kissed you breathless until you forgot your name. It wasn’t until after a year of dating that he finally let you grind on his clothed cock. Even then, he held off until you finished and then walked out with quite possibly the worst case of blue balls. You hated that he did this to himself. The worst part was, you couldn’t understand why.

The one time you had brought it up to him it had resulted in the worst fight the two of you had ever gotten into. It was the only argument that was never really resolved. After the yelling and the tears, all you got out of Jungkook was that mating with a wolf was not pretty. It was extremely dangerous and he refused to put you in that kind of danger. End of discussion. No matter how hard you tried to persuade him or broach the subject, he shut it down. Hard. Eventually, you gave up.

He even spent his ruts away from you. Every three months, he left you for a week. You knew he had a place somewhere up in the mountains and you assumed that’s where he went. You had no idea. There was no point even asking to come along. You loved your boyfriend and didn’t want to purposely give him a heart attack. You hated it when he left. As much as you tried to hide it and convince him that you were just fine, he wasn’t stupid. Being away from him was tough. A piece of you was missing whenever he was gone. And you were only whole again when he returned.

This past week had been one of those weeks. He had left on Sunday for the mountains. He was agitated and clingy, how he normally was pre-rut. Jungkook wouldn’t let you leave his side and you spent most of the weekend on his lap or wrapped in his arms. Not that you minded. When he left your parents house on Sunday night, you’d had to coax him out of the door. Promising him that you’d be okay and that you’d see him next week. It wasn’t until several kisses later did Jungkook finally leave.

While you’d been doing this for two years, it never got easier. More manageable? Sure. But definitely not easier. All you could do was go through the motions. You went to work at the local bakery, came home and helped your mom with dinner, watched TV with your dad before going to bed. Taehyung and Jimin would visit often, threatened by Jungkook to keep you company. While you assured them it wasn’t necessary, you secretly didn’t mind. They made you laugh and made you temporarily forget your boyfriend was miles away from you. Sometimes, if you were lucky, he’d call you to tell you goodnight. But those times were rare. Normally, you didn’t hear from him until Friday or Saturday when he was finally coming out of his rut and returning to the world.

By the time Sunday rolled around, you were a jittery ball of nerves. Not in a bad sense. You were just excited. The anticipation killed you and it took all of your willpower to sit and wait for his text to tell you to come over. Your parents always left you alone on these Sundays, unable to deal with your hyperactiveness and constant fidgeting.

This Sunday was no different. You puttered around your room for the better part of the day. You spent the other part in the kitchen, baking like your life depended on it. Jungkook loved your cookies and you always made sure to come over with at least three batches after his ruts. He always said that was his second favorite part about coming home, after seeing you, of course.

You had just finished packaging the final batch in a glass cookie jar when your phone dinged. You didn’t have to read the message, you knew exactly what it said. Pure joy rushed through your system as you threw on your coat and shouted a hasty goodbye to your parents. Juggling the cookies and car keys, you sprinted to your car. The drive to Jungkook’s was thankfully not long. About ten minutes, as long as you didn’t hit any traffic on the main road. Luck was on your side, though, and you showed up at Jungkook’s house in eight minutes.

Taehyung’s car was in the driveway when you pulled up, which wasn’t odd. Although Jungkook owned the house, the members of his pack were almost always around. While most preferred to travel in their wolf forms, you knew Taehyung and Namjoon preferred cars. Something about being able to listen to their own music without comments from the peanut gallery. You didn’t really understand and didn’t really need to. You had just chalked it up as one of their many quirks.

Carrying the trays of cookies in both hands, you shut your car door with your foot before speed-walking up the stone walkway to Jungkook’s home. The screen door was shut, but the wooden door was swung wide open. You had just reached for the metal handle when you heard it.

A deep, threatening growl ripped through the peaceful quiet and froze you in place. You knew it was Jungkook. While you had only heard it once, you’d never forgotten it. It was when the two of you had attended a party and an alpha from a neighboring pack had cornered you in the hallway. Jungkook had found you cowered against the wall as the other alpha had caged you in. The sound that had left his chest had given you equal parts comfort and fear. Comfort, because he was there and you knew you were safe. Fear, because you could see in the way he bared his teeth and how his muscles vibrated, he had been furious and bloodthirsty.

That’s what you felt now, fear.

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

From your vantage point in front of the screen door, you could see directly into the kitchen. Taehyung was leaning against the granite countertop and Jungkook was seated at the island. The tension was so thick you practically choked on it.

“Enough, Taehyung.”

“No,” Taehyung snapped, seeming just as angry as Jungkook. “I’m not dropping it. Not this time.”

“Yes, you will,” Jungkook snarled. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“Too fucking bad.” While Taehyung was also an alpha, he acted so much like a beta you never really noticed. Until now. “I’m not going to sit by and watch you do this to yourself anymore. Not spending your ruts correctly is only causing you more harm than good.”

“I’m doing things the way I want to, and it’s working-”

“The hell it is!” Jungkook growled at the interruption but Taehyung ignored him. “It’s not working, and you know it. Anyone with two fucking eyes knows it. It’s getting so bad that the pack is noticing, too. Even Namjoon has realized something is wrong, and he’s as oblivious as they come.”

“If they have a problem with me they can take it up with me.”

“No, they can’t. Because you won’t listen. Your head is so far up your ass you can’t even hear yourself anymore. What you’re doing right now is not working. Something needs to change.”

“Like what?” Jungkook spat.

“You know what,” Taehyung bit back. Jungkook was practically vibrating from rage. You knew you needed to go get someone, someone from the pack to calm the two of them down. Things were only escalating, but you couldn’t move. Your brain screamed at you to run but your legs were rooted in place. “That’s is what’s so frustrating, Jungkook. This, all of this, could be solved. She’s right there-”

“Don’t.” Jungkook stood up so fast the chair he sat on flew backwards and hit the wall with a resounding crack.

“Why?” Taehyung threw his arms up in the air. “Why not? I don’t get it-”

“Because I don’t want her!” Jungkook yelled, the force of it rang throughout the house. You had no idea who the she was that they were referring to. You assumed it was someone from the pack. It was well-known that wolves with human mates sometimes turned to other she-wolves to help with their ruts. You figured that’s what Jungkook did whenever he went away for a week. It had bothered you at first, but you knew he had his needs and that they were at a biological level. You refused to make him feel guilty or ashamed for taking care of himself.

“You don’t want her?” Taehyung was enraged. You could tell by the way he straightened his spine and unfurled himself to his full height. Jungkook bristled in response and the muscles in his back strained against the thin material of his shirt.

“No, I don’t!” Jungkook exploded. “What don’t you understand about that? I don’t want her around me. I don’t need her, I’m fine on my own. The thought of having her there when…God - it makes me physically ill.”

“She’s your girlfriend. Above all of that, your true mate. You’re seriously going to deny yourself of her, for what? Just because you don’t like having her around?”

Oh.

That’s when it hit you. They weren’t talking about some random she-wolf. They were talking about you. You were the one Jungkook didn’t want. You were the one Jungkook didn’t need. You were the one he didn’t like having around. As the weight of the words sunk into your mind, you felt your chest becoming tighter and tighter.

Then, you’re heart broke right in half. You dropped the container of cookies and didn’t flinch when it shattered against the wooden slats. The sound unstuck your feet from their position on the porch and your fight or flight system took over. Without a second thought, you turned on your heel and ran.

You didn’t know if anyone was behind you, you didn’t turn around to check. Hands fumbled for the car door as you threw yourself into the drivers side. Pain ricocheted throughout your chest cavity and you struggled to breathe. Your brain was blank, the only thing your mind did was move your body to get you somewhere safe. You had to leave and you had to leave now.

Miraculously, your fingers found your keys and inserted them into the ignition on the second try. A flutter of movement occurred to the left of you but your eyes didn’t let you look that way. Instead, they focused on the rearview mirror as you reversed out of the driveway. Your right hand found the gearshift and moved it to drive. Soon, you were tearing down the street as your ears refused to register the agonized howls that echoed behind as you kept staring forward. Adrenaline pumped through your system and your body shivered in response, the splash of hormones had created a blanket of fake calm over you. The emotions, the pain, the thoughts were swirling inside of you, ready to break free and drown you, but your brain wouldn’t allow it.

It wasn’t until you reached the end of your long driveway that you felt the original spike of adrenaline fade away. Your mother was in the front, tending to the flowers, and looked up when she saw your car fly into its usual spot. She stood up and her face twisted into a frown when you got out of your seat.

“Honey, your aura…it’s concerning.” The blanket was yanked away and the pain crashed over you.

You couldn’t say a word, all you could do was collapse in your mother's arms and cry, cry, cry.

It took you two days to calm down. The tears had stopped rolling and your shoulders no longer shook from trying to hold your sobs behind your teeth. Your mother hadn’t left your side, leaving your father to answer the door whenever someone knocked. The only person who did was Taehyung and Jimin. Jungkook never showed up.

Well, that was a lie.

Jungkook did show up every morning and night, without fail. But he never came to your doorstep.  Instead, he was in the woods behind your house, patrolling, not daring to leave the protection of the forest. A part of you wondered if he was respecting your obvious need for space or if your mother had paid a witch to set up boundary lines that didn’t allow him to cross. Either way, you were grateful that you couldn’t see him. There was an incessant tugging in your heart to be near him but you staunchly ignored it, which would’ve been impossible if you saw his achingly beautiful face.

I don’t want her. I don’t need her. Having her there makes me physically ill. Those three sentences played in a constant loop in your head, like a horror movie you couldn’t escape from. You were the protagonist who couldn’t escape the maze, but the villain wasn’t kind enough to kill you off. No matter what you did, your brain wouldn’t stop repeating those three sentences. Your mother burned sage, she pressed crystals into your palms, she muttered ritual after ritual, but nothing worked.

You hated how affected you were. You had always told yourself that you would never be the girl who’d get so wrapped up in someone else they didn’t know who they were anymore. Independence was something you prided yourself on, but you seemed to be at a complete loss now. You couldn’t stop the waves of sadness and self-hatred at your depressed state. It was amazing how empty you felt yet so full of pain at the same time. Your mind and heart couldn’t seem to decide which hurt worse; your heart for having your soulmate so obviously reject you, or your brain for trying to make sense of the situation. When did this happen? How did this happen? How had you been so blind as to not see it?

“I don’t think we’re soulmates,” you rasped to your mom on the third morning. It had been the first words you had spoken to her since you had fell into her arms. She looked up from the bundle of herbs she was smoking.

“Why do you say that?”

You stared at your hands that had curled in on themselves. “I don’t make him happy. I-I never realized how uncomfortable I made him. I wish I had known. How did I miss it?”

Your mother tutted gently and gathered you in her arms. She smelled of lavender and wax. “This is good. I’m glad you’re letting yourself have this moment. Let’s sit in this and allow yourself to be embedded here.” But you didn’t want to have this moment. You didn’t want to have any moment and you’ve felt enough to last a lifetime. Instead, you rolled over, let sleep overtake you and tried to ignore the distant howling that rattled your window pane.

By nightfall of the fourth day, you were forced out of bed. Partly by choice, partly by force. Your parents had dipped out to run to the grocery store, despite your mother’s insistence that she could stay. You and your father managed to convince her to leave and you had gotten up to wave them goodbye. Sure, your heart was broken, but the least you could do was kiss them on the cheek before they left. You had turned around to shuffle into the kitchen to try and shovel something down your dry throat when a loud knock sounded at the front door. Hesitating, you carefully peeked through the kitchen window and saw Jimin on your front doorstep, dressed in all black.

Sighing, you stumbled over and pulled the door open. You figured you couldn’t avoid them for much longer. “Hey, Jimin.”

“Christ, you look like shit.”

You huffed out a laugh as Jimin stared at you in horror, not having the energy to be offended. You also knew, in a weird way, that this was Jimin’s way of caring for you. “Yeah. My mother’s covered all the mirrors in the house.”

Jimin nodded as he glanced at you from head to toe. “I want to ask if you’re okay but…” He gestured to your gaunt frame swaddled in a heavy sweatshirt and sweatpants. For the first time in two years, they were your own clothes, not Jungkook’s.

“I’m fine, Jimin,” you heaved a heavy sigh and leaned against the doorframe. “Do you want to come in? I think my mom boiled some tea not too long ago.”

Jimin shook his head. “Can’t. Jungkook would have a fit if I got that close to you right now. I’m already pushing my luck just by showing up.” He doesn’t care, you thought bitterly, and almost said it out loud but you caught yourself at the last second. Jimin wasn’t stupid, though. He knew what you were thinking. “Hey,” he murmured, eyes going soft, “are you ready to talk about it?”

“No.” You shook your head. A wave of sadness washed over you but the telltale prick of tears didn’t come.

Jimin understood. He tucked his hands into his pockets as he rocked back onto his heels. “Are you going to talk to him?”

Letting out a heavy breath, you crossed your arms over your chest. “I know I have to. I just…I just need time.”

“Take however long you need.”

It was another 48-hours before you finally snapped. While you had spent the majority of the two days that had passed to make yourself resemble a human being, you couldn’t focus. You couldn’t move on. Why?

Because Jungkook wouldn’t leave you alone.

His presence was constant. He circled your house every hour of ever day, the large shadow of him in wolf form darkened the trees behind your house. The howling had stopped but the pacing hadn’t. You hoped he was at least sleeping, but then you got annoyed at yourself for caring. You didn’t know why he was out there, it made no sense. Jungkook’s words were so different from his actions it made your head spin.

But, you needed to move on with your life. You had to. The only way it was going to happen was if Jungkook did too. It hurt. God, did it hurt. Yet, as sad and utterly pathetic as it sounded, you were used to the pain at this point, had resigned yourself to it. A part of you worried you wouldn’t know what to do without it.

Shaking off that depressing thought, you tugged on your rain boots and stepped outside for the first time in a week. The air was heavy with the promise of rain, the clouds low and gray. You tugged the hood up on your sweater to prevent your hair from completely frizzing out before you walked to down the back deck steps.

The backyard of your parents house was expansive. The home you had grown up in sat on top of a sloping hill that your mother had turned into her personal greenhouse. You stepped past rows of raised garden beds and pruned plants until you reached the line where the neatly mowed grass met the twisted ferns of the forest floor. As you had suspected, the ground was scorched with the evidence of past rituals. While your mother hadn’t out right admitted, you had figured someone had come and created a boundary line. It was obviously specific to Jungkook since Jimin and Taehyung were still able to visit. While your mother’s methods were extreme, you understood. As difficult as it was to move on with your life with Jungkook sequestered to the forest, you couldn’t imagine what it would’ve been like if he was within a few feet of you.

With a deep inhale, you sat down on the damp grass and waited. After a few minutes, you could hear the faint sounds of paws hitting the wet earth. The galloping got louder and louder until there was a momentary stretch of silence before it changed to footsteps.

When Jungkook emerged from the trees, you weren’t prepared. Although you knew you wouldn’t be, you still weren’t expecting it to hurt this bad. Your chest squeezed painfully at the first look of his broad form. Technically, it had been two weeks since you two had truly seen each other, the longest you’d ever gone. What hurt the most was how badly you longed for him. You wanted nothing more than to run straight into his arms, bury your face into his chest, and forget everything. Just forgive and give your heart what it wanted. But you remained firmly in place.

Jungkook looked as if he had seen a ghost. Which, to be fair, was probably true since you hadn’t seen the sun in seven days. His normally golden skin was pale and even from where you sat you could see the dark circles bruising under his eyes. Clearly, he hadn’t been sleeping. You hated that you noticed. You hated that you cared. He was dressed in all black and his chest strained against the material of his sweater. His hands were balled into tight fists at his side and the sight reminded you of why you were here.

“Hi.” Probably wasn’t the best start but it was the best you could do. Jungkook didn’t respond so you soldiered on. “I-I know you don’t want to be here, so I’ll make this quick. I just…wanted to apologize. I had no idea I made you so uncomfortable. I’m not sure how long you’ve felt this way about me, not that it really matters, but I wish you had told me sooner. Maybe things would’ve been easier for you, who knows.” You released a heavy sigh and tried to shove down the stone in your throat as you forced the next words out of your mouth. “But, all of that doesn’t matter anymore. I think I understand what you need, now. I know you loved me at one point, but I’m obviously not what you need anymore. And…t-that’s okay - I swear it is. All I want is for you to be happy, Jungkook. And I think, in order for that to happen, I need to move on. We both need to move on-”

“Stop it,” Jungkook broke in with a harsh voice that cut your sentence in half. “Stop talking.”

It felt like he had slapped you in the face. A wave of humiliation washed over you and you visibly flinched. Staggering to your feet, you locked your gaze onto your boots in an attempt to hide the tears that dripped down your nose. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, not expecting it to change anything. You began to turn away but Jungkook stopped you in your tracks, again.

“Wait, no - stop. Stop. Please…don’t go,” he pleaded. When you turned around, his eyes were frantic. Jungkook’s hand was raised from his side as if he thought about reaching out to you but something stopped him. His words were at war with one another and you were caught in the middle, at a loss for what he was trying so desperately to convey to you.

“Jungkook, I’m so confused.”

“I know. I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry.” Jungkook tucked his head into his hands before dropping down into a squat. “This is all wrong. This is all so wrong.”

You knew you should walk away. You had said your piece, it was time to move on, just as you had said. Yet, you couldn’t. It was as if your heart was tethered to him and your body couldn’t handle the pain of walking away. “Listen-”

“I don’t know what to do.” He cut you off but the bubbles of anger that had risen from being interrupted popped once you saw how lost he looked. His tattooed fingers threaded through his hair, allowing you to see the pure anguish that twisted his features. “Whenever I feel like this, I come to you. Because you always know what to do. Any situation, no matter what, you can handle it. It’s something I’ve always admired about you.”

The way he spoke to you now, so reverently and so full of awe, made your head spin. Nothing made sense.  It was such a blatant contrast to the brutality that he had spat out a week ago. As much as you wanted to believe what he said now, those stupid words could not get out of your head. It was a constant reminder that never shut up.

“I don’t know what to do either,” you admitted in a quiet voice.

“Tell me,” Jungkook begged, as if he couldn’t and refused to comprehend what you had just told him. “Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. Whatever you want from me, I’ll give you.”

You were shaking your head before he could finish. “There’s nothing you can do, Jungkook. Nothing.”

“Don’t say that.” He stared at you, horrified. “Don’t say that to me. Please, there has to be something.”

“What could there be?” You cried. Tears streamed down your cheeks now. “You said it yourself, being near me makes you sick. Why would I stay? Why would you want me to? I refuse to make you uncomfortable anymore - so that’s that.”

“It isn’t,” Jungkook argued back. “It can’t be. I-I can’t lose you, I can’t. I need to make this right, please just let me. Please.”

But, you were tired. You were so fucking tired. You were exhausted of the emotional rollercoaster that you were on that you just wanted to crawl away and hide. All the fight seeped out of you as your shoulders slumped forward. Jungkook saw this and the blood drained from his face. You were giving up, he could see it, and it scared the shit out of him.

“Jungkook, I need to go, okay? I-I can’t do this.”

“No!” Jungkook shouted and shot up to his feet. The pure panic that choked his voice brought on a fresh set of tears that you struggled to hold back. “Just let me explain, okay? I swear to God, after you hear what I have to say, if you still want me to, I’ll let you go. I won’t fight you on it. But, please let me tell you the truth. Give me a chance to make this right. You deserve that.”

You hesitated for a moment. Deep down, you knew you should let him talk. Not because you necessarily thought he deserved to, but because he was right. You did deserve the truth, no matter how much it broke your heart. With a heavy sigh and a quick swipe of your cheeks, you nodded. Once Jungkook was sure you weren’t going to leave, he began pacing. Looking every bit like the wild animal you knew him to be but never got to see.

“Mating with a werewolf is…brutal. It’s intense, it’s painful and it isn’t pretty. It’s essentially a breeding session where I use you as a vessel to fulfill my innate biological needs. It’s not romantic, it’s not gentle. Even for she-wolves it can be too much. The thought of subjecting you to something like that - that type of pain…I couldn’t fathom it. I don’t think you understand just how precious you are to me. The image of you being battered and bruised because of me, something I did…it tormented me, day and night.” He paused for a moment, the pained look in his eyes made you shiver. You hated that he had gone through all of this turmoil on his own, and you especially hated how you never made more of an effort to try and relieve him of it.

“I couldn’t do it. That’s partially the reason I waited so long to tell you that you were my true mate. I knew ruts were something I would never expose you to even though it’s such a huge part of my life, a wolf’s life.” Jungkook looked you straight in the eye, the intensity of his dark gaze took your breath away. “I know the practices other wolves partake in when their own heats or ruts arrive. I know you know them too. But, I need you to understand something. The moment you allowed me to be yours and vice versa, I haven’t had anyone else since. I swear on my life, I’ve spent every single one of my ruts alone. I wouldn’t and I won’t do that to you.”

“Isn’t that painful, though?” Your voice cracked but neither one of you acknowledged it. While your knowledge on ruts were expansive, having done plenty of research since being with Jungkook, you had obviously never experienced one.

“It’s manageable. It’s way more painful for a she-wolf to go through her heat alone than it is for a male.” Jungkook clenched and unclenched his fists as he resumed his pacing. “The worst part is being away from you. I’ve been going through ruts since puberty, I can handle them. But not being able to be with you for a whole week…I hated it. Still do. I dread that three month mark. And as time went on, I became more and more miserable. Being apart from you was almost unbearable but the other option…I never even allowed myself to consider it.

“It came to the point where the pack was noticing. I wasn’t getting the proper pheromonal release from my ruts and it was beginning to affect those around me. Taehyung has been on my ass for months now to get over myself and take you with me during my next rut. Each time I’d give him some excuse, but it was getting harder and harder to justify what I was doing. At first, I was convinced it was because I was protecting you. But you’ve been so understanding and so patient with me and my life, those excuses were becoming useless. Eventually, I think it was because I was protecting myself. I was - am - so scared. I’m terrified that I could hurt you when I’m like that. That I wouldn’t be able to notice or worse, ignored, if something happened to you. Living with that type of fear became debilitating. So, I just kept my mouth shut and kept you away from that part of me.”

Jungkook shook his head and chuckled humorlessly. “Now I know that was the worst possible thing I could do. That I was just hurting you more. What you walked into last Sunday was a culmination of my frustrations that I was refusing to deal with. While it’s not a valid reason, I’m well aware of that, I need you to know that what you heard was not the truth. It couldn’t be further from it. Because the truth is that I’m hopelessly in love with you and the thought of being without you hurts worse than I ever thought was possible.”

It wasn’t the first nor would it be the last time that Jungkook left you speechless. It took you a full minute to process what he had said. Jungkook granted you the silence although he became increasingly more agitated as time passed. His boots scuffed the dead leaves that littered the ground and his pacing led him closer to the ashes that lay before your feet. Then, he’d suddenly stalk off with a growl as he was forced to keep away.

“I-” you cleared your throat around the lump that had found a home there. “I had no idea. This whole time…I thought it was because you didn’t want me.”

“God, no.” Jungkook swore heavily as his muscles bunched and coiled beneath his clothes. “The - the fact that…you - fuck. I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. That’s not it, that’s not it at all. You’re my dream girl, you’re the love of my life, and I want you every second of every day.”

Maybe it’s because you were emotionally drained and had no mental strength left. Maybe, you needed to hear those words from Jungkook more than you realized. Whatever the reason was, it wasn’t worth trying to figure out an explanation as you sunk to the ground and burst into tears.

Jungkook lost it across from you. Broken whines stained the air as he carded through his hair anxiously. He kept trying to get to you, to try to soothe you. But the boundary was unfortunately doing its job and each attempt was met with failure. Curses were spat out until eventually, he got as close as the boundary would let him and fell to his knees. He began spewing whatever came to mind first, unsure of what to do. All he knew was that you were crying because of him and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. He thought hearing you cry from your bedroom window was torture, but nothing could compare to hearing you break down in front of him. Nothing. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m sorry…please, I’m so sorry. I - don’t cry, darling. Please don’t. I’m so sorry I hurt you, I didn’t mean to, I swear.”

It wasn’t tears of heartbreak that leaked from your eyes. Instead, it was tears of relief. While your heart had wholly accepted his words as the truth, the logical part of you reminded yourself that the two of you had way more talking to do. This was far from over, but the relief of knowing that he loved you and he was yours…it was indescribable.

You finally lifted your head up and were shocked to find Jungkook’s cheeks glistening with moisture. Your only thought was to comfort him as you scrambled forward to do just that. Instead of feeling his smooth skin against the palm of your hand, you were blocked by what felt like a wall although nothing stood in your way. Frowning, you realized with a start that the boundary worked both ways. Jungkook let out a frustrated growl as he glared at the ashes that was stopping both of you from getting what you wanted. It was silent for a few moments until an idea popped into your head.

“Wait here,” you announced before jumping up and taking off for the house. Ignoring Jungkook’s distressed cry, you ran inside. You yanked your car keys off from their designated hook and quickly typed out a text to your parents to let them know where you were going before spinning around and sprinting back outside. Jungkook was where you left him, although he stumbled to his feet when he saw you reappear.

“I’m going to your house,” you announced, breathless. “No witch is stupid enough to go that far into werewolf territory. If you want to talk to me there, then follow me.”

Jungkook stared at you for a heartbeat until the words you spoke clicked. “Y-yeah. Yes. Okay. I’ll be there.”

With a curt nod, you ran to your car. For the first time in a week, a faint sprout of hope bloomed in your chest.

It was the longest and shortest ten minutes of your life. The drive to Jungkook’s seemed to last a lifetime but also was over within a blink of an eye. The tears had stopped flowing by the time you pulled your car into his driveway, but you felt the telltale prick in your eyes when you saw him burst from the trees. Your heart ached as his long legs ate up the distance between you two as you wrestled with your seatbelt and threw the car into park. By the time you freed yourself, he was at the hood of your car.

The two of you stared at each other for a few breathless moments. You weren’t sure who moved first, but it didn’t matter as you crashed into each other’s arms. The moment his searing warmth enveloped you, you dissolved into another puddle of sobs. The feeling of his thick arms banded across your back, his torso molded to yours, and his hair tickling your ear, felt so right. Another wave of crippling relief washed over you and you practically melted against Jungkook. But he held you up, just like he always had.

He leaned against the front bumper while his hands were everywhere. Cradling your head into his neck, smoothing over your hips, or running circles over your shoulders. He was crying, you could feel the tears dampening your hair. But you were soaking his shirt so no one was in any position to complain.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“Don’t,” Jungkook hissed fiercely as he squeezed you tighter. “Don’t apologize. This isn’t your fault, not in the slightest.”

“Kook,” you sighed and pulled your head back to get a good look at him. “It takes two to tango.”

“Not this time,” he argued. “You’ve put up with so much. You’re everything I could’ve asked for and more. It was my own fears that got in the way and created this mess. And I’m so sorry for that, darling. I’m so fucking sorry.”

You shushed him gently, running your thumbs over his cheeks to swipe at the dried tears. “I know you’re sorry. I believe you.”

Jungkook dipped his head further into your touch with a pleased rumble vibrating through his chest. He kissed your palm gently, sniffing at your wrist. It made you giggle. “Missed that,” Jungkook mumbled as he stared at you with stars in his eyes. “Missed you. Missed you so much.”

A fresh wave of tears cascaded down your cheeks. You were positive that you looked like a mess, hair in a knotted bun, face red and puffy and you kept sniffling every two seconds. But Jungkook looked at you as if you held the world in your hands. “Missed you too,” you murmured in return. “Please, next time, just talk to me. I may not have the answers you’re looking for all the time, but I’ll always be here to listen.”

“I know,” Jungkook whispered. “There won’t be a next time, promise. If I happen to be stupid enough to put us in this position again, I give you full permission to punch me in the face.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You lifted yourself onto your toes to brush your lips against his, dropping back down to your feet when his head chased after yours. “Or maybe I just won’t kiss you for a week.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened comically and he actually looked terrified. “I’d rather you just punched me in the face.” You tilted your head back and laughed. Jungkook tugged you closer and nosed your throat before peppering gentle kisses along the exposed skin. Sighing happily, you tilted your head to allow him better access and rested your cheek on his shoulder.

“I love you,” you said quietly. Jungkook froze for a split second before he sank against you. Squeaking in shock, you scrambled to brace yourself against the sudden weight pressing you towards the house.

“Say it again,” Jungkook pleaded. You couldn’t deny him. Dusting feather light kisses to the shell of his ear, you repeated those three words again, and again, and again. Each time you did, Jungkook held you a little tighter and cried a little harder.

Eventually, you’re murmured promises became softer and softer until the two of you just enjoyed each others presence. “C’mon,” you finally whispered as you started to lift yourself off of him. Jungkook growled and refused to let you move an inch farther. “Kook, come on. Let’s go inside. Your ass must be numb by now.”

“Don’t care,” he grumbled but he at least shuffled forward a bit more so that your combined weight wasn’t squashing his ass against your car.

“You might say that now, but you won’t be saying that later.”

Jungkook grunted at your logic but he at least raised his head and looked at you with the sweetest eyes. “Please tell me you’re staying.”

Giggling, you asked, “do you want me to?”

“Obviously,” he scoffed. “I want you here forever.” Jungkook tilted his head thoughtfully. “Actually, you should just move in with me.”

Christ, this boy was going to give you whiplash. You couldn’t help but laugh. “Jungkook, we just made up. The whole reason we were in this mess is because of poor communication. Don’t you think we should work on that first before anything else?”

“But…we could work on communication all the time if we’re together 24/7.” Despite his pout, you knew he wasn’t totally serious. Although you were sure it was going to come up again.

“Alright, you maniac,” you said fondly. “Take me to bed.” Jungkook’s chest rumbled happily as he lifted you up and wrapped your legs around his trim waist.

It wasn’t a long walk to his bedroom, but the exhaustion of the past week caught up to you and the gentle rocking of his steps lulled you into a serene state. Not quite asleep, but not quite awake either. You were aware when Jungkook placed you on his bed, practically engulfed in his scent. The last thing you remember before falling asleep was the words Jungkook pressed into your hair has he slid in behind you.

“Love you forever, my darling girl.”

©jcwritings Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without my permission.

LINKS:

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#jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook hurt/comfort #fluff fic #angst fic #hurt/comfort fic #angst with a happy ending #abo verse #abo dynamics #soulmate!au #soulmate!jungkook #werewolf!jungkook #jungkook scenario #jungkook one shot #jungkook fanfic #bts scenario #bts fanfic #bts one shot #bts x reader #jeon jungkook #jeon jeongkook #jeon jeongguk #written in the stars #jcwriting

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

This Game of Yours

Father of Mine – Part 1 and Part 2

Jason was beautiful.

And somehow that scar that went from the right corner of his mouth up to his temple only made him that much more beautiful to Y/N.

Those blue eyes were the same color of water on a stormy day in the Irish sea. And somehow Y/N knew they held the same tempestuousness.

The white streak weaved with his jet black hair so naturally that Y/N would’ve believed he was born with it.

His shoulders were so broad, making his 6’3 height feel even more imposing. He had a presence. People noticed every time he walked into a room. It made Y/N wonder how he was ever able to sneak up on people as Red Hood.

He was wearing a black hoodie underneath his black moto jacket.

Y/N knew Jason didn’t give a shit about fashion. Yet he was well-dressed without any effort – more so than most of the models Y/N had shot throughout her career.

Not being able to control herself any longer, Y/N raised her camera and took a photo.

Jason stopped surveying their surroundings and his gaze snapped to her.

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

But his growl didn’t scare her in the slightest.

“Anyone who’s by me when I have a camera is at risk of getting their picture taken. No one is safe. Not even you,” she answered his question unapologetically.

Y/N was working on a personal passion project for her next show. Her collection would be about the poverty and crime of Gotham. Half of the photos would show the heaviest crime areas of the city. And the other half would expose the lifestyles of the wealthiest people in Gotham.

Why did so many suffer from the same system that helped the rich get even richer?

When Bruce found out Y/N was going to Crime Alley and the Bowery by herself, he was visibly upset.

But he realized that Y/N would do as she pleased, so his plan b was to give her protective detail.

However, Y/N didn’t know that Jason had volunteered, almost immediately.

Instead, all she heard was Jason grimly telling her, “You’re lucky you haven’t been fucking murdered yet.”

She had only responded with a roll of her eyes.

“I’m not your escort so you can take my picture. I’m here so you don’t get raped or murdered.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a way with words?”

His only response was a glare.

Jason loved playing this game. The game of pretending to be irritated with her when actually he was absolutely infatuated with Y/F/N Y/L/N.

“The easiest way to stop getting your picture taken is to always be the one holding the camera,” Y/N added with a smirk and wink.

Jason didn’t answer, only thinking what a shame it was that no one got to photograph her.

Suddenly, the sunlight hit the top of his head perfectly, creating a halo around that thick and messy hair of his.

Y/N snapped another photo.

“Will you stop?” He warned.

It only succeeded in making her laugh.

And that just excited his heart even more.

“Jason, you were born to get your photo taken.” 

There was no joke underneath her words, only sincerity.

“Whatever,” he mumbled.

Jason had a hard time believing that. His skin was riddled with scars. And he was convinced that she’d be singing a different song if she saw his chest, with its thick autopsy scar amongst the so many others. The absolute last word he’d use to describe himself was beautiful. Strong and imposing? Yes. But never beautiful – or any other positive adjective, for that matter.

“I’m not kidding. If you ever want to stop the whole vigilante thing, you can easily become a model.”

Y/N had noticed it as soon as Jason took of his helmet that night. His domino mask had done nothing to prevent her from noting the obvious.

It didn’t take long for Y/N to realize Jason wasn’t like his “brothers.”

“Brothers.” What a strange word.

Should she consider all of them as hers?

Only Damian was actually related to her – and technically he was only her half-brother.

Y/N had watched Jason get on his motorcycle and leave the cave that night she’d almost died.

She’d agreed to stay for dinner and get to know everyone. And a part of her brain was excited to get a better read on the masked man that sat by her bedside as she’d recovered.

“He’s not staying?” Y/N had asked Bruce as he guided her to the stairs that led back up to the manor.

He only shook his head, but she noticed the disappointed expression.

Soon she found out that Jason was the black sheep of this strange family that had taken her in.

Dick was the one who told her about Jason’s dark past. All of it seemed unbelievable: murdered by Joker and brought back to life from a mysterious pit. Only to return to the family who appeared to have replaced him and never sought vengeance on Jason’s behalf. 

But it was true; Y/N had seen no lie in Dick’s eyes when he filled her in.

Suddenly there was yelling coming from around the corner.

Without hesitation, Jason shoved Y/N behind him.

He reached for one of his guns and then realized that he didn’t have any.

Y/N was rather vocal about hating them, claiming they made her extremely uncomfortable.

Her expression alone as she said it was enough for Jason to swallow his stubbornness and leave the things at home.

Bruce was rather taken aback by the gesture. Nothing he’d ever said was enough to get Jason to do that.

A gang of young men came marching around the corner like they owned the place…because they did. This was their territory.

Jason immediately recognized them as some of the Russian mob.

Despite pulling Y/N behind him, they still caught sight of her and looked her up and down without an ounce of shame.

“Hey, beautiful. How you doing?”

“Продолжай идти, придурки,” Jason growled at them.

He was outnumbered. But there must’ve been something about his body language that made the gang realize they shouldn’t pick a fight with him. Maybe it was the muscles or his height or that he looked like he wouldn’t even blink before murdering them.

So they just…walked away. Some of them mumbled threats or insults at him. But they realized they shouldn’t even so much as look at Y/N.

A split second before they were gone, Y/N took a picture of Jason.

“Really?” He asked.

She shrugged. “You look like a different person when you’re protective.”

Y/N was beautiful.

Jason watched as she passionately explained her work to a potential buyer.

He recognized the man as a local politician – luckily, one of the few that hadn’t been corrupted from this shitty city.

Y/N had the intimidating energy of her father, but the kind eyes of her mother. At least, that was what Bruce had told everyone, and they all took his word for it.

She wore a stylish white jumpsuit that made her look like a 1980s villain and black stiletto heels. 

Jason watched as men cowered in her presence, hating the fact that she proudly stood taller than them. She was just one less woman they could intimidate or manipulate – and they couldn’t stand it.

But Jason loved watching the emasculation in real time.

The bastards didn’t deserve her anyway.

Dick was one of the very few men Jason knew who didn’t blink at a woman towering over him. In fact, his older brother had a track record of preferring it.

“Surprised to see you here,” Bruce said beside him, catching Jason watching Y/N.

“Well, I was her personal bodyguard through all this. Figured I should see if it was worth me wasting my time or not.” Then he tossed back his champagne and slammed it on the tray of a waiter passing by. “Plus, free alcohol.”

Bruce just quirked an eyebrow, silently telling Jason that he knew he was lying.

“Are you buying something?” Jason asked, trying to change the subject.

“I have been strictly forbidden,” Bruce sighed.

Jason chuckled.

He knew if Bruce had his way, he’d buy every single on of Y/N’s pieces.

“I have to know,” Bruce began. “What exactly is holding you back?”

Jason finally ripped his gaze away from Y/N to give Bruce a questioning look.

“What are you talking about?”

“Y/N. You care about her.”

“All of us do,” Jason brushed off. “Even the demon spawn.”

Bruce knew there wasn’t a chance Jason would admit his feelings – especially to him.

“Not that I think you care…but you have my approval.”

Little did Bruce know, Jason did care.

Jason had convinced himself that their rocky relationship and past fights meant that Bruce would die before he let Jason be anywhere near his daughter.

And Jason could hardly blame him.

He didn’t deserve to be loved. He lost that right after he died and came back a monster. And that was the story Jason told himself over and over again.

So he would love Y/N from afar. And hope she would pick someone who was worthy of her love.

“She’s basically my sister,” Jason groaned in fake disgust.

It was quite the performance.

Bruce narrowed his eyes. “We both know that isn’t what’s stopping you. And you’ve made it clear you don’t consider us your family.”

“Whatever, Bruce.”

Jason walked away, having enough of the subject.

“What was that about?” Clark asked as he joined Bruce’s side.

“Jason refusing to let himself be happy,” Bruce sighed.

Clark already knew what Bruce was talking about. He’d seen Y/N and Jason dancing around each other for months now. He’d never really seen Y/N take an interest in anyone before, so it was all new for Clark.

“Don’t worry. Y/N won’t let him get away with it for much longer,” Clark said through a smirk. “She gets what she wants.”

And Bruce believed him.

“It doesn’t bother you – the two of them together?” Clark asked with genuine curiosity.

“Jason reminds me every day that I’m not his father. And I’m hardly Y/N’s.” A soft smile formed on Bruce’s lips. “He’ll look after her. And she…I think she’d be good for him. I just want them to be happy. Both of them.”

——

Jason headed home rather early.

He’d never actually went to say congratulations or even hello to Y/N.

Every time he was about to go over, someone else stole her attention. He didn’t want to get in the way of her talking to potential buyers or even just friends.

Jason was just about to make himself something to eat when there was a knock at his door.

He froze.

Very few people knew where his apartment was.

Jason grabbed a gun and tiptoed to his front door.

With a peak through the peephole, he let out a irritated sigh.

Jason whipped the door open, “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot your head off.”

“Maybe don’t own guns and you wouldn’t have to worry about shit like that,” Y/N snapped back.

“What are you doing here?”

“You come to my gallery opening and don’t even say hi?” Y/N accused as she stepped around him and into the apartment, not waiting for an invitation.

Jason eyed the paper bag that was in one of her hands.

“By all means, come on in,” he called sarcastically as he slammed the door behind her.

Y/N started searching through his cabinets. “Where are your glasses?”

“The one to your right. What are you doing here?”

Y/N had the brightest and almost mischievous smile as she pulled a bottle of champagne from the paper bag.

“I brought this as my thanks for you making sure I don’t – and I quote – ‘get raped and murdered.’”

Jason glared at her.

Here was the game again.

Y/N being charming and hilariously provoking..and Jason pretending like he hadn’t fallen for her.

She poured them both a glass. They weren’t flutes or coupes, but she couldn’t care less.

“We’re chugging these, by the way,” Y/N informed Jason as she handed him a glass.

He sighed, but obediently clinked his glass with hers and tossed it back.

Barely giving them a second, Y/N immediately refilled them.

“So, why didn’t you come over and say hi?” She repeated.

“Didn’t want to bother you,” Jason mumbled with a shrug.

She narrowed her eyes at his answer. “You’ve never bothered me before, Jason.”

Now he felt guilty.

Jason bowed his head. “I should’ve come and talked to you,” he agreed. “Your work…it looked – it’s amazing, Y/N. Congratulations.”

Apparently Y/N hadn’t expected such a sincere compliment from him, and she was stunned to silence.

“Thank you,” she managed to whisper once she’d recovered.

She cleared her throat, trying to maintain her edge. “And really…thank you for being my own little security detail.”

If Jason was healthy about expressing is thoughts and feelings, he would’ve told her that it was the highlight of his weeks. That he looked forward to her calls or texts, telling him that she was going to photograph another shady area. “Be there or don’t. I’m going no matter what,” she’d text him with her usual snark.

But Jason didn’t express his thoughts and feelings.

He kept them bottled up – with the same energy he used to keep Y/N at a distance.

So instead, Jason said, “If it wasn’t me, one of the others would’ve done it.”

Y/N winced slightly at that.

‘You’re such a fucking asshole,’ Jason told himself.

“You know…we can see each other even you’re not my bodyguard.”

Jason was impressed by her boldness. But she didn’t know what she was doing. She didn’t understand that he wasn’t good. He couldn’t play the loving boyfriend role. She belonged with someone like Dick or Clark – or literally anyone but him. And Jason was willing to be an asshole to make sure she understood that.

Y/N took a step closer to him, invading his personal space.

Without breaking eye contact, she threw back her second glass of champagne and then placed it on the nearest counter space.

She stepped even closer.

This was simultaneously Jason’s worst nightmare and most desired dream.

Her eyes moved from his eyes to his lips.

But before she could make her final push, Jason took a step back and cleared his throat.

He looked down at the ground as he said, “You should go.”

When he looked up, he expected to find Y/N heartbroken or embarrassed.

But she was neither.

No. She looked irritated.

Not because she wasn’t getting what she wanted, but because she was sick of his games.

Y/N sighed and stepped back. “Fine.”

Jason rubbed his face in frustration as she grabbed her purse and started for the door she had walked through only minutes ago.

She opened it and paused.

“You know what? No. Fuck that,” Y/N snapped before slamming the door closed.

She whipped around and strutted back to him with purpose.

Jason was suspended with both fervor and awe.

Y/N grabbed his face and pulled him down to her lips.

All self control went out the window. Jason couldn’t continue his game. It was all over for him.

He kissed her back almost immediately. How could he not?

Y/N bit his lip slightly, making him hiss in surprise. It was his punishment for making her wait all this time.

Eventually they needed a moment to breathe.

But Y/N didn’t let go of his face when their lips finally parted.

“Choose your next words very carefully,” she breathed.

He swallowed nervously. “You’re kind of fucking terrifying. You know that?”

Her smile was pure evil.

Apparently this was the right response.

“Are you done being an idiot?” She asked.

He nodded quickly.

Her hands moved down and then lingered on his neck, tracing the bottom lines of his jaw.

She smiled again and then looked him up and down.

“What?” He questioned.

“Nothing,” she laughed. “I’m just…I’m not used to being shorter than men.”

“Is that the only reason you like me? Huh? My height?” Jason goaded.

“Of course not,” Y/N scoffed. “It was the whole ‘I look like I could murder everyone and I can, but deep down I’m a big softie’ that did it for me.”

Jason’s grip tightened on her waist. “Oh, yeah? You’re one to talk…”

“Me?!” She yelped. “I couldn’t kill anyone, even if my life depended on it.”

“Maybe. But your terrifying in basically every other way.”

Y/N laughed at that.

Jason couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the sound

“So…still want me to leave?” She asked.

And this time, she would if that’s really what he wanted.

“Fuck no,” Jason answered, almost threateningly.

Then, for good measure, he picked her up by the back of her thighs and carried her to the couch, before he started to kiss her once again.

Y/N knew things weren’t always going to be this simple.

Jason had his demons. 

And honestly, so did she. They were nothing like his. And maybe they were silly in comparison. But she wouldn’t be the perfect partner. Just like he wouldn’t be. 

They’d drive each other crazy. But it would be the good kind of crazy.

------------------------------

+ Childhood

#father of mine bonus content #father of mine #bruce wayne x daughter #bruce wayne x daughter!reader #batman x daughter #batman x daughter!reader #bruce wayne's daughter #batman's daughter #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd reader insert #red hood reader insert #clark kent x platonic!reader #superman x platonic!reader

[lolita-lollipop]

Royal siren erasermic family? They like adopt you after you hatch from an egg bc they found you or something idk and take you back to the castle and make you their little princess or something cute and fluffy like that.

YANDERE SIREN ERASERMIC FAMILY X BABY PRINCESS READER

Shinso was just out and about, swimming through some forbidden areas he wasn’t supposed to be in, avoiding sharks, when he found an iridescent little ball under some rubble of a shipwreck, it made his gills tingle at the sweet aura that it emmited, he knew, that this creature, was something to protect. It was up until he saw something moving inside that he thought it was just some ancient treasure that would’ve died with this ship, he examined it closer, squinting his eyes, that’s when he realized, it was a Siren. A baby one at that, usually they hatched out of boring white eggs, the royal family’s were gold, but a shiny color changing white that combated the finest of jewels? Never, this little pip was special, he could feel it.

So he brought it back home, through his “balcony window”, debating wether or not he should tell his parents. As you know, he was somewhere where he was not supposed to be, and they would throw a fit. Then again, whatever this thing was, he couldn’t just keep it to himself, something was living inside it, and he wouldn’t know if something was wrong, so he has too. When he did, it came as a suprise that his parents weren’t mad, they jsut kindof stared at the orb, inhaling the addictive scent it gave off, the three huddled around it, aizawa carefully picking the Small thing up, it was only about the size of a pumpkin, extremely easy to pick up, yet he could still feel the heartbeat of a creature inside, it just had to be one of the sirenfolk , there isn’t any other explanation. He stared at it in confusion, noticing the small cracks staring to form.

Then a little hand popped through, and scared the shit out of all of them.

———

As it turned out, you were in fact a siren, a rare subtype of them, thought to have gone extinct long, long ago. The opal-looking scales that littered your arms and tail showed proof of it, this species were intensely more fragile, and weaker, that’s why they went extinct, as they couldn’t hear, and a small crabs pinch could cause major bone breaks, they were just too weak, yet so beautiful. That’s why they were coveted among the royal family. It only helped their growing obsession taht you were so cute.

It might’ve been an act of I’mpulse, but they just needed to have you as their own, of course, their word is law, so they could’ve just kept you, but they felt the need to make it official, they’d already had two pips, you’re just their third! It was simple, of course, you specific species could be born into sirenfolk families, it was just so rare that it had only happened once. You were just so cute, so fragile, just something so breakable, they just

H a d

To protect this tiny lil thing, it was instinctual to feel a protective pull over their little pups, and boy were they feeling that right now, you were special, not just any baby, but you were theirs. Their special little pup, nothing would ever lay a hand on you, ever. It had only be a few days, and word spreads through the underwater kingdom like a wave, from the servant maid who showed them how to take care of you, to the head maid, to a citizen, to the fisher, and eventually, by the end of the week, the whole kingdom was eagerly waiting to get a glimpse of their new princess.

And boy were they shocked to find out it was an opalite, the most rare of rare sirens in the world. Immediately after they had shown you to the world, sitting in a large clam as it was pulled by sharks, the citizens fell in love with you, maybe it was the fact that you were related to their beloved royals, maybe because the royal family would intensely glare at anyone who made negative comments, maybe it was the fact that a few of those people went missing, but who knows right?

You still hadn’t been able to open your eyes yet, and you won’t be able to hear them for a very long time, your hands were about the size of aizawas eye, and you looked closer to a fish than a human, as you hadn’t even developed your face yet, another plus to being the endangered species, note the sarcasm. And guess what? They found it so adorable, just their cute little baby, their little pup who can’t even protect themselves from the water around them. They just loved every part of your little body, from your tails, to your tiny little hands, to your shiny gills. It was all just so perfect- you were so perfect, and you were theirs, they were gonna protect you at all costs.

So of course they did, you were just so tiny right now, they knows practically anything could hurt you, so they opted to be around you all the time, only leaving to hunt for humans that would suffice for their tastes, drawling them in, determined because of that little smile of yours. You motivated them to do it, they were doing this for you. It have them all a sense of pride to have you feel safe with them, to rite them you. On their own terms.

Eri was constantly around you, being that she was a young one just like you, and you were her little sister! So she wanted to always be around while you made those echoing gurgling noises, or flapped your hands around in the water, she didn’t have responsibility in the kingdom yet, unless being cute is a job, so she can be with you jsut as much as she wants. Always sitting with you while you played with the floating pearls that they had arranged over your play area, watching you feel new things, holding you while you dozed off with adorable little bubbles, she always was with you.

Like now, she’s been with you all day, giving you little snacks, glaring at the guards at the door who always had their eyes on you… creeps. The sun was almost setting, and when you’re low down in the ocean it goes pitch black after a little while, and that’s when the jellyfish come out, tonight was one of the most special days out of the year in the northern oceans, the jellyfish festival, the one night a year when the rare white jellyfish would come out to say hi, leaving trails of shimmering sparkle behind them, painting the upper levels of the ocean a shiny silver. It just so happened that it occurred on your first birthday, a very small increment to sirens, as they live almost a billion years, but still a big accomplishment in their eyes. Look! Their little baby girl is turning one! How amazing!

“Do you see them hon? Look, they’re just starting to appear” Aizawa asked both you and eri calmly, swishing his hand through the salty water to pint at the new appearance of white and purple blobs, slowly flouncing their way overhead. Eri smiled up at it, her pointed teeth displayed in full view, her eyes shined at the view, not only of the huge jellyfish, but also at you, who was placed delicately in mics lap, sat up against his chest. Little bubbles escaped your mouth as you blew raspberries into the water, just making the family laugh.

“Mm-hmmm! Look! Look! How pretty! I wanna touch em! Can I touch em!” She yelled at her parents, excitedly pointing towards the jelly’s floating towards the surface, her hair floated behind her as she swished around, shinsho just chuckled, knowing that she eventually would try to touch them, and get zapped, again, like last year, and the year before, and the year before.

“No hon. Don’t do that to us again, you wanna wish your sister a happy birthday? She’s probably really exited!” Mic cheered, distracting his daughter from touching the jellyfish, yet again, meanwhile, you were happily bouncing up and down on his lap, enjoying the freedom of your arms, swishing them all over the place, grabbing the beads around your neck, jsut anything.

“But dad! Why not! It’s not like it’s hurt me or anything I’ll be fi-“ she begged, throwing her hands up in a small tempter tantrum, clearly forgetting her previous events of pain, and idiocy.

“No- nope no no, we aren’t doing this again, please honey, just please, remember last time, we had to clean up your wounds OUTSIDE-of water, you hate going to the surface remember? “

“Yeah but-“ she started speaking, but was soon cut off with a loud giggle, resonating through your lips, kindof rare for you, you hadn’t been very vocal outside of a few gurgles here and there, so it had each and every ones heads turning. That’s when they saw it, your beautiful eyes, shin sing in reflection to the jellyfish. Those beautiful little eyes of yours mesmerized all of them, a pitch black (for protection from the salt), with a shiny silver-like pupal, immediately after they opened, a burst of color filled your vision. You giggled and clapped your hands together with a small toothless smile, watching as the floaty creates went overhead, glittering with the light.

The absolutely gorgeous splash above was admired by the family form their own viewing post, the blues and whites combined to make a heavenly display. You could feel the cool sprinkles of light they emmited hitting your skin, smiling at the feeling, you splayed your hands out and flailed them against the water.

“Ohhhhhh- oh wow. Honey! Honey look! Her eyes opened! Look at taht! Aren’t you just so magical! Look at you, my little pup.” Mic smacked Aizawa over the chest multiple times, pointing at your clearly opened eyes, you just remained oblivious, staring up at all the new things around you, like.. everything! He turned you around to face him, letting you actually see his face for the first time, taking in the long yellow hair, the (also) black eyes, the ethereal face dotted with shiny yellow gills, him, you could see him!

“She’s developing smoothly, I’m glad. Awww, that’s pretty cute.” Aizawa replied to him, holding in his emotions, as soon as he met those new eyes of yours it’s like everything else disappeared, like the world itself didn’t exist, outside of him, and his fmaily. You took his breath away, or what you could call breath, so cute and innocent, such a small thing, that brings so much joy. Your little tail swished back and forth as you stared up at them happily, taking in the features of the people you’d learned to recognize by touch. Blowing raspberries out of your lips with a stream of bubbles.

“Awwwww! I’m gonna cry, she’s growing so fast! Soon she’ll be swimming in her own! In like 200 years! Too soon, way too soon. Comers baby- mm hmmm” mic spoke, knowing full well that even if he did cry, his tears would get sucked in by the ocean. He pulled you close, moving your head I’ve this shoulde is it would rest in the crook of his neck while he hugged you, eventually, the others joined in, eri practically flopping ontop (with careful regard for you of course).

They all stared at you, while you stared up at the “sky”, oblivious to their stares, to the ways they would growl at anyone who came close, to how they kept you from seeing anyone other than what they personally approve. After all, you are jsut their little pup, of course you wouldn’t notice! Their little pup… feels right to say that, it isn’t like you have any family waiting, they aren’t ever gonna come here.

And if they ever did?

Then, well, a few mermaids are going missing

———————————————————————————————————

Thanks for requesting, this was fun to write!

Have a great day today! Goodbye.

#yandere aizawa #yandere erasermic x reader #yandere erasmic #yandere erasermic #yandere erasermic family #yandere siren #yandere fantasy #yandere x child reader #yandere x reader #yandere platonic #platonic yandere #platonic obsession

[majestyeverlasting]

Hi!! Could you write for Bucky prompts 4 and 26??

♡ Hi, Anon!! I love this prompt pairing so much! Thank you for requesting this, and for waiting on me to get around to it! In this one, Bucky and the reader visit a park in Brooklyn that stirs up some nostalgic memories. But what he doesn't know is that, later that night, he'll learn that he's going to be a father. There's some pretty fall imagery and lots of sweet moments. I hope you like it! (Note: this isn’t canon regarding Bucky’s true age)

♡ Prompt 4: "Remember we used to come here when we were kids?"

♡ Prompt 26: “I’m not reading this thing wrong, am I? You’re really pregnant?”

All I Ever Wanted

There was a crispness to the evening air as the beginnings of fall settled within Brooklyn. The trees of Prospect Park, once green, were slowly transitioning into rich shades of orange and red. As you and Bucky walked along one of the pathways, leaves crunching beneath your shoes, there was an absence of car engines and horns—it was peaceful. All there was to be heard was chirping birds, the soft chatter of other park-goers, and the occasional whir of a cyclist’s wheels whenever one passed by.

Upon reaching a wooden bridge, the gentle sound of flowing water emerged as well. Beneath it, was a slender waterfall that fed into a small pond with dead leaves floating on the surface. Bucky wrapped an arm around your waist as the two of you admired it from over the railing. Somehow the whole day, including that moment itself, had managed to feel like a dream.

The two of you hadn’t been to Prospect Park in what felt like forever. Life had a way of sweeping you up in winds of responsibility that kept you from enjoying moments of stillness. But those winds had since drifted elsewhere, leaving the two of you with the freedom to simply be. Venturing out into nature and away from the noise had been Bucky’s suggestion earlier that morning. There was no place like the outdoors that was capable of soothing the soul.

“Look, doll,” he said eventually. Your eyes followed where his free hand pointed.

On one of the big rocks peeking out of the water below, a yellow butterfly had perched itself on a rock. “Yeah, I see it. It’s so pretty.” You smiled when he gave you a gentle squeeze.

“You know what butterflies symbolize?” You met his gaze, willing for him to continue. “Life and new beginnings,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple.

For a fraction of a second, you froze. You’d managed to keep yourself collected for the entirety of the day, but hearing those words quickened your heartbeat. Enough so that you became all the more reminded of what he didn’t know—not yet.

That morning, as he spoke to you through the bathroom door about going to Prospect Park, you’d been staring at a positive pregnancy test. You barely had enough breath to agree to the outing. And when he’d asked if you were okay, you told him you were fine, but left out the fact that your lives would be changing forever in the months to come.

The two lines on the stick explained weeks worth of your body trying to communicate to you. It explained that deep sense of knowing that refused to go away. To say that you wanted to merely tell Bucky would’ve been the largest understatement of your lifetime. With all the emotions that stirred within you, you wanted to scream, cry, and jump at the same time.

A voice within you encouraged you to make the moment you told Bucky really special and intimate. Especially considering every turn that his life had taken over the years. So you vowed to wait until the two of you arrived home from your evening at the park.

“Life and new beginnings,” you repeated. You were already aware that such was associated with butterflies, but hearing him say it in that moment carried a certain magnitude. “I love the sound of that.”

Later, after walking further, you found yourselves nestled on one of the benches overlooking the lake. The water sparkled in the warm light of the sun as it prepared to set. A couple men stood peppered along the bank fishing. Children giggled as they chased after each other. Paired with the fall trees and colors all around, it was nothing short of a beautiful scene.

You let your head rest on Bucky’s shoulder, and took his real hand in yours to play with his fingers. There was a time, years ago, when the two of you would play along that same lake—throughout the whole park, actually.

You were the first to speak after a while, “Remember we used to come here when we were kids?” You straightened up from his shoulder to look at him.

“Of course I do,” he said, a smile starting on his face. “Especially during the summer. We’d always try to find open fire hydrants to play in after we left. And if we were lucky, our mom’s would let us get ice cream or shaved ice,” he recounted, chuckling. “Those were the days.”

You shook your head. “I know. Now look at us.” About to have a child of our own, you thought.

“Yup. Time flies when you’re having fun,” he said, casting out a brief look around at the serenic evening. Then he focused back on you, his tone shifting, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah...” you tried not to answer too fast. “Why?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes a bit and gave a shrug. “I don’t know, I can just tell that something’s on your mind—ever since this morning,” he noted. “But you have yet to tell me what that something is, pretty girl.”

It took everything not to tell him right then and there, as you sat under a blue and orange sky in the park you knew like the back of your hand.

You offered him half a smile. “I’m that easy to read?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Not necessarily. I’ve been reading you for a long time so it’s easy.” You allowed yourself to chuckle when he playfully quirked his brows. “So am I gonna have to work really hard to coax it out of you?”

You shook your head earnestly. “I promise I'll tell you when we get home… I have something to show you.”

On your way out of the park, there was a mama duck waddling under a tree with her ducklings trailing behind her.

It wasn’t until after you and Bucky made it back to your apartment, and had changed into something comfortable, that you told him you were ready. He sat on the edge of the bed as you went to retrieve the small gift box holding the pregnancy test. It was a miracle that you had had enough supplies left over from birthdays and holidays to be able to make it look as presentable as it did.

You extended it to him from a couple feet away. So much anticipation had built within you that you felt light, and as though you were buzzing.

Bucky accepted the box, and looked up at you. There was a sparkle in his blue eyes. “Why are you standing a mile away from me? C’mere.” You inched closer, and laughed when he pulled you to stand more so between his spread legs.

As he began to undo the white ribbon on the box, your lower lip was secured between your teeth. It seemed as though he was moving entirely too slow and fast at the same time.

As soon as he popped the lid off to reveal the pregnancy test sitting on top of little strips of crinkled, beige paper strips, your heartbeat sped up. Bucky’s attention lingered on the test. When he finally looked up, his gaze attested to the influx of thoughts that had been sparked into motion within his mind.

“I’m not reading this thing wrong, am I?” He briefly looked back down to stick again. Two lines. “You’re really pregnant?”

A smile broke across your face. With the news out, it felt as though you were uncaging a group of birds that had been longing for freedom for way too long. Before you could say anything else, Bucky set the box aside and stood to press his lips to yours. You stumbled back at the intentness in which he gripped your waist. It was a kiss that you felt every part of him through; his love, his passion, his warmth. And an intoxicating mix of joy and expectation.

He pulled away just enough to speak. “We’re gonna be parents?” His breath fanned over your lips. Then he leaned back in to kiss you once more, a soft peck. “You’re carrying our child?”

Bucky’s hands slipped under your shirt, and the feeling of palms against your skin was pleasant in the best way. One was cooler than the other, but they were both gentle and reverent.

“Yes,” you breathed. “I found out this morning.”

He scratched gently at your stomach, sending a shiver through you. “You managed to keep it to yourself the whole day. That’s what was on your mind?” He kissed you again.

“You have no idea how bad I wanted to tell you. No idea.” You brought your hands up to his cheeks, the budding stubble scratchy against your palms. “But I wanted to wait until we came back from Prospect.”

Bucky released a breath after a few beats of silence. “I don’t even know what to say,” he said, voice low. “This is so crazy—a good crazy.”

“I know. I’m happy and terrified at the same time,” you admitted. “I’ve never felt this way in my entire life, but it feels….”

“Good,” he finished.

A laugh escaped you. “Yeah.”

Seconds later, he was getting down onto his knees to be level with your stomach. It wasn’t until he lifted your shirt to press a kiss to your stomach that the reality of the moment set in. For the first time since learning about your pregnancy, tears slipped down your cheeks.

Bucky heard you sniffle, and stood back up to take your hands in his. “This is all I ever wanted, you know that, doll?” A few tears had come to the waterline of his eyes. “A beautiful wife, a family. This is all something I thought I’d never have.”

You sniffled again, nodding. “You deserve everything,” you murmured.

“I have my everything right in front of me.”

Without waiting another moment, you wrapped your arms around his waist and squeezed him tighter than you had in a while. Parents. The two of you were going to be parents.

-

Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave a comment, if you'd like. For more fluffy Bucky Barnes fics, click here.

#Bucky barnes #bucky imagine #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #bucky fluff #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #avengers fluff #the avengers #marvel #marvel fluff #winter soldier #sebastian stan #fatws

[dudeandduchess]

Yakuza!Kyōjurō x F!S/O: Sugar and Spice (Mafia!AU, Modern AU, NSFW Series)[Chapter 8]

Summary: Kyōjurō and (Y/n) meet at a party, only to find out that their lives would change forever— since they had been arranged to be married.

Note: I have nothing against McDonald’s; I love some of their things (Nuggets!!!). It’s just that the contrast between what (Y/n)’s mother had always had, compared to something so normal makes me laugh.

Warnings: Smut, Making Out, Candy Swapping, Semi-Public Sex (Private Beach), Teasing, Champagne Blowjob, Cum Swallowing

||Sugar and Spice Masterlist||

***

It had been a couple of days since the pleasurable incident at the Rengoku clan’s mountain home and, for the life of her, (Y/n) couldn’t get it out of her head. Especially at night, when she begun fantasizing about having Kyōjurō’s hands all over her again, with his chest pressed flush against her back.

She would never admit it, but she was addicted— after only the barest taste of him.

And she would have devised a plan to wring the same pleasure from him again, had he not called her the following morning to say that something had come up in Osaka. That would have been find, if it only took a day to fix it. But, apparently, it was going to take a few days.

(Y/n) had tried not to let her disappointment show in her tone, but Kyōjurō must have picked up on it, since she had gotten the most beautiful bouquet of pink and white hydrangeas— as well as one of Kyōjurō’s button down shirts— a mere hour after they had said goodbye to each other.

The card had even held the sweetest inscription she had ever received, which she quickly used to cover her face— as she raced back up the stairs to get back to the privacy of her room.

At that present moment, with her already done getting herself ready for the day, she took a brief moment for herself and sat down on the edge of her bed; taking the card where she had left it on top of her nightstand, and biting back a smile as she read her fiancé’s writing.

‘You are much like hydrangeas; Beautiful, but selfish with your love. I hope that I can take a piece of your heart while I’m gone, And I hope that someday I’ll have your love, (Y/n).

P.S. I’m giving you my shirt, so that it will keep a little bit of me with you.

Forever Yours, Kyōjurō’

(Y/n) couldn’t help but bite down on her lower lip, if only to bite back the giggle that threatened to spill from her lips. She had been reading the card frequently, yet it still managed to elicit the same reaction from her; as if she were a lovesick teenager.

It was very unbecoming for her; especially over someone whom she was still getting to know.

Kyōjurō was going to become her husband, that was a fact, but there was a tiny voice in her head that always warned her to not get too close. Thankfully, it had been small enough to bury beneath all of her foremost thoughts; yet when she was alone— like at that moment— it gained enough momentum to make itself known.

And the smile on her face, which brightened up her features, turned down into a barely perceptible frown. It was dangerous for her to fall so easily for a man; especially a man that she knew was still keeping his cards close to his chest.

She knew that; after all, she wasn’t that far gone in her blossoming feelings for him.

It would have been so easy to keep herself in check, to guard her heart and keep herself sane… if only he didn’t make her feel like throwing all caution to the wind so she could jump and fall right into his arms.

Just like he had told her that she made him happy, Kyōjurō made her feel the same; along with feeling protected and appreciated.

Before (Y/n) could delve in deeper into her own thoughts however, she quickly shook herself from her reverie and placed the card back down on her nightstand. Then, she got up from her bed and straightened herself out; after all, Rin hadn’t been coming to her room to pester her about attending events in her parents’ stead.

Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t been tasked to attend any political functions ever since Kyōjurō had warned her mother to lessen her tasks. It gave her enough time to actually relax during her break, and it felt amazing.

She had to remember to give Kyōjurō a kiss once he returned. And if she were to be honest, she would say that she missed him.

“You’re too invested, (Y/n),” The young woman muttered to herself with a playful scoff, before shaking her head and making her way down to the dining room. It was time for breakfast, after all; her most dreaded part of the day, since she had to sit there and take all of her mother’s ill-concealed jabs.

Her tasks may have lessened, but her family life sure hasn’t improved.

With all her apprehension about going to see her mother, (Y/n) even dawdled a little bit during the walk downstairs; purposely taking her time to admire some of the paintings that caught her interest, until she arrived at the doorway she was trying to avoid the most.

And with a deep breath, she stepped through and expected her mother’s mildly displeased expression to greet her. Only, the first face that she saw had her immediately brightening up; especially when those lips that she missed tilted up at the corners to give her a handsome grin.

“Kyōjurō!” (Y/n) breathed out, just as a wide smile colored her expression. And before she could help it, she already found herself practically skipping over to where he now stood— only to freeze when she saw her mother’s narrow-eyed gaze boring right into her.

Immediately, the arms that wanted to wrap themselves around her lover froze at her sides; while Kyōjurō engulfed her in a tight embrace, before pressing a chaste kiss to her lips. “Did you miss me, princess?”

“I… I did.” She admitted, her smile almost faltering once, as she felt her mother’s glare boring right into her back. However, she was shielded by Kyōjurō’s face, so she allowed herself a little bit of rebellion and leaned in to peck his lips— all while her hands lifted themselves up and settled themselves at his sides in a pseudo hug.

As her mother had kept repeating to her while she was growing up: it was unbecoming of someone of her social status to show too much emotion to anyone, as it gave people a leverage over her. And it was obvious that it had stuck to her, since she could only act normally whenever she wasn’t around any people who gave a damn about who she was.

Thankfully, she was shaken from her reverie by Kyōjurō guiding her to sit down on the empty chair next to where he sat. “Go and eat, baby. You need your strength for today.”

Kyōjurō’s words were innocent enough, but they didn’t fail to make goosebumps raise across her skin. They were so laden with hidden meaning, at least in her mind, that she couldn’t shake the warmth that pooled at the pit of her stomach.

With those words hanging in the air, she turned her full attention to the food set out on the table— holding back a surprised expression when she saw that it was laden with carry-out boxes from McDonald’s. A laugh wanted to bubble free from the sight of the lavish table paired off with something so… common, yet (Y/n) could only purse her lips together as she grabbed the laid-out silverware to serve herself a pancake.

Breakfasts used to be such a droll agenda whenever she was at home, but Kyōjurō had managed to spin such a humorous twist on it that made her want to kiss him.

The best part? Rengoku Kyōjurō had practically forced her mother— the wife of the Prime Minister, and the prissiest woman to ever live— to eat an Egg McMuffin.

(Y/n) would never forget the undernoted look of disgust that she kept shooting the blond at her side; the very man whom, she was naught to admit, was starting to become such an essential part of her life.

“How’s your McMuffin… okaa-sama?” Kyōjurō asked quietly, looking so regal even with a paper cup of coffee in his right hand. And (Y/n) could only get swept into him even more, when he turned to her and gave her the most attractive wink; one that had her heart practically skipping in her chest.

***

When (Y/n) had heard that she should keep her strength up for the day, she had expected so much more than just going to the beach— which Kyōjurō’s family apparently bought a few years ago— and being told that her fiancé only wanted to relax.

If she were to be honest, she would say that she expected to get railed so hard on the blanket. After all, it was why she had worn the sundress that she was sure accented all of her curves; one that would entice Kyōjurō into doing just what she wanted him to.

There wasn’t anything wrong with hoping to get fucked by such a sexy man, but it had been a few days, and she was sure that he was trying to put on a show just to tease her. That was the problem: he wasn’t giving in to her.

He merely laid down next to her on their blanket— in all his shirtless glory— while he kept eating that goddamned hard candy that was in the glass bowl next to him. And to make things worse for her, he looked so attractive— especially with his abs out on display, and his sunglasses framing his face so perfectly.

She would have long straddled his hips and slipped his cock inside her, had she been that shameless of a woman.

It wasn’t much of a statement coming from her, based on how they had first met, but it was different because they were out in the open; where anyone could happen by and take pictures of them humping like rabbits on the beach.

That wasn’t a headline that she wanted the entirety of Japan to see, even if she knew that the property was as secluded and secure as it could be.

Still, Kyōjurō was making it so hard to resist him. And he knew just how badly he was affecting her.

“Do you want to eat something, baby? Maybe a drink?” Kyōjurō asked softly, raising his sunglasses to the top of his head while he turned to look at (Y/n)— whom was no longer scrolling through her phone, and was blatantly ogling his body.

He would be lying if he said that he didn’t like that, or if he said that that wasn’t turning him on.

In fact, he had wanted to push her down on the table at her house, had her mother not been there to keep giving him ill-concealed glares. But he had to keep it in his pants, since he wanted to see how she would react with a little bit of pushing from him.

After all, he could make her so needy for him that it would make for the hottest nights of their life; especially if he kept on teasing her bit by bit until their wedding night.

It was too little too late, after he had already had a taste of her tight pussy, but it only made things much more exciting for him. If only he wasn’t constantly close to asking her to fuck him.

“A glass of champagne would be nice…” (Y/n) answered softly, the flush on her face getting more evident in the shade, especially when her eyes flickered up to meet his own. They were so intense with need that Kyōjurō couldn’t help it…

He cupped her face with one hand and pulled her in to his face, as he sat upright to meet her halfway.

The first touch of his lips to hers had his entire body tingling with warmth, as if it was coming alive under her touch. And it was only made better when their slow and tentative kisses slowly escalated to open-mouthed ones; ones that had him feeling himself getting hard.

Especially when she reached down and cupped her hand over his hardening cock.

A smirk tugged at the corners of Kyōjurō’s lips then, as he got it in his mind to push the piece of candy in his mouth into hers.

(Y/n) was clearly surprised at first, tensing up the tiniest bit, before getting swept up in her fiancé’s pace. His tongue kept prodding at hers, trying to pull the candy back into his own mouth, which she complied to.

Gingerly, she allowed him to take the sweet from her mouth, instantly missing its sweetness, before it was gently pushed right back in— so warm and a little minty, with a hint of something that was uniquely Kyōjurō.

Or maybe that was her lust addled mind talking.

However, before things could escalate further, the blond pulled away with a grin— his candy back in his mouth. “I’ll be back with your champagne, princess.”

To say that she was shocked and feeling cross with him was a total understatement. She was feeling so irate that she wanted to get some sort of revenge on him— which had been fueled by her less-than-innocent searches while he was gone.

So, she stewed in her own impatience— even sitting up on her knees— just so she could take him by surprise when he came back.

Thankfully, Kyōjurō didn’t take too long with getting her drink; grinning right at her even if she could see the obvious bulge in his swim trunks. It provided the perfect opportunity for her to get back at him, at least even a little.

And when he got back on their blanket, giving her the glass of champagne before making a move to sit back down, (Y/n) got up on her knees and placed a hand on his right thigh— looking up at him and licking her lips, before sliding that hand up to cup his hard-on once more.

“You look uncomfortable,” The young woman whispered, as she slowly undid the tie to her fiancé’s shorts and gently pushed them down his hips; much like how she pushed her own trepidations aside, and threw all caution to the wind.

She was on private property. And she trusted, deep down, that Kyōjurō would protect her and her reputation if it came down to it.

So, she let go of her inhibitions— especially when she was greeted by her fiancé’s hard cock in front of her face. It was thick, and long, and a little bit curved— which had her pussy getting so wet already.

Remembering how amazing he felt inside her even had her squeezing her thighs together, if only to alleviate the lust that she felt bubbling within her.

Gingerly, she took his cock in her right hand, pumping it slowly, and using her thumb to spread the precum that beaded at his tip. A low groan was her reward for that, which only spurred her on even more— especially when she saw his eyes close in pleasure.

Just the faintest of touches and he was already like that. She couldn’t wait to see what his reaction was going to be when she set her plans into action.

And when she leaned forward to suck on the tip of his cock, she felt confidence flaring up within her when Kyōjurō moaned aloud— with his right hand making its way into her hair.

It was hot, but she was not going to get swept up in his pace again.

So, before he could try to give her a nudge to take more of him in her mouth, (Y/n) pulled the head of his cock out of her mouth and took a big sip from the champagne flute in her left hand. And with that, she set the drink down on the blanket— hoping that it wouldn’t topple over.

She kept the cool and bubbly drink in her mouth— looking up again at Kyōjurō, whom was watching her with such a lust-filled gaze— before taking his cock in her mouth once more.

That time, however, Kyōjurō actually cried out in pleasure; hips bucking involuntarily as he felt the champagne’s bubbles teasing his cock. Partnered with the coolness of the drink, and the warmth of (Y/n)’s mouth, the blond was on his slow descent to thinking that he was going crazy with pleasure.

His head was already spinning from the sensations, and she had barely even taking his cock.

But when she swallowed around his tip, before circling her cool tongue around the crown of his cock, he felt his fingers curling into her hair. Hell, he had barely even managed to look up at the security camera perched on a light pole, as a warning for whoever was watching to turn away at that moment.

Slowly, pleasurably, (Y/n) kept taking more and more of Kyōjurō’s cock in her mouth— until she was all the way down to the hilt, with her nose pressed against his trimmed pubes.

And he thought that it couldn’t get any better than that, until she took the hand that was on his thigh to cup his balls and start fondling them.

His eyes almost rolled back into his head at that moment, as he threw his head back and lost himself to the heady feeling of her sucking him off; trying to bring him to the most intense orgasm that he was ever going to get from a blowjob.

Instead of trying to prolong his pleasure though, Kyōjurō began to gently rock his hips into (Y/n)’s face; breathing heavily and moaning aloud as he felt his orgasm crawling up on him.

“I’m cumming,” The blond whispered breathlessly, close to outright fucking his fiancée’s face, when she pulled his cock out of her mouth— leaving just the tip inside— before jerking her off with one hand.

All while the other one kept fondling his balls.

It was so heady that Kyōjurō could only cry out “Fuck, baby! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” as he spurted thick ropes of cum right on her tongue. She was white hot pleasure personified, and he was sure of it at that very moment.

Maybe he really couldn’t wait until the wedding night to have her again.

Especially when she made a show of popping her cock out of her mouth, and sticking her tongue out to show him his cum— before closing her lips and swallowing his thick seed.

“How did I get so lucky, princess?”

#rengoku kyoujurou x reader #rengoku kyojuro x reader #kyoujurou rengoku x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #rengoku x reader #kyojuro x reader #rengoku kyojuro #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer fanfic #kny imagines #rengoku kyoujurou #rengoku x y/n #kyojurou x reader

[ac3id]

The Artist and His Majesty| 18+

𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝓉𝒾𝓈𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝒶𝒿𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓎 0 / 5 | fantasy au. 

chapter i , chapter ii

pairings: yandere! emperor! shigaraki x female! reader.

warnings: [series] dubcon, exhibitionism, size difference, degradation, masturbation, bondage, reader is also kind of delusional, death, violence (not on reader). (there are more but i can’t think right now.]

↪ for chapter 0: none !!

summary: you come to the big city in hopes of starting your career as an artist but things take a shocking turn when you’re recruited as the court painter for the royal palace.

↪ for chapter 0: a strange man approaches you, offering to buy your painting to which you oblige. little do you know that it kicks of a series of unfortunate events ending with you being trapped in shigaraki tomura’s clutches forever.

wordcount. 

a/n: finally !! i started this series. high-key inspired by these two dresses in my wardrobe and @ana-list‘s this  drawing ! seriously it’s literally everything. also thank you once again for proof reading this @the-grimm-writer ! 

taglist: @shigaraki-is-my-master, @deathmemeiverse, @n4dhii, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love, @mstssister, @nereida19, @prince-zukohere [dm to be added/ removed.]

“That’s a beautiful painting,” a rough, scruffy voice calls out, jerking you away from your daydreams. Your grip around the color canvas resting in your arms tightens as you glance behind your shoulder to see a well-built man standing right behind you. He’s tall and a lot older than you, he has short grey hair which falls right before his eyebrows along beautiful, matching grey eyes. A cigar hangs lazily from his lips as he occasionally huffs on it, blowing clouds of smoke out his mouth. He’s dressed in expensive robes, a choice of style only people better off could afford. You can’t help exachaning a covetous glance between his expensive suit and your sloppy, knee-length, light green dress. “Thank you.” you murmur shoving him an appreciative look, hoping he’d leave you alone. When you come to the city to complete your studies in art, you mother, father, family and friends had warned you about men like these. Rich, snobby men who liked to lure in young, naive girls. Whispering praises of how they are the most unique on the planet so they pull their guard down form them to take advantage of the helpless beings. 

“Can I take a better look? It’s the Emperor, is it not? Your painting. ” You hesitate before turning back to him. Not a lot of people had seen the King to be. He lived humbly in his castle, trying his best to not indulge in the affairs of the common people. “ Yes,” you hold up the slightly small canvas (courtesy of you being broke the entire week and not being able to save up to buy a bigger canvas). To even get an idea of Shigaraki Tomura, you had to go through many people. Not a lot of people had seen his face, he had always kept it hidden under a mask. No one knew why he did so but the many conspiracy throes suggested it was something to do with his personal grief.

 You had heard many stories about him. Some made him look like a spoiled brat with a demeaning, ignorant personality who didn’t care for others and as the rumors said: self destructive habits which lead him to tear the skin of his own neck down whenever he got anxious or frustrated. 

Others portrayed him as a strong, confident man and a reliable leader who cared for his comrades. You did not know which one of the two personas brought him your attention but you couldn’t complain. Tomura had caught you under a spell, and despite never meeting him (and knowing full well you never would), you were still ready to sacrifice your life for him. He was your King even before he had taken his crown, to you he looked like a shining bright light ready to enlighten you. To you, he was a god. And as years passed by, he grew from a caterpillar into a cocoon which was ready to burst open as a butterfly into the beautiful, mysterious world. And it was happening today, Prince Tomura Shigaraki’s Coronation ceremony. After the passing of All For One, it was his turn to take the crown and fulfill his duty as the ruler of the nation

 The entire city was busy, bustling with people. Families, friends and everyone in between gathered around the huge castle walls as they waited for the ceremony to begin. They waited patiently, filled with excitement and joy as they waited to catch a glimpse of the new great King. You were among them. You had come down to the centre of the city with your friends, waiting alongside many to catch a glimpse of the new ruler. The painting which nestled in your hand was something you were hoping to sell today, to a shop or anyone who wants to have it. It was a beautiful painting which had taken you several days to complete, and dare you say it, you were quite proud of it. From all the things you had heard about Tomura, you had managed to sketch him decently. Long white, wavy hair reaching till his shoulder, skin white as snow. He sat proudly on his throne wearing a cape with his vermillion eyes peering through your soul. His face was scarcely detailed as you did not have much idea about it but he still looked ethereal. With little scars running both his eyes and a comparatively larger one on his right. Chapped lips with even more scars running over them wildly, he was not conventionally attractive. No one would call him a pretty boy yet there was something more, something alluring which attracted  you to him. His beauty was rare, not in the grasp of many but if it was grasped and held close to the heart, it was hard to let go off. And you found him attractive, very attractive. 

The man took a good look at your painting, examining it carefully and for a second you really thought he had seen the mysterious Prince. “It’s quite similar to him,” he sends you a friendly grin and you notice a tooth from his front missing, leaving an uncomfortable gap. “Have you seen him before?” he asked and you shake your head, no. He gives you an amused expression, “I must say, you are very talented, miss…?” you complete your name with a nervous smile. “And you are?” you ask. 

You realised that you were getting a little too comfortable with the stranger and it could be a really bad decision but you can’t help but give him the benefit of the doubt as he behaves like a gentleman you can find yourself to trust. “Kagero Okuta but I like to go by Giran,” he says with a lop-sided grin. Giran, you’ve heard the name before but cannot recall where and how. It sounds so familiar but you just can’t grasp it, he looked wealthy so you assumed he was a Noble and that made you even more curious as to why he was speaking to you.

 “What are you planning to do with that painting?” he asks, diving a closer look and admiring its features. “I must say, you’ve got it quite accurate but,” you stiffen, your hands growing cold as your heartbeat picks up. You realized your painting must have some complications, drawing a man you had never seen before purely out of your interpretation was a hard and a bold task to do. But to have someone who had actually seen the King for himself pinpoint your mistakes sent a rush of anxiety through your veins.

 “He’s not that bony.” He completes and you gulp nervously, looking down at your painting in disappointment. Your eyes are filled with disappointment,  all of the time and effort you spent making the piece all for it go in vain just because you missed a small detail. Giran notices your remorse and speaks up, “But that’s quite alright. He looked just like that until a while ago,” he hadn’t meant to offend or hurt you. He still believed your painting was the most beautiful thing he had seen all day.

 “What do you mean?” you ponder, giving him a perplexed look. He leans  in closer to you as if to tell a secret, “let’s say the King has been working out behind closed doors.” you blink in confusion. It was a strange thing to say, exactly how well did this man know the Emperor? Who was it that you were talking? 

“Who are you?” you can’t help but question, bewildered by such a character. Giran says nothing. He just stares at you with his lips curled into a snappy smirk, holding his cigar between his lips. He was not going to tell you anything. Without wasting time, he quickly changes the topic. “What are you going to do with that painting?” he repeats, his voice growing impatient.

 “I am planning to sell it,” you feel a bit taken back. The friendly aura which had Giran had now disappeared for a reason you could not conclude. “Sell it? To whom?” the intruding nature of his tone starts to make you uncomfortable, there’s nothing more you want to do other than get far away from him. Yet you still find yourself answering him, “To anyone who wants it.” he hums at your response, his eyes holding a mocking glint. “Wouldn’t you like to give it to the Emperor himself?” you frown, was he mocking you? 

“That’s well...impossible.” you reply, stretching your neck awkwardly. “To you, maybe.” 

You stop yourself from rolling your eyes, this man was really testing your patience. A part of you tells you to ignore him and walk away but as he reaches into his coat and pulls out a bag of coins worth much more than you could ever earn in a month, he has you hooked yet again. 

“Hey, let me buy that painting, would yer’?” 

.

..

..

“What is the problem now?” Giran takes a seat around the round table. It was late after the Coronation ceremony and the Royal palace was already facing problems. Giran was disappointed but definitely not surprised. After all, he was their personal problem solver and broker. “It’s not that big of a deal.” A curt and hard reply cut him off.

 “It actually is, Shigaraki Tomura.” a voice speaks, coming from a man dressed in a black suit with a long, flowy robe covering his entire body. He stands taller than the other two men in the as his head is replaced with a wisp of smoke. He was none other than the trusted and talented magician of the Royal family. With eccentric features and an ability to wield strange magic, nobody knew where he came from. There were many rumors about him; that he was once a normal, handsome man cursed by a witch that turned him into a hideous monster or he simply was a ghost. “What is it, Kurogiri?” Giran rephrases his question, directing it to the other man. “We need a new painter,-” 

“Servant.” Shigaraki corrected. He stood in front of the giant windows glancing over his city as his men talked about hiring a new painter for the castle. He couldn’t care less about such tedious tasks, he had his focus set on greater things like expanding his territory, taking back stolen land. 

“What happened to Mr. Kyo?” Giran asked, Shigaraki rolled his eyes at the mention of the name and clicked his tongue, “His Majesty eliminated him.” Giran stops himself from laughing out loud. He was certain once Shigaraki would take over the throne incidents like so would double the instant. But he was expecting it to happen so soon. “And why was that?” 

“He was breathing too loud, like you are right now.” 

A cold silence broke over the room as Giran counted his breath. Kurogiri looked nervously at Shigaraki who still had his back turned to them. The longer the pause grew, the dreadful the atmosphere became. Shigaraki’s threat strung the air loud and clear and Giran was afraid to speak again. “What we are asking for is that-,” Kurogiri started in a calm, slow tone easing the tension in the room. “-we need a new court painter. Do you have any names?” 

The murderous sent in the air magically disappeared as a grin stretched across Giran’s face. 

“Aren’t you in luck?” He says, running a hand through his hair before taking a puff out of his cigar. “Does that mean you know someone?” Kurogiri questioned. Giran hummed, “You see, I met this beautiful painter today. She’s extremely talented and I know for a fact she will love working for the castle.” 

“What’s the name?” growing impatient, Shigaraki asks. “Oh, it was,” Giran pauses for a moment to recall. 

“Ah yes, Y/N L/N.” 

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