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breezymichelle99 · 2 months ago

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Viral Soft Launch | LN

Handsomer by Russ (remix)

Summary: Lando and you had always had a very private relationship, always keeping to yourself until a fun little tik tok trend helps you soft launch your relationship.

Warnings: Pretty much none. All fluff. Some sexual innuendo, dirty song lyrics, private relationship, sweet cute bf Lando.

You and Formula one driver, Lando Norris have been dating each other privately for about a year now, there have been rumors but nothing has been confirmed about you two at this time, and to be honest you and Lando liked it that way.. You had been begging him for weeks now to do this silly little Tik Tok trend with you that you had seen other couples doing, even if you didn’t post it to your respective social media accounts you still wanted to make a fun memory with him.

Finally you got him to agree. “Alright Alright, If this is what you want? Tell me what I have to do.” he says with a smirk looking down at you pouting up at him, his thumb running across your bottom lip. “You are the best Lan, I love you so much.” your eyes sparkle at him. You hear him chuckle. “I love you too, Y|N.” his green eyes shining with so much love and admiration for his silly girlfriend. “Okay I'm going to need you to memorize these lyrics.” you say handing him a piece of paper with your handwriting on it. The lyrics to The Remix of Russ’s “Handsomer.” written across it. He looks over at you shaking his head with a laugh. “It's a good thing I love you.” he says, placing a kiss to the top of your head as he leaves you in the living room to practice your part.

After a few hours Lando joins you back in the living room. “I think I’m ready.” he says with a smirk as he watches you practicing your part along with some choreography he feared he would have to learn. You look up at him giving him a wink. “Perfect, me too.” you say pulling him to you and standing on your tippy toes to kiss his perfect little nose. “Here's what I'd like to do.” you say directing him. He lets you drag him around the living room trying to find the best lighting. “Perfection.” you say looking over at Lando glowing in the sunlight of your shared living room. “I want to do each of our parts and then merge them together.” you say. “I’ll do you, you do me.” you say making Lando laugh. “Cut it out Norris.” you laugh playfully shoving him away from you. His dirty mind always getting him into trouble. “Alright alright, sorry serious business, my bad.” he still can’t keep himself from chuckling. You roll your eyes at him. “Since you can’t be serious apparently. You’re going first.” you say pointing for him to return to the designated filming spot. “Bossy much.” he jokes sticking his tongue out at you but doing what he’s told of course. You return the favor sticking out your tongue back at him. Lando raises his eyebrow and opens his mouth to make a comment about putting that tongue to much better use but he decides to keep his mouth shut and do what he’s told.

“Please feel free to have fun with it.” you say winking at him. “So I shouldn’t just stand here like a lump and mumble the lyrics? Rats, that was my whole plan.” he teases you once more. “You know what, never mind.” you sigh walking away, giving up on his continuous bullying and this cute idea you wanted to do with him. “No, no baby come back, I’m sorry I’ll be more serious I swear.” he begs not wanting to see the disappointment on your adorable face any longer. You give him a long side eye. “Ok.” you whisper returning to your filming spot. “Ready when you are princess.” he says with a wink. “On the count of three, okay baby?” you say he nods. “One..Two..Three.” you say pressing Play.

Much to your surprise Lando had really taken his part seriously. “I know I’m fine, but the money makes me handsomer. Walk around, smellin’ like a come-up, and the answer for her problems, but I’m not him, I don’t mind it though. You don’t like me how you think you do, I like it though.” he finishes his part in a fit of laughter. “I'm sorry but this is ridiculous.” he says running his hands through his curls as he rewatches his rap, with both of you laughing hysterically by the end. “Alright missy no more stalling your turn.” he says taking your phone from you. He had no clue what your part was going to be so he was in for a little treat. You take your spot ready whenever he is. You nod. “On the count of three angel face.” he winks. You nod again, locking in. “One..Two..Three.” he says.

“I won’t lie, that extra coin don’t hurt But I gets money baby, I just rather spend yours first. I know for sure the pussy worth more than an Hermes purse.” Lando bites his bottom lip keeping in his gasp as he watches you in pure awe. “I got the best on earth, so that dick better come with some perks. Yeah you fine, and the money caught my eye too but there's a big difference between you and my side dude. You be all up in between them thighs, he’s who I lie to.” you pause winking at him licking your lips. An almost moan leaves Lando’s lips. Damn you were sexy. “You get my titties in your face, he getting side-boob.” you stop laughing hysterically falling into his arms.. You rewatch it laughing hysterically, you both try it a few more times finally deciding to just do it together instead of making separate videos, before you are fully satisfied, each time ending with the pair of you in a fit of uncontrollable laughter. the final take has you both laughing hysterically, lando kissing you softly the pair of you looking at each other completely in love. “That’s it, that's the one.” you say with a soft sweet smile on your face, as you edit the final cut and save it to your phone. Playing it back for Lando.

“This turned out so cute and fun, thanks for convincing me to do it with you.” he laughs, pulling you into his arms. “Thank you for agreeing to do it with me.” you say kissing his cheek gently. You see Lando smirk. “What?” you ask him caressing his cheek with your soft fingertips. “There's no side dude looking at your side boob? Right??” he asks with a laugh. You smack him playfully. “Seriously? Of course not you should know better than that.. You are my one and only Lan.” you smirk. The pair of you stare at each other for a moment before you sigh.

“I know how we like to keep ourselves private so I don’t think we should share it.” you say. Lando can see the sadness in your eyes as the words leave your lips. You knew why you kept things private but sometimes you just really wanted to be able to share the love and joy you had for your sweet boyfriend. He kisses your lips softly. “Whatever you think is best princess, at least we have the moment for us.” he says . There is something mischievous in his eyes. You let out a sigh. “It's probably for the best.” you say setting your phone down on the table, kissing Lando on the cheek and heading into the kitchen to grab a drink. Lando smirks. He had a plan.

He takes your phone and sends the video to himself. He knows the reason why you two had remained private about your relationship but he thought it was about time he shared the love he had for the most beautiful sweet girl he had ever known. You walk back into the living room to grab your phone, so you can put on some music while you cook for the two of you. He knew this was the perfect opportunity. He heard you digging around in the cupboard pulling out pots and pans, the soft hum of Martin Garrix coming from where you were. He smirks as he takes to his instagram to post the video of you two. “You are the answer to all my problems.” he captioned the video after a popular lyric in the song, tagging you and hitting share.. He hears everything in the kitchen stop. He smiles as the video had finally uploaded to his instagram.

“Lando?” he hears you call to him. He can’t help but smirk. “Yeah babe.” he says as you meet him in the hall, phone in hand. You eye him. “You just couldn’t help yourself could you?” you laugh at your idiot boyfriend. He pulls you close. “I couldn’t help it, we looked so cute and had so much fun, I couldn’t let that go to waste, plus you worked so hard to get me to do it with you, and looked so disappointed when we decided not to share it.” he says. “What about our privacy?” you ask him, as he brushes a strand of your hair from your face and tucks it behind your ear. “We’ll deal with it as it comes my love, there isn’t a single thing we can’t handle together.” he says kissing your lips reassuring you that everything was going to be alright. At this time you were sure the internet was probably going wild with your relationship finally confirmed.

You decide to follow Lando’s lead and share his post to your story. “#SoftLaunch I love you 😘 Thanks for being silly with me babe. You are my everything 🥰” you were so happy you finally got to share this love you had with everyone. Lando’s fans were going crazy, loving you two finally going public. There had been so many rumors since you’d been in the paddock so much but you two had always been careful about putting your relationship into the public eye but it was kind of refreshing to finally be out in the open sharing your love for each other and being able to announce your relationship in such a fun way, which fans were absolutely loving. You couldn’t wait to be able to get him to do the next Tik Tok trend with you.

The End.

#lando norris #mclaren #f1 x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #moodboard pics allll from Pinterest

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conelluwrites · 9 months ago

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the red means i love you

Reader/Doppelgänger Francis (main focus on the doppelgänger aspect) (reader goes by she/her and is described with vaginal terms)

posted on my AO3

word count: 2.6k

title from The Red Means I Love You by Madds Buckley

Contains: monster fucking (doppelgänger fucking), headcanon design for non-disguised doppels, barbed dick, breeding, and blood drinking

You let the wrong one in, but maybe it's not as bad as it seems when you invite him back to your apartment.

“Mmm…” The voice sounds uncanny, too similar to Francis with the slightest hint of a purr that the tired milkman would never express, “I’m rather thankful that you let me in earlier, you know?” His uniform is clean and tidy, well put together in a way that Francis would never be able to achieve due to his early morning risings. His hair is just barely out of place. Things that no one would notice-- things that make her wish that she had called Francis’ apartment to see if he was home.

“W-Wha-!” The doorman stumbles back in fear, causing her to bump her back into the chest of the doppelgänger who all too readily wraps his arms around her waist. One of his hands trails down her rigid arm and grabs the hand of hers that is trembling its way towards the phone. Even if he didn’t intervene, the D.D.D. would not arrive in time to prevent any damages, he was in the safety room. His fingertips are inhuman, too sharp but not yet undisguised, as they intertwine with her own to prevent her from dialing the number she memorized so easily.

“Shhh, shhh… There’s no reason for you to be afraid.” He coos, brushing his nose against the exposed flesh of her neck. “No need to scream, no need to squirm, no need to put up a fight…” His voice is velvety but now lacks the tiredness the real Francis carries. It’s not surprising that he’s giving up his disguise piece by piece, she assumes that it must take some level of effort to be so near-perfectly disguised and she knows at this point she’s utterly fucked. “I could take you away from this annoying position forever if you want. No pesky D.D.D. agents, no more anxiety from our kind, no more living in fear. Sounds pretty nice, hm?” His free hand goes to hold her chin, his sharp thumb slightly digging into her jawline.

“But I gotta protect my neighbors. My job-- sitting here and looking at everyone and their documents, it might suck at times but it keeps everyone safe.” She says, her voice trembling. Her throat is bone dry from fear, her chest aches from the uneven breathing leaving her slightly open lips.

“Oh, my dear, that’s such a noble sentiment.” The doppelgänger sighs dramatically before shaking his head. He spins her around in his grasp, the hand that was holding hers goes to her waist. His fingers trace along her jawline, making sure to keep a gentle, but firm, grip on her so she cannot try to escape. There’s a bright grin on his face, his teeth too white to be human. “But how many times have they let you down? Surely they have failed you before. People are fickle creatures; they don’t appreciate what they have until it’s gone. I promise to protect you, sweetheart, just let me stay with you tonight, hm?”

Her mind races, so many thoughts of her own death and the death of her neighbors. “How do I know you won’t hurt me?” The answer is obvious-- if the doppel were going to hurt her, he already would have. He’s stronger than her, stronger than any human and she’s still in his grasp. If he wanted to maim her, he would have already. “You doppelgängers just want to kill and eat us.”

“Ah, you misunderstand me, darling! I could never harm a hair on your lovely head.” The doppelgänger earnestly insists. His thumb brushes gently across her cheek, trying to so lovingly convince her. “All I want is to hear more stories about your day and listen to those sweet little fears of yours… And yes, perhaps indulge myself in some delicious blood as well.” He’s whispering intimately, as if they’re a pair of lovers. The grip on her waist tightens slightly but remains mostly gentle, it’s almost comforting despite the sharp nails against her shirt. “C’mon… please trust me.”

“But I-” her voice dies out the longer she allows herself to fall into the illusion of mutual trust.

“It’s okay, my love,” he murmurs understandingly, “don’t overthink things, hm?” He kisses her temple tenderly, a perfect imitation of love between humans. His eyes flicker towards the phone, allowing even himself to dream of a different world where he could whisk her away and keep her all to himself. “Let’s just go for now, let’s go somewhere private where no one can bother us.”

She relents easily, tearing her gaze from his face and allowing it to travel down the white uniform before making its way back up to his face. “My apartment is on the first floor. We… We can go there together. We don’t have to worry about others seeing us, everyone else is in for the night.”

Francis’ grin grows even more, his canines growing sharper than any humans can be naturally, “That sounds perfect.” He sounds appreciative, leading him gently to the door to exit the safety room. The walk to the apartment is short. As the apartment door closes, the intensity changes slightly; he is watching her carefully while also taking the new space. “Nice place. So cozy…”

“Thank you….” She murmurs. “I figured it’s safer for you to be here than anywhere else in the complex.”

Francis’ doppelgänger hums thoughtfully before nodding in agreement. After the brief exchange, he takes the opportunity to explore the small apartment, touching things lightly as if trying to understand their purpose and history though touch alone. Every movement exudes confidence in his decision-making process, evaluating the potential of each object. “You’re so brave, you know. C’mere.”

She walks over to him hesitantly and stands there. The doppelgänger is taller than her. Despite it all, since he’s imitating one of her neighbors that she’s rather fond of, she feels herself relaxing. He wraps an arm around her waist casually, pulling her close while leaning down until their hands nearly touch. He inhales deeply, enjoying the warmth that a human being brings. He drawings circles on his back with his free hand. He continues to lean down slowly -- closer and closer to her neck. Her breath hitches as his nose finally meets her neck. Her hands meet his waist and tighten slightly, crinkling his shirt. Adrenaline is racing through her body, making her tremble slightly but she refuses to pull away. The way the doppelgänger rubes and nuzzles his nose into the crook of her neck is the sweetest thing she’s experienced recently.

The doppelgänger lets out a satisfied rumble, savoring the sensation of her trembling beneath his touch. If anyone saw them now, they’d assume it was two lovers locked in passion. His lips brush against the skin he finds lightly before he stops abruptly. “Promise me something -- promise that you won’t run away.”

“...” She considers his words carefully. Every primal instinct in her is begging her to run, to get away as fast as she can. But she hasn't and, to be honest to herself, she doesn’t want to. She’s rather content staying like this, being in his arms with his face buried in her neck. She know he could bite her, sink sharp teeth in her neck and finish her life in less than a second, but she finds herself trusting that he won’t. “ I promise.”

“Good girl.” He praises softly, finally giving into temptation and pressing his teeth gently against her neck. Not hard enough to yet draw blood, just merely teasing her. His arm tightens around her as the gravity of her promise fully settles between the pair. The danger she’s in never fully dissipates but mixes well with the affection he’s showing her. “You deserve a reward for trusting me.”

“Oh? Like what?” She asks, her grip on him loosening as her body adapts to the unfamiliar situation.

Francis’ doppelgänger chuckles, the vibrations tickling her neck. “Don’t fret, just something that will make us both happy.” With a groan, he allows his disguise to slip further and further, his teeth sharpening. They puncture her skin ever so slightly, blood trickles immediately out of the small wounds. With a satisfied hum, he pulls away and licks his lips, allowing blood to pool. “Just relax, enjoy this moment.” She struggles out a broken moan; it’s not necessarily painful but it reminds her of how weak and vulnerable she is in the moment, a feeling that is intoxicating. “Relax.” he murmurs against her skin soothingly. There was no aggression or hunger driving him, it was just to provide nutrients for him to continue his time with her. Slowly yet deliberately, he licks up the collected droplets while sucking lightly on the wound. He alternates between suckling and licking the wounds, moaning.

“Y’gonna leave a hickey on me.” She sighs out, her body relaxing even further.

“Only for me to look at later.” He promises, his breath hot on her dampened flesh. The rhythm slows down until it stops altogether and he pulls away. Slowly and carefully, he raises his gaze to meet hers. “Now tell me more about those annoying D.D.D. agents.”

“I don’t know much about them, to be honest. They don’t hang around after the cleaning procedure and they don’t talk to me aside from congratulating me on living another way.” She says, swiping a bit of her own blood from his lips with his thumb.

“You should know more than that.” He growls. “We could use your help some day.”

“We? You want me to help the doppelgängers?”

“Of course. Someone like you, someone so skilled at calling us out… You could be helpful in our cause.”

“I don’t believe that’s such a worthy cause…” She murmurs, resting her head against his chest. His heartbeat is inhuman, too slow to be human, but it’s relaxing. “Though…”

“Though? You would be safe -- you’d be part of our family. Perhaps one day I could introduce you to some of the ones I’m closest to.”

“Mm.” She weighs his words carefully. In a disturbing, unacceptable way, it’s almost sweet. “I suppose that, as long as I’m protected by you, I’d be honored to meet them. Does that make us mates?”

“Indeed.” Silence stretches between them for a moment. “In our world, we share souls upon consummation.” He stares into her eyes after the statement, gauging her reaction based on his customs.

“Ah, like marriages for humans then? Do you want to consummate our bond?”

The doppelgänger stiffens slightly at first before relaxing. “Yes. But we must proceed cautiously.”

“Why’s that, my love? Is your genitalia that different?” She asks, leaning up to nuzzle her nose against his for a moment before pulling away and going to stroke his cheek softly. The skin is rubbery and like ice against her fingers.

“Hm… No, not quite.” There’s a beat of uncomfortable silence, he allows her mind to wander with possibilities. “Our release is also quite different, I believe. Is that okay?”

She’s quiet for a moment, allowing herself time to fully comprehend the possibilities ahead of her. “Yes. I want to be your mate, so please… mate with me the way doppelgängers do.” Francis’ doppelgänger feels a surge of triumph. The transformation starts gradually as he allows himself to rip through his disguise. The clothes rip and tatter, falling to the ground around him as she lets him go, allowing him to fully transform. Glistening black scales peek through skin like moonlight reflecting off ocean waves, his fingers grow out to sharp daggers, his arms and legs elongate as his muscles tense. His teeth barely fit in his mouth, the sharp points poking slightly over his lips. His cock is impossibly thick and long, tiny barbs lining the sides as it oozes black pre-cum. He lifts her effortlessly, his hands on her ass as he carries her to her bedroom and places her gently on the bed.

“Lie back.” He commands quietly, watching every breath he takes with anticipation and hunger. She lays back, obediently as he hovers over her patiently. There’s no shame or hesitation in his gaze as his hand travels up her shirt to lift it over her head. She tugs off her pants, leaving her in her bra and panties. His gaze is full of pride. “You’re mine now, my soulmate.”

“You’re perfect.” She says softly, cupping his face and kissing his monstrous face lovingly. Her lips meet his rough lips and pointed teeth. She winces preemptively as his sharp claws make easy work of her panties, tugging on the fabric until it tears away and reveals her glistening sex. The thick, black sludge lubricates his cock, making it ease into her cunt slowly and easily despite its grand size. She feels the tiny barbs grow slightly, just enough to dig into her walls to prevent her from squirming away or resisting.

He hisses appreciatively at the compliment and the feeling of her heat enveloping her slowly. “You’re tight.” He grunts out raggedly, thrusting deep. The sensation matches beast-like intensity, every movement echoing throughout the small bedroom.

“Hah, you’re bigger than I expected. So fuckin’ thick.” She pants out, her cunt swallowing his cock with little resistance. “I was scared about the bars, but shit… your cock is so perfect for me.” The doppelgänger lets out an animalistic moan at her declaration, his thrusts becoming more aggressive and intense.

“That’s it! Take everything I got!” He exclaims hoarsely, nails digging into her hips. “Answer me, would you want children?” He gasps urgently. Despite the heaviness of the question he posed, he keeps pushing relentlessly -- seeking assured release.

“I-I-! Yes! I want to swell with your young.” She says lovingly, moaning.

He roars at his words, bowing low to catch her lips. The kiss is filled with dominance and ownership. “Perfect.” He growls into her mouth, shifting positions easily so she’s on top of him. “Ride me until we’re done.”

She straddles him easing, wincing as the shift in positioning digs his barbs deep into her cunt. “Fuck, baby…” She breathes out, her hands on his chest. Her hips raise up and down rapidly despite her legs trembling greatly.

“Let me see those pretty eyes looking into mine.” He orders hoarsely. He hisses as her cunt adjusts. The pain she felt was only temporary, but served its purpose well: reminding her whose body she was riding, a dangerous creature holding immense power over her. His own gaze burned with need and desperation, pleading silently for satisfaction.

She looks into his eyes obediently, so full of adoration for the monster. “I-I-...” Her breath hitches, she can’t finish her sentence. She’s too embarrassed to admit her love for him. Instead, she leans down to kiss him. Her soft lips meeting his rough, uneven ones.

“Say it. Tell me how much we mean to each other.” He demands huskily. His barbs grow slightly more, haling her movements for a single second. It’s a sign of his nearing climax that’s mirrored by her frantic movements once she adjusts to the growth.

“I love you, fuck, I love you!” She moans loudly. Her cunt begins to quiver and massage his cock. “Cum in me, cum in me, cum in me.” She whimpers as his barbs dig in even more as her tight walls convulse around him. Suddenly she can feel a torrent of his dark, murky cum release deep into her cunt. His cock swells greatly, making her gasp and cum around him. Her slick dribbles down his cock and coats him. Her body slowly relaxes as his barbs retract but he remains swollen. She lays limp against him, breathing heavily.

He roars hoarsely, pumping several times harder with his thickened cock. He remains still, breathing heavily with his arms tight around her as he lays on his side, holding her tight to his chest. It’ll take several minutes for his cock to decrease in size, but it’s unlikely that either of the two will be awake. “Our bond is sealed.” He rasps against her ear, nuzzling gently against sensitive skin.

#francis mosses x reader #francis mosses #tnmn milkman #tnmn #doppelganger #doppelganger francis mosses #banner by cafekitsune

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perfectlyoongi · 2 months ago

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SUGAR-DADDY!YOONGI who contacted you just to see if this was a life he was willing to live. Yoongi was no stranger to this concept and type of relationships; always being aware of what was going on around him, the arrival of this term came up carefully, planting a small seed of curiosity in him. Yoongi read stories, listened to reports, tried to understand if that fascination he felt was something more than that – he was a curious man, no one could deny that, so what was wrong with him contacting you and expressing all his doubts? “i’m not used to any kind of relationship. that’s why this experience goes beyond the sugar daddy-sugar baby relationship. if you have patience, i promise i will make your wait worth it.”

SUGAR-DADDY!YOONGI who takes you to see the stars at the highest points in the city. Yoongi treated you with care. so new to this minefield of relationships and human interactions, Yoongi made a point of offering you all the kindness his turbulent heart could allow. as such, on the clearest nights, when the sky provided you with an ethereal landscape of pure hope and huge dreams, Yoongi took you with him. on top of a small hill, in the tallest building in the city, it didn’t matter where it was. when the stars called him, Yoongi held your hand in fear and made you forget the world. “i don’t force you to go. but i would like you to come with me. i always saw myself at night, you know? i always felt artificial with someone else’s shine being reflected back at me. but now with you… no, forget it. just come, will you?”

SUGAR-DADDY!YOONGI who doesn’t know if he should touch you, but he knows he won’t want to let go. your smile was charming. your eyes were captivating. your lips were alluring. you were fascinating. as he looked at you, Yoongi felt a small nervousness creep up his neck, whispering in his ear that he should touch you. but, could he? Yoongi had all your limits memorized from day one, and he knew that you let him, that you gave him permission, for him to touch you. but even so, when the moment invited him and anxiety caressed his heart, Yoongi always thought twice before acting. “i really need to know if you’re okay with all of this. because, when my hands fit into yours, there will be nothing in this world that will make me let go of you.”

SUGAR-DADDY!YOONGI who finances the beginning of your empire. whether it was a line of cosmetics or a simple website, it didn’t matter. you could need millions or just five euros, there was no difference to Yoongi. ever since he met you, Yoongi felt safe, comfortable, you almost made him believe that he was worthy of your attention - and he knew it was a manufactured relationship, that you were almost forced to nod and agree with him, but Yoongi never felt more complete than from the day he met you. as such, he just wanted to repay you for all the satisfaction you provided him, after all he always liked to spoil you, to see the way your eyes sparkled when you received a gift, or how his words sounded sweeter when he surprised you. . so, what better proof of his gratitude than funding your dream? “i have already transferred the money to your account, you should receive it tomorrow. but let me know if it’s enough, okay? there is no bad money spent when it is spent on you and your dream.”

SUGAR-DADDY!YOONGI who likes to see you distracted in the moonlight. Yoongi liked being with you during full moon nights. when he saw you sitting on his bed, playing with the sheet that covered you, a small smile on your lips as you regained your breathing, Yoongi felt something he couldn’t decipher. your back was facing Yoongi, your smooth skin being blessed by the strong light of the moon; your lips formed a perfect smile as your gentle fingers created small designs on Yoongi’s white sheet. from that perspective, after you gave yourself to him and assured him that you weren’t going anywhere, Yoongi could only admire you. carefully, always afraid of touching you, of hurting you, Yoongi liked to run his slender fingers along your back, making you involuntarily straighten up and gently turn your face towards him. absorbed in this vision, completely lost in your divinity, Yoongi held you by the neck, the little strength he used being enough to expand your smile and, without exchanging any words, without breaking that sublime silence, Yoongi gently kissed you, guiding you towards a new adventure alongside him.

SUGAR-DADDY!YOONGI who pays e v e r y t h i n g. there was nothing in this world that Yoongi couldn’t buy for you. you want that house right by the beach? it’s already in your name. a trip to Rome with your friend? tickets can be picked up tomorrow. you need to go to the moon to take a deep breath? Yoongi would personally take you there and wait until you were ready to return. everything you wanted, everything you needed. it was something very common in these relationships between sugar-daddies and sugar-babies, but Yoongi made everything much more special. it was unnecessary for you to say that you wanted that wallet, or how much you wanted to go see that play. Yoongi got to know you. being by your side for so long Yoongi could see in all your expressions and omissions what you really needed. money, clothes, house rent, even a simple chocolate from the gas station. when Yoongi told you everything, he really meant everything. there was nothing in this world that could stop Yoongi from loving yo—

SUGAR-DADDY!YOONGI who maybe shouldn’t have said that word. no. he didn’t want to say that. you have to understand that Yoongi was a person who had difficulty expressing his feelings. what he meant was that there was nothing in this world that would stop him from treating you well. because you made him feel good. that was it, there was nothing else. you have to believe in him. Yoongi knew perfectly well that your relationship was based on exchanging affection in different ways – that was why he had chosen you among so many other. Yoongi knew perfectly well that all the nights you spent with him, caressing the skin that no one saw, kissing the spots that no one knew existed, all your caresses and all your kisses were contractual. Yoongi didn’t want to say that, Yoongi didn’t want to love you. he simply… “i’m sorry, i said it without thinking. don’t pay too much attention to what i said. i think we both know how bad i am with words. just… don’t be scared. don’t go away. please…”

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youwerenevermeanttofeelalone · 7 days ago

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Frustrating | Steve Harrington

✦ pairing — Steve Harrington x female!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 2.8k

✦ request — What about slight enemies to lovers with Steve Harrington x reader where they are the designated mom and dad of the group but Steve can hardly stand her even though she’s super sweet. It’s during Christmas and they both are trying to set up a nice dinner for everyone and the kids. And then they kiss in the end 💕

✦ warnings — mentions of food, fluff.

✦ author’s note i — I queued this and thought it had been posted, but turns out I queued it for next year. Sorry for the delay!

✦ author’s note ii — winter themed fics are next and the first one should be out on Saturday.

════════════════════════ You found Steve obnoxious, there was no way around it. He was always too loud, too eager to command attention, and incapable of not making things about himself. For example, when he suggested his house for Christmas dinner because it was bigger,

It was sweet that he wanted to do this, that he took the kids seriously, that giving them a memorable Christmas was so important to him.

Even so, you weren't sure you would pull it off.

The kitchen —his kitchen— was a mess of flour, bowls, spoons, and the thawing turkey you didn’t want to think about.

Okay, no, you needed to think about it. Forgetting to thaw the turkey was one thing, but being such a bad cook and not following instructions properly? That bordered on sinful.

And he found it oh so funny, cheeks flushed and white teeth bare for everyone, in this case just you, to see.

You had to stand close to him as you called your house, hoping your mom would give you good news regarding the still-frozen turkey. He lowered the volume of the Christmas music he insisted needed to be playing throughout the day, and leaned against the counter, looking at you.

For a moment you wondered if he’d finally follow your instructions, if perhaps he was looking at you expecting some kind of guidance. Such a notion left your mind as soon as it arrived when he reached over and sprinkled flour on top of your hair.

As you hung up the phone, you sighed deeply and glared at him. “Why don’t you finish with the decorations, hm?”

Steve narrowed his eyes. “Are you kicking me out of my kitchen?”

“No, not at all, but the decorations are halfway done,” you said, trying not to grit your teeth, “and everyone will be here sooner than we need them to be.”

His eyes were barely slits as you finished your explanation, but then, miraculously, he shrugged. “Won’t take long!” he announced as he left the kitchen.

You let out a relieved breath and put yourself to work, cleaning up the mess so you would have a blank slate. In no time, you had made the big kitchen your own, setting the timer for 30 minutes so you could change the cold water on the turkey while measuring flour for the cookies.

Steve turned the music up as you mixed the cookie dough, but you didn’t have it in you to complain. It was his house.

Now, Steve couldn’t stand you himself. Eternally sweet and kind, seemingly so innocent, always the favorite of the kids even though he was the one who drove them around, the one who gave them advice. But no, you, with your cooking, and your smile, and your stupid sense of self-preservation, were the favorite.

He puffed air through his mouth, trying to get a strand of hair off his forehead as he gauged the order he would hang the stockings in.

There was almost no sound apart from the music and the occasional sound of a bowl hitting the sink or the pouring of liquid as you changed the water to thaw the turkey.

As he finished decorating, he stood in the middle of the living room, admiring his work. His house had never looked so inviting, so warm.

Silently, he approached the kitchen.

You were washing a whisk and he watched as you meticulously dried it, wire by wire. Once seemingly happy, you grabbed a bowl against your body and started whisking something.

Every few seconds, you changed the direction in which you whisked, checking the mixture by lifting the whisk and inspecting it. Unlike his, your hair remained away from your face, letting him see every detail of your expression.

You set the bowl down, dropped the whisk onto the sink, and washed your hands. Once you turned around, wiping your palms on your red apron, you became aware of his presence.

Steve stood at the doorway, leaning against the frame. “Should I leave the tree for the kids?”

You considered the question. “Maybe just set up the lights and we’ll let them arrange the ornaments?”

He nodded at your suggestion but made no move to leave. You looked away. You heard him sigh, and he lingered, but he eventually went back to the living room.

When the turkey was finally in the oven, you stuck your head out of the kitchen, wondering what he was doing.

Steve was sitting on the living room floor, using the coffee table as a gift-wrapping station. His brow was furrowed in concentration as he folded the paper.

As to not startle him, you cleared your throat. “I told you I could do it.”

“You kicked me out of my kitchen,” he defended himself, as if you had it out for him, “I needed to do something!”

You picked up a gift, wrapped in blue paper with Santa Claus images. You didn’t find anything wrong as you turned the gift in your hold to inspect. “Wow.”

“Give me some credit, will you?”

Perhaps for the first time that evening, you truly looked at him. His cheeks were flushed, hair disheveled which was so unlike him you stared for a little too long. “You, uh, you did a good job with these.”

He blinked up at you. The bitterness from his voice was gone as he mumbled, “Thanks.”

You scurried off back to the kitchen, busying yourself with mashed potatoes. As you heated the milk and cream, you decided that Steve was frustrating on top of his obnoxiousness.

No matter how much you tried to be cordial with him, he always glared at you and made stupid comments about how he should be everyone's favorite. Something he already was.

Opening cupboards, you searched for something to serve appetizers on. You found trinkets you'd never seen before, enough molds to fill up a small house, and three different incomplete collections of knives, but never a serving platter.

You hesitated for a moment. Then, in a few steps, you stood at the doorway and called out, “Steve?”

He whirled around, a silver bow in hand.

“Where are the serving platters?”

“Uhmm.” He scratched the back of his head with his bow-less hand. “I dunno.”

“Well,” you said, giving him a reassuring smile. “I'll find something.”

Steve only stared at you, and didn't even attempt to say something.

You tried your best not to scowl at him and went back to searching

You didn't understand what you did to him. He was the only person from the group who disliked you this much — he was also the one you spent most time with. Because of the kids.

And because of the kids, you put that aside as soon as they arrived. They immediately invaded the kitchen, demanding snacks and looking around at everything you had cooked.

You might have become the actual favorite the moment you pulled out cookies to decorate. However, the inevitable happened and they invited Steve to take part.

He was bad at it. Disastrously bad. And the kids loved it. They laughed at him and with him as he decorated cookies with 5-year-old-like skills.

Steve smiled triumphantly when you announced the icing needed to dry up and the kids groaned. Ever the savior, he suggested they should finish putting up the tree with him.

Dustin was the first to follow, as expected, but none of them showed any resistance.

You wasted time decorating a few cookies and cleaning. Steve and you had agreed that homemade appetizers would be unnecessary, so now you were just waiting for the turkey to be done.

With a soft sigh, you started setting up the table. As you arranged the plates, you felt eyes on you, but nobody offered to help you. Not that you expected them to do so. They were having the time of their lives decorating the tree and yelling at each other not to ruin their hard work.

As you glanced at the clock, you wondered if anybody else would show up. You had a feeling they wouldn’t.

You waited almost an hour, and sure enough, your feeling was right. No one even called to apologize. Steve didn’t seem bothered by it.

Setting the carving board next to the turkey, you attempted to transfer it. You almost splashed yourself in turkey juices and fat from the butter.

“Steve?” you called out.

“What is it?”

You groaned. Couldn’t he have the decency to enter the kitchen to acknowledge you? “Come.”

His groan was louder than yours, as if he was making a spectacle of his annoyance.

His attitude changed as he approached you and realized what was going on. “Let me,” he said quietly.

You nodded and stepped to the side. “Do you want to carve it on the table, or…?”

“Yeah.” He transferred the turkey onto the board with ease. Maybe he had done this before.

“I’ll get started with the gravy, then. Won’t take too long.”

He nodded. “I’ll make ‘em wash their hands.”

“Please.”

Steve instructed the kids to wash their hands. For once, they didn’t complain and made a line at the bathroom sink.

You served them their sides in the order they sat at the table, and Steve carved the turkey and drizzled the gravy on top.

Once everyone was sitting at the table, you started to consider Steve and you hadn’t done a bad job. From your seat, you had a perfect view of the decorations in the living room and the colorful tree next to the fireplace.

Moving to the living room, you sat near the window. Fog danced around the lights outside, pushed by the wind.

The kids suggested a few games and Steve and you shared a look but nonetheless agreed. First, you played a game that Dustin won, and Max demanded a rematch that she still lost.

A beat passed, and then Dustin, who couldn’t help himself, blurted, “Can we open our gifts?”

“No,” Steve and you said at the same time.

Then, you added,” Your parents wouldn’t like it if we let you do that.”

Steve nodded in jerky movements. “And speaking about your parents… it’s getting late.”

“It’s not!” they stubbornly insisted.

“We still have to clean up,” Steve explained, “and I gotta drive her home later.”

You tried to hide your surprise. He would drive you home? Since when did he care enough to bother?

“Now pick up your gifts and jackets, and get in the car.”

You laughed upon hearing the kids complain. Steve had a point, it was, in fact, getting late for the kids to be out, and the night would only grow colder.

You packed their cookies in sandwich bags and handed them to them as they exited the house, wishing them a Merry Christmas.

It took them a lot of effort to point out it wasn’t Christmas yet and to mention they would see you the next day. You appreciated that they didn’t shatter the illusion.

While Steve drove them home, you transferred leftovers to containers and washed dishes. It felt strange now that you were all alone, in a home that wasn’t your own, cleaning the kitchen of someone who disliked you.

At least you had managed to work together for the day. You would count it as progress if you didn’t know he only did it for the kids. But that was still something.

On Steve’s part, he was dreading putting the decorations away and pretending nothing had happened. All his hard work, and the kids’, would only be immortalized in the few photographs he got to take. He wasn’t even a good photographer.

Once he was back, he removed his jacket and dropped his keys with a sigh. The kitchen island was full of lukewarm food and you were at the sink, scrubbing a pot.

“Need help?” he offered.

“Nah. Almost done.”

He stood beside you, watching as you took care of the pot his mom barely used like it was your own. As he lifted his gaze to the backsplash, he realized you had cleaned it up too.

“Just have to scrub the stove. It won’t take long,” you assured him, rinsing the pot.

Steve absentmindedly dried the pot while you disassembled the stovetop. He had never seen anyone do that. He logically knew stoves had to be disassembled and cleaned, yes, but he had never cared enough about it to go out of his way to watch someone do it.

He put the pot away in its place and focused on your face as you treated the stovetop with even more care than the pot.

For a moment, he just watched you, until he saw the grates on the sink. Rolling up his sleeves, he grabbed a sponge and started scrubbing them.

“You’ll ruin your sweater.”

“I’ll be careful.”

“Steve, it’s okay, I can do it.”

“I can do it too.”

You sighed. “If it gets too much, just—” “It’s just two grates.”

That shut you up.

Both of you worked in silence until the kitchen was spotless. Turning the light off, he rested his hand on your upper back to guide you back into the living room.

You stood at the threshold in silence, admiring the decorations once more—the inviting lights, the fun colors, the sweet faces in the ceramic figurines—but you were sad that they would all soon be thrown into boxes.

“You did good today,” you admitted. “They loved it.”

“So did you.” His hand remained on your back as he angled his body to face you. “I thought we wouldn’t pull it off.”

You looked up at him and nodded. “So did I.”

He huffed a laugh. It wasn’t much, but his eyes sparkled with something. He looked so approachable and you found yourself wishing he was always like this with you, that he would let you see the person the kids adored.

“Steve, I…”

He rested his free hand on the side of your face, thumb grazing your cheek. “It’s okay.”

“No.” You shook your head for emphasis, and in consequence, nuzzled against his hand. Purely by mistake. “I’m sorry for kicking you out of your kitchen.”

This time he laughed, warmly. He readjusted his hand to cup your cheek, thumb resting on your lips. “Shhh.”

Tracing your bottom lip, Steve said, “Sorry for being a dick.”

“It’s your house.” Your voice was barely audible. You didn’t remember ever feeling shy, much less nervous around Steve. Yet here you were.

He tapped your bottom lip. “I meant in general.”

What were you supposed to say? That he had his reasons? That you didn’t mind? That you were too distracted by his closeness, and perhaps too comfortable, to care?

The lights from the tree, only a couple of feet from you, cast a gentle glow, making the room seem and feel warmer than it was. You entertained the idea that you wouldn’t even be cold outside with Steve so close.

“So?” he pressed gently, “is my apology accepted?”

You nodded, eyes once again on his. The shininess of his hear caught the reflection of the colorful Christmas lights as he moved, shoulders shaking with a soft laugh.

“What’s so funny?” you found yourself asking in a teasing manner, lips grazing his thumb as you spoke.

“You’re really pretty.”

“The exhaustion of the day must be getting to you,” you said. And despite that, you felt your cheeks warming up.

Steve brought his other hand up and cradled your face, each hand cupping your cheeks. “I’m being serious.”

“Oh, so this is the part where you say you were being a dick because you like me?”

His answer took you both by surprise, “I don’t know.”

“Steve…”

“I know,” he assured you. “But… maybe…” He let out a sigh. His eyes landed on your lips as he gathered his words. “Can I? Just once?”

You nodded, but he didn’t move until you said, “Yes.”

Your eyes fluttered closed as he leaned in. Steve lowered a hand to your shoulder, still cupping your cheek in his other palm.

His lips were a little chapped and his kiss tentative. As the newness wore off, the kiss deepened yet remained sweet, gentle despite its firmness. There was no rush to escalate things, nor to part.

As you both eventually needed air and slowly pulled away, Steve’s hands lingered on you and just then you realized you were grasping his waist.

He smiled, and so did you.

“How about ice cream tomorrow?” His eyes twinkled with hope, overshadowing the glittery ornaments on the tree.

“Sounds good.”

He dared to peck your lips before adding, “We should probably put all the ornaments away. My mom would hate the colored Christmas lights.”

Despite how sad you found that fact, you nodded and kept it to yourself. “Did you keep the original boxes?”

The sheepish smile he gave you was the only answer you needed. Maybe he wasn’t that obnoxious, but he was definitely frustrating. And you liked that about him.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x plus size reader #ywnmtfa's ficmas 2024 #ficmas 2024

114 notes · View notes

cupidbedsy · 6 months ago

Text

how you get the girl ; cc13 ୨୧

➪ summary: cole seeks out his best friend for help to ask out his crush, and it takes her a while to figure out its her he's talking about

➪ warnings: reader is oblivious, crying, cole is down bad bad

➪ word count: 5.1k

➪ file type: fic

➪ cupid's notes: i think this might be one of my favorites. i love cole sm and i should really start writing for him more

stand there like a ghost shaking from the rain, rain she'll open up the door and say, are you insane

There was a knock on the door, and y/n jumped up from where she sat in her dorm room. She landed on the ground with a soft grunt, making her way to the door and opening it.

When she saw who was standing there, her eyes widened but couldn’t help the grin that made its way up on her face, “Hey Coley.”

Cole was dripping wet as he stood there, having had to run from the bus stop and then stand outside the building waiting for someone to either walk in or out, which was an awkward situation to explain, ‘Hi, can you please let me in? I used to go here and now I play in the NHL, which doesn't matter but I’m looking for my best friend.’

And that’s how Cole was here. Wet and shaking from the rain, “Hi y/n/n.”

“What are you doing here? Are you insane? Don’t you have a game tonight? How’d you get in?” Her mind raced with a bunch of questions, confused and concerned.

“I needed to see you, I missed you.”

Y/n pulled Cole into her room and gave him a change of clothes, “Let me go throw this in the dryer.”

When the blanket was warm enough she brought it back and threw it at him, “Okay now what is the real reason you’re here?”

Cole shrugged, sitting down on the bean bag she had in the room, “I just felt like something was wrong with you.”

“So you missed your NHL game to come to see me because you had a feeling that something was wrong?”

He nodded, now realizing how weird and stupid that sounded. He gave her an awkward, lopsided, smile, “Yeah.”

She shooked her head, a grin making her way onto her face, “You are fucking insane Cole Caufield.”

“Only for you.” He gave her a wink.

ू ₒ ु ୨୧ ू ₒ ु

say it's been a long six months and you were too afraid to tell her what you want, want

The past few months had been nerve-wracking for Cole and y/n. They both knew the time till Cole’s NHL debut was decreasing and decreasing. They made the most of it however, spending every waking moment with each other when they could, staying at each other’s dorms, going out to dinner, y/n going to his games. They were never apart unless they absolutely had to be.

Cole’s feelings had only deepened with the more they hung out. Every time he would see her his eyes roamed her figure up and down memorizing what she looked like in case one day he would have to pack up everything and leave.

At games he would see her in his jersey, something in his stomach twisting nervously. He would see her talking to his teammates or another guy and all he could feel was jealousy. Then he would be hanging out with her and she would ask to wear his hoodie and he quickly took it off to hand it to her.

Y/n wasn’t the only one who had stolen the other’s things. Cole always had a hair tie on his wrist in case she ever got too hot and needed to pull her hair up or it was blowing in her face and giving her a hassle. He stole some of her larger jackets just because they smelled like her and her scent was comforting. He stole her rings sometimes, the metal around his finger giving him something to fidget with when he became anxious.

As much as they both would love Cole to be in the NHL they were both worried about leaving each other. They had been friends since childhood, always with one another. Their bond strengthened throughout their younger years, each sticking up for the other when needed, and going to each other’s games.

She wore his jersey at World Juniors, and he wore her jersey at her soccer games (both made by her), both screaming out their support. They would wait for each other in their designated spots after each game, running to hug each other once they laid eyes on each other. They always gave one another a small present, a pin or a sticker, or a piece of jewelry.

The last six months they both noticed the slightly growing distance between them. They were trying to lessen the hurt of him leaving when it came time. Cole had been more worried about her than he ever had been before. He didn’t know if it was his best friend’s protective instincts kicking on or if it was the deeper feelings that had made him feel like this.

Despite both harboring unknown feelings for each other, they both knew there was a chance that if the other didn’t feel the same, their friendship could fall apart. They were both afraid of how the outcome would end. Cole’s worries were worse than y/n’s, she had been by his side for so long, never doubting him one step of the way, he couldn’t let his stupid little feelings get in the way of that.

He had been on his way over to her dorm when he received a text from the girl, ‘Bring ice cream and tissues, please.’

His heart broke slightly at the message, confusion plastered on his face. He typed his message in response, asking if there was anything particularly wrong or if something had happened.

She didn’t respond, just emphasizing her first message. Cole sighed at the lack of communication that was going on before turning around and walking back to the parking lot of his dorm to grab his car and go to the store to pick up her favorite ice cream and the soft tissues she had requested.

While he was there, his eyes caught the leftover Valentine’s Day decorations, candy, and other gifts that were severely messed up from the number of times people had gone through them. He sighed when he saw couples rummaging through remnants of the red and pink objects, teddy bears and other stuffed animals, and heart-shaped boxes with chocolates in them. He could’ve been getting them for her.

He did end up buying a teddy bear, one from the kids section and not from the Valentine’s Day spot. He grabbed her favorite ice cream and some apple juice, picking up her favorite chips and cookies as well. If she was upset, he was determined to make her feel better. He picked the softest tissues he could find and when he was walking his eyes caught sight of the book section.

He looked down at his watch before making a rash decision to take a peek down the aisle. He spotted one of the books she had been wanting for a while and picked it up before heading to checkout. He bagged everything before running back out to his car and driving to her dorm.

He was lucky that one of the kids that had lived there was walking into the building when he got there, so he just followed suit behind him. He didn’t want to make her come down and get him when he could’ve easily found a way in. He ran up the stairs, not bothering to wait for the elevator, and knocked on her door.

Y/n sat on her bed, her blanket wrapped around her as she watched her favorite show. She had tear-stained cheeks and puffy eyes, her nose a little stuffed from the crying she had done. She walked over to the door and opened it, before she smiled at him, “Cole!”

He padded over to her, wrapping her in a hug as he murmured, “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head before scooting over and patting the bed, “Come sit.”

Cole jumped onto the bed, placing the Target bag between the two of them, taking each item out one by one, “I got you ice cream, chips, cookies, apple juice, tissues, and that book you’ve been wanting. And I got you a teddy bear.”

Her eyes immediately filled with tears again, clutching the bear in her arms, burying her head into his shoulder, “‘M gonna miss you.”

The boy furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, “What do you mean? I’m not going anywhere.”

“You don’t know that Cole. You could get the call any day saying you have to go to Montreal. You could leave any day.”

He frowned and wrapped his arm around her, rubbing her shoulder with his thumb, “Is that what’s making you upset?”

She nodded, “I don’t want you to go.”

He smiled slightly, “I don’t want to go either.”

The two sat in silence before y/n spoke up again, “It’s been a long six months worrying about this.”

“I know.”

And yet, Cole was still afraid to tell her what he wanted.

ू ₒ ु ୨୧ ू ₒ ु

and that's how it works that's how you get the girl

“Start with a romantic gesture. Maybe something from her favorite movie, or something cliche. For example, standing in the rain at her doorstep. Or maybe singing a song in front of a large crowd of people. Or maybe doing one of your fears to impress her.”

Cole nodded as he sat on his best friend’s bed, taking mental notes on everything that she was saying. He had come to her for advice on how to ask out a girl that he had liked for what felt like ages at this point. Despite multiple attempts, the girl couldn’t get out a name, not even a hint about the girl, and that was because he could not let her find out it was her.

“Anything else?”

Y/n nodded as she flipped through the pages in her mind, “She will probably tell you that you’re insane for doing something like that, but… it’s cute. A lot of girls would like a big romantic gesture like that.”

“How would you react if someone did that for you?”

She shrugged, “I dunno. I’m not a fan of public things. That’s embarrassing.” She breathed out a laugh, moving her attention to a stack of books she had to organize.

Cole thought, so singing in front of a crowd is definitely out of the question then. He watched as she rearranged her books on her bookshelf, following her every movement. She had started to talk again, unbeknownst to him. She stepped in front of him, snapping her fingers in his face, “Cole! Cole! Cole!”

He flinched, “What?”

“Pay attention, Cole. I’m trying to help you here.”

He nodded and shook his head of his remaining thoughts, focusing on her, “Okay so… how long have you liked her for?”

He shrugged, “A while, I think. But I think I noticed it about 6 months ago.”

She nodded, “And you’ve been too afraid to tell her what you want, right?”

He let out a noise in agreement and sat up fully on her bed, “Yeah.”

“Okay, well if you do what I say. You’ll be sure to start dating her in no time.”

“Are you sure?”

“That’s how it works. That’s how you get the girl.” She patted his head and launched herself onto her bed, “What do you want to watch?”

ू ₒ ु ୨୧ ू ₒ ु

remind her how it used to be, be yeah, with pictures in frames of kisses on cheeks, cheeks

Cole was unpacking a box his mom had sent to him, things from home that he might’ve wanted in his new apartment. He felt uneasy going back through some of these things, most of them being something related to hockey. When he got to the bottom of the box he saw a few rectangular objects wrapped tightly in bubble wrap.

He pulled them out, moving the box out of his way. He placed them down before unwrapping the first one. He felt the picture frame and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, but when he saw which picture it was he smiled. It was from when they were younger, it was their first day of first grade and y/n’s mom made them take a picture. Y/n gave him a joking kiss on the cheek and both y/n and Cole’s mom had captured the moment. He placed it on his nightstand and unwrapped the next one.

This one was similar to the one before, but this time it was one from his and y/n’s high school graduation. They were both in their caps and gowns still and she was leaning over and kissing his cheek. Cole was holding both of their empty diploma cases.

Following that one was another one of a similar pose. It had become one of their signature photos. Every year on the first day of school they would do it, but he had only seen a couple of them. Most of them either lived on an old hard drive or were buried deep in photo albums in one of their houses. This one had been when they had just moved into their freshman dorms and they decided to recreate the photo once more.

He gathered the two frames he just opened and placed one down on the living room table and one in the kitchen. His apartment instantly felt more at home to him. Something to remember his best friend by made him feel more relaxed.

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

When she visited for the first time she noticed the pictures immediately, “Where did you get these?”

“My mom sent them to me. I had them in my room back at home.”

She nodded and held the one that he put in the living room in her hands, “We were so little… and cute.”

The two giggled at her comment, “You’re still cute.”

“Thanks, Coley. You are too.”

The two both blushed at each other’s comments before sitting in silence. Y/n smiled sadly when a thought plagued her mind, “I miss how it used to be. Everything was so simple back then.”

Cole nodded, throwing his arm on the back of the couch, “Yeah. We were never apart back then, were we.”

She laid her head on his shoulder, “I miss you, Cole.”

“I miss you two, y/n/n.”

ू ₒ ु ୨୧ ू ₒ ु

tell her how you must've lost your mind when you left her all alone and never told her why, why

One week after Cole had left, y/n had fallen into a tiny depression state. They hadn’t gone even a couple of days without seeing each other ever, let alone Facetime each other. Cole had been so busy with flying out to Edmonton making his debut and then having to go to Calgary, before finally being able to settle into his new apartment in Montreal.

She was nervous for him but she was also nervous for herself. They hadn’t got to say goodbye to each other, she had gotten his text while she was in class that he was leaving. She tried to call him but it went straight to voicemail and she felt defeated.

On the flip side, Cole had been anxious, not about himself but about y/n. He knew about how she typically handled things when she was alone and most of the time it wasn’t the best thing to happen. When he finally got a chance to breathe and sit in his apartment, he called y/n and she answered on the first ring, “Hi Cole! How’s your apartment? Everything going okay up there?”

He nodded, a smile tugging on his lips when he laid his eyes on her picture on his screen, “Yeah it’s been going okay.”

“Anyone giving you any trouble because I’ll fly up there to beat them up for you.”

He laughed, “I know you would.”

The two went silent for a few minutes, a slight frown gracing y/n’s face, “I’m sorry.”

She tilted her head in confusion, “For what?”

“For leaving you. Especially without warning really.”

Her frown deepened at his words, “It’s not your fault Cole. You were, are, moving on to bigger and better things.”

“But I didn’t want to leave you, y/n/n. I need you to know that. I would’ve stayed for you.”

“I know you would’ve, Cole. But like I said, you’re doing something greater for yourself. I shouldn’t be holding you back from your dreams.”

The words were on the tip of his tongue, but you’re a part of that dream. Yet, he couldn’t get them out. He wasn’t going to be the one to ruin their friendship over something like this, she didn’t deserve it. So he kept his lips shut and listened to her talk about whatever had happened that day, the reason he called, going blank in his mind.

ू ₒ ु ୨୧ ू ₒ ु

and that's how it works that's how you lost the girl

“I don’t think she’s into me, y/n/n.”

“What do you mean?”

“I tried what you said but she didn’t even bat an eye to it. She completely dismissed me.”

Sure it was weird for Cole to be talking about his girl problems to y/n when she was the girl he was talking about, but it’s not like she would ever know. Cole was thankful at that moment for his friend’s obliviousness, it came in handy sometimes.

“Maybe she did and she just doesn’t know what to think about it, maybe she’s still trying to figure something out.”

Cole signed on the opposite side of the phone, growing a little frustrated at both himself and her. Why couldn’t he just say how he was feeling, if she didn’t like him then fine they could just move on, try and move past this, “But what if she just doesn’t like me.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything Cole, but did you do anything stupid to make her think differently about you? Or think differently about her feelings toward you?”

“I mean, I did kind of leave her without telling her why…”

“You’re telling me you didn’t tell her you were leaving to go play in the NHL? You just got up and left her?”

“Well when you put it like that, it sounds worse.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, “You probably broke her heart, Cole.”

Cole let that thought sink in, the thought of leaving y/n there all alone in Madison with little to no friends. Of course, she had other friends but she was always hanging out with him. He repositioned himself on his bed and placed his free hand on his head, rubbing his forehead. He didn’t mean to hurt her.

“Cole?”

“I’m such a fucking idiot. How could I do that to her?”

Y/n felt heartbroken for him, he sounded so upset with himself for his actions. She was also heartbroken by the fact that Cole had these strong feelings for someone else, someone who wasn’t her. She tried to keep her composure by staying silent, letting a tear make its way down her face. She wiped it before talking again, “Cole, it’s okay. There are ways to fix these things. Did you at least apologize to her?”

“Yeah, kind of I think? I totally have lost my mind, haven’t I y/n?”

She just shrugged, “I don’t think you ever had a mind, to be honest, Cole.”

He forced a small laugh, “Gee, thanks.”

“Has she talked to you since then? About what happened?”

“No. She hasn’t brought it up. She said she supported me after I apologized but that’s about it. She sounded sad but also a little angry.”

She stayed silent for a minute, “I hate to be the person to tell you this but I think you lost her.”

Cole ran a hand over his face in frustration, letting her words hit him like a truck.

ू ₒ ु ୨୧ ू ₒ ु

and you could know that I don't want you to go

It was the first Friday without Cole and she was sitting in her dorm room. He had made his debut two days ago and she couldn’t even gather the strength to watch his game. She felt horrible about it, she was his best friend, and she should support him through everything.

She watched the movie that they were planning on watching that day, 13 going on 30. It was y/n’s week to choose, hence the reason why it was a Rom-Com. Cole didn’t mind, he would watch every cheesy romantic movie with her if she wanted to watch it.

He had a game that day, but once again, y/n had no desire to watch it. It was just another reminder that he was gone, she could only handle so much. She sat on her bed, the movie playing on the TV with a bucket of popcorn sitting on her right side.

Of course, she had to pick the movie in which the two main characters of the movie were love interests and were best friends. It was like the universe was mocking her of some sort. She couldn’t escape the facts. Her heart sympathized when Jennifer Garner’s character felt as if she lost her best friend to the girl he was getting married to. She couldn’t imagine life if Cole got married to someone else.

It was like a blow to the face watching it. She had the chance to do something but she still sat in her dorm room doing nothing but stuffing her face full of popcorn. Much like Elle in Legally Blonde, when the final scene of the movie came up and Jennifer Garner and Mark Ruffalo got married she threw her popcorn at the screen in frustration, why couldn’t she have that life?

She looked at her phone to see a text from Cole, saying they lost and he didn’t want to talk tonight. He had taken the loss as a burden to himself, being new on the team and not being able to contribute. She was honestly grateful that he texted her that because if he hadn’t she would then have to come up with an excuse on why she didn’t want to talk.

She scrolled through pictures of her and Cole in her camera roll, tears welling in her eyes. As much as she wanted Cole to go and pursue his dreams, the thought in the back of her mind was being selfish, she didn’t want Cole to leave her. They had been together for so long and hockey just ripped him away from her. She had been so supportive of him so she thought she at least deserved a little bit of selfishness.

She threw her phone across the room much like she had done with the popcorn. She sat there crying as the credits rolled across the screen before Netflix gave her more recommendations on what to watch based on the movie, but she was in no mood to watch another romance movie. She rolled her eyes, tears still streaming down her face. She backed out of the menu before putting on a random stand-up show.

He could’ve known that she didn’t want him to go because, in reality, he didn’t want to go either. However, y/n’s mind was like Cole’s and she didn’t want to ruin their friendship due to her feelings. It felt stupid and silly. They had a perfect friendship so why should she ruin it because of her feelings?

ू ₒ ु ୨୧ ू ₒ ु

remind me how it used to be and say you want me, yeah, yeah

The clouds covered a majority of the sky, not a star in sight. The moon was visible every few minutes once one cloud passed by before another one came and covered it. When the moon was shining, it shone right into y/n’s dorm room where she sat in her normal state with her blanket wrapped around her watching her and Cole’s favorite movie.

They had watched it since they were children. Every Friday night Cole and y/n’s families would have one another over for dinner and y/n and Cole would sleep over at each other’s houses depending on where they were that night. They would choose a movie to watch and most likely if they didn’t know, that movie would be the one chosen.

It had been a month since she last saw Cole. She had flown out to Montreal as soon as she was finished with school, going to his games when she could. She had stayed there for a week or two before going back home for the rest of the summer. It being her first time in Cole’s apartment, she noticed the lack of decorations in it, the only thing really there was pictures of her and him.

She looked around her room and a picture frame caught her eye. Cole was wearing his World Juniors USA jersey, his medal hanging from around his neck. They had just won and Cole was beaming and y/n’s lips were pressed firmly against his cheek. The photo they had been recreating since they were 6.

She smiled when she saw it and something clicked in her brain. Cole had three of the same picture just at different times in his apartment, and when she saw them she remembered how they used to be, much like now. Continuing to mentally flip through things she had told him, she remembered telling him to make a grand gesture; singing in front of a crowd, standing in the rain-

“Holy shit…”

She jumped out of her bed, the blanket falling from around her shoulders. She couldn’t believe what she was thinking, there was no way that her best friend liked her. I mean she knew that she liked him but Cole Caufield, liking her? It was one of the most unbelievable things that had happened in her lifetime.

She continued to run through everything and anything that she might’ve told Cole that he could’ve done. Even running through things Cole had done for her that seemed even remotely romantic. He had bought her a book that he knew she was eyeing, he bought her cookies and chips when she didn’t even ask him to. He showed up at all of her games that he could. He apologized for making his NHL debut and leaving her alone at Madison when it wasn’t his fault.

He bought her multiple gifts for her birthday and Christmas, he dropped everything to make sure that she was okay, he made her food when she was feeling down and felt like she couldn’t do anything, he helped her with her homework and helped her study for exams. He did everything for her and she was just now realizing it.

She mentally punched herself in the head for not realizing it sooner. He had done so much for her that basically screamed ‘I love you.’ Why did it take her this long to notice? She was frustrated at herself for not doing something about it. She literally gave him the advice to get the girl but she should’ve been following her own advice and picking up on the cues.

She was quick to book a flight to Montreal and repack her suitcase. She ran out of her bedroom, explaining how much she needed to go see Cole and her mom just gave her a knowing smile before ushering her off with a ‘be careful’ and an ‘I love you.’

ू ₒ ु ୨୧ ू ₒ ु

and then you say i want you for worse or for better i would wait for ever and ever broke your heart, i’ll put it back together i would wait for ever and ever

Flying to Montreal wasn’t something she had on her list. But when she had her epiphany she had to see him, she had to get to Cole.

Of course, it was raining when she arrived. She did her best to shield herself from the water but ultimately failed with how hard it was coming down. To her luck, her Uber had dropped her off a block away from where Cole’s apartment was. Instead of waiting to get a new one she just walked there, her suitcase in toe.

She arrived at his house, shivering from the rain. She wrapped her coat tightly around her as she knocked on the door to his apartment. It didn’t take long for Cole to open the door, a bright smile on his face when he opened it, “Y/n! What are you doing here?”

“I needed to see you.”

“Are you fucking insane? Aren’t you supposed to be going on a trip with your family right now?”

“I needed to see you, Cole.”

Cole let her in, stepping aside to create space for her. She stepped in and before she could even think about reaching for her suitcase, Cole grabbed it and moved it in. She was visibly shaking and Cole pulled off his hoodie to give it to her.

He took her jacket, placed it in the drying, and directed her to the couch.

“So what was so important that you needed to fly to Canada to see me?”

“Remember when you were asking me about that girl?”

Cole nodded his head, looking confusedly at her, “Yeah? What’s this about?”

“And you remember what I said to you when you asked?”

“Yeah you told me to say I want you for worse or for better, I would wait forever and ever. I broke your heart, but I’ll put it back together.”

She only gave him a soft smile and waited to see if the words would click. It didn’t for at least five minutes, causing the two to sit in awkward silence. Cole’s face lit up when he realized what she was trying to say, “Are you serious?”

“If I wasn't, would I be doing exactly what I told you?”

Cole stood up and walked over to her, grabbing her face, his thumbs rubbing gently under her eyes. He let out a soft breath, still smiling, “Can I kiss you?��

“Do you even have to ask?” He kissed her immediately after that, both of them smiling into the kiss.

If only y/n was as good at following advice as giving it, they would’ve been in this position so much earlier.

and that's how it works that's how you got the girl

꒰ MISCELLANEOUS PLAYER TAGLIST ꒱

@toasttt11 @chiblackhawks @pucks-goals-penalties @dancerbailey3

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cerastes · 30 days ago

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I’ve gotten asks a while ago about my thoughts on those other games but I can’t find them so here:

Wuthering Waves: It has the same strengths and weaknesses as PGR in relation to Honkai: It wants to be Genshin With Good Gameplay so bad that it forgets about everything else. It’s got good gameplay, the systems, the feel, the Nioh 2-esque way you add monster attacks to your moveset, it’s really fun, with a dash of late PGR goodness, like parries (attacking the enemy in precise moments before they launch specific attacks) and cohesive stamina/economy of action balance. Unfortunately, the writing is just so immensely bland and the characters forgettable beyond their One Quirk + Loving The MC that it’s kinda hard to get attached to anyone or anything if you have any standards above No Standards, and it’s all delivered with the charm and prose of a wiki article. Worst offender is Yangyang, who spends the first 60 minutes of gameplay not shutting up about exposition. Devil May Cry if it was Wikipedia out of ten. Designs are pretty nice. Music is very mid, not bad, just mid, which is disappointing coming from the devs that brought us Narwhal. Overall it’s pretty ok and if gameplay is all you care about and you dig it, you’re going to have a good time.

Zenless Zone Zero: If it’s Hoyo, it’s got production values, and that is true for ZZZ, it looks phenomenal, and frankly, I had a pretty good time playing it, so congratulations to Hoyo for making the first game of theirs I don’t hate. Characters are pretty fun and dynamic, it certainly tries with how not everything is about combat, and delivers a pretty cohesive package, all things considered. Biggest complaint would be that it’s still Hoyo on the wheel, so they are god awful greedy with horrible rates on pulls and expensive top-ups. Second biggest complaint is that the main meat of the gameplay, the combat, is pretty barebones; it does a phenomenal job making it look stylish (and I mean that, it’s not a backhanded compliment) and cool, but combat all boils down to dps racing with very basic gimmicks, even if sometimes entertainingly skill demanding (Soldier’s just frame attacks, Alexandrina’s doll management). Writing is very charming, actually, the plot isn’t trying to be super Deep And Complex off the gate and wants you to get to know (thus, care about) the characters through smaller, simpler lead ins onto their bigger plot, and characters don’t exist entirely to tell you how much they love you and how you are the center of the universe, which is pretty cool. So, yeah, I’m actually saying something positive about a Hoyo game, pretty nice integrated package.

NIKKE: Nikke honestly blew my mind, it looks like a maximum coomer game �� and in many ways, it is — but the plot twist is that it’s a charming maximum coomer game with plenty of other things going for it. It’s a game where “mixed bag” is used positively: The setting is as generic and braindead as they come, Things Were Nice Until The Threat Attacked, Only The Hottest Women Can Stop Them (And You Are The Only One That Treats Them Well). But then your starting crew is basically anime girls Ed, Edd, and Eddy, legitimately a really fun crew. Events either are — intentionally — simple but fun and low stakes character studies, or higher stakes storylines that usually land. The music direction is also REALLY good: Normal stages have very utilitarian music that is just a compliment to the sounds of combat, boss themes do a 180 and are full of personality and pretty memorable, Ominous Cross lives rent free in my mind. My only complaints is that I personally dislike models where you NEED multiple copies of a character to truly realize their gameplay potential, and Nikke sadly has this, the skill ceiling is pretty low and it all comes down to a numbers game/dps race, and non-boss enemies are pretty uninspired. In fact, battles are just… Really not fun, and where the game shines, boss battles, are really also not that good either. Honestly, the only thing that kept me from sticking with the game is the low skill ceiling, and in a world where Nikke had tighter gameplay, I still play it. On a more personal note, I sincerely love the designs, first and foremost Scarlet Black Shadow.

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comingyourlugubriousness · 3 months ago

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“My dearest friend... if you don’t mind, I’d like to join you by your side. Where we could gaze into the stars, and sit together, now and forever..."

Not the most orginal idea, but I couldn't resist! I'm gonna ramble a bit under the cut:

I see a lot of people quoting the "were simply meant to be" line at the end and while I think that is sweet; I feel like the build up to that line suits Yume and Idia a lot more. “My dearest friend..."

I always feel in media friendship in romance is overlooked. Yume becoming Idia's friend first was a essential step to their eventual relationship. Sure Idia has Ortho, but to be frank Ortho was literally made to be Idia's brother/friend. So Idia making a friend in Yume all on his own without Ortho's direct influence is important to me. "If you don’t mind, I’d like to join you by your side. " For all that they've been through I still feel like Idia feels a bit unworthy/self conscious of being with Yume. Self worth issues don't go away over night and love can't fix all your issues. I think to some degree Idia will always have self doubt; and in that doubt there is a small feeling that he's not good enough for Yume (or anybody really)... But if Yume doesn't mind... If Yume's the one okay with their bad taste ... If Yume accespts him and loves him despite all the faults then... maybe its okay for him to stay beside them even if he thinks they deserve more.

"Where we could gaze into the stars, and sit together, now and forever..." This line is simple and it reflects an important thing in all relationships to me platonic or romantic. Someone who you can sit with; someone who you can be around them and just enjoy their presence. No need for words, no need to try to entertain eachother. You can just be yourself unabashedly because just them being there with you is all the safety, love, and comfort you need. The simple things become memorable with people you love. Also!

Sooo, since I actually got a look at the event outfits I wanted to do a less cartoony one for Yume, don't get me wrong I still stand by their old one, but I love designing clothes for them so heres a sketch! I kept the horns and the pop of red color but made it a little more inspired by the other outfits. Leaning more into the formal style rather than costume.

Plus a little bonus drawing, we never remember what happens after we leave the books right? I'd like to take advantage of that and make these nerds make sappy promises they won't remember...

#twisted wonderland #twst oc #idia shroud #disney twisted wonderland #oc x canon #yume ume #yuusona #myart #pumpkinart #twst spoilers #disney twst #twst wonderland #twst nightmare before christmas #nightmare suits #i made up a whoooole concept for a morbidly romantic ring #but ive rambled enough

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haerni · 5 months ago

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HOW SWEET, “i’m without you”

synopsis: y’know it’s just an old trick && the demon who keeps knocking at your heart knows the formula,, but you won’t fall for it anymore, right ?

ft. lee heeseung, park jongseong, sim jaeyun + park sunghoon. (based on ‘how sweet’ by NewJeans!)

content: fem reader! just hyung line trying to rizz (woo) you up, kind of exes to lovers, they fumbled lol except for jay, lowkey implied toxic relationship, miscommunication trope, subpar dialogues struggling fr, jake & reader has issues fr (10:36 inspo). 2.8k words

— as always minimal proofread and very self indulgent >< & also because i wrote it on a whim.

( 🗯️ ) notes: a very word vomit drabble, haven't written in a long time, my exams are approaching soon this is sort of a lil warm gift from me ! ^_^ can u tell i love jay.. he's literally every eldest daughter's dream :(

JUST STEP OUT YOU LITTLE DEMON IN MY STORYLINE don’t knock on my door, i’ll see you out

this has been too much of an occurrence, a habit that heeseung has grown accustomed to. he knows he shouldn’t, its not acceptable, he knows he’s subjecting himself to a torture that was designed to be his dreams of you.

he should stop, he should leave, yet he finds himself once more at the same blocks of pavements with the exact same four steps up to the porch decorated with flowers that bloom so prettily in the night. and his knuckles hits the same wooden door, eyes dazed, out of his mind, but he knocks.

he knows he doesn’t have any right to be here. to stand in front of your door letting his frame lean on it as he waits for the same footsteps he has memorized.

heeseung prided over being a gentleman, he’s respectful, he knows his boundaries—his place, but right now he’s anything that.

maybe lee heeseung has never been one after you.

he hears the scuffle behind the door, and maybe it was weird that he knows exactly those footfalls, how just sound manages to touch a vile in him, a rush of excitement thrums as he waits the door to creak open. because the other side to where he stands, there you were.

it opens.

there you are—his favorite girl. a frown adorning your face and your eyes reflecting the warm light above your door, “you can't keep doing this, heeseung.”

and a stupid smile makes its way to his face when you call his name. he’s almost thankful he stopped taking the drinks jake kept giving him, it could never even compare the sound he hears now (which he would rather much indulge in).

��hi, baby,” he breathed.

he may or may not remember this night, but he’ll regret it again in the morning.

you scoff at him, “you can’t call me that now, heeseung.” his name felt like acid to his face when you say it that way, but nevertheless lee heeseung lets you burn him—because he deserves it, a faint voice whispers in his head.

“sorry, bad habits.”

what a little liar, he was. because after all, he knows that you know it was, there was never a point for him to utter it in your face.

he doesn’t know what was worse, the venom that kills you or the silence that drowns you? heeseung prefers if you would curse him just a little, maybe he would feel more good with that, maybe it would lessen the guilt that lies heavy in his chest.

but heeseung is addicted, he is addicted to this tryst (you’re not together anymore, he reminds himself) and he still asks you the same question.

“let me in?”

he was bad for you, you knew that. he wonders why you still open your door for him every night his feet takes him to you? you were just as addicted as him, he surmised.

it’s selfish, but he wishes you’d stay the same.

DONE SCROLLING THOUSAND TIMES I KNOW IT’S AN OLD TRICK it’s a very simple formula

for someone who you call as your ex, park jongseong became much more than that to you.

your fallout was something you couldn't call fine, because it isn't. you were a mess—jay wanted to hold you and you can't have yourself fall over the edge just yet.

you weren't ready and he was.

you and jay are the polar opposite of each other. he was put together, he knows what he wants, he has everything, he is secure with himself. and you are simply not everything he was—it was daunting, it scared you and it was stupid. jay loved you all the same, he was perfect and that became bigger than all the good things you call in your relationship with him.

you knew that dating jay would come with perils and problems, you knew them you would both overcome it. but is love really enough to be an answer, when you were the problem itself?

it is incomprehensible to you, how can someone be capable to love this much?

you never asked him, he couldn't give you an answer that you deserve because of it.

it’s unhealthy—you are calling him again. you really shouldn't, you knew your friends would be disappointed. it's ironic how fast you fall in the abyss of darkness, but you couldn't trust yourself to do the same when he asked you to let him catch you. (familiarity was a variable that played a favor over your heart and jay knew that)

the dial tone rings—once, twice, you hear his voice.

“yn, you okay?” it was immediate and it's soft. it's too much. you're convinced you were cursed. you yearn for it, for him.

he waits for you, as he always does. patiently, as you knew him and he hears the breaths you take, the sniffles, he worries more. he tries to call you out once more.

“lov—” he catches himself from saying it, “hey, talk to me, angel.”

“i’m sorry. i don’t know what is wrong with me, ‘seong,” you try to catch your breath, apologizing as soon as you said it.

god, it breaks something in him, “it’s okay, yn. i got you, yeah?” he’s already at the door taking his keys, he doesn’t have any right, but you need him, right? please say it to him, please need him just one more time and let him hold you this time. as soon as he utters his prayers, you whisper.

“can you come to me..” it was so quiet he almost didn’t catch it, “please?” but he’s glad he did.

when he had declared that he would love one person in his life, he vowed and kept it. park jongseong was in it for you, he knew why you broke things off with him, he understood—like all the times he does. you probably didn't know, but he couldn't get himself to remove the picture of you in his bedside. when you called him a week after, he knew he should hang up the call and let you figure things out by yourself, but he didn't. your number stayed as it was before. he should grant you space and time, but he couldn't. because jay loved you so damn much, it's either you or no one else.

be damned all those fears that lingers with you, because park jongseong wants you and only you.

I WON’T ASK ANYMORE (HOW SWEET IT TASTES) you don’t have to tell me now that i’m without you

one thing that jake fails to understand was how much you think he doesn’t need you as much as you need him. he shoots all your words down before they can leave him out alone.

the nights have always been a nightmare for you, not because of the dark veils in the sky, or the monsters that chase you, but because you can’t sleep. you cannot descend to slumber as you would have when you were a child—it was easier then. now warmth was more of a problem for you, it’s a small problem it shouldn’t really be much to be fuzz over it. a stuff toy would’ve solved the problem just fine, it provided you the same security that lulls you into the night.

except that you have found sanctuary in sim jaeyun—a safe haven that envelopes you deeper into sleep, his warm body offers more than security. serenity and heaven sounds just as the same when he holds you in the night.

but everything should always come to an end, doesn’t it?

you don’t know when the peace he had offered cracks through you and it felt like a burden of guilt you couldn’t understand.

“we can’t keep doing this, ‘yunie.”

he doesn’t get you, confused and bewildered at your sudden statement to him when he sat down on your couch. he thinks you’re playing with him, maybe a prank, one of your silly little ideas. because he is sure as hell you didn’t just call your relationship as something like ‘this’, like it wasn’t worth of anything.

“what do you mean, yn?”

the air feels a little heavier, jake knew then that he wouldn’t like what was ever you were going to say. and he does whatever could save him of his position to you, whatever could shut down every rejection you think of. but before he could even dismiss it, this time you beat him to it.

“let’s stop this, jake. stop pretending like you need me.” you say more firmly.

he frowns at that, he doesn’t need you? are you being serious? “i don’t know what you’re talking about, pretty. because i’m pretty damn sure i’m not pretending here.”

you scoff at that. he doesn’t really get it does he? “aren’t you tired? we aren’t anything jaeyun, you’re just someone who helps me sleep at night and i don’t want to take up your time, i don’t want to use you. we’re nothing more, nothing less than this.”

this—jake hates that word now.

why do you keep using it, why are you reducing your relationship as to something less than what it should? why are you pushing him away now? why were you pretending like it’s nothing? why are you not understanding that you’re not the only one who needs something?

“what’s so wrong with this? with us?”

“everything!”

what’s wrong with that? what’s wrong with holding you in the night to sleep? so what if you don’t know what to label it between the boundaries of romantic and platonic? what was wrong with having you? what was wrong leaning to him? to ask him for help?

his eyes tell you everything you need to know that goes in his head, because you’ve known enough to read him. you were friends since you were fifteen and now you don’t know anymore, but you know him. you can’t lean into him anymore—not when, what you feel now steps over the line of what a friend should be.

(it feels weird now, to have the need to hold someone at night, yet you want it. but you can’t tie down jake, you can’t do that to him.)

jake doesn’t understand what the problem was. he knew the risk of what the two of you had agreed, he was willing to bet on every star that he wouldn’t mind for you to have him.

he doesn’t understand but he knows he loves you, “hold me, then. don’t let me go.” he pleads with you.

you can’t.

I’M FEELING MY OWN WAY I’M IN IT ‘CAUSE ME AND YOU ARE DIFFERENT so i won’t stay, i’m leaving

you and sunghoon has always been an intricate of woven patterns, with spools of threads of your color stitch into each of you. both of you are too much of each other. you used to think nothing could ever sever the tapestry the both of you weaved. that was before he was miles away from home and time was not a challenge to the both of you.

all the memories you remember were now bound with his last words before he left, “take care.”

he was called to train internationally, it was big. he was making a name for himself out there and now his name is called over to be known by the world. you’re always happy for him, you’re proud. sunghoon was made to be in the spotlight, he was made to be loved, he was born to be on a stage where he shines. and you think sunghoon looks pretty, he looks pretty when he’s on the rink, skating. he looks so happy there, a place so far yet so near where you can’t step in and reach.

he looks so happy without you and that was okay, you think to yourself. it’s okay, a repeated mantra sounding in your mind as you watch him through a screen.

waiting wasn’t new to you and wanting him more wasn’t either. you don’t really know what is much worse.

there is a space between that bleeds, an indentation of sunghoon in your heart. cold was a familiar company in your darkened nights, his name was like a ghost of an echo in your home.

it’s okay, you remind yourself again. you’re fine with this.

because he looks so happy when he’s not with you, park sunghoon belongs to the world and it makes you sick—even though you know it’s selfish and it’s disgusting to feel something like this—you realize then, you don’t want to be part of that world, just among the sea of faces he’ll forget.

the picture in the frames looks at you with mockery, his side in everything feels hollow and nothing. he is like the ocean that slips past beyond your fingers, but completely engulfs you wholly, having your lungs deluge in it. it pierces through like an arrow, the same ones where you used to believe it was out of love, before everything comes down.

you love park sunghoon, you really do. in the depths of your heart his name was carved gently and carefully.

a name that would solely have your heart beating in a mile, you've never thought it would just end up bleeding, cut open freshly with his own hands, a heart you have given so willingly and with so much trust that you can ever offer in a silver lining platter. to love boundlessly and endlessly until you’re a void of nothing, but a shell of yourself shriveled. but you can’t stop pouring the wine until it overflows—until it’s empty.

you’re not sure where it started, when all the warmth turned cold, where he decided to give up, you're not sure if you can keep fighting.

you never saw it coming, you’re sure the love the both of you had can overcome anything, it can have your relationship stay afloat through all the storms and tides of problems and indecisions, maybe you’re wrong, maybe it was him, maybe it was bound to happen. you’re too hurt to think about it. but a mirage plays in your mind dauntingly, that you can still have those memories you had together, the thread stands on its own, stretching to its limits, the lines dwindle and your hope dies down together with it.

when did his hands drop yours?

the indentation he leaves is noticeable, you can hardly miss it, after all you felt like you were the letter that got crumpled.

his name echoes around the walls of your home (can you still call it a home if it’s devoid of anything?) a mockery to you, his things were, his conspicuous absence, the darkened place of loneliness, the moonlight bleeds into the window, giving your room an illuminated light, it’s suffocating, and somehow the room seems smaller, closer, a cage or walls of once you knew were the sanctuary of comfort, now stands tall as nothing, but a reminder of the fall apart.

the heart of once you have loved was gone and you’re not sure if you’ll be fine by then. were you even sure of anything at all? living with a ghost of a name in your heart, moving on wasn’t always easy to do, but you hope nonetheless, you hope his name would be nothing, but healed scars from all of the distance.

he comes home on a random wednesday with nothing, but his training suit and eyes that you always adore tired and on the verge of falling. a crazed look of apprehension, sunghoon knew you were slipping through his fingers when you wouldn’t answer his calls anymore and the best thing he could think of was to hold you, physically—so you wouldn’t disappear on him.

when he stands in front of you the words don’t appear in front of him, it’s frustrating.

“why can’t you just leave me?”

and god does he wish you wouldn’t say that to him again.

“i can’t,” he whispers, “i tried and i simply can’t.”

when park sunghoon met you, he started dreaming—he was nine summers then. still has the childlike wonder who held admiration and you were eight who live on the other side of the road from his house, he thinks you were pretty.

like a beautiful sunset he always watches with his sister on the seaside, you always seem to be there for him anyway, catching a glimpse of your face on the side of his eyes. his coach always scolds him for being distracted in the rink, he only responds with,

“sorry, coach. i’ll do better.” he wanted to impress you back then. (he still does.)

the sun shines so brightly it doesn’t miss how it always seems to reflect your smile. laughing at something your friend has told you, he wonders what it was.

back then the two of you didn’t really talk much at first, always the brief gaze at each and little waves. but nothing more, he wishes to talk to you on other days, when the time is slow and the breeze washes all the heat from his face, but he doesn’t, always hesitating, almost made encounters, but by the end of it he’ll just back out the last minute.

it’s almost a surprise how he even managed to call you his, park sunghoon has loved you since the ninth of summer.

you still love him despite everything.

he thinks you are still pretty until now, wearing his old jersey with his name on it on the sidelines, cheering him on top of your voice, he decided right then that he would like to have you always there for him.

—fin.

｡｡｡ ♥︎ likes, comments & reblogs are highly appreciated! hope y'all like this, i went a lil crazy on hoon ㅠㅠ.

#enhypen x reader #heeseung x reader #jay x reader #jake x reader #sunghoon x reader #sim jake x reader #park jongseong x reader #lee heeseung x reader #enha x reader #park sunghoon x reader #* NEW © ───── haerni.#enhypen

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sixeyescurseuser · 1 year ago

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Teachers Satosugu

Thinking about adults Satosugu who become Jujutsu Tech teachers together. They’re married too. In their late 20s, they’ve found sweet domestic bliss in the dangerous yet meaningful life they’ve created for themselves.

Geto still makes sure to praise Gojo for all the work he does; often surprising Gojo with his favorite sweets or a trip down to the street vendors, saying: “Thank you for your hard work, Satoru” and “Come on, let’s eat something special, you deserve it.”

Gojo still goes on his one hour rants about topics that fascinate him, and Geto listens without complaining. Even if this is the third time digimon has been brought up this week.

Geto stays at the school to teach for the majority of the time. He only takes missions if they are emergencies and avoids interacting with the higher ups. Thankfully, Gojo is more than willing to deal with that side of work.

While Geto is involved in both physical training and classroom lessons, he’s more hands-on with the latter. Compared to the Kyoto students, let’s just say that the Tokyo students don’t put in a ton of effort when it comes to their academic scores.

Geto is fated to be the hardworking but disappointed teacher.

(Geto: “Nobara, Yuji, c’mon, I am begging you two to study more.)

The thing with Yuji is that he is smart in that he can memorize things and write well, but not being exposed to the sorcerer world from a young age has put him really behind.

(Geto: “Hasn’t Satoru told you all about Sukuna’s origins and what not? Given you books from the library?”

Yuji: “Oh the library! I forgot that existed!”

Geto: …

Yuji: “Also no, Gojo-sensei didn’t tell me anything yet.”

Geto: 💀💀)

Additionally, Gojo isn’t the best when it comes to structured lessons in the classroom. He’d much rather skip over the boring stuff and show his students the real excitement out on the field.

This is where Tokyo students surpass Kyoto students in fighting abilities. Plus, getting lots of first-hand experience of what sorcerers actually deal with helps them quickly adapt to situations and strategize how to outwit their opponent.

But book-smart-wise? Megumi carries.

Once, Yaga gave the first years a firm reprimanding because of the missing past three mission reports. (Excluding Megumi.) Turns out, Gojo didn’t inform the first years about filling out mission reports at all.

That night, Geto scolds the shit out of Gojo.

Gojo: “Hey Suguru, isn't that your job? I just help them train their fighting skills, no?”

Geto pinches Gojo’s side - who lets out an undignified yelp - even though he knows Gojo is just joking. Besides, Gojo does try to teach the rules better after Geto’s scolding. Gojo just needs reminders, that’s all.

It doesn’t help that Gojo is literally a prodigy and always does things his own way.

(Geto, shaking his head: “Lord knows these kids need all the help they can get with you as their teacher.”

Gojo: [jaw open, betrayed]

Cue Gojo decisively turning the other away in their bed.

Geto: “Oh, did I upset the baby?”

Gojo: “Worse. You upset your husband.”

Geto guffaws.

“My husband can take it.” Geto moves so he’s spooning Gojo. “Isn’t that right?”

Geto’s breath tickles Gojo’s ear, making Gojo shiver.

What were they talking about again?)

***

Gojo might be busy as hell but Geto will be there to protect their students from the higher ups.

That mission where Yuji died for a short while after switching with Sukuna to face that special grade? It would never have gotten that bad. Geto would’ve been with his students and protected them.

Geto is anxious to the point where he designates certain curses for specific people, mostly to look after his students. This way, he can be there if his students are in serious danger, preventing more young sorcerers from dying due to the higher ups' negligence.

Of course, Geto’s rainbow dragon has always been assigned to Gojo.

Gojo will often take Yuji on rides on the rainbow dragon, either for missions or just to be up in the air. When this happens, Geto’s orders for the rainbow dragon consist of: “Only listen to Satoru’s reasonable orders” and “Protect Yuji from Satoru’s recklessness.”

On another note, Geto’s curses would have intercepted before Todo and Mai could beat the shit out of Nobara and Megumi. Geto himself would show up quickly after, furious when he sees the Kyoto students trying to take out his students.

(Geto with his murderous glare: “As far as I know, the competition hasn’t started yet. No one should be picking fights with each other, hmm?”

Mai and Todo, quietly: “Of course, Geto-san. We’ll be taking our leave.”

Geto stays standing in front of Nobara and Megumi until the Kyoto students leave.)

Even as teachers, Geto and Gojo are incredibly competitive with Kyoto. Of course they’re going to talk shit during the goodwill exchange event. They’ll watch the broadcast of the competition and loudly cheer their students on. They’ll also whisper to each other in the most obnoxious way.

Utahime is about to bust her blood vessels. She still throws her tea at Gojo when he makes a snarky comment that pisses her off; the tea bounces off of Gojo’s infinity and splashes all over Geto, who groans.

Well, that shut the pair up for now.

***

When Nobara spilled coffee on Gojo’s shirt, Geto had been the one to catch them first.

(Shaking his head, Geto says: “You guys really did it this time…”

Nobara: “We could just replace it??”

Megumi: “It is 250,000 yen.”

Geto: “It's also Satoru’s favorite white shirt.” He pats Nobara’s shoulder comfortingly.

Yuji: “Geto-sensei, please help us!”

Geto: “And spend the precious money I earned with my own hard work? I don't know, Yuji-kun, I gain nothing from helping you.”

Nobara: “He’s your husband”

Geto: “And he’s your sensei.” He turns to Megumi. “Slash father”

Megumi: 😩😩

Moments later, Gojo enters the room: “Iijichi-kun said you guys have my newly laundered shirt-“

He sees Megumi with two breast bumps.

Gojo: ??

The others laugh as Nobara pulls out the stained shirt, causing Gojo to let out the most horrified, dramatic gasp.

All the students find it hilarious, but Geto laughs the hardest. He's bent over, hands on his knees, straight up cackling. When Geto somewhat catches his breath, one look at Gojo’s stricken face sends him into another fit of laughter.

(They are so married.)

Geto walks over and slings himself over Gojo.

Geto: “It’s okay, Satoru, you can just get another one.”

Gojo: “That was my favorite one, you know this, Suguru~~”

Geto: “Satoru...you’re rich-“

Gojo: “My clothes are important, they aren’t so easily replaceable. Imagine if I had tried to replace you-“

Geto: “Did you just compare me to your inanimate white shirt?”

Geto begins to pull back, but Gojo immediately latches on to him.

Gojo: “Noooo, I didn’t mean it. I love you~~”

They proceed to act out a mini-drama, which ends in Geto leaving with faux-disappointment and Gojo chasing after him.

Consequently, Gojo forgets about his stained-beyond-repair 250,000 yen shirt.

***

When formation B occurs in response to Megumi being “hit on,” Geto watches from afar, disappointment deep in his veins.

We’re too old for this, he thinks when Gojo reveals Megumi has to master twinkle twinkle little star.

Having had enough, Geto steps in and tugs Gojo away.

“Baby, come here, you forgot to take your pills this morning,” Geto says. Gojo gasps in offense.

“SUGURU, SHUT UP! I'M NOT MENTALLY ILL!“ Gojo cries, but now there’s no way he doesn't look crazy.

Geto has his arms wrapped around Gojo’s waist while Gojo flails to escape.

“Satoru, stay STILL- NO you are not going back!”

They end up making a bigger scene. Megumi wants to d-word.

(“With this treasure i summon-“)

Gojo doesn’t care who hears or sees, and is now screeching for Geto to let him go. Left with no other choice, Geto bites Gojo’s shoulder. He also tries to shove his fist in Gojo’s mouth - anything to shut him up.

Geto is going all out like they’re teenagers again.

(Nobara at Geto: “YEAH GET HIS ASS!”)

Geto eventually becomes aware of the small crowd that has gathered and rethinks his actions. He ends up dragging Gojo by his collar.

“Ok, we’re leaving,” Geto calls to their students, leaving no room for argument. Megumi immediately follows, dragging Yuji and Nobara in tow.

***

w/ @no-one-says-hi

#jjk #satosugu #geto suguru #gojo satoru #jjk headcanon #satosugu fluff #satosugu headcanon #satosugu fanfic #teachers sastosugu #megumi fushiguro #yuji itadori #nobara kugisaki #cerdrabbles

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certainlynotasimp · 2 years ago

Note

Could you by chance do a headcanon or a oneshot of miguel with a partner with social anxiety ? ^^

Hello~✨ I most certainly can! As someone with severe social anxiety, I couldn’t help but fall in love with Miguel.

Miguel with a social anxious S/O

My personal opinion about Miguel is that while he can put on a brave face in public, I think he is a major introvert who doesn’t have any friends outside of his spiderman and civilian job.

Having a partner with social anxiety doesn’t really bother Miguel so much as he doesn’t really enjoy activities that would require you guys to be in socially stressful situations.

Walks through the park, movie nights in, moon lit web shooting across the city, and intimate nights at fancy restaurants are about the normal dates he would go on with you.

If you get stressed out about crowds or having to talk to employees at shops and restaurants, he will place a comforting hand on your back and proceeds to order your food for you/ converse with the cashier.

He memorized all your favorite foods from your favorite places so he can order you what you want without getting you overwhelmed.

If you have a bad coping mechanism like ripping the skin off your fingers or biting your nails, he will give you a stern look before taking your hand into his so you’ll stop.

He isn’t too big on PDA, so any touches of affection are more to comfort you and keep you close.

If you have an anxiety attack, he will pick you up, with your consent, and take you to his apartment via Spiderman mysteriously appearing and taking you home.

I mentioned this in the Sunny fanfics, but Miguel has an old college sweatshirt that he used to work out in that he designates as your “comfort sweater.”

He would slip it on you and give you some baby aspirin before taking you to his bedroom. You’ll either cuddle listening to some low volume music or spend sometime talking about old childhood memories.

Afterwards, he will get you your favorite take out and read a book while you watch your favorite movie in the living room.

He may act annoyed with you clinging to him in public when your particularly stressed out, but his hand matching your grip, quietly letting you know that it’s okay.

He only ever lost his temper once with you and when he saw you spiraling into a panic attack, he had to leave the apartment, feeling like he was just ruining your life.

He would come back that night in his spider-man suit, your current comfort food and some flowers in hand. You guys would talk about your feelings and he would apologize immensely. You’re his amor and he can’t stand making you upset.

If you were a Spiderperson, he would be confused on how you could function as a hero with how overwhelmed you can get and is impressed when you manage to handle yourself in dangerous situations.

He wouldn’t be as open about comforting you while working with the Spider Society, but you’ll sometimes feel his hand brush against yours and a nearly silent, “Good job.” As he walks past.

Everyone knows you’re his favorite because he keeps a drawer with your favorite snacks in so you can come hide in his lab when things get too much for you.

He pretends your social anxiety and clingy tendencies don’t bother him, but he secretly loves that you trust him so much to be your comfort. It gives him a bigger head than he already has.

If you needed space from him, he will understand and go focus on catching criminals for a couple of days. Don’t expect Spiderman to keep that promise as you’ll find notes he wrote left on your door and window.

Sometimes, if he’s really worried about you, he might stalk you a little bit. Just a little. He just wants to make sure you get home safe like a good spider boy should.

You’re his little spider so he will do anything for you.

#miguel o’hara #miguel x reader #miguel ohara #across the spiderverse #spiderman fandom #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman into the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #spiderverse #spiderman atsv #fanfic #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman

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brucebocchi · 7 days ago

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Ranking 2024 anime, Pt. 3: #30-21

hey, this post is also available on my ko-fi, so please check it out and consider tipping/donating as i do this for free and am currently between jobs. you can find part 1 of the list here and part 2 here. thanks!

We're chugging along. I'd say we're finally getting to the good stuff, and there is plenty of good at this point in the countdown, but I also just really like complaining.

Let's get it.

30. KonoSuba: God’s Blessing on This Wonderful World!, season 3

I have a tendency to refer to the more brainless and/or trashy anime I watch as “junk food.” You know the kind; the ones that don’t really add anything to your life and don’t stand up to the more fulfilling series, but still get the job done when you go into autopilot. I’ve found that, as a habitual (non-metaphorical) snacker, I tend to just reach for something when I’m bored so I have something to do. And looking at it objectively, I don’t tend to enjoy myself while doing it and I usually don’t feel good afterwards.

I feel much the same way about watching KonoSuba.

Not that I think it’s ontologically evil or anything, but KonoSuba often has just as much going against it as it does working in its favor. For every joke that hits, and some of them absolutely do hit, there’s another that makes me question why I’m even watching it. I’m not against dark or even occasionally offensive humor; I adore It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, a show to which KonoSuba often draws comparisons. The issue is that, at its worst, KonoSuba defaults to either “this person is a pervert,” “this person is a pedophile,” or “this man got sexually assaulted.” My issue isn’t with the subject matter so much as the fact that they rarely rise above the level of base shock value and that they keep happening like that. It almost feels perfunctory, like the writers had quotas to meet.

It’s not all bad, though. Even having only gotten into KonoSuba in early 2023, I still found myself lamenting its hiatus, and An Explosion on This Magical World somehow only made the heart grow fonder for the party members that weren’t Megumin. I appreciate that Darkness plays a pivotal role in the third season, because Darkness is hilarious and terrific. This season had a couple of the best jokes and goofy facials in the series.

Overall, it’s a bit of a wash, but I can’t be too upset. It’s more KonoSuba, and it’s reached the point where that’s practically a value-neutral statement.

29. Wistoria: Wand and Sword

I don’t really have much new to say about Wistoria. It’s not the best magic school anime I watched this year and certainly not the best fantasy, but it looks terrific and it’s a fun enough time if you turn your brain off.

And turning your brain off is a necessity here because Wistoria’s story is as basic as it gets. It’s more or less Mashle if it wasn’t a comedy, and it’s such a transparent, dirt-simple power fantasy that it might as well be an isekai. Guy’s trying to keep a promise to his childhood friend, he sucks at the one thing everyone else does to the point of getting bullied left and right, but he’s super crazy strong in a his own special way. Actually, shit, I just described Kaiju No. 8.

Rule of cool wins out here, and this show does look phenomenal, but it might be better enjoyed via YouTube clips. I’m curious to see where the story goes from here, but I’m not completely sold yet.

28. Chained Soldier

Chained Soldier is horny isekai trash. Chained Soldier fucking rocks. We got big monsters, wild action sequences, unique and memorable character designs, casual femdom, solid comic relief, interesting (if predictable) twists, uncensored boobs, it’s got it all!

It’s not the best-looking show in some parts, but that’s forgivable. The production values were fine, all things considered, and the action sequences in particular were terrific throughout, but I’m really glad this series is changing studios for the second season. I’ve read ahead in the manga (don’t judge) and Passione is gonna do a bang-up job as the action and shameless fanservice both ramp up.

It’s early in the story and a teensy bit shaky, but Chained Soldier is already a fun time. I have reason to believe it’ll only get better as it goes. And not just because of the boobs.

27. Suicide Squad Isekai

You wanted an isekai starring the Suicide Squad, and by God did you get one. This is a perfectly serviceable series by Suicide Squad standards and a pretty middling isekai otherwise. Nothing about the world in which this series is set is all that interesting or groundbreaking, but you’re here for anime Harley Quinn (and a few other DC villains I guess), and this show delivers.

Fluid, expressive character animation (when the studio wants it), a terrific Japanese voice cast, and entertaining hijinks among Batman’s infamous rogues’ gallery combine for a plenty fun time that ultimately doesn’t have much staying power. If you liked the James Gunn movie, you’ll have a decent time here. No more, no less.

Between Uzumaki’s disastrous production, Lord of the Rings: War of the Rohirrim’s apparent mediocrity, and last year’s unwanted, execrable FLCL Grunge, I’m just glad that at least one recent anime production with Jason DeMarco’s fingerprints on it came out unscathed.

26. ‘Tis Time for “Torture,” Princess

I ended up watching so many discrete series during the winter season that it’s probably not a coincidence that my bottom four series on this ranking (and six of the bottom ten) all aired during that season. When you filter feed, you’re gonna take in a lot of garbage. Sometimes you need some stuff that’s “just fine” to clean the palate.

‘Tis Time for “Torture,” Princess is probably a bit better than even “just fine,” but it’s not gonna be a ready recommendation. The premise is pretty one-note on paper: Warrior princess got captured by demons, they try to coax intel out of her via temptation, she folds, the intel is worthless, and the cycle begins anew. But if a run of over 250 manga chapters and climbing is any indication, the series manages to keep it fresh. Time for “Torture” works because it isn’t beholden to its premise and instead decides to play hopscotch with its own framework. Gradually but noticeably, the unnamed princess and her inquisitors and “torturers” become friends, they all enjoy the spoils of her snitching together, and they really just keep it up because that’s how this stuff is supposed to go.

Nine months later, I still don’t know why I liked this show so much. It’s just the right amount of silly to me, and it’s cute as hell where it counts. Not the best thing I watched this year but far from the worst. If you want something dumb and weirdly wholesome that’ll make you chuckle here and there, it’s a good pick.

25. Jellyfish Can’t Swim in the Night

This is one I’m still agonizing over a bit. Jellyfish Can’t Swim in the Night is a terrific show on so many levels, but I still felt let down by the end of its run. It wasn’t even in the same ballpark of disappointment as Uzumaki or Metallic Rouge, thankfully. Like Uzumaki, it couldn’t live up to the promise of its all-timer debut episode, but on the flip side, Jellyfish largely maintained its high production value. Like Metallic Rouge, it felt like the narrative largely spun its wheels until the writers realized they only had two episodes left, but Jellyfish didn’t leave me feeling like I’d just wasted four hours of my life.

This series already had massive shoes to fill if it was going to be the best showbiz anime produced by Doga Kobo airing this year (“I’d have two nickels” and so on and so forth), but Jellyfish Can’t Swim in the Night unfortunately ended up getting outclassed on several fronts by shows that just did almost every element better. It looks terrific, it has a memorable cast, the music’s great, and it’s a welcome entry in the “Girls Doing Things” anime canon, but it was outclassed in its own broadcast season by Train to the End of the World, Girls Band Cry, and Yuru Camp. The real shame is that it seemed to have designs on being a tremendous LGBT show if it played its cards right, and instead opted to throw those cards in the air and walk away by the end.

I’d still recommend this show if you temper your expectations of any real narrative punch. There were some tremendous original series that aired this year, but Jellyfish Can’t Swim in the Night just didn’t reach those higher levels. There’s a whole bunch of good in there, but they couldn’t quite piece it all together.

24. Mushoku Tensei: Jobless Reincarnation, season 2, part 2

I’m gonna be real here: I’m sick of writing about this show. It’s exceptionally well-made and, on balance, easily one of the best anime of the decade so far, but the subject matter can touch such controversial and uncomfortable territory at parts that I can’t recommend it to anyone.

The back half of Mushoku Tensei’s second season actually did a lot of work towards making up for a lot of the less-tolerable moments in the preceding ¾ of the show, even delivering a couple of the spring season’s best episodes, and then it gets weird again near the end. Not nearly as bad as it gets in the first season, nor in the worst moments of this season’s first half from 2023, but still off-putting, even for people who stuck with it for this long. I expect this to continue.

Mushoku Tensei is a great show. Don’t watch Mushoku Tensei.

23. Undead Unluck, second cour

David Production’s adaptation of one of Weekly Shonen Jump’s most inventive and ambitious action series continued into the start of 2024 as the story just continued ramping up and getting wilder.

Undead Unluck had an interesting, if occasionally uncomfortable start, with a fascinating power system and tons of secrets left to be revealed, and as it continued you could start to see the camera slowly pulling back. Midway through its second cour, shit completely hits the fan and any expectations you may have had fly out the window. Undead Unluck’s debut season was an amusing curiosity for most of its run, but the status quo is upended so effectively midway through the second cour that I was completely hooked. There were some infuriating pacing issues at those exact moments that were enough for me to dock it several spots on this list, but it’s still absolutely worth watching.

I decided to read the Undead Unluck manga a couple months ago and for as wildly as I thought the anime ramped up its scope by the end of this run, it turns out that the series as a whole goes to even crazier lengths than that. I’m completely sold now and cannot wait for more.

22. Kaiju No. 8

Counter to the series I just talked about, Kaiju No. 8 is one of Shueisha’s least innovative battle shonen series. And that’s okay! Nothing wrong with wanting to see people fight giant monsters and one who can turn into a giant monster himself, and maybe you don’t want to have to deal with Attack on Titan’s incoherent politics to get there.

There is fundamentally nothing special about Kaiju No. 8, but I do appreciate that the protagonist is an out-of-shape thirtysomething desperately clinging to his hopes and dreams. No particular reason. There’s some interesting worldbuilding early in the story, and although it does lend itself to protag Kafka’s strengths in battle (non-”turning into a monster” category), it all falls to the wayside when it’s time for monsters, guns, and explosions. And I’m fine with that stuff, but I was hoping for a bit more of a hook.

All in all, this is a very well-made show, if a little muddy-looking at times. I wouldn’t have chosen YUNGBLUD and OneRepublic for the opening and closing themes, but it didn’t hamper my enjoyment of the show. I just like complaining about that stuff. Looks good, sounds good most of the time, and endearingly dumb. Can’t go wrong with that.

21. Mashle: Magic and Muscles, season 2

I ranked this show’s first season pretty low on my 2023 list, but I was willing to stick it out for another season, and I’m glad I did. Mashle really finds its footing during the Divine Visionary exam arc and irons out a lot of the issues I’d had with the first season, primarily how little the comedy initially landed for me.

A series that initially had my eyes either rolling or glazing over quickly recovered my attention early in the second season. Creepy Nuts OPs are a cheat code, I swear. Even putting the killer music aside, Mashle looks a lot better as well and has a much more engaging story in its second season. You can really feel it gaining its footing and finding a bit of swagger as the season goes on. The fight sequences are much more engaging this time out, and sometimes you get all the satisfaction you need out of seeing an emotionless weirdo punch the shit out of a mean nerd. A bunch of the jokes even land this time around!

I’m glad I stuck this out. Mashle is, at the end of the day, a hilariously blatant Harry Potter send-up, and frankly has no good reason to hit like it does, but I’m finally sold. At the rate it’s been going, Mashle seems to be set to adapt the entire manga, and I’m looking forward to seeing all of it.

#anime reviews #konosuba #wistoria wand and sword #chained soldier #suicide squad isekai #tis time for torture princess #jellyfish can't swim in the night #undead unluck #kaiju no. 8 #mashle

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mikavlcs · 2 years ago

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Purity Weeps

Pairing: Ghostface!Tara Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: You don’t talk about home very often and Tara finds out why.

Warnings: violence, gore, murder, domestic abuse, manipulation, tara is a terrible person, bad parents, repeated words and phrases

Word count: 7.7k (god...)

Notes: this is a request, i changed it up a bit so it could fit with the first part but the general gist is there. i also wrote like half of this with food poisoning so sorry in advance...

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 3

One thing Tara noticed about you was that you never talked about home.

You had no problem talking about yourself—your various likes and dislikes were something Tara had memorized within weeks of your arrival to Woodsboro—but you never talked about your family.

She only knew the most basic details. You lived with your parents. You had no siblings despite your longing for one. Your house was exactly six and a half blocks away from hers. And recently, you told her that your parents were getting divorced, something you seemed almost relieved about.

That was it. Even her knowledge about your parents was equivocal.

Your mother she’d met a handful of times when she picked you up from school before Tara designated herself your personal chauffeur. A polite woman, if a bit aloof. Never quite meeting Tara’s eyes when she talked, but she liked her well enough.

Your father, on the other hand, remained an enigma to her.

The only time she’d ever seen him was on your first day off school when he dropped you off. In the time since, he hadn’t been present for any school events with you and your mother. Not even a picture. He remained but a silhouette in her memory, and that made the situation all the eerier to her.

And you barely spoke a word about him either, only bringing him up when it was getting late, and you wanted Tara to take you home.

“My dad wants me home by eight,” you’d say and when Tara hesitated, wanting more time alone with you, you would follow it up with a quiet, “Please, Tara, I can’t be late.”

No matter how Tara felt about you having to leave, the tremble in your voice would have her grabbing her keys within seconds.

She always saw the way you shuffled in your seat when you were cutting it just a bit too close, sending anxious glances toward the clock.

There were even times, back when Tara wasn’t taking the situation quite as seriously as she should have been, when you would get out of the car without a goodbye, practically running into your house.

It angered Tara initially, that you had such strict rules being placed on you that were visibly afraid to break them, but with time that anger gave way to concern.

Your overly timid mannerisms when she brought up your family, the tight leash your father had on you, the anxiousness on display when you tugged a little too hard on that leash—it all painted a rather grim picture.

Her concern hit its peak when, after being together for a few months and friends for even longer, Tara realized that she had never been inside your house. She had seen the outside of it countless times when she picked you up and dropped you off throughout the week, but she had never seen the interior.

Why that specific revelation unsettled her so much, she wasn’t sure but it stuck with her.

Tara was used to being able to see her enemies. Amber, Daniel, Rowan, and Jason were all people she knew, people she saw eyeing you in a way they shouldn’t have been, touching you when you weren’t theirs.

Your father was something different. A man she had never once met or seen. Someone she was almost sure was hurting you in some way but without proof, she wasn’t able to confidently act.

This wasn’t a problem she could just stab to death. At least, not without having potentially catastrophic effects on you and your mental health.

So she was going to try something different. She began making plans but every idea she came up with ended up being scrapped. Nothing she came up with felt right.

Tara did not at all care for rules and boundaries. Made up guidelines that served no purpose other than to irritate her. Imaginary lines in the sand that were made to be crossed. She permanently left those behind the moment she donned the Ghostface mase. But when it came to you, she took them very seriously.

The thought of breaking your heart and trust is what made her once again adhere to the made-up rules, what kept her feet firmly planted on the right side of the line in the sand.

It’s what kept her from breaking into your house and surveilling you and your family. What held her back from slitting the elusive man’s throat with no remorse. She couldn’t stand the thought of hurting you or driving you away from her.

But the idea of doing nothing didn’t sit well with her either.

Other, non-violent plans took form. She tried to be more direct, asking you about your father, what he was like, how close the two of you were.

You didn’t shy away from her questions but the answers you gave were always vague. Just enough to qualify as an answer, but not enough to give Tara any real information to work with.

When she realized she wasn’t getting results, she pivoted and decided to put more emphasis on being supportive. Reiterating how she would always be there for you and that if needed, you could tell her anything.

But no matter what she did, the curfew never budged and your avoidant attitude about your home life never changed. It was starting to get to Tara.

She wanted to believe that you trusted her enough to tell her if something was going on at home. But at the same time, if her suspicions were correct, there was much more to it than simply trust.

Sam would likely tell her to call the police, and that might be an option Tara considered if she had a modicum of trust in the Woodsboro police force to handle the situation correctly. But she didn’t. Law enforcement in Woodsboro had become a joke ever since Dewey stepped down as sheriff.

And she knew that if this situation didn’t get handled correctly, then whatever possible abuse you were enduring would get worse in the aftermath.

For the first time in her life, Tara was stuck. She had no idea what to do.

She was frozen in place, stuck in an endless loop of watching and waiting. Watching and waiting. Watching and waiting.

It was maddening.

Part of her, Ghostface she supposed, wanted to just gut him and get it over with. Like she’d done to everyone else that had been in this position. But if she was wrong,

So she was stuck. Suspended in time and space, unable to do anything but her set routine.

Watch and wait.

Until something, or someone, broke the cycle.

Today wasn’t a great day for Tara.

It started it off well enough. You stayed glued to her side all day, your attention completely on her just as she liked it. She didn’t catch anyone staring at you or trying to talk to you.

Hell, not even Wes tried to bug you throughout the day like he usually did.

It really was going so well.

But then at the last second, you canceled your usual Friday movie date with Tara, citing an urgent family issue. She had driven you home after school without complaint because she knew it wasn’t your fault, and you looked just as upset about it as she did, but she was still bitter.

She needed her time alone with you. You were an addiction that she could hardly keep at bay. Withdrawal symptoms began to set in before you were even gone.

Those symptoms were raging within her now, hours later. It was somewhere around midnight. Sam left only a few hours prior because she liked working night shifts for some reason, so Tara took the opportunity to have another Stab marathon.

She was about halfway through Stab 2 and debating whether or not to just call it a night. It wasn’t like she wasn’t enjoying it—Stab movies never got old to Tara, but the fact that you were supposed to be there with her taunted her, sucking the excitement out of her.

At some point near the third act, she allowed her thoughts to stay on you, disregarding the film entirely.

Lately, she hadn’t been able to spend too much time alone with you after school. The newly finalized divorce was your ongoing reasoning. Your father was moving out and you were helping him pack his things.

You seemed both relieved and conflicted but Tara, of course, was overjoyed about this development. The cycle she was in was being broken without her needing to intervene. Soon, both you and her would be free of this.

And once he was gone, you could spend as much time with Tara as you wanted. That was something she needed to constantly remind herself of when you canceled plans because she missed you.

Hopefully whatever issues you were dealing with (having something to do with your father, no doubt) didn’t take all weekend.

If it did, this would be one of the first weekends you spent without her since Amber’s untimely death. And if she missed you now, she couldn’t imagine how much worse it would get over the coming days.

Her rambling thoughts were interrupted by your familiar ringtone.

She hurried to pick up her phone. Maybe she had caught a break. Maybe your family issue wasn’t urgent after all.

She brought the phone up to her ear and answered with her usual, “Hey, baby.”

But instead of being greeted by your sweet “hellos” or melodic laughter, she was met with what sounded like frantic sobbing.

Immediately, Tara was on her feet, searching for her keys while she tried to figure out what was happening.

“What’s going on? Are you hurt?!”

You tried to blubber out an answer, but it wasn’t anything she could remotely begin to decipher. Snatching her keys off the kitchen counter, she tried to ask again. “Take a deep breath. Can you repeat that for me?”

She heard you take in and release a shaky breath. “T-Tara, I…i-it’s my dad, he’s…” More cries echoed from the phone speakers, urging Tara to move faster. “Please, I don’t-I didn’t mean to.”

That set off alarm bells in Tara’s head. What did you mean?

“Just stay on the phone with me, ok? Don’t hang up. I’m on my way,” she hurried out as she stepped into her shoes, not even bothering to tie the laces. She was out the door and in the car in seconds, her raw panic nearly driving her to hysteria.

The call dropped as she backed out of her driveway, cutting you off mid-sentence. Tara’s heart stopped and only restarted when she noticed that her phone was dead. She took her own advice and took a deep breath.

She needed to get to you. Now.

Tara made it to your house in record time. She left her keys in the ignition, barely remembering to close the car door before she was running up to the door, grabbing the spare key she knew your mother kept under the potted plant by the doormat, and unlocking it.

The moment she stepped inside she froze.

Whatever she was expecting paled in the face of what she was met with on the other side of your door.

A man, presumably your father, lay limp on the floor. The back of his skull was caved in against the edge of the glass coffee table in front of the couch, staining the table and the carpet beneath it an achingly familiar shade of crimson.

After getting over the shock, Tara’s eyes were drawn to you standing a few feet away, looking unsteady on your feet.

Shamefully, her first thought was how amazing you looked with someone else’s blood on you. A depraved part of her was excited by the sight.

But that excitement was quickly drowned out by her concern at your state. To put it simply, you looked forlorn. Tears cascaded down your face in seemingly endless waves. Your eyes were flitting between your father’s body and your blood-stained hands, breaths coming in short, panicked bursts. You were shaking so vigorously that Tara was afraid your legs would give out, finally prompting her to move.

Slowly, Tara stepped inside and softly closed the door behind her. The sound of it, though quiet, still made you flinch. Your head turned, and once your eyes met hers, she saw some awareness creep back in.

“T-Tara,” you sputtered. She smiled sweetly and cautiously approached you, putting her body between you and your father’s corpse.

From this close, she could see the beginnings of large bruises blooming across your neck and upon closer inspection, she saw how heavily the outlines of the darkening marks resembled fingers.

Red clouded Tara’s vision. The familiar burn of her rage rose within her, but she forced her voice to be soft and soothing. The last thing you needed right now was her anger.

“Hi, sweetheart. Can you tell me what happened?”

“He-he tried to…” Your words broke off into choked sobs. But you didn’t need to finish. The bruises on your neck told her everything she needed to know.

“He-I wanted him off. So I pushed him and h-he…He tripped and…” You trailed off, eyes refocusing on the body over her shoulder. She saw the anguish rising and put a stop to it.

“Hey, no. Don’t look at that.” She brought you into her arms, guiding your face to her neck. You nestled into her instantly, clutching onto her like a lifeline as you wept once more. The blood on your hands was staining her shirt, something she took note of while she wrapped her arms around you.

Tara held you close, softly running one hand up and down your back while the other held your head. On the outside, she made sure she appeared calm and comforting, but on the inside, she was anything but.

Pure, unadulterated fury surged through her. Usually, Tara loved being proven right, loved the satisfaction and vindication that came with it. But this time she could feel nothing but malignancy because he tried to strangle you.

And the fact that you had to be the one to kill him deeply infuriated her.

A death at the hands of an angel was far, far better than he ever deserved.

She wished his heart would somehow restart, just so she could have the pleasure of making his last breath as painful as it should have been.

Better yet, she wished she could have gotten to him before he laid his hands on you.

Tara allowed herself, briefly, to daydream about what she would’ve done. A man like that didn’t even deserve the time it took to plan an intricate murder, so she would have kept it simple. Slow, excruciating exsanguination. Death by a thousand torturously shallow cuts as she forced him to keep his eyes open, so the tears could flow unimpeded. So she could watch the life slowly drain from his eyes.

So she could see the terror on his face when, instead of an angel, he spent his last fleeting moments staring into the eyes of the devil.

Your voice broke her out of her fantasies.

“What am I gonna do, Tara?” you sobbed into her neck. “I-I…he’s dead. And I did that.”

Tara hugged you closer and let you cry for a few minutes. It was painful to listen to, but she needed to put her focus on formulating a plan. Plus, it was probably good for you to let it out anyways.

While you wept, Tara took stock of the situation.

There was one body. Cause of death was a fatal head wound which meant there was lots of blood to clean. Luckily, you had a carpet to soak it up. A quick glance told her that nothing else appeared to have any blood splatter, significantly lessening the amount of cleaning she would need to do.

But even with all that in mind, she still had to find a way to get rid of the body. And that would be a tall task to undertake on her own.

There was also the matter of your mother’s whereabouts. Her car was in the driveway. Tara’s car was parked right beside it, so she had to be around here somewhere.

She decided to concentrate on locating her first. Both to make sure she wasn’t informing anyone else about the situation and because, as much as Tara hated to admit it, she would need help with disposing of the body in a timely manner.

Your father could wait a bit. It wasn’t like he was going anywhere anytime soon anyways.

With her mind made up, Tara gently pulled you back and cradled your face between your hands. “Do you know where your mother is, sweetheart?”

You blinked then looked away, biting your lip in concentration as you thought about the question. A smile pulled at Tara’s lips at the sight. Even now, you managed to be cute. You looked back a moment later, shaking your head shamefully. Tara just gave you an encouraging smile.

“That’s ok. I’ll find her,” she assured, wiping your tears with her thumbs.

You sniffed. “You will?”

“Yeah.” She looked around, eyes landing on the couch. Gently, she brought you to the back of it, guiding you to sit with your back against it. “Wait here for me. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

A nod, and you were burying your face in your knees, your shoulders starting to shake again. Tara wanted to comfort you but there was work that needed to be done, so she set her mind to the task at hand and began her search.

It didn’t take very long.

She found your mother in the kitchen, only a room over from where you were. The woman was curled into a ball by the stove, blank eyes staring out into space.

Tara’s brows shot up. Had she been there the entire time?

“Hey,” she called out, staying a healthy distance away.

No reaction. Tara sighed, looked at the clock on the stove.

12:17 a.m.

There was no time for this. Tara knelt down before the woman, getting directly in her line of sight. That worked and her gaze slowly drifted to Tara’s.

“Are you hearing me?” she asked.

Her inquiry was met with a languid nod. Good, Tara thought. She decided to ask her most pressing question next.

“Did you call anyone?”

Sluggishly, the woman shook her head. Tara let out a silent sigh of relief. Not having to worry about police made this a bit easier, but getting rid of a body on such short notice was still going to be a challenge.

“You were in here the entire time?” She couldn’t resist asking, needing to know if your own mother just sat by and listened while you were being attacked.

She averted her eyes away from Tara’s, choosing not to respond. But the silence itself was an answer, and not one that Tara liked. Her muscles tensed instinctively, fingers curling into fists, but she forced herself to relax.

After a breath, she asked, “Are you hurt?”

Another silent shake of her head and Tara had enough of this conversation.

“Then you are going to get up and help me help your daughter. Do you understand?” she gritted out, colder than she probably should have been.

For a long moment, your mother said nothing. The silence made Tara’s jaw clench painfully. Eventually, she gave another painstakingly slow nod, but the tension within Tara still remained.

Realistically, she knew your mother wasn’t entirely to blame for this situation, likely being a victim herself, but she had knowingly allowed you to get hurt. And there was no forgiveness for that. Not for Tara.

Still, she needed the woman’s help right now if she wanted everything taken care of in a timely manner, so she relaxed her jaw and scrubbed away the impatience in her tone.

“Good. Stay here, I need to take care of something real quick.”

Tara was striding out of the room before she had the chance to respond. Rounding the couch, she found you again. You had your knees pressed to your chest, mirroring your mother’s position.

With a sweet smile, she crouched down in front of you.

“Hey, I found your mom.”

Your eyes widened. “Is she ok?”

“Yeah, she’s fine,” she affirmed, bringing a hand up to your shoulder. “I need you to listen to me carefully, ok?”

“Ok,” you mumbled.

“Go upstairs and take a shower. Put these clothes in a plastic bag and leave the bag in the bathroom. Then you can go lay down in your bed and rest. I’ll come up when I’m finished.”

“What are you gonna do?” You sounded scared, she wanted to alleviate that fear.

“Your mom and I are going to take care of your dad.”

You still looked hesitant. Tara brought her hand up to trace your jaw, stared deep into your eyes. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” you answered immediately, making Tara smile.

“Then I need you to do as I say right now. Everything is going to be ok.”

“Promise?” you whispered. Your red eyes and quivering form made for a truly heartbreaking sight. One that Tara hoped she would never have to see again.

With a tender smile, she said, “Yeah, baby, I promise.”

She planted a kiss on your forehead then pulled you to your feet. You lingered for a fleeting moment before following Tara’s orders and heading up to the bathroom. Once Tara heard your footsteps upstairs, she went back to the kitchen.

Your mother was exactly where Tara left her. The smaller girl barely spared her a glance as she spoke.

“Alright, I’m going to need you to gather some things for me.”

Finally, she spoke up for the first time, feeble and low. “You have a…plan?”

At the question, the younger girl paused. She definitely didn’t, but she needed to come up with something, and quickly. She began brainstorming.

She had neither the time nor the tools to try the more elaborate methods of disposal that she’d seen in movies over the years. Things like cutting the body up and hiding the pieces, or melting the body with chemicals were off the table.

So she went with the easiest, least time-consuming plan that came to mind.

Turning, she said, “I need the largest bag you have, a shovel, a sheet, a hat, a bandana, a shirt, a pair of gloves, and your car keys.”

Your mother’s brows raised in disbelief. “My car keys?”

“Yes,” Tara answered, an equal amount of disbelief in her tone. There was no way she was going to potentially get your father’s DNA in her car. She wasn’t stupid. “Do you need me to write all of that down for you?”

She stared at Tara with that disconcerting look again before shaking her head and leaving to gather the items Tara asked for. While she was gone, Tara ventured to the kitchen, searching all of the cabinets until she found plastic wrap.

Returning to the body, Tara lifted your dad’s head off the carpet, careful to get as little blood on her as possible, and began wrapping the plastic around it. Layer after layer of plastic wrap was wound around his head as tightly as Tara could make it, using the entire roll to be safe.

She was just finishing up when your mother returned, the various things Tara requested in her arms. All but the shovel, Tara noticed. A large duffel bag was set down beside her, and Tara glanced up just in time to see her still.

“What are you doing?” she asked, eyeing Tara with a queasy look. Tara’s fist clenched. She hated being interrupted while working.

“I’m wrapping his head so his brains don’t leak out inside of your car,” she explained flatly, shifting briefly to give the woman an annoyed look. “Unless you want that in your trunk?”

She paled, shaking her head vigorously. Her complexion was looking a bit green by the time she regained her train of thought. “The uh, t-the shovel is in the basement.”

Tara blinked. “Then go get it.”

A hurried nod and your mother was practically running to the basement. Tara rolled her eyes.

She took a long look at the bag beside her. It was a bit smaller than she would’ve liked, but it could work with the right positioning.

Taking advantage of your mother’s absence, Tara stripped her bloodied shirt off and shrugged the new one on. It was a simple t-shirt, solid black thankfully with no designs. Perfect for what she was going to be doing.

She dropped the bloodied shirt onto the carpet so it could be disposed of along with it and began unfolding the sheet on the floor next to your father. Very carefully, she rolled him over onto the sheet then did it again and again until he was completely wrapped inside of it like a burrito.

Once he was fully wrapped, she slid the hat over her head, tucking her hair up into it, and tied the bandana over the bottom half of her face.

Just as she was slipping the gloves on, footsteps sounded from the basement stairs and her accomplice appeared at the top of the steps, shovel in hand.

“Put that by the door, I need your help with this,” Tara gestured to the wrapped corpse.

Her eyes widened, noticeably avoiding looking at the body Tara was referring to.

“Y-you want me to help with…that?”

Tara bit back the scathing retort on her tongue and took on a pleading tone instead.

“Yes. Please,” she tried, “I can’t lift him into the bag by myself.”

Conflict flashed in her eyes. She swallowed roughly, still unmoving. Tara was about to give up and try putting him in by herself when she finally moved to where the smaller girl was.

Tara opened the duffel bag, and with some initial struggle, they maneuvered him onto his side, pushing his knees to his chest so he could just fit inside. It was a tighter fit than anticipated but they made it work.

Together, they lifted the bag and walked it to the car, placing it in the trunk alongside the shovel. Tara grabbed your mother’s arm before she could go back inside.

“Listen,” she spoke lowly, “while I’m gone, you’re gonna roll up the carpet and burn it in the firepit out back. Get the clothes from the bathroom and burn them as well. If there’s anything else that got blood or DNA on it, then throw that in too. Understand?”

A timid nod was the only response she got from the woman before she walked back toward the house.

“Oh, and clean the table too,” Tara called out as she reached for her own keys in her pocket and popped the trunk.

She was suddenly very thankful that she kept her platforms in her trunk for… spontaneous occasions.

With a practiced ease, she tied the shoes on and unlocked your mother’s car, quietly slipping into the driver’s seat. Her fingers gripped the steering wheel and she found that her body was more tense than usual.

The next part of the plan relied entirely on luck, something Tara didn’t particularly like. But she had no choice.

Turning the key in the ignition, Tara pulled out of your driveway and began the drive across town.

Woodsboro was a sleepy little town. Very few were out and about after 10 p.m. and even less were out now, well after midnight. But still, she needed to be as careful as possible.

She drove slow, headlights off, taking as many backroads as possible to avoid any cameras and the sightlines of any major streets or apartment buildings in case anyone was awake and watching.

After about twenty minutes of driving, Tara pulled into one of the two cemeteries in Woodsboro. A slow ten-minute circuit around the place told her that there was nothing of use there. It disheartened her a bit, but she couldn’t give up, so she set off to her next destination.

Thankfully, luck seemed to be on her side because a few minutes into her drive around the second cemetery, she found exactly what she was looking for.

A freshly dug grave.

It had been a real gamble. But considering most funerals were held on Saturday’s and it was a Friday night (or early Saturday morning, now), there was a chance she would find one.

Tara quickly got out and opened the trunk. She grabbed the shovel with one hand and the bag with the other, almost falling over as she tried to lift it out of the car.

Very quickly, she gave up trying to carry the duffel bag and settled for pulling it along by the bag strap with both hands.

“Heavy sack of shit,” she mumbled as she dragged the bag across the grass.

She lugged him over, grumbling, and set him down by the hole. Tara noted the dirt piled around the dug out grave. At least she wouldn’t need to worry about making a mess.

When she checked the time before getting out of the car it was already 12:47.

She had to get this done so she could get back to your house. Back to you.

With a sigh, Tara grabbed the shovel, jumped into the grave, and got to work.

Digging was an arduous process. Aside from how taxing it was on the arms, Tara had no real way of knowing how far down she was digging, so she had to just trust her instincts. She only stopped when she confidently estimated she had dug around two feet down.

Getting back out was a challenge even with platforms on to accentuate her height. Being short was a curse, Tara was convinced. But after a few attempts (and a lot of embarrassment) she managed to haul herself out with the shovel in tow.

Once back on her feet, Tara roughly kicked the duffel bag into the hole and started covering it with dirt.

Trying to gauge how much dirt she was putting in while also attempting to make it perfectly even to not arouse suspicion was difficult with the limited moonlight. She could have used her phone flashlight, but she wasn’t trying to draw any unnecessary attention to herself, so she made it work.

By the time she stumbled back to the car, threw the shovel back in the trunk, and collapsed into the driver’s seat, Tara was exhausted.

Her arms ached with a fierceness and she didn’t even want to think about how they would feel when she woke up in the morning. She sighed.

Why did breaking the law have to be so much goddamn work?

A glance at the clock told her it was 1:56 A.M.

You had probably long since finished your shower by now. She pushed her fatigue aside and got back on the road.

The knowledge that you were waiting for her made her want to slam her foot down on the pedal, but she held back. This was the home stretch, getting caught now would potentially ruin everything.

Tara let out a sigh of relief when she pulled into your driveway. She turned the car off and took the shovel out the trunk, the thought of every step bringing her closer to you driving her forward.

As she stepped inside, she set the shovel by the door and instantly spotted your mother, cleaning the blood off the glass table just as Tara asked. She was also pleasantly surprised to see that the carpet that formerly resided under the table was missing.

It seemed that the feeble woman actually was good for something.

“How is she?” Tara asked while taking the hat and bandana off. Silence followed. Tara threw the garments onto the couch and looked to your mother, who had stopped scrubbing to stare at the floor.

Tara blinked. Hard. Her eyebrows shot up.

“Have you not gone to check on her?” She couldn’t bother to keep her incredulousness in check.

Again, the room lapsed into silence as the older woman kept her head down. Tara couldn’t believe what she was hearing—or rather what she was not hearing.

After sitting by while your own father—her ex-husband was trying to kill you, she couldn’t even be bothered to check in on you. “Angry” didn’t even begin to cover how Tara felt at the flagrant display of cowardice.

She couldn’t help but wonder, was this even the first time something like this happened while your mother hid instead of intervening? Was this the first time she refused to look at you because of her own shame or selfishness or both?

Enough was enough, she decided.

“She’s staying with me.”

That got your mother’s attention. She shot to her feet; eyes trained directly on Tara’s for the first time since she stepped back into the house.

“She absolutely isn’t. Why would you think that?”

“I think it’d be better if she’s away from this house for a while,” Tara gritted out, patience running thin.

“There is still a killer on the loose in this town. I won’t let you take my daughter somewhere where I won’t know if she’s safe or not.”

Indignation burned bright and hot in Tara’s veins. Her lips curled into a distorted smile.

“And you think she’ll be safer here? With you?” she spat, enjoying the way your mother’s eyes widened. “You couldn’t even protect her from your own husband, do you really think you could protect her from a vicious murderer?”

The woman blanched and inched back, but Tara didn’t stop, taking a step into her space as she continued.

“Even tonight, as your husband tried to kill her, what did you do? Did you try to stop him? Or did you cower in the kitchen like you were when I came?”

Tara waited for an answer. None came. She persisted.

“That’s right, you did nothing. You didn’t try to stop him; you didn’t try to save your own child. Hell, you didn’t even try to call the police. Your daughter had to call me for help after he died because you were being too useless to even stand up.”

Your mother had gone completely still, a slight tremble setting in. She was close to crumbling, Tara knew. One more solid push should do it. So Tara leaned in real close, eyes dark, voice but a whisper.

“You couldn’t protect her all these years. What makes you think you can now?”

As predicted, that did it. Tara watched her shatter in one swift motion.

Tears pooled and spilled over as all of the blood drained from her face. The tremble in her limbs became a violent shake, sending her to her knees with a gargled whimper.

Tara just stood, watching the display with distaste. Languidly, she knelt down before your mother and caught her teary gaze.

“If anyone asks where your ex-husband is, you tell them that he moved out west and cut contact with you. Use the divorce as an excuse,” she instructed slowly. Eyes darkening further, Tara leaned forward, dropping her voice. “You will not speak a word about what happened here tonight to anyone. Your daughter will be staying with me until she’s able to feel safe in her own home again. Do you understand?”

It was a statement more than it was a question, the finality in her tone leaving no room for argument. There was only one acceptable answer for Tara. And it seemed that she understood that. Lips trembling, she gave Tara a shaky nod, making the smaller girl smile.

Satisfied, Tara stood, intending on collecting you and leaving, but your mother apparently wasn’t finished annoying her.

“P-please, please tell her that I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…” she gasped out between miserable sobs, weakly grabbing Tara’s hand.

Tara’s lips curled with disgust. Even now, after everything that had happened, your own mother couldn’t give you the apology you deserved to your face.

How pathetic.

Snatching her hand from the woman’s frail grasp, she began making her way upstairs, letting the pitiful cries fade with distance.

Tara entered the upstairs hallway, scanning it quickly. There were four doors that branched from the hall. The one all the way at the end was partially open. She made her way to it, taking a peek inside the bathroom along the way, pleased to see that the bag you presumably left on the floor was indeed gone.

At least your mother was good at following orders.

Pushing the door open wider, she was greeted by the unfamiliar sight of your room. It was a surprisingly sparse room for someone with so much personality. If Tara didn’t know any better, she wouldn’t have even guessed it was yours.

The walls were bare, lacking all the decoration that Tara’s had, and the furniture was more of the same. Plain, brown, and devoid of all the emotion and spirit that she envisioned it having. The only sign of life in the room was on your bed, where you laid unnaturally still.

You rested atop your comforter, your damp hair fanned out on the pillow beneath you, gradually soaking it. But you either didn’t notice or didn’t care, staring resolutely out your window. The bruising on your neck was already darker, a nauseating shade of purple that made Tara’s stomach stir.

She approached quietly, not wanting to startle you in your seemingly fragile state, and sat down on the edge of the bed. You didn’t register the shifting of your bed, so Tara tentatively slipped her hand into yours.

Finally, Tara saw you inhale, and your attention shifted from the outside world to her.

“Tara,” you whispered, voice gravelly, “my dad, w-wha-“

“Don’t worry about him, baby. I took care of everything,” she cooed, stroking her thumb over your cheek.

“Did…you call the police?” you asked. The soft furrow of your brows would be adorable if it weren’t for the worry in your eyes that accompanied it.

Tara shook her head. “No. No police.”

“Wh-“ A harsh cough forced its way from your throat, making Tara wince in sympathy. “What’s gonna happen now?”

The fear in your eyes made her chest ache. To combat it, she put a small, comforting smile on her face. “Actually, that’s what I was coming to tell you. I talked it over with your mom we came to an agreement. You’ll be staying with me for the time being.”

She half expected you to say no, to refuse being uprooted from your home so suddenly. Instead, you asked, “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to intrude on you or Sam.”

Tara almost sighed. You had a way of constantly making yourself out to be a burden when you were anything but.

“You could never intrude on us. Sam loves you and so do I. More than you could ever know. If you want to stay, you would be more than welcome,” she paused then posed the question. “Do you want to stay with me?”

She tried to brace herself for whatever you would say but your answer, only one small syllable, was said so fast that she didn’t even have time.

“Please.”

The rush of relief she felt was so powerful it almost knocked the air from her lungs.

Tara went over to your closet and started putting clothes into the overnight bag you used when you stayed with her for the weekend, grabbing your favorites first. The bag wasn’t big enough to fit everything, but it didn’t really matter, she could always come back and pick up more if need be.

Or you could wear her clothes. Tara liked that idea much better.

Once it was as full as she could get it, she turned to you and froze. You were sitting up now, brows drawn together as you stared at nothing.

Concerned, Tara dropped the bag and knelt down in front of you, reaching to cradle one of your hands between hers.

“Hey,” she prompted, voice soft, “what’s going through that head of yours?”

Pursing your lips, you tried to look away, but Tara wasn’t letting you get away that easily. She leaned forward, following your eyes. A sigh was expelled through your nose, voice dropping to a grave whisper.

“Do you think I’m a monster, Tara?”

Tara swore she could feel her heart fracture.

“No,” she asserted, shaking her head. “No, look at me.”

You did. She chose her next words very carefully, trying very hard to steer clear of anything resembling “he deserved it” (even if it was true).

“What you did was an accident,” she started, speaking slowly and clearly. “You didn’t want to hurt him, but he was hurting you and you reacted. You couldn’t have known that he would trip. And if you did know, you probably wouldn’t have done it. Why? Because you’re not a monster. You could never be one, not to me anyways.”

There was a brief silence after her small monologue. You took in her words while she watched you, admired you.

“Thank you,” you whispered. She just smiled, placing a feather-light kiss on your lips.

Tara tried not to dwell on how you would view her if you ever found out about the sins she’s committed without remorse.

She stood on unsteady legs. “Are you ready to leave?”

Thankfully you nodded, seeming just as eager as she was to get the hell out of this house.

She grabbed your bag and escorted you out of the house. Tara didn’t miss the way you barely glanced in your mother’s direction as you passed her.

The ride to her house was silent, as expected. You looked on the verge of either falling asleep or breaking down and nothing Tara could say would change that. Still, she reached over to intertwine your fingers with hers at the first red light.

Sam’s car was in the driveway when Tara pulled in, which made her groan. She was hoping she could at least wait until morning to explain the situation to her sister, that would have given her time to come up with a suitably vague excuse for your indefinite stay.

But her sister surprised her.

She stood from the couch as you both entered and took your shoes off, that irritating look on her face that indicated to Tara that an interrogation was imminent, but the minute she saw you, her mouth clamped shut.

The way her wide eyes trailed over the bruises on your neck didn’t escape Tara’s notice, and she was just about to step up and get defensive when Sam wrapped you in a delicate hug and told you that you could stay as long as you needed to.

Tara was shocked. She didn’t think it would be so easy, but she supposed this fell in line with Sam’s newer personality quirks.

Sam had a recent habit of being… protective of the people she cared for. It annoyed the hell out of Tara but, if it could help her get what she wanted, as it did just now, then she would learn to tolerate it.

So she sent her sister a large, grateful smile and pulled you upstairs, making a mental note to find other ways to take advantage of Sam’s overprotective streak in the future.

Tara debated bringing your things into her room, but she figured you deserved a space of your own that could truly feel like it was yours. She led you to the guest room, conveniently right across the hall from her room, and placed your bag on the edge of the bed.

She paused then, finding herself entirely unsure of what to do next. Part of her wanted to invite you to her room like usual, while the other argued that you may want some space to process what happened earlier.

Discordant words interrupted the beginnings of her internal debate.

“Can I sleep with you?” you rasped, sounding shy despite the fact that you’d shared a bed with her dozens of times before. Tara smiled.

“Of course.” She took your hand in hers again and took you across the hall, gesturing for you to lay down while she changed and put her dirty clothes away. She made another mental note to wash those clothes tomorrow. Just in case.

In the few minutes that took, you were already on the verge of falling asleep when she turned back around.

With a small grin, she laid beside you and opened her arms. The tiny smile you gave her in return was blinding. You burrowed into her and buried your face into Tara’s neck like you always did when you slept together. Tara started carding her hand through your hair, knowing it would lull you off faster.

You were asleep within minutes. She couldn’t blame you, it had been an eventful night, and Tara herself should have been passed out instantly with the amount of physical labor she had done not even a few hours prior, but she just couldn’t shut her eyes.

How could she peacefully sleep knowing what she did to you?

This entire situation was her fault. Her inaction led to this moment, her hesitance to possibly hurt you nearly got you killed.

Her hesitance made you kill. That was devastating.

Tara wasn’t oblivious. She wasn’t so naïve as to think that her ultraviolent impulses were normal. No, there was a reason why she hid her true nature.

Whereas she found killing to be exhilarating—as utterly satisfying as scratching an itch you hadn’t been able to reach—you found it to be tormenting. She saw how stricken you were earlier, heard how terribly you thought of yourself for your actions just earlier in your room.

This would torture you. Would be a burden you carried for a long time. Because of her.

Just the thought was agonizing. The knowledge that she had hurt you, intentionally or not, made her want to drive a knife through her own flesh.

It would never happen, that she would make sure of.

With reinvigorated purpose, Tara pulled a blanket over the both of you and pressed a long, firm kiss to the top of your head. A silent promise to do better. A vow that for as long as she had you, she would never let another soul do you harm.

And the next time she even suspected anyone of laying their hands on you, there would no hesitation and absolutely no mercy.

#tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #ghostface!tara #scream #scream vi #jenna ortega #i still don't know what damn tags to use lmao #shoutout to the mutual that informed me about exsanguination #ur a real one!#hope this isn't too disappointing

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nihilistem · 1 year ago

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Hey! I read your study tips both posts regarding adhd . (Feel free to ignore )

I am still undiagnosed and I think it's adhd but i do not have the resources nor the environment or support system to do anything about it .I am a high schooler preparing for entrance exams and i really need to like get my shit together and i feel like i have wasted sm time already but i really do want to get better. When i sit to study i just can't focus if I keep my phone in some other room then also i would just sit and stare at my books without accomplishing something. I am trying really but it's feels like my brain is frozen and my body is moving .my brain keep screaming guilty and ashamed but i can't seem to do anything about it.your study post actually i related to a lot because pomodro kind of seems to be working for everyone but me and the you described the exact same things I do

I know this is a lot to ask for please feel free to ignore but how do I stop Letting my emotions take over and study consistently because I only have one chance at the exams

Oh my, first of all I’d like to say that, as cliché as it is, I know exactly how you feel. I was undiagnosed for so long (I was only diagnosed a few months ago) and I didn’t even know that the adhd things I experience on a regular basis wasn’t normal or neurotypical for so long.

first up : I know this is difficult, but please do not say such things about yourself. I’m not gonna get into the whole thing, (cuz I have done a post on that already) but it’s true that the more you drill that bad stuff into your brain, the more it’s gonna stick. We need our brains to be in the best condition possible to study efficiently and saying bad stuff about yourself that isn’t even true is just going to hinder your performance. You got this. I promise you’re not lazy. Your brain just isn’t motivated by the same things others are, but we can work with that simple difference.

I’ll make a separate post on how not to let your emotions take over, but for now …

adhd study tips for those trying to get into the habit.

— by a stem student with adhd.

here’s my first post on adhd study tips.

— don’t put your phone in a different room. Instead, download an app that prevents you from using other apps on your phone.

there’s plenty of apps that do this but the one I prefer is ypt because all its features are completely free and it stops your timer when you exit the app unless you enter ‘allowed app mode.’ I don’t know about you, but if I find that I’m just zoning out on my textbook then I end up stopping my timer and deleting the record because I know I didn’t actually study, and this motivates me to actually get some work done. The timer also gets me motivated to keep going for longer so I have physical proof of my focus time and studies. It will feel good to even have just 1 hour of study time on it, I promise.

— even if you’re not interested in your studies, try your best to find even one thing that interests you.

novelty, challenge and interest are some of the best motivators of the adhd brain, so use it. I know that sparking your curiosity for a subject you hate seems impossible, but hear me out.

ever since I was young, I was exposed to books and I drew everyday. This caused me to become very passionate about the arts, but since I had adhd and didn’t know, I failed all my classes and specifically hated chemistry because it was specifically designed to be everything that I can’t be good at due to my poor memory and the need to memorize a TON of concepts. Then during class one day, I was doing chemistry work with my friends and felt frustrated that they could easily balance equations and work out which compounds were acids or bases purely by its chemical formula. And that’s what sparked me to start reading my textbook to see what the big deal was. How was it possible for one to just know when something is a acid solely from looking at a bunch of letters? This started a chain reaction; I found my answer, and found that the process of finding my answer and learning this new information was fulfilling. So I looked at all the other chemistry topics, and it turns out chemistry was fun. I was supposed to be an art student but now I’m majoring in chemistry and biology, all because of that sense of challenge and curiosity I was given that day.

tdlr; I was bad at chemistry but I’m now majoring in it because I felt challenged by a friend and was curious to know how they could solve chem equations easily.

All it took was a bit of curiosity. It’s a very powerful thing to the adhd brain. And if you use this as a motivator for your studies it might even cause you to hyper-fixate on your work, which means you’ll naturally spend more time studying just to find all the answers you’re now dying to know.

— use the pomodoro timer, but think about the things that you have to do that seems a little impossible to do under 25 minutes.

This fulfills the ‘challenge’ category I mentioned in the previous tip.

Let me explain; I subconsciously started doing this to myself without anyone telling me this and it’s helped me a LOT. Here’s an example;

“This chapter’s too long, it’s impossible to read through everything and understand the key concepts in just twenty five minutes.”

is it, though?

So I was off to the races, genuinely reading through every page and taking note of every single heading or bold or italicized word so I will be able to summarize the entire topic by the time the twenty five minutes is up.

And it doesn’t even matter if you don’t make that twenty five minute mark, because you’ll feel a sense of defeat and try it again with another chapter/topic.

this accomplishes two things; one, the work you’ve been putting off or zoning out on is now probably 20% - 50% completed and now you feel motivated to continue. Two, this method will train you to be faster in learning or studying new material or even just completing work in general, depending on what you’re challenging yourself to do.

— dress up, do your hair, study at a library or cafe you love (and possibly make pretty notes.)

I’ve talked about interest, I’ve talked about challenge, and now I’m gonna talk about novelty.

Do this with purpose! But what do I mean by that?

I’m sure you’ve come across studious girls in media or even people on social media making videos and taking pretty photos of their day out to study. Usually they’re dressed the part and even if they’re not, there’s a certain vibe, aesthetic or aura about them that is just so desirable that it makes you wish you were doing what they were doing. And if you don’t feel this way, find content creators or media that do make you feel this way.

How will this help me? Well, there are actually a few reasons but the first one that comes to mind is that this is also an adhd tip used outside of studying. Combining a task you don’t want to do with a task you’d like to do is a faster and more efficient way of convincing yourself to do long, difficult or even tiring tasks. Another is that doing this would also mean you’ve technically gotten yourself to desire studying, something more commonly known as romanticizing studying. If you make studying look fun, glamorous or even desirable for yourself then you’re sure to get to the hideous parts of it. Think about being a straight A student, someone who’s always wearing nice clothes with great hair and such a focused work ethic. Once you desire to be that person and you dress like that person, you’ll start to do the things that person will do.

— use the pomodoro timer but set it to even shorter bursts instead. (e.g. 15 minutes work, 5 minutes break.)

Or hell, on my worst days I set it to 5 minutes work, 5 minutes break.

The whole point of this exercise is to just start, because that’s arguably the hardest part about studying, you can’t get yourself to actually start or to actually focus. So promise yourself a five minute break after a very short amount of time of reading.

— skip straight to the questions of a topic, try to do them and identify the information you need to get the answer right.

For example, I came across a bio question that was rather simple but I didn’t know the answer to because I haven’t revised the topic for a while, and the question was, what is needed in the body for anaerobic respiration to take place? And the answer was simple, but I didn’t know because again, I didn’t study the material before answering the paper.

one’s brain can have the habit of being complacent especially when you don’t wanna do work, so diving head first into the questions and realizing that you don’t know jack shit would be a good wake up call for you and your brain—and this can connect to the second point that I made because you might find that you’d be eager to get the answer right all on your own, and become curious as to what the answer is.

important to remember …

erase everything bad that you were told or led to believe about studying. I promise that if you look for ways to make it engaging for you and form a habit, studying can be something you don’t dread or worry about everyday. You are capable. This is the start of your journey. Yes, the question of ‘what if I get distracted again’ will always be there but think about what could happen if today is the first day you’re not distracted. If you don’t at least try to start now, you will have zero chance of being able to actually focus and study. But if you try, the worst that will happen is that you tried. If you keep trying, it will happen. I promise.

If you need any more tips regarding adhd, (or being undiagnosed,) please do let me know. I’ll do my best to help.

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