#I don’t think we appreciate that one enough

[aurumalatus]

𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 [𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞]

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 700

genre/warnings. childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff and angst, drabble collection

summary.

in which kinich learns the value of all things: lives, friendship, and, of course, you. or, in which kinich realizes that you are the only priceless thing in this world.

author's note. this is just a short prologue to show how things end (yay happy endings!), but the two have a lot of trauma to go through before they reach endgame. i love kinich's character and design so i'm excited for this! interaction is highly appreciated :)

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ↣

Kinich thinks he’s loved you since forever.

He has no way of proving that, of course; those years are long gone, and even if he had the opportunity to ask, he’s not sure his younger self would have a comprehensible answer. He can only see now that he’s come so far, when the memories are too murky to make sense of but the warmth remains—when he thinks of your smile and feels something akin to the weightlessness of grappling and flying through the trees.

He says “forever” because he really has no idea when it started—the realization came far after the feeling. He’d been before school age when he met you for the first time, and it’s been over a decade since then.

“Kinich!”

Your call interrupts his thoughts, and his gaze is drawn skyward—you’re standing somewhere far above him, on one of the walkways lining the cliffs of the Scions of the Canopy. You’re waving so wildly and ridiculously that it almost makes him smile.

“Are you coming down?” he calls through cupped hands, well-acquainted with this kind of long-distance communication. Sound tends to echo well between the cliffs here, and he’s sure you heard him when you offer an enthusiastic thumbs-up in return. 

“Yup! I bought a few things, so I was hoping you could help me carry them home!”

Kinich rolls his eyes teasingly. “Somehow I doubt that you have enough Mora left to afford my services.”

You pout in reply. Ajaw decides to appear then, a malicious puff of smoke over Kinich’s shoulder. “Of course not! You better not be making fun of me, letting some mortal treat you like a servant! The Almighty Dragonlord, K’uhul Ajaw, won’t take this kind of disrespect—”

Ignoring his wordy introduction, you call down to Kinich again. “I’m coming down! Think fast!”

“—Don’t make me lau—wait, what?!”

Even Ajaw yelps in surprise as you take a running leap off the walkway, freefalling fast down the plane of the cliff. If he were any younger, Kinich might’ve had a heart attack. But you’ve been pushing your luck with him for years, and it comes as instinct when Kinich grapples up, deftly catching you in his arms with a light ‘oof’.

You’re holding a few boxes in your arms, he notices, and you smile. 

“I bought some Puff Pops for us to share later. I was thinking we can do some climbing, or there’s this cave I’ve been meaning to explore.”

His heart does a sort of flip that cannot be attributed to the way you fly through the sky. It’s all so much: the sensation of your warmth pressed against him, the scent of the wind rushing past, and the laughter of his tribe members below. Their eyes shine as they watch the two of you pass above them, chuckling at the familiar sight. 

And really, he can’t remember ever being this happy. When he thinks of how much it took to reach this point, the heartbreak and trauma aren’t the first things to come to mind. Instead, it’s you. The way you held him, the way you cried for him, the way you chased him. Always laughing, always in love.

Too lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t notice your curious stare for a moment. You poke at his cheek, and he startles, nearly dropping you both.

“Is something wrong?” you ask shyly, suddenly self-conscious of the box in your hands. “We don’t have to do any of that. Really, if you have a high-value job or something, I understand.”

Ajaw decides to butt-in again, reddened with rage. “Yes, all of that sucks! I mean, seriously, don’t you have anything better to do—”

“No, it’s great,” Kinich murmurs in reply, flicking Ajaw away with a strong hand—the Saurian’s roar dissipates with the wind. He holds you tighter against his chest. There’s nothing worth more to him than you. “That all sounds really, really amazing.”

As the two of you burst through the trees, laughing the whole way, he thinks that it doesn’t really matter when he started to love you. All that matters is that he doesn’t stop.

Kinich thinks he’ll love you forever.

[lenaswritingandstuff]

Dating the Slytherin boys (+ Harry) - HEADCANONS

Requested: No

Characters: Mattheo Riddle, Tom Riddle, Theodore Nott, Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Regulus Black, Harry Potter (+ y/n)

Warnings: NSFW mentions, English is not my first language

A/N: I'm not sure I like this but here we go. However I have to say I like Regulus' one so I might turn his version into a one shot one day (when uni won't be killing me slowly). This will include also the pre-dating/flirting stage as well. Comments and feedback are always appreciated. Enjoy! ^^

Tag list: @helendeath @im-jesus

Tag list for this story: @anawritez-posts @pumpkinchee @alwayslatetothefandoms

Mattheo Riddle:

His feelings for you probably confused him at first 

If he falls first, he either won’t let you know or will do everything to get your attention (‘Hey, y/n, come sit here, the seat is free!”, “y/n, do you mind helping me with homework for Snape? I can’t bloody do it”, “How about we go to Hogsmeade, just you and me?”, “you look beautiful, y/n”)

Your love for him always calms him when he gets anxious or when he’s upset, especially after his father comes back

Will tell you things he never told anyone

Would rather spend time with you than with his friends

Is terrified something will happen to you because of his father 

VERY jealous, but trusts you

Despite easily getting angry, he can’t get mad at you. Even during arguments 

LOVES sleeping in your arms or when you just hold him

He's crazy about your body

Loves showering with you, and we both know how it often ends

HOT, passionate sex

Will randomly eat you out without expecting anything in return (doesn't mind if you return the favor, though)

100% calls you "baby" or "love" all the time

Doesn’t care about what anyone thinks of him as long as you love him

Your love makes him feel lighter and stronger

You're his whole world

Feels bad when he hears someone criticize you for dating him 

Always makes sure you don’t overwork yourself, and makes sure you get enough sleep, water and food, and comforts you when you're anxious

Holds your hands when he's anxious or stressed

Will listen to anything you have to say 

Crazy about your perfume

Theodore Nott:

Struggles to express his love or feelings in general, at least in the beginning 

Has never done serious relationships before, and it may cause some trouble in your relationship, as you end up believing he doesn’t care about you

It causes many fights, and the last one will be the first time he says ‘I love you’

Always goes to you for comfort 

Loves sleeping with you in his arms/on his laps, or cuddling, and with time he can’t sleep without you

Loves watching you sleep 

Loves having you on his lap

Always gets you great gifts (even randomly)

“Well, it thought it was pretty, and…it reminded me of you.”

Will fight any guy who is rude to you or acts like a creep 

Very jealous (trusts you, doesn’t trust others)

Doesn’t mind PDA at all, will gladly hold your hand or kiss you in public

Always has a hand on your waist or around your shoulders 

Very supportive in everything you do, even when he doesn’t understand it/isn’t really interested in it

Isn’t very good with comforting people (mostly because he's not used to it), but will hold you and listen to you as long as you need, can even give you advice/reassurance 

Every compliment/'I love you' you say melts his heart and means much more to him than he shows, same goes for anything you do for him

Loves doing fun things, even if it’s just throwing snowballs at each other during winter (which ends in loving kisses, just savouring the joy of being together)  

Love getting in a pool with you and playing "childish" games during summer

Any form of intimacy means A LOT to him 

He's used to hooks up and "fucking" but it takes him a bit of time to have sex with you (despite being crazy about you and your body) because you mean everything to him and with you it's really making love instead of just "fucking"

The first time is loving and slow yet passionnate (eye contact at all times, hands holding, desperate kisses from him), and it gets a bit rougher and passionate the next times (but aftercare, which he isn't used to, is always on point and keeps getting better)

Is secretly very insecure, and is terrified you will leave him (especially for another “better” guy) 

Craves your touch and your love but won’t admit it

His boggart is probably you being dead alongside his mother

Will tell you sweets things in Italian

Very clingy in private - and also in public with time

With you he learns to be happier and discovers a happier side of himself he didn't know he had

Loves you much more than he actually shows at first 

Will often say you're all he has (and means it)

But with time, you have no reason to doubt his love and he’s the perfect boyfriend

Blaise Zabini:

Probably will court you like the gentleman he is

He doesn’t trust people easily and might be a little distant (while always polite and kind) in the early stages of your relationship 

But with time he becomes very warm and smiles a lot

Always kisses the top of your hand or your forehead 

Doesn’t do much PDA except for holding hands and kisses on your forehead

However in private he’ll 100% cuddle you and hold you

Dates in parks or restaurants  

Get you flowers at least once a month

Will always defend you against others 

One of his love languages is acts of service

Lorenzo Berkshire:

You either were friends before dating or he fell in love with you at first sight, there is no in between

Takes you on fun dates (arcade, funfair, theme parks) 

Can be shy at the beginning, which will make it a bit hard for him to talk about how he feels about you

Movie nights where you two eats lots of snacks and sweets while cuddling 

Always smiles when you enter a room

So supportive 

Loves when you're on his lap

He has no problem with PDA

Quickly willing to meet your family if you agree

He’s a great listener and mostly gives good advices 

Loves taking naps with you 

Always makes you sure you get enough sleep, water and food

Won’t let you get yourself into dangerous situations

Loves to go anywhere with you, no matter the activity and even if he just follows you around 

Many pet names

If you're Muggleborn or grew up among Muggles, he will totally ask you questions about the muggle world

Passionnate sex, will get rough if he hasn't seen you in a long time or if it's angry sex after he got jealous

His aftercare is the best, and he's always thankful you trust him enough to have that form of intimacy with him

Draco Malfoy:

Won’t flirt at first with you but keeps wanting your attention

Tries to seduce you with expensive gifts, and is a bit taken aback when you say he doesn’t work

Continues to get you gifts, but will make sure they match your interests/tastes, and keeps expensive gifts for your birthdays and Christmas (even though he’d like to get them all year for you) 

At first he doesn't show any weakness in your presence

With you he’ll learn patience and to focus of more positive things, and also to stand up to his father

Takes you on dates every chance he gets

Will ditch his friends to spend time with you

Probably makes Crabbe and Goyle carry your bags or do things for you

So proud to be dating you, it might even make him more arrogant

Gets grumpy when jealous but after a kiss on the cheek he’s back to his normal self 

Will invite you to his home and write you nearly everyday during holidays

Hates it when Harry or any Gryffindor boy tries to talk to you

Surprisingly has no problem with PDA

Loves when you come to see him play during Quidditch matches

Tom Riddle:

Oh boy

It started with him admiring/watching you from afar, for he reason he can’t understand

SUPER confused by what he feels for you and why

Will probably try to get closer to you through homework or through books if he sees you read one

Will know everything about you, and will secretly follow you, saving you if you’re in danger with you never knowing who it was

Crazy about your perfume, so much so that it makes him steal one of your clothes just to be able to smell it anytime he wants

After a while, he’ll spend most of his time with you without ever admitting he likes it

Will probably let you know his feelings for you after he cast a spell on a guy for being a creep with you 

Won’t let another man touch you

Will ask Mattheo for advice to be better or to make you fall in love with him

Will do your homework without hesitation, even if he pretends that he hates it, and will leave explanations so you understand his answers/his work

No PDA except for holding hands or your hand under his arm, but will make sure to stay close to you at all times 

Is a surprisingly good listener 

VERY jealous, but surprisingly isn’t mad or suspicious at you

“Did you enjoy having his attention? Do you wish for me to show you how my attention is better?” 

He doesn't stress over homework or stuff like that, so he finds it ridiculous when you do (learns with time to be more understanding)

Will let flowers in your room with a note on it

Pretends to not care about the gifts you get him for his birthday or Christmas but it actually means so much to him as no one ever got him any gifts before 

Nothing the others say about him gets to him, but he gets angry when he hears someone say that you deserve better than him

Is secretly insecure about his background and the fact that he’s poor, and thinks you deserve better 

As Voldemort: Might be torn between continuing his goals for power or spending a simple life with you; is aware you’ll leave him if he gets on a darker path 

As Voldemort’s son: would do everything to protect you from his father, and if he’s forced to get the Dark Mark, he will makes sure you don’t know 

Possessive kisses 

Would hurt anyone who does you wrong

Borrows money from Draco to take you on dates or to get you gifts, as he feels like you deserve the nicest things, even though you keep telling him his mere presence is enough

May feel a little bit guilty that he can’t properly show you his love like “normal” boyfriends do 

Won’t admit it but considers you the only good thing in his life, and if he ever lost you he’d get on a dark path

Won’t cuddle at first, but if you wake up first you’ll find him sleeping close to you, with at least one of his hands touching you

Always notices when you don’t eat, sleep or drink enough

You’re the first (and only) person he will feel romantic love for

He has a bit of sexual experience before, but with you it's completely different - once you guys have sex for the first time, he becomes obsessed with your body and how it makes him feel

Loves fingering you

"You like it, dove?"

Even if you guys don’t work out, he won’t ever be with somebody else 

Would ask your parents for you hand in marriage, but honestly it's just out of politeness, the only answer that matters to him is yours

Regulus Black:

Like Blaise, he was raised the old fashioned way

Acts coldly towards everyone except you, his tone and eyes gets warmer and kinder when talking/looking at you, and you’re the only person he’ll smile at

You were his best (and only) friend and he has been in love with you for years

He hides his feelings very well, but one day you start dating someone else (thinking Regulus doesn’t share your feelings) but he can’t bear it and confesses his feelings

Always defends you

He’ll take you on restaurants or picnics dates, always bringing flowers

Mostly fine with PDA (holding hands, hands on your waist)

Thinks he’s very lucky to have you

Probably already starts thinking of marrying you during your last year at Hogwarts 

A bit jealous, but can’t stand it when Sirius tries to talk to you

Will gladly do your homework with/for you

Loves it when you sleep in each other’s arms, loves feeling you close

Loves it when you call him “Reggie” (only you is allowed to)

Will literally do everything you ask him to

You’re everything to him

Can’t stay away from you for long

Will get worried if you’re five minutes late

Always calls you “sweetheart” or “love”/”my love” 

Slow, romantic sex most of the time but sometimes he needs to be rougher

Thanks to you he’ll feel lighter and he will become kinder

You’ll even make him change his views on blood purity and stand up to his parents, and with time he gets closer to Sirius thanks to that (and you) 

If that doesn’t change and he still joins Voldemort, he’ll leave you a letter before going to the cavern, saying how much he loves you and how much you mean to him

Harry Potter:

Don’t expect any pet names from him, but he might create a nickname with your name (like he calls Ginny ‘Gin’ in the Cursed Child) 

His love languages are fierce protectiveness, loyalty and a patience he didn’t knew he had

Has no problem with PDA because he doesn’t care about what other people think  

Loves cuddles

Rarely gets mad at you, and feels guilty when he does

Mostly gets mad at you when you hurt yourself (for example during Quidditch) but it's also because he was scared for you

Hot kisses in private

Will be jealous if he sees you with another guy 

He’s passionate in a lot of things he does, and it includes you and everything you do

Will fiercely defend you again anyone, can even throw hands

Gets FURIOUS when Umbridge hurts you during detention, and will cuddle you for hours and do everything he can to make the pain disappear

Knows people are mean to you during fifth year because you're dating him and he hates it

During that year the only peace he feels is when he's holding you or when you sleep in his arms (it's also the only time he doesn't get nightmares)

Very supportive 

Loves getting you gifts 

You make him feel SO happy, he’ll just keep smiling for no reason 

Gets more and more clingy with time

Always write to you during the holidays (you always invite him to come to your house)

I'm not sure about sex while you guys are at Hogwarts but he 100% feels lust for you, there will definitely be hot making sessions when you guys are alone in a dark corner of the castle and it often ends up with you against the wall with your legs around his waist while he kisses your neck and caresses your legs

However sometimes he just can't stop himself and will eat you out (even maybe finger you at the same time), and will be proud when you come

Any act of service you do for him means a lot

You're always worried about him when he's at the Dursleys but he reassures you that he's fine

Comes to you in the middle of the night if he has a nightmare and generally comes to you for comfort or to rant 

Needs you more than ever after Voldemort comes back and after Sirius’ death 

Misses you like crazy during his quest for Horcruxes, and he can’t bear the thought of something happening to you 

Might struggle to show it, but he knows and is thankful of how patient and comprehensive you are with him, and that makes him want to be the best boyfriend he can be

Terrified Voldemort might hurt/kill you

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[yanderenightmare]

Bakugou Katsuki

♡ TW: omegaverse, somewhat subjugating omega politics, old-fashioned high-class politics of sorts

♡ GN reader

Bakugou doesn't tell people about his home life, so you can imagine the Bakusquad’s utter surprise when they invite themselves over only to find out he has a little omega housewife waiting for him.

“Oh, hello,” you say when the four additional Alphas pour in through the door after your Katsuki.

They all look at you unblinking. The biggest one, a redhead, doesn’t seem all that surprised—as though he’d had some suspicion that’s now been laid to rest. But the other three, an electric blond, a guy with raven hair, plus a woman with cotton candy curls, look at you as if they’d just stumbled upon a mouse in a lion's den—all slightly horrified at the sight of you.

Your alpha, the tightly wound grump seething with annoyance, stomps over to you and plants a quick kiss on your hairline. “They just barged in,” he grumbles under his breath. “Sorry if we scared you.”

You hum calmly in turn, “That’s okay. I heard you yelling in the driveway, so I wasn’t surprised.”

The four members of the Bakusquad are all gobsmacked at the domestic sight—the boss, their boss, their hard-headed macho boss, bending over and apologizing to this little omega half his size.

“Are you hungry?” you ask, peaking over the breadth of his hunched shoulders to the others with a warm smile on your pretty face. “I just finished dinner.”

“No,” Katsuki growls grumpily and winds his arms around you—like an old, tired dog, voice gruff, “Uninvited intruders don’t get my dinner.”

You only giggle it off, brushing his stubble with a small hand, gently handling him further down to your level so you could place a kiss on his other cheek. “Oh, stop, Katsuki. Be nice to your friends.” 

Then you walk off to the kitchen.

Calling out sweetly over your shoulder, “I went a little overboard, so there’s more than enough for everyone.”

And by god, if they don't fall in love with you right then before they’ve even got a single word out.

But love at first sight isn't all so strange. None of them have ever seen an Omega outside of on film—much less been hit with the scent of one. They're all bewitched and confused at the feeling as they trail after you as if they've been compelled by some higher power.

"Please sit," you smile, gesturing to the long table where only two seats have been made. "Katsuki, hon, help me, please"

They all scoot into each their unplaced seat while your big lousy Alpha begrudgingly helps set the table for the unwanted dinner guests. They remain silent as you serve them like the perfect homemaker—all crimson-cheeked and ashamed at how they sniff after you as you pass them by.

You sit just as brightly despite the awkward tension. "Please, enjoy."

They all obey, eating in utter silence—every single one of them trying hard not to stare—and all failing miserably.

Kaminari's the first to speak, having been left shaken by curiosity he no longer could contain.

"So... did he kidnap you, or?"

It's a fair question to some extent. Omega's are a dime a dozen, all regulated strictly by protective institutions. You can't just find one to mate like in the old days. You need to apply for one and be vetted—not to mention they cost a fortune.

"Denki!" Kirishima whisper-shouts in admonishment, shaking his head from across the table.

"What? I'm I the only one who's thinking it?" he throws his hands up and defends.

Katsuki's fist strains around his fork, but you lay your mit atop his, and he calms down shortly.

“Don't worry, Mitsuki and Masaru made the arrangements and paid the dowry," you giggle, running your hand through your Alpha's ashen hair with fondness in your eyes. "I was a graduation present of sorts. They worried Katsuki wouldn't take care of himself once he started working and thought having a mate might help him with his busy day.”

If Katsuki appreciates you spilling his business like that, he doesn't say anything about it—just continues eating.

Denki sighs and sags in his chair. “I always knew Bakugou’s folks were loaded. How nice...”

Sero grins, “Your jealousy is showing.”

Denki pouts, “I’m not exactly tryna hide it.”

"Yeah..." Mina pipes ut. "Can't deny I'm jealous, too."

Sero's grin falls as well with his confession, "Yeah, me neither, actually."

You keep smiling sympathetically, "Well, you're all welcome here—I don't mind the extra company."

"Really?" Denki lights up.

Mina and Sero, too—in awe and in unison, saying, "She's an angel."

"Get yer own," Katsuki grumbles. "Now shut up and finish your food. Then you're leavin'—all of you."

"Oh, come on, man," Denki whines. "Have a little pitty for your fellow Alphas."

"Let's stay respectful, guys," Krishima buds in lightheartedly. "Think about what you're asking."

Then, rethinking the conversation, the other three all realized how it had sounded, even though they hadn't meant it that way. And they all blush even darker than before.

And still, you just smile—alphas are all so cute.

Especially your hyper-protective one.

♡ BAKUGOU KATSUKI masterlist ♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mad Season 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, social anxiety, chronic illness, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes, Peter Parker

Summary: a class project gets messy. (short!reader)

Note: happy weekend.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Hey, how’d you get in?” Peter rushes in, a tray of drinks in hand. 

You pop up on the stool, broken from your trance. Uncertain what else to do, you spent much of your time trying to distract yourself with his schematics. You twist to face him. 

“Um, Bucky,” you answer and cringe at home dumb you sound. “He helped.” 

“Bucky? Helpful?” He nears and puts the cardboard tray on the table, “I guess he can be.” He picks at the edge of the tray, “I got you a blueberry matcha. The place I hit didn’t have strawberry in season anymore.” 

“Oh, sounds... interesting, but you--” 

“Didn’t have to. I know, you always say so but I felt bad for being so late. I told may to get an airtag for her wallet. She can be so--” he stops himself and chuckles. “It’s whatever. She’s got a lot going on.” 

“Mhm,” you accept the cup he offers. “I was just looking over the plans. I think we could probably just go with yours. Makes more sense.” 

“What? Oh, no way,” he takes his iced whatever. It just looks like layers of sugar and cream. “I think we could easily bring together both. Take some of your features and mine. I don’t want to take over.” 

“Yeah, but...” 

“But nothing. Really. It’s a team project, not my project,” he insists as he hops up on the stool next to you, “so,” he swipes his hand in the air and a holographic screen appears. You flinch. “Let’s compare and redraw.” 

You gape as another floating rectangle appears before him. No wonder his look so much better than your Paint hack job. You want to sink down and disappear. You always figured you’re not interesting enough to be his friend but now you’re certain you might be too stupid and poor for him too. 

“So, I’m going to get logged in...” he mutters. 

“Um, Peter?” You murmur, “are you sure you wanna be my partner?” 

“Why... wouldn’t I?” He hovers his hand before the screen as he looks at you. 

“I dunno. I don’t... I don’t have much to offer. Not a lab, not all these cool computers...” 

“Oh this? No, it’s not—it's not a big deal. Dude, I'm so lucky Mr. Stark is letting me use this. I’m not ignorant, you know? I just thought it would be easier. I don’t think your roommates like me much and mine are so loud.” he explains as he lowers his arm, crossing both over the table as he leans on it. “Do you not want to be my partner?” 

“Nnnooo,” you drag the word out. “No, I do, but I want to contribute to and I don’t know how to use any of this.” 

“That’s cool. I’ll show you.” 

“Um, okay,” you nibble your lip sheepishly. “I guess...” 

“Did you try the tea? Is it good?” He changes the subject. He does that a lot. Pivots around before you can finish your thoughts. 

“Not yet,” you look down at the bright pink lid, “where did you get this?” 

“Some place called Berry? I don’t know. Everything was bright. You’d hate it,” he laughs again. “Oh,” he snaps his fingers as you blow into the lid cautiously. “Before I forget, I’m having a party. I know it’s not really your thing but it’s ‘my turn’,” he makes quotations with his fingers, “and I don’t really wanna but I also thought I'd invite you in case you wanted to not be there with me, too.” 

Your blink in surprise, “a party?” 

“I know, too much. Well, I didn’t wanna leave you out.” 

“Mmm,” you drone nervously. It is really nice of him to think of you and after everything else, you hate to say no. “No one ever invited me to a party.” 

“No?” His brow furrows, “really?” 

You shake your head, “I’ll come. Yeah. I’ll try. You know, it’s college and ...” you take a sip and clear your throat, “should I bring a dessert?” 

He laughs and gives you a playful grudge, “wow, I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone ask me that except my aunt’s friends. Nope, you can just come as you are. You can always bring some drinks for yourself but I’ll have more than enough to share.” 

“Oh, okay,” you nod. 

“The tea good?” He asks again. 

“Yeah, sweet,” you put the cup down. 

“Awesome!” He grins. “I really didn’t think you’d come. I’m so excited.” 

“Really?” You ask. 

“Well, duh. You’re so fucking cool. Like all my other friends, they try so hard. It’s all ‘let’s go do shots’ or ‘watch me do this dumb shit’. You don’t even try, you’re just you. It’s like people don’t realize they can just be nice and be cool for just that.” 

“I... yeah,” you don’t know what to say.  

It’s like he’s calling you boring but not. You know you are and you don’t mind but you can’t ever remember when you just felt like everyone else. Where you weren’t the odd one out. Despite trying to include you, Peter still manages to push you to the edges. 

You wince as you notice how he stares at you. You fidget and pick at the button on the front of your corduroy skirt. His eyes flick down to the nervous movement. 

“I like that,” he reaches to touch the ridged fabric, “blue. Oh, thick.” 

Your leg twitches in surprise, “uh, yeah... found it at the student thrift shop.” 

“Really?” His fingers brush over the hem and touch your coloured tights. They linger for a moment before he pulls away. “Cute. I’ve never been there.” 

“It’s not bad...” you cross your legs as you knee tingles from his touch. That was strange. 

“Well, anyway,” he waggles his fingers as he turns back to the table, “uh, where was I?” He squints at the screens and taps in the air. He pauses and looks at you. “Here, I’ll show you how it work, alright?”  

He reaches over again and you brace yourself. He grabs the underside of the stool seat and drags you closer. He it so easily, you gasp. He’s a lot stronger than he looks. He slides his hand around so his arm is diagonal around your back. 

“Right, so...” his shoulder presses to you as he points with his other arm, “you can just use your finger. I’ll have to add your prints to the program. Put your hands up.” 

You obey as he stays close. You’re overly away of it. The way he’s pressed to you. He doesn’t seem to notice at all. You try not to think of it and focus on his instructions. The project. That’s why you’re here. 

[inkspiredwriting]

Playground Pandemonium

Five Hargreeves x reader

A/N: I imagine that five would be a great dad. But I also think that he is insecure and is sometimes afraid of becoming just like Reginald. What do you think?

Warnings: None

It was a rare sunny Saturday afternoon, and Five Hargreeves had finally found a day to spend entirely with his wife Y/n and their four-year-old daughter Maddie. They decided to make the most of it by visiting the local playground. Y/n, ever the planner, packed a picnic basket full of Maddie’s favorite snacks, while Five’s contribution was ensuring they arrived early enough to grab the best spot.

As they walked hand in hand through the park, Five scanned the area. “I haven’t been to a playground since, well, ever,” he admitted.

Y/n laughed, squeezing his hand. “You missed out on a quintessential part of childhood, Five. But don’t worry, Maddie will show you the ropes.”

Maddie, bouncing ahead of them with an infectious energy, turned around and called, “Come on, Daddy! You’re gonna love the swings!”

Maddie made a beeline for the swings, and Five found himself being roped into pushing her. “Higher, Daddy! Higher!” she shrieked with delight.

Five, slightly uncertain but determined not to disappoint, gave her a solid push. Maddie soared into the air, laughing gleefully.

“Careful, Five,” Y/n warned, settling on a nearby bench with a watchful eye. “We don’t want her launching into space.”

Five smirked, “I’ve seen worse launches.” He gave Maddie another push, but this time, his mind wandered to a particularly explosive time-travel incident.

Distracted, he pushed a bit too hard. Maddie shrieked—not in delight, but in mild terror—as she swung higher than intended. “Whoa! Okay, not that high!”

Y/n stifled a laugh as Five, looking mortified, rushed to catch the swing on its way back. “Sorry, kiddo,” he said, steadying her. “Daddy’s still learning the basics.”

Maddie giggled, her fear quickly forgotten. “It’s okay, Daddy. Just don’t push me into the future!”

After the swing incident, Maddie led them to the sandbox, where she promptly began constructing an elaborate sandcastle. Five and Y/n joined in, Five more reluctantly.

“Why does this remind me of building fortifications during the apocalypse?” Five muttered as he helped shape a sand wall.

Y/n chuckled. “Probably because you’re overthinking it. Just have fun!”

Maddie, her tongue poking out in concentration, sculpted a turret. “Look, Daddy! A tower!”

Five nodded, actually impressed. “Nice work, Maddie. It’s almost as secure as some of the bunkers I’ve seen.”

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully. “Maybe we can skip the part where it gets blown up by time-traveling assassins.”

As they worked, a group of kids approached, drawn by the impressive sandcastle. One boy, clearly the sandbox bully, sneered at their work. “That’s a silly castle,” he said, kicking sand at the base.

Five bristled, ready to give the kid a stern talking-to, but Y/n put a calming hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, Five. Let Maddie handle it.”

Maddie stood up, glaring at the boy. “My Daddy can travel through time and fight bad guys. What can your daddy do?”

The boy, taken aback, mumbled something about his dad being a lawyer and scampered off. Five chuckled, giving Maddie a high five. “That’s my girl.”

Y/n called them over to the picnic blanket for snacks. As they sat down, Maddie’s excitement was palpable. “Can I have a juice box, Mommy?”

Y/n handed Maddie a juice box and gave Five a sandwich. “Try not to eat it too quickly,” she teased. “We don’t have a lot of supplies here.”

Five took a bite, nodding appreciatively. “Better than cockroaches.”

Just as they were settling in, a squirrel darted towards the picnic blanket, clearly eyeing their food. Maddie squealed, and Five immediately went into protective mode.

“Back off, rodent!” Five growled, standing up to chase the squirrel away.

The squirrel, unperturbed, grabbed a stray cookie and scampered up a tree. Five glared after it, shaking his fist. “This isn’t over!”

Y/n laughed, pulling him back down to the blanket. “I think we’ll survive without one cookie.”

Maddie, giggling, took a sip of her juice box. “Daddy, you’re so funny when you’re mad.”

Five sat down with a huff, brushing off the dirt. “I’m glad someone thinks so.”

The playground centerpiece was a tall slide, and Maddie insisted that her parents try it with her. Five eyed the slide warily. “Are you sure about this? I mean, what if—”

“No ‘what ifs,’ Five,” Y/n interrupted, grabbing his hand. “It’ll be fun!”

They climbed the ladder, Maddie leading the way. At the top, Five hesitated. “This is higher than it looks.”

Y/n, already halfway down the slide with Maddie, called back, “Don’t chicken out now!”

With a resigned sigh, Five sat at the top of the slide. “Here goes nothing.” He pushed off, the slide’s angle steeper than expected. As he hurtled down, his typically composed expression twisted into one of surprise.

He shot off the end of the slide, landing in an undignified heap on the ground. Maddie burst into laughter, running over to help him up. “That was awesome, Daddy!”

Y/n, laughing so hard she had tears in her eyes, helped him stand. “See? Fun!”

Five dusted himself off, trying to maintain some dignity. “Maybe for you.”

As the sun began to set, the Hargreeves family packed up their picnic and headed home. Maddie, tired from her day of adventure, held each of her parents’ hands, swinging between them.

“That was the best day ever!” she declared, beaming up at them.

Five, despite his usual stoicism, smiled down at her. “I’m glad you had fun, Maddie.”

Y/n leaned her head on Five’s shoulder as they walked. “You know, for someone who’s never been to a playground, you did pretty well.”

Five chuckled. “Well, I had a good teacher.”

As they reached their car, Maddie climbed into her seat, already half-asleep. Five and Y/n shared a look, both of them tired but happy.

“Same time next week?” Five asked, a twinkle in his eye.

Y/n laughed, kissing his cheek. “Absolutely. As long as you promise not to get into a fight with any more squirrels.”

Five grinned. “No promises.”

As the Hargreeves family drove home, the playground behind them, they couldn't help but smile. It was the perfect blend of laughter, love, and just a bit of Hargreeves-style mayhem.

[intothestars23]

One thing I don’t think the Fourth Wing fandom seems to acknowledge or appreciate enough is just how quickly Sawyer is willing to kill anyone who slights Violet

Jack comes back? “We should kill him again”

Cat’s still being rude? “We could bury her and nobody would find her”

Rhiannon & Ridoc will shut their ass down verbally & physically, but Sawyer will jump straight to murder lmao and I love that for him

[angelbaby191]

The Little Things

Katsuki Bakugou x Reader Oneshot

The sun was setting over U.A. High School, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. You found yourself on the rooftop, enjoying the cool breeze and the peaceful ambiance after a long day of training. Your mind drifted to thoughts of your day. Thinking of ways to improve. Always the over achiever.

“Oi, what-cha you doin' up here?” Katsuki's voice interrupted your reverie.

You turned to see Bakugo approaching, his usual scowl softened just a bit.

“Just taking a break. Needed some fresh air.” You smiled softly, turning back to gaze at the sunset.

He huffed, crossing his arms. “You should be trainin', not slackin' off.”

You smiled, playful.

“And what, may I ask, are you doing here? Hm? Miss me?”

“You wish.” he muttered, though a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“I just wanted to get away from everyone for a minute.”

You could relate to that. Sometimes, the chaos of the training grounds was overwhelming.

“Fair enough. Want to join me?”

With a grunt, he sat down beside you, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. For a moment, you both sat in silence, watching the sky change colors.

“You’re really good at what you do,” Bakugo said suddenly, breaking the quiet. “I mean it. Yer improvin' a lot. Stop workin' So hards yeah?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. You and him both knew you'd keep working harder.

“Thanks, Kats. Coming from you, that means a lot.”

He shrugged, looking away, but you could see the faint smile gracing his usually gruff face.

“Just statin' facts.”

You nudged him gently. “You’re always so hard on yourself, you know? You should take a moment to appreciate the progress you’ve made too.”

“Yeah, well, I ain't one to sit around and pat myself on the back.” he replied, but the tone was less defensive this time.

“Maybe you should start. You deserve it.” You said, shrugging. Your eyes meeting his.

He paused. “Maybe.”

“Katsuki. I'm proud of the improvement you made. You ain't much of an ass anymore.” You playfully nudged his shoulder.

He turned his gaze back to the horizon, the corners of his mouth twitching up. “You ain’t so bad yourself, ya know.”

You laughed, unable to help it. “Wow, are we exchanging compliments now?”

“Don’t get used to it.” he shot back, but there was a playful edge to his voice.

As the last rays of sunlight dipped below the horizon, Bakugo pulled a small container from his pocket. “Here. Brought snacks.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “You brought snacks?”

“Yeah, what about it?” he replied, slightly defensive. “I can be thoughtful.”

You chuckled, taking the container and opening it to reveal homemade rice balls. “These look great! Did ya make these?”

“Don’t act so shocked,” he grumbled, a bit of pride creeping into his tone. “I can cook. t’s not a big deal.”

You took a bite, savoring the flavor. “This is delicious! You really should show off your cooking skills more often.”

“Yeah, well, don’t go tellin' everyone,” he said, smirking playfully. “I don't need everyone askin' me ta make them shit.”

As you both shared the snacks, the atmosphere felt warm and light. The banter flowed easily between you, and you found yourself laughing more than you had in a while.

A comfortable silence enveloped you both, the kind that spoke volumes. You knew that beneath his rough exterior, Bakugo had a heart that cared deeply, and you felt grateful to be someone he let in.

As the stars started coming out, twinkled overhead. You leaned a little closer to him, feeling content in the moment. Bakugo shifted slightly, his shoulder brushing against yours.

[sp-by-april]

PC!Kyle x F!Reader [Part 2]

[Part One] [Kyle Broflovski Master List]

I heard from Kyle two weeks later. Honestly, I was used to guys hitting me up immediately so I kind of wondered if he'd just forgotten about me. I was relieved when that wasn't the case.

He said he was having drinks with some of his friends and to meet him at the end of the night and he’d take me to his place. Kinda weird, but whatever. I really wanted to see him.

As I walked in, I saw him talking to a bunch of other old guys.

“She is pretty,” Kyle said.

“She’s hot,” Stan said with a grin, “I was gonna pick her up first, but I figured Kyle could use the fun,”

Kyle frowned, “Is that how you remember it going?”

An awkward smile slid over my face as I embedded myself with the group of men and made my presence known, “That’s pretty much how I remembered it,”

“Pretty girl!” the guys all said in unison as they lifted their assorted glasses towards me.

Kyle kissed my cheek and leaned over my ear with a smirk, “Sorry, they saw my phone,”

I nodded, reaching for the drink in his hand. Thankfully, he handed it over without a second thought.

I finished the liquor and listened intently as all the guys rushed to introduce themselves to me.

Tolkien was a cop. Clyde… I still don’t know what he actually does. Jimmy, was a comedian that I vaguely remembered my mother watching when I was a kid. Kenny, billionaire, needed no introduction but provided one all the same.

I felt more awkward and out of place than ever. I think Kyle realized it because he plucked the drink out of Stan’s hand and placed it in mine.

I was used to older guys vying for my attention so I knew how to navigate it. Older guys tend to like when I’m bolder, brasher, and more irreverent than their younger counterparts. These guys were a lot less intimidated by a woman with a mouth and I appreciated it. I was nervous but the whole thing went fine.

Kyle and I left first. I could hear the guys talking about how lucky he got before the door even closed behind us.

When we got to his place, I was slightly annoyed with having his friends sprung on me but I was horny enough to let it slide. At least, I would have let it slide if he let me.

He looked me up and down as he hung up his blazer and I tossed my purse and pink capelet jacket on his couch.

Kyle tilted his head as he watched me, “What’s bothering you?”

“Nothing,” I lied and approached with my sultriest walk.

“I get it,” A slight smile slid over his face as he reached out and cupped my cheek in the palm of his hand, “You’re closed off because behind the walls, you’re soft – But you don’t have to lie to me,”

I rolled my eyes,“Don’t psychoanalyze me,”

“I’d never,” He chuckled, “I don’t think you could afford it,”

I’d had enough.

“You can’t ignore me for weeks and then spring your friends on me,” I fumed, “And you definitely don’t get to treat me like a trophy after the fact – Like I’m some stupid girl who doesn’t know that some guy is just using her for sex,”

He squinted like he was trying to solve a difficult equation, “How can I be using you for sex if I’m ignoring you at the same time?”

Okay, that time I’d had enough.

“Have fun explaining to your friends how you let a girl like me get away,” I said and spun on my heels to leave.

“I wasn’t ignoring you,” He sighed as my hand reached for the doorknob, “And I wasn’t trying to ambush you – Okay, I was trying to ambush you, but for a good reason,”

I turned back to Kyle and crossed my arms, “There’s no good reasons to ambush people,”

“The guys I made those plans months ago and I’ve been swamped at work if you couldn't tell. I couldn’t cancel on them and I wanted to see you. Besides, I figured it would be a quick way to help you get to know me. Kind of like a crash course,”

“You want me to know you?” I asked and took a slow step towards him.

He smirked, “Yeah,”

I took another cautious step, “Why?”

He glanced away and rubbed the nape of his neck, “Because I want to know you,”

“You were really just busy with work?” I asked, walking the rest of the way to meet him.

He slid his palm over my cheek and I stood on my tiptoes to give him a kiss and he leaned in, but instead he brought his face to my neck. His other hand found my waist and his nose brushed against my earlobe as he inhaled my scent.

“Trust me, if it were up to me I would’ve had you in my bed every night,” He sighed, his hot breath washing over my skin, “You have no idea what you do to me. I haven’t been this fucking horny since high school,”

He kissed my neck and my fucking heart skipped a beat.

Then the hand on my waist slid over my ass and he pulled me up against him, “I can’t stop thinking about the way you move your hips,”

He finally pulled me into a kiss and I nearly swooned in his arms. I parted my lips and he pulled me into a deeper kiss, his tongue sliding right in my mouth.

His hand slid up my skirt, just to pull my panties down. He pushed my back against the wall and dropped to his knees.

He kissed my thigh as his fingers slid over my slit. I’m pretty sure I felt his breath hitch when he felt how wet I was. His fingers pushed inside and I almost gasped. I think it was the anticipation. I felt like I’d been waiting forever for him to touch me again. The way he moved his fingers felt like fucking magic.

He kissed my hip bone and his fingers curled to massage that sweet spot inside of me. I bit my lip, trying to stifle at least some moaning so I didn’t sound like some slut. I should have known better. Maybe he was right about me having walls.

Either way, he increased the pressure and speed. I felt like I was completely at his mercy. He buried his face against my hip, which pressed into him as his fingers brought me to my climax.

Or they would have if he hadn’t stopped just as I was about to hit my high.

I looked down at him and I swear that I meant to bitch, but instead I just whimpered.

He looked up at me and smirked, “You’re even prettier when when you’re needy,”

“I’m not needy,” I lazily protested.

“Hmm?” He licked a thick stripe over my clit and my entire body shuddered, “Really?”

I whined so loud that I was actually kind of mortified. Seeing the smug look of satisfaction on his face just made it worse.

He got on his feet and threw me over his shoulder. He carried me to his bed, my panties still down at my knees.

He dropped me on his bed and slowly slid my panties down over my ankles. I watched breathlessly as he pulled off his shirt and unbuttoned his pants. Then unzipped. Then stepped out of them.

He stroked himself over his boxer-briefs as he looked at me laid out on his bed. I could see every bit of how badly he wanted me. When he finally lost the underwear, I thought I was going to go insane just from the anticipation.

“I want to keep you,” He leaned over me and left a small kiss on my collarbone, “I’m gonna make you my wife,”

“...What?” My breath hitched and I had to replay the sentence in my mind at least three times to make sure that I heard him correctly.

“I promise I’ll take care of you,” He rubbed the head of his cock over my slit, picking up my desire for him, “And I’ll make you feel good,”

He kissed my neck and I cupped his cheeks and brought his face to mine. I had to look him in the eyes.

“You promise to take care of me?” I asked him just above a whisper.

“I’ll do more than that,” He groaned as he sank deep into me and I gasped as I felt him push my body to it’s limits.

He held still for just a moment, both of us relishing the initial feeling of him immersed in me, and finally experiencing what we’d both been craving for weeks.

I grabbed onto his shoulders and my eyes rolled back when his hips finally started to move.

“You can do anything you want to me,” I said thinly, struggling to speak and not just moan.

His eyes were glued to me as I moaned shamelessly. His hand palmed my breast and his thumb brushed over my nipple, eliciting a softer moan from me that seemed to enamor him. He pinched my nipple and gave it a light tug, drinking in every soft sound I made.

A small smirk slid over his face just before he locked his mouth onto mine. He picked up the pace, his rhythm getting more and more intense. I couldn’t believe how good he felt, his cock was indulging my sweet spot with every fucking stroke. My hands ran down his back, my freshly manicured nails dragging over his skin.

His hand slid down, held onto my hips as he pressed me into his mattress and kept me in place as he irresistibly pounded into me.

My back arched and as I did my best to resist the orgasm. I lost the fight. My body seized up, and all the bliss that had built up inside of me swelled to an unimaginable, incredible level. Everything was incredible with him. My nails dug into his skin, my back arched even more sharply. I moaned brazenly. My moans were quivering and embarrassingly loud. The sacred space in my core fastened up around him and I grasped him like I needed him to live. Like he meant everything to me. Like I was desperate for him. I think I was.

As I trembled underneath him, the visuals and sensations of my orgasm pushed him over the edge. He groaned low in his throat and his eyes rolled back as his hips bucked into me. He sealed his mouth back onto mine as he drove deep inside of me and his hips noticeably twitched. I moaned into our kiss as his cock pulsed intensely and pumped me full of hot, milky spurts. His tongue slid into my mouth as he finished spilling every bit of his seed glazing my cervix.

He panted over me and pet my hair as all the tension that had built up in his muscles melted off of him. He kissed me again and a sly smile slid over his face, “I’m keeping you for sure,”

[ihavetoomanyocsdealwithit]

@lavenderr-starrs created a theory about the Great 7 being petrified statues and my brain has gnawed on it like a splintered bone.

(11) This is probably just a silly litttle coincidence but I’m watching Cinderella three cause it’s a sweet movie that I thoroughly... – @lavenderr-starrs on Tumblr

Basically, the theory is that in Cinderella III, the fairy godmother got turned into stone and that a similar spell was put on the Great 7.  

Here’s what my brain added: That both versions of the story are true. The version that we grew up with and the version that Twisted Wonderland has. Cause let’s be honest, some of these villains barely have 20 minutes in their films, it is how it appears to the princess/protagonist. What Wonderland has is the perspective and intent from the Great 7. There are details we have, there are details Wonderland has, and places where they mingle, but the victor gets to decide the story, and in this world, the victor was the Great 7.  

But let’s say it’s true, and that the Great 7 have been stuck in stone for 1,000 years, because that’s the magic number in films. What would they have learned from their own stories and the world around them after being able to do nothing but think on their actions and motivations?  

I think that many of the lessons that their counterparts are learning are the ones that they struggled to accept and ultimately led their downfalls. However, through watching others and being able to reflect, they have reached acceptance and peace a thousand years later.  

For example, Leona struggled with his self worth and motivation due to never being appreciated and constantly compared to his brother, along with other factors. Nothing was ever good enough and ultimately feels that he has no adult figures that he can trust. Scar struggled with his intelligence and ambitions constantly being undermined, and it turned to resentment and hatred, the same way Leona’s overblot did.  

I think after a thousand years, he would realize that, much like Leona, he blamed the wrong person.  Mufasa upheld the system that kept him down, but it was the system that was the problem. Simba was punished for profiting off of it, when Scar had the opportunity to teach him the true Circle of Life and how to care for all creatures, including the scavengers, and change the kingdom the way he envisioned it. It was about appreciating and finding the balance within it all, ruling with genuine fairness and interest. Ironically, he lost his intelligence and allowed his resentment to overpower his ambition, leading to him doing the exact same thing that started all this for. Throwing the Hyenas under the bus in order to make himself look better.  

 I don’t have time to go through each one yet, but I just think of something along those lines. What led to the overblots is what led to the Great 7’s movie deaths, but maybe it wasn't their deaths but their overblots in this world. With no cure for overblots, they were turned to stone, in order to ensure that they couldn’t hurt themselves or anyone else, but stories get told, centuries pass, and the spell was completely forgotten.  

Until Yuu arrives.  

[solarecliipse]

if i dare to say !

akaashi keiji x reader.

a/n: sooo my laptop got broke, and i had a hard time getting it repaired, which is why this one's coming like a week later than it was suppossed to, but here it is! in some days i'll have the kageyama x reader too, so keep your eyes open. make sure to take care of yourselfs and get enough sleep :)

you can still remember the way he looked at you that day, eyes cold and distant, like a stranger wearing the face of someone you used to know. the words he said, the way he broke you apart, still echoes in your mind like a song stuck on repeat.

“it’s not working,” he had said, his voice devoid of the warmth that once embraced you. “we need to end this.”

you had asked him why, your voice trembling, but he only shook his head, refusing to give out any real answer. “it’s just better this way,” he had said. And then he walked away, leaving you standing there, with your soul shattered into a million pieces.

for weeks, you tried to understand what went wrong, replaying every moment in your head, searching for signs that you might have missed, but all you could find was more pain, more confusion, until you couldn’t take it anymore. you had to let go, even if you didn’t have all the answers.

months passed, and the wounds he left behind began to heal, slowly and painfully. you forced yourself to move on, to build a life that didn’t revolve around him. you surrounded yourself with friends, threw yourself into your work, and even began to rediscover the things that used to make you happy before he came into your life. it wasn’t easy, and there were days when the ache in your chest felt like it would never go away, but you kept pushing forward, determined to find yourself again, to be whole without him, even if it meant staying away from the things you shared.

and just when you thought you were finally getting there, he came back.

you were sitting at a café with a friend, yukie, laughing over some silly story she was telling you, when you saw him. he walked in as if he belonged there, as if he hadn’t ripped your heart out and left you to pick up the pieces alone. 

you froze, laughter dying in my throat. yukie noticed the change of demeanor and followed your gaze. “oh no,” she muttered.

 “what’s he doing here?” you ask in a hoarse voice.

“i don’t know”

he hadn’t seen you yet, and you had half a mind to slip out before he did, but it was too late. your eyes met across the room, and his face lit up with a smile that made your stomach churn.

he walked over, and you couldn’t help but notice that he looked just the same. same tousled hair, same easy smile, as if no time had passed, as if nothing had changed, but everything had changed. at least for you.

“hey,” he said, his voice annoyingly casual. “it’s been a while.”

“yeah,” you replied, your tone clipped. you wanted to say something more, something sharp and biting, but couldn’t find the words.

yukie glanced between you, clearly uncomfortable. “i’ll, uh, leave you two to talk,” she said, grabbing her purse and giving you a look that said, call me if you need an escape. you nodded, appreciating her unspoken offer, but stayed put. even if it hurt, you needed to hear what he had to say.

“so,” he began, once yukie was gone, “how have you been?”

you stared at him, incredulous. “how do you think i’ve been?” you asked, unable to keep the bitterness out of your voice.

he winced, as if the words had physically hurt him. “i know, i know. i messed up, okay? but I’ve been thinking about things, and i realized that i want us to be friends again.”

friends. the word hung in the air between you, heavy and unwelcome. you almost laughed at the absurdity of it. “you can’t be serious,” you spat, crossing your arms over your chest.

“i am,” he insisted, leaning forward as if that would make his words more convincing. “i miss you. i miss us.”

“us?” you echoed, shaking your head. “there is no ‘us’ anymore, remember? you made sure of that.”

he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “i know i screwed up, and i’m sorry for that, but I was going through a lot, and i didn’t know how to deal with it. breaking up was a mistake, i see that now.”

a mistake. that’s what he called it? a simple mistake, like forgetting to return a phone call or misplacing your keys. not the complete and utter devastation of someone’s trust and heart.

“well, it’s a little late for that, don’t you think?” you said, voice shaking. “you didn’t just hurt me, you broke me, and now you think we can just go back to being friends, like nothing happened?”

“i’m not saying we can go back to how things were,” he said quickly. “i just… i miss having you in my life. can’t we at least try?”

you looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time, didn’t feel that old, familiar pull. the one that used to make you forgive him for everything, that made you overlook the things that hurt. instead, all you could feel was exhaustion, you were tired of fighting for something that was already dead.

“i don’t think we can,” you said quietly, finally admitting the truth to both of you. “too much has happened, and i’ve changed. i’m not the same person you left behind, and i don’t think you are either.”

he looked at you, his expression a mix of regret and something else you couldn’t quite place. “i understand,” he said after a long pause. “i guess i just hoped…”

“yeah,” you cut in, not wanting to hear whatever hope he had been holding on to. “well, we can’t always get what we want.”

he nodded, standing up slowly. “i’m really sorry,” he said, and for the first time, it was like he actually meant it. “for everything.”

you didn’t answer, instead looking away. what was there left to say? he lingered for a moment, as if waiting for you to change your mind, but when you didn’t, he finally walked away.

after he left, you sat there for a long time, staring at the empty seat across from you. and you should have felt relieved, maybe even proud of yourself for standing your ground, but all you could feel was a deep, aching sadness.

[recoord]

Why Good Omens season 1 has already fulfilled Sir Terry Pratchett's wish

Neil Gaiman said he wouldn't make a sequel to Good Omens

Neil Gaiman at SXSW in Austin, Texas in 2019:

[Gaiman also confirmed the series will only be six episodes, with no intention of trying to go for another season if successful. "The lovely thing about Good Omens is it has a beginning, it has a middle, and it has an end," he said to appreciative applause. "Season 1 of Good Omens is Good Omens. It's brilliant. It finishes. You have six episodes and we're done. We won't try to build in all these things to try to let it continue indefinitely."]

Source: Entertainment Weekly (2019)

2018 - Neil Gaiman on X- Twitter

Tweet link here

Also Neil Gaiman in 2023:

["It won't be confirmed unless enough people watch Season 2 to make Amazon happy...

...But obviously Season 3 is all planned and plotted and, if I get to make it, will take the story and the people in it we care about to a satisfying end."]

What happened?

Were the profits and ratings high enough to create two more seasons out of thin air? At this point, seasons 2 and 3 seem more like a greedy stretching of a beloved story already told in its entirety in the first season.

Has the first season already fulfilled Sir Terry Pratchett's wish?

As read above, Neil Gaiman himself said: "Season 1 of Good Omens is Good Omens."

Gaiman was very opened about how pleased he was with Season 1 and how he made it having Sir Terry Pratchett's wish in mind.

Interview for The Verge (May 30, 2019)

Link : Neil Gaiman had one rule for the Good Omens adaptation: making Terry Pratchett happy

Interviewer: Do you feel pressure from knowing this has to be the definitive best adaptation it could be?

Gaiman: No. All I wanted to do was to make something Terry would have liked. It wasn’t like, “Make the best thing.”...

...Gaiman: The lovely thing about Good Omens [the miniseries] is that it’s still Good Omens. If you loved the book, this is that thing that you loved. And I will make you fall in love even more with Sergeant Shadwell. I will make you fall even more in love with Newt than you thought you could, I hope. It does demonstrate that I do kind of know what I’m talking about, which is a nice thing to know.

...Gaiman: So with Good Omens, I feel like what I got to do was put the thing I made with Terry on the screen and then buttress it. What I added isn’t completely different from the original. It’s not out of left field.

Neil Gaiman on an interview for The Guardian in 2019.

Link: Neil Gaiman: ‘Good Omens feels more apt now than it did 30 years ago’

There are times, he insists, when “you make something you like so much that you don’t really care what anyone else thinks of it.” There’s a clue to this, perhaps, in the show’s final frame, which reads “For Terry”. “He didn’t believe in heaven or hell or anything like that,” Gaiman says, “so there wasn’t even a hope that there was a ghostly Terry around to watch it. He would have been grumpy if there was. But I made it for him.”

Why was Good Omens season 1 so good and you could really feel Sir Terry Pratchett's contributions?

Gaiman himself has already told us the answer:

...Gaiman: So with Good Omens, I feel like what I got to do was put the thing I made with Terry on the screen and then buttress it. What I added isn’t completely different from the original. It’s not out of left field.

Neil Gaiman for The Verge (2019).

There was original material to work with (Good Omens, published in 1990), on which we certainly know that Sir Terry Pratchett himself actively worked from start to finish.

Is there a proper sequel to Good Omens the book on which to base 2 more seasons of the series?

Neil Gaiman says the following on an interview for GQ in 2019.

Link: Neil Gaiman Says No to Adapting His Own Books—Except This Time

...But with this, it was like: Okay. Terry is gone. He wanted me to do this. He wanted me to do it for him. And that gave me a kind of weird impetus. And it meant that I felt very much at liberty to take every conversation that Terry and I had ever had about Good Omens. Not just the book, as written, but everything beyond it. We planned a sequel, never written, so I got to steal the angels from the sequel. I got to steal from every conversation Terry and I had about how we would do this. It felt very personal, and I guess kind of… holy. If that doesn’t sound too ridiculous. But it was a mission.

Two conclusions can be drawn:

1) Informal conversations about the plot of a sequel do not equate to an officially written sequel.

2) Neil Gaiman has already used many of the ideas he and Terry Pratchett had planned for a never-written sequel to Good Omens and those ideas were largely added to and executed in the TV adaptation of Good Omens (2019).

Why keep stretching those ideas if the co-writer is no longer able to actively contribute and help to create a proper sequel?

If Gaiman were the sole creator of Good Omens we'd have a different conversation, but that's not the case. The first season of Good Omens was already a beautiful homage to Good Omens and Sir Terry Pratchett's work on the book.

Did Terry Pratchett write around 75% of Good Omens?

Link for the post here.

Link for the post talking about the video and sharing the video here.

Edit: I wanted to bring this point up to point out Terry Pratchett's important contribution to the making of the book, not to highlight it as an excuse to distance Gaiman from the novel. We will have to accept that he also contributed to the creation of the book.

Sir Terry Pratchett's last wish

2017 - Rob Wilkins on Twitter (X)

Terry Pratchett’s Unpublished Work Crushed by Steamroller

By Sophie Haigney - The New York Times

Terry Pratchett, the well-known British fantasy author, had a wish fulfilled two years after his death: A hard drive containing his unpublished work was destroyed by steamroller.

Mr. Pratchett, a wildly popular fantasy novelist who wrote more than 70 books, including the “Discworld” series, died at 66 in 2015. That year his friend, the writer Neil Gaiman, told The Times of London that Mr. Pratchett had wanted “whatever he was working on at the time of his death to be taken out along with his computers, to be put in the middle of a road and for a steamroller to steamroll over them all.” Mr. Gaiman added at the time that he was glad this hadn’t happened.

Now, though, it has. Mr. Pratchett’s estate manager and close friend, Rob Wilkins, posted a picture of a hard drive and a steamroller on Aug. 25 on an official Twitter account they shared.

Shortly thereafter, Mr. Wilkins wrote that the deed was done.

I have not been able to find the exact reasons why Sir Terry Pratchet wanted his unfinished and unpublished works destroyed, but we can respect his last wish as a way for him to have control over what he felt he was ready to share with the world and what he was not.

Is Good Omens the exception?

With all that has been presented so far, I can only conjecture, but not be sure. I can believe that there was Terry Pratchett's permission and desire to make an adaptation of Good Omens, the original book published in 1990, but to my mind, creating two more seasons of a never-written sequel doesn't fit as part of Terry Pratchett's desire.

He is not among us to actively participate in a sequel and if his last wish was to destroy his unfinished works, I can believe that he would have wanted to give his approval to something new before it was published under his name.

Sir Terry Pratchett talking about a never-written sequel to Good Omens

“Neil and I thought about a sequel an awful lot initially. We talked about it on tour. And I think it was a big relief to both of us, when one day we looked one another in the eye and said, 'I thought you wanted to do a sequel.'..

Interview for the Magazine Locus. Locusmag archive page

This is me speculating, but I don't think there was real enthusiasm for creating a sequel until Gaiman alone saw profitable potential in the TV adaptation....

Good Omens also belongs to the those who love the story

I think it's okay to still love the story of Good Omens. Personally, I will always be grateful with the story and the characters for giving me confort in troubling times, but I find seasons 2 and 3 as some kind of excuse from Gaiman to keep profiting and benefiting from the story (more now than ever due to the SA allegations*).

Aziraphale and Crowley will always live happily in a lovely cottage as long as we want to. Even before season 2 was announced, many of us had already accepted that. Many artists have imagined lovely endings for our innefable husbands and in my eyes their works won't be any less valuable than whatever Gaiman had planned.

Note:

I don't like talking about Season 3 of GO without mentioning the current 5 SA allegations against Neil Gaiman (Main writer of seasons 2 and 3 and showrunner), so in case you want to know more about the allegations against Neil Gaiman. Here there's a great Round Up link (Podcasts links, transcripts, etc.)

Credits for the Round Up link to Muccamukk. Thanks a lot!

*more thoughts on supporting season 3

[shotoyami]

Can I request Scott summers x reader ( gender doesn't matter ) where Scott is reminiscing about his life with the reader. Scott and reader are bestfriends and have always been together as X-Men, they have never left eachother. As he is reminiscing he's like shoot I think I'm in love with my bestfriend.

Bro, what if we like…kissed right now? Wouldn’t that be, idk, crazy?

prenotes: first off: I’M IN LOVE WITH THIS, SOFT SCOTT OMGGGG!!!!

that aside, my absolute obsession for this man aside,

this request literally made my heart melt, imagining how silly and cliche it is to realize you’re in love with your best friend; literally one of my favorite troupes, hands down.

Thank you so much for the request, anon<3

pairing: Scott Summers + gender neutral reader

warnings: none, yet again!

genre: fluff, absolute filthy fluff– like, seriously, enough to make even the strongest man crumble and slam his fist to the ground

notes: as mentioned above, one of my favorite troupes. it’s everywhere in media, but you can’t help but squeal and kick your feet when you see it happening. I am but a simple human being, in love with the cutest, most sweetest concepts known to man. that aside, I hope everyone enjoys this one as much as I enjoyed writing!!!

word count: 700

Scott’s always deemed himself as awkward. Yeah, sure, it’s a pretty huge flaw of his, but everyone is awkward about something at some point. 

That being admitted, Scott fully understands that friends aren’t awkward with each other (at least, not from any experience of his). In fact, he finds himself quite content in his friendships, especially one with his best friend, (y/n). A silly little mutant, one that instantly clicked with him. It was refreshing to have someone that didn’t immediately smartass him. They’d always been so respectful of him and valued his say-so– it really didn’t come as a huge surprise to anyone that the two were fast friends.

It’s refreshing to have a best friend like (y/n), someone he can speak unfiltered to. For example, when he and Jean broke up (gosh, he’s cringing so hard at the memory– her admitting she’s leaving him for Logan of all people), (y/n) was the first to check up on him, and even did their best to keep his morale high.

Now, don’t get him wrong, Scott is no sort of rule breaker, not by a long shot, but who can say no to (y/n)’s pouting face when they asked him to sneak out one night and just…take a break from the mansion, from other mutants, for one night to just be at peace.

And he appreciated it a lot. It definitely helped. But, being around (y/n) in general is always so much fun, it’s almost upsetting when he has to retreat to his dorm for the night– well, unless they had an impromptu sleepover, set with a pillow fort and everything. 

To have someone understand him so well, someone he genuinely enjoys being around and listening to, from going on missions together, to just listening to them rant about whoever had annoyed them the most that day, even to just laying next to each other (not touching, of course, Scott prides himself on being extremely respectful of boundaries, thank you very much).

That all being said, Scott just couldn’t shake a growing feeling recently, one that made him stop and think about how he feels his best around his best friend. It’s like he’s been seeking their presence more and more recently– but he wouldn’t consider himself clingy? It’s all confusing, and a lot to digest, so he’s just pushed it aside.

But now, sitting in his dorm, lost in thought while still attentively nodding as (y/n) rambles about their latest annoyance (Gambit’s daily card trick that involved blowing up the fridge), Scott can’t help it as it hits him. The realization hits him hard– like a train carrying 5000 tons of freight had ran right into him. ‘Holy shit, I’m in love with my best friend.’ Scott stares blankly for a second. It all made so much sense now, the lingering touch they shared when passing an item to one another, the longing gaze that followed (y/n) any time they’d leave the general area.

“(y/n) I have something to tell you!” Scott blurts out, leaving the other person confused, though they tilt their head, urging him to continue since apparently it was important enough to interrupt them. “I think I like you- like, a lot, but I don’t want to jinx or ruin what we have, I value our friendship so much and-”

“Damn, that’s gay Scott.” ‘What? Is that really all they have to say?!’ Scott frowns a bit after hearing that response, it was unserious and clashing with him as if they think he’s joking or– “Alright, I’m chill with gay. Gimme a smooch, Scotty.” Though a bit caught off guard by the random nickname, Scott finds himself unable to argue, scooting closer to them and– hesitantly, looking for further consent– reaches to cup a hand against their cheek. He leans in and– god, it’s everything he’s ever wanted and more, so soft and full of feelings, a silent admission from their side of reciprocation. He finds himself chasing after the feeling of the kiss when they separate, which only causes (y/n) to giggle. “Gosh, desperate are we?”

“Only for you…”

[eshieslovemaze]

what we left behind... | jungkook

summary: nothing lasts forever. everything comes to an end. so does your relationship with him.

pairing: jungkook × reader

genre: angst, hurt-no-comfort

word count: 2.2k+

warnings/includes: arguments, a relationship falling apart, eventual breakup, crying, mentions of depression

❤️‍🩹🍂

jungkook and you have been each other's everything for years. your relationship began to bloom in the late years of high school, and blossomed into something truly beautiful by your mid-twenties. your love story was one that your friends both appreciated and envied — two souls who found their way to one another through events aligned by the universe. but life has a way of changing things, and somewhere along the path, you started to drift apart.

it started subtly. you would come home late from your work, too exhausted with your new responsibilities as a high ranked professional to spend your time together. jungkook, overwhelmed with his own workload, would bury himself in his tasks to avoid the palpitating tension at home that only seemed to grow. conversations that used to flow effortlessly between you two became stilted, awkward, and i dare say, suffocating. the little things you once loved and adored about each other became sources of irritation and arguments.

one night, the tension finally boiled over. you fought about something very trivial —who forgot to buy milk, or who left the lights on, and it had escalated into something much darker and irreversible.

"jungkook, why do you always do this? you just shut down, and i feel like i'm talking to a wall! it's like you don't even want to talk with me anymore!" you snapped, your voice shaking with frustration, mind weighed down and haywire from the turn of events between you two.

jungkook's jaw clenched as he tried to keep his temper in check. "and you think i enjoy this? i can’t even remember the last time we had a conversation that didn’t end in a fight!"

"maybe if you actually listened—" you start, but he doesn't let you finish.

"i do listen! but all i hear is how i'm never good enough for you anymore," his voice rose, sharp and cold like a dagger.

you froze, the weight of his words seeping in like water through a sponge. the anger that had fueled you suddenly turned into something else — pain, guilt, and a deep sadness that you didn’t know how to express. "jungkook, you know... that’s not what i mean. i just—"

"just what, y/n? just wish you were with someone else? someone who didn’t disappoint you all the time? someone who isn't me?" his words seemed to bring out every negative emotion within you, his own chest heaved with each laboured breath, struggling to keep his temper in check.

"that’s not fair!" you cried out, your voice breaking. tears welled up in your eyes, but you blinked them back, telling yourself it's not the time, refusing to let them fall. "i never said that, i would never say that!"

"you didn’t have to," jungkook's voice was cold, distant. the warmth that once filled his eyes when he looked at you was all gone, replaced by a dull resignation, something that you tried to ignore to not break down. "maybe… maybe we’re just fooling ourselves, thinking we can keep doing this, when we both know we can't." he ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots in frustration.

you stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. "what are you saying? y-you don't mean it, right?" your nostrils flared, eyes blazing with a mixture of rage, guilt, and most importantly, hurt.

jungkook looked away, unable to meet your gaze. "i don’t know what i’m saying. i just— i don’t know how to fix, or do this," he points his index to you and then himself, "anymore."

the room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of your unspoken words pressing down. you felt a tear slip down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away. "maybe we just need some time, some space," you whispered, though you weren't sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself.

"yeah," jungkook simply replied, his voice devoid of any emotion as he looked away from your eyes. "maybe."

you didn’t speak again that night, both retreating into your own corners of the house like strangers living under the same roof. as the days turned into weeks, the once-familiar spaces felt increasingly empty. awkwardly polite exchanges, forced smiles, and a palpable tension hung heavy in the air, a constant reminder of the distance that had grown between you in an unalterable way.

then came the afternoon that would be the turning point of everything. you had suggested that you both go to the café where you had your first date, desparately hoping that a walk down memory lane would rekindle the spark you two have misplaced, and take things back to where they were. jungkook agreed, though he wasn’t really sure if he believed it would help.

the café was just as you remembered from your high school days —warm, cozy, with the same old jukebox in the corner playing soft tunes. you sat at your usual table, the one by the window, but the atmosphere was different now. the once comforting familiarity of the place only highlighted how much had changed between the two of you, igniting the tension instead of bringing back the lost warmth.

both of you forced a small talk, urging yourselves to pretend things were just fine when in all reality, they weren't. The tautness between you was palpable and growing, the uncomfortable silence between your words louder than ever.

you finally broke, your voice trembling as you spoke, "jungkook… do you remember how we used to dream about the future? about us together forever? how we talked about travelling, starting a family, growing old together?" you gulped, supressing the trembling emotions in your throat.

jungkook nodded, his throat tightening, "of course, i do. i remember."

"what happened to us?" your voice finally cracked, your eyes searching his for answers that neither of you had. "when did we stop being… us? when did things change from what they were?"

he looked at you, his own heart aching at the sight of your pain. "i don’t know, really," he admitted, his eyes dimming. "i don’t know when we lost each other. to the point that we let the rough patches take control of everything to the point of no return."

your eyes brimmed with tears, and this time, you couldn’t find it in you to hold them back. "i don’t want to lose you, jungkook. i love you. that... that never changed."

"i love you too, y/n. i know it," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, choked with bitter feelings from the situation you both are in. "but maybe… maybe love isn’t enough for us anymore. neither of us are happy..." he weakly trails off.

you felt your heart shatter to dust at his words. you wanted to argue, to deny, to fight for the both of you. but deep down, you knew he was right. you both had been trying to hold on to something that was already gone, lost forever.

you finished your beverages in silence, buying time as both your minds wheeled to weigh the situation. when the twilight pink of the sky darkens with clouds, mirroring your thoughts, you two decide to leave. you two walk to the car, the rain that had started moments ago now falling steadily around you.

you drove back to your shared apartment in silence, neither of you knowing what to say. as you two entered the confinements of your shared home — if it even was a home anymore, you spoke up after finding your voice. "what now, jungkook?"

jungkook glanced at you for a moment before looking away, his chest tight with heavy, bitter feelings. "it's time. we will keep hurting ourselves if this goes on. we need to break up."

you looked up at him, your eyes full of pain, sadness, and regret, "i'll always love you, kook."

"and i'll always love you too, y/n," he replied, his eyes softening with melancholy as he gulped. "but… it’s time to let go."

you nodded, tears streaming down your cheeks as you closed your eyes. you couldn't stop yourself as you leaned in and gave him a final, lingering kiss — a goodbye wrapped in the echo of what you both left behind. he pulled you close, deepening the kiss as you both tasted the saltiness of your tears through the kiss.

as you parted, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, a final farewell. your heart ached with every item he placed into his suitcase, each one a piece of your shared life. the rain outside fell in sync with your tears, and you could only stand there, rooted to the spot. he gave you one last, lingering look before walking out the door, out of the world that you both dreamt of growing old in together, leaving it behind forever.

in the next few months, you went through the pits of regret and depression, wheeling your mind to replay every event during your togetherness and calculate what went wrong, when it went all downhill. you cried for days, mourning for what you two left behind. you made yourself a workaholic to stop yourself from spiralling, cooping yourself at your workplace till odd hours to avoid the memories that would rush back when you would step in your once shared home.

but you knew you couldn't grieve forever; you had to move on. slowly, you began having proper meals and taking care of yourself, gradually starting to change the decor of the apartment — as if to bury all the memories. with a heavy heart, you took down all the frames with pictures of two of you, safely placing them in a box and tucking it away in a corner under the bed. it was hard to let go of all those years of memories, but you did it for your own sake, knowing it would have been worse if you two stayed together. when the one-year mark of the break up hit, you believed that you had moved on, no longer caught up in the past. yes, you felt nostalgic at times, but you finally moved on.

you walked into the upscale downtown gallery, eyes sweeping across the room filled with art lovers and collectors. you weren’t here for the art, though; you had arrived tonight to support a friend who was showcasing her paintings for the first time. as you navigated through the crowd while admiring the art pieces on display, your steps faltered, your breath catching in your throat.

there, across the room, was jungkook.

he looked different — slightly older, more polished in a tailored suit, his hair a little longer than you had remembered, his jawline looking slightly angular. your eyes then fell to the woman beside him, laughing at something he said, her hand resting easily on his arm. she looked stunning, so much that a pang of envy shot through you; for now occupying the place you once had.

your heart tightened at the sight. it had been a year since that rainy night, a year since you had gone your separate ways, but seeing him now stirred that all-too-familiar ache in your chest. he looked happy — content in a way you hadn’t seen far too long.

for a moment, you considered turning around, slipping out before he could notice you. but before you could decide, jungkook's eyes caught yours across the room.

at that moment, everything else faded away. the crowd, the noise, the art — all of it blurred into the background as your eyes locked. but the once fiery connection between you was all gone, leaving only a cold, distant recognition in its place.

jungkook's smile slowly dropped, his expression unreadable. you felt a wave of emotions crash over you — nostalgia, regret, a tinge of longing — but most of all, you felt the cold sting of reality. you were no longer the jungkook and you who had shared dreams and whispered secrets in the dark; now you were just two people who had once been in love, but not anymore.

the woman beside jungkook nudged him, drawing his attention back to her. he offered her a small smile and leaned in to whisper something in her ear. a pang of jealousy flared up inside you, but you quickly pushed it down, reminding yourself that you were no longer a part of each other’s lives.

taking a deep breath, you turned away, forcing yourself to walk in the opposite direction. you mingled with the other guests, engaging in polite conversations, but your mind was miles away. the image of jungkook lingered in your mind, and you couldn’t stop replaying the way he had looked at you — like a stranger from a vague memory.

the evening passed in a blur, and as you left the gallery, you couldn’t resist glancing over your shoulder one last time. jungkook was still there, smiling with the woman who now held his attention, his form turned away from you — both literally and figuratively.

as you stepped out into the cool night air, you realized that the chapter of your life with jungkook had truly closed. you had become what you never thought you could — strangers passing by in the night, each on separate paths, separate lives.

with each step away, you finally allowed yourself to let go of the last remnants of what you left behind, embracing the unknown future ahead, no longer haunted by the ghost of your past love.

— copyright: © @eshieslovemaze 0924.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Guiding Hand 8

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, parental neglect, depression, inference of self harm, violence, abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your online academics are affected by your personal struggles but your professor won’t let you give up so easy.

Characters: Raymond Smith, Lee Bodecker in the background

Note: I am tireddddd.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Professor Smith dresses you in a set of pajamas; white with blue stripes. They’re not your size, you assume they might be his. You’re not sure. You’re too woozy to think about much more than your throbbing hand. 

He lays you in the hotel bed as you shake uncontrollably. You’re freezing cold but he keeps touching your forehead and saying you’re burning up. How can that be when you can’t get warm? 

Your lashes flutter between glimpses of him pacing and sitting on the edge of the bed. When all is dark, you see his shadow beside you. His breathing suggests he’s asleep but you can’t tell. He’s up again as a halo of light shines around you. The lamp limns his figure as he pets your cheek. 

“Sweetheart, shh, you’re alright,” he coos, “no need to cry.” 

You’re crying? Why? You can’t remember. Your mind is a bubble of fractured thoughts and vague scenes. You can’t make scene of much between the visions of this man. 

“Fever’s broke,” he lays a wet cloth over your brow. “Very good. We’ll be off in the morning, won’t we?” 

“Mom?” You murmur in confusion. 

“Mm, let’s take one step at a time before all that, yes?” He caresses your cheek with his thumb. “Back to sleep.” 

He shuts off the light and you’re cast into grim blackness. His weight jostles the bed and you feel him spread out next to you. The bed is more than large enough for you both. 

“Professor,” you croak weakly. “What’s...” 

“In the morning,” he girds. 

You accept it, “sorry.” 

“Never be sorry,” he reaches over to squeeze your arm lightly.  

You lay in silence. Your eyes close on their own. You are completely drained. You sink down into a solid void that suffocates away all light and life. When you awake again, you’re alone. You might think it was all a dream if it wasn’t for the bright hotel walls. 

You remain as you are. You don’t have the energy to get up. You lift your hand and look at the bandage wrapped around it. It feels better and your fingers aren’t swollen. You bend them. It still hurts. 

The door opens and you drop your arm. You squeak at the pain. 

“Sweetheart, is all well?” Raymond rushes over, a tray in his hand. “I was only meaning to fetch some of the complimentary breakfast before we depart.” 

You blink and shake your head, “fine. I’m... fine.” 

“I hope you like coffee--” 

“Coffee?” You whimper and close your eyes. “Coffee...” you mutter. “I went to get coffee and...” 

“Yes, that fiend meant to attack you. You see, I did not come without purpose. How could I sit back and see you neglected?” 

“You don’t... I don’t know... you.” 

“Hush, hush, you must be hungry,” he insists. “It is good to eat. You are weak from the infection still. You must take care--” 

“My mom--” you look at him. 

He sucks in air and his jaw tenses. He steels himself and his fingers twitch. “Yes, a woman who allows her own daughter be abused.” 

“She... she couldn’t stop him--” 

“She should not bring the beast home with her,” he snips. “Please, you would not survive in such an environment.” 

“Why... would you come here?” 

He exhales and his eye bats, as if he can’t control it. “Why wouldn’t I after what I witnessed? Then you would not answer. I had half a suspicion you were dead.” 

“I’m sorry, I... didn’t mean to worry you but... it’s not your problem.” 

He hums and set the tray on the night stand. He offers a cup of coffee, “are you so used to being forgotten that you cannot accept kindness?” 

“No, it isn’t... I’m sorry.” 

“And the apologies. No need for it. I am not admonishing you. I am merely offering advice.” He takes your good hand and makes you take the cup. “There is much more you need to learn than accounting, I gather.” 

You frown and look at the dark coffee. 

“If you prefer milk or sugar, I grabbed some of each,” he explains and gestures to the tray. “Of course, you shouldn’t drink that in bed else you might stain the sheets.” 

“Oh, yeah,” you push the blankets back and move carefully. 

The pajamas brush against your stomach and you look down. You’re reminded of the day before. Naked in the tub. In front of him. You’ve never been so exposed before. You slump your shoulders and go to the table and sit. 

You look down at your burnt hand and bring up to examine the bandage again, “thank you...” you raise it higher. 

“Certainly. And who wouldn’t see to the festering infection? Are you not concerned that not even your own mother cared for that matter?” 

“Can we not talk about her?” You sniffle and rest your hand in your lap. “You should take me home.” 

“Home? That is no home. Now, you should eat. Keep your strength up so you can heal properly.” He girds. 

You nod and take a cautious sip of coffee. You’re still reeling, maybe even slightly delirious. You set the cup down again and lift your chin. You look at his neck, not his face. 

“Why?” You ask. 

“Why...” He echoes as he sits across from you. 

“Why help me?” 

He takes a packet of sanitizing wipes and uses them to clean the cutlery. You watch his diligent work. Everything he does is precise and purposeful. And cleanly. He seems to detest the thought of dirtiness and yet you can only feel like filth next to him. 

“Well, it should be a question, should it? It is humane. Decent. So, I shouldn’t need to name the reason for it.” He lays down each piece before he sets to claiming a muffin, then a scoop of the scrambled eggs, and strips of bacon with sausage too. “Though if you insist, I will give one. Firstly, let us underline that point. What you need, what you want, I would be more than willing to supply, but then, circle around to your query; why should I help you?” 

He takes the rest of the cutlery and wipes it then hands it to you. He makes you up a plate as he continues, “you, sweetheart, have great potential. I’ve seen it. And that would be spoiled all for a poor foundation. Now that is not your own doing, mind you, you cannot help where you come from, and more admirably,” he sets the plate before you, “you were fighting against it and so I only thought to lower the ladder for you.” 

You blink and focus on the food. You’re not very hungry. You feel slightly queasy but you would hate to be ungrateful. All these questions already make you feel so.  

“Thank you,” you croak and make yourself look at him. “Really...” 

You don’t know how to say it. You already feel pathetic and you don’t need to sink further. No one’s ever been that concerned about you. No one ever tried to help you. Most people just laughed, called you names, or pushed you down themselves. 

“Please, don’t trouble yourself very much, eh? I have the means to help. It would be selfish not to. A sort of passing the torch. I wasn’t born to wealth myself, or peace. Life can be a war on its own,” he gives a gentle smile beneath his thick beard. “Oh, and I did take some clothing from your home before our flight. I was able to use the hotel laundry. It should suffice, though I hardly trust their cleaning staff.” 

“Yes, sir,” you answer. 

“Raymond, please,” he corrects you. 

📓

Professor Smith, or Raymond as he insists, drives you across the city. He turns in the car at the rental place then leads you into the train station a block away. He’s patient, not hurrying you, and he pays for your ticket and his. You feel guilty for the expense. 

As you sit and wait on the platform, you fidget. You chew your lip and curl your fingers, the burn stinging beneath the bandages. 

“Are you well?” He checks in. He does every now and then. 

“Um, yes...” you look at the tracks, “I’ve never been on a train.” 

“A first, very exciting,” he muses. 

You nod and let your eyes wander. You’re nervous but too much to ask what makes you so. He moves so his leg is against yours. 

“Your hand?” He prompts. 

“It’s feeling better,” you assure.” 

“Very well.” He sits back and puffs out through his nose, “we will go to my home. You can recover there and when you feel up to it, we will go over your last assignment and see you through the course--” 

“Professor-- Raymond,” you sputter as you face him. “You don’t have to do all this.” 

“I am not a man who does things he doesn’t wish to,” he replies. “I’ve explained myself enough. It is unacceptable to me to let you return to where I found you. I couldn’t allow you in such an unsafe circumstance. Especially after what I witnessed.” 

“It-- he just yelled, that’s all.” You murmur. 

“Is that all? He had nothing to do with this?” He points to your hand. 

You shrink and shake your head. He clucks. 

“You are honest and so you are a poor liar. What I saw was more than yelling, sweetheart. You will not convince me otherwise. I know, this is a peculiar situation, but it is your way out,” he says, “tell me, you never thought of it.” 

Your lack of response is enough of one. Your eyes are hot, and your mouth is dry. Your leg jiggles restlessly. 

A lull rises as the chatter of others rolls through the platform. Soon, you hear the whine of metal on metal, and a bright beam shines from the tunnel. The train speeds through and grinds to a stop.  

You follow Raymond’s every move. When he stands, you stand. As he grabs his bag, you go to do the same but he has it in hand first. He gestures you ahead of him. You reluctantly approach the train. 

“The second from the front,” he instructs from behind. “I’ve our tickets.” 

You follow his direction. You’re good at that. As a professor, he’s just as good at giving orders. As you approach the waiting attendant, he reaches around to hand over the tickets. The woman in her uniform tears of the ends and hands them back. 

You step onto the small metal footstool and then climb the stairs of the train car. You pause as he puts your bags into the netted caddy near the front. He urges you on with another point and recites the seat numbers. You find them and stare at the row. 

“Would you like window or aisle?” He tucks away the tickets. 

“Mm, what do you like?” You ask. 

“Please, have the window. You did say it’s your first,” he insists. 

You duck your head and sit. He lowers himself next to you and slips a bottle from inside his jacket. He pops the cap open and offers it quietly. You glance over at the sanitizer. You don’t want to be rude so you put your unbandaged hand out. He dollops it into your palm, then his own, and puts it away. 

He rubs his palms together and you sanitize around your bandage and your uninjured hand. You sit back and look out at the platform. He’s a very stringent man but you might only think so because you’re used to no rules at all. He’s thorough too. He seems to think of everything.  

You look at him but think better of asking what you want to. He catches your glance before you can turn back. He shifts toward you, leaning on the outer armrest. 

“Go on,” he urges, “you can say whatever you need.” 

“Sorry, it’s nothing.” 

“Please,” he opens his hand encouragingly. 

You drop your eyes and wet your lips. You’re going to sound so dumb. “Do you really think I could... I could do something? Like you? Like... like... accounting?” 

He chuckles softly. It’s not mocking or mean. It’s soothing. 

“I do believe so,” he says. “You needn’t fret. Let yourself time to heal, then all that will come after.” 

You sniff and sit back. You don’t know if you agree with him, but you’ll try. That’s all you can do. It’s what you should do after he’s gone to all this effort. 

[ticchina]

Top 3 favourite Kinn Porsche scenes?

3 times they had sex

[morganbritton132]

I’ve played soccer most of my life and I do know there are concussion headbands some people wear to keep them safe when they head the ball since concussions are very common in soccer from headers (the only safe place to head the ball is about right on your hairline and you don’t always get it right lol). Nancy and Eddie def researched and got him one after seeing him head the ball for the first time and freaked out. Steve hates wearing it

First, thank you! I am very much Eddie and Nancy in the soccer part of the saga. I don’t play sports so big thanks to all the people that are giving information and ideas.

Second, I love the idea of Nancy and Eddie being very strict parent/understanding parent about it, but Eddie is the reasonable one and Nancy might just be fully insane.

“This is bullying.”

Steve sulks deeper into the couch, crossing his arms over his jersey in a full pout. He glares at the headband and then gives Eddie a pleading look, “I don’t want it.”

“I know, baby,” Eddie says sympathetically, “But-“

“Too bad,” Nancy cuts in. “Do you know how common concussions are in soccer? You decided to play Concussion: The Sport. Dress like it.”

“No one else is wearing one. I’ll look dumb!”

“Okay, then. Maybe we don’t stop a speeding ball with our head then,” Eddie tries. “How about that?”

“No,” Nancy answers even though the question wasn’t directed at her. “Not good enough! Wear the headband or we’ll get you a helmet.”

“Eddie!”

Eddie stalls for a second and then points to Robin, “You won’t look dumb. Robin has one too.”

“She looks dumb.”

Robin’s just like, “Hey!”

Nancy moves and sits on the coffee table in front of Steve with a look that has faced down interdimensional monsters and sexist bosses all the same. Steve’s going to wear this headband or he’s not playing and they both know it when she says, “Would you rather look stupid now and be able to remember it in five year or be drooling all over yourself when your cognitive functions starts declining after another head injury.”

“Hey, too far,” Eddie chastises, hitting her shoulder. “…But take that into consideration, Stevie. I want you to have fun but-“ 

“It’s going to mess up my hair!”

Nancy throws up her hands, “Then we’ll shave your head!”

“Jesus H. Christ,” Eddie swears under his breath. “Wheeler, reel it in and take a walk. Let me talk to him. Jesus.”