#I think I mentioned this before but the ears are living tissue and putting them in a ponytail would probably restrict bloodflow

[canisalbus]

I imagine Vasco puts up his ears in a ponytail when the get in the way

(Machete is just like O.O bc his ears dont/cant do that bc it would hurt)

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ it's a gift (you keep those) ]❜

ft. logan howlett x f! reader — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ giving him a plushie that reminded you of him┊1k words

setting: deadpool & wolverine (2024) worst! logan contains: fluff, crushes, probably ooc but he’s so cute & wade is hard to write for, written for dp&w logan so idk if he got gifts in xmen, i forgot about laura, they are in touch and have a wonderful father-daughter relationship, i’m so sorry, edited

➤ author's note: i have so many thoughts but too incompetent to write

logan’s never sure who will appear when he opens the door as wade’s quite the extrovert, either vanessa or one of his many other friends whom he’s now become somewhat acquainted with, but he certainly wasn’t expecting to meet the familiar eyes of the cute neighbor who lived a few doors down. he nervously scratched the back of his head, suddenly becoming aware of his shabby appearance, “uh, are you looking for wade?”

“no, i was actually looking for you!” god, your smile is so bright, it’s blinding. he normally hates perfume of any sort as it’s so overpowering to his heightened senses, but the one that you wore smelled so lovely like always. is that a new shade of lip gloss you’re wearing? it really suits you. (why on earth is he noticing all of these details out of the blue? he needs to snap out of whatever spell you put on him after being introduced when he first showed up and only interacting in passing since then).

“looking for me?” he repeated, in disbelief, trying his best not to allow his surprise to slip into his voice. considering he isn’t from this dimension and not the most agreeable person to be around, he had no friends of his own yet and hasn’t been visited by anyone since he got here. a beat of panic struck him, thinking that he was in trouble for something and you came to complain. he really couldn’t think of any other reason you were here for him even though you were so cheerful.

you were carrying some shopping bags with you, dropping them on the ground before reaching into one and pulling out a large fuzzy plushie of a gray cat hidden under layers of glittery tissue paper, “i saw this cutie when i went shopping with my friends and thought it looked like you!” you held it out for him to take, looking so proud of the stuffed animal.

he hesitated for a second before accepting it, trying to take in the fact that you were reminded of him in your day-to-day life. it made his heart flutter, and he found himself dumbfounded by the feeling. he was frequently teased by his roomate about his little “crush” on you, claiming that it was oh so obvious and that the sooner he accepted it, the better, but he never realized until now how pathetic he was when it came to you. was the wolverine really getting butterflies like a fucking schoolgirl in his old-ass age? thank god no one was home right now to bully him about it, he would never hear the end of it.

“it does not look like me,” he scoffed playfully after a quick examination.

“no, it definitely does! it’s a big, grumpy kitty—” you took a step closer to hold it with him, pointing at all the similarities you observed, although it was clear you were exaggerating for laughs. “see the little frowny face and ears? it could be your identical twin separated from birth! willy mentioned that you act like a cat most of the time, and i think it fits perfectly!”

the smile he didn’t realize was plastered on his face faltered at the last piece of information, grateful that you didn’t notice. that idiot has been talking about him to you? he might as well forget about any chance of getting with you, because knowing how he yaps without a filter and loves to play matchmaker, you probably think he’s a freak of some sort. “only good things, i hope…”

you giggled, the sweetest sound he ever heard. “of course, he’s really fond of you… well, maybe a bit too fond, but you already know about that!” you opened your mouth to continue the conversation or say something else, but your phone started ringing and you excused yourself, looking a little shy as you grabbed up your bags. “i’ll talk to you later!” you sounded so excited about the prospect of it before leaving, your voice and footsteps becoming fainter as you walked back to your place.

“wait, you didn’t take back the cat—”

“it’s a gift! you keep those!”

“oh… right…”

he lingered for a moment, unable to say much in response since you left in such a rush. when was the last time someone gave him a present? staring at this brand new item, he still couldn’t see the resemblance in any way, but knowing that it was a gift from you gave him a rare feeling of happiness which returned every time he looked at it from then on among his few possessions. 

“oh my goodness, what is this adorable thing?!” wade exclaimed when he saw it sitting on the couch where logan slept, picking it up to gawk at before tossing it up in the air and catching it before it hit the floor. “ooh, let me guess, it’s a gift from her, isn’t it?” 

the mutant groaned at his mocking tone. “put it down before you ruin it with your grubby hands,” he commanded, snatching it from his grasp (rough enough to make his point clear, but carefully enough not to tear it apart). his roommate didn’t even bother pretending to be offended like he usually would as he was simply overjoyed that his “ship” was coming true. “it doesn’t mean anything, don’t make it weird.”

“it doesn’t mean anything?! how can you say that when it’s going to be the first gift you give to your first child together—”

“first what??”

“nevermind, what are you gonna name it?”

“i have to name it?”

“have you never owned a stuffed animal before? you have to name it! how heartbroken is she going to be when she asks what you named it and you say that you haven’t done that?! she’s gonna think that you don’t value her gifts!” you would think the world was going to end if he didn’t do so if you heard the way he was speaking.

“fine, i’ll name it…” he looked deeply into the toy’s soulless eyes, noting how soft the outer material was against his calloused hand, “... fluffy…”

“that’s such a shitty name—”

“shut the fuck up, it’s been decided.”

[gojonanami]

NO REGRETS ☁︎ KENTO NANAMI

☁︎ summary: when nanami is injured from his fight with mahito, you're sent to pick him up. and both of your careful avoidance of your feelings for each other comes crumbling down. ☁︎ cw: hurt/comfort, angst then fluff, mutual pining, mentions of injuries, blood, spoilers for events of s1, these two idiots are so in love ☁︎ wc: 3,509

Nanami had very few regrets in his life, if any. 

Regrets felt almost wasteful to him — living in the past when you were already firmly rooted in the present, and aside from that, he knew the insidious power of regret — the way it festered and grew and fed cursed energy and spirits alike.

However, as he grasped at his side discreetly — pain blooming with each step he took,  scarlet red painting his fingers that barely concealed the wound under his jacket — he couldn’t help but regret arriving at this trap without backup. 

It was hubris really — he thought as he finally found an empty bathroom — and the utter lack of resources that Jujutsu sorcerers had, in both manpower and strength. 

Really, he thought as he stripped off his jacket, leaning against the wall of the stall, his blood still roaring in his ears, you’d think after all these years, the organization would have any semblance of organization or unity for that matter. He glances at the wound staining his shirt — shit it’s deeper than I thought. 

He rinses his hands off in the sink, ringlets of blood staining the clean countertop and sink alike. He pulls tissue from the dispenser, wiping the remainder of blood from his fingers, before taking clean napkins and wadding it, placing it at his wound to stem the bleeding. 

But how could it? He pulls out his phone — finding Ijichi’s number and dialing it — especially when sorcerers were dying left and right — 

— And he was barely an exception. 

"Hello, I’m sorry!” 

“Hm?” what could he possibly have to apologize for? 

“I’ve just sent you my location,” he feels a headache creeping on, and he wasn’t sure it was from the fatigue or the blood loss — probably both, “please come and pick me up a.s.a.p. I need you to take me to Jujutsu Tech to get some treatment from Ieiri.” 

“Treatment?” he was tired of questions — the exhaustion settled against his body familiarly, the adneradline finally beginning to wane from his body. 

“Nothing serious,” and he almost could have laughed — a penetrating wound in his side wasn’t serious — and he added, “nothing that’s going to kill me anyway.”

But it easily could have — if he hadn’t hidden his soul in time, if he hadn’t chosen to take the hit, he would have died — or would he have? A shiver travels down his spine at the thought of that transfigured human, pleading for him to kill them — or would his subconscious simply have been trapped? 

“That’s good,” comes Ijichi’s sigh of relief, “Well, I’m about to join up with Itadori, then we’ll head your way.” 

Nanami’s brow wrinkles, “What? He’s not with you?” 

There’s no telling what those unidentified cursed spirits’ plans were — but it was a terrible idea having Itadori wander around unsupervised with any of them out there. They had no idea what plan these unidentified special grades had — only that they started emerging when Itadori became the vessel for Sukuna. He pinches the bridge of his nose — whether that was a coincidence or not, he didn’t want to take that risk. 

“I’m sorry!” Ijichi yells into the receiver, and Nanami flinches, holding the phone away from his ear, “I’m going to get him right now. Wait right there.” 

And Nanami hangs up, putting his phone away, leaning against the wall of the bathroom again. The pain in his side begins to throb, and he sucks in breath, only to sigh.  Like he said, it’s not like this would kill him — he glances down at the wound again, but it did hurt like hell. 

He hoped Ijichi got here quickly. 

You see Ijichi’s name flash on your screen, as you glance up from the mountain of paperwork burying your normally neat desk. Volunteering to be a temporary teacher at Jujutsu Tech while Gojo was away was a mistake, if only because you got stuck finishing up the paperwork he so kindly left behind for you. You could almost imagine him laughing at you when he returns, thanking you with some tacky souvenir he picked up from some gift shop. 

He may be the greatest sorcerer in the world, but he’s still the same pain in the ass you knew from your time here. 

You grab your phone — so you’d welcome any distraction — even if it’s Ijichi asking you to run an errand for him. 

You pick up, “Ijichi, what’s up?”

He greets you, “Can you do me a favor?” his voice is breaking, and you wrinkle your brow. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Never mind that,” you swear you hear him sniff, but he continues regardless of that, his voice growing more even with every word, “could you pick up Nanami for me? I sent you his coordinates.” 

“Nanami?” your brows knit together, chest squeezing, “is he okay?” 

“He’s fine, from what he said on the phone, but he needs to be seen by Ieiri for treatment,” Ijichi says, the tension in his voice thick with every passing word, like a clock being wound far too tight, far too quickly,  “please, I would really appreciate it!” 

“Alright, alright, Ijichi,” and you hear him sigh in relief, “Did you let him know I’m coming?” 

Silence fills your ears for a moment, before he speaks, “Can you just let him know? Thank you so much, I will see you soon!” 

“Ijichi—” and he’s already hung up, and you sigh at your phone. 

Nanami’s right — jujutsu sorcerers are shit. 

 You make your way to Nanami’s location, your fingers drumming against the leather of your steering wheel, chewing on your lip. You didn’t bother telling Nanami you were headed his way, knowing him he’d only protest and call a car to come get him. And you weren’t about to let him get driven home by a stranger when he’s hurt. Nanami was the type to hate being reliant on anyone, only when it was absolutely necessary — you had learned that soon enough after meeting him.

You squeezed the wheel tighter — you hoped Gojo hadn’t said anything to him about your conversation with him — the damn bastard was so smug — as always. 

“You really agreed to come back quickly,” Gojo’s lips were split in a wide grin, and even behind that blindfold, you knew he was gauging your reactions. 

“Yeah? So? I’m at Jujutsu Tech half the time anyway in between missions,” you frown at him as he walks you to where you’ll be staying at the school, “plus, this will give me some time to observe the first years, and make sure you’re not filling their heads with nonsense,” 

“Oh, you wound me,” despite that, he’s laughing maniacally after, his lips still curled smugly, “but still, I just find it interesting is all, especially because you were hesitating until I mentioned Nanami would be here as well,” And you furrow your brow, head snapping to him, “is all I mean.” 

“Gojo—” 

“Have you told him how you feel?” and he doesn’t stop for a breath, “of course you haven’t, the two of you still dance around this like you did when you were students here. Very high school of you, but I guess it’s fitting since we’re in one.” 

“We don’t—” 

“You can’t deny it,” he says, still grinning, “well, you can, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s still there,” and then he gestures to the door in front of you, “we’re here!” 

You only stare at him, brow furrowed, “I don’t have feelings for Kento — we’re just friends.” 

And to your surprise, Gojo nods, “You’re right — you’re just friends, and that’s all you’ll ever be,” and he’s brushing past you, “unless one of you says anything,” And you blink, teeth digging into your bottom lip, “Or unless I say something—” 

“Gojo!” and he’s already disappearing around a corner, laughing. 

He wouldn’t say anything — he wouldn’t. 

You think, at least. 

But — you tap your foot against the floor of the car — it didn’t make you any less anxious. 

It wasn’t simple. You and Nanami. 

It never was. 

Both first years at Jujutsu High — you grew up together, you lived next door to each other, you fought together — until you didn’t. 

Until he didn’t, because he left. 

But he had to — you never blamed him for that. It was hard enough to see horrors you all did day in and day out, but another thing is to lose people close to you — to be at risk of losing everyone. 

It was too much for him. 

And you knew that, you saw it, even if he didn’t want you to. 

Too many nights you would barely knock on his door only to find him wide awake, bags under his eyes. Eventually, there was one night, after a difficult mission, you found yourself at his door. His door creaked open, and you knew he wasn’t sleeping — he had been lying awake just like you had. You spent the night with him in solace, in quiet, until eventually you both fell asleep. 

It became a habit — one that you had started after you couldn’t sleep one night, and it soon became every night — except the one night Gojo had barged into Nanami’s room, finding the two of you asleep by the dining table on the floor, your head resting against his shoulder. Gojo had woken Nanami up with the click of his camera phone, and you woke up as Nanami yelled at Gojo — who ran out of the room, laughing. 

After that, Nanami would find his way to your room instead. And you had asked him once why he still came? He paused, only shrugging, “Because I want to.” 

And then he came back. Because he wanted to. 

You had him in your life again, but it wasn’t the same. The walls you had tumbled before were higher and harder to climb, and you didn’t even know if he wanted you too.

It had been a while since you had seen him — a few months, almost a year. 

You pulled into the area he was in, as you turned your car off. And you didn’t know what you were going to say to him, grabbing the first aid kit and your keys, before opening your door — only that you hoped he was okay. 

Nanami hears a knock on the stall, and his eyes flicker open, checking his phone — no call or text from Ijichi — his hand instinctively reaches for his blade. Until he senses who it is. He furrows his brow, unlocking the door, “What are you doing here?” 

How long had it been since he’d seen you? A few months? A year almost? Either way, it was far too long since he’d seen you, heard your voice, saw you smile—and he brushed away his thoughts. 

And that was exactly why it had been as long as it had. 

You stand, arms crossed eyes scrutinizing until you find your way to his wound, “Strip,” 

And he blinks, “Excuse me?” 

“Take off your shirt, Nanami,” and he purses his lips at the use of his last name, you open up the first aid kit — fully outfitted in everything needed to care for a wound, “I need to dress the wound before I take you to Jujutsu Tech, otherwise it could get infected, especially since it’s been left to bleed.” 

“You don’t need to—” and the rest of his sentence dies on his lips when your eyes flicker to his, glowering, and he sighs. It was more trouble to argue with you then it was to concede. 

He undoes the buttons of his shirt, as you wash your hands, sanitizing them, before grabbing a clean cloth. He gingerly shrugs off his shirt, and he sees your eyes flicker over his bare chest, before quickly resting on his wound. Heat climbs his neck, as you examine the wound, your cold fingers brushing against his warm skin.  

“It doesn’t look like there’s any remnants of cursed energy or poison in the wound,” you rise, dampening the cloth under running water, “I’m just going to clean it and bandage it.” 

His gaze softens as he watches you, “Since when did you learn so much about caring for wounds?” 

“I’ve had Shoko teach me a few things over the years,” you wring the cloth out, before kneeling again, “this might sting a little.” 

And it did — but his focus was elsewhere aside from pain. His eyes couldn’t help but gaze at you, noting the tenseness in your shoulders, the tiredness in your eyes, the signs of wear on your face, but he also notices that things that haven’t changed — the way you bit your lip when you were focusing, the way your brow scrunched deeply, and the way you always wore your heart on your sleeve, even if it wasn’t apparent to most around you. 

Or maybe it was just the way you were around him. 

That was the one thing that always drew him to you, wasn’t it? 

He was content in his life — he had left the jujutsu world because he thought he couldn’t handle it, and maybe at that time, he couldn’t. The deaths — especially of the people around him — it was too much. But he returned because he realized that the appreciation he could gather, the thank yous, were enough for him to live each day with no regrets. 

But his eyes found you again— almost. 

You were always the one to make him dare to want more than simple contentment — and it was dangerous to want more — because there was more to lose. And he couldn’t bear to lose anyone else — no, he pursed his lips, glancing as you rose to wash and wring out the cloth — he couldn’t bear to lose you. 

“Nanami,” and his gaze snapped up, finding himself staring at a water bottle, “drink.” 

He thanks you, taking the bottle from your fingers, brushing yours as he does, and the question slips from his lips before he can help it, “Why are you calling me ‘Nanami?’” 

You pause, raising an eyebrow “Should I be calling you Nanamin?” 

And he blinks, lips parting to ask where you heard— before he scowls, where else? Gojo must have told you about Itadori’s nickname, “No,” but he felt his ears burn — or maybe you should — and he continues, “You always called me Kento, before,” 

“Like you said, it was before,” you purse your lips, "what happened?" And he frowns, tilting his head, "I mean with the cursed spirit you were fighting," 

"I had to withdraw," he shakes his head, "this was an unregistered special grade — much like the ones that Gojo encountered. It's technique — it—" he breaks off — the memory of the woman— and he corrects himself — the corpse begging for him to kill her, "it was a bad match for mine, so I had no choice." but he notices your gaze lingering, "what?" 

"Are you okay?" And he blinks. 

"I'm fine—" and you shake your head, "what?" 

"You don't always have to do everything on your own, Nanami,” 

And he purses his lips, “Jujutsu isn’t—” 

“A team sport,” you finish, raising your eyebrows, “but this isn’t about the fight itself,” you pull fresh gauze from your kit, “it’s about the toll it takes after,” your fingers brush his, as you guide his hand to press it to the wound. 

“I don’t need to burden other people—” 

“You’re not a burden,” you cut him off, and you steal the breath from his lungs, your gaze burning a trail of heat wherever it lays, “how can you expect anyone to feel close to you if you won’t let anyone in?” the sound of tape cuts through the silence, as you bite it before ripping it into strips. 

“Maybe because I don’t want anyone to get close enough to see how weak I really am,” he says quietly, the back of his head resting against the wall again, “it’s easier to be content living so close to death every day, when you don’t have anything to lose.” 

You frown, “Nanami—”

“The things we see—” he says, “the murder, the disfigurement, the death, the loss,” he runs a hand over his face, “is it worth it to do what we do?” 

He feels your gaze linger on him, “Nanami, what happened earlier?” 

“I don’t—” he shakes. 

“What happened?” he squeezes his eyes shut, before sighing. 

So he tells you. About the cursed spirit, about how it can morph and mangle souls and bodies into whatever form he wishes, how it was the worst match up against his cursed technique, and about the corpse, “And there was a person— a corpse,” he swallows, “their face right below my feet, begging me to kill them — and I couldn’t do it,” his voice breaks. 

“Nanami—” he can’t look at you — he can’t. 

“And it almost did the same thing to me,” he whispers, “I could have ended up just like—” 

“But you didn’t,” your hand reaches for him, but he catches your wrist in his hand, gently, “you escaped.” 

“But I almost—” became just like them. 

And he almost understood what Itadori meant by the fact he wanted to have a proper death — because there was nothing proper about what that cursed spirit did to those people. 

You break from his grip, and your fingers brush his cheek tentatively, and you guide his gaze to yours, “You’re here with me — because of your skill, because of your abilities, because it wasn’t your time,” you tilt your head, “I’m not losing you that easily, Kento. Not without a fight.” 

His lips twitch into a bitter smile, watching the overhead fan spin above them, “But I suppose I’ll still be losing something in the end,” the words slip past his lips, “just like I lost you.” 

“Kento,” and he blinks, mouth parting, his eyes finding yours again, your brows furrowed, “you never lost me. You always have me—” and your eyes shy away, but not before they turn stern, “but not if you insist on being a martyr.” 

“I can manage that,” he says softly, as your fingers brush against his again, pressing tape over the gauze, and he hisses a little, leaning forward. 

Your head whips up, “Sorry,” and you freeze, your face an inch from his own. He feels your breath warm his lips, while his own stills — god, you were so beautiful, weren’t you? 

“Do you still not want anyone to be close to you?” you breathe, and he chuckles, lips curling in a smile, as his fingers dare to brush against your cheek, his chest stirring as he feels you lean into his touch. 

“Maybe not anyone,” and then he adds,  “but if it’s you—” 

“If it’s me?” and he dares a little closer, tilting your head upwards, his fingers resting on the back of your neck. 

“I always want you by my side,” he breathes, his lips a centimeter away, as he breathes your name, almost to ask for permission, “I’ve always—” 

“I know,” you whisper, “me too.” 

And his lips brush yours, for a moment — hesitant, as you both part for a moment, until your lips find his again, and again, and again. Until his hands are cupping your cheeks, and your arms are wrapping around his neck, your nails carding through the hair resting on the back of his neck — as your lips meet again. 

“Kento—” you murmur, and he nearly groans, as he’s pulling you closer — and he can’t think of anything else, but you, “I—” and you gasp, as his lips kiss down your jawline, and your hands slide down his shoulders to the front of his shirt, grasping at it, tugging him needlessly closer. 

“Ow,” he flinches, his wound stinging, and you pull away, hands raised. 

“Sorry, sorry,” and he smiles, his arms pulling you back to him, “Kento— we should get you to Jujutsu Tech,” 

Hu hums, “Just a second,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I just want to savor this.”

“I didn’t know you were one for being sentimental, Nanamin,” and you feel him chuckle, your head resting on his chest, gingerly. 

“I don’t mind you calling me that, so much as I do...others,” 

“I’ll have to let Gojo know,” you snort, as your fingers toy with a button on his shirt, “and I’ll have to thank him.” 

He raises an eyebrow, “For what?” 

“For making me realize my feelings for you,” and Nanami tilts his head, “I’ll explain later.” 

“I’d thank him,” his hands wrapping around your waist,  “if I respected him more.”

“You do—” and he kisses you again, hard, his nose bumping against yours, before he smiles, his thumb softly grazing the length of your cheek back and forth, “Kento—” 

“You can thank him later,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead against yours, “I want to keep you to myself for now.” 

“And then?” His fingers slowly intertwine with yours — a perfect fit — as you tug at him, leading him out of the washroom.

He squeezes your hand, “We’ll see.” 

Together. 

☁︎ a/n: this is a fic i wrote a long time ago when i watched season 1 and i was like why not post it?

☁︎ tag list (apologies if you didn't wanna be tagged, going off who liked the poll i put up): @thotsposts, @ib4ryuguji, @sunspawn22, @kannra21, @nightmarelov,

[my-great-big-book-of-fan-fiction]

Pt. 2 of modern Wolf Hybrid! Katsuki Bakugou X Bunny Hybrid! Reader

This is part 2 of my last Wolf!Katsuki fic, and while not required to understand this one, I highly recommend giving it a read! This is about you, a bunny person, telling your family that you're dating a Wolf man, Katsuki...except they're extremely against dating between wolf and bunny hybrids. Womp womp.

words: 1.5k

Warnings: cursing, mentions of Kat and reader doing the horizontal monster mash, angst? I think? I'm not an angst writer, Pretty sure this is hurt comfort

"Ok, I have my water in case my throat gets dry, my tissues in case I cry too much, cookies in case I stress eat...My phone, where's my phone?! I can't call them without my phone!"

"In you're hand, bun."

"Oh...right..."

"You gotta chill out," Katsuki huffed, standing behind you and gently rubbing your temples with his strong, calloused hands. His tail swayed gently behind him, idly moving as he bent down and planted a kiss on your scalp. Why was he being so lovey, might you ask? Because you were about to make the biggest announcement of your life to your family: You, a bunny-person, were dating Katsuki, a Wolf-person.

Was it that big of a deal? Not to you, a young person living in a liberal area, but to your incredibly old fashioned family, it was like announcing you personally orchestrated the plague.

"But what if they disown me or something," you whine, leaning your head back to look up at him with a nervous pout. He frowned down at you, thumbing at the tips of your plush bunny ears as they pressed against your head. "You'll still have me, 's not like you'll be alone."

Katsuki wasn't the best at all of this, seeing as he was a wolf guy that had moved out at sixteen and hardly spoke to his parents yearly, but he loved you, and therefore was trying his best.

You appreciated that, obviously, but his words did little to comfort you...you were just so nervous!

After a moment of looking into your eyes, seeing the anxiety just behind them, he leaned down and pressed his forehead to yours. "They're lucky to have you, if they know what's good they'll stick around."

Did he hate your family and wish they'd all fuck off and stay out of it? Yeah. Would that get in the way of how much he loved you? Hell no. So why would they feel any different, why would they shut you out just because you loved a wolf man?

With a heavy sigh, you sat up straight, positioning your phone on the coffee table in front of you so you had a nice, clear angle. "Ok. I'm gonna do it. I'm calling them...get out of the shot, please," you asked of him, to which he begrudgingly obliged with a pout. He plopped down next to you, nearly putting his arm around you out of instinct, before remembering the whole point was to not be seen.

You hesitantly leaned forward, pressing the call button and watching the Video Call register, the music filling your stomach with anxiety. "Relax," he mumbled, taking your hand off camera and holding it.

After a couple rings, your parents picked up, big smiles on their faces. "Hey carrot cake!" Your dad said, using a nickname you've had since you were six, when you ate so much carrot cake you spent the night throwing up.

"How's my favorite firstborn doing in the big, loud, far away, dangerous, city," your mom asked, a twinge of worry in her wide smile. She always liked to bring up how dangerous St. Lupus was, a city densely populated by wolves. "Great! Everything's great," you responded, squeezing Katsuki's hand a little tighter.

"You know, I was talking to Barbra the other day, and I think you and her son would just adore each other," your mom gushed, your phone pinging with a picture sent from her. "Isn't he handsome? Take a look," she prodded.

Katsuki growled a little, a low rumbling coming from him as he scowled, ears flat against his head. You reached over a little and put your hand on his chest, calming him and reminding him why you were here. "A-actually, speaking of that, I've found someone else," you started, pressing your lips together and watching for a reaction.

"Oh! That's wonderful dear! What's his name? Is he from Hoppsfoot? Bunny burrow? Oh, don't tell me he's from Cottonridge."

"Uh, he's definitely not from Cottonridge," you assured, your mother sighing with relief. "Well, tell us about him," your father pressured, smiling gently at you.

"H-he's from St. Lupus..." you stuttered out, squeezing Katsuki's hand a little tighter. You thought they'd connect the dots from there, but...

"I've never heard of a bunny being raised in St. Lupus, not without being turned into Sunday dinner," your dad joked, nudging your mom with a laugh.

Who does this guy think he is, assuming wolves still ate bunnies? What a close minded asshole. Katsuki looked to you, wanting to exchange glances of exasperation, but saw just how scared you were.

You looked like you were on the brink of bursting into tears. His heart ached for you, he just wanted you to feel ok. He leaned forward, just enough to be closer without being in frame, and brought your hand to his scalp. Scratching his ears always made you feel better.

You glanced over for a second, a sweet but rather fake smile on your face, and began to idly scratch around the base of his ears. He quietly groaned into your touch, allowing himself to be a little more open about how good you made him feel so you knew he loved you.

"The thing is, well, uh..." You looked into your parents eyes through the screen, their kind, caring eyes, and then to Katsuki's passionate, loving ones. Fuck.

"I can't," you whispered, frozen in fear, eyes pleading with Katsuki to have sympathy. You wanted to, you just...couldn't break their hearts.

"What's that," your mother asked, getting closer to the camera. Katsuki knew what he had to do, he wanted to help. He grabbed your phone, turning it to himself, your hand still on his head, and stated, "I'm (y/n)'s boyfriend," firmly.

Your parents gasped in unison, jaws dropped. "This can't be!" "Tell me he's lying!"

"It's true," you said, your voice wavering but your tone firm.

Katsuki handed you the phone back, and you held it closer to your face.

"We raised you better than this," your mother shouted.

"He loves me," you mumbled back, tears dripping over your cheeks.

"He wants to use you," she scoffed, venom in her tone.

"Wolves don't eat bunnies anymore," you argued.

"So? That doesn't mean he won't use you for other things," she sniffed.

"Mom!" Tears were pouring down your face, you were definitely worked up. Katsuki brought his arm around your shoulder, holding you a little closer to comfort you. For once, Katsuki kept his mouth shut. You had this. You didn't need his help.

"I can't bear to watch him touch you, I can't imagine what you let him do when we aren't watching!"

"What we do is none of your business," you yelled, your voice shrill from the emotions raging.

"Don't come home until you've rid yourself of that...that...heathen!"

"Fine," you shouted back, not even thinking.

"Fine," she responded, equally as loud. You could hear your dad say "honey," to your mom just before she hung up.

You sat there in silence for a moment, Katsuki's arm around you, staring at your now black phone screen.

"You...Okay," Katsuki asked hesitantly, his voice riddled with worry.

You broke.

You started bawling, Tears gushing from your eyes as you leaned into Katsuki's chest, wailing and lamenting the possible loss of your relationship with, at the very least, your mother. Katsuki leaned back against the armrest of the couch, pulling you with him as you both lay down. He rubbed your back in broad strokes, up and down, his other hand behind his head for support.

"I can't go back," you whimpered between broken sobs, arms brought to be around his sides.

You don't need to. Why go back when I'm right here? Who would want to go back to assholes like them, anyway? All of these thoughts were racing through his head, yet none of them could be voiced, one were what he wanted to think. You didn't need that.

"I know, bun."

That was all he said, planting soft kisses along your hairline and smoothing your ears against your head over and over again, petting you to calm you down.

Your howling died down into sobbing, the sobbing into crying, and the crying into whimpering. After just 10 minutes, you were silent, and after careful examination, Katsuki realized you were dead asleep.

Gently so as not to wake you, he lifted you up as he stood, carrying you to his bedroom and laying you down. He got in with you, pulling up the covers and leaving little kisses on your wet cheek as he wrapped his strong arms around your waist.

He could hear your phone buzzing with text after text after text, phone calls with different ringtones (ergo different people), the dinging of notifications on social media.

He'd have to get up earlier than you so he could delete all the hateful texts and voicemails, but that'd be tomorrow him's problem. Right now, all that mattered was you.

His beautiful bunny.

Me? write A metaphor for the homophobia/racism/general bigotry that still exists today? noooooo, couldn't be. I hope you liked this comfy, angsty(?) little fanfic, please leave a comment with your thoughts!

[chvoswxtch]

to the halloween queen, i hope this october is treating you well!! i was wondering if i could request a gut wrenching, angsty fic with billy based on paramore’s sanity?

if i call out your name, you don’t come/

no one home, but the void is loud/

echoes around my empty house/

sentences are slowing down

in all honesty, i don’t have many specifics in mind. i was thinking of an established relationship slowly but surely growing apart. to the point they eat dinner in silence, the distance between them whilst sleeping in the same bed grows more and more…in other words, i am asking you to break my heart!

i go by she/her pronouns and they can be used!

<3 thank you, take care, and ily <3

oh my darling sweet nonnie, you definitely came to the right place. I hope october has been kind to you, bc i'm about to break your heart as requested. i'll be here with tissues afterwards 🖤

warning: swearing, slight mention of alcohol, heavy angst word count: 1.4k

sanity.

no one home, but the void is loud / echoes around my empty house

The white noise of bustling traffic was muffled by the dull roar of an icy midnight breeze slowly fading in the background. Through the grand floor to ceiling windows of the penthouse, you could see brilliant lights twinkling in a kaleidoscope of colors, vehicles zipping by in a flash in various directions, and masses of people navigating the city by heart. Outside, New York City was clamoring proudly with life.

But in the emptiness of the penthouse, it was so silent and still that the sound of fresh snow hitting the glass was as loud as thunder cracking across the sky.

In a place that more than three million people called home, you had never felt more alone. Standing in front of the expansive windows with the chill radiating through the glass nipping at your nose and cheeks, you felt completely numb and simultaneously like an open wound at the same time. It didn’t always feel this cold.

Last year at this exact same time, this place still felt like home. You could still feel the heat from the flames dancing in the fireplace licking at your skin while the golden glow of the fire created a warm and comforting ambiance in the living room. You could still taste the richness of hot cocoa caressing your tongue, and still hear the sound of Billy’s heartbeat playing in your ear while your head rested on his chest as the two of you admired the tree you had put up together from the couch. Billy had insisted on going all out since he had never really celebrated the holidays before due to growing up in the system. 

In a moment of sincere vulnerability while you were teaching him your special recipe for chocolate chip cookies, Billy had revealed to you that you were the first person he’d ever had to make the holidays feel special. It had been such a big deal to him to make sure everything was perfect, and it made your heart swell like a balloon in your rib cage seeing the childlike happiness on his face as the two of you celebrated together.

That special time now felt like a lifetime ago.

Now, there was only the scent of stale ash in the fireplace, and the absence of Billy’s holiday spirit lingering along the mantle and in the corner of the living room.

You weren’t sure exactly when it happened, but somewhere along the line, something changed. Billy no longer stopped by your work because he was “in the neighborhood” and just wanted to see you. Conversations became shorter and shorter at dinner until it reached the point of the two of you eating in deafening silence, and then ultimately you found yourself eating alone. Billy no longer wrapped himself around you in bed like a security blanket, and instead you found an ocean between you that kept growing wider and wider until you were stranded in the middle of it alone struggling to keep your head above water. He began to travel more, spent longer hours at the office, and lately would go days without speaking to you at all.

There was no more playful banter and flirtatious teasing in crowded spaces. It had been five months since you and Billy had gone on an actual date, and he had barely touched you in three.  On the rare occasion that he made it home at a decent hour, he ignored your passionate advances and locked himself away in his home office. You and Billy used to not be able to keep your hands off one another, and now you couldn’t even get him to give you a simple peck on the cheek. You couldn’t even remember the last time that he had told you he loved you.

For the past few months, there was a heavy sense of grief weighing on your heart like liquid cement almost as if Billy had died. He would appear suddenly, and then vanish right before your eyes even quicker like an apparition. He barely acknowledged your presence when you called out to him, as if you were the ghost lingering around. The last time you had reached for his hand, it was cold and stiff like that of a corpse. You fought defiantly against the stage of acceptance and refused to admit to yourself that your relationship was decaying in the grave. Instead you remained stubbornly stuck in a purgatory of mourning for the Billy you had fallen in love with, feeling haunted by your own foolish hope and his lingering presence in your heart.

Denial plagued you for months as you frantically tried everything to resuscitate the pulse in your relationship. You changed your hair a few times and put more effort into your outfits and appearance, which consistently went unnoticed by Billy. You planned romantic dates and elaborate getaway trips that he instantly declined. The past three times you had attempted to surprise him at the office for lunch, you couldn’t even get past his receptionist. 

Most nights you spent alone, drowning in your own agony, screaming and sobbing at the stars for answers because Billy wasn’t there to provide them. In moments of over indulgence from the built in bar, you nearly gave into your desperation and participated in the reckless thoughts intrusively entering your head that you were absolutely sure would capture Billy’s attention. But then the epiphany that you felt like you had to put yourself in a dangerous situation just for him to notice you again would shatter your soul into a thousand jagged pieces.

Had you done something to make Billy become so distant? Was he going through something he felt he couldn’t talk to you about? Did he love you at all anymore? Was there someone else? 

That last question made you violently nauseous. The not knowing what was happening with Billy drove you absolutely fucking mad, and you tried every method you could think of to stop the hemorrhaging to salvage what the two of you had. 

But eventually, the weight of the blood staining your hands was impossible to ignore, and the tone of a flatline rang loudly in your ears. The heaviness you felt was a clear sign that there was no longer life left in what you and Billy had created together, and the warm thrum of a pulse would never be found again.

You didn’t bother to tell Billy that you were leaving. The eulogy had already been engraved on the headstone months ago, you just couldn’t bring yourself to read it. Taking one last glance around the penthouse that had been your shared home, all you could think about was the day you first moved in. Everything had looked so bright, felt so warm and inviting, and Billy had been ecstatic to share a home with you. He had told you that you were what made the place feel like home, and in a moment of candor entrusted you with the sentiment of how happy it made him to finally have someone to come home to.

But now as you stood in the middle of the living room in the dark, it just felt cold and empty. Billy had been gone for two weeks on a business trip and was supposed to return home tomorrow, but this time you wouldn’t be there waiting by the door to welcome him back. After finally finding the strength to face the heartbreaking truth of your reality, you had spent the past twenty-four hours removing every trace of your existence. There was only one last thing to erase.

The devastating loss had left your heart maimed, and the memories of Billy’s touch afflicted phantom bruises onto your skin. It was time to tend to your own wounds and mend the parts of you that had been broken by him. After one final look around, you placed the handcrafted engagement ring on the kitchen island like a rose on a coffin as a silent goodbye and quietly disappeared into the depths of midnight.

tags: @nolita-fairytale @thyme-in-a-bubble @mars-rants-a-lot @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @topperthornton

[rippersz]

𝙇𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝙖𝙩 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙞𝙙.

«——..✞..——»

«——..✞..——»

(DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT) (TW: Mentions of cannibalism, murder, slight glorification of both, gore, etc.) (Larissa Weems x Reader)

«——..✞..——»

“Is that all you want to be? Liked? Wouldn’t you rather be passionately and voraciously desired?” ~ Margaret Atwood

«——..✞..——»

There’s something wrong with you.

There’s something definitely completely entirely seriously wrong with you.

She looks so pretty today.

Utterly irresistible.

You kind of want to kiss her. But she had lunch earlier. And you are in the middle of a staff meeting. And though she often brushes her teeth and uses breath mints, you don’t really want to taste the lingerings of human tissue. Even if the sounds of her pleasure would make it more bearable.

They probably wouldn’t though, of course. Because kissing a cannibal is not bearable in any way. And you’d probably throw up right after. And you’d probably gag and tell her to get away from you. And you’d probably have to wrench yourself away after realizing that although her mouth feels so good, and her hands feel so soft, she has painted entire walls red with her strength. And she has licked them clean with the same tongue she’d no doubt drag along your teeth.

…So no. Maybe kissing her wasn’t a very good idea.

And she was your boss. There was that too.

“Alright everyone, I think that’s it for today. Swift reminder that the Academy will undergo a planned power outage on Friday. Considering most of you will be chaperoning the students at the carnival that evening, I’ll be staying behind to look after the maintenance crew. If all goes well, it should be restored by the next morning. Please enjoy the rest of your days - if you need me, you know where I am.” Swift and to the point she was. Always so quick to hand out little encouraging smiles. Always eager to provide some words of wisdom or kindness. A very well-built facade.

And of course, because they have no other reason to doubt, they eat it all up with vigor. Little kittens to their saucer of fattening milk. Never ever stopping to question how Principal Weems is the way she is. And why she is the way she is. And what she does during her free time.

“Y/n, will you accompany me to my office please?”

You pause in the doorway, feeling the heel of your shoe touch the floor with a small muted clack, experiencing the drop of your heart as your fate is sealed without a single word.

But she doesn’t really need a response anyway. She knows you’re going to say yes. She knows you can never deny her - not unless she asks you to indulge in another one of her very well-cooked meals.

Compliments to the chef, you supposed.

“Of course, Larissa.”

Of course, Larissa.

What a fuckin’ pansy. You twisted bitch.

“Thank you,” is her soft responding whisper before she’s slipping past you and strutting out into the hall - leaving you to close the door behind you both and trail after her like a hungry mutt.

A strange beast of utter tranquility seems to exist within Larissa at all times whenever she’s with you. Never before have you seen her angry, though you know from stories that- on occasion- her irritation can lead to fury. It’s not a pretty sight apparently. But you know that’s most likely not true. You know it’s probably a very pretty sight - but no one wants to admit it. And no one wants to talk about it. Some women are simply off limits even in mention whenever they become angry. Rage, after all, is a powerful thing. It travels through ears- time- and space.

You know you’ve never seen her that way because she doesn’t want to scare you.

You know it’s because she doesn’t want you to be scared of her. Only her.

But you can’t help but wonder - is it too late for that?

Are you already scared of her?

Or is there still time to put you at ease? Make you comfortable? Help you settle?

No.

No no no.

You will not settle. You will not let her rest. For as much as she hides it, you know Larissa lives on the edge of nervousness. She knows she can only control you but only to a certain extent. And she knows you set the pace; even though one would be led to believe that she has all the power. She doesn’t. It may be her turn to serve, but the ball is, perpetually, within your court.

“Please close the door behind you, thanks.” And with that, you find yourself led into the lion’s den; willingly putting yourself to the slaughter as she goes about setting her things down and straightening her dress to sit.

The door closes.

The silence falls.

You feel a bit nauseous.

You feel a bit excited.

You feel a bit crazy.

Daring.

She may be a murderer, a human-eater, a manipulative mad-woman with an incredible sense of fashion, but she also makes you feel alive. And that’s the scariest part.

Any woman knows that once something interrupts the din of daily living, once something begins to worm and thrive and corrupt, there is rarely any chance to go back. You are infected. The virus spreads. The lightning strikes the bones. The heart starts to pump faster than sound travels. You’re alive. For the very first time, you’re alive. Your mother’s womb was not a home. And the world was not a result of love. You’re alive only due to that thing.

Only due to her.

You want to run out of the room.

You want to face her.

Your heart speaks before your mind does.

She’s looking at you. Contemplating you, which she always seems to do. Running her eyes up and down your back, and across your arms, and over your chest and shoulders and down to your midsection and legs. She isn’t thinking about eating you or cooking you - at least you don’t think so. No. No, she’s just admiring. Allowing herself to be before she has to jump back into her role as ‘The Principal’. Or ‘The Murderer’. Either way, you don’t always like the staring - so you break her trance when you turn and walk over to the chairs opposite her desk.

“What is it now?” Your words come out in a huff when you sit, placing your bag on the floor by your side. “I have things to do.” No, you don’t. You wouldn’t have followed if you did. But that’s also not true. You followed only because you wanted to - because curiosity has always been your greatest enemy. And she smiles brightly because she knows that.

“I was just curious about something,” is her easy response. Her hands move to clasp themselves together.

“Hm. What?” Crossing your arms over your chest and leaning back into your chair is the only way you can maintain an air of control. It probably doesn’t work, but that’s beside the point.

“I’ve been growing bored lately. Summer is so far away and the days are dragging on longer than they ever have before,” Larissa laments, letting out a sigh (most definitely forced) to go along with it.

You raise an eyebrow. Where is she going with this?

“I think they’re coming along just fine. And winter is ending soon so it’s not that far.”

But she’s never been one to back down from a challenge, so instead of taking the hint and changing tactics, Larissa only smiles and gives you a small incline of her head. It’s the only recognition you’ll ever receive in regards to ‘being right’.

“Mmm but think of the events we’re all planning for. They’re fun, sure, but time consuming. Though the carnival, in particular, will provide some excitement for everyone...”

Everyone but me, of course is what she means to say.

You resist the urge to frown.

It’s just another thing about Larissa Weems. The guilt. The sympathy. She is not harmful, you try to tell yourself. But she is. She is just a woman, you insist. That doesn’t make it better. She… she needs help. But then you look at her and you know that she doesn’t want help. And want and need are two different things. And whatever Larissa is about to ask of you next, you’re pretty sure it’s something she wants and something you need.

“Okay… and this has to do with me h-”

“I’d like to have fun as well. Just for one evening. Would you be interested in joining me?”

You blink.

This time around, there’s nothing giving her away. In fact, she’s very still in her seat - practically on the edge - wondering if the invisible line the two of you always seem to move around has finally been crossed. Your points of contact consist of meals taken in her study and the occasional quick stroll through the hall. There is nothing outside of that. So what is this? And why now? And what did she mean?

Well. You’ll never know unless you say-

“...Sure.”

What’s the worst that could happen?

You could die.

Meh. What’s a little death?

“Wonderful,” is the slow toothy-smiled response you receive. Though her reaction is all sunshine, with the way her eyes crinkle and her nose scrunches and her head tilts a little bit, some part of you knows she’s surprised. It’s found in the way her eyebrows tick up just the tiniest bit. She was expecting a fight. Or more questions. Or any type of refusal at all. But perhaps you’ve grown soft… perhaps you don’t care.

You do, though. You do care.

But, you reason, in the face of The Devil, would a lone Angel not know that it’s better to play along and wait than to find themselves in trouble, stuck for eternity? Because that is what you’re doing, is it not? You’re waiting, no? Observing? While she may be the predator in the underbrush, staring through the bush, you’re the prey with more speed, faster reflexes, and keener eyes. You peer and you watch, knowing that the moment will come in which you’ll need to race off to the edge of the world - and never look back. Just like the Angel finding their time to leave.

But you are no Angel. Don’t you dare compare yourself to that.

Hm. Maybe not. But nonetheless.

“I was thinking of taking part in a game this Friday evening. One of our own, while we have Nevermore to ourselves…” Larissa says gently, drumming her fingertips on the surface of the desk. “Does that sound amenable to you, darling?”

Darling….

You clench your hands into fists, fighting down a violent shiver. Darling. Oh she was wicked when she spoke to you like that. All low tones and velvet tongue and blue eyes peering up through dark lashes… so knowing in her effects. Using them to her advantage. Like she figures that if she could be sultry for a long enough time, you’d somehow remarkably forget about her tendency to eat people. To devour them. To watch the life leave their eyes and think, yes, this one will be in my breakfast. Perhaps in an omelet. Or maybe a side dish of meat with a main course of cinnamon toast and honey.

“What kind of game?” There’s an edge to your voice. It gives you away.

What makes you think she won’t eat you next?

There’s a flash of pink tongue running over white teeth. A quirk of a smile. A hum rumbling from the throat.

“A fun one. Hide and seek, most likely.”

You’d probably taste good. She’s thought about it before. There’s no way she hasn’t.

“And the terms?”

Ah. Hook, line, and sinker. She knows she’s got you.

“I think we should save that for the night of, don’t you agree?”

No. You don’t.

“Why?”

But it doesn’t really matter what you think.

“Well I believe we all need a little bit of surprise in our lives every once in a while. Who knows?” Larissa shrugs, shuffling in her seat to cross her legs at the ankles, “You too may find that you prefer to know all of the details when the time comes.” She licks her lips. You try not to stare. “And I’ve always been a woman of my word. So there’s no need to worry. Is there?”

Yes. Yes there’s always need to worry. Yes you worry very much. All the time. About many things. But mainly her. Primarily her. Nearly her all of the time. It’s reflexive, honestly. Instinctive. You track her movements with a thumping heart and hungry eyes - not because you want to eat her, but because you want to kiss her. Hug her. Fuck her. Until she forgets that she’s stronger than you. Until her hunger for human flesh dies down into nothing. Until you can cure her. Be safe with her. Be finally finally free with her.

Wishful thinking, of course. She can’t change.

So instead of doing what you do want to do and reach over to kiss her- or stab her with a nearby paperweight- you shoot her a heavy glare. “Why can’t you just be normal?” rests on the tip of your tongue, but you shove it back into the recesses of your throat. There’s no point in upsetting her. And the sight of her sadness makes you wanna throw up. And anything you say could be the cause of your death. So, to a certain extent, eggshells are where your feet rest. And dance. And twirl. And lord knows when you’ll be able to stand on solid ground again. Maybe when she’s behind bars, or in a mental ward, or six feet beneath the Earth… rotting, no matter what, but rotting far away from you.

The sound of her throat clearing has you tearing your eyes away from their spaced out spot on the window - and bringing them right back to her. The very epicenter of your worry. And your horror. And your lust. And everything. Everything everything everything.

“I-…” You want to tell her that you’re scared and unsure, but you don’t know if she’ll care. You don’t know if she’ll use that against you one day either. So without choices left, you sigh. “Yeah, okay. Okay. I’ll wait. Fine.”

And you hate the way her smile makes your heart skip a beat.

«——..✞..——»

Surprised Cannibal Larissa got so much love! I know it’s different, but I quite like writing the uncomfortable things. Lemme know if you’d like to see more of her? Thank you all. - Rip x

«——..✞..——»

[imagine-a-life-like-this]

Step 7 : Don't Live Together (H.JS)

Word Count : 2.6k

Warnings : swearing, drinking, food mention, body image issues, mentions of sex, angst, heartbreak, a lot of heartbreak, tears were shed, might want to grab tissues

A/N : Sorry that his is short like Changbin's! But I will make up for it with his written series that will be out soon!!! I'm working on the final part of this series, and then I will be releasing the prologue of Perfect For You!!! Also I appreciate everyone that has bought me a coffee or has tried 🥺 I know tumblr is messing with links right now. If you're trying and the one in my bio isn't working, I've heard the one in my pinned post does work! Again do not feel inclined to do so. I appreciate your support via likes and reblogs as well 💕💕💕

            It was another night with music blasting through the headphones in her ears and a tear soaked pillow as she cried herself to sleep. Trying not to think of the girl she wish she could be on the other side of the house, moaning Jisung’s name as he fucks her.

            It used to annoy her, how many girls Jisung brings home. They were best friends, she told herself, him sleeping with other girls didn’t bother her. Not like that. She just wanted to sleep, and with the constant screaming and moaning, dramatics she knows the girls put on just for her, evident by the sneer looks she receives in the morning as Jisung kicks them out and joins her for breakfast.

            And then she found herself comparing the way she looks to each and every girl that walked through the door. How different she was. How her body was a different shape. Her hair looked different. Her eyes didn’t shine as bright. And the tears would well up when Jisung would talk about how beautiful they were.

            She never meant to fall in love with Jisung, it wasn’t in her plan. Living with him until graduation? That was in the plan. Get married at 35 if they’re both single? Definitely in the plan. But falling in love with him in university while he’s one of the most popular guys and she’s practically unknown? Not even a thought.

~

            “Hey Y/n! You still coming to the party tonight?” Chan slung his arm across her shoulders, shooting her his infamous smile that would have any other girl weak in the knees, but she just nodded as she wrapped an arm around his torso, leaning into his comforting touch. “You feeling okay? Your face is a little puffy.”

            “Just a little cry sesh. You know, the usual.” She joked, trying to play off the heartbreak she felt at the sight of another beautiful girl leaving her house this morning, pretending like everything was normal with Jisung when he sat beside her, thanking her for breakfast as he always does. If she keeps pretending like everything is fine, then maybe everything will actually be fine.

            “You know I’m only a call away.”

            “Okay Charlie Puth.” She rolled her eyes, playfully shoving him away before heading towards her first class. Repeating to herself that she just has to keep acting like everything is normal and then things will return to the way it was before. She’ll fall out of love with Jisung, and her life will get back on track.

~

            “I swear his dick is going to fall off by the time he’s 30.” Hyunjin joked, handing Y/n a cup filled with a liquid she didn’t question, just chugged it all back like it was shot, and went to the kitchen in search of more. She couldn’t stand watching Jisung making out with someone that wasn’t her. Another someone that wasn’t her. There have been many someone’s. Too many someone’s. And tonight she planned to forget each and every one of them.

            “They usually keep the good stuff in the cabinet above the fridge.” She turned to see Seungmin entering the kitchen with his hands in his pockets and a knowing look in his eyes. “Just don’t tell them I told you.” He smiled at her before grabbing the bottle of liquor no one else knew about, looking around to make sure no one else was watching them. “Follow me.”

            She didn’t know Seungmin as well as she knew the others. They ran in the same circle and didn’t have many friends outside the guys, but that’s where their similarities stopped. Their majors were different. Their hobbies were different. Even the places they frequented were different, so they really only saw each other during these parties.

            At least Seungmin saw her. Watched her as she came to terms with her growing feelings for her best friend. Watched as her heart broke each time Jisung found a new girl to bring to their shared home. He saw her, watched her. She intrigued him.

            She didn’t know Seungmin, but she followed him outside into the garden. There was limited light, the music was softer, and there was absolutely no one else around. It was just the two of them, and she felt calm. No nerves, no worries. Just her, Seungmin, and a bottle of alcohol shared between the two of them.

~

            “Move in with me.” Seungmin said. It’s been a week since the party. A week since they shared a bottle of alcohol and both of them spilled too many secrets to each other. Suddenly they were attached at the hip the way her and Jisung once were.

            She was complaining while talking to him on the phone about yet another girl he brought home. Said she was trying to study and it was hard to focus with how loud they were being. But Seungmin knew the real reason she was upset. She didn’t have to voice it, and honestly he didn’t want her to. He wanted to believe for just a little while longer that one day she would be his.

            “I just got a new place and I could use a roommate.” He continued, trying to prove that it wasn’t just a spur of the moment decision, despite it most definitely being that. He had just moved out of his place he shared with Jeongin and Felix because he wanted his own space. He didn’t want a roommate. But she needed an escape. She needed to get away from Jisung and all his hookups.

            “You’d really be okay with that?” She asked after thinking about it for a minute. There was no getting over Jisung while living under the same roof, wishing she was the girl under him, listening to him moan her name instead of someone else’s.

            Moving in with Seungmin definitely wasn’t in her plan, but sometimes plans need to change. Especially when you find yourself falling in love with your best friend of far too many years and he doesn’t even notice you by his side willing to give him everything.

            Seungmin was exactly the kind of guy she saw herself falling for when she planned out her life. He was smart and disciplined. He knew exactly what he wanted and he was determined to get it. Everything about him matches her perfectly, and she realized that a week ago while they drank together.

            If she met Seungmin before falling for Jisung, would she have fallen for him instead?

            “I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t okay with it. I’ll even help you pack.”

~

            “What about all our plans?” She didn’t expect Jisung to protest. She didn’t expect the tears to fall from his eyes, or the way he fell to his knees, grabbing her hands desperately as he pleaded for her to stay. “Everything about me you don’t like, I’ll change.” His voice was barely above a whisper, his words coming out crackly as if coming out of a walkie-talkie.

            Seungmin was watching from the doorway. He had come in to tell her everything was packed in the truck and ready to go whenever she was. But before he could get a word out, he heard Jisung pleading for her to stay. He didn’t want to listen in on their goodbyes. He didn’t want to watch such an intimate moment between two close friends, but he couldn’t look away.

            Neither of them noticed him standing there. As if he was watching a scene from a drama, just an audience member, a nobody, not even a background character. He could see her caving, ready to give into Jisung, just like she always did.

            He took a deep breath and finally spoke up. “We’re ready to go whenever you are.” Both of them whipped their heads in his direction and he did his best to keep the smile on his face before he turned around and went back outside.

            If she follows him, if she chooses to move in with him, he’ll allow himself to think he has a chance to win her over. She wants to move out to move on after all. He can be the one to show her the love she’s always given to Jisung if she would give him the chance to.

            “Sorry. I should have told him earlier that I was moving out.” He shook his head, telling her not to apologize. He gestured towards the truck, asking if she was ready to go. She took a glance back at the house she lived in for two years. Jisung stood in the living room window, watching her leave, still hoping she changes her mind. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

~

            It took some time for Y/n to get used to living with Seungmin. It almost didn’t feel like home at first. Like she was just a stranger locked in a room, scared to leave, scared to wander too far from the safety of her bed. But Seungmin was warm.

            He would knock on her door and invite her to join him every time he made food. He would ask if she wanted to watch a drama with him. They spent their mornings together, drinking coffee as they made breakfast together.

            Slowly but surely she ventured out of her room. She would come home to Seungmin making food for the two of them and she would keep him company in the kitchen. They shared tidbits about their days, laughing over the silly things, and thoughts of Jisung slowly slipped from her mind. She was able to find happiness again.

            But things weren’t so good for Jisung. It all felt like a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from. He would wake up in an empty house, the smell of breakfast he got so used to gone. It became routine to stop by the café on the way to class to grab coffee and a sandwich for breakfast, but it would never measure up to Y/n’s food.

            He got so used to having her around even if she was just in her room that he had no idea what to do now that she was gone. He had hoped she would change her mind, turn right back around, and unpack all her stuff. Hoped that she would at least visit, at least hang out with him. But it was as if she no longer existed. Like she was a figment of his imagination that finally dissolved.

            But he’s seen her around with Seungmin. He didn’t even know the two were close. He knew about her friendship with Chan and Changbin. He knew she talked to Felix and Minho sometimes. Hyunjin had asked her out once. Jeongin spilled beer on her shirt once at a party and hasn’t looked at her since. But Seungmin? He can’t think of one memory of her and Seungmin.

            Sure he’s been preoccupied with distracting himself from his ever growing feelings for her by sleeping with any girl he can. But he still notices everything about her. Still sees the way she demands attention the second she walks into a room just by the way she stands there. How everyone notices her but she doesn’t see it. He knows she sees herself as invisible, not knowing just how beautiful she is. How incredible. How breathtaking.

            She had her entire life planned out. Jisung had always been apart of her life plan, but never as her lover. Never as the one in her heart. And that was fine at first. He was okay with it when she told him about her plan. He accepted it when they promised to get married if they were both still single at 35.

            And then he fell in love with her in high school. How had he never realized it before? She was always right there beside him, and then she wasn’t. But she always came back. No matter how far she goes, she always comes back. She’ll come back again, right?

            “You look like shit.” Changbin chuckled as he walked into class. But Jisung stood from his desk and ran out. “Yo I’m sorry! It was a joke!” Changbin called after him, but Chan just shook his head and pointed to the notebook he had left behind. Still open on his desk, lyrics scribbled in barely legible handwriting. The only thing that was legible was the single word at the top of the page : Y/N.

~

            “Come back home.” Jisung barged into her class just before it was to start. The professor and all the students looked towards the door and the sweaty, panting boy standing there. But his eyes never left hers.

            “You’re excused Miss L/n.” She quickly packed all her belongings and pushed Jisung out the door, shutting it behind her.

            “What the fuck is your problem? You can’t just barge into my class like that.” She could tell that he was barely listening. He had a thousand thoughts running in his head and he needed to get it all out before he could listen to anything else.

            “I’m a fucking mess without you okay? And I’m not just saying that because you cook for me. I’m talking about just living day to day life with you. Coming home and knowing you’re there! Being in my room and knowing you’re just down the hall if I need you. Movie nights. Cuddling all the time. Fuck I even miss when you’re on your period and you hate me one minute and love me the next. When you call me at work just because. When you’re sick and curled up in a blanket burrito and just need me to take care of you all day. I miss it all. I need it all back. So please just come back home. I’ll pack all your stuff at Seungmin’s. I’ll unpack it all too. Anything to bring you back home.”

            It took a minute for all his words to process in her mind. For her to understand what he was saying, what he was asking. And her heart broke. Because even after all this time away from him, living the domestic life she’s always dreamed of with someone else, her perfect someone else, she was still in love with Jisung. She was still weak for Jisung. She would still give into him. “I can’t.” If only Seungmin were here to save her. To pull her away. Pull her into his arms, run his fingers through her hair, tell her he loves her. Maybe it would distract her enough.

            “Why not?” Her teary eyes met his. They were both breaking. Falling apart for the same reason and they had no idea.

            “Because loving you is hurting me.” He reached out for her, dropping his arm to his side when she flinched. All the girls he brought home, all the girls he used to distract himself from the one he wanted, pushed her away. Hurt her in ways he’d never forgive himself for. “Go back to class, Jisung.”

            It was now or never. He grabbed her wrist, stopping her from walking back into her class. Stopping her from leaving him forever. She didn’t turn around, and he knew it was because she was crying, and she didn’t want him to see. “I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you since high school. So please come back home. Let me fix what I broke.”

            Slowly she turned to look at him, and he reached out for her again, cupping her face with the hand not holding onto her wrist, wiping away the tears streaming down her face. The tears he caused. Tears he hated to see. Tears he hoped to never see again.

            “Please.” He pleaded.

            “Okay.” She whispered, a small smile on her face. It was enough for him. And he sealed the deal with a kiss.

back to the masterlist

@beabeanice @lilydaisyyy @notastraykid @frobin4ever @habeyhan @taetertotsv @mylifesupsidedowm @is2cb97 @ren-junwrld @wormi @ghostedgameplays @haikyuuisposts @chai-papa @aestheticsluut @sahazzy @hanjistarss @lethallyprotected @why-am-i-sad @neohyxn @alyssajavenss @hamburgers101 @strayluvr @armystay89 @hyujinnie1

[captcoups]

[☔️] double take w/ svt.joshua [1/13]

✤ pairing: joshua x reader / idol!svt / non.idol!you / exes-to-lovers(ish) / 1,217 words ✤ disclaimer: curse words (none with ill intention!) / inspired by a prompt on this list! / mentions of a minor injury and (a speck of) blood / a tiny sexual innuendo at the end (nothing explicit!) ✤ mini-fics with each member for the same situation ✤ in which you and him try a second take at love... [masterlist ⛵️] / other members will follow suit! / [🎧: double take by dhruv]

the last person you expected to see at your parents’ anniversary dinner was your ex-boyfriend, his seat readily propped up next to yours at the dining table. it was the celebration of love for another couple that painfully reminds you of how bittersweet the love you had with someone you thought to be the love of your life once upon a time reminiscent in live time. you’re certain of who sent the invite when you meet with your mother’s gaze from the kitchen as she eyes you from the living room with joshua next to her, innocently preparing the food with her but you don’t say a word or question why he was here.

the last thing you wanted was the attention on you or joshua.

the whole night, you were able to remain incognito. you only participated in discussions when necessary and questions that addressed you directly. then, it came to the part of the night when dishes were being done and leftovers being transferred to containers and into the fridge. you took part in helping while guests dispersed to leave one by one with your parents ferrying them off. it would’ve been just fine if it wasn’t for the–”ah!” you hiss under your breath, not knowing how on earth a cut could happen just as you try to seal the container shut.

you try to shy away when–”lemme see,” joshua tries to grab onto your wrist but it doesn’t work when you turn your body on him and refuse to let him. he sighs and remains there, a hand to your shoulder, “c’mon, y/n. just let me help you.”

stubbornly, you hold onto your hand as you turn to look at him, “you’ve helped enough. you should leave.”

then, you brush past him to get to the sink where you let the running water wash away a couple droplets of blood. you hear rummaging from opposite you before a hand grips your other hand that remains uninjured, dragging you to take a seat by one of the chairs by the island counter. you try not to make too much noise to disrupt the couple of guests leaving with the sound of your parents’ voice being a louder distraction to the sound of distaste that leaves your lips.

you can’t fight it when joshua exerts a bit more strength to hold your hand in place, using a tissue to wipe your finger dry before he peels a bandaid (that he unsurprisingly remembers where to get it from) and puts it over the small cut. you keep your eyes lowered for the most part, refusing to look up to him. what he does next makes your heart swell, hammering in your chest when he cocoons your hand with both of his. giving it a gentle squeeze as he holds onto your hand, beckoning you to look up to meet with his gaze.

“i miss you, y/n.”

he watches as surprise fills your features, along with the hot tears that sting your eyes as you blink a couple of times to snap yourself to reality; this reality, where joshua still loves you.

“what the fuck, shua?”

he grips onto your hand a bit more urgently when he senses you trying to pull it back. the look in his eyes pierces your skull with such genuity, it’s making your heart break. he licks his lips and shifts closer, watching how your eyes soften with the breath that hitches in your throat.

“i mean it, y/n.”

if there was anything joshua loved–love about you, it’s the honesty that comes out before you can stop yourself. albeit not great at times but he appreciates it nonetheless.

“i-it’s been six months,” your voice grows soft, like a mere whisper that kisses his ears as he desperately clings on, nodding his head along to your words.

“and not a day goes by do i not think of you,” he says it in a tone that twitches the knife through your chest. it’s the fact that you believe him and every single word he says that makes it all the more painful. you feel like it’s getting harder to breathe, the tears nearly filling your eyes to the brim that the image of joshua looking at you with such longing in his eyes is blurred.

you clutch onto one of his hands, giving it a squeeze with a bated breath, “do you not remember why we broke up in the first place?”

he nods, “i do,”

your mouth open and closes, unsure of how to respond. all you do is hold onto his hand that holds onto yours, gaze into his eyes that linger on yours. he moves one of his hands to raise it up to your cheek. he holds it up there for a while, waiting to see if you’ll move away from him. when you don’t, he carefully pillows his palm to the side of your face, using a thumb to brush the tears away.

“but i wanna work through it with you,” he says, voice getting softer and softer and it takes you a second to realise he’s close to crying with the way his voice trembles. you lean into his touch, eyes fluttering shut. “we can work things out, i know we can,” he continues, moving closer towards you until you feel the way his breath hits your lips, forehead lightly hovering by yours.

“why?” your reply is near silent; a plea that snaps his heartstrings.

he chuckles and it makes you open your eyes to see what’s so funny. but it seems like you’ve bitten the bait when he smiles at you almost immediately when your eyes meet in close proximity.

“because you’re still looking at me like that,” he answers; unwavering. “and i don’t want you to look at someone else like that,”

you heave out a deep sigh as your eyes close once more. joshua feels a little uncertain of what your answer might be but his heart begins to swell with the warmth bursting in his chest when he realises how you’re leaning forward to rest your forehead against his.

“we have so much to talk about...”

at the lack of response from him, you peel your eyes open to see how wide he’s smiling. the excitement that bubbles from his irises before it drives his entire being to move. he nudges you to lean away just so he can walk around to pull you up from your seat and pulls you into his arms. the familiarity that washes over you is enough to make you speechless, only desperately clutching onto him as you circle your arms around his waist to keep him near. your eyes close just as his; both halves returning as a whole, lingering smiles, steady heartbeats.

((”i told you, i told you!” the whispers of your parents’ voice echo from the living room a distance away as the sound travels to the kitchen. you refuse to look and bury yourself in joshua’s embrace as he strokes the back of your head, pinning you to him with a kiss pressed to your temple as you two stay like that for a while.))

//

(((”we’re sharing the bed, right?”

“shua,”

“yeah?”

“we’re gonna do more than just share the bed.”

“oh?”

“...”

“...oh.”)))

[bergamo-money-bergamo-problems]

Harley smirked even as Nina teased her right back. Good. It was nice having someone who saw her eccentricities as a turn on and not as something to be cured. Deep down, she didn’t want to be cured. She wanted to get worse. “Okie dokie. Just don’t come crying to me when ya ears are ringing from hearing me scream loud enough to shatter glass. Or when I talk so trashy it overheats your processor from blushing too hard. Or however that works anyway,” she said, cocking her head and looking off to the side for a moment as she pondered the logistics of how a cyborg blushes. She shook her head and refocused on the matter at hand: the warm, wet matter at hand.

“Oh I ain’t ever denied it,” she purred as Nina rolled her back and started to straddle her face, “I’m a slut. A whore. When I had my cherry popped, I got addicted. Boys, girls, cock, cunt-” she practically spat that word up at Nina with a hungry snarl- “I can’t get enough. You though? You put me through my fuckin’ paces, and I owe you one for that. One, a billion, somewhere between there. I wanna fuckin’ live off of ya cum and just live with our faces strapped to each other’s pussies, cumming forever like a fuckin snake eatin’ its own tail.”

Harley let out a curious little huff as Nina mentioned the possibility at being turned into a cyborg herself. She had to admit, the idea was tempting. Doubly so if she could get a tongue like Nina’s and a pair of tits that caught the attention of every man and woman for three blocks with enough robotic muscle support to never have to worry about carrying two dairy cows worth of mammary tissue around all day long. And hey, flavored tits as well? What’s not to love~?

Harley slid down between Nina’s hips and gave her inner thigh a little nibble, before humming at the taste of Nina’s wetness, and slowly licking her way closer and closer to the goth heroine’s wet womanhood. “Last chance to back out,” she offered with a cocky grin, “because there’s only one difference between me and a mosquito when I start.”

“A mosquito stops suckin’ when you slap it.”

She didn’t bother to wait for Nina to respond, diving in and sucking Nina’s clit into her mouth in a flash of blonde hair, pale makeup, and ruby red lips. She curled a pair of fingers inside of Nina, twiddling them back and forth as she sought out her g-spot, eager to twist, tease, and tantalizingly torment the sex goddess that was now riding her face. Harley’s tongue, while not superhuman like Nina’s, was extremely dexterous and flicked across her clit with all the practiced skill of a woman who’d started eating pussy in high school and started treating it as an essential food group.

“Fuck you taste good,” she cooed between messy dives between Nina’s legs, “I meant what I said about living off of ya pussy. We’d never stop sucking each other off, just trapped cumming our brains out, together, forever.” A dark thrill ran up Harley’s back as she shivered at that thought, a truly never ending life of sexual excess, her burning, inexhaustible libido like a candle snuffed out in a deluge of cum the size of an ocean. The thought was… intoxicating.

“I’m gonna make you cum yourself to the point you think about giving up the heroine gig and join the wild side, honey,” Harley threatened playfully, “I’m gonna suck every last drop of good out of ya like a succubus and then show you how deep the fuckin’ rabbit hole goes. We’re all gonna be mad here, Alice baby.”

⚔️?

(action starter? Action starter!)

Middle of the day patrol. You know what you do when you're paroling the streets in the middle of the day? Rescuing cats from trees, helping people who need directions. The kind of thing that USED to be done by the cops, back when they just patrolled the streets on foot and bothered to talk to people.

Still, if they were going to give up the space of being the friendly neighborhood person making people feel safer, Cybergoth certainly could fill that space! And nobody would comment about how she looked, considering how superheroes tend to be just... Like That.

You know, incredibly attractive people in skintight latex and the like.

Action? She had yet to really SEE action. She didn't have flight or anything like that, just a motorcycle and a connection to the police band. Most of the time, if something gets called in either the police are swarming the site (and wouldn't want some random goth forcing her way in.) or some other hero's already dealt with it!

No, sadly, so far her day to day was handing the nice little girl her cat (who was only mildly confused his claws couldn't stick into the strange woman who easily pulled it free from the tree branch with strength alone) and walking back to her bike, adjusting her goggles and breather mask that was the real component of her hero 'outfit'.

Seriously, what did it take to get some action around here? Something that stands out?

[trashmouth-richie]

TWIN FLAMES: 8 🔥

Summary: readers parents are made aware of the things that happened when they were gone.

<w.c> 4.9k

Pairings: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings: MINORS: DNI ,mentions of abuse, female masturbation, mentions of smut.

A/N: I’m so excited, this is a real turning point in this series, and it only goes up from here.

Feedback is loved and appreciated ☄️

———————————————————————————

“Call me later after you talk to your parents today, okay? We go on at 9 o’clock tonight but usually we are there setting up by 7 and I’m off work at 5:30.” Eddie explains to you as you start your car in the early morning hours.

When you woke up this morning, Eddie couldn’t have looked more sexy if he tried. His hair, always a mess, his lips slack with a slight snore escaping them. You didn’t want to get up and face the reality of the day. Wishing you could stay lost forever in Eddie’s arms you buried yourself deeper into his side, ignoring his alarms as long as you could.

Shutting the car door you say, “I’m going to miss you so much today it’s not fair,” you whine, throwing out your lower lip.

Eddie leans into your car window, “I’ll make up for it tonight when I see you after the show.” He snakes his tongue against the shell of your ear, sending shivers down your neck and to your core. “Now, give me a kiss so I have something to think about all day.”

You slip your tongue against his lips and deepen the kiss, biting his lip you hear him groan. “Such a tease,” Eddie moans against your lips, pulling back and running his thumb over your bottom lip he says, “drive safe, sweetheart love you.”

“Love you more.”

The further you drive away from Eddie, heading back home, the lonelier you feel. The panic you have kept tucked deep down about telling your parents about Steve.. and Eddie, is starting to creep out of your mind, riddling your body with anxiety. What would they say? You tried to put a brave face on for Eddie and tell him everything would be okay, but you weren’t 100% sure.

Pulling into your driveway, memories of the last three days filled with Eddie flood your mind. How would you be able to make it through today without seeing his perfect face, hearing his infectious laugh, or feeling him hold you close? It would be damn near impossible.

The house is lonely, empty without Eddie here. You don’t have much time to dwell as the front door swings open and in walks your mom and dad.

“Y/N! we’re home!” Your dad sings through the front door holding the suitcases and balancing his keys, your mother entering in behind him. “How is our favorite girl? Did you miss us?”

You hug both your mom and dad at once. You had missed them, so many horrible but also incredible things had happened since you had last seen them, the few days that they were gone felt like months. Stepping back, your mother notices your abused face first. “Y/N! What happened?! She shrieked. “Dan! L-look at her face!” She says motioning for your dad.

Your mother is in hysterics at this point as she’s rushing you onto a couch in the living room sitting beside you and assessing you all over. “Mom I’m okay,” she’s crying and begging your dad to call the cops, “Mom! I’m fine. I will tell you everything, just take a breath! Please!” You ordered.

Her mascara is running and she’s grabbing for tissues as she takes a deep breath and ushers your dad to sit down beside you. You stand up, finding it easier to tell this story without them breathing down your neck.

“Okay first things first, I need you to promise not to be upset with me no matter what I— ”

“Y/N just tell us what is going on!” Your dad shouts, a look of worry staining his face.

“Just promise me?” You plead, “okay?! Please!” Tears stinging your eyes, wanting their approval so desperately.

“Yes yes sure now what is going on?!” your mom blubbers out.

Twiddling the hem of your shirt you start to explain, “Okay, well this all started because, I- I broke up with Steve on Saturday and before you start yelling and screaming just let me explain why. My entire life has been wrapped around Steve. From as far back as I can remember, you two have been shoving Steve at me, and I loved him. I really did, but I don’t want the same things that Steve does. Dad, I’m sorry but I don’t want to go to Harvard. I would rather travel and live my own life besides one that you two chose for me.

“Besides that. I met someone. And I really really like him and I want you to meet him, and I know that you will like— ”

“Stop right there,” your mom declared tears no longer falling from her eyes, but a look of sheer disgust. “You broke up with Steve?! Why?? Y/N! We just got your senior pictures done! Mary and I have already put a deposit down on a house for you two for next year in Cambridge, and and you just broke up with him without even asking me?!”

You’re flabbergasted, is your own mother really insinuating that you needed her permission to break up with someone? You look at your dad who looks stunned. You’ve never disappointed them before, never even been in trouble with them. You have always been following their exact plan to the perfect degree. The perfect daughter, the perfect daughter’s marriage, the perfect daughter's husband, the perfect daughter this, that forever and always, never stepping a toe out of line. You couldn’t stop the fury and tears flowing from your eyes.

“Since when did my happiness not matter, mom! Why would I need to ask your permission to end my relationship?! Sorry for your loss mother, but when I was hanging out with my new boyfriend, Steve came here and did this to me!“ you say, motioning to your face. “He has gone off the deep end, he’s doing drugs and hanging out with some really shady people, he broke a glass bottle across my face, called me a whore and beat up my boyfriend! I know I broke up with him and more than likely started his downward spiral, but Steve is not who he used to be, he has changed and not for the better. Oh and I saw Mary at the grocery store yesterday, she called me a tramp and I told her about Steve doing this shit to me so I guess we won’t be on their Christmas card this year!”

Your mother stands and points a finger at you, “You’re ruining this family, you’re ruining your entire future and for what? A boy you just met?! You’ve known Steve your whole life! And you’re just going to throw him away because you have a sudden change of heart? Your father and I work hard everyday to make sure you have more than what you need to live a very comfortable life! Now you’re ditching that for some boy? No. Not you! Not my daughter!” Your mother shouts.

“Y/N honey please, just relax.” Your dad says running a hand through his hair, “Rose, for the love of God, stop this bullshit. This is our daughter! Look what that little shit did to her! I don’t give a damn about the deposit in Cambridge or Mary’s feelings. Y/N is eighteen and is more than capable of making her own decisions. If she doesn’t want to go to Harvard, so be it, she doesn’t have to date Steve Harrington to grow up and be a good person! She could move out if she wanted to and probably will if we don’t support her emotionally. So drop it. Now.” your dad says sternly.

“Dan! She is ruining her life! I’m sure the Harrington’s want nothing to do with us now!” Your mother says blowing her nose and laying her head on the couch as if she was about to faint. You never once thought your own mother would side against you and definitely didn’t think she was one for theatrics. “And what about the country club, the wine club, book cl—”

“None of that, not one single part, pertains to Y/N, Rose. Why don’t you go upstairs and lie down, we had a long flight.”

Your mother stalks off up the stairs, sniffling and wiping her eyes as she goes.

“Dad, look I’m really sorry—”

“Y/N, you have nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry for making you feel trapped in a relationship and like you couldn’t leave it because of me. I will be calling Tony about his son and his actions. I’m just dumbfounded that Steve would stoop so low. He clearly needs help.”

You're biting your nails now as you talk to your dad one on one. “Are you disappointed that I don’t want to go to Harvard?” You quip.

He takes a deep breath and lowers his gaze to his hands, “Would I have loved for you to go to Harvard? Of course I would have, but if you’re not happy, what good does that do? Your mother will come around. She's just upset about her relationship with Mary and Tony.”

You nod your head and sit on the couch beside your dad, turning to him slightly. A small smile forms on your face as he asks, “so tell me about your new boyfriend.”

Eddie’s chocolate brown eyes flash across your brain like a pair of Christmas ornaments on a tree decorated only for you. “He’s from Hawkins, and works at Jimmy’s Garage during the summer and on the weekends during the school year. He’s in a band, which is playing tonight if you want to go with me so you can meet him. He’s super nice, and I think you’ll really like him. He’s nothing like Steve, so just try not to judge his appearance, he makes me really happy and he adores me, I’m sure mom won’t approve because he’s not Steve but I hope she comes around.”

“Did you know Tony and I were in a band once? It’s actually how I met your mom.” Your dad remarked. “I think sometimes your mom forgets where we came from to get to where we are now.” He says looking around your living room. “What time is the show? And as for not judging, maybe I should have been more judging of Steve then you wouldn’t have had this happen to you. Drugs are not an excuse in my book.”

You explain the details of Corroded Coffin’s show to your dad and he heads into his study, agreeing to drive separately since you’ll be meeting Carrie there. You decide to go and take a nap, the show wasn’t for hours and you were tired from all the crying and fighting over the last few days. Laying on your pillow you could still smell the faint notes of Eddie’s cologne against your sheets.

***

A knock on your door lightly drags you out of your sleep. “Come in,” you say sleepily, looking at your alarm clock you see that you have slept through lunch and it’s nearing 4 o’clock. Your mother opens your door and pushes her way through with a tray of food.

“Thought we could have an indoor picnic like we used to when you got sick as a little girl” she says, sitting on the far end of your bed. She had cut strawberries and apples, sandwiches one with the crust cut off, and pudding cups.

She places one of each on a plate and slides it towards you. “Y/N, I wanted to apologize for my behavior, I am embarrassed at how I reacted to you and Steve breaking up. I should have been paying attention to how you were feeling towards everything instead I just kept pushing more and more onto you, never once asking if you liked what was going on. For that I am truly sorry.

“As a mother, you always want to see your child happy and give them the world, but sometimes the horse blinders get in the way and you can only see the destination, not the journey that leads you there. I am so upset that Steve hurt you. I don’t care about the situation or why it happened, the fact is that it did happen. Are you okay? Should we take you to the doctor for your eye? And what about your boyfriend? Is he okay?”

Your eyes are heavy with exhaustion and you finally feel like you can let loose the water gates of your emotions.

“I am okay, I was just really really scared, I slapped him after he said some horrible things and the next thing I knew I was on the ground bleeding,” you cry out, “I was worried that Steve was going to kill us, mom he was terrifying. I’ve never seen anyone act like that before, my eye doesn’t hurt, it just looks disgusting. There was a lot of glass embedded in my face but it’s out now,” you say with a small laugh, “and Eddie? he is okay too, his nose is broken but it got put back in place so I think he’ll be okay.”

You let the tears flow as your mom reaches out and hugs you tight, “I’m so sorry that happened to you both. I talked to Mary and she’s denying anything ever happened, she said your new boyfriend hit you and then paid someone to hit him to look like Steve did it… I guess she’s more delusional than I thought she was. I hung up after that and I couldn't take her babbling along anymore.”

You can’t help but laugh at how absolutely ridiculous this has gotten. It felt good to let your parents know what was happening while they were away.

“Oh and honey, your dad told me about the concert tonight, but I’m gonna stay home—but I want to meet your boyfriend soon, let’s plan on having him for dinner on Friday night okay?” Your mother hugs you tightly again for one more squeeze and releases you.

You both finish your little picnic and you jump in the shower to get ready for Eddie’s concert tonight. You’ve never been to a concert before and have no idea what you would actually wear to one. The idea of seeing Eddie up on stage has you every bit—hot and bothered. You had never seen Eddie play, the only thing close to it was the night you both took a bath after the best sex of your life when he played guitar across your arm and your stomach. Would he have groupies? Would they try to climb onto stage to get to him? To kiss your boyfriend?

The shower was supposed to help cool you down so you could actually get ready for the concert instead of fantasizing about Eddie hands. But it has only made it worse. The warm water marinating onto your skin like a warm blanket, hitting your perked up nipples.

You slide a hand between your legs and think of Eddie’s hands, the way his rings felt the night you met, biting at your hot flesh. The way they teased your nipples, pulling and twisting. The feel of them all over your body, holding you up while he fucked you at the garage. The gentleness to them when he washed your body in the tub… your fingers are moving faster, circling against your clit, you are squeezing your tits and moaning quietly to yourself as you think of Eddie’s tongue against your body, hot and electrifying. The way it expertly snaps around your pussy, soaking it—- your release has your back arching, having to throw an arm out to catch yourself before you come crashing down literally and emotionally against the shower wall.

Well that was a first.

***

You settle on jeans and converse and a black tank top and borrow a leather jacket that your mom had from an old costume when her and your dad went bikers two Halloweens ago.

It’s 5:45 when you finish getting ready and you decide to call Eddie.

“Hello?” A gruff voice only to be recognized as Wayne’s barks through the receiver.

“Hey Wayne, it’s Y/N, how are you doing?” You smile widely.

“Ohh Y/N! Called to talk to me huh, well I am doing just fine, about ready to eat some grub here before going into work tonig— no she didn’t ask for you, she’s talking to me— fine, it was nice talking to you Y/N, have fun at the show tonight!”

“Sorry sweetheart, apparently Wayne thinks you called to talk to—no I made the cupcakes!”

You could listen to them banter back and forth all day, it truly was hilarious but also heart warming.

“Goddamn, sorry baby, how are you? I’ve missed you so much today!” Eddie said. You could hear him walking around the trailer, presumably to his room.

“I’m good just missing you, how was work?” you ask, you would save the details of you having to touch yourself for later.

Eddie explains that he got the drive shaft fixed on Wayne’s pickup and it was up and running again, one of his side projects was almost finished and how Jake was so hungover from last night he put the wrong oil in Principal Higgins’ car and had to drain it completely, and do it all over again. He is giggling like a little kid.

“Christ I missed you baby, I can’t wait to see you tonight, you’re still coming right?” He asks all too quickly.

“Of course, I am bringing a guest with me. I hope that’s okay?” you say shyly.

“Yeah, whatever makes you happy, who is it, a girl for Jeff?”

“It’s my dad, I talked to my parents today about you and he really wants to meet you so I invited him to your gig tonight,” you retorted, “I think it kinda brought up some nostalgia for him. He was telling me that he used to be in a band which is weird because he’s never mentioned before in my entire life.”

Silence

“Eddie?”

“Y-your dad wants to m-meet me, TONIGHT?!” Eddie shrieks in shock, “sweetheart I’ve never met anyone's parents before, not even Gareth’s!”

“Eddie, baby it’ll be okay, I promise! He was super cool about it. I told them everything about what happened with Steve and they both just wanted to make sure you were okay!” you say reassuringly, “I wouldn’t put you in a shitty situation, I swear.”

You can hear Eddie’s ragged breath on the other end of the line, breathing in and out with a loud sigh, “I’d do anything for you sweetheart, even this, even though I’m scared shitless and will more than likely puke on stage into the microphone— I’d do it for you to see you smile.”

“ oh Eddie , I'm so excited to see you on stage! What time do you want us there?!”

****

After deciding what time to be there and where it’s actually located, you pull up to The Hideout a little after 7:30. Your dad followed behind you to Hawkins in his own car promising to give you and Eddie some time to hangout after their set was over.

You park your car towards the back of the dirt parking lot and your dad parks next to you. Walking in with your dad to a bar to see your boyfriend play with his band is something you never thought you would do in your wildest dreams. You can hardly contain your excitement. You felt empty without Eddie around you and couldn’t wait to jump into his arms, after your dad had left for the night of course.

Walking up to the front doors you finally got to take in The Hideout for all it was worth. Black painted brick on the outside with a big heavy metal door. Neon lights pointing with an arrow signaling that there was live music stood on the roof, only the ‘V’ wasn’t lighting up. You throw open the doors and the smell of cheap beer, and cigarettes fills your nasal passages. Your dad tried to fit in the best he could, he wore jeans and a flannel he had found in the garage in a box labeled to give away. Heads turn as the pair of you walk in, the amount of hair in this bar is impressive, either beards down to belly buttons or hair down past the shoulders, either way it could make Cousin It jealous. Your dad ushers you both over to the bar, him ordering a beer and ordering you a Shirley temple. The counter is sticky and full of napkins, the bartender is a large man with a beer belly and a long beard that’s braided.

“I haven’t been in a bar like this in almost twenty years,” your dad says, shouting over the jukebox, “ they all smell exactly the same,” he says with a laugh.

You smile widely and crane your neck looking for Eddie. You spot Jeff on stage tuning his guitar and look to the left and finally see Eddie, and you swear it’s like the first time you had laid eyes on him. He’s tuning the guitar you saw in his room, he’s wearing his leather jacket, black jeans, boots and a bandana tied around his head. Gareth whispers to him and Eddie lets out a loud laugh smiling from ear to ear.

“That’s him,” you point out to your dad, “Eddie!” you call waving a hand above your head. Eddie sees you and his face immediately lights up. He jumps down from the stage and jaunts over to you and your dad. You refrain from jumping in Eddie’s arms and kissing him all over his face and neck, your core throbbing at just the sight of him.

“Eddie, this is my dad, Dan,” you introduce him, “dad, this is my boyfriend, Eddie.” Your dad shakes Eddie’s hand and beams at him.

“So you’re the guy who protected my daughter against that asshat Steve?” your dad asked.

“Uh, yes sir, I’m sorry I didn’t do a very good job though, she still got hurt.” Eddie says, lowering his head like a kicked dog.

“From what Y/N said he was pretty unhinged and came out of nowhere, thank you for saving her. Who knows what would have happened if you weren’t there.” Your dad slaps Eddie on the shoulder, “now, was that a Warlock I saw you tuning up there?”

Eddie’s eyes sparkle with the special interest your dad has taken in him. You watch in awe as Eddie and your dad go back and forth discussing different types of guitars and how even though “Free Bird” was a favorite from Lynyrd Skynyrd, Eddie and your dad agreed that “Gimme Three Steps” was better. You had never heard your dad talk about these things before, he was usually strictly business and when he talked to Steve it was always about law school.

Gareth and Jeff and the 4th Corroded Coffin member, Big D, wave to Eddie to signal that they’re about to start. Eddie shakes your dad's hand and gives you a hug telling you he would find you after the show. You whisper quickly into his ear about how you had to “release some tension” before you came to the bar. Eddie’s throat bobs as he swallows and his eyes go dark.

“Behave,” he whispers darkly into your ear. You let out a giggle and he adjusts his pants walking back to the stage.

You and your dad sit at a black table closest to the stage, Gareth gets your attention and points to a curly haired girl standing by the door wearing a pink sweater, “that’s her!” He mouths to you. You get up from the table and walk straight to Carrie, she looks extremely nervous and is shifting her eyes back and forth between the greasy haired men littering the tables, throwing peanut shells everywhere.

“Hi, I’m Y/N, Eddie’s girlfriend, you’re gonna hangout with me at the table nearest the boys away from these creeps.” you say, eyeing the tables around you. Carrie softens her eyes and smiles quickly as you take her hand and guide her towards the table one away from your dad.

Eddie jumps up on stage and leans into the mic, “thank you everyone for showing up tonight, we are Corroded Coffin! We do cover songs and sometimes our own songs depending on the week. Holler out a request and we will try our best.”

Gareth starts the beginning of For Whom the Bell Tolls by Metallica and Eddie and Jeff start riffing on their guitars. Eddie looks like sex on a stick as he starts to sing, you didn’t think you could possibly be more attracted to a single person in your whole life. The way his fingers are moving on the guitar makes your clit throb, and with each throb comes a tingle of your nipples, aching, begging to be touched. As he sings he winks at you and you practically feel your panties get wet with greed.

“Wow, they’re really good!” Carrie says, practically drooling over Gareth, “Gareth looks so cute, look how hard he’s concentrating!”

The bar is whooping and hollering along to the song. Eddie’s voice is so sexy, so unbelievably sexy, it’s only the first damn song and your panties are already dripping wet. All you wanted to do was run up on stage and kiss him, everywhere. You wanted to feel Eddie’s arms wrap around you, feel his lips on every square inch of your body, feel the familiar cold sting of his rings on your hot skin. Thank God your dad drove separately because you won’t be able to contain yourself after they’re done playing tonight.

The song ends and Carrie claps and cheers Gareth’s name, he looks over at her and winks. The look in her eyes is pure lust. “He really likes you,” you say nodding to Gareth.

“He does!?” Carrie asks confused, “I thought he wouldn’t be into me because I’m not.. usually into this type of music.”

“Well last night he was pretty drunk and he told me all about how he adores you,” you say, watching as Carrie starts beaming from ear to ear.

The boys keep playing and the crowd gets rowdier and rowdier, shouting out requests. Spilt beer and cigarette butts litter the floor. After about 10 songs, Eddie’s hair is drenched with sweat and his jacket and shirt are tossed across the stage behind Gareth.

Eddie takes a minute to catch his breath, he grabs the mic stand and lets out a sigh, “Alright this last one we’ve only played a few times but it’s one of my favorites,”

Eddie cranks out the beginning notes of “Gimme Three Steps”, you look over at your dad who is grinning like a possum eating shit. He’s banging his head along to the beat as Eddie starts singing,

“I was cutting the rug at a place called the Jug with a girl named Linda Lou,

when in walked a man, with a gun in his hand and he was looking for you know who.

He said ‘hey there fella with the hair colored yellow

Whatcha tryin to prove?’

cause that’s my woman there and I’m a man who cares and this just might be all for you’

I said, ’excuse me”

The whole bar is up singing along with Eddie now including your dad. Seeing Eddie in his element doing something he loved was so hypnotic. Like you were in a trance and you only saw him, no one else was in the bar but the two of you. Every movement of his hands on the guitar was like him tugging on your heartstrings. Begging for your love, needing your love with every cell of your bodies.

The song finishes and the bar is cheering loudly for Eddie and the boys of Corroded Coffin. Your dad is whistling and shouting loudly, clapping his hands and pointing to Eddie like they were on a basketball team together. Big D slams his guitar into the stage floor shattering it into pieces, Gareth jumps off stage and swoops Carrie into a back bending kiss, her hair touching the floor. Eddie beams into the mic, “Thank you Hawkins! I’m Eddie Munson and we are Corroded Coffin!”

—————————————————————————

Y/N’s Dad (Dan) ‘s POV

Munson

It couldn’t be.

There is no way in hell that God’s timing or any sort of Satan’s tricks would do this to my daughter. There’s no way, absolutely no way.

Munson

I haven’t heard that name in years, eleven to be exact. I knew that the boy still lived in Hawkins, but how the hell could Y/N be associated with him? The rumors about his dad were true, he was a murdering piece of shit, getting his own son thrown in juvy for refusing to take full responsibility for his crimes. How do I know this?

Because I’m the one who put him in prison.

———————————————————————————

Taglist: @boomhauer @b-irock @sidthedollface2 @idkidknemore @manda-panda-monium @syrennna

If you want to be on the Taglist let me know!

[p0orbaby]

natasha x adoptive!daughter request: about the song “dear mom” by ky baldwin because i love angst :)

a/n: listened to the song and this is what came to mind. Hope it lives up to what you asked for. Tissues are recommended.

warnings: Mentions of suicide and death, funerals, just full on angst if I’m being honest.

word count: 620

-

Dear Mom,

I can’t remember the last time I felt like myself. I’m not the same person I was. Happiness is a distant memory.

This isn’t any of your doing. You’ve done better than anyone ever could. You’re the reason I’ve put this off for so long. When I think of you, I think of laughter and joy. I hope after I’m gone you can still feel those things.

I always wanted to be strong like you, mom. But strength comes from kindness and love, and I haven’t felt those things in a while. It wasn't you, it was the kids at school that wore me down.

I always wondered why they chose me. I’m nothing special. But it didn’t stop them from saying what they did. I wished for things to be different. Only children believe wishes come true.

Just remember to look at our photographs, okay? The ones where we were both smiling from ear to ear. I want you to know that that wasn’t fake. I felt real emotion when I was with you.

Please don’t cry when you read this. And don’t search for a reason why it had to be this way. What’s happened is for the best. Even if it doesn’t feel like it now, it will. I promise.

I’m going to miss you Mama. It’s my time to go. I missed the chance to tell you this. But before I leave, I want to let you know that you were and forever will be, my hero.

-

Natasha found your note the next day. She found your body a few hours later.

You’d gone to the place that you’d said always reminded you of her. A blossom tree that stood out in a clearing.

She told you she liked it because it was quiet. Off the beaten track. It was rare that people came across it. Natasha had come to the conclusion you'd decided it was the best way to go. In peace.

A hand on Nat’s shoulder brought her out of her thoughts of you and your possible last moments.

Clearing her throat and using a tissue to wipe her eyes and nose, she carried on.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t see your agony. I don’t know how I could be so blind to your pain. If only I could turn back time and help you through your darkest days”

The sound of sniffles from around her almost had her crumbling to the ground. But she needed to stay strong and get through this.

“I’ll be your strength. I’ll be the person who keeps your light aflame. No one will forget you. Not as long as I’m still walking this Earth. Even though the world still turns, my life will forever be finished because you are no longer here. But my guilt will not tarnish your legacy”

Tears started for all rapidly now. From herself and your family. Steve, Wanda, Bucky and everyone else couldn’t seem to hold it together.

“My heart only yearns for you, my darling girl”

Those were the last words Natasha could manage before your casket was lowered into the ground before her.

The last time she’d ever be able to be in a proximity close enough to to feel you. You were gone and her heart went with you.

As much as she wanted to follow you, she stayed because you asked her to.

She looked at those pictures. Saw the life in your eyes she would never see in person again. And she only cried on the anniversary. She would give herself that day.

Lack of love was what stole you from her. But the love she had for you now was what would keep your memory alive.

[miyuwuki]

the comfort of your bed

a drabble of the reader using sleep as a coping mechanism when things start to get bad again.

warnings: slight angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of death i think

aomine daiki x reader

-

aomine never put in any effort into anything unless he was absolutely forced to. he went to practice? momoi dragged him there. he got a decent grade on a test? sakurai practically gave him the answers so he doesn’t miss out on any basketball games. you and him started dating? well, that was the only thing he tended to. he was so observant around you out of love and protectiveness, to getting that one bread you love to memorizing your morning routine, that he found it odd when your texts consisted of, “sorry, i was sleeping.”

it was fine at first because he thought that it was normal of you to take a naps— you loved your sleep, so it wasn’t uncommon if you napped at least once a day; but once a day turned to a couple times a day, and then it reached to a point where he didn’t even know if you ate anymore.

aomine> hey babe, did you eat dinner yet? just finished practice, gonna beat the hell out of kise on monday’s tournament lol

aomine> hello? are u ignoring me?

a couple hours later:

you> fucj sorry baby i was sleeping

so he showed up at your door unannounced, your mom opening it for him.

“i’m sorry, i think y/n’s sleeping right now.” she apologized, moving to the side to let your boyfriend in. “are you hungry? do you want something to drink?”

aomine bowed and politely declined, “no thank you, ms. l/n. i was just wondering if i could check up on y/n, they’ve been sleeping a bit too much lately and i just found it strange.” he awkwardly admitted, playing with the hair behind his ears. your mother smiled and pointed her finger up the stairs, “they’re upstairs. thank you for worrying about them, they don’t tell me anything so..” she trailed off, “it makes me really happy that you care so much.”

aomine blushed and nodded once again before heading to your room. he made a mental note to bring something like flowers or pastries for your mother when he comes over again.

without even knocking, he slowly opened the door and was met with a lumped shape on the bed with a bunch of tissues and snack wrappers on the floor. from your desk was your laptop where he could tell the music was from your sad playlist, and he sighed. he quietly walked to your sleeping form, gently shaking you awake.

“hey, stupid,” he whispered, shaking the lump. “wake up.”

your mind suddenly went clear and with a yawn, you emitted from under the covers to be met with two blueberry eyes.

“oh hey babe,” you yawn, scratching your eyes. “what’re you doing here?”

“you’re sleeping again.” he said, as if it answered your question.

“um yeah,” you replied, genuinely confused. “i was sleeping.”

he huffed and sat on the edge of your bed and took your hand into his. he brought it up to his lips and repeatedly placed ghosted kisses, ones so light and airy you could barely even feel them.

“you okay?” you mumbled, watching him kiss your hand. he nodded, “are you?” he asked.

honestly, no, you weren’t. everything and everyone just felt so heavy on your chest; your grades were plummeting and all the things you needed to do was becoming so difficult to do. you didn’t want to die but you didn’t want to live either, so you drowned yourself in sleep, hoping that time passes by faster and you can skip to the part where you’re okay again. the only thing that kept you anchored to reality was aomine, the one who surprisingly understood you the most and would care for you in a heartbeat— but even then some people need a break from constant bullshit, which is why you lied.

“i am,” you smiled, interlocking your fingers with his.

unfortunately aomine loved you too much, so he didn’t miss the way your eyebrows slightly furrowed and how your breath got caught at the back of your throat.

“if you’re gonna lie, at least be good at it.” he tsk’ed, “tell me baby, what’s wrong?” he asked in a much softer tone, his eyes slowly gazing over your face. a lump formed in your throat but you managed to hold back your tears, as you let out a shaky, “i-it’s stupid.”

“it’s not,” he quickly retorted. he patted on his lap, motioning for you to sit on it in which you quickly complied. he dipped down his head to get a clear view of your face, and gosh did he want to cry too, because he’s never seen your face so disturbed and hurt.

“you don’t have to tell me right now, okay?” he continued, putting your hair behind your ear. “but i would like to know. i want to help you, please?”

you nodded and buried your head into his shoulder, finally letting some tears fall.

“such a crybaby,” he teased, rubbing your back. “do you want to take a nap right now then? i could use one too, and maybe when you wake up we can go to that nearby bakery you like and talk about it.”

you nodded again and cried a bit harder— not because of the thoughts that swarmed in your head, but because you didn’t know what you’d do without him.

he chuckled and lulled the both of you into bed, covering both of your bodies with the blanket. he kissed the top of your head, muttering a “sleep well,” and waited until you fell asleep. after he made sure slumber had taken you away, he allowed himself to be taken away also; as long as he had you in his arms, he’d honestly go to the lengths of the world for you.

-

haha totally not projecting…. anyways i hope everyone has had a wonderful day! always remember that the worst things come to an end too.

*＊✿❀reblogs and likes are appreciated❀✿＊*

[tobesolonely]

grammy night

A/n: like most of you, watching harry perform WS did something to me. i rushed to my computer to write this IMMEDIATELY... not proofread but i hope u all enjoy nonetheless! Thanks @nationalharryleague​ for looking this over and hyping me up.

summary: y/n wants to show her grammy winning boyfriend just how proud she is of him💕

warnings: smut, mentions of the pandemic!

word count: ~3k

my ko-fi! thank you :)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

You decided that “Harry Styles, Grammy-nominated artist!” had a lovely ring to it.

Harry knew how proud you were of him; you had been making it known to him in the days leading up to his big night. You fretted over him more than you usually did, showered him in an obnoxious amount of compliments, and were the most intimate you’d ever been with him–– but who was he to complain? 

Obviously, he knew you could care less whether he won or lost, and quite frankly, he didn’t care either. Just being able to perform at the Grammy’s, much less open it, was the opportunity of a lifetime. The fact that he was hitting such a big professional milestone with you by his side just made it that much better. You were both buzzing.

It had been months since Harry had performed. You knew how much he missed being in front of a live audience and hearing people scream his name, conceited as he was. He had been spending so much time rehearsing the one song he was performing, wanting it to be absolutely perfect. Your boyfriend was a perfectionist, after all! If he was going to do something, he either did it one hundred and ten percent, or he didn’t do it at all.

Although you were used to your boyfriend’s pre-performance jitters, it still wasn’t an easy sight to see. He would pace so much that beads of sweat would collect in his hairline; he’d shake, tremble, and have to be reminded to breathe. You’d think after ten years of doing this he would be a pro, but he was only human, after all. 

“Been so long since I performed in front of people,” Harry muttered to you, examining his reflection in his make-shift dressing room. “‘M nervous.”

“Don’t be nervous,” you reply, coming up behind him to rub his shoulders. He shoots you a look in the mirror. “I know it’s easier said than done but you have nothing to worry about. It’s “Watermelon Sugar” honey–– you’ve got nothing to worry about. You’ve performed this one dozens of times.”

“Things are jus’ so different now,” his voice drops an octave. “What if people are tired of the song?”

“I don’t think people are tired of the song.”

“It played on the radio a lot. Came out in 2019––”

“...And you’ve been busy with other things. No one’s gonna be upset that you haven’t released new music in the middle of a pandemic H, I promise you.”

Harry’s gaze meets yours again in the mirror briefly before he tilts his head back, silently asking for a kiss. You plant one on his lips before grabbing a tissue from a small table beside him, dabbing at his hairline.

“Stop sweating everything off, Harry,” you playfully scold your boyfriend. “Make-up artist has already been by to touch you up three times already, she’s probably running out of product.”

Your boyfriend lightly chuckles at this, causing you to smile. “I’ll just tell my body to cut it out. How’s tha’ sound?”

“Sounds good,” you reply, leaning down to kiss his nose. “You alright?”

You notice Harry deeply inhale. “I think so. How do I look?”

“Like a Grammy-nominated, soon-to-be Grammy-winning, artist.” 

Harry’s skin flushes. “Stop it…” The sound of three short knocks on the door of his dressing room causes panic to flood his features.

“Hey, look at me,” you gently grab your boyfriend’s chin, turning his gaze up towards yours. “It’s my job to believe in you when you don’t believe in yourself. If you get nervous just know I’ll be sitting as close to the stage as they’ll let me.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. Now, go make me proud.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

“Breathe me in, breathe me out…”

If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought Harry’s nerves in his dressing room were all theatrics. He was so in his element on stage, you were one hundred percent sure no one knew he was so nervous twenty minutes prior that he was turning green. He kept looking out into the small crowd, searching for you, and flashing you a dimpled grin once he did. 

You were enjoying watching him prance around the stage while trying to keep up with the band on stage, looking a bit too proud of himself when he was able to stay on the beat while rhythmically snapping his hips along to the song. As the song came to an end and the dimmed lights started coming back on, you were led back to Harry’s dressing room by one of his guards as you heard the next performer being introduced.

“How did I do?” Harry asks loudly, adrenaline still coursing through his veins.

His voice causes you to jump. “You scared the shit out of me! How’d you get off stage so quickly?”

Harry grabs your arm and pulls you off the couch, wrapping you in a tight, sweaty hug. “Don’t know. I basically ran to ya.”

“You did incredibly,” you tell him, lips ghosting over his. “Just like I knew you would. I don’t wanna say you were nervous for nothing, but you kinda were.”

“Don’t wanna hear your teasin’.”

“Did you see how everyone was looking at you?”

“I only saw how you were lookin’ at me. I was only lookin’ at you.”

Your body heats up at Harry’s admission, causing you to look away. “You’re so cheesy, H.”

“I think I would’ve been about fifty times more nervous if you weren’t here with me,” he presses his nose against yours. “Thank you for bein’ here, Y/N. You make this whole thing so much more doable.” Harry places one… two… three wet kisses to your cheek before pulling away, walking back over to close the door he left open during his excitement to re-join you.

“Changing?”

“Yeah,” Harry turns to look at you as he pulls off his jacket. The sight of his bare chest causes you to thickly swallow. “‘M gonna put what I was wearin’ on the red carpet back on. We’re gonna move outside.”

You simply hum in response to what Harry said, sitting back on the couch to scroll through your phone as you wait for him to finish changing. Everyone was congratulating Harry on his performance and wishing him luck on his nominations. You read all the good luck texts for him that were sent to you out loud, watching as his smile grows bigger and bigger from all the love he was being showered in.

After helping Harry powder his T-zone you let him lead you out of the small room and out into an area with spaced-out circular tables, most of them with just two or three seats at them. The Grammy’s in the middle of a pandemic was unlike anything you had ever seen before, and you were pleasantly surprised at how smoothly things were running. Jeff is already sat at the table when you and Harry join him and you can visibly see him let out the breath he was holding.

“Your boyfriend ran off stage so quickly I thought I was gonna have to set up a search party to find him,” Jeff tells you, a slight hint of annoyance present in his voice. He then turns to Harry and says, “Fix your mask, please.”

“It is fixed,” Harry grumbles but adjusts it nonetheless, causing you to giggle. 

Even though it was obvious your boyfriend was enjoying himself, you could still tell he was extremely nervous the closer it became to announcing the winner of the category he was nominated in. His grip on your thigh kept growing tighter and tighter and although you didn’t hate it, you worried he might cut off your circulation soon if he didn’t let go of you soon.

“H, take a deep breath,” you lean over to whisper in his ear. “You’re gonna make my thigh fall off.”

“Sorry, love,” if you could see his mouth under his mask, you’d see him biting his plump lips. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous in my fuckin’ life.”

“Never?”

“Have I?”

“I dunno. I’m asking you.”

You see Harry’s eyes crinkle. “Maybe when I asked you out for the first time.”

“You are seriously so cheesy.”

Harry doesn’t respond, just takes your hand in his and directs his attention back to the stage. His palm is sweaty in yours but you don’t release his grip on your hand, wanting to offer him as much comfort as you possibly could.

When they start naming the nominees for Best Pop Solo Performance, you literally have to remind Harry to control his breathing. Although he won’t be upset if he doesn’t win, you know it would still mean quite a bit to him if he did.

“And the winner for Best Pop Solo Performance is… Harry Styles!”

Your mouth falls open in shock as you turn to fully face your boyfriend who was looking down at your intertwined hands, eyes wide in surprise. He genuinely wasn’t expecting to win and that made this victory that much sweeter. 

“Harry!” You yell to be heard above the cheers and applause of his colleagues in the crowd. Jeff stands and grabs Harry’s hand, pulling him out of his seat and into a tight hug. You stand up and clap loudly in admiration for your boyfriend, willing the tears not to fall from your eyes. He removes himself from Jeff and pulls you into him, your head pressed against his chest.

“I won a fuckin’ Grammy!” Harry shouts.

“I know!” You shout back, probably more excited than he was. “Get up there!”

Your boyfriend quickly removes his mask and hands it to you before hurrying to the makeshift stage, hugging the presenter before touching his Grammy in awe. He picks it up and then slowly sets it back down, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“To everyone who made this record with me, thank you so much…” 

You can’t stop the few tears that spill over your waterline–– you were so unbelievably proud of him. You’re not even paying attention to his acceptance speech as you’re too preoccupied with looking at everyone staring at your boyfriend in admiration. 

“Lastly, I want to thank my girlfriend who’s sitting right there next to my manager, Jeffrey. She’s my number one fan, always believes in me when I don’t believe in myself,” he looks down at his shoes bashfully. “Wouldn’t be half the man I am today if it weren’t for her. This is our Grammy, love.”

You blow kisses to your boyfriend, ignoring the feeling of everyone’s eyes on you. As far as you were concerned, you and Harry were the only two people around at that moment. Your heart couldn’t have been any more full.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

To absolutely no one's surprise, you and Harry couldn’t keep your hands off each other for the remainder of the night. You were relieved there were no after parties being held that Harry would be expected to attend due to the pandemic because you could not get him alone fast enough.

“Slow down, Y/N,” Harry sets his Grammy on the foyer table as he kicks off his shoes. “Just us, innit? We’ve got all night, haven’t we?”

“I’m just so proud,” you tell him breathlessly, sucking on the underside of his jaw. “Let me show you.”

“You have been showin’ me. A lot, actually,” Harry leans his head back and closes his eyes in pleasure as you lick tantalizingly slow against his veiny neck. “Guess one more time wouldn’t hurt, though.”

“Do you want me to blow you or not?”

“Oh, so that’s what’s gonna happen here?”

“If you’re gonna be annoying, then no.”

“Kiiiding,” Harry rolls his eyes, pressing a gentle kiss to your nose. “C’mon, let me get you upstairs.”

”You’re the one that won a Grammy, not me,” you remind him. “Let me make you feel good.”

Harry lets out a quiet hum, guiding you towards the couch. “Exactly–– I’m the winner. Doesn’t that mean I should get what I want tonight?” He falls backward onto the couch, pulling you atop his lap. His hand roams down the front of your dress and he squeezes your breasts roughly, clearly delighted that you decided to forgo a bra tonight.

“I suppose,” you answer, biting back a moan. 

“You suppose? Not in the mood for it tonight?” He starts to retract his hand but you grab his wrist, stopping him.

“I am!” You don’t even try to hide how desperate you are for your boyfriend.

“Gonna let me taste you, hmm?” As Harry asks his question he slowly slides off the couch and onto his knees in front of you, bunching your dress up around your hips. He leans in close to your already dripping center and inhales deeply, a blissed-out look on his face. “Smell fuckin’ incredible. I gotta taste ya.”

You spread your legs wider without even thinking about it, almost as if it’s on instinct. Harry easily moves your underwear to the side and immediately connects his lips with your clit, not giving you time to adjust to the sensation before he’s just going at it.

“Oh, Harry…”

“Rings on or off?” His voice is muffled due to your thighs being clamped around his head, but you can still understand what he’s saying.

“On!”

Harry chuckles against your cunt before sliding his index finger in with ease, loving the way you immediately clenched around the digit. “Y’like that, lovie? Wanna take another one?”

“Please.” Your boyfriend already has you breathless despite the fact that he was just getting started.

Harry slips his middle finger into you along with his index finger and starts curling it up in the way he knew you liked, trying his hardest to stimulate your g-spot. He looks extremely focused; leave it to Harry to make a night that was supposed to be all about him, not.

“S’fuckin’ tight,” he says, more so to himself. “You’d think with all the shags we’ve been ‘avin lately you’d be used to my fingers by now.”

You let out a loud groan at your boyfriend’s dirty talk. He knew that it was one of your biggest kinks so he usually overdid it just a tad bit. It’s not like you were complaining, though.

“Guess that means you’re not fuckin’ me hard enough, huh?”

Harry stops his movements and looks up at you through slightly hooded eyes, an amused (but not really) look on his face. “Not fuckin’ you hard enough? Well, why didn’t you just say so?”

You can tell by the tone of Harry’s voice that he has it out for you now, but there’s no use in recanting your statement. He was about to make sweet, primal, love to you and god were you ready. Harry goes back to mercilessly fucking into you with his thick fingers, speeding up or slowing down his pace based on how you clench around him.

”Fuck, H.”

“Feels nice?” He goes from moving his fingers in a ‘come hither’ motion to a scissoring motion which feels just as good if not better.

“Yeah, really nice,” your fingers are tangled in Harry’s hair and you know he’ll give you hell later for getting it all knotted. “I’m close.”

“Already? Haven’t even properly fucked you yet,” Harry removes his fingers from you aching cunt agonizingly slow, wiping them on his expensive Gucci trousers. “Guess I’ll jus’ have to fix that, yeah?”

“I guess so.”

“You’ve got a mouth on you tonight, pet. Is that really any way to treat your Grammy-winning boyfriend-”

“Harry, come off it!” You exclaim, letting out a loud laugh as you watch him stand up and unbutton his pants. “You’re insufferable, I swear.”

Harry shoots you one of his blindingly bright smiles, wiggling his eyebrows as his pants pool around his feet. “Hey, ‘m just statin’ facts.”

He collapses onto the couch and pats his lap, giving his leaking cock two quick tugs. “Ride me.”

“Just because you won a Grammy doesn’t mean you don’t have to ask nicely anymore.”

“Y/N, my beautiful, dazzling, elegant girlfriend, will you please do me the honors of riding––”

“Why do you make everything so weird?” You groan as Harry laughs and pulls you into his lap with ease, wincing when your thigh brushes against his cock. Wordlessly, he places his hands on your hips and helps you sink down onto him, taking his lip in between his teeth to keep from yelling out.

”Fuck me…”

“I’m about to,” you reply, resting your head on his shoulder as you adjust to his size. His hands roam the expanse of your back as he waits for you to get used to the feeling on him, wanting to feel every part of your body all at once. Without warning, you begin sluggishly rolling your hips. You were in no rush anymore; you had him inside of you, and that was all you wanted from the start.

“S’that all you got in ya?” His tone is cheeky, almost mocking. “I think you can give me more than tha’.”

“I dunno if I can.”

“Why’s that?” Harry bucks his hips upward slightly causing you to let out a loud gasp.

“I just want you to fuck me. I don’t wanna do any work.”

At this, Harry quickly flips you over so your sweaty body is now below his. You moan at the sensation the new angle immediately brought you. “Want me on top like this? This is how you wanna have me, angel?”

You nod. 

“Answer me.”

“Yes, Harry,” your eyes squeeze shut as Harry begins quickly thrusting into you. “God, yes. That feels amazing.”

“Yeah? Do you like it when I fuck you like this?” Harry reaches his hand down to thumb at you clit and raises an eyebrow while awaiting your answer.

“God,” you grab onto your breasts to prevent them from bouncing around as Harry’s thrusting into you but he rips your hand away.

“Wanna see ‘em.”

“Right there,” you moan, no longer trying to bite back your sounds of pleasure. Between Harry eating you out, fingering you, and now fucking you harder than he has in ages, you were a few sloppy thrusts away from coming all over his cock. “I’m gonna cum–”

“...Already?”

You know he’s teasing but you still reach between your sweaty bodies to swat at his bare chest. “Don’t tease!”

“‘M messin’ with ya, puppy,” Harry pushes his curls out of his eyes. “I’m almost there- you first. Cum for me, Y/N.”

Harry doesn’t have to tell you twice. You spasm around his cock as soon as he tells you to, lifting your hips up to meet him as you could tell he was growing tired. Harry pulls out moments later, muttering a quick, “Where do you want it?” before finishing on your chest.

The silence that fills the room is comforting but of course, it’s cut short by your pest of a boyfriend.

“If that's what I got just for winning one Grammy, what would I get if I won the others?”

[javierpinme]

Babe. My heart. You keep putting these things out in the universe and my little heart just…🥺♥️

Cat, I love you and I’m so sorry about your heart!! ❤️ If it’s any consolation I really got in my feels with this one as karma. Don’t ask me if I have a used tissue (or two) near me.

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x f!reader

Word count: 917

Rating: T (this may not be 18+ but this page is so minors go away)

Warnings: oh god I think for once there isn’t a lot?? Just a ton of tooth-rotting fluff?? Kissing?? Lots of emotions. No smut, but there is a teeeensy mention.

Summary: You help Marcus and Missy get ready for a father daughter dance at her school.

A/N: Set during the Time Restraints ‘verse but can definitely be read as a oneshot. And to think this morning I thought I had a writer’s block. I’m lookin’ at you WIPS. 👀

Masterlist:

It was the pleading smiles from both Moreno’s that did you in when Missy first ran through the door announcing her school’s father daughter dance.

The idea of helping her shop for a dress and the ritual of getting her ready. The little things that she’s missed out on in the last few years no matter how much Marcus has tried to fill those voids. 

Marcus pauses his chopping to watch the two of you discuss things like color palettes and heel height—observing how seamlessly you’ve weaved into their daily lives and important moments like this. A complete mini me of Marcus, she runs upstairs to get ready for the mall, resolute in her decision no matter how much you remind her that there’s still plenty of time.

She’s a leader just like her father.

“Thanks for helping me.”

You sweep her hair to the side, brushing it out until it’s smooth so you can hairspray and pin it in place. You meet her misty eyes and knowing smile through the reflection on the mirror, and pull some rogue pieces of hair away from her face to put it back behind her ear as a sign of comfort.

“Of course. You can always ask me to do this kind of stuff, you know. I love doing it with you.” You squeeze her shoulder and her hand reaches up to return it. 

Nothing needed to be said.

A moment of silence with matching soft smiles and watery eyes, it’s interrupted when she asks you to check on her dad. “You know he’s probably a mess.”

You clear your throat to reel your emotions back in and laugh at her on the mark comment. Nodding your head in agreement you pass her the tinted lip balm to continue what you started, before pausing at the doorway of her room to watch her for a minute.

The serene moment breaks when you hear rustling of fabric and annoyed grunts coming from Marcus’s bedroom. Definitely an emotional mess when you crack open the door to him doing and undoing his matching tie to her dress continuously.

“Let me help you with that.” You coo.

His eyes meet yours in an intense stare, a familiar furrow creasing his brows and a pout that you kiss away; a juxtaposition of the comfort you provided only minutes ago but filled with just as much love.

“I guess I’m a little nervous.” He breathily chuckles and scratches the back of his neck when you return a look of you think?

The gold silk of his tie slides easily through your fingers when you start adjusting it. "You're not completely off the hook after this. You've still got prom."

A laugh barrels out when he closes his eyes and you have to pull the tie to bring his head back straight when he leans back too far. “Oh god. Don’t even think that into existence yet.”

You loosen the tie around his neck slightly to allow more oxygen and run your fingers through his curls to bring him back, an approving hum vibrating from his chest proves you were successful.

You trail your hands up and down the cotton of his dress shirt, admiring the broadness of his shoulders stretching the fabric.

“I like when you wear ties.” You purr.

“You like taking them off.” 

The corner of your mouth ticks up at the many memories of doing just that during the heat of the moment in his bedroom. “Same thing. I get to wrap and unwrap the present.”

He takes a deep breath and a wide smile forms on his face at the minutes away reveal of his daughter. “I can’t wait to see what she’s wearing.”

“I offered to text you a picture. You’re the one that wanted-”

“To be surprised. I know. I trust you.”

Even after all this time the trust he instills in you with his daughter still fills your chest with warmth. It’s a privilege you've never taken for granted.

You miss his question and ask him to repeat it again. “Are you sure you’ll be okay here by yourself?”

“Yes, I’ll catch up on some shows or something. Make dinner.” Your hands greedily stroke his biceps and squeeze the hard muscle there.

“You can come.” Your chuckle contrasts the emotions building up your chest.

“Marcus. It’s a father daughter dance not-.” You cut off.

He grabs your hand and presses it on his chest right where his heart beats erratically, unwavering in his testimony during his next words. 

“You’re family.”

You crash your lips into his with all the passion you can muster, licking his bottom lip to ask for entry to which he greedily opens with matching devotion until you both pull away to press your foreheads together—allowing your uneven breaths a minute to return to normal.

There would be more time for this later.

A couple tries of Marcus trying to walk into Missy’s bedroom and your returning argument of she deserves her stairs moment and the two of you are in the living room when Missy walks down them.

You take a peek at the tears spilling down his cheeks when Missy is walking towards him and you can’t help but hope that someday maybe, just maybe you’ll experience something similar to this too.

A few more kisses and hugs for the road and they’re out the door for you to admire and hope you’re lucky enough to be more a part of these as well.

Taglist: @sharkbait77 @littlepadika @bison-writes @just-here-for-the-moment @lowlights @radiowallet @kmorales1 @honestly-shite @dobbyjen @kirsteng42 @tanzthompson @the-rambling-nerd @amneris21 @fauxcongenialite @dinsangelx @beskarprincessjenny @coreychick

[0ooruioo0]

↣Senku Ishigami

Fandom: Dr. Stone

Pairing: Senku/Reader

Content/s: His was kinda longer lmao

Request: Hi! Can I have a scenario for Hyoga or/and Senku please? Tsukasa/Senku revives a girl who is known in their time to be the best swordman of Japan, even if she is deaf and mute. When she comes out of her petrified state, she acts like Hyakkimaru when he get his ears back : desoriented and in pain because she can ear everything around her. She scream of pain and tries every source of sound she ear. After she calms down, Yuzuriha/Rui wraps a tissue around reader's ears like Hyakkimaru. Thnaks!

Everyone stood around the stone statue Senku found. Eyes glistening to seeing someone being depetrified for the first time in their lives. Everyone except Gen of course. The mentalist knew who it was, and agreed that depetrifying her would help them into their soon to be stone wars.

She was of course, one of the greatest swordsman back in the modern era. Even though she was unable to hear and speak, she was marked as the best of the best.

"It will be your first time seeing this, so everyone sit back and watch" Senku grins pouring the revival fluid onto her head.

Slowly but not to slow, the cracks appear falling to the ground. E/C eyes glistened right before them in the sunlight as it blinked.

And then, something unexpected happened.

Hands clutching onto her ears, she screamed in agony. The world's sounds echoing repeatedly onto her healed deafening ears.

Everyone else headaches at her scream, the sound quite high than any sound they ever heard. Senku grunts in pain, wondering what the hell was up to you.

It clicked for a second, grabbing a cloth he quickly wraps a cloth around your ears, and ties it to prevent any sounds from coming at the moment. With a few seconds you calmed down, your head spinning from all those sounds you've heard.

Maybe it could be from a mile away, but it was so painful.

For the Ishigami village, they could only hope that will be the last time that ever happened to a modern himan.

"Oh? Y/N-san can hear things?" Gen, eyes wide as saucers looked at Senku in disbelief.

"Yeah, maybe being petrified made her able to hear things. But for now we can just put that as a theory"

"So then that means she can speak to right?"

Senku nods slightly looking at your figure. Helping out Kohaku with carrying heavy things to the village. With a final look and Gen he just shrugs and says.

"I'll just be observing for now, it seems we still have some things we haven't figured out yet"

―――――

"I'll be removing it now, this wil be your second time so tell me if you want it back" Senku says untying the cloth he placed around you on the first day. Ruri mentioned the day before she wanted to wash the cloth because it seemed like it was getting dirty.

Senku agreed not wanting to deal with an infection that might come sooner or later.

"How is it?"

Silent, Senku sweats wondering if your voice hasn't really healed like your ears.

"I was wondering if you can speak, since your not deaf anymore"

Your eyes perked up, mouth opening maybe in excitement on wanting to say something for the first time.

"It... hurts"

Senku blinked an odd feeling going on around his chest, but he soon dismisses it. Maybe that theory could actually be true then if both her voice and hearing came.

Y/N covered her mouth, jumping a little bit like a child. She wanted to cry probably scream, but judging from the looks before she decided not to.

"Alright, if you want we can try and let you get used to hearing and speaking"

She nodded excited that she can finally do things she's always wanted to do back then.

Suddenly, a sharp noise entered from her hearing.

"Ah!" Y/N jumped.

"Maybe we should take it slow..."

―――――

After that, Senku has been helping Y/N in getting used to both of her senses whenever they had the time. On some days Ruri would come by, and replace the cloth so her ears wouldn't have problems.

Y/N, wanting to speak and hear before always looked forward in every sessions they'd have in the woods or the waterfall they found.

Getting used to every noise, realizing that some of them really are quite annoying from what she was told. She walked to the waterfall seeing Senku wait for her by the river.

"Oh? Not wearing the cloth, that's nice"

"Yeah, though the screeching noises are still very annoying..."

He chuckles, a sound she loved to hear rather than someone screeching metal over metal.

"Those are noises most people hates, at least you got used to everything else now"

She nodded happily stopping beside him with a smile.

"Does that mean we won't do these anymore?"

"Yeah"

Silence filled the two, the only sounds you could hear was mostly the fountain that was inches away from them. Y/N felt like she didn't want these sessions to stop, like she was wishing that she didn't get used to her senses at all. But then that would be selfish of her to wish for.

She looked at Senku, his eyes looking at the water with fondness. She wanted to know what he was thinking sometimes, her level of smartness wasn't quite in par with him.

They were both opposites now she thought about it.

Senku was a man who wasn't athletic, and she was but wasn't quite smart.

She chuckled at the idea.

"Thank you for helping me" she broke the silence.

Senku smirked looking at her "Yeah, now we have to focus on the stone war that's coming soon"

Senku starts to walk away, quickly turning around she calls out.

"Would it be okay to... hang around here sometimes?"

He raises a brow "Why?"

She swallowed hard, nervousness swirling around her being. It was like walking to the middle of the crowd during a match before. But this time it was different somehow.

"I really like to listen to your voice.."

He smiles, first time he's ever heard of that before. Yet somehow he didn't feel uncomfortable over her saying things like that.

"I'd like that"

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Inbox closed atm for requests. But open for questions! :>  

Fandoms I write

[helliontherapscallion]

Lost Time (The Ashes of Yourself Part 2)

Part 1     Part 3    Part 4

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: mentions of suicide attempts/ideation, swearing, daddy/abandonment issues

Word count: 3,879

You and Techno stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, both of you not knowing what to say to each other. So much was left unsaid between you two throughout your childhoods and the past four years that you didn’t know where to even start. You supposed a simple ‘how are you?’ would suffice, but that’d be too simple, far too simple for not talking to each other in literal years. But you couldn’t just say ‘hey, I’m incredibly jealous that you are Dad’s favorite and I totally didn’t send you my suicide note that you may or may not have seen’, that’d be way too much trauma dumping for your taste. You couldn’t think of anything else to say, so you chose to sheepishly grin at him and awkwardly wave. 

“Heh uh, how’re you…?” Smooth, (y/n). Real smooth.

You watched as he furrowed his brows slightly before he hesitantly gave you a small wave with his gargantuan pink hand. “...I’m doin alright. You?”

“I’ve seen better days.”

“Right…”

An awkward silence fell over you two as you glanced down at your bloodied hands. “Sorry bout the blood. It won’t really stop until I stop moving.”

He shrugged, “that’s fine. I’ve bled everywhere in this house. Nothing that won’t come out.”

“Alright then.”

You wanted to crawl into a pit and just let yourself die, you hated this awkward atmosphere you created. Your mind scrambled to find something to say to the man other than a stupid ‘alright then’. You haven’t even seen him in four years, surely you would be able to find something to talk about. You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard him clear his throat.

“I uh got some clothes for you. They’re Tommy’s old clothes from when he stayed with me during his exile. I don’t know if they’ll fit, but I’m guessing that they’re better than the wet ones you’re wearing.”

When he saw you wince when you tried to stand up, he rushed to your side and helped you stand up. You could feel the backs of your knees start to drip blood. “Do you have any spare lava?”

His hands paused on your upper arms, “yes, but why would you need it?”

“It kinda heals me. I mean, just enough that my skin stops cracking open and bleeding everywhere.”

“Why don’t we just take you to a lava lake in the Nether?”

You glanced out the window at the flurry of snowflakes falling to the ground and being whisked off to other places by the harsh wind. You shuttered, remembering what it felt like to be fully engulfed in water. “Water hurts. I don’t want to get burnt out again.”

“Right, I’ll go get a few buckets full. Stay here,” with that, he ushered you to sit in front of the fire once again and draped the large blanket over your shoulders again. You could hear him move to another room and rustle around what you presumed was a chest before you heard his heavy footsteps walking behind the couch. You could hear the billowing of the wind when he opened the door before it was cut off by the door closing. 

You leaned forward and put your hands in the fire, relishing in the feeling of the flames melting away the charred skin slightly. The flames licked and caressed your dark skin slowly giving you more feeling back in the damaged tissue. As you were turning your hands over the flames, you thought about your voluntary near death experience just about an hour before. 

The thought of the ocean finally taking you and dragging your charcoaled corpse into its depths never to be seen again was alluring. After feeling the intense pain and the suffocation that came with chucking yourself into the ocean when you’re part blaze was definitely a deterrent, but you just had to push through the pain. This was something you’d dreamt of doing since you were fifteen and you’d be damned if you were going to let pain stop you. 

You know you felt sort of… grateful that Philza saved you when you were laying on that beach, but now that you had time to reflect on what happened, you felt resentful that he did. Of course he’d take away the only good thing you had going on in your life, he was full of audacity and impudence when you were a kid. He hasn’t changed at all much to your disappointment. You shouldn’t have expected him to change in the first place, that was just something that you knew in the back of your mind would never happen. A large part of you craved his approval and affection, but you knew that wouldn’t happen. 

Your thoughts were cut off by someone pulling you back gently from the fire. “I got the lava. Uh, I can set up an area for you downstairs with netherrack.”

“No, you don’t have to, I just have to put it on my joints for a few minutes.”

“Don’t you want to, uh, fully cover yourself?”

“I can hold off until the snowstorm dies down. It’s nothing too major.” You dipped your hands into the large bucket of lava and sighed in relief, “that’s much better, thank you Technoblade.”

“It’s no problem, but you literally just almost died. How is that something that’s ‘not major’?”

“I’m used to… well, this,” you took a hand out of the lava and gestured to your stone covered arm. “It’s just more than I’m used to. Kinda uncomfortable, but I’ll live.”

“What do you mean you’re used to it? You don’t live by water do you?”

“Yeah, I live by the ocean so I’m bound to get a little charred. No big deal,” you took your hands out of the bucket, shook the excess lava off, and stuck your elbows in. You looked at your now dully glowing hand and wiggled your fingers. There were more blackened scars etched into your skin on your joints, but you didn’t care.

“Heh? Why the hell would you live by an ocean?” 

You wove your hands nonchalantly in the air, “I always liked how the water looked when the sun set. The way that the pinks and yellows would reflect and bounce off the waves? Breathtaking.” You also lived by the ocean so that you had an easy way out of living, but you weren’t about to tell him that. Too much trauma dumping.

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” 

“Have you ever seen the sun setting over the ocean?” You rose a brow at the piglin hybrid sitting on the couch. 

“Well, no but-”

“Then you can’t knock it till you try it. I’ll take you to my old place after I can take a proper lava bath. You won’t regret it, promise.”

“Still, you’re literally made of fire. Look what happened to you… Er, speaking of, how’d this happen?” He looked you up and down inquisitively with his red eyes. 

You sighed as you took your elbows out of the lava and dipped your feet into the buckets. “...Do you still have your communicator?”

You watched as his floppy ear flicked and his eyebrow rose at you, “...Yes, but I only talk to Dad. Why, did you leave me a message?” Before he could stand up to grab his communicator, you stopped him with a hand on his shin. “No, I didn’t. I was just wondering.”

He didn’t look convinced, “...tell me what happened. Were you pushed?”

Your shoulders tensed up against your will before you forced them to relax. “I fell in, got too close to the edge.”

“You’re so lucky Dad was already at your house, you could’ve died. How could you be so careless?” 

You only responded with a blaze-like frustrated grunt that rumbled in the back of your throat and removed your feet from the buckets. Picking up one of the buckets, you took a swig of the lava. The viscous liquid crawled slowly down your throat and soothed your burned esophagus and stomach. Clearing your throat, you looked over to your estranged brother. He was looking at you with disgust, his snout scrunched up slightly and his mouth twisted into a grimace.

“What?” Your voice sounded less strained and scratchy. Overall, it felt better to speak.

“Your- your feet were just in there. That’s disgusting.”

You blew out a puff of smoke and watched as it drifted to the ceiling, “my feet were just in water, remember? They’re clean. And besides, I swallowed and inhaled a lot of water so I needed it. I mean, my lungs are still stone, but there’s nothing I can do about it except wait it out.”

“That’s still gross. Wait, can you not drink water?”

“No- well technically I can, but it hurts. Gimme one sec.”

He was quiet as he watched you take a deep breath and dunk your entire head into the lava bucket you weren’t drinking from. His youngest sibling was… strange, but he found that he enjoyed your company so far. The only company he’s had at his cabin recently was his brothers and dad, which burned him out slightly with their big personalities. You were as awkward as he was and that was refreshing. But he couldn’t help but feel guilty after hearing the majority of yours and Philza’s argument. Now that he thought back on his childhood, the majority of his memories were of him and Philza. He didn’t have many negative memories past his adoption, and that was because he spent all of his time adventuring with Philza. He did everything with his adoptive father and absolutely nothing with his siblings. He knew nothing about Wilbur, well Ghostbur now, or Tommy until they stayed with him during Tommy’s exile. He’s never talked to you or spent any time with you before, and he wanted to get to know who you were. He wanted to make up for lost time.

After you were under for a while, he started to worry that you drowned yourself. Just as he was about to pull your head out of the bucket with a hand close to your forehead, you slowly removed your head from the lava and held it over the bucket so that the excess would drip off from you. Panting slightly, you sat up fully and wiped your eyes clean of the lava. You could hear some rustling in front of you so you opened your eyes to see your brother holding out clothes to you. 

“Go change, I’ll make dinner. There’s a spare room upstairs, second door on the left. You can stay there for now.”

You hesitated before you took the clothes from him, “I… Thank you Techno.” You weren’t expecting him to be so kind to you, he was known as the blood god after all. He was ruthless when he battled, leaving thousands without families. You saw him a couple of times when you were younger coming home with Philza covered in blood with a malicious expression on his face. That always made you try to avoid him; not that you had any difficulty doing that, he was never home. 

He curtly nodded before he turned to walk into where you assumed was the kitchen. You trudged up the stairs and tiredly drug your feet down the hallway towards the second door on the left. When you opened the door, you were pleasantly surprised. You didn’t know what you were expecting to see, but it certainly wasn’t this. It was simplistic, yet it looked like a professional decorated it.

The bed looked incredibly comfortable and soft with a large white comforter draped over the top. At both sides of the headboard, twin chests sat underneath double hung windows with wooden frames that matched the spruce planks that made up the walls. You were sure that once the relentless snowstorm stopped you would be able to see a spruce forest in the distance. Lanterns hung at the far corners of the room opposite of where the bed sat. Glancing at the opposite wall, you saw a framed portrait of a nether fortress. You assumed that it was the nether fortress on the other side of his portal. If you squinted, you could see orange specks that you assumed were blazes. 

After you got dressed, you were pleasantly surprised to see that Tommy’s clothes fit you. Despite the slight bagginess of the pants and the sleeves of the jumper hanging halfway past your hands, they fit relatively well. Humming in satisfaction, you hung up your wet clothes to dry and made your way downstairs following the savory smell of cooking meat and potatoes. Your mouth watered at the smell, it’s been a while since you’ve eaten an actual meal. You’d just been surviving on an apple a day with the occasional potato when you had some leftover from making homemade vodka. 

You walked into the kitchen and looked at your brother standing at the stove, the stove looked miniscule compared to his seven and a half foot tall form. That man was a giant and you wouldn’t be lying if his height alone didn’t intimidate you slightly. If he wanted, he could grab your entire face with his hand. Various light pink scars decorated his muscular arms that poked out from the rolled up sleeves of his blouse. He wasn’t wearing his huge fluffy cloak, instead it was draped over the back of one of the chairs at the large wooden dining table. Every part of your body wanted to take it, wrap yourself up into a blaze hybrid burrito, and take the best nap you’ve ever had. His corseted form moved gracefully around the kitchen grabbing various spices and herbs. 

You saw his ears twitch before he moved his massive head  to look back at you, you could see the corners of his mouth quirk up ever so slightly. “They fit you, that’s good. Take a seat, dinner's almost ready.” With that, you took a seat at the table. You felt like a child again, the table was huge, the tabletop coming up to your lower chest. The table and chairs were made of what looked like dark oak wood. The wood was carved intricately with complex patterns etched into the frame and the back of the chairs. 

You eyed the cape draped over the chair next to you. It was a deep royal red with black speckled white fur lining the border of the fabric. If you looked closely, you could see that the pendant that connected the two ends was made of gold and had a diamond encrusted center. It looked incredibly soft, it would be so easy to just reach out with a finger to pet it. Your brother wouldn’t notice if you did it quick enough so that you could touch it before he turned around. When you gathered the courage to touch the cloak, you reached out with a slightly shaking hand to pet the fur, watching Technoblade the entire time. 

Everytime he would move to grab a spice, you would quickly retract your hand and try to act as innocent as possible only to try again after he didn’t turn around again. Just as you finally touched the fabric, you were in awe with how soft it was. It was like petting a newborn puppy but better. You truly couldn’t put into words how soft it was. 

You were snapped out of your trance by a small chuckle, “soft isn’t it?” You jumped, quickly retracting your hand and smacking your head against the back of your chair in the process. You could feel your cheeks heat up more than they usually did, you could see the glow of orange intensify at the bottom of your vision. Your brother was staring at you with amusement, his mouth quirked up in a small smile. He was carrying two plates full of steak and potatoes, putting one in front of you before walking to sit opposite of you. 

“Uh, yeah. It- it’s really soft.” 

“I got it from a nation thousands of blocks from here, it wasn’t easy to get. Those guards were not happy to see me stealing from their king.” He chuckled before he started to eat his food. 

“Is that where you got the crown too?”

“No, Dad got it for me as a going away present when I moved out… You’ve grown up so much since I’ve last seen you. I remember when you barely reached my waist and now you’re only about a foot and a half shorter than me.” 

“You’ve gotten taller also, more scars too.”

“You as well. Are all those from water?” 

“Yeah, it only scars when I crack the stone on my skin though.”

“Ouch. So like you get scars whenever you move?”

You shrugged, “basically.” Turning to your plate, you struggled with not wolfing down the entire thing in one go. You didn’t want to have your brother get the impression you had bad table manners. Wilbur raised you better than that. When you took a bite of the stake, you moaned slightly at the taste. Quickly swallowing your mouthful, you looked at your brother with wide eyes. “Ender Tech, where’d you learn to cook? It’s delicious.”

He gave you a small bashful smile and shrugged, “when you’ve been living alone for this long you pick up on a few things.”

“I’ve been living alone for about a year now and I still can’t cook.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, “well what do you eat then?”

“Just an apple a day, maybe a potato too if I have any to spare.”

He narrowed his eyes, “how the hell are you still alive? That’s hardly enough.”

You blankly stared at your plate, “I’ve been asking myself that everyday, things aren’t… amazing living alone. Uh, let’s talk about happier things. I wanna get to know you.”

He stared at you for a while before he sighed, “fine, but we’re talking about this later. How do you wanna go about getting to know each other?”

“It’s gonna be hard cuz we have like seventeen years to catch up on, but I think we can do it. Let’s… let’s play the favorites game. We take turns naming a category and we both say what our favorite thing in that is. I’ll start, what’s your favorite type of mythology? Like Greek, Egyptian, Norse…”

His eyes lit up at the mention of mythology, “I like Greek mythology. I can talk for hours about it.”

“Nice! I personally like Norse mythology better, we have to exchange myths sometime.”

“My turn, what’s your favorite myth?”

You matched his excitement, “I really like the Ragnarok myth. The fact that the gods know of their impending doom and destruction and are actively working towards it is- is just really intriguing. What’s yours?”

You both abandoned your meals as your conversation diverged into telling each other various myths from your respective favorite mythologies. Your favorite ones he told you were the tales of Orpheus and Eurydice, Persephone and Hades, and Psyche and Eros. You were a sucker for romance even if the thought of you being in a relationship was something you were uncomfortable thinking about. Romance stories just made you happy to see people finding comfort and fulfillment in each other. You told him more about Ragnarok, the creation of Mjolnir, and the murder of Baldur. 

Before you two knew it, hours passed by. Your untouched dinners grew cold and the clock struck midnight startling both of you out of your story telling. You both looked at the grandfather clock then back at each other in shock, “we’ve been talking for four hours Tech.”

“Yeah, we did. It- it was nice talking about mythology. Usually people get bored when I talk about it.”

You rolled your eyes, “Ender, I know. Why don’t they find it as interesting as we do? It’s been a while since I’ve had someone to talk to, it’s nice.”

“We better go to bed, we can just eat a bigger breakfast tomorrow before we take you to the Nether and your house. You probably want to sleep in your own bed.”

You laughed nervously, “yeah about that… I don’t really have a bed anymore. Or an actual house for that matter.”

“The fuck happened?”

“I may have burnt it down accidentally.”

He was silent for a bit before he looked at you suspiciously. “Are you gonna burn my house down?” And there’s the thing you hated most when you told people of your lineage and abilities. They always believe that you’re a being of destruction and inferno. They always grow to not trust you around them or their possessions fearing you would burn them to a crisp. You cursed your biological parents daily for giving you these genes.

You shrunk in on yourself slightly, “no, I’d never do that to you. I’m in control as long as I keep my emotions in check. Can’t get too excited, scared, or happy. I just can’t do anything extreme and my temperature stays low.” 

He grunted, nodding in satisfaction. “We probably should get to sleep soon if we wanna get stuff done before the family reunion.”

“I forgot about that… Have you met the kid Phil’s gonna adopt?”

He drew in a long breath into his nose and huffed it out of his mouth. “Yeah, his name’s Ranboo. And he’s actually only about half a year younger than you are. I don’t know how to feel about him yet, but he seems like he has good intentions.”

You drug a hand through the flames idly flickering on your head, “is Phil seriously gonna adopt another kid? I don’t think it’s a good idea for him.”

“That’s what I thought, I don’t need any more orphans running around here. You, Tommy, and Wilbur are more than enough. We can talk more about this in the morning.”

With that, you picked up your plates and took them to the kitchen. Before you could turn on the water faucet, a hand on your shoulder stopped you. “I’ll get it. You can’t be around this stuff.”

“A little water won’t hurt me. It’s the least I could do, you made dinner.” 

“A little water will hurt you. Go to bed, I’ll handle this. It’s only two dishes.”

You opened your mouth to argue with him, but it snapped shut as soon as he gave you a warning look. “Go to bed (y/n).”

“...Aright, thank you for doing that. I’ll see ya in the morning.”

He grunted as you walked out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and into the guest room. You walked straight to the bed and plopped down onto the surface. You felt sort of bad that you were rubbing soot off onto the white comforter from your still charcoaled skin, but it was nothing that you couldn’t clean in the morning. The bed was extremely comfortable, a stark contrast to your old one. Your old one had lumps and some exposed bedsprings sticking out of the fabric. With the weight of the heavy comforter and the plush mattress, you were out like a light.

General taglist (comment if you want to be added):

 @crybabyjabby  @izzybobizzy13  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @bunnyz-pxstel  @averytiredfanfictionwriter  @dcml04  @sparkling-gayyyy  @bbigbbrainn  @thaticecreambish  @kiinokochii

Series taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@appetiteofapeoplepleaser  @misfortunatem00n  @hee-hee-haw  @bi-narystars  @akikko-yataro  @snapple311  @jo171718  @alex--awesome--22  @cinnamonmochi  @waterstrawberry  @jefferyepsteindidntkillhimself  @imamusicalnerd  @fo-love  @sylumarts  @theshitinmytrunk  @rinzyx05  @wasteofspacze  @bands-are-amazingly-addicting  @im-a-depressed-gay  @charlotte-is-missing  @s-n1428  @lifestylesleep  @dame-sunflowers  @bongwaterflavoredgatorade  @aestheticpkmntrainer  @emma-the-duck17  @pek0ra  @wreny24  @willow404  @shiningsunrises  @vanhakirja  @dont-hug-me-im-a-fander  @soulless42  @giavanna