#IM SO TIRED OF HOLDING IN ARTS FOR MONTHS ON END

[aliaology]

OBSESSED

SUMMARY: you and jack had been dating for around nine months now, and recently his ex has been coming back around. this causes you to go on a social media stalking rampage, and soon you become a little obsessed with her.

PAIRINGS: jack hughes x fem!reader

WARNINGS: social media stalking, shit talking exes, use of jenna and nicole (nicole is a real person tho!!! bratters gf), use of (y/n)

if i told you how much i think about her, you’d think i was in love. and if you knew how much i looked at her pictures, you would we’re best friends.

It wasn’t hard to figure out who jack’s ex was. The way he seemed to barely look her way when one of his teammates brought up the fact she was at the game. Instead of sporting a devils jersey, like she used to, she was wearing a rangers jersey, and holding a sign for a rangers player.

it also wasn’t hard to immediately become jealous of her when jack’s teammates talked about how she used to always show up to games. it almost made you feel.. belittled. especially because you had a job, you couldn’t always make jacks games, but he understood that.

by the time the game ended and you sat on a bench, waiting for jack, you’d already find yourself scrolling through her instagram. you looked at every picture, how she was such a pretty blonde. short, tan, blonde, the stereotypical puck bunny. but she knew puck.

for the next fifteen minutes— she stayed on your mind.

‘cause i know her star sign, i know her blood type, i’ve seen every movie she’s been in and god she’s beautiful. i know you loved her, and i know i’m butt hurt— but i can’t help it, no i cant help it.

of course as soon as you and jack got home, you began to search her up online. so invested in your research, when you and jack ‘went to bed,’ you carefully snuck out of the man’s arms and back to your laptop.

she was an actress, of course she was an actress. she starred in a few movies, she was amazing. you bit your nail before quickly exiting the tabs as you heard your boyfriend’s footsteps.

“baby what are you doing up? it’s 12:44, come back to bed.” he spoke, hand rubbing his eyes.

you stood up from the stool and walked over to him, your body pressing against his as your arms wrapped around his torso.

“sorry love, i was just finishing up work.” you lied.

jack just hummed and the two of you went back to your bedroom. your mind began to cloud with thoughts, thoughts of her and jack. did jack treat her the exact same way he treated you? was anything special or was it shared? you know he loved her at one point, but now he loved you, so why stay butt hurt?

i’m so obsessed with your ex, uh huh. i know she’s been asleep on my side of your bed, and i can feel it. i’m staring at her, like i wanna get hurt. and i remember every detail you have ever told me, so be careful baby. IM SO OBSESSED WITH YOUR EX!

it was the second game against the rangers, this time and away game. the blonde was sat in the regular stands while you were in the WAGs suite. you could see her from where you sat, and your eyes burned holes in the back of her head.

thats the woman who had jacks heart before you, the woman who slept on your side of the bed, the woman who cheated on him twice. oh you knew a lot— especially from what jack told you.

“she cheated on me with some guy on the rangers— a real work of art, both of them.” jack told you.

you didn’t realize you were zoning out until nicole, one of the other WAGs, placed a hand on your shoulder.

“you alright there lovie? you seem to be staring at something down there a little too hard.” she asked.

your eyes flickered to her. “yeah im fine— just zoned out. when i get too excited it happens.”

nicole smiled. “well— hopefully our boys can kick the rangers ass. im tired of jenna constantly texting me to rub it in my face that we lost. im not even her friend.”

jenna was jacks ex. that was her name, jenna. she was still texting some of the devils girls? even after everything? you almost laughed, but instead you out on a confused look.

“jenna?” you pretended not to know her.

“oh shes jacks ex— we can’t stand her, especially after what she did to the boy.” nicole told you.

good to know.

she’s got those lips, she’s got those hips, the life of every fuckin’ party. she’s talented, she’s good with kids, she even speaks kindly about me..

the devils won, which called for a celebration in some random club. even though you were still in new york, people congratulated the team on the win. maybe they hated the rangers too, or they were islander fans. you didn’t really expect some of the rangers to show up though, and especially not jenna.

her lips popped with the bright red lip stick she adorned. her hips swayed with every step she took in that mini silver dress. in that moment, she became the life of the party. in that moment, you felt your hands wrap around your body.

that didn’t last for long though, especially not when jack was there. his body pressed against yours as you both danced to the music. his hands gripping your waist, your arms slung around his neck. the sloppy kisses he pressed to your jaw. you had this, she didn’t.

but she had to ruin it. “wow you are so pretty!” her voice rang out. this caused jack to slowly, irritatedly pull away. your hands fell down to his arms as the smile on your face slowly turned fake.

“oh thank you.. uh do i know you?” jacks hand squeezed your waist.

jenna gave a look to jack, which you caught, before looking back at you. “one of jacks exes. you are?” she spoke.

“his girlfriend.”

and i know you love me, and i know it’s crazy.. but every time you call my name, i think you mistake me for her. you both have moved on, you don’t even talk. but i can’t help it, i got issues, i can’t help it baby.

“(y/n), baby?” jacks voice rang through the apartment. your body tensed slightly as his voice, scared that maybe he said the wrong name and that maybe you were just another jenna.

“(y/n)? have you seen my shirt?” he spoke loudly.

you sighed through your nose, “which one?”

jacks footsteps padded on the floor. you hid a smile as you sat at the kitchen island. you expected him to speak, but instead his arms wrapped around you from behind, causing you to let out a laugh.

“well it seems to be right here, isn’t that right?” he pinched at the fabric that draped over your body.

you feigned a look of innocence. “oh, you meant this one?” you smiled.

“when did you put this one on, pretty girl?” he asked you.

“it was the first shirt i found this morning. i dont find it to be too endearing walking around naked.”

jacks lips met the side of your neck, as his hands ran up and under his shirt that you wore. “mm, i dont know, i think that would be pretty nice.”

you let out a laugh as your hand reached back to play with his hair. “and let some random people see me? no thank you.”

“i guess you’re right, wouldn’t want anyone to see whats for my eyes only.” he spoke.

you hummed, feeling his kisses move to your jaw and become sloppier. “lets take this shirt off you, shall we?”

your thoughts disappeared as he dragged you to your room. there was no way he didn’t love you, not after the way he just worshipped you. oh no, he was yours, but his ex was still someone who made you worry.

is she friends with your friends? is she good in bed? do you think about her? no, im fine, it doesn’t matter tell me, is she easy-going? never controlling? well-traveled? well read? oh god, she makes me so upset! im so obsessed with your ex!

as jack left for practice, you couldn’t help but wonder about his ex. the last few questions that ran through your mind. she wasn’t friends with nicole or any of the girls, but what about his friends? her and trevor followed each other, same with her and cole.

does jack think about her often? last night at the club she seemed to piss him off by coming up to you both, maybe thats all? maybe he thinks about how much he hates her? or maybe he misses her— oh god was she good in bed?

was she easy-going? you were easy-going. so who cared. never controlling? you werent that controlling, the only thing you didnt want jack doing was liking random models pictures, and that was a set boundary because he said the same thing about random male models or hockey players (besides friends of course— for the both of you).

god jenna barely did anything to you and she made you so upset. pissed— frustrated, made you wanna pull your hair out.

you were obsessed.

im unable to tag everyone!

TAGS: @slaythehousebootsdown13 , @lxnceclercs , @honethatty12 , @outrunangelss , @absolutelyhugh3s , @hockeyboysarehot , @lovinbarzal , @shadowsndaisies , @um-mads , @bqbylon , @whoreforthehughesbrothers , @Robloxlover2007 , @p3nislawd , @alexx-stancati , @queenmendes , @-eedwardss , @if-my-heart-bleeds , @love-like-woaah , @freds-slut , @sleepybesson , @love4lando , @equallyshaw , @bellstwd , @ivy-34 , @slafgoalskybaby , @hischierxx , @dancerbailey3 , @jackhughesily , @cstads-blog , @ru-kru , @sbrn0905 , @love4ldr , @loveforaugust

[withonly-sweetheart]

Starry Eyed Singer

You're a scientist, not a singer, but when the newest experiment takes a liking to not only you, but your voice, you might just be the key to finding the rest of them. And although he's stuck behind the confines that keep him away from you, that hide the songs that he knows could have you throwing yourself into the water for him, he won't hurt you. After all, how could he? When you're his starry eyed singer.

a/n: first lets ignore the fact there's only dialogue at the last bit im so tired of this literally its been two whole ass weeks I NEVER GO PAST A DEADLINE IM GONNA TWEAK buuuut i really really like this idea i just think that for a theme, this is short and sweet enough for me! i would definitely want to expand on this as a whole, and i couldn't resist adding a dead dove ending <3 (im a creepy mf ik)

find the bad ending here...

alright now its time for credits

@bunnivievve - this is literally her au. like seriously i took everything from her analysis sheet like i would not be here without you. i salute you fine woman you are the reason i wake up and write siren leon. + thank you sm for ur hc i hope it's fitting to what you were thinking!!! THISSSSS LITERALLY THIS IS WHAT INSPIRED ME SMMM <333

@larvamars - help im sorry for mentioning you but i kinda took the art of leon looming over the scientist in that one piece of urs to heart... yeah... thinkin abt that while writing this really helped <3 so tysm just crediting people where credit is due!!

@sirenhub <- ngl i thought of you while writing this the WHOLE time i was tryna be freaky... get it bc ur name is siren... also the dead dove ending is dedicated to you my love... please drown me to the bottom of the ocean.. <333

@vampiricgf <- KITAA WE'RE TWINNING SO HARD ON THIS ONE... ur au is better than mine i fear but its ok this is a connection i couldn't pass up

(psst. if i didnt mention u in this one artist moots TRUST you're definitely in one of the other three.)

tw: descriptions of loss and grief, reader's mother is dead, luis angst, tiny mention of smut but nun too bad, brother i can't write anything without making it sound like shakespeare and not in a good way...

wc: 7.3k

The pearl of the ocean. He’s watched every wretched person who’s confined him here, with their white coverings and spectacles resting on their too sharp noses, their awkward gait and their irregular size. And not one was interesting enough to keep him intrigued for more than a day.

And then you appeared in his life, a presence uninvited, a treasure undeserving of his touch, not that he would be able to get his fingers on you either way. Your eyes were so lively, restless, sparkling like stars through the clear material that separates you.

If only you could hear him. He was sure just a moment of his voice would be enough to ensure your enrapture, enough to ensnare you like they had caught him off the coast. His colony had warned him enough times of all the dangers the shore brought, yet something brought him back.

You are alike in that sense, hunger consuming you from the inside out, fatal if not for the restraints that were easier for him to hold than you. He can feel your eyes on him as he languidly floats through the somewhat roomy tank they house him in, temporary, of course, but for three months he’s been stuck behind this insufferable, invisible surface that sets the barrier between you both.

A creature of the sea and a creature of the land. He entertains quiet thoughts of you at night, when his dreams should be fitful, longing to be free in the ocean, yet the yearning for you is stronger. He assumes it is mutual, why else would you act the way you do? Enamored, entranced, elated enough to send shoals of fish skittering through his stomach.

But he mistakes fascination for infatuation. 

<><><><>

You cast Luis a sideways glance, a strange haze between you, air infecting what used to come so naturally, seeping into your skin, sealing your lips shut as if your banter was planned and you’re finally speechless.

His fingers flick the lighter lid open, then back, setting a rhythm that should be comfortable enough to make up for your unnatural silence, but it only serves to make things worse. You resist the urge to bristle when he finally speaks.

“You really don’t know why you’re here,” he murmurs, and you would’ve missed it, hidden under the whirring gears vibrating in the ground if not for the fact you’ve been expecting it. 

You scoff. “What do you think?”

“I think that you must’ve done something.” He sighs and leans forward, tense in every aspect except for his mouth, brown butter molding to the cherry of his lips that purse, abandoning the man you knew. “Why leave both of us in here? Alone?”

His tone is suggestive, and you might’ve dismissed it as playful under other circumstances, but you know exactly what he’s doing—making a fool out of you. 

“Tell me,” you insist. Luis leans back, the lamp in the hallway shining through the window, bronzing the copper planes of his face. He links his hands together and rests them palm upward on his forehead, closing his eyes. 

After a few moments of silence, he cracks one of them open, narrowed as soon as he realizes you’re still watching, still waiting for an answer he’s far too reluctant to hand over.

“Impatient, are you?”

“You’re the one who fucked everything up! If you had just listened when I said the radar was, what, three feet off, we could’ve caught it just fine! But no, guess who has to play the hero?” you seethe. You feel your heartbeat thrum under where your fingers lie on your wrist, pulsing like a warning. Back off.

“Are you a senior scientist?” He quirks an eyebrow, challenging you to a fight you’ll surely lose, but when have you ever backed down to him? “I didn’t think as much.”

That pet name irks you enough to spark a retort, one you didn’t even think about before it’s past your lips and hanging in the air between you.

“I’ll rip that badge off your shirt before they get here if you don’t tell me why the fuck we’ve both been stuck in here for three hours!” Your voice is level to an extent, level like you’ve never thought to be calm.

His arms fall down to his knees, elbowing the meat of his thighs, eyes drawn back to you. “Are you always this irritable?” A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, curving them upward. “Or am I just lucky to be sitting next to a beautiful woman with the temper to match?”

You scowl, unable to summon the grin that you wish would appear in your mind. Seeing that you aren’t as amused at him at his little joke, the smile slips right off his face, and that sullen expression usurps his features.

“They found it,” he admits, albeit quietly, as if he’s afraid someone will hear. “Right after we left.”

“They… did?”

“Mhm,” he confirms, voice low and throaty. His lips part and you lean forward slightly, eager to hear his elaboration. “A new project is underway. Experiment 003. And you’ll be-”

The door swings open, and the white light that bathes you isn’t a good sign. 

<><><><>

You don’t understand the solemn look on Luis’ face. Shouldn’t he be happy for you? You actually got the assignment you had requested, for once, and with what was once thought to be a creature only found in stories. And yet he stands leaning in the doorway to the lab room, gazing at the water.

It’s been two weeks, and not once have you actually seen this supposed creature. You’re starting to think this is all some elaborate joke Luis has crafted to keep your enthusiasm fresh, but he knows that your praise and effort aren’t akin to fruit and vegetables.

“No progress?” he offers weakly, not once making eye contact with you.

“Why don’t you try?” you reply bitterly. It’s been a hot minute since you’ve gotten any quality sleep, and the laboratory’s coffee runs alongside your blood in your veins, which bubbles back up in the raw coffee beans that swirl on your tongue as you await his response.

“Ouch.” Luis pretends to wince, seemingly hurt. “You might hurt my feelings, chiquita.”

“Good.”

“You can insult me all you want,” he says, damn that clever tongue of his, “but you’re pretty cute when you're mad. Makes it hard for me to take you seriously, mi amor.”

“Why are you like this?” you grit out, sweeping the papers off your desk to slam your clipboard down, crisp paper untouched. Can’t take notes on something you’ve never seen.

“Like what?” he asks, tilting his head. “Ever charming?”

“I was thinking something like bipolar,” you groust. “You’re never just one person, are you? What else are you hiding from me?”

He puts his hands up in defense as you stalk towards him, but he waits until you’re a step away to respond. “Hiding? Me? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muses.

You tilt your head up just as he tilts his head down, and you lock eyes with him, the searing honey dripping from his eyes to yours, cooling quickly enough to create threads of sweet ice connecting you both.

How it feels to long for something you’ll never have.

Your eyes flit to the band on his ring finger.

<><><><>

The cool glass finds your fingertips, aching from restless typing emails back and forth, persisting that you can handle this one. Your encounter with Luis has left you determined to prove you can do it without him, that you’re perfectly capable of ignoring him in the hallways, in the lunchroom, pretending not to hear him call your name across the lab.

But the blue glow dapples your face as you stare into the mirror on your desk, angled towards the picture of you and Luis, acceptance letters crumpled in your hands with your arms over each other’s shoulders, eyes glazed.

One too many drinks that night led to peppering his face with kisses, sliding those glasses off his face, admiring how pretty he looked all tipsy and breathless underneath you, watching all those cocky retorts disappear under your fingers. 

It’s hard to get over someone you’ll never stop seeing, and you’ve got a better chance of being fired than retiring early. Besides, if you love your job, you’ll suffer through anything to keep it, right? Even if that means forcing smiles at his open face.

With no one to console you, a locked door and curtains dressing the windows, you let the tears flow freely, wishing that the water only a few inches away would somehow absorb the tears, make you seem stronger than you really are. Somber music tinkles away to an end in the background, leaving you in obsolete silence that seems to swallow you whole.

A tap on the glass. Suspended motionless just beyond the barrier, electric blue undertones of his skin mesmerizing, highlighting elegant fins and swirling markings. Deep azure pools that lock onto yours, hair framing his face like a snapshot in time.

"Holy shit, shit, shit!" you blurt out loud before you can help it. Your pulse races to life, drinking in every feature you can, drawing an image that will never be up to scale; whoever can put his flowing, inky locks to delicate fins that frame his lithe, powerful frame into words should be standing in your place, because you sure can’t.

You swivel around, hyping yourself up even more at the fact that you’re the first scientist in the building to see him with your own eyes, fingers curled around your clipboard as you shuffle back.

But you’ve dotted your name and scribbled down the date only to jerk your eyes back to the empty space, as if he was never there. Only one piece of evidence remains, and even that flutters down to the depths you cannot see.

An iridescent scale.

<><><><>

Your voice is croaky from even more lack of sleep, hours of waiting by the glass in vain; the frog in your throat leaps out to greet Luis when he saunters over, leaning on his elbow that rests on the table, eyes darting from side to side to confirm what he already knows from ten minutes of absconded silence - you’re alone in the breakroom.

“Well?” he urges, eyes slicing down to check his watch. “Make it quick, mi amor. I’ve got a meeting in ten minutes.”

My love. How ironic that he still calls you that, it must slip from his mind on days like this. “Isn’t today your rest day-”

“Well?” he repeats, more urgently this time. And under his persistence, you’re less sure of your theory than before.

Your teeth pierce the chapped skin of your bottom lip, cracking it open, savoring the iron tang of blood that flows freely, even though you know it’ll come back to bite you in the ass later. The sting calms you.

“Experiment 003,” you begin, digging your fingernails into your palm for a split second before forcing your wavering hand to push the files towards him. “The mermaid-”

“Merman,” he corrects quickly, before his eyes go slightly wider than before and raises his hands in defense, again, as if his open palms will stop the silent words of hurt that batter his skin from your eyes.

“Merman,” you repeat, continuing, “isn’t really a merman.” 

“What?” Luis’ eyebrows fly up and he claws at the folder, flipping through the papers before staring back up at you in disbelief. “You have no evidence to support this!”

“But I saw him,” you insist, admitting what you had told yourself you weren’t going to reveal to him. How is it that his face still gets your tongue tied in your mouth, coaxing secrets without him even knowing? “And… it displays none of the traits found in the fisherman’s tales.”

“They’re all old men,” he says dismissively, and his nonchalance, once again, only serves to irk you and fuel your need to prove him wrong. “So what if they couldn’t see right?”

“But—”

“No buts,” he says with a tone of finality, and it doesn’t occur to you to speak back this time. The point’s been lost in your first plea, and the honey bees descend from his tongue to spike you everywhere, scorn you for trying to doubt him. “Just get back to work, and don’t bother me anymore, señorita. I have work to do.”

You’ve never been dismissed by him before, so when he sinks into his hands, rubbing circles into your eyes, you don’t move a muscle, wondering if there will be any further instruction.

But he lifts his chin, so slowly that his gaze sears everywhere that it touches until that flame gets put out by the bucket of boiling water bubbling to life in his eyes. That dull demeanor lying over irritation lies bare on his face, soaking through like wet newspaper, ink unintelligible but meaning clear. 

Get out.

<><><><>

It’s hard to find something more consistent than the steady lapping of water, kissing the top of the glass where it connects with your ceiling. You stare into the abyss, willing the creature to appear from its depths, but where the flowing water meets your demands, the being does not.

Your thoughts begin to wander. How exactly had you called it— no, him?

“The subject is male,” you hear Luis’ voice ring in your ear, as if a ghost of a person still standing with you, a shadow of what you hoped could be true. That day, there was no sound in the room except for the steady current of your tears washing your cheeks for the umpteenth time that week.

It’s probably not that. After all, it would take a creature with keen ears and a sharper mind to hear not only through the glass, but to recognize the pain that even the person who causes it cannot identify. But you’re desperate.

So you conjure up the strongest memory you have, one that surpasses all levels of guilt and anger and pain to the highest level of sorrow you’ve ever felt. The night your mother died.

Your eyes stay glued to the simple white cloth adorning her body, cupping her gently like the beings from above have descended to hold her in their heavenly hands, the idea that if you keep your gaze away from her, she’ll long for it once more and return to you.

But as much as you know she loves you, she remains still. And when you drag your reluctant eyes to grace her pale, limp hands, rubbing some warmth into her spindly fingers, fingers that fed you and dressed you. Arms that hugged you when you finished elementary school, kept your grades up with a raise that was never a promise, only an empty threat.

And the eyes that sparkled like yours, now dead. How similar you look to her, even now, hollow cheeks and irises that lose their cheer, wilting flowers like your dress that billows in the wind as you stand with your feet in the sea, grounding yourself against the waves that threaten to pull you away.

Why couldn’t you stay? Why did she abandon you in a cruel, motherless world that you know is common yet feels like a situation that will only ever apply to your pitiful self? Why does nothing last, if only for a fleeting moment in which you light her pyre and watch the flames engulf her until she’s nothing but a pile of ashes.

Before the wind can steal her away with its greedy fingers, you sweep her into a vase.

And that vase will stay in the second wooden shelf, the sturdiest one right above your desk, two inches away from the ledge, pressed against the chipped paint of your wall. You will never let her go. She will always be with you; in one way or another.

You’ll make sure of that.

Guilt isn’t the right word. There is no word to describe the torrents of how disgusted you are at yourself, and if there is, there shouldn’t be. You’ve confined your mother to these lands instead of accepting the peace she deserves.

And suddenly, observing the creature doesn’t seem as important as before. There are more pressing issues at hand, issues that might have something to do with your current lack of luck, as of late.

What you miss as you scamper around the room is the eyes that watch you from the darkness, sharp enough to crackle fire that would burn this whole place to the ground if he wished, but he waits. 

In silence as you hastily grab your bag from the coat rack, abandoning your jacket. He knows you’ll be back from this one action and relaxes his tense body.

As long as you come back.

<><><><>

Aquamarine darkness envelops the far side of the room, if the building you’re in even resembles a room. It must end somewhere, especially since the peacock lights flash back in a rhythmic pattern, always circling back to where you’re planted.

Rooted to the peaty soil that squelches around your rain boots that were required before stepping into… wherever your current location was. Of course, the admin team is never happy with what they have, and apparently one subject to prod and poke wasn’t enough.

So you’re sent in here, to gain more information, the rookie’s always the guinea pig for anything, right? To find the rest of them, if there are any. You’re doubting this idea as a whole theory itself, because what if he’s one of a kind? Special.

But that something gets closer and closer to you. Your eyes have become accustomed to the darkness, adapting to the shapes that spark your vivid imagination, the murky water swirling everywhere the inky mass touches. 

Eight feet and four inches is intimidating enough to scan behind the safety of your reinforced glass walls, bulletproof and all, and you’re not reassured by the idea that although you shouldn’t be scared, you are.

Only once have you seen him through the water, and that was enough to spark your interest. The flame of curiosity burns falsely in your stomach, washed out by the waves of fear. You feel like nothing but a small fish at his intense gaze, a gaze that frightens you, and it must show on your expression.

Within a matter of seconds he backs away, perhaps sensing your discomfort, and you realize that your initial hypothesis must’ve been correct; he can feel others' emotions. You wonder how this works for a creature that cannot communicate, at least not with you.

Something flashes through his eyes, storm clouds and thunder alike, and a low hiss pushes its way through his canine teeth, an attribute you hadn’t noticed until the sound hits your ears.

It is strange, the look on his face, with his hair moist and clinging to his neck as he bobs further away, weaving between the speckles of moss that float from your little island to him, gifts or warnings, you don’t know.

He takes them as warnings, it seems, with his tense, hostile expression that seems to appear from thin air, staring at you tersely, somewhat like a dolphin or a seal at the aquarium before dipping back into the water without a sound, silence filling the area where he was.

And although you’re perfectly aware that your fear has not yet subsided from crashing against your lungs, you admit to yourself that now that he’s gone, you miss the thrill.

Who would’ve thought you’d become so daring, hm?

<><><><>

But wait, it gets worse. You had assumed this was a one time thing, a test run with a temporary guinea pig that happened to be the rookie of the lab, and although you weren’t too happy with the arrangement, you were perfectly content with the idea of admiring him from a distance, especially after such a close encounter.

Yet no one gives you a heads up or a warning before you’re shoved into the same room again, fear licking at your spine as those flashing lights proceed further through the water. And after a while, the initial horror bypasses your system and you grow used to the thick silence hanging in the air, mingling with the musty scent of swamp water.

You don’t know what they’ve fed him this week. Maybe they forgot to clean his tank. Whoever’s in charge of his wellbeing obviously fucked up the one time you take a break to visit friends touring the city, because when you return, rested and fresh, ready to succeed, something’s wrong

You’ve never noticed it before, but there are scales scattered on his neck, a light blue color, tile shaped as if a button longing to be pressed. Those are the northern lights transferred from the sky to the sea, plastered onto him, hanging loosely so his gills can pulse. Open, shut, as you inhale sharply and exhale swiftly.

They light up in assortments of azure, carribean shades of the murky water, yet so much more vibrant. And as if the thrill wasn’t enough to make its fingers around your neck and restrict your breath, holding your silence as if the air would scare him away, he starts to sing.

Vertigo overwhelms your senses the moment his euphonic voice escapes from those lips, marinated on his tongue, deep and resonant. A dizzying feeling that causes you to stumble to your knees, red dots sparkling all along your vision.

And through the haze, you swear you can see him smirk, the corner of his lip twisting upward, as if this was the intended effect, like you’re supposed to feel as if you’re about to throw up and dance and cry and jump for joy, all at once.

Guess what else you were right about?

He’s no merman.

You forget the word, the term to describe the hooks cast into the sea to lure unsuspecting victims, hooks that are merely sweet, velvety tones that are all hollow truths, a desire to be craved and a hunger that can never be satiated.

A warning to be reckoned, to be heard, to be feared.

A siren.

<><><><>

“What the actual fuck?” You restrain your voice to keep yourself from screeching, which you know you would do if you were alone, which you never truly are with the walls that hear everything, along with throwing yourself at him and wrestling him to the floor. 

“You said it yourself, he’s a siren! And you could’ve just died!” Luis’ hands are twisted his hair, madly clutching at their roots, and his concern for you is so profoundly surprising it sparks a laugh from you.

“I was fine, thanks,” you snap back, drumming your fingers on the table as you stare directly at his face, a face that seems crazy to love now. So many times you wonder what could’ve been, and now you’re wasting time sitting here with this fool.

“You. Could’ve. Died.” Luis accentuates each word with the ending sound as a growl, as if his voice will instill some sense of security in you, but you find yourself getting burning as he continues, “How could you even think about doing something so stupid?”

“Me?” Your voice has found a perch high in your vocal range, and it won’t come down. “Whose idea was this in the first place?” You scan his face for any hint of remorse, but there is none, and nothing in his expression offers an answer.

“Mi amor-”

“Stop fucking calling me that! You don’t get to say that like- like we still have something! Do you even know what love is?” Luis’ eyes go stony, a boulder pushed up the wrong side of the hill, and you’re not strong enough to keep it up. 

And it all comes crashing down.

“Love?” A dry chuckle erupts from his mouth, expression conforming to both disbelief and pity, both uncalled for and unwanted. “Excuse me? Of course I know what love is, but it’s a little hard to love someone that’s constantly putting themselves in danger!”

His accent is sinking further and further into his words with his newfound irritation, irritation aimed at you for no apparent reason. Maybe something’s going on at home, but does that give him the authority to take it out on you? Hell no.

You stand, far too loudly, and everyone watches you get ready to make your exit without another word, because what are you meant to say to something like that? Are you so unrecognizable, within less than half a year? How easy is it to leave your old self behind?

The one that clung to him. Is that his problem?

You brush past his chair on the way out, and out of the corner of your narrowed eyes, you watch him twist the band on his finger, flicking his fingers back and forth, an absent habit he’s had since your sorority years.

But before you can pass him completely, he glances behind him and rolls his chair back, maneuvering it to avoid your feet. You’re about to tell him to fuck off when he draws his eyes back up, lingering on your lips, and you know what he’s thinking.

“Wait,” he says quietly, voice soft and barely audible, but he’s stopped rolling his chair back to tilt his head up towards you.

“What?” you snap, at first unknowingly but strangely reveling in the way he flinches at your harshness, flitting back to the day he had dismissed your concerns so flagrantly. You justify your actions by determining that he deserves it. His eyes darken again as a frown puckers his lips and the space between his eyebrows. 

“Don’t… just… don’t leave, please…” he stutters, his usual confidence nowhere to be found, struggling with the words before speaking again. “Can we… talk?”

“No, because there’s nothing to talk about. Besides, I have work to do.”

He lets out a small sigh at your response, to the reference of that event, irritation fluctuating in his tone. “Work? You’ve been working for four months, and you’ve found absolutely nothing.” And so the truth slips out, whether branching from his will or against it. This is how he really feels, huh?

"You don't get to tell me that." you mutter. "I'm the one documenting him, not you. You sit in your little room behind the glass, perfectly safe, and not once have you thought about swapping our roles. You don't love me, and I honestly have no idea why you even bother to lie to me about it."

Luis grits his teeth, his irritation and anger clear in his eyes, those eyes that were once pools of admiration sinking into the depths of everything you thought was between you. "What are you talking about? That's not true, I... of course I love you!" Then he rises from his chair, taking a step towards you, as if you’d allowed that.

You step back, pressing against the door. Your fingers creep behind your back to the handle and his eyes flicker to them, to the hand that’s grasping it so tightly it goes whiter than his face as he retreats to the table, pale with horror.

“I wouldn’t… ever hurt you,” he murmurs.

“Then why did you marry her?” you ask, voice soft. It’s a question you’ve been tossing in your mind, a simple game of catch that started grabbing rules from all sorts of games, pickleball and why he chose her, badminton and how you could’ve done better, volleyball in the victory in which his wife revels, and in which you wallow, losing yet another thing you loved.

“Because you said it was temporary!” he grumbles, sliding his teeth over his bottom lip, refusing to make the very same eye contact he was practically begging for an hour ago, in this very meeting room where you would stare at your department head as she provided strict instructions, catching Luis’ fleeting glances at your side profile.

“Isn’t that all we ever were?” you whisper. “Temporary?”

The air shatters between you. Finally, the unspoken truth that you both have carried for so long in your hearts is out, and it feels like a burden has been lifted off your shoulders. You can see it in his expression, however horrified, there’s some form of acceptance. He’s known this for as long as you have.

“What… happened to you? To us?” he asks quietly, looking at you like you’re a stranger, fractured parts of you discarded behind you like a broken mirror, one and the same but reflecting another person.

The door clicks open, squeaking as it swings to show you away, to the exit, finally leaving behind what you thought you could never let go of. But you pause before you leave, entertaining his question. When you have your answer, you don’t hesitate to deliver it.

“Sometimes you lose people. And there’s nothing you can do about it.” 

<><><><>

As the rerun comes through, cracked on the cheap speaker, fading quickly, you waltz around your room, feeling serene enough in the moment, losing yourself to the melody. How many hours have you wasted soaring through the skies in your office, only to plummet back down like a shot bird when you acknowledge the stack of papers spawning on your desk?

But when the hard day’s stresses melt away to the sway of your hips and your however offkey voice, no one is there to judge you. Luis isn’t chastising you about anything, and it’s good enough for you.

When the chorus swells, you open your mouth and belt out the lyrics, hoping the grainy walls can contain your voice, but the volume seems obnoxious, even for you. That’s when you notice the shadow on the floor towering over you, and you spin around.

Your eyes are glued to his mouth, to the words that are achingly pure and smooth, somehow heard through the glass. Illuminated by the tank lights, ethereal tones blending perfectly with the recording, enhancing it in a way you’d never heard. 

Raw emotion, the longing in his voice, however foreign to you, the curve of his accent, words you’ve never heard. All so new to you, chills racing down your spine, tickling at your back.

And when the song crests, his unearthly high notes soar with a beauty strong enough to bring tears, tears that you have to hold back in case someone were to walk in. When he seals his mouth with a smile—a private, intimate thing that feels like it belongs to you, you’re sufficiently spellbound, the world ceasing to exist.

His eyes flash in the water, flitting behind you, to the rattling of your door, and only after you’ve twisted over your shoulder to verify there’s no one there does he choose to make his exit. You see the corner of his tail flick, you hope in temporary goodbye, before you close your eyes and replay his voice in your head.

Over, and over, and over again, until all you can think about is him. How wonderful would it be if he was real, hm? You see him as an illusion now, you suppose, because how do you ever know something is truly real before you can feel it under your fingertips?

And when the voice is gone, fading from your mind into the echoes of your room, vibrations clamoring to bury the sweet sound that you long for now that it’s not with you anymore, you realize there is something you’ve been doing wrong.

Something that you must fix right away. Someone you’ve kept for far too long, yet another person you’ve lost and tried to bring back.

Your mother.

<><><><>

The ocean is trying to draw you in again, rhythmic waves pooling at your feet, urging you to come sleep in its embrace, take an everlasting nap to the lullaby of the water. But you’re not so easily fooled. You remember all you’ve lost, all you’ve regained, and how you’ve been forced to let everything go.

Not for your gain, but for theirs. You suppose scientific curiosity was not what you were chasing this entire time. Your resignation letters were turned in promptly, along with an anonymous report to the people you knew you could trust to shut down what is undoubtedly an illegal operation.

Will Luis be caught in the crossfire? You’re sure of it, and although you’ll never stop caring for the man you first loved, only shreds of compassion remind, and even those shreds are not enough to bail him out. 

You are far more concerned for the experiment, hope that he survives. If there’s anything you’ve learned during your time at the laboratory, it’s that no matter what branch of government, no one is merciful to anything different.

So you call upon all the gods watching, if there are any, and pray to them for forgiveness. Plead to them for mercy, and spin the lid off the vase that you’ve seen so many times, staring at it absentmindedly while studying, unable to understand a concept without your mother to explain it.

But like with all things and people, you’ve learned to live without her. And you’ve kept her spirit with you for far too long, haunting you in dreams, dreams she shouts your name in, screaming for peace. 

You break those shackles with a gentle toss, keeping the vase cradled in your arms as the ashes pour out into the water. Taking a step back to avoid any sticking with you, you dig your feet back into the dry sand, watching the dark particles disappear into the clear water.

She is free. Your mother is finally free.

A high pitched call returns your initial sob, and you swipe at your face, bleary eyed and trying to get a good look at what it could’ve been. The assumption it could be a dolphin has you reaching behind you for your bag, shuffling through its contents, pictures of you and your mother. You will not abandon those, for memories are precious, you know this well.

But when you bring your eyes back to the sea, you see a humanoid figure in the distance, raising their hand in greeting to you. Tawny hair that reflects the descending sun, a simple white shirt, gloriously unbuttoned, and khaki beige shorts.

You do not recognize him, and so out of fear, you retreat further and further into your backyard, all thoughts of admiring the sunset gone, as the man approaches. You reach for your stuff as you stumble backwards, never taking your eyes off of him and this plays in your favor.

Everything about him is so different, so foreign to you, and when he speaks, his voice is raspy, and you feel like a tourist all over again, in a city where you don’t belong. You don’t deserve this, to be standing here.

You lost him, right? But you could never mistake those eyes.

And now he’s human. There are no scales, no gills, no affront to his identity, one and the same as you, and yet he feels so different. You recognize his eyes, they haven’t changed from their cerulean blue, orbs crafted from the sea itself, forged by Poseidon’s hand, a statue in the hands of the gods, but so much is missing.

The raven feathers of his hair that would’ve looked stunning in the night, now out of place and far too vibrant against the mellow shades slowly darkening, becoming more somber. 

Twinkling lights strung in the space where the muscle stretches as he twists behind him, as if checking the sea, now gone dim and dissolved into the pale, unsullied skin of his neck.

You suppose you should be happy his voice hasn’t changed. With just one word, he lulls you back to him, and you can’t remember thinking of the differences between the experiment you had so vigorously studied and the man standing in front of you, not to be studied, but to be loved.

“Hi.” He reaches up, ruffles the back of his head, as if that will rattle out all the words spinning around in his mind, mirroring your own turmoiled thoughts. 

“Hi.” You mimic his actions, running sharp nails against the side of your scalp, failing to push stray strands away from your face. Through your hair, you peer at him, the sun long gone behind him, and parts of him are hidden again, like you’re hiding pieces of him from your conscious mind, fearing losing him again.

Most mystifying of all was how right it feels to have him standing right in front of you, finally equal, aside from the few inches that he has on you. Those depths of ocean blue lingering in his eyes grounds you, realizing how many times you’ve looked into those same eyes, wondering exactly what he’s thinking of.

Now you can know. And you’re not about to pass up the opportunity and let fear engulf you like you’ve let it usurp your mind so many times before.

"It's still you in there, isn't it?" you ask softly.

He smiles, and your heart skips at the familiar gesture, a smile you’ve unsurprisingly missed. "It is. I wanted to see you again."

"But how? How’d you… do this? And why come back?" You step closer, drinking in each subtle nuance of his new appearance. It’s appropriate for him, nothing too flashy, blending into the background. Aside from that halo of blond hair pressed to his forehead, slick with salt water.

“You freed me,” he says quietly, eyes searching your body, as if he’s trying to ingrain an image of you into his head. You did the same, not too long ago. But there was a need for it then, and no need for it now.

Reaching out tentatively, you trace the contour of his neck, half expecting to feel residual traces of his missing bioluminescence. Only warm skin meets your fingers, and a low sigh from his lips, and now that he’s here, under your touch, you know that he’s real. Not just for your sanity, but in reality, as well.

“You don’t owe me anything,” you say, just to clarify, because you assume the last thing you need is to owe a mythical sea creature. “We’ll call it even since you didn’t eat me.” He barks a soft laugh, a seal-like sound, before lacing your fingers with his onto his cheek, pressing your hand further into his skin.

 "I changed so I could be with you without barriers. So we could truly understand one another." He gazes meaningfully into your eyes. "If you'll have me."

“I don’t even know your name,” you say, breathless, because haven’t you expected all of your loved ones to come back to you just like this, before inevitably accepting it’ll never happen? And now it is.

“My name?” That goddamn smirk, whether he is able to communicate or not, whether he’s human or not, tells you all you need to.

“Hm?”

“Leon.”

“Leon,” you test out, rolling the name on your tongue, causing him to scrunch up his nose.

“What? You do not like it?”

“No, no,” you say, with a chuckle. “It suits you.”

His expression relaxes, frown vanishing as he pulls you closer, leaning forward to rest his chin on your shoulder as he takes your other hand. A familiar tune thrums through your ear, reaching your brain at supersonic speeds, cruising into your blood. The first song he ever sang for you, and now both the memory and his voice seem so far away compared to this moment.

A single moment. Suspended in time, lovers finally reunited, pair after pair failing like incorrect puzzle pieces until now, you’ve found the one. 

And this time, you’re never letting go.

<><><><>

The stars arrange themselves in Leon’s eyes, constellations spelling out a story as you gaze down at him wholeheartedly, loving him with all your spirit and throwing caution to the wind. 

His gaze flickers from time to time, like if he truly blinks, you’ll be gone with the night breeze, a stray leaf on the sand, misplaced. 

“Did you like being a siren?” Leon’s eyes squeeze shut, head shifting on where it lies in your lap, hand creeping onto your knee.

“It’s all I’ve ever known,” he says timidly. “But you showed me more. I didn’t want to hurt people anymore after seeing you.”

“Me?” Your laugh is soft, melodious to his ears, and it soothes a little bit of the ache that has been forming since the day you arrived at the laboratory. “How’d you even find me?”

“Your mother,” he replies, voice soft. “I sensed her, and with her came you. And somehow, my father obliged in my wishes to… abandon my colony.”

“Abandon?” You quirk an eyebrow in concern.

“I can never return,” he says, but his tone is light and airy, unconvincingly so. “But I found that I would give the sea, my family, for you, even if it’s all I’ve ever known. There is nothing left for me there.”

“But you shouldn’t have,” you whisper back. “Give up all that, for me? You could’ve just visited once in a while… I wouldn’t have minded.”

“And yet I would find myself longing for your touch, even on the days that all seemed well, the ocean’s beauty is but a teardrop in comparison to yours.” Ever the charmer.

“You don’t… regret it?” Leon shakes his head.

“How could I? What part of my life would I regret if I gave something up to spending even a fraction of it with you? All those days, from the sun rising to the moon rising, and you were right there, even if you weren’t under my fingers.”

“You were beautiful,” you admit. “But…”

“And I suppose all along,” he continues, “I was truly just bait for my colony. It is better that I have left them, better to leave them safe where they are happy. Where I am now happy, with you, with your beautiful face and pretty voice.”

“Pretty voice?” You flush, hoping you can mask it as an abnormal overheating technique. He doesn’t seem to notice. “Really?”

“You always look so lovely when you sing,” he muses. “Sing a song for me, please?”

You don’t know what brings you to actually do it. Is it the warmth of his hair splayed out on your thighs, or his eager expression as his eyes drag upward, flitting to your lips. You hum a tune and instantly feel at ease, perhaps you should’ve pursued a life of music.

Music. It doesn’t sound as absurd as it did throughout high school and college, when you scorned the same people who have now grown famous for their voices. You saw them as lazy, when you should’ve seen them as talented.

You hold out a note, gazing towards the sea, wondering if your mother is watching you right at this moment. You wonder if she would be content with everything you’ve done in your life, if she’s forgiven you enough to let you have this peace. The peace you once denied her.

Leon’s approval comes in a hum of his own, snapping you out of your thoughts. His hand reaches upward, trailing your cheek before he tilts his head up and you lean forward and kiss him, and the seconds rush by far too quickly before he pulls away, lips already quite red, and the corner of his mouth ticks upward, exposing the pearl white of his grin.

“Just as perfect as the last time,” he murmurs, “my starry eyed singer.”

[spxllcxstxr]

Kintsugi • K.R

(Gif not mine)

Request: Pls pls I need Kendall x young reader wife with a kid living in a remote place away from all the post waystar drama — anon

Summary: Six months later, Kendall still believes he's broken

Warnings: fem!reader (referred to as girl and mommy), usage of mommy and daddy but in pure parental terms, you have an unnamed daughter, rehab mention, kendall takes meds and goes to therapy now, past suicide implication/mention?, normal ken stuff, spoilers for the end of succession

Word Count: 1.2k (I didn't think it was gunna be this long lmao)

A.N: this was a little angsty im not gunna lie lmao, I’m going feral over this request—I just want Ken to be HAPPY, not enough happy Kendall gifs, also i am not entirely great with writing modern bros so like sorry about the characterization? first kendall piece so if you have any tips let me know, hope you all enjoy!

Kintsugi - a Japanese art form that involves repairing broken pottery with gold

•

"Ken? Ken honey do you want to join us at the beach today?" Your words cut through the painful silence of your master bedroom, shrouded in darkness despite it being past noon.

Kendall gives no indication that he heard you; no vague grunt or shift in movement. He just lays there--the blanket covering everything below his nose as his eyes stay closed. He isn't sleeping, you've been married to him long enough that his shuddering breaths and still as stone rigid posture was a poor attempt to convince you otherwise.

It’s like he thinks the blanket is the only thing holding him together. Like if he leaves that spot he’ll crumble to pieces right in front of you.

Your heart drops just looking at him. Being away from the city had obviously done some good, along with his month long visit to rehab, but Ken was still…healing.

You kiss his forehead before leaving, telling your disappointed daughter that daddy wouldn't be joining you today.

"It's one of daddy's bad days?" She asks once you feet hit the sand. Her childish voice laced with her innocence almost makes you tear up.

"It is, sweetie..." You nod, before quickly distracting her with placing your towels down and bringing out water bottles from her little pink lunchbox.

The ocean is what occupies her little body for the first hour or so. She jumps over the little waves and collects sea shells. Like what any parent would do, you snap photos of her with the biggest grin on her face.

Eventually, though, the two of you end up in the sand, using her plastic bucket and shovel to build a castle fit for a queen. She's actually not half bad, you notice, as the usual clumsy movements of a toddler are no longer present when she details her sandcastle.

“How’re my girls?”

You look up from the sand beneath your fingers to see your husband, clad in shorts and t-shirt.

“Daddy!” Your daughter shrieks, practically stomping all over the sandcastle the two of you were working on to get to Kendall.

She hugs his knees, squeezing them between her little arms, and he crouches down to hug her back.

Your husband smiles and it’s enough to convince your daughter—but not you.

He's tired, you notice; though it wouldn't take a rocket scientist to figure that one out. At just a glance it looks as if your husband has aged 50 years in six months. His eyes are sunken, not mention the dullness of his usually bright brown eyes. Kendall's normally sun-kissed skin now a deathly grey, which makes sense, he has barely left your bedroom much less the house. It’s almost as if someone had taken a spoon and hollowed out everything that made him human. Frown lines are etched into his face, your heart almost shatters at the overpowering aura of sadness and despair surrounding him.

Six months isn't enough time to wash away the years at Waystar.

You smile at him as your daughter takes his hand and drags him to the crumbling sandcastle.

Once he sits down he kisses you, placing a large hand on the side on your face. You taste the mint of the mouthwash he must've just used before his trek down here. Kissing Kendall was addicting, it always was, but with your daughter's groan of disgust you slowly pull away from him.

"Oh don't be like that kiddo, that's just what mommies and daddies do when they're in love." Kendall teases, ruffling her hair in the process.

She sticks her tongue out before turning her attention back on the ruins of the castle in front of her. Instead of crying about the state of it, she happily starts rebuilding with the help of you and Ken.

One eye never leaves his figure.

This sort of mood swing isn’t uncommon, for years you’ve experienced Kendall’s drastic moods, but this certainly wasn’t one of his highs.

The sandcastle slowly morphs into a sandkingdom; once she starts she never wants to stop. That is, until your daughter finally gets tired after the sun sets and she curls into Kendall’s lap.

You know you should get back to the house, it’s late, but it’s just too peaceful out here, alone on the beach.

Careful not to stir the little girl in his lap, Kendell leans his head on your shoulder, shifting closer to your warm figure. The stars flicker above you--a sight you almost never saw in the city. You take a deep breath before kissing your husband's recently buzzed head. Kendall hums, nuzzling even closer into you, like he was trying to burrow underneath your skin so you never had to leave him.

"I love you, Kendall. And we're ok." You whisper, the words getting eaten by the crashing waves just feet away from the two of you. Still, he hears you, you can tell by the sniffle against your shirt. Your daughter groans in her sleep, shifting.

He swallows roughly at your words.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/n)…I fucked it.” Ken chokes out quietly, trying not to disturb the child. “I fucked it and I’m broken.”

His tears seep into your shirt. You angle your head down, your nose brushing against the top of his head.

"Oh Ken honey..." Your own lip wobbles at your husband's vulnerability. "You're not broken...you were never broken..."

"Then I'm--I'm fucking cracked, (Y/n)! I'm just not whole anymore! I don’t know if I ever was!"

Thoughts race through your head. Kendall had been doing better. He was consistent with taking his meds and he went to therapy every week. What if he tried to--? You clutch him closer to you, trying not to make yourself spiral when Kendall needed you.

His body shakes with silent sobs, your daughter still peacefully sleeping, unaware of the world around her.

The cool ocean breeze dances across your skin. You take a deep breath.

"Have you ever heard of kintsugi, Ken?"

"What? I'm having a complete breakdown and you're asking me about whatever the fuck that is?" He huffs, annoyed.

"Just listen to me Ken, it'll go somewhere." You kiss the top of his head to comfort his suddenly tense figure beside you. He eases at the contact. "I read in some stupid magazine that it's a Japanese technique where they repaired broken pots and stuff with gold." Kendall lifts his head to look at you. His eyes are red with unshed tears and his eyebrows are furrowed, listening to you. "They were made whole again; made more beautiful and were stronger than before."

Kendall purses his lips as you bring a hand up to stroke his tear stained cheek. Your other hand lightly strokes through your daughter's hair, careful not to rouse her.

"We'll be your gold, Kendall."

All at once the tension leaves his body, tears cascading down his face. His once dimly lit eyes brighten to reflect the stars above.

"Right," He nods, almost like he doesn't know how to respond to what you just said. "My gold..." His eyes flick between you and your daughter before his head settles back onto your shoulder, almost as if he couldn't take anymore emotions for the day.

You sigh, leaning your own head against his. Closing your eyes, you let the sound of the waves wash over the otherwise silent night.

The stars still shine above you and the saltiness of the ocean tinges the air.

You were all going to be alright.

•

[venusbby]

sketches and sunsets

characters/pairing: itoshi rin x artist!reader

warnings: they are so stupid and awkward and cute but i just wanted to write this because i found my old sketchbook from years ago lol. not proofread, sorry if there are any typos <3

the sound of hurried scribbling and rough strokes on the paper filled the room as he tried his best to stifle a yawn. he couldn't help but cringe a little at the possibility of you seeing his weak attempt to do so, eyes focused on your form as you continued to bring those quick and light lines to life in your sketchbook.

with your gaze flickering between the book on your lap and him in front of you, you made the same mistake over and over- making eye contact.

although you were looking back and forth, his eyes stayed on you and it was more nerve wracking than any thing. it was as if he was studying you and creating a sketch in his mind, and there's nothing more scary than finding out what you look like from his eyes.

"sorry, uh, if you're tired already."

rin was looking at you already, but he wasn't, you realized, when he finally looked right at you this time. if not your eyes, then what was he looking at?

for you, as an artist, (not sure you'd want to call yourself that because it takes you a few months to come back to your sketchbook after each drawing) the eyes are the most important. they're your favorite part to start with because they somehow guide you to draw the rest of the face. (even if it might not be the valid first step according to some art teachers.)

so for some reason you didn't really understand what rin was looking at other than your eyes.

speaking of eyes, his were really pretty.

you don't need him to know that, and you also don't need him to know that you spent more time than usual to sketch out his pretty eyes.

"no, i'm not tired." he said, almost finding his voice unfamiliar because of how long it had been since either of you spoke.

there was no special lighting except the warm, orange hues of the sun coming from the window of your bedroom and rin was in his usual clothes: a hoodie and sweats, because there was no reason to dress up. he lived next door anyway, so if there was a plan to go out and eat street food he'd just change into some jeans. your favorite watermelon slice pillow looking smaller than usual trapped between his arms as he used them for support to avoid slouching.

you sat a few feet away from the bed where he was, partially because you didn't believe you had the guts to stay so close while you studying his features. some artist part of you and some part of you that has fallen for the boy next door thinks its too intimate.

rin gulped. was it him or were the strands of your hair looking a warmer shade because of the sunlight? and your skin was glowing. you just did that thing you always do when you're focused, just like you were a few weeks ago when he had asked you to choose which pictures he should post on his instagram that was gaining followers left and right after blue lock.

how much longer?

he might just end up saying the things he's thinking if he looks at you any longer. saying that you're driving him crazy.

"alright, just a little detailing left. im sorry." you mumbled, now squinting so you could see better the minute details that you started adding, like his lashes.

"stop apologizing," rin said calmly. "i know it takes time."

you quietly nibbled on the inside of your cheek, feeling your fingers go slightly numb and hesitantly tossing your pencil on the study table nearby. "done."

rin moved. he moved closer.

he sat on the edge of the bed now, right in front of you. you felt your back ache from how you sat in the most uncomfortable position in your chair. he looked at you expectantly, holding his hand out.

this is the first time you've drawn after months. this is the first time you've drawn your best friend.

the reality of it all is just sinking into you and the burning sensation under your skin grew. you asked him if you could draw him and now that it's done you don't want to show it to him because it's a little embarrassing that you'd never put this much your heart and soul into a drawing before.

with a soft exhale, you gave the sketchbook and cracked your knuckles to relieve the pent up pressure. rin scanned the drawing from top to bottom, those pretty eyes stopping for a second at some point of the image. you licked your dry lips, hoping you didn't accidentally fuck up his features in a hurry.

he set the sketchbook down and your back straightened against the wood of your chair.

"i like it," he nodded once, blinking a few times to use the same eyes that he saw just now on paper, the prettier version.

"im glad," you smiled, anxiety defusing slowly. "it's been a long time since i drew. you're pretty easy to draw. wait, not in that way-"

"i love it." he admitted.

"oh, okay." you smiled wider, and while you thought of something more to say, rin beat you to it.

"i wanna draw you too." he mumbled, leaning in so, so slightly. "teach me, so i can draw you. i don't think i'll be able to make you look as pretty as you look in real life, because i'm not even close to decent at drawing."

your mouth opened and closed like a fish. you weren't even sure you blinked for the next five seconds- and oh, since when were you leaning in too? this was the most rin had talked in one go.

"are you.. calling me pretty?"

he took his time to answer that. gosh, you were too close. maybe you would've been able to draw his eyes even better if he was this close before.

"...yes."

rin's hand hovered just below your chin. he was hesitating. he wondered if his face looked as hot as it felt. he wondered if you were going to back off. you didn't. he gulped once more. "can i kiss you?"

it was too late. words had already died in your throat and you were surprised you even had it in you to nod repeatedly, slowly.

kissing rin itoshi while the sun had almost disappeared. what a story.

his lips were softer than you had imagined. and he seemed just as lost as you were, but even he didn't care. because he was kissing you.

his thumb and index holding your chin and your hand coming up to disappear into his dark locks, slightly pushing him closer so you could feel it more.

rin was almost on the edge of the bed and he was going to fall if he tried to get any closer. so he pulled away and guided you to sit on the bed beside him. his hands stayed glued to your waist as it all continued with fervor until you ended up lying on the bed staring at the ceiling that was covered in the green glow in the dark stars with your chests heaving and lips yearning for more. he remembered helping you put them up after school a few years ago.

your sketchbook laid right between you both.

your intertwined fingers didn't let go until it was dark outside your window and you guys heard your mom announcing that she had home from work.

rin only had a few favorite days to look back to. that day was one of them.

[anonzentimes]

LONG ASS ASK INKOMING ZEN so its super cold in brazil today so typing is a little hard and there might be weird typos fkshdkjd but

when i was like 14 i had online friends that were also 14 and were into danganronpa but all they talked abt was the flaws of the series and how much they hated the more problematic aspects of it, it was a constant wave of gender discourse and sexuality discourse and nagito is a bad portrayal of mental illnesses and miu iruma is too sexual and this character is bad cause of xyz and that character is bad because of this and that and honestly whatever the fuck else you can argue about this series about, whenever i mentioned that danganronpa seemed fun and id like to get into it my friends would tell me that its not worth it, that the series is fucking horrid that i should run the other way and be glad i never entered the hellhole that is being a danganronpa fan

so thanks to this and like constant fucking weird shit coming out of the hell hole that is the fucking dr fandom on Twitter for like, four whole years I straight up didn't touch the series. a series that I was so fully aware that I would love btw, because i was always into gorey art and i found the art of dr so pretty and the characters had such intresting designs and the pink blood was so cool and i love the killing game genre and the mystery solving aspect, of danganronpa seemed so cool, i did not go near this series with a fucking 10-ft Pole

until literally maybe some months ago at 18 years old a streamer I like said on stream something like "oh yeah danganronpa is fucking awesome im so glad i played it" and I was like fuck it, this guy has high standards, if he likes it it cant be that bad. and so I downloaded trigger happy havoc and i was so pleasantly surprised by it, sure case 2 is a case that exists but like other than that i immediately fell in love with this franchise, i loved almost everything about the game, then i started sdr2 and nagito took over every single part of my brain within 0.2 seconds of gameplay AND DR2 IS SO PEAK JUST IN GENERAL udg was super fucking fun i love touko and komarus relationship and the warriors of hope so much, dr3 was awsome even if i didnt really care for future arc despair hope and 2.5 were awasome the end of drv3 hit me like a truck and it genuenly took me a couple hours to understand that my beloved class 77b wasnt just retconned out of existence and currently im trying to kill executive dysfunction and procrastination and read dr0 and again want to replay dr2 cause my hyperfixated ass would rather play the game when she should be alseep to know what happens next than play it when she isn't too tired to understand whats happening lmao

and after i was done with the series i sat down and thought about how i let 14 year olds on the internet who im not even friends with anymore keep me away from something that now i hold so dear and close to my heart, and i wonder how many people who would love danganronpa will never give the series a chance because not only does the wider interner find it cringe but the fandom constantly tell potential new fans to stay away and act like its the worst midea ever written, the way some people are unable to enjoy what they love without guilt is so sad because not only does it affect them but also others

and this is super personal but i wonder how danganronpa would have impacted me if i got into it back when i found out about it at 14, how much different having danganronpa to hang on to would have made my life when i was burning out at school because i was trying to survive neurodivergency hell with undiagnosed autism and possible adhd

dangabronpa is awsome i love it so so much

YOU JUST MADE ME FEEL SO UNBELIEVABLY YOUNG OH MY GOD. I HEARD ABOUT DANGANRONPA WHEN I WAS 11 I'M PRETTY SURE AHHHH HAHA!!! Overall I think this raises a good lesson that we should trust our guts and from our own opinions on media. Look into things you're curious about, learn if it's worth it yourself, and come to your own conclusions! I feel bad for those who never get to understand Nagito Komaeda, let alone know he exists. This franchise has some negatives but the positives outweigh the issues entirely to me and I wish people gave it more of a chance. dangabronpa is awsome INDEED lmfao.

[rrxnjun]

(im really stupid but i hope u like this fanletter 😭)

hello <3 this is for my favourite writer on tumblr; to the the same writer who does not realise how much their works could mean to someone, the lovely @rrxnjun 🎀 !!!

so, i found your blog at the beginning ot this month– november, 2023, and now that the month's about to end, i have nearly finished reading all your nct works.

to me, this month is the most special one of this year. why? because i found your blog, your stories– some pieces of your mind. i found you through one of those nct fanfic recs, 'take the stairs - njm' being the first work i read from you. it was sweet, it made me happy. and then i read the other two parts of the 'simplify romance' series, which will always hold a special place in my heart.

this year has been the worst for me, with no one for me to lean on to, weird identify crisis shit, and losing myself in this tiring process of growing up. but you know what? you saved 2023 for me. when no one's words could speak to me, yours did. you make me feel a little less lonely.

im a silly teenager, who never read sad/mainly angsty stories before i found you because i was scared, i was confident i'd cry. and i did. i gathered the courage to read angst only because you'd written it, and it was so worth it. ive stayed up so many nights this month just to read your works in peace and privacy, hidden from my family, and then spend the days thinking about how you literally create art, and telling my bestfriends about it. you are blessed. you are phenomenal. no amount of thank yous or i love yous could be enough for me to express my gratitude. you've made me feel so at peace with my thoughts sometimes and you've made me feel like i'm not alone. you have magic in your hands. i owe you so much, i wish i could gift you something, but sadly im still a minor and theres a few years until i finish uni and then get a job, and then i promise i'll get you something, because i am so lucky to be able to read your stories for free. you deserve so much more than followers, likes and reblogs. each one of your fics have made me tear up and all of them are too special for me.

this month ive read all of your nct dream '00 line fics, and my favourite was 'happier than ever' which i finished a week ago— AND I SWEAR THAT FIC DESTROYED ME 😭😭😭 it had me bawling my eyes out for two hours on a school night i love it so so fucking much, i literally think about it daily and i told all my friends about it and im so in love with it, please tell me, for my inner peace that renjun and the reader ended up getting together and being fine because im gonna cry over it for the rest of my life IDC IF THEY DIDNT END UP TOGETHER please lie to me and tell me they did 💔💔💔💔💔😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

i want you to know, and to remember this whenever you feel even a little like giving up— you have magic, bar, don't ever let go of that magic.

your stories make me want to heal and to help everyone heal. to be loved and to love everyone. to be cared for and care for everyone. your magic helps me survive my days with a little smile. thank you so much for everything you've done for me, without realising you're helping me live.

every single word i wrote here– i swear on everything i have, i genuinely mean it. you are the best thing that happened this year :) i hope that one day someone will love you as much as i love your blog.

(me when i talk about your work)

P.S. permission to take a screenshot of your blog and paste it to my scrapbook by which i can remember my teenage years that your stories mended, please?

thank you for reading, ily ❤️

- your biggest fan (hopefully no one's more dedicated!!) 💘

when i saw this in my inbox i got so emotional i couldnt reply immidiately because i genuinely wanted to sob. this is so so sweet and it mustve taken a long time to type out and i appreciate you a WHOLE lot, not only for this, but also for supporting me sm over the last month. :,)

take the stairs is a very sweet and fun fic and i am glad you found my blog through this one, haha. the simplify romance series holds my favorite fics and i PROMISE to finish jeno's entry at the beginning of the next year!! it HAS to be done. it means a lot to me that you took the time of your day to read my works and that you enjoyed them so much to let me know.

i am happy to hear that my work could help you through some hard times. as a reader on this platform as well, i do know that feeling very well and i could never imagine being that person to someone, but i am glad my words could be there for you when no one else could. hearing this makes all the effort feel worth it, and it's something i'll think of whenever im having a hard time with my work again. i also hope life is nicer to you in the future, and if you ever need someone, my inbox is always open.

having my fics be called art is something i never imagined could happen. it's beyond what i think about my work, but i am honored to hear this compliment, truly. despite being a writer i cant find the words to express my gratitude towards you and your supportive words right now >:( it does mean the whole entire world to me. please do NOT worry about "paying me back" or something, i do this because it's what i love doing and sharing my work with others makes me happy, so an ask like this is more than enough for me. you made me feel really appreciated and i will remember and treasure your kind words forever.

happier than ever is definitely a heavier read, since it's partly from personal experience, hh. i tend to project on renjun a lot so take this as a warning for my other renjun fics LMAO. TT this fic has a special place in my heart and hearing you talk so highly about it makes me all warm on the inside hhhhh my love langugage is words of affirmation stop this or ill cry. i enjoy leaving my fics open-ended to interpretation of the reader, so whatever you feels fits their story is how the story ends for you. <3

i will definitely use this ask as a reminder to not give up when i feel like doing so. it really brought me a lot of strength :) thank you for calling my writing magic. i never imagined someone describing it that way, but it does feel good to hear haha

knowing that my work helped somebody and made them heal and feel all sorts of emotions inside makes me feel at peace. thank you so much. SO much.

also u really make me want to bawl with that scrapbook comment. cant believe im an important part of someone's teenage years :((

once again, words cant express how much this means to me. thank you and i hope my fics continue to be a source of good things for you :) i will think of this often. ily

[thanaredreamtof]

Soundtracks for current threads: @loveaffairxc

Justin x Felicity

This has been one of my favourite threads to ever write if I’m being honest. I love the tension, the hesitation, the drama…you’re a phenomenal writer and I can see everything playing out so clearly.

“I heard that you're settled down, that you found a girl and you're married now, I heard that your dreams came true, guess she gave you things, I didn't give to you

Old friend, why are you so shy? Ain't like you to hold back or hide from the light, I hate to turn up out of the blue, uninvited, but I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it, I had hoped you'd see my face, and that you'd be reminded that for me, it isn't over

Never mind, I'll find someone like you, I wish nothing but the best for you, too”

This one really doesn’t need much explaining, the first verse and the chorus just sums up their current situation perfectly. I can so see a montage of him on his honeymoon, thinking of Felicity while he smokes and his wife sleeps, all the while Felicity has moved to London and spends her months going out and getting drunk to try and forget everything that happened. Old friend…showing up out of the blue…it isn’t over??

“Oh, I'm scared to see the ending, why are we pretending this is nothing? I'd tell you I miss you but I don't know how, I've never heard silence quite this loud

Now I'm standing alone in a crowded room, and we're not speaking and I'm dying to know, is it killing you like it's killing me yeah

I don't know what to say since the twist of fate, when it all broke down and the story of us, looks a lot like a tragedy now”

I mean…this song was written for them. When it all broke down? The beach scene? I’d tell you I miss you but I don’t know how???? I’ve never heard SILENCE QUITE THIS LOUD? - both the beach scene and their first meeting in the art gallery again.

F loyd x Felicity

I am loving these two so much, and I think this first song could also fit our Diana and Tommy thread too but….

This song screams Felicity and Floyd. Please don’t be in love with someone else? Im wonderstruck blushing all the way home?

The first verse especially reminds me a lot of Floyd, and maybe his version of seeing Felicity.

“There I was again tonight

Forcing laughter, faking smiles

Same old tired, lonely place

Walls of insincerity, shifting eyes and vacancy

Vanished when I saw your face

All I can say is, it was enchanting to meet you”

That just reminds me a lot of his relationship with his father, and how people avoid him because he is so powerful.

But then I think these words really fit both of them:

“My thoughts will echo your name, until I see you again

These are the words I held back, as I was leaving too soon

I was enchanted to meet you

Please don't be in love with someone else

Please don't have somebody waiting on you”

These words are really interesting because I think of how Floyd first worried that Felicity was in a relationship and had a child, and then realised she wasn’t, and in reverse she thought he may be single and then realised he was engaged. “Please don’t be in love with someone else” is very relevant for them.

[ceepycute]

i wish i had people i could talk to. like. friends. best friends. people i can make inside jokes with and laugh with and... love?

i am... so very tired of being alone, i feel like for every up is just... a hill to fall down, a mountain.

i just see people so happy. sharing ocs. art. roleplay. storytelling. and i feel a deep ache in my heart and at this point i feel like I'm past my best by date in a way. i don't know how to socialize, i don't know how to keep in touch. i feel so disconnected from other people in such a painful way. i probably sounds like... fucking stupid saying this but I've kept up positivity for so long...

I've been praying every fucking night, I've been wishing everyone well, trying to be happy and sweet and reaching out to everyone i could to try and maybe have the universe spare me a fucking. dollop of kindness. an ounce of sympathy. one kindness in return.

I'm definitely selfish, i guess, in the end trying to be kind out of wanting something in return but tonight has been really hard, really painful for no reason.

i just want to vent somewhere and this is my blog, whatever. fuck.

at some point in just wondering why i go on! im not of use to anyone, i can't work a job, i can't do art or make friends like jack used to. i can't stop living in his fucking shadow. can't stop comparing myself to my fucking deadbeat brother who abandoned me and is probably happy as a clam wherever he is! without me.

i feel like such a fucking waste of space at this point. why bother? why go on?

its not like the people i message once a month would notice, nobody messages me first. nobody gives a fuck.

once my mom dies ill just be even more alone.

i just want to cry into somebodies shoulder.

i want a friend.

i want more than just the bare minimum.. why can't i just ask for one thing?

........ i guess if im gonna use this post as one long diary entry i want to admit something, even if it's just to myself. even if nobody sees or cares.

i feel like a leftover of jack, a speck in his shadow if you will.

like somebody picked up some clay but then dropped it and forgot it, just a dried up useless husk of potential. only a few fingerprints from something greater.

i feel like gods completely abandoned me, that I'm trapped in being simply lesser than jack. that without my brother bringing charisma and joviality and outgoing-ness, that i simply can't hold my own.

ever since he left I've struggled to hold up a facade that I'm doing alright, kept trying to reach out to others with a smile and a wink and soothing sweet. been trying to rp like he did, trying to do art like he did.

but i can't stand up on my own... i just feel like at some point I'll have to admit to myself that I'm better off dead than alone. and I'm scared.

scared of death, scared of being alone. scared of mediocrity.

i can't even help people who are sad like he could. i can't do... anything.

I'm nothing without my abuser, without jack. how pathetic is that?

[udon-udon]

Not sure what it is but lately (or even for a while now) I just don’t feel like drawing, especially fan art. I mean, the fan art thing is probably cause I’m not passionate about any fandoms or wtvr but even if I am I just… don’t want to draw or would rather be doing something else. Drawing feels like a chore now and maybe I’m just still burnt out from the whole visual novel thing last month;;; it could also just be another art block and perhaps I’ll get the motivation to pick up drawing again, which I really wish. I also feel like my decline/lack of skill in drawing is kinda stopping me from drawing (?) but I’m too lazy/not motivated to git gud. Hopefully I can get out of this rut soon. I have been having some things I want to draw like some more OCs and scamedb, but I just can’t bring myself to pick up the tablet pen 😔

And then there’s me doing mental gymnastics again where I think “I’m not drawing lately but everyone around me still is so I feel like I’m being left behind and/or lagging behind” Which like sucks cause we all know I have ~abandonment issues~

Also I feel like going on Twitter and seeing all the art is such a double edged sword now cause on one hand like “oOhh such good art, so inspiring! So motivational!! AHHHH IM GONNA DRAW!!!” But on the other it’s like “wow I’m feeling FOMO on all these fandoms lmao also wow these are so good I fucking SUCK and I never do anything about getting better, udon, you only have yourself to blame stop whining and figure a way to get good” and then I never figure out a way to get good cause -insert first paragraph of this post-

I just have no drive anymore and I still keep holding on and hoping that there is something or even SOMEONE that will motivate me to get me off my ass and start loving drawing again. I guess you could say I shouldn’t be relying on ppl/things but it do hit different when u have someone close to share the same interest with and draw and bounce ideas off each other and motivate each other to draw

I’m sure this isn’t the first time I’ve written about this and I’m sure y’all are tired of hearing it but thank you for reading to the end

[lilliesforya]

Nichome (inside standing outside standing inside)

For our combined birthdays, Katie and I went to Tokyo. Specifically, Shinjuku. We met up with a friend from college and his friends from his abroad program. I was extremely tired because the night before I visited Shibuya with my friend from home and I did not sleep enough to warrant the late night I knew I was in for. I had an awful stomach ache which I later realized was mostly anxiety. Saturday started easily. The weather was so nice, sunny but not hot. This was early October so it was not true fall weather in Japan yet. My friend and I went to Ueno Park and got Starbucks. There are no Starbucks near me so whenever I go into the city I love to get some. The park was huge. I didn't know it was going to be so large because the entrance was sitting next to the train station. But the walkway just kept going. It was lined by trees too. There was a baseball field with people playing, a cafe, a huge open space where there were many food trucks set up, and lots of people. I love seeing groups of people, especially tour groups of foreigners or tourists.  

Katie and Is birthday plans started in Shimokitazawa, a thrifty/ artsy area of Tokyo. We got fluffy pancakes at a cafe she really likes and gossiped at a volume too loud for the small space. We checked out multiple thrift stores. One was more like an artist collective? It was under the same roof but there were different small shops. It seemed more curated/ vintage than thrifting. There was a jewelry section as well and every artist who had items for sale had a small box decorated with their jewelry and they were stacked on top of eachother. The other thrift stores were more thrifty and offered tons of college sweatshirts, sportsware, and t-shirts. I even saw three Fairfield University ones! No Rutgers or Pitt though :\ I almost bought this oversized Giants long sleeve shirt but it was too overpriced. 

After thrifting we walked around the neighborhood. There were many small shops and art displays. We got dinner at this Taiwanese restaurant that was in between various places to eat. It amazes me how much they can fit in spaces here. The soup dumplings were amazing, and they gave you paper bibs so you don't mess up your clothes and these small cups to hold the dumpling in. After, we made our way back to the hotel we were staying in to get ready for the night. 

My stomach was still bad at this point but I love getting ready to go out. We played music and put on our outfits. I had brought my favorite makeup and all of my rings. I ended up wearing one of katies shirts instead of the one I brought because it looked more appropriate for the bars. 

We went to 4 bars during the night. Two of them were really fun and had great music selections. In popular areas, usually you have to pay a cover fee to get into the bar. It's not too expensive usually and it will often cover a drink or two. Waiting in line for said drink is another story but once you pay for it you gotta get it. Once I was sufficiently drunk, it was much easier for me to let loose and dance. Being in a large group prevented any unwanted attention as well which made the night go much smoother. My right contact lens fell out of my eye at like 10 pm but I didn't realize until we got back to our room at like 4am. I thought my eye was just irritated all night. Luckily, you don't really need to see clearly to have fun in a bar. After the bars, we all went to eat at a gyudon place close by. It is common for some restaurants to be open late/ all night in these areas because they can make a lot of money from drunk people like us, and people coming back from working insane hours. We slept from like 4-9 am and even though we had drank the hangover prevention medicine (which did help a lot) I felt so awful I was like im not drinking for months. This was a lie but it was a good 2 weeks maybe? I was deathly silent the whole train ride back to my house and Katie talked nonstop which reminded me of college. 

[maldito-arbol]

Fuckit *posts a blatant spoiler from the Heart chapter*

Can you believe the One Scene that happens just before this dialogue has forced me to add yet another trigger warning to the horrible, horrible list—

[miekasa]

Mie, I’m begging for some Jean college au bf hcs - im literally so down bad for this man and the way you write men is just 🤌🏻🤌🏻🤌🏻

Absolutely, not a problem 😌 I saved this ask as a draft a while ago when you sent it, sorry for just now getting to it. Anyway, I love Jean with my whole heart, best boy, best boyfriend <33

King of forehead kisses, and not even just because of his height in comparison to yours; he just likes it. He likes the feeling of pressing his lips against your skin, and making you feel safe.

Brings you tea or coffee however you like it every day without fail. If he can get it to you in the morning before work/school then he’ll do that, if not he’ll meet you some time in the middle of the day to drop it off. Your own personal courier just for drinks.

He… has a thing for long(er) nails. He loves the feeling of them against his skin, even if you’re not scratching to apply pressure—just you holding his hand them grazing his skin is enough for him.

That being said, he will pay for you to get your nails done. Actually, he’ll pay for… almost anything you want, but the nails benefit him as much as they do you so feel free to ball out.

He never blowdries his hair because he doesn’t... know how to do the back of it. You did it for him once and he hasn’t stopped thinking about it since, but he’s also too embarrassed to ask you to do/style it again.

On the subject of hair, he does do his best to style it and take care of it, but he’s a sucker whenever you play with it. Sometimes he feigns like you’re messing up all his hard work, but he’ll literally crane his head into your touch. He loves it. 

The first time he lays on top of you and you run your hands through his hair... top 10 most euphoric moments of his life. He tries to fight off the sleep threatening to take over him, but it’s futile. Give it 15 minutes at most before he’s knocked out like a baby. 

Dogs love him. Anytime you’re in a park or just taking a walk and there’s a dog around, it’ll come up to him and he looks adorable leaning down to pet it. He loves dogs, too! So he’s always happy to stop and pet them. He’d be a 10/10 dog dad. 

Has your name saved in his phone with two hearts at the end. Do not point it out.

Loves taking pictures together and if you guys are on a date, he’ll ask someone to get a picture for him. He just likes having them to look back on (and to send to his mom, later).

He doesn’t mind painting classes or videos or tutorials, but he hates paint by numbers kits. He claims that they have no sense of color theory and that it takes the originality and fun out of painting. Not to mention the quality of the paints isn’t great to begin with; all of which he takes very seriously.

It’s pretty cute actually, to see him get worked up over the paint kits. He claims that painting and drawing isn’t even something he takes “that seriously,” it’s just a hobby for him (one he’s insanely good at); but in moments like these, you can tell that he’s way more into art and art theory and history than he lets on. 

Huge movie guy, from animated movies to martial arts movies, Jean is usually willingly to give anything a watch at least once. When he’s high, he can go on about his favorite directors and art styles and movie details for hours if you don’t stop him. It’s super cute. Just don’t bring up Moana, because he’ll start crying. 

Arm around the shoulder kind of boyfriend for sure. It’s a casual way of keeping you near him and letting everyone know that you guys are together. Plus it allows for him to easily pull you into him for a quick forehead kiss when needed.

Listen. If you hug his arm, he’s on cloud nine. He tries to be nonchalant about it but he’s about three seconds away from his eyes rolling back in his head it feels that good to him. Bonus if you lean your head on his bicep a little—then he’s a goner.

He takes his bagels very seriously and believes that both you and him deserve nothing but the best quality bagels. He’ll grumble if a bakery gives you guys a less than favorable one and make a note that taking the long route to get to his favorite place is much more worth it.

Always makes you walk on the side furthest from the cars. If he notices you’re not, he’ll just shuffle behind you until he’s shouldering the street and you’re on the inside. 

He grew up on a kind of modern ranch situation; not exactly all the way in the countryside, but not isolate from the city, either. Because of this, he knows how to ride horses, take care of smaller farm animals, tend to plants, and yes he knows how to use a lasso. You wouldn’t know any of that though, because he never ever talks about it. The only way you find out is when he takes you to visit his mom’s house for the first time, and she asks him for a hand around the place. 

(He’s got a cowboy hat, too, but refuses to put it on. He got it when he was, like, nine, okay, leave him alone). 

When he thinks you look tired, he’ll wrap his arms around your shoulders to hug you. It’s usually followed up with a kiss to your head, and a promise that you guys will go home soon and get food on the way. 

He’s a really good cook. He just understands and flavors and pairings really well, so he doesn’t need a recipe to make something that tastes good; he just kind of knows what to add to get the balance he’s looking for. 

Naturally, he’ll cook for you. Especially if he finds out that you haven’t eaten all day/in a long time. He doesn’t care if it’s 11pm and it might seem excessive to make steak and potatoes with a side salad at this hour, he’s gonna do it to make sure you eat, and you are going to sit there and watch. 

He also bakes pretty well, though he isn’t as experimental with his baking as he is with his cooking. He usually sticks to what he knows, and it’s not cupcakes and brownies and cakes; he’s better at croissants, and cheesecakes, and canelés. 

Dating Jean means getting along with his friends. If you guys didn’t know each other before you started dating, be prepared to be ambushed by Connie and Sasha (after Jean stops hiding you away and gives them the green light lmfao). Neither of them waste time with the small talk and formalities; straight into mini golfing and beer pong. They make you feel welcome right away.

Sasha always teases that you’re too good for Jean, and that she might just steal you away for herself some day. Sasha is also Jean’s main confidant, so she really knows just how much he loves you, and yeah, she teases him for being lovesick, but really she’s happy for Jean. And proud of him for facing his feelings like this. 

Connie adores you, and you know he trusts you when he starts going to you for advice/help. Could be anything from schoolwork, to what color he should get his new shoes in. He’s also the one who, surprisingly, you have the sentimental talks with about your relationship with Jean. It’s easy to overlook, but Connie loves Jean, and he’s come to love you too; he just wants you both to be happy, so he’s there to listen when you need it. 

Jean waits outside of your classroom after you’ve had a test or presentation, usually with a drink or a snack, or the promise of taking you out as a treat. Always tells you he’s proud of you, and is there to comfort you if you think you didn’t do too well. 

He does not shut up about whatever major you’re in. It could be the same as his; it could be the complete opposite as his. He thinks it’s so sick that you’re doing it, you make it look cooler, you make it look better, and he’s certain you’re the smartest person in your program. 

He’s pretty serious about his studies, too, so he’s always down to study with you in the library whenever you’re both free. More often than not, he shows up after you, usually with food or extra chargers. He greets you with a kiss on the forehead, and asks you how you are while massaging your shoulders gently. If it’s been a while since you took a break, that’s the first item on the list, after that, he gets to work and stays with you until you’re ready to go, even if he doesn’t have as much work to do. 

He always sits across from you. This goes for when you’re in the library, or out to eat at a restaurant; Jean loves sitting across from you. He gets to see your face the best that way, and he adores looking into your eyes when you talk. 

He’s not... not a morning person. He’s not up at 6am ready to grind, but he wakes up before noon; let’s say 10am is his happy medium. That being said, if you wake up before him, regardless of the time, there’s a 9/10 chance he’ll lay on your back and tell you to hush so you guys can sleep for 10 more minutes. 

If you’re (close) friends with Eren, Mikasa, and Armin, Jean is... happy you’ve got people to rely on, but, “Of all people on the planet, you put your trust in Jaeger?” He acts so bitter (because he is), but deep down inside, he’s glad you have Eren to rely on if you need to. 

(Also, you have to humble him and remind him that he and Eren aren’t all that different. If you like him, why wouldn’t you get along with Eren, bye). 

Turns out though, that it’s not Eren who threatens to beat him up if he breaks your heart. It’s not even Mikasa, although, her threat goes without saying; it’s Armin he’s terrified of.

The last time Armin hated someone, it was this guy in your program, who happened to share a few mutual classes with him, too. Jean never knew the full story, just that he’s pretty sure that kid dropped out the following semester. 

If you have a job on campus, Jean usually doesn’t show up while you’re working (knowing how embarrassed he would be if you did that to him), unless you work the night shift and it’s dead. Connie, however, does show up; usually in some kind of crisis (“Please help me, I don’t know what the fuck APA formatting is and this is due tonight, please, please, please!!”). Your coworkers actually thought Connie was your boyfriend for a minute. That’s when Jean starts showing up more lmfao.

He makes it a point to go on a scheduled, night out, kind of date at least twice a month. He knows life gets busy with school and work and midterms, but he always makes sure you both set side a time to take a well-deserved break and be with each other. 

He’s the romantic type, so these dates are pretty swoon worthy, too. Drive-in movies, nice dinners, classy art exhibits, Jean plans it all. On that note, he really likes planning dates; he just doesn’t like talking about them with his friends beforehand. 

All in all, very romantic, very precious boyfriend. He’s always thinking about you, what you need, and how he can help you out. You’re one of his main priorities, and he just wants to treat you right. 

[honeymilkk00]

Haikyuu Boys: You Flinch

Pt 2

@silver-argent​ :  Hii! I super looooove the way you wrote Haikyuu Boys: You flinch, perfect amount of angst to fluff! Are you taking requests? If you are, will you please do a Sakusa and Kenma? the you flinch. It's okay if you don't tho! I'll still look forward to your works!❤❤

tysm for the encouraging words!! my requests are open and im more than happy to do Sakusa and Kenma jewbjkew. i hope you enjoy. i'm literally so tired and just wanted to finally get this out <3

characters:

-sakusa

-kenma

___________________________

Sakusa

Dating Sakusa was the last thing you ever thought would happen to you. He filled your days and nights with such love and passion. You had broken through his stoic and cold shell and had seen him for who he truly was deep inside- a loving partner through and through.

Of course, old habits die hard. Since he had spent years of his life being a reserved person, only putting up with his family and teammates, he still was very hesitant when it came to affection. Sometimes all he wanted to do was to be alone with his thoughts and nothing else. It hurt to see him like that, knowing that no matter what, you couldn’t help him, but you understood and gave him the time he needed.

Five months into yours and his relationship had lead to a few disputes, but nothing too serious. He was a prideful, headstrong man which lead to you having to bite your tongue during arguments and keep your snarky words to yourself, refusing to let them slip off the tip of your tongue. If they did, the argument would escalate. 

You loved Sakusa for everything he was, bad parts and good, but sometimes he was too much. 

And, that’s how you were here, biting your lip harshly as you stare at him, refusing to let your anger get the best of you. 

Sakusa had been coming home quite late due to volleyball practise, but it got to the stage where you were scared that he was doing to overwork himself and injure himself. Instead of letting it slide, you confronted him about it and suggested that he should take some time to let his body heal from the strenuous training regimen that he was doing. It seemed that Sakusa wasn’t in the best of moods and had snapped at you, shooting abhorrent words towards you as if you were nothing but a pile of shit, accusing you of restricting him from reaching his full potential and trying to turn him away from volleyball because you were too clingy for his liking. 

“Fucking hell (Y/N), you’re so fucking clingy! Just because you’re an attention whore and want me to worship you doesn’t mean you can try and take me away from what I love doing. You’re so fucking obsessive it’s driving me crazy!” Sakusa bellowed and clenched his hands together, his nails digging into his hands. 

Taking a deep breath to keep yourself as calm as possible, you spoke in a soft tone, “Omi, I’m not trying to keep you from anything. I just think you should rest your body before you overwork yourself and become ill or injure yourself. I know you want to improve but that can happen gradually over time. I doesn’t need to happen all at once.” You murmured and gently placed a hand on his, trying to reassure him.

Letting out a deep, angered growl, Sakusa pulled away from your grip harshly and pushed your hand away, “don’t fucking touch me! You’re fucking disgusting! All you do is hold me down and try and control my life, you obsessive pest!” He hollered out.

His words ripped open your chest and stabbed you in the heart repeatedly. You felt like you were choking on your own heartbeat. It hurt knowing that your lover found you disgusting. A strong feeling of rage surged through your veins. “How fucking dare you, Sakusa! I’ve done nothing but tried to help you and all you do is treat me like shit. Every time we argue I have to bite my tongue because I know that if I retaliate, you’ll just get even more angry. I can’t express how I feel to you anymore and I feel as if I don’t matter in this relationship. If you want to overwork yourself and injure yourself then fine, go ahead, but don’t blame me for saying I told you so after it’s happened!”

His eyes narrowing at your words, Sakusa swiftly turned to glare at you and raised his fist, poking your chest aggressively, “Fine, I will then because I’m not letting you control me anym-” He paused mid sentence, his eyes widening when he noticed you flinching when he raised his hand. Slowly, he lowered his hand and dropped them at his sides. Your shaking figure made his heart clench painfully tight. “(Y/N) I-”

“I can’t do this anymore, Sakusa.” You voice whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear. Tears rolled down your cheeks and you sniffled quietly. “I can’t handle this pain anymore. I can’t handle feeling like I’m walking on egg shells with you. I can’t handle being afraid of how you’ll react when I speak about how I feel. I just can’t do this anymore.” You voice got quieter and quieter the more you spoke. Looking up at Sakusa, you swallowed thickly. “I can’t do us anymore.” 

Sakusa was frozen, watching you carefully. It was deathly silent. The only sound he could hear was the sound of his heartbeat beating rapidly. 

“I’ll pick up my things tomorrow. I’m going to stay at Atsumu’s for the night.” You whispered and turned away, heading towards the front door. 

A small, almost whine-like noise left Kiyoomi’s mouth. He reached out and clasped your hand gently, tears forming in the corner’s of his eyes. “Please.” He begged quietly.

Looking back at the man you loved, your heart shattered into small pieces when you noticed his dampened eyes. Never had you seen him cry before. “What is it?” You asked quietly, biting the inside of your cheek.

Sakusa pulled you in tightly for a hug and pressed his lips against your cheek gently. “Please don’t leave. Please please please… I’m so so sorry (Y/N).. I didn’t mean anything I said. I love you and I’m grateful for everything you do for me. I’ve just had a really bad day. Please I love you. Please don’t leave. You’re my baby... “ He pleaded softly and held you tightly, as if afraid that you’d disappear if he let go. 

Letting out a sigh, you caved in. You were still mad at him but at the end of the day, you loved Kiyoomi more than anything else. You would give up everything for his happiness. “Kiyoomi...” You whispered softly and then turned around so you were face to face with him. Gently cupping his cheeks, you sighed, “I love you so so much Kiyoomi... But you can’t say stuff like that to me even if you’ve had a bad day. You really really hurt me even though I was just trying to look out for you.” You explained and frowned softly, kissing his tears that resided in the corner of his eyes. 

Pressing his lips softly against your hands that rested on his face, he let out a shaky breath that he didn’t realise he was holding, “I know... I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I promise I’ll do better..” He whispered gently and pressed his nose into your hair lovingly. “I love you so much...”

Leaning in closer to Sakusa, you inhaled his scent, “I love you too, Omi..”

He never wanted to see you flinch like that again.

________________________

Kenma

Kenma was an erudite genius when it came to the art of strategy. His deep understanding of the game and the unspoken pledge to win is what drove him forward and kept him reaching, grasping, clutching for new strategic idea that would leave his opponents breathless.

For days, maybe even weeks, on end, Kenma would be researching, training, and repeating the process until he felt confident in his methodology that would be used in a game. Thus, led to a breakdown. After weeks of undereating, lack of sleep, training beyond his physical capabilities, and his mental strain thinking of ways to defeat the opposing team, Kenma was at his wits’ end. 

As his partner, you immediately noticed the changes in his personality. Of course, concern was your initial reaction and you were somewhat frightened of irritating him more, but you knew you had to confront him about his lack of self care. Seeing him train during lunch and falling asleep in lessons led you to realise how hard he was working himself. 

So, after school you managed to pull him to one side before he proceeded to train at the club. A frown was present on your lips and you took a deep breath. Looking at him now hurt a lot: his eyebags had considerably increased since the last time you saw him; you could now see physically where he had lost weight from undereating for weeks; his eyes seemed a lot duller; his body slouched over slightly, as if it was begging for a break. It was agony to see your partner slowly harm his body and mind like this.

"Kenma, just know I love you so much and I understand that volleyball means a lot to you right now since it's your final year with your team as you know it with Kuroo as captain, but look at yourself. You're not taking care of yourself at all. You aren't helping you or your teammates by undereating and not sleeeping." You murmured gently, taking Kenma's hands in your own. You knew that you had to be careful and not push your boyfriend, but you couldn't let it continue.

Kenma simply frowned at your words and pulled his hand away from yours, "(Y/N), I don't need your lecturing. I'm perfectly fine taking care of myself. I don't need you." He hissed out and turned his back on you, proceeding to head to practise. He had no time to waste on pointless conversations.

(Y/N) grinded their teeth together, their heart aching slightly at the harsh words, "I'm not lecturing you, Kenma! I'm doing what a s/o should do and I'm looking out for you! Please just take a small break before you overdo it!" You hallooed, as if that would make the words sink in.

Vexed, Kenma turned around with a deep scowl on his face, "Why don't you just back off, (Y/N)!? I don't care about you right now, all I care about is me and my teammates winning this game!" He shrieked, which caused you to trip back and swallow thickly.

A small whimper escape your lips and tears formed in the corners of your eyes as you flinched. You were normally fine with Kenma's salty attitude, but he never usually shouted at you. Taking a shaky breath, you looked at your boyfriend dead in the eyes, "fine! Do what you want to do! Since you don't care about me I won't bother anymore! Don't you fucking dare come running to me when you overwork yourself and can't handle it anymore!" You retorted and turned away.

Kenma's eyes widened slightly at your words as he watched you turn away. "Wait...." He whispered out, his hand reaching towards yours. Lightly, he grasped your wrist and sighed, pulling you close and burying his head in your shoulder. "'M sorry... I'm just so stressed..." Tears brimmed his eyes and he sniffled softly. "I didn't mean it..."

Letting out a soft sigh, your shoulders relaxed and you pulled your lover in for a cuddle. "I know you didn't mean it baby... But remember your health comes first, volleyball after." You whispered and gently stroked his hair. He simply nodded in response and hugged you tighter.

Maybe you both could work things out. You just need to learn to communicate more.

[1kook]

commercial break ; TEN

this is part of my netflix & chill series takes place directly after vickey & hickeys !

SUMMARY See, there’s no one in this world who ignores his house rules more than you. Even worse, there’s no one on this planet who can make Jungkook ignore his own rules like you do.  WARNING smut, kissing, unprotected sex, missionary, a love for cum/precum, mentions of hickeys, uhhh idk what else lol MISC valentines day, jk cute housewife tbh, jk being in love again u know the usual, jk clean freak  RATING m (18+) WC 1.4k

NOTES its not proofread bc im lazy but i love them... doesn't that amount to something.... YES! we move lads 

Jungkook has been living by himself for about four years now, give or take, and in that time he has come to understand the dire need for order when maintaining a home. He never understood why his mom was such a stickler for rules until he began living on his own. Those first few months had been awful, just the mere memory makes him shiver. His kitchen counters had been littered with an array of stains. His laundry basket seemed to fill up faster than usual. He never envisioned his adult life would start off with him polishing each and every inch of his hardwood floors. But because of that experience, Jungkook has finally followed in his mother’s footsteps and composed his own list of rules, eponymously titled Jeon Jungkook’s 5 Rules for a Happy Home.

He liked order and peace, liked when his coats were lined up from lightest to heaviest, when his glass plates were all stacked according to size and collection. He’s generally a neat person, prides himself in maintaining a clean personal environment. But of course, because the universe just loves him so, they repay him for all his efforts by giving him an absolute wildcard of a girlfriend. 

See, there’s no one in this world who ignores his house rules more than you. Even worse, there’s no one on this planet who can make Jungkook ignore his own rules like you do. 

The list goes like this:

1. Shoes must always come off at the door; this keeps them clean and allows the hardwood floors to retain their glossy sheen for as long as possible.

The plan is to spend Valentine’s Day at his house, watch some Netflix, maybe chill. You had been giggly the whole drive back from the store, brandishing your repaired phone screen like it was something incredible. And because Jungkook had so graciously paid for it, he is reimbursed with a flurry of kisses that have the two of you stumbling into his house. “Baby,” he pants, hand at your waist. He hears rather than sees the loud thump of your sneakers against his hardwood floor. But Jungkook has long since mastered the careful art of distracting you, and it only takes one twirl and careful push until you’re pressed against the door, his hardwood flooring saved from your outside shoes. 

Of course, you misread the action. “Are you gonna be mean to me again?” you purr, throwing your hands over his shoulders. Your breathing is a little shallow now, lips kissing against his jawline as he helps you out of your shoes. You surge forward once more, press those satin lips against his. But this time, it’s your sock-clad feet that step onto his flooring, a soft whimper falling through your lips. 

2. Return everything to where it belongs; coats should go in the closet, keys on the key rack, etc, etc. 

“Take it off,” you husk out, pushing his jacket off his shoulders, and then rather mindlessly tossing it against the base of the stairs, where it was certain to be a safety hazard. Jungkook doesn’t even have time to protest, because then your coat follows. And then your top. And then your bra. 

He’s a weak man. 

He kisses down your throat, makes sure to glide his tongue over the bruises from last night. Not because he wants to see them heal, but because they ignite this sort of possessiveness in him that has him pushing you against the wall once more, guiding your leg over his hip. “So pretty for me,” he mumbles, letting you manhandle him out of his own shirt. And when your pebbled nipples press against his chest, the blood rushes down to his nether regions. You whimper, an airy little sound that sends him to the brink of insanity.

3. Always hold the stair railing; the steps can be slippery sometimes, so it is best to be safe. 

Just as predicted, his discarded coat ends up being the safety hazard it was destined to be. One blind step backwards sends him tumbling onto his behind, the edge of another step digging painfully into his back. “Fuck,” he groans, but not at his blossoming bruise. You shimmy out of your bottoms, present him with this stringy little thong he doesn’t think he’s seen before. “C’mere, baby.”

You’re his good girl, always, so you climb onto his lap with ease, slot yourself over him where you belong. “Right here?” you ask in the soft voice, look at him with this sinful gaze that sends shivers over every inch of his body. 

“Right there,” he confirms, wrapping an arm around you, uses it to pull you flush to his chest. The other slides over the curve of your ass, along the length of your thigh. His gentle touch makes you arch against him, a soft sigh escaping through your lips. “Gonna be good for me?” Jungkook murmurs, pressing a kiss to the tops of your breasts. You nod, and he slips his hand just behind your knee, uses it as he hauls you into his arms. He can’t even see his own two feet as he stumbles up the stairs with you in his arms. 

4. Don’t slam doors or unnecessarily swing them open; you can damage the walls or the door itself. 

It’s a joint effort; you twist the doorknob and Jungkook kicks it open. It slams against the wall, but Jungkook doesn’t really care, not when you look like that sprawled over his sheets. He can’t get his pants off fast enough, eyes trained on you as you slip out of your thong. You’re already so wet, gliding your fingers through your arousal as he stumbles out of his jeans and boxers. Always a tease. 

“Open,” you murmur. It’s what he should be saying to you, hand lingering on your knee, but he does it anyway. Jungkook parts his lips and savors the sweet taste of your arousal on your fingers, sucks and licks until you’re pulling away with a whine, spreading your legs for him to slot himself in between. He has half the thought to reach for the lube in his nightstand, the warming one that you love so much. But Jungkook is desperate and impatient: he spits in his hand and calls it a day, grips his cock in one hand and gives it a harsh tug. Unexpectedly, it’s an action that impresses his audience. “Me too,” you beg, tugging at his forearm. 

And Jungkook complies. He revs up his throat and leans over you, spits in your mouth like you wanted him to. But he’s off today, not completely sane, and half of it splatters against the corner of your mouth, over your cheek. You flinch, eyes squeezing shut. A moan slips past your lips.  And then Jungkook watches in awe as your tongue peeks out, licks at the corner of your lips like you’re trying to save it from going to waste. “Oh, baby,” he groans, and it’s with that final thought that he guides himself in. 

You’re so warm, tighter than usual. He hopes it doesn’t hurt. By the sound of your cries, it doesn’t seem to. Still, despite his concern, Jungkook can’t bring himself to hold back and begins thrusting after only a couple seconds. You claw at his shoulders, probably leave bright red marks all over him. You’re exceptionally needy today, cross your ankles at the base of his neck and make it impossible for him to get too far. 

Jungkook isn’t any better. He can’t let go of you even if he tried. If he’s not holding your waist, then it’s your breasts. If not there, then it’s your throat. There’s something so sexy about you today, so needy for him. He just fucked you last night, made you cum until you cried, and yet you always want more. More and more, just like him. 

Neither of you last that long. Normally, he’d be embarrassed about that. But today, one press of his thumb against your clit has you spasming around him, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your cum coats his cock. So he’s not embarrassed, mostly proud. It’s a new record. 

5. Always say I love you. 

“I love you,” he gasps, holding your leg against his chest as he follows in your stead, vision fuzzy as his orgasm overcomes him. A hand touches his abdomen, gentle and encouraging. “I love you, I love you— I wanna marry you,” he shudders, before the pleasure eventually subsides and he’s slumping over your equally tired, equally sweaty form. 

That he’s embarrassed about, hiding his face in your neck as you card your fingers through his hair. “Me too, sweet boy,” you hum, pressing your lips against his forehead. 

Jungkook isn’t sure which of those two confessions you’re addressing.

(He hopes it’s both.)

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[cdroloisms]

haha your snippit abt the dispenser got me thinking.

Dream gets let out of prison and he talks constantly, whatever is on his mind. And he's positive all the time. To a fault where people walk over him. And it doesn't make sense because he was tortured right???? But after an incident they find out it's because he hates the sound of silence and needs constant reminders that other people are there. Also he was punished for any negative emotions in the prison so his default is happy now,,,

hi anon !! this concept makes me SO goddamn sad ,, the idea that he Has to be happy bc anything else would mean punishment im so *punches the walls*

this ,, ficlet is honestly. pretty ooc, not really related to the ask at all, and mostly an excuse for me to cry abt c!dream and c!punz for an excessive amount of time (technically the vote on twitter was supposed to have this as c!sapnap pov, but i just wrote one for him so i went for c!punz instead. mostly bc i wanted to write him LMAO). hopefully someone enjoys it despite *gestures vaguely* all of that mess

tw: trauma, disordered eating, implied torture/abuse, blood, injuries, unhealthy coping mechanisms, emotional distress, thoughts of murder/mercy killing, mentioned animal death, dark content

In the end, it’s all rather anticlimactic, the complete opposite of Dream’s vault and the whole fiasco of adrenaline and theatrics that had made up that day. Quackity ended up having one too many drinks, bragged about the wrong thing to the wrong person - Punz doesn’t know the specifics, only knows that one thing has led to another and suddenly Sapnap was screaming at his ex-fiancé, sword pointed at his chest and tears streaming down his eyes in the middle of the Community House floor, everyone else stood around and watching. A look into Quackity’s office said everything he didn’t - the chests and chests of used and new tools, shiny and sharpened and completely rusted over with blood and everything in between. There’s been a balled up shirt in the wastebasket, completely unsalvageable from how saturated it was with blood, more red than white, and perhaps most chilling of all the calendar, marked with X after X in red pen, going back months and speaking to their utter failure to see what had been happening all but right in front of them.

With Quackity down, Sam caved not too long after, and with his input getting into the prison was no challenge at all. The only thing holding them back were bad memories and the tense, worried edge to Sam’s jaw as he led the small group of them - himself and Sapnap, actually entering the facility, Bad and Puffy waiting outside - carrying them through winding corridor after winding corridor and lava pit after lava pit, until they’d come to stand before a chasm filled with flowing lava, slowly draining before the main cell.

“I- I have to warn you,” Sam had muttered, uncharacteristically hesitant, “it looks…pretty bad,” and Punz would’ve questioned him further, but the lava had fallen far enough to reveal the topmost edge of the cell, so they let Sapnap hound the Warden for information as they directed their full attention on the cell itself and holy shit.

Nothing Sam said could’ve possibly have prepared them for the sight - it was a complete fucking bloodbath, crimson painting the walls and smeared over the floor and splattered over every visible surface like some abstract art experiment gone wrong. The stench of iron and burning flesh and viscera was awful, even over the gap marked by the still-draining lava. Punz strained his eyes; at the very back of the cell, huddled, unmoving, was a similarly bloodstained shape that must’ve been Dream. They remember the crack of Sapnap’s knuckles meeting Sam’s face and breaking his nose, remember themselves chucking a pearl and feeling along Dream’s neck desperately for a pulse - everything beyond that became a swirl of voices and panic and crying that makes their head hurt to think about, so they don’t.

Recovery is…messy. The physical side had been bad enough - pulling Dream out of the cell, barely breathing, limp in his arms and far too light, all Punz could think about was a sheep he’d found a year ago, frail and struggling to breathe, one he’d ended up killing - quick and painless - with a sword through the skull because it seemed kinder than letting it suffer. Watching Dream struggle on the bed, laid up in Bad’s mansion because none of them knew if he’d survive going any further, body resisting the potions they’d slowly forced down his throat after being so over-saturated on them, temperature spiking and heat baking into his skin like the lava from the prison had been imprinted onto his body, Punz feels the same strange mixture of pity and unease, wonders if it’d be a hell of a lot kinder if they just put him out of his fucking misery.

Still, because Dream is a stubborn bastard, against all odds, he ends up surviving - his fever breaks, the potions begin taking effect, and a few tireless, aching days later his eyes flutter open, lucid for the first time in a week. Punz isn’t even in the room when he wakes, only knows that it happens because the too-quiet room suddenly erupts in noise and activity, muffled thumps and sounds of a struggle undercutting Bad’s frantic calls for someone to help, anyone, and they run into the room to find Dream thrashing on the bed, wounds reopened and blood dripping onto the sheets, eyes wild and wide as his head whips from side to side so hard Punz is half-afraid that he’ll straight up break his neck. Somehow, worst of all, not a single scream falls from his lips, nothing but muffled whines squeezing past his mouth, clenched shut, and for a singular, awful second they wonder how long it took before he realized that screaming was useless.

Fortunately enough for them, or unfortunately, it’s not like he can tell the fucking difference anymore, the panic and strain end up with Dream passing out altogether, and they trade uneasy glances with Bad before going to clean off the worst of his wounds. If everything they’re doing feels hopeless, dressing up wounds that’ll be torn open hours later when Dream is awake enough to feel fear but not much else because he’s forgotten what it’s like to not be afraid - well, that’s for them to think and everyone else to pretend not to agree with.

Weeks pass along the same vein - Dream wakes up, panics; they try to calm him down, fails; he falls back into unconsciousness, and they move on and pretend that they’re cleaning up wounds from battle and not from someone that’s literally been tortured for months on end. People stop by, occasionally; Puffy spends more time than not inside the mansion, but hardly ever enters the door into Dream’s room, Sapnap and George drop by occasionally with potion brewing supplies that the rest of them can’t go out to get; once, he’d gone out to the front door to find a chest with an enchanted golden apple, sender nowhere in sight. He knows that the server is busy; Quackity’s admission had brought more than a few secrets to light, and from what they understand, the political fallout has been pretty damn messy. Still, he stays in the mansion, and watches.

He doesn’t exactly know why he stays. They’re not a stellar healer, not beyond what they know to dress their own wounds, and spend most of their time doing odd-and-ends tasks for Bad, who looks more tired than ever. Maybe it’s because he’s seen Dream at his worst more than the rest of them, had been there through his entire fall from grace, watched as his eyes became clouded with anger and madness and a single, desperate hope that he’d chased at the cost of his world and himself. Maybe it’s because they have no ties to the rest of the server - not to Las Nevadas, falling apart under the scrutiny of the eyes that now fall upon it, not Snowchester, caught up in the chaos, not the Badlands, half-dissolved after the fiasco of the Egg and with Sam’s actions having just come to light. Maybe it’s because above everything else, he feels guilty.

They’d thought the prison was the answer. It’d seemed too simple, back in that Vault - a perfect answer, because everyone else was perfectly happy to watch Dream die another time and some part of them had clenched painfully at the thought even thought they knew it was for the best. The prison meant that he’d be alive, if angry, and at some point when he had the time or the nerve or the guts he could go and visit, and they would talk, and Dream would be angry but with time maybe he could even understand.

They hadn’t wanted this. He can’t imagine anyone wanting this.

“Punz?” They don’t jump at the voice at their back, they don’t, but Bad still has a tiny, tight-lipped smile when they turn around anyway, eyes creased in the corners and still not as bright as they’d been before the Egg. Bad looks at him knowingly, setting a bowl of soup into his hands. “For Dream, if you can get him to eat.” He shifts a pointed gaze towards the door. “Maybe you two could talk.”

“About what?” The words come out harsher than they intend, and they take a moment to bite back the mostly self-directed anger that Bad doesn’t deserve to receive the brunt of. “I just-” he waves his hand in the air, trying to articulate the mess that is his relationship with Dream without the words to explain it. “I don’t know, man.”

“You don’t have to talk about everything,” Bad says, calm as always, eyes flicking down to the bowl of soup in his hands. “Just start with the soup.”

Punz sighs. “I’ll try.”

He enters the room in a single, fluid motion, mostly because he knows that if he were to stop at the door then he’d never actually make his way in. Dream flinches back when they enter, eyes going wide and stance going rigid, and the familiarity doesn’t make the sight any easier to bear as they wait, as always, for Dream’s eyes to clear enough for him to realize he’s in the mansion and not stuck in that same obsidian hellhole.

“I brought soup,” they say, finally, when Dream looks up. Dream’s lips twitch up in what he probably means as a smile; between the still-healing gashes on his face and the fear that flashes over his expression, still, it comes out as more of a grimace.

“Thanks.” Dream looks away. “I’ll eat it later.”

Liar, Punz thinks tiredly, moving closer to set the bowl down on the nightstand by the bed. They frown as Dream’s expression goes slack and distanced, again, eyes fixed to stare blankly at the wall once again.

“You should have some now,” he tries, careful to keep his words even. “You need the calories.”

“I’m good,” Dream says, automatic, just shy of sincere. “Thank you.”

“Dream,” they don’t quite succeed at keeping a displeased sigh from falling from their lungs, and bite back a curse at themselves when Dream pulls back with a silent flinch. It’s so goddamn hard, to talk to this version of Dream, both of them feeling around the edges of their relationship like walking on goddamn eggshells. A few months ago, he would’ve straight up called Dream out on his bullshit, get it through his thick skull that the whole ‘I’m fine and don’t need anyone’ act was stupid and completely failing to convince him. Here, they bite back another sigh, look forlornly at the bowl of the soup on the nightstand, sure to go uneaten once again, and force themselves to sound completely neutral when they speak again. “Alright. You’ll have to eat at some point, though.”

“Mmhm,” Dream hums noncommittally, once again staring at the wall. Punz stares at his hands. This is so fucking pointless.

“So,” they say after a few seconds, Bad’s words echoing in their head - they can try to make an effort to talk, sure. It’s just that Dream’s not going to cooperate. “How are you, man?”

The words come out stilted, awkward. He looks up to watch Dream’s expression, as the other man begins to gnaw on the inside of his cheek.

“I’m good,” he says, words deliberately light. “You?”

“Dream…”

“I’m fine.” Dream’s voice sharpens suddenly, breath hitching, before he shakes his head and turns his head away. “I’m fine.”

Punz looks at him incredulously. “Are you serious? Do we need to get into exactly how not-fine you are?” They wave a hand in his direction, jaw clenching when he rears back. “Do ‘fine’ people lose their minds from someone waving at them, now?”

“I-” For a second, Dream glares at him, eyes burning with a familiar, irritated fire that Punz knows all-too-well from having it directed at him a few too many times, before it suddenly dies and Dream is swinging his head back to the bedsheets, hands tightening on the cloth as he stammers. “I- What do you want?”

Punz breathes a soft sigh, regret blooming in the center of their chest. “Sorry,” he mumbles, careful to keep their gestures overly-telegraphed and away from the other man’s face. “I’m just- you’re not okay, man. No one’s expecting you to be okay after...all of that.”

“But why?”

Dream’s voice is small, nearly a sob, and Punz directs wide, alarmed eyes to where he’s hunched in over himself, knees pulled to his chest, hands staring at the sheets pulled over them. “Why?” he says, again, quieter, lip trembling slightly.

“Because you were tortured,” Punz begins, words slow as they watch Dream’s expression, trying to pull out the thoughts behind his averted eyes, “Because the cell was inhumane, and nobody deserves to be treated like that. Because you were hurt very, very badly because of what we did, and none of us are expecting you to be fine right after going through months of trauma.” He pauses. “You know that, right?”

“But I’m out,” Dream says, quiet, disbelieving, instead of answering their question. “I’m out of there. It’s over. It’s- everything’s good,” he whispers, more to himself than to them, hands curling into fists and then uncurling. “I’m- they said I would never get out. And I’m outside, and it’s not- not the cell, and I get real food, and Quackity doesn’t visit anymore,” he shakes his head, eyes squeezing shut as his breath catches in his throat. “I’m happy- I should be happy. Right?”

“Oh Dream,” the other man flinches back, breath quickening, and Punz’s hand stops short from where he’d almost let it fall onto the other’s shoulder. “You don’t have to be happy, man. Not- not after all of that. Not if you’re not ready yet.” Dream’s eyes, wide and wet, rise to look at their own, and they feel more than hear the soft, wounded noise that leaves their lips. “It’s ok to be hurt. It’s ok to be scared. No one’s blaming you, alright? No one’s gonna hurt you anymore.”

This, more than anything, seems to be the breaking point, because Dream collapses forward, hands flying up to pull at his tangled hair before Punz manages to ease them away and into his own hands, watching as he grips onto them until his knuckles go white. His breathing shudders, quiet, even his sobs muffled as to make as little noise as possible, and they murmur meaningless croons and hums as he cries into their chest.

“I wanna- I wanna be okay,” he hiccups, and Punz smooths his hair back behind their hand.

“I know,” he swallows around the lump that has risen in his own throat. “I’m sorry.”

[noroi1000]

hi love! i was wondering if i could get a matchup with one of the jjk men? also! i really loved the new gojo one shot and i’m superrrr excited for the next chapter! no pressure though!

im an 18 year old asian female, 167cm, like 47kg(?), an intj-t, and a 5w6 i believe. though i doubt i’m an intj a lot, im not really that inquisitive soooo. as you can tell from my weight, your girl does not have an ass not boobs :’) but that’s alright! i have long dark brown hair, black ass eyes, and slightly tanner skin. i wear rounder glasses and don’t wear makeup yet (i’m too freaking lazy and can’t do art for the life of me).

personality wise, im pretty calm and quiet. though, i can be quite talkative and teasing depending on the people. i laugh and smile a lot and so i’m kinda worried about fine lines already :/ hahahaha. i’m also quite clingy but a bit shy about it. i initiate it pretty often with friends, holding their arms or hands. my mom’s always compared me to gum on a wall.

speaking of walls, im a rock climber and i love the outdoors! i wanna retire in a nice european country like northern italy. but i’m also a huge homebody. i like to just stay in bed and cuddle my stuffies or watch some movies.

i’m a bit of a hopeless romantic, i believe in true love. but i also believe that people grow into that. i’ve only had one boyfriend before (lasted a couple months hahaha) and he was kinda terrible when i look at it from hindsight so he did hamper that visual.

i also have a lower social battery in the sense that i can hangout with a person for a really long time but it can only be one person and i need at least a day to regain some energy. but then again, i just have low energy in general hence the homebody aspect.

nsfw:

i’m not yet sexually active hehehe. however i have an idea of what i am based on the smut i read and what i like to imagine my guy as :D i’m a sub. hahaha i tend to lean towards hard doms but i love the idea of really sweet and praise filled sex. i’ve always loved pet names and being called pretty so yeah :>

tw depression and anxiety:

i’ve been diagnosed with clinical depression and anxiety. in my past, i’ve been emotionally manipulated and physically abused and so i have some sensitivities to loud noises and can have a hard time being vulnerable like most people. not entirely sure if this was necessary but maybe(?)

anyways! thank you so much for reading, your time and patience. this was long as heck! again, can’t wait for the next chapter! love you ♡

I think your Jujutsu kaisen matchup is:

Megumi is one of those quiet people. He behaves quietly and pays no attention to anyone around. He just doesn't like to worry about what doesn't concern him.

He is certainly also a wise person who does nothing recklessly. He has already known life and at some point he can say that he already knows how something can end.

He often gets pissed off when people irritate him. Even so, he is the same already. In the right company, he will smile and talk. Not every man pisses him off when he's next to him.

He is shy about being in a crowd. When something embarrassing happens, he'll blush and just feel ashamed of you for what others have done.

If there is a nice person in his life. For him or for others who accept him as he is, he will stick to you and just won't let you go at any price. He did not want to lose people who were close to him. But he'll never show it because he's just ashamed to show that cute and soft side.

However, with a very close person, he can't help but emotionally. He's pissed off, he's sad. He just can't do it in a large crowd.

If he could, he would be at home. Or in your room. He just likes to sit alone and never go out. Perhaps there is something in him that he could go for walks alone or Anywhere. But not in a large group. Even though he has friends. He's just often tired of a lot of people and would really prefer something quiet. For example, no one is dragging him everywhere in turn. Because people can be very annoying. He can only have a few friends. And certainly not those who do not like his character. It can't be the person taking his energy. Only a person who can recharge his energy.

He's been through a lot in his life. From his parents' abandonment to his sister's coma. And also the possible death of friends. His emotions are truly being put to cruel tests in his life. Nobody ever wielded it. And he is not trying to rule anyone either. But surely he would like to get rid of disputes that don't make sense. Why start something that cannot be finished. He didn't want good people to end badly. And so that no one would end up like him. No family, with the terrible feeling that it was all his fault. He wanted everyone to have their own justice. Throughout his life, he never seemed sensitive to anything. He just rejected it.

Perhaps someday he will become sensitive to people's emotions again. He would really like to smile with a loved one. Show emotions as he would like.

Headcanon:

• As everyone knows, he never pays attention to the superficial things in a person. Not the look. Nothing is important. He just cares about character. You can be whoever you want, and you may also want to be whoever you want. Look different, change. The only important thing for him is that you don't change emotionally. He doesn't care what others think. Others He just has his own type, and this is a nice person. Nothing else takes into account.

• If he's alone, you may be surprised, but he will talk. No matter what the topic. He will smile and answer your questions and say what he wants to say. What is important to him is that he is with a person who can talk to him and can also listen. And it's not explosive.

• holding a hand is something he loves. Walks in the fresh air while holding your hand. You can go ahead, talking or in silence, and look around. Focusing on what you like. Nice atmosphere. But he is a little ashamed of walking among people like that. Then he will hold your hand, but he will not pay attention to it. (Or rather, he'll pretend he doesn't care) Because he himself is clingy to love and will not let you go.

• He would like you to choose him instead of a soft toy in bed. I understand he is less soft but still very nice and pleasant to cuddle or lie down on. Plus, he'll keep you warm. So these are his reasons why he would like to be a replacement for your stuffed animal.

• Quiet gameplay like watching movies and cuddling. He loves it. But he will never refuse you to go outside. Also when you invite him for a few hours to go on a hike and climb in the mountains. He may be skinny, but he is physically fit. Besides, it's healthy.

• He would definitely like to help you get rid of ailments that you do not want. He knows such negative feelings, and would try his best to help you. To show you that you have nothing to fear and he supports you. He will keep you calm and nurtured as long as you need it. Even for eternity.

• I think he would say at first that real love doesn't exist. And then, if he gets to know you and something happens between you. Especially something strong. He would say love exists. And it's so real because he loves you so much. Even if others may laugh at his sudden change, he will be so careful and only follow the feelings that he feel.

So as not to make her think your relationship was terrible and it was also a waste of time. If he loves, it's serious.

"I love you. I know I will love you. Life with you is wonderful. Therefore, never be afraid. Nothing will ever happen to you because I will be with you."

NSFW: (Since you entered it in your request, I thought I would write it)

• If you're looking for someone Dom, they definitely are. He likes to dominate you. But he's not brutal. His domination will never be to make you feel humiliated. So being submissive to him, he'll be the one in charge. However, he is more delicate. Such a delicate domination.

Even though he has a tendency to be tough, he will try to keep you from feeling worse. He is a sweeter person who, despite his domination, will praise you and call you sweet names. He himself likes to come closer and kiss you more.