#ahh just thank you so much for writing !! i cannot wait to read the rest and be absolutely ruined by it lol

[hersweetrevenge]

firstly, ahhhhh this is everything to me !! secondly, i cannot even explain how excited to see this unfold, the amount of work you've put in is astounding and it absolutely shows, even just one chapter in !! 💗 thank you for writing and sharing !!

buckle up because i have some thoughts and cannot keep my mouth shut:

He falls down, and down, and down further than that. 

i love the coma dream. you totally capture the way that dreams can be really volatile and changeable, even if they feel very visceral. and pretty much everything that has gone wrong for corey is all summed up in this one dream.

Oh. I’m in the hospital, he thinks. He closes his eyes again. ... Corey drifts away on the morphine. 

it's always lines like this that get me !! i love this, him realising he's in the hospital and he's a least somewhat safe. i think it links really well to when nancy gives him more morphine -- it gives the sense of purgatory really well, like he's stuck in this place between death and rebirth for a while, not really with it.

Then he feels sick. Something bad happened to Ronald. 

ahhh you touched on it a little bit in Penpal, where corey doesn't know what he would of done about ronald if terry hadn't got there first, but i love the different angle you take in this piece, where he doesn't even remember what happened at first but he knows it was something bad. i think their relationship is definitely complicated and weird and strained, and i love seeing little insights about it woven into the story !!

Of course Momma didn’t make this spaghetti, he thinks. Momma’s dead... Motorcycle accident? No, that was Daddy.

ahh the moment he remembers that joan is dead but can't remember why or how, and the mention of his dad 😭 this whole sense of him being disconnected from himself after the fact works so well, and i can see it. i remember you've mentioned before that the stress/trauma/head injury combo contributed to him finally snapping and i love how this is playing out with that context in mind.

also, him relating really mundane things back to joan !! i hope this happens more, it feels so fitting to how everything revolved around her for so long.

The grief builds and builds until it feels like it’s smothering him... He is completely and utterly alone. 

ouchy 😭 this moment hits hard, seriously !! the point where he realises everything is gone. i love that there is this low point, where he isn't thinking about what to do or how to fix things, he just has this moment of absolutely wallowing because he has nothing left. make that boy suffer lol

did God love Corey Cunningham or hate him?

nancy is the real mvp here, i love her !! thinking about corey in the immediate aftermath of the accident is so intriguing to me. i love that she tries to be as unbiased as possible. corey needs someone who is just kind to him, no ulterior motives, no expectations. that's what i love about a lot of corey fanfiction, is the common idea of giving him someone who is there to be kind to him 💗

I wish I was like them, he thinks. Dead... A fitting end for a short, stupid life. 

ouchy, another hard hitter !! i feel like corey's suicidal tendencies are overlooked a lot, but it fits here so, so well !! nothing ever went his way, he feels doomed from the start and i can definitely see him thinking death would have been the answer. his last attempt at autonomy and still he wakes up to nothing. i think the desire to make an attempt again would wax and wane (a la novel canon), but it's interesting that you bring it up.

He remembers the time he spent in jail after the accident with Jeremy, viscerally. No way he would ever do that again

yes !! i love that you mention him being a jail after the accident !! it's something i've been wondering about (how long would he have been there? would he have been able to afford bail?) so it was interesting to see it crop up here !! i totally agree that corey would have a strong revulsion of the thought of being sent to prison, plus him thinking that is worse than being alive, which is already worse than if he'd just died.

And maybe they’ll have drugs, he thinks, the last of the painkillers from the hospital leaving his system.

ooh the way this got me thinking 👀 i am very excited to see if this is a recurring theme !! he is going to be struggling, with the physical pain and with coping with his new life, i wouldn't be surprised if he gained some sort of dependency for a while. that's a much darker path than if he just goes through a delayed rebellious phase of recreational experimentation like i think you've mentioned before lol

And just like that, Doug Mulaney’s disappearance and the murders of Tanner Mathis and Deborah Jennings go cold.

the joes sure are a duo lol it's a tricky situation to figure out, especially when there is evidence left behind and bodies still missing while corey kind of just gets away with it to a degree, but i think you're explanations work really well !! and i am so looking forward to how corey's paranoia about it plays out and effects this new life he's trying to make for himself.

ahh i could go on and on about this but to finish off, this was an amazing first chapter !! setting up so many ideas and weaving in enough information to hook me instantly. i'm so excited for the rest of this novel !!

Clean Again

survivor!Corey Cunningham x fem!Reader

After miraculously surviving the injuries he sustained on Halloween 2022 and narrowly avoiding arrest, Corey Cunningham lives in constant fear of being found out. He tries to keep his head down and be as invisible as possible but the first time he sees you, you see him too. Can he have a relationship with you without you really seeing ALL of him? What happens when you eventually catch a glimpse of his secret? Is love worth the risk?

new chapters posted every Thursday between 9 and 10 EST

Chapter 1: ESCAPE FROM HADDONFIELD read on AO3 | tumblr chapter index

general warnings for this fic - angst, fluff, eventual smut (MDNI), canon-typical violence, canon-typical gore contents/warnings for this chapter- gun violence, long hospitalization, prescription pain killers, wishing for death, description of a corpse, referenced past abuse (fuck you joan)

5,668 words

@rebel-blue @heartrot666 @wolvesandvampires @cordelium @toxicanonymity @multifandom--mess @hersweetrevenge @futurewife dm me or reply to this post to be added to my tag list 💕

Beep. Beep. Beep. Whoosh.

It’s pitch black. Corey can’t tell if his eyes are open or closed. He can’t hear anything except a distant beeping, punctuated by occasional whooshing. The sounds feel familiar, but he can’t figure out why. Then they fade away.

God it hurts! Everything hurts, pain like he’s never felt before. Can a person die from pain? Or is this pain what dying feels like? What being dead feels like? What Hell feels like? If he’s dead, and Hell is real, that’s certainly where he’s wound up. 

But now what’s this? A new sensation, like being swarmed by ants. And the ants eat him, all the way down to shiny, clean bones. Skeletonized. The places where he’s been reduced to bone no longer hurt. 

There are voices. Speaking in a language it seems wrong for him to hear. Something alien, or maybe something lost not long after we started walking upright. They’re warped, and warbling, like they’re being played at the wrong speed. There’s that beeping sound again. Laughter. It’s laughter, and they’re all laughing at him. 

Corey sits on the witness stand at his manslaughter trial. The gallery of the courtroom is full of people. But as he looks the crowd over he realizes it’s really all just one person. 

It’s Momma, 20 Mommas, only able to comfort him for a few minutes at time before she makes all his problems about herself. No one will ever love you like I do, and this is how you repay me? You’re killing me Corey! Is that what you want? To kill your mother?

It’s Laurie, 20 Lauries. Aiming revolvers at him. Do you wanna do it, or you want me to? She asks before unleashing a hail of bullets. They ricochet wildly around the courtroom, splintering the wood of the witness stand, releasing tiny explosions of drywall, shattering every lightbulb overhead. Riddling Corey’s body with holes, turning him into Swiss cheese. Then the dust settles and everything is normal again.

It’s Doug. 20 Dougs, guts spilling out of his stomach, throat gurgling and full of blood. You’ll be lucky if you make it back to the station. I oughta put you in the ground, you psycho son of a bitch! 

It’s Michael. No. 20 people wearing Michael’s mask, but none of them are Michael. One by one they reveal their true face. Corey’s face. Each one puts a finger up to his lips. Shhhh. Then he disappears. 

The Corey on the witness stand turns to the judge. It’s Jeremy, neck lolling, blood gushing from his split scalp. Answer the question, loser! Did you kill me on purpose or not!! He screams without moving his slack, dead mouth. Now the judge is Mrs. Allen, and she leans down to him, still screaming in Jeremy’s dead voice. You think you can just have fun with your friends!? You don’t have any friends, you ugly, white trash nerd!

A hole opens in the floor of the witness stand and Corey falls. He falls down, and down, and down further than that. 

He lands with a hard thump on the floor of the sewer. Pain radiates through his limbs and he gasps for air. Something crunches and squelches beneath him. He scrambles to his feet and looks at what he was laying on. His own corpse. Rotting and partially eaten, rats and insects swarming it. It’s wearing the silly scarecrow mask. 

He removes the mask from his own dead face. The inside is full of bugs. He shakes them onto the ground, then puts it on. As soon as it touches his face, he panics. His fingers skitter over the hard plastic surface, desperate to claw it off, but it’s stuck like it’s fused with his skin.  

Allyson pulls the mask off of him. He’s lying in a puddle of his own blood, and she’s hovering over him, holding his head in her hands. She thinks he’s dead. Her tears fall onto his face and slowly dissolve him until he’s nothing but a stain on the hardwood floor. 

Corey opens his eyes. He can’t see anything, but he knows his eyes are open.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Whoosh. 

Oh. I’m in the hospital, he thinks. He closes his eyes again.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

The morning of November 2nd has barely begun, but there is chaos brewing in the Warren County Sheriff’s Department. With Michael Myers turned into hamburger, things seemed like they would be calm for quite some time, and yesterday had been a great beginning. But this morning Joe Grillo and Joe Ross came to work with vengeance in their hearts. They corner Richard Wright as he fills the coffee pot with water from the cooler. 

“You collected a handprint from a glass door at the Mathis scene, right?” Grillo demands.

“Yes?” Richard replies in confusion.

“Did you run the prints?” Asks Ross. 

“No. It was a Michael Myers murder. We only collected the print because we didn’t realize it was him right away. Why would we run it?”

“Did you ever see Michael Myers before he was shredded, Dick?” Ross asks. 

“Big guy,” says Grillo. “Gigantic hands.”

“Okay…?” Richard says, still confused. 

“Handprint you collected at the Mathis scene looks kinda small to be Michael,” Grillo explains. 

“It could belong to Mathis, or the girl we found at the scene.” 

“Nope,” Grillo says. “Too small to be Michael, too big to be one of the victims. Could belong to a fourth person.”

“Could belong to Corey Cunningham,” Ross adds.

Richard takes a second to process this information. “Cunningham was a Myers victim too. He was barely clinging to life when we found him.”

“He got in Doug’s face at the diner on my birthday,” Grillo says. “Doug disappeared right after that. Seems suspicious, doesn’t it?”

“Seems like a coincidence,” Richard says. He moves to walk away but Joe Grillo and Joe Ross press in on him. Water sloshes out of the coffee carafe in Richard's hand.

“Oh yeah? Remind me who the victims were at the scene when you investigated,” prompts Ross.

 “Tanner Mathis and Deborah Jennings. So what?”

“Jennings worked at the Mathis clinic. Know who else worked there?” Grillo asks. “Allyson Nelson,” the Joes say in unison.

“Great police work,” Richard says sarcastically, trying again to walk away from the conversation. Joe Ross and Joe Grillo just tighten their press on him, until he can smell the unique reek of their combined breath. 

“Allyson was with Cunningham at the diner on my birthday,” Grillo growls.

“Joe, this town is fucking tiny. I’m sure everyone in the diner on your birthday was connected to each other and Michael Myers in some way. You’re grieving. We’re all grieving. But you can’t let that cloud your judgement. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” Richard finally manages to shoulder his way out from between the Joes and the water cooler. 

“Not everyone in the diner that night killed a kid!” Ross says after him. 

Richard turns on his heel. “Jeremy Allen’s death was an accident. Cunningham was acquitted.”

The Joes laugh mirthlessly. “Run the fucking prints, Dick.” Grillo says. 

“What’s going on here?” Asks Frank Hawkins as he comes into the break room. He hadn’t heard much, but his ears had pricked up at the name Cunningham. Frank numbered among the few in the Warren County Sheriff’s Department who had believed in Corey’s innocence from the beginning. He’d felt a pang of sadness when he’d seen the poor boy’s body crumpled in the foyer at Laurie’s house two nights ago, and he held a tiny kernel of hope that he would survive his injuries. 

“Just trying to make sure our police work is thorough and complete, Frank,” says Joe Ross.

“They wanna run the handprint from the Mathis scene,” Richard clarifies. 

“That was a Michael Myers murder, and Michael Myers is dead.”

“Michael Myers is. But Corey Cunningham isn’t,” Grillo says.

“Yet,” Ross adds darkly. 

“Why would it be Corey Cunningham’s handprint?” Frank doesn’t follow.

“They think he had something to do with Doug’s disappearance. Mathis and Jennings both worked with Allyson Nelson.” Richard rolls his eyes, something he’s found cause to do quite a lot of this morning. 

Frank doesn’t like this at all. He feels a kind of paternal care for Allyson, as Laurie’s granddaughter. He’s not sure what her relationship with Corey is, but he wants to protect her, protect both of them after they’ve been through so much.

“Michael Myers is responsible for Doug’s disappearance.” Frank says. “Let it rest. We all need to try to move on.”

“You can move on. I’m gonna run those fucking prints,” Joe Ross says.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Corey comes to his senses slowly, head unfogging a little bit every day. He struggles to make meaning out of the things happening around him, to remember why he’s in the hospital. It seems like something he should know. 

Today Corey feels the best he’s felt since he realized he was in the hospital. He’s still in pain, excruciating pain. He tries to move around but it feels like his body has forgotten how to. His muscles groan and his nerves tingle. His arms and legs are heavy and wooden. But his brain is churning. His thoughts are more than just smears.

The TV on the wall in the room is turned on. Through the blur without his glasses, he recognizes Judge Judy. Ron likes Judge Judy, he remembers. Then he feels sick. Something bad happened to Ronald. 

A nurse comes into the room. Corey can’t move his head, but he moves his eyes towards her. Her wavy brown hair is pulled into a ponytail.

“You’re awake! Welcome back to Earth!” She says to him as she putters around the room. “Are you hungry? I can have them deliver some solid food for your lunch now that you’re awake.” She checks his vitals and marks them in his chart.

“Yes, please,” Corey whispers raggedly. His voice is small and unfamiliar to him. 

“How’s your pain?” The nurse asks, vial and syringe in hand. He can’t find an answer. It’s awful, but it doesn’t feel like it’s happening to him. This stiff, immobile body isn’t attached to anything. Someone else is in pain in this hospital bed. He rolls his eyes around, trying to see the nurse better without rotating his head. “Well I’m gonna give you some morphine, okay? Right in your IV, and you’ll feel better in a flash.” She plunges the medicine into the line, and Corey feels it move slimily around in not-his veins. 

“Thank you, Allyson,” he croaks.

“My name’s not Allyson, hon.” She leans over him so he can see her better and taps her name tag. “I’m Nancy. I’m making sure the TV remote and the nurse call button are within your reach if you need them, okay?” He feels her press two rectangles of plastic into his right hand. Then she leaves and Corey drifts away on the morphine. 

He wakes up to someone else coming into the room. A blond boy in his late teens, pushing a tower full of trays. He removes one and brings it over to the bedside table. Corey rolls his eyes towards the boy and watches him uncover the food and adjust the height of the table. 

“Enjoy your lunch, Mr. Cunningham,” the boy says as he leaves the room.

Corey looks down at the food. A plate of spaghetti sits in the center of the tray. His stomach turns. Fucking spaghetti. Momma’s worst meal, he thinks. Still, he finds himself suddenly ravenous. He shovels the spaghetti into his mouth as quickly as he can with his heavy arms and frozen neck. It surprises him that it’s not disgusting. Of course Momma didn’t make this spaghetti, he thinks. Momma’s dead. He stops chewing mid-bite. 

He’s certain his mother’s dead, but he can’t remember why. How did she die? Motorcycle accident? No, that was Daddy. But then why can he picture her body, slouched and covered in blood? He feels like the answer is in his head, right there, in front of him, but he can’t quite reach it. After a moment trying, he gives up and goes back to eating. 

It’s later. Corey doesn’t know what time it is, or what day. Only that it must be evening and it must be a weekday, because it’s dark outside and Jeopardy! is on the TV. He hears voices outside his room, he thinks they’re saying his name. He gropes for the remote and hits the mute button when he finds it.

“Is that the Corey Cunningham in there?” A voice says.

“What do you mean?” Another replies. This one is sort of familiar.

“You don’t know about Corey Cunningham!?” The first voice hisses.

“Can’t say I do,” Nancy answers.

“Oh my god! I heard about his case on this podcast I listen to, Manslaughter Monday . He killed a kid he was babysitting in 2019. Threw him over the railing of the stairs from the third floor! The kid cracked his head wide open when he landed. And the fucking jury let him off! He claimed it was an accident and that the kid was pulling a prank on him when everything went wrong. I don’t buy it for a second.” The first voice giggles.

“Maybe you should listen to fewer podcasts,” Nancy sneers.

Corey hears two sets of feet retreating from his door and down the hall. 

Suddenly everything crashes in on him. Memories battering him in unrelenting waves. He remembers how he got hurt. He remembers the bad thing that happened to Ronald. He remembers how his mother died. And he remembers Allyson, cradling his head in her hands, certain he was dead. Ice runs through his veins as he realizes that Allyson is probably dead now too, because he woke Michael Myers up. He promised Allyson he wouldn’t let anything happen to her. But he had happened to her. 

Corey sobs, a massive, heaving sob. Sitting in the dark, the glow of the TV on him like a spotlight. The grief builds and builds until it feels like it’s smothering him. Squeezing his throat the way Michael had in the sewer. He screams, but no sound comes out except a faint and rattling rasp. The beeps on his heart monitor accelerate to break neck speed, but nobody comes to check on him. He is completely and utterly alone. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------

While Joe Ross sends the bloody handprint from the glass at the Mathis crime scene through the computer, Joe Grillo calls Haddonfield Memorial Hospital. Grillo is transferred from department to department. No one seems to know what happened to Corey Cunningham on Halloween night. Of course not. HMH administration has always been a shit show. When his daughter was born, Grillo half expected them to give him the wrong baby. 

The handprint doesn’t go any better. Four of the fingers are smudged and one is only partial. The computer can’t read them. Ross has to make a special request for a human expert to analyze the prints. That only escalates things with Richard Wright and Frank Hawkins. 

“Frank needs to learn it’s time to retire,” one Joe complains to the other. 

“He’s only obstructing us because he wants to protect Laurie Strode. Well, fuck Laurie Strode!” The other Joe says.

Doug’s body still hasn’t been recovered. Why should they protect that old broad’s peace when their best friend is missing and it’s the Cunningham cunt’s fault? 

The two sides split the Sheriff's Department. Most of the men on the force agree with the Joes. Cunningham got off too easy after he killed Jeremy Allen and they hope he’s still alive so they can have their second chance to fry him. Metaphorically, thanks to Illinois doing away with the death penalty. But there are those who believe investigating the murders and Doug’s disappearance is a waste of resources now that Michael is finally gone for good. Even most of them don’t think Corey is particularly innocent. They just don’t want to deal with the whole mess any longer than they already have.

The tension around the station is palpable. Some deputies have refused to speak to those on the other side of the issue. Joe Ross’s own father Elvis has been short with him since all this started. He’s never said he thinks Joe should end the investigation, but he doesn’t have to. Just as Ross starts to worry that the Sheriff will call everything off, the prints come back from the human expert.

Joe Ross sits at his desk with the envelope in his hands. He taps his foot impatiently as he waits for Joe Grillo to show up. Finally, Ross sees him approaching. Before Grillo even gets all the way to his desk, Ross is unsealing the envelope. His gut is telling him the news is bad, and he wants to rip the bandaid off. Grillo arrives at his elbow just as he slides the report out.

Thumb and pointer finger inconclusive. Too smudged even for the county’s top expert to get anything from. Middle finger, ring finger, and partial pinky — positive identification. There it is, the thing that Ross has been hoping to read for weeks, but was convinced he’d never see. Suspect Name: Corey Cunningham. He turns to Grillo to celebrate just as the other Joe’s phone rings. 

“Grillo,” he answers gruffly, annoyed at the interruption. Ross strains to overhear the conversation, but only gets one side. “You did?… Okay, so where… Let me get something to write this down.” He gestures roughly to Ross who shoves a pen and a sticky pad into his hands. Ross watches as Grillo writes down an address a couple hours away from Haddonfield. 

“Is this it?” He mouths to Grillo, who waves him away as he finishes his phone call. “Is this it?” He repeats as Grillo hangs up.

“That’s it. He was airlifted. He was only at Haddonfield Memorial to get onto the helicopter and someone fucked up his records. I’m leaving right now to go see if that motherfucker is still alive.” The Joes high five in triumph as Grillo shrugs into his coat.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Nancy is sitting by herself at the nurse’s station organizing paperwork when a cop walks up. He’s not dressed like local police, his uniform is green. The patch on his bicep says Warren County. He smacks his badge on the counter and clears his throat.

“Yes?” She replies in a sour voice. 

“You got a Corey Cunningham as a patient in here?” The cop asks. 

“I don’t know, deputy, do you have a warrant?” Nancy attempts to match his posture and tone.

After Dottie, that vulture from maternity, had come to ask about Corey the other night, Nancy had gone home and done some research. She found the podcast and listened to it, despite her usual distaste for true crime bullshit. The storytelling was garbage and the hosts seemed to derive an obscene pleasure from the suffering of everyone involved, but it gave her a basic understanding of what happened. Afterwards, she found a YouTube channel that posted a video claiming to analyze the psychology of Corey’s police interview. It had been a long time since Nancy took psychology, but she knew most of the claims in the video were bogus, just like the podcast. She tuned most of the narration out, focusing on the footage of Corey. She couldn’t help but care for the boy in the interrogation video. He seemed so small and naive. Completely unprepared for the harsh reality of what happened to him. 

The arresting officer was a real piece of work too. Lying to Corey and making thinly veiled threats to his safety. If this is how he behaved when he knew the conversation was being recorded, she could only imagine how he treated suspects outside of the camera’s watchful eye. When Corey turned his frightened face towards the lens, Nancy felt like he was looking right into her eyes, begging for her help.

When the video ended she moved onto news stories, trying to find a less biased perspective. It proved difficult. His trial had to be moved to a different county because he had no hope for an impartial jury in his home jurisdiction. The town had a serial killer problem or something, and Corey’s accident had turned him into the villain they needed. It was sick. And that blabbermouth Dottie was probably telling everyone in the hospital that they had a real life murderer in their midst. 

That was when Nancy had first started caring for Corey, when he had just been transferred out of the ICU. She’d felt deeply disturbed while reading his chart, and absolutely astounded that he’d survived. Two gunshots, a stab wound, and a broken neck. Multiple large bruises and massive soft tissue damage, some of which was already old and healing. Mild concussion, also days old. Cuts, scrapes, friction burns. A nasty gash in his palm that looked like it had already been stitched closed once, with a bright red spider web of infection streaking from it. 

Was it lucky or unlucky that the knife had passed right between major veins and arteries? That it had just barely clipped his vocal folds? That two of his vertebrae had been fractured, but his spinal cord remained undamaged? Was it lucky or unlucky that, despite the infection already festering when he arrived at the hospital, all his wounds closed with ease, that he was spared sepsis and gangrene? After everything he’d been through, did God love Corey Cunningham or hate him?

“A warrant?” Grillo responds, sounding annoyed.

“Yes, sir. I can’t confirm or deny if someone is a patient without a warrant, it’s a breach of privacy.” 

“Can you get me someone who’s in charge around here?” He slaps his badge against the counter impatiently. 

“Sure I can, sir. But we’re really short staffed right now, so it would probably be hours before they would have time to speak to you. We’re busy saving lives.” Instead of ruining them, she wants to add. 

“Fine. A warrant.” Grillo says tersely. He smacks his badge on the counter one more time before turning away and heading towards the elevator. 

As soon as she hears the doors slide closed, Nancy pulls up Corey’s chart. She scans it quickly, trying to figure out how close to discharge ready she can get him, tonight. She can’t let the boy from the interrogation video go through that again. It would really be best for him to stay in the hospital for at least another week, but that is not a luxury he has. Corey Cunningham deserves a break, even if just a small one, and Nancy can give it to him if she acts right now.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Corey looks at the ceiling, noticing a cluster of dead bugs inside the light over his bed. I wish I was like them, he thinks. Dead. Turned to paper by time. Forgotten and inconsequential. A fitting end for a short, stupid life. 

There’s a small knock on his door, followed by the creak of hinges. Corey attempts to move his head to look, but mostly fails. In the very edge of his vision he sees Nurse Nancy entering. Her arms are full with some kind of bundle.

“How are we doing?” She asks. Corey can’t be bothered to respond. “I’m gonna sit you up, okay? I have something important to talk to you about.” 

The bed rumbles to life and folds Corey at the waist until he’s the most vertical he’s been in weeks. “What is it?” His hoarse whisper less jarring to him every time he speaks, getting used to the way he sounds now. 

“A cop came by just now, looking for you.” Nancy says gravely. Corey tenses up at this information and it sends pain radiating through him. He winces and Nancy looks at him with pity. “I know who you are. I know about the manslaughter case. They didn’t have a warrant so I couldn't tell them if you were a patient or not. They’re going to be back soon.” She puts her bundle down and stands with her hands on her hips.

“I have a plan,” she continues, “to get you out of here before they come back. You’re not ready to be discharged yet, but I think you have better odds out there on your own than inside a jail cell. It’s up to you if you want to stay or go.”

“What’s the plan?” He wheezes. He’d do anything in the world to avoid going to prison. He remembers the time he spent in jail after the accident with Jeremy, viscerally. No way he would ever do that again. He’s confident that now he could handle the guards and the other inmates much more effectively. But he had spent his whole life in a cage, under surveillance, suffocating. First Momma, then all of Haddonfield. Fuck that. He would rather die than spend another moment on lockdown, in a very literal way. The only thing worse than being alive would be prison.

“You’re going to ask me to discharge you against medical advice. I’m going to beg you to stay for just a couple more days, a couple more hours even, until the doctor can come look you over at least. You’re going to refuse.” She starts to unravel the bundle she brought with her.

“You were so insistent that I had to let you go. So I printed your chart and some care instructions…” She waves some papers around, “and brought you some warm clothes from the lost and found, since what you were wearing at admittance was destroyed.” One by one she holds up a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, a sweater, and a parka. “I just guessed your size.”

Corey listens carefully, amazed and confused at the lengths the nurse is willing to go to to help him. She knows about Jeremy but she must not know about everyone else. She would stick her neck out for a kid who caught a tough break, but certainly not for an honest to god, cold blooded killer.

“When I asked how you were getting home, if you had anyone to look after you, you refused to tell me. I did everything I could to keep you here, and everything I could to discharge you safely when you wouldn’t stay. What do you think of that?”

“I think you better discharge me, right now. I’m ready to go the fuck home, and I’m not waiting for the doctor.” He tries to muster an insistent tone. 

“That’s what I hoped to hear,” Nancy says with a smile. “I’ll be right back to remove your IV and all that.” She practically runs to the door.

Corey sits uncomfortably in the truck stop diner booth, chewing a piece of leathery bacon. It takes great effort to sit up straight, his muscles weakened so much by his hospital stay. If he can catch a ride with one of the truckers in the parking lot, hopefully they’ll let him lay in their bunk. And maybe they’ll have drugs, he thinks, the last of the painkillers from the hospital leaving his system. He doesn’t know where he’s going, or what he’ll do when he gets there. He just knows he needs to get the fuck out of Illinois as quickly as possible. 

Nurse Nancy had unhooked all the wires and pulled out all the tubes that helped Corey stay alive, then got him dressed. She brought him his work boots and his father’s ring, the only two things that hadn’t been cut off by medical personnel on Halloween. The only two things in the world left from his old life. Someone had already scrubbed the blood out of the crevices in the ring, destroying the evidence that Corey was not merely the victim of another tragic Halloween in Haddonfield. Then Nancy ordered him an Uber and gave him all the cash in her wallet. A total of $78.

He swallows the last sip of his chocolate milk, sludgy with undissolved syrup, then slides awkwardly out of the booth. He doesn’t leave a tip. He only has $65 left after the food itself. He stumbles on unfamiliar legs through the diner, past the coin operated showers, and outside. He scans every face he sees, looking for someone who feels right. Friendly, or else easy to intimidate. He spots a gangly young man who looks about his age, maybe younger, hopping down from the cab of his truck. Corey doesn’t know much about fashion, but he thinks this guy looks punk or something. Like the dudes in high school whose girlfriends all dyed their hair purple, who he had always wanted to be friends with. 

“Hey man,” Corey says to him, trying to sound casual. “Can I catch a ride with you?”

“Where are you trying to go?” The punk driver asks.

“Wherever you’re willing to take me.” Corey tries to shrug but it hurts too much.

The driver agrees to give him a ride. He says his name is Evan. Corey doesn’t offer a name. Evan tells him they’re hauling a load of cheese from Wisconsin southward to Georgia. Corey has to get out before Evan makes the cheese drop though, because he’s not supposed to have anyone else in the truck with him. 

Evan turns the volume on his cacophonous music down to talk. From his friendly chatter Corey deduces it’s sometime during the week between Christmas and New year. Holy shit, he was in the hospital a long time. In October he’d hoped he could kiss Allyson at midnight on New Year’s. He’d never done anything to celebrate, and they would be in a new town, starting their new lives together. Now Corey would be alone for the holiday. Starting a new life by himself, while he can only assume Allyson’s life is over. He looks out the window so Evan won’t see his grief.

As they barrel south, they pass through miles and miles of empty fields, waiting, dormant. The flatness of the plains gives way to hills and then mountains. The elevation changes make Corey’s ears pop, and the tight curves in the road jostle him from side to side. He doesn’t ask Evan if he can sleep in the bunk, or if he has any drugs, and Evan doesn’t offer. Not long after they exit the mountains, they enter the tangled web of Atlanta, the highways and interstates knotting around each other, ensnaring cars like thousands of insects. Then they emerge into central Georgia, and Corey sees the south as it’s represented in cartoons, tiny little nothing towns separated for miles by woods and family farms. 

Evan pilots the truck through endless decrepit historical downtowns with mostly empty storefronts. These places aren’t dissimilar to Haddonfield, slowly becoming more abandoned and rotten in the wake of Michael’s rampages. The familiarity is bittersweet. Corey wonders if these towns have their own boogeyman legends. He wonders if their boogeymen are real. A hard, dark part of him hopes they are. That these towns have all felt the wrath of the monsters they personally created. 

They come to a truck stop on the edge of a city. Even from here, just barely within the limits, Corey can tell it’s the biggest town they’ve seen in hours. Evan informs him that his destination is nearby, so this is where they must part. Corey thanks him for his kindness then slips out of the truck.

Late December in south Georgia is much warmer than in Illinois, and Corey starts sweating in his parka immediately. But he keeps it zipped, with the hood up, to obscure himself as much as possible. He shambles across a parking lot to a motel that looks like it was frozen in time 60 years ago. He spends all of his remaining money on a room for the night. The towels are scratchy, the bed frame is creaky, and there’s a mysterious stain on the carpet in the corner of his room. None of it matters. He peels off his parka and falls straight to sleep. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------

A few days after Corey’s escape, Nancy is once again seated alone at the nurse’s station when the cop comes in. This time he slams a warrant down on the counter. 

“Corey Cunningham,” is all the asshole says. Nancy takes the warrant from him and makes a big show of reading it. Grillo’s face starts to turn red. 

“Checked himself out against medical advice,” Nancy says, biting back a smile.

“Where the fuck did he go!” Grillo demands, half shouting.

“I need you to keep your voice down, deputy. This is a hospital. Patients don’t usually make a habit of telling me their plans after they leave, especially those who are adamant about leaving before their treatment is complete. I can give you his chart, but your guess about where he is is certainly better than mine.”

Nancy prepares the information requested in the warrant, feeling victorious. She smiles the rest of the day. Good luck, Corey Cunningham. She tries to think loud enough for him to hear her, wherever he is.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

When Grillo gets back from his second trip to the hospital, Ross can see all over his face that the news is bad. Fuck, is all he thinks. 

“He was there. I got his chart,” Grillo tells him

“That’s what we wanted?” Joe Ross says, confused.

“He was there. Past tense. He fucking checked himself out against medical advice! He’s in the fucking wind!” Grillo roars.

“Well, put out a fucking APB then!” Ross yells back. But he knows before he finishes his sentence that an APB won’t be happening. Nothing else will be happening, because here comes the Sheriff, striding towards his desk with a stern look on his face. And just like that, Doug Mulaney’s disappearance and the murders of Tanner Mathis and Deborah Jennings go cold.

[eijirousbestie]

YOUR ART MAJOR STORY WAS FIRE!! IM AN ART MAJOR AND WE HAD TO DO DETAILED PORTRAITS THIS MORNING AS AN ACTIVITY OVER THE NEXT FEW DAYS AND ALL I COULD THINK ABOUT WAS YOUR STORY 😭😭😭😭 anyway i had the vision of Y/N doing a portrait of bakugou for her class ❤️❤️❤️❤️

AHH THANK YOU SM hearing someone thought abt my story in their day to day life is actually insane so thank you for reading!! Love to see a fellow art major around here🤝🏽I hope this story is to your liking i tried my best😭<33

“Can I draw you?”

this is kinda long (I got too into it lol)

pulling at the heartstrings a bit here

he’s a willing participant???

unorganized dishes

golden hour

* * *

Being an art student had its perks. For one thing you didn’t have “real” homework like other classes and you could spend majority of your time creating something new. In other cases, being an art student was dreadful, and today proved that to be true.

Walking into class and setting your bag down, you sit at your easel and scroll on your phone as your professor waits for other students to trickle in before he takes attendance. The sound of a chair scooting can be heard as your professor makes his presence known and calls role. He finishes and places his clipboard down, clapping his hands together with enthusiasm.

“Good morning guys! First things first, I just wanted to say you all did a great job at critique this past Tuesday. I was very impressed with the outcome of all your pieces. Now for those of you who have checked the class schedule, you’ll know we have our Portrait 1 assignment due at the end of next week. I’ll give further instructions and we’ll go ahead and get started on those today.” He grabs a stack of papers, assuming to be said detailed instructions for your next assignment. As soon as he hands you a copy, you skim through the premise of what you’re going to be doing.

Portrait 1 Assignment

1. Pick a subject you will be referencing to for your portrait. (No you cannot use a reference online. It has to be someone you can poke).

2. Arrange a time outside of class to meet with your subject to begin your sketch.

3. Pick a feature of your subject to enhance in your final drawing. You can add color, darken line weight or distort the feature you chose, but the rest of the portrait should be in the style of a sketch.

This drawing should be done on an 18x24 sheet of paper from your sketchbook and no smaller.

You internally cringe at the thought of having to snatch someone from campus to sit with you for hours just so you can draw them. You instantly begin to think of people you know who you can draw. You take your phone out and begin typing up a message to a friend of yours, asking when they’re free. Much to your dismay, they inform you that they have work directly after class all this week and won’t be able to help. You understand, but now you’ve got yourself stuck and you absolutely refuse to ask a stranger. For the remainder of the period, all you can do is mindlessly write a list of names and the pros and cons of their potential availability.

* * *

Sitting in the living room after getting back to the dorms, you rest after having no success trying to recruit anyone to be your reference. The dorms are practically empty as everyone is out doing something. Working, training, shopping. Everything you don’t do. Essentially losing hope for the day, you resort to lounging on the couch. Cozy pajamas nearly lulling you to sleep. However before you can slip into the best nap of your life, clanging from the kitchen startles you awake. Whispered curses soon follow, ultimately giving away who caused the noise. Getting up from your oh so comfy spot, you make your way to the kitchen to investigate. Peeking a head in the doorway, you see a rather frazzled Bakugou picking up pots and pans that had fallen to the floor.

Looking at his bent form, you speak up. “You aight?” He picks up the last pot and places it on the counter before responding, fully facing you.

“I’m good. My bad if I woke you.” You give a shrug and lean your hip on the doorframe, arms crossed over your chest.

“Nah you’re fine. Wasn’t fully knocked out anyway. What were you doing in here?”

“Reorganizing. For whatever reason, idiots around here can’t understand that stacking dishes causes shit to fall. Just proved my point too.” His eyes fall on the various pans on the counter he was in the process of arranging. You give a chuckle and move to help put them away.

“Say it louder for the people in the back.”

“Yeah well apparently they ‘don’t respond well to yelling.’ Whatever the fuck that means.” He nags as you both place each dish in their respective places.

“Gotta give em a glare or side eye to get the message across,” you joke.

“Shit only goes so far. But if looks could kill everybody here would be on their deathbed.”

“Jesus man, gruesome much?” You let out a heartier chuckle, actually entertained by his empty threats.

“S’called being self-aware.” He leans against the now empty counter and folds his arms across his chest. A silly thought crosses your mind. A glimpse of hope even. You decide to pursue it.

“Speaking of looks,” you start off tentatively, “I could really use yours if you’ll let me.”

He gives you a half-curious look, left eyebrow slightly raised as he side eyes you. “The hell’s that mean?”

You’re not sure whether it’s the desperation talking or the fact that you’re half asleep, but you immediately hit him with your dilemma.

“Well… can I draw you?” It seems like minutes that go by before he responds with a sharp click of his tongue.

“Lay off the drugs huh? Shit’s got you talkin outta your ass.”

“Bakugou please! I need a reference for an assignment and I’d really appreciate if you’d let me draw you. It won’t take long I swear I’m fast!” Your hands are clasped together as you ask for his cooperation.

“The hell’d you wanna draw me for? Plenty other people you could ask.”

You don’t have it in your heart to mention nobody else was available to help you. It’d be like blatantly telling him he was the last option and you don’t want to potentially upset him by saying that. It’s not necessarily true either, you just didn’t think he would be up for it in the first place so you didn’t want to bother him. He was your saving grace really, never the last option.

“Well you’ve got great eyes. And perfect eyebrows too. So it’s kinda hard not to want to draw you. But seriously, if you’ll let me, I’ll do my very best to capture the best parts of you. Please?” If you hadn’t known any better, you could’ve sworn you saw his hands clutch the counter in a death grip. He’s quiet for a moment. Two moments. Then he shakes his head in disbelief and his eyes sweep to look at anything else but you.

“Fine. Just don’t make me look like shit got me?” A light look of embarrassment covers his face. It’s endearing.

“I promise.” You smile a wide grin, relief relaxing your shoulders. “You mind if we get started tonight? I’m kinda behind as it is.”

He gives a nod and a hum in response. You tell him to stay put as you grab your sketchbook. He takes a seat on the couch and watches the slow sunset. It’s golden hour and the living room is filled with warm oranges and yellows as the sun is close to calling it a day. You come back, supplies in hand and before you can put your things down, you catch Bakugou as he gazes out of the window, the setting sun casting onto his face. With his hand propped under his chin, he looks ethereal. His red eyes now a vermilion as the rays reflect on them. It highlights his jawline, casting shadows that make the edges prominent. His hair aglow in the light, tufts of blonde now appearing marigold. You don’t realize how silly you must look staring at him until his eyes flicker to your frozen form. His gravelly voice pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Got your stuff?” He doesn’t move from his spot as he asks. You gather your bearings and nod.

“Yeah uh I got everything I need. We can start now if you’re ready?” You walk over to the couch where he sits, setting up your easel right in front of him.

“Mmh go ahead. Is there a certain way you wanna do this or?”

“No no what you’re doing now is fine. It’s actually better if you’re comfortable. We might be here a while, but let me know when you need a break.” He gives a nod of approval and you’re off, hands sketching and eyes darting back and forth between easel and subject. Soft scratching noises from graphite on paper filled the silence. By this point you were detailing the features of his hand holding up his face. Neat nail beds and cleanly trimmed. Bruised and scarred knuckles from countless hours of training. A strong neck that connected to an even stronger jaw, probably chiseled by the gods themselves.

You’d be lying to yourself if you thought drawing him would be a chore. It was actually enjoyable. There was no need for trivial conversation. Just you sitting there, drawing him as he let you. Him trusting you to capture his very being with only a pencil. It was a beautiful experience and you couldn’t be more grateful that you both were a part of it.

[mediumgayitalian]

Ahh ok hi! I’ve been reading your stuff for a while now and I’ve been to timid to comment, but I just wanted to say thank you for everything! Your writing is phenomenal and I get so happy whenever you post! The first thing I do in the morning is see if you’ve posted, and if you have, I read it! There isn’t a single piece of your stuff that I’ve even remotely disliked! My personal favourites are your Naomi Solace wip (she’s such a queen and I love her), the road trip AU (you left us on a cliffhanger!!) and the modern daring AU (Nico trying to figure out modern dating is so endearing). Thank you again and I hope that both sides of your pillow are cold, you get enough rest, and you drink enough water! And if you’re ever itchy, Benadryl is your best friend (you will forever be haunted by Benadryl 😈) not hit seriously though, thank you.

1. thank you so much 🥺 i love writing it’s so fun and it’s such a big thing for me to look forward too every day

2. NAOMI SOLACE MY BELOVED. i have so so much more to say about her and i cannot wait for finals to be over so i can keep yapping about my number one girl

3. I DID LEAVE YOU IN A CLIFFHANGER!!! i had half a chapter done but i did not vibe with it so i’m starting over. my issue is i rly rly want to skip this chapter to get to the good part but i can’t and it’s killing me lmfao

4. teehee i have one (1) note for the next modern courting chapter and it’s just “open to nico: lying face down on the floor of jason’s cabin and Yelling” i am so pumped

[dutifullyshamelessearthquake]

AJSNEJDBEJDNWJSNSKSNJWSNW just read the new fic and AHHHH

I was sitting in my parents’ lounge room while reading this and my mum walked in on me trying not to cry in the bit where Cyno was crying so that was funny

but yeah at the phone call part and onwards I was just GRINNING from ear to ear and fucking giggling because i was having a lot of fun reading it and I just randomly heard my mum going “Mozzie, what the fuck?” so yeah that was great

Anyway, stuff about the fic itself now :)

the phone call thing was great. Like, I read “Cyno, I’m not Tighnari.” And I was like huh? What? Very good :)

Also KAVEH? KENSJWNSKSJS KAVEH? I love how your wrote him, 10/10, very funny, very good

I cannot wait for Nari’s reaction to this whole thing like AHHHH I’m excited

anyway, very good fic, will be giggling and kicking my feet about it tonight 👌

(also sorry for the choppiness and wham-bam-this-that-ness of this, I’m just tired and excited 😅)

AHH I'M GLAD YOU ENJOYED IT!!

I channeled all my sad emotions writing those scenes, I sincerely apologise to poor Cyno for what I put him through in this fic (I'd say in this chapter, but... things aren't gonna get easier next chapter)

I love reading with a silly smile on my face and have people question what the hell I'm doing. Or resting murder face, that's more often the expression I find myself making when I read! XD

AHH I'm glad my first time writing Kaveh went well!! He's a character I've been itching to write, I love him and his personality.

Thank you so much again!! I'm super happy you enjoyed it!!

[writing-whump]

Hello dear Sol💕 it's ☕

Firstly sorry that I saw your answer 3 days late 😔 and secondly, thank you so much for your nice wishes💖 I believe I'll be good soon.

Anndddd what's wrong with your hand? I hope it's nothing major and doesn't cause much problems. Please be careful 🙏🏻

Ahh as for the fic.. well, I reeealllyy liked sick-Isaiah fics. You're awesome as always 🤩 if you're planning to write 3rd part for that and if you're trying to decide between Hector and Arnie..well I'd say Hector 🤍 I love Arnie a lot too but we read him recently stress induced migraines. But I'd really wonder if we can do something to Hex 🤔 Isaiah is already really sick and delirious, he doesn't even know what he's saying.. maybe he'll say something unconsciously that Hector cannot handle easily.. I've seen sick, angry, compassionate Hex..but what about lacerated and sad Hector? This could be interesting!

(+BTW I'm getting ready to be back very soon.. gathering some questions for your OCs, i really miss this. Can't wait!🎉)

Hey, ☕️-nonny!

No worries at all, sweetie! I hope you are resting and not stressing out now that exams are over.💕Glad to hear you are doing better! Best of wishes to push through to complete recovery. 🍀🍀🍀

Ehh, my arm doing way better, I can move it again, lol. It just still hurts at certain angles, can't carry anything heavy and driving is annoying 😅 might be bothersome for a few more weeks, but it's not broken, so summer is saved✨. Couldn't lift it at all the first three days after the fall and with it being my right hand, it was very uncomfortable. 🫠

I'm glad you liked the recent sick Isaiah 🤍 I should tone it down with him 😂 then again, fevers are rather straining with heart issues, so maybe this flu isn't a bad foreplay/additional factor for what comes. But there is still a bit of time until then...

Hector is getting the saddest feels here, but hehe, I can see ways to up it up a little 👀 definitely with the aftermath of the last fic.😉

I'm getting so many different ideas/asks for part 3 🥰 it's lovely to watch. I actually made a mind map out of the possibilities, lol 😂. Some of the ideas contradict each other, so I won't be able to include them all, buuuut it's very inspiring.

Thank you for stopping by, it's always lovely hearing from you! 💙✨

[creatively-cosmic]

What up, Starry—You already know who it is! B)

Sorry about Tumblr being a buggy mess and crashing halfway through! I’ve experienced the frustration of losing writing due to crashes and it always sucks. But thank you for continuing to answer these questions and satiate my curiosity! Learning more about Missing Numbers is like reading a book that just keeps getting better and better and better with every new chapter. Also: don’t worry about the delays or how long responding takes! You come first and foremost. Your health/work/school/whatever it is ya got going on in your personal life, is infinitely more important than me getting an answer to a question. So please, take your time, as much as you need—I will wait.

(Also, young Red being just as much of a little shit as Blue was is surprisingly wholesome and I love that. And after seeing their heights I realized I’m the same height as Blue! That detail is not important in the slightest, I just thought it was funny.)

Anywho, let’s get into the meat and potatoes, shall we?

First things first: Y’all mentioned biology mechanics and the nature of Glitches? 👀 Well, guess what? I love that kinda stuff! My curiosity is piqued—please explain.

Second question though: What is Leaf’s Duty? What does she do and how do her powers(?) work? Are her abilities like how the move Imprison was in Fallen Leaf?

And third: What’s the relationship/dynamic between Leaf and Red? That comic y’all posted has me wondering what Leaf is warning others about.

That’s all for now though! Please take care of yourself. Have a good day/afternoon/night!

Ahh, thank you so much for your patience! its really appreciated,, im glad youve still been enjoying things- your comments (and your FANART OH MY GOD??) have still been giving us LIFE i truly cannot thank you enough!

Red and Blue’s childhood friendship and rivalry has always been something we’ve wanted to come off as just plain silly and enjoyable- I’m glad we’ve been succeeding in that, hehe. And Blue was actually originally going to be shorter (our height, actually), we just added a few inches to be nicer to him lol

Per usual now, we’ll keep the big stuff under the cut! It’s another long one: Consider this Leaf Lore Part Two.

For the Glitch stuff, we’ve been thinking and might make a BIG formal post going over all of Professor Maple’s speculation and studies, to make it a good access point for the worldbuilding of Missing Numbers. I can’t promise it’ll come soon, but! As a starting point, I do have a pre-written thing with information on different classifications of Glitch that should clear up a good bit to start with. 

Unless we get any sudden further realizations, every Glitch, Corruption, and Anomaly in Missing Numbers (and arguably in Pokemon as a whole) can fall under these five classifications.

Leaf’s duty is the main aspect of what we failed to touch on in your previous question. So, I’ll finish that part of the story. :) 

To answer your questions, we first have to establish how she got her powers. When Leaf died, she did not get to rest peacefully. Most who die in this world don’t. The afterlife for the fallen and forgotten is not pretty. It is not merciful. There is no heaven for the ones who do not matter to God. 

The Distortion exists in layers. At it’s lowest, the farthest from contact with the main reality, is a void of unused, scrapped, and null data. A graveyard, or worse yet, a dump where things that can no longer exist in the surface world go to rot. Unused data. Scrapped NPCs. Removed characters, Pokemon, items. 

Assets of old games that never carried over.

Leaf's soul was discarded here when she was erased from existence at the end of Abandoned Loneliness. Left to rot with the unborn Ghosts that had haunted them both with the intent to drag someone of significance down with them. Hoping they too might escape. That they might receive mercy through her. 

Unfortunately, Leaf was the unloved child. So instead she fell to their ranks, swallowed up by the abyss that was their resting place- thrust as far from reality, from her home, from her friends, from her purpose as feasibly possible. Still conscious. Still aware. Still suffering.

… Leaf was not one to accept things lying down. Leaf was a fighter. She hated injustice, unfairness. She wouldn’t stand for this. She wouldn’t lie down and give up. No matter how suffocating the darkness was. No matter how the bloodied hands tried to drag her further down. No matter how the chaos and corruption tried to break and dismantle her. 

No. Matter. What.

Where there’s a will, there’s a way. And if there was one thing that defined Leaf even more than her bleeding heart, it was that her will was unbreakable.

So she climbed. Climbing over the damned- the forgotten- the spiteful- the vengeful- everything trying to hurt her and pull her down. Focused solely on escaping, on going up. Until things began to become more tangible. Until she could see more than black and red. Until there was light, and color. Until data became form- albeit still broken, chaotic. Numbers. Misplaced bricks. Impossible plants. Incomprehensible collision. 

Glitch City.

She broke through the floor of the second lowest layer of the Distortion, and though the surface’s light was still so far… She’d found solid footing. 

And here, though it may have been quieter… She wasn’t so alone.

The City had the odd few inhabitants. But the first that she met was a strangely familiar boy, a teenager that reminded her of someone she knew, but wrong. With a cocky, lopsided grin, unruly black hair, and bright red eyes. 

Someone who wanted out just as badly as she did.

Leaf and Red never knew each other outside of Glitch City. But during their time trapped there together as children, they were friends. Leaf wasn’t the first person Red befriended there… 

But she was significant. They were allies with a shared goal, after all, and if one of them could find a way out, they could get out together! They worked in tandem to find hope, grasp at an escape. Everything they could, as a possibility. They were friends, after all. Right?

Right?

… Leaf didn’t wholly trust Red. It wasn’t personal, but there were things that were risky. She could see the instability of corruption plaguing him, and she wanted to ensure her loved ones’ safety more than she wanted to escape. The greater picture was something that she could wrap her head around, even if it was hard to grasp.

Red was not the same. Laser focused on his goal and uncaring of the consequences, it was a factor that, over time, divided them more and more as Leaf realized the severity of Red’s condition, and began to think…

Maybe he was here for a reason. … Still, she tried to turn a blind eye. Let herself hope things weren’t that bad. 

The growing obviousness for his resentment towards Fire, though Red tried to hide it, didn’t help- her distrust towards him only grew, further clouded by her personal fears and dedication to protecting her loved ones.

And one day, while discussing a possible window for escape… She let a thought she’d been hiding slip. The final nail in the coffin.

Afraid for her brother’s life, and angry seeing how Red reveled in the idea of hurting him, she left him behind and didn’t look back.

From there, we aren’t sure of the exact details of how she escaped. But we know she had help on the surface- from someone a little too curious about the nature of the Anomalous, who was all too eager to free a willing entity. Professor Ace Maple (specializing in “anomalies”, and original to the Missing Numbers story!) helped free her soul. 

Of course, releasing a long-buried corrupted entity wouldn’t go unnoticed by the higher power that had put her there. But… It saw how careful she was. How she was now completely wary of all glitches. How she’d come to understand the dangers they posed to the world and the people in it.

So, the Almighty came to her in a Golden light. Extending an offer to her.

YOU CANNOT BE PERMITTED TO EXIST IN THIS WORLD AS YOU ARE.

THERE IS A REASON YOUR KIND WERE BURIED.

THIS WORLD IS ENDANGERED EVERY TIME CORRUPTION ESCAPES.

I MUST PRESERVE THE ORDER OF THIS REALITY.

BUT YOU, HEROINE, HAVE PROVEN TO BE SPECIAL.

I AM WILLING TO MAKE A COMPROMISE FOR YOU ALONE.

YOU KNOW THINGS I CANNOT PERMIT ANYONE TO KNOW.

YOU’VE SEEN THINGS I CANNOT PERMIT ANYONE TO SEE.

I CAN ALLOW YOU TO KEEP THESE MEMORIES, AND YOUR PRESENCE HERE, ON SIMPLE TERMS.

DO NOT SPEAK OF IT TO ANOTHER SOUL…

AND PUT THIS KNOWLEDGE TO USE.

YOUR SHACKLES WILL BE YOUR WEAPON. KNOWLEDGE. POWER. 

PROTECT MY WORLD. CLEANSE THE CORRUPTION. HOLD THEM BELOW.

YOU ALONE WILL SEE EVERYTHING, FOR YOU ALONE SHALL BE THE WARDEN.

BUT DO NOT FORGET WHERE YOU CAME FROM.

DO NOT FORSAKE ME.

… Of course she accepted the bargain. It was all beneficial in her eyes. Her complete freedom, and the ability to protect those she loved most in ways she never could have before. What happened in their childhood would never happen again now.

Thus, Leaf was blessed with her body yet again. Rightfully hers, and aged to grow with her. Though she’d never again be a Vessel, that was okay. She was something far greater now. 

The chains could Imprison any code they touched, and they were completely under her control. With these, she could fight and restrain any anomalies necessary. She was also given the one-of-a-kind ability to freely move between the Main world, and the Distortion… To ensure that no activity occurred in either that could allow the escape of something catastrophic.

Of course, things weren’t perfect. The world and the people in it had changed since she’d been gone. It had been years. People would be different.

Blue, for one. It was hard to face him again. Tensions never stopped being high between them. They both remembered, after all.

She mostly just cared about her brother, now. It took her a bit to find him, idle at the top of Mount Silver. 

It was heartbreaking to see the emptiness in his eyes. Him barely acknowledging her. The realization that he’d never… He’d never looked for her. Never tried to free her. 

Never even mourned. 

She still loved him. She always would. He was her family. He was the only one who’d been anything like her.

It was okay that he got everything she had. It was okay that he’d completely replaced her. It was okay that he now had everything she ever wanted. It was okay that he wasn’t the one who looked for, found, freed her, instead of a complete stranger. It was okay that when he spoke it was soulless and objective and only reminding her of her duties. it was okay. it was okay. 

It was okay that he didn’t care. 

It was okay that he was living the life she should’ve wanted DESERVED that he was destined to.

It was okay that she had to protect him. It was part of her duty, after all.

She wasn’t bitter. She wasn’t mad. She loved him.

… And then there was Red- “Glitchy,” as she now called him, unwilling to give him the name that belonged to her brother. He never did give up on her. He was PISSED, mind you, that somehow she had escaped and left him and the others stuck down there behind- but he still refused to back down.

They were enemies now, though. As he grew more restless- and more powerful, much to Leaf’s horror- his imprisonment became a direct responsibility of hers. And as Professor Maple grew more curious about glitches, unknowingly bringing him closer and closer to true freedom, even though she felt indebted to them, she had to resist their studies. Warn them of everything- especially him.

“I thought you hated injustice. Don’t you think this is unfair?”

Still, she had to face him often. And even in his madness, and even in chains, Red could speak so… Persuasively. 

“If you could escape, why shouldn’t I? You have the ability to free me.”

“And I know you’re hiding me from the others. Don’t they deserve to know?”

“You knew as a KID that Blue was looking for me. Doesn’t HE deserve it?”

“I think you know this isn’t the right thing to do.”

“You’re making a mistake.”

“But it’s okay. I’m not mad. I can be patient.”

“I’m sure you’ll come around.”

“After all, you’re just like me and you know it.”

[naffeclipse]

AH MY HEART!!

You're tearing me apart Naff!!!

I caught up on song fish,,

(I'm sorry this is a mess, I'm commenting on both chapters in one go)

I love this sailboat!! I can imagine it looking so pretty! But I need to ask, what kind of sailboat is it??? Did you reference an actual real life one or did you make it up? Sorry I'm extremely curious X3

It's going better and oh my god I'm so proud of y/n! Throughout both of these chapters they're getting so much more comfortable and confident, I just wanna squeeze them and tell them how good they're doing!!!

Gregory is such a hero, so patient and understanding, and now with the secret out, their connection is so much stronger, I love it!!

The boys are doing a good job too, it's hard for them to not seem a little fast paced with the progress since they are the creatures y/n have been so afraid of their entire life. But they're so gentle and patient, they're doing their best, aah they're so lovable!! If they weren't so huge I'd wrap my arms around both of them and spin them around!

The island Sun takes y/n to! I wanna be there with him so bad!! And the gentle way he encourages y/n to get underwater and then y/n being comfortable enough to do it again!? AAAAAH MY HEART!!!!

Gregory and Freddy!! Gosh Freddy is perfect! Also oh lord I'm trying to imagine what he'd look like (more like how I'd draw him, he'd be such a creature pfkfjd)

"Different how?" You whisper.

They are bonded as father and cub.

...

And your bond with Sun and Moon is different. You can't linger on the thought without blushing.

AAAAAAAA!!! *kicking my legs like a little school girl and hiding my face in my hands*

Idk why but I felt something bad was gonna happen as I Moon went hunting in the dream. I was SO EXCITED for a hunt, but part of me was afraid. Oh god I hate that I was right.

Circus baby!!?!? So incredibly unexpected but my gosh I love what you did with her design!! She's the kraken and I LOVE IT!! (I might be enjoying her design a little too much actually, don't mind me as I pick up my pen)

Moon and Sun can be terrifying when they want to be, hell yeaaaa!!! There's the monster fight I've been waiting for!! But oh no MOON NOOOO!!!! D':

AaaaaAAAAA!!! Baby!! They're so happy to be called baby again! The way they vibrate and chirp in delight AAAA my heart!!

Again I'm so happy that y/n and Gregory have each other through this, they're both suffering now but at least they have each other..

...

Well shit. There's Circus again.

That ending to chapter 5 has me rattling you so hard Naff. You really like causing suffering huh? I really hope all that didn't undo too much of y/n's progress,, it just got worse and worse.

Such a good cliffhanger tho! I applaud you for not holding back!! Your writing can turn so dark and sinister in seconds, it's wonderful!

Brilliant work as always! I cannot wait for the next chapter!! The monster fight will be LEGENDARY!!!!

Hope you're doing well btw, I'm sending you good vibes and hugs regardless. Remember to take care of yourself and get plenty of rest ♥️♥️♥️

AHHH, MEEP!!!

It's a sloop sailboat! Very simple but it gets the job done hehe

I'm rattling you so hard right now! I'm so happy you like it and I'm very excited for you to read the last chapter (no rush of course hehe) and augh, I'm really glad you like Circus, she's so evil and fun to write, and ohhhh, your art of her is still so stunning! I love it *mwah*

Thanks, and I hope you're doing well, too! Hugs and kisses, and make sure to take it easy on yourself! Ahh, thank you so much for reading, babe! ♥

[allylikethecat]

hi ally!! how was your day??? today at work i went down to get my lunch plate and it was A PASTA BAR with a warm rolls on the side and cookies, my day was fucking made. i do thipnk it’s quite ironic that our drug reps are giving us nothing but carbs and sugar but hey you only live once haha

ok now for tuesdays update: if i’m being honest i haven’t really been keeping up to date w ducklings cause im usually not the target audience for mpreg but when i saw the update i read the last chapter and todays and omg i’m living for the drama and i can’t believe george finally found out!! it was def not the reaction i was expecting i feel like we never really get to see an angry george but he is righfully angry with matty for keeping that secret. i liked seeing that side of fictional! george. i can’t wait to see how this unfolds and if reconciliation will happen sooner or later in the story

ok last thing and thanks for reading all the way through 😭 for talk shop tuesday what’s a fic you’ve been reading or thinking about lately from another writer (1975 related or not) also—is it weird that i had a dream the other night and infection!verse matty was just chilling in my dream??? it wasn’t even a dream ABOUT an ally fic, fictional! matty was just a character in my dream😭😭

-🥤

HELLO MY DEAR SMOOTHIE ANON!! THANK YOU FOR SENDING SUCH A WONDERFUL DETAILED ASK! I apologize for the novel I have written you in response.

I can't complain about my day, it was extremely hot out but work was good and I had a nice ride with Pop after! He wasn't impressed by the heat but we took lots of walk breaks and he got a nice cold shower after. OMG a PASTA BAR?! That is amazing even if the fact that it came from a drug rep is hilarious. I'm happy to hear you had a good day!

AHH thank you so much for reading the new chapter even though mpreg isn't usually your thing (which very valid I know it is not a thing for a lot people and I like am a huge fan of the whole 'not for me, don't read' thing ) but like thank you for checking it out anyway! But yes!! It was the big one! Fictional!George now knows Fictional!Matty's secret and him finding out did NOT go well. Not going to lie, I think some of the nastiness of ATKH Fictional!George seeped into Ducklings!George a little bit there 😬 But at the same time, I feel like most of my Fictional!George's have a little bit of an angry edge to them? He's kind of an asshole in ATKH and in the Infection Verse he and Fictional!Matty really went through it and were at each other's throats for a while there after they broke up? Idk but I guess for the most part I do usually write him as pretty sweet and patient and understanding.I also will say, his anger and reaction was based on a lot of self doubt and self hatred that he then projected onto fictional!Matty. I am excited to continue unraveling their story - Fictional!Matty is going to make it much worse before it gets better lol

OOooo Talk Shop Tuesday! Recently I've really enjoyed @sundrownsthehouse's new chapter of Take This Pain and Give it A Name I am SO EXCITED to see where it goes! As always, I am also continually obsessed with @vinylandcoffeecollection's Poses Series, the newest installment You and Me Together Song is absolutely brilliant and I cannot wait to see how it continues to unfold!

I also love that Infection Verse Fictional!Matty has invaded your thoughts so much that he's now an extra background character in your dreams lol welcome to my life he is always looming on the edges shouting "PAY ATTENTION TO MEEEE" lol

Thank you for sending this ask and for reading and being just generally so lovely! I hope your Tuesday was fantastic and that you have a wonderful rest of your week!

❤️Ally

[greensagephase]

@sunsetdoodler thank you so much for everything, seriously!! It means so much to me, and I always enjoy reading your thoughts!! ❤️And haha, that line was so sweet and I’m so glad it came to mind at that moment. It’s really amazing how inspiration just strikes in the moment. I always have a rough outline of each part but the way those small details pop up when I’m writing is so awesome!! It’s like the characters speak for themselves in a way. And AHH – I’m so happy you found reader’s “Always” endearing! I probably shouldn’t say it but it’s going to be one of their things for the rest of the story!! 🥺Also, I cannot wait to see more of your art!! I just know I’m going to cry happy tears with all art related to this chapter!!! 😭

Regarding the slowburn – I agree! Each moment and interaction (and maybe I’m just being biased lol) is so much more special. I personally love slowburn, and writing a slowburn fic for the first time has been so enjoyable, especially because I think it fits Miguel very well if you try to stick to the mentality and front he’s putting up in ATSV, which leads me to the big softie this man is! That’s why I find Miguel so interesting and just endearing, even with his flaws and mistakes. He’s gone through so much that’s led him to put this tough front but this man is such a softie on the inside – thinking about it makes me want to cry!! And the height difference omg – yes! We’re all so tiny to him and I just love it so much even if means having to crane our necks for him lol!! 😂 The part with Miguel wanting her to stay despite feeling selfish and guilty – and then reader wanting to stay regardless of Jess asking her to – I really wanted to emphasize that these two have a special friendship and understand each other so much more than they even realize sometimes. I’m so happy to see you’ve found their progress realistic, too. I’ve said it so many times but that’s’ been one of my goals for this story, so I’m always glad to see readers finding it realistic!

And Miguel choosing to let reader be with Peter if he had the power – AHH. I was getting emotional myself writing that part. I just keep thinking to Miguel’s words from part 7 when he was telling reader Gabriel was the unselfish brother of the two – like Miguel!! You’re NOT selfish, here’s the proof!! 🥺 And agree! Miguel just deserves all the care and love in the world, and I can’t wait for him to receive and be open to it in the next parts. And omg, thank you SO MUCH! Reading you say that I’m doing Miguel’s character justice – CRYING!! To read that when it comes to one of my favorite – if not my top favorite – characters just makes me feel so happy and satisfied both as a fan and writer. Thank you so much!!!🥹❤️

And the drabbles will hopefully be out this weekend since I’m still working on part 10! I hope you enjoy them and find them cozy! And thank you, I’m trying to rest a bit as the last weeks were a bit hectic with family events. I’m also just realizing we’re almost hallway through October?! I’m going to plan some fun October activities and try to enjoy the spooky season as much as possible because I haven’t done a whole lot lol but thank you as always!! I truly appreciate your kind words and support, @sunsetdoodler !!!! I hope you have a wonderful weekend and that school is going well!!! ❤️✨❤️

Okay… I'm okay... I loved Nonviolent Communication part 9. Alondra, this part was such an amazing read, and I loved all the fluff! I actually re read this twice!!, that's how much I absolutely loved it! From every detail and description, it was such a joy to read this after all the heartbreak- it just warmed my heart reading about the way reader takes care of Miguel. yes I wholeheartedly agree, the amount of care I would show Miguel if given the chance- don't even get me started. The thought of seeing Miguel in this state still stings, but I loved the slow build of reader gently helping Miguel more and more within his recovery. I also loved readers interactions with Peter B. and Jess in this, everyone's just so caring for one another. And when Miguel asks reader if they have somewhere to be only for reader to reply back “I’m where I’m supposed to be" 🥺 it's perfect. I love how reader really doesn't want to over step Miguels boundaries despite everything because in all honesty I would feel the same. It still pains me reading both their thoughts on each other that they still keep on the inside, but at the same time I absolutely love the slow burn of it all. So much has been said this time around and yet I'm so excited to see how their friendship will evolve.

And the whole part with the hospital food! yeah same Miguel, same. When I read the coffee cups detail we were talking about before!!! oh my gosh I that was so cute to read it! (our continuous thoughts and questions about Miguel are important I swear!) and Miguel's reaction was so funny! honestly thank you for adding that in I don't know why small little details like this just make me so happy to read. Everything reader did for Miguel- from feeding him and just taking care of him, it was just so endearing to read. It was so satisfying to read Miguel's thoughts about how much warmth and care he felt from reader, because he truly deserves it all!! Can't imagine what it would be like not having that sense of care after so long. The whole face washing part was just so tender, and yes!! admiring his face from every wrinkle and line while treating him so gently 🥺 (also it's so cute imagining reader climbing on the counter just to reach his face) I love how you emphasized how reader really did all these acts out of care and friendship, wanting him to be comfortable. Also, it was so nice seeing Miguel open himself up to reader and trust them to be the only one who could actually take care of him in his vulnerable state. Miguel's still so caring to reader too despite being the one injured! being so worried and upset at himself after realizing he scratched them. 😭

Oh and Miguel watching reader sleep for a bit with Lyla teasing him about the whole situation!! yeah sure Miguel, just thinking... And when Peter B. caught reader staring too much at seeing Miguel's torso 😂 who wouldn't admire him, he's perfect. I found the whole part with reader helping Miguel get all cleaned up so endearing. Even reader wanting to get gloves just to respect his boundaries- but when Miguel didn't mind?! But again, I love how you emphasized reader's intentions to make sure he's not in any sort of pain, just really caring for him. Oh but the hair washing part... Miguel's little reactions to the sensations and everything. No really, it makes me so sad he hasn't had this kind of care and touch. And when reader started thinking back to her Peter again during all this... It's so heartbreaking reading how Miguel would never have reader in his life if Peter was still around because- they were such a pair. Peter was reader's no. 1 and they loved each other dearly. But it also makes me so sad that if Miguel had the choice he'd let you have your life with Peter, which just shows how much he cares and 😭 I'm okay, this is fine. Also Miles' card to Miguel! that was so endearing and needed for him. Miguel just needed to know that despite everything that's happened, he's still cared for- and the fact that Miguel called miles Mijo, that was too cute! can't imagine the look on Miles' face. 😂 Okay can I also just add when readers friends visit Miguel, that was so cute! especially Miguel talking to Lego Spiderman and giving him a tiny little lego balloon and flower- that's adorable!!

I just absolutely loved the amount of character development you've written for Miguel. Truly, you've expanded his character perfectly. His thoughts on how he feels like he's going backwards after thinking for so long that he only could only move forward by isolating himself from everyone. He's so broken from all the heartbreak but I'm so happy that in your story he is given this new opportunity to actually help him heal, and find hope once again.

Please don't be sorry for being late with the update, or the word count!! You put so much time and effort into this story that it's worth waiting for. ❤️✨ Seriously, thank you (I've said this before but I'll say it again) but your story is amazing and such a joy to read- every new part truly, truly makes my day, you never disappoint!. With the drabbles and everything, yes!! Miguel and Autumn just go together so well 🍂 he's just made for all things cozy!! and thank you for mentioning me at the end! you really didn't have to do that, but I appreciate it so much!! it's been so fun visualizing your story into these little drawings (much more to come!) Again, I've written way too much but Alondra, thank you, thank you for continuing your wonderful story and sharing it with everyone. You deserve all the support for it! So excited to see how the story progresses. Wishing you a wonderful week! and to do all the cozy fall things!! ✨🍁✨

I'm SO HAPPY you loved this part!!! Also, did you really read this part twice?!! 😭 Thank you so much, @sunsetdoodler !! Your support is always greatly appreciated ❤️ (I'm also so sorry for how long this is! I definitely wrote too much but couldn't help myself!)

I loved writing this part so much! I was looking forward to seeing reader and Miguel in a much more soft and intimate moment. And right?! The amount of caring I'd give Miguel on a regular basis without being hurt is already so high, so I'd be all over him if he was hurt! Writing Miguel like this was painful (especially the part when he died and him realizing he wouldn't be satisfied with his choices so far😭 I just want to give him a hug!!) but I hope I made up for it with the tender care by reader and his little moments like the grumpiness, the little grins, the chuckle after reader's comment about the hospital food being a crime, etc.

Also, I'm so happy you enjoyed the interactions with Peter B. and Jess!! I wanted to bring them in and include their dynamic with reader because I haven't done that in previous chapters and I just needed all the cozy and found family vibes for this one!! And omg, the "I'm where I'm supposed to be" line - that line came to me right in the moment and I had to stop typing and just compose myself because that was such a vulnerable thing for reader to say. Also, yes!!!! Sometimes I think I'm dragging this too much with them keeping so much of their thoughts to themselves regarding each other but this is a slowburn fic, and I hope that once these two express their thoughts, that you guys will find it worth the wait! I'm also very excited to get into their friendship dynamic now that they've addressed their friendship. It's going to be so much fun exploring their friendship!! 🥹

Haha, the hospital food part! I was living for grumpy Miguel and specifically that part when he tried not to make a face after eating the steamed carrot. 💀 I was like "I'm sorry, Miguel" but we need the grumpiness to recover from the last part. I can just imagine the face he'd make and I can't!! Also, once we talked about the coffee cups, I knew I needed to include it in this chapter. I love that your drawing made us think about this and just so much of the little details about Miguel! It just adds more his character!! His reaction to reader pulling up with two large coffee cups when he can never find any! You best believe reader will now find a way to get that large cup of coffee for Miguel, too. Regarding Miguel's thoughts on reader's care for him - I just wanted this man to feel loved and appreciated and to accept it after going so long without anyone or being cared for. I've said it too many times and I'll never stop saying it but I want to give this a man a HUG and just care for him! The face washing part - and reader just admiring and memorizing every detail of his face - it was one, a call back to part three when she mentions that she'd be able to draw Peter's face from memory if she was an artist! It was my way of putting it out there that she's memorizing and admiring Miguel's face the way she did Peter's. And two, I wanted to add it because I loved how Miguel felt breathless for a second at how tender reader was - I feel like he would really love and appreciate being treated like this because everyone probably thinks he's a big, tall, and tough dude that isn't interested in receiving tenderness and so he never receives such care. 🥺 And reader having to climb up the counter was a little detail I think most of us can relate with Miguel, haha! I just thought how I'd definitely not be able to reach his face at 5'2". 😭 But yes, I really wanted to emphasize that reader's acts of care for Miguel are done out of care and friendship. She just wants to be there for him, which can I talk about the part where she asks him to let her stay? I don't know if it's weird for me to be emotional over that part when I wrote it but yeah I'm emotional about it! And Miguel letting her, and trusting only her to care for him. 😭 Regarding the scratches he gave her - I was so looking forward to talking about them in this chapter and him being so caring and worried about it despite him being the one with the worst injuries and just feeling so upset over it. Also, him addressing reader's suit and knowing it's meaningful to her somehow so he just felt even worse about it. 😭 This man is a big softie and I cannot wait to write more of him like this!

Haha, Miguel and reader both getting caught staring at each other made me so happy! Lyla teasing Miguel about it and him just frowning and denying it, so cute but also, come on, Miguel, you're not fooling Lyla! And Peter B. grinning when he noticed reader staring at Miguel's torso - he knows! But also who wouldn't because he's perfect! Also, the fact that Miguel noticed but he didn't mind. 🥹

The shower part - LOVE! I really wanted to emphasize how much Miguel trusts reader, and that she genuinely just wanted to look after him and prevent him from experiencing further pain and just trying her best to make this situation as comfortable as possible without making him feel disrespected because of his boundaries. But then Miguel being okay with her touching him!!! It's a big step for Miguel but a step in the right direction and yet another sign of him starting his healing journey. Now, the hair washing part - AHH! Again, he's so unused to physical touch and care of any kind, it makes me so freaking sad but I loved thinking of how he'd react to it and just how tender reader is throughout it all like asking him to close his eyes and putting her hand on his forehead to prevent any water from getting on his face. SO TENDER! Also, the part about Miguel realizing reader would probably not be around if Peter was alive and feeling grief over it but still deciding that if he had the power to choose he'd let reader be with Peter even if it meant Miguel and reader wouldn't have a friendship. He has lost so much but to still think of reader first even if it him having no one? THIS MAN. Regarding Miles's card, I was looking forward to it and I agree that it was much needed for Miguel to see it in writing from Miles. I also thought it was very endearing from Miles, and very in character for him to forgive Miguel. 🥺 In the last chapter I wanted Miguel to have a closure with his family and knew that he'd need one regarding Miles and the events of ATSV and BTSV. Also, the way I pictured Miles's reaction to Miguel calling him "mijo" at last - SO CUTE!! I wish I could find a picture that could come close to what I imagined it in my head. As to reader's friends coming in at the end, I lowkey debated it but then it really all came together with Miguel's decision to start moving forward, and of course, I needed to add Lego Spider-Man giving him something from his universe, haha! I couldn't pass up the chance.

And omg, thank you!! 🥹 I'm so happy to see you love Miguel's character development!! His thoughts on feeling like he's going backwards was kind of hard for me write, not gonna lie, but I'm glad we're at this point in the story in which he's going to try and start his healing journey, and just accept the people in his life instead of pushing them away!

Thank you, @sunsetdoodler !! I'll try not to feel bad about going a while without an update or going overboard with the word count. I guess I overthink it sometimes lol! But I do want to try and update sooner and avoid going almost a month without updating. I really appreciate all the support this story has received and I just don't want to disappoint or keep readers waiting too long but thank you so much for your kind words, truly!! ❤️ As to the drabbles, I'll be working on one tomorrow, maybe even tonight if I have time but I agree, Miguel is made for all cozy things!! Also, of course!! I truly appreciate all your support and kind words, so I definitely wanted to mention you and your art, which I look forward to seeing more of!! I'm ready for it! 😭 Thank you SO MUCH for your support as always, truly!! It means so much to me and as always, I enjoyed reading your thoughts on the new update. I always look forward to reading them, so thank you for sharing them!! I hope you have a wonderful week, too, and hopefully you're doing cozy fall activities, too!! Thank you!!!!🍁✨❤️

-Alondra

[daydreamingyuta]

Yuta being Sweet after you had a Long day

“Hey yuta!” You say after you pick up the phone.

“Hey sweetheart! sooo, I was going to surprise you with dinner when you came over but I can’t remember exactly how to use to my oven! How do you preheat it again?”

Today had been such a hard day for you and you where so grateful that Yuta was making you dinner, you could cry. He never usually cooks, but when he does, It actually always turns out amazing! He just struggles sometimes with certain things, like the oven. 

You tell him the steps to preheating the oven. 

“Ahh, okay I’m writing that down so I never forget!”

He said that last time but you didn’t mind because he was so adorable. 

An hour later you get to his place and you cannot wait to have dinner and spend time with Yuta. He always lets your mind have a break from all the assignments and tests you had that never seemed to end. Today was particularly bad because your professor called on you to present your presentation today even though you weren’t supposed to present until next class. Luckily everything was done and ready and you did a good job but it could have been better if you had more time to mental prepare yourself. 

The whole day had just been exhausting, so you were so happy that you had Yuta. When you walked through the door, he smiles at you and immediately hugs you. He hugs you for longer than usual because he could tell that you had a stressful day just by looking at you. 

“The food you made smells amazing Yuta.”

“Thank you babyyy, I hope you love it.” He says taking your hand and guiding you to the kitchen. 

Dinner was really good and the whole time he was making you laugh so hard, which was much needed.

“I also made you a little dessert! It’s my first time making it so hopefully it’s good.”

It was a strawberry shortcake! and It look and tasted amazing!

“Wow I actually can’t believe you made all this! I’m so proud of you!”

“Anything for my girl” Yuta winks at you. You swear he had literal heart eyes when you said that you were proud of him. 

You two spent the rest of the night together cuddled on the couch reading together. Even though today was stressful, you could always count on Yuta to make everything better. Every moment with him was so precious and he always made you feel like the luckiest girl in the world.  

You look over at him “I love you, Yuta. Thank you for being so sweet to me.”

He smiles at you and kisses you on the forehead before going back to reading, hugging you closer to him.  

[monako-jinn-stories]

Boba Fett X GN!Reader FanFic

The Tribute

I’m so sorry I haven’t been active or updating much lately. This past week was just, a lot. Feel free to read about it here, it’s a more full explanation, but I finally was able to write this chapter, and I hope you all enjoy!

Also, shout out to my Boba buddy @oo-hazel-oo who went through the trauma of the last episode alongside me. I cannot wait to watch the last episode and (probably) cry with her!

Master List

Chapter Four

Chapter Six

Chapter Five

“Ah, mesh’la, there you are,” Boba says, walking into your room. “How has your day been?”

“It’s been fine, better now that you’re here,” you say, and you catch the way his cheeks warm slightly at your comment.

“Hmm, well, then I’ll spend as much time with you as possible to make it great.”

“Hmm…you will?” you ask, quirking a brow at him.

“Of course, little one. Do you not believe me?”

“No, I do. I mean, you did say ‘as much time with you as possible’, so I can’t be entirely upset when it’s not a lot.” Boba sighs at your comment, looking down before looking back up at you.

“May I?” he asks, motioning to the empty spot on your bed next to you. You nod, and watch as he carefully climbs on. He then pulls you into his arms, laying back and having you rest on his chest.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around enough, my love. I feel as though I have not been able to provide you with what you deserve. Having you share my bed, my room, it’s a way for me to feel like I’m around you more, even if it’s just at night when we’re asleep. I want to be there for you more, but…you came to me in a bad time.”

“I don’t want excuses, Boba. I want you,” you say, tilting your head to look up at him.

“I…I know. And I’m not trying to give them, but…”

“It’s all you can think to say?”

“Yes,” he sighs, his tone laced with sadness and want. “You deserve so much more than this…than me.”

“But I’m happy with having you,” you say, reaching up and holding his cheek with your hand. “You are enough for me.” He looks down at you, bringing his own hand up to hold yours.

“But you’ll tell me if I’m ever not enough? You’ll do what’s best for yourself?”

“Boba, you’ll always be enough,” you assure him, but he shakes his head.

“You promise me you’ll tell me?” You look into his eyes for a few moments, studying him. When nothing in his expression changes or falters, you slowly nod.

“Yes, I will.”

“Thank you, mesh’la,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You nuzzle closer to him, relishing in his warmth for a few moments before Fennec appears in the doorway. She has a smirk on her face, one that you’ve never seen before. You lift your head and look at her curiously, and Boba does the same.

“Yes, Fennec? Is there something you need to tell us?” Boba asks.

“Well, something I need to tell you,” she says, “he’s here.”

“Ahh, that was a quick reunion he and…Googoo? had,” Boba says, slightly questioning the name of the small green child.

“Grogu, and well, I think I’ll let him explain that one.”

“Wait, who are you talking about?” you ask, “who’s Grogu? And what kind of name is that?”

“Ah, I’ll explain Grogu later, but I can introduce you to who we were talking about now. Come,” he says, standing up and holding his hand out for you. You smile softly as yours fits perfectly into his, and the warmth of his touch spreads through your body. The heat rises to your cheeks, and he leads you out of the room, following Fennec.

When you’re near the throne room, he gives you a small smile before slipping his hand from yours. You instantly miss the contact and internally wish he wouldn’t be so cautious about your affections. He seems to notice your thoughts in your expression, and his smile slips slightly, a hint of shame in his eyes before he turns away.

You pause at the end of the hall, looking out at the others. They all look like they’re meant to be here, and you suddenly feel as though you don’t. You aren’t a fighter, you’re not a warrior. You can barely stand a couple hours of training with Fennec.

“I…I think I’m going to sit this one out,” you say, catching Boba’s attention.

“Are you sure?” he asks gently, reaching out to grab your hand, but you pull it back.

“Yeah, I’ll just…I’ll be waiting,” you say, looking down to avoid seeing the hurt in Boba’s eyes at your small rejection. He opens his mouth to speak, but Fennec grabs his shoulder, shaking her head at him. He closes his mouth before turning again and continuing into the room. You turn to head back to your room, but pause again. You don’t actually want to not be a part of it, and you want to know what’s going on, so you decide to hide around the corner, listening in on them.

Fennec leads the briefing, introducing another person, who you assume was the aforementioned man. Din Djarin was his name, and Fennec called him the Mandalorian. You’ve heard of a bounty hunter with that name before, and you wonder if that’s him. Fennec begins to speak of needing soldiers, and you perk up. Maybe you weren’t a warrior, but that doesn’t mean you can’t train to become one. A small flicker of hope begins to fill you as you continue to listen.

The meeting ends soon after, and you slip away to your room before someone finds you in the hall. You quickly try to appear as though you’ve been busy with your book, when Boba hesitantly stands at your door. You keep your gaze on the book, not reading but watching Boba out of the corner of your eye. He looks nervous, conflicted, and keeps opening his mouth slightly, as if he wants to say something, but doesn’t know what.

“I’m not mad at you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” you say, and a brief flash of relief washes over him before he composes himself.

“Uh, I was, slightly,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s someone I’d like to introduce you to.”

“Alright,” you say, setting your book down and going to the door. When he doesn’t move out of the way, you give him a questioning look. He just looks at you for another moment before cupping your cheek and leaning down, pressing his lips to yours gently.

“I’m not ashamed of us,” he mumbles when the kiss ends, “I just…I worry about you. More than I probably should-“

“Yes, I know,” you say, giving a small laugh. He chuckles briefly as well, stroking his thumb down your cheek.

“But I don’t trust anyone, not fully. Not except you. And I don’t want to risk-“

“You don’t want to risk them using me as bait or leverage against you?” you finish for him, and he nods. “Boba…”

“I know, I know. I’m…trying. To be better, to not smother you. But I’ve lost so much in my life, I don’t want to lose the only flower I found in the endless desert.”

“You won’t lose me, I promise, Boba,” you say, pressing your lips to his once again.

“Hmm, maybe I won’t introduce you,” he says quietly, and you pull back enough to see his mischievous smirk. “Maybe I’ll just keep you to myself.”

“Nope,” you say, pushing out of his arms, “I want to meet your friend.”

“Alright,” he huffs, giving a playful eye roll before leading you down to the throne room. When you walk in there’s another person in a full suit of beskar. You immediately know this is the Din Djarin Mandalorian person Fennec had mentioned, and you can’t help but be in awe of how much power he also,like Boba, holds with just his presence.

When he looks at you, you notice the small, almost intrigued, head tilt he gives. You find yourself wishing you could see his expression, but then Boba clears his throat and steals your attention again.

“Y/n, this is Din Djarin. He’s more well known at the Mandalorian or Mando. He is also the Mand’alor, king of Mandalore. Mando, this is y/n my…” Boba looks at you for a second, and you shrug your shoulders, not exactly knowing what to say. “They live here, help out when possible.”

“It is an honor to meet you, y/n,” Din says, holding his hand out. You grasp it, and he shakes it gently but firmly. His touch was different from Boba’s, not giving the same warmth that usually radiates through your body. You don’t notice how Boba’s eyes linger on the interaction, and how he catches Din’s fingers slightly grazing your wrist as he pulls away.

“How did you end up working for Boba?” Din asks, and you look down, suddenly embarrassed.

“I uh…well…”

“That’s something a little personal,” Boba speaks up, but you shake your head.

“It’s fine, Boba. It’s not like it’s a bad secret,” you say, giving him a small smile. “I was a tribute, from the Zygerrians. A former slave, but Boba set me free.”

“My respect for him has only grown,” Din says, nodding towards Boba. “I’m glad that you have someone like him to look after you.”

“Thanks,” you say, “I’m glad I have him as well.” Boba gives a slight cough, and you notice his attempt to cover his flustered expression. His eyes meet yours, however, and you bite the inside of your lip to stop the grin that threatens to spread.

“Unfortunately, I’ll have to get to know you later,” Din says. “I have to go to Mos Eisley to talk to a friend.”

“Oh? I know someone from there. His name is…kriff, what was it?” you say, taking a second to think. “Ah! It was Cobb Vanth.”

“You know the Marshal?” Din says, giving you another head tilt. You nod, and he lets out a small amused huff.

“Huh, that happens to be who I’m going to see. If you want, I could take you along, maybe let the two of you catch up.”

“Well, we’ve only met once,” you admit, “but maybe another time.”

“Alright, mesh’la,” Din says, and the tone he uses makes you slightly confused. Boba uses a similar tone, but neither of them quite fit with the meaning of the word. It seems too friendly to mean friend, but you push away the thought, deciding not to question it.

“I’ll be back in a little, Boba,” he says to Boba before stepping closer to you. “And if you ever feel like having some fun off planet, you’re always welcome to come help me.” Before you can respond, Din gives your chin a light touch, and walks away. You stand speechless for a second, before you notice Boba’s expression.

“Boba!” you say, slapping a hand over your mouth to cover the laughs threatening to spill. “Are you jealous of him?”

“What? No!” he says defensively, quickly hiding the expression he’d been giving Din’s back.

“No? So what was that look for?” you tease, and he furrows his brows at you, narrowing his eyes.

“Nothing.”

“Didn’t look like nothing. It looked like you were imagining feeding him to the rancor.”

“Maybe I was,” Boba mumbles, and you just roll your eyes before stepping over and wrapping your arms around him.

“I told you, you’ll never lose me. Not even to a mysterious king who wears shinier armor than you.”

“Hmph,” Boba grunts, returning the hug. “Shiny armor just means he hasn’t worn it in enough battles.”

“Mm, perhaps,” you say. “But don’t worry, I like your armor. It’s pretty.”

“Pretty?” Boba asks, looking down at you with a questioning look.

“Well, greens a nice color,” you shrug, and he chuckles again before pulling you closer.

“It’s not as pretty as your smile,” he mumbles, and you feel yourself melt deeper into his arms, letting his warmth and love surround you.

“Hey,” Fennec says, stepping into your room. You look up from your book, meeting her gaze before she nods her head and turns to leave. You hop up, understanding her indication, and follow her to the pit. As you walk, your mind wanders to the thought of how many times you’ll get interrupted today by someone.

“I’m going to go quite a bit tougher on you today, okay?” Fennec says once you’re in the pit.

“But I still have bruises from last time,” you say, subconsciously rubbing the greenish-blue spot on your side. Training with Fennec was definitely important and useful, but it didn’t come without its downsides, like the soreness you often felt afterwards, and the bruises that showed up hours later. Sometimes you even heard Boba telling her that she went too hard on you, but Fennec always denied that, saying that the quicker you learned, the better you would be.

“You’re always going to have bruises, but whether you get them from being hurt or defending yourself is what will make all the difference.”

“What do you mean by that?” you ask, and she takes a step towards you. She takes your arm and raises it to a blocking position, motioning to it as she speaks.

“If I were to attack you while you were blocking, defending yourself, you would end up with bruises along here, right?”

“Yeah,” you agree.

“But,” she says, moving your arm to be at your side, “if I were to attack you while you were like this, you would be hurt and get bruises from that, right?”

“Yeah,” you agree again, not quite sure where this was going. “But what’s the difference?”

“The difference is, the bruises you get while defending yourself show strength, and the ones you get when you’re not show weakness. Anyone who’s been in a fair amount of fights knows the difference between bruising patterns. And even the best have bruises, so they’re nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’m not ashamed of them,” you say, rubbing your side, “I just don’t want them, they hurt.”

“Tough,” she says before lunging forward. You barely have enough time to process what’s happening before she has you in an armlock.

“Told you I wasn’t going easy,” Fennec says, yanking you around and attempting to ram her knee into your gut. You manage to escape her grip, pushing her away before getting into your own fighting stance.

“A little warning would be nice,” you say, wiping away the spare tear that escaped from the force of her attack.

“You don’t get a warning out in the real galaxy,” she counters, lunging again while you block.

“Yeah, well, you’re supposed to be training me to defend myself, not training me to sense an attack coming.”

“That’s a part of defending yourself,” Fennec states, and you just huff while giving an eye roll as you fall into a rhythm with her.

You and Fennec don’t talk much more, and so you get lost in your own thoughts as you train. Your mind wanders back to the meeting, and the war that everyone is convinced is coming. You remember Fennec mentioning needing more fighters, more people to help defend Boba and his territory from the Pykes. A thought crosses your mind, and before you know it, you're speaking it out loud.

“I can help,” you say after a while of silence, only for Fennec to throw a surprise punch to your gut that knocks the breath out of you.

“No, you’re not ready.”

“Then train me more! Get Boba to train me when you’re busy!” you shoot back, grabbing her wrist and twisting her arm.

“Sorry, but you can’t be a part of this,” she replies as she escapes your hold.

“But I want to help! I don’t want to just be some useless house servant! I thought I was more than that to you guys,” you say, blocking another one of her attacks. She looks at you in the eyes for a second before sighing.

“You are, y/n. That’s why you can’t be allowed to fight.”

“What? How does that make any sense? You care about me so you keep me in the same spot I was before I came to you guys?”

“Look, y/n,” Fennec says sternly, and you meet her gaze. “Boba is in love with you, whether he’s said it himself or not. That much is obvious to any living creature, and probably any droid, in the galaxy. If something happened to you, if he lost you, Boba would lose a part of himself as well. You know as well as I do the life he’s had, and the people he’s lost. He doesn’t deserve to lose any more.”

“Do you really doubt my skills that much?” you ask, folding your arms across your chest.

“No, you’re not listening to me. It’s the risk, the one that comes for everyone who goes into battle. I’m not letting you face that, and neither will Boba.”

“It’s just…it’s not fair,” you say, leaning your head back against the wall. “You tell me that I’ll be able to make my own decisions, and yet here you are, making them for me.”

“This is different-“

“How? Because it’s life or death? My life should be my decision. My life should be in my hands. If I want to fight, to help, then I should karking be able to!”

“Tell me this, y/n,” Fennec says before she pulls out a knife. She examines it, does a quick few motions with it. She examines it briefly again before pointing it at you, a blank expression on her face.

“Do you want to fight because you want to help, because you want to try to keep Boba safe, or do you want to fight because we told you no, and you want to make the decision for yourself?”

“Can it be both answers?”

“No, pick the one that fits better.”

“Then I want to fight because I want to help.”

“Okay then. Do you know what would be most helpful for Boba?”

“Fennec-“

“You staying out of danger would be most helpful. It’s not your lack of proper training and experience that keeps Boba from letting you fight. It’s the risk, the danger, because this is going to be war, y/n. You don’t need to experience that.” You sigh, sliding down the wall to sit. Fennec looks at you before letting out her own sigh, moving to sit next to you. You sit in silence for a few minutes, collecting your thoughts and deciding what to say.

“I used to dream of escaping the Zygerrians and joining the Rebels,” you say. “I wanted to be free and fight for others’ freedom. To free others.”

“Well, at least you’re free now.”

“I don’t feel free.” That comment catches Fennec’s attention, and she stares at you silently for a moment. You meet her gaze, and watch as she makes a decision. Standing, she reaches out to you and pulls you up.

“I’ll talk to him, okay? I…I don’t want you feeling like you’re still a slave.”

“Thank you, Fenn. If he doesn’t want to listen to you, then I can talk to him myself.”

“Oh, he’ll listen to me,” she says, a small smirk gracing her lips. “I know the right words to say.”

“Oh? Care to share so I can manipulate him as well?” you joke, and she just chuckles with a shake of her head.

“Sorry, y/n, but these are my tricks.”

“Ah, well, I’m sure I’ll find my own way soon enough,” you respond.

“Now, how about some more training? If you’re going to help fight, then you need a lot of practice.”

“But I thought I wasn’t that bad?”

“You could maybe fight off one of those bikers we picked up, but that’s about it.” You huff, taking slight offense but pushing it off, instead settling into a fighting stance before Fennec came at you again, and your training continued.

“Hey,” Fennec says, appearing in the throne room a while after your training had finished, “can we talk?”

“This sounds serious,” Boba responds, setting down the datapad he was using.

“It is. It’s about y/n.”

“Oh,” Boba says more seriously, “is everything alright with them?”

“Yes, but we need to talk about them and the coming war.”

“I don’t see how those two topics are related.”

“Y/n wants to be a part of it, that’s how.”

“No, that’s not going to happen,” Boba immediately says, his tone firm.

“Just hear me out, Boba-“

“No. I’m not letting them fight, and that’s final,” Boba says, cutting Fennec off and grabbing the datapad again, his expression tight.

“Fine. I guess you’ll just let them be upset with you forever then,” Fennec states, turning and moving to leave. Boba snaps his head up at her comment, thinking briefly before speaking again.

“What are you talking about? They won’t be upset forever over something this silly.”

“You’re taking away their freedom again,” Fennec says while looking back at him.

“I’m not taking away their freedom. I’m just simply not letting them put themselves into unnecessary danger.”

“They want to fight, Boba,” Fennec says, folding her arms. “They care and they want to help.”

“But they’ll be in direct danger. They could be hurt, or killed. That’s too big of a risk, and I’m not willing to take it.”

“I know, Boba. That’s what I keep telling them, but they made a good point.”

“And what was that ‘good point’?”

“That they’re supposed to be free. We promised them freedom, which includes their freedom to make their own decisions,” Fennec explains.

“But we can’t let them make dangerous decisions,” Boba counters.

“Yes, we can, Boba. And we have to, if we are truly going to give them their freedom.” Boba sighs, leaning down and resting his head on his hand. He knows Fennec is right, but he doesn’t want to think about letting you knowingly and willingly put yourself in danger, even if it’s for him.

“I know you love them, Boba,” Fennec says, causing Boba to lift his head and meet her gaze. “And if you want them to love you back, to keep loving you back, then you have to let them make this decision, and all future ones, for themselves. Unless they ask for your advice or help.”

“I-I know…I just…” Boba sighs, leaning back and resting his head against the throne. “You’re right. I love them, so much. I have ever since I laid eyes on them.”

“If you love them so much, then you’ll give them what they want. Their freedom, and their freedom to choose,” Fennec says. Boba nods before standing, a new look on his face.

“I’ll go speak to them now.”

“Good, don’t mess up.”

“Trust me, I’m effortless when I talk to them. Smooth as can be.”

“I didn’t know being smooth meant you give people secondhand embarrassment.”

“Alright, leave me alone,” Boba shoots back, earning a chuckle from Fennec as he leaves to go find you.

He walks slower than normal, trying to use the little time it takes to reach your room to try and prepare what he would say. Of course, he’ll tell you that he’ll let you make your own choice, but he also wants to try and encourage you to stay out of the fighting.

When he nears your room, he hears your laugh, and he immediately pauses. That laugh is one that he swears only he ever pulls from you, and jealousy fills him quickly. You make a comment to whoever was there with you, and then they speak.

Boba’s blood runs cool as he hears Din speak to you. His voice is something Boba has never heard from him before, a level of interest that doesn’t sit well. Many thoughts race through his mind, including ones that go back to earlier, when Din had touched your chin and called you mesh’la. Was Din flirting with you? Boba clenches his fists at that thought, jealousy flowing through him.

He suddenly realizes he probably shouldn’t be eavesdropping, that this was, in a way, taking away more of your freedom. Freedom to talk freely and privately, freedom to be friends with who you wanted, and freedom to be with who you wanted. The last thought hurts Boba, but he pushes it aside and takes a breath, calming himself before walking into the room.

“Ah, there you are, y/n,” Boba says, avoiding looking at Din for even a fraction of a second. The other Mandalorian tilts his head curiously at Boba, but doesn’t say anything.

“Well, where else would I be?” you joke.

“Perhaps in my room, or in the kitchen.”

“I guess you’re right,” you laugh, “though I have no idea what I want to cook for tonight.”

“I’m sure anything you make is absolutely delicious,” Din says, and Boba fights the glare he wants to give the other man.

“Ah, yes. Their cooking is unmatched, the best I’ve ever had.”

“Maybe you could cook for me sometime,” Din suggests, and you nod, but Boba speaks up before you can talk.

“Yes, well, I’m not sure how likely that is to happen.”

“Oh. Why not?” Din questions, and Boba finally looks at him. He realizes too late that he doesn’t actually have an excuse, other than he doesn’t want you alone with Din, or getting too close to him.

“I don’t think it’s that unlikely,” you say, giving Boba a confused look. “Din could stay with us sometime, or just come for a visit, and I can cook then.”

“I was thinking more one on one,” Din says, turning to you.

“Oh,” you say, briefly glancing at Boba, “well, in that case, I think I know what Boba meant.”

“And what is that?”

“That it might be a bit hard for me to go off planet, especially given my past. If the wrong person were to see me, it could be bad. I’m safest here, under Boba and Fennec’s protection.”

“I see. I guess I’ll have to have dinner with you all then.”

“I think we’d all love that,” you say, flashing him a smile before giving your attention to Boba. “Was there something you had wanted to see me for?”

“Oh, right, yes. Can I speak to you privately?” You both look at Din who nods, standing and leaving the room silently.

“What’s up?”

“Fennec…had an interesting conversation with me,” he says. “About you.”

“Hmm, and what exactly about me was it?” you ask, pretending not to already know.

“She…she brought up your freedom…and some wants that you have.” He pauses, looking at you, and you signal for him to go on. “I realized…well, no, she told me that…that you want to fight in the war. That you want to help.”

“Yes, I do,” you confirm, and he lets out a small sigh.

“I told her that I wouldn’t let you, that it’s too big of a risk. That I won’t let you put yourself in that kind of danger, even if it’s for me.”

“But that’s not your decision to make,” you counter.

“No, it’s not. And she made me realize that.” Boba let out another breath, a worried and sad look spreading over his face. “I just want you safe. But I will let you have your freedom. If you truly wish to fight, then I cannot stop you.”

“But you won’t be happy about it,” you state.

“No. How could I? I…I think I know how you feel, when I put myself in danger. You want to stop me, to convince me not to, but you know it’s my decision.”

“Mhmm,” you hum, nodding in agreement.

“I just…I want to ask one thing of you,” he says, and you nod again. “Do everything in your power to stay safe, even in the middle of the fight. Do not risk your life if you have other, safer options. And do not do anything stupid or irrational for me.”

“You know I can’t promise that,” you say, giving a half smile.

“I know. That’s why I’m asking, because you have the freedom to say no.”

“I’ll try my best, Boba. For you.”

“No, for yourself,” he says.

“For both of us,” you say, and he gives a small smile. You look down then, new thoughts filling your mind. Would you be ready? Would it really be smart for you to join? What was going to happen? What if you saw something you didn’t want to see? You push the thoughts away, instead choosing to think of better things.

After a few minutes of silence, you let out a small amused huff. Boba looks at you, raising a brow in silent questioning. You keep your gaze from meeting his, though, as you explain your laugh.

“Din told me something quite interesting today,” you say.

“Hmm, and what was that?” Boba asks. You meet his gaze now, something sparkling in your eyes before your cheeks warm.

“He told me mesh’la doesn’t mean ‘friend’, like you said it does,” you start, and Boba’s expression freezes. You see the thoughts running through his mind, the excuses he’s trying to think of, and it only makes you laugh again.

“Actually, he told me the real meaning, which is quite interesting.” You take a look at Boba, and he shifts nervously under his gaze. He scratches the back of his neck before clearing his throat, still avoiding your eyes.

“That’s uh…well, how do you know that he’s telling the truth?” Boba asks.

“Because your droid confirmed it,” you say. Boba freezes again, and his face immediately burns with embarrassment.

“So, uh…what did he say it meant?”

“He said it meant beautiful,” you say simply. “After he called me it again.”

“He what?” Boba asks, finally meeting your gaze. His eyes were rimmed with jealousy, perhaps a bit of possessiveness as well.

“Other people are allowed to call me beautiful, Boba,” you say, a slight teasing tone to your voice.

“No-I know, I just…he needs to know his place.”

“Know his place?” you say, tilting your head. “Last time I checked, he was Mand’alor. King of Mandalore.”

“Yes, well, we’re not on Mandalore. We’re on Tatooine, in Mos Espa. This is my territory, and he will respect me when he’s here.”

“He wasn’t disrespecting you though.”

“He was flirting with my-“ Boba stops then, mouth hanging open as he stares at you, unsure of what to say.

“Your…” you say, trying to prompt the words from him. He just keeps staring at you, slowly closing his mouth. You realize he’s truly conflicted, so you stand and move towards him. He watches as you reach up and gently hold his cheek, and he closes his eyes and leans into it.

“What were you going to say, Boba?”

“I…I don’t know,” he admits. “I don’t know what we are or what this is.”

“Is it love?” you ask, and he opens his eyes to meet your gaze. A small smile covers his lips as he gives a small chuckle, grabbing your hand gently and kissing the palm.

“I think it’s more than that,” he mumbles against your skin.

“Boba,” you say, and he pauses, waiting for you to continue. “I…I lo-“

“No, mesh’la,” he says, cutting you off. You look at him confused, as his words had just all but confirmed he felt the same way.

“Wait until after the fighting,” he says. “Let me…I want to have this, to look forward to. To fight for. I want it to be the first thing I hear when it’s over, when I know you’re safe, and when we can start our life together.” Your heart swells at his words, only making you want to confess more, but you hold it in, and just nod.

“Okay, Boba. I’ll wait.”

“Thank you, mesh’la,” he says, wrapping his arms around you and pressing a kiss to your lips. You melt into it, into him, as you let the unspoken words simmer, their meaning growing with every second.

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[andypantsx3]

Ahh I cannot believe your writing anniversary is here! Happy anniversary and congrats, booboo 💖

For the ficlets, may I request a himbo!Bakugou with the prompt “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Aaand of course, I gotta end it with I love you I love you I love you and I know this event is gonna be so dope.

Rest, my sweet angel princess!! I have no idea how to write himbo!Bakugou but I tried my best lol. Please accept gymbo!Bakugou.

Just Can’t Weight | Bakugou/Reader

Prompt: “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Word Count: 830 words Tags/Warnings: gym AU, slight praise kink, mostly SFW Notes: Thank you @bobawithpomegranate for beta reading!!

You mostly went to the gym for the hot blonde who functioned as the gym’s saltiest, angriest, most foul-tempered personal trainer.

Katsuki Bakugou had the face of an angel, and the musculature of a Greco-Roman god, with the petty ire to match it. You dared not hire him yourself, willing to part with neither your money nor your dignity, but that did not stop you from watching him constantly as he hovered angrily over his clients, adding weights to their racks with relish even as they sobbed for mercy, jamming the buttons on their treadmills up to speeds with the potential to launch them into orbit.

He was literally fucking terrifying, but so insanely hot that he never seemed to have a shortage of clients. Every morning there was someone, usually of the female persuasion, hanging off his biceps, letting out breathy little complaints of “Katsuki!” and bending over to pick up their water bottles in the most improbably flexible of ways. 

Bakugou seemed immune to their charms, even the prettiest ones. He refused to move close to correct their forms in the manner that they were obviously angling for, instead shoving them about with a flat hand on their back, and he added on grueling numbers of reps and sets any time he was subjected to comments of a salacious nature. You never even bothered to attempt to draw his attention, content to watch him appreciatively from the safety of your own treadmill across the gym.

That was until the morning when things finally came to a head.

Bakugou was finishing up with a client across the gym, a fact you were very aware of because you had not unglued your eyeballs from him for the last fifty-four and a half minutes, eyes hungrily tracing his lean form as he guided the client through a set of very impressive stretches.

You were so focused, in fact, that you were not giving much attention to your bent-over row form.

Something that Bakugou, as he was shoving his charge out the door, apparently noticed.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, turning back inside the gym.

You realized with some alarm that he was growing larger in your field of vision—stalking towards you, handsome face twisted in a scowl. A quick glance behind you revealed that the source of his ire was you, as there was no one else currently in the weights corner.

You panicked. What did he mean, what the fuck do you think you’re doing? Had he noticed you watching him? 

Fuck, fuck. 

“Uh, working out?” you asked, trying for a casual tone.

“Working out a way to be fucking hospitalized, more like,” Bakugou spat. 

You stared at him blankly. Was he threatening to put you in the hospital just for looking at him?

Before you could stutter out some kind of rejoinder, Bakugou was already in your space. You caught the scent of some spicy, clean kind of body wash before your attention was wholly and completely captured by a pair of hot hands on you. Bakugou pressed the small of your back down, hard, the other pressing up just under your sternum, dangerously close to the edge of your bra. 

You froze, staring up at him wide-eyed.

“This is the sloppiest fucking form I have ever seen,” he said, sounding disgusted. “Your back needs to be straight, not hunched over like you’re a thousand fucking years old.”

You blinked, having trouble thinking past the feel of his hands on you. They were still there, holding you in place, burning through your shirt like twin fires through a dry forest. He never touched his clients like this. What was he doing?

“I, uh—”

“You, uh are gonna fucking listen to me. Now pull the weights up into your chest,” he demanded.

You did as he instructed, mind numb.

Bakugou made an impatient noise as you did so. The next thing you knew, he was draping himself over your back, a hot line of muscle all along your spine, his calloused hands grasping the weights behind your own hands. He forced them down, and pulled them back up again, so close to your sides that his thumbs brushed the underside of your breasts.

“Pull up into your chest, not your friggin’ neck,” he growled into your ear.

You nodded, swallowing hard. Bakugou lingered a moment, still pressed to your back as you did it again. You were hardly breathing, not daring to do anything but what he had shown you.

“Good girl,” he said, when you’d finally done it to his satisfaction. Then, “Next time you want my attention, try asking for it instead of acting like a fucking idiot.”

Then he was moving off of you, stalking out of the gym in a whirlwind of blonde hair and sleek muscle, smugness rolling off of him in thick waves.

“Wait—” you called after him, “I wasn’t trying to—! I didn’t—!”

But Bakugou wasn’t listening. He was already gone.

Garbage Fest event masterlist in pinned post!

[inkykeiji]

hey clari!! i've totally not been stalkin your acc and totally did not see that there's a chance that you'd turn bmb into a novel??? i'm sorry, this is my first time writing to u but i love that series to DEATH i swear... i just love your work so much...🥺 do u think you'd ever actually publish it? cuz i'd be your FIRST order i pinky promise and i want you to know i fell head over HEELS for your bmb au. i am trying to find another author that fills the void bmb left ahh, ty for reading, love u<3

anon!!!! i love u!!!!!!!! ♡(˃͈ દ ˂͈ ༶ ) first of all HELLO it’s lovely to speak to you for the first time!!! <3 please do not apologize luvie you have nothing to be saying sorry for! i am happy to inform you that i DO still fully plan to publish bmb (under a different name of course; you’ll all be the first to know what it is as soon as it’s finalized!) at some point in the near-ish future!!

put the rest under a cut because i was beginning to ramble hehehe <3

my goal is to first publish my novella (which will be tag you’re it, smoothed out and spruced up with a bit of new, additional content—some supplementary scenes and of course a bunch of editing to make sure the WHOLE story flows nicely and how i want it to) and then to publish bmb after that. the reason why i’m doing it this way is because bmb needs a lot of work before it’s ready to be officially published. there’s a lot i want to add to it to make the story flow and unfold at a good pace, including additional scenes with the keigo character and additional scenes with the tomura character, just to name a few. there’s just a ton that still needs to be done with it as a whole, and it’s already such a massive story LMAO so i’m taking my time with that.

there’s also the issue of deciding whether or not i should make reader her own character (i plan to still keep most of her physical features completely ambiguous even if this is the case) or if i should try to keep it as a second person pov even tho barely anyone writes from second person. plus i have to change the colour of tomura’s eyes, change all of the characters names, format it in proper novel form, find a cover designer, etc etc etc there is still much work to be done but i can confirm that i still fully intend to publish it!!! <333

PLEASE anon you are so so sweet!!!! thank you for such beautiful words 🥺🥺🥺 i’m so flattered!!!! and so grateful to have you here with me <3 on the plus side, while you wait for an official publication of bmb, you will have the bmb christmas series sequel + a few bmb oneshots to tide you over!!! i plan to release at least the first part of my four part sequel series within the month of january—hopefully more than that, but i can guarantee that at the very least, the first part WILL be posted sometime this month.

thank you once again for such a wonderful message, anon!!! hearing your words made me so, so happy and i cannot tell you how much they—and you—mean to me <3 thank you from the bottom of my heart for sticking with me and continuing to read and support my work, i am so thankful to have you here!!

[sweatersstyles]

prompt: harry wakes up early on starbucks cup release days and surprises you by buying all the ones he thinks you’ll like. he’s usually able to escape the paps but this time they catch him and he ends up having to explain it in his next interview and gets all shy and can’t stop blushing.

a/n: hello all!! first I want to apologize for my 4 month long writing absence. life just has not been kind to me lately and unfortunately zapped a lot of my creativity energy, but I’m happy to have something done now! hopefully I can continue and keep a more consistent schedule for the remainder of this year!

immense thank you’s are owed to my kind friends @tobesolonely and @meetmymouth for the encouragement to find my creative spark for writing again and for being amazing betas! and to @taintedwonder for the lovely idea! @theharriediaries​ was so sweet to beta for me as well!!

word count: 2.1k

writing tag | masterlist | tiktok inspo 

Harry was usually smarter than this. He had a schedule, a plan, a way to get in and out pretty quickly without being seen. 

But today, he’d lingered too long at the mugs, curious if you’d want one of those as well. Your go-to was iced coffee, even year round in the winter you would prefer something cold over anything warm. He was thinking though, of the nights you were stressed and wanted a cup of soothing tea before bed, or those slower mornings where you don’t have to rush and a mug of coffee fits nicely in your hand while he admires you from across the kitchen table.

By the time he’s decided that yes, you do need this mug with the pastel rainbow print to add to your collection, along with a few of the other cups he thinks you’ll adore and a fresh bag of your favorite flavor of coffee, there’s already a small crowd of people forming in the lobby of the coffee shop and he hopes that he can get through them without being recognized as usual; prays that it’s only the regulars filing in for an early morning fix of caffeine before they rush off to start their day.

The barista thankfully is quick, skillfully giving him his total before rushing off to make the drinks he ordered for the two of you as well. He sees the way her eyes keep darting to him though, knows after years of experience that she knows who he is and is trying to work up the courage to say something to him or ask for a photo. He almost considers offering, she’s been so nice not to draw any attention to him, maybe something discreet could be pulled off. 

In the end he chooses not to, not wanting to assume that’s why she keeps looking over at him. It could be that he still has the hood of his sweatshirt tucked over his beanie or the fact that he’s now walking out of the shop with a small handful of the brown shopping bags with the familiar green logo imprinted on the front.

He breathes a sigh of relief when he makes it back to his car without anyone stopping him. He’s so distracted by securing the bags in the backseat he fails to hear the small clicks of the camera not too far away.

There’s a small comfort in the quietness of your shared apartment when he returns. While he loves coming home to the sound of you dancing around the kitchen making breakfast, his favorite is getting to wake you up himself. There’s a sweet softness in the way the side of your face rests against your pillow, mouth parted slightly and a gentle snore vibrating through your chest. It never fails to make him smile. He cherished the way you inhale faintly, stretching your limbs before blinking a few times, adjusting to the new day you’re waking up to. If he was there, already awake, your eyes always found him before anything else.

This morning is no different, except for the confusion on your face when you find him sitting on the edge of the bed instead of snuggled next to you. 

“You’re up to something, I can tell.”  You’re propped up enough now to accept the coffee he’s holding out for you. You take a few small sips, sighing and letting your head fall back against the headboard as you savor the taste.

“M’that easy to read, huh?” He chuckles, his hand on your thigh now, warming your skin even through the blanket, “Well..would you like your surprise here or will you be joining me in the kitchen while I make you breakfast?”

“Oh I get a surprise and breakfast today? What’s the occasion? Little early for my birthday, H.” 

“Don’t need an occasion to spoil my girl, do I?”

“I guess not.” 

You shrug, trying not to let the guilt bubble up enough to where it flashes across your face. One of his loudest love languages had always been gift giving, a quality about him you thought was wonderful, but still had a hard time accepting. You had to be careful about mentioning things you may want around Harry, he would use any excuse to treat you.

He’s rambling off his reasoning already as he leads you into the kitchen and settles you in one of the tall chairs next to the counter. He always ends his explanation with “I know you told me not to, but…” followed up by what you’re sure to him sounds like a very logical justification for why you need/deserve whatever he was gifting you. There’s nothing out of the ordinary of your regular kitchen set up this morning though, so you do what you normally do when he announces a surprise for you; let him take the lead, not wanting to take away from his excitement. 

“So..surprise or breakfast first?” He stands on the other side of the counter now, his hoodie and beanie discarded, wearing a t-shirt you were sure you bought for yourself but he seems to have laid claim to.

“Breakfast, please. If you don’t mind.” 

“‘Course not. Any requests, baby?”

Your heart flutters for a moment, just as it does each time he uses that particular term of affection for you. He’s already opened the refrigerator, scanning over options for what he could make for the two of you. You recover long enough to tell him no, that whatever he wants to make would be fine, sitting back and enjoying the view as he cracks a few eggs into a bowl.

You don’t even notice that you’re staring until he turns and catches your eye, “What? Did I get a shell in the eggs or something?”

You giggle as he even picks up the clear bowl of eggs that he’s already scrambled and seasoned, even going so far as to swirl his finger through the liquid to double check before you can stop him.

“No, it’s just..I can’t get over the fact that you’re making breakfast for me while wearing my t-shirt.”

“S’it yours?” He glances down at it, “Thought it was mine, sorry..”

There’s a smirk on his face as he turns back to the stove, and you know just by seeing that he knows you don’t mind; you love seeing him in your clothes as much as he adores seeing you in his.  

It’s not long before he’s presenting you with a plate, sitting next to you with his own plate in front of him. When you don’t immediately dig in, he leans over to inspect the food, worried that maybe he’d overdone the eggs or your toast was slightly more brown than you liked. 

So when you say, “You’ve forgotten something very important, haven’t you?” he panics, thinking maybe he should’ve taken the time to include fruit to balance the meal. You take pity on him, not making him wait too long before you lean in and he instantly softens, realizing what you’re asking for. 

He meets you the rest of the way, lips soft against yours, the taste of the coffee you’ve both had lingering for a moment before he pulls away, “Very important. How could I ever have forgotten?”

When you’ve both finished eating, he downs the last of his coffee and stacks your now empty plates to take to the sink, pecking your forehead with another quick kiss, “Alright, close your eyes. Count to 20.”

You begin to count off in your head, and you hear his voice, a bit further away, “Out loud, angel.”

There’s a rustling of bags getting closer as you count, and you can even hear a few clinks as they come closer. You can feel him moving around you, positioning things perfectly for when you open your eyes. 

He’s still behind you when you finish counting, hands squeezing your shoulders to urge you to open your eyes. When you do, you immediately recognize the bags and know exactly what he’s done.

“Oh no. Absolutely not. This is too much, Harry. I let you spoil me with little things here and there, but I cannot accept this.”

Sitting in front of you are..you stop to count them now; 1, 2, 3, 4..6 bags from Starbucks. You know from experience that each one of them contains 2 cups or mugs. You’re sure at least one of them also includes your favorite roast of coffee. He had done this before around Christmas time, when you’d mentioned how adorable a few of the ones from the holiday collection had been, not thinking that he would go back later without you and buy all the ones you’d touched or admired.  

He ignores your refusal, “You can take back any you don’t like. Go on,” He peeks inside one of the bags closest to him and then pushes it closer to you, “Start with this one.”

“Harry, really..”

“Don’t think, just open. If you really won’t accept any of them then I’ll take ‘em back and buy you something from somewhere else.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” You try your best to look serious, but you can’t stop the smile from spreading across your face, “Thank you, H.”

You finally go through most of the bags, offering oohs and ahhs and even a few squeals of joy at certain ones. 

“I think I got all the ones you’d pick for yourself. Saw you eyeing one or two the other day and the others I just guessed.”

He had done very well in choosing for you, even going so far as to get the two of you a matching pair of the kind that changed colors with the temperature. 

“For our smoothies.” He explains when you give him a particularly soft look at the idea of matching with him. 

“Also got us a matching set of these,” He skips to the last bag, too eager to wait for you to open it yourself, revealing the mug he’d taken the extra time to select, “For our Sunday morning tea. Or if you change your mind and ever want a hot coffee.”

All you can do is repeat the same expression of gratitude as before you had opened them, “Thank you again, H. I love them all, really. No more though, alright? We’re running out of cabinet space. Did you go to our regular spot or a different one so you wouldn’t be recognized?” 

“Different one. Can’t believe I wasn’t spotted though. Must’ve been too early for the paps to be out and about.”

“Or maybe you aren’t as interesting as you think you are, babe. Harry Styles coming out of a Starbucks is old news now.” 

His eyebrows shoot up in mock surprise, “Oh is it now?”

“Mhmm. You’re just plain boring now, H.” You shrug, peeling at the price tag on the bottom of one of the cups, avoiding his gaze; knowing if you look at him you’ll break into a fit of laughter. 

He’s impossibly calm, just like he is before any interview he does. 

You sit across the room from where he’s currently getting his hair done. The stylist was nervous, understandably so, her hands unsure at first. It only takes a few moments of being near Harry; working his quiet, delicate magic of putting anyone he’s near at ease. By the time his hair is finished he’s pulled a few laughs from her and she leaves the room with a big beaming smile and a wave to the both of you.

Now that you’re alone again, he beckons you closer and tugs you down to sit in his lap, despite your protests of the possibility of wrinkling his incredibly expensive suit. 

“Don’t care,” He leans up to press a kiss to your neck, keeping his face tucked there in your warmth, “Just want you close for a moment.”

Normally you would run your fingers through his hair, but you don’t dare do that now, hand drifting to the side of his face instead, “Not nervous are you, H?”

He lets you gently push him back enough to see his face again, “Never. Just happy to have you here with me, that’s all.”   

It’s not until he’s in front of the audience, presented with the evidence of just a few days before, displayed on a screen for all to see. He had been caught, despite his confidence of getting away. He falters for only a beat, head down in hopes to hide the blush spreading high along his cheeks. He finds you in the crowd, sending a bright smile your way before he shrugs, turning his attention back to the host.

“What can I say? My sunshine likes her coffee.” 

//

tag list: @harrysblackcoat​, @summertime-pills​ 

thank you for reading!! as always likes, rbs, and feedback is welcome and appreciated!!

[novorehere]

I finished reading the first two chapters of your new fic. All I could think after I finished was: “poor mc is gonna get a stomach ache :(((“

Really looking forward to the next chapters!

Ahh, thank you so much!! I’m so pleased to hear that someone out there actually gained enjoyment from my thoroughly insane self-indulgent vore shenanigans.

As for MC, I feel you there. Seven is a bit much after all. You’ll just have to wait and find out what happens next! ;) Rest assured, it’s going to be a looooong night for the poor reader… (And the brothers, of course. But they can suck it up. They’ll be fine)

Lately I’ve been hard at work on the rest of the chapters. Expect more soon! The Asmo section is kind of kicking my ass for some reason, I just can’t seem to write it the way I want it… I keep going back and changing it over and over. I guess even in fanfic he just cannot stop causing me trouble xD

[closetedotaku01]

Umm could you write something for Tsukishima, Kenma, Kuroo, Iwaizumi with fem! reader who is very touch starved? (if you don't write for that many just pick whoever stands out the most) SFW please.

TOUCH STARVED FEM S/O

A/N: First off: excellent character choices for this! Secondly, thank you so much for requesting so sweetly. Such a kind ask. Thank you thank you. Especially since none of my work is public yet, I really appreciate you trusting an unknown author. I hope you have a lovely day. Finally, I’ve struggled a lot with touch starvation so this feels very close to me. Got a bit self-indulgent. I felt bad because there was no dialogue in the base writing for Kenma & Tsukki so they kinda get HC+ while Iwa’s and Kuroo’s are just standard hc’s. Info on touch starvation at the end if you want it.

TSUKISHIMA KEI

-Tsukishima is smart and perceptive.

-So it doesn’t take long for him to realize that you’re touch starved.

-He sees how you simultaneously shy away from any physical affection while clearly wanting some. Sees how anxious you are and how easy it is for you to get overwhelmed. Takes note of how you alway seem to be holding yourself, and often wear clothes that are heavy and cover your whole body.

-He does not like the situation.

-He knows what you need, but he’s not big on physical affection and not very comfortable initiating it.

-But he is soft for you…. so he’ll pull it together just for you. He starts holding onto you more in public. An arm around your waist, your shoulders, his hand in yours, always giving you something.

-The first dozen or so times it happens you show clear panic at the touch, but he doesn’t even flinch. He’s confident with touching you, and wants you to know he’s here and you can do no wrong.

-When you two are alone together, he’ll pull you into him a lot more than he would have otherwise. He WILL pull you closer to him when you sit far away.

-But he can tell you’re just having a day where you cannot handle it and on days like that he always leaves his body open so you have the chance to cuddle him if you want it, but he makes his actions smaller and quicker so as not to overwhelm you.

-Eventually you start hugging him freely, and he reciprocates just enough. Your arms wrapped tight around his waist, and he lets his arms fall onto your shoulder. It’s hardly a hug, but he rubs your back and has a hand in your hair. It sends sweet tingles of happiness throughout your body.

-You hum lightly at the contact and it’ll force him to pull you in closer.

-Tsukki is very knowing. He encourages a safe and loving environment so you stop feeling afraid to ask for affection. He actually really enjoys when you’re needy, because he can get pretty needy too.

-And if you want to talk about your touch starvation, he’ll listen. But he’s fine just giving you what he can offer. He knows you and just wants you to feel more comfortable.

~~~~~

Your whole body is on edge and you don’t quite know why or how, but everything is setting you off. The blanket on your legs is sending fire-like shivers through your body, the heater keeps playing with your hair and it’s making everything feel warm inside you.

You look over to Kei, who’s just enjoying the film. You were the one who sat far away, though now you wish you were laying on him instead of curled up against the arm rest. But his arms and legs are open wide, and despite this he’s sat up pretty straight. You like being able to see his whole body so open. His face looks relaxed, and the blue light from the TV makes all of him… glow. His glasses, the prominent features of his face, his tousled locks, all lit up and beautiful as ever. It honestly just feels like more temptation, his whole body is open and glowing like a checkpoint in a videogame and you desperately feel the urge to just crawl into him.

Kei’s voice startles you, but he doesn’t even look away from the screen, “Are you going to come over here, or are you just going to stare all night?” You see him open his arms out wider and you jump at the chance. You curl yourself into his side, letting the scent of his body and the feel of him in your arms ease the anxiety, ease the ache for contact. He’s a bit cold so you pull your blanket over the both of you as you let your head fall to his chest, your arm thrown over his midsection, one of your legs thrown over one of his. You’re practically clinging onto him.

You feel panic well up in you at the contact. It’s too much contact and you shouldn’t be so desperate and--

Kei’s arm falls around your back, pulling you closer gently. He lets his fingers trace your spine up and down, up and down. Your mind relaxes. He lets his hand drift down as he starts rubbing small circles into your lower back, and your muscles lose their tension. You’re not clinging. You’re not desperate. You’re with Kei. And you’re wanted. You know he wouldn’t have you here, if he didn’t want you here. And everything eases. You return your eyes to the movie, but your attention is solely the steady cadence of his heart in your ear as he holds you.

Kozume Kenma

-Another basically wordless adjustment.

-Kenma is also very aware of you. Sees you as a challenge for him to understand and is always studying you and what makes you happy and how to cheer you up depending on what’s bothering you. He just loves to know you.

-And so it doesn’t take very long at all for him to figure it out.

-He notices your little movements. How you stare so intently at physical affection among others as if you wish you were apart of it. But you never ask for or initiate it.

-How when you do cuddle with him you get remarkably clingy and hold tight, but if he moves even slightly you pull away almost completely.

-His way of going about this is also pretty subtle.

-Kenma will start sitting with his legs open, and tell you to sit between them, and then he’ll put his head on your shoulder, wrap his arms around you, and play a game in front of you. It’s very much full body contact, without you feeling like you’re under scrutiny, and he’s holding you so you know he wants you there.

-He’s also sure to give you his jackets because he knows heavier clothing simulates human touch and helps people with touch starvation.

-When he sees you staring at people in public who’re being affectionate, and sees that want and confusion in your eyes, he’ll pull his hood down over his face (so he doesn’t have to deal with other people staring) and hold your hand. If he can see you need it, he’ll bring his body close to yours so you’re basically against each other, side by side.

-When you two go out to nice places with friends and he can see you getting touch starved he’ll place his hand in your lap and let you play with his fingers. Tracing his palm and up his forearms a bit. It actually relaxes his nerves a bit too and he learns to love this so much.

-If you ever bring it up he’ll listen, but he never really asks.

~~~~~

Kenma’s been on the floor playing Animal Crossing on the television since you arrived. You didn’t mind. You liked having lazy conversations with him about your day or his town, or scrolling through Instagram with the calming soundtrack in the background.

Like always he sat with his controller in hand as the game was projected on the TV, back against the bedpost, while you laid on the bed. But today is getting to you. You really want to feel his skin against yours, or steal the hoodie he’s wearing, or play with his hair. Anything would do. But you don’t want to come off clingy. Or worse to put Kenma off since you know he likes his distance.

He looks back at you and you give him a weak smile and he immediately stands up.

“Come here. I want to play Smash instead,” Kenma says as he pulls his switch out of the charger.

“I don’t really want to play right now Kenma. I’m pretty tired,” you say as you watch him change out the game cartridge and slip the controllers onto the side of the Switch.

“Just…. Come here, y/n,” he says almost exasperated as he returns to his spot on the floor near the bedpost. You sit down next to him and he immediately repositions himself behind you, and wraps his arms around you. He puts his arms around your waist and pulls you closer to him before repositioning them around your arms, and placing his chin on your shoulder.

You’re immediately overwhelmed by the feeling of him. The way his body encases you. You feel safe and filled, overflowing with the contact you felt bereft of only moments ago. You took a deep breath in before leaning farther back into him and letting yourself enjoy all that Kenma was willing to give you.

Kuroo Tetsurō

-Ahh finally a vocal boy. My goodness.

-Kuroo is such an observant guy and he knows a bit about touch starvation.

-He didn’t know at first that it was diagnosable or anything. But he was generally aware of what it was.

-But you’ll be chilling at his place and he’ll be lying on his stomach writing something in a notebook and you’ll be sitting against the headboard, his feet by your thighs scrolling through your phone or reading or something. He put on some music and you’re just enjoying each other’s company.

-And then he’ll say something along the lines of, “We should set up boundaries.”

-“Wait, what?”

-“Well, I know you’re not… super comfortable with me yet. And I don’t want to push you into anything you don’t like. But the “line” doesn’t feel very defined.”

-His words are so casual. He hasn’t even looked up from whatever he’s doing, but it doesn’t make much sense. He’s one of the people you’re most comfortable around.

-“Tetsurō, what are you talking about?” and you’re sounding a bit exasperated even though you’re just confused.

-He finally raises his head. He turns to you and sits up, cross-legged. His words are slow and uncertain, “Well like … earlier when we were walking around I… I held your hand and you flinched. And when we met up you came over and gave me a hug, but once I hugged you back you kinda pulled away. It’s fine, I just… want to know what to do to make sure you’re comfortable.”

-And you’re pretty impressed he even noticed because they were all slight movements. But you get a bit anxious. You know he’s a pretty affectionate guy, and this would definitely be a barrier. And it’s your barrier. It’s not his job to fix it and--

-“Get out of your head,” he whispers calmly as he sees the turmoil and paranoia fighting in your eyes. 

-He sees straight through you. He knows all too well how you can get.

-So with a deep breath you slowly tell him about touch starvation and your personal journey with it.

-He is deeply curious, but he’ll judge how you’re feeling.

-If you’re not doing great he’ll just nod and remind you that whatever you’re feeling is valid and it doesn’t change anything between the two of you. He’ll sit next to you, leaving a slight gap, and ask if you want to get close to him and take it from there. Asking quietly if he can advance or whatever it is that you need from him.

-If you’re fine with it he’ll ask you questions about when and how and where your personal boundaries are for now and what would make you feel more comfortable and help you grow out of it. And what he should do if you were not in a great mental place. Should he rush in and completely wrap you up in affection? Or should he give you space? He wants to know how to care for you, because he…. Cares so much for you.

-Regardless, of how the rest of that day plays out, he does loads of research on touch starvation. He learns everything he can about it. Takes note of everything he can do to help and common methods that do more harm than good so he doesn’t accidentally make things worse.

-He makes sure to ask you and check in with you before touching you and for the first WHILE that you’re together will interrupt cuddles to ask how you’re feeling. Reminds you constantly that he loves you and that whenever, if ever, you want (or need) touch you can go to him. And if he’s ever being too much he won’t be hurt if you ask him to back up. Makes sure to know how to handle people who are too touch-y for you without making a whole big scene.

-He really just wants to be there for you and have you trust him.

-As time goes on in the relationship he learns to read your tells without asking so much and you grow to need less time away from him, and being able to fully enjoy more of the time you spend closely snuggled up to him.

Iwaizumi Hajime

-Definitely the least observant out of this group (but we still love him). So he doesn’t really notice.

-And he doesn’t care much one way or another for physical affection. So he won’t really offer it if he doesn’t think you’re into it. And since you don’t really initiate, he doesn’t either. He thinks you don’t really want it so he lets it slide because he doesn’t care much.

-It takes a good long while, but eventually you start feeling completely comfortable around him, and he notices how you’ll be more needy. More physically affectionate in short and infrequent bursts.

-And so he reciprocates. Calling you over more often to hang out alone, with you close by his side, offering the slightest bit more PDA.

-But it’s still very limited.

-You eventually realize you have to have a conversation with him about it. He’s on his laptop, but he’s not doing anything important so you decide to do it now while he’s relaxed and at home so it doesn’t have to turn into some big thing.

-“Hajime?”

-“Yeah?” He asks only half paying attention.

-“Can I tell you about something… it’s kinda important.”

-He immediately swivels around to face you, “Yeah sure. What’s up? Is everything okay?”

-You steady yourself and do your best to clear your thoughts and casually bring up touch starvation and calmly explain the bare minimum about how it is and how it affects you and how you would appreciate it if he initiated the actions. And how it’s totally normal if you flinch or shy away at first, but you want to adjust because you do like being close to him.

-And he’s so chill about it.

-“Okay. Do you want to cuddle right now?”

-“Uhhh-- y-yeah. Sure. Are you okay with this all? I know it can be a lot to take in. You can ask questions or take your time or---”

-He cuts you off by taking your hand in his as he guides you to the bed to cuddle, “I love all of you. Even like this. And until you get better. So just let me hold on to you for a little while.”

-And he lets you curl up into him and is very gentle, but firm and steady with his touch. He doesn’t pull away at your sharp movements when his hands meet your side. He just make sure his touch is gentle and lets you enjoy the closeness.

-As time goes on he might ask a few questions to keep everything comfortable and make sure he’s aware of you and knows how to care for you in most situations. If he doesn’t he’ll ask quietly, and say that he’s willing to go home with you any time you feel overwhelmed.

-Iwaizumi is extremely loyal and careful with you and your needs and only wants the best for you. His loyalty and unwavering commitment to you are what help you eventually feel comfortable enough to either ask for what you need or just get it.

-You feel free to approach and cuddle him without asking or pull away without asking, because he gets you and he loves you and you know that. You taking action to care for yourself won’t change that.

Some Info on Touch Starvation:

I read a lot of touch starvation fics/hc’s when I was really going through it and they all had the touch starved person acting super clingy. Which CAN happen, but that’s usually only at the beginning of the condition only. In my own experience with touch starvation, physical contact actually gave me anxiety and panic attacks, and I became completely touch averse for a very long time before I slowly worked toward a healthier lifestyle.

Touch starvation leads to a lack of oxytocin (which is released when there’s skin on skin contact. It’s a social hormone often referred to as the “love” or “cuddle” hormone) and that can lead a person to feel very stressed and restless, so most touch starved people end up not accepting touches or shying away from touch and don’t really want to ask for it because they think they don’t want it.

A lack of oxytocin also leads to: a higher sensitivity to pain, feelings of isolation, depression, anxiety, and it makes you more prone to develop an eating disorder, clinical depression and/or anxiety, and fibromyalgia .

There are a lot of ways to deal with touch starvation, even if there are not people around you (pets, heavy clothing, warm showers, going to hair/nail salons regularly, etc. can all help get or simulate the contact you need.) Some of this is harder because of Covid, but please take care of yourself if you think you might be touch starved! It’s actually a serious condition and should be treated as such.