#all others do now is wander and stick to the same few friends and people- buy shit- then leave. :/

[kikyoupdates]

Tears of a Villainess ⭑˚🗡️⭑ 𝑓𝑎𝑟 𝑡𝑜𝑜 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑟𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒

yandere!ocs x reader

yandere, reverse harem, isekai, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, slowburn yandere

Reincarnation isn't as great as it sounds, especially when you've been reborn as none other than the villainess. Fated to die if you stand in the heroine's way, you immediately resolve to distance yourself from the plot. As long as you have nothing to do with any of the relevant characters, surely, you'll be able to avoid an untimely death. But in a horrible turn of events, the heroine ends up wanting to get close to you. Are you really doomed to meet the villainess' tragic end? Or is there an even more sinister fate that awaits you?

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You’re straight up not having a good time. 

Normally, these kinds of events are meant to be fun. Back in your original world, people would get together to kick back and relax, seeking respite from their busy day-to-day lives. Parties and social gatherings are supposed to be things to look forward to. 

In this world, however, that’s not the case. 

Living among the nobility is a staggering difference from what you once knew. Very few people are actually here to enjoy themselves. It’s all about maintaining appearances, and everything you say or do will likely be held against you at some point. Everyone hides their true intentions between fabricated smiles and thinly-veiled threats. It’s a dizzying, confusing affair, and since everyone thinks you’re the villainess, there’s no end to the unwanted attention you receive. 

But that’s not even the biggest problem. It’s one thing to have to try and navigate through this new environment you’ve suddenly been dropped into. 

It’s another thing to have to convince the villainess’ best friend that you’re actually who you say you are. 

“[Name], where are you going?” 

Flynn keeps following you. Rather foolishly, you’d hoped that he would leave you alone after you wandered off. But no, he insists on sticking to your side like glue, and he doesn’t bother to hide how suspicious he is. 

“Is everything okay?” he frowns. “You seem… agitated.” 

You nibble on your bottom lip.

Of fucking course I’m agitated! You’ve been grilling me nonstop from the very start! I only know a few facts about the villainess based on the game! I don’t know the inner workings of her entire goddamn life!

“I’m just bored,” you try to dismiss. “There’s nothing to do here.” 

“Couldn’t we find someplace to talk instead of you walking around in circles like this? It would help the time pass faster.” 

As if. Not only do you want to avoid him for the sake of preventing a potentially gruesome death, but above all else, he knows way too much about the villainess. He’s already asking a ton of questions, and you’ve barely spoken two words to him. He’s simply too perceptive for his own good. 

You strain a smile. “I’d rather not stand still right now.” 

“Hm,” Flynn frowns. “Like I said, you seem agitated. But why?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe they laced that wine with something,” you shrug, chuckling a bit.

He doesn’t seem amused in the slightest, and you desperately try to remember whether the villainess had a sense of humor that extended past bullying others for fun. 

Honestly, probably not. 

“Okay, well… gotta go!” 

You high-tail it out of there, but unfortunately, you’ve come to realize that running in heels is a giant pain in the ass. It’s the main reason you haven’t been able to give Flynn the slip yet. All he has to do is speed-walk a bit, and he’s able to keep up with relative ease. 

However, Lady Luck decides to shine down upon you, and in the few seconds that you stumble clumsily and manage to place a bit of distance between yourself and Flynn, you happen to run into your parents.

Your mother is quick to frown. “[Name]? What’s the matter with you, girl? Why are you running around like that? It’s improper.” 

“I feel sick,” you immediately blurt, with the same energy as a young child walking into their parents’ room to tell them they threw up. 

She takes a few moments to look you over, and fortunately, the nervous beads of sweat on your brow and overall frantic expression must be rather convincing. Your father was engaged in a conversation with some other nobleman until just a second ago, but he too turns to look at you, visibly concerned. 

“I’d like to go home,” you state. You add, with a shaky breath, “Please.” 

Right at that moment, Flynn walks up from behind, having just caught up to you once again. 

“[Name],” he sighs. “Seriously, what’s going on with you today? You’re acting—oh. Apologies. I didn’t see you two there.” 

Flynn politely greets your parents, but they don’t pay him much attention, because they’re far too preoccupied with fussing over you. 

“Hello, Flynn,” your father mumbles in a hurry. He presses a hand to your forehead, which is undoubtedly clammy, because you’re a nervous wreck right now. “Oh dear. Forgive me for not being able to stick around for a chat. [Name] seems to be feeling ill. We had better take her home so she can rest.” 

You watch as Flynn’s brows lift. “What?” he frowns, turning towards you. “Is that true? I thought you were just agitated. Do you really think they put something in the wine?” 

“Who put what in the wine?” your father gapes. 

“I-It’s not like that,” you chuckle awkwardly. The last thing you want to do is unintentionally frame someone for drugging you. “I was just kidding. Um… but I really don’t feel well. It’s possible I might have caught a cold. Or maybe I just haven’t gotten enough sleep lately. I’m worried I might collapse.” 

What follows is quite possibly the biggest freakout you’ve ever seen, and honestly, it’s kind of fucking embarrassing. 

“Collapse?!” your father exclaims. “Good heavens! Then we must get you out of here as soon as possible! Everyone, move! Give my daughter some space!” 

He proceeds to pick you up into his arms, despite the flustered squeal you let out, and your mother isn’t any less dramatic, with all her nonstop desperate wailing. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, mortified beyond belief.

Please, just kill me now.

There goes your plan of trying not to draw too much attention to yourself. All of the guests clear the way and let you pass through, but you catch them whispering amongst themselves, and you’re willing to bet they’re not saying nice things about you. 

Oh, well. The villainess already had a bad reputation. You’d be a fool to expect that you could overwrite it so quickly. It’s just going to take some time. 

You really wish your parents would calm down, though. 

“Move, move, move! This is an emergency, goddammit! My daughter is barely clinging to consciousness!” 

“Uh, I’m still fine,” you protest. 

“She’s passing out quite literally as we speak!” 

You roll your eyes and let your body sag, utterly defeated. Seriously, what a family of drama queens. You can’t even blame the villainess for turning out the way she did. 

The only silver lining is that the evening is being cut short, and you don’t have to spend any more time with Flynn. You never imagined how stressful it would be to have someone scrutinizing your every move. 

“Is she going to be alright?” Flynn asks worriedly. Your father is in the process of hoisting your body up and lifting you into the carriage. “Would it be okay if I come along as well, Count [Last Name]? She’s given me a fright. I’d like to stay by her side, if possible.” 

Fuck no! Don’t do that! 

You’re just about to protest, but thankfully, your father interjects before you have to. 

“She is very ill, Flynn,” he mutters somberly. Which, again, is kind of ridiculous. All you said was that you were worried you might collapse, yet here he is, acting like you’ve just been diagnosed with a terminal disease. “Right now, she needs as much rest as possible, and time to recover. Our family physician will look after her. I’ll ask that you please give her space so she can properly regain her strength.” 

Flynn isn’t able to hide his disappointment, but nevertheless, he nods. 

“I understand, sir. In that case, I’ll keep her in my thoughts and wish her a swift recovery. Please let me know when she’s feeling better.” 

I know I jokingly asked to be killed earlier, but can people please stop acting like I’m going to die? 

You slump back into the cushioned seats inside the carriage and sigh heavily. This evening has been sufficiently exhausting, and in more ways than one. You wonder how you’ll be able to break off your friendship with Flynn. He seems rather attached to you, based on how worried he is, and you remember from the game that he vehemently defended the villainess’ actions at first, since they were such close friends.

Clearly, getting rid of him won’t be an easy feat, but in the interest of ensuring your safety, you’re going to have to make it happen. 

“Goodnight, [Name],” Flynn says. He smiles encouragingly. “You’ll be alright. Be sure to get as much rest as possible, and I’ll come visit you soon.” 

Unlike his smile, which appears genuine, yours is tight-lipped and forced. 

I would much rather you didn’t. 

“Mommy, can I have more apple juice?” 

You hug the blankets closer to your chest and make puppy eyes at your mother, who leans down to affectionately pat your head. 

“Of course you can, sweetie,” she beams. “I’ll have one of the servants fetch some for you right away.” 

Well, it’s the morning after your parents frantically brought you home, and spoiler alert: you didn’t die. 

You did, however, discover that your parents are even more whipped for you than you could ever have imagined. Which was kind of embarrassing last night, but in the grand scheme of things, you’re thankful. 

If something goes wrong and you desperately need help, you have a good feeling that they’ll stand by your side. 

Also, since they were so terrified last night, they’re pretty much giving you the princess treatment right now. You even got to eat breakfast in bed earlier. 

Your mother has been more suspicious of your strange behavior compared to your father, who takes it all in stride, but she seems to have mollified a bit. It’s probably because you’re acting like a spoiled baby right now, which is much more in line with the villainess’ demeanor. You make a mental note to be a bit more bratty from time to time. 

Flynn promised to visit you, but you told your parents that you still want to focus on your recovery, so he thankfully hasn’t stopped by yet. You’re going to try and keep him away for as long as possible, at least until you can figure out how to deal with him. 

Anyways, you’ve got the whole day to yourself. You don’t even have to do any more math problems for a while, since you’re supposedly so sick. Haha. 

You may not be a villainess, but you’re no saint, and you’ll take just about any opportunity to goof off. 

“Fiona, come along with me to the garden,” you gesture. “I want to stuff my face with pastries and drink yummy juice under the sun.” 

“My lady, shouldn’t you stay in bed?” she frets. “Your father made it very clear how ill you were… he said it was a miracle that you even made it through the night.” 

Bro. 

You roll your eyes and sip on your glass of apple juice. “He’s just exaggerating. I feel much better now. I’m just taking advantage of how much they’re spoiling me. Don’t tell them I said that, though.” 

“Oh,” she blinks, realization dawning on her. After a few moments, she smiles. “I see. In that case, I’ll accompany you and ensure that I see to your every need.”

You grin widely. 

“Thanks!” 

And so, you spend the better portion of your morning doing nothing in particular. Honestly, waking up in another person’s body out of nowhere is a much bigger deal than you’re making it out to be. Anyone else in your position would probably have had a mental breakdown at the start. 

But apart from the fear of the bad endings that the villainess faces in the games, you’d like to say you’re rather enjoying this new life of yours. Seriously, compared to being a struggling university student, drowning in homework and hefty loans, getting to eat delicious pastries while sitting comfortably in an extravagant garden really isn’t that bad. In many ways, it’s a massive improvement. 

It’s a grim thought, but you realize there’s very little about your old life that you actually liked. It felt like you were just going through the motions every day, devoid of any real passion or longing. Ever since your parents died, you fell into a bout of depression and pretty much shut everyone out. 

Being able to start over was surely a blessing in disguise, and all the more reason why you’re hellbent on protecting this new life. 

“[Name],” you mumble in a daze, the taste of sugar lingering on your tongue. You stare up at the clear blue sky and smile. It isn’t the same name you grew up with, but from now on, it is your name, and you’re going to wear it proudly. 

You hum, popping another pastry into your mouth. You could probably afford to hold back a bit, otherwise you really will get sick this time, but whatever. It’s a beautiful day, and you’re feeling great, and it’s so nice and peaceful right now—

Hm? 

A carriage has just pulled up to the manor. You watched it roll in from your vantage point in the garden, so naturally, your curiosity got the better of you and you started walking over.

Fiona scrunches up her brows. “My, who could it be? I didn’t think we were expecting any visitors today.” 

You shrug. “Don’t look at me. I’m usually the last to hear about these things.” 

Both of you stare at each other, visibly perplexed, but it turns out that your questions are soon answered, because the carriage door opens, and a man disembarks. 

And of course, that man is…

…actually, who is he supposed to be? 

You don’t have the slightest clue. He has black hair and rather piercing blue eyes, which you can make out even from a good distance away. He’s dressed in elegant clothes, so he’s clearly a noble. You suppose he must be one of your parents’ acquaintances or something. They probably know a whole bunch of people.

For some reason, though, it feels like you should know who this man is. There’s this weird sense of déjà vu you’re getting, and it’s like an itch in your brain that you just can’t seem to scratch. 

It isn’t until you’re staring him face to face that it finally clicks. 

“Ah!” 

Rowan Calderwood. That’s what his name is. He made a few very brief appearances in the game, only in about two or three scenes, but you remember now that he’s supposed to be Alistair’s cousin. 

Also, if you recall correctly, they’re not on especially good terms, but aren’t too familiar with all the details.

But that’s beside the point. What is he even doing here? 

Rowan tilts his head. “Pardon me. Is there something on my face? You looked rather shocked for a moment, and even exclaimed quite loudly.” 

You clamp your lips shut. Right. As far as you know, the villainess and Rowan never actually met in the game, which means he’s probably just seeing you for the very first time. It’d be better to pretend like you don’t know who he is. 

“No reason in particular,” you shrug. “I just thought you were a trespasser for a moment, that’s all.” 

Rowan’s eyes widen, but rather than looking offended, he just looks amused. He’s not technically trespassing, but if what Fiona said is true, then he must have showed up without an invitation, which is considered to be quite rude.

“Please forgive me if I gave you a fright,” Rowan says, then he bows deeply, only to lift his head after a few moments and smile. “I take it you must be [Name]. You’re even more beautiful than I had imagined. My name is Rowan Calderwood. It’s a pleasure to finally be meeting you.” 

You wish you could say the feeling was mutual, but he interrupted your pastry-eating session, and you didn’t even get to finish the fresh glass of apple juice Fiona had just poured you.

Plus, he’s related to Alistair. Is he here to try and convince you to restore the engagement? Because no way in hell is that happening. 

“I have no intention of taking Alistair back,” you state matter-of-factly, crossing your arms at him. “You share the same last name, so I presume you’re related to him in some capacity. I thought I should make my feelings clear from the start, so that you don’t waste any more of your time.” 

Rowan’s eyes widen for the second time, and once again, he doesn’t look offended, or even appalled. 

If anything, he looks delighted. 

“How amusing,” he chuckles. “It seems you’re even better than I had hoped for.” 

Uh…? 

Rowan shakes his head. “Rest assured, my lady, that isn’t what I came here to say. Admittedly, I’d heard that your engagement with my cousin fell through, but I haven’t made the trip here on his behalf. I came for purely selfish purposes, I must admit.” 

“Oh.” Your shoulders sag, and relief fills your chest. “Well, that’s good. I meant the part about you not trying to convince me to take Alistair back, not the part about you being selfish, just to be clear.” 

“Right,” he muses. “I had a feeling that’s what you meant.”

This bastard just keeps smiling for some reason. What’s so funny? Granted, you know you can be hilarious at times, but you’ve been nothing but stoic thus far. Yet he acts like he’s having the time of his goddamn life. 

Wait a second… 

There’s a theory forming in your mind, and honestly, you’re not sure you like the thought of it all that much. 

Fortunately, Fiona has your back. 

“P-Pardon me, Lord Calderwood,” she nervously pipes in. “Might I ask if you have an appointment? Count [Last Name] made it very clear that there were to be no visitors today. My lady fell ill last night, and she’s been taking the day to recover all her strength.” 

“I was super sick,” you nod. “My father said it’s a miracle I even made it through the night.” 

Rowan frowns, which isn’t too surprising, considering you look healthy as a horse and you were stuffing your face with pastries up until a few moments ago. 

He clears his throat. “Oh my. Apologies. I wasn’t aware that you weren’t feeling well last night. You look so stunning and radiant that I couldn’t possibly imagine you’d been battling sickness as of late.”

“Yes, well, I just so happen to be gorgeous, but it’s true that I’m taking the day off to recover. Also, please make an appointment if you plan to visit again in the future. No one was expecting you to show up,” you say, sternly enough that you hope he takes the hint. 

Honestly, he probably realizes he’s being rude, but it seems like he just doesn’t care. 

“I had hoped for it to be a surprise,” he smiles. “I was so excited to meet you that I must have forgotten my manners. I also wasn’t sure when your parents would accept my request to meet, given that things are rather strained between our families right now. Well, Alistair’s side of the family, at least.” 

You arch a brow. “So, you thought it would be better to show up without warning and take it from there?” 

“I’m guilty of being a touch eccentric at times. Especially when someone as beautiful and charming as yourself is involved,” he adds flirtatiously. 

“How did you know I was beautiful? We literally just met.” 

“I had heard the rumors, of course. You’re hailed far and wide as the most breathtaking, desirable lady in all the land.” 

Desirable? Are we talking about the same rotten villainess with the personality of a stinky tomato? Now I know this is all BS. 

Still, it’s getting clearer by the second where he’s headed with this. You’ve long since connected the dots.

Rowan’s smile has yet to disappear, and he crosses a hand over his chest before bowing once more. 

“It shames me to admit this, but… ever since I heard that you and Alistair were no longer engaged, I simply couldn’t hold back any longer.” 

Oh, boy. This is actually happening.

“I was hoping to speak to your father first and foremost and make my intentions clear, but I happened to stumble upon you, and now, I’d like to say what’s on my mind.” 

“Uh, you really don’t have to,” you insist. “Like, seriously—” 

“[Name],” Rowan breathes, and you watch, horrified, as he gets down on one knee and takes your hand in his. “Would you… grant me the honor of marrying you?” 

More chapters are available on Quotev!

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[biioniic-biiohazard]

((NOTE: i was going to keep this in tags but decided not to :3) this was such a common word and thing in 2000s to 2010s fandom spaces, especially anime fandom spaces. like you could not go to a convention or open deviantart or even tumblr without seeing at least one mention of the word- ''glomp me'' signs and shirts everywhere, cosplayers and internet friends running up to each other just to hug on sight at meets, artists online drawing and animating their ocs doing this with their friends' ocs or making bases of anime screenshots of characters doing the exact thing, getting dms and replies and comments with just a simple *glomps u* thrown in there. you would see such a specific kind of closeness and joy in these people, and frankly it upsets me deeply knowing it as a phrase and term in fandom ...is almost completely gone :( so yknow what! im glad you discovered this word! bring back glomping or whatever yknw? lets have more fun in fandom spaces and be silly together okay? :D

I just....I just learned that there's a word in the English language...for when you run into someone to hug them with all the enthusiasm and strength you have....I learned that it's called glomp.

My God, English has so many words to describe physical intimacy, I'm in love

[ryukatters]

swipe right — k. bakugo x fem! reader

✮ a/n: i remember seeing a post on here a long time ago about a character making a fake tinder profile for their gf and realizing how many people want her. (if someone knows the OG post please lmk so i can link it!) so now i present to you: bakugo falling to his knees in the middle of your apartment bedroom for the exact same reason.

✮ content/warnings: dubcon, quirkless/college! au, jealousy, possessiveness, breeding, creampie, unprotected sex, cum eating, cunnilingus, overstimulation, praise, biting, bkg gets a little rough with you, and bkg's also a fucking simp but when do I ever write him as being otherwise??

✮ summary: your boyfriend decides to make a fake tinder profile for you just to see how many matches you get. he comes to a realization just how many other people want what’s already his.

✮ word count: 4.2k (i'm so sick)

Bakugo can remember how this all started. In very vivid detail, actually. He remembers because Kaminari had pissed him off so much to the extent that it took him a very substantial amount of effort to refrain from bashing his friend’s face in.

It all started during the last monthly hangout amongst Bakugo and his friends— one day out of the month designated to make sure that they all had time to catch up with one another despite their busy schedules.

Everything was normal, with all of them getting more than enough of their fill of food and alcohol while idly playing video games and talking about random topics to fill in the silence in Kaminari’s living room. 

Perfectly normal, until Denki decided to open his stupid mouth, at least. 

He goes off on a tangent about a trend he saw on social media where someone makes a fake Tinder profile for their partner to see how many matches they’d get. He proceeds to tell Bakugo that he should try doing it, for “funsies,”— to which Bakugo scoffs at. 

“Aren’t you curious, Kacchan?” Kaminari smiles cheekily, wrapping an arm around his blond friend’s shoulders, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Bakugo’s becoming visibly more upset with every passing moment. 

“Your girlfriend is really pretty,” Mina chimes in, sticking her tongue out when Katsuki whips his head to glare at her. “I’m still surprised she’s with a grump like you.” 

Kaminari butts in, “I bet there’s a whole line of guys around the block just waiting for a chance to get with her. I mean, just look at her! Hell, I’d even let her peg m—”

For a moment, Bakugo swears he wants to bash Kaminari’s face into his flatscreen. And for a moment, he lets that impulsive thought win— getting up and grabbing two fistfuls of Denki’s shirt before promptly getting cut off by Kirishima.

“Alright alright,” Kirishima forcibly pries Bakugo off of the other blond, pushing him off to the side. “That’s enough, you two. Kaminari was just messing around. I’ll admit, it wasn’t a good joke, but no need to hurt the guy, okay Bakugo?” 

Kirishima knows that Kaminari wasn’t being that serious, but Kirishima can also admit that what he had to say held some ounce of truth. And Kirishima knows Bakugo well enough to see how your boyfriend tends to be rather skittish and protective with matters concerning you— which is exactly why Eijiro had to stop him before it was too late. He really didn’t feel like preparing for Denki’s funeral or helping hide Katsuki escape from a homicide charge.

And that was that…up until a few minutes ago.

Katsuki’s tried to forget that conversation. But try as he might, his mind betrays him and can’t help but wander back to what Denki said that night.

He trusts you of course, and has complete faith in your relationship. However, he’s curious to a fault, just about perhaps too curious for his own good. 

How badly could this end?

As it turns out, this whole scheme seems to be playing out very poorly. 

Dozens of photos of you— screenshotted from your social media accounts— fill Katsuki’s screen. He had to choose photos you uploaded yourself, because most of his photos of you were either too…suggestive or too domestic (and he wants to be the only one to see you in those moments).

He swipes through “your” profile one last time before clicking “done” to officially put you on the market. And just like that, Bakugo’s met with the faces of men who are nowhere near your level. He goes through the batch of profiles, scrutinizing each one he comes across. He’s (un)surprisingly selective with the ones he chooses to swipe right on— making sure that they’re at least somewhat conventionally attractive. To his surprise (or dread, rather), his phone pings right away with a notification from someone who swiped back. Another ping. A message. 

You free tonight? 

Bakugo scoffs. He looks through the guy’s profile— a picture of him at a party with his arms around some girls, another with him doing a victory pose presumably after hiking, and one with him holding a fish. He feels his mouth curl in disgust, about to give into the urge to reply and give this guy a piece of his mind, before he realizes he’s pretending to be you. He takes a deep breath, closes out of the app, and puts down his phone. 

He’s starting to regret this.

Bakugo’s phone has gone off 15 times in the last hour. Bakugo has also felt the need to strangle some stranger through the phone 15 times in the last hour. Your (read: his) profile has existed for less than 60 minutes, and you already have a whole address book of nobodies trying to link with you and get a quick fuck. 

He feels the familiar beginnings of a headache creeping up the back of his skull. He thinks he might need a drink. Why did he decide to do this again?

In hindsight, he probably should have known this is exactly how it was going to go down. 

What was that saying? Curiosity killed the cat?

Yeah.

He was never great at self-preservation in the first place. So this, the feeling of overwhelming jealousy, frustration, possessiveness brewing up a storm threatening to pour out of every single fiber of Bakugo’s being— was no surprise.

He watches as the numbers at the bottom of his screen increase steadily, before tapping on the star icon. 

���99+ likes!’ it reads. Over 99 people who saw your profile and thought you were beautiful. Bakugo pales, and he can feel the cold sweat building on the nape of his neck. He grips his phone, knuckles turning white. Is he shaking from anger or nervousness?

Anger because all these guys think they even have the slightest chance with someone as amazing as you. Nervousness because what if you decide that they do? You wouldn’t actually leave him for one of these guys, right? Right?

None of these men would walk through hell and back for you. They don’t know how you like your coffee, the details of your skin care routine, how you like to binge watch shows and talk Katsuki’s ear off about them (not that he ever minded, of course). They don’t know you, not like he does. Katsuki looks at you like you hung the moon. In fact, he’s pretty convinced that you did. Everything good in his life— the warmth, the color, the joy,— is encompassed by you. He’d be damned if he lets some greasy little nobody take that from him. Because the moment Bakugo fell in love with you, you became a part of him— inextricably and indefinitely. Loving you has become so intrinsic to him, that even the mere thought of another person loving you or looking at you the same way he does has him going insane. Not that anyone could love you like he did, though. That thought brings him some comfort, but not for long. 

One last notification he sees sends him spiraling. Bakugo swears that he can see red. That’s when he deletes the app, and throws his poor phone in some random corner of the living room, which is markedly one of the smarter choices he’s made as of late. He marches to your bedroom with a fire burning in his chest. 

He stops short of the door and finds you sitting at the edge of your shared bed, fresh out of the shower. You’re applying lotion, and he watches the cream absorb into your skin wordlessly, in awe at how overwhelmingly beautiful you manage to look in the most prosaic of tasks. For a second, he almost forgets the reason he was upset in the first place.  

Your hair is still damp, water droplets accumulating at the tips, and Katsuki feels his mouth run dry the minute he watches a stray bead fall and make its way down your neck and stop perfectly in the dip of your collarbone. Your very existence is forever etched into his heart, every inch of you carved into his memory, but even still he can never get tired of looking at you. At every angle, in every lighting, he needs to see you in it. You could call him obsessed, but he’d simply laugh and agree, because what’s so wrong with that? Especially if it’s you. 

You’re one to be studied— to be adored, Katsuki thinks, to the greatest capacity. It’s what you deserve. And what better person for that task to fall upon than him?

He finds himself naturally gravitating towards you, his finger tracing the same exact path the water had carved just moments before, wordlessly. You try to pay no mind, but it’s difficult as you realize just how close Bakugo was and how your towel barely manages to cover up your most intimate parts. One wrong move and you’d be exposed. With how things were playing out, and the predatory glint in the blond’s eyes, you don’t think your boyfriend would be too perturbed with your current predicament. 

Katsuki presses a delicate kiss to your forehead before he crouches down. Suddenly, you’re at eye level with one another, his hot breath tickling your lips. You think for a moment he’s going to kiss you so you lean forward, lips waiting. But he merely grazes them before he sucks a deep bruise into the juncture of your neck, biting slightly. 

You’re barely given any time to react before he’s grabbing the hand that’s securing your towel and ripping it away, the offending garment falling off your body. Your flesh prickles with goosebumps as its exposed to the sudden chill.  It’s quickly replaced by the heat of Bakugo’s body as he pushes you lightly, your back hitting the mattress. He crawls on top of you, muscular thighs on either side of your hips, your head placed conveniently between his forearms. He’s trapped you, a nonverbal challenge for you to try and escape. 

You’re a work of art, he thinks, but much more valuable than any pièce de résistance framed in any museum. 

Beautiful, yes, but far too blank for his liking. He wants to ruin you, make you his own personal magnum opus. And so he does. 

He presses a clothed knee against your bare cunt, pressing firmly. His lips continue their assault on your neck, leaving angry purpling bruises in their wake. Rough hands find your breast, and you moan in surprise when he gives both of them a harsh squeeze as he shoves his tongue into your mouth. Katsuki kisses you like a man dying of thirst, hungry for everything you can offer him and more. It’s all too much already, the way he’s kissing you has your mind reeling, and you have to turn your head away for a moment to catch your breath. Katsuki thinks it’s a moment too long without you, so he coaxes you into locking lips with him once more. A wave of mischievousness washes over you, prompting you to take your boyfriend’s lower lip in between your teeth, biting down lightly. 

You feel his breath hitch, before he lets out a low groan as he grinds his clothed dick against your bare wetness. He returns the favor, sucking on your bottom lip before letting it go with a wet pop. He pulls back with a lazy smirk, his lips pursing together to scatter messy kisses down the base of your throat and down your chest, alternating between sucking and biting at the flesh. 

He gives you a good once-over, scanning every surface, committing them to memory. You feel the need to curl into yourself with how intensely those vermillion eyes are piercing into you, memorizing every single curve, scar, freckle like he’s done time and time again. 

He drops down to his knees, broad shoulders bullying their way in between your legs, forcibly prying them open. He grips your hips, fingertips digging into the soft flesh, and drags you down the mattress until your legs are dangling off the bed.

“Jesus, Kats, be more gentle.”

“Shhh. I know you like it when I’m not gentle,” he chuckles. As if to prove a point, he pulls you down even further, giving a harsh bite to your inner thigh. He smiles deviously when you yelp. You try to pull at his hair but his reflexes are too quick, pinning both of your wrists down on either side of you easily. “Besides, this is the perfect height for me to eat you out, dontcha think baby?” 

You want to chastise him for being so crass, so Katsuki, but the words die on the tip of your tongue the minute he gives a sweet, loving kiss to your clit, sucking lightly. 

“You’re mine. I don’t want anyone else seeing you like this except for me.” 

You’re not entirely sure what brought this on, but you find it hard to complain when Bakugo drags his tongue from your throbbing clit to inside your pussy, drinking everything you have to offer. 

Your hands automatically try to find purchase in his blond locks, struggling against the vice grip Katsuki has on your wrists. He decides to take pity on you, loosening his hold so you can slip your hands into his hair, moaning appreciatively when he feels you tug. He rewards you by flicking his tongue on your clit over and over again, just the way you like it. He does it until your moans begin to pitch higher and higher, the same way that they do when you’re close. He doesn’t stop his ministrations even after you cum, riding out your orgasm until your thighs are shaking from overstimulation. He pulls away from you with a loud pop, taking in the sight before him. 

He runs a hand up and down your thigh soothingly. “So fucked out already and we’re barely getting started, baby.”

Your mind is barely processing his words before you feel Katsuki’s erection brush against your stomach, his clothing haphazardly discarded on the floor. He taps the head of his dick against your clit to tease you, a feeling of satisfaction swelling when you cry out from under him.  

He watches in fascination as strings of your arousal cling to him. He positions his length at your entrance, locking eyes with you as you hold your breath in anticipation. Katsuki likes you like this. Needy for him. 

 “You’re the most beautiful girl in the world, you know that?” He slips into you with a stuttered groan. 

Katsuki’s always been big. You never get used to the initial stretch, no matter how many times you two fuck. Still, that doesn’t stop him from sliding in with ease from the slick of your last orgasm. It easily coats his cock as he gives a few experimental thrusts. He groans in rapture. How do you manage to feel so good every time? It’s enough to drive him insane. Perhaps he already is. 

“So fucking perfect, no wonder why all those losers want you.” He mutters out the last part, and you’re not sure if you caught that right. 

“What?” He chooses not to respond, and you aren’t given the opportunity to think any further before your legs are thrown over his shoulders, Katsuki’s weight effectively pinning you in place. The stretch knocks all the wind out of your lungs, and all you can do is cling to Katsuki, nails leaving red, angry lines on his well-defined back.

He wastes no time before he starts drilling into you, hips slotting in between your legs perfectly. The position has him pressed against your clit, and your entire body feels like it’s been set ablaze, with Katsuki holding both the power to have it burn even brighter and the ability to extinguish it. And you’re almost there, you can feel your soul slowly ascending, your room filled with hymns of pleasure, the coil in your stomach winding tighter and tighter, threatening to unravel along with your sanity. Katsuki can feel it too— the way you’re squeezing him tighter, how your gasps and moans have climbed just a note higher, how absolutely ruined you look, how he’s responsible for your current state. Which is exactly why he wants to push it even further, he wants to see how much you’ll break for him— and only him. 

Katsuki cuts you off right before you can reach your peak, pulling out but making sure just his tip is inserted. You come to and take a look at your lover and marvel at the sight. He has a crazed look in his eyes. The way he smirks is absolutely wicked. 

You feel distraught— having been so close but having it ripped away from you. You give your boyfriend a petulant pout.

“Katsuki,” you whine, slapping a hand against his sweaty chest, “Why’d you stop? I was so close!”

“Because I didn’t want you to cum yet,” he says simply. “You’ll be good for me, yeah? I’ll give my baby what she deserves, as long as she’s good.” 

You roll your eyes, huffing. That won’t do for him.

As much as he loves seeing you indulge, he feels a need to punish you— at least a little bit to even begin to atone for being the wicked temptress you are. 

“Don’t be a fuckin’ brat,” Bakugo growls, gripping your face with one hand, squishing your cheeks, causing your lips to purse slightly. “I said be good, okay? Wanna take my time with you.” 

There’s a moment of respite, until you sigh in defeat, knowing better than to argue with him lest you wanted to dig your own grave. “‘Kay, ‘ki.”

He flashes you a smile. Obedient, just how he likes you. “Good girl.”

Katsuki draws his hips back, thrusting just enough to fuck his tip into you. He’s teasing. The amount of willpower on his end it takes not to cum is nauseating. 

“You’re so pretty, aren’t you?” he rasps, one hand finding their way around your neck, squeezing just enough to make your head spin. Your hands reflexively grab his wrist. 

All you can manage is a fucked out moan. Katsuki has to resist the urge to coo, about how he’s managed to turn you into a cockdrunk mess in such a short matter of time. The wave of possessiveness that’s been gnawing at the depths of his soul begins to seep out, and he’s reminded of the reason why the two of you are in this position in the first place. 

He gives your throat another squeeze and a rough slap to your clit. “C’mon princess, answer me. Say it.” He slowly adds more and more pressure until your ears grow hot and air feels like a precious commodity. 

“I-i’m pretty,” you manage to gasp out, tears spilling from your lash line as you begin to lose yourself between the space of pleasure and pain. 

Good. Always so pliant for him.

“That’s right, baby,” he concedes. “So fuckin’ beautiful.” He punctuates the last word with a deep thrust, right against that spongy spot that feels so good. You’re so sensitive that it’s enough to send you spiraling into your second orgasm, walls spasming around him uncontrollably. 

Katsuki stills, staving off his own release with all the restraint he can summon. He silently thanks whatever divine forces are out there that he didn’t cum the minute he felt the first clench of your orgasm. 

He grits his teeth as he wills himself to move, trying not to get lost in the wetness that envelops him. You’re babbling now, senseless moans filling Katsuki’s ears like a sweet melody. 

“Kats, please, I’m too sensitive—” You’re shaking now, muscles trembling with every thrust. 

“But I’m not done with you yet,” he says simply, drawing his hips back with a particularly rough thrust. You choke back whatever you were going to say with a loud cry. “What’s your color, baby?”

You take a moment to answer, brain trying to comprehend the words just uttered to you. You look at Katsuki firmly, “Green.”

“Atta girl,” he praises, the drive of his hips beginning to shallow. He’s close, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold out. But for you, he tries. “You’re mine, right?”

“Yes,” you breathe out, shivering as goosebumps dance across your skin. 

“Say it,” Katsuki pleads, thrusts growing sloppy by the second. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m all yours, ‘ki.” 

With that, Katsuki’s fate is sealed. He’s left groaning as a flash of pleasure shakes his very soul, filling you up with so much cum that it dribbles onto the mattress even while he’s still inside you. You follow suit, an embarrassingly obscene rhythm of squelching noises fill the silence as you spasm around his dick. He collapses on top of you, but he’s still coherent enough to not dump all his weight on you. 

Your labored breaths fill the room as the two of you come to. Katsuki pulls out of you with a wince, still a bit sensitive. He gives you a peck on the lips before he drags himself down, settling in between your legs much like he was earlier. 

You tense up, “Kats, wait—”

Any and all protests cease the moment Bakugo works his tongue inside of you, slurping lewdly as he drags out the mixture of your cum and his, swallowing. He tries not to stimulate your puffy clit in an attempt to be merciful, but you still feel yourself steadily climbing to what would be your fourth orgasm this session. While the past three have been intense and drowning, this one comes to you in waves, dull pleasure invading your senses as Katsuki continues to eat you out to clean you up. 

He pulls away when you finish, your slick and his saliva coating his chin before he wipes it off on the back of his hand. You stare at his half-hard erection with a half concerned, half quizzical look. “Do you…” you lick your lips, “need help with that? I’m a little sensitive down there  but I could use my mout—”

“Nah, I’m good babe,” he says earnestly, flashing you a smile that he only ever shows around you. “I’ll be back.” With that, your boyfriend leaves the room only to come back with a bottle of water. 

“Drink.” You comply, finishing half the bottle graciously before handing it to him. He downs the rest before he settles next to you on the bed, laying on his side. You mirror him, shifting your body so that you’re both facing each other. 

Katsuki reaches out, finger idly tracing random shapes and lines onto the bare skin on your hip. He has a pensive look on his face, one that he usually doesn’t hold after stolen moments like this; it’s an expression he wears when he’s in deep thought. 

“Baby,” you call out. His eyes snap to yours, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah?”

“Whatcha thinking about?” You watch as a hesitant look flashes across your boyfriend’s face before he shakes his head.

“S’nothin’. Just thinkin’ about us two.” He speaks lightly. It’s always been difficult for him to voice his inner thoughts and feelings, so he tends to beat around the bush. You’ve learned that if you ever want something out of him, you’d have to pry a little. Katsuki always indulges you though. 

“What about us?”

“Do you- do you think you’ll ever get tired of this?” He repeats himself, clearing his throat. The question is followed by a weaker, “...of me?”

You think it’s the most ridiculous question he’s ever asked, because the answer should be obvious. “I’d never get tired of you, Katsuki. I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” he replies automatically, “but if I ever do anything that upsets you, or if I get too much for you, or if I—” he’s rambling now. Yes, it’s difficult for Katsuki to talk about his feelings, but once you manage to get him to open up, all the walls of his self-made fortress come crashing down and it’s up to you to pick up the pieces. 

“Baby,” you giggle, pressing a kiss to his lips, cupping his sharp jaw with one hand. “Look at me.” And he does— ruby eyes meeting yours. “I love you because you’re you. And I choose to be with you everyday. It’s not always gonna be perfect, no relationship is. But I know that I will always wake up and choose you.” 

You can see the anxiety melt away from Katsuki’s body, shoulders slumping as he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

“Love you too, sap,” is all he says before he’s pulling you against his chest, squeezing you into a bearhug. You two stay that way until both of you are lulled to sleep. 

You’re laying in bed with Katsuki, both of you dozing off when you hear a slight buzz from your phone on the nightstand. You squint as you try to read the notification, and make out that it’s from your friend.

Denki Kaminari: So did it work?

You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing, giving a quick glance over your shoulder to check on your boyfriend— fast asleep. You turn back to your phone, your thumbs making quick work at your keyboard. 

You: Just like I said it would. Thanks Denki :)

Writing belongs to @ryukatters. Please do not share my work on Tiktok.

[yourmomsawh0r3]

new beginnings

pairing: Tyler Owen’s x f! reader

Tyler pushed his grocery cart down the cereal aisle, his mind wandering to the endless list of storm reports and data he needed to compile. Living in Tornado Alley kept him busy, but today was his day off, and he intended to make the most of it. His mom had called earlier, asking if he could pick up a few things for her, so here he was, navigating the grocery store with a list in hand.

Y/N walked into the store, her mind preoccupied with the upcoming shift at the hospital al. Being an ER doctor was demanding, but she loved it. As she moved through the aisles, her thoughts drifted back to her childhood in Topeka. She had left so much behind, including her best friend turned rival, Tyler Owens.

Tyler and Y/N had grown up together, inseparable until their teenage years when a series of misunderstandings and hurt feelings had driven them apart. Now, years later, they both lived in the same town, yet their paths rarely crossed.

Lost in their thoughts, they both reached for the same box of cereal at the exact moment. Their hands brushed, and they turned to look at each other.

“Tyler?” Y/N’s voice was filled with surprise.

“Y/N?” Tyler’s eyes widened, taking in the sight of her. She looked effortlessly beautiful in the grocery store lighting, her long hair cascading over her shoulders, freckles scattered across her nose, and those familiar dimples appearing as she smiled.

They stood there for a moment, frozen, before Tyler recovered and stepped back. “Ladies first,” he said, gesturing to the cereal box.

“Wow, chivalry isn’t dead after all,” Y/N replied with a raised eyebrow as she picked up the box and placed it in her cart. “Didn’t think you’d still be in town.”

“Ditto,” Tyler shot back, crossing his arms. “Guess we both had the same idea to stick around.”

“Guess so,” Y/N said, a smirk playing on her lips. “Still chasing storms, I see. Figured you’d have grown out of that by now.”

“Still saving lives, I see,” Tyler retorted. “Figured you’d have moved on to something less dramatic.”

“Some things never change,” Y/N muttered, shaking her head. “You still think you know everything.”

“And you still think you’re always right,” Tyler countered.

An awkward silence stretched between them, filled with the unspoken tension of their past. Finally, Tyler broke it. “Want to grab a coffee? Catch up?”

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Sure, why not?”

They finished their shopping and met at the small café inside the store. As they sat down with their drinks, the conversation flowed more easily than either had expected. They reminisced about their childhood adventures, laughed about old pranks, and shared stories about their current lives.

“Remember that time we tried to build a treehouse in my backyard?” Y/N asked, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

“How could I forget?” Tyler chuckled. “We got halfway up the tree before your dad caught us and grounded us for a week.”

“I think that was the last time I tried to build anything,” Y/N admitted, shaking her head.

Tyler smirked. “Yeah, you always were better at bossing people around than actually doing the work.”

Y/N rolled her eyes dramatically. “And you always thought you could do everything better than everyone else.”

“Maybe because I usually can,” Tyler shot back, a playful glint in his eyes.

“Oh, please,” Y/N laughed. “Your ego is still as big as ever.”

“And your sarcasm is still as sharp,” Tyler retorted, grinning.

As Y/N rolled her eyes again, Tyler felt a surprising surge of attraction. He’d forgotten how feisty and sassy she could be. He found himself admiring her spirit, the fire that had always made her stand out.

“You know,” he said, his voice softening, “I never really understood why we drifted apart.”

Y/N sighed, her expression turning serious. “We were young and stubborn. I guess we both thought the other had changed, and neither of us wanted to admit we missed our friendship.”

Tyler nodded, reaching across the table to take her hand. “I’m sorry for my part in it.”

“Me too,” Y/N squeezed his hand, her smile returning. “But maybe it’s not too late to start over.”

Tyler’s heart skipped a beat as he looked into her eyes. “I’d like that.”

They finished their coffee and left the store together, walking side by side. The tension of their past was gone, replaced by a sense of hope for the future.

As they reached their cars, Tyler turned to Y/N. “How about dinner sometime? We can catch up properly.”

“I’d love that,” Y/N agreed, her dimples deepening as she smiled. “It’s a date.”

Tyler stood on Y/N’s doorstep, holding a bouquet of tulips, his heart pounding in his chest. The door swung open, revealing Y/N in a sundress that hugged her curves perfectly. Her cleavage sat enticingly on her chest, and Tyler felt his breath hitch.

“Wow,” Tyler managed, handing her the flowers. “You look amazing.”

“Thank you,” Y/N replied, a blush coloring her cheeks as she took the bouquet. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”

Their dinner date was filled with snarky banter and playful sassiness. Tyler couldn’t help but be drawn to Y/N’s sharp wit and fiery spirit. Every eye roll, every sarcastic comment only made him more captivated.

“You still think you can outsmart me?” Tyler teased as they finished their meal.

“I know I can,” Y/N shot back, a challenging glint in her eyes.

Tyler watched intently as Y/N lifted her glass of wine to her lips. The way the deep red liquid touched her lips, glistening as she took a sip, made his heart race. Her chest rose and fell with each breath, her cleavage mesmerizing in the soft lighting of the restaurant. The scent of her perfume, a delicate mix of floral and something uniquely her, filled the air around him, making his senses swim.

“Enjoying the view?” Y/N asked, a teasing smile playing on her lips as she caught him staring.

Tyler smirked, leaning in closer. “Absolutely. And not just the view.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but Tyler saw the blush spreading across her cheeks. “You’re incorrigible.”

“And you love it,” Tyler shot back, his voice low and filled with promise.

As the night drew to a close, the tension between them became palpable. They walked to Tyler’s truck, the air thick with unspoken desire. Once they were parked in her driveway, neither could resist any longer. Tyler leaned in, capturing Y/N’s lips in a heated kiss. She responded eagerly, her hands tangling in his hair as their mouths moved together with a desperate intensity.

Tyler’s hands roamed over her body, feeling the soft fabric of her dress and the warmth of her skin beneath. Y/N’s fingers worked at his belt buckle, her eyes locking with his, filled with a mix of determination and vulnerability.

“May I?” she whispered, her doe eyes searching his face.

Tyler could only nod, unable to form words as his heart raced. Y/N undid his pants, her fingers brushing against his growing arousal. She looked up at him one last time before lowering her head, her lips closing around him.

Tyler’s head fell back against the seat, a low groan escaping his lips as Y/N’s mouth worked its magic. She moved with practiced ease, her tongue swirling around him, her lips creating a perfect seal. The sensation was overwhelming, and Tyler’s hands gripped the edge of the seat, trying to anchor himself.

Y/N teased him, her mouth moving slowly, her eyes flicking up to watch his reactions. She let her lips travel along his length, peppering kisses on his V-line, causing Tyler to shiver with anticipation. She licked the pre-cum off the tip, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she took her time savoring him.

“Y/N,” he groaned, his hand moving to tangle in her hair, urging her on. She responded eagerly, her mouth and hand working in perfect harmony.

Tyler felt himself nearing the edge, the tension coiling tighter within him. “I’m close,” he warned, his voice strained.

Y/N didn’t slow down, her determination clear in the way she continued to pleasure him. With a final, shuddering gasp, Tyler came, his release flooding Y/N’s mouth. She swallowed, her eyes never leaving his, a satisfied smile playing on her lips as she pulled away.

Tyler was left breathless, his heart pounding as he looked down at Y/N. “That was… incredible,” he managed, his voice hoarse.

Y/N grinned, her dimples deepening. “You’ve been driving me wild since we were kids. .”

Tyler reached out, pulling her into his lap, capturing her lips in another searing kiss. “I can’t wait any longer,” he whispered against her lips.

Without breaking the kiss, Tyler carried Y/N into the house, his hands sliding up her thighs, feeling the smooth skin beneath her dress. They barely made it through the door before Tyler’s desire overcame him. He set Y/N on the kitchen counter, his hands moving to pull her dress over her head.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to see you like this,” Tyler murmured, his voice rough with desire. “Since we were teens, I’ve imagined this moment.”

Y/N’s breath hitched as Tyler’s hands roamed over her body, his touch sending shivers down her spine. “Then don’t make me wait any longer,” she whispered, her eyes dark with desire.

Tyler didn’t need any more encouragement. He pulled her dress over her head, revealing her in all her beauty. His eyes roamed over her curves, taking in the sight of her bare skin, her breasts exposed and enticing. “You’re perfect,” he breathed, his hands cupping her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples, causing her to arch into his touch.

Y/N’s hands moved to his shirt, unbuttoning it with trembling fingers. She pushed it off his shoulders, letting her hands explore the muscles of his chest and back. Tyler’s mouth found her neck, kissing and nibbling along her skin, eliciting soft moans from her.

“Tyler,” she gasped as his mouth moved lower, trailing kisses down her chest. His hands slid down to her waist, lifting her slightly to pull off her panties, leaving her completely exposed on the counter.

Tyler took a moment to appreciate the sight before him, his breath hitching with anticipation. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe and desire.

He kissed her again, his mouth demanding and hungry. Y/N responded eagerly, her legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer. Tyler’s fingers found her wetness, teasing her entrance, making her gasp and cling to him.

“Please,” she whispered, her voice desperate.

Tyler didn’t make her wait any longer. He positioned himself at her entrance, pausing for a moment to look into her eyes. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice tender.

“Yes,” Y/N replied, her eyes filled with trust and desire.

With a groan, Tyler entered her, the sensation overwhelming them both. He moved slowly at first, savoring the feel of her around him, but soon their need took over, and he began to thrust harder, their bodies moving together in perfect rhythm.

The kitchen filled with the sounds of their lovemaking, the slap of skin against skin, the mingled moans and gasps. Tyler’s hands gripped her hips, holding her steady as he drove into her, each thrust bringing them closer to the edge.

Y/N’s nails raked down his back, her head falling back as she gave herself over to the pleasure. “Tyler,” she moaned, her voice breaking.

He could feel her tightening around him, her body trembling as she reached her climax. Tyler followed soon after, his release crashing over him with a force that left him breathless.

They stayed like that for a moment, clinging to each other, their breaths mingling as they came down from their high. Tyler gently lifted her off the counter, carrying her to the couch, where they collapsed in a tangle of limbs.

“That was…” Y/N began, her voice trailing off as she struggled to find the words.

“Amazing,” Tyler finished for her, a satisfied smile on his lips.

Y/N chuckled, resting her head on his chest. “Yeah, amazing.”

They lay there in comfortable silence, the past forgotten, the future filled with promise. Tyler knew that this was only the beginning of their story, and he couldn’t wait to see where it would lead.

As he held Y/N in his arms, he whispered softly, “I’ve missed you.”

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes filled with emotion. “I’ve missed you too, Tyler. More than you know.”

He kissed her gently, his heart full. “I’m not letting you go this time,” he promised.

“And I’m not letting you go either,” Y/N replied, her smile radiant.

They fell asleep like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, the past finally put to rest, and a new future stretching out before them, filled with love and endless possibilities.

[urmommt]

ch 2 Sealed with a kiss (jakvik x reader)

I know i said id do like 5k words but the struggle is so real oml. i hope u enjoy this ch and ill work on spitting out more words for the next chapter i promise :>

 “Wakey wakey sleepy head,” yelled the incessant noise of Sky directly into your ear.

“Ugh, leave me alone, Sky. It’s my rest day, and I don’t plan on waking up till noon,” you replied.

“Dude, it’s 3 PM. Get up,” she said.

“IT’S WHAT?! WHY DIDN’T YOU WAKE ME UP SOONER?” you screamed as you jumped up. You had planned on getting some work done on your assignment around now because, at this rate, you’d never get it finished and submitted in time.

You only had one more month to work on it before it had to be sent in, and since you’re a massive procrastinator, you had barely done anything in the past five months while everyone else was busting their asses to get the work finished.

“Considering what you said to me a minute ago, I don’t think you even deserved to wake up now, stink face,” Sky replied.

Sky Young was your best friend. Your bread to your butter. Your cheese to your stick, or however that saying goes. Anyways, you get the idea—you guys were almost inseparable. You’d grown up in the undercity together even though her family was much richer than yours, and you’d moved to the city of Piltover together too since she got accepted at the same time as you did.

When you’d first come, she’d helped out with the expenses and everything, but you paid her back as soon as you got your job at the café, for which she was thankful because people in Zaun, no matter how rich, still struggled in Piltover due to the insane taxes for Zaunites and the fact their currency was less strong than Piltover’s.

She also was your rock when you’d found out about your father’s death, and if it weren’t for her, you really don’t know where you’d be today. Your remembrance of the day you found out was a bit blurred due to the shock of receiving the news. All you know is you woke up one morning, checked the mail, and saw a letter from your father’s boss informing you he’d fallen under some rubble at work and passed away.

As you got up and got ready to study, you remembered you had one more month and so got changed and asked Sky to join you for a day at the academy for sightseeing instead of studying. It’s fine since you had a month anyway, and there was a little scientific event set by the biochem majors today that you really badly wanted to go see.

“Uhhh, I thought you had studying to do today,” Sky said with a raised brow, looking at you in a knowing way.

You stood there looking like an idiot for around a minute before replying very tactfully.

“Nuh uh.”

“Yuh huh. Get your stationery and laptop. We can go see the event, then go to the library to study together. You need to get this assignment going,” she said.

Reluctantly, you agreed and grabbed your bag along with your textbooks, laptop, and a few other little things to go.

The biochemistry event at Piltover University was a bustling affair. The grand hall was filled with displays showcasing innovations and experiments, the air alive with the hum of conversation and the occasional burst of applause. You and Sky wandered through the exhibits, your eyes lighting up at the intricate machinery and complex equations scrawled on presentation boards.

“This is amazing,” you said, pausing to admire a holographic projection of molecular structures. “Makes me wish I had chosen biochem instead of engineering.”

Sky smirked, nudging you. “You’d regret it the moment you saw the workload. Stick to your devices and let these nerds handle the chemicals.”

You laughed, but your attention was soon drawn to a corner of the room where a small crowd had gathered. Curious, you made your way over, Sky trailing behind. At the center of the commotion stood two familiar figures—tall and broad-shouldered, with an easy smile, and lean with a sharp, analytical gaze. Viktor and Jayce.

Your breath hitched as memories of their brief visit to the café flashed in your mind. They were presenting something—a sleek device that pulsed with a faint blue light, its purpose explained in animated gestures by Jayce while Viktor observed the crowd, his gaze suddenly locking on you the moment he noticed you.

“Isn’t that...?” Sky began, but you quickly shushed her, not wanting to draw attention.

“Yes,” you whispered, pulling her to a less conspicuous spot. “They came to the café last week. I made their coffee.”

Sky gave you a look, half-amused, half-curious. “And you’re acting like they’re celebrities because...?”

“I don’t know,” you whined, your eyes involuntarily drifting back to the duo. Jayce was in his element, charming the audience with his enthusiasm, while Viktor’s focus remained unwavering, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd as if seeking something—or someone.

When his gaze landed on you again, a jolt of recognition passed between you. He tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable, before returning his attention to the presentation. Jayce, meanwhile, finished his explanation with a flourish, earning a round of applause.

“That was something,” Sky said, nudging you again. “You should go talk to them.”

“What? No!” you hissed, horrified at the suggestion. “They wouldn’t even remember me.”

Sky shrugged, her grin mischievous. “Your loss. But don’t come crying to me when you regret it later.”

Ignoring her, you turned your attention back to the exhibits, though your thoughts remained tangled in the brief, charged moment of eye contact. You tried to shake it off, focusing instead on a demonstration involving automated prosthetics. The technology was fascinating, and you couldn’t help but compare it to your own fledgling designs.

“See? Inspiration everywhere,” Sky said, pulling you towards another booth. “Now, let’s soak it all in so you can finish that damn assignment.”

Despite her teasing, you found yourself immersed in the event, the initial awkwardness fading as you absorbed the wealth of ideas and innovation around you. The faces of Viktor and Jayce lingered in the back of your mind, but you pushed them aside, determined to make the most of the day—and to finally tackle your project with renewed focus.

The afternoon flew by as you and Sky explored the event, each booth offering a glimpse into the cutting-edge advancements Piltover was known for. From augmented reality interfaces to bioengineered plants capable of purifying the air, it was a testament to human ingenuity and ambition.

At one booth, a young scientist demonstrated a prototype for a device that could synthesize food molecules, effectively creating meals out of raw elemental compounds. “Imagine,” he said, “no more hunger. No more wasted resources. Just pure efficiency.”

Sky raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like something straight out of a dystopian novel.”

You chuckled, but the comment stayed with you. Piltover’s progress often came at a cost, and the line between innovation and exploitation was razor-thin.

As the event wound down, you and Sky found yourselves back near the presentation area where Viktor and Jayce had been. They were packing up their equipment, their conversation animated yet hushed. You couldn’t hear the words, but their synergy was palpable, each movement and gesture perfectly in sync.

“They make a good team,” Sky observed. “Wonder if they’re as insufferable as they look.”

You snorted. “Jayce, maybe. Viktor? He seems... different.”

“Different how?”

You hesitated, struggling to articulate the impression he left. “I don’t know. Just... quieter. Like he’s always thinking about something important.”

Sky gave you a sidelong glance, her smirk returning. “Sounds like someone’s got a crush.”

“Oh, shut up,” you muttered, swatting at her. But the heat rising in your cheeks betrayed you, and Sky’s laughter echoed as you walked away.

By the time you both finished wondering around the event that evening  you lost track of the time and it had already become 8pm. Although neither of you minded and your mind was still buzzing with ideas from the event. You spread your notes and sketches across the library table and determined to channel your inspiration into tangible progress. Sky, ever the supportive friend, plopped down beside you with her own work, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence broken only by the occasional question or comment.

Yet, as you worked, your thoughts kept drifting back to Viktor and Jayce. Their confidence, their camaraderie, the way they seemed to embody the very essence of Piltover’s ideals. And, of course, the way Viktor’s gaze had lingered just a moment too long.

“Focus,” you muttered to yourself, forcing your attention back to your assignment. There would be time for distractions later. For now, you had work to do.

[nayafanfic]

Can you do rotb Optimus (Or whatever bot you feel like) x platonic human single mom reader? Reader moves to the countryside and tries to start a farm to feed herself and her five-year-old kid. She notices strange happenings around the woods, like large footsteps, and strange vehicles driving on the roads, and has a feeling there's something in the woods (maybe just the bots trying to hide from humans). One day, reader looks away just for a second and her kid wanders off, getting lost in the woods. Reader looks for her kid desperately and her kid wanders too close to a cliff, ending up falling, but Optimus saves the kid just in time. He then carefully returns the kid and reader is confused when her kid constantly talks about 'Mr. Truck', making a drawing of this giant red-blue robot. However, reader then starts to believe in the possibility of Mr. Truck being real and one day finding Optimus with one of his injured Autobots. Reader is not scared and helps fix his friend, even offering them to stay in her barn. Then maybe that's just the start of a beautiful friendship?

(Sorry, if this is a bit long. You are free to ignore it.)

(platonic) Optimus prime x single mom reader

You lived alone, even though a few years ago it seemed impossible. Completely hypnotized by love, you hadn't seen the red flags. Always on the couch, yelling at you for any little mistake or letting you do all the chores.

The final straw was the slap on your face during one of many arguments, that night you left with a bag on your back.

Now 5 years later, you live in a small house with your adorable son and your 2 dogs. The little house is in the middle of 2 field of various vegetables (Tomato, cucumber, carrot, lettuce, wheat and recently, spinach). At the back of the house, is the mini farm with some animals.

But, even though you were fulfilled and exhausted from your new life, you noticed a strange event.

1- There are very few cars that pass in front of your house, but when there are, they are always the same ones. A large red and blue truck, another yellow, a pink motorcycle and another blue and white that drives like crazy (he already ate a stick, because he was driving fast and almost hit one of the chickens).

2- You noticed Mr. Truck's huge footprints? Finally, that what your baby boy has been saying since he got lost in the forest.

This day you will remember for the rest of your life. Everything was going so well, he was playing outside while you were fixing your old truck and in a second he was gone.

You spent the day looking for him, shouting his name and even sending your dogs at him. Until night fell and he reappeared out of nowhere. Never before you had cried, been relieved and angry at the same time other than at that moment. When you started to go home, he started talking about his experience with a big smile.

-Mom, when I fell in a water, a BIG robot picke me up!

-When did you fall? Where did you fall darling? And a big robot, that must have been so impressive! As a mother, you played into his game (thinking he was just talking nonsense).

After that day, he didn't stop talking about him, drawing pictures and dreams of the big Mr. Truck.

At first you thought it was just his imagination, young people have an extremely overactive imagination. But, It became so intense that you started to believe it.

So for good measure you installed fences all over your home (as if it would protect you, but also to prevent your son from returning there after his 5th attempt to run away).

But now you know it is real, because what is in front of you is the same thing in his drawings.

You had heard loud noises in the forest, so you went there and thought that one of the cows had run away again. Your son had already been sleeping for a good hour so there was no chance of him waking up, you took the shotgun, put on your boots and go outside.

Optimus didn't mind seeing you, he had been watching you since he meeting your little sparkle, but only to protect you of course. And usually at this time there is no more light in your home otherwise he would never have come near your home.

But now with a wounded Bumblebee, and no other protection he wasn't sure if you were a bad person or not, you were armed after all.

He didn't know how to act, should he talk to you or say nothing? The only thing he was sure of was that not a single bolt in his body moving. And you, damn it, you didn’t move more than an inch either.

the gun is held tightly in your hands trembling from the cold and the fear.

Your eyes were fixed on his glowing blue orbs until movement behind him caught your attention. The yellow bot was starting to lose consciousness due to his loss of blood. The larger robot turned towards him and tried as hard as he could to stop the bleeding while keeping his eyes on you.

Seeing what is happening in front of you, you remembered what he had done for your son, so taking a deep breath you gently placed the gun on the ground and began to walk towards it.

-My son, talk my about this day. In fact he doesn't stop talking about this day. Your laugh caught the attention of Bumblebee who hadn't even noticed you were walking towards him.

-He told me that you saved him from a fall, no? The cliff north of my house, the one overlooking the lake?

Now with the two of them looking at you closely and this close to the yellow robot you can see his wound, a hole on his cables. It looks quite serious, as a strange substance is coming out of the place in big quantities.

The big blue had all his attention on you again. -Yes, it was me. His serious and deep tone made all your body vibrate with fear? no, with surprise? You don't even know how you feel about yourself at the moment.

So, as a normal and intelligent person, your first action was to take off your shirt and place it as delicately as you can at the level of the hole and putting pressure on it. Then in a sure and calm voice you reassured them.

-So it's my turn to help your family now, Mr. Truck, everything will be fine.

[hellfireloserclub]

It was almost 10 pm, and Steve was at the point where if one more, sappy, loved-up couple came wandering through the door of family video looking for a tape for their valentines date night, (that would promptly get forgotten about as they fucked on the sofa in the sea of rose petals or whatever…), he was going to pull out the nail bat and start swinging.

Old him? He had loved all that flashy paper heart and sugar-sweet fakeness, but the new improved Steve? He was looking forward to the six-pack in the fridge and his hot date with Harrison Ford. Alone, locked away from the whole whatever of the situation. 

Steve tried not to feel betrayed because Robin had abandoned him for Nancy. He couldn't ever hate her for that, not after how long it took them to get together. 

But his late shift would have been a lot better if he had his co-workers by his side, yet Eddie and Robbin had abandoned him.

It was just depressing that even Eddie, the one person who said yes to almost everything, had left him to wallow in his own self-pity.

But adventure awaited, and no matter how much Steve had begged him to help cover Robin's dropped shift, Eddie had been firm about it. ' Wednesday night is Campaign night. Do you want to disappoint the gremlins?' 

No amount of Steve pointing out that the gaggle of seventeen-year-olds probably had other plans on Valentine's night that he really didn't want to think about could convince him to change his mind. (Steve had thought about it, and he had made sure they were always safe. He was, after all, always the babysitter, but they were his kids… they DIDN'T do that sort of stuff! He was half a step from Hopper’s general reaction these days, sticking his fingers in his ears when they made inappropriate jokes; they were just toddlers for Christ's sake) 

Not that he wanted to spend valentine's day with Eddie (he did) or that he was secretly wondering if Eddie had a date, (he was) because he had seen Max and Lucas drive past not an hour ago and they were very much not in the basement of Munson’s house playing with dice right now. (Had Eddie lied to him? Had he forgotten the number one rule of the party? Friends don’t lie? What if Eddie had a date? Why did that thought make Steve’s stomach feel as if he had just eaten some of Robin’s more questionable cooking?) 

The end of the shift couldn’t come soon enough and when he finally flipped the sign to closed at 10.30 pm, it tempted him to just leave the tidying for Robin or Eddie to do in the morning. 

It would serve them right for making him witness the absolute horror of other people's public displays of affection.

However, as he brushed the floors and chewed on the leftover promotional chocolates, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander again. Where was Eddie? Did he have some secret other-half that he was hiding from them all? If so, it wasn’t like Eddie to not be open about things like that, at least around the party he was unapologetically himself. Was it another man? Was that why he was being so secretive about it? Steve doubted it was that either, Eddie didn’t hide that part of himself either.

 ‘Were both Bisexual disasters? That’s why we couldn’t be friends in high school, Harrington. We would have seduced the entirety of Hawkins high, it wouldn’t have helped the devil worship allegations, but man, it would have been fun.’

And sure, maybe Steve had been funny with the last few people that Eddie had backed into corners after gigs, but it was just because they weren’t good enough for his Eddie. He was just being a good wingman. Eddie would, and had, done the same for him frequently. It was nothing. They were just protective of each other, that was all… (keep telling yourself that, king Steve). It just made no sense that Eddie would hide things like this from him. 

Steve was just putting the broom back in the closet when he heard the bell over the door go. 

“We’re closed.” Of course, someone would come in now. The people of Hawkins really needed to learn to read, but if you could ignore a multidimensional rift for several years, a closed sign might be a little advanced.

Nobody answered, but he thought he heard the bell go again. He really should start locking the door, especially when his hearing was as bad as it was.

Walking back into the front shop Steve almost jumped a mile.

“Jesus, Eddie! You know better than to sneak up!” Eddie stood in the open hatchway of the service counter, shifting uneasily from foot to foot, but at least looking apologetic. 

“I shouted, but you know” he gestured vaguely toward his ears with one hand, his other holding something behind his back “I'm guessing you were facing away…”

“I was in the closet,” Eddie's eyebrows raised. “Do not make the low-hanging joke, Munson. You're better than that.” 

“Oh come on Steve, it’s just there. Give me the win.” he chuckled nervously.

“Why? Did you strike out on your date?” Steve aimed for joking and missed, hoping that Eddie hadn’t picked up on the bitterness in his voice, he went about pulling the last of the novelty candy off the counter into a box behind it for Robin to graze on in the morning.

Eddie looked at him curiously. “I’m hoping I don’t.”

“Oh? So you did have a date then? I knew it was suspicious Lucas and Max drove past before. You know you didn’t have to lie, right? I would have given you the night off.” that feeling in his chest grabbed and tugged, it was almost painful.

“I need to kick both of their asses, but no Steve, I said I’m hoping I don’t…” Eddie stepped closer to him. “You know, like, future tense, you see I haven’t had the date yet? So I guess what I’m saying is no, I didn’t strike out, not yet at least.” his voice lacked its usual confidence, so unlike Eddie that it made Steve pause.

“So, why are you here, if you have a hot date?” Steve knew that this time he hadn’t kept his voice steady. He was jealous, and he knew it. And by the expression on Eddie’s face, he really hadn’t hidden it at all. 

“Well, I missed an important bit of my master plan. I forgot to do something.”

“Oh, yeah?” suddenly the scuff marks on the floor left by Robin’s Converse were the most fascinating thing he had ever seen.

“Steve, look at me.” Eddie prompted. He had moved closer again, thrusting something into Steve’s line of vision. Gesturing for him to take it.

“Is this broccoli?” Steve was holding what, clearly, was a bushel of broccoli. Eddie was rocking from one foot to the other again at his side, hiding behind his hair in that adorable way that made Steve’s heart speed up of its own accord. His entire face was bright red and, for once, it looked like Eddie was lost for words.

“Eddie, why have you just handed me broccoli?” His confusion outweighed Steve’s jealous embarrassment. What the hell was happening?

“Be my Valentine? Or whatever? I’m not good at this, I am so not good at this…” 

“Are you serious?”  

“See, I told Rob’s I said you wouldn’t think I was serious if I asked you out on a date on valentines, but she was all ‘who’s his platonic soulmate Ed’s? It’s me, and he loves all this grand romantic bullshit.’ and then I listened to her like an idiot.” Steve watched him pace, hands flying everywhere. “this was a stupid idea. Can we just pretend it never happened?”

Eddie had come to a halt in front of Steve and was making grabbing hands at the Broccoli as if to take it back. 

It just made Steve hold it tighter to his chest. God, he loved this mess of a man. Without thinking, he used his free hand to pull Eddie towards him. 

It just made him hold it tighter to his chest. God, he loved this mess of a man. Without thinking, he used his free hand to pull Eddie towards him. 

“Eddie… shut up.”

Eddie didn’t kiss back at first. Steve had caught him off guard, but soon enough, he was pressing in with gusto, and yeah, that sensation in Steve’s stomach was nothing to do with Robin's cooking. Eddie hadn’t shaved, and his stubble was rough, just as Steve always thought it would be, and he kissed in the same way he did everything else in life, full of energy and over the top. Eddie twisted his hands up into Steve’s hair, and Steve traced his hands up Eddie's neck, making for the mop of hair he had wanted to tangle his hands in since the upside down, even if he hadn’t been sure of the reason back then. 

However, the vegetable in his hand hindered his progress.

“Drop the broccoli Stevie,” Eddie muttered against his lips.

“No, It's my broccoli,” He pulled it back from the kiss, cradling the greenery to his chest. “The broccoli is important, I mean, I don’t understand it, but …”

“It was all they had left in shop, I had planned on this big romantic bunch of flowers, a teddy… the full works, but then Buckley had an emergency… you know what her cooking is like… and then well by the time I escaped it was almost ten on Valentine night and I had to get you something, cause my plan obviously needed it to work, so it was the broccoli or a two-by-four with a smiley face on it courtesy of Joyce, so out of the two I think-”

“Eddie, shut up.” 

“Shutting up.” he mimed zipping his mouth shut as Steve carefully placed the vegetable on the counter. 

“I think a bunch of Broccoli is the most YOU thing ever, you weirdo.” he grabbed Eddie again wrapping his arms around him and pulling him close, placing a small kiss on the end of his nose, Eddie went cross-eyed trying to look at him but grinned none the less. 

“So do I get a win?”

“You get a win.”

And if every year the kids ask Steve why he’s got a bushel of broccoli in a vase on the fireplace on his and Eddie’s anniversary, well, it’s just another win for the man he loves.

(inspired by the old man behind me at the bus stop holding a bushel of broccoli like a bunch of roses because he was too cheap to buy a carrier bag but his wife had demanded he buys broccoli so god damn it he bought the broccoli You go you, stubborn old man. Also, I've written the word broccoli now so many times it no longer looks like a real word.)

( also give me prompts!)

[heliads]

HEY HEY HEY!! can u make a the darkling x reader soulmate au?? one where reader is a powerful grisha and has lived nearly as long as he has? they walked the earth and met each other a few times, not knowing they were the same people. sometimes, a romance almost happened, but because they knew they would outlive them, it never happened. How about aleks meets reader by chance in a village near fjerda and they recognize each other for the first time and realize they are each other's soulmate? ♡ U!!

HEY HEY HEY!! your au is that your scars stay on your soulmate's skin.

masterlist

You would think that the centuries would go by faster once you’d experienced enough of them. When you grow up, it’s like the years pass with greater and greater speed, but there must be a leveling point to that mad exponential curve, because you reached it a long time ago. The decades don’t fly by anymore, they drag like the heels of your boots in the soft mud connecting the Wandering Isle to Novyi Zem.

That particular sinking earth is gone, much like most of the places from your memory. The land bridge between the two nations, which was already tentative at best back when you were born, has long been pulled under the current of the True Sea. Now, the recollections of old work boots falling into dirt have just as much hold as the place itself. Everything you knew is gone, constantly replaced by newer, flashier people and cities.

It haunts you sometimes, more often than not. You lie awake at night with a melody stuck in your head, one you haven’t heard in over two hundred years. There’s no chance that anyone remembers it except you, so you hum it to yourself, wondering if the ghosts of friends past can hear you or if they, too, are just ash and dust by now. Supposedly, they would have been folded into the welcoming arms of the Making at the Heart of the World, but you still harbor a hope that they’re still looking out for you.

Hope is all you have. As if it doesn’t mess with your head to trust your footsteps through a Ravkan town you’d lived in for decades, only to find that it’s doubled in size and population since you were last there. Or, when you finally remember that you owe a neighbor a favor, only to recall that their great-great grandchildren died out a century past. Nothing in this world is yours, not in the way that it was at the start. You can keep reinventing yourself, but it’ll never make anything stick.

All that musing over places long gone, and you still can’t convince the hours of the clock to turn by any faster. You’d like nothing more than for the years to skip by, to finally bring about your end of days or at least a change in them, because if you have more centuries under your belt, it’ll mean you’ll have searched all of the lands as many times as you can, and maybe then, you just might be able to meet your soulmate.

That, of all things, might calm your restless spirit. If it were not enough to have far more centuries in which to live out your life than the rest of the Grisha, you have to do it alone, too, knowing that most everyone you pass has someone out there built for them, someone to keep them company in a way you will never understand, no matter how many generations you live.

You often wonder if your soulmate might be out there somewhere. It’s an easy matter to spiral over. They could have been alive at the very start of your life, and died centuries before you could even meet them. Maybe there were only a few days in which your lives overlapped, or maybe you were born on the exact same day and never knew it until they died and you stayed, relentlessly, alive.

Or, worst of all, they could still be out there now, forever condemned to orbit the land at the other side of you, forever crossing paths but never meeting, always one step behind or hours ahead of schedule. There is, hypothetically, a way of telling if the person before you is your soulmate, but it only works if you have the fellow in front of you and the certainty only mad love can bring you.

In this world, in a world full of pain and pleasure, power and pride, the only way that you know for certain that you are connected with your soulmate are your injuries. They’ll show up on your soulmate’s skin, exactly at the same time and the same places as you receive them. They won’t feel the sensation of hurt as you do, and the bruises and cuts will fade as yours do, but in the minutes and hours in which you are bloody and damaged, they will be, too.

Scars last. That’s how most people know. When you see a childhood injury reflected on someone else’s knee or arm, you can tell it’s them. It’s as if a hook has been pulled through both of you, tying you together in a celebration of glitter and gore. It’s horrific, and it’s love, and no one has dared to mess with the process for the millennia in which soulmates have been around.

Least of all your soulmate. They marked you a long time ago, and although you weren’t there to see it happen, you can’t help but wonder at their rationale now. A scar curls around your left hand ring finger. It looks like a burn, and it must have been a serious one too, judging by the fact that it’s lasted this long. 

You can imagine your soulmate somewhere out there, forcing a white-hot band of metal around their finger and keeping it on despite the unendurable pain until they knew the scar would last forever. Imagine what that must mean to them, to you. There is a message that they’re trying to send to you, patterned in the syllables of their scorched flesh:  I love you to the point of agony, and past it. What a terrible sort of devotion for a soulmate. What a devastating burden of love for you to bear.

It makes you sick to your stomach, at times, and other days, it just makes you numb. Perhaps this is what you get, the Saints’ way of evening the scales. Everyone knows that the greed of a Grisha never goes unchecked, and maybe this is your diving retribution at last. You strove for too much too quickly, and now you have an excess of time in which you can ponder your failings, all alone for all eternity. It would make a sad sort of joke were it not at your expense.

After all, you should have died a long time ago, soulmate be damned. You started out life as a Heartrender, although you left the typical roles of that particular type of Corporalki behind long ago. At first, you merely shattered bone and spilt blood, but then you learned how to do more. Why kill one man when you can end dozens of lives with just as much force? Then, why kill when you can turn your attention towards yourself, healing not just surface wounds but deeper things, erasing the signs of age and wear until you were just as strong as you were at your prime?

Some would call it immortality. Others would curse it as witchcraft. You don’t need anyone’s misguided explanations anymore, though, your power will long outlive both them and their whisperings. It is power, plain and simple, and it is yours. You don’t just transmutate flesh and bone anymore, you shape life itself. Your life. Your life, extended forever, waiting for a soulmate who can keep up with you or die trying.

At times, you hate it, this prolonged life that you’ve given yourself. At the same time, the thought of dying without accomplishing all that you could is terrifying. The easiest thing to do is to keep living, keep drawing breath and wondering when things will change. If they don’t, well, at least you were here to see it. 

After all, have you ever been satisfied with your lot in life? You send a silent plea to any Saints up there, if they're still listening at all or merely content to keep pulling their strings and directing you down darker, rougher roads. Let me rest. Please. They send only one word back, after everything:  No.

So you continue your journey. Ravka needs your attention for a time, then you cross the True Sea to Kerch and Novyi Zem, and another century has passed by the time you think about returning to the eastern shores. The Shadow Fold makes things more difficult, certainly, but death is no enemy of yours, so you find ways of crossing, even if they take a while.

This time, you decide to cut through Fjerda on your various journeys. The wintry landscapes take your breath away, as they always do, but it’s a little difficult to marvel at the wonders of the country when they’re so fiercely dedicated to exterminating your fellow Grisha. You take it upon yourself to take out a few branches of the witch hunters, those treacherous drüskelle, and so you have a purpose for at least a little longer.

You get to take action upon this initiative while stopping in a small town close to the Fjerdan border for the night. While attempting to book a room in a local inn, you can’t help but pick up on the uncanny sensation of racing hearts somewhere closeby. You step away from the inn, distracted, and chase the sound of blood pounding through veins until it takes you into the surrounding woods.

There, you stumble upon what had been causing you such an uncanny sensation. A young woman, a Grisha Tidemaker by the looks of it, is attempting to evade capture by two upstart drüskelle captains. She hasn’t yet mastered her gift, and they’re well armed, so the situation is not good, to say the least.

Grisha are your people, even if you’ve become somehow separated from them by your many years. You fling out an arm and the two drüskelle go flying into the distance, clutching at their hearts as they burst in their chests. One more witch hunter materializes out of the gloom, but before he can fire off a round at you, a wave of shadow cuts off his breath and he falls to the ground, choking into stillness. The Tidemaker runs off the second the coast is clear, leaving you alone with this new stranger.

You turn around slowly, but the man emerging from the woods doesn’t seem to be a threat. He’s some kind of Etherealnik, but you’ve only heard of so many Shadow Summoners in your time. Perhaps there’s another one again.

“I came out to help,” he says, voice relaxed despite your hands raised at him in anticipation of a strike, “It appears that you didn’t need it, though.”

He doesn’t seem inclined to attack you, but you don’t trust the way he’s still hanging back in the shadows. You can’t see much of his face, nor his demeanor. “I’m no stranger to the drüskelle. They’ve always been the same sort of fools.”

“Always?” The stranger asks, allowing a note of humor to enter his words, “Have you been around long enough to judge them, then?”

You sigh. “Longer than you’d think.”

Instead of being put off by this, the stranger just grins, moonlight flashing on his teeth. “You’d be surprised what I think. I’m older than I seem.”

You look curiously at him. The man steps out of the shadows and into a patch of moonlight. Your breath catches in your throat. “No. That’s impossible.”

He’s not lying when he talks about being older than his appearance. You’ve seen this face before. Several times, if you’re not mistaken. A rebel against the Ravkan king a few centuries ago. A scholar of the Saints. A son trying to care for his mother. He’s been here whenever you passed through Ravka, but you never dared to assume that he could be anything but a familiar face passed down through the generations.

For some reason, on this night, you stop letting yourself doubt. This is a man who has been alive quite as long as you have, if not longer. Perhaps it’s the unearthly shine of the moonlight on the Fjerdan snow, transfiguring this scene into one of your memories, or perhaps it’s the fact that he’s taken his gloves off so he could summon his shadows, and you can see the imprint of a burn around the ring finger of his left hand.

No. It couldn’t be. After all this time, your soulmate cannot be the same young man you’ve crossed paths with half a dozen times before. What a cruel joke to play.

“Y/N?” He asks slowly, eyes as wide as yours.

You told him your name in one of your lives. He trusted you enough to say his back to you. “Aleksander?”

“Show me your hand,” he tells you, voice as steady as it’s always been.

When you hesitate, he crosses the clearing in a flash, standing in front of you. One of his hands curls around your wrist, holding it still, while the other holds up your fingers to the moonlight. He looks at the burn there, his burn, and at last, he smiles. It’s a proud look, almost vicious.

“You know,” he says slowly, “I always thought I’d marry you. I was a child then, and foolish, but I find I don’t mind the idea much anymore.”

He cocks his head to the side, staring openly at the scar he’d bound to both of you. You had wondered if you would fear your soulmate when you first met him, but instead, you just feel whole. A broken half has finally been reunited with its other part.

“Do you remember when we were both in Kribirsk together?” You ask slowly, haltingly, “I got a house right by the Unsea so I could study it. I think you were there for the same reason. We were the only two people in that whole town who weren’t afraid of it.”

He nods, eyes white with moonlight. “You fascinated me even then. When you left, I didn’t know how to live with myself. I started a whole new life just so the old one wouldn’t have to figure it out.”

You’d done the same thing. It took every bit of strength in you to go. You hadn’t wanted to leave the little house with the captivating man next door, but the other townspeople were starting to ask why you hadn’t aged since you’d shown up there decades ago, and the questions are only ever the start of your downfall. You’d cursed his name and yours in turn for the next few years until the heartbreak subsided.

“Before I left, though. We were alright.” You whisper.

He takes your other hand. “We’ll be alright again. It’s us now. Just us.”

“Just us,” you repeat, and for once, you let yourself believe it. You have it, your soulmate, him.

And at last, after centuries of wandering the land and sea alone, of second-guessing every shadow, of wondering what you did to deserve so much time by yourself without love, you realize that it has come to an end. All of it. There is no more solitude for you. Here by your side stands your soulmate. The long day has passed, and the rest of a quiet night shadows your threshold. It’s time to go home, so you think, but you’re already there.

requested by @cassiecrown, i hope you enjoy!

grishaverse tag list: @rogueanschel, @deadreaderssociety, @cameronsails, @mxltifxnd0m, @story-scribbler, @retvenkos, @mayfieldss, @eclliipsed, @gods-fools-heroes, @bl606dy, @auggie2000, @baju69, @crazyhearttragedy

[katuschka]

His Sugar-Dusted Skin – Part 1

Jake Kiszka x reader 5.639 words (Part 1)

So, After some consideration, I decided to split this one in two, because a) I promised to post it this weekend and it's not finished yet, and b) it might me too long. December's been a bit chaotic and as I said before, I've been struggling a bit with this one. So let me know what you think. Any feedback is much appreciated!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere.

Warnings (are spoilers): alcohol consumption and heavy intoxication, mentions of the death of a close person (retrospective), allusions to a potentially promiscuous behaviour, some strong language, the twins being assholes (kind of... they're still cute), Jake's happy trail, I think that's it for now...

Oh, life…

How ordinary and boring it can get when you stick to thinking that there aren’t any other options. As far as I remember, conformity never made sense to me. And as far as I remember, I was being raised and forced to embrace it. My mind surrendered for a while, but my vagrant soul just kept resisting. I never wanted to fit in. I always wanted to fly.

When I left home three years ago, I didn’t take much with me. My parents didn’t approve of my choices and the only person who would’ve supported me in my decisions was already gone. My beloved grandma. She was the disruptive force that kept me on my toes, always challenging me in the most loving way, knowing too well that it was exactly what I needed. She gave me my first guitar, too. Even though sclerosis made her homeward-bound, her dreams and fantasies always kept her wandering. I loved that. She was always there to spark my imagination and in return, I wanted to be her legs and eyes one day. When I was little, my friends used to call her fairy godmother. “Keep your sails up sweetheart, the wind is whimsical.” That’s what she used to say. “All you need is that air in your lungs and love in your heart.” 

“You must never leave me, oma,” I said to her once. “I need that love in my heart forever.”

“Someone else will fill it, darling,” she replied. “I’m only here to make sure it is open. But one day, you won’t need me anymore.”

When she died, I lost my only reason to stay there. The world was slowly getting to its feet again and it was my turn to do the same. I had dreams that simply couldn’t be fulfilled at home. My heart was aching for adventure. So I packed my bags, just like they sing in old songs, slung my guitar over my shoulder and hit the road. A vagabond chick. 

As I came to Tennessee, all I owned could fit in my barely drivable car: literally just a few dresses, my phone, my modest savings, my old six string, my treasured voice and THE recipe. Aaaah, those were the days…

Who am I kidding? It was pretty rough at first. VERY rough, to be honest. I cried many nights. But the one thing my parents had taught me was to save money, and that helped me survive the first months, when I waited tables during the day and sang my ass off after dark. 

Many people never make it. Hell, even though I’m an optimist, I have to admit that most don’t. If you’re not strong willed and immune to shit, you’re most certainly destined to fail. I’ve seen way too many extra talented and broken people on my journey, just because they were too nice or too naive. Well, I’m not naive, but I’m definitely not a cold bitch either. I think I just got lucky, because I had my guardian angel with me the whole time. When she was still walking on earth, she absolutely loved the Beatles, With a Little Help from My Friends being her favorite song. My childhood memories are filled with those songs and how she sang along, and I believe that it was her doing that eventually turned this tune into the soundtrack of my life. I met a lot of fantastic people on my arduous journey towards my goals and dreams, and that’s how I got by. 

As a token of my gratitude, I baked cookies for them. My grandma’s famous linzer cookies. THE recipe. Fast forward a few years, I still keep doing that at Christmas. Apart from the fact that my friends simply demand it, it’s also my way of keeping her alive, to make myself feel like she’s still here with me… in a way. 

Back home, the whole neighborhood loved her art of baking. Me being her only granddaughter, she literally forced me to learn how to bake those linzer cookies – her own recipe, to be precise. Every time I rolled my eyes, while making annoyed noises, blowing raspberries and just being a little asshole about it in general, she simply smiled and said that one day I’ll thank her. Why – I asked – and she responded that one day it would bring me love. “Love goes through the stomach, my dear. Look at your grandpa. See how huge it is?” And then he smiled and kissed her hair and it always made me believe her.

Except it didn’t happen. At least not yet. It – however – gave me a semblance of home that I consciously chose not to have, but sometimes missed. 

Just last year, I decided to continue with the tradition my grandma  started back at home. “Love is a reciprocal game, my dear,” she said. “You get what you give, but do not lose yourself in giving.” 

They want my sweets? Fine! But let them show me how much. They have to “earn” it. At the beginning of December, I give my friends custom-made Christmas greetings, and if they want to receive their own little box of cookies, they have to send back a card of their own making. The first time was a success, and I ended up baking sweets for eleven people. And it didn’t stop there, as it earned me nine bottles of wine, a flacon of my favorite perfume and  a ukulele. All I really wanted was a thank you, but hey! I won’t say no to wine! So I decided to do it again, and this time I received seventeen cards, including three “masterpieces” from the members of the infamous Greta Van Fleet! Yeah, that’s right. While I still feel like I’m barely making it sometimes, I move in high-ish circles. El-oh-el. 

I met Daniel first, through a mutual friend, at one of the music clubs we frequented. He was actually one of the eleven buddies that helped me restart this Christmas tradition. Later I learned that he selflessly shared his portion with the rest of the group during a rehearsal he went to right after he dropped by at my place, and that’s how I got invited to one of their semi-private dinners. Dan kindly introduced me as “Joni”, which earned me two “woos” and one ironic smirk. To be fair, I didn’t like it either. It actually made me cringe, because the woman is an unattainable role model, but it was just Daniel being himself, aka the nice guy. Bless his soul. 

I went from an acquaintance with useful skills to a drinking buddy, because I’m good at that too. One of my less admirable strengths, but there are times when it comes in handy. Especially when a Johnny Depp wannabe from Middle-earth wants to outsmart you…

A year flew by and it was time to extend my offer to Sam and Josh, who made sure I wouldn’t forget them. Don’t ask me how. The video they sent me definitely had the potential to go viral. I wholeheartedly appreciate how much they trust me not to do that. 

They wouldn’t stop there, though. I had to laugh when I received their own precious hand drawn contributions. How sweet. They’re all so sweet actually… well, all except Jake. Aloof, taciturn and arrogant, that’s how he rolls. I’m pretty sure he just can’t stand me, because while he often laughs with others, he only ever laughs at me. His opinion on my baking goes hand in hand with what he thinks about my playing, preferring darker and more spicy shit, as he once put it. Well, whatever. He’s a colossal prick. 

It’s quite unfortunate that I’ve also had a colossal crush on him for quite some time now. As I said, I’m a vagabond chick, and he happens to possess all the right shit to lure me. Like a moth to a flame. And I got burned. 

See, oma? Not working. 

Well, I’m not the one to cry over guys, so I’m not going to lose my sleep over that. He can go fuck himself. (Someone else can do it. I swear he needs it.). 

Seventeen packages meant I was going to spend most of the Friday evening as well as the whole Saturday slaving in my kitchen. Thankfully, I really do enjoy doing this, so it’s simply an essential part of Christmas festivities. A good time spent with me, myself and Ella Fitzgerald. It’s still quite a lot of work though. 

Friday was just about making dough. It might seem easy, but you need to understand that in order to make enough cookies for 17 (!) people, I needed more than 5 lbs of flour, 3 lbs of butter, nearly 24 ounces of sugar, 23 egg yolks and zest from 6 lemons! I will say no more to protect the family secret, but you can see it takes a lot of effort just to put this all together. I take this very seriously. I don’t want to disappoint anyone. 

It had to be perfect. 

But alas! I couldn’t have known that one malicious and horny sprite who wanted me to spoil him with my art of baking was also going to sabotage my efforts in the most peculiar way. 

Once finished, I covered the dough with plastic wrap and put it in the fridge to let it rest overnight before I hopped in the shower to wash off the sweaty sugar crust that seemed to stick to every inch of my exposed skin. It was almost midnight when I finally managed to climb in bed, pleasantly exhausted and happy, only to be woken up by a frantic doorbell noise at around two am. A normal person would just freak out in such a situation, but knowing who that might be, I was already pretty much used to it as I lived nearest to their favorite bar. Our favorite bar, to be precise. 

Over time, they came to an agreement that my tiny apartment was a perfect place for nightcaps, the only problem being that the Kiszkas were usually quite loud about it, completely ignoring the fact that I had neighbors. Thankfully, this part of town is a bit specific in a sense that the said neighbors simply didn’t give a shit, with their own lifestyle not being much different. 

This is what I wanted. Friends, late night laughs, my life filled with music and hugs and kisses and peculiar outcomes of unpredictable events that could only lead to more hugs and kisses. 

There was this one time when Josh fell asleep on my couch while the others simply sneaked away giggling and left him there, spread-eagled and snoring his uvula off. Several hours later, I was woken up by the delicious smell of buttermilk waffles, served with maple syrup and a guilty, puppy dog stare. 

Simply put, they were (almost) always welcome here. Almost…

Sober, sleepy and disoriented, I was definitely in no mood for a late night party (or an early morning one… seriously Josh, wtf!), with all the baking lying ahead of me. I didn’t even have to guess if it was really them; I could already hear them the moment my heart calmed down a bit and I stepped out of my bedroom. Determined to chase them away with a rolling pin, I answered the door angrily and was nearly knocked down by the falling Oliver Reed who obviously decided to lean against it the very moment I yanked it open. 

It’s always intrigued me how the brain works in these situations, working so fast that the time seems to slow down to an almost comical pace. I watched in slow motion how his back slid against the wood, his arms flapping in the air in a futile attempt to regain balance. I could tell at the first fleeting glance that he wasn’t fit to keep his balance standing, let alone falling, so no wonder it was a completely lost cause. Some voice at the back of my skull tried to tell me to jump aside, but I was too mesmerized by the sight. Just when his shoulder hit me clumsily in the chest and I stumbled backwards, Josh finally managed to grab Jake’s arms to keep him from knocking me down completely. My rolling pin fell on the wooden floor with a loud bang that made my neighbor’s dog bark. Jake, now aggressively pinned against the corridor wall by Josh, only added to the ear-piercing nocturnal cacophony with his loud howls: “Whoa whooooa!” 

“Shhh, shut the fuck up, Jake!” Josh hissed through his teeth before he turned his concerned stare back at me. “Y/N, sweetheart, terribly sorry hun! Didn’t mean too…” I could tell that he was tipsy as well, but it paled in comparison with the state Jake was in. I had seen him drunk many times before, with his glossy, beady eyes and unfocused stare that always made him look a bit like a teddy bear. This was new, though. He seemed absolutely plastered. 

Out of the imminent danger, but with my heart still wildly pumping adrenaline-enriched blood into my veins, I grabbed the doorframe first to support myself before I tried to make sense of what was just happening in front of me. 

They weren’t alone. Right behind Josh stood a guy whom I had seen a few times before, but I couldn’t recall his name. He looked slightly uncomfortable. “What the fuck, Josh!?!” I hissed. 

Josh immediately tried to win me over with the most sheepish smile he could muster, but his involuntarily cocked eyebrow betrayed him, which only made me more furious. “Dearest Y/N, we need your help, baby!” 

“With what? I asked incredulously. 

“I need you to take care of my asshole brother, pretty pleeeease.” 

“You what?” I goggled at him, completely taken aback by his impudent request. “Why can’t you just take him home?” Much to Jake’s annoyance, we kept discussing him and his imminent future as if he wasn’t even there, which only resulted in another outburst of his loud and incoherent babbling and our collective attempt to shush him before Josh answered.

“Because, I am not planning on going home, honey,” he whisper-shouted, hoping that I would just get it without him having to be too obvious. Yeah, I got it. It didn’t mean I was willing to help him. I looked at the guy again, who suddenly pretended to be very interested in the hallway lights. At that moment, the owner of the barking dog opened his own door to passionately inform us what we all were. I had no other choice than to hastily usher them all in.

“You can’t leave him here just like that? Are you out of your mind? Is this some kind of retribution for what he did the last time? Because it’s not funny. This is my home, and not a fucking sobering center! Just call him an uber,” I continued to protest once we were all safely inside my apartment, and that’s when Jake chimed in for the first time with something that made at least a bit of sense: “Yeah, ah-don’ wanna…,” he hiccupped before he could finish the sentence, making me even more incensed with the whole situation. He quickly tried to amend it, but it was too late. I was seething, my nostrils flaring. “...bother-er. Ah-don’ wanna bother-er! She’s…fierssshe!” he spat in Josh’s face, making him scrunch his face in disgust. 

“Well, you should have thought about not bothering people before you got so shitfaced,” Josh spat back, completely ignoring what I just said. “This is your doing.”

What? I shot a deadly stare at Josh. No, it was absolutely not Jake’s doing that they were now standing in my living room. And regardless of the fact that I had work to do – and he knew that – he also knew how I felt about Jake, and was now putting me in a very uncomfortable position. “Out! All of you!” 

I’m pretty sure I must have looked like Wrath personified, because Jake whoa’ed again and Josh seemed to finally acknowledge his misconduct. He grabbed my hands in his, suddenly looking like a meek puppy. “I’m sorry, babe. Don’t be mad, hun. I know this is too much to ask, but do this for a friend. I beg you…”

“No, I beg you Josh!” I tried to sound as calm and collected as possible through my gritted teeth, knowing that being just mad would get me nowhere. Josh was too stubborn to ever acknowledge someone else’s anger and boundaries meant nothing to him once you became his friend, which basically meant family. However, he was empathetic. “You know I have a lot of baking to do tomorrow. I’m tired. Just please, take him home.”

Josh bit his lip and he looked like he was trying to say something and NOT say it at the same time. It was late and I felt awfully tired, but the whole thing seemed a bit fishy to me. Just when Josh nodded and finally opened his mouth to respond, Jake grabbed his shoulder. “Ah need to pee, Jawshy boy,” he whined and swayed dangerously, pouting his lips at his twin brother. He was already in his teddy bear phase which meant that he indeed wasn’t fit to be sent home alone in an uber. He’d be knocked out in no time, and even if Josh went with him, he’d have a hard time just getting him out of the car. 

Josh glanced sideways at the guy, who had been pretending to be invisible the whole time, and then looked at me pleadingly again. I capitulated. “OK, take that big baby to the bathroom and I’ll fetch some blankets,” I sighed. 

Together, they helped Jake get comfy on the couch and he fell asleep before his head even touched the pillow. And me? I felt relieved when I finally closed the door behind them and everything became quiet again, disturbed only by Jake’s light snoring.

They were taking their time, so once I fixed the makeshift bed, it was just me and the guy standing in the middle of the room, waiting, and it was getting increasingly awkward with each passing second. “So, you’re Y/N,” he finally spoke.

“Yeah,” I answered curtly, confirming the obvious. “We’ve met.”

“But we weren’t properly introduced yet. I’m Martin.” I shook Martin’s hand politely without really wanting to, because I knew that if they were heading to his place instead of Josh’s, it probably meant that the chances I’d see Martin again were quite low. Yet another reason for me being annoyed. 

I poured him a large glass of water, squeezed some fresh lemon juice into it and placed it carefully on a small table right next to his head before I switched off the light, leaving just a small table lamp on, and went back to my bed, hoping to spend the rest of the night in peace and get some much needed rest. 

However, the fact that there was Jacob Kiszka, Sir, lying unconscious on my couch right outside my bedroom door, made it a bit difficult to fall back to sleep. I had never been in a situation like this and it made me feel unpleasantly agitated. I wasn’t afraid of him. I just didn’t trust my own feelings. 

I should have been angry. 

But I was not. Not exactly. Not anymore. My heart wasn’t beating wildly out of annoyance. Instead, I felt like a schoolgirl, trapped in an elevator with that annoying boy from music class who was also her crush. There were many conflicting feelings inside both my head and chest; and knowing that he probably wouldn’t remember how he ended up on my couch come morning only made it all worse. 

I finally dozed off, but morning came sooner than I wished it would, and with it a headache. It felt like just a brief moment, filled with restless dreams about me and Jake dancing on the rooftop to Golden Slumbers playing out of nowhere, with sugar snowing down at us and our hands sticky with jam. Then he smeared some on my cheek and peppered it with kisses…

When I opened my eyes, the feeling still lingered, like powdered sugar on the top of my tongue. Soft and weightless like snowflakes, yet it lay heavily on my chest. Together with the lack of rest, it made me feel almost hungover-ish. I lied unmoving for a while, listening to the silence that surrounded me and wondering whether he was still there. Maybe he already woke up earlier and quickly sneaked out after realizing where he was. 

It was unlikely, but I could hardly ever control these self-deprecating thoughts. Especially regarding men. I cursed Josh once again and decided to take a quick cold shower to wake up my senses.

It helped only just a bit. Refreshed, I opened my bedroom door carefully and peaked inside the living room. He was still there, and fast asleep. Slowly, I creeped up on him on my tiptoes, and then spent several long seconds just watching him sleep, before I started to feel like a complete lunatic. But… he looked so peaceful and almost angelic in the milky morning light, lying on his side with his hands folded under his chin, his lips parted and brows relaxed. The glass was empty, and I couldn’t help but smile involuntarily. Once there was a way to get back homeward…

Then I remembered that this was no domestic idyl. I just had a drunk rock guitarist on my couch, and – let’s be brutally honest here – once I got past that dreamy visual illusion, a strong olfactory reminder of this much more prosaic reality hit my nostrils. 

I also had several large chunks of dough in the fridge and a debilitating headache that almost made me question all my life choices.

No, it didn’t.

But all those things had to be taken care of and I had no idea how. I tried to be as quiet as a mouse at first, but after realizing that it could take at least a couple more hours before he’d wake up, maybe even half a day – the time that I couldn’t afford to waste – I took Josh’s previous advice and decided to just ignore him. 

I really needed coffee… to get the stupid dream, and the song, and all my delusions out of my head. Did I forget that he was also a big-headed asshole? Yeah, that’s the spirit. 

It turned out that my worries were groundless anyway. I could make as much noise as possible in my adjacent kitchenette and he wouldn’t even stir. The motherfucker really seemed to be losing his hearing from standing in front of those huge amplifiers and the malicious creature inside my chest chuckled at the thought. 

I took the dough out of the fridge and let it soften at room temperature while I made myself some coffee and started to get everything ready. Clanking of baking sheets, coffee grinder, squeaking cabinet doors…nothing seemed to disturb my sleeping beauty. I kept casting wary glances at him every now and then at first, but soon I got accustomed to the unusual situation and just immersed myself in my work. 

I had my very elaborate system. I could fit twenty cut pieces – meaning ten cookies – on one sheet, there was roughly enough dough for approximately thirty sheets, it takes ten minutes to bake AND I had only four sheets. You can see I had to be very systematic. Preparation is the key and every minor disturbance could be disastrous. Thankfully, I’m a master multitasker. Still, I prayed to all the known and yet to be made-up deities that nothing would happen. No more surprises, please and thank you. 

A few hours passed and the delicious aroma of lemon and vanilla started to fill the room. I was also sweating like a pig, rolling and cutting the dough in haste, always making sure I had enough sheets ready so that there would be no idle time. Focused on the task ahead, I didn’t hear him stir, and my heart jumped in my throat when I finally looked up and saw those beady eyes watching me intently. 

I tried to keep my cool, looking down again quickly. “Well, good morning,” I mumbled. It was almost midday. 

“Morning, Y/N…,” he choked out huskily and finally tried to stand up, which only resulted in him groaning in pain and slumping back immediately. Oh yeah, consequences…

“Do you remember how you got here?” I asked tentatively. 

“I wish I could say I do, but to be honest, I’ve no idea,” he breathed out with his eyes closed. “I was just hanging out with Josh and the next thing I know I’m lying on your couch at blue hour, feeling half dead.” He finally opened at least one eye, just enough to be able to see me.

I nodded and continued cutting the dough. I wasn’t going to make it any easier for him. The timer just chimed and I had to switch the sheets anyway. 

“So?” 

Did I just hear annoyance and impatience in his voice? Oh yeah, a hungover asshole is still an asshole. It shouldn’t have surprised me. “What?” I spat back over my shoulder.

“Care to explain what the fuck I’m doing here?” 

I don’t understand how he always managed to just smash all my buttons with one single blow, and once again he made me see red. I literally threw the next sheet in the oven and slammed the door shut with a loud bang before I turned around and lashed out at him. 

“Oh I wish I knew the answer. Be so kind and ask your precious brother who literally just pushed you through my door in the middle of the night, half-conscious and reeking of whisky, because he wanted to get laid. You’re welcome! Fucker…”

He blinked a few times, obviously taken aback. 

“I’m sorry Y/N.” The tone of his voice changed and for a split second I almost regretted my curtness. Almost. “Just let me call an uber and I’ll be out of here in no time,” he mumbled, checking his pocket, while I watched him struggle with secret satisfaction. That headache must have been hellish. Good. At least I wasn’t the only one. 

He suddenly frowned and started rummaging in all his pockets frantically, including the jacket haphazardly thrown over the armrest. “Where the hell is my phone… and my valet… and my fucking keys. Y/N…did you take my stuff?” 

“What? No! The last thing I’d wanna do would be to prevent you from leaving.”

We were watching each other warily, both equally confused. Then it dawned on him. “I’m gonna kill that scrawny little bastard!” Straightening up, he closed his eyes and tried to take a deep breath in a futile attempt to fight off his growing nausea as well as the rage that made his nostrils flare. 

My anger dissipated in an instant… or, to be more precise, it was instantly redirected towards his twin. “I don’t understand. Why would he do that? He knows how busy I am today,” I whined. 

Jake didn’t respond. Instead, he asked for my phone. I quickly dialed Josh’s number and handed it to Jake, because the timer chimed again. 

It went straight to voicemail. 

As I was stacking freshly baked pieces on a tray placed on the small kitchen island which also served as my dining table, Jake leaned against it right opposite to me, looking absolutely miserable. “What now?” 

Am I their mother or what? I couldn’t drive him, but even if I did, he still didn’t have his keys. I couldn’t even call him an uber to Josh’s, because I knew that scrawny little bastard wasn’t there. It became obvious that Jake was stuck with me for at least another couple hours. He kept watching, obviously still waiting for me to say something, but I didn’t answer. Instead, I just sighed and grabbed the rolling pin again, aggravated with both of them and feeling like their hostage, stuck in the middle of their infantile games. The time was ticking, with my perfectly planned schedule already disrupted.

“Let me at least help you,” he looked at me hopefully with those puppy eyes they both shared. Fuckers. Seriously. Quirks of the mischievous nature that at one point decided that one of them wasn’t enough. 

“I think you should take a shower first.”

It was a deliberate jab, and I expected him to retort back just like he always did. I did NOT expect him to widen his eyes in genuine horror. “Is it that bad?” 

I didn’t dare answer that question but my face betrayed me when I looked at him sideways and bit my lip. He grabbed the collar of his shirt and took one tentative whiff. “Oh my god, it is. I think I need more than a shower, actually. I smell as if I slept in a puddle of beer.” 

I immediately regretted that I let him sleep on my couch, but he looked completely bashful and embarrassed and my previous unwillingness to continue helping him was already in shambles.

“Ok,” I sighed and put down the cookie cutter. “Come with me. I have some spare sweatpants. Thankfully, my ass is just as big as yours, but it might be a bit too tight around the waist…”

“Excuse me?” he protested, but otherwise obediently followed me into my bedroom. 

“You’re right. My mistake. Yours is bigger,” I chuckled at my own joke while rummaging in my drawer, before throwing him a pair of my favorite grey sweatpants, an old, oversize flannel shirt and a clean towel. “Everything else you might need is in the bathroom. The washing machine’s down in the basement.” 

“Thank you. Uummm…do you, perhaps, have a spare toothbrush? For friends... and such?” He smiled cheekily, testing my patience once again. But to be fair, he couldn’t have known that there was a shortage of “and such” people ever since I met him, because I just wasn’t interested in anyone else for a while now. 

“Yeah, there’s a couple of them in the purple cabi… oh fuck!” I quickly excused myself, alarmed by the smell of something burning, because I forgot to set the timer…

Too busy trying to stave off the impending disaster in my kitchen, I barely noticed him sneaking around me on his way down to the basement. So, when he knocked on the door a moment later and I answered it, the sight in front of me threw me completely off-guard. Being no stranger to Jake’s exposed chest, there was a strange sense of novelty in seeing him in my own unbuttoned shirt. Paul started singing inside my head again, but only until my eyes involuntarily slid further down, putting the song to an abrupt stop, just like a torn magnetic tape.

I was right about the waist being too tight, which meant he had it pulled down well below his navel, and seeing his happy trail made me scream internally. 

And to top it all off, he still had the towel wrapped around his head. 

I was not prepared for the feral reaction he suddenly elicited deep inside my body, and I’m sure he noticed, judging by the cocky half-smile that followed. I quickly turned away before I would compromise myself further. 

“I made you some coffee,” I nodded towards the steaming cup waiting for him on the counter, while still not daring to look directly at him again. “... and there are some popsicles in the freezer.”

“Thank yo… popsicles?!?” I might as well have suggested cotton candy, judging by the look he gave me, making me feel like an idiot,  so I quickly explained: “Yeah, they’re perfect when you wanna get rid of a hangover. Orange’s my favorite.” I still felt like an idiot. 

“I’m feeling better now.” His tone was kind and friendly, for which I was grateful, and I could hear him smiling, with my eyes still fixed on the small yellow circles in front of me. “I think I’m getting a bit hungry, though.”

“I’m not cooking anything now, Jake!” I placed the last little yellow circle on the sheet with care, before I started kneading another chunk of dough frantically.

“No, I didn’t mea…”

“There’s instant ramen on the top shelf.”

“Jesus Christ.” 

“Yeah, whatever.”

“What are YOU going to eat, Y/N?”

“I don’t have time for such luxuries right now…”

“Y/N!” He was leaning against the counter desk right in front of me again. I hadn’t even noticed him sneaking so close again, so his sudden exclamation made me jump. “You have to eat something. Look, your hands are shaking.” 

Yeah, no shit. But I’m not exactly hungry. There was a huge lump in my stomach, making it quite full. I was getting lost in the sea of my conflicting feelings again when all of the sudden, he put an abrupt stop to it like a fierce wave that sent me crashing on the shore, as he lifted my chin up gently with his index and middle finger. “Look at me, Y/N. I am going to fix us a quick lunch, ok?” 

“Ok…,” I peeped meekly. 

Jake just nodded, bound his damp, uncombed hair in a makeshift low bun with the band he always wore on one his fingers just in case, and started rummaging in my fridge. “Allrighty then! What do we have here…,” he crooned cheerfully.

And just like that, Paul was back… lalalalala.

To be continued...

@thewritingbeforesunrise @fleet-of-fiction @writingcold @lvnterninthenight @its-interesting-van-kleep   @takenbythemadness   @edgingthedarkness @myownparadise96 @gvfstuddedmajesty @jazzyfigz @sanguinebats @josh-iamyour-mama @lyndz2names @wetkleenex-gvf @peaceloveunitygvf @cheersdannyx2 @fleetingjake @lizzys-sunflower @emojakekiszka @gvfmarge @Dayumclarizzel @lipstickittty @clownstarr @gretasfallingsky @musicislove3389 @i-love-gvf @psychedelectable @allof--mylove @sacredsparrow @hearts-hunger

[johnslittlespoon]

curtbuckbucky nightclub au .* :☆ﾟ. ☽

open for drabble/more pics! <3

alright, i've never done a proper 'intro' post for a fic/au i have in mind, but this one has been rotting in my brain for ages and i know there's no way i'm not gonna write something for it eventually so here goes, bear with me <3 made a lil edit (took me fucking hours to collect enough stock footage lmfao) to go along with it too >:)

a modern au where college student curt is a regular at a new–ish queer nightclub, showing up every friday night without fail to dance his heart out, his way of de–stressing at the end of every week and getting his pent up energy out. he's the prettiest little thing, dresses up so fun– some nights he throws on dresses or crop tops with skirts or short shorts when he's feeling it, other nights he goes for more of a relaxed baggy pants and flowy linen button up type of vibe– always with the same pair of scuffed up sneakers on for ease of dancing.

the bartenders and other regulars adore their bubbly little club bunny, always looking out for him, doting on him with free drinks and food. and even if some of them eye curt like he's dinner when he's out on the floor swaying his hips, eyes closed to fully lose himself in the music, the glitter on his eyelids and cheekbones catching the lights just right, curt's not there for any of that. he dances with people occasionally, he's confident and carefree and likes the attention and it makes him giggle when he catches newcomers staring, doesn't mind a wandering hand here and there, but he never goes home with anyone. the same routine, every friday, dancing until his dark waves are curling damp with sweat against his temples and his black eyeshadow is smudged and he leaves to make the walk back to the flat he shares with a few roomies.

enter john and gale, longterm boyfriends who sometimes like to go out clubbing and find someone pretty to bring home for a fun time, only an open relationship in that sense– they have no interest in actually dating other people, both adamant that it's no strings attached, too head over heels for each other to have eyes for anyone else anyway.

they decide to check out a club they haven't been to yet, usually sticking to the tried and true ones, but a couple of their friends recommend it, so they give it a go one friday night. they've barely sat down at the bar with their drinks when they see a boy who, john comments to gale, looks like the 'energizer bunny' (gets a snort out of curt when he tells him so in the future.) even once they're buzzed enough to head out onto the dance floor together, neither of them can take their eyes off of the bundle of energy, mesmerized.

they both know the other is equally enamoured with the boy, drinking up all the glitter and bouncy curls and blissed out smiles, already knowing they just have to have him– the prettiest thing they've ever seen. curt's confused when they approach him, because he's noticed them too, has been admiring from afar, but he's also noticed their hands and lips all over each other, dancing much too close and comfortably to not be a couple. but john purrs out "we just like to have a little fun every now and then sweetheart, don't you?"

and no, not really, he doesn't. usually a night of exhausting himself dancing is his idea of fun, not ever looking for anything else, not finding most guys worth his time. but john and gale sweet talk him just right, spend time actually getting to know him when he agrees to let them buy him a drink at the bar, and fuck, they're both the hottest things he's seen walk into the club in a long time, and they're giving him all their attention? he decides that maybe he'll be brave and flirt back. despite his confidence and lack of caring what other people think about him, he's so shy and easily flustered when someone he's actually into makes the moves on him, doesn't even know what to do with himself when he realizes he's blushing at their compliments and the combination of their heavy gazes on him.

obviously they all get each other worked up as the night goes on, and curt goes home with them and gets his world rocked, spoiled and pillow princess–ed and showered in praise, not at all what he expects hook–ups to be like after having only been with people he's been dating. he expects to walk back home after since they all live in the same vicinity of downtown, tries to ignore his wobbly legs when he finally crawls out of bed, gets dragged back down by gale for one last messy breathless makeout while john gets him an uber before curt can protest or offer to pay.

normally john and gale don't get the numbers of their one night stands, but they want to make sure he gets home safe, and they can both gauge how the other is feeling and they know they'll want to see him again if they're lucky enough for curt to say yes, so john puts his number into curt's phone and tells him "text when you're home safe, yeah? or, y'know, text whenever you want." and curt isn't sure if this is john saying they both want to see him again, because he's dense and shy and they made it clear beforehand that they're in a closed relationship, but next friday he texts to let them know he'll be at the club again, and john and gale tell him they'll be there, the three of them going home together for a second time that night, and they fall into a routine from then on.

curt gets giddy every friday, dolling himself up extra pretty for the two men, flushed at their attention every time and so thrilled to dress up for someone other than himself for once. he can already feel himself going all heart–eyes for them after the second or third time they hook up, but he knows where he stands, and he's having fun experimenting for the first time and having two experienced, sweet guys show him a good time every week, so he doesn't want to jeopardize that by getting his feelings involved.

little does he know that john and gale are falling head over heels too for this sweet energetic boy, loving how much he spices up their lives, both in the bedroom and out, realizing their flat feels so quiet now on the nights where they don't take curt home with them. so that leads to some serious conversations to see if they're on the same page about getting to know curt better, both of them learning how to navigate this new territory because neither of them expected to want to bring someone else into their world like this. they agree they'd like to take curt out on a cute date, during the daytime for once, to properly test the waters and see how curt feels– of course he slots into their lives perfectly, as if he's been there all along. <3

but along the way: lots of slow burn, miscommunication, endless filthy smut, curt trying to balance college and work and friends with his newfound feelings for john and gale, john and gale getting dragged to raves and festivals by their always adventurous bf, city night–life juxtaposed by early morning domesticity, etc etc.

this has been floating around in my head for a couple weeks since i got this vision of 2012–stalker–era barry with eyeshadow and glitter stuck in my brain and thus a whole universe/plot spawned from it. honestly would mostly be pwp, but would love to write a proper fic for it anyway eventually, each chapter littered with filth, obviously LOL. i have so many thoughts and so many little scenarios planned out in my head already... these three have me in a chokehold.

i need to make proper intro/drabble posts like these for my other aus too aghhh it just takes so longggg because i get carried away with the drabble and then i have to find the perfect clips for edits and the perfect pics to tie it all together and suddenly i've spent half a day on one post but. someday <3 leaving!bikeriders au next surely! thx for reading hope u enjoy this version of the boys and hopefully i'll have time to write it soon!

all posts about this au will be under #curtbuckbucky nightclub au :-)

[honey-minded-hivemind]

OH I really like the idea of reader with an animalistic mutation! It could be something monster/werewolf-like, or possibly a different animal like a BEAR or some kind of big cat.

They'd have to be scared out of their wits, not able to rely on their powers and their enhanced senses doing nothing to help them out of this mess, because the pain they're in is blinding. Besides that they're caught up in freaking out at how their alive, despite all the gore and the wounds they're too scared to look at, they aren't dead, which makes no sense, and they want explanations that no one can give them.

On related note, If the kids did manage to slip away, somehow hiding under the radar for a few days even, I picture some sort of emergency forcing them to seek better refuge or certain supplies, and that's when their parents would catch up with them.

Lamb Anon

Ooooooo, that's good, thats good! I'm liking these asks, 🐑 Anon! I myself am always partial to a animal/feral mutation for Reader. And to top this situation off for you, and for everyone else? Imagine if Reader actually IS the blood child or relative of one the adults platonic yans. Maybe Reader was a child they gave up who only later wander back into their lives, only to later be ripped away by what had happened. Perhaps Reader was a mystery child they knew nothing about until after the event, and the guilt eats at them for never knowing their kid really WAS their kid by blood, too. Either way, it would only add fuel to the already massive fire that is the train wreck the kids are in. On a separate note, yes, the kids are also handling their own trauma due to dying? or almost dying, only to end up back in a world that they can't explain the changes of, but it's going rather poorly, not to mention they now have this to add to their growing trauma. It shouldn't be different, right, they couldn't have been down for long, the >,">#÷,/ only just happened, it's been at best maybe a day since what was done-

It hasn't been a day. It's not even the same year.

And they have no explanation why.

On a separate separate note, if the teens did escape the first encounter with their older, more grim and harrowing friends and family... They know they aren't out of the blue, not even close. They're dealing with people who know what they know, every plan and preparation and procedure for what to do if something goes wrong, how to track people, how to survive, places that are safe-

It's endless, how much they're out of their depth. They weren't sure they'd planned for this. That this was even a possibility. Sure, sure, they'd made a few safety precautions incase one or two of the teams' members went off the deep end or was mind controlled or possessed. They had never accounted for everyone being turned against them. And while yes, the four of them have powers and know how to use them, their powers (except possibly Reader's) aren't offensive. One of them can run really fast, faster than light if they want; one of them can walk through walls, doors, floors, anything; one of them can teleport anywhere within reason and within a two mile radius; and one of them has something that isn't any of that. Except they're all wounded, hurting, and traumatized. Fast guy can't run, phaser can't phase, teleporter can't teleport, and even though they could possibly afford to use their powers once or twice before complete collapse... they can't do so without leaving the others behind. And they don't want to leave anyone behind. So all they can do is stick together and hold out until they can make a better move. If only they have enough time to do so...

[alister312]

Summary:

Craig's mad at Tweek and Kyle's mad at Stan. Spending Friday night moping around the school is pretty lame though, so Craig decides they should do something to rile their exes up.

this is an attack for @iksvolforb for the @spinthetags south park olympics! art is by @danilazuli and not included within the attack.

Read now on ao3 or below the cut!

It wasn’t uncommon for Craig and Tweek to be “on the outs” every other week. Usually it started with a small fight that they both pushed down, resolving to talk about it later like mature people, only to forget to do that between the pressures of school and (in Tweek’s case) work. This built and built until it burst and one of them couldn’t handle it anymore and they broke up. They never meant to; they were just teenagers. Not everyone could achieve the same emotional maturity Wendy and Tolkien seemingly effortlessly did.

This particular break up was really bugging Craig though because normally when they broke up, they got back within the month. The problem this time was that neither of them would admit that they were wrong. Craig thought it was pretty clear that Tweek should apologize for forgetting their goddamn anniversary, but Tweek was adamant that Craig should understand by now that he has a job with hours he can never predict because his dad fucking sucks. Tweek’s dad did suck, but it was their anniversary. That had to take priority (the work-skipping kind).

It didn’t, apparently, so the next month rolled around and Craig found himself still single. What was worse, Tweek wouldn’t even talk to him. Craig never liked to think of himself as the kind of guy who had to be in a relationship to function, but he was coming to realize that he couldn’t remember being out of one for this long before. Much of his life outside of school had happened around Tweek, or around where he worked. 

His life wasn’t all Tweek of course; there was Clyde. Clyde had started spending more time with Jimmy these days though and they had some long standing Friday night tradition checking out whatever local live show they could find in Denver. It was their thing, like how Craig’s used to be hanging out at Tweak Bros. with Kenny, waiting for Tweek. Kenny was more of a friend of a friend though, or friend of an ex now, so Craig was left with no one tonight.

Devoid of literally anything else to do and not wanting to just go home, Craig decided to wander the school. Aside from completely barren hallways, it wasn’t so different from normal school hours. Teachers sat in their classrooms hunched over papers, grading until they couldn’t take it anymore. A few students stuck around in odd nooks and crannies, mostly those who couldn’t find peace and quiet anywhere else. The goths were out back, basically permanent fixtures.

Craig’s wanderings eventually took him to the gym. He could hear the squeak of sneakers on rubber, so he opened the door. Inside was Kyle, practicing layups alone. He looked over at Craig in the doorway.

“Oh, hey.”

“Hey,” Craig replied. He chewed his bottom lip, teetering on the possibility of sticking around. He and Kyle were on… fine terms with each other. Not friends, not unfriendly. Staying wouldn’t be weird, but it might be awkward. Watching him practice would guarantee Craig an excuse for at least another hour though, so he stepped inside and over to the bleachers.

“Um,” Kyle said. “Did you… want to join in or—”

“No.” Craig waved his hand dismissively. “You keep… tossing that ball or whatever. I’ll just be here.”

“Okay…” Kyle frowned, dragging out the word. He sighed and shook his head, rolling his shoulders and going back to his layups. Craig sat down next to Kyle’s gym bag and took out his phone, mindlessly scrolling between apps. Occasionally he looked up at Kyle. Craig really didn’t know or care much about sports so he couldn’t say what made Kyle good, but he was clearly skilled. It was hard to make team captain if you sucked.

Kyle kept glancing over at Craig from time to time, curious about him. Craig hoped to avoid talking about it but when they accidentally made eye contact, he knew he couldn’t. Kyle was at least nice enough to wait half a minute before clearing his throat.

“So,” he said, “any reason you’re here and not… anywhere else?” Craig shrugged, keeping his eyes locked on his phone. Kyle let out an exasperated sigh. “I mean like, shouldn’t you be spending Friday night with, I don’t know, Tweek or something?”

“Shouldn’t you be spending it with Stan or something?” Craig said, as nastily as he could in his usual monotone. The clumsy clang of the basketball on the rim (as opposed to the quiet swish of the net he’d gotten used to) made Craig look up again. Kyle’s brows were knit together and he wore a deep scowl.

“Yeah. Well,” Kyle grumbled. Craig raised an eyebrow. Apparently he and Tweek weren’t the only ones fighting. 

His eyes shifted from Kyle down to his gym bag. It was decorated with the South Park Cows logo, some safety pins (probably Stan’s), and a rainbow ribbon tied to the main pocket’s zipper. Kyle had the proud title of the school’s first voluntarily out gay kid, so up-front, loud, and proud when he announced it. Craig had always secretly really appreciated him for it. Being the role model gay kid wasn’t something he was suited for. Kyle handled it much better.

“Hey.” Craig looked back over at Kyle, feeling the kind of stupidly impulsive that came from two months apart from your longtime boyfriend. “Do you wanna go out?” A resounding thud sounded from the backboard as Kyle missed again. He’d whipped his head to stare at Craig so fast his hair smacked him in his face. Kyle swore as he pushed it back, then frowned at Craig.

“What the hell did you just say?”

“Do you wanna go out,” Craig repeated. “You’re gay, I’m gay, both of us are mad at our exes—”

“I’m not mad at Stan,” Kyle said.

“You’re not fooling anyone, Broflovski.”

“Ok asshole, even if I was, why would that mean I’d go out with you?”

“To piss Stan off like he pissed you off,” Craig said. “Look, it doesn’t have to be a real date. We get out of here, go to Tweak Bros. so Tweek can see me with you and then you can post a picture of us so Stan will see you with me.”

“That’s a shit plan, Craig.”

“Ok, well, you have nothing better to do, so…” Craig shrugged. Kyle glared at him, but he also glared down at the floor, thinking. After a few moments of muttering, he threw his hands up in the air.

“Why not,” Kyle said. “You’re paying for my coffee and anything else though.” He crossed the gym floor and picked up his bag. “I gotta shower and change. I’ll meet you outside.” Though fearing for his wallet, Craig smiled a little as he watched Kyle leave. If nothing else, this had to at least get Tweek talking to him again.

***

Only fifteen minutes later, Craig found himself sitting in the passenger seat of Kyle’s car. That was another thing he’d always secretly appreciated about Kyle– his promptness. He also cleaned up nicely, his hair freshly spritzed with something that made it soft and got rid of any evidence of sweat. They both had on a similar outfit of pants, a shirt, and a jacket but Kyle’s pants were chinos (not jeans) and his jacket not as old as Craig’s. Even though it wasn’t a real date, Craig felt bad that he was underdressed in comparison. He took off his hat and combed his fingers through his hair on the ride over. A little more effort than he usually put in. It would do.

“Ah shit,” Kyle muttered when they pulled in. Craig followed his gaze to Kenny’s car parked nearby.

“You know he and Tweek are, like, super close, right?” Craig said.

“Yeah, I know,” Kyle sighed. “That doesn’t mean I knew he’d be here. If Kenny sees us together, he’s gonna bug me about it all weekend.”

“We can tell him to fuck off then,” Craig said, knowing full well that he’d probably also get Kenny hounding him about this “date” and equally not looking forward to it. “It’s none of his business.”

“I doubt he’ll listen but… we’ll see,” Kyle said, smiling tiredly. He turned the car off and got out with Craig following.

Tweak Bros. always smelled like home to Craig. Coffee was way too bitter in terms of taste but the smell was so comforting, like a sigh at the end of a long day. It wrapped around them, a warm and welcoming escape from the Colorado night as they stepped inside. Craig could smell that Tweek had recently taken out a fresh batch of scones too, cinnamon chip ones.

He was there behind the counter– Tweek. His head perked up at the chime of the bell as the door opened, an instinctive customer-service smile halfway on his face.

“Hi, I’ll be with you in a mo—” Tweek froze, realizing who they were. Craig did his best to appear completely unaffected, walking up to the cash register. Behind him, Kyle hesitated for a moment, but he joined Craig and stared at the menu hanging above them. He squinted at it, looking oddly confused.

“You good?” Craig asked. “You can read it, right?”

“Of course I can,” Kyle snapped at him, too quickly, which meant he couldn’t. The print was pretty small and Craig remembered then that Kyle needed glasses. He’d assumed that he never wore them because he opted for contacts instead, but maybe he just straight up never saw well. Craig took out his phone and pulled up the Google doc of the menu. Years ago, Tweek had entrusted it to him to help him study and memorize it.

“Here,” Craig said, giving it to Kyle.

“Oh,” Kyle said, surprised. “Thanks Craig.” He looked through it while Craig waited. He always got the same thing so he was ready, but Tweek was doing literally anything but coming to take their orders. There were only so many imaginary spots he could clean though and people started lining up behind Craig and Kyle, so he eventually gritted his teeth and walked over.

“Welcome to Tweak Bros., what can I get for you?” Tweek said in the most forced polite tone Craig had ever heard from him. It genuinely upset him a bit, but if he got upset then Tweek won, so he just blinked slowly instead.

“Small chai tea,” Craig said, then turned to Kyle. “Babe, what do you want?” The coffeeshop air was suddenly no longer warm, but thick with an icy intenseness as both Kyle and Tweek froze at that statement. Kyle’s finger hovered over the phone screen and Craig could see the gears turning in his head. He tensed, just slightly, bracing himself for just in case Kyle decided to slap him for his boldness. Thankfully, Tweek’s palpable rage kept him from also noticing any of this.

“Just one sec,” Kyle said, apparently deciding to roll with Craig. “Uh, I’ll have a latte. Hot, grande size, with oat milk instead of the regular dairy. Three pumps of vanilla syrup, plus an extra shot of espresso, and no foam. Oh, and one of those brownies in the case. No, two actually. And that, uh, turkey wrap thing. Warmed up.”

Kyle patted Craig’s arm and smiled, promising to find them a table as he walked away, but there was a bit of smugness to it. A satisfaction that he’d managed to craft the perfect frustrating and expensive order and left Craig to deal with the consequences of it all. And people thought Craig was an asshole.

“Jesus, what even is that order?” Tweek grumbled, scribbling away at a cup. “Does he know this isn’t– nngh– fucking Starbucks?”

“I’ve seen you make that kind of thing before though,” Craig said.

“Shut up,” Tweek said. “That’ll be $25 dollars and I’m not putting it on a tab.”

***

A few minutes later and $30 dollars poorer (he tipped, of course, even though Tweek told him that wouldn’t change anything), Craig made his way to the table where Kyle was doing his best to avoid eye contact with Kenny, who was standing over him. He turned his attention to Craig.

“Ok, Craig, what the hell?” Kenny said.

“What do you mean?” Craig sat down at the table.

“This,” Kenny gestured back and forth between Craig and Kyle. “What the hell is going on here? I know both of you are going through respective rough patches right now, but being petty isn’t going to fix that.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re just on a normal first date.”

“You’re a damn liar, Craig. I’m not stupid. I can’t believe you dragged another person into your problems. And Kyle, c’mon, you’re above this. You have to know this is a bad idea.”

“Oh fuck off, Kenny,” Kyle said, now glaring up at him. “Craig asked me out and I said yes because I wanted to go out with him. That’s all there is to it.” He reached across the table and defiantly took Craig’s hand, interlacing their fingers. Craig blushed. Sure he’d initiated the whole date idea and called Kyle “babe” but he hadn’t expected Kyle to so adamantly defend him. It was nice though.

Kyle’s fieriness was honestly pretty attractive. He sat up straighter and jutted his chin out a bit, his cheeks tinted pink with annoyance. He wasn’t jacked or anything, actually fairly slender, but he had some definite muscle tone and his eyes burned a deep green, challenging anyone to cross him. Honestly, Craig realized, Kyle reminded him a lot of Tweek. He was like if Tweek had a steadier head on his shoulders, which was one of the things Craig had often guiltily wished for.

Maybe, subconsciously, he’d known that and that was why he chose Kyle for this.

“Yeah,” Craig smiled. “Fuck off, Kenny.” He flipped off Kenny, who rolled his eyes and held his hands up, walking away. Kyle sighed.

“God,” he muttered, reaching for his drink and the food. “I love Kenny but I hate when he treats me like I don't know what I’m doing. I’m not a kid.”

“Maybe it’s because you ordered two brownies for dinner?” Craig asked.

“So?” Kyle scoffed. “I was working out when you saw me, remember? I’m hungry.”

“Yeah,” Craig said. “The brownies here kind of suck though. They’re dry.

“Ugh, now you tell me. I hate dry brownies.”

“Same.” Craig took a sip of his drink. “What else pisses you off?” Kyle seemed thrown by the question, but slowly he started opening up. 

Neither of them were angry people exactly, but they did both have a lot of things that irked them. Craig usually didn’t bring it up because happy-go-lucky Clyde couldn’t sympathize and paranoid Tweek often thought Craig was secretly talking about him. It was a relief to not have to cage himself. Kvetching, Kyle called it. It was one of his favorite destressors. Even though Kyle’s kvetching lost its fieriness as the night went on, Craig thought the smiles he switched to were just as attractive.

Last call for orders seemed to come too soon, even if they had actually been there for hours. Besides Kenny and of course Tweek, only they and some guy typing away at his laptop were left.

“We should go,” Craig said.

“Don’t you want to stay til closing though?” Kyle frowned. “To talk to Tweek?”

“We’ll do that tomorrow,” Craig shrugged. “So we can head out after you have your picture.”

“Oh yeah,” Kyle murmured. “I forgot about that.” He took out his phone and scooted closer to Craig, leaning back and tilting his head so it was just shy of resting on Craig’s shoulder. The idea of it was there, though, that he might do that. Craig too gave the subtle hint of closeness without actually going for it, his face tilted just so that, any moment, he just might nuzzle Kyle’s hair. It was tempting.

In a second the photo was over and Kyle was no longer inches away. Craig watched him post it with the caption “Had a good time tonight 💙”. It was clear, but subtle. Craig liked it. As they exited, Kyle’s phone started ringing. The name on the screen read “Stan”.

“Wow,” Craig said.

“God, that was fast,” Kyle muttered. He stared at the name as it kept ringing. Again those gears were turning in his head and Craig wondered what exactly was going through his head this time. Kyle let it ring all the way to the end and the screen informed he had one missed call from Stan. As it started up again, Kyle hung up on purpose and stuck his phone in his pocket.

“Hey, do you think there’s a lot of people at Stark’s Pond right there?” he asked Craig.

“Probably,” Craig said. “I know a spot near it that's kind of hidden though. I stargaze there.”

“Wanna go?” Kyle smiled. Through the window, Craig caught Tweek’s gaze. All the malice that had been it all evening was gone and it was soft, confused. They would talk tomorrow. About what, Craig wasn’t entirely sure. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to come out of the conversation.

For now, he nodded to Kyle and walked back to his car with him. Kyle switched his phone to vibrate before pulling out. Craig had a strong suspicion that he was putting off his own conversation, but he didn’t care. Stark’s Pond was waiting for them.

[ya-zz]

It just popped in my head but can you do a ramattra fic? male reader, where it’s winter time and it’s super cold so the reader is shivering and ramattra warms him up somehow with his robotic ways lol, just a whole bunch of fluff, your writing is so good thank you!!

I started this a few weeks ago and just got around to finishing it now, just in time for the cold to come in... If only we had a certain omnic to keep us warm throughout these colder months...

Ramattra x Reader

Word count: 1102

Winter in Nepal is such a marvellous sight; one that many people come to visit each year, especially when the winter markets and festivals are in motion each weekend. Each stall held it’s own vendor from the village, known faces that regulars and newcomers greet with a smile. From various stalls holding a selection of goods from bakes to jewellery, pottery and tea, there was something for almost everyone. 

The festivals were just as exciting, even more so when the snow was falling and the soft lights made the village streets much more ambient. However, the winter wind made it that much colder. Even if you’re wrapped up warm, the wind cut like knives against your skin. Icy particles attacking any bare skin it could find and if your clothing is too thin, it feels wet and sticks to your body until you have to go home and peel it off. 

That was no deterrent for you and your friend though. The pair of you wandered the village streets. It was a comforting moment, being in the presence of the one you held close to you, someone who made sure that you were healthy and safe. He’d protect you when you needed it most and he would always be there for you when you desperately needed a shoulder to cry on. 

Your friend felt the same way about you. Knowing he had you by his side. A human he was glad to call his friend. Someone he was willing to protect no matter the cost. 

“Ramattra?” You voice broke him out of the trance he was in. 

“Yes?” He responds back, head tilting down to look at you. 

“Are you okay? You seem distant.” 

“My apologies, [y/n].” He chuckles before turning his head back forward. “Was there something you asked of me?” 

“Yeah…” You walk by his side. “Do you ever feel cold?” 

“Cold?” He takes a moment to think. “Yes. Although not to the extremities you humans do.”

You hum in response.

“Are you cold?” The omnic asks. 

“What? No.” You lie, and he knew it too. Your body was shivering and your voice wavers ever so slightly you pray he wouldn’t notice. 

Ramattra nods once, entering his systems to see what it is that humans do to keep others warm. He’s searching for a few moments before clearing his HUD and continuing his walk with you throughout the market. 

He watches as your body temperature slowly drops, not to an alarming level, he wouldn’t let it get that far, but Ramattra was waiting to see how long you would plan on suffering like you are now. 

It was strange for the omnic, watching out for a human. He had never felt so… inclined to protect you. He’s seen the way some humans back away from him, cower in fear, but you… by god, you were something else. You never once disliked him, wanting to only make friends. He disapproved at first, he always does when someone new, someone human, comes across his path. 

You were something special, someone special, to the omnic. He made sure you were eating well, that you had enough sleep each night and that you were okay regardless of what was happening in your life, but he was only a friend… He wanted more. He had never felt this way before, especially not towards a human. 

Ramattra keeps a close optic on you all throughout the evening, and when the temperature drops significantly, he watches you even closer. The lack of a scarf or hat made Ramattra worry about you. Your ears were red, nose too and your cheeks were flushed. It wouldn’t be long now until you were asking to go home to get warm, but he saw the sparkle in your eyes, the way your face lit up when the streets bustled with life. Lights turned on, vendors were rowdy and the smell of food wafted through the streets. 

Being with Ramattra meant everything to you. For once, you had found someone who truly cares about you, and not because he was designed to kill, to protect, but because he welcomed you into his life. Ramattra was so careful around you it made your heart flutter each time he did something to or for you.

So, when the warmth of his cowl was placed around your shoulders, hood being pulled up to cover those icy ears, your heart nearly stopped. 

“Ramattra?” You look up at him, eyes slightly wider than usual.

“You are cold. I do not want you to freeze or else our evening will be ruined.” He states, not looking towards you. 

You smile softly, hands coming up and under the cloth. “It’s so warm.”

Ramattra hummed, knowing that it was. He heated his own body up, not to an alarming level, but just enough to heat up his cowl and give it to you. 

“Are your hands cold too?” He asks, looking down at you. 

You shake your head, but you knew your fingers were almost frozen stiff. 

The omnic silently sighs, adjusting some settings in his HUD before he reaches for your hand. His fingers interlock with yours and there was a heat radiating from his palm.

The notion startles you, but you keep the expression hidden behind the hood. There was a soft smile on your face as you squeeze his hand a little. 

“Thank you…” 

Ramattra glances down at you and sees the heat returning to your face and your body. 

“You are flushed. Is everything okay?” He stops moving, turning to fully face you despite other people walking on either side. 

“I- I am fine.” Though you stay hidden. 

“Look at me, [y/n].” His other hand comes up instinctively to turn your face towards him. He feels the warmth within his palm, thumb rubbing a soft circle on the flesh. 

“R-Ramattra…” 

The omnic stills for a moment before retracting his hand and letting go of your other one. “My apologies.” He had never felt embarrassed, but he could feel himself heating up. 

He starts walking again, although you wait a moment, seemingly in a daze at what just happened. Did he… What… No…

It took you a few quick strides to catch back up to him, and when you do, you lace your fingers with his, palms touching once more. 

“Don’t leave…” You say, voice quite and muffled behind his cowl. 

Ramattra looks down at you, a million different signals being sent though his wires. He feels his own body warm up, and he sees that yours has heated up tenfold.

“I will never leave.”

[funkii-fox]

Diavolo + Doppio DID Hcs

I feel like we need more Doppio + Diavolo content focusing on the realistic aspects of DID. I feel like we don’t focus on it enough as a fandom because it’s more convenient.

I do not have DID, so im sorry if something is incorrect or offensive. Pls tell me if it is!

Appearance

They have the same face. What makes them “look different” is their resting face. Diavolo has a naturally angry face, and Doppio has a more neutral, but approachable resting face.

I think their face is long and thin in shape. White skin with freckles. Pointy nose with a bump. Thin top lip and moderately wide bottom lip. Their eyebrows are thick at the center of the face and thin out, both in thickness and density, towards the sides of their face. Dense lashes line their eyes. Their eye color is hazel, sometimes looking green but other times looking light brown due to lighting.

Their body is lean muscular. Diavolo works out a lot, but Doppio isn’t too interested in staying strong. And since Doppio is the main, they stay a thinner type of muscular. They are very tall though. Canonically 191 cm/6’3!!!!!!

Another main way they are different is that Doppio likes his hair in a low ponytail/braid, but Diavolo likes it down. Diavolo prefers it short and undyed (natural brown), but he lets Doppio do what he wants with it. It’s better to convince everyone, even Doppio, that Doppio is the only personality by making the body “his”

Dynamic + Personality

Diavolo is the “original” personality, but Doppio is the most active personality. “Doppio” means “double”, implying that he is the “other one”. And in general, the plotline is centered around Diavolo, not Doppio.

I like to think Diavolo’s obsession with erasing all the clues of his existence stems from his disorder. He knows a lot about himself, but not who he is, and feels that no one else should know who he is if he doesn’t know.

Doppio genuinely doesn’t know the things he picks up aren’t real phones. “Hm? This is a phone, silly. Now excuse me, please. I’m talking to my boss.” It pisses off Diavolo, but he can’t just say “that’s not a real phone” bc it would blow his cover + Doppio would ask a lot of questions. “Why can’t he just pick up his own damn phone in his pocket?! You’re getting whipped cream on our face!”

Doppio is convinced he has amnesia and narcolepsy, but it’s actually just Diavolo taking over. Diavolo is the one who planted this seed in his head. “You’re so forgetful.”

Most of the day, Doppio is in control. When he isn’t doing a job for the boss, he likes to do relaxing hobbies. Although he’s a beginner, he loves drawing animals- his favorite to draw are puppies. He reads books- any book lying around that doesn’t have heavy themes. If he’s not in the mood for either of those, he likes taking walks and socializing with people he meets along the way. He never makes real friends though.

Doppio’s social life is kind of sad. He doesn’t like to think that he’s lonely, but the only person consistently in his life is Diavolo. The people he meets never usually stick- many of them think he’s too odd. He also doesn’t put any effort to keep in touch; it could be dangerous for either of them. Some of Diavolo’s paranoia rubbed off on him.

Diavolo is rarely the one in control. It’s usually about once or twice a day, for only a few hours max each time. In these few times of control, he is busy doing mafia boss work. If he’s not busy with mafia work, he prefers to keep himself busy with other stuff like chores or exercise. To him, if he’s not working, he will get caught.

Sometimes during mundane tasks, Diavolo’s mind wanders. He worries about what would happen if he’s caught. He paces the room and sweats bullets while biting his nails. Doppio always wonders how his nails get so gross. Diavolo’s condition can spiral quick, and soon he’s having a panic attack while hiding in a crawlspace. “I’m still not safe here!” He has a panic/ anxiety disorder, but no self awareness to see anything wrong nor has any intention to address it.

Sometimes, as seen in canon, Diavolo takes over if he feels like Doppio isn’t handling a mission right. He’s a micromanager in that regard, the pure fear over getting caught pushing him to stress perfection. After Diavolo takes over, Doppio is often confused about where he is + how he got so fucked up. “Gosh, what happened to me?” To sweep everything under the rug, Diavolo explains that it was Doppio’s amnesia or narcolepsy, and that he had to step in. To make sure to tie all loose ends, Diavolo makes sure to stay on calls with Doppio whenever Doppio is doing a mission. “Stay on call. I want to make sure you’re okay.” “Makes sense! Thank you, boss!”

Diavolo has a lot of unhealthy habits. He smokes, he has bad posture, he stresses himself so hard his heart nearly pops, and he works/ exercises too much. All of this is a stark contrast to Doppio’s relatively healthy life style. Doppio wonders a lot “where did this come from?” “Why am I so sore?”, so Diavolo often makes sure to hide all the evidence. For example this could be hiding the cigarettes and lighter. Or he explains away the soreness as Doppio forgot he fell and hurt himself.

Diavolo predicted his fate. Maybe King Crimson’s ability is a reflection of Diavolo constantly worrying about the future. He must’ve known he had a fate worse than death coming his way, and did damn near anything to prevent it. It’s the classic “self fulfilling prophecy” trope, if you think about it. If Diavolo never did the most to prevent his fate, maybe Giorno and the others wouldn’t have been after him.

Past

I like to think Diavolo killing his mom was because she failed to protect him. Everything he went through, all because she slept around. He choses to believe that she was making up crap to cover her ass. No chance his mom was pregnant for 2 years, and even if she was they would’ve known when she first went to prison. Everything he went through, all because she can’t obey the damn law. Was it really that hard to stay out of trouble, even for the love of your own son? “You’d think having a child would change a person!” He thought at the time, ironically. Everything he went through, it’s because of her. The common denominator is her. Now, it’s her turn to suffer.

His dream of becoming a sailor was because he hated the church. His only comfort from his life was the tranquil beach. He often sat on the sand, staring off into the ocean and dreaming of being a sailor. He dreamt of finally getting out of there, and never coming back.

Similarly, I think King Crimson’s ability is also a reflection of his past. How he was so desperate to get out of the moment, he just wished he could skip to the future. Maybe the future is better than the past and present.

I think its very interesting how DID developed this after getting out of the church. When i was researching, it seems that a common trigger is moving out of a traumatic environment, but not during the stressful time. It’s because Diavolo doesn’t want to remember the painful memories; it’s easier to remember it happening to someone else than happening to him.

The stem of their DID is long term physical, sexual, and emotional abuse by the church. The usual punishment for misbehavior was getting spanked, and by what depends on the severity of the crime. A hand, a paddle, cords, a cane, and even barbed wire. Poor boy left bleeding, bruised, sobbing, and shaking. I also find it hard to believe that he wasn’t sexually abused at least once. Even if we ignore the stereotype of Catholic priests molesting young boys, Diavolo was incredibly vulnerable. No mommy or daddy to run to, and not strong enough to fight anyone off. Can’t fight back at all or run away, because he lives with them. Is it better to submit and get molested, or to resist, get beaten black and blue, and then get molested? And I feel like Christianity as a whole is notorious for emotional abuse. There is an glorification of suffering and how it’s good to suffer because Jesus did on the cross. The notion that, “Everything happens for a reason. It’s God’s plan,” must’ve stung a lot. He was often told that “it was God’s plan” that he landed in the church. There’s also the idea that you must obey authority no matter what. It made him feel hopeless, like he can’t do anything about his life.

[rowretro]

𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

WARNINGS: Hardcore Drug usage, underage drinking/smoking, 

✧CHAPTER 2✧

Another Monday morning at school. Just another normal day of small groups of giggly girls gossipping about last night’s latest drama, some even hanging their head low in shame of whatever rendezvous or embarrassing dare they had gone with at the Rave. Many were hung over and tired. For Y/n, she was high. People find it hard to tell whether the girl’s sober or not as she knows how to put up an act.

Last night’s events were a blur to her, she slumped in her seat, near the back corner where she always is.  As she brought a flask of whiskey to her mouth, more students walked in, going to their designated seats, completely shielding her from the teacher’s view. Riki slipped beside her, glancing at her as she sipped on her whiskey. “Pretty boy who knows where I live-” the girl said as her eyes met his. Riki scoffed, opening his book “Don’t think that you're special, junkie. I only picked you up because your brother asked me to.” Riki coldly said, as he scribbled down some words in his notebook. 

The girl shrugged, going about her business as Riki continued scribbling in his book, glancing at the board every now and then, as the teacher went about her lecture. All the while, y/n was busy sketching some little doodles in the margin of her book as she took a few, necessary notes. Riki found his eyes wandering along the margins of her books. The pretty sketches, messy but artistic. 2 hours had passed and break time finally came. The girl didn’t waste any time, taking a few things from her bag secretively and slipping them into her bra as she left the classroom. She left her bag behind, as they were going to be stuck in the same class for a whole year, due to some issues that had sparked in school restrooms and hallways. 

The girl went outside, where many people sat at tables eating with friends or chatting about the most random shit ever. The girl cautiously, went a little more further, arriving at a restricted area that led to an abandoned park. Now she was out of no one’s sight, not even a camera in view, she lit up one of her joints, inhaling the smoke, letting it hit her throat, as she exhaled shortly after. “We haven’t even made it until lunch and here you are already smoking.” A voice called as y/n darkly stared at the male, smoke leaving her mouth “You’re one to talk Yang.“ The girl narrowed her eyes at the boy who rolled his eyes. Y/n’s best friend. Jungwon.

The boy wasn’t a fan of her constant smoking, but who was he to tell her what to do?  “Want a puff?” she asked as Jungwon blinked at her, his eyes flickered from her to the joint back to her again. “No not now we’re in school.” The male pointed out. The two turned to the gate, cautious as they heard the sound of two males snickering and walking their way. The barbed gate opened revealing none other than Kim Sunoo and his dear friend Riki. “Fuck- I thought we were going to get caught for a second-” Jungwon sighed “Meet Riki, the abroad friend I was talking about, the one I met online-” Sunoo said as Jungwon nodded. 

“Does Heeseung know you do the junk in school hours  as well?” Sunoo asks, as y/n shrugs “Why does he need to know” the girl mumbled, peacefully smoking as Sunoo rolled his eyes, pulled out a cigarette “Want one?” he asked as Riki shook his head “We have to had back in 5 so-” the boy said as Sunoo put it away. y/n finished her joint, putting it out, throwing it into a puddle, she hopped off the slightly damaged rock wall, touching up her make up and spraying herself in Jungwon’s spray. “Why mineeee” he whined. “Men’s spray smells better, plus it helps better with the smell.” She reasoned, sticking a cherry lollipop in his mouth, and opening one for herself, as she handed Sunoo 2. “For your racer friend too.” She simply said, Jungwon dragged her away. 

As the boys went to their own classes, y/n and Riki walked back to theirs. The 2 shared a good distance where the awkward silence filled in. However that silence was long gone when y/n went back to her seat. Then came some squealy girls, fangirling over how one of them managed to hook up with Heeseung. Disgusted, y/n covered her ears, her head hitting the table as she pretended to sleep. 

Riki rolled his eyes at the noise, softly nudging y/n “What?” she asked, a twinge of annoyance in her tone. “You want to do coke after school?” the boy asked out of nowhere. Did she care? No, free cocaine “Sure where?” she asked, "At my place duh, it’ll just be us though, the others are against anything beyond weed.” The boy said as the girl nodded. “He was so easy, you should have seen his face!” the girl said, a little loud, as y/n rolled her eyes. “so fucking stupid” Riki mumbled, clearly annoyed. It’s obvious. If anything, Hee was playing with her, she was nowhere near his type.

The school day went by ever so slowly. The slow hours were dreadful, but it would soon be forgotten. Hearing the bell ring, everyone jumped from their seats, rushing to leave the building, not even letting the poor teacher finish her sentence. Y/n walked to a shop, only to be yanked by her wrist. SHe frowned, her eyes landing on Riki “Aren’t you going to hang out with me?” the male asked as y/n frowned, confused as to why he’d want to get high with her of all people. “Yeah I’m just getting some drinks…” the girl trailed off, pointing at a corner store. 

Being the daughter of a pretty respectable Celebrity like her father, y/n got away with many things. Like buying alcohol despite being a minor. She left the shop with her school bag stuffed with bottles, and even some in her shopping bag. “I got the snacks brother- lets go.” She randomly blurted. Riki frowned as she dragged her to his car. “The paparazzi were recording us, I saw two of them in the bushes…” she mumbled as they got in the car. 

✧𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓✧

[donniesbabygirl28]

can you please do a dallas winston angst where reader is going through a depressive ep? and they aren't in a relationship but they also aren't friends (like a romantic connection type thing)

OOO I LOVE THIS! Also if any of you are going through a state of depression, I want you to know that it will be okay. Just keep trying and you will eventually get to wherever you wanna go! <3 Also I'm gonna make this like a depressive ep bc she's sick of Dallas not making up his mind about if he wants to be with her or not. Hope that's okay :).

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

❝ And what I really meant to say is I'm sorry for the way I am. ❞ (also the song is "Cold- Crossfade" <3)❝ Cause I'm pretty when I cry. ❞ (Song- pretty when I cry -Lana del ray.)

Dallas wandered around town, seeing you at the diner so he thought he'd come see you.

Big mistake.

All the flirty and playful banter that you two used to share wasn't there when he flashed you a smile and you had yet to wipe your tears.

"Hey Y/n. Whatcha doin' all by yourself?" He said, his accent already making you sick to your stomach.

You loved his accent. But today you didn't wanna see him.

You didn't wanna hear him.

"Trying to get away from people. So if you'd be my little helper and go away." You said, looking out the window of the diner.

He stayed quiet for a bit, trying to search for reasons why you could be acting like this.

"You gonna keep staring? You heard what I said. Get lost." You snapped, pushing him out the booth seat.

He was kinda shocked, pony and Johnny stood in the background, wondering why their best friend was acting so mean.

"You okay y/n? I don't mean to stick around after you told Dallas not to. But I'm a bit worried." Johnny spoke softly to you.

You looked at him plainly before rummaging through your purse.

"I'm alright Johnny. Just- here." You hand him and Ponyboy a few dollars, telling them to go get a snack from the counter.

They didn't wanna walk away, but they knew it was better to leave you alone so you didn't get upset again.

Dallas watch as you avoided his stare.

"Doll-"

"Don't call me that, Dal." You say as you play around with your French fries.

He looked at you with confusion.

"I've been calling you that since we met, whats up with you?" He says, anger obvious in his voice, now getting fed up with your cold shoulder.

"Dallas. I don't mean to sound like a bitch but I don't really give a damn. You come in and sweep me off my feet but then when theres a time where we should be together, you brush me off like some dirt. Make up your mind, Dal." you said as your old tears began to be replaced with new ones.

He looked at you, and you couldn't tell if he was angry. He tried to keep you calm, in fear of other people seeing the scene the two of you are causing.

"Doll I do love you-"

"Do you though?"

He banged his fist on the table, making you jump slightly. He noticed and wrapped his arm around you, not wanting to come off to harsh.

"Yes. I do love you and you know I do. But are you sure you wanna be with me? I'm not boyfriend material and you know that."

You rolled your eyes, a smile threatening to shine through.

"Im sure dal." You hugged him tightly, in hopes of him wanting the same thing.

He kissed your forehead softly, before grabbing your hand and pulling you out of the booth.

You looked up at him confused as he wiped away your recent tears with a smile on his face.

"Lets go the the drive in tonight, yeah?" He said, twirling your hair.

You were deeply in love with him. And you didn't care anymore if this was another sick trick. You would fall for it over and over just for him.