#and so i am ugly. i am sad. i am pathetic.

[elpida]

"Well, I never said I was perfect.. I'll always be a mess." she shrugged her shoulders, sniffling some of her sadness. She'd always thought she was an ugly crier, the funny thing was she was so beautiful when she was that brutally honest, when she let the emotion show.. as beautiful as ever and she'd never know it, not really. "I meant it." she mumbled. "I will remove her hands if she starts loitering or comes all cheery near me again." her voice a lot grumble when she mentioned it, but that was so very her. The bitter drawl, the determined settlement of violent that wouldn't even phase her. "Stupid overly happy woman." another mutter under her breath that was actually quite hilarious, it'd truly got under her skin to see her swooning at Rick. Pathetic in her eyes to act like a school girl at her age.

"For the record.. I am the only one with power." she wasn't, she was just being her usual stubborn self and pulling his strings, as he'd just said. Eris just didn't expect Rick to take hold of her face, to tenderly let his fingertips brush tear stained cheeks and kiss her. She didn't want to admit it made things feel.. better. She didn't want to admit that letting him hold her face, letting him ease those awful thoughts that plagued her, helped, but she leaned into the hands cupping her cheeks, she kissed him back and it was easy to kiss him, to give him the same affection in return.

"I'm going to be really particular about this mug, you know that right?" she ifnally cracked a bit of a smile. She'd screamed, shouted, thrown things, complained, cried... and now she just wanted to actually sleep, because her mind wasn't going to be plagued with their argument. "I couldn't sleep for thinking about it all.." she admitted, moving her own hand to rub at one of her eyes. "Could barely focus on that meeting, I think the coffee was my saving grace." her hand that'd rubbed her eye moved again, more to settle over his that still rest on her cheek. It was a tender, cautious touch but.. she gave him that touch, that was all that mattered. It was something from her usually refraining hands. "I should have said days ago that I can't sleep again." because she always ended up like this, overworked, exhausted, anger biting on the tip of every action and word. Silly, stubborn Eris.

Yes, it was hard to understand. Hard to realize what she really went through beneath that hard shell she created to protect herself but Rick wanted to try. He always wanted to see the real her and if that was it, he couldn’t appreciate it more than he did in this moment no matter how fucked up it was. “Eris…” he sighed another time and grabbed her hand the moment it got close to him just to brush his fingers slightly against it before he gave it free again. Just little gestures of intimacy she would hopefully not take the wrong way.

“You’re a mess Eris that’s for sure. But believe me when I say you’re not even quite as much a mess as I am. In fact I like the mess we are when we are… together.” Of course he was referring to their sex as well cause Rick couldn’t even remember that it ever felt like with her before. Not in the slightest. And it was no secret that he would always crave for that. “You’re beautiful to me. Not her. I don’t know if it’s the chaos in you that makes me thrive but something about it is refreshing and I don’t wanna miss it.” Softly he smiled at her, stared at her facial features when she spoke so fast to explain herself that it was nearly amusing. But her weakness and fragility had something so beautiful that it nearly took his breath away. Like it always did.

“I don’t wanna miss any of it and I wouldn’t exchange it with anything. I don’t wanna miss the ways you cuss and you fight. The way you pull my strings… everyone’s strings as if you’re the only one with power. I don’t wanna miss your yelling, your pushing, your passion. I…” How could he even explain it? The ways she made him feel. The ways she scared him, intimidated him and seduced him at the same time. He was lost for her and he loved that feeling of being forced to lose control with her. His hand reached for her face, only his fingertips sliding along the shape of her cheek as he whispered “I don’t wanna miss this.” and leaned in to press a kiss on her lips. A determined one. One that was meant to be and one he wouldn’t be able to take away and that still gave her room to breathe. It was to make a point and maybe even to shut up her endless doubts. “Get out with me. Let’s find you a mug.”

[helianskies]

ugly maths.

i hate maths, right. i don't usually like numbers, and if i do like numbers it's gotta be an 8 or a 48 and nothing else.

thing is, i've recently caught myself doing maths again. ugly maths. the kind of maths that, really, i've been trying to avoid as much as possible because, well, it's ugly!

you... wanna see?

okay, fine... but don't say i didn't warn you!

ugly, see? look at all those numbers! not a 48 in sight!

huh? what's that? you don't see what i'm on about? oh... oh! hang on, lemme just—

better? yes? no? no? okay, what if i—

mmh, yes. ugly numbers. see it now? can you see why they're ugly?

here, i can make it worse.

these numbers are ugly. the maths they make me do is ugly.

now i'll level with you: the worst ones by far are the yellow numbers. the maths they make me do it the ugliest.

why ugly?

because it makes me ugly.

those numbers turn me into not only a suddenly number-obsessed fool, but a fool who also cannot understand these numbers and what they mean and why i feel like they reflect on me and my ability.

87, 75.

the thoughts are as follows:

• the orange numbers are big, so why are you being ugly about the yellow ones? you should be happy with what you have. so many nice big numbers! not everyone receives that.

• is it that there are two different audiences for these two different fics? perhaps. they are quite different works, with different appeals, and different themes. maybe you are reading too much into it.

• why are you obsessing over numbers anyway? you don't like maths! you left maths behind when you were 16, put it down!

okay, okay, fine! i'll put the maths down. right here, in fact!:

that 87 was an 83 at the start of the year. the 6161 it is attached to was a 5453.

4, 708.

ugly maths.

the 75 is a nice number. in fact, compared to 87, it is beautiful, radiant, enchanting. at the start of the year, 75 was 48. wow. now that is one sexy number!

27.

mmmm.

6161, 1061.

5100.

87, 75.

12.

mmmm.

you know, my most favourite comment left recently on a fic of mine was 2 characters long: :(

it made me :)

well, actually, it made me >:) because it was left in response, presumably, to one of the key scenes in a new chapter which left the exact impression on someone that i hoped it would.

they must be the only one who reacted like that, though.

1.

have i mentioned that that 87 and 75 include author responses?

i won't try to do more maths, there. it might not end well for me. the maths is making me tired enough as it is, and i have an early start tomorrow.

oh! but, that being said, i have another set of ugly numbers to show you, so keep 87 and 75 in mind.

ready?

838, 245.

(want a hint? the green numbers!)

838, 87. 245, 75.

9.6, 3.3.

ugly maths. it's ugly again, see? i don't like it. i'm seeing numbers within numbers within numbers, and i can't seem to stop!

the numbers make me ask new questions:

• why is it not good enough?

• people seem to engage more with one fic over the other, so shouldn't you prioritise?

• is all this maths this really good for you?

no, it isn't.

i want to avoid ugly maths. ugly maths makes me want to tear my hair out. it makes me want to start from scratch. it makes me want to grab someone and scream. it makes me want to cry and press a button that has tempted me many times before when the numbers become too ugly to bear.

ugly maths turn me into an ugly person.

ugly maths make me obsessive, paranoid, anxious, regretful, vindictive, spiteful, alone.

i hate maths. i hate numbers, just like, it feels, the numbers hate me.

[the-sappho-of-lesbos]

Talked with my recovery coach about how I’ve been struggling lately so we decided I’m going to try and take myself to some new op shops tomorrow but now it’s almost 1am and I can’t sleep because I’m anxious over it lol

[raisinchallah]

tho i do feel like u could go down a whole rabbit hole of how like gender non conformity in women especially in visual media its like idk two paths shes either an abject pathetic figure literally nobody wants yet somehow desperately pining for a man or heterosexual connection or reasserts some level of "normalcy" by like aggressively pursuing men in a way that is compared to how men normally pursue women and like in all ways are sort of terrified of the idea she could be seen as gay but cant even like entertain that thought and dont really know what to do with this idk fucking insane a bit i think

[todayisafridaynight]

If you had to choose between banging Aoki and banging Mine, which would you bang?

oh you're all gonna hate me

[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — YUTA x FEM READER 

You’ve been trying to get a boyfriend to get over your one sided crush, but being known as Yuta’s girl across campus is a major cockblock for your romantic endeavours. The worst part? You’re not even dating.

wc — 4.8k

tags — pining, childhood friends to lovers, jealous Yuta, possessiveness, college au, Getou #1 wingman Suguru but only cause he gets a kick out of watching Yuta suffer, Yuta and you are so delusional, some suggestive content

♫: cologne — beabadoobee

This is the fifth boy that’s turned you down so far. You’re starting to wonder if something’s wrong with you. 

As with all of your woes, it ends with you at Yuta’s apartment. Is it pathetic to be comforted for your failed attempts at flirting by the boy you’re in love with? Very. Do you trust anyone else but Yuta not to make fun of you? No. 

“Yuta,” you whine into his stomach. He’s sitting on the couch with his legs tucked neatly together to form a cushion for your head. “Am I ugly?” 

He drops his controller instantly, muttering a quick sorry to Inumaki who’s suddenly left single handedly defending their team against the enslaught of monsters. “Why would you say that?” 

He pinches your cheeks between two fingers, squishing your face until your lips form an ‘o’. “You’re the prettiest girl in the world! Anyone would be lucky to have you.” 

Clearly not, or Yuta would have you. He’s just saying that because he has to. He’s your best friend.

“Did someone say something to you?” He asks. 

“So you do think I’m ugly!” 

Yuta grabs you by the wrists and hauls you upright so you’re face to face on the couch, knees uncomfortably entangled with his as you’re forced to sit up. He’s too earnest, too eager as he presses your hands together in his grip and says, “Everything about you is pretty! I never want to hear you say that again. Don’t disparage the eyes and lips and nose that I love.” 

This is the reason why you can never get over him. How can you when he says things like that? If you hadn’t known Yuta since you were five, you would say he was leading you on. But because you’ve grown up together, you know it’s just the way he is, like the sky is blue or the sun is warm. Yuta just loves you - but not like that. Not in the way you want. 

Never in the way you want. 

It’s been difficult. You and Yuta have no secrets between you, or at least you used to. It’s a side effect of growing up practically out of the same womb. What’s his is yours and vice versa. When you share everything with each other, it goes against your very nature to hold things back. Your secret strains at your lips, climbing up your throat, constantly begging to be set free even as you suppress it. 

“You’re making me sad,” he says, poking at your cheek at your silence. He’s trying to provoke you. “Why can’t you see yourself the way I do?” 

Normally he can get a smile out of you under any circumstance, so it distresses him not to be able to cheer you up instantly. He’s your best friend, the only one you have. You’ve been together your entire lives. Would telling him really change everything? 

You want to trust him more than the fear that he would reject you. Even if he can’t love you back the way that you want him to, at least this nightmare would be over. You could learn to accept what he was willing to give you, in time. Isn’t it a slight against the love you share to doubt him like this? 

But you’re scared. A childhood friend is irreplaceable. You can make new friends, but you can never get another Yuta. You’ll never be able to replicate the way he’s shared all of the bumps and bruises of your childhood with someone else. His mother has a box of your baby teeth that she keeps with her mementoes of his childhood. Who else can you say that about? You can’t risk it. 

“Yuta. Stop flirting and get your ass back in the game before we die!” 

Inumaki’s normally quiet voice hits a volume so loud it echoes through the headset. Yuta winces. Sorry, he mouthes at you. Talk later. 

God damn it, Inumaki. You were so close. 

“It’s not my fault,” he says through a mouthful of rice at lunch the next day. “How was I supposed to know that’s what you guys were talking about? I thought you guys were making your usual goo goo eyes at each other, not making breakthroughs.” 

“To be fair,” Panda says. “We never thought you were going to make a breakthrough, so it can’t be Inumaki’s fault.” 

“Ouch,” you rest your head against the cool linoleum of the table. “Way to let me down easy, guys.” 

“Come on,” Inumaki pushes his miso soup at you in a show of contrition. “You know we’re just joking.” 

“I know, I’m just annoyed cause you’re right - keep your mouth shut, Inumaki. He’s never going to see me that way.” 

“Didn’t you just jump from friend to potentially attractive friend? Sounds like a win to me,” Inumaki says. 

“For anyone else, yeah. For Yuta, it probably just means he’s going to start setting me up with his friends so I realize I’m pretty.” 

Inumaki and Panda share a look. You know the look. It means they think you’re being dumb. 

You steal Panda’s soup too as payback. 

Inumaki and Panda are easy to talk to about Yuta. More often than not, they’re the ones who bring up your relationship woes first because Inumaki loves teasing you and Panda secretly loves rom coms.

It’s a complete contrast from your other best friend. You’re too scared to tell Maki about the latest development in your relationship because she hates hearing about it. She’s a good friend who cares about you and your feelings, or so she claims, but she can’t stand watching you drag your feet. 

“Just confess already,” she hisses, using her textbook to shield her face from the professor. 

“I can’t! It’ll ruin everything!” 

“Don’t be a baby,” she snaps back, unaware of the professor walking towards her. You try to gesture at her to shut up, but she’s too focused on saying her piece. 

“Ladies. Would you like to continue your riveting discussion outside?” 

Even getting kicked out of class isn’t a deterrent for Maki. “Fine. You won’t confess to Yuta. What about your other plan?”

“No one will talk to me because they think I’m dating Yuta,” you wail as quietly as possible. 

“You serious?” She squints at you. “I’m telling you, just confess at that point.”

You shake your head vehemently. 

“Fine! Ignore me if you want to, but you see that guy coming our way? Try it one more time so I can see.” 

Maki pushes you down the path towards him before you can say no. You have an inkling how this is going to go based off the five previous times you’ve tried this, but Maki’s stare is drilling holes into the back of your head. 

“Hey,” you smile. 

“No thanks,” he says immediately. “Just save yourself the trouble. No one’s stupid enough to go after Yuta’s girl.” 

“Yuta’s girl? What does Yuta have to do with anything? Why does everyone keep saying that to me?!” 

“Bark up the right tree enough times and eventually you’ll find the devil.” 

“…I think the saying is ‘if you knock on enough doors, the devil will answer.’ How did you even come up with that?” 

“I’m just saying! Feels like the answer’s obvious to me, Yuta’s girl.” 

“Argh!” You march back to Maki, who’s giggling to herself. You just hope that at least she’ll be able to help you after that embarrassing little display. “So? What’s your advice?”

“Huh? Oh, I didn’t have advice. I just wanted to see it happen in real time.” 

Maki’s no help, either. 

The problem with being in love with Yuta is he doesn’t even allow you the grace of trying to get over him. No one will touch with you a ten foot pole until Getou. 

Getou is two years your senior, thinks of Yuta as this cute little puppy that follows Gojo around, and looks just right for your purposes. He’s not a carbon copy of Yuta. He just shares features with him. If anything, he could be his older brother. He has long black hair instead of short, but the same haunted eyes. 

It’s better that way, easier to not cut too deep. You know exactly how far you can go before the pleasure of pain tips too far into the wrong side. If he looks like him just enough, then you can slip in between lucid dreams. Yuta’s face comes to you in flashes rather than consistently when you’re together with Getou. 

He’s a smart man. He picks up on it almost instantly. 

Another reason Getou’s perfect for you? 

He simply doesn’t care. It’s not his problem what his darling little underclassmen get up to as long as it doesn’t interfere with his life. If you just want to have a good time, he’s down for that too. 

If you weren’t so hung up on Yuta, you think Getou might be fun. Fun could turn into love, perhaps. But those were only what ifs that were useless to you. It’s Yuta, it’s always been. He’s the only one for you. 

You can’t lose him. 

But you want him in ways he isn’t willing to give you. Incessantly, he haunts you at odd hours. You’re doing homework at one in the morning when your thoughts wander and you’re thinking of him. The way he’d coach you through this problem. The sure, strong strokes of his handwriting, as familiar as your mother’s voice. 

It’s hopeless. Every part of you has already been attuned to Yuta since childhood. You can’t extricate yourself. You can only hope to outlast the growth, and cling on as long as you are able. The only concessions you can allow yourself are small ones. 

Yuta’s a good student who sleeps early, but he’ll pick up for you. He always does. You’re his childhood best friend after all, and that leaves a sour taste in your mouth even as you begrudge yourself your own greediness. 

“Hello?” His voice is thick with sleep, husky and low in a way that you know doesn’t belong to you. You savor it anyways, these small intimacies you get to keep until he finds a girl of his own and doesn’t need you anymore. 

“Hello?” He says again. “Are you drunk? Do you need me to pick you up?” 

“Just bored,” you reply, playing with your pen. “Sorry, were you asleep?” 

“Don’t play with my feelings like that,” he laughs. “We both know you knew I was. Want me to stay up with you?” 

“Nah. I’m sorry for waking you up.” 

“You know I’d want you to, anytime. Are you working on the paper from English?” 

“Yeah. Go back to sleep,” you say, letting the smallest of smiles grace your lips. Alone in your room, you can allow yourself these small weaknesses. 

“Mm, but I wanna stay up with you,” he says, even as his voice grows softer and softer. You can almost picture him, hair sleep tousled and eyes half lidded. It’s a sight out of your dreams. 

“I’ll hang up when I’m done. Go to bed, Yu.” 

By the time you finish, you can hear his breathing evening out through the speakers. He’s a light sleeper, so you tip toe around as you finish getting ready for bed. When you have to hang up, you’re almost tempted to leave him on speakerphone so his soft breaths can lull you to sleep. 

You banish that unwelcome thought to the deepest, darkest, most remote time out corner of your brain and immediately text Getou to meet up the next day. You need to get a hold of yourself. 

“You know,” Getou drawls, “keep calling me out like this and I might get the wrong idea.” 

“If you fall for a girl that only talks to you about how much she likes her crush, that’s your own fault.” 

“Fair enough,” he laughs. “So what is it this time?” 

“I called him at night and his voice was so sleepy-“

“I meant,” Getou says, a finger running over the rim of his coffee cup as he looks at you. “What do you want me to do about it?” 

“Please make me forget him.” 

Getou smiles at you. “What a coincidence. I needed to blow off some steam today.” 

If you close your eyes, you can imagine someone else when Getou kisses you. One thing leads to another and he ends up taking you home. 

The thing about your relationship with Getou is it’s so ridiculously easy. There’s no strings attached for either of you, so when you wake up to his peaceful face in bed the next day, there’s no regrets. 

Well, except one. 

Getou’s a gentle lover in every way, but he’s a biter. There’s a trail of dark bruises blooming over your neck and collarbones. 

“Pretty, isn’t it?” He calls from the bed as you admire yourself in the mirror. 

“You’re an asshole,” you tell him. “I have to get breakfast with Yuta today.” 

He grins. “That’s the point.” 

You barely have time to messily apply concealer before you’re almost late to your appointment with Yuta. He’s waiting at the place he and you claimed as your own the very first day you arrived on campus. The nice granny who runs this diner has a soft spot for the two of you and often gives you free desserts. 

You slide into the seat across from him just as he’s wrapping up one of his readings for that day. He barely looks up when he feels you come closer, just lifts his arm wordlessly so he can tuck you into his side like a baby bird under its mother’s wings. He turns his head to the side even as his eyes are following the words on the page to press a light kiss to your temple, his breath stirring your hair as he rests his head against yours for a brief moment before returning to his textbook. He flips a page. 

Would he still allow you these gentle, nonchalant touches if he knew how you really felt? Your stomach drops at the intrusive fear that he might be disgusted by you afterwards, withdrawing the easy skinship he shares with you that he thinks nothing of, but you savor. You’re hyper aware of every brush of his hand against your shoulder as he lets his arm hand loosely around you. 

“I’m done,” he announces, stretching out so his lanky body is pressed flat to the table for a second before he straightens. He must be sore from hunching over his textbook all morning. In sympathy, you lightly rub at his shoulders. 

“Did you eat yet?” He asks. “Want me to order you something?” 

“No-“ You’re in the middle of replying when his face is suddenly far too close to you. 

“Hey there,” you laugh nervously. “What are you doing?” 

Yuta pulls back, but there’s a minute crease in his expression. 

“There’s something on your neck.” He says. 

“What?” 

His hand curls around the base of your neck. It doesn’t hurt. There’s a complete lack of pressure in his grip, fingers loose and curled. He’s just holding you. You inhale sharply, a recoil aborted. 

“Sorry,” he says, easy smile and gentle demeanor that doesn’t reach his eyes. They’re a little shadowed today, harried. He wears his emotions all over his face. You know he has a final today, that he likely didn’t sleep last night. It must be why he’s acting weird. 

His fingertips ghost over your neck, light tap-tap-tapping that makes you shiver. “What’s this?” 

You pull out your phone to check yourself in the camera. The concealer you put on this morning has sweated off, leaving streaks on your shirt. Underneath the smudges, the blurry outline of the marks Getou left on you last night are visible. 

Your face burns with mortification. 

“Yuta! You shouldn’t ask people stuff like that!” 

It’s not like he’s a child. You know he knows what a hickey is. He’s just pointing it out so you know he knows. 

He shrugs. “I mean, yeah, I’d be more careful about what I was saying if it was anyone else, but it’s you. What the hell happened? It looks like you had a tryst with a vampire.”

Gingerly, he touches your neck again, his fingers cold from holding his iced latte. You need him to stop doing that before you do something stupid. 

“Does it hurt?” He asks. 

“It felt good-“ 

“Stop! I didn’t need to know that,” he says, face turning red. 

Defensively, you retort, “Well, you asked!” 

“Forget it,” he sighs. “I’m sorry I spent all of breakfast studying. What are you doing later?” 

“Hanging out with Getou, probably. He said he wants to go to this new restaurant that just opened up.” 

“He’s the one that gave you all those love bites?” 

At your nod, Yuta rolls his eyes. He’s certainly in a mood today. Poor thing. He’s been working really hard lately. Not just today, but every day this past week, he’s been studying non stop. You should reward him. 

“Don’t go with him,” Yuta coaxes. “Hang out with your best friend instead. We can have another sleepover. Don’t you want to game all night?

The decision is made before Yuta even offers you a choice. You text Getou a quick apology, to which he replies with a lazy ‘lol. Loverboy?’

You’re happy Yuta asked you to come over. You’ve spent so much time fearing how he’d react if he knew that you’d forgotten how nice it felt to just hang out with him. 

You’re cuddling with Yuta on his couch as you watch a movie. He opted for a quiet night instead of gaming, so he broke out the snacks and remotes instead of controllers. You wish there was a way to push him away without explaining what’s going on. You and Yuta have always been touchy like this, comfortable with each other in a way that superseded even the closest of friends. 

It was never abnormal until now, when new love has redefined every aspect of your relationship with him. It makes it awkward to touch him, to be this close. But you always want to be this close. It’s hard, fighting a war with yourself. 

You snuggle into the hoodie he lent you, trying to hide your face. Your eyes dart to him, watching him instead of the movie. His hair has a faint blue sheen from the screen. He’s enraptured, staring open mouthed at the action sequence. 

Your heart beats double time, as it always does around him, prey instincts going into fight or flight. Yuta just does that to you, makes your body sing like it’s in the most exquisite agony possible. Like a runner’s high, you’re addicted to the pain of having him but not having him. Even the scraps of romance you can get are worth more than a lifetime of other lovers. 

You hope he can’t tell. Yuta has always had weirdly sensitive senses. 

Yuta’s line of sight shifts from the TV to you. You feel like a deer in headlights, trapped in the yawning black void of his gaze as he looks back, watching you as you have been watching him. 

‘Hey,’ he mouthes at you, the corners of his mouth lifting into a soft smile. 

‘Hey back,’ you mouth in return, wanting him, loving him, missing him. 

You rarely bring clothes when you’re staying the night at Yuta’s. Either he has some for you in a dresser he’s saved for your use, or you can just borrow his. You always end up changing into his clothes, anyways, so big and comfortable they swallow you up. 

He’s lying on his belly on the bed when you come out of the bathroom freshly showered and in his T-shirt. He looks up when he hears you. 

“Oh,” he says. He blinks once, hard. “Come here, please.” 

Self conscious, you cross the room to him. Your crush makes you miserable, coloring your every action. The fear that your desires are written across your face shadow every step you take. Are you that transparent? Can he tell? 

He reaches up to touch your face, reverent.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes, then he pulls you down onto the bed next to him. 

“Don’t tease,” you tell him. 

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, embracing you. Even this feels too much. His skin against yours feels like a thousand colts of electricity. Where his nose brushes against your nape is so sensitive you squirm in his grasp, kicking uselessly in his hold. 

“I only say things that are true,” he tells you solemnly. “You are pretty.” 

You don’t know how you’re supposed to sleep after that. 

In the morning, you’re finally back in your own set of clothes to head out and face the day. You and Yuta get ready together, running through your morning routines. You brush your teeth and eat breakfast side by side. 

Before he leaves for work, he spritzes himself with the cologne he leaves on the dresser. When you reach for the perfume you keep in his apartment, a twinning his and hers set you had gotten together one day during the holidays, he pins your hand down. With an appeasing glance over you, he spritzes his cologne on you instead. 

He leans in and sniffs experimentally. 

“You smell nice,” he says. 

You lift your wrist to your nose and inhale. 

“I smell like you,” you say, laughing. He smells like a crisp winter morning, a hint of pine and frost. 

“Well, yeah,” he says. “I wouldn’t have picked this scent if I didn’t like it.” 

It’s true. Nothing Yuta does is unintentional.

“What the hell,” Getou says as soon as he opens the door to you. “You reek.” 

Your face burns. 

Getou roars with laughter when you tell him why you smell the way you do. “What a brat,” he says. 

“Hey!” You feel the compulsion to defend Yuta against even the smallest of slights. It’s instinctual, even though you know Getou doesn’t really mean it. 

He shakes his head at you. “I really pity you, you know? You’re so whipped.”  

Hanging out with Getou doesn’t end in anything physical tonight. He injured himself playing volleyball with Gojo and he’s not interested in anything but good company. You don’t know if you’d be interested, either. It’s always easier to pretend you don’t want him after a little bit of distance. Trying anything right after seeing Yuta would only tear your heart apart. You and Getou pass the time in amicable silence, working on your separate assignments in the same room. 

Your phone buzzes three hours in. 

Yuta 4:15 You busy? 

You 4:24 With Getou Working on homework  Why?

Yuta 4:24  Come over  I miss you 

You 4:24  I saw you this morning 

Yuta 4:24  …

Yuta 4:25 …

Yuta 4:25  I always miss you when you’re not here 

Getou cackles. You jolt, startled. You had honestly forgotten where you were. 

“Is that loverboy?” He says, trying to grab the phone out of your hand so he can see the message. “You look so lovestruck.” 

You yank it back from him. “I gotta go.” 

“Abandoning me again?” He shakes his head in mock sadness. “I’m really just a toy to you, huh?”

That makes you hesitate, even though you do want to see Yuta. 

He ruffles your hair. “Ah, youth. So gullible. I’m fine, sweetheart. Go see your beau. And send him my regards,” he says with a devious smile as he walks you to the door. His eyes light up when he sees the forgotten garment he had discarded on his coat rack. 

You look at him quizzically. It’s not strange for him to be a gentlemen, but it is strange for him to offer you his letterman before you leave. He loves that jacket. He wears it so often that his name emblazoned across the back has been worn down into a soft cream instead of eggshell white. 

“What’s this for?”

“Just wear it. And tell me how Yuta reacts.” 

With that, he pushes you out of the door. 

Yuta wrinkles his nose at you in a display of badly disguised contempt. He was so excited to see you when you walked through the door, but as soon as he saw what you were wearing, his smile dropped off his face. 

“What’s with that guy?” He grumbles. “It’s so weird that he’s giving you his letterman. Isn’t that almost like a claim in the sports world?” 

For some reason, it pisses you off. On most days, Yuta could commit a crime and you’d help him cover it up, but this time you seriously can’t tell where he gets off acting like this. He’s not dating you. He’s not interested in you. He doesn’t even see you as a potential partner. 

You jab your finger into his chest, punctuating every word you speak by prodding him. “Why do you think you can judge Getou? You don’t even know him.” 

“I know that he’s going after a taken girl.” 

“We’re just friends, Yuta.” The admission stings. No matter what anyone else thinks of your relationship with Yuta, that’s all you will be. 

“Yeah, but no one else thinks so.”

“And who’s fault is that?”

“Is it so bad to be seen with me?”

“It is if I’m trying to get a boyfriend! You’re the reason no one wants to date me!” 

“Do you need to date someone?” he says. Every word out of his mouth only makes you’re more incensed. He’s being condescending without meaning to, but it doesn’t soften the blow. 

“I want to!” 

“And if I don’t want you to?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“I think I’m in love with you.” 

Your head is spinning. “That’s not funny.” 

“I don’t want you to be with Getou,” he says. “I want you to be with me. You’re right, it’s not fair, but I get this ugly feeling in my chest when you’re together and now I know why. I can be so much better for you than he is.”

“This isn’t about who’s better! You’re always-“ You’re on the brink of tears. “Ugh! You’re so frustrating, Yuta! I’m trying to get over you and you think you’re being noble by dating me because you want to keep me safe? Why would I ever want that?” 

“That’s not what I meant,” he says, so soft it makes you want to run into his arms and run away from him at the same time. Then he frowns. “Did you say you’re trying to get over me?” 

You glance at him, then the door. The calculations you run in your head say you can make it outside before he catches you. You turn so fast on your ankle the floor makes a despairing screech beneath the soles of your shoes as you beat a hasty exit.

The calculations in your head are wrong. He loops his arms around your waist and picks you up, throwing you effortlessly over his shoulder so he can carry you to the couch. You’re deposited with a soft grunt as he climbs over you and pins you down so you can’t even think of escaping. You thrash, regardless. 

“Let me go, Yuta!”

“I thought you called me Yu,” he teases. 

“You aren’t being cute!”

“Is it him?”

“Him?”

“I’ve been trying to get you to look at me that way this whole time,” Yuta says despairingly. “I didn’t want to scare you away, but I couldn’t hold myself back anymore. But before I even got a chance, this asshole steals you away?” 

“Yuta, what are you talking about?”

“Are you in love with Getou?” 

“Are you stupid?” You can feel hot tears well up in your eyes. It’s frustrating to be crying so easily because you’re embarrassed and angry. “I said I was trying to get over you! Just say what you have to say, don’t torture me like this.” 

“Did it work? Are you over me?”

“I’ll never be over you,” you sniffle. You just want him to leave you alone now so you can wallow in your own patheticness.

“I’m glad,” Yuta says, and then he cups your face in his hands so delicately, like he’s holding the most precious treasure in the world, and kisses you like he’s trying to steal the breath from you. 

Your knees crumble underneath you. He catches you easily and hoists you up, letting you settle with your legs wrapped around his waist. He holds you up with just one arm as he presses you harder against the wall, cushioning your head carefully. You’re pinned between his body and the wall. You moan against him, pleased and warm and disgustingly in love with him. All your senses are full of him as you cling to him.. 

Distantly, as if through water, you hear your phone buzz.

Getou 6:01 You owe me for that, by the way. 

[meo-eiru]

heyy!! here I am with some more thoughts, this time about Elias.

honestly, for some reason, he seems like a very lonely person to me. you mentioned his will to change himself (and go to extreme lengths in that); also his almost paranoid fear of darling leaving him, (delete all of your contacts except for him, etc) – usually such level of jealousy is a sign of very low self-esteem. dunno if it's true, I just had a feeling that he's super insecure deep down. (he's afraid to look bad in our eyes, remember? to an unhealthy extent.)

and he's so empty. so beautiful on the outside, but so so empty. he loves you, he exists for you, isn't that enough? it isn't. you can't feel genuine affection for someone just because they look good. and Elias knows that! he's actually self conscious (unlike some elf with big tatas), but he can't offer you anything else, which must make him feel even more insecure, because deep down he knows that he won't be able to keep you by his side forever.

actually that will of his to go to extreme lengths for us is pretty frightening. how toxic it can be? depends on the darling! because if you are a normal person, you'd be patient with him, change him, and have a happy ever after and all those boring things. but what if Elias happens to fall in love with an unreasonable and possessive monster?

I feel like he'd go very well with a darling who's yandere for him too. and a stereotypical one at that, who'd want to keep him by their side like a pretty doll. get it? not a life partner, not even a human. a doll, a pretty thing to take care of. they would choose pretty clothes for him, brush his hair, but at the end of the day, he's nothing more but a pretty thing, an object.

I really like the doll metaphor for Elias. (I'm a huge doll lover, I ever have one of that super expensive bjd) dolls are beautiful, but aren't alive. they can't be someone you'd open your heart to; under their shiny porcelain skin, they're hollow.

unlike Silas, Elias is a more tragic character in my eyes. he's willing to carve his bones to whatever shape you desire, because if he isn't validated and noticed by you, he has no value. and you (if you are a normal person) will grow tired and bored of him, sooner or later. he wants to be loved, when there's pretty much nothing to love in him.

unlike Silas, his love can ruin only himself.

(I swear it's not like I want to see him suffer in particular. I'm open to all kinds of despair, pain and sadness, whether it yan's or darling's!)

(also I tried to find his colour scheme, but all I found was you mention his hair, so it's just how I think he looks like.)

DHDKDHDKYS NOT ONLY IS YOUR ANALYZES AMAZING YOU ALSO DREW ELIAS??? AND HOW DID YOU GET HIS COLOR SCHEME SO RIGHT???

I love you thank you god I love asks like yours.

You’re very on point, Elias is like a pretty doll. Beautiful on the outside but completely empty inside, and that beauty is the only thing that gives him any kind of worth. He’s aware of this more than anyone.

He’s not rich, he doesn’t have an amazingly successful career, no hobbies, no specialities, no interests. He’s extremely pathetic and all he can do is pitifully attempt to pull you down to his level.

That’s why committing self harm comes so easily to him even if he doesn’t yearn for it. Endangering himself, his only value, his body, is the only way he can keep you with him. He doesn’t have any power over you he can use against you. He only has this disgustingly and pathetically beautiful body.

He wants to be loved by you, he wants you to be obsessed with him as much as he is with you, but deep down he knows he doesn’t have any qualities that could deserve such love. That is why he leans into his appearance so hard, since the moment he was born that face of his was the only thing that gave him any sort of value.

If you find any part of him ugly he’ll have no choice but to try to fix it even if it completely ruins him. Because he thinks that’s the only way for him to keep your eyes on him. He’s just through and through pathetic. Extremely pitiful.

He would indeed roll well with a yandere reader who treats him like a living doll. Because Elias wants to be values by you, even if it means getting stripped of the little sense of identity he had. He wants you to keep your eyes on him and see him as an object who exists for your satisfaction. Because at the end of the day that is what he is. An empty shell who was unfortunate enough to be born with the ability to love.

Elias’ existence can’t handle his own love. He’ll start breaking from inside out like a doll under pressure. That’s why he needs your reassurance, he needs you to reaffirm his worth. He can’t exist for himself so he needs to exist for you. He might be a beautiful shell of a human but he too can have some sort of value if he’s being used like a tool by you.

But watching you also makes him feel extremely jealous and frustrated. Because you have everything he doesn’t have. You have hobbies, things you enjoy, things you do for yourself, people who stay with you not for your outer shell but for who you are inside. Everything Elias never had and never will.

That’s why he tries so hard to ruin your relationships and threaten you to stay with him, to keep you at his level like a pathetic bug. Because you’re not like him. You can abandon him any day of the week and continue your life like you lost nothing, but Elias isn’t like that. If he loses you he truly will have nothing left.

So please love him, ruin him, break him, treat him right, use him, make him feel alive, give him some sort of value. Please be kind to Elias. He needs you more than anyone on this world

[del-thetiredwriter]

There's so much we can do with that Cheater Daemon x wife reader AU

Like Daemon witnessing his wife's burning hatred towards him. She didn't express it in front of him rather it's other actions that prove her hatred

He saw his wife in a storeroom, holding a knife to rip off and slash multiple cuts on a portrait with his face in it. She didn't care that her palm is bleeding from gripping the knife too hard, she's just focusing on saying how he's such a pathetic trash,how ugly he is despite his beautiful face and basically disfiguring the entire portrait. When he asked her about her bandaged hand afterwards,she just said it was an accident while she's walking and none of his business at all

He read her diary full of her regrets for marrying him as well as her hateful words towards his entire existence,even a list of men she should've had married instead of him,Criston Cole was on the list and even the fact he might be into his own niece. Hell she's even planning on how to push him towards Rhaenyra so that she can freely escape him. She even wrote that she rather died or killed by him than suffering by living with him

She even had a conversation with Criston Cole about how terrible her husband is and the knight just listened to it all,he knows how the Targaryens are,he did work for them after all Criston Cole maybe Daemon's potential love rival

Sometimes Reader even pretended Daemon didn't exist,just ignore him and how in her sleep,she sometimes say other men's names except Daemon,it was never his name that came out of her lips when she was sleeping

Part1 , part2

Well these are great ideas. And like you said we have so much material to use. And I did a little work from the things you said. It’s like a part 2.1?

——————————————————————————

Daemon sighed. Visersy would rarely see your brother this thoughtful and sad? Seeing, Visersy clapped him on the shoulder.

"What's the problem?"

"Nothing." replied Little Brother.

“Come on Daemon, you can't fool me. Come on, talk to me. What's your problem?”

The white-haired prince sighed.

"My wife. It's just that my wife has been a little weird lately?"

"Strange? your wife? Y/n? You are kidding."

Visersy handed Daemon a glass of wine.

"Yes. She’s been acting really weird lately. Recently I saw her in the storeroom with a knife in her hand, injuring herself..."

.

“The gods gave you outer beauty, but there is nothing left for your character!” You shouted and added another cut to the portrait.

"Damn you!" And one more cut...

While you were combing your hair in front of the mirror, you heard that damn voice. “My wife~” your beloved husband hugged you from behind. You tried to ignore him.

"What happened to your hand?" ' he asked in a worried but also angry voice. He held your bandaged hand.

"Nothing. I fell while walking, That's all." You pulled your hand back.

"Are you sure?"

"I am sure."

.

“…I won't even talk about what was written in her diary!” Daemon took a harsh sip from his goblet.

“But seriously, how can she compare me to those damn knights! Moreover, her conversation with that guy yesterday! I will kill that guy!”

Visersy nodded understandingly.

"What am I going to do with this woman? She acts as if I don't exist!"

Daemon groaned. Visersy patted his brother on the back.

"What can I say? You reap what you sow.”

[cassyapper]

can i like give you phsyical cold cash or something

I guess my duty is to continuously do art of wwm/ta now. Anyway wdym this isn’t what happened in the fic

Im sorry Cass for these monstrosities I couldn’t stop laughing making these my humour is broken

(Walk With Me / Try Again fic by @cassthecringe )

[gingerteafairy]

𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒆 (𝒌𝒂𝒊 𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓)

You’re preparing to tell Kai you want to leave the cult, assuming he’s unaware of your intentions. Little do you know. His uncanny perceptiveness is unsettling—far beyond what feels humanly or even legally possible

tags: angst, anxiety, health problems, might be triggering, manipulation, established relationship, validation. Words: 1.4k

Joining the Cult was something else.

You never wanted to be there. Never wanted to be part of it. Where people obeyed his orders like mindless puppets, terrified of punishment from either Kai or God himself. Only He knew what hell it was to exist in that place.

Anxiety gnawed at you constantly, your eyes darting around, desperate to leave the moment the door opened. The air was thick with unease. Taking anti-anxiety pills was like an anesthetic, dulling the growing pain of being trapped in this nightmare. You wanted out—yes, more than anything. So why couldn’t you leave?

Was it the praises? The applause? The validation for your talent? No, you had all that back in college or the pub where you sang jazzy songs to make money. Was it the convenience? Having everything you could ever want—luxurious food, jewelry, revenge for the wicked society? No, it was worse.

Kai Anderson.

Cult leader. Fear impersonated. Hot. Your man—or better yet, your fiancé. You hated how pathetic you felt, whining and obeying his every command, just wanting to be good for him, validated by him. You’d do anything—anything—to see that beautiful face smile at you, to hear the sweet words, Good girl. Yet your altered electrocardiogram screamed for relief, just like your blood tests and mixed-up hormones.

“Kai,” you called weakly from behind him, fingers trembling as they curled around his black sweatshirt.

He turned slowly, his blue hair catching the light like a red signal for your nerves to short-circuit. A damn 3D glasses on a slash-horror movie. “What d’you want, suga?”

You swallowed hard, legs turning to jelly. His pet names always weakened you. “I’m tired, Kai…” Your voice sounded pathetic, a mere whisper.

He smiled, cupping your face with a gentle touch of his thumb, his caress both a warning and a comfort. Kai never did anything without hidden intention—every touch was calculated. “I know, doll. You look like a crushed kitten. It’s so sad.”

Your throat tightened, a twisted mix of emotions bubbling up. “Crushed kitten? What does that even mean? Do I look that ugly?”

“No,” he said, his voice a smooth melody. “You never look ugly to me. You're perfect.” His praise was like honey, dripping from his lips. “You look ravishing, even with those dark bags under your eyes and stress wrinkles. So hardworking.”

His thumb froze against your skin, a cold silence settling between you. His eyes darkened, sharp and calculating, as he examined you with a look that made you feel like you were laid bare before him. He wasn’t oblivious—Kai was far from that. He saw everything, sensed everything. It was unsettling, how perceptive he was. More than anyone legally or humanly should be.

“Kai…” You couldn't hold it back anymore. “I’m tired. I can’t take it anymore.” Your words rushed out before you could stop them. You knew if you let him charm you again, you wouldn’t be able to escape. “It’s the cult. I don’t want to be part of it anymore. It’s exhausting. I’m having panic attacks, I can’t sleep…”

“You want out?” he asked softly, and you knew it wasn’t a simple question.

“I…yes,” you whispered, shivering. “I’ll die if i stay here. All I do is take pills and drown myself in TV shows so I can forget where I am. Where I… where you put me.” The words tumbled out in a rush, but the dread in your chest only deepened.

Kai looked at you, his gaze piercing, as if he were reading the very essence of your soul. His proximity was suffocating, his breath warm on your face as he leaned in, keeping that damn eye contact that always made you feel like you couldn’t breathe.

“And where exactly d’you plan to go?” His voice was velvet, threading through your mind like a shot of blue lagoon, extra vodka and lemons. “Jonestown? Heaven’s Gate? Gonna be a little missionary for the damn Mormons?”

“I… don’t know…” you muttered, surrendering to the intoxicating sensation of his kisses on your face. You were weak, helpless. “I just don’t want to be here… I don't… I want…”

“Just tell me what you want, doll,�� he whispered, pulling you closer, his strong arms wrapping around you like a bondage. Intense, carnal, caring. “I’ll do anything you want. You know I always take care of you, don't you?”

“I know you do, love.” You couldn’t stop yourself from melting into him, his eyes holding you captive, making you feel small and precious all at once.

“Then why do you want to leave?” His voice was quiet now, almost gentle, as he kissed the crook of your neck, breathing you in. Drunk in blue freezie in summer. “Why do you want to leave me?”

The question hit like a blow, but you couldn’t ignore the tug of his warmth. “I don’t want to leave you… I…”

“Then don’t.” His insistence was soft, yet his gaze hardened, and for a fleeting moment, something like sadness flashed in his chocolate eyes. It was subtle, hidden beneath layers of manipulation, but it was there. And it seemed to consume him as a poison, the defenseless of love.“Do you remember what you said when I proposed?”

Oh, you did remember. You could never forget. The way he made all your dreams come true on that day, how he made love that night. Leading you to that table with his pinky raised—no kneeling, no humiliating gestures. No. He was the one standing, while you sat, holding his pinky in a bond that would never be broken.

He was the one who started the vow, taking your hand on his heart. “Same bond, same faith. Flesh and bones till the grave. I'll give you my life, because you're the one that I crave”

You blushed, taking his hand to your heart as you completed the little spell. “Go where you’re going. Dream the same dreams. Eat what you eat. Do what you do. You’re the head, and I’ll be there for you.”

His grin was knowing, and he kissed both of your cheeks before returning his gaze to yours. “Yes. And now you’re going to break that contract we made? The one you promised me, wearing that pretty blue silk dress I gave you?”

“No…” you murmured, lowering your head, defeated. “I can’t…”

“Hey,” he said, gently lifting your chin with his thumb and forefinger. “Are you sad to be with me? Is it a sacrifice?”

“No,” you whispered, grabbing onto his shirt, pulling him closer. “It’s not a sacrifice. You’re the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to me. I'm grateful for having you, to be the one you chose for being yours.”

“I'm the one who is grateful… I don’t deserve you.” His smile was bittersweet, his hand smoothing your hair before pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You’re my angel.”

“And you’re my savior, Kai.” You nestled into him, a tear slipping down your cheek as he massaged your shoulders. “’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, honey.” His voice was low, soothing, as his hands worked along the length of your back. “You’re just tired. Sleep a little, okay? You need rest.”

You pulled away slightly, but only enough to meet his gaze. “But what about the—”

“I’ll take care of everything.” His words were firm, cutting off any further concern. “Don’t worry about anything in that pretty little head of yours. Just focus on being beautiful and happy for our last act. Do you still have that dress I gave you? The one from the proposal?”

You smiled, nodding. “Yeah, it’s in my drawer, right next to the Colt you gave me on my birthday.”

“Good girl,” he said, his grin widening as he ruffled your hair, giggling when you smiled like a puppy. The words you needed to hear. “I’m so proud of you.”

He squeezed your arms in a comforting manner, and in that moment, you felt like everything might be okay. “I love you, babe.”

“I love you too,” you whispered, closing your eyes.

Crazy things we do for love. Even the things that consume us. But in the end, he would take care of you—even if it meant holding onto you as you decomposed, because you were his princess, his wonderwall, the one thing he would be proud to fight for. His one and only perfect muse.

taglist: @ikkyfics

dividers @junabuggy

[goodolddumbbanana]

Moon (*Sad because he couldn't protect Sun from Nexus's kidnapped attempt and every craps He has put Sun through.)*): Sun, am I the worst person in the world?

Sun (*concerned brother mode activated*): What? No. Listen, Moon. You are the most awesome and helpful animatronic in the world. You are my genius brother. I love you so much and I always care about you.

*Meanwhile*

Nexus sitting on Ruin's back after breaking their legs, he seems pensively about something: Sun, am I the worst person in the worl--

Dark Sun is not missing a beat, he from the next room was combing his dragon: Oh, yes. Very much. And you are also stupid.

Ruin (*still in pain because of Nexus just highjack his mind again using negative star power. His voice is shaking, but no death can stop him from saying the truth.*): And pathetic. Ugly pathetic ball man.

[harrietswriting]

Hello :) I saw that on your sh post you said it was something you struggle with and it’s something I struggle with too. If you’re comfortable would you make a sort of part 2 to it where reader is really upset ab her scars or something and gets insecure. I’m sorry if any of this was triggering and feel free to ignore. Sending love <3

An: Thank you for the request! I'm going to try to be vague about where the scars are what they look like because different people have different scars.

Tw: mentions of sh, scars

Dallas Winston x reader

He comorts you when you're feeling insecure about your sh scars

I run my finger over a scar on my body. A scar I left there. I cover it up with my hand and try to pretend it's not there as I look into the mirror. It's embarrassing. They're ugly.

"What are you doing?" A familiar, deep voice asks.

I quickly turn around to see Dallas standing in my doorway. How'd I not hear him open the door? His arms are crossed over his chest. He looks me up and down with his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

I blush from embarrassment. I probably looked so pathetic right now. "I-" I start, but I don't really know what to say.

"I don't like how you were looking at yourself," He says as he walks over to me. "All sad lookin." He looks at my hand that's placed over my scars, then meets my eyes again.

I feel my cheeks heat up even more as I hesitate to explain. I just take my hand off while avoiding eye contact. I know he can see I was covering my scars, and I know he could see the sadness in my eyes.

He sighs. "Oh y/n..." he mumbles before gently grabbing my chin and turning my head so I'll look at him again. I feel sad and pitiful and embarrassed. I want to disappear and I want my stupid scars to have never existed.

"Why're you covering those up, love?" He moves a hand to my waist and the other to rub my arm.

I don't want to answer, but the sad look in Dallas's eyes makes me feel so guilty. I look away again. "Cause they're stupid. And they're ugly," I mumble.

"Look at me." He says sternly. His hand on my arm moves to hold my waist as well. I comply and look at him.

"You're beautiful. All of you is beautiful, including your scars. They just make you look more badass, ya know?" He's really trying.

Make me more badass? "No, I don't know," I say.

"Well... they um, tell a story or whatever."

"Yeah, a story of a stupid, sad idiot."

He sighs and pulls me closer. "No, of a brave, strong person who, despite all their struggle, is still here."

"Oh." I say because I don't know what else to. Does he really see it that way?

He brings his hand up to the side of my face then kisses my cheek. He keeps his face close to mine and whispers. "I love every part of you, including your scars. Self inflicted or not."

I smile a little. Leans his head back in and kisses me. I close my eyes and kiss him back as I move my arms around his neck. The kiss is short and sweet, it does make me feel a bit better.

He looks me in the eye. "Compliment your scars," he tells me.

I hesitate. Compliment them? What the hell am I supposed to say?

I hesitate then look at a scar. "Thanks for forming and not leaving an open wound."

"...sure, that works." He moves his hand from my cheek, into my hair. He kisses my forehead. Then he takes my arms that are around his neck and moves them off, them he kisses my scars over and over. I giggle and my cheeks flush.

"Stop it, Dal. I get it."

"Get what?"

I roll my eyes but my smile remains on my face. "That my scars are beautiful."

He smiles and stops kissing me finally and meets my eye again. "Damn right." His hands find their way back to my waist and my arms around his neck.

"I love you," I say.

"I love you more."

I laugh. "I'm not having that debate right now."

"Yeah, cause you know I'd win." He smirks his stupid, crooked smirk that I love too much and starts to play with my hair.

I roll my eyes. "Yeah right."

"Wanna cuddle?" He asks. He looks a little embarrassed to be asking. God, he's adorable.

"Yes, please."

He kisses my forehead, then we let eachother go so we can lay down on my bed and he can hold me again.

an: sorry if this is kinda short. Hopefully yall like it! Thank you for the love on the last post and than you again for the request 💕

Credit for divider: @riottsrph

[weeping-statue]

Hello! I was the one that requested Andrew x reader that’s like a grandpa!

I really really liked it, and I was wondering if I could request some more headcanons for Andrew, Norton, Naib, and Antonio with a GN! Reader who’s not very conventionally attractive?

Not ugly or anything, but they definitely don’t fit the standard for beauty and they are just super surprised anyone would seek them out.

Sorry if it’s too many characters! If you need to reduce it, I’m fine with just Andrew and Antonio if that’s okay!

Thank you sm and have an amazing weekend!

OMG HELLO AGAIN!! You have no idea how happy I am to see you in my inbox again<3 I’m glad you liked it and I hope you like this one just as much!

This got really angsty so it’s definitely more of a comfort fic than anything..

This is kinda long, and I was gonna do Norton but I decided last minute not to so.. umm.. yeah. Also fun fact me and Norton share the same zodiac sign..

Uh not proof read..

Andrew, Naib, and Antonio with a not conventionally attractive GN!reader!

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Andrew

He didn’t think you’d appreciate his looks either.

So you’re moderate looking together!

He honestly wholeheartedly believes that he doesn’t deserve you, hot or not, he worships the ground you walk on because you decided to hand your heart over to him.

He can obviously tell your insecure sometimes about your looks

Cause he gets that way too..

But, he tells you he loves you and that your beautiful in his eyes, and that’s all that matters <3

So when he catches you looking in the mirror, disgusted to no end, he puts his nervousness aside and takes action.

“Ew.”

That’s all you could think. You’ve been pulling and prodding at your face for what felt like hours. No matter how much makeup you throw on you can’t escape being so.. moderate. It’s all you ever are. Why can’t you be something more? Why does everyone else look so good and you’re just the sad little camera man? Never destined to be on stage, in the light with the others, like you deserve.

The one thing you’re good at, is your pathetic job. And even then, you’re sure others would succeed at it more if they tried.

Eyes glance down at the used makeup wipe in your hand. Further tracking to the open lipsticks, and eyeshadow palettes. And a deep sigh escapes you, why do you even try? It’s not like it matters.

Then you start to wonder if maybe, just maybe, you were a last resort. Your not pretty, your not stunning-

Cough

Andrew stands behind you, coughing to get your attention, while watching you, his eyes filed with pity.

You really didn’t hear him come in, and it startled you. How long has he been standing there? Did he hear you? Most likely..

You start to explain, “Andrew, it’s not what it looks like, I’m just-”

But he cuts you off, “No, I.. I know what you’re thinking. What you’re doing. I know that look all too well. I just didn’t think I’d have to see you wear it.”

“What-?” You began again, but he shakes his head, walking up to you, hesitantly reaching out to you with his shaky nimble fingers. Pulling you into a hug, that felt almost.. forced. But it was comforting either way. He takes a deep breath steeling himself for what he’s about to say, and then blurts out,

“Being, what I am, has always been unsavory in my eyes. I’ve grown too comfortable with the common look of disgust that sometimes I show it to myself. But that changed when I met you, you helped show me a new way to look at myself. I just never assumed you’d feel the same way I did. Even though others may not think you’re gorgeous, at least I do. You’re like an angel. My angel.”

…

Wow.. he really just said all of that? For you? And meant it? He really does love you..

———————————————————————-

Naib

He’s a man of very few words.

So instead he shows it in actions!

He’s not much to look at either in his opinion, he’s more of a scarred, battle harden, shell shocked, soldier, that definitely has survivors guilt.

Instead of Andrew’s reason of not deserving you, he believes that he’s just a used up broken man that should be dead with the rest of his platoon. But this wonderful person in his life is a sign that maybe he should stick around.

You’ve given him meaning to live, so for that, he’s forever grateful. And that means, he loves you more than anything. Looks don’t matter as much to him as you’d think, so when he sees you going quiet and distancing he knows how to fix this.

He hadn’t seen you all day, except for breakfast, when you grabbed a piece of toast, kissed his head and said a quick “I love you.”

He knows you more than you think, so he understood why you were upset.

Which is why he begs one of the survivors who can actually cook well, to make your favorite dish. Basically making a care package for you and giving you a letter that decently tells you that you’re perfect the way you are and that he loves you.

With the care gift done he shyly makes his way to your room, avoiding other people knowing that he’s gone soft.

He gently knocks on your door, waiting for you to open. And when he’s greeted with your tired form he awkwardly hands it to you.

Mumbling, “I know you weren’t feeling well today. And since I’m no good with words I thought this would make up for my lack of them. If you’d like me to stay, and listen, or just be here with you, then just let me know.”

A small smile grows on your face and that causes him to let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He was so worried that you’d slam the door in his face or worse, hate it.

You open the door further to let him in, “do you think I could get some cuddles?”

This is what the note would say,

“Dear, ____

This took me hundreds of try’s but I think this is the one. I know what it’s like to be insecure, and even though that’s hard to admit, I’ll admit it for you. I love you, so much, and even though looks don’t matter to me, I find you to be absolutely lovely. Anyone who says differently is blind and doesn’t know what they’re missing out on. I’m so lucky to have you.

Sincerely,

Naib.”

———————————————————————-

Antonio

…

Look at him..

REALLY LOOK AT HIM..

HES GOT A DEVIL IN HIM AND AGSHSHDB

Yeah he’s a cutie, but umm.. come on now..

He knows that he Lowkey got fucked up and maybe the face card don’t hit like it used to but hey, at least you appreciate him anyways..

Antonio definitely will just smother you in kisses and will not let go until you agree you’re beautiful, and you have to mean it.

Antonio has you wrapped in his hair and confined to bed, lanky arms wrapped around you as he kisses your face.

You groan, “Hey! It’s been three hours! Let me go! I have things to do!”

Antonio continues his pecks, saying in between, “Nope, not until you say it.”

After a few more minutes of brooding silence, you cave, “Fine! I’m beautiful. Are you happy?”

He pauses, and frowns, “Do you mean it?”

…

Did you?

If he thinks you are, then you have to be? Right?

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

Another kiss is placed but this time more gently and lovingly on your lips. The hair gently untangles from your body and his arms loosen.

———————————————————————-

Idk if you can tell that this is rushed, just a bit. But I’m not sure I like this one.. I hope you enjoyed it anyways!

[pinyeti]

EPISODE 6: RETURN OF THE JEDI

Is it just me or have they just not explained the Death Star properly?

I cant take Darthy seriously anymore, he’s just a bag of organs 

Whats quirrel doing here

OMG ELEPHANT SNAKE IS BACK

Isnt this that old caterpillar from Alice n wonfderlad

WOW LUKE REALLY SUITED UP FOR HIS MESSAGE- DID HE JUST SELL???? GOLDENFACE AN R2-oh right Hans in the carbon - way to go to the dark side Luke, triangular droid trade YOU ARE YOUR FATHERS SON LUKE 

So much of Star Wars is just running into the problem with a glowstick and hoping it dies

Wow hansolo has been imprisoned, thrown into garbage, tortured, thrown into carbon, imprisoned AGAIN all cuz he has can’t shut my mouth disease

What even is their relationship with Luke btw, are they his adopted fWOAH WOAH WOAH WHEN DID LUKE TURN INTO A MAN??? Last I saw he was a child who couldn’t get a plane out of a lake AND THEY LEFT THE LAST MOVIE WITH ALL OF THTEM BEING TOGETHER wow the text in the beginning is more important than I thought 

No seriously why is Luke dressed like a pastor whats going on

WOAH GOLD BIKINI LIEA - OKAY STORY TIME I USED TO WATCH PRINCESS RAP BATTLES AS A CHILD AND THE ONE I SAW WITH LEIA IN IT SHE SAID “I wore a gold bikini and the whole world lost its shit” ANF NOW I KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS

Ok yoda we get it you’re 900 no ones talking about your wrinkles anyway with pastor Luke in the room, projecting much?

Is yoda suidicdal???

WDYM LUKE IS REaDY???? HE DIDNT DO ANYTHING TO BE READY EXCEPT FLY FACEFIRST INTO A MILITARY BASE HIS TRAINING ARC IS SO SHIT

 Whos the other Skywalker?? lukes not even a Skywalker isnt his name Luke vader where’s skywalkers real son OH darthy’s deadname is skywalker

BABY WONKENOBIII IS BACKCKCKC-OMGWHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK WDYM LEIAS LUKES SISTER WDYM HE SUSPECTED THIS AFTER MAKING OUT WITH HER FIFTY BILLION TIMES??? WHAT THE HELL

??? HELLO>>??? WHAT TH EHELL??? WHAT IN THE GAME OF THRONES IS GOING ON??????? How is Leia a princess then?? HahahahaHAHAHA SO YODA KNEW …… ABOUT THEIR LITTLE TRIANGLE

Nice the gang is back together, waiting for chewbakka to be revealed as darthy’s next offspring

YES YES GOLDENFACE GETTING THE RESPECT HE DESEREVEVVES I LOVE GOLDENFACEEE

I cant believe these are the idiots the emperors trying to kill

"yes I could sense you were my brother when my tongue was down your throat"

Oh yes Luke hands himself over- haha darthy sensitive over dead name 

Luke youre so stupid- but since jedis cant die is he gonna go to wherever yoda and obi wan is 

Lando is growing on me, also squid guy

This movie is gonna end with emperor and Luke dead isnt it

Is the emperor a jedi too how else does he have power or something something Sith

Id make a horrible jedi- im made of hatred

Hansolo my pathetic little idiot

I JUST REALIZED WHO LUKE EP6 REMINDS ME OF - TROY BOLTON

IS HE BEGGING DARTHY TO KILL HIM WTF

You’re telling me this big of an empire cant take down 6 idiots lead by a happy go lucky guy, never heard of this before

OHMYGOSSDDHD. LYKE YOU IDIOT NOW HE KNOWS ABOUT LEIA

Hahahah a hand for a HAND- wait what…. Why does he have a robo hand too whats going on 

Luke stop acting like you didnt hear about jedis 5 secs ago

Aw does darthy have a heart among his organs

OHMYGOD DARTHY IS A GOOD GUY????? ????? What A VILLAIN TTURNS GOOD ITS BEEN AGES SINCE I SAW A VILLAIN COME OVER TO THE GOOD SIDE

OMG DARHTY FACE REVEAL

Oh damn hes not as ugly as I thought he’d be

Kinda cute even - bro how did he even get this weak why’s he dying rn 

He has such kind eyes

Yeah ok I am so lost I NEED DARTH VADER BACKSTORY RIGH FUCKIN NOW

Is the empire this easy to penetrate? No but they did it with the power of lOVE and FRIENDSHIP 

Love lando 

YES HAN THATS THE REACTION I HAD AN HOUR AGO ACTUALLY WTF

Yes Luke its so sad your daddy that blew up an entire planet in ONE second without a single thought died IM NOT FORGIVING HIM THIS EASY

No way thats it??? They took down the empire just like that???? What??

Damn no one in this world can dance

OHMYGOD ANAKIN???? HOW CAN HE SEE THEM NOW??? IS IT CUZ HES BETTER AT WEILDING THE FORCE

ok fine anakin is cute

(3/9)

[abiiors]

sold to the 1975 😔✊🏼

a/n: i spent way too much fucking time on this and literally no one deserves to be subjected to this yet here we are. GOODBYE. (this is my legacy...)

when i open my eyes in the morning, the world feels different. the birds don’t chirp like they usually do, the sky is grey and leaves on the tree outside seem wilted and dead. still i drag myself out of my bed and trudge to the bathroom. 

the bags under my eyes are pronounced—a result of cleaning up after my mother when she returns home from her late night clubbing sessions. my lifeless blue orbs (🔵👄🔵) stare back at me. there’s no spark in them anymore… i used to be the curious girl who found beauty in everything. now… i can barely look at myself in the mirror. 

a heavy thudding on the door interrupts my depressive spiral. 

“autumn raine! open this door right now,” my mother slurs, mixing up her words and the syllables of my name and—

“have you died in there?”

the banshee shriek gets me moving. i toss my hair in a messy bun and throw on an old band t-shirt—radiohead, my own little inside joke since no one else seemed to know the band. other girls my age fawned over taylor swift and boys who barely looked old enough to be in high school. i felt like an old soul. 

“autumn!” another sharp rap on the door. “we have guests.”

guests? at 8 am? that piques my curiosity. 

“coming!” i reply and shimmy into my skinny jeans. 

i open my door and come face to face with my mother’s fuming nostrils. if my situation weren’t so pathetic and sad i’d almost find it funny. 

she takes my arm in a vice-like grip and smiles an ugly smile. 

“what have i done to be cursed with a child like you, huh? you couldn’t dress up even for today.”

“why, what’s—”

“hush now!” she chides, “go put on some lipstick and meet me downstairs in two minutes.”

she pushes my back into my room and shuts the door before i can tell her that i don’t own any make up. the most i can find is some tinted lip balm and old, crusty mascara. the only jewellery i can find is the heart shaped necklace from my dead father, so i quickly put it on. between that and my tattered old converse, i feel like the prettiest girl in the world. 

i roll my eyes at my sarcasm and make my way downstairs. 

the stairs creek in a familiar way and i don’t even notice that something feels way out of the ordinary until it’s too late. 

i don’t even notice the four men sitting on our torn old sofa until i’m right in front of them. 

my mother looks at me with a saccarine smile. “be a darling and make some tea for our guests, autumn.”

“no, that won’t be necessary,” one of them cuts in and for the first time i look at them properly. 

the one who’d just spoken is smaller in comparison to the other three. his arms are littered with tattoos, his hair curly and going in every possible direction. his eyes look hard and cold and brown. 

the other three nod in unison. 

“we need to finish the transaction and get going,” he speaks again and mother pales slightly. 

the…transaction?

“of course,” she smiles a fake smile and wrings her hands together. 

“i’m sorry, what’s—”

“autumn!” i shut up the instant she glares at me. i know that look. don’t speak until you’re spoken to. 

“you haven’t told her?” the other one speaks up. his voice is much deeper than his friend’s. his whole vibe is more intense than the rest of them. he’s all sharp cheekbones and bleached, buzzed hair and chipped nail polish. not a man of many words but something tells me people listen when he speaks. 

“i… of course i h-have,” my mother stutters and throws me a look. “she knows, don’t you, sweetheart? tell me.”

tell them what?! 

my heart hammers in my chest and i try to swallow the dryness away. “y-yes. i know”

all at once four pairs of striking orbs are on me and i blush from the intensity of their gazes. (🟤👄🟤 🟤👄🟤 🟤👄🟤 🔵👄🔵) all the attention in the room is on me and with horror i realise they expect me to speak further. 

“she t-told me,” i stutter out and smile at my mother who looks like she’s swallowed a lemon. 

“and did she tell you who we are?”

i think about nodding again but there’s no way i can fib this. the truth it i’ve never seen these men before in my entire life. all i know is that if i went along with my mother’s lie, things might be good for me. even if it’s temporary. 

hesitantly, i shake my head. 

“we are the 1975,” the curly-haired man speaks and i cock my head to the side. what an odd little name… “and you’ve been sold to us.”

—

“sold?!” i screech as soon as they’re out of earshot. 

“ungrateful bitch,” she hisses back, “keep your voice down! i’ve taken care of you for twenty years and this is how you repay me?” 

“taken care—TAKEN CARE OF ME?” i bellow, unable to keep it down anymore. “all you did was drown yourself in a bottle of wine every night and left your child alone to take care of everything on her own. and now you’re asking me to repay you?!”

“don’t act like you’re a special little gem. the girl down the street was sold to five people last year and she went without any complains.”

my blood boils at the mention of her. lila rose… the girl down the street. no one had heard from her in a year and no one cared enough to find out anything. 

“don’t bring her into this,” i retort. the air around me feels charged and my entire body feels alive. never in my life have i talked to my mother like this before and now that i do, i feel… alive. 

i laugh at the irony. the most free i have ever felt in my life is after being sold to four men i do not know. 

my mother’s hand raises above her head and i know what’s coming—won’t be the first time she’s slapped me. the air around me shifts with the force of it and i flinch away, tightly closing my eyes. i brace myself for a slap… that never comes. 

slowly, bewildered, i open i eyes and come face to face with a… back? 

“you will not touch our property,” the man speaks and this is the first time i hear his voice. 

he’s impossibly tall, perhaps the tallest among them all. half his face is covered in a beard and his hair is tied up in a neat bun. and even when i’m offended at being called their “property”, i can’t help but feel a flutter in my stomach. 

he saved me from getting hurt. 

“o-of course,” my mother stutters. “i was just—”

“you were just…?”

he scoffs when she cannot answer and turns to look at me. 

for the first time i’m truly aware of just how big he is, just how he towers over me. the difference in our size leaves me speechless, and i tuck my hair behind my ears and flutter my lashes up at him. 

he smiles. “you have thirty minutes. go pack.”

—

back in my room a sense of sadness hits me for the first time. 

there’s nothing in this house that i’m going to particular miss, apart from my stack of secondhand paperbacks that is…

i thumb through the pages one last time and say goodbye knowing my mother won’t hesitate to use them as kindling the moment i’m gone. not like she’s ever read a book in her life… all she knows how to do is drink, party, cake her face with make up and obsess over men. 

i stuff my clothes into a tattered old duffel bag. there’s no make up i need to pack, just my favourite books and vinyl, if they even let me use them wherever they’re taking me. 

almost on dot, once my thirty minutes are up, the curly haired man from before enters my room. his lip curls in barely concealed disgust as he looks around my room—at the peeling wallpaper and the jane austen bedsheets on my bed, at the random niche band posters that i don’t expect him to know about (oasis, blur, arctic monkeys etc) but he’s gentle when he takes a hold of my hand. 

“let’s go, autumn raine.” he says and i refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry. instead, i square my shoulders and blink my tears away. 

and then i close the door to my bedroom for the last time. 

autumn raine ↑ if you even care

[atarathegreat]

ZombieLand3 Tokyo Revengers

Haven't done one of these in a while :'(

ft: Rindo Haitani, Shinichiro Sano, Kakucho Hitto, Seishu Inui,

He has survived this long after losing you, not that he was proud. He'd told you in his vows that his heart would stop if he ever lost you. So why was he still breathing? Why was he still fighting? He sighed as he got ready to take his shift on guard for the small town you had both joined.

The dark sky was pretty, if only it hadn't been accompanied by the groans of the dead below. Rindo was tired of hearing the ugly sound every time he was out on watch, knowing that those hideous creatures had taken you from him. There was no other reason for you not returning from a scavenger hunt, you were too good at what you did. Rindo knew the only way you were going down was if you were cornered by too many of these fucking walkers.

"Shut up, one of us smells like ass and it isn't me." Rindo threw a rock at one of the heads below.

"I don't know man, you kind of stink." His partner laughed from the seat beside him. Two people on watch at all times, that was the rule. Maybe if two people had been with you...maybe you would have returned to him, and he wouldn't have to sit alone in that too small apartment. Rindo tossed a rock at the man and told him to shut up.

Everyone knew he was upset about his wife, despite him never having brought it up. Rindo kept his personal feelings to himself.

He sighed and threw another rock down, "These fucking things are pathetic. Moaning and groaning while they stalk around doing nothing all day."

A bang resounded from the tin just below the watcher's ledge, it was loud and drew some attention from the walkers for a split second. Rindo and the other man were on their feet instantly, looking down.

"The fuck...?" His partner squinted, "Am I seeing this right?"

Rindo slapped the guy in the back of the head, "Lower the ladder!"

Rusty hinges cracked to life as the guy rotated the metal wheel. "Go get whoever is supervising right now! Hurry!" Rindo shoved the dude away as people started climbing the ladder. If he thought Rindo stunk, he should've smelled these guys. Whoa. "What the hell are you all covered in?" Rindo had to hold his breath to keep from throwing up.

"Geez, Rinny, you sure know how to make a girl feel missed."

Surviving was easy enough for Shinichiro, who was quite the pro on blunt force trauma from slamming his head into any and everything in the garage. Slamming a heavy wrench into a human's skull wasn't the most satisfying thing he had done in his life, but it was necessary if he wanted to live. And he did.

So, he stood at the door to the little house the group was holed up in, just watching. The chain-link fence did a good job of keeping the yard walker free, but watch was just to make sure the damn things didn't climb over. Shinichiro glanced back into the torn-up house, Emma and Mikey asleep on the dirty couch with his grandpa trying to keep the squat fire contained.

"She's not gonna magically appear next to me, boy." Grandpa sighed, "Stop staring at me."

"Not looking for her." Shinichiro lied, "Making sure you don't kick the bucket over the fire."

Grandpa chuckled as Shinichiro looked away, "I'm old, but not that old, Shin."

Shinichiro rolled his eyes, not seeing the figure that was creeping over the fence, "You're old enough."

He could've shreiked as a cold hand covered his mouth, "How many times do I have to tell you to be nice to your grandpa?"

"This is so fucking lame. Why can't we be out there actually killing these things?"

Kakucho was really getting tired of this brat. Another sad child that was just angry at how the world had become. Not that Kakucho was happy with the way things had gone, but at least he wasn't this angsty teenager anymore. "Just get dressed. We have a job to do." Kakucho groaned as he tugged on the leather jacket.

"Well, hey, wait!" The kid ran to keep up with him, "Didn't you have a wife? My mom says-"

"I don't give a damn what your mom says." Kakucho grabbed the brat by his shirt, "Your dad got himself killed trying to save her when she was perfectly safe anyway. If my wife comes back and I'm dead because I acted stupid, she'll bring me back to life and kick my ass."

The kid stayed silent the rest of the walk to the assignment room. But Kakucho couldn't get the thought out of his head. Should he have gone out to find her?

No, she was smart and capable. She would be back one day and Kakucho would be able to whisper his vows to her as she fell asleep all over again. He felt bad for being so rude to the kid and wrapped an arm over his shoulders, "Your dad was a great guy, he just let his emotions control him and we have to be more careful than that."

"Yes, sir."

"Aw. My sweet Kaku always knows how to make people feel better."

Inui followed the rule you set for the both of you: Always travel. Always travel, always pack lightly, never keep a big group. And for the most part, he'd been able to do just that.

Until he lost you. Now he just traveled, if he came across a group and they traveled together for a while then so be it. But he didn't go out of his way to find a group.

He thought about it as he sat watch, gun in hand as he rested on the doorstep of the shop. Somehow, he had gotten turned around and ended up right back in your hometown. Part of him thought it wasn't an accident. Inui constantly, subconsciously, returned to you. Inui sighed and pulled out his wallet. He'd found that keeping coins and paper money did help in some situations when he needed to obtain things from machines.

Yet he wasn't reaching for his money. Inui only really cared about the polaroid in his wallet. The one of you and him on your wedding day, you looking absolutely stunning in your wedding dress and him making sure that you got your spotlight. It was your day, your perfect wedding, your photo. "I didn't even want that whole event..." He sighed, regretting that he hadn't wanted to make a spectacle at the time, but glad that he loved her enough to let her shine.

"And yet you stood at that altar looking wonderful. All for me."

I like leaving these open ended so that the reader can create their own. I love stories like that.