#and they just kind of resigned to the fact that every call would turn into a QnA and like. that always made me so disappointed and sad

[ravenwolfie97]

i just got very heated all of a sudden

so an announcement just came out about a youtuber retiring from their content, and won't be making videos nearly as frequently and some fan on twitter was like "SAY SIKE RIGHT NOW THAT CONTENT IS MY COMFORT SHOW WHAT WILL I DO WITHOUT IT" and i'm just like. god. how entitled are you

like i'm not going to devalue one's interest or commitment to a piece of media. if that particular thing brings you comfort or even saved you from a dark place, that's fantastic. no issues there

what really pisses me off is seeing someone retire from a content-creating career spanning over a decade long to prioritize their health and their family and going "but what about me? why are you not producing the thing i love anymore?" like what the FUCK that's a fucking human being you're talking about, not a machine

i really hate the kinds of people who have this insane attachment to creatives and their work where the content is the only thing that matters to them and if they don't get more they'll die, but like why don't you care about the creator as a person? why do you only view them as a factory to make a thing you just so happen to like? obviously they made those things in order for them to be enjoyed by others, but the whining of a handful of fanatics is not going to stop them from slowing down or ceasing creation entirely, because as meaningful as it is that they have fans that enjoy their work, it's still the creator's choice whether or not to continue their creations. they are only human. we can only do so much. and out of a sea of subscribers, You in particular are not going to change their mind

[yandere-romanticaa]

I've always liked to imagine this beautiful foxian as the clingy type, as the kind of person who if he could have it his way, you would be glued by his hip 24/7. Day after day, he's always more thankful for the fact that his senses are so much better than that of an average human. He adores your scent and whenever he steps into the threshold of your shared home, Jiaoqiu always power walks towards you, immediately crashing into you and placing his nose deeply into your neck, inhaling the scent with absolute reverence.

As sweet and darling as he could be, you found him impossible to be around. For ages now, you've conducted and plotted the best way to break up with him, to ensure that the most minimal amount of damage is done to both parties.

And then, the absolute worst case scenario happens.

You heard the horror stories about Hoolay, how he escaped, of his sick plan and... And for what he did to Jiaoqiu.

You bite your lip so hard that it draws blood. Tears blur your vision as you inch closer and closer towards the hospital. Each step you take feels as though the grim reaper himself is coming to welcome you into his solemn embrace. You knew that whenever you were about to encounter was going to change your life forever.

You had no idea just how right you truly were.

Stepping into the pure white room felt like a dream. General Feixiao and Moze were there, their faces grim and laced with worry. Feixiao stood over the bed, her back turned to you as Moze hovered in the farthest corner of the room, his gaze locked on you once he sensed you coming. Upon hearing you, Feixiao turned to face you, her face quickly morphing from concern to relief.

"Thank the stars." She says softly.

"Even in this current state, all he would do is chant your name."

And there he was.

Jiaoqiu, your Jiaoqiu, on the bed, broken, bloodied, bruised.... His eyes were covered with bandages while the rest of his body positively reeked of medicinal herbs and incense. His ears perked up as they listened carefully to your footsteps, lightly twitching from left to right. Carefully, he sniffed the air like a frightened animal.

Recognition came over him as he called out to you, his voice hopeful and in pain.

Jiaoqiu choked back on a sob as he sniffled loudly, his arms shooting upright into your direction, which startled both Feixiao and Moze. Before either could react you ran towards him and embraced him, carefully placing the top of his head onto your chest. His arms scrambled all over your body, eager to touch every nook and cranny they could get themselves on as he pressed his nose deeply into you, inhaling both your scent and the air around him.

He sobbed like never before, thanking every aeon in existence for bringing you to him. His grip was impossibly tight to the point where you knew there would be bruises left, but you didn't have the heart to tell him to stop.

Pressing a gentle kiss onto his forehead, you laid Jiaoqiu back onto the bed as he held onto you like a vice.

"Please, please my love, don't leave me!" Jiaoqiu pleaded, his voice hoarse from the crying.

With a sigh you let him hold onto you, like a mother cradling its child. A deep feeling of loss and resignation bubbled in your heart as fear seeped into your heart.

How on Earth were you going to go through with your plan now? There was no way you could tell Jiaoqiu about how you felt, not like this...

With the way things were now, you had no choice to endure the pain, just for a while longer. You would have your peace one day...

But that day was not today.

[zepskies]

Hi, how are you?

I was wondering if you could write something like "Dean reads you wrong" but with Sam Please

Hey, lovely!

I'm doing well, thank you. 💜 I hope you are too! Hmm, I'm still working through my current bank of requests, but since "Dean reads you wrong" is so fresh, it got me thinking about how Sam would go about this...

Pairing: Sam Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: It's hard for Sam to admit he wants you...when he thinks you might want his brother.

Song Inspo: "If You're Gone" by Matchbox Twenty

Word Count: 1,600 Tags/Warnings: Fluff, angst, fear of unrequited love, mutual pining

Imagine: Sam reads you wrong.

When Sam falls for someone, he's...well, what he would call self-aware.

But also cautious.

He knows his own track record with women. He knows the life he leads, and has resigned himself to giving up most kinds of normalcy or domesticity.

And maybe, a part deep in the back of his brain has given up on the idea of love.

That's why it's so damn confounding...how you've managed to take him by surprise.

He's always been able to rely on you. Whether it's sharing the brunt of the research with him when Dean loses focus, or staying up with Sam on late nights, sharing mugs of tea and quiet conversation, bonding over familiar tastes in books, and '90s grunge music, of all things.

You also confessed to him, late one night, that you have a growing collection of mugs, fuzzy socks, and vinyl records, despite the fact that your record player has collected more dust than the bunker's old storage room.

You're wonderfully weird.

And you're unfailingly loyal to who you consider "your people." And Sam thinks (knows) he's fortunate enough to be included in that small circle.

Sam also knows, deep in his gut, no matter how much he tries to "rationalize" it away, that you're special. And special to him.

You've managed to do more than just slip under his skin. When he thinks too hard on it, he can admit it (just to himself). You've infiltrated all four corners of his heart so deeply, he doesn't have a prayer of scooping you out.

Some days, it's all he can do not to reach out while you're chatting away, filling the silence.

He can picture it like a scene in his mind: of interrupting your mouth with a gentle hand on your cheek, tilting your face up to his and showing you, with or without words, that he wants you...

And yet.

He can't help but watch how you are with Dean.

You two tease each other, bicker and gripe over coffee grinds left in the coffee pot and who ate the last of the leftovers. You fight with Dean over the remote on movie night (once, damn near smothering him with a pillow).

But you also dote on him, making sure Dean has one of his favorite desserts every time you go out to buy groceries. You swap his beer out for water when he's not looking. (And though Dean frowns and grumbles, he doesn't argue with your raised brow and imploring look.)

It's not quite flirting, but it's not quite platonic either—at least in Sam's eyes. You and Dean seem to have something.

And sometimes, your playful banter with his brother makes Sam sick to his stomach.

Like today, when Sam’s sitting at the kitchen table reading while you're making a cup of tea. The silence between you two is amiable, like usual.

Sam steals a glance at you and has to smile.

"Going with purple polka dots today?" he asks.

You look over with knitted brows of confusion, until you follow his gaze. You laugh sheepishly and wiggle your toes through your fuzzy socks.

"The floor is cold as hell," you defend yourself.

Sam's smile deepens a fraction as he turns back to his book.

"They're cute," he adds.

You turn your face to hide your blush. The mild thunder of heavy boots announces Dean's presence as he pops into the kitchen.

"Oh good, you're cooking. What's for dinner?" he asks. You turn to give him a familiar narrowed look.

"Who says I'm cooking?" you counter.

"Well, you're doing something on the stove..." Dean peers over and catches a whiff of the concoction you're brewing. He grimaces. "Second thought, I'm good. That smells like ass, whatever it is."

You roll your eyes at him. "It's just green tea, Dean. You know, health?"

He levels a deadpan expression at you as he opens up the pantry.

"I see your 'health' and I raise you...Doritos," he says. He digs his hand into the bag he's just pilfered and crunches a mouthful in your face. You can't help but splutter a laugh and push Dean away.

"You're ridiculous. If you catch a heart attack at 50, don't come crying to me."

"Hey, at least I'll die happy."

"Oh, right. A silver lining there. I'd hate to see what your arteries look like," you tease.

"Has anyone told you that you're unsavory?" Dean asks, continuing to crunch with an open mouth.

You smirk. "Is that your way of calling me sweet?"

He snorts. "Sure, sweetheart. We'll call it that."

"You know, I'm not your sweetheart," you point out.

Dean discreetly glances his brother's way with a sly glint in his eyes. Sam doesn't see it; by now he's trying his damndest to keep his eyes in his book and ignore the way his stomach is clenching, chest tightening.

Dean shifts his attention back at you and reaches down to brush your chin with his thumb.

"Not yet, but you could be," he says, in a flirtatious edge that he's never quite taken with you.

You're wide-eyed for a moment. In the end, though, you choose to take it as teasing. You push his hand away and give him an annoyed look.

"God, you're such a clown. Order a pizza if you're that hungry," you rejoin, and you pour two mugs of freshly brewed tea. "I won't even bother offering you one."

"Nope," Dean says, popping the "p." He walks out of the kitchen, giving Sam a firm slap on the back. Sam coughs and shoots his brother a frown.

Dean has the gall to wink at him before he walks out. Like he's having his own little private joke.

Well, Sam isn't laughing. He stares down hard at his book. He tries to ignore everything he just heard and saw out of the corner of his eye.

It becomes too much. He takes up his book and heads out of the kitchen.

He just doesn't see the way you frown as he walks away. There you stand, left holding two mugs of tea for you and him.

Sam returns to his room for a while. He's not hiding. He's...reading.

There's a knock at his door, and if it's Dean, he swears he's going to open his mouth and tell his brother to leave him the hell alone, like he's some kind of moody teen.

But it's you.

"Hey," you greet, after the door creaks open. Sam softens.

"Hey," he says, clearing his throat. "What's up?"

"You," you reply. You bring him his hot mug of tea and set it down on the desk where he sits.

"Thanks," he says.

You nod and place your mug beside his (Lord of the Rings themed, of course), and cross your arms as you lean against his desk.

Sam turns toward you in his chair. His hands rest on his thighs. His gaze travels back up to your face as he tries to keep his neutral, but welcoming to whatever you want to ask him. (He buries his heart deep, as he instinctively does whenever you're near him.)

"You okay?" you ask. Your brows furrow the longer you gaze down at him. Just staring, like you know he's hiding something. Like you can see straight into him, into the shadows where he keeps most of his thoughts of you.

This is perhaps the only area of his life where he's a coward.

"Yeah, I'm good," Sam replies, in a tone that suggests, Why wouldn't I be?

You quirk a smile. "Why don't I believe you?"

Sam swallows. For once, he's not sure what to say to you.

"You know you can talk to me, right?" you say softly. You take a subtle step into his orbit, almost between his open legs. Your demeanor says that you'd gladly listen, do whatever he asked of you. Because you're just that kind.

Sam's mouth twitches upward. "I know. I'm fine, really."

"You're fine, or you're Winchester fine?" you raise a brow.

Sam chuckles then, showing a flash of his smile. It lightens you.

"Maybe a bit of the second one," he admits.

You smile and inch closer, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah? Tell me," you say. Your voice is soft, but not quite a whisper.

It leads Sam to sigh. He grasps your hand where it lies on his shoulder. For a moment, he debates internally. He realizes then that Dean's antics earlier might've been more than just teasing. Maybe it was a subtle nudge—to stop wasting time.

Damn it, just do something, Sam thinks.

When you squeeze his hand back, it's just the small push he needs. He glances up at you.

Then he takes your hand and holds it between both of his, with care. He tugs you forward, surprising you as you step forward between his legs. Your mouth parts in soft surprise when he reaches a hand up to your cheek.

You still look surprised, blushing up to your ears, but you're not pulling away. In fact, your widened gaze moves from his eyes to his lips.

Sam smiles. He tugs you down to him and enacts a living daydream, finally kissing you with everything he has. Everything he’s had locked inside.

You respond to his mouth in kind; the subtle gasp of breath against his lips sharply cuts off as you sink into his kiss. Your trembling hand comes to his cheek, grazing the dull prickle of stubble. When your fingers dive into his hair next, it’s his turn to take a deep breath.

With each new kiss, he explores more of you. His hands find your waist, and he gathers you against his chest. You find purchase on his strong shoulders and give into the opportunity to straddle his hips, sitting in his lap while he continues to make your heartbeat wild in your chest.

Sam slows the kiss, only because his brain is starting to catch up with his heart. He wants to see your face, to make sure this is what you want.

He finds that and more when he looks up at you.

He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, tenderly brushing his thumb against your cheek.

"Does that answer your question?" he asks, with a soft laugh. You join him and press your forehead against his.

"I don't know,” you tease. Your eyes are dancing, both with amusement and relief. Because your heart has wanted this for even longer than Sam's.

You lean back in to whisper close to his lips. “Maybe I need a little more clarity."

Sam takes you at your word.

AN: It's been a long time since I've written for Sam! 💜 I got in another request for him a while ago. I may dust that one off soon... Until then, let me know what you think of this!

(And don't worry. I didn't forget about the Soldier Boy imagine I promised. That will come out at the end of this week, most likely!)

Read Dean's version: "Dean reads you wrong."

Sam Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

SW Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @tipthejar

@deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @emily-winchester @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy @kmc1989 @siampie @violetlilysunshine @nic-kolas @hobby27 @pizzagirlxnsfwx @malindacath @brujaporfavor @katherineann83 @torchbearerkyle

@sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @deans-daydream @adoringanakin @sanscas @pap3rtigers @kaleldobrev @nix-rose

[romiiq]

Her name Part 3

Part 1 Part 2

Tw: Mentions of drugs, dependance on someone and I think that's it but If you catch something else don't doubt to let me know.

Rafe's POV

Rafe watches her from a distance, his heart clenching as he sees her walking away. Her figure, once so familiar, so intertwined with his own, is now fading into the night. He tries to say something else, but for the way she looked at him and Topper holding him back his words keep getting stuck on his throat, he gulps.

Y/N! Please -the words come out in a strangled whisper, another gulp, and his voice comes out stronger. “I can fix this!” She hears this part, he convinces himself she’ll come back.

Look back baby please look at me.

She doesn’t look back, not even once. She’s stronger than that—stronger than him. He knows it. And for the first time knowing her too well rips him apart, slowly and painfully, like his chest is being carved out with every step she takes until she's finally in Topper’s truck.

He thought he could handle it. He thought the numbness would protect him, that the inevitable wouldn’t hurt so much because, after all, he’d known from the beginning. It’s not that Rafe was oblivious to the kind of man he was; in fact, he knew it all too well. He was the type to ruin things, to break what he loved, and that truth haunted him every time he held her close. He loved her—there was no doubt about that—but love wasn’t enough to change the inevitable. He knew he would hurt her. He could see it in the distance, like a storm gathering on the horizon, and still, he didn't stop. It was a twisted fate he was resigned to, no matter how much it would destroy them both in the end.

The words echo in his head, taunting him with their brutal honesty. He had known it from the first time she smiled at him by that bonfire, the glow of the flames dancing in her eyes, making her look like something from another world. She had no idea who he really was. Not then. And maybe, for a brief moment, he wanted to believe he could hide it from her, hide the parts of him that were rotting from the inside out.

He tried, God, he tried to keep her at arm’s length. It was supposed to be casual, a way to forget everything else that came with the name Rafe Cameron. The drugs, the deals, the weight of his father’s expectations crushing him day by day. But then, without meaning to, he fell. And once he fell, he was lost. Because no matter how much of himself he gave her, there would always be more of him left in the shadows. She thought she could heal him. She believed in him, even when he didn’t deserve it. 

Rafe watches her through the window, her hand reaching up to wipe her eyes. She’s crying. He did that. He made her cry. His fists tighten at his sides, his knuckles white as he fights the urge to run after her, to beg her to turn around, to forgive him. But how could he have the nerve to say that? Wouldn't it make it worse? The truth? That he loved her so much it scared him? That he was clinging to a past where he thought he was happy? That he never meant to hurt her but did anyway, because that’s just who he is?

But Sofia had never really left, had she? Even when he was holding Y/N, kissing her; Rafe had been clinging to a past that never truly existed. That night, Sofia’s name slipped from his lips like a reflex, a desperate call to a version of himself that was long gone.

Sofia wasn’t the person he wanted. She never was. She had been his crutch when the world around him, when even his own father, didn’t see him. She had filled the gaps, made him feel less alone but that wasn’t love. It was an obsession. An obsession with a time when he thought she was all he had.

And tonight, when he kissed her, the truth hit him like ice. The illusion shattered. There was nothing there, no warmth, no fire. Because his heart, his life, belonged in the present. Not in the shadows of what could’ve been, but in the light of what was. His future wasn’t in Sofia. It never was, his future is (was) in Y/N.

“I never wanted this to happen” he whispers into the empty night, his voice hoarse, his throat raw from the words he’s kept buried for so long. But no one’s there to hear him. She’s gone. And the only thing left is the silence.

He remembers the way she looked at him when she saw him with Sofia. The betrayal in her eyes, the disbelief, like he had torn something sacred between them and shredded it without a second thought as it was meaningless. But it wasn’t thoughtless and neither meaningless. That was the worst part. It wasn’t a mistake. It was who he was, who he always would be.

Y/N’s last words replay in his head, over and over, searing his soul with every repetition. "I was never enough for you, was I? No matter what I did, no matter how hard I tried, I was never her."

He wanted to tell her that she was more than enough. That she was everything. But how could he say that when he knew, deep down, that it wouldn’t matter? He had fallen in love with her, yes, but he had also known that in the end, he would betray her. He knew it was like a curse running through his veins, something inescapable, something that would always drag him down, no matter how hard he tried to swim to the surface, he knew, oh man, he knew from the beginning he was going to fuck everything up.

His chest tightens as he watches the truck disappear down the street, swallowed by the darkness. He let her slip through his fingers, just like he let everything else in his life slip away. He loved her. He did. But he betrayed her the moment he let her believe that he could be something better, he lied to her, man, maybe he lied to himself about it too. Oh the goddamn stupid boy who thought he could be a better person. 

And now, standing in the aftermath of his own destruction, Rafe knows that she’s gone, and this time, there’s no going back even if he wanted to do everything right, even if Y/N said yes again. 

It was selfish—he realized. He couldn’t bear the idea of someone like her by his side. It terrified him, the thought of someone so real, so good, standing next to him, when all he had ever known was chaos. How could he deserve that? How could he let her have that?

No. He couldn’t do it. Not to her. 

So he did the only thing that made sense. He walked away.

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

Hey ya'll thank you for the support it means a lot to me. So this part is one that has been resting for a long time on my draft lmao and I decided to post it today, hope you enjoy it.

Also I'll definitely write what xcinnamonmalfoyx suggested, totally loved the idea, I'm so glad she thought about it because I was just gonna leave it like that haha.

Last but not least, sorry if I mistyped something English is not my first language and again thank you for all your kind words.

Anyways stay tunned and enjoy! :)

[izvmimi]

daddy's home (2) - izuku x reader

cw: MINORS DNI, noncon/dubcon, horror themes, you and izuku have a child, parental dynamics, manipulation, villain!deku, yandere!deku, violence, fem!reader summary: izuku tries to make amends with his family after his absence. (~3.4k words) a/n: reposted. part 1 here.

As you continue to hear his footsteps approach, the dreadful sound amplified by genuine fear of your partner, you think wistfully of the past. 

Clearly, it hadn’t always been like this. Izuku, at his core, was someone sweet - bashful, kind, protective… not whatever monster was marching through your home this very second, causing your mind to race as you thought frantically of ways to protect your daughter. That was your first priority.

But he wouldn’t hurt his daughter, right? That’s where he would draw the line, no matter how altered his thoughts concerning allies versus enemies had become over time. And even if now you had drawn a clear line in the sand, you’d like to think that he wouldn’t hurt you - he hadn’t ever threatened to hurt you, now had he? He’d only given you warnings, reminding you that turning against him wouldn’t be in your best interest. After all, according to him, he’s the only one who really cares for your well-being. That’s why he married you, right?

“I... I think all of this is excessive,” you mumble to Mei as she demonstrates the security upgrades to your home. Iida shakes his head almost furiously, and seems to double and triple-check his wife’s work and potential blind spots, peering at new cameras shoved in the corners where the ceilings meet and laser tripwires invisible to the naked eye. There’s a panic device in the hallway between the kitchen and one of the living rooms hidden behind a wedding picture where both of your smiles are radiant enough to be blinding. The fact that it’s come to this makes your stomach turn. 

“In all honesty, there’s a good chance it might not be enough,” Mei admits, and the fact that for once she realistically communicates her own engineering limitations underlines how grave the situation is. If even she is admitting that she’s not infallible, that means your situation is bad.

What is he, God? You think bitterly, but resign yourself to saying nothing. You are not too distraught to accept kindness from your friends.

Bakugou, for example, now texts you every morning, a simple two words.

You good?

While you understand and appreciate where he’s coming from, every time you see those words, you can feel yourself losing your patience. If you could have your husband back, you’d be great. Fantastic even! You’d always texted back the same thing, in different variations - 

Yeah, thanks for checking!

He never responded after that. It wasn’t that he didn’t care; it’s that he still did not want to entertain the idea that his friend had gone off the deep end for too long. 

It’s hard for everyone, not just your family, you have to remember.

You can hear Izuku’s steps almost right outside your door, the pace almost synchronous with the pounding in your heart. There’s no use in hiding anymore. Steeling your resolve, you hold your slumbering daughter close for a moment, and kiss her forehead.

“Mommy loves you,” you whisper. She doesn’t stir, and you wonder what it is to be a child again, safe and naive and uncorrupted by circumstance.

And then you tumble out of the room to face him.

—

He stands at the end of the hall facing you; you stand, fists balled tightly by your sides and your expression unnecessarily fierce - it’s thought that fear and anger often are mistaken for each other, and Izuku seems to think so today as well.

He tilts his head slightly, and his voice is slightly raspy, deeper than usual, as he calls out to you. There’s a strained quality to it, as though his voice has been unused for a while, even though the two of you did technically just speak, or maybe he’s forgotten how to speak to you softly, how to speak to anyone with kindness.

But he tries.

“Are you mad at me, love?”

There’s a little bit of electricity in the air that you can feel in the strands of your hair that you know emanates from him. Energy that he hasn’t kept inside now that he has no reason to show any restraint. His eyes aren’t glowing however; if anything, they’re devoid of any light, dull like a lifeless forest in the dead of night. You wonder if, haggard as he appears now even if he is always and forever handsome, has come out of the wilderness. Where does he stay when he’s not here? Where is he physically when mentally he is lost?

You can’t get words out of your throat no matter how hard you try to answer him. He breathes from his nose, a sigh, and in the blink of an eye, he’s crossed the distance between you two, and has you pressed up against the wall. Caged in, his hands pressed on either side to make it clear that you have no escape, your faces are millimeters apart. This is not the man you love who values your space and your autonomy and the idea of you, above all, freely offering yourself to him. 

This is not your Izuku.

Nevertheless, not-Izuku kisses you roughly and bites your lip sharply as his mouth disconnects from yours. It’s painful and bruising and you think you taste blood, but the salt on your tongue probably comes from the tears that fall from your eyes as you tremble. 

When you look at him through a moisture-blurred view, for a moment it seems as though his eyes shine too. 

Maybe, maybe for a moment. You blink, and they’re dull again.

“Izuku, please don’t hurt her,” is the first thing that falls from your lips. 

His facial expression turns wicked for a moment and then he laughs and it is not his laugh. It’s something tinny and sick and wrong coming from him. He kisses you again, bites even harder this time, enough that you wince, and this time you are sure your lip is bleeding. 

“Hurt? Why would I hurt my princess? How could you even ask something so silly?”

Izuku presses his forehead against yours, and his cool breath runs over your wet cheeks. His hands grip your wrists and raise them up above your head, pressing the back of your hands to the wall.

“Why would I hurt her or you when you’re so vulnerable and need to be cared for?” The way he stresses that adjective - vulnerable - turns your stomach and your whole body tenses, which he notices, tightening his grip on your wrists. 

“See, love, that’s why I had to come back. I said I would come back, didn’t I? To think I’d leave the two of you alone in such a twisted, unsafe world… what kind of man would I be if I behaved like this?”

You swallow hard, unable to look at him as you search for other points to focus on. He notices.

“Don’t you dare look away from me,” he hisses. Your eyes snap obediently away from everywhere else in the room and focus on him. There’s nothing behind his eyes. You want to scream into the endless void you stare into. What happened to him? What happened to your Deku?

“W-what do you want?”

Izuku’s eyebrows furrow, and for a moment, he looks genuinely confused, like a kid faced with a particularly difficult arithmetic problem. You stun him enough with your words that he lets go of your wrists for a moment and steps back, rubbing his chin.

It wasn’t meant to be said harshly - maybe it was your grief that hardened your voice, but he seems to retreat to somewhere deep in his chest, before shaking his head.

He smiles again, that unnatural grin that doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“I thought I was coming home. Do I need permission to see my family?” he asks in a honeyed voice. 

He leans in further, pressing a scarred, calloused hand to your cheek and stroking gently. Once upon a time, you would have leaned into his palm and kissed it, maybe even pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt so that you could kiss him. 

But all you can do is freeze, and let it pass. 

And he gets impatient. His fingers now pinch instead of caressing; it would be cute, and it was once cute, when he pulled your cheeks like this to steal a kiss, but now the downturn of his lips show that he is trying very hard not to accept the truth that you are rejecting him, or at least the ‘him’ that you see before you now.

His voice flattens.

“You really thought you’d keep me out with those silly trinkets?” he growls. The other shoe has dropped.

“Who made them?” he asks. “Who did you ask to help you keep me out of my own home?”

Izuku’s hands move quickly, now cupping your chin in his hands and pulling you to him roughly as he stands, so that you’re nearly lifted up off your feet. It’s an action that’s lacking any tenderness as though he’ll yank your head clearly off your shoulders. 

“Honey? That’s a direct question, not rhetorical,” he repeats.

You don’t utter a single word, and by now he’s beyond frustrated. He lets go of your face and you lose your balance ever so slightly, but before you fall he grabs your wrist again. You pull away reflexively and a flash of anger rises in him, and he pulls even harder, enough that you can feel the tingle of his Quirk intensify. 

“Clearly, we seem to be having trouble with intimacy, so I guess we’ll have to address that first before I ask you to communicate basic information with me.” The edge to his voice is palpable but the pain of the pressure he’s putting on your arm is almost worse and you try so hard not to cry out at the sensation of him nearly crushing your bones, knowing very well that this is the least of his rough handling of you for now but then - 

“Daddy?”

Your heart stops. Izuku lets go immediately, and you turn around with a gasp to see your little girl, a flurry of nightclothes and curly green hair, leap into his arms without the slightest bit of hesitation.

No, no, no, how… of all the times to wake up! You ignore the dead feeling in your arm to run into him and shove him as he holds your daughter and twirls her around, but he barely feels you, and you practically bounce off of him like rubber on glue. 

She barely even notices you fall flat on your ass. Rather, she lets her father give her the affection she’s been missing for months, and you can only watch in abject horror as Izuku throws her up and down in the air a couple times, then asks her if she’s been good.

“Daddy, where’d you go?” She finally asks, once she’s stopped giggling. Her cheeks are rosy and excited and her eyes are bright enough to fill his darkened ones - you clutch your bruised arm and can only watch. 

Izuku glances at you then blows a raspberry in his daughter’s neck which has her giggling again.

“Mommy gave me a timeout!” he says cheerfully, holding her close. She nuzzles herself into the security of his chest, and holds tightly.

“Time out?” she murmurs. She clutches at his shirt possessively, and Izuku gives you a look. Your stare becomes hardened - it’s a plea but it’s also a threat that he better not try a single funny thing with her because then fear will give way to desperation and he will have to be prepared to kill you instantly and-

He laughs - it’s less tinny than before, but still it sucks warmth out of the room, unbeknownst to your daughter. “Yeah when you’re bad you get time out!” he reminds her, poking her belly. She laughs again and presses her hands on his cheeks squishing them.

“You can’t be bad!” she exclaims.

Izuku glances at you again, his chuckle drier and his eyes more narrow as he adjusts his baby girl in his arms.

“Well, your mommy seems to think so,” he replies, quieter this time. Somehow, she picks up the serious turn to his voice.

Your baby girl looks at you too, disheveled on the ground and breathing a bit heavier than usual, looking wrong, like a feral creature, the sudden reversal of positions being apparent in such a short time. 

She looks into your soul for a moment and furrows her eyebrows. She is thinking - assessing the situation. Her father who she hasn’t seen in quite a while is holding her tightly, her mother sits in a heap and does nothing. It is always too dark in this house these days. She can’t see clearly, not this, not anything.

“That’s not right, Mommy,” she says, finally. 

Your heart pounds. You want to charge at him,  knowing full well all you will do is traumatize your daughter at best and get yourself killed at worst. You swallow your saliva as your throat is hot and dry.

Izuku grins at you, then pats her hair gently. He sets her down and kneels to her eye level. 

“Can you be a good girl for me, sweetie?” he asks.

She nods enthusiastically, clutching fistfuls of her dress to contain her excitement at having her dad home. The longer you watch her beam the more you feel like you want to puke up your insides. What do you do? What do you do?

“Go to your room and I’ll tuck you in in a little bit, okay?”

She nods and runs off immediately, back to the center of the home where you’re not sure how much of the structure still stands appropriately, but Izuku wouldn’t send her where it’s not safe - that’s his little girl after all - and the two of you watch as her small figure disappears.

The moment she’s out of sight, you finally spit up the vitriol that’s been bubbling inside you since that horrible display.

“Fuck you.”

You’re shaking, you are so upset. The thought that he can just barge in here, and put you in an awful situation, making you look like a bad person no matter what you do. 

Izuku’s dusky eyes narrow, and in seconds he’s dragging you to your feet and pulling you into the nearest bedroom.

“Gladly.”

It doesn’t matter how hard you kick and scream and protest. Eventually, Izuku gets tired, and throws you over his shoulder, clapping a hand over your mouth. You bite his palm and he barely reacts and instead of biting harder, you break out into muffled sobs. You don’t want to hurt him, it occurs to you. You don’t have the resolve to truly take purchase into his flesh and tear away like a beast.

He throws you onto the bed and locks the door as you bury your face into the bedsheets, continuing to muffle your tears. You’re not crying because you hate him, it’s because you love him still and the situation is so awful and confusing that it’s clear that there’s no way out. You scream and terrify your daughter, and Izuku will make you the problem. If she, by some magic, understands what’s going on, is it worth it for her to develop that same darkness behind your Izuku’s eyes right now?

Izuku snorts derisively as he watches you come undone in your own mind, as the reality sets in that there is truly no way out of this situation. You sob, and you sob and you sob, and he lets you, watching you with neutrality that is so atypical of him. You’re not the first person he’s seen cry, and even if you are the most important person to him, he’s had enough of your tears. Any tears, in fact. 

He sits at the edge of the bed until your sniffles die out, then finally runs out of patience.

“Stop it.”

You rise slowly to watch him stare at you, his own eyes red-rimmed. It’s the most emotion you’ve seen out of him since today, but you can’t understand what he’s feeling. You can barely understand your own right now. 

You sniffle and he sneers.

“Stop it right now,” he repeats, harshly this time. His lips crash into yours again and he pushes you so that you lay on your back. He tears at your clothes and your defenses, and soon you are kissing back, miserable and pathetic a creature as you are.

He whispers something about loving you and never letting you go, and you don’t have the strength to whisper back but you know it’s true. Your body misses him, misses the heat of his skin against yours and the scrape of his tongue across your nipples. It misses his fingers that tease you apart and make you fall apart, the sensation of being full of love for him and physically stretched and strained to accommodate him. It misses his teeth marking you, palms sliding across every surface.

“It h-hurts, Izuku,” you moan, sucking at his shoulder to distract from the corrupted pleasure. He groans into you as he continues to dig, deeper still when your nails dig into his back, deeper still when your legs tighten around his waist. “It h-hurts,” you murmur into his neck.

“You’ll endure for me, won’t you baby?” 

He doesn’t stop; maybe he slows, but he doesn’t stop.

The truth is you will. It’s not the only thing you’ll endure for him, you think as your head swims in desire.

“You feel better than I remember,”  he groans into your ear. “Perfectly tight, like you’ve been waiting for me this entire time to reclaim you, haven’t you?”

You sigh deeply and your back arches as you climax. It’s the only answer he needs.

“You’re mine forever, no matter what, aren’t you?” he says.

Till death do we part, you think, and you crash into full, reckless indulgence. Your husband lets out a cry; his hips stutter to a stop and he pumps you full, over and over again, and before you can catch your breath, he begins again. Faster this time.

“I love you. I will love you to pieces,” he whispers into your ear, and for the first time that day, looks at you with his own eyes, the look you remember. Your eyes well up. You’ve missed him terribly.

Your arms wrap around his neck.

“I love you, too.”

There’s catching up to do.

—

Bakugou has not heard from you all morning, and while he tries not to think about it, he can’t help but think about it. 

It’s only been a couple hours - he sent the message somewhere around 8 am, knowing that you’re usually up by this time. However, it’s almost 11 am and you should at least be up to take your daughter to school and yet you’ve neglected to respond. 

Not even a read receipt.

Oi, just let me know you’ve seen this message, okay? He texts finally, before shoving his phone back into his pocket. There’s quite a few other things he needs to be worrying about today, including tracking members of the second iteration of the League of Villains and figuring out what exactly happened to his friend. You are fine. You have to be, he thinks. 

His phone buzzes.

Instead of a message, it’s a video according to the banner. Bakugou hesitates, and there’s a tiny bit of dread as he opens it.

And his eyes widen in horror. 

You are wrapped up in white sheets, body facing away from the camera, but he can tell from the transparency that you’re most likely wearing nothing else. By the steady rise and fall of your chest, he can tell you’re still alive, albeit fast asleep. The camera shakes ever so slightly. 

From the audio, which he turns up he can hear a voice, Izuku’s voice.

“She’s just fine, don’t worry about us.” 

The video ends and Bakugou can feel his blood run cold as his mind begins to race. Before he can play the video again to look for clues, there’s a text message that pops up.

If you text my wife again, I’ll dash your brains on the concrete.

Have a lovely day.

[celestialprincesse]

𝟏. 𝐀 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐞

Part One of Foreigner's God King Simon Riley X F! Faerie Reader

WC: 2k

Sunlight fractures through the leaves of age old oaks and ancient pines, dappling against your back, weaving through long strands of untamed hair to brush a kiss against your thinly clothed shoulders, spiders silk and gauze just barely fluttering on a phantom breeze stirred by the muted clopping of horse hooves on the forest floor. The mare beneath you holds tension in her withers, matching the unpleasant knotting of the muscle between your shoulder blades. She knows what’s coming just as well as you do. 

It’s been a long time since you’ve felt anxiety this way. It’s the kind of gnawing, unsettling feeling at the pit of your stomach that comes only from venturing away from the safety of the trees and caves, brooks and hollow roots you call home. Your people call home. You force yourself to swallow down the fear - remind yourself that you’re doing this for them. Without this sacrifice, your sacrifice, the woods and forests which serve as sanctuary for your entire species, would be gone. The sick feeling in your stomach refuses to be soothed. 

In an attempt to calm yourself, to tear your mind away from the images you’ve conjured of what may await you on the forest edge, you focus intently on every slow stride of your companion. You draw your thoughts to counting every rhythmic movement of her shoulders, the way they gently jostle your hips as you follow each motion of hers with one of your own. A push and pull of a gentle tide. She and you melt into one being, acting and reacting in such effortless synchrony, such enviable elegance. An innate ability for which your kind are revered. 

Humans long lost touch with nature - shunned it in favor of such rapid growth, such vast power. They burned the trees to make room for their sprawling palaces, dug up the earth and all of her riches to build their roads, to grow their crops, never once wondering what she could provide had they simply respected her instead. Your people had never done such a thing, and for that, you’d been blessed. She’d provided you with everything you could ever have needed, and all you’d ever had to do was provide for her in turn. That balance, that equilibrium, is what humans have long since forgotten. Compromise, to them, is an impossible thing. To you and your kind, it’s an intrinsic part of life. 

At this moment, you feel that perhaps you know compromise better than any. 

The journey so far has been painstakingly long. On the one hand, it’s something you feel grateful for, that you’ve time to prepare yourself for the life that lies beyond the treeline. On the other, however, it’s excruciating. To ride through the forest, down the path away from the only life you’ve ever known, to mourn something you’ve not yet even lost. Every blazing orange dusk is another grain of sand dripping through the fingers of time, and every golden lighted dawn a death knell. You wonder if your sisters miss you the way you miss them. Your mother, too. Maybe they sit in quiet solitude, wondering what you’re doing at any given moment, or maybe they cry tears of frustration and anger at the fact that it could’ve been anyone else. Anyone but you. 

The days before had been spent in a resigned sort of mourning. You’d saved your tears for the first days of your voyage. 

You still so vividly remember sitting with your mother as she twisted up your hair, pinning it with flowers as she reminisced upon the girl taken by the last king. She’d been only as old as your youngest sister, Ophelia, when it had happened. Once every generation, every two, if you were at all lucky. You, unfortunately, were not. She’d spoken of how silent everything fell when the girl had been sent away - the strange, pained feeling that had settled over your people as they’d watched her go resigned into the trees. She’d never come back, of course, a fate that you too share. The small hope flickering like a fading ember at the bottom of your heart sings songs of longing. Such a foolish thing it is, holding out that perhaps the man who waits beyond the woods will love you, guide you to him with coaxing words and the gentlest of touches. You feel pathetic even thinking of it. 

You never had quite outgrown your childish fantasies of love, and in turn, had given the humans holed up behind their cold stone walls another innocent heart to break. 

When the sun shrinks back to nothing but a hazy golden glow, like that of a dying fire or burning star, you realize that more for your horse’s sake than your own, that it’s time to stop, to rest before you carry on with your journey. A day or two more and you’ll have reached the place where the canopy dwindles and the roots which cover the forest floor grow sparse, travel under the earth as though to hide from the human feet which march upon them. You hope for at least one more blissful sleep under the stars, moss under your head and night creatures watching your rest with vigilant, unseeing eyes. 

Settling aside the small pond where your horse bends at her withers to drink, you lay up against the gnarled stump of a fallen tree, which yields to accommodate your body, just one of the many perks of being so connected with nature. You’ve no need to set up a campsite when the forest welcomes and provides for you with such ease. It’s not easy to forget the fact that the forest probably recognises the way you’re feeling - sympathizes with your predicament.

As you drift off into a fitful sleep, under the comforting twinkle of the stars, A king is waking.  Behind the fortified stone walls of the palace, the revelry celebrating the lead up to King Simon’s wedding has lasted for days. To most, it’s an opportunity to celebrate. Their cold, reclusive king finally taking a wife. When the betrothal had been announced, the sigh of relief collectively exhaled by the nation had been palpable. He hadn’t wanted to do it - marry some wild forest thing and rut her full of little fat wailing babies. Johnny had been the unfortunate soul tasked with convincing him - reminding him that since Tommy passed, so did the soul heir to the Riley line. With enemies poised in the south, ready to exploit any weakness they could find, Simon hadn’t exactly had much choice. His being backed into a corner, however, hasn’t made him the most pleasant to deal with during the preamble to his rapidly inbound nuptials. For not only his sake, but also everyone else’s, he hopes that his bride-to-be is at least reasonably tame. With his luck? Highly doubtful.

His closest men had shared their theories and fantasies of some nymph-like creature, lovely and demure, happy to bend to Simon’s every whim, less wife, more well trained pet. Whilst he can appreciate a beautiful woman just as much as any man can, he keeps his expectations low - pleasant to be around and a decent conversationalist is enough for him. 

He’s tried to expel the thoughts of marriage from his mind for as long as possible. He’s far too busy to be distracted with silly fantasies of rose petal decorated aisles and which rings he’ll select for his betrothed. Keeping a kingdom running and the vulture-like men that are his enemies at bay is no mindless thing. Simon barely has time enough to sleep, let alone celebrate a wedding he doesn’t want, nor to take the day-long trek to the agreed meeting place to collect his new wife. To collect his new wife. Parade her on horseback like some exotic acquisition to be flaunted, to grow bored with when the novelty inevitably wears off. 

It’s impossible to ignore the way his knees creak as he rolls tiredly from his bed, the fathomless cold embedded in the very core of the flagstone floors seeping into his bare feet as he dresses himself. In spite of his status as King, Simon keeps his appearance reasonably simple, his tunics plain and armor scarcely decorated. Easier to dress. Simon Riley is a man of convenience, the bells and whistles of being monarch are nothing but a hindrance. 

The celebrations have thankfully quieted, all of his courtiers and castle residents undoubtedly tired, hungover and sore from the days of singing, dancing and drinking - days which he’s mostly spent holed away in his study, playing chess with wooden carved soldiers on battle maps, giving the occasional go-ahead to wedding planners and burying his nose in any literature on strategy he can find.  Today, unfortunately, his kingly duties outweigh his reclusiveness. He’ll only travel with Price to the meeting point - having originally wanted to go alone so as to make your initial meeting less intimidating, a point to which the head of his Kingsguard had made his disagreement abundantly clear. Yes, Price knows that Simon is fully capable of looking out for himself, but he sure as hell isn’t giving him any chance of proving that. He’s also desperate to get out of the castle and away from the mothers attempting to shove their daughters at his feet. So, with huffed complaints about the weather, and the threat of oncoming rain, signaled by the gritty gray clouds blotting out the starlight, the two men set off. Hooves beat thunderously across stone, dirt and grass as they make their way past the walls of the city, through the dwindling suburbs of thatched roofs and smoking chimneys and out into the vast plains of the countryside. The fresh air is a welcome reprieve from the smoke and burning metal of forges, the grassy hills and fields stretching for miles a refreshing break from the towering monoliths of stone that make up the palace. He can see why people would like it out here, away from the banal chatter of gossip and the unrelenting noise, left to grow stagnant within the confines of winding alleys or houses packed so closely together. Simon hasn’t even met you, and yet he already finds himself sympathizing for the adjustment you’ll have to make. 

You, meanwhile, feel surprisingly more grounded following your nap, having allowed both yourself and your horse to rest for a while before continuing your journey. The gnawing anxiety in your stomach is soothed by the handful of blackberries you’d found and snacked on as you continued through the slowly more sparse woodland, and although you’re still wallowing, at least you’re not wallowing on an empty stomach and no sleep. 

The sun slowly inches west behind the cloud cover, which quickly replaces the forest canopy you’ve always known, and tells you that in your mental absence, another day has nearly come and gone, and with that, the mileage covered which draws you closer to your inevitable fate. The birdsong has long since gone quiet, and there’s no longer movement indicative of life in the shrubbery. Just you, and the parapet on which you seem to endlessly walk. 

Until the forest seems to stop entirely. The trees halt their growth at some invisible boundary, wildflowers cease their spread with an unnatural abruptness and your stomach goes lurching. Like you’ve jumped from a cliff. You’ve jumped from a cliff, you’re about to hit the ground, and everything in you is screaming for time to stop, for fate to twist, for the inevitable to be somehow avoided. 

You could turn back. You could still turn back, and the forest would welcome you home with open arms. You could go home to your sisters, to your mother and the magic woven into everything you’ve ever known.

You could turn back - but in turning back, you’d only shatter the fragile peace forged so weakly between your own people, and those who’ve come to take you away. 

“Looks petrified.” Price observes from where he and Simon stand proud upon the hill, watching as a faerie on a white horse comes emerging tentatively from the treeline. You do, you poor, delicate thing, Simon thinks to himself as he, Price, and their imposing black friesians make their way to greet you. 

Happy Foreigner's God day to those who celebrate 1.8k and 2k are basically the same so pls enjoy the 1st chapter 💕

[therealcocoshady]

Kinktober - Day 18 - Kneeling

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

A/N : So... Here is the Kinktober episode for the Day 18 "Kneeling" prompt. It also happens to be a sequel to the Day 3 "Pet play" prompt. It is not necessarily smutty but it might actually be one of my kinkiest works so far... Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. And that you don't judge me too much either.

CW : BDSM - D/S Relationship - Kneeling

Before the « pet play » bet, you thought your life would go back to normal after you were done. Except it didn’t. There were a couple of reasons for that. First of all, you had found yourself finding the experience rather enjoyable. There was something about surrendering control to someone else. In your everyday life, you wear the kind of person who tried to stay on top of everything, often to the point of exhaustion. Allowing Marshall to take control over the simplest things had proved to be soothing. It had quieted the noise in your brain in a way you never thought would be possible. You never thought you’d be able to allow someone to boss you around, let alone find it enjoyable. But it was Marshall, someone you’d known for what felt like ages. Someone you were close to and trusted. Maybe he was the one who had managed to turn this into something enjoyable. 

You had been almost surprised at how caring he could be. Before that weekend, he’d been the kind of friend you made dumb jokes with, the one who put up with your chaotic energy. But seeing that side of him… it had felt special. He seemed in his element and, though he’d been in control the whole time, the whole thing had been intimate. So intimate, in fact, that it ended with the two of you in bed. The whole thing was meant to be platonic at first but something had shifted. Sure, there had been attraction before, but none of you had acted on it. You’d always told yourself that just because he was attractive didn’t mean it would be a good idea. But that weekend, the chemistry had been evident and you’d felt a shift, some sort of certainty that he might actually be able to handle you. And he proved more than up to the challenge. That night spent together had been amazing. For the first time in years - maybe ever - you had been in a serene headspace. No intrusive thoughts taking over in the middle of the deed, no anxiety, no feeling self-conscious… and actual pleasure. Unlike previous partners, that man had actually focused on you, attentive to each one of your reactions, able to interpret every moan, every whimper. 

For some reason, you had always thought he’d be the kind to be selfish in bed but you were happy to say that he proved you wrong. The whole night, he dedicated himself to pleasuring you. You had lost counts of your orgasms and, if you were honest, the night was kind of blurry. You mostly remembered the grounding feeling of his hand on your chest and him calling you a good girl. In the following days, the memory of these two words, spoken softly in his husky voice had kept you warm. His tone echoed through your mind and one thing was for sure : you wanted more of whatever it was that had made you feel so good. 

However, the next time you saw Marshall, it became clear that it was easier for him to go back to the way things were. You were hanging out with your group of friends and he greeted you as usual, made small talk the way he always had, and joked around as if nothing had happened. It almost broke your heart. You thought you had both felt that chemistry, but obviously, you were wrong. You were a little gutted, if you were honest. The way he had cupped your cheek right before saying goodbye the morning you left his place, right after a passionate night, had made you feel like he’d definitely want it to happen again. And you absolutely thought he’d make a move, a few weeks later, when he invited you to his place so that you could actually read his prized comic book. He did no such thing. A couple of weeks in, you were resigned : it had been a one time thing. And if you wanted to explore more, you’d have to look for someone else. You were a little intimidated by it, at first, but one evening, after a couple of glasses of wine, you got online and searched for more information. You quickly went down the rabbit hole and ended up spending two days browsing subreddits, before eventually signing up for some social media website that allowed people to connect over BDSM-related stuff. The idea was to connect with people from your area, with whom you might give it a try, but you couldn’t actually bring yourself to take part to the conversations going on there. You were very much an introvert and, though you’d given online dating a try, it seemed like adding a kinky component to it was too much for your nerves to handle. You were sure that you’d enjoy exploring submission further, that finding a dom would help quiet the noise in your head. After all, Marshall had done it. But the people putting listings online, advertising that they were looking for a submissive, made it seem like it required some ivy league-level qualifications. And though Marshall had done a pretty decent job explaining the basics to you, you didn’t feel like you had what it takes. You were ready to give up on the idea when you came across a post promoting a « networking » event in Detroit, in some underground club you’d never heard of. You considered going but, once again, anxiety took over. And it wasn’t exactly as if you could ask a friend to come with you. Unless… 

You mustered up the courage of asking Marshall a few days later, while you were hanging out at his place with a couple of other friends. He went to the kitchen to grab a drink and you decided to follow him, in order to have some privacy. « So… Do you have any plans for next weekend ? » you asked innocently as he grabbed a Red Bull from the fridge. « Nothing definite, yet. Why ? » he replied with a raised eyebrow. «  Well, there is, um, a thing, and I’m thinking of going, but I’m not sure and it’s kind of- I was actually wondering if you’d come with me. But, you know, if you have plans, that’s fine. » you nervously babbled. God, you felt ridiculous. You were a grown woman, trying to connect with people over kinky shit and there you were, asking your fiftysomething year-old friend to basically hold your hand because you were nervous. « what thing ? » he asked, obviously not getting what you were referring to. In his defense, you had done a pretty bad job at getting your point across. « An event » you replied. « What event ? » he asked again before taking a sip of his drink. « it’s a… um… well I suppose you could say it’s a munch » you almost whispered. He stared at you silently for a couple of seconds and you felt compelled to elaborate. « I wanted to meet a… well you know, a dom, but it’s so nerve-wracking and I figured maybe having someone who’s been there before would help » you hummed. He kept on staring at you, without so much as blinking and definitely adding to your nervousness. « But, well, maybe going there with a friend wouldn’t be a good look… I mean, I haven’t exactly researched the etiquette or dress code of these events so, I don’t know, really… » you eventually said. The remark made him chuckle and he gave you a smile, as well as a reassuring squeeze of your shoulder. « First of all, breathe. Also, how about we talk about it later, after everyone leaves ? » he said calmly. You swallowed dryly and nodded. 

For the next two hours, you stayed mostly silent. Maybe asking him to go with you was a mistake. Maybe he thought that you giving this whole thing a try was stupid. He was one of your closest friends but you knew he could sometimes turn into a judgy prick. As the others left, you remained on the couch, nervously biting your lip. He came to sit on a chair opposite from you. « So… you want to go to a munch » he said with a smirk. You nodded, though you avoided his gaze. « Well I tried signing up on a website to meet people but… it’s absolutely terrifying. And I thought that a munch might be better but I think that’s even worse » you admitted. He calmly nodded. « You’re too anxious » he said matter-of-factly. « I mean… yeah. It’s nerve-wracking, you know ? » you replied and he nodded. « So, um, how do you meet people ? » you asked. He gave you a smile and leaned back in his chair. « Well, not at munches » he chuckled. « I mean, obviously, I can’t take the risk of someone spotting me in that kind of event » he explained. « I didn’t think about that. I shouldn’t have asked… » you started but he cut you. « Don’t worry about it. Well… I met my first sub kind of randomly. Then I gave the online thing a try but I didn’t really like it so now I use a service » he explained. You raised an eyebrow. « a service ? » you asked. « Basically a matchmaker » he shrugged. You hummed, thinking to yourself that it made sense. After all, you knew how anxious he could get about going places and, since he wasn’t a big fan of technology, opting for a matchmaking service made sense. « So… how does it work ? » you asked with a hint of curiosity, wondering if maybe you should look into something similar. « I give my requirements and if they have someone that fits the bill, they take care of the whole thing for me. NDA, meeting… then, I can do my own vetting. » he explained calmly and you nodded. And before you could even talk, he answered your question. « That type of service caters to experienced people, though » he warned.  You hummed and he could immediately sense the disappointment. He placed his drink on the coffee table and stared at you. « Anyway. Back to you… you’re looking for a dom » he stated. « Do you know what you’re looking for exactly ? ». 

You stayed silent for a couple of seconds and shrugged nervously. « I’d like to give it a try. You know, when we made that bet, I didn’t expect to enjoy it, but… I did. Not the pet aspect but being guided. So, I thought I’d … explore. » you said quietly. As you spoke, you could see something change in his eyes, some sort of interest. « what did you like ? » he asked in a low voice. « I felt… oddly at peace. As if the noise in my head disappeared. And…I didn’t mind having someone directive in bed » you admitted. He let out a low chuckle and smiled at you. « How about having someone being directive out of bed ? » he asked with a grin. « well, I suppose my boss wouldn’t mind me being better at following orders » you said with a shy smile. « I see » he hummed. The way he looked at you, as if he could see inside your mind, had your heart racing. Mentioning what had happened weeks ago, how it made you feel, had you feeling nervous. « I guess I’m just scared I might not feel as safe with someone else » you admitted. « Why look for someone else then ? » he asked with a slight smirk. You stared at him, almost dumbfounded. « Well, I- you didn’t- I mean… I assumed you would have offered if- you know » you nervously babbled. He let out a small scoff and got up, before sitting next to you. « all you had to do was ask » he said softly. « Easier said than done » you pointed out as you looked down. He smiled and placed a reassuring hand on your knee. « Y/N, it’s me. You know I don’t bite. The worse that could have happened is me declining. » he said gently and you nodded, still looking down. « The reason I didn’t offer anything is because I didn’t want to turn what happened to my advantage » he explained. « But… you enjoyed it ? » you asked. « you know I did » he scoffed. You nodded again as memories of that weekend came to mind. You remembered the way he kissed you, the way he took the lead in the bedroom, guiding you, taking control while always making sure you were alright. « So… would you… be interested ? » you asked in almost a whisper. « Interested in ? » he asked with a smile. You sighed and looked at him dead in the eyes. He knew what you meant and you knew it as well. « I think it’s important that you learn to use your words. Say what you mean. Ask for what you want. » he added with a smirk. You rolled your eyes at him. « Would you be interested in showing me more… sir ? » you asked as you looked into his eyes. He let out a chuckle and eventually nodded. « Yeah. We could give it a try » he hummed. « you free next weekend ? ». 

You gave him a smile, reassured to know that he had enjoyed your weekend together as much as you did and was willing to explore it further. « I am. I’m also free tomorrow though » you said innocently, making him chuckle and shake his head. « Can’t, tomorrow. Also, I’ll need to prepare stuff. But come next weekend and I’ll show you…  more » he said with a warm smile. 

Next weekend couldn’t come fast enough. But when it did, you were both nervous and excited. Beforehand, Marshall had texted you to confirm that you were still up for it, and gave you a few packing instructions. So far, nothing kinky. He just told you to pack your toiletries, meds, pajamas, an outfit you felt comfortable in and another one that was dressier - preferably a dress with high heels. When you arrived at his place, he greeted you with a hug and led you to the dining room. « So, this weekend is going to be a little different from what we did last time » he warned. « Obviously, for the sake of the bet, we kept it simple and easy last time. But this time, you’re going to get a better picture of what being a sub is like. Meaning that it’s not going to be me taking care of you. I mean, I will, that’s part of my job as a dom. But as a sub, you’re going to serve me. » he explained. You nodded and waited for further instruction. « Obviously, both of us have the right to stop everything at any moment. But since today is about showing you more, I thought I would do what I usually do with the subs I’m vetting, so I’ll put you to work right away. That’s ok with you ? » he asked. You nodded again, though this time, you felt a knot in your stomach. You weren’t quite sure what he meant by ‘putting you to work’. He got up and grabbed an envelope that was already on the table, before handing it to you. « Your first assignment will be pretty simple : paperwork. There’s an NDA I’m going to need you to sign. Obviously, we’re friends and I trust you, but this is standard procedure for everyone I’m seeing, so subs are no exception. There’s also forms I want you to fill in. Take your time and come to the movie room when you’re done. And feel free to come if you have any questions, ok ?» he added. He got up and quietly stared at you as you started to inspect the paperwork. Before leaving the room, he cupped your face and gave you a smile. 

You quickly read the NDA before signing it. You didn’t give it too much thought. If anything, you were fine with paperwork protecting the both of you. Of course, the consequences of anyone discovering what you were up to would be disastrous for his reputation but, even though you weren’t a public figure, you didn’t exactly want anyone to know you were involved in something BDSM-related. Especially not with one of your closest friends. For some reason, signing the NDA made it clear in your mind that you were crossing a line in your friendship. And it became even clearer as you glanced at the forms. It was basically a spreadsheet you needed to fill, regarding what you were ok with, what you’d experienced before, as well as your limits (both hard and soft). The least you could say is that the whole thing was rather detailed. You took your time to fill everything, doing some occasional googling on your phone when you needed clarification regarding some of the practices listed. You felt a little apprehensive at the idea that Marshall would be seeing this. Of course, it made sense. He had made it quite clear that the whole thing about consent and safety. But the whole form-filling felt both intimate and clinical at the same time. After a while, you went to find him in the movie room, where he was lounging in front of some  random TV show. « All good ? » he asked. « Yeah. All good. » you hummed as you handed him the small stack of paper. « That was… Dense. » you observed. He chuckled and nodded. « Told you I was putting you to work. I know it’s not the most fun but that’s an important part » he explained. You nodded and looked at him with eyes full of questions. « So… Do I get to see your checklist too ? » you asked innocently. He shook his head. « No need. What matters is your checklist. I mean, if there’s anything on there that I’m not ok with, even if you said you were fine with it, we won’t do it. But as the dom, it’s my job to tailor the whole thing to you and your needs. Not the other way around. ». He stared at you intently, his gaze conveying a seriousness you didn’t see too often. « But…  I don’t get to know what you’re into ? » you asked with a smile and a raised eyebrow. « What you need to know, you will find out soon enough » he assured with a smirk. « But for now, we have something else to focus on. Something important, actually ». 

There was a moment of silence. He got up from the couch, paused the TV show and faced you. You were in the middle of the room, which was dimly lit, with shadows that danced across the walls. Just like the rest of his house, it felt cozy and luxurious. You’d been there so often that, most of the time, you weren’t even aware of your surroundings. But now, you seemed to notice every detail. Your heart was racing in your chest. Marshall placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. « Kneel for me, please » he ordered quietly. You stared at him for a second before doing as you were told. You knelt at the center of the room, your knees pressing into the soft carpet beneath you. He gently directed you, ordering you to rest your palms on your things and keep your head down. You could feel your fingers tremble slightly and you tried your best to steady your breathing. You could hear him pace behind you, his presence filling the room. You had both agreed that this weekend would be some sort of training, an opportunity for you to see more. Your thoughts were swirling in anticipation. You had no idea what was coming next but you trusted him. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and commanding, cutting through the stillness like a blade.

« Kneeling is more than just a position, Y/N, » Marshall said, stepping into your line of sight, his eyes fixed on you. « It’s a reminder of who holds the power, of who’s in control. » Your breath caught in your throat. His voice alone made you feel small, not in a way that diminished you, but in a way that made you aware of how much you were surrendering to him. It wasn’t just about kneeling—it was about giving yourself over to him completely, about letting go of your own control. Marshall crouched down in front of you, his eyes meeting yours for the first time. There was a seriousness in his gaze, but also a hint of something else—something that spoke of patience, of care. « When you kneel for me,” he continued, “it’s not just a physical act. It’s a symbol of trust. You’re giving me your submission, and in return, I’m giving you my protection, my guidance. Do you understand that? »

You nodded, your throat tight. « Yes… Sir, » you whispered, voice trembling slightly. He tilted his head, watching you carefully, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips, though the serious frown remained.  « Words are easy, Y/N. I need to know you feel it. That you believe it. » Your gaze faltered for a moment, your mind racing. You had wanted this—craved the sense of belonging, of purpose—but now that you were here, the weight of it all pressed down on you. You didn’t want to disappoint him. You didn’t want to fail. « Look at me, » he said, his voice softer now. You lifted your eyes to meet his again, and when you did, you saw the intensity in them—the same intensity you saw in him whenever you witnessed him at work, in the studio or on stage, in the lyrics he rapped with fire and conviction. But this wasn’t the Marshall the world knew. This was the man who was about to take you under his control, and the depth of his focus on you was overwhelming. « I need you to remember something, » he said slowly, his hand brushing along your jawline, making you shiver. « When you kneel, it’s a choice. You’re choosing to trust me. You’re choosing to give me control. But once you make that choice, Y/N, you don’t get to question it. You don’t get to doubt it. When you’re down here, at my feet, I am in control. Understand? »

His thumb traced your lower lip, the touch almost tender, and yet it held a kind of power that made your stomach tighten. You felt the weight of his words, of what he was asking of you. It wasn’t just about the physical act of kneeling—it was about giving him your mind, will and obedience. « Yes, Sir, » you whispered again, but this time, there was more certainty in your voice. « Good girl, » he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. The praise made your heart flutter, warmth spreading through you at his approval. Just like that weekend, weeks ago, when you had played the role of his pet. Marshall stood slowly, towering over you as he resumed pacing, his presence once again commanding the space around you. « When I say kneel, you drop to your knees without hesitation. It doesn’t matter where we are or what you’re doing. When I say the word, you obey. No questions, no second-guessing. » You nodded, your body already responding to the firmness in his voice. You could feel the power shift between you, the way his dominance seeped into every word, every movement. « Right now, you’re learning what it means to submit to me, » he continued, stopping in front of you again. « And I want you to understand something important—this isn’t just about control. It’s about connection. When you kneel, you’re not just giving up your power. You’re giving me something precious. And in return, I take care of you. I help you thrive. »

His words were grounding, filling you with a sense of calm amidst the uncertainty. You weren’t just kneeling for him because he demanded it—you were kneeling because you wanted to. Because you trusted him to quiet the noise in your head. Marshall circled you, his fingers brushing over your shoulder as he passed, sending a shiver down your spine. « Keep your eyes down, » he ordered, and you quickly dropped your gaze to the floor again. He stopped behind you, close enough that you could feel his breath on the back of your neck. « You’re mine, Y/N. When you’re here, in this position, I need you to remember that. You don’t need to think. You don’t need to worry. All you need to do is obey. »

Your pulse quickened at his words, a mixture of anticipation and fear swirling in your chest. You could feel the weight of his dominance pressing down on you, but it wasn’t suffocating. It was freeing. « I’m the one in control, » he said firmly. « And when you’re with me, like this, I will always be in control. Do you trust me with that? » You nodded, your voice soft but certain. « Yes, Sir. » Marshall moved back around to face you, crouching down once more so that your eyes and his were level. His hand cupped your chin, tilting your head slightly upward. « Good. Then let’s begin. »

And with that, you felt the world around you shift. You were no longer just yourself—you were his. Surrendering to him, to his control, was the first step in a new journey and you could feel it.

[munson-blurbs]

Bug❤️ let me tell you that your idea meet-cute idea is absolutely great, and I was wondering if I can request one with Eddie?

My pronouns are she/her, I would describe myself as shy and quiet, very weird who lives in her own world most of the time (especially around people I don't know very well) but also very stubborn. I love to read Stephen King books, watch TV shows and then overanalyze them and every detail, I love working with colors but also going out to walk, especially at the parks where you can meet some cute ducks. I also really love dogs and cats too.

I would also say that it can be very difficult for me to make friends irl and not much into pda, but with the right person, everything become more easy.

Not sure if what I wrote is good and gave you all you needed, but anyway, thank you for this ❤️

You meet while reading at the park!

CW: I guess some spoilers for 'Salem's Lot, but that's pretty much it WC: 657 Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

There’s no better way to spend a springtime Saturday afternoon in Hawkins than reading by the pond. 

A cool breeze rippled the pages of your book. It wasn’t your first time reading ‘Salem’s Lot, and it probably won’t be your last. With each reread, you noticed different details about Ben Mears’ time hunting down the vampires that have taken over the small town. 

Easing back into the bench, you let Hawkins fade into the background and immersed yourself in the story. What would you do if an evil entity took over your home? Would you fight it off? Would you even recognize that it was, in fact, evil? Or would you be just as clueless as the fictional residents of Jerusalem’s Lot?

You barely had time to ponder your potential fate before a frantic voice cut into your thoughts. 

“Hey! Reginald, wait your turn!”

Your attention slid right to the man sitting cross-legged in front of the pond, a box of crackers in his lap. Three ducklings surrounded him, one shoving himself in front of the others to get the first nibble. 

The man shook his long curls out of his face. “Seriously, dude, you’re being a dick.” He crumbled a cracker in his palm and held it out to the other two ducklings. “Now you’re gonna go last. How do you like that?”

You giggled, and it must’ve been louder than you’d intended, because the guy whipped his head around for a moment to look at you. He was…beautiful. You lost yourself in his eyes for a moment, then in the smile that appeared at the sound of your laughter. 

A third beak pecked at his palm, bringing him back to the task at hand, and he groaned. “Dammit, Reginald!” Resigned, he crumbled up another cracker and let the ducklings eat it. 

Placing a bookmark between the pages, you timidly made your way over to the patch of grass where he sat. “Did you just call that duckling Reginald?” You asked, not hiding the amusement in your tone. 

The man nodded. “Mhm. Named him that myself,” he said proudly. 

“Why ‘Reginald’?”

“Because,” he grinned, “he has that little mark on his neck that looks like a bowtie. Very distinguished. So he needed a name to match.”

You tucked your lips into your mouth to avoid bursting into laughter. “I see,” you managed. “Do the others have names, too?”

“Of course!” He almost sounded offended, like you were inferring some kind of neglect on his part. “The smaller one is Eclair, because she tried to steal an eclair from me the first time we met. And the bigger one is Cujo.”

Your eyes widened and lit up. “Like from the Stephen King book?”

“The one and only.” He grinned proudly. “Though this guy is more of a gentle giant than a rabid, carnivorous monster.” He cocked his head to the side. “And what about you?”

“Hm?”

“Your name. Mine’s Eddie, by the way.”

You introduced yourself, feeling your heart flutter when he repeated your name back to you. It sounded perfect when he said it. Gesturing to the box of crackers, you asked, “can I feed them one?”

“Absolutely.” Eddie narrowed his eyes pensively. “Just don’t fall for any of Reginald’s bullshit. If you do, he’ll walk all over you. Trust me.”

There was an electric spark when your fingertips brushed his as he handed you a cracker. Did he feel that, too?

Meanwhile, Reginald quacked his frustration that you hadn’t yet offered him anything to eat. 

Eddie nudged the overzealous baby bird out of the way. “Hey, you need to be respectful of the cute girl.” He shook his head in mock frustration. “I’m sorry. We’re still working on our manners.”

“I see.” You watched as Eddie corralled the ducklings as best as he could. “Well, I’m happy to help.”

With a shy smile, he watched you feed the crumbs to the ducklings. 

“We’re happy, too.”

--

[junhuifurby]

Oh wow it’s almost been a year— anyways, back to RoR posting.

Nikola Tesla x Reader

——————————

In life you had admired him, you’d studied under him and eventually fell in love with him. Nikola Tesla was a brilliant man and you had wanted to understand his mind. Through the years you’d learned of his eccentricities and quirks, but you’d also learned how human he could be. You’d learned about his highs and lows, how obsessive he could be over seemingly minuscule things, and how his first love was his work. Nothing mattered more to Tesla than his work and furthering the ingenuity of humanity. Despite the steadily growing feelings in your heart, you were resigned to the fact that the enigmatic inventor would never love you back.

The first time you’d missed a day of work Tesla was concerned. In your time over the last year as his assistant you had never missed a day of work without warning, so when you suddenly didn’t show up that morning it threw him off. Everything seemed to be wrong, his routine was now wrong and he had to do something to fix it. The man threw on his coat, a pair of his favorite gloves, and grabbed his keys before heading out to find what was wrong. After taking 3 laps around the block, Nikola had realized he only knew the general area in which you lived. He had never been to your home, nor had you ever told him your exact address. The inventor’s brow furrowed in thought as he walked along the busy New York streets. Was there someone he could ask about your whereabouts? Did you even have any family or friends in the city? He realized that even if he was your employer he had considered you a friend, but what type of friend is he being if he doesn’t even know what you spend your time doing outside of work.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when a certain smell caught his attention. It was the smell of fresh baked bread. The same smell that lingered on you every day when you’d walked into his workshop. You’d told him before when he asked that you always stop by the bakery by your apartment building. He followed the scent to a quaint looking bakery and luckily it wasn’t that busy at this very moment. A little bell rung out into the bakery as he entered and a kind looking older woman turned her attention to him from behind the counter.

“Excuse me Madame, would you have happened to see Y/N L/N come through here this morning? I believe they’re a regular here.” He asked and the elderly woman shook her head.

“No not today.” She said with a thick German accent. “They come by every day and have a nice conversation, but Y/N didn’t come in today.”

“That’s a shame, do you know what apartment they live in by any chance?” He asked, his worry for his assistant growing.

“Building 203, 2nd floor, apartment 58.” The elderly woman said with no hesitation. “I’ve never had a man come looking for Y/N, are you courting them?”

“Ah— no I’m just a friend who’s concerned.” Nikola said with a shake of his head. “Thank you for the address, you’ve been a fantastic help.”

The elderly woman gave him a smile and a nod as she waved to Nikola as he exited the shop.

‘What could be the matter?’ Nikola thought, his brain pulling up the worst case scenarios as he walked down the chilly street, the autumn wind blowing leaves into the air. So many things could have happened to you. You could have been mugged on your way home last night, or even kidnapped and sold. So many horrible things could have happened on your way from his laboratory to your home, the New York streets were dangerous and he knew it. His mind continued to spiral as he climbed the stairs of your apartment building.

‘Second floor, apartment 58.’ He repeated over and over in his mind on the steps leading up to your home. He stood by the door, a bronze plaque with the number 58 sat pristinely above the door knocker. The inventor took a deep breath and made 3 loud knocks with the metal knocker.

“Y/N, are you home?” He called out, hoping the door was thin enough for them to hear him. Tesla heard shuffling from the other side of the door and a faint ‘Mr. Tesla?’ He listened as the footsteps came closer to the door, seemingly slow and sluggish, definitely odd for Y/N’s normally quick and efficient demeanor.

“Mr. Tesla is that you? Why are you— oh I guess you noticed I hadn’t come in today.” A snufflely voice came from the other side of the door. Nikola’s face paled, this was worse than he had though, surely you couldn’t be— “I came down with a cold this morning.”

Nikola felt like the world was crashing down. His assistant sick? No, this surely can’t be, his only real friend sick of all things. Oh how he hated sickness, he hated any sort of germs but an illness was the worst. Y/N may claim to only have a cold, but what if it developed into pneumonia or even worse—cholera. He had to do something quickly, time was of the essence but he couldn’t risk himself catching whatever Y/N had.

“I’ll be back with a doctor Y/N.” He said quickly before rushing to find a doctor.

That day, Nikola had cared for you in any way he could—that didn’t involve getting anywhere near you—as he couldn’t bear to see you sick. The doctor that he had brought said that you’d been right and it was a simple cold and you should be fine as long as you rested for the next few days. Over the course of your bed rest, Nikola had brought you breads and hot soups to help you recover. He’d also sanitized your entire apartment 3 times. When you got bored he would sit at one end of your room and talk to you, seemingly wanting to know more about you. He’d asked about your hobbies, if you had and friends or family in the city, and even what types of books you liked to read. For the first time, you felt a connection to the inventor that was more than just employer and employee. In the time you were sick, you started to really see Nikola Tesla as a friend.

Over the next few years Nikola continued to learn about you. Not only had you stolen his attention, but stolen his heart as well. Strange feelings had started to bubble up in his chest and he was no fool. Nikola knew what his feelings for you were but he could not figure out why they were changing. You on the other hand, had been content with being friends with the inventor, now seeing him as one of your closest friends. However, it wouldn't be long before the enigmatic inventor confessed his feeling for you, causing the feelings you'd harbored for the past 4 years to erupt like a volcano. You would continue living your life happily with Nikola, supporting him through his highs and lows until death would ultimately separate you.

However, you waited for Nikola and he eventually joined you in the afterlife. Having never remarried, he waited to join you just as you had waited for him. It was a beautiful reunion as he cried as he held you in his arms once again. He spun you in his arms and laughed with you once again. Oh how he’d missed you, the years without you felt like torture. You were the light in his world, his flame in the dead of winter. Without you, the world of his heart was barren. Oh how he’d longed for your touch, to hear the gentle chime of your laughter. Now, he was with you once again and now would never leave your side.

———————

Ok so how’d ya’ll like that? I just got back into RoR after I saw the Anubis leaks lol. I was so SAD I had quit reading after Nikola’s fight. Anyways hope you guys enjoyed, lmk what I should write next.

[mybworlds]

CHAPTER 2

status: ongoing

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: your life is full of 'must'. You live with your overprotective mother who controls every aspect of your life. You have a dream, to write romance novels, but love - real love - you haven't found yet. Your mother has even decided what you must do in your free time: play music. One day, however, when you go to your music teacher's house, you will have an unexpected encounter and from that day on things change…

rating: 18+ explicit (minors, DNI)

Masterlist

Before to start... please remember English is not my first language, so please be kind.

If you like or you want to reblog and/or leave a comment I'd appreciate 🥹

If you don't like my story, don't be rude and go away ✌🏻

Thanks @vase-of-lilies for the banner

There are two ways this story could have gone-if it was a story heard in the bar-either the protagonist turns her back on the mysterious and charming man or she gives him a chance, even though she feels she shouldn't.

You decide to look into his face and see a strange light in his eyes, very reminiscent of that magnetic, mysterious light that Tommy emanates. That light you've never been able to understand.

Who knows with the second Miller maybe?

What are you talking about, you don't have to understand anything at all! Tommy Miller is just your music teacher and this one in front of you is just his brother, a strange, somewhat know-it-all, cocky and unfortunately charming brother.

You don't know him.

You have only seen him for two minutes, but you already have mixed feelings.

On the one hand you want to run away, on the other you absolutely cannot avoid his gaze.

"So what have you figured out about me in less than a minute?" he challenges you with an amused air.

"You're older than Tommy, you're very confident, you're convinced you can do and say anything you want. No one will ever punish you, will they?"

You're not usually like this, you're definitely more resigned, reserved, but not with Joel Miller.

He smiles as he lowers his head and shakes it slowly, then looks back up at you.

"I like you, little girl. Tommy told me about you, but I thought you were a pretty little thing who just stood there and listened and obeyed."

Is that Tommy's idea of you?

Wait a minute, is that everyone's idea of you?

You are too focused on those words and pay no attention to the fact that he just called you, or perhaps his brother, pretty.

"Who is he now judging without even knowing me?" you chuckle at him with your chin out and crossing your arms.

He laughs, it's a warm laugh that sweeps over you, sweeps over you like a wave, like a warm gust of wind, like a ray of sunshine after weeks of rain.

Your heart loses a beat.

"I'd better go now," you say, hoping to get out of the situation that is taking on less and less clear tones.

"In a hurry to get back to your bubble?" he asks causing your heart to lose another beat.

"What bubble? What are you talking about?"

You know what he means, but what could he possibly know? You have never told Tommy anything about yourself.

Your music lessons were conducted in a specific order: you would come in, he would offer you a cup of coffee, which you promptly refused-your mother instilled too many negative thoughts in you-then Tommy would invite you to take the sheet music and finally he would take the guitar and make you strum a few chords, nothing complicated.

There was no room for any confidence either from you or from him. In fact, you had no idea whatsoever that he had a brother.

"You looked pretty sad to me when you got out of your mother's car," he replies for the first time without a trace of mockery or irony in his voice.

Your heart is pounding in your chest.

But how...?

You lower your gaze, losing that unfamiliar resourcefulness that had accompanied you until moments before.

"It's the same sadness I see in your eyes right now," he says again in a soft, calm tone.

"Let it go." you say in a whisper, lowering your gaze.

You don't want to talk about it, not with a man you barely know, you've never talked about it all the way with your friends, why should you talk about it with him? With a man much older than you who until that moment before has teased you by making you feel like a child?

He doesn't insist, thankfully, but the silence becomes harder and harder to break, and you have even more difficulty backtracking and going back to where you came from.

To that life that-even though you stubbornly deny it-becomes more limiting and narrower with each passing day.

"Do you want to come in?" he asks you in the same tone as before.

You look up and feel for the first time naked before that man; no one has ever really made you feel so helpless.

You have to run away.

"No." you reply, looking up and noticing in your tone of voice almost a trace of fright.

Before he can add anything else, you turn your back and leave. You run for the stairs, your heart in your throat.

You almost can't think.

When you are outside the building, you realize you have been holding your breath. You linger with your eyes on what to do for the remaining hour you were supposed to spend playing.

You cross the street, risking slipping on the thin layer of ice, and then head into the small bar across the street. It is a bar and you sit down in front of the counter.

"What can I get you, honey?" asks the young man. He is good-looking, with green eyes and dark hair, quite muscular.

He smiles at you.

"Um, a coffee." you reply, drumming your fingers on the counter and looking toward the doorway of the building you just came out of.

"Right away." he says, "This is not the first time I've seen you around here."

You look at him and notice that he is watching you intensely.

You remain with your mouth open.

You don't know what to say or whether to actually say anything.

You just nod.

"I don't want to look like a maniac," he clarifies, smiling at you. He has a bright smile.

"You don't look like one." you say smiling at him a little more relaxed, but not too much.

"Jack." he says holding out his hand to you. This is the second time someone has introduced himself today.

This time, unlike before, you shake the young man's hand by introducing yourself. He smiles, repeating your name.

You are not sure why you introduced yourself with him and not Joel. Not certainly because Joel is a man and Jack a young man. Age has nothing to do with it. Maybe it has to do with the fact that you are in a public place now, whereas before you were not.

You start talking about a lot of things, you find out that he is a sophomore in college, studying psychology, working there, and in his spare time volunteering. He seems to be a very interesting person.

You tell him about yourself, part of your life, the things you find most interesting about yourself, your love of writing, your passion for classical music, books, movies.

You talk about so many aspects of your life, you talk almost freewheeling. You should go back in, but maybe it is precisely because your mother is not home tonight because she is in the hospital that you don't mind being a little later and especially being with someone you think is nice and interesting.

It is almost eleven o'clock at night and Jack closes the shutter. You are both outside the club. It's cold. It looks like it's going to snow.

You shiver, clutching your shoulders, and he, with a smile, pulls off his jacket and hands you his.

"Is that better?" he asks you thoughtfully, you nod.

"Can I walk you home?" he asks you again.

Perhaps you might dare, but part of you decides it's better not to.

Jack seems to understand your intention from your gaze, he nods, gently caressing your left cheek.

"Forgive me, maybe I'm getting ahead of myself," he says, squeezing into your shoulders.

"No, no. Um, forgive me, just maybe another time."

His eyes light up "So would you like to meet again in the next few days? Maybe after you finish your music lessons?" he proposes, and you find yourself nodding with a small smile.

Jack seems like a very sweet guy, you like the way he thinks, the way he talks, you decide to give him a chance.

"See you next time, then," he says, giving you a gentle kiss on the cheek.

He is leaving, but you call him over and return his jacket, which Jack takes back with a smile, then leaves.

You have a smile on your face, see him leave, and then slowly walk home.

It's really cold.

There is a very strong wind, you huddle in your shoulders.

At some point you hear a honk not too far from you, you turn around, and at that moment the window of a dark SUV rolls down.

"Juliet, are you left alone?"

It's Joel Miller.

"Romeo's gone?"

"What do you want from me?" you ask him, crossing your arms and approaching his car.

"Nothing. I just asked you a question," he replies with a shrug.

You roll your eyes and resume walking, hearing the car walk slowly beside you.

"Was it a pleasant afternoon?" he asks you.

"Definitely better than how the evening is ending," you reply annoyed.

"Are you going to walk in the snow?"

"It's not snowing, it's just windy," you reply in an obvious tone.

"It's going to snow soon."

"Now you're in charge of the weather too? You know how to do everything!" you exclaim "Your wife will be satisfied!" you add, visibly shivering.

"Get in before you freeze to death!" he blurts out seeing you clutching yourself in your coat, you stop and look toward him "Come, I promise not to bite." he adds.

You look at the road, at the sky and then at Joel, who looks at you indecipherably, then you make up your mind: you open the door and get in.

"Here." he says slipping off his windbreaker and laying it on your shoulders in a sweet gesture of great care for you.

"Thank you." you say slipping on his jacket that is definitely big for you, then you see him turn on the hot air.

"I'll drive you home. Tell me what your address is."

You tell him your home address and he nods and puts the car in gear and drives off.

He looks at you briefly.

He does this a lot.

You don't know what to say.

"We're here." he informs you.

You make to get down immediately and launch into the house, but then you reconsider and make to return his jacket.

He shakes his head.

"Keep it. You give it back to me next time in class," he says.

"In class?" you ask still trembling.

"Don't tell me you've already forgotten your guitar lessons!" he exclaims "You really have a short memory!" he adds in what should be a serious tone, but the upturned corners of his mouth betray what was perhaps meant to be a reproach or who knows what else.

"Witty." you say "All right, then I'll see you in two days." you add in an exasperated tone as you get out of his SUV.

You are about to close the door, but then you reconsider "Thank you, you didn't have to."

"You're right, maybe I could have done like your Romeo and left you out in the cold, but I didn't have the courage."

"Whatever the reason was," you say, "thank you, obnoxious." you add, closing the door, as you close the door to your building an asshole escapes your lips.

It will be hard to have a teacher like him.

[basil-the-scorned]

Flufftober Alt 1: “I’ve got you”

Summary: Hangman is intense nowadays, to say the least. Even in thought. Or Adam has a bit of character bleed by accident.

Fandom: All Elite Wrestling

Characters: "Hangman" Adam Page, Nick Jackson

Additional Tags: Character Bleed (A bit of it), Platonic Relationship

AN: First alt for me! Also to note, this is all platonic. I tend to write people very touchy unless stated otherwise, it’s just part of my writing.

@flufftober

Adam was used to being dragged towards his doom. It was part of the fate he signed up for as soon as he decided he would be wrestling for the rest of his life. He wasn't always prepared for it but once he gets his footing somewhat on the ground, he finds a way to make it work.

This wasn't one of those times, at all. In fact, the weight he was using to stand his ground was failing him with each tug he was receiving. He wasn't going anywhere near what was awaiting him, not even when the pulls were almost getting to the point of being painful.

"It's not that...bad." Another tug, which made Adam hiss out. The pull slacked, but the person was still hanging on by Hangman's jacket sleeve. They weren't even anywhere near the ring, but instead outside of a movie theater showing some kind of movie he swore up and down he would not see.

"Not a chance in hell." Adam made it even more clearer by yanking his arm towards him and a laughing Nick bumping into his chest. Adam had to stand his ground, he had to. He knows the signs of a bad watch when he sees one, so why did he even let Nick bring him here?

"Come on, cowboy!" Every word was full of giggles, a far cry from how Nick would be in those stuffy bright suits and matching fedora hats on TV. All serious, would have probably left Hangman outside to watch the movie himself.

Then again, Hangman wouldn't even be out with him at all, still full of anger and spite for anyone that wronged him. He wouldn't be this playful with his words despite what he says, or let one of the Young Bucks try to guide him closer to the doors. Adam could imagine that cowboy, yelling at him at why was he away from his family--the family that literally pushed him out the door as soon as Nick whispered what movie they were seeing--or why wasn't Nicholas on the ground in front of him?

Back off, he mentally barks out at the cowboy. He didn’t want any parts of him today.

"Adam..." He wouldn't light up at his name being called out so softly, even if Nick was now frowning up at him. "You have that look again."

"What look?" Adam asked.

"Hanger's." The Bucks, both of their weaknesses, yet Hangman was the one that was taking things to the next level. Adam was able to walk away as soon as he saw those serious faces crack into smiles backstage, when they would mimic how he would stomp around in the ring.

Still, Hangman now had the tendency to linger sometimes when he least wanted it. He shakes his head, his hair rubbing a bit against his face. "How...how could you tell that?” He got hands picking at his shirt for a bit, before he got an answer.

“I don’t know. You look more…sad. ” 

Adam lets out some kind of a laugh, though it didn’t have any humor in it. He hit the nail pretty good on the head. “It’s something like that, I guess.”

“Well, that’s why,” Nick starts off, lightly pushing himself off of Adam to look at him with that same frown, “we need to go to this movie! Take your mind off of him.”  

“Do you even know what it’s about?” To that, he gets a shrug. 

“I only read the summary.” That didn’t sound promising at all. Worse, if it’s what he thinks it is, the poster was making his skin crawl with mismatched fonts and clashing colors on it.  “But I got you, just trust me on this.” Nick had once again grabbed the end of his jacket, only now he was turned towards the doors of the theater.

“Nick…” Adam barely begged, sort of resigning towards his fate.

[kissofthemis]

surprise for me, surprise for you

"My dear rose, while I have the utmost faith in your guidance and would follow you to the ends of the earth..."

You winced internally, bracing yourself for the inevitable teasing that was about to come your way.

"... in order to avoid any injuries, may I please open my eyes soon?"

Vyn's question ended with an amused lilt, letting you know that he wasn't actually too worried or criticizing you harshly. Nonetheless, you couldn't help but let out a soft "hmph" in indignation.

"I gave you perfectly clear directions," you countered. "And I'm the one who blocked you from running into the door post in the nick of time, so aren't I the one who needs to worry more about bumps or bruises?!"

The soft chuckle that left Vyn's lips stirred your heart like a spring breeze. "That's precisely why I want to open my eyes," he murmured, and despite the fact that his eyes were closed, you still felt a rush of heat flush your cheeks at the thought of him seeing you pout. "If you were to be injured on my behalf, I simply wouldn't be able to forgive myself."

Letting out a resigned sigh, you finally came to a stop, urging Vyn to halt beside you. "Luckily for both of us, we're here. You can open your eyes now."

Vyn wasn't a person who readily showed his emotions. However, even he couldn't fully suppress his surprise as you felt his palm grow warmer in yours and as you heard his breath gently hitch in his throat.

"Surprise!"

Balloons as shiny as sunlight. Streamers as vibrant as flowers. A spread of sweets as alluring as jewels. Smiling faces filling him with a sensation that was growing warmer and less foreign every day.

"Happy birthday, Vyn!"

Artem, Luke, Marius, and of course you, had prepared a humble but passionate birthday celebration for Vyn in his garden. You felt a swell of pride seeing the genuine shock on your lover's face; while he was exceptionally perceptive and quick to predict the actions or behaviors of others, he seemed awestruck to see the four friends who had prepared a small party in his honor.

"You put this together... for me?" Vyn didn't even try to hide the amazement in his voice.

Somewhere behind you, you heard Marius mutter, "Because jiejie asked me t--"

A quick blur flashed in the corner of your eye, and Marius immediately grew silent. You couldn't be sure if it was an arm or a leg that just moved, but you made a mental note to thank Luke later for preventing Marius from ruining the moment.

"That's what friends are for!" you replied, beaming at Vyn as you reveled in the warmth bubbling inside you. "A little birdie once told me that a certain Dr. Richter isn't too fond of lavish parties, where everyone has ulterior motives and nobody's kindness is genuine." You smiled softly. "Of course, this doesn't compare to the parties you grew up with, but... A small gathering of people who truly care about you isn't the worst way to spend a birthday."

You then turned and nodded to Artem, who nodded back in acknowledgement. "We also brought you gifts, as it's your birthday." He held out a simple but elegantly wrapped package. "I selected a couple of movies that I thought might be to your taste. They're DVDs, but if you use some other method to watch videos, let me know and I'll see what I can do."

Luke came up next with a large bag that looked as though it had been prepared in a hurry. "Being in the antique business, I see a lot of record players," he began. "Rosa told me you have a record player, so I picked out a couple of vinyl records for you. He scratched his nose. "You know who to call if your player has any issues, of course."

Finally Marius stepped up to a covered easel, puffing his chest. "And... I think you need to brighten up your office, so I painted you a little something. No refunds, no exchanges on this one-of-a-kind piece." With a dramatic flourish, he revealed a canvas depicting an exquisitely painted bouquet of flowers, in which one rose stood out as the biggest and brightest flower of them all.

"And... I did my best to bake some of the pastries you showed me how to make," you finished. "Artem lent me a hand, so I hope they're tasty enough for you!"

Vyn chuckled softly. Evidently he had recovered some of his senses, as he lowered his glowing golden gaze to meet your own. Adoration lit up his smile and tinted his nose and cheeks pink. "I'm sure they're perfect," he cooed. "All of this is... perfect." He lowered his forehead to touch yours, and warmth poured off him in waves, flowing into you. "I never knew that I could enjoy birthdays... until I met you. Thank you, my sweet rose, for continuing to surprise me every day with the depth of your love and the beauty of your soul."

He lifted his head for a brief moment, calling to Luke, "Can we please test one of those vinyls now? I have one more selfish request, as the guest of honor for this party."

Now his attention turned back to you, and judging from the smile spread across his lips and the way he squeezed your hands in his, you were the only object of his attention now.

"May I have this dance?"

[liminal-storage]

Interlude: Rage in a Page

Prompt: Hackneyed

Characters: Kuni Muinvel, with mentions of Keldrin @roses-and-grimoires, Talia @zoetic-tome, Latika'a @latikaa-renaz, Silvaineaux @houserosaire, Inwa @blisteringstar, and Lyrin'a @hiraethwyl

Content Warnings: None.

"'While I must admit that the author of Occult Fan's primary articles does have a very distinct sense of voice, this writer finds that the subject matter is one which audiences are sure to tire of in good time.' He says this as if he himself isn't writing about the same topics!"

Latika'a's voice fell like a blow upon her ears. The dramatic reading set her to wincing, tail flicking in mild agitation. Really, it was her own fault for bringing in her mail and leaving it within his reach. The copy of a rival occult magazine sat taunting her with its glossy cover until Latika'a snatched it up.

Kuni tried to focus on her drink, picking through a small stack of letters with feigned interest. She watched Keldrin stalk across the room in a pair of ridiculously tall, ridiculously shiny heeled boots to lean around Lati's shoulder. He wanted in on the dramatic reading too.

"'Horoscopes and recipes are all well and good, but any reader of a more refined taste can recognize that the trite, repetitive verbiage Miss Umbral uses is a sign of a greater problem afflicting authors.' Oooh, he called your writing 'trite.' That's just cold."

Suddenly, the table beneath Kuni's hands bore a few more scratch marks. Latika'a continued with his turn to read.

"'Allowing writers of a feminine persuasion into the space was perhaps the greatest mistake a publishing house could have ma---' Oh that's wildly sexist."

"Enough," Kuni hissed, standing up to snatch the magazine away. "I suppose I should thank this guy. Having fanmail and hate mail in equal measure is a true sign of success."

That was to say nothing about one particularly long fan letter she'd received which had described in vividly explicit detail what said fan would do to her if they ever met in private. Kuni had borrowed a lighter from Talia and immediately turned those papers into a small pile of flaky black particles.

"Mm, that's true!" Lati chimed.

"Sure, but in the next paragraph I saw him going into a spiel about how even the recipes included in each issue are shit..." Keldrin said this with a smug grin, clearly amused at this whole thing. Kuni suspected he was trying to stir the pot even more.

"Oh, really? And does the magazine happen to mention anything about where the author lives?"

"As a matter of fact it does! Why? You're not thinking of doing anything drastic, now are you?" Keldrin sounded like that was exactly what he expected her to do, and that he expected to be allowed to watch.

"No, no! Perish the thought. I just thought maybe I'd send a gift to such a loyal reader..."

Over at the bar, Lyrin'a watched in silence, pulling a face. Over the course of the conversation, the tea he'd started out with 'magically' came to contain more liquor than tea. Kuni could almost see the pleading in his expression, along with the resignation of knowing nothing he could say or do would stop her from her mischief.

Silvaineaux shook his head ever so slightly, pouring more whiskey into his own glass before topping off Lyrin'a's tea. The liquid's surface rippled dangerously, surface tension alone keeping it from spilling. The knight didn't have to say a single word. She could tell what he was thinking, already mentally absolving himself of responsibility for any legal action that might come as a result of the others' shenanigans.

And Inwa? He'd long since given up on trying to insert any sense of logic or reason into the conversation. He lay like a starfish upon the pile of cushions near the fishtank, staring up at the ceiling and questioning every decision in his life that had led him to Priarch's doorstep.

"What kind of gift?" Lati had come to stand beside Kuni, his plush tail curling around her.

"I'm thinking...glitter bomb."

Here, Kuni's gaze snapped towards Talia. The redhead had not participated in the dramatic reading session, and in fact had seemed busy with typing away in her tomestone during most of the affair. Feeling Kuni's gaze upon her though, Talia peered up at her.

"Mm. Sure, I could make that happen for you. I can install a camera in the package too. Something remote so the footage uploads directly to my systems."

"And this is why you're one of my favorites~" Kuni grinned.

"Hey! What about me?" Lati pouted.

"I feel so unloved," Keldrin joked.

"Oh, shut it. You know I adore you both. So what color should we send? Do either of you happen to know of a brand that makes particularly fine glitter? I want to make sure our gift leaves a...lasting impact, so to speak..."

[ravennaortiz]

Juices Sex Shop Adventures Story 1

Summary: This will be our nervous, flushing red with embarrassment Juice.

This is angsty fluff no smut. As always my stories are 18+

Juice closed his eyes and swallowed hard as he got off his bike. Dread washed over him as he opened his eyes and saw the neon sign reading Sex Shop and regretted that they were in fact officially open. Resigning himself to the fact that he would have to finally go in he moved towards the door. He shook his head, glancing both ways to make sure no one was watching and turned to the door. Well here goes nothing.

A loud ding rang out as he pushed in the door and he can already feel the heat blooming up his neck and across his cheeks. The store is well lit out front and from where he is standing the place gets dimmer the further back you go. The walls are painted purple and black and every shelf and table is covered in boxes. Some more mysterious about their contents than others. The front seems to be mostly simple basic things like condoms, lube, and lingerie and gag gifts. While further back more advanced items he guess like sex dolls, vibrators and dildos were on display.

He slowly walked around the tables mostly staring at the floor. Unable to make eye contact with the naked bodies and images of body parts on them. Why is this so hard, you’ve been watching porn for years he berated himself mentally. Pull yourself together man. He told himself as he took a deep breath. Why was he so worked up about this? He had been having sex for years, been to strip clubs and had used sex toys with past partners. So why the hell had your simple request for him to pop into the new shop in town to get something for the two of you turned him into an embarrassed teenager?

Lost in thought he ran into a table, quickly grabbing at the falling items. “Need help finding anything sweetheart?” inquired an older woman her nametag reading Pam as she slipped into the aisle with him. “N—No no no. I’m….umm… just looking” stammered Juice as he shook his head and started laughing wildly .His left hand whipping up showing off one of the items he had caught. “Thinking might try something new. Got a little too excited” he added trying to give off a confident vibe, last thing he needed was an old lady realizing he was scared shitless at being in a sex shop, but internally kicking himself for the last part. Maybe he should have asked Tig and Chibs to come with him he thought to himself briefly as he shot a smile to the worker. Even if all they did was tease him they probably would have been helpful.

The woman sent him a kind smile before letting him know to let her know if he changed his mind. Once she had disappeared he sighed heavily and looked down at his hand. His brow furrowed as he turned the metal stem with a soft fox tail on the end of it over in his hand. “Butt plug” he all but yelled before tossing the item onto the shelf like it was a hot potato. Great now the woman probably thought he was some kind of wierdo.

Juice spent another ten minutes pacing and wondering if he should just call you and tell you that he couldn’t do this. He didn’t want to disappoint you though or let you know how panicked he was. Maybe you would be okay if he got you a simple lingerie item he thought as he moved back to the front of the store sighing heavily. Running his fingers over the lace he felt his body relax slightly. This was something he could do but your words echoed from earlier about him getting something fun and new for the both of you. He frowned to himself as he debated on if you would consider this for the both of you. Letting the fabric go he shook his head and started to turn catching sight of Pam in the next aisle.

Resigning himself for another human interaction he made his way towards her. He hoped she would be able to end this torture for him quickly. “Need some help? Inquired Pam as she looked up at his approach. “Ummm could I ask you for a recommendation actually” started Juice as he rubbed his hand on the back of his neck avoiding eye contact. “Of course sweetheart. First time?” she inquired though she already knew the answer. “Oh, no I have had sex before” chuckled Juice wondering why the hell that mattered.

Pam couldn’t help the small chuckle that came out at his response. “Oh no hunny I meant first time in a sex shop” she replied. “That obvious huh” laughed Juice as he looked up finally making eye contact. “Just a bit. Looking for anything in particular?” asked Pam. “My Old Lady told me to find something for the both of us to enjoy. Pretty open to anything” replied Juice as he followed her as she moved towards the back. “Alright, that helps. I know you were looking at anal items earlier. Any reservation to being penetrated yourself?” she inquired glancing over her shoulder at him. Juice paused for a moment as he thought it over. You had broached the subject of wanting to peg him a couple times and he hadn’t minded your fingers upon occasion. “Not at all” he stated thinking why the hell not.

Twenty minutes later he was texting you he was on his way home as he put his purchases in the storage area on his bike.

Return to Masterlist

[a-killer-obsession]

Wavelengths [Killer x Reader, Heat x Reader]

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

A search for a rumored Vegapunk weapon leads the Kid Pirates to an unexpected new crewmate, with a bloodlust that rivals their own and an incredible power.

CW: Please check AO3 for all current warnings, but general warning for smut, slow burn, serious gore, and really dark themes. AFAB reader, she/her pronouns.

Masterlist || AO3 || Chapter 1

Chapter 6 - Kid-nee Stone

Yin shows off a special skill & Killer tries to teach you to read. Thank god or how would you read this fic?

WC: ~4k

Taglist: @h0n3y-l3m0n05

“Oi! Yin!” Double called from the base of the mast, “It’s quittin time!”

Yin sighed with relief, you were hungry and tired and would like nothing more than to be in bed right this very second. “Thanks Double!” you called back as he started to climb the ladder, while you in turn jumped over the railing and moon stepped before hitting the deck, just as you had last night. It was 6am, too early for breakfast, but you didn’t have anything else to do, and you didn’t want to skip it when you would no doubt sleep through lunch. Meteor Wave always zapped your energy, you needed to recharge or you’d feel like shit later. You resigned to just sit at the dining table, your head resting against the surface for an awkward nap while you waited for someone to cook.

The smell of food woke you as a plate was pushed in front of your nose. You sat up with a deep yawn and stretched, seeing Killer making his way to his side of the table and sitting across from you with his own food. Nobody else had arrived yet.

  “Eat,” he told you, placing a straw in his drink, “you did good last night”

“Mmm,” you mumbled and yawned some more, picking up your fork, “thanks Kil.” It was nice of him, you thought, for him to get your breakfast for you. He must have noticed you sleeping at the table when he came in.

“I brought some shit for you by the way,” Killer said after a long sip of his drink, “to teach you to read, come find me after you’ve gotten some sleep”

“Oh okay, I will,” you replied, before shoving a forkful of bacon and eggs in your mouth. Truth be told, you were surprised he’d followed through with it, he'd probably spent his own money for it too. You weren't used to being shown kindness, it was a little overwhelming.

Soon the rest of the commanders, sans Double, filed in and took their places with their own food, a Henchman hurriedly running over and placing Kid’s in front of him. He seemed off today, somehow paler than normal, if that was even possible. The man was practically a sheet of printer paper by default, and you wondered if Killer had to forcibly dunk him in sunblock every time the crew reached a summer island. His bright hair looked matted, like he’d been tossing and turning all night, and the bags under his eyes agreed with that conclusion.

Heat took what was becoming his normal seat next to you, with a friendly slap on the back. “How was your first watch?” he asked with a smile, despite his chronically sad eyes.

“She killed a seaking,” Killer replied for you.

“On your own?” Kid asked, his forkful of food stopping halfway on its journey to his mouth.

“Yeah,” Killer replied nonchalantly, “she woke me for backup, but she didn’t need it. Killed it with one attack. Scattered its brains for miles”

“Fuckkk, good shit Yin,” Kid roared, slapping you on the back a little too hard, your face almost ending up in your eggs. He noticeably winced after making the movement, quickly returning to his food and hoping nobody noticed.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Killer asked. Killer had in fact noticed.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Kid scowled, “I’m as healthy as ever”

“You just winced, I saw it,” Killer pointed an accusing finger at him. He was probably the only person on the ship who could accuse Kid of anything without punishment.

“You do look paler than normal,” Mohawk observed.

You fiddled with the dial on your earpiece and your visor turned red, before leaning towards Kid to see past the table and scanning him with your eyes. He looked at you like you were trying to see his dick.

“The fuck are you doing?” he growled.

“Checking your insides,” you said, standing up and circling him, your eyes still scanning him. You came to a rest at his other side, next to Killer, and poked Kid’s side. He winced and growled at you.

“He’s got kidney stones,” you reported, turning to Mohawk since he was the ship’s doctor.

“You could see that with your mask thing?” he asked curiously.

“Yeah, well I mean it's the cos of my devil fruit, but the mask helps me zero in on what I wanna see,” you explained, “when it's red like this I can see all the squishy bits, like a MRI machine,” you fiddled with the mask and the visor turned a deep green, “Now I can see all your bones. Except Killer’s skull, I can’t see through metal”

“That’s cool as fuck,” Mohawk mused, “can you see how big the stones are? How many?”

You fiddled with the dial again and the visor returned to red, before you knelt at Kid’s side and prodded around his kidney, trying to shift it a little to get a better view inside it. “Mmm… three. Only one of them is any concern though, about a centimeter, too big to pass on his own.”

“Fuck, he needs lithotripsy,” Mohawk groaned and ran a exhausted hand down his face, “I don’t have the equipment for that”

“Is that the shockwaves thing?” you asked, “I can do it, I did it a few times for the marines”

“Yeah it is, we’ll have to do it later though, he’ll need pain relief before you can do it and you need sleep,” Mohawk said, pointing at you with an expression and tone that told you he was definitely in doctor mode right now.

“Fuck that, just do it now,” Kid said, “These fuckers hurt”

“Doing it without pain relief will hurt more,” Mohawk told him.

“You calling me a pussy?” Kid growled, “Just do the fucking thing”

You sighed and stood next to Kid, “Fine, but if you smack me cos I hurt you, I’ll liquify your entire kidney”

The whole table watched with curiosity as you stood and slid your hand down the backside of Kid’s pants, “Oi!” he yelped. Your hand was soft, but a little cold against his skin.

“Oh grow up, I’m not trying to grab your dick or anything, it's just easier when it’s skin to skin,” you explained, resting your hand over his kidney, “now sit still and shut up, I need to concentrate or I really will liquify your kidney” He gulped a little at the very real threat and did his best to stay still.

Your mask was still set to red, so it was easy for you to zero in on the calcified stones to vibrate them. You started with the smaller ones, turning them to dust, before moving to the big boy. Kid’s face was crumpling in on itself as he held his breath and tried to not groan in pain. You decided to humble him and went further, using vibrations to guide the pieces of stones into his ureter and down to his bladder. That made him finally crack and he white knuckled the table, groaning loudly and attracting the attention of the entire galley.

“Argg fuc- oh.. It stopped” in seconds he’d gone from some of the worst pain in his life, to just… nothing.

“You’re welcome,” you said, removing your hand from his side and returning to your seat, switching your visor back to purple, “I took the liberty of moving the stones through to your bladder, since you said you weren’t a pussy, so you shouldn’t feel them anymore. Well, maybe a little when you piss them out, but they’re basically dust now”

Kid scowled at your testing him, but was overly thankful that he wasn’t in pain anymore. He touched his side where the pain had been, it was a little tender but felt otherwise fine. You had already gone back to eating like nothing happened. In your marine days this sort of thing was a common occurrence. Your main use was as a weapon, but the marines had found other uses for your devil fruit as well.

“Do you have any other medical uses for your fruit?” Mohawk asked, “Other than being a human x-ray and MRI”

“Yeah I mean,” you finished chewing your mouthful before you continued, “Like the stones, I can break things up with vibrations and move them along. It’s good for blockages and blood clots. I don’t have much medical knowledge outside of what they used my power for in the marines, and some standard first aid training, but I can definitely be useful. Most common thing they had me do was check broken bones for loose fragments and shimmy the fragments back in place. A lot of checking dislocated joints for compressed veins too, oh and checking for bullets and shrapnel”

Mohawk looked at Kid with determination, “I want her in the med bay, as my assistant. She doesn’t already have a job on the ship other than fighting, right?”

Kid scratched his chin and looked between you and Mohawk, “I made a deal with her for no chores when she came on board, so it's up to her”

Mohawk looked expectantly at Yin, giving you his best puppy dog eyes, well, the best a rough looking grown man could muster. He didn’t really want an assistant, what he wanted was medical equipment to rival the Heart Pirates, and you could provide him with that. You smiled back at him “Yeah, okay,” you told him. He pumped his fist and made a small “yesss” under his breath. “It’s kinda fun, anyway,” you continued, “so it's not much of a chore. And it'll be a good excuse to practice with my fruit”

“Good, it's settled then,” Kid said, before shoving another forkful of food in his mouth.

You finished your plate and stood up. “I’ll clear your plate,” Heat told you, stopping you from picking your plate up with a gentle hand over yours, “go get some rest”

“Thanks Heatie baby,” you yawned, before giving him a little smooch on the top of his blue mop, still mostly braided, and heading for your room.

“Oi, Yin,” Kid called to you as you left.

“Mmm?”

“Good work last night,” he told you, pointing his fork in your direction, “and thanks for the uh.. yeah”

“No problem Cap’n,” you replied with a wide grin before skipping out of the galley.

As requested, you went to find Killer after your nap. You’d unsurprisingly missed lunch so he’d set some aside for her, determined to make sure you ate every meal and filled back out as soon as possible. You were eating it now in the navigation room while he set out all the things he’d picked up at the last island. Most of it was children’s books, as well as some pencils and a notebook with lines that were far apart, a dotted line between each solid one to act as a guideline for the school aged kids the book was designed for. He’d also bought a small whiteboard and a set of erasable markers.

“I thought we’d start by learning your name,” he said, pushing your now empty plate out of the way and replacing it with the notebook and pencil. He sat down next to you and laid out a small poster that showed the alphabet, with uppercase and lowercase letters and small illustrations next to each set of letters showing something that started with that letter. He picked up the whiteboard and pulled a marker from the pack, writing ‘Yin’ in large, easy to read letters. He usually wrote in neat cursive, so he was careful to print the letters straight and separated for you, with no fancy embellishments.

“That’s my name?” you asked, pointing at the whiteboard.

“Mmm,” he hummed, pointing at the letters individually with the end of the marker as he named them, “Why… eye…enn”

“Why… eye… enn…” you repeated, and looked at the alphabet poster, and the pictures next to the letters that matched what Killer had written. “Why for… yo-yo… eye for… I’m guessing that's supposed to be an igloo, and enn for… Nest. Those words all start with the same letters right?”

“Yes, that’s right,” he handed you the pencil and positioned your fingers around it so you were holding it correctly, “Want to try writing it? I’ll go letter by letter for you”

“Yeah, okay…” you said, looking at the pencil and moving your hand over the paper hesitantly, trying to figure out how the fuck someone uses it like this. You’d doodled before, but you’d always held the pencil like you were holding a dagger, with a closed fist. This felt awkward and unnatural, but you had seen people hold it like this plenty of times so you figured it must be correct.

Killer wiped the whiteboard clean with a rag and wrote a ‘Y’. “Watch how I do it,” he said, “you bring the line down on an angle like this, to about halfway, then straight down the rest of the way. Then you make another angled line to connect.”

You watched carefully and awkwardly wrote down a shaky ‘Y’ in your notebook. You did it a few more times, slowly gaining a little confidence each time.

“Good, the next one is easy,” he said as he cleared the board again and wrote the next letter, “just a straight line from halfway, then a dot above it”

The lowercase ‘i’ was easy to copy, so you were able to do it quickly, writing down a handful of them and turning to him expectantly for the next one. He smiled under his mask at your enthusiasm and cleared the board.

“Okay this one is a little trickier, watch carefully,” he told you, “you make a line, like you did with the ‘i’, then when you get to the bottom you keep your pencil on the page, go back up, and then make a curve like this till it hits the bottom line again”

He repeated it a few times for you then you copied. The first few ‘n’ looked more like unfinished ‘w’s but you got there after a few corrections from Killer. “Now put them together,” he told you.

You carefully wrote each letter next to each other on a new line, the spacing was a bit large between them so he corrected them and you wrote it again. “There you go, you wrote your name”

You stared at the page in disbelief, before turning your wide smile to him. “KILLER! I WROTE MY NAME!” you shouted gleefully.

“You did,” his shoulders shimmied in silent laughter, “good job”

You grew quiet again as you inspected the alphabet poster and compared it to what you’d written. “How come there’s two of each letter? We used the first ‘Y’ but the second ‘I’ and ‘N’, how come?”

“Ah, the first ones are uppercase letters, or ‘capitals’, and the other ones are lowercase,” he explained, “we use capitals at the start of sentences, and at the start of words that are names.”

“Ohhhhhh…” you mused, deep in thought, “How do I write your name?”

“My name is a lot longer, but it has some easy letters so I don’t see why we can’t try it,” he cleared the board and wrote out his name, then like he had with your name he pointed at the letters as he read them out, “kay, eye, el, el, ee, arr”

You pointed at the ‘i’, “that’s the same as my name, right?”

“Yes, that's correct. You wanna find them on the poster?” he said.

“Mmm…,” you scanned the poster, comparing it with what he’d written, “kay for… the fuck is that?”

“It's a kangaroo,” he told you, pointing at the strange bipedal animal, “Its a animal that lives in the West Blue”

“Oh, okay,” you said, “kay for kangaroo, eye for igloo, el for… lion, another el, ee for elephant, and arr for rainbow”

“Good, you wanna try writing it?” he asked, clearing the whiteboard.

“Mmm, I mean those two are just lines, and I know that one,” you said pointing at the ‘L’s and the ‘I’, “so we can skip those ones”

“Okay, uppercase ‘K’ then,” he wrote out a ‘K’ then started drawing one slower with instructions, “make one long line, then move a little across, come down on a angle like you did for ‘Y’, then go back out”

“Long line…” you mumbled to yourself as you traced the letter in your notebook, “... angle… back out…” You wrote it a few more times then turned to him expectantly for the next one.

“This is probably one the hardest letters so it might take a while to get the hang of,” he wrote a lowercase ‘e’, then gave his instructions as he wrote another few, “start just under the halfway mark, and you go out to the right, then loop it alllll the way around like this. Make sure it touches where you started the line”

You squinted at the letters as he wrote a few more for you, then you tried it yourself. They were all too large, or too skewed, or you’d overshoot and miss touching the start of the line. You were getting frustrated but he was patient with you, and after about thirteen attempts you managed to start making some ‘e’s that were still a little on the tall side, but looked pretty close.

“Good job, it doesn't have to be perfect right away,” he reassured you, “most people take years to learn to read and write, it’s not going to happen right away. Now this last letter…” he cleared the board again and wrote a lowercase ‘r’, “it's just like the ‘n’ we did earlier, but you stop early, see-”

You watched him write several, then tried it for yourself, smiling at how much easier they were than the ‘e’. “Now put it all together,” he said and wrote his name out one more time on the whiteboard for you. You checked the letters on the board and wrote them carefully one by one, with decent spacing thanks to your earlier corrections, till you had a messy ‘Killer’ written down.

“There you go,” he smiled under the mask, “you did it”

His smile faded when he noticed the tear appear from under your mask, rolling off your chin and making a wet splat on your notebook. “You okay?” he reached for your hand, still resting on the page holding the pencil, but thought better of it and returned it to the table in front of him.

“Yeah, sorry,” you sniffed, “it’s just- I never thought I’d be able to write my own name, and you’re being so gentle and patient with me”

“I’m sorry nobody ever gave you the time,” he almost whispered, “like I said before though, you’re an actual person in this crew, you can have your own wants and needs. You deserve to know a basic skill like reading and writing. We’ll have you reading novels in no time”

“Thanks, Kil,” you lifted your mask to wipe your face with the back of your hand, and he saw your pink-grey eyes for a moment before you pulled it back down. “It's funny, I joined you guys because you’re supposed to be all bloodthirsty monsters, cause I knew nobody here would judge my need to kill. But, I never expected any of you to be… kind. I kinda feel like I belong here, you know?”

“You do belong here,” he said plainly, “and it seems like you’re making friends, you and Heat seem close”

“Yeah, I think he’s sweet on me,” you laughed.

“I think you’d be correct in that thinking,” he smiled under the mask.

“Can I maybe… consider you a friend as well?” you asked shyly.

“I think that’d be okay,” he replied, receiving a bright smile in response that made his heart skip a beat. He cleared his throat awkwardly, “Anyway, that's probably enough for today. Take the notebook with you and practice the letters you learnt today, and get used to holding the pencil the right way”

“Okay, thanks Kil,” you said, helping him clean up the books that were scattered across the table before he quickly put them away in a drawer in his personal desk and fled. Nothing scared Killer more than the threat of catching feelings, so he rushed away to find a distraction before he could process the way his heart had fluttered at your smile.

[NEXT CHAPTER]

[strscrossed]

If you have some time do you think you could make a depressing drabble when Mikasa and her brother dissappears? Like from him not getting his good morning text, finding an empty office with the resignation letter, their empty apartment and not being able to find them. Kind of in thr mood to cry and this seems like a good scenario lol

this wasn't quite as depressing as i wanted it to be but it came close enough. he's just desperate and angry...

He didn’t panic when she didn’t text him first thing that Monday morning. 

It was a rainy morning, something Eren would consider later to be an omen. The sky wept as he would in a few hours’ time. Mikasa texted him that she wasn’t feeling well over the weekend and not to come over because she was contagious. 

Every instinct in his body told him to ignore her wishes and drive over there to nurse his lady love back to health. She’d been so insistent, though. 

This morning, he decided to take the initiative to text her. 

Eren: good morning, mika ❤️ are you feeling better? 

The message didn’t go through. In fact, it wasn’t delivered at all. 

Eren: mikasa? hey is your phone off? 

He tried several more times to text her but each message had that annoying red exclamation mark, indicating that his messages weren’t going through. 

He finally called her from the car and his heart stopped when he heard, “The number you are trying to call is not in service. Please try again–” he ended up throwing the phone on the seat. Had she changed her number? Or worse, had she blocked him? What had he done? 

He was lucky he was being driven by a chauffeur because he might’ve damn near crashed oncce he heard that message. She’d better be in the office today or so help him, he’d  storm over to the apartment and get the answer right out of her. The storm raged on outside and the outside world blurred from his windows. He could only see the flashing stoplight in front of him turning red and he came close to telling the driver to floor it and he’d get him out of the ticket. 

He did no such thing but he balled his hands into fists so tight, the skin of his knuckles threatened to tear. Much in the way that his heart would shortly…

-

His employees were used to his erratic moods, staying quiet as they didn’t know which version of their boss they’d get that morning, so they didn’t try him. He sort of enjoyed it, it kept them on task most of the time. 

Today, he wasn’t in the mood. 

“Mina,” he kept his voice low and steady, “Is Mikasa already in?” 

It was only then that Eren noticed the atmosphere in the office — thick and rife with tension. Mina’s eyes were shifty as she opened and closed her mouth. This was not the morning to be beating around the bush or delaying the truth. 

“She hasn’t…” the young woman responded quietly and something in Eren snapped as he shoved past her and straight into his office. 

She wasn’t. Oh, he was going to drive over to her apartment and figure out what the hell was going on. Why was she acting so fucking weird? Why–? 

His thoughts came to a screeching halt when he saw a single piece of paper folded on his desk. 

His heart was set completely ablaze when he opened the letter. 

Dear Mr. Jaeger; 

With this letter, I wish to inform you of my intention to resign from my position as administrative assistant as of 09/15/2024. I regret any inconvenience this may cause. I wish you and Jaeger Corp all the success going forward. 

Sincerely, 

Mikasa Ackerman

Mikasa Ackerman 

The letter slipped from his fingers as he struggled to comprehend what he’d just read. His heart pounded hard, knocking against his bones painfully as he clutched his desk, trying to keep himself from falling over. 

Resign.

Resign. 

Resign. 

His nails dug into the mahogany desk as they finally sunk in. She was resigning. She was leaving the company. 

She was leaving him. 

No, he wouldn’t accept it. He wouldn’t accept it! 

He rushed out of the office so fast, only half of the people working nearby swore they saw him zoom on by… 

-

“Open the door, Mikasa! Open the fucking door!” he pounded on the door hard and he didn’t give a damn if anyone heard. Let them hear it. 

“Mikasa!” he yelled. “OPEN THE DOOR!” 

Someone threatened to call the cops but Eren told them to shove it. Again, he had the commissioner in his pocket, it wouldn’t work. 

“MIKASA!” 

His knuckles hurt and they were bruised. 

He’d been knocking for several minutes when an elderly woman approached him. 

“Mikasa isn’t here…” her voice trembled as she spoke the words. “She broke her lease over the weekend and left.” 

He stopped knocking then and turned to the old lady. He wasn’t about to manhandle an old lady but he was so fucking desperate. The woman looked terrified of him and honestly? He was used to it. But that hardly mattered. 

“Where’d she go? Tell me!” 

The woman looked terrified as if the wrong answer might cost her and it just might because Eren wasn’t about to leave without something. 

“She wouldn’t say. She just said she needed to leave the city. Go somewhere else. She wouldn’t say where. That’s all I know, I swear!” 

No.

No. 

No! 

“Did she say anything? Are you sure?�� he balled his fists and kept them firmly at his side. He hated how he sounded right now, in front of a total stranger. 

Mikasa wouldn’t just leave him without saying anything. They were fine on Friday! She was a terrible liar and she wouldn’t have left without a good reason to do so. No, he wouldn’t accept her resignation and her just leaving him. 

“That’s all. She just wanted to leave. I’m sorry…” 

She just wanted to leave. 

She just wanted to leave. 

She just wanted to leave. 

The words echoed in his head and he honestly didn’t know what happened after that. He just knew that he didn’t hurt anyone. The fragments of his heart cut his chest open and he bled, he bled and bled. 

He couldn’t breathe. 

His driver asked him what was wrong and Eren just growled at him to drive back to his apartment. 

She left. 

She left him. 

All he could do is grab the bottle of rather expensive champagne and drown out the rest of the world and his own broken heart…