#and when i was a scared lonely kid i was just left that way

[35gofbeansprouts]

💭.

[teaboot]

Sorry to bother you with this, but I just don't really know what to do and would like some advice.

I'm a teenager in high school and I've been reading more and more about politics and the world and it just leaves me feeling tired and hopeless.

I see violence against women every day and both political parties of my country encourage it. I feel scared and hopeless and I don't know what to do about it. I'm scared that I'll be attacked in one way or another.

Do you have any advice for this kind of thing?

Society is cyclical. One generation learns a lesson and teaches it to the children who take it to an extreme, then their children learn a lesson and teach it to their children who take it to an extreme. Like the width of your high-heeled shoes, or the height of your waistband or the size of your hair.

One thing we have seen over and over and over again is that things will swing to the furthest possible edge of a dichotomy, and when it it can go no further it swings back the other way.

It’s a scary time to be living, yes. The collapse of Rome was probably pretty scary too. The idea of big things changing like that is scary.

But also, we’re not nobility, we’re peasants, and those of us in North America are still very very blessed right now. As bad as things are, through all of (vague gesture upwards), we’re still going to have to work. We’re still going to go to school. We’re still going to wash the dishes and scoop cat litter. And through all that, we’re going to see our neighbours, and our teachers, and random kids on the street, and cashiers and homeless folks and middle-aged women named Nancy, every damn day of the week.

And while we can’t control our governments (apparently) or our economy or the fucking price of beef, we’re going to see each other far more than we’re going to see politicians and oil tycoons.

Civilizations collapse all the time. Governments fall apart all the time. The people don’t have to collapse with it.

So what you do is the best you can. You wash the dishes. You scoop the cat litter. You go to work and you go to school and keep doing all the boring and mundane and unglamorous things they don’t tell you about the end of the Roman Empire and you CARE ABOUT PEOPLE and be KIND to them, and then when you come across a clear and baldfaced injustice in front of you that you can DO something about you think to yourself, “I could help, but I don’t want to, because it’ll be hard and uncomfortable and awkward and I don’t know what I’m doing and I’ll hate it so much the entire time,” and then you do something anyway.

Because if you’re going to be scared no matter what, you might as well be scared making things better. You might as well be scared with a friend. You might as well be scared while you keep the world moving than scared in a hole in your yard, ‘cause without the bomb, the only real difference between a lone man in a bomb shelter and a dead body in a casket is a can of meat and an air filter.

Things could be worse. Things could GET worse. We’re not all going to be okay. That sucks. Now grab whoever’s on your left and hold on.

[endearng]

Stranger Danger

Pairing: Spencer Reid x single mom!reader Summary: The power goes out. You and your daughter leave your apartment to find some light. Luckily, a stranger floods your being with it. WC: 2.1k Warnings: reader is scared of the dark; light mentions to stranger danger; it's a meet cute (guilty). Let me know if I missed anything. A/N: HI!!! I couldn't sleep so I decided to finish and post this one. I hope you guys enjoy it. Totally planning on a sequel for these three. Feedbacks are highly welcomed and appreciated. <3 neighbor!au masterlist | main masterlist

Spencer Reid was the most unnoticed and absent tenant of his building. His apartment was almost eerily quiet during most of the time, because of two main reasons. One, he was out of town often because of his job, of course, and, two, he didn't do much when he was there. He was a man who kept to himself whose idea of fun consisted of reading classic Literature. And don't take it the wrong way; not being around much didn't mean that he disliked his place, it was quite the opposite. He thoroughly enjoyed having a space to call his own, to organize, to cramp up the areas just the way he liked it. It gave him a sense of comfort, even though it felt lonely more often than not.

One of his neighbors had a child, he could tell that much because of the noises he would hear when he was around — while playing or the whining when she wanted something, after all, that's how kids usually behave. Spencer didn't mind them, of course, he was away for most of the time, so it wouldn't be rational to be bothered by a child acting like one. It was like being annoyed by an adult acting out, which did happen, but adults were supposed to be more self-aware than kids.

Although fairly acquainted with the routine of the family by putting pieces together from time to time (something his brain couldn't help but do, almost automatically), he had never seen their faces. He knew their voices and could even tell their footsteps apart. Sometimes, he would think about them. How did their day go, if everything was alright, if they ever addressed uncomfortable topics, if they ever had problems like his own frequently faced after they discovered about his mother's condition. He was acutely aware of the fact that those thoughts were the results of some sort of projection, almost like those neighbors were his personal novel to read and he longed to relate to its characters, because so much of his childhood had been ripped from him in ways he worried he could never recover from and terribly soon — he didn't remember ever knowing the sense of a loving, ordinary family like they apparently did and lived.

Today was a day off. He sat on his balcony, the summer breeze kissing his skin and messing up his hair, writing a letter to his mother. He tried his best to remain true to the commitment of making her a part of his life as a way to ease the guilt and sadness that gnawed at him for not being capable of caring for her properly by himself. He dearly missed Diana, he was his mother, after all. The only one who stood by him, even if not at her best, the only family he had left.

Satisfied with his writing, he finished the letter with a promise that he'd visit her soon. As he was folding the paper to put it inside the envelope, everything went black. The light left completely and, for a moment, he thought he had fainted because of the suddenness of it. That's when he heard the shrieking coming from the apartment next door and with a small chuckle, he deduced it was a power outage.

"Oookay, we don't need to panic, Oli, right? The light will be back in a few moments," he heard from the balcony next to his. It was the mother's voice, surely.

"Mommy, 'm scared," the little girl, Olivia, cried.

"I know, baby, but mommy is right here," was the answer provided, followed by the sound of a loud and exaggerated kiss. He heard the little girl giggle. "That's better, sweetie. Come on, let's talk. How are you feeling?"

"'m scared, but happy that you're here, mommy," she said.

"I'm happy to be with you, too, my girl," the woman cooed.

Spencer all but listened to the sweet interaction close to him. Unbeknownst to the woman, he held it even closer to his heart. It was one of the purest forms of love he had ever witnessed and he was grateful for them both during that time.

You, on the other hand, felt panic rising in your chest as the minutes passed and the dark still engulfed you, your little girl's voice the only comfort soothing you from time to time. Olivia was really scared of the dark, so as time went by, you tried to assure her that there was nothing to be scared of, and even if she was, she shouldn't feel embarrassed, that it was okay to express those feelings and that you were there for her. You were glad that she trusted you enough to believe those empty words, because you were terrified of the dark.

It all started as a kid. Not knowing what could be lurking in the shadows absolutely freaked you out and admiting it out loud was mortifying, so you did your best to hide it. If your daughter's reaction was anything to go by, you were doing a good job, so you relished on that.

Right now, it was becoming more and more difficult to play the part of the brave, fearless mother. So you started singing, soon enough followed by your daughter.

Super trouper lights are gonna blind me

But I won't feel blue like I always do

'Cause somewhere in the crowd there's you

Olivia giggled. It was one of her favorite songs, you had introduced it to her when she was too shy before one of her recitals. She had only memorized the chorus, of course. You were forever thankful for having that song engraved in your memory, because now the footage you had from said recital had Olivia showing all her moves looking right at you, basically all of the time.

"Oli, what do you think of going to the lobby? Maybe we could find some friends there." You suggested, which made Spencer's interest rise. Could it be a chance for him to finally address faces to the family he almost felt a part of?

For someone so bright, he truly didn't know if he was overstepping or being obsessive, it just made sense to him. Like aforementioned, he felt like it was a novel.

He heard little hands clapping excitedly and heard the next door opening and then closing right after. He used the time to think if he was behaving like the creeps he profiled for a living, but decided to give himself some credit by realizing he didn't mean to do no harm, he was just curious.

As time went by, the lobby soon became crowded with people and basically everyone had a flashlight on. It made Spencer laugh internally. He searched the area for a woman and a little kid, but no success. The room was so packed it almost felt suffocating and for a moment he felt ridiculous for considering searching a room for someone whose face he wasn't familiar with. What was he thinking? His mother always said that his job should stay out of his personal life and he had yet to learn that. So, he decided to go outside for a breath of fresh air.

What he didn't expect was to find a woman and a little girl sitting on the benches just outside the apartment complex. Their voices sounded exactly like the ones he had been noticing for some time now. He froze, unable to look away from them.

The girl had her mother's features. They were so scarily alike that it felt like he was watching the same person during different periods of her life, but simultaneously, as if he was on some sort of time travel.

He was ripped out of his daydreams when the little girl came running towards him, "Look, mommy! He has a letter! You send them to grandpa!"

Although very embarrassed by your daughter's sudden run, you jumped on your feet to catch up with her. You didn't know that man, so it only made sense to be very alert and to keep your child away from him. As you neared the two of them, you placed your hands on Oli's shoulders, who was standing in front of him, you took in his appearance. He was tall, a little lanky and had long-ish hair, cut just around his shoulders. He had dress pants and a shirt loosely buttoned up as well. His eyes were searching your face, as if he was scanning you as well. The poor lighting didn’t help either of you, but you two were almost touching with your eyes, if such a thing were possible, from how much you were looking, almost admiring each other.

Amid his thoughts from earlier, he didn't even realize he was still holding the letter he had written that afternoon.

"Hi," you greeted, a little awkwardly, "I'm sorry. She’s still learning about stranger danger. Or bothering people." You chuckled, nervously.

What the hell have you just said?

"Actually, stranger danger did the most harm to this country in terms of crimes like that. I remember them coming to my classroom. It was Officer Friendly with stranger danger coloring books. Taught a whole generation about a scary man in a trench coat, hiding behind a tree. Then we learned that strangers are only a fraction of the offenders out there." He rambled.

What the hell has he just said?

You knitted your eyebrows together, perceiving his comment as peculiar, to say the least. "Well, yeah."

"Sorry about that. I tend to ramble about some topics. I'm not a creep, I swear. I work with the FBI, I know it can be odd to start a conversation like that. Well, your daughter did," he chuckled, albeit tensely, "My name's Spencer. Spencer Reid. I live in this building. Third floor."

You laughed a little over his rambling, relief flooding your body once you realized that he was just a regular guy. A regular guy that worked for the FBI. You told him your name and Olivia's as he offered you a friendly handshake, "Me and Olivia live there, too."

"MOMMY!" Olivia shouted, sounding exasperated and thrilled at the same time. "He is the ghost neighbor!"

"Ghost neighbor?" He asked, shocked and a little humored.

You laughed at your daughter and the confusion adorning his beautiful features. "Oli, don't scream. We already talked about it," you addressed your daughter, firmly but gently. Spencer was in awe. "It's just an inside joke between the kids. You're almost never home and every once in a while they hear some sounds coming from your apartment. They say a ghost lives there. They even put up some decorations on your front door on Halloween, but I decided to remove it in case it bothered you."

Olivia laughed like someone had spilled a funny secret and Spencer quickly joined her. You chuckled, even though you were more puzzled than anything by the fact that your daughter had approached, so confidently, a stranger. It made you both terrified and happy. Terrified because he could be a weirdo. Happy because she was able to come out of her shell. Even happier to see her coming out of her shell with a nice stranger.

"It’s alright. I wouldn’t have minded. I love Halloween.” He said, addressing you. You could tell then that, at least, he wasn’t someone bitter. “Sorry to disappoint, Miss Olivia. It's just me moving some chairs every now and then. But I won't tell if you won't."

"I won't!" She squealed, and Spencer smiled. You couldn't draw your eyes away from their exchange. Olivia balled her small fists on your skirt, pulling you out of your reverie, so you crouched down at her height. She whispered something in your ear. Spencer watched, curiously, as you nodded at her.

"She said you need a pinky promise." You told him once you were standing again. Spencer gladly crouched and stuck out his pinky towards Olivia, who intertwined her own with his.

"Now we can't tell anybody." He said, with a genuine smile on her face.

"Mommy, you hafta promise it too." Olivia said, grabbing your hand and pulling your pinky toward Spencer's hand, linking them together. You felt the heat rising to your face.

The power came back. Suddenly, your pinky was linked to a very handsome man who you had just met because of your one-of-a-kind daughter. It made you nervous, because the light highlighting his beautiful features in all the right places made you feel like a deer caught in the headlights. By looking at him alone, you thought of words related to the light four times. As he looked back at you with a gorgeous smile on his face, you finally understood why people associate light with feelings.

divider by @cafekitsune <3

[luveline]

JADEEEE i'd love to see an interaction between hotch and teacher!reader outside of school? maybe jack sees her first and step away from hotch for a moment to say hi, hotch gets scared when he realizes jack left but reader comes with him just a moment later because she's panicking too like 'why are you alone? where's your dad?' and jack takes her to him. is that ok??? i hope so! love you <3333

I love you ty for your request! —Hotch flirts with Jack’s favourite teacher, because he’s never as subtle as he should be. fem, 2k

Jack reads a couple of books a week now his dad is home more often. His mom used to read to him some because he loves them, but she preferred to tell her own on the fly. His dad isn’t as good a story teller, and when he does try the stories don’t end up very happy, so they read. Sometimes two or three books a night if they're short ones. 

With Jack’s library card they can borrow ten books. With his dad’s, another ten. Twenty altogether, enough to last the month if they’re careful or if dad gets called away a lot, which he usually does. 

“Can I look for Super Pup?” Jack asks his dad. 

Aaron sits on a chair a little too small for him in the kids section. “What?” he asks, looking up from the back of the large picture book Jack’s just handed him. 

“Super Pup?” 

“I’ll help, buddy.” Hotch looks like he’s going to stand, then hesitates. “In a second. Don’t go where I can’t see you, Jackers.” 

Hotch is tired. He didn’t come home until very late, but he’d woken Aunt Jess anyway and, when Jack woke, there his dad was sleeping in the beanbag by his bed. He’s sore all over now and exhausted from a restless night. Jack feels sorry, as much as he can for being six nearly seven, but he also knows that his dad doesn’t mind the hurting. It was nice to wake up together after a few days apart. 

And now he’s brought him to the library, and after that they’ll go for groceries. Jack should be quick. If they get home before dinner time his dad will ask him if he wants to nap together, which is the best. They just lay there in the big bed with the fan on and snooze until it’s too late to cook, so his dad breaks out the takeout menus, and promises he won’t do it again with a quick hug from behind. 

As though it makes him a terrible parent for feeding his kid. Jack can’t know how guilty it makes Hotch feel to do it, and Hotch doesn’t seem to notice how much Jack loves these days where his dad is exhausted and totally his. 

Jack runs around looking for Super Pup. Hotch’s phone beeps in his pocket, and he fights to keep his eyes open.

A ways away, you browse the fiction section in a crouch, knees somehow totally under your skirt, flicking aside spines of skinny books for something you can read at lunch time. Something that doesn’t require much attention, and could be read in short intervals. You used to demand a half hour to yourself when you first started teaching, but that was before the lonely kids started cropping up. Kids with no friends, or sad smiles, who want company and quiet alike. 

You reach for a pink-spined Japanese translation as a little hand pats your elbow. You’re so used to kids you say, “What’s up?” before you remember you aren’t at work. 

You turn in your crouch to look behind you. “Oh, hi, Jack! What are you doing here?” 

“Me and dad are looking for books.” 

You smile at him genuinely, happy to see your favourite student, even if you’re terrified on the inside at the prospect of his father. He’s the most gentlemanly man you’ve ever met. He’s arduous in how respectful he is, he’s understanding, and he’s tall, dark, and handsome. It is a chilling collection of traits. You stumble whenever you have to talk to him. 

But Jack is easy. You and Jack talk every day. “What sorts of books? Just for fun?” 

“I want to read Super Pup.” 

The kids love Super Pup and his magic bark. You stand promptly, suddenly much taller than Jack as you brush down your skirt. “Wait,” you say. Mr. Hotchner gets called away for work all the time, but he wouldn’t leave Jack alone, would he? “Where’s your dad? You’re not by yourself, are you?” 

Jack laughs. “No! I’m looking for Super Pup! Dad’s tired.” 

You can’t decipher exactly what those two things have to do with each other, but you can guess how panicked his dad will be to find Jack so far from the kid’s section. Fiction is the other side of the library. “How did you end up over here?” You offer your hand. “Should we go back and find your dad?” 

“I saw your skirt, Miss L/N. I like the flowers.”

He takes your hand, clumsy to your gentleness. “Thanks, honey. Let’s go find dad before he calls his scary friends and has your name on the news.” 

You get to the kids section slowly. Endearingly so, but nerve-wracking, too, because Mr. Hotchner can be intimidating. Jack likes holding your hand, you think, clinging to your fingers as he guides you across the library, past the staircase down to the first floor, and back to the kids section. 

“Jack?” Mr. Hotchner asks loudly, turned away from you both near the graphic novel selection. “Jack.” 

“Mr. Hotchner,” you say. 

“Dad!” 

He spins on his heel. His shoulders relax noticeably, but the stress in his gaze remains. 

“Jack, I said stay where I can see you,” he says, not half as scolding as he could be as Jack lets go of your hand and runs to his legs, where he stops. “Please, buddy. You gotta listen to me.” 

Jack turns between you and his dad with a smile, “But look, it’s Miss L/N.” 

“I can see,” he says softly. 

Mr. Hotchner leans down, taking Jack up into his arms with impressive ease, and begins the walk to you where you’ve stayed. 

“I hope he didn’t interrupt you,” he says. 

“Please,” you say, “he’s my favourite. Just–” You wince. “Don’t tell anybody at school I said that, Jack. Please.” 

“I think we can keep this secret,” Mr. Hotchner says. 

“He was just telling me that you’re looking for Super Pup. If you don’t find it, we have copies at the school library. And we can always order you one.” 

Mr. Hotchner gives you a small, and what you know to be rare, smile. “I don’t think he even looked.” 

“I did look!” Jack disagrees, though his disagreement barely has any attitude to it, a credit to his upbringing. 

“You clearly weren’t looking in the right place.” 

“I was too. How would you know, you were sleeping!” 

“I wasn’t sleeping,” Mr. Hotchner says to you. 

You tuck your hands behind your back. “It’s okay, Mr. Hotchner, I believe you. In my classroom we like to say we’re resting our eyes.” 

“Aaron,” he says, as he says whenever you speak to each other, and as you always forget to call him. Not a demand but a suggestion you’d swear to be bordering affectionate. 

You’ve been Jack’s teacher for two months this year, and almost the entire year previously. In the summer when they leave, you’ll find out if you’re moving up a grade with him, but until then, you’ve made the most of such a nice kid, and you aren’t shy to tell that to Aaron. You don’t mind that Jack spends his lunch time with you. He embodies all of the reasons that pushed you to become a teacher in the first place. 

And his father is a good reason to stay. He’s one of the only nice (hot) dads. 

You do worry often that he can read your expression. His lips have quirked into a bemused smile, what’s so funny? He’s terrifying. 

“Aaron,” you rush to say, and fill the silence you’ve made, “It’s nice to see you.” 

“It’s nice to see you, too. You’ll see me on Monday, so you’ll be sick of me by Tuesday.” 

You rock ever so gently on your heels. “You aren’t working.” 

“It’s Jack’s birthday.” 

You nod, pleased. “I know! I know, we already talked about what cupcakes he wants, didn’t we? Everybody’s gonna have rainbow sprinkle, and for a treat we’re going to watch a movie before lunch.” 

“Do you do that for every kid?” 

“I do.” 

“How do you afford it?” He lowers his gaze. “I just mean, it’s expensive to do that for every birthday.” 

“Luckily for me and unluckily for the kids, quite a few of them have birthdays outside of term time. Thirty students is three trays of ten, and that doesn’t usually break the bank, even if things get tight. But… I don’t know, I guess I just have to make room when it does. It’s special to feel special, and,” —you smile, exuberant and a little shy at once, clutching your elbow in your hand— “Jack always makes everybody else feel special. ” 

The boy in question turns into his fathers chest, pleased beyond words. 

Aaron gives you a long, long look. “Thank you,” he says. 

“Oh, you’re welcome.” 

You say goodbye to Aaron and Jack and wish them both a good weekend, which you spend wondering what the pressure of Aaron’s hand would be like on your shoulder, and if you should be ashamed of yourself for thinking about it at all. He seems like he’d give a good hug. You catch yourself picturing him opening a door and ban yourself from thinking of him at all. 

Monday morning, you stand at the door ushering your students inside, and you can’t help beaming when Jack and Aaron arrive. 

“Aw, Jack, where’s your birthday badge?” you ask, fall air nipping your nose. 

“He was feeling too shy,” Aaron says. He’s in casual dress again. Some men should be banned from half-zips, it’s inhumane. 

“You were?” You bend just a bit, hand in your pocket. “Well, I thought you might be, so I brought my badge from home. It’s super shiny, bud. What do you think?” 

You show Jack the badge, It’s My Birthday in silver against a rainbow backdrop. 

Maybe it was silly to bring, but you had a feeling he wouldn’t want to wear one, and maybe he should. He deserves for all his friends to give him some attention, and to have them fight over who gets to sit with him at lunch. 

“We have something for you,” Jack says. 

You stand straight. “You do?” 

Aaron hadn’t been expecting to be the one to give it to you, that much is obvious. He hesitates for a second before he passes you a small brown box, the top of which is made up of four leaves folded into a dome. You have an inkling of what it might me. 

“Thank you… Can I open it now?” you ask. 

“I think you should wait for lunch,” Aaron says. 

You raise your eyebrows but abide by his suggestion, murmuring another thank you as Aaron bends to give Jack a hug. “Have a good day. I’ll be here to pick you up, I promise,” he says.

It’s a great day. The kids are excited for cupcakes and overjoyed to get them before lunch. Not a crumb goes uneaten, and as they all sing for Jack with his borrowed badge, he’s actually happy for the attention. He doesn’t eat with you at lunch, which is a great thing even if you love his company. 

Alone, you fold back the leaves of your mysterious box and smile like an idiot when you confirm what’s inside. A cupcake slightly more sophisticated than rainbow sprinkle spreads icing across the brown carrier, and a business card leans against the other side. 

The front of the card is as you’d expected it to be spelling out Aaron’s contact details from work, and you combust thinking he wants you to call him, but it’s the back that you’d been meant to see. You read it as you fold down the leaves of the cupcake carrier, 

Thirty students, three trays of ten. What does that leave for you? —Aaron. 

Flirt, you think firmly, happily. He’s such a flirt. 

[sharkylass]

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

(It's not belated what are you talking about-) With the spooky day I bring...

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

--------------------------------------- There's A LOT OF ART under the cut, however it's A LOT OF SPOILERS.

ESPECIALLY FOR THE ACT 6 ENCOUNTER/TWO HATS, EVERYTHING IN THIS POST IS DEPENDANT ON THE FACT YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT ENCOUNTER. [MASTERPOST]

(The dandelions are frozen in time) (...) (You envy them, but you think that's sacrilege, so you move on.)

The gif takes forever to load, please bare with me-

ALRIGHT, LET ME INTRODUCE YOU TO ROBORO.

Roboro (it/they/he) is cold and calculative. It spent so long trying to get out of the loops, that a lot of their tact and bubbliness gave way to their cynicism and bluntness.

They exhibit more of their younger traits. Extreme smarts and avoidance. However, they still carry themselves tall, and aren't afraid to speak their mind. Most of the time, they simply choose not to.

The decision to make him cold and distant, rather then manic and erratic, actually came from Loop themselves. Loop is very actively trying to be the opposite of Siffrin. They act chatty and cruel because that's how far they've been driven, that's how they choose to hide themselves now.

Roboro is the same, in the sense that it's supposed to appear the very opposite of Isabeau.

"Why is it a Dandelion?"

From what I've seen, most people lean on the space idea for the guides, and I find that super neat-

But as an exercise (before this AU was even an IDEA in my mind-) I tried to design Mira, Odile and Isa as guides.

I tried the space theme, and felt really limited with it.

So instead I decided to design them based of ways to wish

Mira was a fire (candle)

Odile was a coin (throwing a coin in a fountain/well)

And Isabeau WAS in fact a dandelion (blowing on a dandelion)

And I guess that idea just stuck around in my brain until I got to making this au.

Their Dynamic With Isa

The two's dynamic isn't too dissimilar to Sif and Loop. Isa still tries to be his loud positive headstrong self, and Roboro sees past the bullshit, and grinds Isa's gears

(Fun fact for that second one: Roboro knew Isa wanted to be called "good boy" cause it probably would have wanted to hear it too-) As time goes on, the two learn to get along if only a little. Isa starts to appreciate the bluntness of Roboro, together with the helpful tips. Roboro meanwhile, seeing Isa's descent starts to feel a spark of empathy for the guy (which sucks for ACT 5 whoops.)

Silver Coin Equivalent

The equivalent is called "Lucky Pencil". Isa is a pretty superstitious guy, despite knowing better logically. So I thought he'd totally be the type to carry around a lucky charm of sorts!

(You recall.) (Before you all went on this journey, you tried to become a defender.) (You got so tired of being the lone kid, the one people would always overlook.) (You were smart, but unperceived.) (Quiet, sure, but you had good grades! What's there to worry about?) (Even your own family didn't think much of your solitude.) (And yet, you were so scared to open your mouth, even to questions you knew the answers to-) (It was hard. Suffocating even.) (When teachers started giving you good grades without you even having to try-) (Something had to change. You had to change.) (And you did! You became stronger, resilient, reliable. Became the very antithesis of what you used to be.) (Left everything you were behind.) (But it was worth it! You could finally!!! Talk!!! You could bring smiles to people's faces! They'd brighten when you entered a room! And each time you felt pride. Pride in who you were.) (You tried talking with your family more, being more open, loud-) (They still. Didn't see you.) (Smart folks turned away, believing you to be unable to intellectually connect with them.) (It was better. You were happier. But you still didn't belong, either.) (In hallways filled with people, you were still just there.) (…) (You tried really hard for you Defender exam. You exercised to near faints. Only really ate and slept cause you knew it would make you stronger.) (Buried your nose in reading and studying to avoid thoughts of doubt. And when they'd reach you anyways, you'd go for a run.) (You know it wasn't the best for you. You're supposed to be stupid, not unwise. "Just until I pass" you told yourself.) (… You were exhausted on your exam day. As your nerves heightened, so did your "coping". You were ready!!! You just, needed a little help.) (So you opened your drawer, filled with old papers and textbooks and notes. You don't like looking in there too much, but you took what you needed.) (A beaten up pencil. Your little lucky charm!!! Sure, you always knew the answers, but it was easier if you believed this pencil was helping you, guiding you.) (It was silly to think it would help, but you weren't taking chances.) (…) (Even after all that time, you couldn't leave that part of yourself behind.) (You still can't.) (You're the only one that can't.)

ACT 6 FIGHT

The ACT 6 encounter would... go about as well as you'd expect. Not only did a version of you win- it's the version of you that pretends to be a meat head, the one that's preoccupied with being nice rather then thinking ahead. How did he get to win when you, you who's changed, you who's given everything you had, everything you wanted to simply get out?

Why does he get to win? Why does this loud mouth, emotional, explosive guy get to win? He's learned nothing!---

I have more stuff to draw for this encounter, including the "I'm sorry/ thank you" pictures. I leave this one off with the knowledge that Isa used to tug on his hair as a stress stim. Guess is stuck around huh.

______________________

Post Loops Roboro

Roboro, once again, Changes! This time to resemble a yellow dandelion, rather then a white one. The family is long gone by the time Roboro wakes up again, and first thing's first- It has to find clothes. It doesn't like the weird looks people give him.

So, he goes to the House, braves the looks and gasps and confusion. It's trauma be damned, it's gonna talk to that Head Housemaiden finally.

He meets up with Euphrasie, and she quickly catches on what must be going on.

She's readily willing to give Roboro one of her old dresses-

Problem being- 1. They are too big on it (he may be Tall, but not EUPHIE level tall-) and 2. It wouldn't be the most comfortable wearing a dress around.

So, they figure they should make some adjustments. Euphrasie is willing to make the adjustments, it would only take her a day or two.

However, Roboro kind of... wants to try to do it themselves. There's no rush, it has nowhere to be. Maybe... maybe learning to re-engage with an old hobby could be good for it...?

Euphie excitedly lets it stay at the House, figure out what it wants to do- to take it's time changing!

Obviously, Roboro has trauma from the House. The walls, the cramped space- it terrifies them. But they also don't want to stay at anyone's home in Dormont, the awkwardness would kill him, if feeling like a nuisance doesn't do it first.

So. Roboro stays at the rooftop.

Roboro does some sewing on a new outfit, at the top of the House. At the very end of everything.

It's a bittersweet reminder that it's over, so it's as good as it could get while staying at Dormont.

I have a whole comic about this in particular, but this is already a massive infodump so I'm gonna stop it there for now-

Roboro travels around a while. It and Isa agreed to meet up eventually, but there was no rush to it.

He went around a while, re-familiarized itself with life, with people, with hobbies, with existing-

Probably made some friendships along the way. Those are probably the people who pushed it into reconnecting with the family.

I'm not gonna go into detail about everyone's dynamics and stuff, this is too long, and I'm still writing that stuff anyway.

I can however leave you with this:

(I might change how Post Loops Isa looks in the future, I haven't quite figured it out yet)

______________________

PHEW

THAT WAS A LOT

IT'S NOT EVEN EVERYTHING I HAVE, I HAVE SO MUCH STUFF AUGH,,,

Anyways, I just wanted to thank you all for the support on the first post, I didn't expect it at ALL Just know I appreciate it :]

[revelboo]

OUGH your Waspinator fic is sooooooo everything. I like him a lot- he's not one of my mainstays, but ever since seeing TFA as a kid I've always felt a little protective of him. He needs more nice things

I’m sorry, but not sorry at all. He’s puppy. An ugly, puppy that’s going to chew up everything in the house, but still 🤣

Worker Bee Pt 2

IDW Waspinator x Reader

• It’s the sound of something breaking downstairs that drags you out of sleep, squinting in the dark and trying to decide if the noise has been inside the house or outside. There’s another crash with the sound of breaking glass and an odd scraping. Breath hitching, you lunge for your phone and turn on its light, swinging it and yanking the chord out of the wall and nearly screaming. Because there are glowing purple optics staring back at you. “Waspinator?” How had he gotten into the house? You’d left him out in the barn and locked the door behind you when you went in. But he’s different now, looking like a giant wasp to slip ice into your veins.

• “Lonely.” You’re just staring at him, but not yelling at him to go away. Not hitting him or throwing things. So it’s okay? It must be okay. Small, new friend likes Waspinator. Your nest is soft and it creaks under him when he climbs up with you. He’d mass shifted and transformed to get through the door of your dwelling and to maneuver the narrow hall. And you make a funny noise when something cracks and your nest crashes down with him and you both. Antenna flattening back he waits for the anger, but you just stare at him mouth hanging open. Not hitting him or yelling at all.

• Frozen, you stare at the giant, alien wasp that just broke your bed frame. Because he got lonely. And making a happy, humming noise, he just flops down. On you. Head on your chest knocking the air out of your lungs and you flat back on the bed as he throws an insectile leg across your hips. There’s no going back to sleep with him pinning you, mandibles way too close to your face and he’s making a faint buzzing hum. And you desperately want to shove him away from you, but your heart is racing like a mad thing. Because in this form? You’re suddenly realizing you’re scared to death of wasps. Giant wasps specifically. “Little friend?” He asks, purple optics glowing and too close as his antenna swing forward to brush your hair. Cringing, you just nod, because you can’t argue with him when those sharp mandibles are right there.

• “Yeah, sure. Friends,” you tell him, head turning away from his exploration with his antenna. Not angry with him. Even reaching to pat him so gently on the head with a soft hand. Accepting him. Relaxing against your warmth, he tries to figure out if anyone has ever touched him gently before. Everyone always pushes him away, hurts him, but his little soft friend likes him. No one’s ever liked Waspinator.

• Trapped under him, you stare at the shadowy ceiling as your heart beat slows to normal because he’s not doing anything but making it hard to breathe with his weight sprawled across you. He’s not trying to tear you apart with those awful mandibles, just cuddling against you like a big puppy. A terrifyingly ugly, alien puppy. He’d said he was lonely then asked if you were his friend. Staying on his good side definitely sounds like a plan and besides, that little ‘lonely,’ had sounded so broken.

Previous

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ꪶꪮꪜꫀ ꪗꪮꪊ ꪶỉƙꫀ ꪖ ᦔꪮᦋ (Ticci Toby x F!Reader)

CW: obsessive/stalker reader, angst with no comfort, verbal abuse, forced oral and anal (and ass to mouth soz if ur not into that), hate sex, lotta spit and slapping

word count 3.9k

guys i don't condone or romanticize this behaviour!! also this is kinda old lol

It wasn’t even a smile.

It could’ve been a twitch—just his face doing what it always does. A tic, involuntary and fleeting, the skin near his scarred cheek jumping just so, lips barely tugging. But it was enough. Enough to make your heart shudder like it was trying to punch its way out of your ribcage. Enough to rewire something deep in the grey matter of your brain.

You caught it in a hallway. Just a passing glance, a flicker of Toby's eyes toward you before he looked away. And that twitch, that almost-smile, settled into your bones like it belonged there. You didn’t smile back. You were too busy falling in love.

He looked tired. He always did. Restless hands shoved in his hoodie pockets, head low, a jittery edge in every step he took like his body was a cracked circuit. His movements were crooked. Unstable. Beautiful.

He was perfect.

You started following him. Not closely enough to be obvious—just enough to learn his patterns. How he’d disappear into the woods behind the mansion, dragging his axes behind him like a dog on a leash. How he’d sit near the creek and smoke until his hands stopped shaking. How sometimes he’d scream—ugly, broken, guttural, ragged things—like he was trying to rip something out of his own throat.

You never got scared. If anything, it made you ache for him. That kind of pain—it needed to be held. It needed to be cradled and worshipped, you thought.

You told yourself you weren’t being weird. It’s not like you were doing anything wrong. You were just watching. Learning. He was interesting. He was lonely. You could fix that.

You didn’t approach him. Not yet. He was skittish, like a stray, and you couldn’t risk scaring him off. No, if you wanted this to work, you had to play it right. You had to give him reasons to trust you.

To love you.

So you started small. A lighter on the step outside his room—one of those black Zippos with a flame etched on the front. You heard him mention in passing, voice low and fraying at the edges, how his last one got busted. You stole it from a gas station half a mile out.

Then the candy—peanut butter taffy, sticky and awful, the kind only freak kids liked. You knew because he said it once, muttered under his breath after a mission debrief that it used to be his favorite. It was old and half-melted when you left it near his room, but it didn’t matter.

What mattered was the perfume. Your perfume. Just a little spritz on every gift, every token of love. You wanted him to know. You wanted his nose full of you.

He tried to ignore it. You could feel him trying. But that didn’t stop him from pocketing the things. From taking the candy. From unwrapping the gum and chewing it like it didn’t come wrapped in the scent of your obsession. Like he doesn’t know it’s you.

But he knows. Of course he fucking knows. You’re not subtle.

You leave everything reeking of your perfume—heady, sweet, clinging like oil to his skin when he brushes against whatever you’ve touched. His pillow, one night. You only got a second in his room when no one was looking, when he wasn't around, but it was enough. You didn’t take anything. You didn’t leave anything.

But you couldn't help yourself. You just breathed the air he breathed, smelled him on his messy sheets, and your hand flew between your legs like it had a mind of its own. It was quick, but you swore that it was the best orgasm you've ever had.

You start writing notes next. Tiny, cryptic things. Folded tight and buried under the offerings.

“i like how you laugh when no one else is around.”

“i saw you last night. you looked tired. you should rest more.”

“you deserve good things, toby. i want to give them to you.”

You think you’re being sweet. Gentle. Loving.

He thinks you’re watching him.

Because you are.

He becomes... different. Quieter than usual. He walks faster when you’re in the same hallway. He twitches more violently when you’re near. There’s a nervousness in his eyes—like a dog expecting the boot. You think maybe he’s just shy. You think it’s cute.

So you don’t stop. You up the ante.

You start leaving things only someone close would know. His favorite pair of gloves—stitched back together where they ripped—left on his bed. A burned CD with a playlist of every song he’s ever lingered on too long in the common room. A pack of cigarettes, unfiltered, left on the ledge of his bedroom window... one of them already lit, smoke curling up like a kiss meant for his mouth.

He snaps one day. Not at you—yet.

Just in general. A loud “FUCK OFF—stop—stop giving me this shit!” that echoes through the hallway. You hear it through the wall and it makes you freeze. Then smile.

Because if he’s this upset... it means it’s getting to him.

You’re in his head now.

Right where you belong.

And then—

Tim.

Fucking Tim, of all people.

You hear him talking to Toby one night in the kitchen. Voice low and amused.

“She’s obsessed with you, dude. You should chill out, give her some attention. Get some bitches on your dick."

You hear Toby stutter, curse, throw something into the sink, voice hushed and paranoid, like he was expecting you to be close and listening. Fair.

“I d-don’t—sh-she’s f-freakin’ me out, man—fuck—sh-she’s everywhere!"

“Yeah, and? It’s not like she’s doing anything dangerous. Could be worse. Just let her crush burn out. Give her a cigarette or something. Jesus.”

And somehow—somehow—that works.

Because the next day, you’re out back, pretending to mind your business, and he shows up. Twitching, eyes flicking everywhere but your face, jaw clenched so tight it looks painful.

He lights one, doesn’t say a word.

Then holds it out to you.

You take it. You almost fucking cry.

Your lips touch the filter where his lips touched, so careful not to mess his bite mark on the filter. The taste of him, of nicotine and ash and heat, burns into your lungs like incense.

You tell yourself it means something.

And god help him—he lets you sit beside him that day. Not close. Not touching. But enough.

You retreat back to your room and shake through your whole body like you’ve been baptized. You think about it for hours. Days. Replay it. Rewatch it in your head until it’s burned behind your eyes.

And then, you leave something else. Something too personal. Too real. Something that proves how deeply you know him—how intimately.

You thought it was your best idea yet.

You’d waited for the perfect moment—when the mansion was dead quiet, everyone gone or distracted. You crept into his room like a ghost that belonged there. Your hands didn’t even shake. You knew exactly where he kept it—tucked inside the false bottom of a drawer, in an envelope that had been folded so many times it was nearly soft.

A photograph.

Old, bent at the corners. Him—before everything. Sitting at some cracked skatepark bench, legs sprawled, hoodie too big, grin just barely visible. His cheek barely chewed through at that point. No blood. No weight under his eyes, not as heavy as it was now anyway. It was the kind of photo you’d press to your lips at night if it were yours. The kind of photo you’d keep safe under your pillow, like a secret that made your chest hurt to remember.

But it wasn’t yours.

It was his.

And you ruined it.

You glued your own picture—cut out carefully, a selfie you once thought he might like—on top of it. Not fully covering him, of course. Just enough that you were beside him now, nestled into the same moment. Like you belonged there.

On the back, you wrote:

“we’ve always been meant to be together. you just didn’t know it yet.”

You sprayed it with your perfume. Folded it tight. Left it sitting on the windowsill next to his cigarettes like it was just another gift.

You waited.

You waited and waited.

And when it happened—when he finally came back and found it—you felt it like a siren going off in your blood.

The sound was unreal.

Glass breaking. Something crashing. Then heavy, pounding footsteps in the hall. You barely had time to turn before he was there, eyes wild, shoulders trembling with every breath.

“Toby—” you started, smiling, voice soft like you could soothe him.

But his scream cut through you.

“W-What the FUCK is wrong with y-you?!”

Your smile faltered.

He was in front of you in two strides, fists clenched like he didn’t know what else to do with them. His whole body was twitching, spasming, like his rage was trying to crawl out of his skin.

“Th-this is— Y-you're fucking s-sick—fuckin’ moron! You t-took that—you TOOK that photo, th-that wasn’t yours—fuck!”

“I—I thought it would be sweet—”

“Sweet?!” he barked, spit flying. His laugh was humorless. Ferocious. Neck jerking to the side so hard it cracked.

“You don’t k-know me, you d-don’t know shit!” His eyes were glassy, his voice rising with every word. “Y-You sneak into my r-room, you—you f-follow me, l-leave this perfumed trash—wh-what the fuck is wrong with you, huh?!”

Your mouth moved but nothing came out.

“You t-took the one fucking thing I had l-left,” he seethed, voice breaking. “Y-You ruined it. Just like everything e-else. You j-j-just keep fucking—FUCKING TAKING—”

He shoved the photo against your chest so hard it crumpled. “I h-hate you. I h-hate that you m-made me start looking forward to this shit, th-thinking m-maybe it’d stop, maybe you’d fuck off—but no. No, you j-just keep digging. You just keep—fucking—taking.”

Tears pricked your eyes. “But I love you—”

“LOVE?!”

His voice cracked—high, raw. Something inside him split. You saw it happen in real time—the exact second the anger flipped into something crueler, uglier, more dangerous.

He stepped closer.

You stepped back, but he caught you by the hair—fingers twisted so tight at your scalp that your knees almost gave out. Your breath hitched in a strangled gasp, heart slamming.

“Y-You want me th-that—THAT f-fucking badly??” he spat, face inches from yours, eyes bloodshot and manic.

His other hand moved fast—unbuckling his belt with shaky, furious fingers, yanking the waistband down enough to bare himself to the cold air between you.

“H-Have it, b-bitch.” His voice was venom. “F-Fucking suck it.”

He shoved you down hard, your knees hitting the floor, the pain shooting up your legs like an electric jolt.

You looked up at him, dizzy from the violence of it. From the rage. From the realization that this was finally real.

This was love.

It was twisted. Broken. Boiling. But it was his. It was his.

Your scalp screamed under his grip, but your mouth dropped open the second his hand clamped around your jaw. There wasn’t time to breathe, wasn’t time to beg—not that you would’ve dared. Not when he was finally touching you like this. Not when he was finally looking at you like this.

Half-hard, his cock slapped against your lips as he forced his way past them, teeth scraping his skin before your jaw stretched wide. His hips stuttered forward, shallow at first, but fast—angry—as if your mouth had insulted him.

“Th-this wh-what you wanted? Huh?” he snarled through his teeth, twitch rolling through his shoulders, “F-Fucking whore—s-so goddamn desperate you had to steal from me—h-had to crawl into my skin like a fucking parasite—”

He thrust deeper, and you gagged around him, the back of your throat constricting tight as spit poured down your chin. He didn’t let up. Didn’t slow. His hand stayed in your hair, twisting harder until your eyes watered.

“You l-like this?” he hissed, hips snapping forward. “Y-You like me like this?”

You couldn’t answer. Didn’t need to.

Not when your lips were suctioned tight around the base of his cock, spit bubbling at the corners of your mouth, throat spasming around him as he fucked deeper, rougher, like he could pound the sickness out of you through sheer force.

He groaned—sharp, guttural—and yanked you off by the hair so hard your neck cracked, a thick rope of spit trailing from your lips to the head of his cock.

You gasped, lungs burning, tongue out as you panted like a dog at his feet. Your nails dug so deeply into his hip bones that his skin scraped off under them like dirt, not that he could feel it anyway.

“F-Fuckin’ pathetic,” he spat, literally—right in your face, his saliva mixing with yours, dripping down to your chest. “L-Look at yourself, b-bitch. You're f-fucking d-disgusting."

Your eyes—glossy, blown wide—stared up at him like he was God.

He hated it. He fucking hated how it made his dick throb.

“You’re sick,” he muttered. “Y-You need help.”

You only opened your mouth wider.

“F-Fucking freak—”

He shoved himself back in without warning. You choked, sputtered, spit flying as he drove himself deep into your throat again. His thighs trembled against your face. His rhythm faltered, just for a second, hips jerking like his body betrayed him.

You felt it—felt the way his cock twitched, the way his knees buckled when your throat tightened just right.

And you latched on harder.

Your lips sealed, suctioned, like you could pull his soul out through his cock. You moaned around him with every loud, obnoxious slurp, vibrations rippling up his spine. He growled, a raw, broken animal sound that rumbled from his chest.

“St-Stop—s-stop enjoying this, fuck,” he snapped, voice cracking, panicked almost.

But it only made you suck harder.

It only made you hungrier.

And that only made him meaner.

He slammed his cock into your throat again, until your nose was crushed into his pelvis and his balls hit your chin. Until you could barely breathe.

“Y-You’re n-not getting sh-shit else from me,” he hissed. “Y-You’re not special. You’re n-not loved. You’re just a hole.”

You whimpered around him, ashamed and deliriously turned on. Your cheeks were burning, soaked in spit and tears and humiliation. But your hands stayed behind your back, obedient, like you were grateful just to be on your knees for him.

He twitched again.

God, you tasted him.

Because no matter how hard he hated you, his body wanted you. And that was enough.

You could feel his cock throb in your mouth—so fucking close. So fucking perfect. You were dizzy with it, soaked in spit, eyes rolling, heart pounding, waiting, so fucking eager to swallow every drop of his cum—

—and then he ripped himself out of you.

You gasped, air slicing through your raw throat, but he didn’t even give you a second. His hand cracked across your face with a wet smack, jerking your head sideways, and the sting lit your skin up like fire.

“F-Fuckin’ look at you,” Toby growled, yanking your head back again, spit glistening on your chin, his cock still wet and twitching just inches from your face. “Y-You’re disgusting. A d-deranged, fucked-up psycho s-stalker bitch. You think this means anything? You think this—this—” he slapped your other cheek, open-palmed, sharp enough to make spit fly from your mouth, “is love?”

You blinked up at him, smears of red in the shape of his hands on your cheeks, a hot trail of spit connecting your lip to your chin, breath hiccuping like a kicked dog. And still—you smiled.

He fucking despised the face that looked back at him, your eyes blown out, glassy and still obsessed. He spat at you again, hard, mean, disgusted, right between them.

“You think this is love? You th-think you know me? You d-don’t know SHIT. You'll NEVER b-be n-nothin' more than a f-fuckin' cumrag. NEVER. Y-You deserve to be p-put down like a f-fucking rabid animal.”

You didn’t even flinch. You could barely even hear the filth thrown your way.

You just licked your lips—slowly. Deliberately. Dry tongue swiping up the spit, the precum, everything he'd left behind like it was holy. Like it was proof he touched you.

Toby froze, tics seizing out of pure shock, chest heaving, eyes wide with something like hate and horror and disbelief all at once.

You were wrecked—utterly—mascara melting in grey streaks down your clammy cheeks, nose red and swollen, hair stuck to your wet mouth, knees bleeding underneath you. And you still looked at him like he hung the fucking stars.

Something inside him snapped all over again.

He lunged—grabbed your shoulder and threw you down, face-first into the floor. You yelped, arms scrambling to catch yourself, the skin on your knees scraped off by the floorboards, but he didn’t wait. Didn’t ask.

“Y-You want to be used so bad?” he growled, yanking your pants down and baring you to the air, “F-Fine. I’ll ruin you, you f-fucking c-cunt."

His belt hit the floor. He spat again, right between your shoulder blades, thick and hateful.

“B-Bet this is what y-you wanted all along. T-T-Take it, freak.”

He knelt behind you, one hand braced on your lower back, the other lining himself up, skipping your pussy without as much as grazing it with the tip—and shoved inside past the tight muscle rim of your ass, merciless.

Your eyes flew wide as white-hot pain shot up your spine. Your scream cracked in your throat as his cock split you in two, raw and soaked in spit but no less brutal.

You arched into it.

Toby growled something feral and shoved deeper. You were clenching so tight, your muscles spasming, but he didn’t stop. He didn’t care.

“Y-You feel that?” he panted, slamming into you, each thrust brutal, punishing. “Th-this isn’t yours. Y-You don’t own me. T-this dick will never b-be fucking yours."

Your face was pressed into the floor, spit pooled beneath your cheek, mouth open in a dazed, wet moan as he fucked you like garbage—like nothing, cock ramming in your ass with single-minded violence. Your body jolted with every slam of his hips, ass meat rippling like angry tidal waves, every punishing thrust shoving his cock deeper, harder, until it felt like your brain would melt out of your ears. You stayed silent.

Silent and fucking grateful.

He slapped your ass hard enough to leave a mark.

“Stupid f-fucking bimbo—l-living in some wet d-dream where you matter. You don’t. Y-You’re just a—f-fuckin’ hole.”

Another slap—across your back this time.

You whimpered, and your fingers dug into the floorboards like you could crawl inside them, but you didn’t stop him. You wouldn’t. This was your heaven.

“C-Crying now?” he sneered, voice cracking. “Wh-What happened to the whore who l-liked sucking dick so much, huh? G-Got what you wanted, and now you c-can’t even take it?”

He spit again—right on the back of your head.

And you came, so hard that you could see stars bursting behind your eyes.

No warning. No build. Just humiliation, pain, and his voice melting your brain into static.

Toby didn’t even notice. Too lost in his rage, too gone to feel anything but fire and shame and loathing at how good you felt around him.

He didn’t slow.

Didn’t give a single fuck about the sobs clawing out of your throat, the raw, ugly sounds echoing in the room like music to his rage.

“F-Fuckin’ disgusting whore,” he snarled, his breath ragged, lip curling like the sight of you made him sick. “B-Betting you like this shit. L-Like being split open like a f-fuckin’ animal.”

You nodded.

God help you—you nodded.

He barked a laugh. It wasn’t humor. It was disbelief. Pure, furious, exhausted disbelief.

He yanked you back by the hair again, your bloody knees slipping out from under you as he pulled you upright against him. Your arms hung limp, your ass and thighs flushed red from the impact, and his cock popped free from your ass with a slick, humiliating noise.

You didn’t even have time to catch your breath before he shoved you down again, spine hitting the floor with a painful thud.

"F-Fuckin' look at me."

You blinked up through tears, your lashes clumped, black streaks down your cheeks like a doll left out in the rain.

"You l-like this? Th-That I’m using you like a fleshlight? You g-get off on being a d-dumpster, huh?"

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but he slapped your face again, then straddled your chest, cock dripping with spit and slick, flushed and angry red.

"Open."

Your jaw trembled, but you obeyed, and he shoved it in.

Ass straight to mouth. Thick and filthy. The taste was obscene.

You gagged instantly, throat constricting around him—but he held your head in place with both hands now, his fingers bruising your cheeks, palms cradling you like a goddamn trophy as he fucked your throat, teeth gritted, low snarls bubbling out of his chest.

"F-Fuck you— I'll f-fucking kill you, I'll— I fuck-fucking HATE you—"

Your eyes rolled. You couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t feel anything but him.

And then—he tensed. Not a warning. Not a pause.

Just a growl, a violent yank of your hair, and a final, punishing thrust so deep it made your vision go white.

He ripped out of your throat with a wet pop—and came.

Everywhere.

Hot spurts splashed across your cheek, your mouth, your eyelids, your lashes. He pumped another streak into your hair, and one more shot down over your chin, his spit joining the mess as he leaned in close to snarl.

"Y-You can choke on that. It's all you're ever f-fuckin’ getting from m-me."

You didn’t blink.

Didn’t move.

Just laid there. Face covered in cum, spit, tears. Mouth open, tongue out, lips twitching as you tried to taste every drop.

Toby stood there for a second, staring, just enough to squeeze the leftover drool and slick and cum from his softening cock, and flick it at your face.

And you smiled. Tired. Broken. Elated.

His stomach turned.

“You’re fucked in the h-head,” he said, barely a whisper now. “S-So fucked it’s pathetic.”

He turned without another word, without another glance. He buckled his belt with trembling hands, eyes locked anywhere but your wrecked face, and walked out, door slamming behind him so violently that the doorknob rattled and fell to the floor with a loud clang.

Toby left you there—raw, soaked, ruined, smiling through the mess like you’d just lived a dream.

And maybe you had.

[varesai]

HIIII I JUST READ YOUR BOOTHILL IDEA ABOUT PREGNANCY AND I AM WELL FED 😭 i love how angsty it is. oh boy i'm sure struggles a lot during his s/o's pregnancy. like...it has lots of cry and self-conflict because he may thinking that he isn't helping his s/o. there gonna be small arguments and misunderstandings. it's hard for the both of them and the baby. 🥹

ohhhh yes. yup. decided to take a real angsty route with this one. I added some mentions of his actual backstory here, bc my og one was written before his backstory was released lols

Boothill definitely cries during your whole entire pregnancy. He also has a lot of bad thoughts about himself during it, too. 

At first, he tries to hide it, and either subtly cry, or just simply wait until you’re no longer in the room or the house. He doesn’t want you to know that he’s not happy because of the state he’s in. 

He used to be human, he used to be flesh, and most importantly, he once had a daughter of his own, and that's what crushes him the most. He fears so much that he’s almost going to replace her, even though he knows deep down in his heart that it most definitely wouldn’t be able to happen. 

He also feels so bad about not being able to do normal human things for your during your pregnancy :(((( he knows how much you want to be able to be soft and intimate, to take baths and be able to have a cozy massage and just a cozy person around in general, and he’s the exact opposite of that. He doesn’t even think he deserves the husband title anymore.

He literally once asked you why you’re still with him and not someone else. You explained that you loved him and you wanted to be with him, and even then he never really expressed the way he felt about himself to you but you could sort of see it in his eyes. He didn’t like the way he was and the fact that he can’t be what he refers to as a “proper dad” to his kid. 

He knows it’s hard on you, too, and he also knows that you’re catching onto his harsh thoughts, and you’re catching on fast. It caused an argument a few times, on how you’re hurt that he’s not expressing his emotions, he doesn’t want to, it turns into a “do you not trust me or something?” conflict on your end, and a “I just don’t know what to say without hurting you” conflict on his end. Misunderstanding that likely won’t just dissipate. 

There was one argument that you both had when you were nearing pretty close to your due date, and he decided he was going to walk out midway through and not come back for about a week. For some reason, he chose a petty route, leaving you anxious and super betrayed, considering he refused to answer his phone, too.

The argument was over something that seemed incredibly stupid, if you both must say so yourselves. He was, once again, insecure, and he wouldn’t tell you why. That was what bothered you- did he not trust you enough? Did he seriously not want to be a part of this baby's life? Why else would he just walk out?

To say it made you super anxious, scared, and lonely was an understatement. You were left with the thought that you’d have to give birth alone, and go back to your original game plan that you already mentally set up. You thought he genuinely left you.

That was, until he walked back into the house on a random afternoon that next week. He ran up to you and apologized, allowing you to cry it out in his steel arms. He felt so horrible, and he vowed to you to never, ever do that again.

He tries to start letting you in on his troubles from that point on, but there still seems to him like there's a barrier blocking his words from coming out. Sometimes, he just blames it on his synesthesia beacon, which seems to work for now. 

He also lets you see him cry more often, but that stops when you give birth. He doesn’t need you to be more overwhelmed than you already will end up being.

[pasteldreams]

driving - m.s.

pairing: bsf!matt sturniolo x reader

summary: matt doesn't know how to deal with his feelings for his best friend

cw: (resolved) angst, crying, cursing, self-deprecating comments, texts, friends to lovers, kissing

a/n: happy holidays friends! this is my first written piece! don't expect too much, but i hope you enjoy lol

based on- driving by dwllrs (lyrics in bold)

word count: ~2k

all i want, all i need,

all i dream, i need you next to me.

what do i want? what do i need?

what do i dream? i need you next to me

 

"are you sure you don't want to go out with us? we're gonna be gone for a while, you don't just want to come for a bit?" nick asks, unsure about leaving his sulking brother alone even for just a few hours.

"yeah, i'll be fine, just leave already." matt rolls his eyes starting to lose his patience with his brothers, who looked down at him as he laid on the couch.

"are you going to text her? weren't you supposed to hang out with her tonight?" chris asks tentatively.

matt's eyes shift, looking straight ahead before going out of focus.

'why'd he have to bring her up?' matt thought, suddenly stuck in his own mind. 'he knows why I can't just text her, why I can't ask her to come over, why i-'

"look bro," chris says, interrupting matt's spiraling thoughts. "she's your best friend. don't push her away just because you have feelings for her."

"can you guys just shut the fuck up about it? I know how she feels about me. I heard her say we're just friends, so why can't you both just leave me the fuck alone?"

"woah, kid. take it down a notch, okay? we know you're upset, but, first of all, you haven't even told her how you feel, and, second of all, she's right. you are just friends because, news flash, you haven't talked to her about it or literally anything for that matter." nick harshly reminds him.

matt sits in frustrated silence as chris opens his mouth to speak. "kid, she's texted me like a hundred times asking if you're okay and what she did wrong. you're scared of losing her, but you're not doing a great job of keeping her, dude."

"whatever," matt responds, opening his phone pretending to scroll through Instagram in hopes they'd get the hint to leave him the fuck alone.

"the uber's outside, so this is your last chance to not spend your night alone in whatever shitty mood this is." nick offers, only receiving silence in response.

 

driving alone

thinking 'bout the times, wrongs were feeling right

'cause you were never mine, i know

i'm lost inside my mind

it happens all the time, when it happens, I wanna go

 

once his brothers left, matt sat as his feelings began to suffocate him. his chest tightened as your words echoed through his mind.

‘am i dating matt? oh, no, we're just friends.'

he felt like running, like driving, like escaping to some other reality. a reality where you knew how he felt, where you felt the same, and, most importantly, a reality where you were his.

matt stood up, his surroundings feeling more like a dream than his own home, as his unsteady legs carried him to the door. he grabbed his keys and he made his way to his car. his mind was too overwhelmed by emotion to have a plan of where he would go once he started the engine.

 

sunsets always hold me, i only go driving when i'm lonely

i wanna go cry, my feelings always leave

i'm running towards a dream that i'll never reach

 

as the engine started, matt felt hot tears begin to roll down his cheeks. he pulled onto the street as he continued thinking of a world where you loved him back. a world that, realistically, could never exist. because you were smart and funny and caring and loveable. and he was just matt… your friend, just as you had clarified.

matt watched the sunset fade as the colors flew past his windows. after what felt like hours trapped inside the hellscape of his racing mind, he felt the car slow to a stop, his body functioning on autopilot. and there he was. parked outside of your apartment.

matt reminisced on all the times he took the same drive to see you. he remembered the nights he spent next to you on the couch, your eyes fixed on whatever film was playing as his eyes were glued to you. he remembered later on those same nights as he gently combed through your hair and traced your soft features while you slept through the movie you had initially been so eager to watch. he didn't mind you falling asleep. quite the opposite actually. he cherished those quiet moments with you, the moments where he could admire you in the way he wished he could while you were awake.

 

all i want, all i need,

all i dream, i need you next to me.

what do i want? what do i need?

what do i dream? i need you next to me

 

suddenly, he felt his hands reaching for his phone. 'what am i doing?' he thought, opening his messaging app. he clicked the name pinned to the top of his screen, your name, opening a thread of 32 unread texts asking what was wrong and pleading for him to respond. more tears threatened to spill as he read your most recent text.

'what the fuck am i doing?' he groans as he closes his phone and lays his head on the top of the steering wheel. 'god, i'm so stupid. i should've never texted her. i should just go ho-.' he sat up, suddenly interrupted by a familiar sound, your text tone.

 

matt felt his heart pounding as his eyes locked onto the screen, his mind racing.

'she's gonna ask what's wrong and what the fuck am i going to say? sorry, i ignored you because i'm in love with you? that's so fucking stupid, i'm so fucking stupid.'

he combs a shaky hand through his tangled hair before resting his forehead back against the steering wheel. the sound of soft taps to the passenger window causes him to jolt up. there you were.

matt's wide eyes take in your messy hair and red eyes. it takes another tap on the window for him to snap out of his trance long enough to unlock the door.

you slide into the passenger seat, the sound of the door closing slicing through the heavy silence. your body faces his while your eyes remain glued to your fidgeting hands. tears spill over matt's lashes as the guilt of how he treated you hits him. he can't stand the way your sad eyes avoid his matching ones. he buries his face in his hands, releasing the emotions that have built up inside him since he overheard your painful but truthful words.

"matt?" your voice cracks wanting to cure his sadness but not knowing what caused it.

"i- fuck." he chokes out through sobs.

"what's wrong? what happened?"

"i just- i fucked up, and i'm so sorry. i should've texted you. i'm so stupid" he says between deep, shaky breaths.

you gently brush through his hair waiting for him to calm down enough to hear you over his ragged breathing. once he's calm enough to face you, he lifts his face up, making eye contact with your soft eyes.

"hey," you give him a soft, yet sad smile

"i'm sorry," he whispers, tears threatening to spill again. "i shouldn't have ignored you."

"i know."

"i uh i missed y-"

"did I do something to hurt you?" you blurt out, unable to keep the question in any longer.

"no," he sighs looking down, "well, i don't know."

"you don't know?"

he could've lied at this point and said that it had nothing to do with you, that he was just stressed about work or his brothers, but he knew you wouldn't forget his hint that you were somehow related to his sadness.

"i-" he clears his throat bringing his eyes back to yours but struggling to maintain eye contact with your intense gaze. "i heard you say something about me to some girls."

"about you?" you questioned, wondering what you could've said to have hurt him so badly.

"yeah," he states simply, with no further explanation.

"when? what girls? what did i say? I would never say anything bad about you."

"no, it wasn't- i just-" he stutters as you stare at him with a mixture of confusion and frustration plastered across your face. "i heard you say we were friends."

you stare at him blankly as rage builds inside of you.

"are you kidding?" you spit

"no," he says quietly

"i've been crying for days wondering if you were okay, only to find out you did all of this because i told some people we were friends? are we not friends then?" your anger slowly turns to sadness. your voice shakes as you feel your heart sink. "because i-"

"no no no, we are friends! i just mean-" he sighs and pulling at his hair as he gathers his thoughts. "we are friends. but I don't want to be," he scans your face as your tears begin to fall rapidly.

'he doesn't want to be friends anymore? after years of movie nights and game nights with his brothers and late night drives, he just decides he doesn't want to be friends?' your mind struggles to grasp the concept of losing him.

"i don't want to be your friend anymore because i want to be more." your faces turns from heart break to confusion as he continues speaking.

"what i'm trying to say is…" he takes another deep shaky breath. "i want to be yours" he confesses. "your boyfriend, i mean. i want to be your boyfriend" he clarifies with a short awkward laugh. "but i know you don't feel the same, and, even if you did, i probably ruined any chance i had by pulling this shit." he references his avoidant behavior. as he looks up at you, he panics not being able to decipher your expression. "can you say something?"

"you really are stupid.”

"huh?" he says, taken back by your harsh words.

"you could've just fucking told me instead of treating me like shit.”

"i know… i know. i'm really sorry i just didn't know how and I didn't want to ruin anyt-"

"i would've told you i liked you back.”

suddenly matt's eyes shoot up to yours, searching your eyes for some indication on if you were telling the truth.

"you what?'

"matt, i've tried telling you so many times, our friends have told you, and i'm sure your brothers have mentioned it at some point. you just never made a move or reciprocated any of it, so i figured you didn't feel the same way about me.”

"no no no, god no. fuck. i can't even explain the way i feel about you." his eyes drift off as he rambles on nervously. "you make me feel safe and warm and happy, like so fucking happy, and i just-"

his eyes train back on yours, realizing how close you both were.

"i just want to kiss you," he breathes out softly.

"you want to kiss me?" you ask still unsure if this is all a dream. he nods.

"can i? can I kiss you?" it was your turn to nod anxiously as his face slowly moves towards yours until you feel his breath fan across your lips

"god, you're beautiful, is this really okay? you really want me to kiss you? it’s okay if y-" he rambles on.

"are you going to kiss me or not, matthew?" he smiles at your sassiness, cupping your face gently before closing the space between you.

as his lips meet yours, the unspoken words and pent-up frustrations disappear, leaving only the feeling of his soft lips and warm hands.

as you begin to pull away from the kiss, matt whispers, "no, wait. i need you next to me," pulling you back into him.

🏷️ taglist: @y3sterdaysproblem, @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan

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[nchant6dkitty]

Ghost Caleb . Who started as your imaginary friend since childhood. Someone who you could talk to as a lonely child. You're too shy to make friends and mostly isolated yourself from the other kids, preferring to enjoy your own company. You could tell him anything at all and play pretend with him all the time. He was always happy to go along with your plans. He was always fun to be with. Always finding new ways to make everyday an adventure or at least interesting for you.

Ghost Caleb. Who was always by your side and let you cuddle with him and give you hugs when you needed it. He would bring you snacks and always made sure you were fed and rested well. Where did he get them?. It was his little secret. He also helped you with your homework when you needed help. Teaching you things you didn't understand and ruffling your hair as he complimented or praised your intelligence and encouraged you. He was like an older brother you never had. A little annoying but nonetheless endearing.

Ghost Caleb. Who made much of your childhood fun as he could and protected you. Taking care of you when your parents or care takers neglected you. He got mad at them when they lashed out at you during their bad days or were harsh to you. Using his ghostly powers to move or break things to startle or scare them back. Your parents couldn't see him or hear him and that's exactly why they should be scared of him.

Ghost Caleb. Who liked to read with you and sing lullabies to you and hold you close when you couldn't sleep or had a nightmare. He would whisper sweet nothings into your ear and gently stroke your hair and tuck you back in bed , staying with you as you held onto him with your little hands till you fell asleep.

Ghost Caleb. Who was always protective of you. Scolded you when you carelessly got yourself hurt but would help you afterwards, sticking bandages to your wounds as you sniffled or cried, sulked or even if you stubbornly said you were fine. He always took care of you when were sick or hurt. He couldn't let you be on your own when you were so clumsy.

Ghost Caleb. Who went to teach a few middle school kids a lesson for daring to bully his little pipsqueak. Only he got to tease you. How dare they make you cry and feel bad about yourself?. The next week, you arrived at school, feeling dread only to find that said kids were avoiding you and keeping a distance and couldn't even make eye contact with you. Hell, two of them even apologized to you later. You still could never figure out why. Well, at least they left you alone.

Ghost Caleb. Who you took as your imaginary friend began to feel a little neglected, lonely and possessive when he noticed you began to hang out with other kids more and even bringing them home for sleepovers. You went to their house to hangout and you called them your best friend. Wasn't he enough?. Why would you need those boring kids for? . He thought he was your best friend. He always made sure to follow you and your little new friends from a distance. Just to make sure you were okay and that you were actually having fun. He couldn't help but feel the slight ache in his chest when he sees that warm smile of yours that only shared with him.

Ghost Caleb. Who tried to get your attention and ask you to hangout with him whenever you were on your phone too much or were watching too much TV. "You're gonna get brain rot from being on that phone too much, pipsqueak. Come on... There's something I want to show you outside " he said when he snatched your phone away. You'd protest but follow him anyway. Sometimes you did have more fun with him than playing those video games all day. But don't tell him that or his ego would pop.

Ghost Caleb. Who noticed how fast you were growing. Feeling like a proud parent and older sibling. He also noticed that you having some problems seeing him or hearing him when he tried to get your attention. You spent more time with your friends, on the phone, doing other things that you liked. Did you not want to hangout with him anymore?. Were you ignoring him now that you didn't need him ? Or did he upset you about something ?. He didn't know but he couldn't help but still stay by your side as usual.

Ghost Caleb, whose heart shattered when he one day realized that you couldn't see him or hear him anymore for some reason. Was it because you were growing up?. Was it because his purpose for you had been served?. You only talked about him in passing when you mentioned having an imaginary friend as a kid but you couldn't recall much about how he looked like. Just a blurry face in your mind, you said.

Ghost Caleb, who went back being what he was before. Nothing but a ghost. A lost soul. Unheard, unseen and untouchable. The world changing and passing him by while he was stuck. Stuck in the same realm of ever unchanging, unseen realm. He still stayed by your side. He couldn't help it. It was all he could do as he watched you grow up and forget him. Shoved away, like the drawings you drew of both of you in the attic.

The lad boys as ghosts would be interesting. So far, I haven't seen ffs on it. Had the idea so I wrote it. Wanna write for the others too. Do I do part 2 for this?. My dead writing soul has awoken from the abyss cuz of this new fandom. Lol.

[allthingsfangirl101]

Furiously Passionate – Jake Seresin

Jake's POV

When I first walked into the coffee shop down the street from base, I never expected to run into my childhood friend, Y/N. As little kids, we were inseparable. Well, that's putting it lightly.

The honest truth is that I followed Y/N everywhere. I was overly protective of her and was always there when she needed me. Even if she didn't need me, I was there.

Her first choir performance, I was in the crowd.

Her first spelling bee, I was in the audience.

Her first boyfriend, I was ready to tell her he wasn't good enough.

Her first heartbreak, I held her as she cried (after I beat the shit out of the guy).

When I joined the Navy, Y/N was terrified. She was so worried that something would happen to me and I wouldn't return to her. The night before I left for training, we fell asleep with tears streaming down our faces.

Two years went by. Two years of hand-written letters. Two years of emails. Two years of phone calls. Two years of making sure we never lost contact.

When I walked into the coffee shop and saw Y/N behind the counter making coffee, I almost jumped over the counter and wrapped my arms around her. I didn't have to, because she did.

She jumped over the counter and instantly took her break. We spent the entire time standing outside and talking. She eventually went back to work after I got her to promise to meet up that night. We started off the night by ordering dinner and talking. We ended the night with me leaving the next morning.

That was six months ago. Ever since we started going out, I go to her apartment as soon as we finish training. I only go out with my friends one night a week—the rest I spend with Y/N.

"What time are you done with training tonight?" Y/N asked me over the phone as I started walking into base.

"Not sure, baby," I sighed. "We're getting closer to the mission, so our sessions are getting a little more intense."

I waited for her to respond, but she didn't. "What's wrong, gorgeous?"

"It's nothing," she lied.

"Y/N," I elongated her name. "Tell me. What's on your mind?"

"It's just. . ." My heart felt tight when she sighed. "I kind of don't really want you to go on your upcoming mission."

"What?"

"See?" She said, her voice breaking. "I sound like a horrible and unsupportive girlfriend."

"You're not," I instantly corrected.

"I don't mean to be," she said, ignoring my earlier comment. "I'm just worried. Your mission could end badly. I could. . ."

"You're not going to lose me," I said before she could start to panic. "I promise, Y/N. I will be smart. I will make sure I make it home to you."

"I know," she whispered. "That doesn't mean I'm not scared."

I sighed, wishing there was something I could say to make her feel better. The thing was, she was right. She's right to be scared. I can promise all I want, but things can still go badly.

"Listen," I said gently, "you mean the world to me. I will do everything I can to make it back to you. As for tonight, I will order Chinese on my way over. Try and stay up for me?"

"Of course," she giggled, her tone of voice instantly shifting. I held back my sigh of relief.

"Great," I smiled. "I'll see you tonight."

I hung up the phone, noticing my friends studying me.

"Who was that?" Phoenix asked with a knowing smirk on her face.

"No one," I instinctively responded.

"Someone you're meeting tonight," Coyote laughed. "Hot date?"

"It's just. . ." I stuttered.

"Come on, Hangman," Payback pushed. "You walked in here, your phone glued to your ear, and smiling like an idiot. Fess up. Who's got you acting like an idiot?"

"Y/N," I said, clearing my throat as I put my phone in my pocket. I looked around to see them all smirking at me.

"And who's this Y/N?" Rooster asked. I struggled to control my anger caused by the way he said her name.

"My girlfriend."

"Your girlfriend?" Bob stuttered. "You actually. . . You have a girlfriend?"

"I do," I shrugged.

"Where did you meet a girl lonely enough to fall for you?" Fanboy scoffed.

"She works at the coffee shop near base," I shortly explained. "But we've known each other since we were kids. When I ran into her again, I asked her out."

"So," Coyote elongated, "when are we going to meet this girl of yours?"

"Yeah," Payback laughed. "I gotta meet the poor girl that puts up with our Hangman."

"I half expected our Hangman to leave her hanging after a drunken night," Payback laughed.

"I'd never leave her," I said through my teeth, shocking everyone.

"You really like her, don't you?" Phoenix said, her voice softening.

"I've known her forever," I said, sounding slightly offended. "We grew up together."

"When you'd finally hook up?" Payback asked. I had to grip my hands into fists to control my anger.

"Six months ago," I said, my jaw slightly tighter than normal. "I hadn't seen her in almost three years, but I ran into her six months ago."

"That's great," Phoenix smiled. "You should bring her by the bar sometime. We'd love to meet her."

To be honest, I'd never thought about introducing Y/N to my flight squad. I always separated my life in the Navy and my life with Y/N. Not because I was ashamed of her. I kept her separate to keep her safe.

* * * * *

"Jake," Y/N gasped when I wrapped my arms around her the second she turned. "What are you doing here?"

"Navy pilots need coffee too," I teased her. I leaned down and pressed my lips to hers. I broke the kiss and smirked down at her. I grabbed the rag she was using to wipe down the tables and tossed it into the counter as I asked, "Any chance you can take a break?"

She looked at her watch and smirked at me. "What do you know?" She asked sarcastically. "It just so happens to be my break."

I laughed as she took off her apron, tossed it onto the counter. I grabbed her hand and led her out of the coffee shop. Without saying anything, we started walking down the street. We took a few turns before arriving at the nearest beach.

"Okay," Y/N sighed, "what's going on with you?"

"What do you mean?" I tried to laugh it off. Y/N stopped walking, pulling me with her.

"We've been dating for six months," she started, "but I've known you all my life. You call me at work, text me in between flights, but you don't randomly pop by without telling me. So, I ask again: what's going on?"

"My friends know about you," I confessed, knowing there was no point in trying to hide it any longer. Y/N always knew.

"Oh," she said, her voice dropping.

"They really want to meet you," I continued hesitantly. I gently grabbed both of her hands as I continued, "Part of me thinks it's because they don't believe you're real. They want to see if you're out of my league. Or they want to see what kind of girl I can convince to actually go out with me."

"I don't know," Y/N stuttered, looking at our intertwined hands.

"Please, baby," I begged. "I really want my friends to meet you."

"What if they don't like me?" She asked, her voice dropping. I took a step closer to her, putting myself inches from her.

"They are going to love you because you are an amazing girl," I tried to reassure her.

"What if they don't think I'm good enough for you?"

My heart sank. "They have no reason to think that," I said softly. "You are more than enough for me, baby."

She paused as she studied me and nervously chewed on her bottom lip. I reached up and gently used my thumb to untuck her lip from her teeth.

"You really want me to meet your friends, don't you?"

"I do," I said honestly. "But only if you're comfortable meeting them."

"I guess I am," she shrugged. She smiled before adding, "As long as you promise not to leave me alone with them."

I leaned in and dropped my voice as I said, "I wouldn't leave you even if they paid me."

* * * * *

Later that night, I took Y/N to the Navy bar. She was really nervous, but as time went on (and drinks were drunk), my friends started to show her that they weren't anything to be afraid of. Towards the end of the night, we were the only semi-sober ones.

I pulled Y/N off to the side so we could have a moment alone. I wrapped my arms around her and "helped" her throw the darts. When she hit the bullseye, she giggled and jumped up and down. I had the biggest smile on my face until I looked over my shoulder to see Rooster watching us a little too closely.

I forced myself not to think about it the rest of the night. Instead, I focused on making sure Y/N was having fun. The entire drive back to my apartment, Y/N was buzzing. She was super happy about how the night went and went back through everything we did. She fell asleep in my arms with the biggest smile on her face.

She was still buzzing about it the next morning. I kissed her goodbye and headed to base. As soon as I walked in, everyone sent me smirks. They kept telling me that they liked Y/N and thought she and I were a good match. Everything was fine.

Until Rooster. . .

"I gotta be honest," Rooster smirked. "Y/N's not exactly the kind of girl I expected you'd bring around. I mean, by the way you talked about her, I figured she'd be a bit more. . . more."

Before I knew it, I was charging Rooster.

I let my anger take over. So much so, I wouldn't have stopped if it wasn't for the team.

"Y/N is the most gorgeous girl in the world," I yelled as Payback and Fanboy pulled me off Rooster. "I'm lucky a girl like her would go out with me."

"Both of you," Phoenix snapped, "calm down."

I tore my hands out of their holds and stormed off before my anger could take over again.

* * * * *

My anger was suffocating. I was about to leave base, struggling to calm myself down, but forced myself to stay. I walked into the pilot's room, relieved when no one was there. I sat on the couch and grabbed my phone. My screensaver stopped me.

It was a picture of Y/N and me on our first official date six months ago. It was my favorite picture of us. It was the only one where I looked truly happy.

I wanted to call her and tell her about Rooster, but I didn't want to worry her. She thought last night went so well. I don't want to make her doubt that. I looked up when someone knocked on the doorframe.

"I'm not apologizing," I said when I saw Rooster leaning against the doorway.

"That's not why I'm here," he chuckled as he kicked off the doorframe and walked in.

"What do you want?" I sighed.

"I wanted to talk to you about Y/N."

I scowled the second my Y/N's name left his lips. "Bradshaw," I warned, slowly standing up.

"How long have you been in love with Y/N?" He asked.

"All my life," I answered without having to think about it. "I've known her since I was a kid, and I've loved her more and more each day."

"Does she know that?"

"No," I sighed, looking away from him. "She doesn't."

"Why the hell not?" He asked, not sounding at all like he was teasing.

"I don't know," I stuttered. "We just barely started dating and. . ."

"You just said that you've been in love with her all your life," he said, taking a small step toward me. "It may have taken a while, but you finally got together. When you start dating someone you've known your entire life, you don't start at Level 1."

"What's the point of all this?" I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest.

"The point," Rooster said with a small smirk on his face, "is that it took you this long to finally get together. You really want to waste more time before telling her you love her?"

* * * * *

I walked into Y/N's apartment, a lot of emotions flooding my body. I hung my keys by the door and kicked off my shoes. I searched the apartment for her but finally found her asleep at the kitchen table. With a big smile on my face, I knelt beside her and gently woke her up.

"Y/N," I said softly, "baby, wake up."

She let out her sleepy moan as her eyes fluttered open. "Hey, you," she smiled. She slowly lifted her head and spent a moment looking around the room, still in a bit of a daze.

"You fall asleep while studying?" I asked, gesturing to the law books in front of her.

"Mmhmm," she mumbled. "Why do I want to be a family advocate?"

"Well," I chuckled, "according to you, you want to fight for children and make sure they get into good homes."

"Oh yeah," she sighed. She turned to me, and her eyes widened. She gasped as she quickly grabbed my face. "Jake! What happened to your face?"

I sighed when I realized that the punch I took from Rooster must have left a mark.

"It's nothing," I tried to soothe her.

"It doesn't look like nothing," she continued to worryingly stutter. "It looks like you got into a fight. Did you get into a fight?"

I reached up and gently pulled her hands away from my face. "I did get into a fight," I confessed, "but it was nothing. It was stupid guys being stupid guys."

I couldn't help but smile when she pouted. She opened her mouth to say something, but I cut her off by pulling her in and pressing my lips to hers. It took her half a second to start kissing me back.

"I love you, Y/N," I whispered, breaking the kiss. She leaned back and studied me with wide eyes.

"You. . . You what?"

"I love you," I repeated. "I have loved you since we were little. I have loved you every day of our lives. I was just too afraid to tell you."

"Why?" She asked, catching me slightly off-guard.

"I didn't know how you felt about me," I confessed slowly. "And I didn't want to ruin our friendship. You were, and still are, the most important person in my life. I couldn't risk losing you if I was wrong."

"You're not," she said quickly.

"I'm not?"

"You're not," she smiled, "because I love you, too."

She gasped when I wrapped my arms around her, pulled her in, and pressed my lips to hers. I felt her giggle against my lips as I slightly picked her up.

We broke the kiss when neither one of us could breathe. We were still in each other's arms as we smiled too widely at each other. I reached up and moved some hair out of her face.

"I love you, Y/N," I whispered. "And I promise to spend the rest of my life with you, taking care of you. I will always be safe, so I can come home to you. I will always come running when you call for me. I will always be there when you need me. I will always love you."

Y/N smiled at me with soft tears in her eyes. "That's all I've ever wanted," she whispered. "You taking care of me. You being there for me. All I've ever wanted was you."

[sturniolohouse]

Landslide - C.S

summary: this is a a short platonic fic where chris and y/n can’t sleep and they have a heart to heart. (y/n is in relationship with matt).

A/N: i kept coming back to this draft, there was just something about it that i liked but it may not be everyone's cup of tea. working on another matt fic right now so stay tuned🫡

word count: 1.4k

-

“can i sail through the changing ocean tides? can i handle the seasons of my life?”

-

I wake up feeling hot but not being able to move. I open an eye and look down my chest to see a mop of brown hair laying just under my collarbone.

I sigh deeply realizing I’m caged in by a sleeping Matthew, half of his body on top of mine and his arm draped over my waist.

One thing I’ve told Matt since we started staying at each other’s houses is that I run hot in my sleep. But this kid always manages to find a way to touch me in his sleep. I even made him buy a fan for his room because of the fact that I cannot sleep without one on.

But tonight that fan is not doing shit and I’m trapped underneath a living furnace.

I sigh again feeling bad about moving and waking him, but I fear if I don’t move I will burst into flames.

I take another look at him and see he’s truly out cold so I may be able to get him off of me without waking him.

I reach for his hand on my left hip and lift it slowly, rolling myself away from him carefully before placing my feet to the cool wood floor.

I exhale in relief feeling myself cool down almost immediately as I look back to see him still sound asleep.

I grab my phone from the bedside table and see it’s almost 5 am. I run a hand down my face and get up slowly, walking to the door.

I might just sleep on the couch tonight.

I use the bathroom and head to the kitchen to grab a water. When I turn the light on, I see a figure on the couch from the corner of my eye.

I jump covering my mouth, "Jesus, fucking christ. You scared me." I put my hand over my heart that's about to beat out of my chest.

It’s just Chris.

"Sorry, sorry. It’s just me. I couldn't sleep." He laughs quietly, putting his hands up.

I sigh, “Me neither. Your brother was suffocating me.” I tell him, trying to be as quiet as possible.

I take two waters from the fridge, walking over to the couch and handing him one.

“Thanks,” He cracks open the cap. “Yeah, kid sleeps like a tornado.” He jokes and I shake my head.

“I was gonna sleep on the couch but you beat me to it. Weren’t you going to sleep in Nick’s room tonight?” I ask him, laying back into the cushion.

“Yeah it’s just not the same sleeping in his bed when he’s not home. So, I came down here but my mind is just…awake. Don’t know, won’t shut down I guess.” He confesses, rubbing his eyes with his palms.

Nick had spent the last couple of days with Madison since she had gotten back from tour and ended up staying at her house. And since I’ve been here, Chris has been on his own at night.

“You okay?” I ask softly, running my hand up and down his back. He gives me a tight lip smile and nods his head.

“I don’t really like the nights. They’re kinda lonely.” He shrugs as he fidgets with the label on the water bottle.

“I don’t want you to feel bad for me, I know I’m grown and should be able to fall asleep in my own bed it’s just hard for me,”

“You don’t have to explain.”

“It’s just,” he pauses, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. “And don’t get me wrong, y/n, I really like you. I’m so happy Matt has found someone and you two clearly love each other. It’s just I look at people like you and Matt, and you have a connection. You have a partner you can do anything with. And I look at me who can’t, or won’t, allow myself to have those things. And it’s becoming harder and harder to drown out the loneliness, but I don’t know how to let anyone in like that. I’m scared that I can’t, you know?” He confesses and my heart breaks for him.

Chris and I have a very sibling like relationship. I’m close with both of Matt’s brothers, but when I first met Chris, we were at each other's throats.

It would be stupid shit, like me drinking a can of soda from the fridge that was “his” or me being in the shower for too long or Matt driving me somewhere after he had told Chris no.

This initially caused a lot of tension between Matt and I because he was torn between defending his girlfriend and his brother. But I never made him choose between Chris and I.

"I don't know why he's being such a dick. Kid's so fucking unreasonable." Matt sighs, running a hand down his face.

"He's going to have to get used to me at some point because I'm not going anywhere." I shrug, not taking his hostility personally.

"Him and I are going to have a talk tomorrow." Matt says shaking his head.

"Just wait it out. He'll come around," I reassure him, running my hand through his hair.

I always understood that it was difficult for him to adapt to the new dynamic between his brothers once I came into the picture.

Matt spent more time with me and less time with Chris and Nick and it was a pretty big adjustment for Chris at first.

It took a few months, but with a lot of patience and giving him space, I eventually broke through to him l. And now two years in, we have a deep understanding and respect for one another.

As two important people in Matt’s life.

“This isn’t really a mindset you can force yourself into. It’s gotta happen organically. And it can happen without you even realizing. But if you keep your heart and your mind open, you’ll find someone too. Anyone would be so lucky to have you, Chris, truly. You’re fucking amazing. And I’m not just saying that.” I say with a firm voice.

He nods, “I’m just in my feelings,” He tries to lighten the mood, a small smile peeking through but all I can see is the tiredness and uncertainty weighing in his eyes.

He’s not looking to deepen the conversation, but rather just looking for an ear to listen to his fears.

I listened, that’s all he needs.

“You want me to play with your hair to make you sleepy? Usually does the trick for me.” I offer with a soft smile.

He wordlessly puts his head in my lap and I run my fingers through his messy hair. Combing through the tiny tangles and knots.

“You need a haircut, kid.” I say and he flips me off without looking at me.

“I know, haven’t had the time.” He mumbles, shuffling and getting more comfortable.

Chris rarely lets anyone see his bad moments, let alone anyone but his brothers. But he’s been able to be vulnerable around me.

I’m there for him as much as he lets me. Even if it’s scratching his head so he can get some sleep.

He’s not always the loud, goofy person people see on camera.

Maybe 10 minutes passes and I start to hear the birds chirping outside and the beginning of sunrise is evident through the cracks of the shades.

I feel Chris begin to get heavier and sink deeper into the couch next to me.

“If you want, you’re more than welcome to take my spot in Matt’s bed.” I laugh softly and I hear him chuckle lowly as he shakes his head.

“I’ll pass.”

Soon enough his breathing slows completely and I know he’s asleep. I lay my head back and try to get as comfortable as I can, seeing as I’m stuck again.

When I close my eyes I hear Matt’s door creak open and see him peak out around the corner.

He spots me on the couch before giving me a confused look. I nod my head towards Chris on my lap, quietly showing I’m trapped. A small sleepy smile creeps on his face as he shakes his head and makes his way over to sit next to me.

"I was wondering where you went." He says lowly, his voice laced with sleep.

“Came out here because I was overheating and this kid couldn’t sleep either,” I whisper laying my head on his shoulder and yawning.

He hums, “Hmm, you scratched his head?” He wraps his arm around me and pulls me into him.

“Yup.”

“Works every time.”

[comesatimecomesashadow]

her *ೃ༄

pairing *ೃ༄ carl grimes x gn reader

cw *ೃ༄ teen angst, friends to lovers, canon-typical violence, teen romance, semi-slow burn, fluff

fic type *ೃ༄ one shot (?) | part ii

summary *ೃ༄ in which you fall in love with the freckle-filled, blue eyed boy who wears a sheriff's hat.

note *ೃ༄ this is what i do instead of my three week old homework, enjoy !

masterlist *ೃ༄

   Arriving in Alexandria was an odd thing. Here, people tried to build a ‘civilization’, as if the world outside the walls wasn’t gone to shit already. You often ventured outside the walls without anyone knowing — Anyone excluding Enid, of course — because you were afraid of becoming weak. Immersing yourself in Deanna’s delusion would do nothing for your survival, you were sure of it. 

   When Rick and his group were welcomed inside the walls, you noticed their rough demeanors and the rugged way in which they carried themselves. They were a contrast to the people of Alexandria and because of that, their presence alluded you, even when others were weary of them. But you stayed away. Not because you were scared of them too, but because you’d rather not get close to anyone again. Regardless of what your instincts wanted you to do. 

   Enid would sometimes hang out with you alone or go with Ron and the others to fill the time that you all now had. You usually just spent the days in the attic of the empty house down the street. You’d heard a lot about the blue eyed boy with the sheriff’s hat from Enid, he seemed kinda awkward to you but you didn’t fault him. It was probably strange going from having to fight walkers 24/7 to now having the time for video games; You remember feeling that way too. 

   You were no stranger to the crushing weight of loneliness that followed all those who survived. Sometimes, you wonder if you should’ve just let yourself be eaten. But you were afraid you’d be betraying the last thing your dad told you. ‘Live! Fight and Live!’, you remembered his words vividly. You also remembered the screams that came next. 

   The leaves crunched under your boots as you walked towards your secret hangout. 

   No one, not even Enid, knew where it was. It was the place in the forest you went to whenever you felt lonely, it was a comfort to you most of the time. There in the secluded spot, you had a box with a broken lock hidden with leaves and sticks, it was full of your scavenged art supplies. Drawing was something you liked to do ever since you were a kid, it was one of the only things the apocalypse hadn’t taken from you. 

   As you approached your secret hideout, you noticed a familiar boy with the famous sheriff's hat sitting against the log you always sat at. You bit your lip and walked a little faster. ‘What was he doing here?’ You were a little upset at this. 

   “..How did you find this place?” your words were clear and loud enough so he could hear. You didn’t intend for it to come off as mean as it sounded, but then again maybe that was the best choice. You’d met different groups before coming to Alexandria and people always tended to be selfish people. Even in Alexandria, you noticed how most of the kids your age were selfish, hence why you hid your secret space even from Ron and his group. Why would this guy be any different? 

   He got up and met your eyes, seeming like a deer caught in headlights. He left your sketchbook on the ground. “I was just- Uh, I was walking around and found this place. Do you.. Hang around here, or..?” You could tell he was nervous and frankly, it felt awkward. 

   You sat on the ground next to the not-so-hidden box and grabbed the notebook he left on the ground. He opted to sit next to you. “To answer your question, yeah. I hang here by myself- most of the time at least.” You flipped to an empty page and grabbed some of your pens and markers from the chest. 

   The boy glanced down at your drawing, observing you. Then he began to speak again, less nervous this time. “I don’t think we’ve met before, I’m Carl.” 

   “...” You kept your eyes on the notebook. Should you be friendly with him? After a few moments of silence you told him your name and could see him slightly smile in the corner of your eye. “..Are you gonna stay here?” 

   “Do you mind it?” he asked. You shook your head. He seemed harmless for the most part, maybe he wasn’t like Ron and his friends. “Then.. Could I come here sometimes?” 

   “Why do you wanna?” you asked him, finally meeting his blue eyes. You noticed the freckles on his fair skin and the way his hair fell over his face was kinda funny to you. He was.. Something. Carl looked away from you, contemplating his words. 

   “Just cause.” He said with a small smile. You laughed a little at his words, sometimes it was hard to forget you were just kids. 

   “Alright then.” 

   The next few weeks, your routine began to change. 

   Normally, you’d wake up some time before the afternoon and get ready for the day. Afterwards, you’d help Olivia with the inventory and keeping track of rations. You’d go out on a run if you were asked to and if you weren't, your time was spent at your secret spot or with Enid. 

   However, ever since formally meeting Carl. Your secret hangout spot has become a shared secret hangout spot. He drew comic book characters on one of the notebooks in the chest at the spot, brought you art supplies when he came back from runs and even brought some of his own comic books. You noticed the way his facial expressions changed when he was immersed in his comics, the way he did that awkward side smile of his sometimes, you even caught him stealing glances at you sometimes. 

   But you never addressed it. 

   Not even when you began to find yourself disappointed when he missed a day at the spot. You had to remind yourself that he was just someone you met, it wasn’t like he belonged to you or anything. It wasn’t like you expected him to be there when you knew he had his own life too. 

   You told yourself then that you’d try to distance yourself. 

   Falling for someone, especially in the middle of a damn apocalypse, couldn’t go well. It just couldn’t. But it was hard to distance yourself when he seemed to be everywhere. Whenever you helped Olivia with keeping track of the inventory, he was there with his stupid, dorky smile and innumerous freckles. When you took a usual afternoon walk to clear your head, he waved at you and even joined you with his little sister in tow. 

   He was everywhere and that made it increasingly harder for you to bury your feelings away. 

   “What’re you drawing this time?” Carl asked. Your pencil stopped at the sound of his voice. You looked up and smiled involuntarily. For some reason, ever since you met him, you started to smile more often. Maybe he was just that easy to talk to, but you hated it sometimes. 

   “Walkers.” You gazed back down at your notebook that contained the scribbles and doodles of dismembered walkers and you even drew some of them with funny expressions and speech bubbles. “I know it’s twisted, considering they're the reason the world is ..shit. But I dunno,” you shrugged, wondering what he would think. Carl looked over your notebook, his hair tickling your shoulder. 

   Then he laughed. 

    “Is this one giggling? It looks funny,” A smile graced his features and a warm feeling crept into your heart at the sight of it. 

   “Yeah..!” You giggled and shaded in the drawing with some highlighters. 

   “When did you get into drawing?” 

   You shrugged, “I’ve always been into drawing, ever since I was a kid. I really liked comics n’ stuff, so I guess that’s what motivated me.” You found it endearing that he even asked because it meant that he was interested. You have never known what it felt like to have feelings like these, to feel so close to someone, but it was exciting. ..And scary at the same time of course. 

   It was then that you remembered that you’d forgotten your intentions of distancing yourself. 

   “Yeah? How come?” He picked up the comic book he had meant to continue reading and flipped to the page that had one of its corners dog-eared. 

   You put your pencil down and looked up at the sky peeking through the various green leaves blocking it. “It’s an outlet, I guess. Whenever I got lonely I’d just draw and draw till I forgot the loneliness.” 

   Carl lifted his gaze up to you again. “Do you still feel like that?” 

   You set your notebook down and hugged your knees closer to your chest before letting out a sigh. “Sometimes. Not as much nowadays though.” 

   “I’ve felt that way before too, actually. I thought I was the only one.” Carl admitted. He looked away when your eyes met his.  

   “Yeah?” You asked quietly. 

   He nodded his hands now flat on the ground at his sides and the comic forgotten on his lap. “I feel like it’s too normal sometimes.” Carl said. You agreed with his statement. “A lot of the people here aren’t prepared t’fight. I think that’s the scariest thing outta everything.” 

   “Why so?” you drew circles on the dirt. 

   “If someone, or something, from outside the walls wanted to take this place, they could.” Carl spoke as if it was fact. Maybe he was right. The wind whistled throughout the forest, a signal to return inside the walls now that the sun was also beginning to disappear. You put your notebook and his comic back inside the hidden box and closed it. 

   “We should get back, your dad’s probably wondering where you are.” You lent him a hand to help him up and he took it. His hand was a little calloused — but warm. 

   “Yeah, I guess so.” 

   He got up, but he didn’t let go of your hand. 

.

.

.

   The day the walkers came in through the walls was the day you returned to reality. You had to admit, being in Alexandria had indeed dulled your fighting skills — but it did not deter you. Plunging your knife into the skull of the walker in front of you, you headed toward the infirmary. Gunshots could be heard which only called in more from the swarm, you had to hurry.

   After a sprinting to the infirmary, you met Denise and began to help treat some of the patients that had gotten hurt. Your hands were quick at cleaning wounds and wrapping bandages, you’d picked up a lot of things before coming to Alexandria and you’d made it a habit to learn from Denise as a precaution. Luckily, it was paying off.

   ..Until Rick brought Carl to the infirmary with a grave injury to his right eye. 

   Your hands came to a sudden stop and trembled and you couldn't stop staring at him in utter shock of what had been done to him.  “What-..” 

   Denise helped Rick lay Carl down on the patient bed. “Get me the bandages, we need to stop the bleeding,” Denise ordered. Your mind went blank but you moved in a flash, handing her all the materials she needed to help him as if you were on autopilot. You didn’t ask Michonne nor Rick how it happened and you couldn’t either way since Rick decided to take his anger out on the walkers swarming outside. 

   Your eyes were laser-focused on the numbers reading Carl’s heart rate. 

   It was then that you realized just how much you cared about the freckled boy with the blue eyes, the sheriff’s hat he never took off and his stupid smile. 

   ..It was then that you realized how far you'd fallen for Carl. 

   “Is he..” your voice was shaky but Denise cut you off. 

   “He’s going to live. He will.” Her words were spoken in a strong tone but you didn’t know if she was trying to convince herself o..r you. In the meantime, you busied yourself with the other patients, most of the people huddling up inside the infirmary had left now and were beginning to go join Rick in his fight against the walkers currently swarming the inside of the walls. You couldn’t afford to think about him living or dying when other people were on patient beds fighting for their lives too. 

   But it was hard to not think about him. 

   You could only hope he would be alright. 

   The day seeped into the night sky and soon enough, Rick and the other Alexandrians had succeeded in massacring all the walkers inside the walls. Now, they were focused on making sure the walls would hold up while you still were tending to the patients in the infirmary with Denise. Luckily, some of the patients were recovering from their injuries now and waking up. From what Denise told you, Carl was unconscious but he was stable- He was alive.  That’s all that mattered to you. 

   You wanted to talk to someone, tell someone about all the feelings you were bottling up- but Enid was nowhere to be found. Neither was Ron or the other kids, and you couldn’t tell Denise because you knew how stressed she must have been. You left the infirmary and went outside to take in some air. The woman with the sword.. Michonne, you think her name was; She was outside of the infirmary as well. Carl’s dad, Rick, was there too. 

   “How is he?” Rick asked, you could hear the anxiousness in his voice. 

   You tried to give him a smile, “He’s doing better than when you brought him in, thankfully.” A few tears escaped Rick’s eyes but a small smile crept onto his lips. “..There was nothing we could do about his eye. But, ..He’ll live. You can go see him right now, he’s uhm.. He’s unconscious though.” Rick nodded and Michonne seemed relieved, but Rick was the only one who went in. Michonne stayed out on the steps with you. 

   You sighed and leaned against the wooden railing, your arms crossed and your heart full. 

   “Are you okay?” Michonne asked you genuinely.

   If it were in another time, any other time, you probably would have lied. But as soon as one tear strayed from your eye, a multitude of others seemed to follow. Michonne’s expression softened and she offered a hug, embracing your shaking body racked with emotions you couldn’t name. You didn’t know if you should be relieved, or worried- or both! 

   “It’ll be okay, [Name].” 

   You took a shaky breath in, “How..- How do you know that?” You looked up at her, your vision blurry. 

   She wiped your tears carefully, “Because we’re the ones who live.” 

   The words she spoke to you that day gave you hope. Luckily for you and his family he woke up a few weeks after the whole ordeal. However, you tried to avoid him as much as you could, like you had done before you met him. 

   You couldn’t look at him, not because of how he looked.. 

   ..but because you knew that the next time you saw him face to face, the dam of feelings you held inside would burst open instantly.

[rucksackmentality]

List of the truths shared in Nana Morri's Honesty trial (C3E79):

Imogen: I am genuinely scared to meet my mom again.

Laudna: Deep down inside, both Delilah and I want the shard...Fearne should have it, but I don't know anymore what's my opinion or desires or feelings, or hers.

Imogen: I love Laudna deeply but I'm disgusted at the thought of Delilah looking at us all the time.

Orym: I'm super lonely all the time, especially at night. It doesn’t matter if I'm bunking with one of you guys.

FCG: Sometimes I pity some of you because you have beating hearts and opportunities and you don’t do enough with them...Chetney, you have so much love to give and it doesn't seem like you're interested in anything other than wood! There's people out there who you could love and experiences you could share with someone else, but all you care about is wood!

Orym: I've always kind of laughed it off but I guess I do kind of wonder if Chetney is my dad.

Ashton: I am the reason that the Jiana Hexum robbery went fucking wrong, and the reason why I got thrown out of a fucking window.

Fearne: I feel like we’re very ill-equipped for this job and we're going to fail at saving the world. (Laudna: Honestly that's probably true, I'm right there with you.)

Chetney: While wood may be the superior material to metal, I do fear that, with the dwindling interest in it, that children will find my toys - and thereby myself - obsolete every year I grow older.

FCG: I think it's something buried deep down in my circuitry, but every time I hurt or kill something - it feels really good. It makes me sort of relax a little bit and some of my stress goes away.

Imogen: I know we're supposed to save the gods, but I've tried talking to them my whole life and none of them would ever respond. I think I'm tainted. I dont know if I want to save gods that don't love me.

Laudna: You know we could rip-cord out of [saving the world] at any moment...right? And sometimes I fantasize about it all the time.

Fearne: I sometimes do stuff to you guys while you're sleeping - not weird stuff, I just like to look at you closely...and maybe like, twiddle your hair or braid it. Nothing bad!

Ashton: Whenever it starts to get quiet, I start worrying that one of us - most of us - are going to end up killing another one of us accidentally...I have panicked thinking about when one you kills another one of us.

Orym: I have all the faith in the world in you guys...and I have also spent time thinking of how to neutralize each of you.

FCG: I kinda worry that I put all my eggs in the Changebringer basket and she might betray us all. I had a really weird conversation with her and I think she's just out for herself and she might not really care about me - but what if she does? And I'm saying horrible things?

Imogen: Fearne, I was really disappointed in you for running away from your power. You should take the shard!

Orym: I really miss Dorian, and sometimes I think that's okay, and sometimes I think it isn't.

Ashton: I feel fucking worse that I just fucked up Fearne's life way more than mine and I should've died instead of that happening.

Chetney: I grew up in the Bramblewood outside of Westruun, and when I was a kid, I came back from learning how to make toys and found that my whole family had left. All they left behind were toys. They ran when Errevon the Rimelord was running across the plains, and so I'm kind of afraid of dragons. And I had five siblings - Alabaster, Pepper, Sugarplum, Hermey, and Chad - and I was so mad that they left I never looked for any of them, and now I'm pretty sure they're dead. So I think any family I have is just gonna look for a reason to leave me. That's why I don't get attached to anybody.

[sakanoshitameatbun]

I've been thinking a lot about Kageyama's mindset when he first meets Hinata and when they first start playing volleyball together.

Even at Kageyama's most demanding and unreasonable (playing on his middle school team), we really don't see him be as harsh with anyone else as he is with Hinata.

Caption: Kageyama is bluntly honest about his teammates not being good enough to make it off the bench, and he shouts instructions on the court - but he's not calling people names or antagonizing them in the same way he does with Hinata.

But, at the same time, Kageyama starts out, from day 1, taking Hinata more seriously than anyone else does.

So what's going on? What's with this attitude from Kageyama (that extends through the high school arc) that's so unique to how he views Hinata?

I think Kageyama has his hopes up about Hinata from the very beginning, and that really scares him.

Way down the road in chapter 387, we learn that Kageyama's childhood has been pretty lonely. He doesn't connect with his classmates at school, and even the other kids who like volleyball are so far behind him in skill that he has to intentionally throw games, just to stay on the court. His sister gives up volleyball, too.

At Kitagawa Dai, he's supposed to meet other kids on his level, but most of them still aren't as dedicated to volleyball as he is, and the ones who are (Oikawa) shun him.

Caption: Tobio Kageyama's never-ending parade of loneliness.

So, Kageyama, understandably, holds onto the words from his grandfather - an assurance that he will meet "someone better" one day; that he won't always be alone.

Kageyama holds onto that hope, but does he really trust that it'll come true?

Every time Kageyama has ever thought that he'd met people who could be that "someone better" or someone he could connect with, he's been let down.

Then he loses his grandfather, and he realizes just how alone he really is.

It's scary and isolating to get your hopes up over and over, so - by the time he meets Hinata - he must be wary of believing in someone else, yet again. Especially someone who sucks so bad at volleyball.

But Kageyama does believe in him.

He kind of can't help it, when Hinata is like this:

But, again, this is scary for Kageyama.

It's why he already feels cheated by the fact that Hinata isn't better - that Hinata hasn't been trying harder or practicing more.

Because Kageyama can already see how good Hinata could be.

(He could be, but will he?)

This is maybe clearest to me in chapter 2, where they meet again at Karasuno.

Hinata claims that he's improved a lot, and Kageyama is fully ready to believe him. He is visibly excited to see this new and improved version of Hinata.

I mean, look at Kageyama's face.

He's fired up.

Then Kageyama hits a nasty jump serve at him.

It's a vicious enough serve that Tanaka says to Suga that he probably couldn't have received the serve either.

So, it's not like Hinata failing to receive this serve means he really sucks. But, Kageyama looks surprised, disappointed, and angry that Hinata can't do it.

Did he really think that Hinata had improved enough that he might be able to receive that serve (one that even Tanaka couldn't have gotten)?

Tellingly, Kageyama gets mad because he feels stupid for believing in Hinata. He feels "like a dope" for believing Hinata when he said he'd gotten better.

Caption: Unless I'm wrong, this is also the first time Kageyama calls Hinata scrub (/boke). That feels significant to me.

And I think this is really the really illustrative moment for how Kageyama thinks about Hinata through the rest of the high school arc. He instinctively and reflexively believes in Hinata, but logically he knows that Hinata just isn't that good (yet). He knows that there's a risk Hinata might let him down, too.

It's scary and frustrating and disappointing each time Hinata shows how much he has left to learn, so Kageyama tries to make himself not believe in Hinata so much, while (at the same time) pushing Hinata to do better.

Because there's just something about Hinata that makes it impossible for Kageyama not to believe in him.

Kageyama has been let down over and over - every time he's wanted to find that person he can connect with, who's on his level, who's better.

I think that he wants that so much, but he doesn't want to be made a fool of again by getting his hopes up over something that won't pan out.

It's why he pushes Hinata so hard.

It's why, even when he's secretly impressed with Hinata, he doesn't want to to acknowledge it.

It's why he's "scared of change" (as Oikawa says) when Hinata wants to push their freak quick to be even better, and why he's "convinced himself that what they're doing good enough."

He thinks Hinata is his someone better. He wants Hinata to be his someone better. But he's scared that he's wrong.

[roturo]

RED LIGHTS 01.10.23 - ghost face!gojo satoru x reader

“Have you ever felt so strong emotions for someone that the moment you close your eyes and start seeing red lights…?” He asked.“No?… Well, that’s how I feel for your girl. I would kill for her— And if that means killing you as well because you don’t treat her like she deserves… so let it be.”

warnings: knife play, unprotected sex, cheating, dumbification, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, mentions of killing, picture taking, exhibitionism, possessive behavior, breeding, tummy bulge, marking, blowjob, use of nicknames, (dear, baby, pretty girl, sweetheart...), toxic relationships, degradation…

reblogs are appreciated!

It was a lonely night and truthfully you hoped something exciting would spark. Your boyfriend, Geto, was out with some of his friends doing god knows what, so there really wasn’t any use in texting him since he won’t respond.

You've been together for 2 years now, he treated you like a princess at first… and still does… when he wants sex… or money… or when he needs something from you. Your friends have been telling you to leave him for months now, but even after all this time, you can’t bring yourself to break up with him.

You stood up from your spot and made your way into the kitchen to make a snack. Popcorn sounded really good right about now and you chose kettle corn. 

Your head perked up at the sound of the house phone, nobody really ever called that stupid phone unless it was for bills, some annoyed girl coming for Geto, and other dumb shit so hearing it ring was a little odd, especially since it was 9pm. You grabbed the phone and answered it without looking at the caller ID.

“Hello, dear.”

“Hello? Who's this?”

“You’ll find out soon—” the caller said like it was some kind of melody talking to you, “What’s your favorite scary movie?” The question caught you off guard— You raised an eyebrow, almost hesitant to answer before shrugging your shoulders. It was probably some dumb child playing a prank on you, it’s October and crazy people go out on the streets and start their ‘wannabe killers from movies’ type of shit— but at the first kill they get captured.

But not for one specific ‘ghostface wannabe’— And deep inside you, it scared the living shit out of you. Because each time it got closer to you and your boyfriend.

“Uhm… I would probably say Scream— It’s kinda funny y’know, because it’s pretty obvious you’re trying to act like fucking ghostface to scare me, but surprise kid! No one falls for this nowadays, so if you please can stop with your dumb fucking—”

The sudden noise of someone knocking at your guard made sudden chills come down your spine— The atmosphere turned cold, and it was like someone was watching you. You looked back at the phone and the call ended, but the knocking continued.

If you were in a movie, everyone would be yelling at you not to open that door but who was going to stop you? This was just some random teenagers right?…

When you opened the door, there stood the stranger holding a shiny large knife in one hand and a camera in the other. Your heart went crazy as you saw him stand tall in dark attire. The mask to the harness on his chest, the tight black long sleeve to the baggy cargo pants and combat boots. 

“Surprise.” Is what the stranger said before snapping a quick picture, the flash making you squint before a rough gloved hand gripped your throat. “This is your sweet treat, baby. You shouldn’t have tricked me like that…”

Your hands went immediately to your neck, trying to get his grip out of you. Your heart rate could turn on lights at this point, you were praying for someone to come and fucking help you right now.

His rough grip suddenly stopped, giving you space to breathe. “Shh..” His other hand caressed your left cheek with the blade of the knife— not hard enough to cut you.

“Has he made you feel his love?” 

… What? 

What the hell is he talking about?

He scoffed, your reaction almost making him lose control, the irony that you don’t even think about your boyfriend makes him even angrier at this point. “I really wanna know, do you even love him?”

His voice was darker this time, if you heard closely you could find a little tiny bit of hope in his tone, but the question and the situation you were in had your mind dizzy, tears filling your eyes. 

“Aw, c’mon now Y/N… You cryin’? You’re better than that.” The voice changer stopped, finally recognizing the person behind the mask— “G-gojo?…”

He remained silent for some second before his grip on your neck softened, and he let out a small chuckle. Gojo Satoru, the man your boyfriend hated the most but still continued being his friend. The one who always got what he wanted, everything but you.

“The one and only baby.”

“W-why? W-what?” You couldn’t form a coherent question before his grip on your neck got rougher this time, knife going closer to your neck too— He was fucking angry right now. “Hehe… Why? Why Y/N?! Why did you choose him?” His voice was unsteady, filled with mixed emotions, something about the situation you were in right now, making you feel flustered— Of all the girls he could get, why you?

Your hands softly and slowly approached his face to get rid of the mask— His blue orbs almost disappearing thanks to his dilated pupils, there was definitely something else going on behind all that “I want you” “Why him?” situation right now.

You and Gojo always had a girlfriend best friend relationship, never dealing with anything else or any kind of misunderstanding after you and Geto got together. But before?… Well, he might have told Geto about his little crush on you, but this time he was serious! Not trying to play with you like with other girls, he was even willing to change for you.

But you never caught the signs of him trying to make a move on you, and he stills remains with the fucking doubt of how his ‘best friend’ stole you from him. He knows Geto is attractive, but he’s not a good person to say the least… at least not better than him.

His eyes scanned yours, trying to find some kind of fear or hate towards him, but he couldn’t find any. His face got closer to yours, lips almost touching, you closed your eyes, anticipating his next move. But nothing could’ve prepared you when his lips crashed into yours. At first you freezed at the sudden motion, but later warmed towards him and his body.

Sudden strong emotions overcome your body, past memories flying through your mind— thinking how different life could be if you gave Gojo a chance back then. “I’ve- been giving my life for you, trying to stop everyone from getting closer to you. Fuck..” He stopped the kiss and you followed his lips asking for more but he stopped you. “Would you hate me if I killed your boyfriend?” His hand dropped the knife so both of his hands can caress your face while looking for you.

The truth is, you think he wouldn’t do it, and he’s just telling it for the act. But in reality he has been a few steps from doing it. He has done it before, so why not?

You slowly denied his question, moving your head side to side. His face grew with a sadistic and almost a scary smile thanks to your answer. And he started kissing you again, but this time it was hungrier, needier.

“On your knees..” You could never deny him, especially with him looking at you like that. You shouldn’t like this but you were not on the normal side on the kink meter anyway. What made it worse is when he collected back the thick blade— it made your body tremble. It even made your pussy wet feeling him drag the cold blade along your cheek. You whimpered pathetically.

“Yeah, you would be into this freaky shit babe. Say hi to the camera and give me a big smile before you suck my dick baby.” You didn’t notice when he grabbed his instant camera back ,t he knife no longer in your face—taking a picture of you on your knees in front of him.

“You know what to do.” 

Gojo watched as you unbuckled his belt, leather boot pushing up against your clothed cunt making you whimper. “Aren’t you the cutest? So eager to have my cock in you mouth, I bet Suguru doesn’t know how you fuck your pussy right.”

His words were filthy and the way he wasn’t scared to say them made your body tingle. “Fuck, look at that..” The view of his fat cock hanging in front of your face made you moan a little, lips coming into contact with the sticky tip until they parted. You wasted no time taking him in your mouth— A sudden flash making you close your eyes. The sound of a picture sliding off the camera fills the wet sound of you sliding your tongue along the base and sucking until the taste of him spreads on your tongue.

“Holy shit, it’s like you were made to suck dick. If this is what your mouth feels, I wonder what your pussy feels like..” You whimpered, tears filling your eyes until they spilled down your cheeks and your mascara coated your skin in messy streaks. Gojo was mean, he fucked your throat until your drool was spilling down his balls and the wet snap of his hips filled the living room area. 

You could faintly hear the ding from your phone but you couldn’t focus too much, your brain was mush and the feeling of his boot against your pussy was making it even worse. Nothing but a dumb girl. 

“I bet- Nngh- Suguru doesn’t know how to treat you right… how to make you feel his love. God, maybe this was my sweet treat instead huh? Don’t worry though, I’ll fuck you.”

Gojo made you hold his cock in your mouth until you were tapping for air. Your throat was growing sore but your cunt was worse, you were aching to feel him inside you. It was a need at this point. Your hand cupped his balls and massaged them. That earned a throaty moan from the man as he suddenly pulled out, stroking his cock until pearly strands of his cum hit your face.

He huffed as he grabbed the camera. There was a smirk on his lips and as he raised the camera, he mumbled. 

“Smile for the camera, baby..”

A drunk dazed smile showed in your face, looking nothing but like a proud girl of her acts. His cock proudly showed how hard he still was even after coming right in your face. “Such a pretty girl. And now all f’me”

His gloved hands caressed your cheek and gathered the cum left there, “Say ahh” you did as he said, mimicking the sound and he inserted his finger inside of your mouth— making you taste him.

“Stand up sweetheart.” Following his instructions, you stood up from your place. He started removing the gloves from his hands, and throwed somewhere next to his belt. His bare hands now roaming and exploring your body— undressing you with every touch.

In a blink of an eye you found yourself laying down on your bed while Gojo towers over you. Exposed chest, it was automatically the way your hands moved to explore his body this time. Another sudden flash makes you come back to reality out of your trance, the sound of the picture coming out making you look back at Gojo, who had an adorning smile on his face— full of love that it would even have been seen as creepy if other people saw it.

But it was just the both of you.

Ringing came from your phone, but it was long forgotten in the living room.

He gave a few hard pumps, craving the way the walls of your cunt spasmed and clenched around him in such a tight grip that he thought you’d stop the blood flow of his dick— You were already fucked up, he has taken two orgasms out of you, playing for the third one.

He pulled back until the angry tip of his bulbous head rested against your sore lips and pushed in swiftly, rocking you forward when he kissed your cervix, bumping it in a drawn-out pump— feeling your walls spasm sporadically, he rolled his hips and let out a chuckle when your head jerked back and moaned wantonly.

“Do you want Suguru to know how much of a whore his little girlfriend is?” Gojo cocked his head, a vicious smirk playing on his lips. The noise and flash of the camera was now part of the sex, you didn’t even notice it anymore.

“Are you in there, princess? Or are you already cockdrunk?” he rasped, tightening his hold on your hair. You shook your head, whining with pleading eyes staring up at him, hand going to grasp the arm that held your head up. Your eyes teared up and closed at every pump, your body jolting up with little moans slipping through your open mouth— ones that you couldn’t stifle because of his harsh grip. 

“Look at that bulge in your tummy— Fuck— I can feel you don’t take good cock because of how tight you are baby.” He’s fucking you senseless right now, one of his hands in your tummy feelings his cock in and out of you for support, while the other keeps your legs up so he can continue thrusting. “You would look so pretty full of me, all round and beautiful with a child of me. That’s what you want, baby? You want us to have a kid? Baby trap me so I can take you from your ass of a boyfriend? Mhm?”

...

The next day you woke up in your bed, warmer than usual, you searched for your phone and looked at the hour: 7:02 A.M— until you realized who was spooning you; Satoru. It almost felt homely if it wasn’t for the thought of Geto in some part of your mind. Satoru was still sleeping, you looked back at him and he looked so pretty.

White eyelashes resting and adorning in his eyes, slow and calm breathing coming out, and the sun hitting just right his face so his natural glow shows perfectly.

You don’t remember when you passed out while both of you were having sex, but you do remember the moment you knew you lost feelings for Geto— You stood up from bed, slowly so you wouldn’t wake Gojo up, put some clothes on and went to the kitchen for some water.

Some knocks on your door interrupted you, deciding to put the glass of water down and see who’s knocking at your door this early. When you opened up the door you swear the water you just drank went straight to your mouth again, almost throwing up thanks to the view.

There he was, your boyfriend… ex boyfriend?… Geto. He had an envelope in his left hand, brows furrowed and clearly red eyes.

“Uhh, Geto?”

“Oh so now you’re calling me Geto— It turned out to be true huh?” He signaled with the envelope towards your neck, clearly visible hickeys adorning it.

You knew exactly what he was talking about, but decided to play dumb since he got no proof… At least you wanted to think that. “What are you talking about?”

“What am I talking about?” He scoffed at the question, he couldn’t believe after all you’re still playing dumb. “Maybe ask your new boyfriend about it.” He gave you the envelope, inside of it there were plenty of explicit polaroid pictures between Gojo and you. Your face turning visible red while watching the photos— you looked back at Geto, trying to form some type of explanation before Gojo suddenly interrupted you.

There he was standing in nothing but a pair of black briefs while he stretched out. “Aw c’mon Suguru, we all know you have some other bitches waiting for you. But you treated the wrong person as one.”

“You fucking—”

“Ah-ah, stay there.” He pointed at him, a proud smirk showing, “Remember what I told you last time?—” He stepped closer towards him, close enough so only the both of them could hear. “—If killing you means I can stay with Y/N, you know I wouldn’t think twice. I showed you that, didn’t I?”

He chuckled and patted his shoulder. Geto just stayed there looking at Gojo like he saw a ghost. “Remember what happens when I see red lights. They turn real.”

He said those last words without any kind of emotion before closing the door and turning back so he could look back at you with a wide smile. “So… What do you want for breakfast?”