#anyway I need a break from everything ever

[hsnlv]

together | p.js

pairing: husband!jay x fem!reader

synopsis: after months of sleepless nights with your fussy five-month-old, you finally break down, overwhelmed by exhaustion and guilt. jay, your ever-attentive husband, steps in with gentle words, warm hugs, and playful humor, reminding you you’re the best mom and wife. he promises to give you the rest you deserve, proving he’s always your safe haven.

warnings/others: mention of miscarriage, usage of nickname (angel, baby), jay is sickeningly sweet and gentle :(

wc: 946

a/n: hehe my first jay fic is here😋 i hope you enjoy this as much as i do!! reblogs and comments are highly appreciated💗 here’s my masterlist!

“jjongie…” you sigh as you step into the bedroom, your voice soft but so heavy with exhaustion it pulls jay’s attention immediately. he glances up from his spot against the headboard, closing his laptop and placing it on the bedside table without hesitation. his eyes scan your face, already concerned.

“yes, angel?” his voice is gentle as he beckons you closer. “is little princess asleep?”

you nod, your lips curling slightly at the nickname. lia, your five-month-old daughter, has been nothing short of a miracle in your lives—a beacon of light after the darkness of your miscarriage. but tonight, even the thought of her sweet little face can’t ease the ache in your body.

“yeah,” you murmur, rubbing your eyes. “but it took forever. she’s so fussy lately.”

jay notices the tiredness in your voice, the way your shoulders droop as if you’re carrying the weight of the world. “come here,” he says softly, patting the space next to him. but instead of joining him, you stop in the middle of the room, your voice trembling.

“i’m tired, jay.”

he blinks, momentarily confused. “then you should go to sleep, angel.”

it’s clear he doesn’t quite understand what you mean, and those simple words—well-meaning as they are—are enough to tip you over the edge. you sink to the floor as your body gives in, and before you know it, tears are streaming down your face. you try to hold it back, but the sobs come anyway, shaking your small frame.

“angel!” jay’s voice is alarmed, and in an instant, he’s off the bed and kneeling in front of you. his strong arms wrap around you, lifting you effortlessly as if you weigh nothing. he settles you on the bed, cradling you in his lap like you’re something fragile and precious.

“what’s wrong, baby?” his voice is soft, his hand gently stroking your hair. “talk to me. is it lia?”

the mention of your daughter makes your tears fall harder, guilt and exhaustion crashing down on you all at once. you manage a small nod, burying your face in his chest as he holds you tighter.

“she’s just so fussy,” you choke out between sobs. “she cries if i put her down, she doesn’t want to sleep, she needs me constantly. and—and i can’t get anything done. the house is a mess, the laundry is piling up, and i just… i feel like i’m failing her. like i’m failing you.”

jay’s heart aches as he listens, guilt washing over him for not noticing just how overwhelmed you’ve been. he cups your face gently, tilting your chin so you’re looking at him. his thumbs wipe away your tears as his warm eyes meet yours.

“don’t you ever say that again,” he says firmly, his voice steady but kind. “you are not failing anyone, least of all me or lia. you’re the most amazing mom and the most amazing woman. i mean it, angel. lia is so lucky to have you, and so am i.”

“but you do so much too,” you whisper, sniffling. “you help with her, with the house, with everything. i should be able to handle this.”

jay shakes his head, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “baby, we’re a team. it’s not your job to ‘handle’ everything by yourself. and if it feels like i’ve let you down, i’m so sorry. i’ve been so caught up in work, but that’s no excuse. i should’ve noticed how hard it’s been for you.”

he kisses your temple next, then your damp cheeks, his lips lingering as if trying to kiss away all your worries. “from now on, we’re doing this together, okay? every late-night feeding, every diaper blowout, every fussy day. you’re not alone in this, angel.”

“but what if i can’t?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

jay smiles softly, his forehead pressing against yours. “you can. and when you feel like you can’t, i’ll be here to remind you that you can. we’ll figure it out together.”

before you can protest further, jay scoops you up bridal style, making you squeak in surprise. “jay! what are you doing?”

“taking care of my angel,” he replies, grinning as he carries you to the bed. “you take care of everyone else—it’s my turn.”

he lays you down gently, tucking the blanket snugly around you. then he slides in beside you, pulling you into his arms. “tomorrow, i’m taking lia to my parents’ house,” he announces as though it’s already set in stone.

your eyes widen. “what? jay, you don’t have to—”

“shh, no arguments,” he interrupts, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “you deserve a break. you’re spending the entire day doing whatever you want—sleeping, eating, watching trashy reality shows. and if you don’t, i’ll personally bribe you with massages and… maybe a shopping spree.”

you let out a watery laugh, and jay’s grin grows. “there she is,” he says, leaning down to kiss the corner of your mouth. “there’s my pretty wife.”

“you’re ridiculous,” you mumble, though your cheeks warm at his words.

“and you love me for it,” he counters, smirking. “seriously, angel, let me spoil you tomorrow. you’ve earned it. you deserve it.”

his arms tighten around you, his warmth and steady heartbeat already easing your nerves. “you’re the strongest, most beautiful person i know,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your hair. “and i’m so, so grateful for you.”

you close your eyes, the exhaustion finally giving way to peace. as you drift off, you hear jay whisper one last thing, his voice soft and full of love.

“you’ll always be my number one, angel. now and forever.”

© all rights reserved | hsnlv 2025

[mameillieureennemie]

wait wait wait maybe ur injured so bad u need shimmer and sevika is just AGHHH anyways i hope u have a good day

i like to believe that sevika would keep you FAR AWAY from shimmer because she knows how bad it is, better than most people. just because she uses it doesn't mean that she'll ever let you near the stuff, not even when you plead to try some for experimenting purposes.

she loves you too much to put you through the shit that shimmer causes, and not everyone can handle it as well as she does.

until one day, you get hurt.

really, badly hurt, and you're knocking on death's door. a mission went wrong, you ended up getting the worst hits, and sevika ended up killing everyone in that place. she doesn't joke about you, never has and never will.

but she's thrown at a crossroads because she had sworn she'd never allow you to take shimmer. but you're dying; even the best medical care in zaun won't claw you back from the end of life's thread.

sevika knows she's doing it out of her own selfishness; she'd be lost with you. you're the main reason she's still around here. she can't lose you, not now—not ever.

so she injects you with shimmer herself, holds you through the pain as your body heals and changes. tells you it's going to be alright through her own agony as she watches you scream and pass out from intense everything feels. sevika nearly breaks when she hears you whimper her name, begging her to make it stop. but all she can do is stay as strong as she can and make you to make it through this alive.

when it's over and you're finally at rest, sevika looks at you, hands fisted in her lap before her eyes close.

to think love has made her this weak; to the point where she can't live without you.

so she gave you shimmer.

[hannamoon143]

You drew stars around my scars ✮⋆˙

Life is hard. Some people don't know how to cope with that. Some people just try to feel mentally better by causing physical pain instead. How ironical, isn't it? Oh but bless you, that lee felix is in your life. Because this man never misses a thing.⋆｡°✩

Genre:Angst,Hurt/comfort

Warnings:Sh,a bit childhood trauma, Depression, Crying, mentions of food,mentions of bad eating habits

Lee felix x fem.Reader

Words: 3,9k

a/n: hey everyone<33 To write this fic brought me some comfort too, and it's healing me a bit more everytime i can use my own experiences,emotions and thoughts to write something that comforts others too, and relate to y/n a lot. And i know i'm not the only one, so i hope this can bring everyone that reads it a bit comfort. And pls always remember what of a beautiful person you are. Hurting yourself is never ever the only solution. If you need someone to talk, reach out to someone, anyone, also me if you don't have anyone. I'd rather have literally any person cry for hours in my arms, or vent to me in my dm's than have them hurt their own bodies, that always supports them. Everything felix says in that fic is true, and they r my own thoughts about this. I love you all, take care of yourselves.<3

Depression takes a lot from you. It takes your motivation, productivity, the will to socialize, and your happiness. It’s unfair isn’t it? Little, happy children become tired, broken adults.

People always think depression is something where you sit in your bed the whole day and cry. Well that is half true. Yes, there are days like that, but that’s far not everything. The worst are those dull days, when you feel entirely numb, but your life has to go on anyways. No joy in your heart, and no tears in your eyes. Just a big nothing in your mind.

After a while you figure it out though. It’s always those numb episodes, until every emotion you thought didn’t exist the days before, crashes down on you. And it’s overwhelming. Every.single.time.

But what if you’d find something that could ‚help‘ you? Something that brought you pain and relief at the same time? That made you feel alive, in the numb episodes and distracted you from the pain in the days where you broke down? The price was just your beautiful skin, and blood...

A problem was though, once you’d start, it would be very hard to stop again. But why should you anyways? Why should you stop when it was the only thing seemingly bringing you comfort for some short time?

It started off by you, picking at your skin absimendtly whenever you felt anxious, or when you just didn’t pay attention. It felt relieving. It was the burning pain when you scatched on your skin so hard it was slightly bloody, making you feel like your feelings actually mattered. And then that one night. That night everything crashed down on you. Your friends wanted nothing to do with you anymore, the few you had before, cut contact. You couldn’t even be mad at them. Who wouldn’t be annoyed by someone who constantly cancelled plans, and gave off a „depressing, annoying attitude“? Well these were their words. Oh but you saw it coming. All the overthinking in the middle of the night, those worst case scenarios, they had come true.

And your family? You never had a healthy relationship with them. So now, that you were grown up, the contact was almost entirely dead. And yeah, there was your boyfriend felix, but you’d never burden him with your problems. He already had enough on his mind with the world tour and all the new released albums, of the band he was in.

And that was it. No one there that you could reach out to, no one to comfort you, when your heart and mind were breaking into millions of glass splitters. Every person reaches their breaking point someday. And that day was yours. You remembered the night clearly. You were sitting on the bathroom floor, crying out all the emotion you had been holding in for too long. You had no friends anymore. No family. And pretty sure soon no boyfriend too. Nothing to hold onto.

Then you reached out to a drawer. You didn’t really register what you were doing as you took it out. A simple, silver blade. A little cut on your wrist. A line of crimson red blood on your skin.

At first you were terrified. What had you done? Why weren’t you affected by the stinging pain on your wrist, and the blood building in the small cut? Why did it in fact feel good? And then you decided to try it again, just to answer those questions right?

That’s where it started.

You knew you had depression. But going to a therapist? You were scared, probably too lazy, and you could never tell all your problems to a complete stranger. And most of all you didn’t want felix to worry either. He was the only one left, and soon he would surely leave too. He was the sweetest, sunny person on this earth, he deserved someone that matched his energy, and wasn’t so… hard to love.

Every single task felt like a hard, impossible chore. Getting out of your bed felt like doing the unbelievable. Doing the most simple things like showering, or brushing your teeth seemed so far away, that you could only master them on your best days. Some days, you went to work, did everything you had to, with a straight, stoic face. That was until you came home, laid into your bed, and silent tears would build wet spots on your pillow.

But somedays, even crying seemed too overwhelming. All you could do was lay in your dark room, staring at the wall. It was just the darkness and you, and somewhere in your mind, a voice whispering that it would help to cut...

And then there were these rare days, on which you felt almost too overwhelmed. It were those days you came home, and added another scar to the gallery of them on your arms. You questioned your life on these days. Because truly, you didn’t see a reason why you should be here right now. No, you weren’t proud of it. But who was there to stop you? Why should you quit if it was the only thing keeping you sane right now? When it was only the stinging pain who could make you slip out of the monotone haze in your mind, for at least a little bit time.

But it would be stupid to assume felix didn’t notice something was off. Lee felix was a pure person. Someone who could make even the rainiest days shine bright. And he cared about the people he loved more than anything else.

When you started cancelling plans it was already alarming for him. You were someone who never cancelled plans with him. You were usually a happy person, someone who made jokes that were actually funny. Someone who made him laugh with your little quirks, that he noticed over time. Someone who comforted him when he felt bad. And most of all you were the most excited person when you two would meet up. You never missed to tell him how much you loved him, that he was your happy person, and your comfort person.

That was before

Before suddenly everything stopped. He rarely got to see your beautiful face now anymore. You took a long time to respond to his texts, and when you did, they were short, and dry. This didn’t feel like you. Felix knew you. And that wasn’t you. This wasn’t the happy girl he met. And he surely wasn’t planning on letting things go like this forever. Something wasn’t right. And no matter what you said or did, to try and get away from him, and shut everything out, he would stay by your side. He would find out what was wrong and do everything possible in this world to make you feel like yourself again.

It was another day today. Another number on the calendar. You stopped looking at it. It didn’t matter anyways. Those were just numbers on paper, and they would never change anything. So you dragged yourself out of bed, feeling even heavier than usual. Like a zombie you just quickly got dressed, not even registering what you were wearing, and drank a mug of coffee. It would make you feel a bit more awake for at least a few hours. Eating breakfast had become impossible in the last few weeks. You were barely eating anything the whole day, to be honest. Sometimes, you just couldn’t stand up and make yourself something. But most times, you just didn’t feel hungry.

You went your usual way to work. At the bus, you took a short glance at your phone. You used to be on your phone a lot for the silliest things, but now you hated it. You hated the brightness, and that everytime you looked at it you had to interact with others. And the worst was, it remdinded you of what you had lost. The spark you had in your eyes on photos from a long time ago.

Something popped up on the screen

A message from felix. Of course. He messaged you every single day. You couldn’t ignore him, no matter how shitty felt, you couldn’t bring yourself to ignore him. So you opened it.

Hey sunshine<3How are you today? I thought of maybe grabbing some takeout and watching a movie together tonight, since i have off early! I’ll even let you pick one of those cheesy romcoms you love so much. Love u^^

You sighed. He was still so sweet, so caring, when he should be really annoyed, right? His girlfriend was a walking zombie, why didn’t he already break up with you?

Hey lix, sorry no time today.

Then you quickly put your phone away. You couldn’t stand thinking of his lips turning into that sad pout, when he’d read your answer. But you couldn’t meet him. You didn’t care how stubborn that was, but you wouldn’t let him see you like this. He would see right through you, and get you to tell him what was wrong.

You stopped making excuses someday. Who even cared? Sooner or later he’d leave, just like your friends. No lame excuses would matter then. Someone like you was unlovable. And that would never change.

As felix read your response he sighed.

That was enough. He wouldn’t let your relationship carry on like that. He wouldn’t let you carry on like that. Something was clearly wrong and he wouldn’t stand so far away and watch you slowly shut down from the entire world. Not anymore. Tonight he would come to your apartment, if you wanted to or not.

You didn’t remember what you did throughout the day. When you tried to recall it, there were only hazy memories, covered in a grey, thick fog. You didn’t even remember how you came home. Everything just happened. Now, you were walking through your apartment door, kicking off your shoes and coat. With a deep sigh, you dragged yourself to the bathroom. You shut the door, immediately sinking down on the floor. You were exhausted. More than that. The past days, or maybe even weeks you had held everything in more than usual. You felt like passing out right then and there, on the cold bathroom tiles. But there was something else. You knew that feeling. When you would have spent too many days in numbness, then at one point, every emotion, everything you thought wasn’t there before, creeps up in your throat from the depths of your soul. You feel the grieve, the sadness, the anger, the guilt, every single emotion crashing down on you at once. And then you can’t stop it anymore.

Tears started to well up in your eyes, and you pulled your knees up for a bit comfort.

These were the moment you hated the most, besides the numbness. Being numb is uneblievably tiring, but when all the feelings, everything comes up at once, that is even worse. You never knew how to deal with your emotions well. When you were a kid you never got the chance to express emotions. Crying was not allowed. If you did, you’d hear „ Stop it, or i’ll give you a reason to cry.“ If you screamed or hit out of anger you’d get punished in some way. Only a polite smile was, what was allowed to show on the outside, what to show to other people. That was probably part of the reason why you’d grown into a person who had these unhealthy, shitty habits, instead of expressing and coping with their emotions well.

You knew you should just let it pass. Endure these feelings. Maybe text someone to try and distract yourself. But somehow, you always went back to drowning out emotions with physical pain. You took the sharp blade from the bathroom drawer, your hands going unbelievable shaky like they always did when you took it out. You only started to cry more. You hated that you did it. You hated that you were a person that couldn’t handle their own feelings like a responsible adult, and had to shut them out with self harming instead. And still you did it again and again. You hated the way your arm looked when you put your sleeve up now. White lines from old cvts. Slightly reddish ones from some that happened some time ago. And those brightred ones. Reminders of not too long ago. They made you so angry. Reminding you of who you were. Of what you were.

So you decided to look away. You just put the blade to your wrist, looking at the blank bathroom wall. It was already so familiar, you knew where it would hurt the most without even looking.

Felix was searching around his apartment for that gray hoodie you wanted to have everytime you saw him wearing it. Maybe it would cheer you a bit up. As he finally found it, he grabbed the brownies he had made for you earlier, and his keys, heading out his apartment, to head to yours instead.

He started his car. It was a short drive so there was not much time for thinking. But there were some thoughts in the back of his head. Wasn’t he overstepping? You clearly didn’t want to see him, maybe you were also just annoyed?

But felix shook those voices off. He knew you. He had known you for years, and this wasn’t you. He had to do this.

And then he was already at your apartment. Slowly he got out of the car, taking the things, and started to walk up the stairs.

Soon he was in front of your door. Should he knock? He knew where your spare key was but he didn’t want to be respectless. So he softly knocked on the door.

„Y/n? It’s me, felix. I know you didn’t want to meet, but… i was worried. Can we talk please, my love?“

He waited for a minute. But there was no answer. Maybe you really weren’t at home? He decided to just try it. To his surprises the door was unlocked. That meant you were home, but also why would you let your door stay unlocked? He sighed, and locked it from the inside. He quietly took off his shoes, and put them on the side. Yours were scattered messily on the floor, and your coat too. Usually you hated when something in your apartment wasn’t organized. Maybe you were in a hurry before. He went into the kitchen, wich was dark, putting the brownies on the counter. „Y/n?“ he softly called out again. Still no answer.

But there, suddenly he heard something. A quiet, mumbling or...crying? His brows furrowed and he tried to follow the sound. There. In the bathroom. It seemed like you didn’t hear him calling you. At first he considered just going back to your kitchen and waiting there for you to come out, but when he heard another deep sob from you, he knew what to do. Whatever was going on right now, he wanted to be by your side. So he took a deep breath and opened the door.

„Y/N, what is g-“ His eyes widened in shock, and your head perked up immediately at the door clicking open, your gaze changing from surprise, to confusion, to somewhat realization and guilt. The sight in front of him horrified him. His beautiful, lovely girlfriend sat on the bathroom floor, her face red and puffy from crying, and a sharp blade in her hand. And your arm… How couldn’t he notice? He just stood there, in the door, staring at you.

You couldn’t read his face. Was he mad…? Of course he’d be mad. You quickly reacted as you got to your senses again. You jumped up, letting the blade fall, and a drop of blood dropping down on your white bathroom tiles.

„Felix…. I can explain, i h-haven’t, it’s not what it looks like o-okay? I’m okay, p-please i know you’re mad but-“

You got cut off. You couldnt’t even say anything more, because suddenly you were wrapped up tightly in your boyfriend’s comforting, warm embrace. You forgot how good a hug from him felt… And when you got a little glance at his face that was it. No anger, no twisted kind of any emotion against you. There was pure sympathy and love. When you also saw a tear rolling down his face, you couldn’t take it anymore. You buried your face in his neck, and let go. You sobbed uncontrollably, your arms and legs trembling so much, to the point your knees gave in, and felix slowly sank to the ground with you. Why did the cvts on your arms suddenly really hurt for the first time? He had you pulled on his lap, rocking you back and forth, stroking your hair gently. „Shhh, it’ll be alright. I’m here now, you are not alone.“

Good thirty minutes later, your sobbing had stopped, and only warm paths of tears remained on your cheeks. Felix lifted your head from his neck a bit, so he could look into your eyes. Though you had just cried your heart out, it was still the most mesmerizing pair of eyes he had seen in his life. He gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

„Let me treat those, okay?“ He simply said, glancing at your cuts.

He was gentle. He desinfected every single cut, apologizing every time you hissed at the sharp pain. Then he put some healing ointment on your fresh ones, and some at your older ones too. Then, with gentle, calm hands he bandaged your arms. He ended his treament with featherlight kisses on them. Then he got up, helping you up too. He had his hands on your side, his eyes on your face.

„Love…I won’t ever judge you, or get mad at you for anything, i hope you know that okay? I know that this is probably your way to cope with things, and i know that you know it’s not healthy. But it’s okay. Please just promise me, you will come to me instead of doing that, from now on hm? Everytime you want to do it you call me, text me, whatever. I’d rather have you crying in my arms for hours, venting to me for hours, you screaming at me, or do whatever you need to, than have you hurt and bleeding entirely alone on the floor. I’ll come over, and do whatever i need to, to cheer you up alright? And don’t shut me out from your life. I want to be a part again. I miss the way you’d text me when you see something that makes you smile. Or when you send me pics of the cute cats you saw on the sidewalk. Or when you just simply tell me about your day. And most important of all, i’ll stay by your side okay? No matter what. I will do everything to help you recover, and build up your life in a way that makes you happy okay? Let me help you sunshine. You don’t need to do it all alone.No matter how hard it in the past was, I’m here now, and I don’t plan on leaving soon.“

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time you smiled at him. „Okay lixie. Okay. I’ll try.“

Then he softly smiled at you, and guided you to your livingroom, where he made you sit on the couch. He rushed off to the kitchen, and was soon back again with a plate of brownies and his gray hoodie. „It seems like you didn’t eat much lately, you’ve been getting a bit too skinny, love. But don’t worry, now i’m here to feed you with everything you want to eat. You don’t need to move a single finger.“ He mumbled, as he first handed you the hoodie, wich you put on immediately and snuggled into it. It had always been your comfort hoodie, since it was big, fluffy, and always smelled like him a lot. Then he put down the plate in front of you. Felix’ brownies had always been one of your favorite things. They were delicious like no one else’s.Everytime you asked him what he was throwing in there, he always told you that it was his love and care wich he made them with. You believed him, this man made everything better with his sunny personality.

You simply smiled at him, and took one of the brownies, taking a big bite

„That’s my girl.“ He chuckled, ruffling your hair. As you were munching, and he was watching you with a fond smile, he suddenly asked „Do you have a marker somewhere here?“ You looked up, raising a brow. „Yeah, in the drawer over there i guess, why?“ He just stood up, and opened said drawer, taking the marker. He was back by your side in an instant. „Please give me one arm love“ He said, politely like always. You were still pretty confused but how could you say no to that? So you slowly laid your bandaged arm in his hands. He kissed it once and then softly started to draw on it. „What are you doing?“ you asked, mouth full of brownie.

„Those my love, are battle scars. It isn’t beautiful how you got them, but they are a part of you now, and they make you the person you are. They deserve to be called beautiful now too, like every single body part of yours. I love every part of you. And when they are healed, I’ll kiss each and everyone of them, but for now, they deserve to be treated with care. They will only heal properly, if you let them. If you’d always be angry when you’d look at them, they would never really heal. You would never really heal. You need to forgive yourself, and someday you will be able to move on. They show how far you’ve come, that it was very hard, but you never gave up. Battle scars, my love.“

You looked into his eyes. He said all that so sincere, you believed every word. And then as he was done you saw what he did. A lot of little stars, and a pretty moon in the middle were drawn on the bandages. And next to the moon he wrote a little note

„Because i want you to never forget who you are. You are Y/n L/n, a fighter, and the most beautiful woman i know.“

„How did i deserve you lee felix?“ You murmured in awe.

„You deserve the world, and more my love.“

And that really was a turning point. Thanks to felix, your days weren’t dull anymore. He was always there with you, laughing and talking a lot, but he also respected when you wanted some alone time. And when you came to him somedays, crying and telling him that you wanted to do it again, he took you in his arms, wrapped you both into a blanket and rocked you back and forth, until no tears were left anymore, and the world seemed a bit brighter again. Then he mumbled soothing reassurances into your hair, kissing you on the forehead.

And like this, you were willing to try. You were willing to try and recover, and create a life that you loved living, with him in it.

a/n: now a note to: @athenawindwolf because I didn't have the courage to say it that night ( we ignore that i'm writing this while you are texting me,still in that night), i'll be your chan friend, and in the context of this fanfic your felix friend, whenever you need me. I hope yk, I never judge anyone, and i've been through a lot too so rlly i would never ever judge or tell anyone if you tell me smth. We said we r the big sisters of our friends now, so that means we r sisters right? Come to me whenever you need to talk. Now this was for u, and I also have to say i'm thankful someone is sharing one of my interests now<3 Ily di angelo.@athenawindwolf (and i hope i didn't make you cry with this fic)

[flattocatto]

Viktor Modern!AU uni headcanons

ohhh hes in my head i have so many thoughts i have so much to say about him. you guys just let me cook. ok. okay thanks. please reblog like whatever im new here LOL

warnings/key takeaways: mention of recreational drug use, freshman/sophomore year of uni, lots of studying, goofy meet cute, oblivious nerd viktor, both of you live on campus in dorms (same building), GENDER NEUTRAL (use of ‘you’, no specific pronouns)

HE SMOKES WEED

IDGAF HE SMOKES WEED

not like some crazy stuff. no. he smokes weed ti not feel PAIN. yeah you heard me. he smokes shit w high CBD content. doesn’t smoke it for the high, smokes it to feel better

think he would have it medically and everything

ohhh uni viktor would be the only fucker allowed to smoke in his dorm because if his leg got bad how could he go outside huh?? he didn’t share this news (of him being allowed to smoke indoors) but people knew since he’d have a window cracked open all the time. not fooling anyone

on this note i feel like he would only smoke if he absolutely needed to. yk how people go “i can quit anytime!” but never do? he’s the kind of guy to say that but MEAN IT. he just prefers his joints over painkillers because he finds they work faster

ok enough weed talk. he’s getting his masters in biomedical engineering. its obvious you guys ive seen this everywhere.

he wants to make people better prosthetics. he also got a degree in prosthetics and orthotics techs but it was only a 2 year so its ‘just a paper’ as he says

he studies hardcore. its surprising he even makes friends (sorry viktor) but he saw a lot of potential in jayce as a student from people watching. like in canon au :D!

on that note, biggest people watcher. its actually kind of how he got his friends. extroverts pick up introverts from introvert daycare (the corner of the room)

relationship headcanons

if you guys were to meet, it would be one of those silly meetcute things.

hear me out. you book a study room with your friends to study for exams, but none of them show. shame. one got sick, the other had to go home to see their parents or something. all in all, you were DITCHED by your homies

now. someone coordinating the rooms messed up. viktor had that room booked the SAME time you did! gasp! he just likes the space of the rooms to properly spread out his work.

anyway you were already in the room and he shows up. and just stands there. awkwardly. standing man emoji.

instead of apologizing, he STANDS HIS MFING GROUND. “i have this room booked for three hours.”

“thats crazy because ME TOO.”

you go back and forth, before you both realize the confirmation email you got was from the same person or whatever. who had booked the room for you two. not two separate rooms.

after viktor makes a small mumble of “of course”, you offer to let him stay anyway. and explain that you originally had friends going over but they dipped.

its exam season, you aren’t leaving and you aren’t gonna kick him out! thats so cruel!!!

at the end you end up exchanging numbers. and find out you’re in the same dormitory building!!!

he invites you to study with him in a study room next time, to ‘prevent the coordinator from messing up again’ — he just likes your presence

bing bang boom friends. occasionally one of you begins to break silence, asking silly questions about futures and families and holidays. conversation is limited, you are both locked in to studying most of the time

unfortunately YOU are the one to ask him out. viktor is literally just comfortable with your presence and too in his head to think you’d ever LIKE him romantically.

you take him to a museum. yeah. the local one had a free day for students. you’re also 100% chill with sitting whenever he looked uncomfortable. even if he denied needing rest, his face did that little scrunch thing and you just knew

after that you went to the uni again, to the dining hall. and he insisted on giving you a meal off of his meal plan. he said he ‘barely uses them all anyway,’ and forces you to take it. even if it kind of wasn’t allowed. he just lied to the clerk and said he was going to take it home.

very sweet if him, breaking RULES?

thats like the only rule he breaks for you

no, he won’t let you sleep in his dorm

no, he won’t sleep in YOUR dorm either

no, he won’t sneak out past curfew

(unless ur dying)

there was a time you texted him ‘help’ at midnight and he made his way all the way to your dorm very quietly.

turns out you had burnt popcorn. and it tasted horrible and you were honestly stressed to the point of tears. he thought you had gotten hurt. he proceeded to lecture you on appropriate texts to send at midnight past curfew. for like an hour.

glorious ovulation i need to smoke with him.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

oohhh ok this is so self indulgent but do you think you could do a short fic with ford comforting his fem!s/o that's crying because she doesn't feel like she's pretty enough? thank you lots of love 🥺🩷

prettier than a supernova | Ford Pines x reader

some people give compliments. Ford Pines gives a full scientific breakdown of how breathtaking you are

a/n: this is my soft little love letter to anyone who needs a reminder that they're perfect as they are. sometimes you need someone like Ford to tell you you’re worth more than the stars themselves. angel i hope this makes you feel warm and loved. just a little something to remind you that no matter what, you are stunningly, breathtakingly beautiful (also this can be read as gender neutral too!! this photo here is bc i love it and i think it just suits ford bc of sweater)

You don’t mean to start crying, you don’t want to. You press the heel of your palm to your cheek, frustrated. But that ugly feeling has been sitting inside you all day, heavily pressing against your ribs. Stupid, you think, you shouldn’t be crying over something like this. But it happens anyway as tears starts streaming down your face before you even realise what’s happening.

It started earlier. You’d caught your reflection in the mirror and for a second you had seen yourself the way you feared everyone else did. wrong. Lacking. Not enough. You ignored it at first, shoved it down, swallowed the bitter taste of self-doubt like it was nothing. But then it came back.

You thought Ford wouldn't notice, being too busy in his studies. But in the perfect silence of the Shack, your quiet sobs sounded louder than his own breathing.

“Darling,” Ford sets his book aside without hesitation. “come here.” his voice, as always sounds so quiet and calm, but it’s the way he holds out his arms that undoes you completely. There’s no question, no hesitation, just him, offering warmth, safety, attention, care.

So you go, you let yourself sink into his lap, curling up against his chest and the moment his arms come around you, your sobs break free. You press your face into his sweater, gripping the fabric and shut your eyes tightly.

Ford just holds you. No words, no shushing, he doesn’t rush you, doesn’t tell you to stop crying, doesn’t try to fix you. One arm wrapped around your waist, the other cradling the back of your head as he lets you cry, lets you bury yourself in his warmth, lets you be small in his arms. And you cry a little harder because no one’s ever done this before, not like this. No one’s ever let you be messy and sad and vulnerable and still held you like you’re worth something.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs after a while, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. ”talk to me. What’s wrong?”

You shake your head because the words feel ridiculous and too embarrassing. But Ford just waits patiently, his hand never stopping its slow motions against your back.

After a while you whisper. “i. . . don’t feel pretty enough.”

Ford stays silent. The sentence you said doesn’t compute, the equation is missing a crucial variable. His brain thinks. You've just said something factually incorrect.

He is quiet long enough that you regret saying anything at all.

“Not pretty enough?” you wince at how ridiculous it sounds when he says it. You stay silent again. “talk to me, please, you’re too important to me to watch you do this to yourself.” last words didn’t come out the way he had planned, but it doesn't matter. The sadness in your eyes is enough to make him want to shield you from everything that ever made you doubt yourself.

“I don’t know, Ford, sometimes i just feel. . . just not enough.”

Ford takes a deep sigh and pulls back to see your face. His hands come up, six fingers framing your cheeks gently.

“But, love,” he brushes away the lingering tears on your skin. “who put that idea in your head?”

“Just. . . my brain, i guess.”

Ford frowns at that response, trying to figure out how to undo that thought that’s been rooted in you for too long.

“Listen to me, you are the most stunning, breathtaking person i have ever had the privilege of knowing.”

You sniffle, trying to look away, but he doesn’t let you, tilting your chin up until you meet his gaze.

“Not just beautiful,” he continues, “though you are, undeniably. But everything. Your mind, your heart, the way you see the world, i have never known anyone like you. And i never will. You are brilliant and strong in ways i could never hope to be.”

You avoid his gaze, looking down despite his tries to keep your eyes on him. Ford notices, of course he does, he always does and before you can fall apart all over again, he kisses you. So soft, a gentle press of his warm lips, reassuring you. “I wish you could see yourself the way i see you.” he says quietly into your lips. But you shake your head and pull away, laughing through your tears, feeling how emotions overwhelm you again.

“Ford, no—“

“No,” he interrupts and you notice how his voice gets more serious. “you need to hear this. After spending thirty years traveling through dimensions, seeing entire different galaxies and universes, watching alien creatures with more eyes than you can count, none of them, not a single one of them, come close to how breathtakingly beautiful you are.”

You make a small, broken sound and Ford just holds you closer as he continues. You’re speechless, heart hammering in your chest.

“And don’t get me started on physics,” he laughs softly, pulling you against his chest and caressing your hair. “you are more fascinating than a perfectly symmetrical snowflake viewed under a microscope. More miraculous than the way hydrogen atoms fused together for billions of years just to create you. Darling, i’ve held technology so advanced it blurred the line between magic and science. But none of it, none of it, has ever left me as breathless as you do.”

He’s so serious, absolutely devastatingly serious. You don't know if it's the exhaustion or the overwhelming love in his genuine voice, but another real sob breaks out of you before you can stop it as you hug him tighter.

“I really. . . just really wish you could see yourself the way i see you. You are the most extraordinary thing i have ever encountered and i have traveled across the multiverse.” and it's damn truth because when Ford looks at you, he sees more than just a person. He sees a universe, complex and ever-expanding, a mystery he will spend his lifetime trying to understand and yet, always be awed by.

Your chest is aching. It’s too much, he’s too much. So you do the only thing you can think of. You kiss him. It's kinda messy, still wet with your tears, but Ford doesn’t care because the second your lips touch his, he pours all his feelings into it, one hand tangling in your hair, the other gripping your waist, pulling you closer until there is no space left between you, reminding you of just how much he cherishes you, in every universe, in every corner of space and time.

And that's all you ever needed, to be held like the most beautiful thing in his entire universe.

“If the universe is infinite, then so is my love for you. If the stars will burn for billions of years, then let me love you for all of them.”

Ford cradles you against his chest, rocking you in his arms in a slow, soothing motion to calm his beloved. And for the first time in a long time, the voice in the back of your mind, telling you you're not enough, fades away replaced with the warmth of Ford's love.

“So, no, honey. I don't want to hear you ever say you’re not pretty again. Not when you're the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen. Not when i know you are worth more than every star, every dimension, every equation in existence.” you pull him closer, feeling the steady beat of his heart as you close your eyes, smiling softly.

The first rule of observation is to watch closely, to notice every detail, to understand what no one else does. And Stanford notices everything about you.

[traumadumpwriter]

JJ Maybank X Reader ~ Relapse and a Half

Summary: The Pogues feel betrayed by the readers sudden relapse into drugs, but they're unable to be angry at her for too long as something terrible leaves her needing their support more than ever.

Trigger warning for: drugs (obviously), guns, explicit sexual assault, violence, EXPLICIT!

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

So many people commented on the last one I had to write this part! Thanks for the support it means so much to me. I might make this into a short series, potentially add another few parts but I’m not sure. Let me know what you want to see <3

Part Four:

You'd sobbed so hard into Kie's lap that you could hardly breathe, having to be reminded by your friend to take deep breaths as she tried to calm you down.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please don't hate me." You'd cried as Kie stroked your hair, her heart breaking at every word.

"Stop apologising, Y/N. Are you hurt anywhere? Do we need to go to the hospital?"

"No. No. It's my fault. I'm fine. Please don't hate me." You answered, your words largely incoherent. You weren't even entirely sure what had just happened to land you in your best friend's lap.

"It's not your fault. No one hates you. Ssshh." Kie whispered soothingly, hating Barry with her entirety.

She could see the aggressive conversation happening between JJ and John B outside and Barry's body bleeding beside them. She didn't need to listen to imagine what the boys were saying to each other - JJ no doubt raging and John B trying to calm him down. If you weren't on her lap and needing her care right then, she would've jumped out of the van and beat up Barry herself.

Even without having heard the telling exchange between Rafe and JJ moments prior, your physicality made it clear that something awful and unwilling had happened inside the drug dealer's home. From your desperate sobs and panicked breathing, to your exposed skin and suspicious bruises, to the fact that you could hardly keep your eyes open or string a sentence together. It would be clear to most that someone had given you something too strong for your body to handle and then taken advantage of that.

Pope wheeled your bike into the back of the van and then sat down beside Kie, taking off his jacket and wrapping it around your naked legs without saying a single word. You didn't seem to notice his arrival anyway, your face still buried into Kie's lap as you drifted in and out of hysterical consciousness.

"JJ- Is JJ here?" You choked out.

"He's coming. Just go to sleep. He'll be here in a minute." Kie answered softly, eyeing the blonde as he stormed towards the open van door.

He locked eyes with Kie for a second, the rage he was feeling so palpable that she could've sworn she felt heat coming from him, and then with a pained expression he looked at you. His lips puckered sourly and his nostrils flared whilst his gut twisted and ached. Part of him wanted to leap into the van, hold you so tight and never let go. The part of him that wanted to hurt someone was bigger.

As he raced off, John B shouted after him, but quickly gave up, unable to blame the boy for his anger. He too would be wanting to go back to Barry's to really make him regret touching you as soon as he knew that you would be okay.

When the van started moving and you still hadn't heard JJ's voice or felt his touch, your head shot up in a panic, looking to Kie for guidance through blurry eyes.

"Does- Does he hate me?" You whispered.

"No. Of course not. Just go to sleep, Y/N. Everything will be okay." She answered softly, stroking your face with the care of a mother.

You were extremely relieved to be back with your best friend and for her to not be raging at you - as you'd feared she would be. You didn't completely understand the predicament that you were currently in and why Kiera wasn't in fact angry with you. All you knew was that you'd been at Barry's, something bad had happened, JJ had appeared, and now you were in the Twinkie. Nothing was properly processing whilst the drugs and liquor still pumping through your system - it was all just a confusing blur.

It didn't take long for you to pass out again, lying across the worn, leather seats with your head in Kie's lap. John B scooped you up with ease and carried you into the Chateau, tucking you into the guest bed that JJ usually slept in before anything was said between the Pogues. A heavy silence had enveloped them from the moment they started driving, only broken by Kie's angry groan as she stared into the darkness of the sea ahead.

"I can't believe this. We need to call the police. We can't let them get away with this!" She exclaimed, her knees pulled up to her chest.

"We should. But won't that get Y/N in trouble too? I mean, she was there to purchase a controlled substance. That's pretty illegal." Pope stated, stood in front of the porch with his hands on his hips as he paced.

"It'll definitely get her in trouble. I'm fairly certain JJ's dad has done jail time for that exact charge." John B replied, picking up the blunt from the ground that JJ had been smoking earlier and lighting it. He took a drag before he continued. "We should just go back there and fucking kill the guy."

Both Kie and Pope's heads snapped up in surprise at that, expecting that kind of solution from JJ - not his more mature, brunette counterpart. But alas, neither of them could disagree and a heavy silence enveloped the trio again.

Pope spoke after a short while, his mind racing in a desperate bid to make things less fucked up than they had become.

"Maybe they didn't.. you know... maybe they didn't do anything to her. Maybe JJ just interpreted it wrong. I mean, we don't even know what he saw. Maybe he just saw her passed out like that and broke in - assuming the worst."

"Don't act stupid Pope." John B hissed, not even bothering to look up at him as he spoke. "I went in there, I picked her up. There was literal fucking spunk dripping out her underwear... Need to clean the Twinkie and wash those bed sheets."

He mumbled the last part to himself, a sick feeling rising from his gut into his throat as he remembered the state he'd found his friend in. Half conscious, half dressed, in a disheveled drug den, the room stinking of sex and weed, a damp pillow at her head and a fearful gasp as he'd picked her up.

Kie and Pope grimaced at the image he'd painted, a sickness too rising to their throats, and another long silence came over them until Kie spoke with a sigh.

"This is so fucked up... I'm gonna go inside, make sure she doesn't choke on her vomit or anything. Where do you think JJ is?"

The two boys shrugged, a million and one potential answers to that question. All they could do was hope that he hadn't lost his mind too intensely and landed himself in jail, though it would be understandable if he had. They waited up for him for a while, but hours passed and there was still no sign of the blonde returning, so they eventually slinked silently inside too and passed out in their own respective sleeping spots, entirely exhausted.

Meanwhile, JJ had driven to one of the shit-hole bars that his dad tended to frequent and after a few whiskey shots, started a fight with the biggest guy in there. He knew that he wouldn't win it. Maybe that was why he'd picked that fight. A desperate bid to extinguish some of his guilt, to distract himself, to forget the scared cry that you'd let out, to get what he deserved for hurting you.

After that, he'd driven to his house and started a fight with his dad - once again knowing that he wouldn't win it but wanting to punish the closest thing to a physical manifestation of the drugs you loved that he could think of. He'd remembered the knowing eye contact you and Luke had exchanged with each other last year - before JJ had clocked what you'd been using. It made so much sense when he looked back on it, you'd probably bumped into each other at Barry's, or maybe addicts could just sniff each other out with effortless ease. Identity each other like two dogs of the same breed. At the time, he'd just assumed that you recognised him from your shitty bar job, and he'd asked nothing of it - not wanting to speak about his dad any longer than necessary. It had been a quick trip in and out of his house, it never needed to be thought of again. After your overdose, he'd kicked himself for not mentioning it.

As he'd finished throwing his son to the ground, Luke spat "Get the fuck out of here" and slammed the front door shut, leaving JJ in a disheveled heap on the ground.

The boy stayed there for a little while, trying to focus on the pain of his injuries but unable to do so, his mind inevitably racing back to you - a mocking montage that would play on a loop. From your wide mouthed laughter and big, bright eyes, to the little moans you had let out as he'd drunkenly entered you, how beautiful you looked beneath him, all the way back to your limp body on the drug dealers bed, looking like a sad, broken doll.

"Why did I reject her like that? Why did I laugh in her face? What's wrong with me? Why do I destroy everything I love? Why would I think I was protecting her by being cruel? Why didn't I just go back there that night and tell her I love her? What the fuck is wrong with me?" His thoughts span around agonisingly, wrapping around his brain, slithering to his throat and constricting his breathing.

The last stop he made before returning to the Chateau was a hidden spot on the beach - which was empty for miles due to the time. He sat on the boundary between the sand and the sea, letting the salty waves bury his bottom half with his knees pulled up to his chest, and for the first time in a long time - he cried. He didn't cry hard, he didn't let sobs rock his body like he perhaps should've. No - even in his own company he couldn't let himself do that. But he did let streams of wetness fall from his eyes and small sniffles escape his nose, the guilt he'd tried so hard to suppress enveloping him wholly.

He stayed there for hours, planning on returning to you once he felt better. But that feeling never came and he eventually gave up on it, jumping on his bike as the sun started to rise and heading back to the Chateau.

You'd woken up a short while prior, accidentally waking Kie up too as you tried to sneak out of the bed but stumbled into the side and knocked everything off of it. She shot up from her slouched position on the chair beside the bed and looked around in a panic for a second before collecting herself. As she remembered everything that had happened a few hours prior, she found it hard to not cry looking at you.

You felt the same way, though your memory was not as clear - still feeling hazy and confused.

The first thing you said was "I'm so sorry, Kie. I'll get clean again, I promise."

She threw her arms around you and pulled you into a tight hug which you instantly returned, burying your face into her thick hair and trying not to flinch at the unexplained pain you felt all over your body.

"I know you will." She whispered and then pulled away slightly "How are you feeling? Do you remember what happened last night?"

"I don't know. I was at Barry's and now I'm here. How did that happen?"

"JJ found you... Do you really not remember what happened at Barry's?" Kie's voice was so fraught with worry that even in your still inebriated state you knew it was something bad.

You stood and racked your brain for a moment, trying your hardest to put it all together, and then suddenly a few pieces returned to you  - foggy and unclear but evident in what they meant. You remembered lying in his bed and silently crying, your face pressed into his pillow as he roughly fucked you from behind. You remembered saying no but being convinced the night before that, and then staying the next day just for it to happen again. You remembered his tight grip around your waist and the invasive feeling of him inside of you before you lost consciousness, actively deciding to disassociate instead of trying to stay awake. You remembered how it was your fault.

A jolt of horror sparked through your body, your face going white and your mouth dropping open. Then another jolt shocked through you as you thought about what Kie had said. "JJ had found you."

"Oh God. What did he see? He must think I'm such a slut." You thought to yourself, suddenly feeling weak.

Your knees buckled and your legs crumpled from beneath you, suddenly landing you on the floor with your head in your hands.

"I fucked up. I-I really fucked up, Kie." You gasped, tears forming.

"How? What do you mean?" She bent down to be at your level. "What that scumbag did to you isn't your fault."

"It is. I- I stayed there. Oh God. What did JJ see? What did you see?"

Would the answers to either of those questions make you feel any better? Probably not. She ignored them and shook her head.

"It's not your fault. Come on, let's get you cleaned up." She said softly, holding out her hand for you to take.

You stayed on the floor and caught your breath, swallowing down your cries before you nodded and followed her to the bathroom, only then noticing that you were dressed in just a pair of damp underwear and a sweaty top. You peeled them off and sat in the tub, pulling your knees to your chest whilst Kie put in the plug and turned on the shower head. You didn't flinch at the initial coldness of the water hitting your back, nor the sudden burst of burning hot heat it released before levelling out to a nicer temperature. Your eyes remained fixed on the stained ivory in front of you whilst you mentally combed through all that you could remember from the past forty eight hours. It was strange, it was mostly patches of black, followed by vividly clear moments, followed by third person perspectives of yourself lying in that bed - like you'd somehow left your body. Or perhaps your mind was just trying to fill in the blanks.

"I'm going to get one of the boys to grab you a morning after pill from the pharmacy. Just to be safe... you know? I'll be gone for a minute. Is that okay?" Kie's soft voice momentarily broke you from your silent contemplation and you nodded, another jolt of horror rushing through you as you realised that Barry had in fact cum inside of you, multiple times.

"Had you given him permission to do that? Probably not. But at this point you deserved it and more." You thought to yourself.

The water slowly filled up the tub and more than a minute passed, though you didn't notice either things. Despite your disgust at what had happened, and much to your great shame, you wanted another hit. You wanted to feel anything other than what you were feeling. You wanted to forget about what Barry had done, what you had caused and what JJ had said. Now that you'd sobered up slightly it was playing in your head again - his harsh rejection - and you couldn't decide which trauma had been more embarrassing.

Meanwhile, JJ had just arrived as John B was leaving, and both he and Kie stopped the blonde before he could step into the house - concerned by the bruises and blood he was covered in.

"Dude, what the fuck happened? Where have you been?" John B questioned.

"Doesn't matter. Where's Y/N?"

"She's in the bath." John B answered, putting his hand on JJ's chest and stopping him from walking past "But bro, your face does not look good. Where the hell have you been all night? You didn't go back to Barry, did you? Or bother any kooks?"

"No I didn't go back there, and I didn't bother any kooks! Is she alright?" JJ huffed.

"She's... no she's not alright. I mean- she will be eventually. But right now... I don't know." Kie struggled to think of an answer, not wanting to set off the blonde all over again but not wanting to lie.

JJ nodded slowly and sucked in his lips, taking a deep breath and stressfully running his hand through his hair. He tried to distract himself from the rage that was bubbling up in his gut again.

"Where are you going then?" He turned to John B, who swallowed anxiously.

"The pharmacy. Y/N needs a morning after pill... So um- I should probably go now."

And with that he took off, not wanting to see JJ's reaction to that. The blonde was surprisingly un-reactive though, sucking air sharply through his teeth and taking another deep breath. Kie eyed him nervously, getting ready to launch herself at the boy in an attempt to stop him from jumping on his bike and speeding back to Barry's. A murder charge would not help anyone.

"More violence isn't going to help." She said slowly, like she was verbally defusing a bomb.

JJ looked ready to punch someone, more than that - ready to murder someone. But he stayed calm.

"I know... Do you think she wants to see me, or does she hate me now?"

Kie took a moment to respond, taken back by his uncharacteristic maturity, but when she did she almost scoffed at the obviousness, thinking to herself that at least one good thing could come of this.

"JJ- She's completely in love with you. I think that being with you would probably make her feel a little better right now... Just let her know that you love her too. She needs to know that."

JJ's lips almost allowed a weak smile, nodding at Kie gratefully before making his way into the house and going straight to the bathroom.

You were still in the tub, the water halfway full now, unmoved from the position you'd assumed after you first got in. You didn't look up at the sound of the door opening, nor at the sound of someone sitting on the toilet seat. You did look up however when you heard JJ's voice, confusion followed by shock slowly settling into your bloodstream.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N. I'm so fucking sorry." He said lowly, taking in your disheveled appearance. "This is all my fault."

Light bruises had started to form on your neck and sides. There were scratches on your back and wine stain bite marks on your chest. But even without those telling remains of a sexual encounter, the damage would've been clear - at least somewhat. A distant look enveloped your eyes - more than just the distance that benzodiazepines gave you, a distance that could only be described as shell shocked - and your eyelids were red and puffy, with tears brimming in the waterline though your expression showed no emotion.

"JJ?" You barely parted your lips to whisper, half convinced that the boy in front of you was a vision concocted by your dissonant brain.

Your voice was so quiet that he didn't hear it over the pouring of the shower, and so he continued his pleading apology.

"I beat the shit out of him. I know that doesn't change anything, and I know it doesn't mean you should forgive me. It doesn't make anything better... I don't even know why I said that. I thought it would make you feel better but that was fucking dumb... I'm just- Jesus what am I even saying. I just want to tell you if there's anything I can do to make you feel better.. even if you want me to just leave you alone.. I'll do it. But I want you to know that I don't want to leave you alone. All of that shit I said at yours the other night- it was fucked up and I didn't mean it."

"JJ." You repeated his name louder, stopping his ramble as you pulled away from your knees.

His face was full of uncharacteristic anxiety, his mouth stopping slightly open and his eyes blinking rapidly, intensely focused onto yours. He didn't know why, but the sound of your voice surprised him.

"Stop... I'm fine." You said, your voice shaking slightly. "It was all my fault. You don't need to be saying all of this. I shouldn't have started using again."

JJ tutted and shook his head.

"Your fault? Don't say that. How could it be your fault?"

You thought of all the reasons that it might be. The fact that you'd been going there to buy drugs. The fact that you didn't try hard enough to stop him. The fact that you stayed there after the first time.

"I... I can't." You breathed out, the tears that had been brewing starting to quietly drip down your face. A tight construction in your chest was stopping you from telling JJ exactly why it had been your fault, as was the loud shame in your head.

JJ quickly moved from the seat to the floor, crouching on the balls of his feet as he leaned in closer to you. He moved one of his hands to cup your face, gently stroking your cheek with his thumb.

"It's okay. You don't have to say anything. I'm sorry."

You warmed slightly into his hand, finding the same comfort in it that you had on your drunken nights together. You forgot everything that had happened for a moment, just feeling the loving touch of the boy that you craved so desperately.

"Stop acting like it's a big deal - please. You don’t need to be sorry." You mumbled.

JJ wanted to argue - he wanted to explain exactly why it was a big deal. But he saw how tired and still high you were and decided not to. He instead nodded and whispered "Okay."

A comfortable moment of silence passed between you both. JJ noticed that the water was getting high and turned off the shower, grimacing as he caught sight of the scratches on your back, remembering what he'd heard when he was crouched below the window of that house. Then he remembered what he'd decided out there - that you were his and he would keep you safe forever now. He picked up a soapy sponge and stared to gently wash your back, soothing you immensely. He'd planned on breaking the silence himself with a dramatic confession of his own love, but you beat him to it.

"Who'd you piss off?" You asked quietly.

"What do you mean?" He furrowed his brows in confusion.

"I mean your face is all fucked up." You responded, a hint of sarcasm in your tone that brought a small smile to JJ's face.

He chuckled slightly, trying to sound casual though there was an undertone of nerves to his voice.

"I think I'm in love with you, Y/N."

The thought that he might be imaginary once again struck you. You closed your eyes and focused on the feeling of his hand until you were convinced that he was real again.

"I don't know if I believe you." You mumbled, though a slight smile also pulled at the corners of your lips.

JJ moved his washing to your hair, gently massaging your scalp as he spoke.

"I'm serious. I- I've been completely obsessed with you since- well since we first met. That messy night at the Boneyard."

"Every night at the Boneyard is messy." You scoffed and JJ chuckled again.

"True. But I remember you were wearing that little, black skirt, and that white vest that I like.. with your leopard print bikini on underneath… and your hair was still long then."

"I don't even remember what I wore that night... but I remember Kie introducing me to you.. And I remember that Kook you threw your drink on."

A twinge of amusement ran up your spine and for the first time in weeks, you both felt like everything might work out okay. Another comfortable silence enveloped you both, the only sound being the sloshing of the water as JJ continued to gently wash you.

This continued for a short while, calming and peaceful, and you found yourself starting to feel extremely tired again.

"Can we go to bed?" You mumbled, struggling to keep your eyes open.

"Sure." He smiled, heart fluttering at the innocence of your question.

He pulled the plug out of the tub and rummaged through the laundry basket for a semi-clean towel whilst you washed the soap from your hair and then rose from the draining water. You stumbled slightly out of the tub, JJ surprised by your sudden movement and holding his hands out to catch you. When he started to dry you with the towel, you shook your head and took it from him.

"You don't need to do this. I'm fine." You said with a huff and he shot you an uncertain look.

"Don't treat me all different now. It's not that serious. I'm gonna get sober again." You justified, an ironic slur to your voice.

JJ wanted to argue but decided not to again. You weren't in the right state of mind - there was no point. But for you to say it wasn't that serious; it worried JJ.

He forced a smile though, only wanting to continue comforting you.

"I know you'll get sober again. I believe you. It was just a little slip up, right?"

You nodded, wrapping the towel around your body and heading towards the door before accidentally dropping it. Both of you giggled at that and JJ rolled his eyes teasingly.

"I'll go get you some pyjamas. Just to be safe." He grinned, unable to not admire your body even when he was trying not to.

When he stepped out of the bathroom door and swiftly headed into his room, he was confused to see that John B was changing the sheets.

"What are you doing?" JJ asked as John B pulled on the last corner of the new cover.

John B was quick to notice that JJ's previous expression of solemn doom had turned into a more relaxed one.

"We'll talk later bro. The pill is on the side. Does she need anything? Maybe something to eat?"

"Nah she just wants to sleep. If she needs anything I can get it. But thanks dude."

They exchanged a meaningful smile before JJ grabbed a baggy top from his wardrobe and a pair of boxer shorts and then headed back into the bathroom. You put the clothes on and headed straight to his bed, flopping yourself onto the fresh sheets and curling up immediately, ready to sleep like a baby.

JJ needed to wash realistically - dried blood and sea water on various patches of his body - but he couldn't resist the allure of having your body tucked safely against his once he saw how comfortable you'd gotten. So he peeled off his clothes and crawled in beside you, holding you closely against him and inhaling the scent of your hair.

You loved being cuddled by JJ, there weren't many things that could beat it. The way he held you like he needed you filled the empty void inside of you without fail every time.

He kissed the back of your head, holding his lips there for a while before pulling away and whispering "I really do love you."

You were too tired to respond, just about to drift into the realm of complete unconsciousness. But a smile formed on your face nonetheless before you dropped into a comfortable, dreamless sleep.

I just want to say that the doubt this character experiences around their assault is just representative of how I felt after my own and in no way reflects the way that anyone should have to feel. If you’ve been through this or something similar I just want to say it wasn’t your fault. My DMs are always open if u need it <3

[antimonyandthyme]

1k; teto/carlos

They don’t fight.

Well. They do, but they fight about things like, who ate the last tangerine, and who gets to drive today, and who left the towel on the floor, snapping and sore at each other for five minutes at most, and then going back to talking like nothing ever happened. So it’s a shock to the system when it’s this bad.

Unlucky race number fifty-something, he’s lost count. Outside and in his head it’s lashing rain. Teto says, “Don’t go out,” and Carlos says, “I’m going to go out.”

He goes out on his bike, and predictably crashes so badly he has to lay on the wet, cold ground for ten minutes to catch his breath and lament everything and everyone in a way he hasn’t done since he was a kid pushed off a track. Funny how he can keep his eyes wide open, staring up at the breaking sky. Then, because there’s nothing else to do, he picks himself up and limps back on shaky legs, an old, beaten dog taken out by something far larger and meaner than he is.

Teto gets one good look at his skinned knees, skinned shins, skinned palms, and starts yelling, purple-red in the face like all of Carlos’s wounds are a personal affront to him.

“Be nicer to me I’m bleeding,” Carlos grits out, when all he means is, Please don’t be angry at me.

They stomp off into separate rooms and it takes Carlos three tries to admit that bandaging his own palms when both palms are scraped is a task too colossal to surmount.

“He worries about you,” Gigi says.

Carlos must look too much like a kicked puppy now for Gigi to step in and help, when it was abundantly clear Gigi had been on Teto’s side since the start of this whole debacle. Heaviness set in his brow when Carlos had insisted on going out, as if a bike ride in a storm could fix anything worth fixing. Carlos worries them all, with his impulses and his tantrums and his body, too soft by half.  

“He’s bad at it,” Carlos says.

“He’s trying,” Gigi says tartly, pulling the bandage tight and making Carlos wince.

Unsurprising that Teto’s loyalty inspires loyalty in return. A shining knight in splendid armour, with the way he rides out so often to Carlos’s defense. Body always half-turned toward the rest of the world, angled to catch a stray bullet meant for Carlos. Flesh is flesh, and anything sharp passes through Teto to carve Carlos up anyway. That doesn’t stop Teto from trying.

“Maybe I don’t want him to be good at it,” Carlos says. “The worrying.”

Gigi gives him a look, like he’s a child. “Then go tell him that.”

He hates being the first one to apologize, because it’s something that’s been stamped out of him for a long time now. Carlos shifts from one foot to another outside of Teto’s room. What he hates worse is the idea that Teto will never speak to him again, even though he knows down to the marrow of his bones he’s being dramatic, that their return policies when it comes to each other have long elapsed.

When he knocks, Teto answers so violent and fast Carlos gets all warm thinking about it, Teto waiting behind that door for Carlos to come.

“All I know how to do is make trouble.”

“All I know how to do is bark,” Teto says. Carlos doesn’t remember a time in which they haven’t been able to meet each other in the eyes, and it’s a chest melting relief, knowing that hasn’t changed.  

“I don’t need anything else,” Carlos says.

“Good, because otherwise you’re shit out of luck.”

Teto reels Carlos in and kisses him, so familiar yet all-encompassing that Carlos begins to crumple. The steady hand on the back of Carlos’s neck holds him up, some supernatural force more powerful than gravity, giving him just enough strength to make it to the bed.

He hits the covers skinned knees first, and makes certain to emit the most pathetic moan of pain.

“Idiot,” Teto says affectionately, reaching down to arrange Carlos just how he likes him, on his back, loose and easy. Carlos makes grabby hands at him.

So that’s not entirely true. There was a time they couldn’t meet each other in the eye, when they were both more stupid and reckless and hungry with each other than they can bear to be now. The sex wasn’t good, and when you’re that age, all sex is supposed to be good. It didn’t make sense. But what actually frightened Carlos was how Teto looked down, looked past him, and Carlos couldn’t figure out what to do with himself when the endless horizon suddenly became a blackhole.

Teto’s mouth is on him, and Carlos is content to lie there and be kissed. It’s all they do nowadays, having gone past rough and too careful to reach this comfortable middle ground. Carlos knows better than to think in forevers, after everything that’s happened, but it’s possible he would like to kiss Teto for the rest of his life. And let himself be kissed by Teto for the rest of his life.

“Gigi bandage you up?”

Carlos nods. “Couldn’t do it myself.”

Teto hums, smug and satisfied. Carlos lets him have this one, leaving the scoreboard between them to continue collecting dust. He tilts his head, an invitation Teto doesn’t need, and Teto licks back into his mouth, hand tangling in Carlos’s hair. Messing it up to match the rest of him, skinned knees and all.

Bastard, Carlos thinks fondly, and tangles his own in Teto’s in return.

It’s hard to describe the taste of Teto, the unique, constant taste of Teto. If Carlos doesn’t know any better, he’d say it tastes of himself.

[bethebesttoyou]

Shiver - Choi Yeonjun

synopsis: Yeonjun and Y/N just can't let each other go.

pairing: College student! Yeonjun x college student! Reader

song: Shiver by Lucy Rose (I was way too young to be listening to just sad songs in middle school)

warnings: suggestive writing again,,,(does it seem like im slowly getting close to writing smut? IDK),,, lovers to exes to ??? to exes,,, ANGST NO HAPPY ENDING (it breaks my heart might have to do a part 2 FNKDS) not much dialogue again, just inner workings of reader who can't let yeonjun go, kinda like right person, wrong time... kinda cheesy ending cause we have fun here... OH NOT EDITED EITHER AHAHA

Wc: 1.8k (I wanted it to be longer T_T, maybe part two coming soon???)

A/N: Ive been writing in means of distracting myself from the reality that is our world rn, and its been really helpful...Ive also been feeling all down about my writing in general but I don't want to give up!!! I want to keep getting better!!! So ima keep just writing... hopefully down the line I get to see the growth ANYWAYS....

“What’s wrong?” Yeonjun breathes out, his hot breath hitting your face, glazed eyes of lust watching you intensely. 

He had just shown up, like he usually did, and his hands began to slowly make their way under your shirt before you stopped them breaking the hypnotic spell of his kiss. 

It was easy to forget with him pressing into you like this. To forget about the break up, the fact that it no longer was meant to mean anything other than another night together. To you, the kisses were still laced with love, with passion that were left over from the years spent together. You already knew that he was mirroring your love and emotions with his hands caressing your hips, the way he knew his way around your body, kissing where it mattered, touching where it mattered. 

It was hard to move on. Hard to give up on every feeling he evoked in you, well because… this was Yeonjun. The very same Yeonjun that asked you out in 9th grade, with a cheesy note and nervous smile, the same one that took you to all the school dances and school trips. The Yeonjun that can make you laugh, cry, and desire all with his own vocabulary. He was the same guy you grew up with, he felt familiar, he felt like home. He was the one and only Yeonjun that could ever make you feel this wanted, this needed, this loved. 

The one and only Yeonjun, the one you no longer had.

Not anymore. Not really. 

Things had gotten complicated towards the end of the relationship. Young couples often face these common complexities of individual growth, individual paths, college and the opinions of friends and families. And while you thought your relationship with Yeonjun was strong enough to sustain these challenges, believing that the years spent together only added to the strong will of your love,  nothing could’ve prepared you for the sudden distance, the change in goals, the shift in thinking, the shift in priorities. It was obvious what the issues had been. But you had pushed them down, buried deep enough to be convinced that time would fix it. So while you were good at pretending that everything had been normal and fine, it was Yeonjun that had visibly carried this boulder in his chest, the boulder heavy to the point that he had to sit you down and bring up the undeniable truth. You were drifting apart, bad. Arguments no longer lasted an hour, but days, schedules were no longer syncing, dates were being forgotten or willingly canceled, communication and keeping up with each other became rare and the voiced opinions of friends were starting to question the ethics in high school sweethearts.  

With ache filled hearts, you both knew it was the end. The love never faltered, but time did and your lives were no longer in the same rhythm, your heart, while still beating for one another, no longer to the same young love beat. So with mutual understanding and a night full of sobs and goodbye kisses, you deemed your seven year relationship to be over. Or at least that's what was supposed to happen. 

The entire idea was to give each other the space needed to grow and find yourselves, to explore the world of independence, the world of your 20’s, and the brain understood that concept, it made sense. You were both young and hadn't really figured out life, but your hearts, filled with years of history and love, branded with memories of your past, were not getting the hang of it, not just yet. Even with the ending of your relationship being meant to create a fresh start for the both of you, nothing stopped either of you from texting each other, meeting for ‘friendly’ coffees, meeting up at night, when your roommates were asleep, sneaking him in. That's what got you here now. 

Nine months after the break up, he's in your hallway, pushing you against the wall in the middle of the night. And you weren't going to lie, you were obsessed with the feeling. Yet, you knew deep down, this was only hurting you both more.There was never any talk about getting back together, in fact there was never any talking about this aspect of your friendship?relationship? Whatever it was. When you were around your mutual high school friends, it was as though these nights never happened, it was as if you both were silently agreeing that this was merely sex. Merely a way of getting your needs taken care of. 

But it felt like an excuse. In your head, you convinced yourself that this was okay, because who else knew you like this, knew your body and what you needed, before and after? And you knew he felt the same, when his soft moans and grunts escaped his mouth, when he would beg to hear your own soft moans and whines again and again. 

The discussion and acknowledgement of what this was,would have only made things more real. More complicated, and like true Yeonjun and Y/N fashion, you ignored all of that. You would ignore his love filled eyes, the constant electrical current his touch possessed, the way his touch would have you shivering in anticipation, you would ignore the slips of ‘I love you’s from his mouth when he was on top of you. And he seemed to ignore all of your soft ‘baby’s’ and pleads, ignoring your single tears and would silently cradle you after, seeming to understand, yet never actually bringing it up. 

Because, neither of you had not been ready, and maybe you still weren't, but things had been changing, life still existed outside of him, and you weren't sure you could keep this up anymore. 

It was only recently that your friends suggested dating again. The thought itself made your stomach twist in guilt and fear. Your friends had known about this toxic stance you were in with Yeonjun, this idea that you were still each other’s, even if you weren't. And unlike you, they were worried about this deeply rooted attachment, considering it more obsessive, more out of comfortability than actual love. So even with your desperate rejections, they set you up. And when you suggested the idea of not showing up, they looked at you with concern filled eyes: 

“Y/N, you have the chance to grow into the best version of yourself…don't let him keep you stuck here.” 

 It was in that moment then, looking up at him, when he had brought a hand up to gently caress the softness of your cheek, that you understood.

 You knew they were right. And yet, a terribly hard pill to swallow. This didn't just apply to you, but to him too. You both had so many plans, goals, dreams. You both were only getting in the way of that, both keeping each other connected by the willfulness of your hearts. This love was too big for the both of you, and it was sucking the life, the happiness out of you.You loved him, you always did, always will. So much so, that you knew he deserved the same chance at an experience of life, without this weighing on him, without you pulling him back, just like you did.

“I can't do this anymore.” You whispered back finally, a tear hitting his thumb, and you weren't shocked when he sighed, before nodding, like he had known. That was another thing about Yeonjun you had loved,he always just knew. 

You embarked in this minute of silence, both of you letting it settle, the room was dimly lit, but you were still able to make out his disheveled hair, his freshly kissed lips, and the tears that flooded the lining of his eyes. Neither of you hid them, neither felt the need too. Your heart fights this feeling of relief, and Yeonjun looks up at you and smiles softly before motioning to the front door. 

“Do you remember orientation night?” He asked, once he was out the door. The fresh wind sweeps up a pair of leaves from the floor, and you both watch as the leaves dance around each other, before flying off. You smile. 

“I do.” 

Orientation night was hell. The world had been against you, you had been picked on by the orientation leaders, your dorm mates didn't seem like they were going to be good dorm mates at all, and to make it worse, you were in a new city, an hour away from Yeonjun’s college. You had decided to suffer in silence that night until he called, and just with the sound of his voice, you couldn't help but blubber out everything that went wrong. He listened and cooed, trying to relax your sobs, you heard the sound of an ignition turning on in the back. As you suspected, he made it to the front of your dorms in the next hour, already extending his arm for an embrace. At this time, the distance was still new and unfamiliar to both of you, no longer living in the same city, no longer having the same group of friends. You're no longer crying as dramatically as before, yet he still held you tightly in his chest, the smell of his cologne calming you greatly. 

“Ima just give up and go home. Maybe I'm not made for college life.” You sigh. 

“Hey, you are definitely not going back home. Youre gonna go back in there and tell your dorm mates to be nice or fuck off, and then youre gonna go tomorrow and say the same thing to those asshole leaders.” he rubs your back. 

“No…” you sigh again, “I'm not gonna do that. I want to actually make friends, and I want my dorm mates to actually like me.” 

“I'm your friend.”

“You also live an hour away.” 

“So? Nothing can keep me away from you.” He smiles down at you, kissing your forehead. 

“I wish I only had to deal with you and your antics…I miss you.” 

I miss you too… Do you want me to talk to those leaders?” 

“No but thanks.” 

“Y/N…” you had been closing your eyes until he called, “I will always have your back. Always. You always have a friend, never hesitate to call him. He loves you, forever.” he finally attaches his lips to yours, quickly pecking your lips before pecking the rest of your face. 

“I meant every word.” he says softly, grabbing your hands, “I'm always your friend and I love you, forever.” 

“I love you too, forever.” And when he reaches to rub the tear off your cheek again, you chuckle to suppress the sniffle. 

If your heart had not been enclosed in your chest, it would have been dragged by the last few strings attached to his, instead all you felt was the frantic pull, the desperate call for him to come back, and he must feel it too cause he turns back to you, already at the edge of the driveway. 

“If I ever get you back in my arms, I will never let you go again.” 

“Is that a threat?” You laughed already walking back to the door. He smiles upon seeing your smile, one last time. 

“A promise.” 

A/N: YAYAYAYAAY you made it to the end!!! Thank you so much for reading!!! I wanted to make this super angsty and I hope I tugged at the heart even just a pluck :3 Anyways, as always please let me know how you liked it, my asks are open for any requests as well!! Also let me know if you think I should do a small update (read: part 2) on yeonjun and y/n, maybe seeing each other again /.\ Thank you again!! :3

[cheeseatlantic]

A GHOST OF YOUR PAST

He’s standing by the door, his frame silhouetted against the faint light spilling in from the hallway. His mask is still on, but you can feel the weight of his gaze, heavy and conflicted. He hasn’t moved for what feels like an eternity, his hand hovering over the strap of his vest like he’s debating whether to take it off or leave.

“Say something,” you plead, your voice barely above a whisper. It cracks on the last syllable, and you hate how vulnerable it sounds.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he finally responds, his voice muffled and distant behind the mask.

“I want you to tell me the truth,” you say, standing now, your bare feet sinking into the worn carpet as you take a hesitant step toward him. “I want you to stop running from it.”

“I’m not running.” The words come out sharp, defensive, but he doesn’t look at you. His hand falls to his side, limp, like he doesn’t even believe himself.

“Yes, you are,” you shoot back, your voice rising with the frustration that’s been building for months. “You run every time it gets too real. Every time I ask for more than you think you can give.”

He stiffens, his shoulders squaring as if he’s bracing for a blow. “Maybe I don’t have anything left to give.”

The admission stings, but you refuse to back down. “That’s not true. You just won’t let yourself believe you’re capable of more. You’ve convinced yourself that you’re too broken to be loved, but Simon, I love you. Isn’t that enough for you to try?”

His breath hitches, the sound barely audible, but you catch it. He shakes his head, his gloved hands curling into fists at his sides. “You shouldn’t have to try so hard. You shouldn’t have to fix me.”

You close the distance between you, your hands trembling as you reach for his mask. He doesn’t stop you, but he doesn’t help either, standing perfectly still as you lift it off his face. When his features are finally revealed, your chest aches at the pain etched into every line, every scar.

“I don’t want to fix you,” you say softly, your hands trembling as you cup his face. “I just want you to let me love you. But you’re making it impossible.”

His eyes, so dark and guarded, meet yours. “You don’t understand,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper now. “If I let you in, if I give you everything… and you leave… it’ll destroy me.”

The words hang between you, raw and jagged, and you realize that this is the truth he’s been hiding all along. He’s not afraid of loving you, he’s afraid of losing you.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say, your voice steady despite the tears threatening to spill. “But Simon, if you keep shutting me out, you’ll lose me anyway.”

He closes his eyes, his brow furrowing as if he’s trying to push the world away. “I don’t know how to stop,” he murmurs, his voice breaking.

Your hands drop from his face, the weight of his words sinking into you. You step back, needing the space to breathe, to process the wall he’s still refusing to let you through. “Then maybe you don’t want to,” you whisper, your voice hollow.

His eyes snap open, panic flashing across his features. “That’s not what I meant—”

“But it’s what it feels like,” you interrupt, your chest tightening as the tears finally spill over. “I can’t keep begging you to choose me, Simon. I can’t keep bleeding for someone who won’t even try to stop the bleeding themselves.”

His jaw tightens, his hands twitching like he wants to reach for you but doesn’t know how. “I do choose you,” he says, desperation lacing every word. “I just… I don’t know how to make this work.”

You nod, your throat tight as you take another step back. “Then figure it out. Because I can’t do this alone anymore.”

The silence that follows is deafening, the only sound the steady rhythm of the rain against the window. He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, and for the first time, you wonder if he ever will.

“I love you, Simon,” you say, your voice breaking as you turn away. “But love isn’t enough if you don’t want to fight for it.”

You don’t look back as you leave the room, the echo of his silence following you down the hall. And as the door closes behind you, you realize that this time, you’re the one who’s walking away.

oh yeah

[cookierunoutofideas]

Day 2 of "Writing SMC angst until he stops breaking my heart and comes home" (welp)

*voz da Patrícia Lélis expondo Estilista Juliana* Ô, gente, voltei.

Another day, another failure. Lady Luck hates me, as suspected. Anyway, this fic is inspired by this post by @allimili , whose art I love so much QwQ No Beta and I also don't have my glasses so pardon any errors

One-Sided! Shadow Milk Cookie x ex!fem!Reader; Truthless Recluse (Pure Vanilla Cookie?) x fem!Reader

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

Love is a very odd thing, Shadow Milk Cookie muses to himself. Despite being the holder of Knowledge itself, not even he can truly explain love and its intricacies. Even after feeling it himself, he still doesn't truly understand it.

Befero he abandoned the duty forced on him by the Witches, he had loved with abandon. He didn't know any better-and yes, he can notice the irnoy. But it hadn't mattered back then because he was in love and he was loved and, despite the growing pit of despair and stress in his heart due to his duties, he had been happy.

Happy to see her smile and to hear her voice. Happy to hold her hand and hug her close. Happy to kiss her lips and breath in her scent. He had been happy by her side, through thick and thin and rain and sun and sickness and health and joy and sadness. They had even dreamed of the future together, promises sealed in between bedsheets and sleepless nights.

But then he finally woke up and saw the Witches for what they were: terrible demons of cruelty, gleefully controlling cookies to their whims, a little pet project to pass the time. Right after, he understood what the other cookies truly are: useless batches of greedy ungrateful dolls, baked with every single one of the Witches' sins just to torment those who dream of a better world.

And so his rebellion started, joined by his four friends.

But she... she simply couldn't see. Or, rather, she didn't want to see. Not that he truly blames her, of course, after all, the Witches made sure no cookie would ever learn of their perversion. All his darling beloved knew was the silly cookies and their insignificant little lives.

She had rejected his changes. Gone were the smile and loving words and warm hugs and longing kisses.

The last glare she gave him when he was sealed in that damned tree was of pure hurt and anger. He swore to himself he'd get out and find her again, bring back her pretty smile and shower her in the love she deserved as he once did. He'd make sure of it, make sure she'd finally understand him and his goals. Everything would go back to happiness.

The next time he saw her, (Y/N) was smiling at Pure Vanilla Cookie the exact same smile she'd once give Shadow Milk Cookie.

For a brief moment, he believed the lie that she somehow knew that he was there, watching over her through the blonde cookie. Only for a brief moment, though, enough time for said blonde cookie to confess his feelings to her.

That was not in te script.

(Y/N) Cookie did have a knack for rewriting stories, though, so he should've expected something someone to be beyond his control. It was one of the reasons he had been so enamored with her in the past.

Still he screamed and cried when she returned Pure Vanilla's confession with one of her own.

His rage was so great even Burning Spice Cookie shut up from the root of the silver tree he was confined. Not that Shadow Milk cared, he didn't care for anything but his plans to destroy that weak little thief who stole not only hsi power but his beloved! And his plans to punish said beloved for her infidelity. Ultimately, he'd forgive her, of course, but she needed to pay before it could happen.

And what better way to do it than to corrupt her precious Pure Vanilla Cookie? Make him become just like Shadow Milk Cookie? Show her that in the end, she is meant to be his.

Except.

Except that when the time comes and he finally has Pure Vanilla Cookie Truthless Recluse drowning in the pit of deceit, (Y/N) Cookie doesn't leave him.

She is saddened, yes, and she frequently pleads that he "fights it" and "remember who he is" and "stop hurting other cookies, Milk, there must be another way", but she does. Not. Leave. She stays with him, takes care of him, gives him kisses and hugs.

And Truthless Recluse is so annoying about it too. Kissing her and hugging her and holding her hands and carrying her and smiling at her in a way he should've forgotten because he is not Pure Vanilla Cookie, Pure Vanilla Cookie never never n ever ever existed ever! Ever! everevereverever it has always been Shadow Milk Cookie ALWAYS ALWAYS SO WHY?!

WHY?

Why is that copy the one allowed to love her? How can he even love her? How can he love her when he is not Shadow Milk Cookie? How can he still keep enough of his pitiful sense of self to keep on loving (Y/N) Cookie?! IT'S ALL WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG

Shadow Milk Cookie truly doesn't understand love.

Not that he needs to to hate it.

[purple-haired-faerie]

Family pt 2

Azriel x reader

Future fic, Family fic, established relationship

Mentions of character death, child abuse and alcoholism.

Word count: 856

We were in our cabin in Illyria. Since everyone had started having children, we all decided we couldn’t keep using Rhysand’s mother’s cabin, so we all brought our own as a place to stay. Azriel was checking on training and checking on a few bits of information that had come back to him. I was there checking on the younglings health in my capacity as a health visitor healer. I had low level healing magic and wanted to put that to good use so Madja had trained me as a health visitor. Axel and Elias were undergoing basic Illyrian training as well as their own individual ambitions. Axel was working on controlling his shadowsinging abilities. He knew he wanted to use his shadows and he wanted to investigate, but didn’t want to take up his father’s position as the courts spymaster, which was fine with us. We wanted our children to pursue whatever they wanted to pursue.

Elias on the other hand had inherited a stronger amount of my healing powers, and wanted to become a trauma surgeon. His argument was that ‘the more Illyrians I can save, the less time Dad and Uncle Cass have to spend in Illyria training the soldiers and increase the armies numbers. They were both twenty five and coming into their own person. Esther was ten and was an absolute joy to be around. She somehow sure the best in everything and everyone and just wanted to help in anyway she was able. I was sat at our table working on my notes from the children I had seen today for a report I was doing for Rhys and Esther was working on some extra school work. She was always looking to learn new things and asking her teachers for extra work, when Azriel and the boys came in. Only they weren’t by themselves, but had two younglings with them.

“Love, we couldn’t leave them. They have no one out there and…” Azriel babbled and I had to raise my hand to silence him. The boy looked to be about seven, and he was clinging onto a baby I guessed to be about six months at most. “Azriel, it’s fine. We will manage. Can you tell me what happened?” I asked. I could see Esther, still sat at the table taking everything in with big wide eyes. Azriel swallowed, motioning our buys and the two children further into the cottage. “I’d finishing for the day, and I’d met up with Axel and Elias and we were leaving the camp, when I saw them. Well I saw him first. He reminded me so much of Cass. He was fighting with some other boys. For food I think but I’m not sure. I came over to break the fight up, and the other boys, well they ran off. He looked panicked like I was going to hurt him” and I gave him a reassuring smile. I’d been told what he and Cassian had been through as children and how their lives had been changed when Rhys’s mother had taken them in.

“I assured him he was okay and I wanted to make sure he was okay. It took a while but he said he was just trying to get food for his sister. When I asked why he was in charge of getting food and not his parents, he said it was because his mother was dead. She died giving birth to his sister. His father was angry at her for killing his wife and spent his time drinking and when he wasn’t drinking he beat him, because he was defending the baby. His wings even got injured meaning that he can’t really fly properly. One night he grabbed his sister and ran away. They’d been managing by themselves ever since” and I got him to take me to his sister and we came straight here.” I gave a nod, and returned to the two small children. “Can you tell me your names? If you are going to be staying with us I need to know what we are to call you?”

The boy looked around at all of us, trying to work out what I had just said and what it meant. I knew we were keeping these children, that they were going to become part of our family. “Momma called me Finn, and I called her Sylvia” he finally whispered. The fact he had to name his own sister broke my heart. I felt Azriel’s pain through the bond, the pain he felt for these two children was the same as mine. “Finn, how would you and Sylvia like to join our family? If you lived with us? That way you wouldn’t have to fight people for the basics and you and your sister could be safe and be with people who love you” Azriel asked gently. Finn looked around, at every single one of us. At me, Azriel, Axel, Elias and finally Esther, before looking back at Azriel and nodding, and that was all that was needed. Our family of five had just grown to a family of seven.

Tags; @romantasyreader28 @suppppp97 @thelov3lybookworm @azrielssgirl

[crybaby-bkg]

“I’m terrified of trying those hitachi wands,” you offhandedly mention one night in a quiet laugh, while laying in bed beside Bakugou. you’re both on your phones, one last scroll before bed, even though he’s actually playing one of those old people games. he looks over, hair pushed back by a clip he stole from you.

“Why would you be scared?” he asks you, completes the last two moves of the game before he closes his phone and sets it on the table beside the bed. he turns all of his attention on you then, rolling over to his side to face you, and you do the same.

“Because those things are damn near weapons with how they render people useless for like, twenty minutes after they cum.” you snicker, thinking back on the video you had seen earlier in the day. the lady damn near ruined her phone with the wetness, and could hardly move for a good minute after.

Bakugou only stares at you, doesn’t say anything for a long while, but he has this look on his face. he’s thinking about something, but doesn’t open his mouth until he’s whispering,

“That’s crazy,” he kisses your forehead and mumbles an I love you before he rolls over and pulls the covers to his head. you only blink in confusion before you chalk it up to him being the shy little prude he’s always been, and lay down yourself.

the conversation goes forgotten as the weeks pass on, something you don’t dwell on much afterwards. but obviously, it hasn’t passed Bakugou’s mind at all.

“I got it in pink.” he tells you one night after he’s wined and dined you. that wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for him, but what was weird was how jittery he had been the entire time. this was why, surely, when he leads you to the bedroom and opens a neat little box with one of those wands you had completely forgotten about sitting prettily in front of you.

“Katsuki!” you laugh, hands covering your mouth before they cover your eyes in a mix of shame and shyness. “Why do you wanna see me laid out and twitching after using that thing?” you softly punch his shoulder, looking between his reddened cheeks and the wand he holds in front of you like an engagement ring.

“It’ll be hot.” he shrugs, mouth twisting this way and that in uncertainty, before he looks at you from under his lashes. “Wanna try it out?”

“Of course I do.” you answer back just as quickly, stripping from your clothes even quicker. it makes Bakugou laugh, taking his shirt off and his pants too, just to be safe in case you become a slash zone.

he tries it first with him sitting between your legs, just holding the wand there. he looks between your legs and then to your eyes, starting on a low setting and watches how you twist and thrive in the silken sheets. and when you cum, he thinks he can push you a little further.

he ups the vibrations, adds two of his fingers inside of you, crooking them until he finds that soft spot inside of you that makes you absolutely sob. you squirt all over him and he wonders if he should take his boxers off too (he doesn’t though; the thought of finding them tomorrow stained in you makes him damn near burst in his pants).

the next position is in front of your mirror on the closet, with your legs spread over his. Bakugou hooks his chin over your shoulder, holds your twitching thighs open as he keeps turning the vibrations up to the highest settings. you’re squirming and whining and whimpering for mercy, even though you cry even more whenever he stops.

the next time and the next time and the next, he’s got more fingers inside of you, his cock, another one of your favorite toys. he sets you in doggy style, even though he doesn’t fuck you, but keeps the wand between your legs. he likes the way your entire body shakes beneath him, collapsing, trapped between his weight and the strong vibrations that send you into another dimension.

the next day, you can barely feel between your legs, shaky and unstable for the whole day. but Bakugou makes up for it; he always does.

[amelikos]

Gibeon and Amethio key frames.

[icewindandboringhorror]

I was just thinking what a cool job this might be.. what if you were just the person who makes little still images of cute animal figurines doing various activities to post on social media...? like.. show up to work and just spend the whole day like "hmm... this table should be placed to the left a little.. let me set this miniature bagel down in this way... this tiny rabbit should be wearing a scarf", setting the backgrounds, the lighting, etc. ... dream job perhaps lol...

[sluckythewizard]

BUT IM NOT A WRITER. something strange possessed me to write my first proper fanfic in maybe a decade. be niceys to me but also grill me so i can get stronger. this one is a stupidly self indulgent bit between Soda and Emizel, a day or so after emizel was sired. CW for gore descriptions, but thats about it i think. image below is a snippet of the start. the rest of the whole dang thing will be under the cut. ive never posted fanfic ever in my life. read my tags for secret behind da scenes commentary

"Oh shit… I think hes dead…" It was another night, another patrol, another fight, and another win, for Emizel and Soda.

Under moonlight, under street light, under interwoven wires above, the two stood here in a quiet and damp alleyway. The air was drenched with the smell of a previous rain, and the puddles of said storm remain huddled in corners and pot holes.

One splashed as soda found himself stepping forwards into one. The residual adrenaline of the fight had left his body shaking, his heart still pounding, his wounds still throbbing. They had still won; or more-so, Emizel had won. A particularly nasty blow to the side had Soda reduced to the side lines for most of the fight, left to watch as his newly vampiric comrade had absolutely eviscerated the competition.

Emizel had only been turned a day ago, but it was impossible not to notice how it had changed him. He already acted so goddamn confident, so on top of the world, and this newfound power, newfound speed and strength, only built upon his insane ego.

The Fangs that they encountered here on this night stood no fucking chance. Emizel was too quick, too strong, and he easily chased off the rivals. It was only now, as the final unfortunate opponent had turned to flee, a clean clock in the jaw sent the human tumbling to the ground with a dull thump, and it did not move afterward.

Soda shifts his shoe out of the puddle, the cold seeping into his sock being one of the few things keeping his mind in his body in the moment. Is the guy breathing?

A low laugh bleeds from Emizel as he stretches his arms, licking his sharpened teeth as he stares off in the direction the remaining Fangs went. Soda knew that look on his face, the look of a tiger pondering on its next kill, he knew well that Emizel wanted to chase them.

But the guy on the ground.. It was one punch to the face, and the wicked crack sound that came from it had planted a seeding dread within Sodas chest.

As he steps forward, around the puddle, the resulting sound made Emizels attention click back over to Soda, the snap of his gaze making Soda flinch.

The two lock eyes, and Soda weakly gestures to the limp body on the floor. "The uh.. I think.. Is that guy dead?" He finally asks, having a hard time keeping contact with Emizels intensely red eyes.

Emizel turns his attention to said body, tilting his head as he goes to kick at the thing, turning it over. "Man no way hes dead, I punched him once." He mutters.

"Well, yeah, but his head almost twisted all the way around when you did.." Soda steps up to stand beside Emizel, the two boys standing with their hands in their pockets, down at this unfortunate, limp body.

"Should we hide it?" Soda asks, glancing back over at Emizel, who had.. An odd look on his face. He was clearly pondering something, but Soda could only guess whatever was going on in that brilliant head of his. He knew and trusted that Emizel was smart. If anyone could figure out what to do about this, it would be him.

But the lack of an answer had anxiety chewing at the back of Sodas rib cage, and after a second, he speaks up again, compelled to fill what he perceived as a tense silence. "Like.. I dunno, I've never uh... killed a guy..." He shrugs, prompting Emizel to let out a big sigh.

"He's not dead man, just out fuckin cold." Emizel kneels down next to the body, putting an ear up to its chest, and pondering on that for a moment. An uncertainty twists his expression, as he decides to instead place a hand on the victims throat, checking for a pulse. A moment passes, and seemingly finding nothing, he pulls back.

"Uh... Okay, so he might be dead."

Something about the confirmation from Emizel made a shiver run up Sodas spine. That, or maybe it was just the breeze agitating the cold water in his shoe.

"Huh… Damn.." Was all that Soda could really get to leave his mouth. Which was hardly a splash compared to the torrent that was slowly churning in his head. They just killed a guy. Or, Emizel just killed a guy. And it was so easy. They had to hide the body now, right? That was the usual progression here? Getting caught for murder was way more extreme than getting caught for breaking mailboxes with soda cans. It was so, so disturbingly easy. It really was just one punch. It's not like the Fangs are weak by any means, so just one punch? And this guy is dead? Forever?

Or, perhaps by human means, their rivals were fairly tough. But Emizel was on a whole other level. No mortal could stand up to him now...

"Hey, are you okay?"

The question had pulled Soda back from his head, his gaze flicking back over to Emizel, who was looking up at him with those eerie, piercing red eyes. Soda felt another shiver.

"Uh, ieah man, I'm all good." Soda nods, swallowing down whatever anxiety was bubbling up in his throat.

But Emizel didn't seem satisfied by his answer, standing back up and staring down his human comrade. Soda couldn't meet his eyes, his gaze instead traveling downward, and pausing on Emizels red, cut-up shirt. There was something off about the color, the way it seemed darker in some spots, brighter in others.. Wait, wasn't Emizel wearing a white shirt before all this?

The vampire boy seems to pick up on Sodas expression, following his eyes down to his shirt. "Oh, yeah! While you were on the floor, the knife guy got me a little" He says, a stupidly simple smile on his face. Soda was about to let out a laugh at how unbothered his friend seemed by it, but it gets caught in his throat when Emizel goes to pull his shirt up.

The sound of the bloodied fabric peeling away from skin made Sodas own skin crawl, but that wasn't nearly as bad as the sight of the intense gash running from his collar bone, down to his stomach.

"Oh, fuck dude!" Soda gasps, but Emizel laughs it off. Even despite knowing Emizel well, Soda was still surprised by just how much Emizel could shrug off. "Shit, doesn't that hurt, dude?"

"Oh yeah this fucking hurts!" he says with a laugh, his smile big and toothy and proud as he presents this egregious wound. Swollen and angry, pulsing with a slow heartbeat, and still oozing with thick, dark blood.

The sight of the split flesh, and the glints of bone beneath the dark, dark red all tugged at Sodas gag reflex, and yet he couldn't pull his eyes away. So Emizel's just been walking and talking so normally this whole time with his chest just cleaved wide open? Soda felt just as impressed as he felt horrified.

It wasn't until Emizel reaches down to poke at the abhorrent wound that Soda snaps out of it. Watching his friend press his fingers into the bloodied flesh, and slowly pulling it apart, allowing more ichor to seep from the gash, it was too much to watch at this point.

Soda reaches up to put a hand on Emizels wrist, the vampire boy stopping, and looking up at his friend.

Soda found himself freezing again when he locks eyes with Emizel. He was going to say something now, right? "U-uhm.." Is all he really chokes out, giving Emizels wrist a gentle tug. "D-do you. Uh. I suppose a hospital Isn't a place you can go anymore..?"

Emizel just smirks at that, letting Soda pull his hand away from the wound. "Oh, yeah no, but it's fine. I mean, I don't think it's gonna kill me" He shrugs. It was so, so impressive just how unphased Emizel was by all this. Fuck he's actually so cool.

"Well yeah man but it's like, still a bleeding hole. Like you're soaked in blood dude, I'm pretty sure that even a vampire needs that stuff on like, the inside." Soda rubs the back of his head, still unnerved by the sight of it all. "Vampires have like, super healing, don't they?"

"Oh yeah like, regeneration powers. I know I heal faster sometimes but I dunno how to just, activate it on command.." Emizel hums, his eyes narrowing down at his own injury, as if trying to will it into mending. Soda looks away, unable to watch that vile gash ooze any longer.

"I dunno man, how do they do it in like, video games?" Soda tosses the question out, trying to click together some sort of solution in his own head.

"Uhhh.. Huh, video games.." Emizel repeats to himself, chewing on the thought while idly poking at the laceration; until an idea audibly flickers to life in his head. "Oh, I just gotta refill my blood meter. Or whatever."

"Oooh yeah, blood meter!" Soda perks up, "Of course, see this is why you're the brains, man" Soda smiles, glancing back over to his cool friend, but immediately needing to look away again when the sight of that egregious gash tugs bile back into his throat.

While Soda averts his eyes, Emizels eyes wander back over to the body, and that classic 'Emizel has a bad idea' smile creeps across his face.

"Well, if this guys dead, I'm sure he's not gonna need all that blood.." He grins, kneeling down next to the body again.

The word 'wait' had hardly gotten the chance to crawl from Sodas mouth, before Emizel lifts up the arm of the unfortunate body, pulling the sleeve back, and immediately sinking his teeth into the exposed wrist.

The sound and the sight of blood gushing around Emizels teeth made Soda cringe, his hand impulsively coming up to aide his own wrist. An empathetic phantom pain made his wrist ache, his imagination simulating the feeling of shark teeth cutting into skin, sinking deep into the flesh, and clacking against bone. That was a lot of blood, that was streaming down the arm of this fodder.

A low growl bleeds from Emizel as he adjusts his teeth, cutting into more flesh, opening the wound further, and allowing a pulsing torrent of red to stream down his chin, onto his coat. It was an annoying thing, to clean blood out of clothing. Most of the Demons deemed it easier to just let the stains remain. But the night that Emizels throat was torn open, and liters upon liters were granted freedom from his human form, the unbelievable mess had practically changed half the color of Emizels iconic coat.

That was the first time Soda had ever seen that much blood from one person. And well. This would probably be the second.

The sight was unnerving, but it was impossible to look away. The alley was quiet, save for the distant bustle of a distant city, which made the noisy squish and squelch of teeth gnawing on flesh all the more apparent and nauseating.

Emizel had become a monster for sure, and watching it feed on something was… thrilling, in a way. It reminded Soda of feeding a pet spider, or lizard. A mouse for a snake.

It's a heavy thing to witness, the end of a human life. The fear of death is a primal thing, and Soda was no different from any other living thing. He figured everyone else feared death just as much as he does. Well, maybe except for Emizel, of course.

It made sense. Emizel was such a cocky and noisy kind of guy, but hes always had the power to back it up. Even when he lost, or seemed at his lowest, Soda still saw this sort of fire in him, one that Soda admired.

Of course Emizel would be the one to become something like a vampire. Something that Soda had always figured was just a fantasy creature thing. He wondered; if vampires were real, what else was real? Werewolves? Zombies? Unicorns? Are there real demons? Like from hell? Is hell real? Is he going to hell?

The sudden ttteeeeaaaaarrrr of flesh rips soda from his wandering thoughts. Emizel was tugging his head away from the arm of his kill, his teeth clamped down into the chewed meat, and pulling it apart. Soda had seldom seen so much of the inside of a human arm, and the sight of spilling threads and squirming veins was hardly something he ever wanted to stomach again.

"Oh fuck, dude, hey-" Soda steps forward, raising a hand, but the way Emizel snaps his head back over to him, twisting to an unnatural degree, Soda cant help jolting back.

Reddened teeth glint menacingly in the low light, a threatening growl thundering from its clenched, dripping jaws. Emizels eyes were focused, yet wild, glowing with whatever light they could reflect.

Sodas eyes were wide, and his body was frozen in the thick, electric tension within the air. It was like staring down an angry dog.. Suddenly a light bulb in his head flickers to life. It was kind of like an angry dog, right? One hunched over a meal it didn't want to give up. Memories of old encounters and unfortunate dog bites resurface in Sodas head, and with that experience, and with those lessons learned, he gathers the courage to react.

He shuts his eyes, keeping them closed for a few seconds, as he slowly pulls back his arm, and slowly steps back. It was an eye contact thing, wasn't it? Eye contact makes dogs angry, right? That was how you dealt with an angry dog? As he pulls back, and takes in a breath for composure, he finally dares to peek at the angry vampire before him again.

Its snarling had died down, but its eyes were still trained intently on Soda. After a tense, and agonizingly, slow pause... It blinks back, lowering its head back down to its meal, but keeping its anxious stare on this potential threat.

A relieved sigh falls from soda as the tension finally melts. He didnt realize he was holding in so much of his breath. "O-okay, man.. It's yours, you uh.. Earned it.." Soda mutters, stepping back further, until he was standing in a sufficiently dry enough space to sit down in. Now that he wasn't standing, he was finally taking into mind just how much his hands were shaking.

It's odd. Soda couldn't really describe this feeling thrumming in his chest as something like fear.. Nausea? For sure. Disturbed and rattled? Oh absolutely. This was certainly a sight he would have a hard time scrubbing from his eyelids when he sleeps tonight. But he wasn't scared. The memory of the night that Emizel was sired still coated the inside of his mind like an unwashable film. Even in that moment, when the unnatural teeth from the unnatural maw of an unnatural thing hovered over his throat, he couldn't say with confidence that he was scared.

Emizel really is his best friend in the world. And he knows with his whole heart that Emizel feels the same. He knew and trusted that his best friend would never hurt him. Not too badly at least. He loves Emizel, and would give anything to support him.

Like a mouse to a snake.

This really is an incredible power that his comrade had come across, and Soda especially felt a sort of pride in his friend. He felt it was worth it to help him feed it.

The bile in his throat had made its point, and Soda agreed, that watching someone die, and get torn apart and drained might be too much for him. Despite how much he hated the Fangs, the end of any human life seemed like such a jarring thing. To have such an intense fear finally get confronted. Would he go to hell?

Maybe he couldn't just feed people to his friend. So an alternative could be donated blood, right? Soda wouldn't mind giving up something like blood. His body makes it for free, after all. Maybe some other Demons would agree to give up some blood too. But they shouldn't have to take on such a burden. Soda wouldn't mind being the only one. The only one. The only one.

His hand comes up to rub at his neck, as his imagination conjures up what it might feel like to have teeth sink into his flesh. He's been stabbed before, is that sort of what it would feel like? Would he have to get stitches? He didn't really want to get stitches, so maybe there could be a more effective way to get the blood out of him. And there was so much vital stuff in his neck too. There's' a vein that's safe to cut into somewhere, right? He would have to look that up later.

A STARTLING RINGING;

Splits the moment,

Prompting both Soda and Emizel to jolt in shock,

As the phone in Emizels pocket rings away.

Acting as if nothing abnormal had taken place, Emizel pulls out his phone, and answers it.

"Heyy, Johnny! Yeah we chased em off, I don't think those bastards will be infesting this street again anytime soon. Yeah, ieah we'll be heading back soon. Oh fuck yeah dude, save us some!"

Emizel covers the speaker of his Nokia, turning back to Soda with a big smile on his violently bloodied face. "They got some pizza waiting for us back home, dude!" he whispers out to him.

Soda does his best to crack a smile, and to suppress the look of unease that probably stained his face, as he stares at the literal murder scene that's been splattered about in front of him.

"Oh, yeah, hell yeah man.." He swallows down the bile again. "What kind of uh.. Soda did they get?"

Emizel ponders that, before turning back to the phone to ask Sodas question.

"Sprite and a big pack of that one strawberry mountain dew" Emizel tosses the answer back over to Soda, who gives a nod, and thumbs up.

Mountain dew is so neat, Soda really liked all the wacky flavors those guys come up with. The thought of going home and opening a can of soda was certainly a comfort. After witnessing all this blood and gore and viscera, Soda absolutely needed to get back home and get a nice cold glass of something bright red .

As Sodas mind wanders off to soda, Emizel wraps up the conversation on the phone, before hanging up, and standing up.

The movement had pulled Sodas mind back into the moment, enough for him to timidly voice a concern he's had since the start of this debacle.

"Uh, hey, so.. The body, should we… Uh.." He gestures vaguely to it, and Emizel grants it a nonchalant glance.

"Eh, I can toss it into a dumpster or something, I dunno. I'm sure its fine. I'll handle it."

The vampire boy goes to pick up the corpse, the wound in its mangled arm no longer even dripping with blood, the flesh pale from the absolute absence of red in its veins.

"Go ahead and meet me by that one mailbox, the one with the bullet hole in it." Emizel casually instructs, tossing the drained body over his shoulder. "I'll catch up."

"Uh, yeah, okay.." Soda musters up a nod, and the strength to rise back up to his feet, wincing as that bruise on his side makes itself loudly known again. He still felt anxious, but even despite it all, he knew he could trust Emizel to take care of things. He always does. "Just stay safe man, I'll see you there." Soda assures with a smile, and Emizel matches it, tossing him a wink. And then suddenly- -He's gone! If Soda had blinked he would've missed it, but he was fortunate enough to just barely catch the glimpse of Emizel darting off at an inhuman speed, probably looking for a place to dump the body. Right, he would take care of it. Emizel always makes sure his crew is taken care of. Well... Guess all that's left for Soda is for him to walk back to that meeting spot. He looks around the alley for a moment, taking in the sight of that enormous pool of blood in the middle of the concrete. Or whatever the floor of this alley is made from. He ponders on the present moment a little longer than he meant to, the shock of it all leaving him aimless for just a few, soothing moments of just, decompression. The night is quiet, vast, and cold, but the stresses of just the past 5 hours had left his body radiating with fiery aches and pains, so the chill of the occasional clawing breeze was welcomed. Except for when said breeze agitated the cold water still soaked into his sock. He should step in another puddle on his way back to even it out. The smell of rain still rested heavy in the air, heralding another storm on the horizon. There was that, and then, well, there was also the blood. The stench of it felt far too intense to just ignore it, the metallic miasma making itself maliciously unmistakable. Maybe the impending storm will wash this mess away... He looked forward to putting this unfortunate night behind him. With one last rattled, but deep breath, he stuffs his hands in his pockets, and turns away, strolling back over to the mailbox that Emizel had described.

He couldn't wait to get home and drink some soda with his friends.

[kaurwreck]

It's actually really appropriate that bsd happened to me because I learned about the Sengoku period of Japan from Samurai Warriors. I was moé Oichi in the very first dream in which I exercised volitional control over the dream narrative and environment.