#beats white earbuds

[sabjolelectronics]

Active Noise Cancelling (ANC) continuously blocks unwanted outside noise using a finely-tuned filter that dynamically adapts to your surroundings.

🤑Offer ends Jan 20. 🤑Subscribe and enjoy 10% OFF Regular Prices. 🚚Delivery in 2-5 Days. 👉Follow @sabjolelectronics for daily deals

[allurilove]

Teenager Yandere Husband x teenager you

“What would happen if you went to the same school as him?”

Rated 16 + — regular ol’ short content !

Teen!Yandere Husband had a major scene phase starting sophomore year. It was his way of saying ‘fuck you’ to his old man, and he started to grow as his own person. He was finally able to express himself in a way his father tried to repress. His father was interested in fashion, creating multiple pieces and clothing that had made it to the runways, but he made sure teen!yandere husband looked proper. Not dressing him in the eccentric and world stopping outfits his father was known for, but the cookie cutter boy you see in those movies about snobby rich people. His dad thought his new bright hair was hideous, and when he started to cut up holes in his jeans— he got a whooping that night. That didn’t stop teen!yandere husband, it only fueled him to go all out. He had black eyeliner on his waterline, multiple rhinestone belts on his hips, and wore long striped socks with his boots. He donated all of his old polo shirts, cream white sweaters, and traded his name brand shoes for a pair of converses.

Teen!Yandere Husband enjoyed listening to My Chemical Romance, 3OH!3, and Get Scared. He had all of their latest music downloaded onto his mp3 player, and he listened to it with his girlfriend at the time. They both shared an earbud, and his arm was around her shoulders. She was just the type of girl he liked: she had those skunk extensions in her hair, long eyelashes, fishnets on her arms, and she smelled like a record store (idk if that’s a compliment). But alas, all mildly good things came to an end when he was broken up with. She wanted an alternative man by her side, and he wasn’t enough for her.

Teen!Yandere Husband started to grow out his hair junior year. He had to constantly brush his bangs out of his face, blowing at the strands whenever they poked at his eyes. He was this tall six foot two guy, bumping into people in the hallways with his wide shoulders. And he had an attitude. He didn’t apologize, just grunting out a ‘watch it’ before he stomped his way to his class. Teen!yandere husband also picked fights with anyone that tried to comment on his appearance. He knew how to throw a mean punch, and he learned it all from his great aunt. Breaking peoples noses and fingers were easier than he thought, and getting away with it was just as sweet than the thrill he felt. His father made constant excuses for teen!yandere husband, saying that it was just a phase and he was just a boy, and if that didn’t work… well a gracious donation would be sent to the school.

Teen!Yandere Husband got his dick pierced the summer before senior year. It was a risky move, his father was already on the brink of snapping at him and kicking him to the curb. But, thankfully his aunt was cool about it, and signed the paperwork. While he was at it, he got his ears and belly button done too.

Teen!Yandere Husband noticed you around senior year. He was cleaning up his ‘bad boy’ act, trying to get on people’s good side before the year ended. While he was on his apology tour, he saw you sitting at the library alone. He doesn’t remember if he had done anything horrible to you, and if he did, he would absolutely beat himself up for it. He was about to approach you, but then he suddenly remembered his appearance, and was self conscious about the way he looked. Who would love to be with a mess of a man like him? Surely, you already had people lining up to be with you.

Teen!Yandere Husband made his first move by asking you to sign his yearbook. You had made him nervous. Just your presence alone was making him sweat. He held brief eye contact with you when he asked, leaning against the white bricked wall with a blush to his cheeks. His voice soft and yet baritone, and he held up the yearbook for you to write your name in.

“Ah yeah… I think we had like one class together? With that really grumpy man that’s about to retire soon.”

You smiled, a little snort coming from you. He watched you add a little heart into your name. “You’re gonna have to be specific. That’s like half the teachers here.”

“You know,” he was totally talking out of his ass, “the teach that shakes his fist whenever he sees teens running down the halls.”

“Really? That’s odd. I never had a male teacher.”

“W-What? Oh-“ he gulped, adverting his eyes towards the ground. He shoved his hands into his pockets, and he awkwardly shifted between his weight. “Maybe I’m misremembering things.”

“If we took a class together… I definitely would have remembered.”

That left him speechless. Did you mean that in a good way?

“You’re sort of hard to forget… you kind of look like Sam Monroe from Life as a House.” you bit your lip, and your eyes took in the sight of his dark but colorful clothing. He had this scent that made him smell like fresh rain and wood.

He hadn’t seen that movie, but he was gonna guess on a whim that might’ve been your way of saying he’s … cute?

Teen!Yandere Husband got your number and followed you around all summer. He was actually shy when he got to hang out with you outside of school. Hours before he met you, he walked back and forth in front of his mirror, trying to give himself a pep talk before the hangout. He wasn’t this nervous before, and he started to fret about his appearance. He had put on his best jeans, clean shoes, and the classic sort of fancy tee. He picked you up in his red corvette, playing music from the radio incase you didn’t like what he usually listened to. He was determined to make this “hang out that’s totally not a date” perfect.

Teen!Yandere Husband casually paid for your things, and opened all the doors for you. He totally thought he was winning in the ‘gentleman’ department. He gave you compliments that teetered between the lines of flirtation, and just being friendly. He actively listened to whatever you had told him, making mental notes to bring them up in later conversations. That seemed to make you happy. You two had stopped by a carnival he coincidentally had tickets for. He tried his hardest to help you at any game, and he was pretty good at throwing darts. He happily smiled for whatever photo booth you brought him into, not once complaining when you wanted to use props.

Teen!Yandere Husband had genuinely smiled whenever he was around you. You just made life better. You were his little comedian, his best friend that’ll he never forget.

Full fics: these fics are an aged up version of yandere husband obvs, and it contains smut.

#1 #2 #3 #4 (coming soon)

Allure: this would be soo him if he were to text reader.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

heyy cash!! i can say in full confidence you’re the only one on this app who actually characterises katsuki PERFECTLY (imo), what do you think katsuki’s clothing style would be?? 💗💗💗

stop stop omg ill pass out....THANK YOU SO MUCH???? Yall rlly love to spoil me with these types of comments omg i'm so glad :<<< thank youu!

and OUUU I LOVEEE THIS QUESTION !! i've been itching for someone to ask me this lololol i have a whole pinterest board of what i think he'd dress like actually ! (im very normal)

i think he's very casual, he loves hoodies and baggy tee's or tee's with sleeves. baggy pants are a must for him too ! and ive mentioned this before but i feel like he's a big shoe guy, so i think you'll catch him with dunks on all the time i think he really likes those ! i feel he'd also like wearing converses and i feel he keeps them pretty clean, but they're a bit beat up and the white part is always faded and yellow-ish (despite him spending hours wiping at them lol he'd crash out) i do think he likes to keep his shoes very tidy n clean, you'll NEVER catch his dunks dirty tho ever, and if someone steps on them they get a blast to the face LMFAOOOO

OH OH to add i think he likes him a graphic tee as well, very stylish boy from a family of designers so yaknowww,, i think he likes 2000s styles as well but thats for another time

i don't think he'd wear hats Uber often unless its cold, and he'd love wearing headphones like..everywhere tho i feel like he likes to carry earbuds around as well i dont think he'd constantly want to wear headphones in general,, he loves him some music tho (and he can ignore people when he has them on LOLOLOL)

sorry for the rambling i love him, i added some images at the bottom to reference what i mean :33 much luv !!! and tysm for the ask !!

[ahqkas]

♯WICKED GAME ; tate langdon

PAIRING! tate langdon x gn!reader

SYNOPSIS! the world was on fire and no one could save you but him

WORD COUNT! 2.3k

WARNINGS / TAGS! fluff, angst, kissing, mention of tate’s past, reader is described to have hair

NOTES! the first song is ‘lavender moon’ by haroula rose , the second one is ‘wicked game’ by chris isaak . all credits to the pretty devider below belong to @menschenopfer !

THE LATE AFTERNOON SUN FILTERED THROUGH THE CRACKED BLINDS, casting golden streaks across your room. Dust motes floated lazily in the air, caught in the dying light. You were sprawled out on your bed, headphones in hand, scrolling through your playlist for something that matched the mood. Tate was beside you, perched on the edge of the bed, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. He'd become a fixture in your life, as constant as the house itself, though infinitely more complicated.

You pressed play on a random song and handed him one of the earbuds. He took it without a word, his fingers brushing against yours in a way that sent a shiver up your arm. The touch was brief but electric, a reminder of the strange, magnetic pull that had drawn you to him from the start.

❛ White walls always weep

When I try to fall asleep

In this city by the sea

Walk the memories

Just me and the lavender moon

She knows

My heart belongs to you ❜

There was something about Tate — something dark and dangerous, but also deeply comforting. Maybe it was the way he always seemed to know what you were thinking before you said it, or the way he looked at you, like you were the only person in the world who truly mattered. It should have scared you, how easily he got under your skin, how effortlessly he'd slipped into your life and made himself at home. But it didn't. If anything, you welcomed it, welcomed him, because with Tate, you didn't have to pretend. You could just be.

❛ Filled with secrets like these

Haunted by long gone dreams

She bends down low

Walks me home

Just me and the lavender moon

She knows

My heart belongs to you ❜

The music played softly between you, the familiar rhythm of a song you'd heard a thousand times before. Tate closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall, and for a moment, you just watched him, taking in the sharp angles of his face, the way the fading light softened his features. He looked almost peaceful, like this was where he belonged — right here, beside you. Like an angel.

A few more songs passed in comfortable silence, the kind you'd grown to cherish with him. No need for words, no pressure to fill the quiet with meaningless chatter. Just the two of you, together, in a world that often felt too big and too empty.

❛ The world was on fire and no one could save me but you

It's strange what desire will make foolish people do ❜

You glanced at Tate through your lashes, wondering how he'd react to the song, but his expression remained unreadable, his eyes still closed as if lost in some distant memory.

It was impossible not to think of Tate when you heard those words. Impossible not to think of the way he'd become your world in such a short time, the way you were drawn to him despite the warnings in the back of your mind, the ones that whispered that this was dangerous, that Tate was dangerous. But you ignored them, like you always did, because nothing else mattered when he was around. Nothing else made sense without him.

You felt his gaze on you before you opened your eyes, a slow-burning intensity that made your heart skip a beat. When you finally looked at him, he was watching you with that familiar, unreadable expression — part longing, part sadness, all wrapped up in a kind of quiet desperation that tugged at something deep inside you.

"Do you think," he began, his voice hesitant, "it's wrong to want something you can't have?"

The question hung in the air between you, heavy with implication. You knew what he was asking, what he wasn't saying. You knew him well enough by now to recognize the way he danced around the truth, always skirting the edges of it, never fully diving in. It was as if he was afraid that speaking it aloud would make it real, would make it hurt more.

Your throat tightened, and you swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. "I think . . . we can't help what we want."

His eyes darkened, a shadow passing over his features, and for a moment, you thought he might look away, might retreat back into that guarded place where you couldn't follow. But he didn't. Instead, he leaned forward, closing the small distance between you, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"I want you," he said, the words raw and unfiltered, like they'd been torn from somewhere deep inside him.

You should have been shocked, maybe even scared. But you weren't. You'd felt this moment building between you for months, a sweet burn that you couldn't have stopped even if you wanted to. And you didn't want to. You wanted him too, even if you weren't ready to admit it, even if the thought of it terrified you.

Tate reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek, and you leaned into his touch like a starved animal without thinking, without hesitation. His hand was cool, but the warmth in his eyes more than made up for it. He watched you with a kind of reverence, like you were something precious, something fragile that he was afraid to break.

"I know it's wrong," he continued, his voice trembling just slightly, "but I can't help it. You're . . . you're everything."

The music swelled, Chris Isaak's voice echoing through the room like a ghost. ❛ What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you . . . ❜

You reached up, covering his hand with yours, holding it against your cheek. The connection between you was undeniable, an invisible thread that pulled you closer even as your mind screamed at you to stop, to think about what you were doing, about what this meant.

But you couldn't stop. You didn't want to.

You were already hooked and Tate was the one reeling.

"Tate," you whispered, your voice shaking as much as his, "I want you too."

The admission hung in the air, a confession that felt both liberating and terrifying. Tate's eyes widened slightly, something unreadable flashing in their depths — hope, maybe, or fear, or something darker that you couldn't quite name. But whatever it was, it was enough to make him close the distance between you, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was as soft as it was desperate.

It was a kiss that spoke of everything you both felt but couldn't say, a kiss that was filled with all the longing, all the fear, all the desire that had been building between you for so long. His hand tangled in your hair, his fingers tightening as if he was afraid you might disappear, might slip away like a dream.

But you didn't pull away. You kissed him back with everything you had, pouring all your confusion, your need, your want into that single, fragile moment. The world outside the room didn't exist — there was only Tate, only the way he made you feel, like you were the center of the universe, like nothing else mattered.

When you finally broke apart, you were both breathing hard, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to catch your breath. The song was still playing, the final notes fading into silence, but neither of you moved to turn it off.

"I don't want to lose you," the boy whispered against your lips, his voice raw and vulnerable in a way you'd never heard before. "I can't lose you."

You squeezed his hand, trying to ignore the way your heart twisted at his words. "You won't. I'm here, Tate. I'm not going anywhere."

When you made the promise that day, you meant it.

Weeks after, you step into the room, the weight of the house pressing in on you like a too-tight garment. The air is thick with history, with secrets embedded in the wallpaper and worn into the grooves of the wooden floorboards. Every creak beneath your feet echoes in the silence, a reminder that this house is alive in ways it shouldn't be.

And then you see him.

Tate Langdon stands by the window, his silhouette framed against the dying light of the afternoon that reminded you of the old time all too well. The sun bleeds into the room, casting long shadows that stretch toward you, but they don't touch him. He's like a figure from another time, a ghost etched in shades of grey, all the life drained from him except for his eyes. Those eyes — honeyed and haunting — lock onto yours, and the world narrows until it's just the two of you, caught in this moment that feels like it could last forever.

You can't move. Your heart pounds in your chest, each beat a reminder of your own mortality. You wonder if he can hear it, if the sound cuts through the heavy silence that wraps around him like a shroud. His gaze is intense, unwavering, and it draws you in, pulls you closer despite the chill that crawls up your spine. You know you should be afraid — everything about him screams danger, from the way he stands too still, to the way he looks at you like he's trying to unravel all your secrets with a single glance.

But you aren't afraid. Not of him.

You've heard the stories from Moira a while ago, the whispered rumors about the boy who died too young, who left behind more than just memories. She said his spirit haunts this house, trapped in the echo of his own sins. But the boy standing before you now — he doesn't seem like a monster to you. Not really. He seems . . . lost. Like he's searching for something, or maybe someone, to bring him back to life, if only for a moment.

You step closer, drawn to him despite the voice in your head screaming for you to turn back, to leave this place and never return. But you can't. Something in his eyes, in the way he watches you, holds you captive. It's a wicked game, this dance between you — dangerous and intoxicating, with no clear end in sight.

He doesn't speak, but you feel the pull of his presence, the magnetic force that tugs at something deep inside you. You reach out, your hand trembling as it crosses the space between you. When your fingers brush against his, a shock runs through you, like touching ice and fire at the same time. You've never questioned the lack of warmth in his touch before. His skin is cold, too cold, but there's something warm in his touch, something that makes your breath catch in your throat.

For a moment, the world around you fades. There's only him, only Tate, standing so close you can feel the faint whisper of his breath against your cheek. He's not like anyone you've ever met, not like anything you've ever known. He's darkness and sorrow and something else — something tender, hidden beneath layers of pain and regret. You feel it in the way his fingers tighten around yours, in the way his eyes search your face as if he's trying to memorize every detail.

You shouldn't be here. You shouldn't want this. But you do.

The song plays in your mind, a haunting melody that echoes in the empty spaces between your thoughts. ❛ No, I don't want to fall in love . . . ❜ It's a lie, you think, because you're already falling, slipping into the abyss with no way to stop yourself. There's no safety net, no promise of salvation, only the cold comfort of his presence and the unspoken connection between you.

Tate moves closer, his other hand lifting to brush a stray lock of hair from your face. His touch is gentle, reverent, as though he's afraid you might be the one to disappear if he presses too hard. His gaze drifts to your lips, and you wonder if he's thinking the same thing you are — that you could close the distance between you with a kiss, that you could taste the darkness on his lips and make it your own again.

But you know better. You know this game is dangerous, that it can only end in heartbreak. And yet, as he leans in, you can't bring yourself to care. The world outside this room, outside this moment, doesn't matter anymore. There's only Tate, and the way he makes you feel — alive, despite the coldness of his touch, despite the fact that he isn't really alive at all.

It's ironic how a ghost can make you feel.

When his lips finally brush against yours, it's like a spark igniting in the darkness, a flame that burns bright and fast, consuming everything in its path. The kiss is soft at first, tentative, as though he's afraid of what might happen if he lets go. But you can feel the desperation beneath it, the hunger in his actions.

And maybe that's what you want. To be drowned, to be consumed by him, by this feeling that defies logic and reason.

The kiss deepens, and you lose yourself in it, in him, until there's nothing left but the two of you, entwined in the darkness. You don't know how long it lasts — seconds, minutes, an eternity — but when you finally pull away, you're breathless, your heart racing in your chest. His eyes are still locked on yours, and you see something in them that takes your breath away. It's not just desire or longing — it's something more, something raw and real, something that terrifies you because you feel it too.

You're falling, and there's no one to catch you.

You're not dreaming. This is real, as real as anything else in this house, as real as the boy standing before you, a boy who's more ghost than flesh but who makes you feel more alive than anyone ever has.

And as you stand there, your hand still in his, you realize that you don't care about the consequences, about the danger, about the inevitability of heartbreak. Because in this moment, with Tate's cold fingers wrapped around yours and the memory of his kiss still lingering on your lips, it's all worth it.

Even if it's just a wicked game.

[stevieschrodinger]

Part Four - Baker Steve/Rock Star Eddie wrong number AU - Final chapter/complete

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

The kids are quiet in the back.

There ended up being ten of them. Once Steve realized that eight people would not fit in his car, he talked to Nancy. Nancy sighed out of her nose the way she does, but Steve already knew she was going to say yes, especially with Mike ready to literally throw himself at her feet to beg.

And then obviously Jonathan had to come along. Turns out he actually, really, genuinely likes Corroded Coffin and was as excited as the kids to learn Steve had tickets. Well, excited in that understated, no energy for anything ever way that Jonathan has about him.

So yeah, Mike went with Nancy and Jonathan, which meant Dustin and Will got pushed in that direction. Steve could breathe a sigh of relief; that left him with Max, El, and Lucas. The sensible ones. The nice ones.

If you ignore how scathing Max could be. So the girls have an earbud each from Max’s phone and Lucas seems to be content to stare out of the window while Max stoically pretends they aren’t holding hands.

It’s cute.

Robins’ looking at the side of his face, Steve can feel it. He raises an eyebrow, ‘what?’

Robin raises both her eyebrows tips her whole head in question, ‘how you feeling?’

Steve shrugs, tilts his head dismissively. The he rethinks his answer for a more honest one, lifting one hand off the wheel to, out of sight of the kids, make a rocking gesture, ‘so-so.’

Robin nods sympathetically, seeming content with his answer, ‘that’s fair.’

He’d told Robin, obviously, that he’d hit it off with a customer and developed a monster crush and hopefully fingers and toes crossed that customer liked him back. He had not told her who Eddie actually is though, because even though it’s Robin and Steve did once get her to look at his dick because he thought something looked weird, (“It looks weird Steve, it’s a dick.” “Yeah, but weird like, see a doctor weird?”) and they have literally no secrets between them...this isn’t his secret.

Until tonight.

And Steve had to tell her just because tonight he might...actually get to meet Eddie. For real.

Once she’d finished squealing and beating him with a pillow, she’d understood.

So.

Steve’s kind of got a hurricane worth of butterflies in him.

Steve has detailed instructions and a QR code in the form of the email he printed from Eddie. All the kids laughed at him because ‘no one prints tickets any more, Steve’ but he was nervous, okay? And phone batteries can die or the internet could not work or. Yeah. He wanted a sure thing.

So they all go to the gate that the email says, and when the QR code gets scanned the woman with the scanner points off to the side, “can you wait there please,” and then pulls out a walkie talkie and speaks into it, “Steve Harrington has arrived.”

There’s a blast of static which, presumably, she understands, and then she goes back to doing her job. Less than five minutes later, five minutes filled with everyone but Robin demanding, “what the actual fuck, Steven,” someone else arrives. A guy with a tablet, a headset, and a very, very 100% done look on his face shows up. He’s wearing Corroded Coffin merch and asks the group to follow along. Which they do.

They’re led along white washed corridors, clearly under the stadium, and get dropped off in a room. A room with a TV on, and snacks and drinks, “this is all for you, go for it, I’ll be back before the support goes on.” And the dude leaves.

The girls, priorities sorted, lay into the snacks. Dustin and Mike are insisting again, “what the fuck is going on?” and getting ever more obnoxious about it.

Steve, very smugly, informs them that he, “knows a guy,” and settles down with the girls and a bag of Cheetos. He’s going to enjoy this while it lasts, watching Dustin splutter over it is very satisfying.

Steve wasn’t expecting any of this. He’s playing it as cool as he can, but he was expecting to get tickets, see the show, call Eddie after and maybe get to see him. He wasn’t expecting to be perched in seats the have been put at the side of the stage, just for them. Someone keeps checking on them, to bring them drinks and snacks.

He’s probably, right now, less than fifty feet from Eddie Munson. Eddie, who's wearing torn up skin tight jeans, shit kicker boots and nothing else. Eddie, who has his guitar slung at his back as he roars into the microphone.

The crowd are going batshit.

Steve’s slowly going insane. When the stage lights finally, finally go down, Steve thinks, this is it. He’s going to meet Eddie. Now is his moment.

The lights come back up, they play an encore. It’s four fucking songs long. Steve’s pulling his hair out as is genuinely concerned he might be sick.

The kids don’t notice; they’ve all just been given gift bags brimming with merch.

The band come over, once they’re finally done. They’re red faced and sweaty and the kids are all vibrating with excitement but Steve doesn’t care, he just doesn’t, because he can very clearly see Eddie leaving the other way. Disappearing off the other side of the stage. Away from Steve.

Well, fuck that.

Gareth is standing practically right next to Steve, signing the kids merch and talking to them, “where is Eddie?”

All the other members of the band look at Steve, and all of them look sheepish as fuck. “He’s, uhm, you know, busy.”

“Busy,” Steve replies, deadpan. And then it occurs to him. Eddie doesn’t know, so they don’t know. They think they’re keeping Eddie’s secret. “I know. I know it’s him. I want to see him.”

Every member of the band visibly relaxes, “see, I fucking told you he’s worked it out-” Jeff starts.

“Eddie is such a shitty liar,” Gareth agrees.

“Yes, he is. And I know it’s him, and I’ve known for ages, and now he’s…” Steve gestures weakly in the direction Eddie disappeared in.

“Having a meltdown in a greenroom because he thinks you’re going to hate him when you realize he’s been lying to you,” Jeff supplies helpfully.

“What the fuck is happening??” Dustin screeches. Steve pushes him away with a hand on the forehead.

Gareth laughs, “come on man. One way to settle this and honestly, I am so ready for it. I am done with his pining.”

Steve perks up immediately, jogging along after, “he’s been pining?”

Steve is left with a thumbs up, standing in an empty hallway, looking at a very, very unassuming door. He lifts his hand to knock but...can’t.

It doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel like...like them. So after a few moments of indecision, Steve jogs a little way along the hall and then pulls out his phone, calling Eddie.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

“Hi, Eds.”

“You enjoy the show?”

“I did, yeah, thank you, so so much. The kids loved it too. And all the, you know, extra stuff, it was all amazing...but I had, kind of hoped I’d get to see you tonight?”

“Yeah,” Eddie starts slowly. Painfully slowly, “about, about that-”

“Look,” Steve sighs, now genuinely terrified that this is it, and it comes out a little sharper than he means it too but, he's...kind of scared that this thing is going to die before it even starts, “if you don’t want to meet up, I get it.”

“No. No Steve, it isn’t that. It really, really isn’t, it’s just...I might have, withheld something from you. Slightly.”

“Is it that, you're Eddie Munson, Corroded Coffin’s front man?”

“You see, the thing is, I’m actually, Eddie, like the lead singer guy of-wait. Wait. Hold up. You- Steve. Stevie. Honey. What?”

“I know who you are Eddie. I’ve known for a while. I’m outside. The room. Like, I'm standing outside the door.”

“Oh,” Eddie breathes. And then...nothing.

“Eds?” Steve asks, tentatively.

“I was just...you don’t know what it’s like Steve. To be this famous. No one just...treats me like a normal guy. Not ever. Everyone wants something from me, you know? Everyone just thinks I’m rich and famous and I can do things for them. They only ever want to talk about the music and the shows and the fame and...I just...I’m...someone to fuck for bragging rights, not because anyone actually cares...no one. No one ever treats me, like, well, like a person. And you have, Stevie, this whole time you’ve just...been normal. I want someone who likes me for me... And I missed normal so much, and I thought, I was scared that once you found out I’d loose that but...you’ve known this whole time?”

Steve’s heart is kind of breaking for Eddie, and he wants to comfort him, show him nothing’s changing, but he isn’t going to force anything on him, this is Eddie’s choice, “yeah. I’ve known...pretty much the whole time yeah. You’re a...well, absolutely atrocious liar, Eddie Munson.”

“Yeah?” and Jesus he sounds like he’s laughing and crying a little, “are you, did you say you were outside? Are you still-”

“I’m here, right outside the door.”

“I. I, okay. Yeah. Yeah.” And then Eddie hands up.

And for a really long, really long minute, Steve worries that’s it. Eddie’s not going to open the door and-

The door opens slowly, Eddie peeking out at Steve. Steve can’t help laughing. And then Eddie laughs, coming the rest of the way out, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously. His eyes are red rimmed, like he’s been crying, and Steve’s desperately trying to blink back the tears himself, “can I hug you?”

“Yeah,” Eddie’s voice is rough from the gig, much more noticeable now in person, “yeah, I’d like that.”

Steve doesn’t hesitate, throwing his arms around Eddie’s shoulders and pulling him tight close. Eddie’s more tentative, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist and then...nuzzling into the side of Steve’s neck. Eddie takes a deep breath and...relaxes against Steve.

They stand there, hugging, Steve’s face buried in Eddie’s sweaty curls, swaying gently together in the quiet hallway.

@steves-yellow-cardigin @melodymeddler @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao

@superduckmilkshake @she-collects-smut @paintsplatteredandimperfect @resident-gay-bitch

@bestwifehaver @estrellami-1 @vampireinthesun @clumsiluni @swimmingbirdrunningrock @uwujinniee @heartdinosblog @overhillunderhill @noodle-shenaniganery @carlprocastinator1000 @danni-phant0m @wxrmland @steddie-as-they-go @i-have-three-feelings @space-invading-pigeon @antonymeanonyme @steddiedreamer @dragonmama76 @honorarybrit81 @punctualhowell @mojowitchcraft

@melodymeddler @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao @co5m0 @tinyplanet95

[springgirlshowers]

How about the reader and Joost are childhood friends that get split up, but reunite because Joost wants them to be apart of his eurovison team. They realize they miss eachother a lot and confess and happily ever after (⊃｡•́‿•̀｡)⊃

It’s So Sweet

Paring: Joost x GN!Reader (no pronouns used!)

CW: none!

A/N: ahhhhhh this one is so cuuuuuute! i love the childhood friends to lovers trope so much! thank you for the request and i hope you enjoy it <333

masterlist!

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Joost and you were never seen apart as kids. Always walking in the school hallways together, sitting and partnering up in the classes you had together. Constantly hanging out after school and on the weekends. You two were basically connected at the hip.

Until your family gave you the news you would be moving to Sweden. Something to do with a better job opportunity. You begged for them not to, to move somewhere where you currently were at least. Though you knew your pleas wouldn’t do much.

Before you left, Joost and you exchanged emails. To keep in touch while you two would be apart.

You did for awhile. But as you both got older, your emails to each other took longer. It would be weeks, months, before you replied to each other.

Until they just stopped completely. You two had gotten too caught up into your adulthood. You hadn’t returned to your hometown since you moved away.

Joost fell into a successful career as a musician. You getting yours as a dancer.

It’s been years since you and him talked.

Your heart nearly stopped once you saw the notification when you were on the bus after a rehearsal.

joostklein has requested to follow you.

His profile picture was a picture of him as a toddler. The one you’ve seen so many times before, hanging on the wall in his living room when you went over to hangout after school.

You looked through his account, he almost looked the exact same as he did when he was a preteen. Only his body was scattered in tattoos, he had grown a mustache, much taller, and his hair was dyed into a nearly white color and cut into a mullet.

His most recent posts were a reel revealing how he’d be representing the Netherlands in the next Eurovision competition, and another video revealing the date his song for the event would be released.

Minutes after you accepted the request and followed him back, he messaged you.

It was a simple question, asking if you were the same one he knew as a kid. You responded, telling him you were.

The texts following after that were a little bit awkward. Soon the tension between you both was gone, you told each about what you’ve been doing for the past years, how they’d gone, what you’ve been doing now.

After exchanging phone numbers, the texts turned into calls, then video chats.

You listened to his songs, almost going through every single one of his albums in one night.

You were surprised by a lot of the lyrics, by how the innocent boy with a side swept haircut you once knew, was now singing about having sex with women to a mario kart remixed beat and saying “suck my dick bitch” multiple times in another song.

You honestly found them catchy, however you realized they were better to listen to with earbuds in or alone, rather than in any public place.

However, the lyrics in other songs were more heart breaking. God, soul shattering even.

“Maybe it was wrong. But I miss us, I miss home.”

“My dad who was laying there, seen but no authority. We'll see by the days, we don't say goodbye. My mom who was laying there, I often think about that day.”

“Hey, I have a disease, it's a very specific one. I always panic and they have no therapies.”

“But still it hurts. Am running from myself. Cry the entire day for "help"

Joost would show you his tattoos, the ones he already had and the ones he wanted to get in the future, drawings he made, but he refused to show you the idea concepts for his Eurovision costume.

He told you he wanted it to be a surprise.

The day before he revealed his outfit to the rest of the world. He called you during a work break, telling you he had to show you something.

You opened the video call to see him standing there in a big bright blue suit with extremely pointy shoulders.

You felt bad when you let out a laugh, slapping your hand over your mouth to muffle it.

“You like it?” He asked, posing goofily.

“Yeah. It’s very…silly. Very big.” His grin only grew larger at your words.

“Perfect. That’s exactly what I was aiming for.” He smiled and sat down.

“So, your other friends, one of them is gonna dress up as a bird? And the other is gonna wear a clip on ponytail?”

“Yep!” He pipped. You just laughed and shook your head. He cleared his throat, his face on the screen looking nervous all of the sudden.

“So, you told me you still dance.”

“Yeah! I do group shows and stuff.” You nodded, placing your head on your fist.

“That’s great, very great. Um, do you still hakken?” You were a bit taken aback, confused by why he was asking about that specific dance.

“Uh yeah. But usually jokingly, like when I’m with friends.” You bit at your thumbnail. “Did you ever learn?”

“Yeah! I’ve gotten pretty good at it.” He chuckled, going silent for a minute after. “I’m wondering if you would perform with me, like on the stage. I need another back up dancer. And you’ve always been so talented at it.” His words made you blush, but you were still a bit unsure on what he was asking you.

“So, um, you want me to do the hakken dance with you? At your performance?” You felt nervous, when you did the dance you usually did it after a night of drinking to make your friends laugh.

“Only if you want to! I mean, we could meet up, I’m in Sweden now.”

“What?” You shouted, cringing at how loud it was.

“Yeah, i’ve been here to do interviews and all that stuff.” He scratched at his arms, a bit embarrassed he didn’t tell you earlier about this.

“You really don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” He spoke, “Its free of charge for you, you’ll get paid for it. If that persuades you.” He added on, joking.

“I’ll do it for free.” Maybe your answer was a bit too quick, maybe it was impulsive. But you really wanted to see Joost again, you’d jump at any chance you could see him.

The both of you agreed to meet up a few days later at a park not far from where you lived.

The park was quite empty, most likely due to the fact the sun was already going down, an orange gradient filling the sky.

You nervously walked up to him, he was sitting on a bench. He looked so familiar yet so different. It gave you a strange sense of nostalgia.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” He immediately grinned as he saw you. You sat down next to him.

The sunset cast a golden glow on his face, making his blue eyes so much more prominent, his face was so gorgeous.

“So you’ll really dance with me?”

“Yeah, why not.” You shrugged, completely unbothered by his question.

“You’ll be on a giant stage in front of thousands of people. You’ll be on TV with the entirety of Europe watching.” Joost felt nervous, he didn’t want to pressure you into doing this, he really wanted you to be there with himz But he wasn’t gonna force you into something you had no interest for.

“I’ve never been one for stage fright.” You smiled, the sweetness in your expression made his worries begin to drift away.

“Perfect.” He looked down at his feet, smiling so hard his cheeks begin to hurt, “I’ll text you the schedules and everything you need to know.”

“Cool.” You looked down at your shoes as well. Enjoying the comfortable silence and soft breeze of the air.

“I really missed you.” He spoke out, added your name to the sentence, making it more impacting. You looked at him, jaw ajar in admiration.

“I missed you too.” You said softly, placing your hand over his. Soon wrapping it around his. You both sat there for a few minutes like that.

“I’ve been thinking of moving back.” You broke the silence. “To the Netherlands, that is.”

“Really?” Joost looked at you, a mixture of amazement and shock in his face.

“Yeah. A company reached out to me, giving me a job opportunity. Really good pay, positive reviews, a safe workplace.” It felt funny, you were thinking about coming back to your hometown for the same reason your family made you leave.

“That’s great! You should take it!”

“I probably will. It seems promising.” You squeezed his hand. “And it’d be nice to be close to you again.” You added on, pursing your lips to try and hold back a smile, it failed.

“Yeah, yeah, that would be nice.” He murmured,“Um, I should get going, early TV interviews tomorrow.”

You nodded, getting up before he did.

“Just text me what channel you’ll be on, i’ll make sure to watch for you.” You said, a little bit too excitedly.

“Yeah, yeah, I will! I’ll see you later.” He chuckled.

“I’ll be in the Netherlands in a month most likely, just so you know. See you, Joost.” You turned, only getting a few steps in before his voice stopped you, causing you look back at him.

“There’s this really great ice cream parlor that opened up there, maybe we could, uh, go there when you’re back, if you’d like?” He cleared his throat.

“I’ll be going back in a month too, just for a little bit before I have to come here again.” He fiddled with his fingers.

“Awesome then, it’s a date.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

[flowerchild28]

Black and White

Louis Tomlinson imagine

Warnings: fluff

1.3k

The Beginning

The coffee shop buzzed with quiet chatter, but you were focused on your laptop, the untouched cappuccino beside you cooling quickly.

Louis entered, scanning for a seat. His usual spot was taken, so he hesitated before approaching your table. “Mind if I sit here?” he asked with a small smile.

Startled, you nodded. “Sure.”

You quickly returned to your work, but his presence was impossible to ignore. After a few moments, he broke the silence. “Work stuff?”

You looked up, flustered. “Yeah, kind of.”

The conversation started awkwardly but soon grew natural. He was charming, witty, and had a knack for making you laugh. Days turned into weeks, and his presence at the coffee shop became routine. He'd sit across from you, making every mundane detail seem interesting.

One chilly afternoon, Louis leaned back, his gaze softer than usual. “I keep coming here for the coffee… but mostly for you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Really?”

He nodded. “I’d like to spend more time with you. If you’re up for it.”

A smile spread across your face. “I’d like that.”

And just like that, the start of something beautiful began.

A Year In

It had been a year since that first coffee shop conversation, and the warmth between you and Louis had only grown. Tonight, you were curled up on the couch, sharing a blanket and a bowl of popcorn as a romantic comedy played on the TV.

Louis laughed at the over-the-top wedding scene on screen, nudging you playfully. “Think you’d ever go for something like that? A big, dramatic entrance, doves flying everywhere?”

You smirked, tossing a popcorn kernel at him. “Please, I’d trip walking down the aisle. And doves? They’d probably attack someone.”

“Noted,” he said, grinning. “Low-key wedding it is. I’ll wear sneakers.”

“Wait, you’re planning our wedding now?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged, his blue eyes sparkling. “Maybe. You’d look pretty good in white, though.”

The comment hung in the air for a moment, light yet full of meaning. You laughed, trying to play it off, but your cheeks flushed.

“Well,” you said, nudging him back, “you better make sure you don’t trip either. I’d hate to marry someone with a bruised nose.”

Louis chuckled, pulling you closer. “Deal. But only if you’re the one at the end of the aisle.”

The future suddenly felt closer than ever.

Kitchen dances

The late afternoon sunlight poured through the window as Louis wandered into the kitchen, drawn by the faint sound of music and the scent of something cooking. There you were, in the middle of the floor, twirling and singing along to Black and White by Niall Horan, completely lost in the moment.

He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms, a mischievous smirk tugging at his lips. He waited until you hit the high note with exaggerated passion before chiming in.

“Didn’t know I was dating a backup singer for Niall.”

You froze mid-spin, whipping around to see him watching you with amusement. “Louis!” you exclaimed, yanking out an earbud, your face instantly flushing. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to know you’re really into this song,” he teased, stepping closer. “What’s the deal? Secretly a big fan of his or something?”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Oh my God, this is so embarrassing. He’s your friend!”

Louis chuckled, gently prying your hands away. “Relax, love. I think it’s cute.”

“It’s just… it’s such a good song,” you admitted, your cheeks still warm. “I love, love, love it. The lyrics, the vibe—everything about it feels so perfect.”

He tilted his head, his grin widening. “So, you’re telling me you’ve been having a little Niall concert in here every time I’m not home?”

“Maybe,” you muttered, crossing your arms but unable to hide your smile.

Louis couldn’t stop laughing now, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you into a spin. “You know I have to tell him, right? ‘Hey, mate, my girlfriend’s your number one kitchen dancer.’”

“No, you absolutely do not,” you said, poking his chest, but your laughter betrayed you.

“Alright, alright,” he said, smirking. “But only if you admit that, as good as the song is, you’d pick dancing with me over Niall’s voice any day.”

You rolled your eyes dramatically. “Fine, you win. You’re the better dance partner.”

“Damn right I am,” he quipped, swaying with you in time to the music still playing softly from your headphones.

The Wedding

The venue was a dream—an open garden bathed in the golden light of early evening. Fairy lights twinkled in the trees, casting a soft glow over rows of friends and family, all waiting eagerly. At the altar, Louis stood in a navy suit that perfectly fit his cheeky yet charming demeanor. His trademark grin softened into something deeper as he fiddled with his tie, sneaking glances down the aisle.

Then the music began.

Every head turned as you stepped into view, your dress flowing gracefully, your smile nervous yet radiant. Louis froze, his breath catching in his chest. For a split second, the world seemed to hold its breath too. As you reached him, your hand found his, his touch grounding you.

“You’re lucky I didn’t trip,” you whispered, a playful glint in your eye.

“You’d still be the most stunning person here,” he murmured, squeezing your hand.

The officiant welcomed everyone, setting the stage for a ceremony filled with love and laughter. When it came time for the vows, Louis went first, his voice steady but brimming with emotion.

“Y/N, I knew I was in trouble the second I saw you in that coffee shop. You were too focused, too smart, and way too good at ignoring me.” The guests laughed, and Louis smirked. “But you let me sit with you, and that one moment changed everything.

“In the past year, you’ve made my life brighter, my jokes funnier because you actually laugh at them, and my kitchen dances so much better. I promise to keep making you laugh, to save you the last slice of pizza—even if it kills me—and to always remind you that you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I love you, endlessly.”

You laughed through your tears, shaking your head at his perfect mix of humor and heart. Taking a deep breath, you began your vows.

“Louis, from the moment you scared me half to death by asking to share my table, you’ve been unforgettable. You’ve made every day feel special—whether it’s with your silly jokes, your endless support, or that ridiculous way you sing Niall’s songs off-key just to annoy me.” Louis raised a brow, grinning as the crowd laughed.

“But more than that, you’ve made me feel safe, seen, and loved in ways I didn’t know I needed. I promise to always dance in the kitchen with you, to put up with your terrible driving directions, and to remind you every day how much you mean to me. I love you, endlessly.”

The officiant pronounced you husband and wife, and as Louis dipped you for a dramatic, laughter-filled kiss, the crowd erupted in cheers.

Later at the reception, just as you thought the night couldn’t get any better, Louis grabbed a microphone, flashing that mischievous grin. “Alright, love, I’ve got a little surprise for you.”

Before you could ask, the lights dimmed, and a familiar voice filled the room. Niall Horan himself strolled onto the stage with a guitar in hand.

Your jaw dropped as he smiled at you. “Heard this one’s your favorite,” he said, winking.

The opening chords of Black and White filled the air, and Niall’s soulful voice swept through the crowd. Louis pulled you onto the dance floor, holding you close as you swayed to the song.

Tears welled in your eyes as you looked up at him. “You did this for me?”

“Of course,” he said, his voice warm. “Anything for the girl who makes me believe in forever.”

I hope you like it. If got a lot of requests lately and im trying my best to write them as fast as possible.

[mrshowlettsgarden]

Imaginary Concerts: Logan Howlett - the one when Logan comes home to an amazing sight

─➭ pairing: lumberjack!Logan Howlett x professor!fem!reader

─➭ prompt #14: They pull them close by their waist and whisper in their ear "You had no business looking that good back there."

─➭ content warning: non-mutant au, tooth-rotting fluff, abrupt ending(?)

─➭ a/n: the lyrics are from "Love Today" by MIKA and "Cosmic Love" by Florence and the Machines; this was requested from @kellyxo1 link here

●∘◦❀◦∘● ●∘◦❀◦∘● ●∘◦❀◦∘● ●∘◦❀◦∘●

You pulled out the duster and other cleaning supplies from one of the hallway closets. It was finally your day off from a chaotic work week and cleaning was something you’ve been wanting to do. You then grab your phone and earbuds to help you wind down and let loose.

“Been cryin’ for so long! Fightin’ tears just to carry on!” your voice rang throughout your home as you swayed to the beat of the song.

 It felt so good to let go of your crazy dance moves while you wiped off the counters in the kitchen then vacuumed the whole house. And now, you’re finishing up with dusting. You were jumping, swaying your hips and head to the beat of one of your favorite songs, all while holding the swiffer duster in your hand. 

“But now! But now, it’s gonna wait!” you continued to sing out loud.

You had the music near blaring into your ears as you continued to clean and sing to your heart's content. Being lost in your own world had you forgetting that your husband comes home around this time from work. 

Logan had just pulled up and parked in the driveway of your home. He let out a sigh as he unbuckled his seatbelt then exited the car. Today wasn’t particularly a hard day but throwing an ax into trees thicker than rawhide is very tiring on the body. Especially knowing that you’ve been home without him all day was dragging him down to.

Even after smothering you with kisses before he left the house wasn’t enough. But he’s home now and he’s about to smother you in kisses again. 

He unlocked the door with another heavy sigh before freezing with an amused look on his face. There you were jumping on the couch and singing (screaming) out a bunch of lyrics while you dusted the wedding pictures on the walls. A sweet smile graced his lips as he continued to admire you and your wonderful dance moves while he took off his boots and set down his tool bag right next to them. 

You still haven’t noticed him being busy with the imaginary concert you got going on with yourself yet. He moved closer to where you are in the living room, stopping just close enough so he can continue to watch you. As he leans against the wall with his armed crossed you let out a particular high-pitched sound as you sang out loud.

“The stars! The moon! They have all been blown out!” you sang, “You left me in the dar-r-r-k!”

Logan’s eyebrow raised with an impressive look on his face as he watched you use the duster as a microphone as you sang the lyrics. You jumped off the couch still dancing to whatever beat you’re listening to as you continued your dusting endeavors over to the bookcase. He loves coming home to this part of you. Don’t get him wrong, wanting to smother you in wet kisses all over your face makes his day but seeing you like this; still with bed head hair, lounge shorts, and one of his white t-shirts, all while singing to your favorite music is heaven itself. 

You were spinning as you jumped to the song before you lout out a startled yelp seeing your hunk of a husband standing against the wall with a real smile on his face. 

“Fuck, Logan,” you giggle as you pull your ear buds out, “You can’t just scare me like that.”

A breathy laugh comes out as he continues to stare you down with admiration, “Keep dancin’ baby,” he nods to your phone in a teasing tone.

A wave of embarrassment rushed through your body and into your cheeks. He’s been watching you this whole time. How long has he been home? 

“Oh my- ugh!” you laugh with a groan, “You’ve been watching me this whole time?”

Logan laughs as he moves off the wall to walk towards you. “Well, not the whole time,” he says with a smile, "Just long enough to see you throw your hips back."

You groan in embarrassment again as he reaches towards you. “That is something I’ve never wanted you to see,” you laugh as you run your hands up his chest. 

“We’ve been married for over five years. I will always want to see you dancing like that,” he chuckles, feeling you playfully push him away to walk away with a roll of your eyes and a sweet smile, “Hey, where you goin’, huh?” he smiles as he grabs your waist and pulls you back to his chest. You giggle, feeling him nuzzle his face into your neck with feather-like kisses leading up to your ear. “You had no business lookin’ that good back there, you know" he whispers. 

“You’re a stalker for staring at me for that long,” you say sarcastically while you smile and wrap your arms around his neck. Logan hums brushing your comment away as he continues his kisses along your shoulder. Your fingers run through his hair as you take in a deep breath. “You smell,” you murmur before kissing his cheek, once, twice, then three times.

You felt Logan’s body shake from his laughter before he pulled away just far enough to look at you. His eyes rake over your bare face with a smile. “Take a shower with me then. Show me those moves,” he says.

“God you’re annoying,” you laugh with a shake of your head. 

"Come on, sweets," he smiles ashe runs his hands up and down your back, "That was quite the concert you were throwin' there."

You groan again but louder this time and walking away from his embrace. "I'm never doing that again", you bite your smile.

"No, no. Dance for me again, sweets. Come on," Logan chases after you.

[remlionheart]

* ˚ ✦ MDNI ✦ ˚ *

Marinade

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ when i first decided that i wanted to write some yuuji angst, i had a v vague idea in my head of what it might look like, but when i tell you that this fic took me for a ride, i mean it. angel boy yuuji itadori finds himself mourning his 22nd birthday rather than celebrating it. sitting alone at a bar, overwhelmed by grief when he's suddenly greeted by the one part of his past that doesn't hurt to look at. 4.9k words. hurt/comfort, angst, smut, fluff, slice of life, shonen, literally everything and anything going on here. i was crying and smiling and rooting for these characters and i'm not sure that i'll ever emotionally recover from writing this, but i'm really happy w the outcome so lemme know whatcha think, luv you ♡ (also shoutout to my girl @bratbby333 for always being my biggest hype-woman and proofreading for me when i've looked at a fic for too long and start to hate it) *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

now playing: marinade by dope lemon

Yuuji hadn't seen you since middle school.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

He remembered you as the girl who had pretty handwriting and a serious affinity for the color blue. The girl who would leave pastel origami hearts on his desk without ever saying why. The girl who'd hide away in the library during lunch instead of eating with the rest of the class. The girl who he'd watch on the bus ride home with a sinking feeling in his stomach, catching the way your eyes glossed over each time the driver stopped in front of your house.

He learned how much you loved to read and write that year. Glancing at you from across the study hall room, secretly jotting down what number was printed along the spine of your book so that he could get you the next one in the series. He'd leave it on your desk before class started, the same way you did with his origami hearts. Never saying a word about it.

He watched you fill countless journals, your face always so concentrated as you poured your thoughts into them. He’d stop by the shopping plaza near his house after school every time he noticed that you’d reached the last page, spending his allowance to make sure there was a new one waiting for you the next morning. Each one he gave you, a different shade of blue.

But it wasn’t until the last day of eighth grade that he finally mustered up the courage to break the not-so-silent-silence the two of you had been sharing for the last 6 months. He sat down next to you, introducing himself even though it went without saying. His eyebrows furrowed a bit when you wordlessly slipped out an earbud and handed it to him. A rare, but visible smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. He held it in his palm for a moment, his eyes drifting along your face as he brought it to his ear, letting the tangled white cord tether the two of you together.

He’d never heard the song before, but he still remembered thinking how fitting it was. Dreamy and melodic - just like you. The singer's voice was full of raw sincerity, adding another layer of atmospheric haze to the already heady beat while the chorus gradually filled the space between you.

He didn't have the right words to explain it at the time, but he felt lucky as he watched you stare out the window that day. Lucky to know how pretty you looked when the sunlight caught the side of your face. Lucky to know which fantasy novels you liked to spend hours losing yourself in. Lucky to know what type of music you listened to when you were deep in thought. Lucky, just to be sitting next to you.

His heart jumped around in his chest when your eyes met his again. Both of you exchanging the same somber smile as you realized what road you were on.

He handed his half of the headphones back to you, secretly relieved at how calm you still seemed despite the fact that your stop was next.

“That song,” he hesitated, the lyrics still swirling through his mind. “what was it –”

But his question came to an abrupt end as the bus began to brake, a new and overwhelming warmth dancing through his veins when he noticed how close you suddenly were to him.

His pupils doubled in size, his breath catching in his throat while you leaned in carefully, pressing the softest kiss against his boyish cheek.

"Have a good summer, Yuuji." you whispered, grabbing your backpack off the floor.

His hand rested where your lips had been, his gaze following you off of the bus. You made it about halfway up your driveway before pausing to look back at him over your shoulder, two lingering smiles blurring past one another as the driver hurried on with her route.

The next two months were filled with sunshine and soccer practice for him. Bike rides and camping trips and basketball courts. His days were usually full, but no matter what he was doing or where he was going, there was one song that was always on the tip of his tongue:

♫⋆｡ ♪ ₊ ﾟ“Do you want me? Just how I am? Do you need me and where I stand?”

One song that would forever remind him of you:

"Let's go steady, let's make a plan. Marinade on that for a little while." ⋆｡ ♪ ₊♬ ﾟ。

And he did.

He marinaded on the infatuation he felt for you the rest of that entire summer.

When August arrived that year and brought everyone back for high school, he was ready.

There were stories he wanted to tell you, questions he wanted to ask you. Playlists he wanted to make with you. Books he'd found while thrifting that he wanted to give to you. Daydreams he had of roaming the halls and laughing with you. Visions of bringing his lunch into the library so he could eat with you. He couldn't wait to hear about your summer. Couldn't wait to catch up with you. Couldn't wait to see you.

Unfortunately for you both though, life had other, much darker plans in store for the pink-haired boy who just wanted to carry around your books for you and hold your hand during passing period.

He was called out of class early on the first day. Forced to leave the building before he even had the chance to see you as he frantically tracked down the nearest shuttle and rushed across town to get to the hospital. His grandpa’s health had been on a slow decline, but after his most recent fall, it had suddenly started to plummet.

Yuuji missed the majority of that week, dedicating all of his time to the man who had essentially raised him. He would bring him food and sit with him for hours even though he was mostly incoherent. He’d tell him about his day and leave flowers by his bedside. He'd watch reruns of old game shows with him that they used to watch when Yuuji was little, completely ignoring the nurses who would say things like, "You need to give yourself a break.”

The hospital staff tried their best to get him to take a day off. To go back to school and live his own life, but Yuuji just couldn’t. His grandpa was the only family he'd ever really had. There was no way he was going to leave him. He ditched the comfort of his bedroom and began sleeping on the cramped hospital futon next to the grey-haired man, teaching himself what each machine hooked up to him was responsible for and what vitals they monitored. He’d sometimes leave throughout the day, but it was only for a couple of hours at most. He'd return with more flowers and books to read to him. By the third week of school, he'd missed almost every single one of his classes, but he didn’t care. His priorities were firm.

Yuuji stayed by his side - day in and day out, until the very end.

When he woke up to the sound of erratic beeping and codes that he didn't understand being called out by nurses, he knew. He knew in his heart that this was it. Amongst the chaos were two sets of shaking hands reaching for each other, his grandpa's last words hanging heavily in the space between them,

“Yuuji... You're a strong kid, try your best to help others, okay?”

He remembered thinking at that moment that there couldn’t be a worse feeling. That he couldn’t possibly have anything else left to lose. He was only 15 and he was now officially all on his own as he watched the only parental figure he had let out his last breath of air.

He had no family, no future, no chance.

Fate was a cruel and calculating thing though. A few days after the funeral, Yuuji discovered that he did have a future. One that was irreversibly sealed the minute he stepped foot into Jujutsu High. He had to let go of everything he'd known in exchange for the damning task of becoming a vessel for Ryomen Sukuna. He had to trade in his mundane role of being a high school freshman for the daunting responsibility of becoming a first-year sorcerer. And arguably the hardest thing of all, he had to give up the simple pleasure of sharing a set of tangled headphones with you to try and save a world that didn't truly care about him.

There was no room for normalcy anymore. This was his new life and it was ending, one day at a time.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

He sat at a nearly vacant bar by himself, staring down the empty glass in front of him, watching the ice melt as he ran a shaky hand along the back of his neck.

It was 4 o'clock and he was only one of two people here this early. The lights and music were still being adjusted by the workers. Cups being stocked and coolers being filled for the inevitable Saturday-night rush that would come in the next few hours. His goal was to be absolutely obliterated by then - to already be on his way back home before the swarm of college students took over.

He paused, noticing the calendar hanging by the craft beer list in front of him. His heart stuttered a bit as he blinked back at the date. No wonder he'd been feeling so reminiscent lately.

He leaned over the counter hoping to find the bartender who'd poured his first drink, but to no avail.

He grabbed his glass, sucking down the very last drop of whiskey it had to offer, trying desperately to drown out the realization that today was his 22nd birthday and the people who should be here with him weren't.

Almost every friend he'd made over the last ten years had been ripped away from him. They were scattered memories. Familiar voices that he did his best to hold onto. Faces, names, deaths that followed him everywhere he went.

Middle school and the innocence of just wanting to hold a pretty girl's hand while she walked down the hallway were long gone. He was an adult now. A very tired and traumatized adult.

He peered around the corner again, half-tempted to jump over the bar and pour himself another drink when the stereo kicked on, an overwhelming wave of pure, deep blue nostalgia flooding over him without warning.

His back straightened, his eyes suddenly darting towards the speaker as the lyrics drifted across his skin, causing every hair on his body to stand up at once.

"She wanted to die by a river. She wanted the tide to come up and drag her away, so that when she's dreamin', she can watch the tree line fall away." ⋆｡ ♪

It was the same hazy melody that he'd spent an entire summer listening to on repeat. He still knew every word, every beat. It was muscle memory the way his fingertips began to drum along the counter when a bartender finally emerged from the back.

"Sorry, do you need a –"

Time stilled, the glass nearly slipping from his hand as your gaze caught his.

"Yuuji?"

Despite how much you'd changed since the last time he saw you, your voice was somehow just as soft as he remembered it being.

He stared back at you in quiet disbelief, guilt quickly settling in the pit of his stomach as he thought about how fucking strange and unexpected this all must feel for you too.

From your perspective, he'd spent all of 8th grade trying to befriend you only to up and leave without even saying goodbye. And now, 7 years later - he was at your work, looking back at you like you were an actual angel, and forgetting every word he knew.

Your eyes stayed locked on his for another moment, both of you studying the person in front of you before you finally let out a shaky breath and smiled at him.

"Here," You offered, suddenly feeling the need to soothe your own nerves too. "On the house."

He tried to tell you that he could pay for it, but it was too late. You were already pouring two shots and motioning for him to put his wallet away.

"Okay, fine. But..." There was a glimmer in his eye as he pulled his glass away from yours. "What are we toasting to?"

The smile he gave you felt like a warm hug. One that you didn't realize you needed until you had it again. "Oh," You stammered, trying to ignore the blood that was rushing to your cheeks. "What about... To old friends?"

He nodded, still wearing the same expression as your drinks lightly knocked together. "To old friends."

He couldn't help but grin again at the little shiver that swept across your body as you finished yours.

Your hair was longer, your features a bit more mature, but your mannerisms were all the same. You were still the girl that was made up of mid-day sunlight, handbound books, and shades of blue that were too pretty to exist in this world.

You grabbed a beer out of the cooler and slid it to him, once again ignoring the credit card he tried to hand you. "Yuuji, relax." you leaned against the counter, resting your head in your hands so that you were eye-level with him. "They're not gonna go bankrupt over a $2 IPA, I promise."

"If you say so."  

You both exchanged the same small smile, his finger lightly running along the counter. "So," he cleared his throat, completely unsure of where to start. "How've you been?"

It was a loaded question, maybe even a dumb question considering how much time had passed, but he didn't care. He really did want to know how you'd been. What you'd been up to. What type of things you'd been writing about. What your Spotifty playlists looked like. What you did on your days off. He wanted to know everything. All of it.

"Well," you exhaled, trying to find an easy way to condense the last seven years of your life. "My parents..." your eyebrows furrowed, realizing that you'd never gotten the chance to tell him why you used to dread your old bus route so much. "My parents finally got divorced..."

“Oh shit, I’m sorry -"

“No,” You said swiftly, not wanting him to feel bad for asking. "It was more of a relief than anything. They used to fight, a lot. My mom wasn't always the nicest when she drank... It probably should've happened way sooner to be honest."

His breathing slowed as memories of you with tears in your eyes walking up your driveway smashed through his mind. He'd promised himself that he would ask you about it one day, but he had no idea it'd be this much later on. He'd wanted to talk to you about it as kids. Wanted to know what scared you so much about going home, but he didn't know how. It was the reason why he left journals on your desk. The reason why he never let you go without the next book in your series.

For everything he couldn't say, he tried to show. But he'd failed you on both accounts the day he disappeared.

"My parents separated my -" you paused, eyes dragging to his as you corrected yourself. "our graduation year."

He nodded, doing his best to digest the thought of you walking down the aisle in a cap and gown with the weight of your parents' downfall on your shoulders.

"But, after that," you smiled slightly. “I applied to college and got accepted. Started working here. Got my own apartment. And I don't know...” you shrugged, "I think in a weird way, things happened the way they were supposed to. It was like everything needed to fall apart before it got better, you know?"

He smiled back at you, your last sentence lingering in the space between you as he reached for your hand. He probably wouldn't have understood that sentiment a year ago, but watching your eyes widen while your fingers slowly tangled into his, he knew exactly what you meant now.

"I'm really sorry I wasn't there..." His thumb brushed against the side of your hand, steadying himself as he let 15-year-old him and 22-year-old him come together to say what they had both been holding onto for so long. "I didn't want to leave. I just -"

Your heart swelled in your chest, watching him blink back tears he wasn't prepared to shed. "Life got really hard for a really long time for me too. But, whenever I felt myself drifting... I thought of you. Thought of the way you'd glance at me from over your book during class. Thought of the way you smiled when you thought no one was watching. I thought of you... all the time. And it was like, no matter how dark things got, it reminded me that life could be good, because it was at one point. So..."

Your hand tightened around his, two sets of glossy eyes now staring back at each other as he forced himself to say what he should've years ago. "I'm sorry that I wasn't there, but... I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere."

You were dizzy with emotion. Swimming through feelings that you'd kept buried for nearly the last decade. The thoughts you'd only been brave enough to write down. The overwhelming urge to kiss him again and again and again until neither one of you had any air left in your lungs.

Your mouth opened and then closed, your body saying more than you were capable of with how desperately you were holding onto him.

You weren't sure what you were doing. Didn't have time to think or care about the repercussions of your impulsiveness.

"Hey Mai," You called out, "I'm really not feeling well. Think I'm gonna go home."

Yuuji's head was shaking no, but the surprised smile tugging at the corner of his mouth was saying otherwise. "What're you doing?" he whisper-shouted, watching you run around the bar to grab his hand again.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Mai yelled from the back, but it was too late.

You and Yuuji were already gone, practically sprinting alongside each other, laughing as you booked it across the parking lot.

"First the free beer and now this?"

"They won't go bankrupt over me missing one day." You winked. "C'mon, I wanna show you something."

You may have been leading the way, but he was still the athlete between the two of you, purposefully slowing himself down to not be right on your heels. But when he noticed you starting to pant as the road curved into an upward slope, he reached out for you, gently spinning you around to face him.

"Come here." he knelt down, positioning himself so that you could easily wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck.

He carried you piggy-back style up the hill, the sun fading into an array of pink and orange as you pointed out every bookstore around campus, explaining which ones were your favorites and why. Promising to get matcha with him tomorrow at a local coffee shop you passed. Asking him about his time at Jujutsu High and trying to wrap your mind around what little he was able to tell you as he swore that he'd fill you in on the full story when the time was right. You caught him up on what he'd missed the last three years of high school and how your college classes had been going. You talked about libraries and ghosts and laughed about how in 7th grade he'd joined the occult club just because he thought it'd be an easy after-school credit.

By the time you'd finally reached the spot you'd wanted to show him, the moon had almost completely replaced the sun. Your cheeks hurt from smiling and your hands were full of a mixture of different flowers that he'd picked for you along the way.

"This is..." he trailed off, watching the sky shift into a deep blend of blue and silver. "Beautiful. How'd you even find this place?"

It was an abandoned park surrounded by overgrown trees that overlooked the city, only one rusted swing set left to its name. The hike you had to endure just to find it had more than likely been the cause of its demise, trekking up here with a backpack was hard enough, let alone a stroller.

"I kinda found it by accident." You shrugged. "I was working on an art project and needed a good view of the skyline. I looked up a bunch of different places online, but then I saw this spot and just knew."

Yuuji pulled off his hoodie, sweat trickling down his neck from the late-summer heat as the two of you sat in the grass, his arm gently wrapping around your waist.

There had been so many times you'd sat in this exact same spot by yourself, wondering what the odds were that you were both somehow looking up at the same star.

Your head rested on his shoulder, a warm gust of air swirling around you as you both looked out into the distance, watching the way the stars faded into the Tokyo lights.

"Hey, Yuuji?" You twirled a blade of grass between your fingers, not wanting to ruin the moment, but still needing to be sure.

"Yeah?"

"You promise, right?"

"Hm?" He could hear the concern in your voice, his grip tightening as he pulled you closer.

"You promise that... you're not leaving again?"

"I swear, I'm not going anywhere. And if I do," His eyes returned to yours, his free hand attentively resting under your chin. "I'm taking you with me."

You nodded, warmth washing over you as he traced along your jawline, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

Your fears were lost to his touch. Your worries dissolving into the sincerity of his voice. Your need for reassurance wholeheartedly met when his hand cupped your cheek and his lips finally caught yours. Seven years' worth of pent-up feelings pouring out between the two of you, hands roaming and little moans slipping out between breaths while you tugged on the collar of his shirt to bring him closer. He was gentle but eager. Soft but secure. Perfect, in every way.

He hovered over you, easing you onto the grass as he made a makeshift pillow out of his hoodie for you to rest your head on.

You smiled as his lips drifted from your mouth to your neck, his palm delicately traveling up your shirt, pulling your bra to the side while he helped slide your tank-top up over your head. He kissed your collarbones, whispering sweet little praises into your skin. "You're gorgeous, you know that?"

He rested a hand under your back, steadying you as his tongue flickered across your chest. He took his time, making sure to give each nipple the same amount of attention, still humming things like, "the prettiest girl I've ever seen" while his hand traced over your hip.

He tugged at the waistline of your shorts, looking up at you through his lashes as he began to leave featherlight kisses along the inside of your thigh, his blood racing at the sounds you were suddenly making.

"Does that feel good, baby?"

You whimpered out a broken "yes", practically dripping when his fingers spread you apart. He watched you writhe beneath him, drawing slow but firm circles around you. Trying not to lose himself to the way your legs were already shaking for him.

"Yuuji," you whined. "I -" his mouth was ghosting your center, his fingers still playing with your clit while he held you in place. "I n - need you." your voice was heady, lost somewhere in the clouds the faster he went. "I wanna f - feel you, so bad."

"Yeah?" He smiled, his breath still fanning across your core as his digits prodded carefully at your entrance. He groaned at how beautifully your walls swallowed him. "I wanna feel you too."

Your head lulled back, eyes pointed at the sky while your hand tangled into his pink hair. His mouth was warm and heavenly, his tongue running uppp and dowwnnn your center, saliva mixing with slick while his fingers plunged into you.

"Oh, fuck."

He only went deeper the louder you got, flattening his tongue against you with just the right pressure to keep you saying his name. His ring and middle finger hitting spots you'd never been able to reach yourself. You were clenching around him, your thighs locking around his head as you rocked against his tongue.

"Yuuji - you're gonna make me -" he thought it was adorable the way you struggled to get more than two words out at a time. "Fuck, I -"

"Mhmm, just like that."

He was in the same daze you were, sliding in and out of you feverishly until he finally felt the blissful release of your walls spasming around him. Your body suddenly unable to hold it in any longer as you gave him the privilege of really tasing you.

"Oh my god," he moaned, faithfully lapping up every bit of you he could get, only pulling away when you started begging for him.

"Yuuji -" It was needy and light-headed. "Come here, come here. Please."

The way he lifted his head up, smiling at you with your cum dripping down his chin made something inside you ache.

You pulled him towards you, desperately wrapping your legs around his waist as he began undoing the buttons on his pants. He kissed you, again and again and again, using it as a pleasant distraction while he wriggled himself free.

He took a breath, both of you watching in blitzed out awe as he lined himself up with you. "I love you." he whispered, your eyes widening from the blend of his words and the feeling of his tip slowly entering you. "Always have."

His hair brushed against your forehead as he parted your lips with his tongue, your nails digging into his neck with his first full thrust. You were so tight and warm around him.

He tried to ease into you, encouraging you while also making sure you were comfortable. His voice sweet as honey as he asked you things like, "Is that okay, baby?" and "Aw, you like when I go deep like that, huh?"

Your gaze locked with his, your eyebrows knitting together the faster his rhythm became.

You'd thought about this moment before. Thought about what it might feel like, but nothing could've prepared you for the way your heart would race at the sound of him moaning, "You're doing so good for me." The way he'd hold you, looking back at you with stars in his eyes as he filled every inch of you.

"Yuuji -"

"Let it out, baby. S'okay." He whispered, his hand reaching for yours. "I've got you."

Your vision was blurred by the feeling of his tip meeting your cervix, warm summer air brushing against your skin as you reached your breaking point.

"I love you." The words left your mouth so fast you barely had time to register them, but then... they wouldn't stop. It was the only phrase you remembered how to say. The only emotion you remembered how to feel. "I love you." you whimpered again, feeling yourself tighten around him as your confession became more frantic. "Oh - mygod, Yuuji. I love you. I love you. I love - you."

His movements were suddenly beyond his control, his body completely succumbing to the grip of yours. "Fuck, baby - I -" He didn't know if he should pull out. Didn't know if he could pull out. His head was everywhere, his mouth dropping open the longer he watched you.

Your legs locked around him in heady reassurance. "Mm'mm, d - don't stop." You panted. "Cum with me."

It was a sentence he'd only ever thought he'd be lucky enough to hear you say in his dreams.

His hips stilled after one more thrust, your walls holding him tight as he began to twitch inside you. His forehead pressed against yours, his arms struggling to keep him propped up.

You exchanged the same exhausted smirk, leaning up to kiss him while he carefully pulled out of you. A blend of fluids spilling out onto the grass beneath you as he laid by your side with his forearm over his face, trying to regain his composure.

There was a calm silence that settled between you, the both of you looking up at the stars before you rolled over to reach for your shorts, letting him catch his breath while you dug something out of the back pocket.

"Here." You said, unraveling a tangled pair of headphones and handing him one.

His eyes widened with the same curiosity they had 7 years ago as he held it to his ear, your head resting on his chest while a song he knew all too well flowed through the small speakers connecting you. A smile splitting across his face as he held you closer.

"You know, I think you were right." he exhaled, running light fingertips along your arm. "Everything did have to fall apart before it got better."

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[dabisqueen]

Relax (It'll hurt less)

Yandere!Dabi x fem!Reader

⇢ word count: roughly 2.3K

⇢ plot: Dabi only knows of one way to make you remember his name

⇢ warnings: Minors DNI, NONCON, use of fire quirk, arrogant and cocky Dabi who is a virgin (fight me over it) and fucks for the first time, user is tied up (bondage/rope play?), size kink, no prep, unprotected penetration, Dabi is a bit rough towards the reader, creampie, lots of cum

⇢ thank you @/blankexpressions-and-falsefires for being my beta again!

⚠️This fiction contains yandere-themed dark content! Proceed and read at own discretion⚠️

If you'd known that the night would take this turn, you'd have chosen to stay home.

After missing the last bus home due to running late and then not having enough money to call a cab, you are forced to walk home. As a gust of wind blows some leaves across your path, you imagine what might happen if some thug jumped out with the intent to rob you... But stuff like that only happens in movies, don’t they? You quietly laugh. The thought is a bit silly. You'll probably just continue walking alone down the murky street like you always do, with nothing happening. Reassured, you stick your hand into your pocket and focus your attention on the pavement below, occasionally checking on the map to make sure you're still heading the right way. 

You blindly follow the directions on your cell phone, completely oblivious to what part of town you are passing through. It’s not like there are any signs warning you "Stay the fuck out, villains ahead!"

You make the foolish decision to try and comfort yourself during the tedious walk home. Popping your earbuds in, you put on your favorite music to drown out the sounds of the night around you.

A quick movement ahead catches your attention. Your eyes snap up, your heart suddenly beating frantically as you spot the cause of the abrupt motion. A man stumbles backward from a door with a terrified expression on his face, followed by an enormous blue flame billowing towards him which engulfs him completely within seconds. The force of the sudden combustion knocks you right off your feet and you fly backward, a weightlessness encompassing your body before gravity cruelly pulls you back down.

Your back and head crash against the blacktop street and everything instantly fades to black. You don't know how long you'd been unconscious, but as you open your eyes, all you see is darkness and streaks of blue. The stench of burnt flesh creeps up your nostrils, making your stomach churn. You struggle to get up but your body doesn't respond. Instead, you hear a man's husky voice speak near you. "Well, well, well, who do we have here? Such a pretty little thing."

His voice sounds muted like he’s talking through a wall. That's all you hear before nausea and pain take over and the world around you fades again.

You stir awake with a jostle, a thin mist clouding your vision. Your body is cradled against another. It’s warm, but smells of burnt hair and smoke. It would be comforting if only you would know whose arms you are in. You try to move, but a pain instantly shoots up your spine, overwhelming you until your vision goes dark again. 

As you regain consciousness this time, your eyes slowly adjust to the low light, dimmed to almost nothing. Your head still slightly throbs, but the worst of the pain is gone. Blinking a few times, the foggy veil lifts from your eyes and you start to take in the details. You're in a small room. Despite the lack of any decoration, it is very tidy and clean. 

Then you notice him and freeze, the fog in your mind instantly clearing. 

He stands a few feet away. He is tall, dressed in black pants with stitching and a white shirt. Raven hair standing in spikes, marred skin under his eyes and from his cheeks down to his chest. The tip of a cigarette glows an eerie red as he takes a drag and slowly exhales again. His teal eyes, bright in the dark light, pierce through the smoke, taking you in.

"Finally awake, huh?" He rasps.

Frantically, you try to get up but a sharp pain shoots through your arms as the ropes around your wrists dig painfully into your skin. To your horror, you realize that you're tied up to the rods of a rusty bed frame, immobilized with your wrists pulled taut, lying on a shitty, sunken mattress.

"Just some precautionary measures, sweetheart." He cocks his head, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. 

"Please, untie me!" You stammer but he just flips the bud of his cigarette across the room and ignores you.

"Man, killing always makes me so tense." Interlocking his fingers, he raises his arms, his obliques tightening and biceps bulging as he stretches until his knuckles crack.

Cocking his head left and right, he slowly lowers his gaze. His bright azure irises focus back on you as a cheeky smirk starts to form on his face.

"Sir, please let me go.” You whimper as your hands tremble violently against the bonds. 

"Sir?!" A brow quirks as he clicks his tongue. "I think you know my name."

He takes a few steps, closing the gap between you and him. Leaning forward, his long finger trails along your cheek with false affection. "Say it."

You writhe, eyes pricking with tears. "Mister, I-I can't–"

"Don't piss me off." His expression turns sour. "You seriously don't know who I am? Don't you watch the news?"

"I-I don't have a TV," you stammer, your cheeks burning at his harsh tone.

"Well, that's too bad." His hand slips into your hair, yanking your head back, forcing your gaze to meet his. He's so close, that you smell the stale cigarette tainting his breath, the faint scent of burnt flesh on him is almost nauseating.

"I'll tell you, then. And I’ll make sure you never forget it." He spits, crystalline blue eyes so cold that they send a shiver down your spine.

It's then that a pertinent memory comes flooding back to you– you’d overheard some people chatting on the train. A villain. Black spiky hair, scars all over his body, and eyes like the endless depths of the ocean. One with a quirk that summoned blue flames so hot they melt the flesh right off of bones. His name–

–Dabi.

Your throat tightens, and you gulp as your eyes widen in recognition. 

Dabi notices, causing his lips to curl into a smug smirk. "Ah, so you’ve figured it out, huh?"

"Y-yes Sir–or, no– Dabi!" You almost scream out his name, "I promise, I'll never forget, please untie me!"

But he doesn't seem to hear your words, his gaze is far away, an impassive expression on his face.

"Man, I really need to unwind." Lolling his head to the side. "Sako always says the best way to blow off steam is to shoot a load."

His eyes fall back to yours while his smirk widens, showing his canines. A pit forms in your stomach as it dawns on you where this is going to lead.

"I know of a way to make sure you'll never forget my name–" Dabi kneels beside you, the cheap bed dipping and squeaking under his weight. He's looking down on you in a way that makes your hair stand on end. As he reaches for your legs, you're trying your best to keep them closed. But he is much stronger, spreading them with ease.

Positioning himself between your legs, he moves his body close, his hips pressing against your core. It's then when you feel the heat from something huge – a bulge – in his pants, right underneath the stitches. You gulp in disbelief.

"I have to admit, I've never done this before," he chuckles, hooking his thumbs under the seams of his pants, slowly pulling them. "So, cut me some slack, will ya?"

A thick, pierced cock slaps against his abdomen, enormous in length and girth. Your eyes feel like they’re bugging out of your head as you look at his engorged member. Shaking your head, you plead, "It's too big, it won't fit!"

Dabi's gaze drops to evaluate his throbbing dick and he laughs. "Yeah I know, the Doc kinda went overboard with the replacement."

His eyes snap up to your face, his smile vanishes as he hums in that sickly sweet voice. "Regardless, better too much than too little, right?"

His large calloused hands wrap around your hips and you fidget and try to squirm out of his grip but it only strengthens as he pulls you back towards him. Your arms straighten out, painfully so, straining against the ropes cutting into your skin. 

Panic sets in, making your blood rush and your limbs shake, as he lays a hand flat on your mound, blue flames starting to flicker across the fabric of your pants and then undies, incinerating them. The pain from the burn loosens the tears as they start streaming freely down your temples now.

Accompanied by your sobs, he takes his thick length in his palm, his free hand sliding over your now exposed folds, calloused fingers spreading your cunt. 

"Damn, what a sight.” He chuckles as he aligns himself at the entrance of your quivering cunt. "Hope I'm doing this right." 

You sob as he drops a gob of spit on his cock and edges against your entrance, shushing you. “Relax, I know you can take it.” 

Without further warning, he plunges the fat tip of his cock into you. You cry out at the stretch, your dry walls burning without any preparation. You try to get away, to lessen the stretch, but he has your petite body pinned beneath his larger, muscular one. 

With an enraptured expression on his face, he watches his dick inch its way in. His thick, rough fingers dig into your squishy waist, as he continues pushing his way into you. You whimper when Dabi stares at your soft tummy, admiring the bump that forms where his dick bullies against your cervix. 

"Well, fuck me, ain't this the shit?" he chuckles, slightly breathless already.

The grip on your waist remains firm as he pulls out his cock, making you gasp at the sudden emptiness. But before you have time to react, he’s slamming himself back into you again. 

Then his hips start moving at a slow and gradual pace, pulling you back each time to meet his thrusts. The lewd sound of his balls slapping against your ass fills the room. your whimpers seem to only spur him on as he continues thrusting into you.

"Oh fuck, this is amazing. I'm gonna—" Dabi groans, slamming his cock into you even faster, "—shit, if you keep gripping me like this, I’m not gonna last."

“Please, stop!” You sob, but he is beyond listening. With his eyes closed, sweat dripping down his temples, he is lost in delirious pleasure.

“You're so tight, taking me so well, doll." He laughs when you whimper in response.

Involuntarily clenching down on his cock, you squirm each time he bottoms out. He makes sure you can feel each barbell of his piercings, every pulsing vein of his thick cock. The harsh force of his quick, rough thrusts makes your mind go blank.

"Gonna cum soon. Keep squeezing my cock like that and I won't be able to pull out." He groans, smooth and deep, admonishing you as if any of this is your fault.

All you can do is respond with a whine, your body completely helpless.

“I’m close, baby, look at me,” he digs his fingers into your flesh, pulling you even closer. "What's my name? Say it!"

"Dabi– please, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry but you're hurting me!" You beg between sobs.

He doesn't hear your words, or he doesn't care. He's slamming into you now, his thrusts growing deeper and harder.

"Oh yeah, take it –fuck– I'm gonna fucking fill you up so good–" Dabi gasps, groaning unabashedly.

Then he tosses his head back, and with a low growl and a last stuttering thrust, he shoots his white release inside, coating your inner walls with his cum. You feel him twitch inside you, feel his warmth filling you up and seeping out, it's so much.

Dabi collapses on top of you, breathing hard. His head falls forward to rest against your cheek, the sweat from his forehead mixing with the tears on your damp skin.

After his breathing evens out, he pulls back to face you, strands of his black hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. "Shit, that was so fuckin’ good.”

He stays like this, his cock slowly shrinking inside your sore cunt, while his hot cum drips down your ass.  The feeling of it creeps through your spine, making your face glow with hot shame. You turn your head away, closing your eyes in defeat. His weight on you suddenly feels suffocating, adding to the crushing, inescapable heft of anxiety on your chest. It feels like an eternity, with him draped over you, both of your breathing starting to even out. Eventually, you muster the courage to speak.

"C- Can I go now?" You whimper, hopefully. 

"Yeah, yeah…" he sighs and moves to pull out. Using the bedsheets to wipe the remnants of his release from his skin, he continues by tucking himself away.

Finally, you think of going home, for this nightmare to be over and to forget this god-awful night. A sharp-edged euphoria washes through your limbs and your eyes flare with excitement as hope spirals up inside you.

"On the other hand–" he stalls, contemplating. "This definitely helped me wind down."

Stepping close, he lowers his face to brush his lips against the rim of your ear and dashes whatever hope you had left with a final, whispered sentence. "I think I'm gonna keep you."

[kitorin]

5:40 pm - Isagi Yoichi

You're Yoichi's first.

The first person he's ever confessed to, his first relationship, the first person he's ever loved.

It's no surprise. On Valentines day he didn't receive anything, each year he passively listens to his teammates plan out and discuss how to reciprocate on White Day, unable to relate. Whenever his classmates brought up the discussion of crushes and who'd be the best to date, his name was never brought up.

Yoichi genuinely did not care. He's not interested in pursuing romance, and would much rather prioritise and focus on the relentless journey to achieve his dream of becoming number one. In fact, he perceived the lack of dating in his life as something to be proud of, he has more time to dedicate to his objectives as an athlete.

Yet here he finds himself, holding your hand in secret, skin drenched in sweat and face dusted with pink.

17 years of being ignored by love, the streak broken by you.

It all started when coach introduced you as the new manager, he didn't think much of you at first, just someone to appreciate for their help and time.

But before he knew it "Good morning" became a silent thought of "How do you look so pretty?". "I'll see you tomorrow!" turned into Yoichi changing his route home so he could be with you for a bit longer, even if he got home a lot later. The connection of manager and athlete was rewoven into lovers, by a bashful and stuttering confession from Yoichi.

And that was the initiation of his first relationship.

It's kept secret. At least for now. Not until Yoichi's ready, the concept of a relationship has always been so foreign for him. You're patient, you understand that it's all new and overwhelming for him.

His lack of experience never took anything away from the relationship. It's adorable despite his oblivion to what love is like. Behind the image of good friends hid sweet nothings uttered while no one was watching. Manager and athlete concealed the awkward yet sweet attempts to hold your hand. This 'friendship' of yours disguised the unfathomable love and adoration you possessed for each other.

"If I could share this little kindness, even a normal day like this will become a fantastic day."

The soft rattling of the bus accompanies the music, filtering out a bit of the noise from the rest of the soccer team.

He can hear his own heart beat too.

Even after getting together, something as simple as sharing earbuds with you is enough to make him blush.

He averts his attention from watching Bachira stealing stuff from Kunigami to his right, to you. And gosh, he swears his heart skipped a beat.

You're gazing out the window, he doesn't even have a full view of your face, yet he's so enamored with he's seeing. All of it's flawless, the sinking sun in the distance, pink hues mingling with yellow; the way the sky's remaining sunlight engulfs you, highlighting your features, cloaking you with radiance.

He's yours and you're his, it's been like that for the past month yet it still feels thoroughly unreal.

His hand reaches out to you, a gentle poke followed by an equally gentle pinch. It's an act of affection he learnt from you, after you begged to touch his cheeks after commenting how soft and 'squishy' they looked. Initially, he found it confusing, but didn't mind because of your satisfied reaction.

The action makes you turn towards him, slightly confused yet curious what he was doing, and it drives him insane how you're able to make him feel this way without doing anything at all.

"Just a bit more, just a bit more." The music continues in his ear.

"Yoichi? What's wr-"

Yoichi's lips replace his fingers, softly planting a kiss on your cheek. It leaves you dumbfounded, staring at him in disbelief. He's always been so shy, even holding hands was a big deal to him. Your fingers inch closer to where he kissed. "Wow..."

"Your lips are really moist."

He's caught off guard. "Shit, sorry, is that bad?" He tries to wipe his lips with his sleeve, but your hand catches his wrist.

"No, not at all." Yoichi's embarrassed at how you're laughing at his assumption, but he barely notices it, because the way you laugh is so pretty, everything is; but something about your laughter that makes him feel weak in the knees. "I liked it." The rosy colour appearing on your cheeks give him a sense of pride, though his face was probably a bright scarlet now.

"It'll be your lips next time." It's a mumble barely loud enough for you to hear, but his embarrassment is evident as he whispers out a flustered 'oh god'.

"I'll be looking forward to it." It's so unfair how your mere existence and words can fluster him so effortlessly. "Why all of a sudden though?" It wasn't too much of a risky move since everyone else was too preoccupied with their phones or each other, but it still piqued your curiosity.

"The music was really nice. And the sky was pretty. You were as well-, I mean you always have been and are-, yeah. It seemed perfect..."

"Oh god Yoichi, you always have and always will be perfect to me." As if your sweet words weren't enough, you rest your head against his shoulder, and his face somehow manages to heat up even more. "Oh we've arrived at the station, c'mon let's get home." Yoichi's not even sure if he's brave enough to venture out in public in such a flustered state.

The two of you patiently wait for everyone to catch their respective trains, after getting off the bus.

"Bye everyone, see you at practice."

"See ya." Bachira's always been a cheerful person, but this time his grin somehow entails more joy than usual. "Congratulations Isagi, thanks for the money."

"Huh? Money?"

Before either of you can ask for clarification, Bachira jumps onto Kunigami. "Hand over 1k! We win~!"

"You all owe us. Don't even try to hide from us I have a checklist." Nagi mumbles, and half of the team groan as they pull out their wallets.

"Um, Reo? Please clarify?" The soccer team was indeed odd, but this was inexplainable.

"They bet money on whether you were dating or not." Ah.

"Did you win?"

A smug smirk appears on his face. "Of course I did, I'm not an idiot." Why would winning a bet even matter to him when his family was the richest in Japan? "Isagi using too much lip balm?"

"Honestly I couldn't imagine Isagi pulling." Kunigami comments, the silent gasp and the look on Yoichi's face is absolutely priceless.

"Oi Kunigami, c'here." Yoichi almost pounces on Kunigami, who flees immediately. "And screw you Reo." He exclaims before chasing Kunigami.

"You owe me too, Kunigamikinnikun." Chigiri calls out. "I'll see you tomorrow, hope he doesn't give you a hard time." And soon he's off to sprint after Kunigami.

Well, there goes your 'secret'.

tagging. @kiyumiya

© kitorin : do not repost, plagiarize, change, or translate

[mysticgalsworld]

swept away

a/n: hey babes !! as it’s my first fic EVER, i would love to hear what you guys think :) if you think more can be added, i am open to making this a multiple part fic !! *please remember that i don’t accept hate and you will be blocked— positivity only on this blog 💕*

pairing: hugh jackman x cleaning lady f! reader

summary: after getting a job at a cleaning company as a maid, you’re surprised to find out that the house you’re cleaning for belongs to the Hugh Jackman..

content warnings: fluff, angst, f! reader, talk of chemicals, accusations, power imbalance (but isn’t really recognized), not spellchecked

The house is big. With open arches and an unwavering space, it seems clean. The white arches open up to the wide kitchen, lightened by the streams of sunlight.

The kitchen is filled with windows opening up to show the beautiful nature from the outside. Putting your worn-out wired earbuds into your ears, you blast Fiona Apple in the process.

Placing your worn out cleaning supplies next to the wide island in the middle of the open kitchen, you start over at the sink. A beautiful stainless steel sink with a window above it overlooking the small garden entrances you.

Leaning over the sink, you adjust your work shirt, making sure to pull it over the exposed skin of your lower stomach before scrubbing the dirty dishes.

Scrubbing each dish becomes a great routine and an excuse to dive deeper into your thoughts. This has been your routine since the person, who may or may not be famous, hired your cleaning company. Your cleaning company sent you here, giving you a temporary key and ordering you to “be silent, thorough, and unnoticeable.”

Sometimes you wondered who lived in this house. It sure was nice, but not a huge mansion like you assumed big-time celebrities would live in. Maybe it’s a woman with a really great job? Or a famous actor? Screenwriter? Producer? Maybe even a director? But you stop yourself, reprimanding yourself.

Unnoticeable. That’s what you were supposed to be. You were here to do a job, not think about the personal lives of the people that live here. They probably didn’t even care. If they could think of you as a nonliving entity who’s only purpose in life is to clean their house, why give them space in your mind to occupy.

Sighing, you try to focus on the dishes. But your mind keeps going back to who may live here. You try to not look at the pictures on the walls, personal knickknacks, or anything that gives you an idea of who he is because it’s easier. It’s easier to work in the dark. To be an entity that isn’t cared about, who doesn’t care.

Bringing yourself back to the present, you hum along softly to Fiona Apple’s “On the Bound” playing in your ears as you scrub a dirty dish. The music seems to cut instantly and you look down at your old phone in confusion.

Seeing that the old wire of the headphones is almost completely worn in half, you dry your hands on a rag from your cleaning supplies and unplug it. The music starts to play softly in the background as you go back to your scrubbing.

Your hips start to move slowly, moving to the grungy, moody sound of Fiona Apple as you focus completely on the task at hand. However, you don’t hear the soft rumble of footsteps behind you moving towards the fridge. You continue to scrub the dirty dishes, moving your hips slightly to the beat and humming under your breath.

Having finished his morning gym routine, Hugh goes to the kitchen to grab a protein shake from the fridge. Focused on the goal at hand, he almost doesn’t notice the young woman cleaning his dishes at the sink.

He notices the petite cleaning lady humming to herself as she completes her job, oblivious to his presence. He stands with the fridge half-open, a few feet away from her, enjoying the view of the young woman moving with her task, the sunlight streaming through the window dancing on her bare skin.

Hugh doesn’t really know the exact song playing, but the grungy beat plays softly as the water runs in the sink. He can’t help but appreciate the woman’s dedication to the job, and wants to say something. Or introduce himself.

He clears his throat softly to get your attention. You don’t hear it, too focused on your task and the beat of the music. Keeping your head down, you occasionally look up at the window in front of the sink. Your hips continue to sway softly to the rock beat.

Hugh tries clearing his throat again, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, finding your obliviousness a little endearing.

He takes a sip of his shake as she doesn’t respond and finally speaks. “You really enjoying that dishwashing, huh?” he asks, his voice deep with professional kindness and laced with amusement.

At the deep voice behind you, your hips still from their slight movement. Wiping your soapy hands on a small dish towel beside you, you turn towards him, Fiona Apple still playing in the background. Your eyes meet the person behind you, your brows furrowing in shock.

Hugh Jackman stands behind you in sweaty workout clothes, holding a protein shake. Hugh Jackman. THE Hugh Jackman. The same man who has famously been in the X-Men movies and your favorite musical The Greatest Showman.

Your brows furrow slightly in shock as your face flushes slightly. Your mouth curves into a tight, professional smile as you mask your complete shock.

“I mean, it at least makes my job more enjoyable.”

He hums in response and leans against the counter, a kind smile overtaking his face as he takes in the professional smile and quick recognition in your eyes.

“Fiona Apple, right?” he replies, the timbre of his strong Australian accent ringing in the open kitchen. “Seems like you were enjoying your job quite a bit.”

His eyes drift to the logo on your work shirt in recognition, watching as you fidget with the dish towel in your hands.

You nod awkwardly, not comfortable with being in front of a gorgeous man in your dirty work shirt, which is now covered with water. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

Hugh notices the shift in your demeanor, a small smile playing on his lips as he eyes your water-soaked work shirt and casual hair.

“Just making sure you are from Pristine Cleaning Co. ,” he replies, his eyes drifting down to the faded logo over your heart. “You seemed very immersed in your music... and in your cleaning.”

I chuckle politely, moving to move my cleaning products away from where he is standing. I shake my head and smile, “Well, I can assure you they did send me. And they don’t really want me to be speaking to you.”

Hugh laughs heartily at her comment, finding her attempt at being professional quite endearing. He steps aside as she moves her cleaning products, continuing to watch her with a smile on his face.

“Oh, really?” he replies with a hint of amusement. “And why is that? I'm not allowed to speak to the cleaning lady, hm?”

Your hands pause on the company bucket of cleaning supplies. You know there is no reason for me to pause. You ARE the cleaning lady. But even so, his comment makes you think of your earlier thoughts. You are a cleaning lady, but you are also a person. Not just a person whose only duty is to clean someone’s house. Sometimes it feels that that’s all people think. That you aren’t a person.

You clear your throat before glancing back towards him. “We are told to be—uh ‘silent, thorough, and unnoticeable.’ They send me when you aren’t home so I’m not a bother.”

Hugh's expression softens as he notices the brief flicker of thought in your eyes. He can sense that his comment, meant as a playful tease, has touched a deeper nerve.

He leans casually against the counter again, folding his arms across his chest. “I'd hardly call you a bother,” he says, his voice a shade softer now. “But I understand the need for professionalism.”

His gaze flicks down to your company bucket of cleaning supplies, then back to her eyes. He crosses the island to stand in front of you. He pauses, sticking his hand out to shake your own. “Well, I’m Hugh, it’s nice to meet you...” he waits for your reply.

“Y/N.” your voice rings out softly, your hand jutting out slightly to meet his. His hand is warm and firm in yours, not even mentioning how it also seems to be twice its size.

He repeats your name softly, a professional, but charming smile gracing his face.

You blink up at him, almost starstruck at meeting one of the most nostalgic and famous actors from your childhood. “I—um I have to get started. It was nice to meet you Mr. Jackman, but for the future my company asks that you call them with dates that you have things to do so this mishap doesn’t happen again.”

Hugh watches as you introduce yourself, his grip firm yet gentle on your smaller hand. He can feel the softness and warmth of your skin, and the way his hand nearly envelops yours.

A slight shiver runs through him as he listens to your voice pronouncing his last name, your words laced with a mix of professionalism and charm.

Nodding in agreement, he releases your hand reluctantly. “Of course, Y/N.”

He takes a moment to step from her and grab his protein shake again, then adds with a small smile, “It was a pleasant 'mishap' though.”

You nod and softly before bending down to pick up your cleaning supplies. Grabbing a company business card, you walk over to Hugh.

“Well, here’s the company card for you to call. I’ll be upstairs and outta your way until you’re finished.” without waiting for a response, you give him a small smile before grabbing your supplies and moving towards the stairs.

Hugh's eyes follow you as you bend down to gather your supplies. He takes the card gingerly, running his thumb over the embossed logo on the front.

“Thanks,” he murmurs. “And Y/N?” You turn to look at him once more. He looks up, his eyes locking on yours. “You're not in my way. Actually, I appreciate the help.”

Biting back a small smile, you continue up the stairs.

The next time you’re at the open, white house it’s different. The house seems quiet at first and you start with your familiar routine. First the kitchen, then the upstairs, lastly working your way down.

Cleaning the kitchen goes smoothly, but the upstairs seems different. Warmer, more homely than usual, you’re not exactly sure.

His bedroom is big. Filled with open space, white arches, and lots of windows, the space is comforting and inviting. You work thoroughly, once again playing grunge rock from your worn out iPhone.

Starting to vacuum around the room, a brightly colored sticky note next to the light switch catches your attention. It standing out against the pristine white walls is what tempts you to take it. You pick it up, the message reading:

“I’m sorry if things seem a bit disorganized today. I’m prepping for an early morning meeting tomorrow, so the room’s not at its best. I appreciate you. -H”

At this little note, your heart warms. It’s not only written in his notorious chicken scratch, but little doodles are handdrawn around it, adding character. You reread the “I appreciate you” line over and over, a mix of appreciation and apprehension filling you.

The company has told you to by unnoticeable. To be silent. To be a ghost, but your fear for the consequences of not listening pushes you back to reality. Shaking your head, you place the sticky note back on the wall before continuing your job.

The next weeks are the same. Whether you’re cleaning the kitchen, the bathrooms, or even the living room.

Sweet sticky notes continue to pop up everywhere, a slew of messages ranging from “Thank you for working your magic” to “Love the new organized bookshelf! Any book recommendations?” to even “Thank you for treating my home with care.” And that’s not even including the array of hand drawn smiley faces, doodles, and drawings.

After you didn’t respond to the first one, you figured he would quit it. But secretly your heart would swell with every positive message, every indication that he understood that you weren’t just a body whose only duty is to clean people’s homes.

The thought that Hugh was thinking of you as an actual person with feelings and thoughts filled you with happiness. The consequences of talking to him still lingered over your head, but maybe it could be different.

Today’s note was next to the oven. When you came to the kitchen, you were surprised to see the oven dirtier than usual. You spot the colored paper taunting you from the corner of your eye and pick it up. It reads:

“Tried to bake yesterday. Never again. I’m so sorry for the mess. You’re the only one keeping me in check.”

Your cheeks flush with warmth as you think of him. Only having one conversation with this man, you wonder how you could possibly keep him in check.

This time, you decide. This time you will answer him. Grabbing a pen from your purse, which was sitting next to your cleaning supplies, you try to think of a message.

Your heart thumps in anticipation as you write underneath his chicken scrawl. “Don’t worry, baking is hard. You just have to have a good teacher.” The only thing you think of for the next few hours as you clean is the note.

You think of how he will respond, if he responds. Before you are able to doubt yourself, you raise the volume of the music on your phone and pour yourself into the job.

When you step into the house the next week, the energy is strange. The sun doesn’t seem to shine so brightly and the house doesn’t seem as open as it once did.

Walking inside, you can hear the shuffling of footsteps and the chatter of a voice in the kitchen. Deciding to obey your company’s instructions (and maybe having a little left over embarrassment from replying to the note) you make your way upstairs.

You clean the bathrooms first, scrubbing harshly as you scold yourself. He was being so nice and you weren’t even trying! You raise the volume for the music on your phone and take your frustrations out on the tile.

Moving to clean his bedroom, you keep your steps quiet and light. Even though you do want to have another conversation with him, you don’t want to disturb whatever he’s doing.

You close his door softly behind you as you start. You change the sheets first, then wipe down all the surfaces, and finally you vacuum the floor. You accidentally knock the vacuum on the bedside table, the knickknacks and papers falling softly around it.

Cursing to yourself, you pick up the dropped items. Your back is killing you and the only motivation right now is the chance of seeing him downstairs (and the money you earn from your job).

You finish up cleaning his room the grab your supplies and head to the stairs. As you walk down them, he walks up them. His broad shoulders almost take up the whole length as you both try to walk your separate ways.

Spotting the phone he has clutched to his ear, you only manage to give him a slight nod and shy “Hello” before you are at the bottom of the stairs. Placing your supplies in the living room, you stand and roll your shoulders.

You hear the bedroom door upstairs close somewhat harshly as you finish vacuuming the rug. You hear the clattering of things, the door opening, and a rush down the stairs as you continue to clean. He seems in a rush as he walks to the kitchen. He also spends less than a minute in the kitchen before rushing back upstairs.

Furrowing your brows, you think of what was wrong. But you quickly shake your head, trying not to get your mind involved in his personal life. Especially because he’s a celebrity. THE Hugh Jackman. He wouldn’t appreciate the cleaning lady being nosy.

You move to the kitchen after you finish the living room. The first thing that catches your eye is the hurriedly placed post-it note. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you pick it up. The note reads:

“Once you are finished in here, come upstairs. Please..”

A mixture of confusion and curiosity wash over you as you read the hastily written note, the words 'please' and 'come upstairs' echoing in your mind. You finish cleaning the kitchen, washing the dishes and cleaning the counters while you mind wonders about what could be waiting for you upstairs.

With a small sense of trepidation, you make your way upstairs, the stairs feeling extra creaky. The hallway feeling extra closed in. When you walk to his bedroom, his door is closed. Not knowing what to do, you knock softly and wait for a response.

He opens the door swiftly, his face relaxing when he sees you. He motions you inside and says, “Hey, come on in..”

Giving a small smile, you glance up to him with a question in your eyes. “Thank you….“ You stand there waiting for him to tell you something. Almost feeling like a kid getting called to the principal’s office, you stand there shifting your weight.

“Well—uh I didn’t want this to be awkward, but I’m missing my watch.. Have you seen it?” he continues neutrally.

Your brows furrow as you think back to cleaning this room. Did you see a watch? You don’t remember a watch.. Shaking your head, you look up to him wearily. “No Mr. Jackman, I haven’t seen your watch.”

He puts his hand up and shakes his head slightly. “Hugh, please.. But, are you sure you haven’t seen it? It’s a brown leather watch.” He continues to prod, the conversation getting more and more uncomfortable.

“No, I swear I haven’t seen it sir. Are you sure it was in this room?” You look around, praying that he maybe missed it and it was sitting on the dresser. It wasn’t.

He continues, “Yes, I’m sure. I take it off before all of my workouts because it’s important to me. It was on my dresser before you came to clean, and now it’s gone. Are you sure you haven’t moved it? Maybe you put it somewhere by mistake?”

Continuing to shake your head, you glance up at him. His face is flushed at the confrontation and his worry for the seems evident. You can’t believe this is happening. “No, I didn’t touch your watch sir. I leave your things where I find them, I would never do that.”

His frustration becomes increasingly evident at your comment. He places a hand on his face and shakes his head while thinking. “This watch is important to me. I’ve looked everywhere and it’s nowhere to be found. I don’t mean to accuse, but you were the only person who’s been in this room this morning.”

Your breath starts to quicken, the worst thing that could happen finally did. He was basically insinuating you’re a thief. “I didn’t steal it, I swear.” Tears well in your eyes, but you won’t let them fall. Especially not for a man.

He shakes his head and starts to pace, running a hand through his hair. He is clearly torn between anger and trying to remain fair. “I don’t want to accuse you, but what am I suppose to think? It’s gone and I can’t just ignore that.”

Instead of responding, you walk around the room looking for it. You pull back the bedcovers, open drawers, and look on the floor as he watches you. After a moment he joins you, and you search and search and search for the missing watch.

What seems like an eternity later, you check underneath the bedside table. Nudged between the wall and the table is where the watch sits. With a huff, you stand up and face him. He looks at you, his face filled with relief and regret. He goes to speak, but your firm voice cuts him off.

“Here. You can contact the company directly for them to send over another girl.” You hand him the watch before grabbing your things and leaving.

Once you are out of the house, the tears finally fall. Slowly and barely, you let them leave as you drive back to your company’s building. After all the kindness he gave you, after all the sweet notes and hints at something more friendly. He was just like the rest of them. He was just like the people who don’t view you as human. He was another that just thought of you as the cleaning lady…

a/n: please let me know what you think !! i’m open to doing a pt 2 but please lmk if YOU guys want that… but thanks a lot for the support 😋

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐈𝐎 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐌‘𝐒 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐂 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄

summary: what kind of music the piercers/tattoo artists of my modern au would listen to

characters: piercer!/tattoo artist! xiao :: scara :: kazuha :: venti :: aether :: heizou

my modern au || genshin masterlist || the playlist

𝐗𝐈𝐀𝐎

melancholic and wistful/dreamy

black over-ears

When he felt like nobody around him understood him, Xiao fell into the comforting embrace of music, listening to artists who sang about the sentiments he kept to himself. It has always helped him express himself with pencil and pen though, letting the graphite tip dance over the paper more smoothly and less hesitantly. To this day, Xiao uses music to block out the world when it all gets too much and familiar tunes help him calm down.

死ぬのがいいわ- fuji kaze, exile- taylor swift/ bon iver, young and beautiful- lana del rey, gales of song- belle, the moon will sing- the crane wives

𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀

indie rock

grey over-ears

Scara has been heavily influenced by Venti whose music could always be heard throughout their shared flat. While it vexed him at first, soon he found himself nodding along to the melodies, something his roommate noticed and then offered to share a Spotify account until Scara decided to make his own. And, although he’d rather die than admit it, despite how much he loathes his upbringing, he can’t deny that some classic pieces sneaked in between his usual rotation.

shake it out- florence + the machine, allies or enemies- the crane wives, too close- sir chloe , bohemian rhapsody- queen, winter- vivaldi

𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐇𝐀

indie, folklore

old school white wired earphones

Kazuha loves to let his spirit rest as he absorbs the feelings artists pour into their music. For him, it’s important that he can connect to the story that’s being told, either through the lyrics or the sentiment the music conveys. He opts for rather calm songs that invite you to relax even if there’s a deeper meaning to the lyrics. Music is a way for him to create his peace of mind when he can’t be out and surrounded by the sound of nature.

feather- sabrina carpenter, cardigan- taylor swift, saw you in a dream- the japanese house, to the mountains- lizzy mcalpine, let’s fall in love for the night- finneas

𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈

the definition of “listens to every genre” but has a soft spot for deep and tragic lyrics paired with a funky and upbeat sound

both over-ears and earbuds; also has a collection of old wired earphones tangled together (half of them are broken too)

Venti’s Spotify account is working overtime, that app is never closed. As a former band member, he knows how to play a variety of instruments and has tried a lot of styles himself, so he’s very open minded when it comes to new genres. He also absolutely kills it at karaoke nights, even if he’s already a few drinks in. Something might actually be wrong when he’s not nodding or singing along to the music playing in his head or tapping out the beat on whatever surface is closest. In general, handing Venti the aux is a fantastic idea because he can somehow always accurately gauge what music is the right mood for the given situation. He also judges films based on the soundtrack.

夜に駆ける- yoasobi, people watching- conan gray, kingdom dance- alan menken, u- belle/millennium parade, icarus- bastille

𝐀𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑

(80s) rock and metal or pop

rose-gold or white earbuds

For Aether, listening to music is the time he can let his (gorgeous) hair down. While he’s normally busy making sure everyone else is okay and is doing fine, he seldom takes the time to take care of himself. So when he can lean back and turn up the volume, it’s a very welcome breath of fresh air. The deep base and powerful voices help catalyse any feelings that might have built up over time, and, just maybe, the songs and lyrics are familiar from the time he was lost and confused about what his place in the world was. Yet, he can also appreciate the catchy tunes of popular pop songs that get stuck in his head.

killer queen- queen, master of puppets- metallica, one step closer- linkin park, valentine- måneskin, paradise- sophie and the giants/ purple disco machine

𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐙𝐎𝐔

your local girl group stan

branded earbuds (ahem ahem airpods)

Heizou is a very energetic person and it shows in his music taste. Not only are his playlists full of upbeat kpop girl group bangers, he also knows just about all of the corresponding dances. More often than not, you can hear him humming and whistling along even when he doesn’t have his earbuds in. It’s also a great gateway to interacting with customers; you better believe Heizou is already halfway into a conversation when he catches a glimpse of a photocard.

fancy- twice, eta- newjeans, unforgiven- le sserrafim, queencard- (g)-idle, zimzalabim- red velvet

© the-travelling-witch 2024 - do not repost, translate, copy or edit; do not copy into an ai

if you like my content, reblogs, comments and asks are always much appreciated ♡

➺ send in an ask to be added to or removed from my tag list

Genshin Impact: @mccnstruck @teyvattales @silentmoths @ainescribe @meimeimeirin @dustofthedailylife @nsojbbkkm @kazuuhhaaaa @inufinuf @ynverse @nico707 @boba-is-a-soup @hellithides @ryuryuryuyurboat @the-guardian-kitsune

Modern Au: @r0ttenhearts @bananasquash @hoshiwitch @franaby

[lou-struck]

Seat 14F

Atsumu Miya x reader

WC: 1.3k 

~You are peacefully getting ready for your flight home in your long awaited window seat until your talkative seat buddy arrives. 

A/n: I am having so much fun finishing some of these WIPS. I hope you enjoy this one.

The terminal beneath your feet echoes the hollow yet eager sound that is created by your footsteps. The beige hallway twists and turns until you see a fight attendant gesturing you into the cabin with a large red-lipsticked smile. 

“Welcome aboard,” he beams as you step onto the plane.

“Thank you.” You smile back and readjust the strap on your backpack so it’s tighter to your back and at less of a risk of smacking the others in the face as you pass them. Their crumpled boarding pass is in your hand as they make their way down the long aisle. They had only started boarding minutes ago, but already, you see people slumped in their seats, softly snoring into their neck pillows. 

You are in Seat 14F, a window seat. There is something so comforting about having an extra wall to lean up upon in case you were to find yourself drifting off on this flight. 

Your eyes scan the row makers as you pass,

Row 9, 10, 11, 13. 

Row 14 is completely empty as you come to a stop, sliding past the first two seats on the right-hand side of the plane and tucking your travel backpack underneath the seat in front of you to save yourself from a lecture from the flight attendant later. 

You feel your phone in your pocket as you sit down in your seat, which apparently can be used as a flotation device should the plane come down over a body of water. Knowing you’ll most likely forget to do it later, choose now to turn the device into airplane mode and slip it into the mesh netting in front of you for later. With your phone gone, you choose to entertain yourself by watching out the little oval window as airline workers load the bottom of the plane with everyone’s luggage. 

Peering at the little cart, you try to see if you can spot them loading the suitcases you checked. Your white plastic one and the other one…

“Well, isn’t this my lucky day?” a honeyed voice drawls from behind you. “Looks like I got myself a cute lookin seat, buddy.”

“What brings you here?” you ask, watching as a handsome man with faux-blond hair slides into the seat next to you. He unceremoniously slides a gray backpack underneath his seat before wasting no time in making himself at home. 

“14E,” they beam, flashing you their paper boarding pass. Already, the parchment is crumpled beyond recognition and speckled with droplets of what you assume to be coffee. 

You roll your eyes and send him a playful smile. “Atsumu, I printed that boarding pass for you less than an hour ago. How have you managed to beat it up so badly?”

“Who’s Atsumu?” he asks, cocking his head to the side in mock confusion, obviously wanting to keep flirting terribly with you for as long as he can. “I’m uhhh.” he scratches his head in thought, “Mr. Handsome Stranger.”

You sigh as he continues this little ruse of his. “Well then, Mr. Stranger, have a seat.” You place your earbuds into your ear and try to keep a look of disinterest on your face as you scroll through your downloaded podcast episodes. 

“It’s Mr. Handsome Stranger.” He pouts, his cheeks puffing out comically, and he sits down in the seat next to you. From the corner of your eye, you see him looking at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes he can muster. When they spot something shiny on your finger, they gleam, and you can practically see the cogs turning in that pretty head of his. 

“Well, that’s a real nice ring on yer finger,” he hums, leaning well into your personal space; now that he’s closer, you can smell the mint gum he’s chewing, and you can’t help but wonder if it’s his attempt to cover his coffee breath. 

“Thank you,” you sigh, shifting in your seat and admiring the gem yourself in the light of your small oval window. “I got it from my Fiance.”

“Not husband?” he winks, “I guess I still have a chance with you then.”

You laugh at his terrible flirting like the hypocrite you are. Because that same flirtiness that (unbeknownst to you) is causing the other passengers to cringe in their seats was able to ensnare you over two years ago.

“Is there a problem here?” the flight attendant from earlier comes over with a stern expression. Their eyes narrow when they see the way your goofy fiance is practically on top of you, fiddling with your engagement ring. They make eye contact with you, looking for any kind of discomfort in your expression. “Is he bothering you?”

Atsumu slides off of you and into his seat quickly. His cheeks flush pink in embarrassment. “I-it’s not what ya think.” he starts to explain but he is silenced by the commanding gloved hand of the flight attendant who you now think is one of your favorite people on earth. 

People are watching, listening, just waiting for the moment to step in and rescue you. If it wasn’t some big misunderstanding, you would feel that your faith in humanity was restored. 

But you’re not in any danger, so just for a moment, you may as well enjoy this little in-flight entertainment, 

“Sir, did you know it is a crime to interfere with the takeoff and departure of an aircraft?” they ask with a vicious customer service smile. “Is this behavior of yours really worth jail time?”

“Wha?” No, I was just messing around..” Atsumu says in a smaller voice. His tone pulls at your heartstrings, and you know you have to come to his aid. 

“Tsumu, I got this.” You murmur, placing a hand on his bicep as a grounding touch and giving your would-be hero a genuine smile. “I am so sorry about this; this doof is just my fiance. He likes to use those cheesy lines to make me laugh.”

They look between the two of you with a discerning glance before. “Do you promise?” they ask. 

“I promise.” you laugh, relieved that Atsumu is feeling a bit less freaked out now that he isn’t at risk of being dragged off the plane and thrown in jail for his cheesy pickup lines. 

“Here’s my lock screen.” the volleyball player adds, showing the attendant a picture of the two of you wrapped in each other’s arms after one of his games. “We’re together, I swear.”

“Awe, cute.” the attendant says, shutting the luggage compartment above your head. “Glad you’re not a creep. We are about to take off soon, so don’t forget to put that phone in airplane mode, hon.”

“R-right, thank ya.” he breathes his fingers, fumbling with his slightly cracked screen protector to switch his device. 

“I see; one moment, please,” they hum, turning and walking down the aisle away from seats 14 E and F, leaving the two of you rather confused at his sudden exit. 

They come back a few moments later and sneakily slides two prepackaged snack boxes over to you. The ones that are only available in first-class cabins. This sly gesture of good faith is very much appreciated by the two of you. 

“Thank ya,” Atsumu whispers happily, unwrapping his miniature charcuterie snack. 

“For what? The attendant asks, looking innocent. “You two enjoy the rest of your flight.” With that, they turned and left to do their pre-flight duties. Now alone, you and Atsumu lock eyes and fall into a fit of laughter. 

“Oooh, you almost got in trouble.” you tease, leaning your head against his shoulder.

 “What do ya think plane jail is like?” he hums, fiddling with your engagement ring. 

“Hmm, I don’t know,” you murmur. “It’s not too late to find out, though, if you want to call the flight attendant back.”

“Oh shuddup,” he chuckles, turning in his seat and kissing the crown of your head. “You wouldn’t do that to me; ya like my flirtin’ too much.”

“Whatever you say, baby.” You smile, prepared to spend the rest of your flight in the arms of the man you love. 

Tagging: @enchantedforest-network

[dangerous-disposition]

Oooo number 30 for Steddie, please and thank you!

Aaaah thank you for sending me one of these!! Please have this little Modern!AU type moment based based very vaguely off of my experience waiting for my tires to be changed at Costco last week. 30. "Can I sit here? All the other tables are full."

[ NOW ON AO3 ]

Eddie jumped as a hand came between him and his notebook and he looked up into the face of the hottest guy he had ever seen. He blinked up into his hazel eyes for several seconds while Iron Maiden crooned in his ears, already imagining the white-picket-fence with the stranger. Then the man cringed a bit and waved awkwardly.

"Oh, shit," Eddie said, probably too loudly, as he took one of his earbuds out. "What's up?"

"Can I sit here?" the guy asked, gesturing to the empty bench across from Eddie. Then he looked around and added, "All the other tables are full."

Eddie glanced around the little food court and it was indeed busy. Every single table was occupied, though Eddie did raise an eyebrow at just how many single-occupant-tables the guy passed just to get to his.

"Yeah, sure, go ahead," Eddie said, popping his earbud back in and going back to his notebook. If Eddie paused his music so he could hear if the dude tried to get his attention again, that was his business.

The guy sat down gratefully and immediately pulled out his own cellphone and earbuds. Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie saw the man fiddling with his phone and earbuds, before he sighed heavily and put the earbuds away.

Taking his earbud out again, Eddie asked, "Something wrong?"

The man jumped and looked over at him, a blush starting to stain his cheeks. "No, nothing just the stupid adapter for my headphones is busted apparently," the guy said, then added with a wry grin, "I just get to listen to the beautiful soundtrack of a warehouse for the next hour and a half."

"What's got you stuck here for that long?" Eddie asked.

"Getting my tires changed," he replied, looking down at his phone. "What are you sitting around here for?"

"It's the cheapest air-conditioned joint to loiter in for a few hours. Can't beat a buck for a hot dog," Eddie replied with a smirk.

The guy laughed and Eddie decided he really liked the sound of it. "Anyway, didn't mean to bother you. I'll leave you alone now," he said after a bit, glancing shyly up at Eddie through his lashes as he idly texted someone.

"Not a bother at all," Eddie insisted and added, "I'm Eddie, by the way."

"Eddie," the guy repeated, as if testing how his name felt. Then he smiled as it passed whatever test and said, "I'm Steve."

"Well, Steve, I have an extra earbud if you want to listen to music with me," Eddie offered, and Steve glanced down at his outfit skeptically.

"I don't think we listen to the same music," Steve said teasingly.

"That wasn't a no, though. And maybe you'll learn to like a few new things," Eddie pointed out, and Steve rolled his eyes a bit and accepted the earbud.

Wiping it off on the bottom hem of his shirt quickly, Steve said, "I haven't shared earbuds with someone like this since high school."

"Exciting, isn't it?" Eddie said as he started scrolling through his playlists.

"Just don't play anything with a lot of screaming," Steve said, grimacing when Eddie looked up at him with just his eyes. "Please," he added awkwardly.

"No problem, Stevie," Eddie said with an easy smile, and he put on the playlist he made of metal music specifically for his best friend Chrissy.

The two of them spent the next hour listening to and talking about music, with Steve adding several songs to his own playlist, until Steve got the call that his car was ready. As Steve started to gather his things, he leveled a thoughtful look at Eddie.

"Hey, this was fun. Do you want to hang out sometime?" Steve asked, and Eddie's eyes widened a bit. Steve seemed to second guess himself and shook his head. "Actually, nevermind, forget I said anything."

"Yes! Yeah, I'd- yes, let's hang out," Eddie babbled as his brain reconnected. "Are you busy right now?" he asked before he could stop himself, and internally he fantasized about a hole opening up beneath him. Way to sound overeager, weirdo.

But Steve just turned a pretty shade of pink and smiled, glancing away. "I've got work in a couple hours, but here's my number," he said, sliding a napkin across the table and Eddie stared at it.

"When did you write this?" he asked, a bit dazed as he looked back up at Steve. Now the man was smirking. Oh, Eddie had thought he was the one being smooth the whole time.

"Before I even walked over," he admitted easily before returning Eddie's earbud and standing up.

"Is your headphone adapter even broken?" Eddie asked, his own face hot enough with his blush to cook an egg.

"Oh, it's absolutely broken," Steve laughed, reassuring him only a little bit. Then he pointed at the napkin. "Text me?"

And then he was walking away, leaving Eddie alone at the table to grin stupidly down at the napkin. Steve probably hadn't even made it to the tire center before Eddie sent his text.

This was so silly but aaaaaaah I hope you like it!!! These are fun, send me more?

If you like my writing, consider checking out my writing blog? -> @gerrystamour

[jubburb]

》 "MENTAL WORKOUTS AT 4:00 A.M."

• @jubburb

ask: none.

synopsis: quizzing your boyfriend at the ripe hour of 4 am about genshin

a/n: idk but this kinda feels more like a fic where i'm shipping myself with albedo, bc I put all the answers to the questions as my answers irl. So if you don't have the same answers as me, just imagine your own answers in place of that, pls ♡

warnings: ooc albedo (probably), sweet bf albedo cuz I can write albedo however I fartin want, pretty short fic, not proofread (mistakes are definitely there, I'll proofread it tmr, prob)

notes: albedo is :, you are :

You watched depressingly as your earbuds die right in front of you, ultimately stopping your music and leaving you sad with the loud ringing of silence.

So now, with nothing else to do, you pull up Discord on your phone and immediately search for your boyfriend's username on the Messages bar.

Once you find it, you click on it and notice that he's online.. at 4 in the morning. But that's the least of your worries. He's texted you at the ungodly hours of 12 A.M a couple of nights ago anyway.

-

[3:59 A.M.]

: Albedo r u awake

: Albedo albedo albedo albedooo

: Albedo I can see that you're online.

: ANSWERRRR MEEEEE

You start intensely spamming your boyfriend, before he finally answers.

: Yes? What's the matter? Shouldn't you be asleep right now? We have school today, Y/N.

You smile softly, getting more comfortable in the cold duvet of your bed before typing again, the pads of your fingers tapping against the screen.

: I could ask u the same thing albedo

: why aren't you sleeping

You question, even though his answer would probably be along the lines of "Doing an experiment."

: I'm quite busy. Though I asked questions first. Why aren't you asleep?

: i just couldn't fall asleep ig

: what are u busy doing?

: I'm awake finishing my art project. What are you doing?

: well I WASS listening to music, cuz that usually helps me fall asleep but my earbuds died so..

: Oh, how unfortunate.

: that sounds sarcastic.

: you're so rude albedo.

: Im sorry. Will a picture of Redo make it better?

You click on the image attachment Albedo sent. It was a picture of his cat, Redo, curled up in a circle right next to him, his little white paws holding onto his fluffy black tail.

: yes, it made everything better.

: That's good. Now, I should probably focus on the project, so expect my answers to be a bit late.

: kk, I'll leave u alone for a bit and scroll on tiktok.

Albedo just responded with a little thumbs up emoji, and you smile softly at that.

You exit out of Discord and scroll through all the random apps before you find Tiktok, and then you spend a couple of minutes mindlessly scrolling on your for you page, before you stumble across one of your mutuals doing a cute trend on their boyfriend.

The trend was pretty simple. It was just quizzing your boyfriend or girlfriend to see how well they knew them by asking them questions revolving around their favorite games.

You quickly exit out of Tiktok, finding the little blue app called Discord again, and started texting your beloved blondie once again.

: ohh albedooooo~

True to his words, Albedo took a couple more minutes to respond, but he did in the end.

: Yes, my petal?

You smile again, your cheeks a slight tinge of light pink at the nickname and start typing again.

: what is my favorite genshin element?

: Hm? Why are you asking? Well, either way, it's Geo, obviously.

: what's my favorite character from each region?

: You have me doing a mental workout this early in the morning.. Your favorite Mondstadt character is Diluc, in Liyue it's Zhongli, for Inazuma it's Raiden Shogun and for Sumeru it's Collei, for Fontaine it's Neuvillette, and for Natlan it's Xilonen.

: who's my favorite archon?

: Simple, Morax.

: what's my favorite elemental reaction?

: Freeze, because you like immobolizing your enemies and being able to beat them easily.

: who am I saving up for?

: Mm. You always impulse spend your primogems on every banner, but you always talk about how much you want Raiden Shogun C2, Itto, and Xilonen.

: Can I go back to my art project now?

: no. how many primos do I have saved up for these characters?

: 176. You better hope that luck comes your way and you get the character you want with a simple one pull.

: how much mora do I have?

: Last time I was on your account.. you had about 3 million, so unless that number has changed, my answer is 3 million mora. Which you could double if you actually agreed to do the Ley Lines with me.

: mkayy mkayy I have a couple more questions.

: And by a couple do you mean you'll keep asking me questions until it's time to get ready for school?

: no, seriously, I'm running out of questions to ask.

: Ah. Continue then.

: who do I hate most in genshin?

: This one is easy. Dottore. You despise that man with every bone in your body, I'm sure. You'd want to punch him through a wall, right? I won't blame you. He's a despicable human being.

: youre so right. what BP level am I on?

: Level 6, you completely ignore it, unless it gives you Fates.

: and finallyyy would you take care of my account if I died?

: Oh, definitely. I would treat it like a precious artifact. But I hope to the Archons that wouldn't ever have to be the case.

: awh, I love you 'bedo.

: I love you too, my petal. May I continue working on my project now?

: yes yes yes u can, I'll sleep for like 4 more hours before I have to start getting ready for school..

: Alright, sweet dreams, my love.

: sweet dreams, bedoo~

[4:26 A.M.]

With that, you simply exit out of Discord, feeling excited that your boyfriend cares enough to know everything about you and to keep what you tell him stored away in his noggin.

You plug your phone into the charger, and your head hits the cold pillow with a nice and relaxing thud, before drifting off into dreamland for a couple hours more, dreaming of your a familiar blonde braided Dragonspinian.

- signed by c